Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Still Thankful

This past week, with the Thanksgiving holiday upon us, someone reminded me of a blog post I made a year ago appropriately titled "Thankful".  I went back and took a look at it and noticed how almost all of the things I was thankful for then are things I'm still thankful for now.  I don't know if this is a sign of a guy who is continually blessed, or a guy who lives a pretty mundane life where nothing changes all that much.  Either way, I'm cool with it.

At the risk of being redundant I thought I'd revisit last year's post.  Any instances that required updating are duly noted in red.  And don't worry, I won't do this every year.  In 2010 I'll treat you to an entirely new and original Thankful post.

Happy Thanksgiving day, folks.  Here's hoping you have much to be thankful for - and, more importantly, that you take time with the ones you love to celebrate those things.

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I am thankful for coffee.  I'm drinking some right now, actually.  I wish to personally thank the individual who thought grinding up some brown beans and pouring hot water over them would taste good.  They were right.

At the moment I'm thankful for Ryan Adams.  Every time I listen to his music I hear something different I didn't pick up before, and I really like that sensation.  I like it because it stands in stark contrast to the sensation I get when I suffer through the repetitiveness of top-40 radio.  Which is something akin to eating those funnel cakes at the fair - it may taste good on the surface, but you know it's just not good for you.  Ryan Adams is kind of like the homemade ice cream - unique and worth the time and money invested.  That's also why I like Wilco, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, Nickel Creek, Radiohead, and others you don't always hear that much and who rarely get the deserved notoriety.  Which is exactly the point.

Last year it was Ryan Adams, this year it's The Avett Brothers. And Sufjan Stevens, especially his Christmas album.

I'm thankful for my boys.  I wish they could somehow know how much I love them, but I don't guess that's possible.  I'm not even sure I know how much.  Every time I look in their eyes I see my past, present and future all rolled into one, along with theirs.  It's a humbling, exhilarating feeling.

Likewise, I'm thankful for my wife.  I remember in my single days hearing folks describe their spouses as their "best friends."  I didn't get it - shouldn't you want your husband or wife to be something more than your "best friend?"  Now, having been married for just over nine years, I get it.  And I'm so glad that I happen to be married to my best friend.

Ten years.

I'm thankful for my parents, my brother, and extended family.  My life has taken all kinds of twists and turns in my 40 years, and it's humbling to know they've been there with me through it all.

Umm........41.

I'm thankful for the church I serve.  Unfortunately, this realization sometimes comes when I'm in conversation with clergy friends and hear their nightmarish situations.  And then I see that I really have it good.  It's a church that wants to go where the spirit leads; a church that genuinely cares for each other, and a church that puts up with (and even supports) my music and teaching ventures.  Most of all, it's a church that lets me be a real person, and that perhaps is the greatest gift they could ever give.

As if I needed any more reasons, my thankfulness for the church has increased ten-fold with their approval of a sabbatical for me next summer.  More on the sabbatical to come...

I'm thankful for the guys I've had the pleasure of making music with - Ken, Jerry, Les, Gary, David and others.  Acoustic Blend is entering its ninth year of existence, and Ken and I never tire of it.  And I'm more than content with being a so-so Mediocre Bad Guy, playing with some of the finest musicians Mount Airy has to offer.

I'm thankful for modern-day prophets like Shane Claiborne, Jim Wallis with Sojourners, Brian McLaren, David Beckmann with Bread for the World, Marcus Borg and many others who hit dummies like me over the head with the agonizingly simple message of the gospel.

I'm thankful for blogging.  I'd been trying for years to find a journaling outlet, but I never could bring myself to don a spiral-ring notebook and pen.  I'm too much of a keyboard guy.  Then I stumbled upon blogging, and that's pretty much been it (oh, and I'm thankful to you for reading it!)

I'm not blogging as much as I used to - it comes and goes in waves. That's okay, I still get a lot out of it.  And still thankful to you for reading!

I'm thankful for things like Facebook and Twitter.  Call me a geek, but they really are wonderful ways to stay connected with folks all over the place.  Where else can I catch up with that girl who lived down the block from me as a kid, and the friend who happens to be moderator of the denomination I serve in, and my old college professor?  The world really isn't as big as we make it out to be sometimes.

