Christmas Curious

Purists find details to debate over the placement of the Christmas celebration and how it compares with the myths of other cultures. I find it interesting that one has to look up these long forgotten cultures to compare them to the still vibrant Christian culture of the 21st century. I don't find it threatening that truth about God and His plan leaked into other cultures. In fact, God would let out His truth in as many ways as possible so we won't miss it.

And what is the truth?

Sin, rebellion, "my way or the highway" had become so pervasive that almost all of human society has been built on it. The problem of rejecting our Creator had reached the point where God had to come down and fix things.

But why come down the way he did? Why not unzip the sky, wave his finger and eliminate all the effects of sin and rebellion?

Or ride in on a conquering horse and take over the world as the only Benevolent Dictator. His self worth would not be dependent on his rule and his justice would not be impaired by bribe or ignorance.

Instead he made Himself one of us. Not even an adult one of us, but a baby who traveled through the birth canal and breathed his first in a dirty stable. He was cheered by angels. He was feted by advisers to Kings. He was chased by Herod and obeyed a carpenter as his father. It seems the whole account was designed for us to wonder to find out why.

Luke and Matthew don't seem to agree unless you sit down and calculate stars and King Herod's lifespan and when sheep would likely be in the hills of Bethlehem. To the skeptic, there is much ammunition to shoot the whole thing down. To the seeker there is a bunch to bring into focus.

Many won't waste the time. Some will believe without looking. That number is dwindling. Others will reject it all without a glance
. Those numbers remain steady. Still others will try to line facts up and walk away convinced its all just myth that has somehow succeeded in being believed. Still others will keep at it. Determined to make sense of it all. "God is looking for those who worship Him in spirit and in truth." Eventually the search for truth will be rewarded by the Truth Himself.

A Merry Christmas to all and a curious Christmas if you are still seeking truth, like me.

Coal in Sony's stocking

Wow did Sony Pictures step in a mess! Santa put worse than coal in their stockings for Christmas over the potential release of "The Interview" on Christmas day. Once again our young nation fails to discern the culture and puts together a movie that antagonizes a more ancient one.

Frankly, in our culture the movie was going to tank. Hollywood has not done satire well lately. The North Koreans could have let the film fail, then laughed at the stupid Americans for putting out such drivel. That's not how their culture works.

Attacking the guy at the top is treason. Hey, that sounds familiar. Trying to assassinate the leader of the country is a death sentence. We do life in prison. So why are folks so up in arms about North Korea's response? Because its all satire, we wouldn't really want to see your leader dead. You know, we were just kidding. Here's a definition of satire, "the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing,denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc."

Satires are often used to make political statements. Not many political statements in the trailers, just a bunch of cheap jokes and off color crap. From the trailers, which are supposed to be the scenes to get a viewer to pay for a ticket, The two Americans are buffoons and Kim Jung Un is as decadent as where the two Americans are coming from. The only message from the trailer is that we are really not that much different from Kim and that Americans like to make power plays. 

I will say that North Korea's response was targeted and designed to communicate their dislike for attacking their supreme leader, even through satire. They exposed the guts of a Hollywood studio and revealed the mess seething under the surface. From jokes about our own president to disrespect of their own elite, Sony Studios looks terribly close to the decadent world that Seth Rogen and James Franco portray. Maybe this movie was not so much about North Korea as it was Hollywood.

So here's the question: is attacking Sony Pictures the same as attacking America?

I hate those who cling to worthless idols;

This is a thought from King David found in Psalm 31, which I am reading in preparation for Men's Bible Study. In David's day, the idols were actual statues of gold or lesser materials that sat in one's house. The word that poked me in the eye is "hate." Seems extreme, doesn't it? What about "feel pity for" or "pray for?" Why hate?

Very Distracting

Today we don't have idols sitting around the house. We are free to worship the true God with no distractions, right? I love the look of the 2015 Dodge Charger SRT. 400 some horsepower from 392 cubic inches, unless you what the supercharged model with 707 horsepower. I could get the groceries a few seconds faster in one of those for sure! Maybe you are into guns or four wheelers or clothes or tech.

