How to Speak the Truth in Love

Pundits, commentators, bloggers, and other opinionated people like me have been lamenting the demise of civility and the polarization of public discourse. I believe that that polarization has made humility in our discourse nearly impossible.

And we who decry the polarization offer precious few examples (perhaps because of their scarcity) of those who have dared to speak with humility, conviction and respect. One obstacle to speaking with humility is our aversion to ceasing speech when involved in discourse. We cannot respectfully engage people in discourse if we are unwilling to listen to them.

So here is your high profile example of two men who engaged, listened, spoke with respect, disagreed, and developed a lasting friendship. Shane Windemeyer, the gay leader who spearheaded the boycott of Chick-fil-a for its anti-gay activities writes about his developing friendship with Dan Cathy, conservative head of Chick-fil-a. It is a recipe for disagreeing without being disagreeable. It is a model for those of us who have strong Christian beliefs to engage with those who disagree with us, though they may be Christian as well.

I'm afraid that too often we Christians put such confidence in what we believe to be the truth that we forget the love at the heart of the message. But if we follow the model of these two men, even if we don't change minds on certain issues, we proclaim the Gospel in a manner worthy of the message. Read and learn, people, read and learn.

The War on Truth and Unity

“History reverberates with testimonies of a shameful tragedy. Centuries ago a sage named Socrates was forced to drink hemlock. The men who called for his death were not bad men with demonic blood running through their veins. On the contrary they were sincere and respectable citizens of Greece. They genuinely thought Socrates was an atheist because his idea of God had a philosophical depth that probed beyond traditional concepts. Not badness but blindness killed Socrates. Saul was not an evil-intentioned man when he persecuted Christians.  He was a sincere conscientious devotee of Israel’s faith. He thought he was right. He persecuted Christians not because he was devoid of integrity, but because he was devoid of enlightenment. The Christians who engaged in in famous persecutions and shameful inquisitions were not evil men but misguided men. The churchmen who felt an edict from God to withstand the progress of science, whether in the form of a Copernican revolution or a Darwinian theory of natural selection, were not mischievous men but misinformed men. And so Christ’s words from the cross are written in sharp-etched terms across some of the most inexpressible tragedies of history: ‘They know not what they do.’”

—Martin Luther King, Jr. “Love in Action” in Strength to Love

Dr. King could find similar examples in our own day. Sadder still: We have come to the day that Dr. King seemed to want to prevent. The blindness of which he spoke has deteriorated into sinfulness.

A great example is the now quadrennial dustup over pray-ers at the Presidential inauguration. Some of us—apparently only a few of us—are overcome with giddiness when the diverse spectrum of speakers is announced. Four years ago Martin Luther King lieutenant Joseph Lowery (I was his backstage host at a youth ministry event in 1995) and Rick Warren (I led our church’s version of 40 Days of Purpose in 2006) were invited to pray. This time the line-up included Myrlie Evers-Williams (civil rights activist and widow of martyr Medgar Evers) and Louie Giglio (of Passion Worship Movement fame).

But not everyone shares my glee at this diversity. Others operate with obligatory disgust and begin their dirt research. And then the Inauguration Committee’s gesture of unity gets trampled by polarization and namecalling. Welcome to the culture wars!

True to form, someone, who obviously objects to a conservative Christian praying at a Presidential inaugural event, found an old sermon that they believe disqualified Rev. Louie Giglio from praying. They justify this inquisition, probably calling it their journalistic obligation. But more likely it “needed” to be done to stop those Bible-thumping, ignorant, homophobic, right wing fundamentalists from forcing their religion down our throats. Typical outrage ensued, and Mr. Giglio withdrew. The anti-conservative-Christians camp had won. And the unity of our nation took another little blow.

I admit to wishing Mr. Giglio had chosen, like Rick Warren did four years ago, to tough it out and pray for our nation on the occasion of a Presidential inauguration. But I don’t know all of the deliberations that he and his advisors entertained before pulling out. And I honor the respectability of his statement.

This event doesn’t end with the dirt-digging and the decision to withdraw. Well-meaning Christian leaders decided that this is another chance to decry the Obama Administration’s so-called War on Religion. They didn’t have to look far or say much—just  hint that Louie was invited to pray and now he wasn’t praying. ‘Nuff said, right? We all know what happened.  And we must call out the Godless, liberal, Leftist, gay agenda of the Obama Administration.

Except that this incident is an example of just the opposite. The administration’s Inaugural Committee designed the event, invited the guests, and received acceptances.  Among those accepting was Mr. Giglio, whose inclusion in the program was reportedly at the President’s personal request. No further action was taken by the administration until Mr. Giglio withdrew, at which point the Inaugural Committee issued a carefully worded statement emphasizing their desire for inclusion, a desire they demonstrated by inviting such a diverse roster of participants.

Some prominent Christian leaders have ignored the facts. One example comes from Rev. Russell Moore:

“When it is now impossible for one who holds to the catholic Christian view of marriage and the gospel to pray at a public event, we now have a de facto established state church. Just as the pre-constitutional Anglican and congregational churches required a license to preach in order to exclude Baptists, the new state church requires a “license” of embracing sexual liberation in all its forms.”

