Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Not Your Elvis' "Blue Christmas"

Imagine a worship service at your church during the festive month of December at the peak of the holiday season.  But it is different from what you'd usually expect, in some very noticeable ways.  Gone is the Christmas tree adorned with beautiful Chrismons.  There is no advent wreath up front with candles lit.  The organ isn't swelling with "Joy To The World" or "O Come All Ye Faithful," and there are no purple advent vestments draped over the pulpit and table.  And the message the minister delivers does not elicit smiles of joy and good tidings.

Such is what has taken place at a number of churches in recent years, and it's called a "Blue Christmas service." It varies from place to place, but most contain a table up front with a single blue cloth and candles to commemorate those not there.  The music is in minor key and invokes anything but celebration; and instead of smiles faces are adorned with tears of grief.

Sounds enticing, eh?  Well, it just may be if you are one of the 45% of Americans who dread this time of year, according to this recent article in Psychology Today.  Wow, 45 percent.  That's a lot.  The blog also goes on to mention that Christmas is when more people experience some form of depression, hospitals report the highest incidences of suicide and attempted suicide, and mental health professionals report the greatest increase in their services.

I've got to admit that, even as a pastor, I have a hard time recognizing the difficulty this season poses for some.  For me personally, Christmas has always been a time of joy and celebration.  I think the only real difficult Christmas I ever had was when I was eight years old and my mom's father - "Papa," we used to call him - had died a month or so before.  I remember lying in bed on Christmas Eve, the room all lit up with Christmas lights, crying myself to sleep.  I was fine the next morning, but at that moment I felt the loss of my grandfather most profoundly.

Lots of people are missing loved ones right now - family and friends who once were an important part of the Christmas celebration but are no longer here to celebrate with.  There are folks out of work who are struggling with this time of year - and it's not just about buying presents for the kids.  It has to do with the emphasis our culture places on a steady job as a determining factor of self-worth.  How are you supposed to be thankful when you don't feel thankful?  That's the question some folks are asking right now.  And then there are those who can't pinpoint an exact reason for their "blahs" but feel them nonetheless - along with an inability to express them in a time when everyone is supposed to be decking the halls and singing songs of great joy and all that. 

I don't know that we'll ever have a "Blue Christmas" service at the church I serve, but I like the concept.  I like the legitimacy it gives people to make room for everyone at the proverbial Christmas table, recognizing that December can be a rough time for some, and that's it's okay to admit that.  Because as any good counselor will tell you, the main thing that grieving people need from the rest of us is room to grieve and permission to do so - especially when there's a lot of self-imposed pressure to put on a "happy face" and suppress the way they really feel.

If I may bring Jesus into the matter (it is Christmas, after all), I'm struck by the fact that Jesus never put on pretenses himself, nor did he expect us to.  Come to me, all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  That's pretty honest stuff. The Psalms are the collective voice of the people to their God; and it's not all praise and joy.  For every Psalm 100 (Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth, worship the Lord with gladness....) there is Psalm 13 (How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever? How long must I have sorrow in my heart all day long?...)  There's a definite tradition in the faith of acknowledging not only the downside of life, but that downside in the context of the faith itself.

The greatest act of compassion that can be shared with those struggling with this season is validation of their angst; giving them room to feel the way they do, even if it goes against the happy face our culture forever drapes in December green and red.  If we Christians preach the "realness" of God as found in a tiny baby boy born to a carpenter and his teenage girlfriend in first century Palestine, then the depths of our collective faith can get no more "real" when we accept people as they are in this season of celebration, even and especially when the celebration is muted.

Either way, we all continue to pray the Advent prayer, Come, Immanuel, Come.  It's just that some of us know better how badly we need that to happen.

 

We walk because they walk!

It was a cold, soggy, raw kind of day that greeted the third annual CROP Hunger Walk of Mount Airy yesterday.  Not the kind of weather we were hoping for, but you take what you get, right?  If anything it made the CROP motto (also this blog's title) all the more meaningful.  Every day millions of people around the world - in our little community, in this country and in places far away - have to walk miles just to get a little food or some clean drinking water.  And they do this no matter what the elements are.  So surely we could suck it up for a hour or so.

