I’d like to begin answering the nagging questions regarding Rev. Jeremiah Wright and Senator Barack Obama.
First question: How could Barack Obama sit through over twenty years of that stuff?
I’ve heard the question from Pat Buchanan, Bay Buchanan, Elisabeth Haselbeck, Tucker Carlson, Joe Scarborough, Chris Matthews, and of course Sean Hannity.
Answer: Barack Obama could sit through 20 years of that stuff because it was worth sitting through! It was not hate, was not anti-American, was not anti-white. It was confrontational; it was prophetic; it was loving, biblical, Christ-centered, God-focused, and ministry-minded.
I have watched or read longer segments of several sermons, including those that have been publicized. I listened to two full versions of the sermons that contain the most “offensive” comments that have come to light. These messages convey exactly the OPPOSITE of what the short snippets are trying to convey. In a nutshell:
1. Rev. Wright DOES NOT preach hate. EVERY sermon I listened to, watched, or read was LOVING, biblical, Christ-centered, God-focused, and ministry-minded.
2. Rev. Wright IS NOT anti-American. I don’t agree with all of his political views, but his full sermons demonstrate that Rev. Wright clearly loves America. And like the Old Testament prophets spoke out against their beloved (and God’s beloved) Judah and Israel, Rev. Wright is committed to calling The USA to be what God wants us to be. Sometimes he speaks with humor, sometimes with anger, often with humility and always with love.
3. Trinity United Church of Christ is not a racist, Black separatist, Black nationalist or Black supremacist church. They have white members! They are part of a 95% white denomination. I will talk about their Black Value System in a later post.
4. Finally, please consider how these issues came to light. Someone bought the videos from years and years of Rev. Wright’s sermons. They culled through them and looked for the most “incriminating” statements. They sliced and spliced them and put them up as reflections of his “hatred.” This was deliberate misrepresentation. Rev. Wright does sometimes throw out a line that makes me cringe, but I have never sat under a preacher who doesn’t. I hope that our own beloved pastor isn’t judged by every comment he makes that I don’t agree with.
Explore for yourself below.
CNN’s Anderson Cooper has posted complete audio versions of the two controversial sermons. Commentator Roland Martin also provides slightly edited transcripts at that site.
Audio: The 9/11 message from September 16, 2001:
Audio: The “Confusing God and Government” message from April 13, 2003. This one does get harsh, but it is also a biblical, redemptive, God-centered message:
Video excerpts (longer than the ones originally circulated) of these messages can be found here and here.
Other video of sermons and the church can be found a these two sites, here and here:
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
To My Readers (Both of You)
Tony Campolo has a theory about that idea that just before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes. According to Mr. Campolo, the reason a whole life can be captured in a few moments is that most of us haven’t fully lived much. Those moments when we are fully alive –fully in touch with God, ourselves, and our fellow humans--are few. We spend a lot of time simply existing, pursuing worthless aims, or pursuing nothing.
What if rather than our whole lives or the truly alive moments, only the disastrous moments were seen? And what if even for those of us who have tried to live Christian lives, only the bold, well-meaning mis-steps were seen? And what if they were not seen only in our mind’s eye, but were flashed up on a screen for the entire world to see? What if only the foolish things we have said (effectively or not) in the name of Jesus were seen?
For the last 10 years I have taught adult Sunday school at my church. I have a great desire to move folks in my class from wherever they are in their love of God and neighbor to a deeper level. To do so, I walk a line between provoking and reassuring. I actually walk pretty gingerly. But not gingerly enough for some. At least one long-time Christian has called me on the phone to challenge my provoking. After a lengthy conversation with me and another with the pastor, this person stopped coming to my class. He does still attend church with me. We serve our congregation together, we serve each other’s families, we break bread, and pray together. But he felt that I had crossed a line that threatened him. I think that view says as much about his faith as mine.
Though I try to provoke in my class, I know my congregation. They don’t like controversy, even Gospel-born controversy. They like comfort and confirmation of what they have always believed. But you could probably string together videotape of the provocative things I have said or suggested or questioned and you could make a great case for how anti-Christian (or anti-American) I am. And with a video camera, I could have done the same for the pastor of every church I have worshiped in, including the current pastor. String together all of their bad moments (or good moments taken out of context), and you can outrage anybody who wants to hear and see it. This is the problem of the Youtube age. And perhaps what grieves me most is the continued appetite that even my Christian brothers and sisters have for focusing on the perceived ugliness—as if they know nothing of imperfection, inadequacy, humility, compassion, or forgiveness.
So here I serve in a tiny, quiet, largely ineffective Sunday school class of a largely ineffective congregation in Nashville, the city of churches. And while a friend of mine is running for president (I haven’t spoken to him in 30 years; God only knows what I said to him back then that might be used against him today), I am not his spiritual mentor (yet!) I didn’t officiate at his wedding or baptize his children. The man who did is not as restrained in his Christian conversation as I am. Because of that lack of restraint he has probably had more than one person walk out of his assemblies never to return.
But it is amazing to me how little tolerance we have for controversial statements, when so much of our Christian story and the mission of God are built upon them, especially charges against the government: Moses to Pharaoh, Nathan to David, Daniel to Nebuchadnezzar, Esther to Persian King Ahasuerus. Think of the prophets, especially Jeremiah, Micah, and Amos. Remember John the Baptist--who was beheaded, Paul of Tarsus—who was beaten, imprisoned and probably martyred, and remember Jesus Christ, who was crucified.
Speaking truth to power. Often ugly truth, often crudely couched truth. Not like the ginger provoking I try in my Sunday school class.
But the sharp truth comes with many risks:
1. Sin taints everything so none of us is gonna get it right every time. Our judgment can be clouded –perhaps not every time, maybe not even most of the time, but sometimes. So what we see to be true may not be true. It might also BE true, though our hearers don’t see it as so. Every vessel (save One) is so tainted.
2. The louder we speak the more potential damage we can do. More people will walk out. We can overstep, or mis-state. We can hurt many people when we intended to hurt no-one.
3. We will be misunderstood. It’s inevitable. Anger can be misunderstood as hate. Criticism can be understood as hate. Subtlety can be lost. The speaker’s style can interfere with the hearer’s ability to hear the truth. And someone will miss the forest for the trees (especially if the trees have been chopped down and handed to you one by one like firewood).
4. In the midst of preaching the truth, error can slip in. It likely will.
But there is an opposite side to risks of sharp truth telling. And if we take the Christian Gospel seriously, this is a risk we must take. Otherwise, we’re wasting our Christian time, and betraying the Gospel. When we proclaim the sharp truth:
1. The Gospel might be revealed.
2. People might begin to follow Jesus
3. People might be moved to love God more deeply and and to engage in one another’s lives.
4. Ministries might arise that transform congregations, local communities, our nation, and the world.
5. We might take the time to actually listen to one another before reacting viscerally and immediately.
6. Lies—personal and societal might get exposed. Ungodly practices might be challenged and godly practices championed.
7. Healing might occur between races, genders, ideologies, and classes.
8. People might be shaped into the image of Jesus and communities might begin to reflect the reign of God.
Still when we take that risk, there will be people standing around ready to round up every mis-step, mistake, foolish move, or weak moment. And when they string them up on Youtube they will ignore the hours and hours of truth we have spoken, of good we have done, of Gospel we have preached and lived.
But the joke is on them: the Word of God will not return void. Though many will be misled, though our words be distorted, or taken out of context, though we might lose earthly opportunities for ourselves or our loved ones (who might be running for President), our lives will speak for themselves.