I'm thankful for wireless internet.  Free wireless internet specifically.

I'm thankful for the students in my college classes.  For actually showing up, for one thing, at 8:00 in the morning.  And then listening to me lecture for a solid hour.  They ask questions that keep me on my toes, which is exactly what I need.  And they're a lot of fun to be around too.

I'm still thankful for my students, but unfortunately it's no longer in a traditional classroom setting, as all my classes have been moved online. Not my preferred method of teaching, but we make it work.

I'm thankful for our next president.  I know I wanted Jesus, but I'm happy to settle for Obama.  I really do think he's going to bring the change our country so desperately needs.

I still think that.

I'm thankful for a good workout.  These days my goal is three miles jogging and one mile swimming, 2-3 times a week.  It wipes me out, and it's not taking as much off the waistline as it used to, but it still leaves me with a good feeling afterwards.

Something new I'm doing these days - treading water for 30-45 minutes, with weights.  I know it doesn't sound exciting, but it's one heckuva workout.  I've shed some pounds.

I'm thankful that God has never let me stand in the pulpit on Sunday morning with nothing to say.  This is the stuff of nightmares for us ministers, my friends.  I'm not kidding.

I'm thankful for football.  I live vicariously through the guys I watch on TV or read about in the newspaper or Sports Illustrated.  There's something fascinating about the orchestration that goes on between eleven players, all aimed at moving a piece of pigskin down the field; and another eleven orchestrated to stop them.

I'm thankful for that feeling when I drop the Eldest off in the car line at school in the mornings. The teacher opens the door, and I watch him gather his bookbag and any other stuff he's got.  We give each other a high-five.  Every time I tell him I love him and that I'm proud of him.  And I never, ever tire of watching him step out and walk through the school doors and into his big wide world in there.

So we're not doing the car line this year.  Our youngest is in the Pre-K program at the school and we're required to personally take him to his class.  Which means I actually get to take both boys to their classes.  I love this more than the car line. I get to hug 'em as they walk into their room and begin a day in their never-ending, lightning-fast quest that is growing up. 

I thought long and hard about something I could say to them every day, some words of wisdom to impart.  I guess I remember my mom telling me about what her father, a high school principal, used to always say to her and her two sisters: "Apply yourself."  It took a few weeks, but I finally found mine: "Learn stuff."  I like it.  More importantly, they do too.

Sliding down the slippery slope

Okay, some 30% of America, I get it: you don't approve of our president.  You don't like his policies, his stances, his philosophies, his politics.  Presumably you did not cast your vote for him last November, you weren't one of the tens of millions who watched his inauguration worldwide.  And since that cold January afternoon you probably have not been a fan of his administration's actions, from the future closing of Guantanamo to the most recent maelstrom over health care reform.  You've been upset and frustrated and it's only been nine short months.

I get it - really, I do.  For two reasons.  One, because I truly value your place in our country at this moment and time.  I'm serious.  While I'm personally more upbeat about the current administration, I know that one side of the story does not have all the answers.  Our country's government was built on the importance of balance and the presence of a "counter-voice" to even things out.  So I truly appreciate your presence and your voice.  Thank you.

I also know how you feel because I have walked in your shoes; a walk that took eight years out of my life.  See, I used to be part of that "counter-voice" myself.  I cringed when the ones who used to be in charge encouraged torture as an acceptable practice in dealing with prisoners of war; I lamented when they lowered the tax rate for the wealthy, in affect asking those with less to pay more.  I sat on edge when they tried to privatize social security, and I mourned when a pre-emptive war was launched against a nation that did not possess the threat we were told they had.  Believe me - I know what it feels like to be in the minority; to have little faith in the folks calling the shots, to wait with much longing for the next election cycle to come around.

But - and you knew there was a "but" coming, didn't you - there's a very fine line between respectful dissent in the voice of government and poisonous malice that sabotages the process.  And just nine months into this particular season I feel we have crossed it.  For it is one thing to vocally disagree with our administration; to call into question its practices and policies and work for a better way - which I believe to be not only a good thing but a necessary thing.  But it's another thing entirely to cast that aside for the perils of mudslinging and, at its worst, outright demonization.  I admit - at my weakest moments I was known to refer to our former president as an "idiot" when my righteous indignation got the best of me.  But it was outside my realm of thinking to do something as hateful as drawing a Hitler mustache on his face or referring to him as the "antichrist."  