But the “state” did no such thing. The “state,” meaning The Obama Administration, meaning “The Enemy” invited a prominent Evangelical Christian, who accepted the invitation, and then withdrew under pressure that had nothing to do with the “state.” Perhaps there was a tinge of persecution in the 48 hours between Giglio’s acceptance and his withdrawal, but his defenders’ outrage mocks real religious persecution and ignores the fact that the “state” was the inviter, not the persecutor.

 If I follow Martin Luther King here, I acknowledge that these Christian leaders were just mistaken. In their zeal to defend their rights and their beliefs, they were blind. King warned us in the church of the seeds of this phenomenon which has sprouted and blossomed into a malicious weed:

“Never must the church tire of reminding men that they have a moral responsibility to be intelligent. Must we not admit that the church has often overlooked this moral demand for enlightenment? At times it has talked as though ignorance were a virtue and intelligence a crime. Through its obscurantism, closedmindedness and obstinacy to the truth, the church has often unconsciously encouraged its worshippers to look askance at intelligence.” --“Love in Action” in Strength to Love

It’s possible that their blindness reflects innocent ignorance, but I suggest that their blindness was stoked by their desire to believe something other than the truth. Their devotion to the “Obama is anti-religion” narrative blossomed into an unwillingness to pursue the truth.

This is an object lesson. I am not interested in pointing out who is the worst offender in this scenario. This kind of thinking is a reflection of our times. We line up on either side of any number of issues and lump all of those who disagree with us as into an evil entity identifiable by a buzz word. All we have to say is “fundamentalists” or “Socialists.” We say, “the Left” or “Right Wing.” Sadly even “conservative” and “liberal,” “Democrat” and “Republican,” and “Bush” and “Obama” are code words for “the enemy.” And we hyperbolically decry a War on Religion, a War on Women, a War on the Family, and a War on Equality, and we feel justified, even obligated, to demonize those—even those driven by their faith—who think differently.

As a Christian I am particularly grieved when Christian leaders are perpetuators of these battle lines. In this case once they had determined that those other folks are actually evil, nothing else mattered, even the truth and love in the Gospel of Jesus. The actual facts didn’t serve their narrative so they perpetuated a lie. And they told it and told it and told it so that their lying storyline could survive. This is when their blindness became sinfulness.

Intellectual blindness is not the problem; a total disregard for truth is. My best prayer is “Father, forgive them,” whether or not they know what they do.

The Weapons of Our Warfare

Many of us continue to try to make sense of the senseless tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut. People of faith have offered helpful and not so helpful explanations and prescriptions after the tragedy.

I agree with my Christian brothers and sisters when they say that atrocities like Sandy Hook reflect issues of the heart and mind. I agree that laws do not address those issues well. No law or collection of legal actions can guarantee that Sandy Hook will never happen again. Nor will they address the core issues that lead a person to commit such atrocities.

But my friends and I diverge when they suggest that because this involves matters of heart and because we have no ironclad guarantees resulting from our action, then nothing can be done. Some of my friends, people I respect greatly, suggest or explicitly state that no law can be enacted, no regulation can be administered, no personal or communal soul searching is necessary, no action is relevant, and no remedy is available to make these atrocities less devastating, less costly, and less common.

Twenty-seven wooden angels commemorating the victims of the Sandy Hook school shooting.

Photo by EMMANUEL DUNAND/AFP/Getty Images

I reject this belief of my dear brothers and sisters. Ours is not a faith that says that because evil is in the heart and violence is in the world, there is nothing we can do about it. Nor are we prohibited from addressing and minimizing the effects of sin. We were not called to this Christian life to sit back and watch sin run rampant. Sin will always be with us in this life, and according to our Scriptures, the human heart will continue to be wicked. But we do have resources to address both the wickedness and its effects. We are people who offer hope. And there is more to our calling than waiting till everyone follows Jesus or waiting until Jesus returns. On the contrary, we have a proud Christian history of addressing sin and its effects using all resources at our disposal, including the championing of legislation.

We Americans are, after all, a nation of laws, not of weapons. The right to bear arms itself is enshrined in legislation. But laws can be ineffective, overly restrictive, or just stupid. We have heard a sickening array of those proposals in the past week. But if all legislation falls into that category, then I suppose we should try anarchy until Jesus comes. We don’t do so because laws do serve a purpose.

Since I agree with my friends that laws don’t effectively address the heart and mind core issues, then why have laws? Because they address the common good. By advancing the common good, we limit the impact of deceitful hearts. We do our part in the Kingdom of God—not that we will see it fulfilled next week or next year or whenever some legislation goes into effect, but we “kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight” (Thanks, Bruce Cockburn).

I am horrified by Christian cries against any gun restriction for anybody under any circumstances. I understand the libertarian stance, and I recognize that a Constitutional law professor can establish legal justification. But I cannot reconcile those cries with my Christian calling.