I think David was led to write "hate" because its too easy to admire those with awesome toys, instead of admiring our awesome God. What about those who make cars or anything else look so important, so gold plated? What about the priests of commerialism, the evangelists?

Should be a good study this morning.

60's Redux

Feels like my childhood all over again. Once again we have protests in the streets and a successful launch and landing of a new spacecraft designed for human flight. The positive and negative of our society once again glaring for the world to see.

The effects of institutionalized slavery and our formation from a polyglot of other nations continues to haunt us in Ferguson and New York City and across the nation. The petty tension from misdemeanors has at least twice escalated into deadly confrontation. Smoking kills from more than just lung cancer. Why do our police feel threatened by large black men? Are they not trained to deal with these sorts of confrontations? Why do large black men feel threatened by police over petty theft? Can they not expect to plead out, pay a fine and learn their lesson?

The 'Why' questions point to deeper issues that each generation must solve for themselves. Parents and family can detoxify the atmosphere to some degree, yet the basic issue remains. That issue is "How will I react to someone who looks different from me and acts different from me?" Deeper yet, "Can I trust someone significantly different from me?" Police are in situations where trust has to be earned. Black neighborhoods are also places where trust has to be earned as well. Stealing, bullying, shooting and choking all erode trust.

How about the social responsibility of our news sources? Where are the pictures, vines and videos of different folks working together? Where are the live streams of police diffusing situations and perpetrators walking away safely in handcuffs? Where are the cell phone videos of communities improving the lives of others? Not news, you say. The way things are going, they may become news.

Image: NASA

The 60 other flashback splashed down in the Pacific Ocean today, as the first new spacecraft since the Shuttle took flight this morning. Orion lifted off flawlessly, orbited to a height of 3600 miles and returned to earthly over a roughly 4 hour period. Neat and smiling men and women told us of the various parts of the system, while live telemetry and video revealed each stage of the mission. Cronkite and his toy rockets were not needed this time.

Once again our thoughts are turned to the pristine blackness of space. Once again we see the world as a blue, white and brown ball on which we all live. Once again we are confronted with the fact that we all live in the same confine of the earth. We carry a drive to rise higher and go farther, to learn and create. This is the image of God in us as humanity, so stunningly carried out in space.

In fact our country, like many on the earth I'm sure, illustrates the evil of fallen man in our cruelty and fear, as well as the image of our Creator in our goals and achievements. So, I cheer on space exploration in hope that as we see more images of God's creation from on High, we will be more likely to open ourselves to God's love, which drives out fear.

Blood Transfusion

For decades I have bled Nittany blue. I remember hooting at the top of my lungs in '83 as Penn State outlasted the Miami hurricanes. I had been trying to stuff my cheers because everyone else was asleep. I still tell how humiliated my seminary roommate slunk back from 'Bama after crowing all week how the Tide was going to smear Penn State. PSU won that game 28 years ago. I worried like many that Joe was getting too old after a broken leg at practice put him off the bench. I wondered if Paterno's coaching genius had dried up as the calendar marched into the 21st century. Over the years friends have given me Penn State mugs, shirts, hats and I have worn them proudly, even after the scandal and the disgusting, immoral conduct of an insane Jerry Sandusky.

I ached for the young men, scarred for life by a man they trusted. I ached for Joe Paterno, who seemed to be shaken and not comprehending what had happened in the showers.

Jerry Sandusky got tossed into jail for the next couple of lifetimes. Justice prevailed on his head. Amen. Penn State football got bruised and black eyed by the Freeh Report and the the NCAA sanctions. Joe Paterno lost the only job he ever loved, yet that was right, because young men lost the only childhood they would ever have and perhaps their ability to love and trust. The stupid statue that had seemed so majestic came down.

I was proud of the young men who stayed with the team when the NCAA gave them an out. I cheered for them as they played on after their icon had died in disgrace and their play had no chance of taking them beyond the post season. Any pro team that picks up one of these men has gained a quality player on several levels.

