Ben Franklin said once that it was an amazing thing: Humans build flammable houses and then build fires WITHIN them. A fireplace is an ironic thing, isn't it? Of course, Franklin was always talking about more than one thing at a time. Building a fire is a thing to be carefully done - in the fireplace rather than the middle of the room! And Franklin knew all about the power of political speech, understanding the old truth that the pen is mightier than the sword. (Examples are easy to find.) His expertise, in fact, was a powerful enabler of the American nation!
In Arizona, after the shooting of Representative Gabrielle Giffords and others, Sheriff Dupnik spoke for lots of us: far too much vitriol in political speech. What is vitriol? A noun: 1) sulfuric acid, 2) cruel and bitter criticism. Both eat away the treasures.
America has always had VIVID political debate. Read the newspapers from colonial times, in the first century of our Constitution, right up to today. But lately the imagery of targets and cross-hairs, of "elimination" and revenge has become so heated that common debate disappears. Speech that motivates violence may be within our freedoms, but hardly within any form of wisdom.
Christians have a stake in this. Without common debate, a society makes decisions based on threats and intimidation. Everyone loses. If we love our neighbor, and love our country, and love our family, then fear-generating rhetoric serves no constructive purpose. People who make their living generating "vitriol" are no friend to either liberal or conservative. We are called to another thing altogether: to love our neighbor above all things, exactly as Jesus told us to do.
I pray for every elected official who feels threatened, even if they never speak of it. And I pray for every "spokesman'" who has never stood the test of the electorate, but continues to intimidate with fiery language, that they will see that their fire threatens the house. While there is money to be made in their ventures, the cost is so much more than anyone can imagine.
All people, every one of us, will do what we are motivated to do with our freedoms. Followers of Jesus now have a new and above-politics mission: Whatever the outcome of public debate, we are to remain models of the love of Jesus, even in the midst of a hard, hard world.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Just Bird Seed
I filled the bird feeder today, and that's always a little messy. Seed scatters, on the patio, on a table, some out in the grass. And I don't bother to sweep up, really. The birds take care of that. Almost like having a dog to grab table scraps when they fall.
Remember Jesus and the foreign woman? Even the dogs get scraps that fall from the table where the children are served. Remember Jesus talking about how God knows and numbers the birds?
I think about that when i re-fill the feeder. And the cardinals come. And the little unidentified birds come, the grey ones with yellow bills, the sparrows, the yellow ones, all of them together cleaning it all up.
God's economy, another generation would say it, includes every creature. And maybe we, as the dominant creatures at the moment, need to be careful to throw a little extra their way, and be sure not to mess up the environment, just because we are all creatures of the creating God.
There's a good perspective in Jesus' old parables, that touches on today. He doesn't talk about blue-fin tuna or species decline in one part or another, but he does remind us that we are ALL God's creatures. God notices us, Jesus says, just like he notices even the falling of the sparrow.
I like being part of God's plan, and pray that I'm a POSITIVE part of how that plan plays out.
Remember Jesus and the foreign woman? Even the dogs get scraps that fall from the table where the children are served. Remember Jesus talking about how God knows and numbers the birds?
I think about that when i re-fill the feeder. And the cardinals come. And the little unidentified birds come, the grey ones with yellow bills, the sparrows, the yellow ones, all of them together cleaning it all up.
God's economy, another generation would say it, includes every creature. And maybe we, as the dominant creatures at the moment, need to be careful to throw a little extra their way, and be sure not to mess up the environment, just because we are all creatures of the creating God.
There's a good perspective in Jesus' old parables, that touches on today. He doesn't talk about blue-fin tuna or species decline in one part or another, but he does remind us that we are ALL God's creatures. God notices us, Jesus says, just like he notices even the falling of the sparrow.
I like being part of God's plan, and pray that I'm a POSITIVE part of how that plan plays out.
What About the Rabbi
Remembering the Rabbi today; I often think of Rabbi Goldstein. An active part of the Port Arthur minister's association. The first time I attended, he was to talk on roots of the Christian communion in Passover.
Dr. Goldstein was a Holocaust survivor, Doctor of Laws, Doctor of Medicine, Doctor of Philosophy, Doctor of History, and working on a fifth doctorate.
80 years old with the energy of an athlete at 40! He had a deep sense of history. Always drove that insanely long Chrysler, and a little careless about things like traffic lights and stop signs. Always in a hurry.
