Myth Four: Business As A Place OF Safety
In July 2018, my hometown of Redding, CA, was ravaged by the Carr Fire, which claimed over 1,000 homes and five lives. In response, my restaurants pledged to provide free meals for an entire month to those who had lost their homes, serving over 7,000 meals throughout August. Although the community lauded me as a hero, awarding me the 2018 Businessperson of the Year and 2019 Downtown Person of the Year, the praise left me unsettled. The public perception of me as a selfless individual did not align with my internal reality. Only a series of unusual spiritual encounters led me to act so generously, contrary to my usual instincts.
My reluctance to share the ensuing story arises from several complexities. Foremost among them, perhaps surprisingly, is my skepticism about the events I'm recounting. I've repeatedly scrutinized my memory, fully aware of how malleable it can be—particularly for those with ideological or spiritual inclinations. The story I'm about to unfold revolves around my complicated relationship with God, a deity whose existence I've often questioned. In this narrative, I assert that God communicated with me directly, almost as if we were face-to-face.
Have I been grappling with schizophrenia? The question has frequented my thoughts. As psychologist Thomas Stasz humorously observed, "If you talk to God, you are praying; if God talks to you, you have schizophrenia." Reviewing the symptoms of schizophrenia—thought disorder, delusion, attributing personal significance to mundane events, feeling that one's thoughts are externally controlled, hearing voices—does little to assuage my apprehensions. By Stasz's definition, the story I'm about to share could efficiently serve as a case study in schizophrenia.
Yet, there are compelling reasons to believe I'm not schizophrenic. First and foremost, my wife of fifteen years, Diana, and my decade-long business partners—Jonah, Jon, Bryan, and Jeff—would not describe me as such. I know each of these individuals is trustworthy and among the finest people. They deeply respect and love me. Further, I'm blessed with four wonderful children who are well-adjusted, intelligent, and loving. My connection to my community—neighbors, co-workers, and friends—is rooted in meaningful engagement. None of those who know me intimately would characterize me as struggling with schizophrenia. Beyond external testimony, I feel an innate connectedness to myself. I am self-aware and profoundly engaged with my heart, mind, and ongoing quest to grasp reality.
Indeed, one doesn't need to be schizophrenic to harbor delusions. From devout Christians to New Age spiritualists, many claim to have heard God's voice or experienced mystical phenomena. In many aspects of their lives, these individuals are well-adjusted and considered "normal" by societal standards. A Gallup poll in 1999 revealed that 23% of Americans reported hearing a voice or witnessing a vision in response to prayer. Given these statistics, my narrative of hearing God and seeing divine interventions for the benefit of others might not be as extraordinary as it initially appears. It is a facet of the broader human experience.
What's considered common to the human experience often differs from what's true. There was a time when people thought that lightning striking the earth meant that gods were angry and demanded a sacrifice. While this might have been a widespread belief, it didn't help people navigate the realities of life—significantly if, sacrificing a cow meant you couldn't make it through the winter. I have no desire to build my life on delusions; I seek to base it on reality. Therefore, I've critically examined my memories and the very foundation they were built upon—my faith in Christianity. During this scrutinizing process, I realized that many things I considered trustworthy in Christianity weren't, at least not in the literal sense. I elaborate on this deconstruction of my Christian faith in a section called "LSD and the Lollipop People." This disassembling of my religious beliefs was unsettling, compelling me to question everything my life had been built upon, including my personal experiences and identity as a Christian.
However, dismantling my Christian beliefs did not annihilate my faith in God but refined it. This refinement is reminiscent of what the Apostle Peter described in his first epistle, stating that trials prove the authenticity of one's faith, likening it to gold tested in fire, resulting in "praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." What exactly "the revelation of Jesus Christ" means, I cannot say. My certainties about Jesus and Christianity have dwindled considerably. Yet, there's no figure I revere more than the Biblical Jesus, a man who lived his convictions so resolutely that he laid down his life not just for his friends but also for his enemies. I can conceive of no loftier ambition, no more honorable goal, and no grander purpose than dedicating my life to learning to love like Jesus.
My inspiration from Jesus extends beyond my love for people; it also fuels my passion for the truth. By truth, I don't mean the doctrines of my religion, the teachings of my Scriptures, the biases of my politics, or the tenets of my worldview. Those aspects remain ambiguous to me. Loving the truth means being honest and transparent with myself and my story. It means sharing my narrative and journey, irrespective of others' skepticism and even my own. Thus, I will recount my story not as I wish it to be understood but as I experienced it when it unfolded.