Let me reiterate again - I know how you feel.  I really do!  But there are much more productive ways to express dissent.  The beauty of our democracy is the existence of a 2/3/4-party system where each brings their side's agenda to the table.  I am not one who believes that our current administration - or any administration - has all the right answers.  I am convinced that the best solution to our country's ills is to find the compromise that lies somewhere in between; something that incorporates the good all sides have to offer.  The problem we're experiencing at the moment, though, is that we're allowing fear-mongering and outright malice to get a grip on us, thereby killing the process before it even begins.  And once we start down that slippery slope it is incredibly hard to get back up.

I think we're seeing this with some of the hubbub surrounding our president's "school speech" airing tomorrow.  Forget for the moment that both previous presidents in our country's history who did this came from the other side of the aisle.  Forget that common sense would dictate that a commander-in-chief would never use such a platform to push any particular agenda (the political repercussions of which would be devastating).  What, pray tell, is wrong with any president - Republican or Democrat - speaking directly to our young people, encouraging them to be the best students they can be and make a contribution to this world?

The speech, of course, is now online; so anyone can see that it is nowhere near what some have made it out to be.  And absolutely, any parent should be allowed to make a request that their child not be allowed to view it.  But that hasn't stopped the silliness from going beyond silly.   All last week, the talk was that the speech was going to push a "socialist agenda" - a huge assumption; as the text for the speech had not yet been released.  That's the kind of stuff that happens when we're sliding down the slope.

Dissent is the foundation of our great country, it is the essence of who we are as Americans, it is the reason we enjoy the freedoms we have.  We need it to thrive; we need the checks and balances that our multi-faceted government provides to keep the ship on track.  We need people to disagree with our current president and call into question some of his actions, just as we needed it the eight years prior.

But we must use every fiber of our being to resist going down that slippery slope of malice, hate, anger, and ill will; which does absolutely no good.  Fear has no place in our politics or (as I've said in a previous blog) in our religion.  Honest, respectful, sincere dialogue must prevail.

Because if it doesn't, we do crazy things like bashing the leader of the free world for urging our young people to be the best they can be.  And that is something I don't get.

Comic relief in the madness

It's hard to imagine anything more polarizing these days than the topic of health care reform.  But there is some humor to be found amidst the acrimony.  So let these pictures taken at recent town hall/protest events cause us to actually laugh a little:

 

It was a pretty funny show.  Or maybe he's talking about the band?

And the sign that I think takes the cake of them all.......

 

(it's the one in the middle, by the way).

There, doesn't that feel better?  Aaaahhhhh.

Now let's come together and work this thing out.

(pics, by the way, come from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/17/the-funniest-signs-from-t_n_260838.html)

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 ;-)

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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"

A "Post-Christian America?" Don't sweat the small stuff...

There's a famous line in Lindsley lore, spoken by my father back when my brother and I were kids, as the three of us played in the surf at Daytona Beach.  Right before a mammoth wave would crash down on us, when little eyes would grow wide with excitement and a tinge of fear, Dad would look at us and smile and say: Ah, don't sweat the small stuff.  And we understood what he meant - not only with what was spoken, but what was implied as well: Don't sweat the small stuff, because it isn't as big as you think it is.  

I couldn't help but think of my father's words (words I've said to my two boys as we've stood in the waves) when I heard how some folks - some who are good friends of mine - reacted to this recent Newsweek article.  The title itself is ominous enough and designed to appeal to one's fears: The End of Christian America.  Nobody likes for anything to end, especially when it's something we've been led to believe we should want. 

I don't think it'd be presumptuous to say that there's a wide swath of America who's assumed for years that ours is a "Christian nation."  To be honest, I've always wondered what that term means.  Is it reality that's being talked about, or an ideal?  Does it mean that every single American citizen is Christian, or should be?  Are we talking about a simple majority?  Or are we referring to supposed "Christian values," a nebulous phrase that is such because 1) there is disagreement over what values are inherently Christian, and 2) there is ignorance of the fact that other faiths profess many of the same values Christians hold dear.

