Cousin Chuck, a cousin-in-law, knew he was a stereotype, and loved it. His car plates: AG EX CC. Her car plates: AG NAG. As he grew old, the swagger never left, the confidence and enthusiasm for life was always there. As an old man, Chuck seemed to be the only one in the world who could swagger in a power chair!
A military pilot, he loved to fly. Of course, when the opportunity arose, he'd plan and schedule a plane rental, just to "buzz" the family reunion. At first glance, he might appear a little "over the top" but it wasn't ever really arrogance, just a sheer love of life. He loved travel, he loved animals, he loved children and grandchildren. I never knew exactly what Chuck did for a living, because he kept it separate from family life. Probably bought and sold things, maybe real estate, but the only face he showed his family was fun, kind, and considerate.
When he was dying, he gave instructions to his sons: cremate the body, then divide my ashes between my favorite high point at Four Corners, and Kyle Field. The first one was easy. For the second, the sons asked permission to scatter his ashes on Kyle Field. Permission, of course, was denied. (Chuck would never have asked.) So, the sons went on the field anyway, just like he said. You can't un-scatter ashes, you know.
There were tough times, but basically Chuck lived out a straight line. He loved his mother, adored his grandchildren, had a personally satisfying faith, and ended well. He never pretended to be a saint, but I cannot imagine that Chuck ever did anyone harm; he brightened the lives of hundreds.
Saintly? No. But did he make Jesus smile? Oh, I do think so! He lived well. Never hurting, never slow to help, a bringer of smiles and good cheer, a carrier of burdens for others, I think he made Jesus smile. Jesus undoubtedly greeted him, saying: "Well, not exactly a role model, Chuck, but you sure made me smile!"
Maybe we all need a generous helping of that. The world certainly needs it every day. And we love the one who is the "go-to guy" for acceptance and good cheer, don't we? Makes me wonder: maybe that IS just the role model Jesus wants. Not the only one, but an important one.
Thanks, Chuck.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Remembering Bill and MLK, Jr.
This year, I remembered and surprised myself. Bill was fearless. A survivor of Cerebral Palsy, in the old days when treatments were hard and rarely successful, Bill was a championship wrestler, bad legs and all. He was also not afraid of anything. We studied together in Atlanta.
So, one day Bill just announced he intended to "drive over and see Dr. King." Those of us who heard him suggested it might not be all that easy to do. "Not a problem", and off he went. A few hours later he came back, rather wide-eyed. "I found the street, and started looking for the number. I got close, studied the number, and noticed a small crowd had gathered. They asked where I was going, and when I said what I intended, they just said 'No'."
"I looked at the gathering, and decided they were the "guards" in those very troubled times. And they were very large. Did you know Dr. King had some very large friends? Not that I was afraid, or anything, it just wasn't a good time to drop in!"
Atlanta was a tense city, just then, and no one was getting close unless invited. A candidate for governor was passing out axe handles, saying "You boys know what these are for, don't ya? Don't be shy 'bout using one!"
Bill championed MLK's causes, and he served well in ministry. History worked itself out. But behind the public figures were the large friends, who could always tell their man: "I got your back." Until the tragic day when they didn't.
Remembering him today, and remembering Bill, I read the "Letter from the Birmingham Jail" and remembered what an amazing gift of persuasive, moving speech the man possessed, as a gift from God.
There's a reminder here that God has gifted ALL of us in some way. Gotta use those gifts; there's life in them.
So, one day Bill just announced he intended to "drive over and see Dr. King." Those of us who heard him suggested it might not be all that easy to do. "Not a problem", and off he went. A few hours later he came back, rather wide-eyed. "I found the street, and started looking for the number. I got close, studied the number, and noticed a small crowd had gathered. They asked where I was going, and when I said what I intended, they just said 'No'."
"I looked at the gathering, and decided they were the "guards" in those very troubled times. And they were very large. Did you know Dr. King had some very large friends? Not that I was afraid, or anything, it just wasn't a good time to drop in!"