Yet here we sit three years later, after firings, and reports and sanctions with a university who now wants to sue over lifted sanctions, dig up the Joe Paterno statue and seems determined to wade into a glory past that set up the problem in the first place.

Jerry Sandusky used the glory of Penn State football to live out sexual fantasies. His "The Second Mile" charity comes into being from his coaching staff status. The draw to put kids into it rises from the entre into Penn State and the shadow of Joe Paterno football. The perks that hook young men come from meeting, traveling and being on the sidelines of a great college football program.

So colleges shouldn't have great programs in sports? Not to the untouchable level. Penn State's program was not supposed to be just about stepping to the pros. It was supposed to be about education and integrity.

Jerry Sandusky retired in June '99 at age 55. He had been a key member of the coaching staff of a premier Division I college team. Joe didn't see fit to set him up to take his place. Hallelujah. So why didn't Sandusky go somewhere else? I know, go to prison and ask him yourself. The explanations seem pretty simple. 1) Joe Paterno didn't see him as coaching material and let other schools know. 2)Sandusky had been doing some back door checking, but no one was returning his calls. 3) He has such a sweet set up at Penn State that feeds his addiction and need for power that he can't imagine going anywhere else and trying to put the same system together. Second Mile/Penn State was the perfect trap for our pedophile to strike from.

So why smash your Penn State gear three years later? Why start this rant all over again? Because the attitude and decisions I see coming out of the powers that be at Penn State are the same ones that led to the trap in the first place. Penn State football should sue, because we weren't really in the wrong. Joe Paterno's years should be remembered a new statue should go up, so we can get back to the way it  used to be. Now its easier to forget the damaged young men. They are now three years older and wiser. They have stopped talking. But poor Penn State got pressured by the NCAA in to a 60 million dollar fine! Think of all the lost revenue from bowl games we could have had under O'Brien. Besides Joe was our friend. We don't know these kids.

The mugs are smashed. The sweatshirts will shred to rags and all the shortcuts to Penn State football are erased.

First World Problems Stifle Thanksgiving

Before Black Friday merchandisers offered Thanksgiving Day sales. The networks provided movies and cartoons that retold the story of the first Thanksgiving with natives and settlers cooperating and feasting together. Our extended family took turns hosting the annual get together. From the stone fireplace of Aunt Shirley and Uncle Louie's house, to the open staircase of Grandpa and Grandma's house, to the 50's formica and tile of Aunt Mary and Uncle Junior's house, to the circular downstairs of our own house we rotated.

Uncle Junior always rooted for and bragged on the Cowboys as "America's team." The rest of us tried to set him straight. The kids played Twister or Operation in another room. The parents and older kids worked at the feast and caught up with each other. Turkey feathers, Indian corn and cornucopias decorated the windows along with words like "Give Thanks." We took time before diving into the meal to pray and thank God for another year and His help.

Nowadays it's challenging to commercialize a slowdown to Thank God for what we have. We are not supposed to have enough. In fact, even if we think we do, its our duty to shop to keep the economy spinning.

Our lack of Thanksgiving may run deeper than commercialization. My granddad died under mysterious circumstances and the half insurance payment soon ran out. My grandmother had to sell eggs and clothes she had made from scratch to keep food on the table. Grandma cleaned the Church and took help from her family for awhile before work opened up. She knew firsthand the need to stop and give thanks for God's help and the kindness of others to get her through.

 Our basic level of comfort in the United States is crazy high. Consistent electricity, heating, cooling, indoor plumbing, an automobile, television, computer, beds, furniture, refrigeration, machines to wash and dry our clothes, several sets of clothes and more is considered basic. Free public education with transportation provided to the school and at least a midday meal is expected. If life falls under this standard, there might be a reason to thank someone who moves us back into the mainstream, but to take a whole long weekend to stare at our belly buttons and thank God for all these basics? Let's just move on to Christmas!