Nevertheless, this hasn't stopped many well-meaning people from pursuing the notion of a "Christian nation" - not only because they think it's a good thing, but because they believe it's what God wants.  In recent years, however, these folks have found themselves increasingly frustrated in their quest.  The election of a "Christian president" (another nebulous expression) at the turn of the century did not usher in an expected reformation of right-thinking religious ideology. Some of the hot-topic issues, such as homosexuality and abortion, continue to be in flux.  And a recent study on religion in America has shown that those professing the Christian faith, while still in the majority, experienced a sharp decline in the past decade.  The area of greatest increase?  Those professing no faith at all.

So this has caused some in Christian circles to go into a general state of freaking out; from which they emerge with some pretty ominous conclusions: there is no hope for our country, we are all doomed, and God has given up on us.  Personally I think that's just plain silly, as is the notion that we were, are, or ever will be a "Christian nation."  This may sound strange coming from a pastor, I know.  But therein lies the stereotype that people like me - a middle-aged male Caucasian pastor of a small congregation in a rural part of the Bible belt - get a lot. And perhaps for that very reason I've often found it hard to put into words how I feel about all of this and why.  Stereotypes aside, these issues are incredibly complex and multi-faceted.  It's not simple stuff we're dealing with.

And then this past week I ran across a blog by noted evangelist Jim Wallis of Sojourners, who I admire a great deal, and his comments on a "post-Christian America."  And in my humble opinion, I think he hits the nail on the head, especially with this paragraph:

Personally, I am not offended or alarmed by the notion of a post-Christian America. Christianity was originally and, in my view, always meant to be a minority faith with a counter-cultural stance, as opposed to the dominant cultural and political force. Notions of a “Christian America” quite frankly haven’t turned out very well.

It's as if Jim got in my skull and spoke my thoughts.  I simply could not have said it any better.

What Wallis is referring to, by the way, is the less-than-stellar history of the church whenever it's been coupled with political/governmental power.  When the church first started, it was not only in opposition to the Roman empire of its time, it was hiding from it.  Churches were held in the privacy and seclusion of people's homes - which, incidentally, served to foster fellowship.  Over its first two hundred years the church continued to grow and become more public, but it never assumed a position of authority or influence in the culture.  It was always, as the expression goes, counter-cultural.  All of that changed in 313 AD, however, when the Roman emperor Constantine issued the Edict of Milan.  And before you could say "Apostle's Creed," Christianity became the official religion of the Roman empire.  Every Roman citizen - and there were a few of them, mind you - literally became Christian overnight.  This did absolutely amazing things for the church rolls - membership morphed to an unprecedented magnitude.  But it didn't do much for the spirit of the church.  In fact, if anything it served to deaden it.  So whenever the church takes on a position of privilege, power and entitlement in society, it's almost always never a good thing for the church, and usually not for anyone else, either.

Why?  Because in the process the church loses its soul.  It recasts the church's mission in the world from one of service and fellowship to one of entitlement and duty.  Leadership in the church confuses Christ's power with worldly power - after all, that is humanity's greatest temptation: absolute power corrupts absolutely.  It increases intolerance of other peoples/faiths/religions, because if one truly is the majority, it's almost impossible to see things from the other's perspective. 

But perhaps the greatest ill effect of the church/society marriage is just plain laziness.  Not too long ago it was standard stuff for every business in town to be closed on Sunday mornings.  This meant that if people wanted to interact with others and get out of the house, church was it.  Now there are many "options" for people to choose from on Sunday morning: kids' soccer games, other community functions, the golf course at the country club or the Starbucks down the street.  The church doesn't have the same influence over the culture that it once did.  I've often heard fellow clergy complain and lament this because, as someone once actually said to me, "Now we have to work harder to get them here."  And see, I don't think that's a bad thing at all.  In fact, I think it could be the best thing that's happened to the church in a long time.

So the thought of the end of a "Christian America" does not threaten me in the least, nor does it give me any reason to mope, whine, or declare the imminent end of Western Civilization as we know it.  As a matter of fact, I think it's because of this very development that the best days of the church are ahead of us.  But it's going to take a lot of work on our part; a huge joint effort across lots of lines (racial, gender, denomination, ideological, etc.) that we've gotten pretty good at drawing before.  It will involve a drastic undoing of many of the perceptions and habits we've acquired over the years as Christians living in America, along with an intentional adoption of a new way of doing things.  Many folks have written lots of good stuff about how the church should negotiate this change; allow me to offer up a few of my own.