 

I’m afraid that my friends’ rhetoric reflects more than a difference of opinion between them and me. I’m afraid (and I here’s the part I especially hate saying) it reflects a commitment to something else above the full Gospel of Jesus Christ. I’m no perfect Christian, nor do I expect them to be, but I expect us to proclaim the truth of Jesus more loudly than we do the fallible documents of the state or our own pursuit of "rights." And I expect that Gospel to be effectual in all aspects of this life as well as the next. Like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I believe 

We need to recapture the gospel glow of the early Christians, who ... refused to shape their witness according to the mundane patterns of the world. Willingly they sacrificed fame, fortune, and life itself in behalf of a cause they knew to be right. Quantitatively small, they were qualitatively giants. Their powerful gospel put an end to such barbaric evils as infanticide and bloody gladiatorial contests....If the church of Jesus Christ is to regain once more its power,  message, and authentic ring, it must conform only to the demands of the gospel. (from "Transformed Nonconformist," in Strength to Love, 1963)

Gospel proclamation takes courage, it takes willingness, it takes guts, it takes desire, it takes a refusal to sit back in proud judgment and a willingness to enter into the fray with an open heart. The answer to wickedness is not resignation.  It is love. Tough love often, complicated love sometimes, even sacrificial love (as in “I might have to give up some secular rights”) but it takes love. Courage and love, both affairs of the heart, can address sins of the heart. And they can give us the will and the means to dare to entertain policies and actions that limit the potential effects of that sin...until Jesus returns.

The Way It's Supposed to Be: Reflections on Sandy Hook

I finally remembered the unicorn. It had been in our car since Sunday when our granddaughters, five-year-old Chelsea and 18-month-old Zoey, went to church with us. We took the girls home after Sunday lunch, but Chelsea left the little stuffed toy in our car.

That Friday morning, December 14, 2012, we drove to their house to take Chelsea and eight-year-old Damon to school as we do many schooldays. All week I had kept forgetting to return the unicorn. Until that day.

We arrived at their house and found Chelsea as we do every schoolday, dressed and sitting in her little girl chair in the middle of the living room, watching “Charlie and Lola” on TV. Damon was nowhere to be found. We knew he was in the house somewhere, and older people were around but asleep. I finally spotted two legs sticking out from under the Christmas tree like the Wicked Witch of the East under Dorothy's fallen house. After we pulled him out, we laughed a little and gathered up the children and their things.

Before we left the house, Chelsea grabbed a pink box that opens at the top and has two opening drawers in the front. She gave it to me and said “You take this home and put stuff in it.” When we got to the car, she elaborated to Meemaw, “ You put stuff in it, and Peepaw puts stuff in it. Then you can bring it back to me tomorrow or Sunday.” We took in our instructions obediently. I’m pretty sure she just wanted us to have something else of hers since we returned the unicorn.

 Whitsitt Elementary School is only about four blocks from the house, but as the weather is getting colder we prefer driving the kids to school. Once we pulled out of the driveway, Meemaw   started the prayer.  “God we thank you for this day. And we ask that you be with Damon and Chelsea at school today. We ask for their protection. And we pray that they will be obedient to their teachers and kind to their classmates. We pray that everyone will be kind to them. We pray that they will know that You are with them. In Jesus’ Name.  Amen.”  

“Amen.” 

“Amen.”

“Amen.”  

As we approached the drive up to the school, Meemaw said, as usual, “Wave to Mommy.” Chelsea and Damon’s mom, Chrissy, is a crossing guard at their school. We always wave to her as we drive up to the school.

We parked and headed into the building and walked the short entry hallway. From there, the second through fourth graders turn right and the pre-K through first graders turn left to get to their respective classrooms. At this point we typically wait for Damon’s decision. He might want to go to breakfast, might want to walk alone to class, or might want to have company walking to his second- grade class. “Company” usually means Meemaw, since I am designated to walk with Chelsea, who always just wants to get to class as soon as possible and would be just as happy to walk all by herself.  

Chelsea and I both love the walk, but we are really in different worlds, I think. I am an observer, amazed and delighted to see how the children at Whitsitt respond to one another every day. The school exudes kindness, friendliness, and safety. And yes I have to mention the racial make-up of the student body. It’s perhaps 80% Latino with a handful of black students and white students. That make-up matters to me, mainly because it doesn’t seem to matter to the children. Brown, black, and white pre-K through fourth grade boys and girls walk hand in hand or arm and arm. They are not supposed to speak, because it’s Zone Zero in the halls, but they smile and wave and sneak in a “Hi Chelsea” whenever they can. Chelsea is obediently silent, but also smiles and waves. And she soaks it in.

On this day Damon decided to walk to class on his own, so Meemaw hugged him and said goodbye before joining me and Chelsea. As usual Chelsea’s mood grew more quietly excited as she walked down the hall. We finally got her to her class, where she stopped to hug Meemaw, and I kneeled down so that she could half-hug me. She doesn’t like this moment because she’s already in school mode, but she always accommodates us. By then she was beaming. Mrs. Williams greeted her at the door, and Chelsea entered her kindergarten classroom, her second home, safe and sound.

After the events at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut, that day, we made a point of going to Damon and Chelsea's house after school. We just wanted to see their little faces. When we walked in, Chelsea wanted to know if I had brought back her pink box. I reminded her that I have until Sunday. She giggled, “That’s right. I’ll see you Sunday!”

Fear of a Baseball Cap

It was July 4, 1996. I was with my wife, our four children and our dear friends in the Kroger grocery store parking lot in Franklin, Tennessee. Lots of other patriots had gathered with us anticipating sundown so that we could enjoy the Independence Day celebration. While the sun still shone, we were all just killing time. Cars were lined up in their parking places while the erstwhile occupants lounged on truckbeds or wandered the aisles laughing and taking in the last moments of sun.