We had our first walk back in the spring of 2007, along with the help of two other fellow clergy, Roger Gilbert of First Baptist and Wayne Hager of Calvary Baptist.  In so doing we joined thousands of communities across the country who host these annual events.  Just in case you don't know, CROP Hunger Walks are joint ventures between local communities and an organization called Church World Service.  The noble and attainable goal of these walks is to eliminate extreme hunger and poverty in the world.  And, as has been noted before on this blog, we now have the technology and the resources to actually do it.

In a CROP Hunger Walk (which, incidentally, stands for "Communities Responding to Overcome Poverty), a portion of the money stays local, going to whatever agency the local planning team designates; while the rest goes to national and international relief agencies.  This is one of the reasons I'm so fond of these walks - they address the problem with a "both-and" approach, the only real way to achieve meaningful results. This is sometimes hard for people to understand, but it's true.  It does no good if we keep all of our money locally, as there are innumerable communities all around the world who have no means to host their own walks and support themselves.  Likewise, if we direct 100% of our efforts overseas, we are turning a blind eye to the needs right in front of us.  CROP Hunger Walks are a very practical way of doing both.

Folks started gathering at Veteran's Park around 2pm Sunday afternoon, trying to keep warm while listening to the sounds of the Youth Moravian Church Praise Band. At around 3:30, emcee Kelly Epperson of WPAQ radio sent us on our way!  The 3.2 mile walk took us down the Emily Taylor Greenway and then back through town to finish at the park.  Most folks finished the walk in just over an hour, unless your name was "Lindsley," in which case you were bringing up the rear.  Here are some pics for you:

 

  In previous years we had CROP Hunger Walk t-shirts for everyone, paid for by local business sponsors.  With the economy being the way  it is we decided to go without the fancy t-shirts and instead got the kids to make their own walk shirts with plain white tees and fabric markers.  It was such a hit that I imagine we'll do it again in future years, even if we bring the traditional walk shirt back.

One of the things we've tried to do with this walk is make it not just a fundraising experience, but an educational one.  So along the walk we posted signs that had some pretty sobering statistics about hunger and poverty in our world.  Here's a smattering of 'em:

 

This one gets me every time.  The sign reads, "A child dies of hunger-related causes every six seconds."  The man standing beside it is holding a bell that he chimes - you guessed it - every six seconds.  So you're walking along and you hear this ringing and you're wondering what it is.  Then you see this sign, and you know.  And as you walk up the hill and hang a left on Pine St. you still hear it ringing, and you remember long after the ringing stops.

Our walker numbers and dollar totals were down from previous years, but we're figuring the weather had something to do with that.  Any way you cut it, though, less people will go hungry because of our efforts.

I wish I were more regularly cognizant of the hungry in our world.  I just scarfed down a delicious lunch at 308 Bistro as I was typing this and hardly paid attention as the food made its way from the plate to my stomach.  Often on those nights our family sits down for a meal together, the obligatory family blessing is treated more like an obstacle to be hurried through quickly rather than a true pause of reflection and thanks.  For me hunger is nothing more than that nagging feeling I get in the middle of the afternoon at work when lunch is just a few hours in the past - and even then, all I have to do is reach in the drawer desk to grab a handful of almonds.  Like many people I've done a pretty good job of hiding in my ignorance and shielding myself from what's really there.

That's why these walks are a good way of reminding me of two things: one, that I need to be a whole lot more grateful for the food on my plate every day; and two, that I need to do a much better job of seeing that people all around the world get more on theirs. 

Pennies from Heaven and the value of human health

Last Thursday I made a quick trip to Montreat to surprise our youth group, who was attending the last week of the Summer Youth Conference.  I pulled out of the driveway around 5:30am in the new/used Prius and got there at 8.  It was great seeing them; and even though I only stayed for five hours, it's like I always say: five hours at Montreat is better than not being there at all. Or something like that.

An added bonus was getting to see a friend, Kelly Wiant-Thralls, give the conference keynote.  She did a great job, and one of the stories she shared really stuck with me.  It was about a jogging partner who years ago started collecting the pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters he found on the sidewalks and streets during his long jogs.  She began doing the same.  But instead of doing what pretty much everyone else does with the change - keep it - Kelly and her friend decided to set the coins aside and donate them to a favorite charity every year.  They called their jogging change "Pennies from Heaven."