First, we must stop expecting and demanding perks from society, such as the absence of "competition" on Sunday mornings, partisan prayer at municipality meetings, or the Christianization of anything outside the church.  We should not feel a sense of entitlement just because of our faith.  The early church had no such thing and they flourished.  Seems to be a lesson there...

Second, we need to quit feeling insulted, angered or worried about expressions like "the end of Christian America" or even the tongue-and-cheek title of Wallis' blog: "A Christian Mistake."  The truth can be good for us.  Besides, contrary to popular opinion, the job of a Christian is not to always be right.  Our job is to be faithful.

Third, we must come to terms - and quick - with the fact that our society is becoming increasingly multicultural and reflects many different religious perspectives.  And we should stop being scared of this.  We should view this as a wonderful opportunity to partner with people of other faiths - or people of no faith at all - to focus on what we have in common and how we can make ours a less violent, less wasteful, and less divisive planet.

Fourth, we must put forever to rest the notion that being Christian and being patriotic are one and the same.  A Christian can be patriotic, but a Patriot does not equate being a Christian - or any person of faith.

Fifth, Christians should work diligently to assume a more humble and gracious stance in the world, instead of the arrogant and entitled image we've done such a good job of creating over the years.  Somehow we've got to come to grips with the fact that the man we believe to be the son of God was a peasant Jew who made a meager living as a carpenter, who didn't own any property or wardrobe, whose only sense of self came from the people he hung out with and the God he once called "Daddy."  I know people like to claim otherwise, but I honestly believe that if Jesus came back today in our society in the same way he appeared in first century Palestine, the vast majority of us would not only fail to recognize him but do our best to get rid of him.  That right there should tell us something.

And lastly, I really think we should listen to my Dad, when the wave is about to crash down on us and we think it's all over: Don't sweat the small stuff, because it really isn't as big as we think it is.  Because when it comes to the mission Christians believe they've been sent on, what's more important: identifying a nation with a particular religion, or helping to heal a broken world?  While we're in the throes of debating a cultural religious identity and what values are part of that, there's a child dying of hunger every six seconds.  While we're worrying about shrinking percentages of adherents, wars are claiming the lives of too many and ruining forever the lives of even more.  While we're debating things like sexual orientation and other hot-topic issues, there is real pain and suffering out there that we are turning a deaf ear towards.  In the big scheme of things, whether our nation is Christian or not is small stuff indeed. 

So let's not sweat it.  Instead, let's sweat the stuff that really does matter: hunger, poverty, injustice, disease, corrupt systems, inequality, racism, gender bias, a warming earth, bigotry, hate crimes, overflowing landfills, joblessness, a crumbling economy, mental anguish, human brokenness, and people who need us to show them, in so many ways, God's far-reaching love.

Where might all of this lead people of faith?  Wallis offers this: Making a real impact on the values and directions that a democracy will choose is, perhaps, a more exciting kind of influence than relying on the illusory and often disappointing hopes of cultural and political dominance.

If that's what awaits us, then bring on a post-Christian America.  Let's not sweat it!  In fact, let's welcome it with open arms. 

Hoping for failure?

Alrighty folks, get ready for the righteous indignation voice to surface again....

This afternoon after work I went to Wal-Mart to buy insulin syringes for our diabetic cat (yep, you heard right.  Four dogs now, one hamster, and two cats, one of which is diabetic.  Craziness).  I'm standing in a rather long line passing the time when I overhear this conversation directly behind me.  A couple of guys talking about the economy and how bad it is, and about the fact that our President will be speaking later tonight on national television, and about how he's not doing enough to fix things and that they never liked him from the start.  And then these four words pass from his lips: I hope he fails.

Seriously?  I mean, by now I think most of us have heard how uber-conservative talk show host Rush Limbaugh made the same comment a few weeks ago.  Ridiculous, of course - but that's kind of what you expect out of the guy.  Not really mainstream thought.  Heck, even Pat Robertson called him out.