 

Our younger kids were getting restless, so to occupy them I volunteered to accompany them to get drinks and candy in the store. We walked toward the store—this slightly built black man and a gaggle of young white children. All the people we passed were also white, and as we walked I could feel the eyes on me. The kids were innocently oblivious. Not one to shy away, I looked up to greet or at least make eye contact with anyone who dared to keep up the stare. Several young men obliged with scowls that showed me they weren’t in a greeting mood. They wore a standard uniform each punctuated by a baseball cap with a brim curled just a certain way. No-one said anything to me. They didn’t have to. They seemed to know innately that the stare communicated their message.

 

I felt the message deep in my bones; it was visceral. And not unfamiliar. In earlier months only blocks from that parking lot, young white men sent more explicit messages. On one occasion a carload of baseball-capped young men cruised by hanging out of a car and yelling racial insults at my wife and me. And on another occasion similarly dressed young white men drove by pointing gun-shooting gestures at me.

The intimidation is real, although its effectiveness on me varies according to my mood. Most times it is unsettling but not enough to alter any actions I already had in mind. These guys INTEND to be threatening to me. And I identify them ahead of time by that baseball cap they wear and by the area of town I happen to be in. For me, they are trouble-makers, marked by a number of factors topped off with the baseball cap.

Actually I bear no animosity toward the humble baseball cap. My white son sports a baseball cap with a Dr. Pepper logo. And some of my best friends wear baseball caps; some of those people are white young men from Franklin, Tennessee. People wear baseball caps for various reasons: Some as a fashion statement, some to show team or brand loyalty, some to keep the sun out of their eyes, some to cover up an embarrassing head or hair situation, and some because they play baseball. Folks wear their caps in various ways: Close to the head, sitting atop, backwards, side ways, or slightly askance. Baseball cap wearers come in varied sizes, shapes, ages, colors, and genders. It would be wrong for me to assume that every baseball cap wearing person is somehow dangerous to me.

Despite my history, it would be ridiculous for me to believe that their baseball caps MAKE people trouble-makers or that those caps are symbolic of trouble or even that I should somehow be confused about whether their baseball cap makes them dangerous. A focus on the skin color of the cap-wearer or on a particular area of town does nothing to change the picture. Objectively these guys are no more dangerous to me because they are young white guys wearing baseball caps in this area of Franklin. But as an isolated black man on this turf while groups of baseball-capped guys stare me down, I have reason to feel threatened.

Now what if one of those guys was walking in my multicultural neighborhood with a curled rim baseball cap? I’d feel no twinge of threat. My bones don’t recognize a generic baseball-capped young white guy as someone to fear, someone to pursue. If I did feel threatened by a random baseball-capped young white man in my neighborhood, and if I were a neighborhood watch captain, I would call the police. I would follow their advice.

And if that baseball cap-donned young white man came from behind me and attacked me and I knew I was carrying a semi-automatic weapon, he’d probably still be alive. 

Are We Losing Winning?

 I spent the day Saturday ragging on Damon’s coach after their first soccer match of the season. After Damon’s team scored their second goal, one of his teammates asked if they were winning. The coach, who was doubling as a referee, replied, “Winning doesn’t matter.”

“Excuse me?!” I said, mainly to Christian, who was coaching his little brother from the sideline. “What did she say?”

I get where the coach was coming from. A long time ago, I played Little League baseball…badly. I got to play because the league said that the coach had to play me. Each game I served my one inning in right field. Most of that time was spent like Chelsea’s one-and-only soccer practice before she quit this year: I would rather be picking flowers (not literally for me, but for Chelsea...). As I stood out in that field, I prayed, as did my coaches, that the ball would never come my way.

I played for two years, one at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, and one at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii. My two experiences differed very little from each other. But the first year our team came in first place. The second year our team came in fourth place. First place was better.

I played baseball because my brother, Carl—who was still Cochise to me in those days—had played before me. Co experienced all of the pressure that led later parents to go easy on their kids. He was a good player, especially a good pitcher, but I think that, with Dad as his coach, Co never felt he was good enough. Dad had to change his tune by the time I started to play. There was no way to parlay my inability, uncoordination and disinterest into some winning prospect. The best he could do is to hope to get me on a good team and hope I didn’t ruin anything.

I later joined a basketball team of my own volition. I faired no better there, and like Chelsea, I quit pretty early on. But I learned that I liked basketball. It didn’t so much matter how good I was. I liked the game. So by the time I enrolled at Punahou School for my junior year of high school, I was beginning my days playing basketball with a ragtag bunch of classmates. Most of them were better and younger than me, but I still liked playing. I also liked winning.

And I later played basketball on teams or in pickup games, knowing that I would usually be the weakest player on the court. One of my fondest memories remains the day my older brother, Carl, and my younger brother, Keith, and I challenged some guys in a pickup game in Hawaii after my college graduation. My brothers are clearly better athletes than me. I don’t remember who won that game. I do remember that Carl missed a layup, Keith put it back up, I got his miss, and I made the basket. Whether or not we won, I saw myself as the hero—that time.

In my later single adulthood I also enjoyed shooting around by myself. I even used basketball as a sort of worship. I would bring my boombox to the outdoor court at the old Howard School. I’d blast Christian music and sing while I played. I met 12-year-old Josh and 8-year-old Anna that way. They lived across the street from the school. They came over together one day while I was shooting and singing. They introduced themselves and told me that they recognized my Christian music. They asked me where I went to church. Then without asking their parents, they invited me to the weekly Tuesday night dinner they had with close friends from their church. Josh and Anna symbolize basketball benefits that had nothing to do with competition. I had grown to enjoy basketball with or without the competitiveness.