I liked this idea - a lot.  Less than an hour later I found a penny on the sidewalk that runs beside Lake Susan, and it quickly found its way in the Cents-A-Bility cup I keep in my car.  Last spring our church started taking up this special offering once a month to benefit the hungry in our community and around the world.  In fact, let me encourage you (especially you First Pres. Mount Airy folks) to join me in this practice: add to your monthly Cents-A-Bility offering any spare change you find on the street, sidewalk, wherever.  Or set it aside in a special jar and start making an annual donation to the charity of your choice.  Sounds like a plan to me.

On the two-and-a half hour drive back home I was really rolling this "Pennies from Heaven" thing around in my head.  And what intrigued me the most was that something as simple as putting aside that penny/nickel/dime/quarter we find on the sidewalk becomes the radical idea it apparently is: so much so that a keynoter would fashion it into a story for her wonderful message, that I would devote lots of thought to it on the car trip home, that a Facebook group would be created in its honor (which you should join, by the way).  Why is this a big deal, honestly?  Somewhere between Valdese and Hickory it occurred to me that maybe it has something to do with the very heart of our Western mindset about money and ownership.  We like to own things, especially when it's money we're talking about.  We feel particularly strong about this when it's money we "earn" via a salary or allowance - we put it in bank accounts under our name where it remains "ours."  All of which seems perfectly reasonable.  But it's saying something entirely different - and I'm not sure this is necessarily a good thing - when we make the mental jump that some spare change we happen upon along the way suddenly belongs to us too. 

Something else I got to thinking about was the little value our society places on "change" like this.  I mean, what can you buy with a penny these days, anyway?  I imagine that's part of the reason we see no problem claiming the spare change on the ground as our own.  If it was a $100 bill we might be more inclined to find its owner - maybe.  But no one, we rationalize, is going to miss a penny or dime.

I think it's time for us to call both assumptions into question.  Maybe, just maybe, we need to have a less possessive attitude with our money.  And maybe, just maybe, chump change really is worth something.  I may be making a huge leap here, but both points seem to come into play with the hot topic issue of the day: health care reform.  Unless you've been living on a deserted island the past few months you know that our government is currently wrestling with how to revise and improve our nation's health care.  Sadly, it has quickly evolved into a very politically-charged issue; so much so that folks are forgetting what's at stake - the lives and well-being of our neighbors and friends; people we know well and people we don't know at all.  

No matter what side of the aisle you're on, so to speak, it's hard to deny that something needs to be done about our current system.  Pick your study, but pretty much all of them have indicated that roughly 20-25% of Americans are underinsured, while another 15-16% lack health care of any kind.  At the very least this is a health crisis waiting to happen.  Public health, after all, is not individually autonomous.  If the kid in my son's class at school doesn't get the needed meds to ward off his sick bug because his family can't afford them, there's a good possibility that his problem will become my son's problem too.  It's hard to admit in our proudly individualistic society, but we really are much more intertwined with each other than we realize.

At worst, the issue of fair health care for all is a morality test which we as a country are failing miserably.  According to this article, of the 39 industrialized nations in the world, ours is the only one that does not provide universal health care for its citizens.  The only one.  What this means is that the single difference between good health care and insufficient or non-existent health care is an economic one - in other words, it boils down to money.  Those who can afford it are set.  Those who cannot - and the numbers are growing rapidly - are in trouble.  Something like public health shouldn't depend on how much money one has.  Health has to be more than simply a capitalistic enterprise.

Now I don't presume to know what the solution is.  I don't know that our president and his administration have all the right answers, either.  But I'll give them this - at least they're moving on it.  At least they're willing to wade through the murky waters of a hot-button issue, initiating a conversation that our country has desperately needed for some time.  I can respect that.  What I can't respect are those who are not only politicizing the health care debate but seem hell-bent on disrupting any kind of meaningful conversation about it.  I'm talking about stuff like memos from certain organizations calling constituents to harass their elected officials, even going so far as to be confrontational in town hall meetings.  I'm particularly dumbfounded by one directive: (make every effort to) not have an intelligent debate.  Seriously??  How can standing in the way of honest, thoughtful dialogue about such an important issue be something anyone would actually want to happen?