Why write about him? Because at least once a year, it is worth tapping into the beliefs of every ancient religion (and precisely Judaism): the "remembered ones" are really still around. Whenever we find one connector, like a holocaust survivor, history shortens and gets closer to us.
Why write about him? Because a very provocative realization came into a conversation yesterday! If Jesus was (and is) "the Word made flesh", and the Word was available within the Old Covenant, and to know the Word is to know God, and no one comes to God except through Jesus who IS the Word, then............... God's action is not limited to my awareness. In other words, God is doing lots of things that I simply don't know about, and some of those things reach specifically and clearly outside the walls of the church.
What do I "do" with the Rabbi? He doesn't fit the language with which I was brought up. But, the Rabbi is "brother" in some difficult-to-express manner. I don't understand it all, but there is a clear sense that I should remember him with a special kindness, because that's how God deals with all of His covenant people, whether I understand it or not.
The conversation had to do with a friend who is Jewish by tradition, but doesn't believe in God. The question was: "Is there hope for that one?" Well, condensing the Covenant, God made an eternal covenant with His people, promising to be faithful to them. If they are not faithful to Him, historically, He waits and remains open to them. All sorts of things happen in that waiting, as God wants to restore covenant. Jesus is the total expression of that ancient covenant, the Word-made-Flesh, God with us.
And that triggers more mystery than we sometimes think, but it is a mystery WITHIN the certainty of the love of God for His people.
The "family of God" is chosen by Him, without consultation with me. Like Jesus said, He has other sheep in other folds. In all of this, there is the sense of a very large door swinging open, almost soundlessly. And behind that door? So big!
I couldn't answer the question exactly as it had been asked the other day, about "the friend" and her status before God. Her status in God's eyes is pretty clear: God is waiting on her, and still offering the relationship. And there is a peace in that!
Dr. Goldstein was a Holocaust survivor, Doctor of Laws, Doctor of Medicine, Doctor of Philosophy, Doctor of History, and working on a fifth doctorate.
80 years old with the energy of an athlete at 40! He had a deep sense of history. Always drove that insanely long Chrysler, and a little careless about things like traffic lights and stop signs. Always in a hurry.
Why write about him? Because at least once a year, it is worth tapping into the beliefs of every ancient religion (and precisely Judaism): the "remembered ones" are really still around. Whenever we find one connector, like a holocaust survivor, history shortens and gets closer to us.
Why write about him? Because a very provocative realization came into a conversation yesterday! If Jesus was (and is) "the Word made flesh", and the Word was available within the Old Covenant, and to know the Word is to know God, and no one comes to God except through Jesus who IS the Word, then............... God's action is not limited to my awareness. In other words, God is doing lots of things that I simply don't know about, and some of those things reach specifically and clearly outside the walls of the church.
What do I "do" with the Rabbi? He doesn't fit the language with which I was brought up. But, the Rabbi is "brother" in some difficult-to-express manner. I don't understand it all, but there is a clear sense that I should remember him with a special kindness, because that's how God deals with all of His covenant people, whether I understand it or not.
The conversation had to do with a friend who is Jewish by tradition, but doesn't believe in God. The question was: "Is there hope for that one?" Well, condensing the Covenant, God made an eternal covenant with His people, promising to be faithful to them. If they are not faithful to Him, historically, He waits and remains open to them. All sorts of things happen in that waiting, as God wants to restore covenant. Jesus is the total expression of that ancient covenant, the Word-made-Flesh, God with us.
And that triggers more mystery than we sometimes think, but it is a mystery WITHIN the certainty of the love of God for His people.
The "family of God" is chosen by Him, without consultation with me. Like Jesus said, He has other sheep in other folds. In all of this, there is the sense of a very large door swinging open, almost soundlessly. And behind that door? So big!
I couldn't answer the question exactly as it had been asked the other day, about "the friend" and her status before God. Her status in God's eyes is pretty clear: God is waiting on her, and still offering the relationship. And there is a peace in that!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The Blind Whistler
Google just the title, and up comes Fred Lowery. Or you can go to YouTube- amazing!
Fred Lowery whistles!
I first heard Fred at a funeral for Dr. Newburn in Jacksonville. Someone led him to the pulpit, he said nothing, just whistled the most astounding hymns for about 5 minutes; his tribute. Dr. Newburn had pulled Fred through pneumonia, when it was a very dangerous infection, before antibiotics.
Birds, classics, an enormous collection. His William Tell Overture is hard to believe.