Although I was largely unsuccessful in sports, I did grow up learning to compete, mainly with words. And in those competitions, winning was everything; I would not back down. The residuals of my competitiveness remain today. I like being right. And I like you believing that I am right—even if I’m not.

Then I face moments like this Sunday morning, when Pastor Stephen Handy talked about imitating the humility of Jesus. Again with that Jesus Talk! I loved that in our subsequent Sunday School class, Ken pointed out that Jesus is already a victor and that because of Jesus, we are victors too.

I’m still learning. I have discovered that winning doesn’t have to be everything in order for it to be anything. And in some situations, winning doesn’t even matter. Marriage has been my best laboratory for seeing that “winning doesn’t matter.” I’ve learned that there are some things—such as the relationships themselves—that matter more.

After Damon’s soccer game Saturday, an inattentive teammate asked who won. The coach said, “Nobody won.” I still think she is wrong (which would mean that I am right): Damon’s team won 4-0. It matters. But it's not all that matters.

Food Stamps and Mr. Gingrich

For those like Newt who are still confused that anyone would take offense, the problem isn’t political correctness; it is factual and logical correctness:

·      Most African Americans are NOT on food stamps.

·      Most people on food stamps are NOT African American, the greatest percentage are White.

·      Most African American adults ARE working.

·      Most adults on food stamps ARE working.

·      Most poor adults are either working or trying to work.

·      Great work ethics and poor work ethics persist across the economic spectrum.

·      Many hard-working people still can’t feed their families.

While Mr. Gingrich may be factually correct by stating, “More people have been put on food stamps by Barack Obama than any president in American history,” it is disingenuous to label President Obama “The Food Stamp President,” without considering WHY so many more people are now on food stamps.

Did I say disingenuous? I mean it is a LIE to say that President Obama wants to make people dependent on the government. President Obama wants to dig the country out of an economic rut and to provide relief to its struggling citizens in the meantime.

Mr. Gingrich’s solutions are based on a distorted, misguided, and erroneous perception of the problems.  His rhetoric may resonate with lots of people, but he and those people are ill-informed—not that I think the right information will change their minds.

A Father's Blessing

I know this plays like a commercial, but it's really just another excuse to talk about the grandkids. The occasion is the release of the updated version of The Blessing, John Trent and Gary’s Smalley’s popular family-oriented, Christian “self-help” book, originally published in 1986.

I read the book back then, and as a Christian with a fairly recent psychology degree and a strong desire to raise a family, it punched all my buttons. Problem was I didn’t have a family of my own. I wasn’t married; I wasn’t even dating. So it was a bit like reading escapist fiction for me.  But now, of course, my world is different. I'm married and occasionally dating (my WIFE, silly people!); I count six kids and seven grandkids.

My grandson Damon had a tough time last school year. He is now in 1^st grade for the second time. This year, he’s doing well academically, but it’s taken a while for him to deal with this thing emotionally. It seems that repeating a grade and trying to fit into a new school are not easy realities to get used to.

Laura, my wife, and I get to see him every morning. Before we pick up his cousin Elliott for the day, we travel to Damon’s house to drive him to school. When we get to Damon’s house each schoolday morning, his mom, Chrissy, has already taken his brothers Christian and Dylan to their schools on her way to work.  Brother Michael is also at work. Damon is at home with his daddy, Thomas, who is there after having worked into the evening. Damon's little sisters, Chelsea and Zoey, are usually sleeping.

Before leaving the house with Damon, we ask him, “Did you do you homework? Did you get your folder signed? Are you all set?” It’s the ritual. The last part of the ritual is when he goes to his daddy. Thomas hugs him, holds him close, and whispers a prayer for the day. He challenges Damon to do his best, to obey his teachers, to be kind to his classmates. He says “I love you,” and kisses him. Damon is then ready to face his day.

That moment lasts less than a minute each day, but it makes all the difference in the world for how Damon navigates that day. Thomas bestows a blessing on Damon.

That’s The Blessing John Trent and Gary Smalley describe in their book. Their contention is that The Blessing bestowed upon our children (our grandchildren, spouses, other family members and friends) can make a difference in how they navigate, not just one day, but their entire lives. For the authors there are five elements to The Blessing:

1. Use meaningful and appropriate touch.

2. Use a spoken message of encouragement.

3. Attach high value. Communicate that person’s value.

4. Help them picture a special future.

5. Actively commit to helping them succeed.

I’d like to say that I taught Thomas everything he knows in this regard, but it wouldn’t be true. Thomas is one of those rare people gifted by God as a natural nurturer, a natural encourager. Most of us are not like that. Most of us need help learning how to bestow that blessing. For us, the book, The Blessing, can help.

Why We Ignored Jesus

And when you fast, do not look miserable as the actors and hypocrites do when they are fasting--they walk around town putting on airs about their suffering and weakness, complaining about how hungry they are. So everyone will know they are fasting, they don't  wash or anoint themselves with oil, pink their cheeks, or wear comfortable shoes. Those  who show off their piety, they have already received their  reward. When you fast, wash your face and beautify yourself with oil, so no one who looks at you will know about your discipline. Matthew 5:16-18a, The Voice

If you know me on FB or IRL, you have probably heard about the fast that Laura I undertook for 5 days. It was a vegetable and fruit fast, which means we could eat and drink only those foods. If you've heard about it, it's because we haven’t exactly been quiet about it, even though Jesus said what you read above. To be fair, my transgression has been way more egregious than Laura’s, but she’s not exactly been closemouthed (except toward meat and bread and all grains and legumes and dairy and anything else you would ingest that isn't fruit or vegetable) either.