There may be some legitimate reasons people don't want our health care system changed, but the one I least understand is the one that says it's "not fair" for some to pay for the health care of others.  I respectfully disagree.  The "I-got-mine-you-get-yours" mentality is fine and dandy when we're talking about cable TV or the latest edition of Rock Band, but when it comes to things like basic education or public health, we're all in this together, folks.  Which brings me back to the "Pennies from Heaven" thing.  When we choose to see the world this way; when we find that penny on the sidewalk and immediately realize it is not ours, we've made some headway in not only how we understand "ownership" in general, but how we perceive our responsibility to our fellow human being.  When we realize how all of us are connected to each other, perhaps our defenses won't go up so quickly when it comes to adopting a new health care system that will be fair to all people - especially the poorest among us, who need it the most.  And the thing is, we're not talking about huge sums of money out of each of our pockets.  We're talking about "spare change" that really does have value; that really can make a world of difference.

Logically this makes sense.  From a faith perspective it's down-right embarrassing that we're not already on board.  There are biblical injunctions throughout scripture that speak to our obligation to care for the "widows, elderly and orphans" - not because there's anything special about these three kinds of people, but because in ancient times they represented the most vulnerable of society.  The practice of "gleaning" in the Bible involved farmers refraining from harvesting the edges of their fields, leaving it for the poor (a wonderful group called the Society of St. Andrew has brought this practice back into the 21st century).  And then there's Leviticus 25, which calls for Jubilee to be celebrated every 50 years, where all debts are forgiven (Bono was big on this a few years back with third-world debt).  In other words, the faith that I pledge allegiance to - along with roughly 2.1 billion others worldwide - has at is core the notion of sharing a portion of what you "possess" for the benefit of all concerned.

In a great article aptly titled How Would Jesus Handle Health Care?, author Drew Smith says this:

The test of faithfulness to Jesus is always in how we treat the vulnerable of society.  If we are to bear authentic witness to Jesus as the healer, and to God as the giver of life, then we must embrace the value and dignity of all human beings, but especially the vulnerable of our world.  In our American society, perhaps, there is no greater population that is more vulnerable than those who do not have access to good and affordable health care.

So I hope over the course of the next month some real dialogue will take place at town hall meetings across the country, and that the disruptors will take their angry rants and go home.  I hope our president and congress will come back in September and put aside partisan politics to come up with a balanced plan for universal health care that really will make a difference.  And I hope that all of us will adopt a "Pennies from Heaven" mentality - because when you get right down to it, everything we have is a gift, and it's only right to return the favor.

All of this from a five-hour trip to Montreat.  Remind me to get back there more often ;-)

****************

Two other blogs you really should read on health care reform from a faith perspective:

Jim Wallis, "Truth-Telling and Responsibility in Health Care"

Brian McLaren, "An Open Letter To Conservative Christians In The U.S. On Health Care"

Normal anomalies

I'm quite the sucker for the story of the obscure individual who flies below the radar and, in the midst of their anonymity, does something that catches everyone's attention.  So it took me all of a few seconds to fall in love with this NPR story.

See, it's about two things that, more than likely, I will never experience.  On seemingly opposite ends of the spectrum, nonetheless.  On one end it's about $4 million.  I just can't get a grasp on that kind of money, you know?  Heck, I just finished paying the monthly bills last night and got that dense feeling in the pit of my stomach when I glanced at the remaining amount in the checkbook.  Yuck.  We're trying to figure out how to purchase a second car.  Four mil would go a long way in helping us do that - four million that I don't (and probably never will) have.  Because, you know, that is a friggin' TON of money.

On the other end of the spectrum, this NPR story is about homelessness, something else I can't fathom.  For all my years I've never had to worry about whether I'd have a roof over my head.  Well, I take that back.  There was a time about fifteen years ago when I was dating this girl whose father happened to be my landlord.  Let me strongly advise all of you: never date your landlord's offspring.  Nothing good can come from it.  When I broke up with her (which I had to do, long story) I seriously thought I was going to wake up the following morning and find an eviction notice plastered to my door.  That's if he didn't come in on his own and kick me out himself.  The guy was also my barber, too.  True story; I kid you not.