I can’t help the thought that if my little church began to take more of those risks we might begin to look a little like Trinity United Church of Christ, and in the eyes of God, that would be movement in the right direction.
What if rather than our whole lives or the truly alive moments, only the disastrous moments were seen? And what if even for those of us who have tried to live Christian lives, only the bold, well-meaning mis-steps were seen? And what if they were not seen only in our mind’s eye, but were flashed up on a screen for the entire world to see? What if only the foolish things we have said (effectively or not) in the name of Jesus were seen?
For the last 10 years I have taught adult Sunday school at my church. I have a great desire to move folks in my class from wherever they are in their love of God and neighbor to a deeper level. To do so, I walk a line between provoking and reassuring. I actually walk pretty gingerly. But not gingerly enough for some. At least one long-time Christian has called me on the phone to challenge my provoking. After a lengthy conversation with me and another with the pastor, this person stopped coming to my class. He does still attend church with me. We serve our congregation together, we serve each other’s families, we break bread, and pray together. But he felt that I had crossed a line that threatened him. I think that view says as much about his faith as mine.
Though I try to provoke in my class, I know my congregation. They don’t like controversy, even Gospel-born controversy. They like comfort and confirmation of what they have always believed. But you could probably string together videotape of the provocative things I have said or suggested or questioned and you could make a great case for how anti-Christian (or anti-American) I am. And with a video camera, I could have done the same for the pastor of every church I have worshiped in, including the current pastor. String together all of their bad moments (or good moments taken out of context), and you can outrage anybody who wants to hear and see it. This is the problem of the Youtube age. And perhaps what grieves me most is the continued appetite that even my Christian brothers and sisters have for focusing on the perceived ugliness—as if they know nothing of imperfection, inadequacy, humility, compassion, or forgiveness.
So here I serve in a tiny, quiet, largely ineffective Sunday school class of a largely ineffective congregation in Nashville, the city of churches. And while a friend of mine is running for president (I haven’t spoken to him in 30 years; God only knows what I said to him back then that might be used against him today), I am not his spiritual mentor (yet!) I didn’t officiate at his wedding or baptize his children. The man who did is not as restrained in his Christian conversation as I am. Because of that lack of restraint he has probably had more than one person walk out of his assemblies never to return.
But it is amazing to me how little tolerance we have for controversial statements, when so much of our Christian story and the mission of God are built upon them, especially charges against the government: Moses to Pharaoh, Nathan to David, Daniel to Nebuchadnezzar, Esther to Persian King Ahasuerus. Think of the prophets, especially Jeremiah, Micah, and Amos. Remember John the Baptist--who was beheaded, Paul of Tarsus—who was beaten, imprisoned and probably martyred, and remember Jesus Christ, who was crucified.
Speaking truth to power. Often ugly truth, often crudely couched truth. Not like the ginger provoking I try in my Sunday school class.
But the sharp truth comes with many risks:
1. Sin taints everything so none of us is gonna get it right every time. Our judgment can be clouded –perhaps not every time, maybe not even most of the time, but sometimes. So what we see to be true may not be true. It might also BE true, though our hearers don’t see it as so. Every vessel (save One) is so tainted.
2. The louder we speak the more potential damage we can do. More people will walk out. We can overstep, or mis-state. We can hurt many people when we intended to hurt no-one.
3. We will be misunderstood. It’s inevitable. Anger can be misunderstood as hate. Criticism can be understood as hate. Subtlety can be lost. The speaker’s style can interfere with the hearer’s ability to hear the truth. And someone will miss the forest for the trees (especially if the trees have been chopped down and handed to you one by one like firewood).
4. In the midst of preaching the truth, error can slip in. It likely will.
But there is an opposite side to risks of sharp truth telling. And if we take the Christian Gospel seriously, this is a risk we must take. Otherwise, we’re wasting our Christian time, and betraying the Gospel. When we proclaim the sharp truth:
1. The Gospel might be revealed.
2. People might begin to follow Jesus
3. People might be moved to love God more deeply and and to engage in one another’s lives.
4. Ministries might arise that transform congregations, local communities, our nation, and the world.
5. We might take the time to actually listen to one another before reacting viscerally and immediately.
6. Lies—personal and societal might get exposed. Ungodly practices might be challenged and godly practices championed.
7. Healing might occur between races, genders, ideologies, and classes.
8. People might be shaped into the image of Jesus and communities might begin to reflect the reign of God.
Still when we take that risk, there will be people standing around ready to round up every mis-step, mistake, foolish move, or weak moment. And when they string them up on Youtube they will ignore the hours and hours of truth we have spoken, of good we have done, of Gospel we have preached and lived.
But the joke is on them: the Word of God will not return void. Though many will be misled, though our words be distorted, or taken out of context, though we might lose earthly opportunities for ourselves or our loved ones (who might be running for President), our lives will speak for themselves.
I can’t help the thought that if my little church began to take more of those risks we might begin to look a little like Trinity United Church of Christ, and in the eyes of God, that would be movement in the right direction.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Note to Geraldine Ferraro
If Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position. And if he was a woman (of any color) he would not be in this position. He happens to be very lucky to be who he is. And the country is caught up in the concept. Geraldine Ferraro
I know how it sucks to be a white man in America today; I’ve raised three of ‘em, and I’m helping to raise four more. And I think I have some clue of how hard it is to be a woman of any color. My mom and my sister are women of one color. My wife, my daughter, and the mother of my grandkids are women of another color. I have lived with all of them.
So I wake up every morning and thank my very lucky
stars that I am a black man and not an unlucky white man or an unlucky woman of any color. We black men don’t know how good we have it in the US of A.
In fact, we should have tried this running for President thing a long time ago. With our great luck, it’s so easy! See, we thought people just liked a few of us, like Sidney Poitier, Bill Cosby, Denzel, and that Michael Jordan. We thought it was just Tiger Woods (unless you are actually a golfer) or OJ Simpson (the football and actor OJ, not the murderer OJ). But we should have caught on when the Beatles and Elvis wanted to play our music or even back when Al Jolson started putting on blackface. America loves the black man.
Why didn’t we put up Martin Luther King to be President; people loved him (except the ones who beat him, put him in jail, fought him in the courts and political venues, and killed him). Or Jesse Jackson--we should have made him President, we’re so lucky. Or Al Sharpton or Alan Keyes. Or Dennis Haysbert or Morgan Freeman--they’ve already played the President on TV and the movies.
I guess our luck made us stupid. Until now. We finally caught up with how much the USA is enamored of us black men. I mean, a majority of people in a majority of states are voting for the black man—and even people who don’t vote for him (or in the states that count—not just those ones that don’t), people come out in droves to see him.
Of course they do; he’s the black man, and America loves the black man. I am so very lucky!
I know how it sucks to be a white man in America today; I’ve raised three of ‘em, and I’m helping to raise four more. And I think I have some clue of how hard it is to be a woman of any color. My mom and my sister are women of one color. My wife, my daughter, and the mother of my grandkids are women of another color. I have lived with all of them.
So I wake up every morning and thank my very lucky
stars that I am a black man and not an unlucky white man or an unlucky woman of any color. We black men don’t know how good we have it in the US of A.