So how do we justify our total disregard for Jesus’ words?

Well, looking righteous wasn't our reason for advertising the fast. And if you're tempted to think we're wonderful for undertaking this fast, you are very generous (thank you), but you should know that we quit a meal short of our goal (unfortunately that one meal wasn't very satisfying). So we are at best one meal shy of wonderful.

We also did not publicize our venture to gain pity, although I sometimes live like a disciple of Seinfeld’s George Constanza who once said, "Pity's very underrated. I like pity. It's good." Any pity I solicited (one person called me "grumpy") or mock guilt I inflicted was just for entertainment, pretending that we were actually suffering. The truth is we burdened ourselves with eating and drinking only all the fruits and vegetables we could--no real burden.

Ours was not a true commitment; it was an experiment. It all started when Kimberly texted her mother to recommend a movie about fat. I didn't care to see it, but with only end-of-the-summer TV to relax with, I agreed to give it a shot. The movie was Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, and 30 minutes in, we stopped it and went out to buy a juicer. 

People fast for any number or reasons. Our fast was for physical health reasons, not for spiritual purification or growth or for political or spiritual leverage, although we are well aware of the connections between our spiritual, mental, and physical health. And we are aware that Jesus is an equal opportunity physician--healing body, mind, spirit, and even the social order.

In sum, I don’t believe our fast has anything to do with what Jesus was talking about.  The attitudes and actions Jesus warns against were about self-congratulating and solicitation of pity. We had neither of those intentions. 

We did, however, want people to know about our fast. Did I mention that we couldn't eat meat, bread, grains, legumes, or dairy? They even frowned upon potatoes. Potatoes!

Out of Tragedy, Triumph?

This morning after listening to Neil Young’s “Let’s Roll,” I played the collection America: A Tribute to Heroes, from the 9/11 telethon. Lots of moving music, but for me the standouts are always this rendition of Sting’s “Fragile,” and Celine Dion’s classic version of “God Bless America.”

Then we headed for church, where we read together Isaiah 43:2-3b,

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.

When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,

Nor shall the flame scorch you.

For I am the LORD your God. (NKJV)

(When I got home, I heard similar themes reflected in Psalm 46, which President Obama read at Ground Zero. It reads in part:

God is our refuge and strength,

         A very present help in trouble.

 Therefore we will not fear,

         Even though the earth be removed,

         And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;

 Though its waters roar and be troubled,

         Though the mountains shake with its swelling.  Selah  

There is a river whose streams shall make glad the city of God,

         The holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.)

Our pastor, Stephen Handy, commemorated 9/11 with four statements.

He said, “In the midst of tragedy, there is triumph.” Surely he speaks truth. First we heard the heroics of firefighters, police officers, EMTs and ordinary citizens--not the least of whom were a small band of airplane passengers--who risked their lives preventing further tragedy. The days and weeks that followed 9/11 showed a renewal of the American spirit of community, as President Obama highlights in his USA Today op-ed.

Reflecting on the horrors of the day, Pastor Stephen also noted, “God is still with us.” Look around, and while you might find reason to convince otherwise, open eyes will se that if God was ever with us, God is still with us.

Pastor Stephen concluded with the statement “So I thank God for 9/11.” I can share his gratitude, simply because I find it helpful to thank God for nearly everything, looking for the good even in the midst of horrifying bad.

But this commemoration taxes my gratitude efforts because of Pastor Stephen’s first statement. He declared, “We are better people because of that day.” I love and respect our Pastor, but I can’t agree with this statement. Thanking God, even in the midst of tragedy, draws on faith in a loving, just, good God. God’s goodness is at the core of my faith, a starting place.

I need that faith because humans do not command that same confidence. I can agree with both my pastor and our President that we saw better people during the attack and in the immediately following days and weeks, and we have seen better people in the sacrifices of those who have enlisted and served to assure that this kind of tragedy won’t happen again. But I cannot say with any degree of confidence that we Americans as a people are better. We came together as a community and we began to remember our presence as part of the global community—all for a mere moment. 

Since then we have seen the most divisive and mean-spirited attitudes I can remember in my adult life—all without any real cause. To me we are an uglier people.

But perhaps with these memorable songs, these moving commemorations, these somber remembrances, we can also remember those post 9/11 days and try to recapture that spirit. Perhaps we can remember the God who walks with us through fire, storm, and unbelievable horror. And perhaps we can become the better people my pastor calls us.

Love & War & the Sea In-Between: A Music Review

I’ve been downloading music from NoiseTrade for months now. Fortunately for anyone accessing my Facebook page, the NoiseTrade folks no longer insist that I announce to you every time I download free music. Often I download stuff that I haven’t fully appreciated yet, and I’m not sure I want you to know about it. Some of it is still sitting in a folder waiting for me to give it the time of day.

NoiseTrade is great! You can download a song, a few songs, or a preset sampler of indie music. I’m not sure who owns the place, but there is a good bit of folk, pop, rock, Americana, and singer-songwriter stuff; if you look for it, you can find R&B and hip-hop, as well. A good bit of it has a Christian bent, but I’m not sure why. The quality varies, and your personal taste will determine whether it’s worth your time and trouble. But it’s certainly worth your money, since you aren’t risking any (Feel free to tip, though).