In all seriousness, I'm typing this blog as I'm sitting quite comfortably in my two-story, brick 2200-square foot home in Mayberry.  It's muggy and threatening rain outside, but it's 68 degrees and dry in here.  We just had the outside trim painted and the porch re-screened.  We are truly blessed.  The closest I ever get to homelessness is paying a visit to our local shelter in town or speaking with the man who stops by the church with eviction notice in hand (which he got because he's out of money, not because he broke up with his landlord's daughter).  Every day of my life I'm pretty much shielded from the roughly 3 million people in our country who have no place to call home (according to this study).

So the only thing I have in common with $4 million and homelessness is that I have very little in common with them.  I'm going to assume that the vast majority of you are with me on this, as the two rarely go hand-in-hand.  Unless, by chance, your name is Richard Walters.

Which brings us to the aforementioned NPR story.  See, Richard Walters, an honors Purdue grad and Marine, had his feet planted firmly at both ends of the spectrum.  As the NPR story chronicles, this man died two years ago as a homeless man who slept on the grounds of a local senior center.  He also left behind an estate of $4 million, all donated to various charities (including, as it turns out, NPR).

$4 million.  Homeless.  Does not compute.

Frankly, it's amazing to me that this story is amazing to me.  And if I'm honest with myself, I think this says a lot about our culture and the preconceptions we typically make.  Specifically: homeless people must not have any money, and millionaires must live in fancy homes.  I have to be careful about this; we all do.  Because none of us know the full story of anyone unless we actually take time to get to know them; to know where they're coming from and where they're heading then.  And even then we're only hitting the tip of the iceberg.

Here's my point: take a look at this picture to the left.  Go ahead, look at it.  Now - say you're strolling downtown one weekday afternoon and see this guy at the corner.  What are your initial thoughts?  Be honest now. Is he there because he got laid off from the factory down the street that closed?  Or is he simply lazy and playing the system?  Does he have some mental illness?  Or is he in his dire situation because of a string of bad luck that would knock any of us off our feet?  Most importantly, how do our assumptions about him affect our response to him - do we approach him to offer help, or do we cross the street and walk on the other side?

Here's another one: imagine you're cruising through the posh part of town and turn at the stop sign (which is color-coordinated with all the other signs in the development) to see this.  Quick, what are your first musings?  Do you try to guess what company its owner is CEO of, and whether your raided 401-K was used to finance it?  Is there a brand new, fully-loaded Lexus parked in one of its three garages?  And how many people have full-time jobs simply to keep up the appearance of this monstrosity? 

The harsh truth of all of this, of course, is that we really don't know the answer to any of these things. But that doesn't stop our assumptions from making sense to us.  People like Richard Walters, however, do not.  People who refuse to fall in line with our stereotypes seem strangely odd, a novelty that must be seen like that miniature horse or smallest woman at the county fair. 

I'm not saying Walters was right in what he did.  Personally I think the guy was crazy to not at least rent a one-bedroom and some basic furniture, you know?  But that's the thing: it's not really an issue of right and wrong.  Walters did what he did, and we're still talking about him two years after his death because of it.  Well, at least NPR and I are.

Here's a radical idea: maybe guys like this are the ones who really "get it" more than the rest of us.  Maybe we're the crazy ones for making the assumptions and choices we sometimes do.  And maybe this is a truth that will take us a long, long time to reconcile.  Ah, the joys of the journey!

(but seriously, though, never date the landlord's daughter.  I'm just saying...)

When 322 feeds 10,175

This week I've have the pleasure of hanging out with six youth from our church at the Massanetta Middle School Conference at Massanetta Springs in Harrisonburg, VA.  While I don't have any "official" youth responsibilities at the church, I made a decision a few years back to take our middle schoolers to this annual conference myself every year.  I love it because it gives me a chance to spend some good quality time with our young people and get to know them better than I ever could for a few hours on a Sunday morning.  This year it happened to be an all-girls group, and their female advisor and I are having an absolute blast.  I mean, look at them - don't they just look fun?

So we're doing all the usual youth conference stuff - energizers, music, keynotes, small group, workshops; all on very little sleep.  The girls & I went canoeing yesterday and had a great dry time.  At our nightly devotions we're doing what we call "Highs and Hopes" - your "high" for the day and your "hope" for tomorrow.  Believe me when I say that it has not been difficult getting them to talk (again, from the picture, does it look like it'd be hard for them??)