In fact, we should have tried this running for President thing a long time ago. With our great luck, it’s so easy! See, we thought people just liked a few of us, like Sidney Poitier, Bill Cosby, Denzel, and that Michael Jordan. We thought it was just Tiger Woods (unless you are actually a golfer) or OJ Simpson (the football and actor OJ, not the murderer OJ). But we should have caught on when the Beatles and Elvis wanted to play our music or even back when Al Jolson started putting on blackface. America loves the black man.
Why didn’t we put up Martin Luther King to be President; people loved him (except the ones who beat him, put him in jail, fought him in the courts and political venues, and killed him). Or Jesse Jackson--we should have made him President, we’re so lucky. Or Al Sharpton or Alan Keyes. Or Dennis Haysbert or Morgan Freeman--they’ve already played the President on TV and the movies.
I guess our luck made us stupid. Until now. We finally caught up with how much the USA is enamored of us black men. I mean, a majority of people in a majority of states are voting for the black man—and even people who don’t vote for him (or in the states that count—not just those ones that don’t), people come out in droves to see him.
Of course they do; he’s the black man, and America loves the black man. I am so very lucky!
Hawaii's version
My "hometown" paper, the Honolulu Star-Bulletin published a Hawaii version of my article. I have a great history with the Star-Bulletin. My first teenage job was delivering the paper at Schofield Barracks. I began saving money with that paper route.
But even before that, when I was in sixth grade and my dad was in Vietnam, I wrote Dad about a conversation I'd had with my teacher, Mr. Waite, and my best friend, Ted. Dad wrote a letter to the editor from Vietnam, and the Star-Bulletin published it. The letter, which was a challenge to Strom Thurmond's words (and the prevailing notion) that Black people were good at sports but not at academics. That was 1970. Now I'm writing the Star-Bulletin from out of town.
But even before that, when I was in sixth grade and my dad was in Vietnam, I wrote Dad about a conversation I'd had with my teacher, Mr. Waite, and my best friend, Ted. Dad wrote a letter to the editor from Vietnam, and the Star-Bulletin published it. The letter, which was a challenge to Strom Thurmond's words (and the prevailing notion) that Black people were good at sports but not at academics. That was 1970. Now I'm writing the Star-Bulletin from out of town.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Tony in Tennesssean
This time I actually wrote the article published in the February 6 (day AFTER the TN primary!) edition of the Tennessean:
Obama's depth of mind, ability to grow don't surprise high school friend
By TONY PETERSON
Tennessee Voices
In the 1975-76 school year, four African-American young men attended Punahou Academy in Honolulu. Though we each had our own personal circles of friends, three of us — Rik Smith, a junior; "Barry" Barack Obama, a freshman; and I, a senior, had a standing date roughly once a week to talk.
We discussed the social climate on our cosmopolitan campus (whether any of the non-black girls would date us black guys). We talked about sports and religion (I was a Christian; Rik and Barry were agnostics). We talked about our classes and the charges that a black person with a book was "acting white."
We talked about the social issues of the day and whether we would see a black U.S. president in our lifetime. We discussed our vocational choices. I was going to be a lawyer (I'm not one). Fourteen-year-old Barry wanted to be a basketball player. He even jokingly wrote in my yearbook that when I'm a big-shot lawyer and he's a basketball star, I could negotiate his NBA contracts. We held these discussions sometime before the adolescent angst that Obama records in his memoir, Dreams from My Father.
I went off to college the next year, so I never heard the agony and never knew the regrettable choices he reveals in that text, but I believe him. The seeds of the agony were in our conversations. The forces of puberty and the depth of Barack's mind surely drove the issues deeper. But neither am I surprised by Barack's subsequent ability to rise above the agony and poor choices.
It is no surprise that he graduated from an Ivy League university, that he went on to devote his life to service, that at Harvard Law School he was the popular editor of Harvard Law Review and that he moved on to teach constitutional law and to serve in elective office for these 11 years.
Three issues surprise me.
First, when I read the memoir that my brother Keith and I discovered in a remainder bin of a Boulder, Colo., bookstore in the late '90s, I was most pleased by Barack's transformation from an agnostic to a Christian. Despite my surprise, his account of coming to faith rings true to his thoughtful, fair-minded nature and his ability to continually grow.
Second, I, like most of the country, was taken aback by the soaring rhetoric first displayed nationally at the 2004 Democratic Convention. For me, the voice sounded very familiar, but the announcement in the keynote speech that "there is not a liberal America and a conservative America; there's the United States of America!" showed incredible courage and audacity. It surprised me, but it shouldn't have.
Barry, Rik and I had in common a lifetime of learning to navigate different worlds. In our culturally rich state, at a particularly cosmopolitan school and from each of our uniquely multicultural backgrounds, we were used to bridging communities. We still do so in our own lives today. And Barack continues to expand upon those views in his presidential campaign.
Finally, though, what impresses me most about Barack Obama is not simply that he has the stuff to back up his hope and inspiration.
His approach to the presidency is one of deep thoughtfulness. He exhibits quick judgment when absolutely necessary, and when issues require deeper thought, he reflects and then finds the way to solve problems.
Punahou is an incredible school that taught us to think, to pursue excellence in all areas and to serve the world. His Illinois state record and his U.S. Senate record reflect this same thoughtfulness, excellence and service.
Obama's depth of mind, ability to grow don't surprise high school friend
By TONY PETERSON
Tennessee Voices
In the 1975-76 school year, four African-American young men attended Punahou Academy in Honolulu. Though we each had our own personal circles of friends, three of us — Rik Smith, a junior; "Barry" Barack Obama, a freshman; and I, a senior, had a standing date roughly once a week to talk.
We discussed the social climate on our cosmopolitan campus (whether any of the non-black girls would date us black guys). We talked about sports and religion (I was a Christian; Rik and Barry were agnostics). We talked about our classes and the charges that a black person with a book was "acting white."
We talked about the social issues of the day and whether we would see a black U.S. president in our lifetime. We discussed our vocational choices. I was going to be a lawyer (I'm not one). Fourteen-year-old Barry wanted to be a basketball player. He even jokingly wrote in my yearbook that when I'm a big-shot lawyer and he's a basketball star, I could negotiate his NBA contracts. We held these discussions sometime before the adolescent angst that Obama records in his memoir, Dreams from My Father.
I went off to college the next year, so I never heard the agony and never knew the regrettable choices he reveals in that text, but I believe him. The seeds of the agony were in our conversations. The forces of puberty and the depth of Barack's mind surely drove the issues deeper. But neither am I surprised by Barack's subsequent ability to rise above the agony and poor choices.
It is no surprise that he graduated from an Ivy League university, that he went on to devote his life to service, that at Harvard Law School he was the popular editor of Harvard Law Review and that he moved on to teach constitutional law and to serve in elective office for these 11 years.
Three issues surprise me.
First, when I read the memoir that my brother Keith and I discovered in a remainder bin of a Boulder, Colo., bookstore in the late '90s, I was most pleased by Barack's transformation from an agnostic to a Christian. Despite my surprise, his account of coming to faith rings true to his thoughtful, fair-minded nature and his ability to continually grow.
Second, I, like most of the country, was taken aback by the soaring rhetoric first displayed nationally at the 2004 Democratic Convention. For me, the voice sounded very familiar, but the announcement in the keynote speech that "there is not a liberal America and a conservative America; there's the United States of America!" showed incredible courage and audacity. It surprised me, but it shouldn't have.
Barry, Rik and I had in common a lifetime of learning to navigate different worlds. In our culturally rich state, at a particularly cosmopolitan school and from each of our uniquely multicultural backgrounds, we were used to bridging communities. We still do so in our own lives today. And Barack continues to expand upon those views in his presidential campaign.