I like listening to Fred again, just as a reminder that whatever difficult situation we might face, God has planted the seeds of more possibilities than we can imagine!
Fred Lowery whistles!
I first heard Fred at a funeral for Dr. Newburn in Jacksonville. Someone led him to the pulpit, he said nothing, just whistled the most astounding hymns for about 5 minutes; his tribute. Dr. Newburn had pulled Fred through pneumonia, when it was a very dangerous infection, before antibiotics.
Birds, classics, an enormous collection. His William Tell Overture is hard to believe.
I like listening to Fred again, just as a reminder that whatever difficult situation we might face, God has planted the seeds of more possibilities than we can imagine!
Obituaries? I Don't Think So, Unless..........
It came up in conversation one day, for some strange reason. Yes, I do read obituaries. Simple reason: families put in obituaries the very best thing their loved relative ever did. And sometimes, it is amazing.
Fred Hargesheimer, of Lincoln, Nebraska, died at the age of 94 just around Christmas. A WWII pilot of a P-38 in a Reconnaissance Squadron, he was shot down while on a mission over the Japanese-held island of New Britain in the southwest Pacific. Parachuting into dense jungle, he managed to survive for 31 days, until found by local hunters. They took him to their coastal village and hid him for seven months, fed him, and helped him recover from two illnesses. Australian commandos working behind enemy lines connected him with a U. S. submarine off New Britain beach, for the long trip home.
Back at home, he began a life-long career with Sperry Rand, but never forgot those who saved him. In 1960, he visited New Britain again, taking his son along. Then, he knew his mission: to build a school on that remote island. In 1970, he and his wife moved there with money they had collected, built a school, and taught the children of the village for four years. The school's experimental plot of oil palm led to development of a large plantation, with jobs for impoverished villagers.
This man whom the villagers called "Chief Warrior" was actively involved in benevolence to "repay" the village, until 2008, at the age of 92.
Is there a more powerful motivation than gratitude at being saved? And there are millions of inspiring stories, similar in a way, to that of Fred Hargesheimer. There's room for more, you know!
Fred Hargesheimer, of Lincoln, Nebraska, died at the age of 94 just around Christmas. A WWII pilot of a P-38 in a Reconnaissance Squadron, he was shot down while on a mission over the Japanese-held island of New Britain in the southwest Pacific. Parachuting into dense jungle, he managed to survive for 31 days, until found by local hunters. They took him to their coastal village and hid him for seven months, fed him, and helped him recover from two illnesses. Australian commandos working behind enemy lines connected him with a U. S. submarine off New Britain beach, for the long trip home.
Back at home, he began a life-long career with Sperry Rand, but never forgot those who saved him. In 1960, he visited New Britain again, taking his son along. Then, he knew his mission: to build a school on that remote island. In 1970, he and his wife moved there with money they had collected, built a school, and taught the children of the village for four years. The school's experimental plot of oil palm led to development of a large plantation, with jobs for impoverished villagers.
This man whom the villagers called "Chief Warrior" was actively involved in benevolence to "repay" the village, until 2008, at the age of 92.
Is there a more powerful motivation than gratitude at being saved? And there are millions of inspiring stories, similar in a way, to that of Fred Hargesheimer. There's room for more, you know!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
When You Gotta....
I write about him now and then, because he was such an influence, and a fine across-the-street neighbor. He was founder of Medical Bridges in Houston, an agency to recycle usable hospital supplies from linens to plastics to highly expensive electronics, all going to missionary situations. He was a neuro-surgeon, grounded on one unforgettable day by a diagnosis of a brain tumor. Banned from operating.
But, when you gotta, then you gotta. Medical Bridges continued full speed as he recruited others INSIDE the hospitals to help acquire supplies for missionary hospitals.
And the skilled fingers? Have you ever imagined the eye-hand coordination required to be a brain surgeon? Phenomenal skill in those hands! Able to do fine detail work? You wouldn't believe what my friend David could turn out in a wood-working shop.
Talents need to be used. Stop one venue and the "called" person finds another.
Service? Check.
Expression? Check.
Benefit to others? Check.
Inspiration? Oh, yes.
The disease was known to be terminal, early on. But every effort, every crafted item, every piece of salvaged surplus, every intentional family-care moment, became part of a soaring witness, . THIS is how Christians do the last battle!
When you gotta....... well, when it's God's calling to express your faith, then.............. God's going to help.
