Thursday, December 8, 2011

"The Power of Christmas"

Christmas isn't Christmas for me until I watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"  I watch it, I read it, I wear it! Why?  Because I believe it carries a truth that reflects my faith and has the 'Power of Christmas' wrapped in its story.

The Grinch's heart grows 3 sizes when he hears every Who down in Whoville singing.  The Who stand close together, hand-in-hand, singing, singing, SINGING!  The Grinch realizes he has not stopped Christmas from coming.  Again this year it occurs to me that some folk seem intent on stopping Christmas from coming.

A politician suggests there is nothing wrong with profiling only Muslims.  And just how do we know who is a Muslim and who isn't?  School age children-CHILDREN-justify their beating of a classmate by saying the way he 'acted' made them uncomfortable.  When did we decide how a person speaks, walks, gestures is a threat to us?  A politician suggests poor children need to be required to work so they will learn what work is and not forever be destined to replay their parents poverty.  Poverty is too complex for such simplistic decisions and ignores societies role in the circumstances of poverty.

As a nation we support the efforts of other nations to remove dictators and regimes and have free, democratic elections.  Yet when the 'wrong' parties or groups win more seats than others the validity of the election is questioned and we do not support the results.  You don't want the wrong people being elected!  I am old enough to remember the questioning about a Catholic being elected president of the United States.  Now there have been some murmurings about a Mormon being elected president.  When will all of this division end?

The voices clamor shouting, fear, fear, FEAR!  Christmas is coming-won't you hear?
Talk all you want about the differences and separate yourself from the OTHERS.  Christmas is coming and it's time to be brothers.
Times are hard and challenging and there is much that is wrong.  Yet Christmas is coming-time to once again be strong.
If we really want hearts to change and grow with new insight; then we need to stand close together, hand-in-hand, singing the good news of a Christmas night.
The Power of Christmas, no matter what, is unity in LOVE.  And that Power came long ago from heaven above!  (with apologies to Dr. Seuss for my rhyming skills)

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

"Keeping Christ in Christmas"

The annual lament has begun-our society/people/being politically correct is trying to keep Christ out of Christmas.  Maybe it is the focus on decorations or the arrival of Santa BEFORE Thanksgiving.  Maybe it the excessive spending on Black Friday or Cyber Monday.  Maybe it is those 'Happy Holiday' signs instead of 'Merry Christmas.' Maybe it is your frustration that a nativity display is not being allowed again this year outside the courthouse.  Whatever it is, some of us are reacting.  I have read letters to the editor or posts on face book and overheard comments at the mall all protesting what we see as someone attempting to take Christ out of Christmas.

In response to this lament I would like to offer a modest proposal.  If you really feel that strongly about this then do something to keep 'Christmas in Christ.'  The next time your feelings get stirred up or you are suddenly bothered about the seeming absence of Christ in Christmas do something.  Immediately reach in your wallet and take some dollar bills out and set them aside to drop in the next Salvation Army red kettle you pass.  Go to the grocery store and, as you check out, buy one of those brown paper bags filled with groceries for the needy.  Visit a nursing home and ask to visit someone who has few, if any, visitors.  Donate one of those winter coats you have in your closet.  Start singing a Christmas carol as you fight your way through a sea of shoppers.  Find one of those Christmas Trees decorated with requests for a present for a child and take one.  OR give at least 10 percent of what you spend on Christmas to a church or charity for the hungry and homeless.  You get the idea.

I don't think it is about whether or not there can be a nativity display or the singing of carols or what words are on the sign in the store.  I do think it is about 'Keeping Christmas in Christ!'  AND that means caring for those who need the hope of Christmas the most this year.  No one can keep 'Christ out of Christmas' as long as we 'Keep Christmas in Christ.'

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

"Imagine That"

On November 10 I was standing on Mars Hill, a rocky pinnacle offering a panoramic view of ancient Athens.  Behind me towered the breath-taking Parthenon, a testament to the building skills of ancient Greeks and one of the Wonders of the Ancient World.  Here was a boy from the small town of Reno, Pennsylvania standing where the Apostle Paul preached--Imagine That!

It took my breath away!   As I stood there in awe another tourist passed by and I heard her say these words: "Been there, done that, what's next?"  Imagine That!  The uneven top of Mars Hill has been polished by millions of feet over the centuries requiring you to pay attention or fall hard.  Standing there you are little more than a speck dwarfed by the towering pillars of antiquity.  AND she has been there, done that, while diminishing the moment with her words-Imagine That!