Finally, though, what impresses me most about Barack Obama is not simply that he has the stuff to back up his hope and inspiration.
His approach to the presidency is one of deep thoughtfulness. He exhibits quick judgment when absolutely necessary, and when issues require deeper thought, he reflects and then finds the way to solve problems.
Punahou is an incredible school that taught us to think, to pursue excellence in all areas and to serve the world. His Illinois state record and his U.S. Senate record reflect this same thoughtfulness, excellence and service.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Obama straddles different worlds
Okay, this was an actual 15 minutes of fame, and it IS self-promotion, but you're my friends and family, so I hope you can handle it. Sharon Cohen called months ago to get some info from me about Barack Obama from our high school days. She also interviewed my brother Keith and the brotherly team of Mike and Greg Ramos. Mike and I (the older brothers!) both had quotes that made the original story that was released. But hours later the story was edited and our quotes were taken out.
I was thrilled to contribute to this story because I believe it addresses a significant reason that Barack Obama approaches politics differently than most of the rest of the Presidential candidates. He has gained his knowledge of how to work with varied sorts of people by the daily living of his varied 45 years, rather than from his extensive academic experience.
Way back 30 years ago, Barack and I discussed the future of America, societal ills, the state of the world (and basketball). I hope we're both wiser with our older now. Still my personal knowledge of his natural learning is the reason that I believe him when he speaks. I believe him when he talks about his faith in Jesus Christ. I believe him when he gives a reasoned explanation of his opposition to the Iraq War. And even on issues where we disagree, I trust his well-honed judgement and his strong intellect.
Mostly I trust that his heart is in the right place: that he means to serve the United States, that he means good for the American people, that he has a vision for how we can do better for our own people and do better as presence around the world, that he would like to see us act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
I was thrilled to contribute to this story because I believe it addresses a significant reason that Barack Obama approaches politics differently than most of the rest of the Presidential candidates. He has gained his knowledge of how to work with varied sorts of people by the daily living of his varied 45 years, rather than from his extensive academic experience.
Way back 30 years ago, Barack and I discussed the future of America, societal ills, the state of the world (and basketball). I hope we're both wiser with our older now. Still my personal knowledge of his natural learning is the reason that I believe him when he speaks. I believe him when he talks about his faith in Jesus Christ. I believe him when he gives a reasoned explanation of his opposition to the Iraq War. And even on issues where we disagree, I trust his well-honed judgement and his strong intellect.
Mostly I trust that his heart is in the right place: that he means to serve the United States, that he means good for the American people, that he has a vision for how we can do better for our own people and do better as presence around the world, that he would like to see us act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
Monday, August 20, 2007
More Baby Chelsea
I fixed the links below and added more of Chelsea with her Daddy, her brothers, and her Peepaw (that's me).
Friday, August 17, 2007
Announcing... Chelsea Renay McBride!
I know: It's been over a year. Computer problems, life issues and laziness have all contributed to my lack of posts. Maybe I'm back, maybe not.
But the great news Chelsea's here! So I had to alert anyone out there. She was born Tuesday, August 14, 2007 at 12:49 pm. She was 7 lbs. 6 oz., 19 inches. Big brother Damon doesn't know what to think. The other brothers: Christian, Dylan, and Michael are thrilled. For more pix see my Facebook page here, here, and here.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
It Was a Good Day
After church this Sunday, Damon and I headed down to the Criminal Detention Center to deal with some business. One of our loved ones had just been arrested for a crime committed 2 months ago. We went to bail out Our Loved One (OLO).
When we arrived, we saw what I’ve seen before: an outdoor courtyard, an inside lobby, and people waiting. Bail bondsman and bondswomen were waiting for business, for people to help. Most of their day is filled with waiting. Family members of the incarcerated were coming and going and waiting. They were coming to visit their loved one, to bail them out, or just to find out what’s going on. Ninety percent of these people were obviously poor.
When Damon and I arrived there was a particular family outside that intrigued me. It was two teenage boys, a gentleman who appeared to be their father, and a little girl in a stroller. I started playing in my mind the possibilities of who they might be there to see. I settled on the boys’ mother.
Damon was walking around, opening and closing the heavy door, trying to hide from Grandpa, saying "Hi" and "See ya" to people, and then sitting next to Grandpa on the floor for long periods of time. It finally occurred to me that he hadn’t eaten so I got some peanut butter and crackers out of the vending machine. We sat back on the floor and he systematically dismantled the cracker sandwiches and licked off the peanut butter, then ate the crackers. We were talking, fighting over the last few crackers ‘cause he didn’t want me to have any. I snuck some when he wasn’t looking.
After a while one of the boys, hearing me talk to Damon asked what his name was. “Damon,” I said.
“D-A-M-O-N?”
“Yeah.”
“My name is Jamin.”
“Really!? Is that J-A-M-O-N?
“M-I-N.”
Turning to the other kid I asked, “And what’s you’re name?”
“Joel,” he said. I asked the little girl her name, but the boys answered “This is Nicole.”
“Is she your sister?”
“No, she’s our niece.”
So I start revising my guess about who they are waiting for. Probably Nicole’s mother, Joel and Jamin’s sister, I thought.
We chatted about the little ones then went back to waiting and chasing. After awhile the release door opened. It had opened about every ten to fifteen minutes. This was the first time I was paying attention. A guy came out, having been released after a few hours or a few days of incarceration. When the guy came out, Joel was standing just outside the doorway. He handed the guy something. The guy looked at the something, said “Thanks!”, and kept walking. He disappeared around the corner.
I called to Joel, my new friend. “Joel. Come here a minute.” He walked over to where Damon and I were seated on the floor. “Did you just give that guy something?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Then why did you give him something?”
“Cause it’s fun to give people stuff.”
“Is that why you’re down here.”
“Yeah.”
The next person out the release door was Our Loved One. Joel was standing there and handed OLO something. OLO looked at it and said, “Thanks!” When we got outside I asked OLO what was given. “Ten dollars,” OLO said, smiling.
“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
Acts 20:35
“For God so loved the world that he gave…”
John 3:16
"It’s fun to give people stuff!"
Joel, Jamin, Nicole and Dad, July 9, 2006
When we arrived, we saw what I’ve seen before: an outdoor courtyard, an inside lobby, and people waiting. Bail bondsman and bondswomen were waiting for business, for people to help. Most of their day is filled with waiting. Family members of the incarcerated were coming and going and waiting. They were coming to visit their loved one, to bail them out, or just to find out what’s going on. Ninety percent of these people were obviously poor.
When Damon and I arrived there was a particular family outside that intrigued me. It was two teenage boys, a gentleman who appeared to be their father, and a little girl in a stroller. I started playing in my mind the possibilities of who they might be there to see. I settled on the boys’ mother.
Damon was walking around, opening and closing the heavy door, trying to hide from Grandpa, saying "Hi" and "See ya" to people, and then sitting next to Grandpa on the floor for long periods of time. It finally occurred to me that he hadn’t eaten so I got some peanut butter and crackers out of the vending machine. We sat back on the floor and he systematically dismantled the cracker sandwiches and licked off the peanut butter, then ate the crackers. We were talking, fighting over the last few crackers ‘cause he didn’t want me to have any. I snuck some when he wasn’t looking.
After a while one of the boys, hearing me talk to Damon asked what his name was. “Damon,” I said.