Unforgettable, even now 11 years later, and held with gratitude.
But, when you gotta, then you gotta. Medical Bridges continued full speed as he recruited others INSIDE the hospitals to help acquire supplies for missionary hospitals.
And the skilled fingers? Have you ever imagined the eye-hand coordination required to be a brain surgeon? Phenomenal skill in those hands! Able to do fine detail work? You wouldn't believe what my friend David could turn out in a wood-working shop.
Talents need to be used. Stop one venue and the "called" person finds another.
Service? Check.
Expression? Check.
Benefit to others? Check.
Inspiration? Oh, yes.
The disease was known to be terminal, early on. But every effort, every crafted item, every piece of salvaged surplus, every intentional family-care moment, became part of a soaring witness, . THIS is how Christians do the last battle!
When you gotta....... well, when it's God's calling to express your faith, then.............. God's going to help.
Unforgettable, even now 11 years later, and held with gratitude.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
You Just Never Know
No one I knew had ever seen him. My father had never seen him. So far as we knew, it was a total mystery. Nell had met him at a parade, on the square in Tyler, in 1914. She was 19, and we're not sure how old Will was, but probably around 23. It was a short romance, followed by a short marriage, and my dad was born New Years Eve, 1915. Soon after, Will was on the road again, never to return.
But the story was so sketchy, I sometimes wondered if Will had ever really been. So many loose ends. Then a single picture emerged from a huge stack of photos in presentation folders, one I'd never seen before. I didn't recognize most of the people, except for one. There was Nell, around 20, on a hilltop near Bullard, standing in front of an old tree, black hair blowing in the wind, beautiful. As I enlarged a copy on the computer, I could not resist looking: she wore a wedding ring.
Never talked about Will, never talked about marriage, never talked about any of the difficulties she faced all her life. She was a "grass widow", no husband, but no real divorce - - he was just gone, in the times when long distance travel was usually one-way, and folks rarely returned once they left.
She worked in the school cafeteria, sold Christmas cards, raised vegetables and chickens, crafted quilts, was big on barter in the Depression. Too dignified to complain, she was the Life-time Sunday School Secretary, and the Communion Steward for her church, steady and faithful. And she was deeper in poverty than her grandson ever knew!
But, somehow, knowing from that ring that there was once a marriage put an important piece into the puzzle. It still wasn't complete, but it fit. Sister Laura Fellman went to Tarleton College as the women's PE director, Sister Sallie Halden went to Houston, part author, part socialite, and Nell stayed in the old family house. Bad roof, no paint, worn down, but hers.
Every New Years Eve I think about her and wonder at her quiet dignity in the midst of difficulties. And I thank God for the reminder, through her, that we are always surrounded by people living through difficulty, upheld by grace, and more than we know. But God knows. And God takes care of it.
And all is well. And I tell myself: Happy New Year......... it's all going to be all right.
But the story was so sketchy, I sometimes wondered if Will had ever really been. So many loose ends. Then a single picture emerged from a huge stack of photos in presentation folders, one I'd never seen before. I didn't recognize most of the people, except for one. There was Nell, around 20, on a hilltop near Bullard, standing in front of an old tree, black hair blowing in the wind, beautiful. As I enlarged a copy on the computer, I could not resist looking: she wore a wedding ring.
Never talked about Will, never talked about marriage, never talked about any of the difficulties she faced all her life. She was a "grass widow", no husband, but no real divorce - - he was just gone, in the times when long distance travel was usually one-way, and folks rarely returned once they left.
She worked in the school cafeteria, sold Christmas cards, raised vegetables and chickens, crafted quilts, was big on barter in the Depression. Too dignified to complain, she was the Life-time Sunday School Secretary, and the Communion Steward for her church, steady and faithful. And she was deeper in poverty than her grandson ever knew!
But, somehow, knowing from that ring that there was once a marriage put an important piece into the puzzle. It still wasn't complete, but it fit. Sister Laura Fellman went to Tarleton College as the women's PE director, Sister Sallie Halden went to Houston, part author, part socialite, and Nell stayed in the old family house. Bad roof, no paint, worn down, but hers.
Every New Years Eve I think about her and wonder at her quiet dignity in the midst of difficulties. And I thank God for the reminder, through her, that we are always surrounded by people living through difficulty, upheld by grace, and more than we know. But God knows. And God takes care of it.
And all is well. And I tell myself: Happy New Year......... it's all going to be all right.
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