Last night, though, our group - and the 314 other youth and adults at the conference - got to experience a unique and revolutionary event that I hope will set a precedence for this conference and others in the future.  See, if there's any area where I feel the typical youth conference falls short, it's that there's often an exclusive focus on the self and inward spiritual experiences - how "I" experience God.  Which is great; don't get me wrong - those things need to be tended to.  But we're doing our young people a disservice if we leave them with the impression that that's all there is to being a person of faith.  I've always figured that Jesus wanted us to do something with our faith rather than just celebrate it (or maybe the "doing" is the celebration?  Hmm....)  There's a kingdom of God that we've been called to help initiate, and it's not going to materialize on its own.

So I was thrilled when I heard that Massanetta had partnered with Stop Hunger Now for what's called a "Packaging Event."  You can visit the website at the link to learn more, but in short it's an assembly-line setup that helps to create these packaged meals of rice, dried vegetables, seasonings and other supplements.  They're easy to pack and ship around the world and have the nutritional value to really make a difference in the lives of those suffering extreme poverty.   The plan, then, was to get all 322 youth and adults working hard for twenty solid minutes to make 10,000 meals.  That's 10,000, with four zeroes.

The Nook - essentially a very large screened-in porch on the Massanetta campus - was the location for the Packaging Event.  It was set up with tables and the needed supplies by the time we got there.  Everyone filed in to their places with specific orders, and then the madness began.  You really do need to check out the video below; it's amazing to watch.  Pay special attention to the gong at the end - every time our group created a thousand bags they would bang the gong.  The end of the video has the tenth gong and the ensuing celebration of us reaching our 10,000 goal.  Check it out:

Later that night at devotions, everyone in our group felt the packaging event was one of their "highs" for the day.  And I can see why.  When the needs in our world are so overwhelmingly great, it's hard for anyone to feel like there's a snowball's chance in you-know-where of making any kind of meaningful difference - especially if you happen to be twelve or thirteen years old.  But last night these kids helped nourish the bodies of 10,000 starving children, youth and adults, somewhere in this world.  That's not going to solve the problem, of course, but it's a step in the right direction.  And that's certainly better than doing nothing at all.

I'm going to give some serious thought to working with Stop Hunger Now back home, perhaps encouraging a joint effort between some of our Main Street churches.  Maybe we'll even attempt a packaging event at the fall CROP Hunger Walk.  This has so much potential.  And as they do so often, especially in the church I serve, the youth once again are leading the way.

A Rush I can believe in

Apparently this was an April Fool's thing.  Dang.  If only.....

Not to mention a pretty fancy splicing together of video clips.  That took some work there ;)

Sojourners, by the way, is a great organization that strives to bring together people of faith across party lines (not along them) in order to make a difference in fighting hunger/poverty/injustices here and around the world. Check them out here.

The Other Miracle on the Hudson

Right now I'm giving an exam in my college New Testament class.  Lots of scribbling sounds.  So it's just me and my laptop, and an opportunity to tell you what I've been thinking about a lot this week.

I've been thinking about the "Miracle on the Hudson."  You know the story.  Back in mid-January, a US Airways flight was struck by birds soon after taking off from LaGuardia Airport and lost its engines.  Attempts to return to LaGuardia or land in a nearby airport in New Jersey proved futile.  So the pilot managed to "land" the plane in the Hudson River, and all 155 passengers and crew were safely evacuated.  Not one life was lost.

It's an amazing story.  And the fact is that the American public simply cannot get enough of it.  I googled the words "miracle" and "hudson" and it brought up over 5,300,000 entries.  Didn't get a chance to check all of them, but I think it'd be same to assume that the majority of them are about the above.

At the center of this whole phenomenon is a guy named Chesley Sullenberger, the pilot of Flight 1549 who performed the landing.  I'm no pilot (although I'd like to take flying lessons one day), so I don't know the intricacies of what this guy does for a living.  Still, I know enough to know that what he did was amazing.  Last week they released the audio of his conversation with LaGuardia Airport as the plane was going down.  The guy was incredibly cool - you would've thought he was just asking for directions to the nearest McDonalds or something. 