Am I really so different?  I take some pictures, glance around, remind myself I have seen it all before, and wait for the last person in my group to head down.  Her words were a shout to my soul to wake me again to an incredible moment in my life.  I was standing where Paul had a good old-fashioned, no-holds-barred discussion with philosophers and the curious!  How could I not be moved by the wonder of it all?

The daily temptation is to lose sight of just how incredibly wondrous this life is.  Wonder gets lost in routine and repetition.  You do not have to go to Athens, Greece to experience the incredible gift of wonder.  The moments surround us: the deep, from-the-belly laughter of a happy baby in a restaurant...the gentle snore of a life partner laying beside you in the darkness of the night...a white rose still blooming on November 22...the memory of my Grandpa Boyles making cranberry relish for our Thanksgiving Dinner.  Life is full of such moments but many are missed because we have 'been there, done that.'  I invite you to be soul shocked again this week by how awesome life is.  Imagine That this Thanksgiving!

"Focus"

I was eating my breakfast on the cruise ship while taking in the view of Istanbul, Turkey-a good beginning to the day.  A man walking by my table noticed my Penn State shirt.  He said: "Takes courage to wear that today.  Aren't you ashamed?"  The night before the news had reached me about the tragic story of reported abuse of young boys by a former Penn State coach.

Arriving home I found a face book message waiting for me that was anything but funny.  It said: "If an older woman who likes younger men is called a cougar, is an older man who likes young boys called a Nittany Lion." Yesterday's newspaper featured a story about the steep decline in the sale of Penn State clothing since the news broke about this scandal.

FOCUS! The real story is that innocence for too many young boys was taken away from them.  The real story is that their lives are not and will never be the same again.  They live with wounds and memories that affect emotions and actions long after this story is back page news.  What does it matter that sales are off?  What does it matter if someone uses the opportunity to 'dig me' about my college team? What does it matter if anyone thinks I should be ashamed to wear Penn State apparel?  What matters is what happened to these young boys and what impact all of this will have on their lives!  It is reported one boy has had to leave his high school because of other students reactions to him coming forward to report the abuse.

FOCUS!  In the handful of days I have been back home there has been at least one news story every day about a teacher, a neighbor, a family member, a coach, a politician who has been charged with sexual abuse of a child.  What is wrong with us that so many cannot/will not control their impulses or keep themselves from places of opportunity to betray the trust our children give to adults?  What does it say about us that so many young boys and girls are victims without voice-fearful they will not be believed?

My heart is with the victims, identified by a number that is exponentially multiplied each and every day across our country.  I am not concerned what anyone thinks when they see me in my Penn State sweatshirt.  I am not concerned by the insensitive remarks I receive.  I am not concerned about the reputation of PSU.  I am not concerned how much clothing is sold.  I am concerned that too many lives were violated at PSU and across our country.  Lets FOCUS on doing all we can to address the real tragedy of lost innocence and wounded lives that is repeated day after day.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

"A Personal Question"

While we were enjoying lunch together my good friend, Al, wondered if he could ask me a personal question.  I replied, "Well, you can ask."  So he did.  "I was wondering if your support and involvement with the gay community was because of your children."  The answer was "No."

I think I was born to care about discrimination and respect for everyone.  I grew up in a very small town in Pennsylvania.  At the time no African American lived in our town.  There was an unwritten but well understood rule that no blacks were to live in the community.  Racial discrimination is wrong.  An Hispanic Catholic family moved to town and found few friends.  Religious discrimination is wrong.  As a young boy I was often the victim of Bruce the Bully.  Bigger and meaner than most of us we learned to be very creative in not being in the wrong place with Bruce.  Bullying is wrong.  Bill was cruelly called "CQ" by most of the youth.  'County Queer' is not a nickname you want to have!  Sexual orientation discrimination is wrong.  My cousin Ralph was a child we now refer to as "Challenged" or "Special Needs".  Back then, in the cruel moments on the school playground he was called 'Retard.'  Discrimination of individuals who do not fit our definition of 'being like us' is wrong.

In our life as a married couple, Cheryl and I ended up with quite a family.  We have a gay son.  We have a daughter who is Bipolar.  We have adopted, racially mixed children.  One time I was asked which ones were our real children.  Really?  We love and cherish each of our children.  Each child is special and wonderful and just ask me about our grandchildren!