If you met me today, you'd quickly realize I shy away from statements like "God told me" or "God spoke to me." Such assertions feel both presumptuous and outlandish. However, my tale is replete with episodes where my younger self was convinced that God was speaking to me directly. This presents a profound paradox: the clarity with which I believed I heard God in the past starkly contrasts with the agnosticism I hold now regarding divine communication. Nevertheless, I've chosen to recount my experiences through this paradoxical lens, as it is the most truthful approach to share my journey.
It's been five years since the Carr Fire wreaked havoc on my hometown, and in that span, the global landscape has undergone seismic shifts. The world has been grappling with a pandemic that has left it teetering on a fragile edge, more so than most of us can remember in our lifetimes. The term "deconstruction" has gained currency within Christianity as record numbers of individuals are exiting the church. Rates of depression, suicide, and addiction have soared to unprecedented levels. The United States seems to be flirting with the specter of a second civil war, and as I write this, Russia's stance towards Ukraine is becoming increasingly bellicose. All of this unfolds against scientific warnings that the planet is nearing ecological collapse on an unimaginable scale. In summary, the world feels far from secure.
Despite the tumult of doubts, questions, and fears that encircle me, I hold an enduring confidence that we, as a species, are equipped to surmount the challenges ahead. The most pressing obstacle we face is not a deficit of faith in God but rather a scarcity of trust in each other and ourselves. Jesus pondered in Luke 18:8, "When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?" His question was not a quest for monumental faith but authentic faith. He asserted, "Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."
Our world is at a critical juncture, yearning for the seemingly impossible— not just to move mountains but to transform them. What, then, is this metaphorical mountain that Jesus referenced? I posit that it is primarily economic in nature. The urgent question facing us is how to produce, distribute, and consume goods and services responsibly and equitably in a world of finite and dwindling resources. The first directive God gave to Adam and Eve, according to the Biblical account of creation, was to "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and every creature that crawls upon the earth." Mission achieved. But it's now imperative that we re-envision this mission, lest we jeopardize the well-being of future generations.
The transformation we desperately need hinges on evolving from an economy centered on buying and selling to one focused on giving and receiving. Jesus stated, "Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you." There is no more prosperous path for humanity's future than to embody such wisdom. Learning to extend grace, forgiveness, encouragement, time, money, goods, and services to one another is the quintessence of what the Bible describes as heaven.
Pursuing infinite growth and competition is unsustainable in a world constrained by limited resources. While a capitalistic system rooted in competition and risk-reward mechanisms has indeed lifted billions from poverty, we must ask: Is it competition or cooperation that lights the way forward, especially as we face urgent global challenges requiring collective solutions? Our current economic model is fixated on GDP (Gross Domestic Product); it's time for a future model prioritizing GNH (Gross National Happiness). Until happiness supplants profit as our economic objective, we will remain ensnared in the quicksand of consumption rather than liberated by the love of connection.
Transforming our economic system might seem Herculean, but history shows that hope always finds a way to usher in change. Less than half a millennium ago, most of the world languished in dire poverty under feudal systems. Yet, these systems were eventually dismantled thanks to the groundbreaking insights of figures like Adam Smith. The result was a monumental leap in collective consciousness that catalyzed societal and economic transformations. This leap lifted humanity from pervasive poverty, tamed many of nature's destructive forces, and paved the way for unparalleled societal affluence. Paradoxically, it's not our failures but our successes as a species that have spawned new global challenges, including resource overconsumption, ecological degradation, and climate change.
The widening income inequality gap between nations and within societal strata is intensifying these global challenges. Rising income inequality acts as a destabilizing agent, eroding social unity and fomenting conflict and strife. The answer to surmounting such complex problems lies in an economic revolution—a paradigm shift where businesses vie not merely for profit but to engender prosperity for all stakeholders. Imagine a future where corporations are celebrated not for their potential for growth on Wall Street but for the safety and well-being they can offer by ensuring a flourishing future for all humanity.
It is not just a responsibility but a profound privilege to undertake the requisite transformation of consciousness needed for us to overcome collectively. Yet, know that we are not alone in this endeavor. A benevolent Force exists in the universe aimed at harmonizing all things for the ultimate good of those who revere the sanctity of Life. This is my story of encountering such ineffable Goodness…
In October 2009, the night before I received the funding to launch my first restaurant, God spoke to me about how my businesses would serve as a place for safety. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear three sentences, as crystal clear as if my wife, asleep beside me, had whispered them in my ear. Here's what I heard:
I do not agree with all your thoughts about business.
I own the cattle on a thousand hills and will do whatever I want with my money.
You have never seen how I can use a business as a place of safety.
To be continued…