“D-A-M-O-N?”
“Yeah.”
“My name is Jamin.”
“Really!? Is that J-A-M-O-N?
“M-I-N.”
Turning to the other kid I asked, “And what’s you’re name?”
“Joel,” he said. I asked the little girl her name, but the boys answered “This is Nicole.”
“Is she your sister?”
“No, she’s our niece.”
So I start revising my guess about who they are waiting for. Probably Nicole’s mother, Joel and Jamin’s sister, I thought.
We chatted about the little ones then went back to waiting and chasing. After awhile the release door opened. It had opened about every ten to fifteen minutes. This was the first time I was paying attention. A guy came out, having been released after a few hours or a few days of incarceration. When the guy came out, Joel was standing just outside the doorway. He handed the guy something. The guy looked at the something, said “Thanks!”, and kept walking. He disappeared around the corner.
I called to Joel, my new friend. “Joel. Come here a minute.” He walked over to where Damon and I were seated on the floor. “Did you just give that guy something?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Then why did you give him something?”
“Cause it’s fun to give people stuff.”
“Is that why you’re down here.”
“Yeah.”
The next person out the release door was Our Loved One. Joel was standing there and handed OLO something. OLO looked at it and said, “Thanks!” When we got outside I asked OLO what was given. “Ten dollars,” OLO said, smiling.
“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
Acts 20:35
“For God so loved the world that he gave…”
John 3:16
"It’s fun to give people stuff!"
Joel, Jamin, Nicole and Dad, July 9, 2006
Sunday, July 02, 2006
God's Politics
I haven’t gotten much into political matters in this blog, though I do believe that matters of faith and politics (and somehow lions) are necessarily connected. This connection is especially true for Christians whose faith is necessarily social (various contemporary expressions notably to the contrary).
And though my friends and family are sick of me talking about Barack Obama, I’ve not mentioned him here. Now I have to. Obama has just given his most important speech since his inspirational address at the Democratic National Convention in 2004. This message for Call to Renewal’s Pentecost 2006 conference focused on matters of faith and politics.
Since then, he has been criticized from all quarters. Moderate Democrats are nervous that Obama might upset secularist friends. Confirmed secularists are infuriated that Obama would suggest that religious faith has any place in the public square (lots of blather about the difference between religious faith and other types of beliefs. What the secularists ignore is the fact that their faith also informs their decision-making. Those who champion intellect as the great arbiter of truth deceive themselves into believing that they make all decisions without any input other than intellect. The fact is their FAITH in intellect informs this decision-making, which is not the same as intellect itself. And their feelings and history and current life situations all inform their decision-making.) Some folks from the Religious/Political Right seem nervous that a Democrat might actually talk about God in public. Al Mohler calls Obama a secularist with a religious veneer. All quarters seem to wonder if this is all politics—-pandering to an audience. Some suggest that he is faking his interest in this area. Many are convinced that Obama has finally completed his indoctrination by the Washington compromisers.
Most of these folks are missing Obama’s points entirely. I fault mainly the Associated Press reports which summarize the speech as “Obama Courting the Evangelicals” or “Obama Chastises Fellow Democrats.” While evidence for both headlines can be found, read the speech or hear it, and you’ll see that neither headline fairly represents the speech or its points. Associated Baptist Press presents a more objective and accurate summary of the speech.
First of all it should be noted that while the Call to Renewal folks are evangelicals in the truest sense (They call people to be Jesus-followers), they are not evangelical in the sense that most public discourse hears. That is: they are more likely to vote with Democrats than Republicans in most areas. Unfortunately many people, particularly secularists, read “evangelical” to mean “fundamentalist,” and this audience is anything but fundamentalist. So if Obama is courting their vote, it’s probably from folks who would be leaning his way anyway.
I read and heard Obama’s speech more like a politician’s honest reflections about reconciling his vocational mission with his personal beliefs. And he reflects out loud about where those deliberations have taken him.
It reminds me of the confusion people seem to have about Abraham Lincoln. I respect Lincoln, without believing the myth and legend about him. He was a mere man . I don’t respect him for freeing the slaves (he didn’t directly) No, what impresses me about Lincoln is that while presiding over still the darkest time in our nation’s history, Lincoln had to wrestle with personal faith /feelings (anti-slavery) with a vocational objective (to preserve the union). His antislavery views had been highly publicized, but he had a job to do which he felt sworn to. Thus you get the eloquent, anguished, God –soaked, 2nd Inaugural Address.
“All knew that this interest [slavery] was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union even by war, while the Government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding.
Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."
Obama mentions the God-ness of the address in his speech. Not that Obama’s speech approaches the profundity of Lincoln’s, or that his anguish at this time approaches the anguish of President Lincoln, but the speech is born of a similar internal and occupational struggle. He affirms his own Christian faith, but talks about political openness to people of all beliefs including secularists. He calls on fellow liberals and Democrats to embrace their faith and openly bring it into the square. So some liberal commentators see these words as Obama feeding the cause of Republicans, reinforcing their stereotypes.
But it is not that he believes with some Republicans that Democrats are Godless. Quite to the contrary. He is calling those God-believing Democrats (that is: MOST Democrats) to vocally admit their faith. To do otherwise is not only deceptive, it creates the vacuum that only fundamentalists can fill. In Obama’s actual words, he says that conservative leaders tell
"evangelical Christians that Democrats disrespect their values and dislike their Church, while suggesting to the rest of the country that religious Americans care only about issues like abortion and gay marriage; school prayer and intelligent design.
"Democrats, for the most part, have taken the bait. At best, we may try to avoid the conversation about religious values altogether, fearful of offending anyone and claiming that - regardless of our personal beliefs - constitutional principles tie our hands. At worst, some liberals dismiss religion in the public square as inherently irrational or intolerant, insisting on a caricature of religious Americans that paints them as fanatical, or thinking that the very word "Christian" describes one's political opponents, not people of faith.”
And he is right. If Democrats/liberals want to change, they must first admit that they have a problem. By “they” I mean anyone who decides that they can’t mention God in public because it might offend their constituency.
Barack Obama is calling these folks to embrace their faith, to not let the Religious/Political Right dictate what is Christian or what is appropriate talk of God in politics. Obama’s speech was not designed so much to court evangelicals as it was to call Democrats and other liberals to acknowledge the role their faith plays and to not apologize for that faith. And he wants to serve notice to the Religious/Political Right that they do not own God. Thank God for Barack Obama who is willing to infuriate secularists, and all Republicans and Democrats alike. If he’s courting votes, he’s got a funny way of doing it.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Genny's Home!
When my mom last came to visit, I didn't take pictures. It's one of those dilemmas: I didn't want to cheapen the experience by taking the time and voyeuristic opportunity to capture it. Today I regret that decision, but not because of anything really related to Mom. It's about Genny. She had missed my mom's last visit, and when she heard my mom was coming back, Genny didn't want to miss her--just because Mom is MY mom. Genny loved me that much--No tribute to me necessarily, just a tribute to her love.
Genny was 71 at the time and still working regularly, so she invited us to lunch around the corner from Lifeway where she worked. Laura; Mom; Ginny; our other friends, Jenni and Becca, and I went to the Town House Tea Room, which might have offended me as a manly man, except that this tea room has a great buffet with all the food I want. Genny gave us a tour of the Lifeway library and she had a gift for Mom-- wild cotton. Mom was actually tickled that this white woman knew more about picking cotton than she did.