My ministry was built on the grace of God (no one needs it more than me), loving and accepting each person as they are, and standing with them whenever discrimination raises its ugly head.  Not everyone in my churches understood or supported me but that is okay.  If I am going to err in this life, as a pastor and as a person, I will always err on the side of grace-love without strings.  Our failure to see the inherent worth in others comes with painful costs for all of us.  Respect and care for each person is personal to me.  Thanks Al for asking and helping me revisit why I do what I do.

"Thank God for Small Churches"

Last Sunday Cheryl and I went to church with my family back in Reno, Pennsylvania.  Reno is a tiny community of maybe 200 souls and it is a one church town-Reno United Methodist Church.  Over the years membership and attendance have dropped and they are now part of a 4-point charge served by two pastors.  Most Sundays there are more pews than people.

I found God's call on my life in that congregation.  During my youth there was a nice sized youth group and our Sunday School class met in the choir loft.  I 'outgrew' that small church as I 'grew' into larger churches.  As the size of the churches I was appointed to grew so did the distance grow between me and the small church.  I must confess that too many times driving Indiana back roads I would pass a small church, smile to myself, and be glad I was no longer being appointed there.

So we got up and we went to church, mostly as a kindness to my sister and mother, still part of that small church.  I went not expecting much and found a worship service that was filled with the presence of God.  It began with the pastor hurrying in from her service at one of the other churches.  Two men were working to have the new sound system ready for her-it wasn't.  She was unprepared and had no pocket or place for the wireless receiver.  So she tucked in in her waist band.  It would fall down her leg and she commented she was glad it did not fall down inside her dress.  It did later!  She called us to worship by blowing numerous times on a shofar-a ram's horn she had brought back from Israel.

They did not have a pianist so she jumped down and played the piano for the opening hymn.  The singing was not pretty.  Then came the special music-a bluegrass group of 4, a curious mix of blue jeans, white hair, and an over-the-top bass player/soloist.  When they sang "I Saw the Light" and "Will the Circle be Unbroken" smiles spread out on the people's faces, voices aged and cracked sang along with the chorus, and applause greeted each song.  Then, for the first time for this group, the younger woman sang "Let This Be My Prayer" in English and Italian-a bluegrass trio backed her opera trained voice.  They ended with "Smokey Mountain Memories" sung by John, a father who has raised 4 sons by himself.  It was great!

This was followed by a children's message with a hot dog tucked inside a banana peel, a prayer time during which individuals made announcements of upcoming events, and the pastor throwing aside the bulletin and her sermon notes.  She strolled and cajoled us, meandering in the front of the sanctuary and in the recesses of her mind.  It was great!

Forget the bells and whistles.  Forget the large choir and larger sanctuary.  Forget lots of liturgy and polished sermon.  Not needed that day!  I felt the joy in the room and I saw the friendliness and peace in the faces of those around me.  I can't really explain why it was such a good service for me-don't have to.  All I know is-thank God for small churches and the faith they hold for us.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Who Speaks for God?

One of the candidates seeking to become our next president recently was quoted as saying "The outcome of the 2012 presidential election is up to God."  Religion often gets mixed in with politics.  I think it is a good thing if we hear our leaders speak about their faith perspective.  Where I have a problem is when someone speaks for God.

Who speaks for God?  Assuming for a moment that the above statement is true I pose some questions.  Was the outcome of the 2008 presidential election up to God?  Does God only decide the big ones?  What about races for senator or representative or governor or town council?  Do all political groups have 'the ear of God'?  If so, does God pick and choose?  If not, how do I know who has 'the ear of God?'

I am left wondering if this is a peculiar American issue influenced by our notion that we are a people especially chosen and blessed by God.  Politicians, 'talking heads', and pastors speak of our unique relationship with the God of all peoples.  Some go so far as to suggest we are a 'chosen people/nation.'  How often have we heard someone warning us that we have strayed from God's will for America and there are terrible consequences awaiting us if we do not get back to rightness with God?  I am wondering if that is a conversation common to other countries.

Would you say that when a political change occurs in other countries it has been because God chose the change?  I hear little, if anything, about God's hand being upon political change and turmoil in England, the upcoming election in France, or the turmoil of the 'Arab Spring.'  Are their outcomes also up to God?