So it probably comes as no surprise that Sullenberger has since been hailed as a hero - he and his crew.  In the span of a few weeks he has embarked on a whirlwind tour of sorts - every media outlet, all the morning news shows, and even a special recognition at the Super Bowl.  And throughout it all his "cool" has prevailed.  He seems to take it in stride, not really seeking it but content to go along for the ride.  And amazingly, he actually continues to second-guess himself, assuming there was something else he could've done to make it back to land.  Again, I'm no pilot, but I think the guy did pretty darn good with the little he had.

What has struck me about all of this - other than the fact that it happened - is how our country has become absorbed by this "miracle."  Weeks later, it is still getting press time - now some of the passengers are making the rounds.  It just seems kind of odd because normally a story like this would have a week's life span in our fast-paced, "what-have-you-done-for-me-lately" news cycle.  So why is it still the talk of the nation?

Certainly a lot of it rests on the shoulders of Sullenberger and how essentially 154 people owe their lives to him.  But I think there's more to it.  I think the reason we can't let this story go is because it's a good story.  Plain and simple.  It's an uplifting story about something that could've turned out a lot worse.  In short, it's good news.

And Lord knows we sure can use some good news these days, can't we?  We've got an economy that's hanging on by a thread.  We've got hundreds of thousands of people losing their jobs each month.  We live in a world that seems almost addicted to fear and war.  And each of us has our litany of personal struggles, whether it's trying to make ends meet or caring for ailing parents or raising our kids to be decent members of society in the midst of all of this.

It doesn't matter what end of the tax bracket you're on, or your nationality, or your lot in life.  You hear the tale of Flight 1549 and find yourself breathing a huge sigh of relief.  And not just for the lives that were miraculously saved - but for you too.  Because it's refreshing to hear good news when all we get most of the time is bad.  It's good to be reminded that, even in the midst of all the stuff life can throw at us, amazing things still can happen. And that's why I think there is another miracle that took place besides the lives that were saved.  It's the miracle that happens when we are inspired to recognize the good in this world, even when so much in that same world suggests otherwise.

Eventually, of course, this story will die down and drift off the news cycle.  Sullenberger will go back to flying his planes, and I'm betting he'll spend next year's Super Bowl watching it in the comforts of his living room.  Birds will go back to flying over the Hudson (although we hope not as much in huge flocks near airports).  And you and me?  We'll turn on our TV sets or log onto the news websites or open the newspaper and have more bad news crammed down our throats.

But there will be more stories like this that will pop up from time to time and remind us that all is not lost.  And it doesn't matter how big a deal they'll make of it and how many times a hero is interviewed - I for one won't get tired of it.  Good news is important to cling to in times like ours.

MLK, White Flour, and Hope

This past Saturday evening I was honored to be asked to participate in a special program honoring Martin Luther King Jr. at the Mount Airy Museum of Regional History.  As part of the service I sang one of my favorite songs about hopeful faith that is still searching for completion: U2's I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.  I've worked up a nifty little acoustic version over the years (and dropped the key considerably, as Bono hits notes I cannot). 

I also read a poem that was penned by a friend of mine, David Lamotte, who recently hung up his guitar after some eighteen years of singing/songwriting and is now working with an organization he founded called PEG.  The poem is David's take on a true story about a KKK rally in May 2007 in Knoxville and a group of folks who came together to do something truly unique and beautiful in response, in a way Dr. King would've certainly been proud of.

So with David's permission I am posting his poem here for you.  Believe me when I say that you will want to take the time to read it. I also incorporated it into my sermon yesterday, a somewhat different take on the "turn the other cheek" passage in the gospel of Matthew.  As much as a pastor can and should "feel good" about a sermon, I do about this one.  You can check it out here.

On this day of remembrance and celebration - and on the eve of our country's inauguration of its first African-American president - let us strive for the equality of all people and do everything we can to further the way of nonviolence!

********************

WHITE FLOUR
By David Lamotte

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
The men put on their uniforms and quickly took their places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces
Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be – support?
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town
But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear
“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair
All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend
The clowns all marched along with them supporting their new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry — they were not amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused?
They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

“Everyone loves flowers! And white’s a pretty sort!
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”
Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from bad archers
White petals covered everything, including the mad marchers
And then a very tall clown called the others to attention
He choked down all his chuckles, and said “Friends I have to mention
That what with all the mirth and fun it’s sort of hard to hear
But now I know the cause that these strange marchers hold so dear

“Tight showers!” the clown blurted out, and hit his head in wonder
He held up a camp shower and the others all got under
Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but couldn’t quite
There wasn’t room for all of them, they pushed, but it was tight
“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me!”