I'm trying to piece together the memories right now, because we buried Genny this week. She died unexpectedly, despite her 72 years.
Genny was way more than hostess to my mom. She was Laura's confidante; a member of our Sunday School class; and, mostly, our friend. I don't think Genny was at our wedding 11 years ago, but she's been an active member of our circle of friends for about ten years.
Genny, Damon, and Timothy at Damon's first birthday party.
Damon and me at Genny's 71st birthday party.
Officially Genny has served as the coordinator of our prayer ministry. As such she made a few phone calls, but mostly she prayed. If you imagine an old woman who can't get out and staying home praying, guess again. She did pray at home, but Genny was still working, and despite her failing eyes, still sometimes driving (God help us), and still getting out to play and serve.
When Genny heard about our bi-weekly coffee meetings with friends, she wanted to be a part of it, even though our little group is people from their 20s to their 40s, and Genny started coming in her late 60s. And she didn't come to be a mom or grandmother. She came to be a peer--for the fun of it.
That's not to say that she wasn't a caring person. My wife, Laura could trust no-one more for wise listening. But Genny's wisdom was more in presence than words, more listening than directing.
The favorite Genny story of most people at our church is about the mission trip to Venezuela. The way our mission coordinator, Becky, tells it: She saw Genny in a store one Saturday. Half-jokingly (but only HALF-jokingly), Becky asked, “Are you going with us to Venezuela?” Genny's response “Absolutley not!” For all of her adventure, Genny had never done anything like this. She had never even been on a plane, although she was nearly 70 years old. The next morning after church Genny walked up to Pastor John and asked “Do you think God can use a 70-year old woman in Venezuela?” Long story, short: Genny boarded those planes and served for a week sharing Gospel life with Venezuelan women and children.
We hadn't seen as much of Genny in the past few weeks, although Laura had kept in touch by phone. Mainly Genny had been caring for a son she expected to soon pass on himself. She beat him to heaven, which probably thrills her to no end. She was dreading the prospect of burying her son. Thank God, she didn't have to And thank God she's Home now, hearing the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Genny was 71 at the time and still working regularly, so she invited us to lunch around the corner from Lifeway where she worked. Laura; Mom; Ginny; our other friends, Jenni and Becca, and I went to the Town House Tea Room, which might have offended me as a manly man, except that this tea room has a great buffet with all the food I want. Genny gave us a tour of the Lifeway library and she had a gift for Mom-- wild cotton. Mom was actually tickled that this white woman knew more about picking cotton than she did.
I'm trying to piece together the memories right now, because we buried Genny this week. She died unexpectedly, despite her 72 years.
Genny was way more than hostess to my mom. She was Laura's confidante; a member of our Sunday School class; and, mostly, our friend. I don't think Genny was at our wedding 11 years ago, but she's been an active member of our circle of friends for about ten years.
Genny, Damon, and Timothy at Damon's first birthday party.
Damon and me at Genny's 71st birthday party. Officially Genny has served as the coordinator of our prayer ministry. As such she made a few phone calls, but mostly she prayed. If you imagine an old woman who can't get out and staying home praying, guess again. She did pray at home, but Genny was still working, and despite her failing eyes, still sometimes driving (God help us), and still getting out to play and serve.
When Genny heard about our bi-weekly coffee meetings with friends, she wanted to be a part of it, even though our little group is people from their 20s to their 40s, and Genny started coming in her late 60s. And she didn't come to be a mom or grandmother. She came to be a peer--for the fun of it.
That's not to say that she wasn't a caring person. My wife, Laura could trust no-one more for wise listening. But Genny's wisdom was more in presence than words, more listening than directing.
The favorite Genny story of most people at our church is about the mission trip to Venezuela. The way our mission coordinator, Becky, tells it: She saw Genny in a store one Saturday. Half-jokingly (but only HALF-jokingly), Becky asked, “Are you going with us to Venezuela?” Genny's response “Absolutley not!” For all of her adventure, Genny had never done anything like this. She had never even been on a plane, although she was nearly 70 years old. The next morning after church Genny walked up to Pastor John and asked “Do you think God can use a 70-year old woman in Venezuela?” Long story, short: Genny boarded those planes and served for a week sharing Gospel life with Venezuelan women and children.
We hadn't seen as much of Genny in the past few weeks, although Laura had kept in touch by phone. Mainly Genny had been caring for a son she expected to soon pass on himself. She beat him to heaven, which probably thrills her to no end. She was dreading the prospect of burying her son. Thank God, she didn't have to And thank God she's Home now, hearing the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Friday, December 09, 2005
Aslan on the Move
Of course he's not safe! But's he's good.
You may be wondering about the "Purr and Roar" in this blog's title. It's all about lions. I have this unhealthy affection for the lion. And while I will sometimes have occasion to pontificate roaringly, most times I'm just purring.
I'm not sure where or why my affection for lions began, but I know that said affection got a huge boost when I re-read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis way back in the eighties. Now with the release of the movie, I've written my review.
My friends and family are well aware of my obsession. More tragic is that my poor unsuspecting grandson, Damon, is equally obsessed with lions, since I’ve accidentally trained him to be. Funny how we inadvertently pass on values to those we love. Incidentally when Damon roars, it sounds more like a purr... or a gargle.
I think Miss Perkins, my fourth grade teacher, must have loved her students. I know that she was a Christian evangelist, although I have no real evidence that she was a Christian. When I look back at all that I’ve learned in school that I still retain I often find myself back at Cheney Elementary in Ft. Belvoir, VA.
Among the values Miss Perkins passed along were a love for good literature and the learning of virtue through that literature. I do not know how intentional she was in this teaching, but I remember the two books she read to us as a class. The first was a Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle. The second was The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe By C.S. Lewis.
Both books scared me nearly to death. My 9-year old mind was still able to imagine vividly and my young heart was still vulnerable to deep feeling. These days I welcome any deep feeling and I stray away from imagining. Then imagination and feeling were second nature. Fortunately the same vulnerability that allowed me to fear the evil in the stories also opened my psyche to the truth (in both books) that sacrificial love is the strongest power in the universe.
Both books stayed with me. In college I re–read them and also began reading nearly everything these two authors have written.
While I can’t exactly trace the beginning of my lion obsession to Lewis’s books, the books clearly re-invigorated my affection. Aslan comes through the Narnia books as powerful, mysterious, compassionate, sacrificial, wise and good–- attributes I’d like to bottle and drink daily.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Lib'ral Who Worships
When Amy Grant was still in grade school, before there was "Contemporary Christian Music," when "Gospel Music" was largely relegated to one of two insular communities or to novelty presentations in the secular world, when some of that Gospel Music was just getting heard alongside rock and roll (I'm ignoring Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers, early Staple Singers, early Curtis Mayfield, as well as a host of country artists led by Hank Williams and Johnny Cash, not to mention Elvis Presley), when Edwin Hawkins was about to get a hearing with O Happy Day, and the Staple Singers with I'll Take You There and Respect Yourself, when Aretha was just working up to her Amazing Grace album, long before Bob Dylan's "Christian" albums and way before the commercial success of "Christian artists" or "Worship Music," a liberal Canadian folk singer was worshipping God and getting his worship played on the radio.
I've been a Bruce Cockburn fan since the release of Inner City Front back in 1981. But he'd been at it for several albums by then. This week I've immersed myself in Cockburn music again, occassioned by my discovery of several more "Deluxe Editions" (Are you tired of these quotation marks yet?!) of his classic discs.