Atlanta was a tense city, just then, and no one was getting close unless invited. A candidate for governor was passing out axe handles, saying "You boys know what these are for, don't ya? Don't be shy 'bout using one!"
Bill championed MLK's causes, and he served well in ministry. History worked itself out. But behind the public figures were the large friends, who could always tell their man: "I got your back." Until the tragic day when they didn't.
Remembering him today, and remembering Bill, I read the "Letter from the Birmingham Jail" and remembered what an amazing gift of persuasive, moving speech the man possessed, as a gift from God.
There's a reminder here that God has gifted ALL of us in some way. Gotta use those gifts; there's life in them.
A Strange and Dangerous Filter
"Why, we don't pay any attention to THAT! That's just Old Testament!"
Where's the authority for living? God's covenant/example? or in "the eye of the beholder"?
There's a LOT in the OT that may or may not be consistent with St.Paul. After all, Job's three friends don't offer God's remedy for Job's situation, they are presented as "straw men" for Job, and the writer, to knock over. They present ideas that are presented exactly as a foil for the opposing and true idea about God.
But, discarding is not the answer; reading BETTER is the answer. And once we find that, we open treasures that are amazing. A discussion on Job today opened into some deeply personal matters, as we reflected on the whole topic: bad things DO happen to good people (and on and on). If you're interested in REAL life, you'll find lots in the Old Testament that plugs in!
The Old Testament narrative that rolls through family and national history, that encounters God-called faithful people who are outside the Covenant (Cyrus the Persian, for one), and that NEVER gives up on God is a tremendous encouragement. It is Scripture. It has sustained its value through generations of re-interpretation, survived being ignored, endured through translation after translation, and has content sufficient to "train" even the most experienced and weathered faithful.
The old joke says: "I'm too broke to pay attention!" Bad filter when it comes to the Old Testament.
Challenge for the day: follow John Steinbeck who found all his plots in the OT. Read. Read Deuteronomy first. Then read it again. Then read it again. By this time, you probably will CHOOSE to read it a fourth time! Don't "filter" it, absorb it. There is a powerful blessing there!
Where's the authority for living? God's covenant/example? or in "the eye of the beholder"?
There's a LOT in the OT that may or may not be consistent with St.Paul. After all, Job's three friends don't offer God's remedy for Job's situation, they are presented as "straw men" for Job, and the writer, to knock over. They present ideas that are presented exactly as a foil for the opposing and true idea about God.
But, discarding is not the answer; reading BETTER is the answer. And once we find that, we open treasures that are amazing. A discussion on Job today opened into some deeply personal matters, as we reflected on the whole topic: bad things DO happen to good people (and on and on). If you're interested in REAL life, you'll find lots in the Old Testament that plugs in!
The Old Testament narrative that rolls through family and national history, that encounters God-called faithful people who are outside the Covenant (Cyrus the Persian, for one), and that NEVER gives up on God is a tremendous encouragement. It is Scripture. It has sustained its value through generations of re-interpretation, survived being ignored, endured through translation after translation, and has content sufficient to "train" even the most experienced and weathered faithful.
The old joke says: "I'm too broke to pay attention!" Bad filter when it comes to the Old Testament.
Challenge for the day: follow John Steinbeck who found all his plots in the OT. Read. Read Deuteronomy first. Then read it again. Then read it again. By this time, you probably will CHOOSE to read it a fourth time! Don't "filter" it, absorb it. There is a powerful blessing there!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
My Target
Someone said, "Why are you writing?" My response: "There is a conversation coming. I don't know 'with whom', but it's coming. Maybe already started."
But, that's just half an answer. The whole answer is a little different.
When the children were small, we found a book they loved. It was all about a little puppy left at home alone one day. Bored with chasing his tail and exploring the small back yard, Puppy found a hole in the fence, and went looking for fun. A squirrel offered acorns, but that didn't turn out well. A pig invited him to romp in the mud, but that sure wasn't his thing. A bird invited him to fly, but that just didn't work. And other adventures followed. Finally, the little puppy made his way back through the hole in the fence, just before his family came home. And he was SOOOOO happy to be there, for puppy-kind-of-fun.