Who is going to speak for God in the upcoming election?  It won't be me!  I believe in God's will for us individually, as a nation, and all the peoples of the world.  I believe what God wills is that we live every day, as best we can, reflecting the very nature of the one who calls us.  That reflection is about compassion, truth speaking, justice seeking, and loving unconditionally.

I can't speak for God about the outcome of a presidential contest.  I can ask all those running for this office, for any office, to refrain from implying God may be on their side.  I can ask them to be gracious, accepting of differences, and to focus on the great challenges of our time.  And I can ask all of us to be involved in the process and do it in a way that brings honor to the name of God.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Eddie

When Eddie was born he arrived in the world like anyone of us.  In those first months of life his parents saw 'signs' that suggested there might be something different about their son.  Still a baby he was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy.  Eddie was no longer just like anyone of us but he was still one of us.  Growing up his determined parents worked to have him mainstreamed in school.  One of Eddie's childhood highlights was winning a Soap Box Derby competition.  He enjoyed riding horses.  Just like anyone of us.

Eddie finished school, got his education, and is now a programmer.  He drives to work each day.  His family likes to play 'Skip Bo' and he plays to win.  And he loves to dance!  Just like anyone of us.  I met Eddie and his loving family on our recent fall cruise.  They were on it because Eddie learned about it and wanted to come along.

Each time that I was able to be with him on the cruise his smile lit up the room.  He is very bright and seems to remember everything.  His eyes reflect caring attention as he listens to you.  He laughs easily and, did I mention, he loves to dance.  He has more rhythm in his arms than I have in my body.  He is the kind of person you would enjoy meeting and getting to know.

Yet too many times people miss the joy of Eddie because they only see the Cerebral Palsy.  His physical movements often seem to be an act of contortion for something as simple as eating.  He gets around in his wheelchair and the short steps he takes are filled with spastic motions.  I could not understand his words but Mom and Dad did a great job of letting me know what Eddie was saying.

What are you going to see?  Someone who is different, not normal?  Someone who is normal with CP?  It is too easy to glance at him and feel pity-he doesn't look to be pitied.  It is too easy to feel sad for him and his family, wondering what it must be like for them. Facing their challenges, they are doing just fine-thank you.  With a shared love and determination they help Eddie be as fully involved with life as is possible.His Uncle Dick told me about the time when Eddie got his driver's license and his specially equipped van. He asked Uncle Dick if he wanted to go for a ride with him.  Uncle Dick's reply-"Absolutely not!"  I had to laugh at the story and I felt the love in its telling.

To see only his outward appearance is to deny ourselves the joy of spending time with a truly unique, fun-loving guy.  We laughed long and hard while on the cruise and, in his wheelchair, Eddie had his John Travolta "Saturday Night Fever" moves down pat.  if only we had had a white suit for him!

Eddie and his family give me hope for a more open and accepting world.  The privilege of their friendship is one of my best memories of our cruise.  I left the ship wondering two things: Who are the truly handicapped? And-could I beat Eddie at 'Skip Bo?'

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

"Scapegoat"

Well boys and girls, how about another history lesson with maybe a moral point?  Scapegoat has its beginning in Judaism, the roots of Christianity.  This referred to a goat upon whose head were symbolically placed the sins of the people after which he was sent into the wilderness as part of Yom Kippur (also known as Day of Atonement).  With that background you may want to think more about the 'atonement' of Jesus.  Is it such a big step in imagery when a faith community is defining for itself the death of Jesus-seems like I recall a bible verse about it 'being better that one man should die than a nation suffer.'  Indeed, one definition of scapegoat is "one bears the blame for others."  I wonder if we had only the Gospel of Mark if we would have this atonement view today (but that discussion is for another time).
"One that bears the blame for others." 'Jimmy, if you had made your free throws we would have won the game.' 'It is the European debt crisis that is the problem with the stock market.' 'The politicians in Washington are the problem with this country.' 'If we just got rid of the illegal aliens more Americans would have jobs.' 'Gay rights are the threat to the sanctity of marriage and morality in America.'  And a big one-how about those Muslims-which goes back at least to the 11th century.  A pope stirred the troops for the Crusades by naming all Muslims as infidels who were the threat.  Still threatened, mosques are burned in America.
You get the picture-blame others.  Two other definitions for scapegoat are: "one that is the object of irrational hostility" (picture some of the political landscape as we prepare for 2012 elections) and "move responsibility away from ourselves and towards a target person or group." Now it comes into focus.  Whether it is a basketball game, stock market plunge, jobs, morality, government, or even the church we seem to need to find a scapegoat-someone to take the blame for us.
Now if it was simply taking the blame it might not be too bad.  We find our scapegoats in the stormy sea of hurtful words and hateful actions and someone is always willing to take action to have the scapegoat pay for our sins.  All it takes is for someone to point out who is to blame for my life, societies ills, governments failure.  I wonder if it time to take back shared responsibility for what is happening in our society, our government, our moral climate, world affairs and stop looking for a scapegoat.  Then again, I think our troubles come from 'head-in-the-clouds' retired preachers-let's seize their computers!