But this was some guy in the pharmacy line at Wal-Mart - a normal citizen like you and me.  He had no audience to pander to; no radio demographic to please.  He was just having a conversation with someone next to him and expressed his desire for our president to fail.  And his sentiments have been echoed by others.

Wow.  Really?  I struggle to find the logic here.  I fully understand that many fine citizens of this country (some of whom are reading this blog) do not agree with our president.  They find themselves at odds with him over his economic prescriptions, or his stance on hot-topic social issues, or his move to end the Iraq war or close Guantanamo Bay, or his party affiliation.  I respect people who respectfully disagree with elected officials and work within the system to make their voices heard (how they vote, communicating with their representatives, etc).  That's a huge part of what makes this country great - that we can disagree and still be "one nation under God, indivisible...." 

But why, in a unified nation, would anyone want their president to screw up?  Surely this is not what the founding fathers envisioned.  It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: if the president fails, we fail.  There's a lot riding on our president's shoulders these days.  He knows it.  We know it.  His decisions regarding the bailout, the stimulus package, his cabinet appointments - everything - is critical for a country that day by day gets deeper and deeper into crisis.  If our president fails, more people will lose their jobs.  If our president fails, more companies will have to shut their doors.  If our president fails, more people will lose their retirement in a diving stock market.  Why, then, would anyone want the man to not do well?

I hope he fails.  This is like someone wanting a surgeon to mess up in the middle of open-heart surgery because he beat you out of a residency.  Or a teacher you didn't like in high school suddenly turning lousy and crippling his students as they head into their EOG's.  It makes no sense.  It was one thing to hope that a presidential candidate last fall would fail to do well in a debate, or fail to win a primary.  But that's all in the past.  With all that's at stake in the here and now, does anyone really want failure?

I almost said something to the guy in Wal-Mart - but that was when the lady at the counter handed me my syringes, and I remembered that there was a pot of my wife's chicken/bacon/bean soup warming up on the stove at home.  So I let my stomach set the agenda rather than my convictions.  Some things are better left unsaid.  Until you get home and can blog about them. ;)

Extended Hands and Unclenched Fists

There was a line in Obama's inaugural address this past Tuesday that really stuck with me:

To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

Now I'm a guy who's big on words.  A large part of my living is based on words and how I string them together to make sermons, prayers, liturgy, stuff like that.  In my college class I grade research papers on the students' writing skills as much as the content itself.  I've come to appreciate the genius of people who simply have a knack for communicating so effectively through words, crafting an idea that's much more than simply the sum of its parts.   Good words sounds nice, but great words put an image in your head that takes on a life of its own and stays with you long after you hear them spoken or read them in text.

And so for the past few days I've found myself especially smitten by this "extending a hand if you're willing to unclench your fist" idea.  And at first I didn't know why.  But a day or two later it occurred to me; and it took me on a trip back in time, back more years than I care to count.  My apologies to those who have heard this story before :)

I was in 6th grade and involved in a local community theater production. It was a children's play - "The Four Knights of the Square Table," or something cheesy like that.  I was one of the four knights.  Nice, but not as glamorous as the part Mike played, who had the lead.  Mike was one of those guys who could be your best friend one minute and your worst enemy the next.  And you really didn't know at any given moment which one you were getting.  Mike loved being the center of attention and would do most anything to get it - most of the time by mercilessly harassing one of us to no end.  It was almost as if he came to practice with his latest victim already picked out; some unlucky soul.

Three days before opening night, that unlucky soul was me.  Mike pulled out all the stops and was incredibly annoying.  I smiled through it all but my patience was wearing thin.  The last straw came when we were all sitting down after rehearsal to go over a few things.  I went to recline in a chair....and then suddenly it wasn't there.  I landed flat on my rear and looked up to see a smiling Mike - I had been the unwitting victim of the "pull-the-chair-out-from-underneath-you" trick."  It got a good laugh from everyone, including the director. 