Every puppy needs to know where the fun is. For this "puppy", the energizing fun is in communicating. Sunday mornings' time in the pulpit still leave me "energized" and ready for more. Discovering a new perspective in a book leaves me eager to read another chapter.
When I was three, my aunt gave me a library card and took me to the library to pick out a book. She made sure that I understood: EVERY book is a window into someone else's mind and heart. She also convinced me that THAT endeavor, opening that window, is life's most fascinating.
Schweitzer, Lewis, Twain, Shakespeare are among the most fascinating people who open doors and let us look in. I'm NOT them, but I'm still fascinated with opening a door, and then seeing where the communication goes.
Every puppy, you and me, needs to find exactly THEIR kind of fun. I hope you have already found yours! After all, that's part of God's rationale for making us.
But, that's just half an answer. The whole answer is a little different.
When the children were small, we found a book they loved. It was all about a little puppy left at home alone one day. Bored with chasing his tail and exploring the small back yard, Puppy found a hole in the fence, and went looking for fun. A squirrel offered acorns, but that didn't turn out well. A pig invited him to romp in the mud, but that sure wasn't his thing. A bird invited him to fly, but that just didn't work. And other adventures followed. Finally, the little puppy made his way back through the hole in the fence, just before his family came home. And he was SOOOOO happy to be there, for puppy-kind-of-fun.
Every puppy needs to know where the fun is. For this "puppy", the energizing fun is in communicating. Sunday mornings' time in the pulpit still leave me "energized" and ready for more. Discovering a new perspective in a book leaves me eager to read another chapter.
When I was three, my aunt gave me a library card and took me to the library to pick out a book. She made sure that I understood: EVERY book is a window into someone else's mind and heart. She also convinced me that THAT endeavor, opening that window, is life's most fascinating.
Schweitzer, Lewis, Twain, Shakespeare are among the most fascinating people who open doors and let us look in. I'm NOT them, but I'm still fascinated with opening a door, and then seeing where the communication goes.
Every puppy, you and me, needs to find exactly THEIR kind of fun. I hope you have already found yours! After all, that's part of God's rationale for making us.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Hot Rhetoric and My Old Jacket
Yesterday at the grocery, someone "checked out" my old jacket (yes, I'm sure it was not me that got "checked"). "I like that jacket." "This? Oh, it's about 30 years old." "Well, whatever, it looks good."
It does. L.L. Bean corduroy, well-made, has held up very, very well. Bottom line, I like it and it is very good quality. Someone else noticed and liked it, too.
Things communicate. Good workmanship, the work of a skilled artisan, whether brickmason or artist on canvas or artist with words, all we do communicates. It may say skill or sloth, energy or laziness, kindness or hatred, but all our acts speak. Often they speak more clearly than our words. And always, they touch.
So, when someone uses hate language from another era, something in our memory flinches at it. "Blood libel" is one of those. Twisting a Biblical quotation to excuse what we now call "ethnic cleansing" through two thousand years of anti-Semitism, this was a cover-word. It covered all sorts of hatred, from conversions-at-sword-point to the Holocaust. It was a rationale for killing Jews.
When that gets tossed into political rhetoric, even when the speaker has no sense of what it has meant, it is more or less like tossing a little water into a hot frying pan.
Words mean things, and the history of words brings with it healing or hatred, stirring up kindness and compassion or anger and conflict.
Traveling in Europe last fall, we saw so many echoes of the past use of these two words. A Jewish family on a pilgrimage to remember family background had a clear toughness to them, probably because the pilgrimage was a very serious thing. We took a walking tour, and stopped by the doorway of the last residence of Schindler, whose story was told in Schindler's List. He saved over a thousand Jews from the Nazi Holocaust. As we stood in front of that house, the man on pilgrimage softened his expression, stared at the identifying sign, and very quietly began to weep. A life, a memory, an enormous act of kindness remembered had touched him.