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

"Dead as a Doornail"

I first heard this phrase as a young boy watching my dad and my uncles standing around a car that wouldn't start.  The hood was up and the 'hoods' were peering into the engine.  When someone turned the key the engine sounded like an old man clearing his throat first thing in the morning.  This was followed by stares, a moment of silence, and then cursing (I had to learn the words somewhere).  Finally, one of my uncles stabbed his finger at the battery and said "It's dead as a doornail."  While the adults all seemed to understand I was confused.  I really wasn't clear yet on what it meant for something to be dead (except for the worm I had recently pressed into the sidewalk).  Was the worm also dead as a doornail?

We were talking one Sunday morning before worship and she mentioned that she had had the talk with their adult children.  "I told them when I die they can do whatever they want with my body.  They can bury it or dump me in the river.  I'm done with it and I know where I am going."  She believes death is a doorway and the soul moves on.  But what if we are dead as a doornail?  And what about that creedal statement where we say we believe in "the resurrection of the body?"  What other adults seem to understand about death still leaves me confused.

I understand the need for comfort and reassurance when our loved ones die (wouldn't be much of a pastor if I didn't).  I appreciate the power of believing our loved ones are watching over us or that, upon our death, we will be reunited with them.  While I was officiating at funerals I cannot recall one time where I looked at the family and said-"Well, it looks like your loved one is dead as a doornail."

But I believe that is what the Bible teaches and what radical faith asks of us.  Dead is dead no matter how many books are written by people who have been to or seen others in heaven.  That doornail reference, as I understand it, is saying a doornail is no longer useful once it was nailed to the door.  They recycled nails back then but not the doornail.  One and done.

We tend to talk about believing in the resurrection of the dead but believe more like the ancient Greeks.  Many of them looked at the body and soul as two separate pieces of us and death was where the soul left the now unneeded body.  I don't know what is on the other side of death so please don't take my thoughts as inspired wisdom or truth.  I do believe the Bible is a more radical book than we choose to see most of the time.  It takes a lot of faith to believe in a God who will not abandon or let go of those who are dead as a doornail.  I hold to the belief that God will not let the dead stay dead.  Until the resurrection I believe the dead wait in the presence of God.  I don't know or really care what this looks like.  I don't expect some kind of doorway at my death.  I'm just going to be dead as a doornail UNTIL a loving God recycles me to a new life.  If it turns out I am wrong I will try to send word back to you all.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

"Go to Hell!"

I had gotten into an argument with some of my high school friends.  I no longer remember what the argument was about but it was loud and long.  At some point one of them looked at me and said-"You can just go to Hell!"  It did not sound like an invitation, more of a curse.  Who wants to go to Hell?  For many Christians this is the ONE place you don't want to end up.

But what if Hell is where we need to be?  I am old enough to have learned The Apostle's Creed when it contained this phrase: "He (Jesus, after he died and before he was resurrected, for those who do not know the creed) descended into hell."  Someone in the early church decided this phrase needed to be in a statement of belief.  Few say or include this anymore.  Why would Jesus go to Hell?

One clue may be found in the New Testament letter we know as I Peter: "and, in the spirit, he went to preach to the spirits in prison (Hell?).  They refused to believe long ago, while God patiently waited to receive them, in Noah's time (that was LONG AGO!), when the ark was being built." (I Peter 3:19, 20 New Jerusalem Bible).  Whatever they meant or how it was originally said these words give me pause.

This is food for thought regarding what happens on the other side of the grave.  Maybe those in Hell (an assumption of faith that it exists by the Church) are not forgotten by God and still hear the message of grace (I like that idea).  I like to think Jesus still makes the trip every now and then.  What really intrigues me is if we could see this as a 'modeling' by Jesus for his followers on this side of the grave.