That was it.  I went up to him afterwards and had a few choice words essentially advising him to lay off.  When he responded with some choice words of his own, I took a quick swing at him that (and you may not believe me, but it's true) was supposed to just miss and scare him a bit.  Instead, in the dim theater lights, I connected a right hook square on his jaw, knocking him hard to the floor. I remember how the sound of the smack reverberated in the acoustically-enhanced auditorium; and everyone whirled around to glare at me in disbelief.  Including Mike.  I kind of stared at my clenched fist - I was never the fighting type, so this was new territory.  Finally he got up, holding his jaw, and looked at me with daggers in his eyes and simply said, Just wait til Saturday.

Saturday, as it turned out, was opening night.  As fate would have it I was late getting there, so all the other guys had made their way through the dressing room and were long gone.  I was in there by myself.....until the door opened, and in walked Mike.  He shut the door behind him and turned to me. I thought you'd be in here, he said.  I nodded my head and my hands instinctively curled up tight, preparing for the inevitable.  Actions like mine the previous day do not go unanswered in the world of pre-teenaged boys.

He walked over to me with an odd look on his face and spoke again.  I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day.  "Okay," I thought to myself, "he's going the talking route.  This is different."  I had no idea how different.  He continued: See, I'm a Christian, he said, and I was brought up to believe that when someone hits you on the cheek, you're supposed to turn and offer the other.  And that's what I'm going to do, right now.  And with that this kid leaned in, hands behind his back, and stuck out his right cheek, the one I didn't hit the day before.

I was dumbstruck.  This was not in the boys' fighting manual.  I just kind of stood there immobilized, not sure what to do.  Apparently he sensed my hesitation.  It's okay, I'm serious.  Go ahead, I won't hit you back, I promise.  I finally mustered a response: No, no I don't want to.  And I didn't.  Mike leaned back and looked at me for a second before extending me his open hand.  Okay, okay.  Then friends?  And for the first time since he set foot in the room, my grip relaxed.  I reached out to shake his hand.

"We will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist."

Since that day I've always wondered what Mike's MO was.  For all I know it could've been another one of his practical jokes.  But honestly, I don't think so.  I just have this feeling that he was trying to make sense between what he felt like doing - knocking the crap out of me - and a faith that called him to do and be something different. 

And the thing that has always stuck with me about this whole affair is that, while it certainly was a big step for him to do what he did, it wasn't easy to be on my end of things either.  Extending the hand like he did totally turned the tables on the situation and put me in a position where I as the aggressor was being extended a grace I absolutely did not deserve.  As hard as it is to offer forgiveness, it's just as difficult sometimes - if not moreso - to accept it.

But I did, and things changed between the two of us.  We hung out during the run of the show and had a good time together.  That was pretty much the last time I saw him, except for maybe a year or so after that, when I ran into him at the mall.  We talked for a few minutes, caught up, shared the latest in our lives.  And before we parted ways, we once again shook hands.

All of this can't help but make me wonder what would our world be like if both sides - pick whatever side of whatever issue, there are plenty of them - what would happen if both sides learned to do this sort of thing, against every conceivable instinct to do the exact opposite.  Not worry about who started the battle or whose responsibility it is to end it - but focus on simply extending hands and unclenching fists.  Offering undeserved grace and accepting that grace with no regrets.  Just think of all the strifes, all the wars, all the conflicts that could come to a screeching halt.  Think of what a better place this world of ours would be.

I'll carry Obama's words - and the actions of a twelve-year old kid - with me for a good while.  Here's hoping we all can learn to do the same.

Change

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!

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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/

Thankful

It's an overused word, frankly.  And I know that.  But I can't think of a better word that captures the human emotion of gratitude and reflection for one's many blessings.  There's another overused word - blessings.  We throw that word around too casually, sometimes just because we like the sound of it. Nevertheless, this blog is about being thankful for my many blessings.

So, just a few days from the holiday, here are some of the things I'm thankful for.  It's kind of long because, well, I have a lot for which to be thankful.  If you don't want to read all of them, then try choosing five or so randomly:

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I am thankful for coffee.  I'm drinking some right now, actually.  I wish to personally thank the individual who thought grinding up some brown beans and pouring hot water over them would taste good.  They were right.