Mostly I've been replacing my old discs with these new remastered versions, which also have at least one bonus song each. But my greatest joy has been the discovery of gems on a couple older offerings that I've never owned. Lot's of great music on these discs, but I want to mention only one song from each.
Amongst the love ballads (never pop-y or syrupy) and the social commentary (often angry), Cockburn never fails to worship God. He has known, like all wise believers, that there's really no separation between our social, personal, and spiritual lives. In the Falling Dark opens with "Lord of the Starfields," a praise song without the selfishness that dominates much of today's praise in worship--It's all about the Lord, not about what the Lord has done for me.
Ironically Further Adventures Of presents another worship song, this time MORE personal than most of today's praise and worship, but still it seems a fitting tribute to Jesus Christ "Can I Go With You" begins
When you ride out of the shining sky
to claim the ones who love you,
can I go with you?
Can I go with you?
How personal, but how worshipful is that?!
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Africana Worship
Just finished my first installment for the African American liturgy project I'm contributing to for work. The overall site is at www.africanaworship.com. But if you want to go directly to my first submissions, you can find them here.
I've dragged my feet on my parts of this project, despite my great belief in it. The feet dragging just comes from the work it takes to write liturgy (interestingly, I've learned that the word liturgy means "work"). It's not the natural way I think or write. But I've been thrilled with the opportunity to train my mind in this way, to reclaim my Black Church heritage, and to mine that heritage for the benefit of the Reign of God.
I like this project because I have come to renounce the idea of a disembodied Gospel. Along these lines, Anthony, the postmodernegro has been posting some provocative thoughts here and here.
From my perspective, while our cultures can certainly distort the Good News of Jesus, any truly Gospel message will come culturally contained. We should be careful not to confuse our cultures or our ideologies with the Gospel, but we need not be ashamed of culturally-influenced constructions of the Gospel. All constructions, even biblical ones are culturally-constructed anyway.
End of today's sermon.
I've dragged my feet on my parts of this project, despite my great belief in it. The feet dragging just comes from the work it takes to write liturgy (interestingly, I've learned that the word liturgy means "work"). It's not the natural way I think or write. But I've been thrilled with the opportunity to train my mind in this way, to reclaim my Black Church heritage, and to mine that heritage for the benefit of the Reign of God.
I like this project because I have come to renounce the idea of a disembodied Gospel. Along these lines, Anthony, the postmodernegro has been posting some provocative thoughts here and here.
From my perspective, while our cultures can certainly distort the Good News of Jesus, any truly Gospel message will come culturally contained. We should be careful not to confuse our cultures or our ideologies with the Gospel, but we need not be ashamed of culturally-influenced constructions of the Gospel. All constructions, even biblical ones are culturally-constructed anyway.
End of today's sermon.
Emergent, United Methodist Youth, and Blogs
Went "home" this week to my old haunt at the United Methodist Publishing House for a sort of consultation on the Emerging Church and United Methodist youth. It was actually a pretty fun discussion for me. Though brief, it reminded me of the conversations I loved at this year's Emergent Convention.
Even more fun than the discussion was catching up with my old friends: Crys, Jenny, Sheila and Keely. 'Twas also great getting to hang with Gavin, Jonathan and Josh (Gavin and Jonathan helped me with my rookie blogging questions), and meeting Clark in person, after visiting his blog.
You can find pics of the day at Gavin's site here.
Even more fun than the discussion was catching up with my old friends: Crys, Jenny, Sheila and Keely. 'Twas also great getting to hang with Gavin, Jonathan and Josh (Gavin and Jonathan helped me with my rookie blogging questions), and meeting Clark in person, after visiting his blog.
You can find pics of the day at Gavin's site here.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Dinah's Dad Rocks
The land is now littered with rocks, thanks to Dinah's dad, Jacob. I've made the list now. I don't want to miss any; I want to leave no stone unaccounted for.
As we've walked through Genesis in our Sunday morning Bible study, we've lamented (or celebrated) how human all these "heroes of the faith" are, and how slow they are to learn. Dinah's father, Jacob, is the best example so far. A schemer, a manipulator, a cheater from birth; he seems only to mature into a schemer with less will. His sons are increasingly out of control, and he doesn't seem to know what to do.
His obsession with one wife (to the exclusion of three others) and his devotion to one son (to the devastation of 10 others, not to mention at least one daughter, our Dinah) demands a modern-style addiction intervention.
But there is another side to Jacob--a side that seems to be showing signs of growth, of spiritual formation, of connection with the God of Universe, the God of Dinah's grandfather and great-grandfather.
Jacob marks his spiritual formation, his encounters with God, by building altars periodically throughout his life. He marks times and places, and he names the places for his God-encounters. So he's got "House of God" (Bethel, Genesis 28:22), "heap of witness" (Genesis 31:45), "two camps" (Genesis 32:2), "face of God" (Genesis 32:30), "God of Israel" (Genesis 33:20), "God of the House of God (Genesis 35:7, 14), and finally the "pillar of Rachel's grave" where his mother died between Bethel and Bethlehem (Genesis 35:19).
What do we do to mark our encounters with God? Do we pay attention to them? I believe that God is always with us. Sometimes God is that silent figure beside me who keeps me sane. Sometimes God makes me feel insane. But I believe any good that comes from me comes from God. Any good that comes TO me comes from God. Any time I sense grace, love, forgiveness, strength, wisdom, inspiration, rest, God is its source.
I need some rocks.
As we've walked through Genesis in our Sunday morning Bible study, we've lamented (or celebrated) how human all these "heroes of the faith" are, and how slow they are to learn. Dinah's father, Jacob, is the best example so far. A schemer, a manipulator, a cheater from birth; he seems only to mature into a schemer with less will. His sons are increasingly out of control, and he doesn't seem to know what to do.
His obsession with one wife (to the exclusion of three others) and his devotion to one son (to the devastation of 10 others, not to mention at least one daughter, our Dinah) demands a modern-style addiction intervention.
But there is another side to Jacob--a side that seems to be showing signs of growth, of spiritual formation, of connection with the God of Universe, the God of Dinah's grandfather and great-grandfather.
Jacob marks his spiritual formation, his encounters with God, by building altars periodically throughout his life. He marks times and places, and he names the places for his God-encounters. So he's got "House of God" (Bethel, Genesis 28:22), "heap of witness" (Genesis 31:45), "two camps" (Genesis 32:2), "face of God" (Genesis 32:30), "God of Israel" (Genesis 33:20), "God of the House of God (Genesis 35:7, 14), and finally the "pillar of Rachel's grave" where his mother died between Bethel and Bethlehem (Genesis 35:19).
What do we do to mark our encounters with God? Do we pay attention to them? I believe that God is always with us. Sometimes God is that silent figure beside me who keeps me sane. Sometimes God makes me feel insane. But I believe any good that comes from me comes from God. Any good that comes TO me comes from God. Any time I sense grace, love, forgiveness, strength, wisdom, inspiration, rest, God is its source.
I need some rocks.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Back from Vacation
Hey, is this thing on? Purrs and roars are back now that we've returned from sunny FL.
My Emerging Church friends are roaring with new decisions every day. The question of whether these are good or bad decision remains to be seen, but a prayer wells up within me:
Lord, don't let this be another thing we talk about in theory. Don't let us get bogged down with whether it's a program, a movement, or a conversation.
Don't let us get stuck defending a right to exist and to call ourselves Christian.