Have you ever heard someone talk about their life being a 'living hell' or 'I don't have to go to hell, I'm living it right now'?  Or have you ever found yourself looking at someones circumstances and thinking/saying 'that must be hell'?  Just wondering if what I heard as a curse in my teen years is really a call from Jesus.  Look around with me.  Maybe we need to go to hell to bring the message of hope to someone living in their hell on earth.  See you in Hell:>)

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

"The Bible Tells Me So?"

One of the choruses imprinted in my brain from my Sunday School years in a small church in Pennsylvania is "Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible tells me so."  I belted it out with my friends singing as off key as the lady playing the piano.  We sang with conviction for our parents on a tiny stage beneath such a low ceiling adults could bang their heads on the water and heating pipes.  I learned, when questioned about my beliefs, to reply "the bible tells me so."

I suspect I am not the only adult wandering around with such imprints.  At the same time I have seen time and time again how this mantra is often based on a blind belief that each word and phrase in our bibles is exactly the words first recorded-possibly directly from the lips of God.  For some, the bible is without error.  As a pastor and a lifelong student of the bible I have come to see how mistranslations have occurred and how they impacted questions of belief.

Since 1958 a group of scholars have been engaged in the Hebrew University Bible Project in Jerusalem.  Their goal is to publish as accurately as possible an authoritative text of the Hebrew Bible (what we Christians call the Old Testament).  Discovering just how fluid the texts were and that the transmission was messy and more human than we may like to believe, progress has been slow.  They have produced 3 of the Hebrew Bible's 24 books in 50 years!

My point?  Maybe we should be more cautious in discussions and proclamations of saying what we know to be true because "the bible tells me so."  While it may be comforting in times of confusion and uncertainty I may well be wrong based on the translation I quote.  Perhaps the faith community and our interaction with the larger society could be better served by a dose of humility and a reluctance to issue Mount Sinai like proclamations-"THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO!"  Maybe it doesn't it!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

"Surf's Up"

The beach beneath my feet gave way with each step.  The fine, white sand slipped away from my feet and through my fingers.  The afternoon sun was a red-hot skillet looking for skin to sizzle.  And the waves...the waves were wonderful.  One after another they lined up in the Pacific Ocean and began to roll up towards the shore.  While some simply washed by me others became a frothy pool of power that either propelled me toward the shore or pummeled me beneath the water.  It was both breath-taking and body taxing.

Then there were the surfers, people of all ages paddling out to wait for the bigger waves.  Two days before I had watched the 'surf lesson' for tourists on Waikiki Beach.  The surf board was placed on the sand, a few comments were made about how to paddle out, and then the instructor showed the young girls how to stand on the board.  Then they went into the waves.  This reminded of the many times in my life when I felt like that was all the training I had been given.

Waves can and do scare me.  My understanding is that, to surf, one of the first steps is to face your fears and let some good sized waves hit you and move you.  You discover you can survive the waves.  Then you paddle out to the waves surfers enjoy and stand up and ride the frothy waters.  You don't paddle to shore as the waves get bigger or wait for the ocean to calm down.

Well, the economic surf is up, one large wave after another lining up and rolling towards us.  The 'surfers', the investors and advisers, seem to be looking at the waves with increasing fear (which may be reasonable since I know little about this except that some of my investments seem to be slipping through my hands like fine sand).  They are deciding they cannot ride these waves so they sell and settle and wait for calmer seas.  Like us, they are scared.  We may be creating a self-fulfilling prophecy-we can't ride these waves so we don't and it seems more and more like we can't ride them.

I don't know much about investing and I know even less about surfing.  The surfers I saw believed in themselves and looked for the challenge of bigger waves, whether they wiped out or not.  Maybe if all of us who are 'economic surfers' would take a couple of deep breaths, paddle out and see what we can do, the waves would not seem so frightening.

For those of you with a religious bent, I remind you of words of faith written generations ago in a most uncertain and fearful time: "God is both refuge and strength for us, a help always ready in trouble; so we shall not be afraid though the earth be in turmoil, though mountains tumble into the depth of the sea, and its waters roar and seethe; and the mountains totter as it heaves."  (Psalm 46:1-3).  Surf's Up!  Time to paddle out, face our fears, and catch a wave!