Words mean things, and whether your audience is very large or very small, they should be used and handled with care. They always communicate and touch. Let them always show the love of Christ. Let them bless, instead of curse. Let them touch with kindness.
It does. L.L. Bean corduroy, well-made, has held up very, very well. Bottom line, I like it and it is very good quality. Someone else noticed and liked it, too.
Things communicate. Good workmanship, the work of a skilled artisan, whether brickmason or artist on canvas or artist with words, all we do communicates. It may say skill or sloth, energy or laziness, kindness or hatred, but all our acts speak. Often they speak more clearly than our words. And always, they touch.
So, when someone uses hate language from another era, something in our memory flinches at it. "Blood libel" is one of those. Twisting a Biblical quotation to excuse what we now call "ethnic cleansing" through two thousand years of anti-Semitism, this was a cover-word. It covered all sorts of hatred, from conversions-at-sword-point to the Holocaust. It was a rationale for killing Jews.
When that gets tossed into political rhetoric, even when the speaker has no sense of what it has meant, it is more or less like tossing a little water into a hot frying pan.
Words mean things, and the history of words brings with it healing or hatred, stirring up kindness and compassion or anger and conflict.
Traveling in Europe last fall, we saw so many echoes of the past use of these two words. A Jewish family on a pilgrimage to remember family background had a clear toughness to them, probably because the pilgrimage was a very serious thing. We took a walking tour, and stopped by the doorway of the last residence of Schindler, whose story was told in Schindler's List. He saved over a thousand Jews from the Nazi Holocaust. As we stood in front of that house, the man on pilgrimage softened his expression, stared at the identifying sign, and very quietly began to weep. A life, a memory, an enormous act of kindness remembered had touched him.
Words mean things, and whether your audience is very large or very small, they should be used and handled with care. They always communicate and touch. Let them always show the love of Christ. Let them bless, instead of curse. Let them touch with kindness.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The House Had a Name
Beautiful, very square, very "Roman", color-coordinated with the Wedgwood china collection that filled shelves around most of the interior walls. Pale blue carpet, just the right tone. The house setting was the top of a small hill, middle of a full city block. Landscaping was evergreen, tastefully framing the house, always manicured.
Immaculate house, and inside, an older woman with hair NEVER out of place, every detail in her life just where it belonged (she made sure). Beautiful house with Texas oil money to support it.
But, an increasingly lonely place. There were always friends, the kind that show up when you have deep pockets. The other, better kind, not so much. The beautiful house was rarely, if ever, full of the noisy disorder of a family reunion. The exterior, almost perfect, never changed.
I'm sure she never knew it, but the house had a name among the children: The Mausoleum.
mausoleum noun: 1) an external free-standing building constructed as a monument enclosing the interment space or burial chamber of a deceased person or persons. ...
I was surprised that neighboring children knew that word, but they did.
I used to be often surprised at what "the children" know (always more than their parents think). Now, I take it for granted that the God-given perception that sees other people and relationships starts working early in life. Oh, we do learn to keep our insights to ourselves (the children never said "mausoleum" in more than a whisper), and sometimes we suppress our insights altogether.
But, inside, there are the little triggers that God built into us. We can ignore the warnings, for good or bad; or we can listen closely, which is sometimes hard to do. But, when we listen, and receive those insights into a loving heart that cares about other people, the moments of insight are a gift from God.
They become the red flag that goes up to warn us of danger and deception, or the multicolored flags that go up like semaphores in our minds to help us see where we're needed.
When the flags fly in your mind, thank God, and be grateful for the ability to respond.
Immaculate house, and inside, an older woman with hair NEVER out of place, every detail in her life just where it belonged (she made sure). Beautiful house with Texas oil money to support it.
But, an increasingly lonely place. There were always friends, the kind that show up when you have deep pockets. The other, better kind, not so much. The beautiful house was rarely, if ever, full of the noisy disorder of a family reunion. The exterior, almost perfect, never changed.
I'm sure she never knew it, but the house had a name among the children: The Mausoleum.
mausoleum noun: 1) an external free-standing building constructed as a monument enclosing the interment space or burial chamber of a deceased person or persons. ...