At the moment I'm thankful for Ryan Adams.  Every time I listen to his music I hear something different I didn't pick up before, and I really like that sensation.  I like it because it stands in stark contrast to the sensation I get when I suffer through the repetitiveness of top-40 radio.  Which is something akin to eating those funnel cakes at the fair - it may taste good on the surface, but you know it's just not good for you.  Ryan Adams is kind of like the homemade ice cream - unique and worth the time and money invested.  That's also why I like Wilco, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, Nickel Creek, Radiohead, and others you don't always hear that much and who rarely get the deserved notoriety.  Which is exactly the point.

I'm thankful for my boys.  I wish they could somehow know how much I love them, but I don't guess that's possible.  I'm not even sure I know how much.  Every time I look in their eyes I see my past, present and future all rolled into one, along with theirs.  It's a humbling, exhilarating feeling.

Likewise, I'm thankful for my wife.  I remember in my single days hearing folks describe their spouses as their "best friends."  I didn't get it - shouldn't you want your husband or wife to be something more than your "best friend?"  Now, having been married for just over nine years, I get it.  And I'm so glad that I happen to be married to my best friend.

I'm thankful for my parents, my brother, and extended family.  My life has taken all kinds of twists and turns in my 40 years, and it's humbling to know they've been there with me through it all.

I'm thankful for the church I serve.  Unfortunately, this realization sometimes comes when I'm in conversation with clergy friends and hear their nightmarish situations.  And then I see that I really have it good.  It's a church that wants to go where the spirit leads; a church that genuinely cares for each other, and a church that puts up with (and even supports) my music and teaching ventures.  Most of all, it's a church that lets me be a real person, and that perhaps is the greatest gift they could ever give.

I'm thankful for the guys I've had the pleasure of making music with - Ken, Jerry, Les, Gary, David and others.  Acoustic Blend is entering its ninth year of existence, and Ken and I never tire of it.  And I'm more than content with being a so-so Mediocre Bad Guy, playing with some of the finest musicians Mount Airy has to offer.

I'm thankful for modern-day prophets like Shane Claiborne, Jim Wallis with Sojourners, Brian McLaren, David Beckmann with Bread for the World, Marcus Borg and many others who hit dummies like me over the head with the agonizingly simple message of the gospel.

I'm thankful for blogging.  I'd been trying for years to find a journaling outlet, but I never could bring myself to don a spiral-ring notebook and pen.  I'm too much of a keyboard guy.  Then I stumbled upon blogging, and that's pretty much been it (oh, and I'm thankful to you for reading it!)

I'm thankful for things like Facebook and Twitter.  Call me a geek, but they really are wonderful ways to stay connected with folks all over the place.  Where else can I catch up with that girl who lived down the block from me as a kid, and the friend who happens to be moderator of the denomination I serve in, and my old college professor?  The world really isn't as big as we make it out to be sometimes.

I'm thankful for wireless internet.  Free wireless internet specifically.

I'm thankful for the students in my college classes.  For actually showing up, for one thing, at 8:00 in the morning.  And then listening to me lecture for a solid hour.  They ask questions that keep me on my toes, which is exactly what I need.  And they're a lot of fun to be around too.

I'm thankful for our next president.  I know I wanted Jesus, but I'm happy to settle for Obama.  I really do think he's going to bring the change our country so desperately needs.

I'm thankful for a good workout.  These days my goal is three miles jogging and one mile swimming, 2-3 times a week.  It wipes me out, and it's not taking as much off the waistline as it used to, but it still leaves me with a good feeling afterwards.

I'm thankful that God has never let me stand in the pulpit on Sunday morning with nothing to say.  This is the stuff of nightmares for us ministers, my friends.  I'm not kidding.

I'm thankful for football.  I live vicariously through the guys I watch on TV or read about in the newspaper or Sports Illustrated.  There's something fascinating about the orchestration that goes on between eleven players, all aimed at moving a piece of pigskin down the field; and another eleven orchestrated to stop them.

I'm thankful for that feeling when I drop the Eldest off in the car line at school in the mornings. The teacher opens the door, and I watch him gather his bookbag and any other stuff he's got.  We give each other a high-five.  Every time I tell him I love him and that I'm proud of him.  And I never, ever tire of watching him step out and walk through the school doors and into his big wide world in there.

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Indeed, I'm a thankful guy.  I hope you are too, for many reasons of your own; and I invite you to share your reasons in your comments below.  Happy Thanksgiving, folks!