Friday, August 5, 2011

"Outsiders"

Outsiders are the not normal, the different, the ones to be 'cured', the misunderstood, and the feared.  Life can be challenging and hard for such individuals and their families.  Unfortunately we, the seemingly normal, add to the challenge by our view of such people.  What joy do we miss because we focus on a singular aspect of a person instead of the person?

When Cheryl and I adopted bi-racial children we were warned how much damage we were doing to these children.  Social workers in the African American community and Caucasian family and friends talked about how hard life would be for our children and our family.  While it has been challenging and often hurtful it has been, in large part, so because others saw the 'different'.  Racially mixed children and families decades ago were outsiders.  We saw only our sons and daughters, adopted or born to us.  And we loved them all and have found joy in our relationship with each one.

He was a troubled teenager.  Serious emotional issues were compounded by the fact that he was gay.  School was too much and teachers saw a problem child.  In the 1980s and 1990s he was an outsider.  "If he would just change" was the mantra of most around him.  But he didn't because he was who he was.  His parents loved him and found joy in the better moments of their life together.  Being an outsider was too much for him and he took his own life.

This past spring a young boy came running over to where my grandchildren and others were playing at Happy Hollow Park.  His physical movements were uneven and jerky.  His voice was high pitched and his speech was almost impossible to understand.  I could see the caution light go on in adults eyes as some children welcomed him while others quickly moved to other playground equipment.  My first thought was how sad this must be for the boy and his parents-sad to be this way.  He is autistic, he is different, and we tend to see him as an outsider.  I hope and suspect, however hard some days are, that his parents see him only as their son.  And that they find joy in sharing life with him.

Life is about relationship and love.  We seem to spend so much time on seeing the different that we miss the joys of the moment.  We seek 'cures' and 'changes' and isolate the outsiders and miss the uniqueness of each individual.  IF we really believe that, in some way, God's breath is upon each life THEN we are called to relationship and the celebration of whatever joy that life can bring to our lives.

One God, on human family, one wonderful mix of individuals whose normal is different than ours.  It's a wonderful world; don't miss out on the joy by seeing others as outsiders.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Homeless in Hawaii

Heaven for the homeless may be Hawaii.  Every morning there is buffet in a bucket.  Grimy hands push the trash around finding coke in a cup, a partially eaten piece of pizza in a cardboard box, and two bites of a fish taco wrapped in a greasy paper.  Some church folk in Waikiki set up a lunch line in a park several days a week.  You can sleep on the beach or in a park.  There are even tents allowed in some parks.  The weather is mild so your shopping cart does not require a large wardrobe selection.  Why, you can even put up a cardboard box on a sidewalk across from a fashionable store and sell whatever it is you make.  I was surprised by the casualness and closeness of the homeless to the tourists and residents in Honolulu.

A problem is coming.  Honolulu is hosting an international meeting of some really BIG, IMPORTANT PEOPLE. It just will not do for some to have these folks so close to the homeless.  What to do?  Aside from some 'gentle' encouragement by law enforcement to move on you just can't pack them up.  However you can coincidentally schedule sidewalk, beach, and park improvements around the same time as your guests arrive.  It is understandable then if you must move the homeless.

I am not suggesting the folks in Hawaii are any different then the folks in Lafayette or me.  We all can live with homelessness as long as it is not an embarrassment or causes too many safety concerns.  And maybe that is what unsettled me-I can live with it.  Two bible verses roll around in my head: "you will always have the poor with you" and "if you have done it to the least of these you have done it to me."  I don't know yet how I will respond to this reminder of people in need but I can't ignore it.  Whether it is here or in Hawaii there is no heaven for the homeless.

Monday, July 18, 2011

"A Miserable Soul"