Occasionally an artist will offer a complete album. Such was the case with Josh Garrels’ Love & War & the Sea In-Between: an 18-song collection. This daring songwriter demands that we believe that free music doesn’t have to sound cheap (or come cheaply).

To make his point right out of the barrel, Garrels dares to make the music itself interesting. I didn’t suspect he was a Christian believer when I began the listen, and the opening instrumental notes did nothing to divulge his secret. I know: Christian music is supposed to be defined by the words. But unfortunately too much Christian music resembles the caricature in the “Jesus Fish” episode of Seinfeld years ago. Before you even hear the words, the unimaginative instrumentation signals: You are beginning a Christian song. The opening sounds expose the agenda, as if the music holds no creative substance of its own; it exists only to service the lyrical message. 

Forgive me if you are a Christian musician who proves otherwise. You are in good company with Josh Garrels. Before the lyrics threaten with some slave-driving whip, Garrels serves notice: this is a musical/lyrical collaboration. Then four songs in, he hammers the point with the first of several instrumentals! This one relies on electronica, the next one rests in Celtic acoustics.

But back to the first song. When the vocals do kick in, you know what you’re in for: Garrels is a Ray LaMontagne sound-alike. Or is it Dave Matthews, or David Gray? Not bad voices to sound like. Like them all Josh conveys raw emotion, his comes as raspy and folky expression. Then you realize that he’s no sound alike. But that’s the kind of artist you get with Garrels. Except on the instrumentals. Oh, and on #5, "The Resistance,” which is a rap song (a la Jason Mraz). So he’s a little difficult to pigeonhole.

Once you are taken in by the music and the voice, you get caught up in the poetry, the cinemascapes painted by word. The songcraft, the orchestration, the stylistic diversity, the vocal range, the poetry. All of these arrest the attention.

You catch the beauty, and it’s only later that you might recognize that the beauty is grounded in the Christian story. In fact, the truly remarkable accomplishment of this gallery is that Garrels uses both direct and allusive biblical references, without ever sounding trite. Anyone familiar with the biblical text or with gospel music will recognize the connections. This is no more evident than on “Farther Along,” the entrancing 4^th song, which lifts from Albert Tinley’s timeless gospel song, “We’ll Understand It Better By and By.”  And like the best gospel songs and the biblical text, Garrels recognizes that religious topics cannot legitimately be removed from real life. Witness the various compositions (“For You,” and “Million Miles,” especially) that speak of romantic love better than your average pop song.

I finally went to Garrells’ website, driven largely by my curiosity of why a struggling musician would give away music of this quality. He says that he “felt led of the Lord” to release this album for a year for free. I’m not sure what the Lord had in mind; I mean this is not missionary music like Keith Green’s So You Wanna Go Back to Egypt way back in 1980.  But I’m hoping Garrels’ (and the Lord’s) gamble pays off. I for one have already paid money to hear 15 more songs from Garrrels off of 2008’s Jacaranda. I’m counting on the same caliber of music as I’ve already heard. If you’re not willing to shell out 10 bucks just based on my recommendation, at least hurry over to NoiseTrade or to Josh’s own site to download the new free album. If you like it as much as I did, you’ll probably find yourself letting go of a few dollars to hear more.

I Love God and Country

When I "liked" the "I love God and country" page on Facebook, I kinda suspected that many of my fellow "likers" meant something different from what I meant. I meant that I love God and I love my country. For me they are separate loves, not a joint-love.

Based on comments from the page, I was right in my suspicions: others see things differently. Some  declare that only those who love God can love their country. Some say explicitly that only those who love the United States of America can love God. Some say that loving the USA is the same as loving God. Many suggest that God of the Bible belongs to America, as if we own the God of the Universe.

But God doesn’t belong to any of us in the US. We didn’t invent God. We didn’t in any way originate God. Truly my Bible tells me that God originated this nation. But it also says that God originated all other nations as well.

So when I say I love God and country, I am hoping that people in Germany and Cote d’Ivoire and Brazil and North Korea and Uzbekistan and Libya will chime in with “I love God and Country too!” And I hope they will mean the same thing I mean: As an American (or a German or a Brazilian) I am proud of my country (despite its imperfections). And as a Christian, I believe there is only one God (though numerous gods) and I love that God of All Nations. 

The Word of God Is Alive and Active!

Rena Peterson woke every morning for two years praying the same prayer, “God you woke me up this morning, and I’m still alive, so you better have something for me to do!” Rena, who is my mom, was grieving the loss of my dad, her husband of 46 years, who died after a prolonged illness. Mom had been his caretaker, and when he was gone, she wanted to be gone too. Day after day she prayed her indignant prayer. And week after week she attended church.

Mom and her Breakfast Club friends

Then one Sunday she heard about a ministry of feeding breakfast burritos to homeless people. She decided to join the group one Saturday. Then she returned the next week. Mom returned every week and began asking the displaced folks what else they would like to eat.

Now nine years later she spends her weeks preparing the Saturday morning meal. The menu has expanded from breakfast burritos to beans and rice, fried chicken, and greens. Mom continues to change the menu according to the needs and desires of new friends. She and the other members of “The Breakfast Club” also offer prayer, friendship and spiritual food to their displaced neighbors.