Don't let us argue to hear ourselves talk or even to gain agreement. But don't let us settle for less than Christian truth.
Don't let us be so enamored with our lack of form that we shun all form, and don't let us bow too easily to formulas without thinking.
Don't let us stick with old physical structures, communal structures, or philosophical structures that keep us from following Jesus. But don't let us throw out the old just for the sake of the new.
Help us, Lord, to keep the main thing the main thing: Jesus is Lord, and we are here to love and serve God and to love and serve the world.
My Emerging Church friends are roaring with new decisions every day. The question of whether these are good or bad decision remains to be seen, but a prayer wells up within me:
Lord, don't let this be another thing we talk about in theory. Don't let us get bogged down with whether it's a program, a movement, or a conversation.
Don't let us get stuck defending a right to exist and to call ourselves Christian.
Don't let us argue to hear ourselves talk or even to gain agreement. But don't let us settle for less than Christian truth.
Don't let us be so enamored with our lack of form that we shun all form, and don't let us bow too easily to formulas without thinking.
Don't let us stick with old physical structures, communal structures, or philosophical structures that keep us from following Jesus. But don't let us throw out the old just for the sake of the new.
Help us, Lord, to keep the main thing the main thing: Jesus is Lord, and we are here to love and serve God and to love and serve the world.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Entertaining Angels?
Here's something that doesn't happen every day. I'm home alone on Saturday; Laura and the boys have gone to Target. There's a frantic knock at the front door. I open the door, and there stand two teenage girls and a teenage boy. (Their names have been changed even though they're innocent). They're looking for my 15-year old. And they're full of energy like they're on an adventure. When I tell them that my son is not home, they want to wait for him. They travelled over an hour to get here. I ask how they know him and they say they met him online on Myspace. I gather that he had no idea they were coming. I invite them in and call my boy to come home(Thank God for cell phones). I offer them a drink. Only Jamie takes one.
Then I say "Until he gets here, you have to talk to me." "Okay!" is the response.
TDad: So you met my boy on Myspace? What exactly do you do on Myspace?
Jamie: Well, you make friends. You post pictures, and your friends comment on them. You talk about stuff.
TDad: Do you all have a Myspace page?
Jamie and Carrie: Yeah.
Derek: I hadn't gone to my page in a long time. I signed on and there were all these people there that I didn't even know.
TDad: So do you then go visit these people, like you're doing now?
Carrie: Yeah, I have.
Jamie: No, I've never done this before.
TDad: So what's the deal with my boy? What made you come and visit him?
Carrie: Ask Jamie, I just came for the ride.
Derek: I just came 'cause they needed a car.
Jamie: Well he seemed like such a nice guy.
Carrie: I don't even live around here. I live in Utah. But I'm not a Mormon!
Jamie: So are you having a nice summer?
TDad: Well I don't really get a summer like you guys do. I still have to work.
Jamie: Well, what do you do?
TDad: I work for the Methodist Church. I edit books and do some other stuff.
So how do you guys know one another?
Jamie: Well Carrie and I met at church. She came to spend the summer with her mother who lives around here. She lives with her dad in Utah.
TDad: So what church do you go to?
Jamie: Well, it's the LDS church, but I'm not a Mormon. I'm a Christian. It's just that my parents make me go to the Mormon Church.
Carrie: Yeah , my dad and stepmother, too. My dad is like the stake president, but I'm not a Mormon.
Jamie: So, are you Baptist or Methodist? Your boy said you guys go to a Baptist church, but didn't you say you work for the Methodist church?
TDad: I'm a Christian. I try to follow Jesus. That's what's important to me. My Baptist friends might think I'm a little too Methodist. My Methodist friends might be afraid I'm Baptist. I just care about trying to follow Jesus.
So how does that work for you? You have to go to the Mormon church, but you don't agree with it. What don't you agree with? And what happens when you go?
Jamie: Well, basically no-one talks to me cause I look like this. I like to dress kind of goth. And, like, right now this sleeveless top, I couldn't wear there and you're supposed to have only one earpierce in each ear. I just don't think you should force people into those beliefs.
Carrie: Yeah, my parents force me to go to church, and I don't think you should do that. I think people should be allowed to decide for themselves what they believe.
TDad: We make our boy go to church.
Jamie: Yeah, I heard that.
TDad: Well, I agree with you. People should be allowed to make up their own minds about what they believe. No-one should try to force them to believe anything. Actually no-one can. We know that. I have no desire to force my kids to believe anything. But I do hope that they live Christian lives. As along as they live with us and until they are 18, we make them go to church. As parents we want to train them that way. But we know we can't make them believe anything.
About that time Laura and the boys come home. I leave the teens to their own conversation.
Then I say "Until he gets here, you have to talk to me." "Okay!" is the response.
TDad: So you met my boy on Myspace? What exactly do you do on Myspace?
Jamie: Well, you make friends. You post pictures, and your friends comment on them. You talk about stuff.
TDad: Do you all have a Myspace page?
Jamie and Carrie: Yeah.
Derek: I hadn't gone to my page in a long time. I signed on and there were all these people there that I didn't even know.
TDad: So do you then go visit these people, like you're doing now?
Carrie: Yeah, I have.
Jamie: No, I've never done this before.
TDad: So what's the deal with my boy? What made you come and visit him?
Carrie: Ask Jamie, I just came for the ride.
Derek: I just came 'cause they needed a car.
Jamie: Well he seemed like such a nice guy.
Carrie: I don't even live around here. I live in Utah. But I'm not a Mormon!
Jamie: So are you having a nice summer?
TDad: Well I don't really get a summer like you guys do. I still have to work.
Jamie: Well, what do you do?
TDad: I work for the Methodist Church. I edit books and do some other stuff.
So how do you guys know one another?
Jamie: Well Carrie and I met at church. She came to spend the summer with her mother who lives around here. She lives with her dad in Utah.
TDad: So what church do you go to?
Jamie: Well, it's the LDS church, but I'm not a Mormon. I'm a Christian. It's just that my parents make me go to the Mormon Church.
Carrie: Yeah , my dad and stepmother, too. My dad is like the stake president, but I'm not a Mormon.
Jamie: So, are you Baptist or Methodist? Your boy said you guys go to a Baptist church, but didn't you say you work for the Methodist church?
TDad: I'm a Christian. I try to follow Jesus. That's what's important to me. My Baptist friends might think I'm a little too Methodist. My Methodist friends might be afraid I'm Baptist. I just care about trying to follow Jesus.
So how does that work for you? You have to go to the Mormon church, but you don't agree with it. What don't you agree with? And what happens when you go?
Jamie: Well, basically no-one talks to me cause I look like this. I like to dress kind of goth. And, like, right now this sleeveless top, I couldn't wear there and you're supposed to have only one earpierce in each ear. I just don't think you should force people into those beliefs.
Carrie: Yeah, my parents force me to go to church, and I don't think you should do that. I think people should be allowed to decide for themselves what they believe.
TDad: We make our boy go to church.
Jamie: Yeah, I heard that.
TDad: Well, I agree with you. People should be allowed to make up their own minds about what they believe. No-one should try to force them to believe anything. Actually no-one can. We know that. I have no desire to force my kids to believe anything. But I do hope that they live Christian lives. As along as they live with us and until they are 18, we make them go to church. As parents we want to train them that way. But we know we can't make them believe anything.
About that time Laura and the boys come home. I leave the teens to their own conversation.
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