One of the more intriguing notes in my stack of retirement cards had this handwritten sentence: "Thank you for doing all you could to save my miserable soul."  How would you understand this sentence?  I called them 'Mom' and 'Dad' before I really understood I would not be here without them.  I came from them and some of my 'characteristics' (and character!) from physical appearance to gene pool reflect their essence in my life.  I learned to call God 'Daddy' before I really understood I would not be here without God.  If you would allow me (and I am going to say it anyway) my soul is from God.  How then could it be miserable?  That is not a characteristic of God!
Synonyms for miserable are helpful to my comments: bleak and forlorn-not too exciting a way to talk about oneself; wretched and godforsaken-now that's a little grim.  These words may describe how I feel at times BUT they do not describe my soul.  My soul may be affected by my behavior and choices which leave me feeling miserable, even godforsaken.  BUT my soul was not infected at my birthing by wretchedness (allow me to blog another day about 'original sin').
My soul, your soul, is part of the gift of life, part of all that we are.  I suspect we in the church have talked so long about our miserable souls that we have left any number of people feeling wretched and godforsaken. How could that which is God given be miserable?
I think I understand what my dear friend was saying to me and I deeply appreciate his compliment about the effect of my ministry in his life.  However, I have not seen my role as 'saving' anyone's miserable soul.  I have sought to help others celebrate the soulfulness of God that was, is, and always will be part of their lives.  And, for me, that soul is described, not by synonyms, but by antonyms for miserable: cheerful, joyful, encouraged.  These are characteristics of God and I pray you have discovered this 'gene pool' of God in your life.  A chorus from one of our old hymns has always been important to me: "It is well with my soul."

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Training The Eye

For the past month I have had to deal with 'floaters' in my left eye.  They became very noticeable following a laser procedure.  My doctor says it often comes with 'older people', especially those with lens implants.  I have lens implants but I am still getting used to being one of the 'older people'!  Anyway, they are so annoying.  Much of the time I do not even know they are there.  Then I am reading and suddenly a black dot with ragged edges slides into the center of my vision turning printed words fuzzy.  Or I get ready to hit the tennis ball and a tangled black string slips into view and my eye follows its movement instead of the yellow ball.  Man, these floaters are messing up my vision!  The good news (according to my doctor) is that there is no tear in the retina and the eye can 'learn' not to see these floaters.  While they will always be hanging around, apparently the eye can be trained to ignore them.
All of this has left me wondering if some of the emotional aspects of my life are also affected in a similar way.  Hurtful actions and hateful words by others collect in some inner corner of my brain.  Most days I don't see them but then comes a challenging time or a vulnerable moment and suddenly my inner eye sees the 'floaters'.  My inner eye focuses on yesterday's collection of ragged lines and and black dots-each one a barrier to clearly seeing the day.  I get annoyed as my eye focuses on the floater and not the world in front of me.  Maybe I need to train my inner eye to look through these floaters and keep them from clouding the joy of this day.
My eye doctor tells me it can take months to train my left eye to ignore the floaters and focus on what I am seeing or reading.  I suspect it may take me years to train my inner eye to ignore those emotional floaters and focus on the day I have.  Let the training begin!

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Of Fireflies and Fireworks

I sat in the wicker chair with my grandson, Aiden, watching some neighborhood fireworks shower the gray sky with multi-colored bursts just above the tree line.  With each explosion he would comment on how 'cool' that was.  The backdrop for the fireworks was an approaching thunderstorm.  The clouds stacked up, back lit by the remaining rays of sunlight.  Thunder rolled around us like bowling balls careening down polished alleys.  Slashing ribbons of lightening lit up the night sky as gray clouds sealed off the starlight.  Aiden said 'cool.' Fireflies came near us and one flew into a spider web near the concrete porch.  On hands and knees with his nose pressed near the web Aiden asked me: "How do they do that?" "Why do they do that?" "Will the spider kill it?" "Is it already dead?"  Then he used the tip of his finger to flip the firefly free.  He picked up a small stone, prodding the blinking yellow light-a nighttime caution sign.  Without hesitation the stone came down pressing the firefly into the concrete.  Aiden said 'cool.'  And I remembered my childhood moments sitting on the front porch of our home watching storms fall into the Pennsylvania hills.  And I remembered my childhood curiosity and smashing of fireflies.  Then Aiden called to me: "Look, Grandpa!  See all the fireflies."  The field across from us was a dark green blanket with a thousand dancing yellow lanterns, flickering on and off.  Aiden said 'cool.'  Where did I lose sight of how truly cool this gift of life is?  For a moment last night the concerns on my mind, the worries about world issues, and any restlessness they were stirring inside of me were lost in the joy of the moment.  And Grandpa said 'cool.'

Monday, June 27, 2011

Why Blog?

Why not?  Norm's World (aka my brain) is constantly engaged in conversations, some of which should never see the light of day!  I want to engage and share with others my concerns for justice, solid bible study, the spiritual side of life, and encourage all people to know God loves them just as they are.  You can see the preacher side creeping in but, after 41 years of pulpit theater, what do you expect?  I hope to be, in the best sense, a gadfly that provokes others to ponder what we usually take for granted.  And so the adventure begins.