Mom’s story is featured in my first Bible project, which releases today! The Take Action Bible also introduces 14 other stories of ordinary people who have put God’s Word into action (There are even more stories here). The stories are covered in five full color sections inserted throughout the text of the Bible. Each section (Go, Serve, Give, Teach, Heal) includes three stories, a Scriptural passage and questions for reflection. This Bible also includes a list of 52 simple actions most anyone could take, based in Scripture.

I’m thrilled that my first project at my new employer is this Bible that emphasizes mission and action!

And the Idiocy Grows

I am aware that ignorance and blinding suspicion are no respecters of parties. But this one I have to call out. According to Public Policy Polling, 51% of likely Republican voters believe that Barack Obama was not born in the USA. Another 21% say they are not sure. I suspect that that latter group doesn’t mean “not sure” in the same way that they are “not sure” of the birthplaces of our other 43 Presidents, whose birth certificates they likely have not seen.

That means that, regardless of what they think of his political philosophy or his stands on the issues, only 28% of likely Republican voters are confident that President Barack Obama is legitimately President of the United States. With that little confidence in his legitimacy, how can you even begin to listen to anything he has to say? If he is illegitimate, if he has perpetrated this fraud on the US public, you might as well assume that every act he makes, every word he says is all part of a plot to destroy America.

When it was just a handful of crazies during the 2008 presidential campaign, this birther nonsense was just silly. When it persisted after the election and against all the evidence, it annoyed me. Now that 51 % of voting Republicans have signed on to the idiocy, I am disgusted.

I am not disgusted by disagreement with the President; this is the United States of America And I know that some of my Republican and conservative friends simply differ with their President on the issues and on political philosophy. To those people, I offer my respect.  I’ll be glad to discuss political philosophy with you, especially from a Christian perspective at another time. And if you get lumped in with your ignorant fellow conservatives, I offer my apology. But for those 51% or your Republican comrades, I have a few more things to say.

Lincoln's 2nd Inaugural

I try to read this every year. It may be my favorite speech of all time. In honor of Abraham Lincoln's 202nd birthday:

Abraham Lincoln
Saturday, March 4, 1865

Fellow Countrymen:

At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention, and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil-war. All dreaded it -- all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war -- seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide effects, by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.

One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest 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 bond-man'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." 

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan -- to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.

From Every People and Nation, Intro

Several weeks ago I promised to post excerpts from the provocative, insightful book From Every People and Nation: A Biblical Theology of Race, by Dr. J. Daniel Hays. The book, written by a self-identified conservative, white biblical theologian traces the picture of race issues throughout the Bible. This first installment is from the book’s introduction:

Not long ago, in a conversation with my colleague Dr. Isaac Mwase, a Black professor and pastor of a local Black congregation, I mentioned that the race problem was an important issue for the Church today. Isaac quickly corrected me by stating emphatically that it is the most important issue for the Church today. This conversation illustrates to some degree of phenomenon that I encountered regularly as I read through some of the recent literature dealing with the race problem in the Church today. Black scholars identify the racial division in the Church as one of the most central problems for contemporary Christianity, while many White scholars are saying, “What problem?”

Likewise, even among those who acknowledge the problem, there is a wide difference of opinion concerning just how bad the problem is and whether the situation is improving or deteriorating. On the one hand, in recent years tremendous progress appears to have been achieved. (D.A.) Carson, for example, documents evangelical churches on the east coast and the west coast of North American that are doing a remarkable job of integrating (Love in Hard Places, 2002, 95-96). Particularly among many White Christians, there is the perception that in these regions things have improved; even in the south and the Midwest many feel that although lagging behind the rest of the country, the race problem is not nearly as pronounced as it was a generation ago.

 On the other hand, some have observed that the evidence for this perception is often anecdotal, and actual statistical survey data appear to suggest otherwise. Emerson and Smith in Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America (2000) study the problem, through statistical data based on actual nationwide surveys and interviews. They point out that there is tremendous disparity between the way Whit evangelicals view the problem and the way Black evangelicals view the problem. They also note that the phenomenon cuts across regional lines. Their studies indicate that two-thirds of White Christians believe that the situation for Blacks is improving, while two-thirds of Black Christians believe that the situation for Blacks is deteriorating. The survey data have led Emerson and Smith to pessimistic conclusions…. 

Emerson and Smith (p171) also suggest that one of the underlying factors hindering evangelicalism’s ability to address the race issues adequately is that evangelicals have a tendency to define problems in simple terms and to look for simple solutions. The race issue, on the other hand is extremely complex, involving history, tradition, culture, religion, economics, politics, and a host of other factors.…

Although there are some significant exceptions, in general there is silence in White evangelical congregations concerning the biblical teaching on this issue. Within these congregations, the current attitude of many Whites often falls into one of three categories. First, some people are still entrenched in their inherited racism. They are interested in the Bible if it reinforces their prejudiced views; otherwise they do not care what the Bible says about race. Second, many people assume that the Bible simply does not speak to the race issue, and particularly the Black-White issue. Third many others are simply indifferent to the problem, assuming the status quo is acceptable and that the Bible supports their current practices.

These views appear to carry over into academia as well. Indeed evangelical biblical and theological scholarship has continued to remain nearly silent on this issue, even though indications of the scope of the problem are obvious.

 So here's the first installment. What are your thoughts?