I was surprised that neighboring children knew that word, but they did.
I used to be often surprised at what "the children" know (always more than their parents think). Now, I take it for granted that the God-given perception that sees other people and relationships starts working early in life. Oh, we do learn to keep our insights to ourselves (the children never said "mausoleum" in more than a whisper), and sometimes we suppress our insights altogether.
But, inside, there are the little triggers that God built into us. We can ignore the warnings, for good or bad; or we can listen closely, which is sometimes hard to do. But, when we listen, and receive those insights into a loving heart that cares about other people, the moments of insight are a gift from God.
They become the red flag that goes up to warn us of danger and deception, or the multicolored flags that go up like semaphores in our minds to help us see where we're needed.
When the flags fly in your mind, thank God, and be grateful for the ability to respond.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
A Hope of the Heart
(It works so much better verbally. Look around, think of a couple you love, make sure no one will overhear and make fun of you, then give voice to it. Isn't that good?)
Now you will feel no rain,For each of you will be shelter to the other.Now you will feel no cold,For each of you will be warmth to the other.Now there is no more loneliness,For each of you will be companion to the other.Now you are two bodies,But there is one life before you.Go now to your dwelling place,To enter into the days of your togetherness.And may your days be good and long upon the earth.
The Indian Wedding Blessing was written for a 1950 western novel Blood Brother, by Elliott Arnold. It became part of the movie adaptation of Broken Arrow. As it took on a life of its own, it became a very religious sounding piece, but not a prayer, only a wish. While it touches the spirit within, it doesn't offer any "other" who might intervene to make the wishes come true.
Is this a good thing? Sure. It touches and lifts and raises hopes and expectations. Does it offer any means for its accomplishment? Not really. So, how does this fit into the scheme of things for a Christian?
When there is a high hope like this, one of the oldest formulas in Christian living, the monastic formula, says: Pray and Work. Pray to God to accomplish the highest hopes of our hearts. Work WITH God to enable the very best that one person can give to another. Neither half is complete without the other; neither actually functions very well without the other. Strong prayer plus high ethics presents fine Christian behavior.
From the poetry of Isaiah and the Psalms, to the Irish blessings, to the sayings of Chief Seattle, to the stirring expressions of some of our finest leaders, the human heart "hopes high" and anticipates lots of good things. We always need to supply the other half: "Lord, lead me to accomplish the highest for me, for my friend, for my family."
And the great thanksgiving? It can happen. Over and over again.
Thank God.
Now you will feel no rain,For each of you will be shelter to the other.Now you will feel no cold,For each of you will be warmth to the other.Now there is no more loneliness,For each of you will be companion to the other.Now you are two bodies,But there is one life before you.Go now to your dwelling place,To enter into the days of your togetherness.And may your days be good and long upon the earth.
The Indian Wedding Blessing was written for a 1950 western novel Blood Brother, by Elliott Arnold. It became part of the movie adaptation of Broken Arrow. As it took on a life of its own, it became a very religious sounding piece, but not a prayer, only a wish. While it touches the spirit within, it doesn't offer any "other" who might intervene to make the wishes come true.
Is this a good thing? Sure. It touches and lifts and raises hopes and expectations. Does it offer any means for its accomplishment? Not really. So, how does this fit into the scheme of things for a Christian?
When there is a high hope like this, one of the oldest formulas in Christian living, the monastic formula, says: Pray and Work. Pray to God to accomplish the highest hopes of our hearts. Work WITH God to enable the very best that one person can give to another. Neither half is complete without the other; neither actually functions very well without the other. Strong prayer plus high ethics presents fine Christian behavior.
From the poetry of Isaiah and the Psalms, to the Irish blessings, to the sayings of Chief Seattle, to the stirring expressions of some of our finest leaders, the human heart "hopes high" and anticipates lots of good things. We always need to supply the other half: "Lord, lead me to accomplish the highest for me, for my friend, for my family."
And the great thanksgiving? It can happen. Over and over again.
Thank God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)