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how mistaken they had been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, “Here’s to wives and mothers!”
The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated
And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the clowns
And offered them an escort to the center of the town

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out for miles
The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody smile
And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their massive, silly shoes.

(based on true events of May 26, 2007 - ©2007 David LaMotte)
http://lowerdryad.wordpress.com/white-flour-poem/

Steve's Endorsement for President

Well folks, I've given it some thought.  Originally I wasn't going to formally endorse anyone for president.  Politics tends to bring out the worst in us, and there would be too many complications, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings.  But as we enter the last week of this election, I just can't help myself.  My convictions are strong, and I feel it's time for me to speak up and let you know where I stand. 

And that is why I am proud to endorse Jesus Christ for president.

What tilted it for me, you say?  Well, there really wasn't any one thing.  I kind of like his life story - small-town boy making it big.  I mean, when you're born in a podunk town in an animal stable to two teenage parents, the deck's stacked against you.  I'm also endorsing Jesus because of his obvious smarts.  Anyone who can go toe-to-toe with the learned rabbis of his day as a twelve-year old kid has to receive some consideration, right?  That's the kind of guy I want sitting behind the "big desk."

I'm also very enthused by his platform. At his heart he seems to genuinely care about all people and their well-being.  I'll never forget that time he spoke to the huge crowd who came to hear him and they started getting hungry.  What did he do?  He fed them.  How basic is that?  Then there were all those instances where people brought their sick to him, and he went beyond just shaking their hands to actually make them feel better.  The disenfranchised and the poor seem to be high on his list, as does treating all of God's people with respect.  And I can't help but get inspired every time I hear him talk about his vision for the world - what he calls the "kingdom of heaven on earth."  Makes me want to hop on the next train there.

Now I'll admit - some of Jesus' policies do raise some eyebrows.  When he advised his constituents to give their cloak in addition to the coat they were asked for, well, that does make him sound like a redistributionist.  And when he went nuts in the temple, overturning the moneychangers when their presence was common in the day (and important for the upkeep of the sacrificial routines of the temple itself, I might add), it might lead some to wonder if he's against the capitalistic enterprise.

On top of that, Jesus has had some suspect associations.  I'm thinking about all those dinners at the homes of Pharisees.  That's the equivalent of fraternizing with the enemy!  And then there was that woman at the well he spent so much time with, the one who had not one husband but five. Hmm.  The press will have a field day with that.

But see, I think all of this just highlights another reason why I like him so much - his uncanny way of bringing different people together for a common purpose.  I mean, look at his disciples - his closest circle of friends, hand-picked.  Women and men who were about as spread out over the spectrum as you could imagine.  Tax collectors, fishermen, doctors,  even Zealots - a motley crew if there ever was one.  And while they rarely agreed on anything, somehow Jesus managed to keep them focused on his agenda.  You gotta admire that - and gotta wonder what our world would be like if we chose to live with that kind of mentality.

In the end, I think the reason I am most proud to make this endorsement is because of the one thing Jesus possesses that gets to the very heart of who he is: and that is love. Love for one another instead of prejudice, anger, resentment.  Love for the the earth instead of wasting it away and doing with it as we please.  Love for God and the truth instead of caving in to the overwhelming power and influence of fear.  It sounds simple, but it's amazing what you can do when you reject the stereotypical notions of Jesus and go deeper to encounter the essence of his message.  When you do that, if you're like me, you just want to embody this kind of radical love in all aspects of your life.

I know his chances of winning are not all that great (not having his name on the ballot is a major hurdle).  But I'm not sure "winning" is what ultimately matters here.  What matters is that people of faith work to "endorse" Jesus with the way they conduct their lives in their families, in their places of work, in their churches and yes - even in their politics.  And with that last part in particular, it is so important for us to remember that no one political party of our day and time has the "market" on Jesus.  His message of love, humility, transformation, respect for all people and the coming of God's kingdom on earth transcends any political action committee or party platform we may conjure up.

Something we should keep in mind long after this election is over, don't you think?