What if our prosperity is not primarily the result of our own hard work or brains or risk taking? What if our prosperity actually comes from God, not as manifest destiny, but because of His kindness? If we ignore the time nationally set aside to return thanks, are we not sending a cruel and spoiled message to God? Might he not choose to let us go it alone for awhile so we feel what our great hard work, brains and risk taking can actually accomplish? What if He has already stepped back and said, "OK lets see what you can do without me."?

The Rosettas

After 10 years of chasing through lonely emptiness, the ESA craft "Rosetta" dropped a lander onto the core of a comet. Amazing! The earth launch site was moving one direction, the comet fell along another track in its battle with the sun's gravity. Various other members of the solar system family provided steering and acceleration. All these forces and more were accounted for by men and women originally created in the image of God.

Rosetta was named for a stone found in 1799 that held a known language, Greek, and two unknown writings in hieroglyphics. This find accelerated the understanding of ancient Egypt and the ancient near east. In fact, the Rosetta Stone advanced Biblical archeology and cultural understanding as much as any other discovery. The history of the Old Testament was proven solid with the help of the Stone. 

Now our new Rosetta is probing a comet to find out about the creation of our solar system and perhaps the universe itself. What if this Rosseta does for the Genesis creation account, what the first did for the Old Testament? Could God have left His Truth etched on the face of a comet for us to find? Sounds like just the sort of discovery the God who was born in Bethlehem under a special star might put together. 

First Breath

The first breath of a child on the outside of the birth canal changes so much. Color grows healthy. The baby's eyes open and try to focus. The newborn moves and stretches as she is handed off to the nurse for cleaning and weighing.

Jesus described the changes of our spirits as birth, birth from above. I was privileged to midwife a spiritual birth last night. The three of us bowed and the young lady prayed, her first breath. She asked God to forgive her and heal her. When we raised our eyes to one another, she had changed. Her eyes held a sparkle, her face was clear of tension. She kept breaking into smiles.

God is so good.

Death with Dignity

This past weekend, Brittany Maynard took poison and ended her life. She lay down in the bed she shared with her husband and breathed her last while he and her mom watched. She avoided the worst of the aggressive brain cancer eating at her. 

Three years ago I spoke with a close friend from High School. He called because he also carried aggressive brain cancer. Jeff Kasten battled for almost a year with experimental treatments that advanced the knowledge of medicine. 

In his last days, Jeff lay in a comma. He had trusted his care and comfort to those who loved him. His wife, Tracey, kept watch in the knowledge that she had done all she could. Jeff left behind two daughters who witnessed the courage of Mom and Dad in the teeth of death. 

I have no right to judge Brittany or her courage. I have no doubt of Jeff and Tracey's. 

The Kindness Contest

I grew up before pay per view. Saturday night brought boxing and wrestling into our television in living color. Some fights featured lumbering heavyweights, who bellowed together for a few punches, then broke apart to catch their breaths. That is until the main event with the likes of Ali or Foreman or Frazier. These guys could move and inflict damage. Flurries of punch drew blood and swelled eyes shut. Spit and sweat flew together when blows landed. Bruises swelled the young men's faces out of recognition.

For this week's sermon, I'm staring into the end of Ephesians 4, not a pretty sight. Toilet talk and cancerous anger ooze from these verses. Young Christians under severe pressure are finding their guts busting out and wondering where all the mess came from.

At the end of each three minutes, the combatants made their way to their corners. Managers glued cuts together, let the blood out of bruises and jacked smelling salts into groggy battlers. The managers directed, challenged and encouraged their man to victory. Then the bell rang.

In the middle of this mess of Ephesian guts stands the Holy Spirit. The mess grieves him, like a manager watching his pupil get the spit beat out of him. We are sealed to the Holy Spirit like a boxer to his or her manager.

The two boxers stood and squared off, walking and bouncing back into combat. Pain was met by steely gaze. Fear was pounded between the gloves. The stronger, more skilled and more determined fighter would win. Unless it was a Tyson over in 90 seconds fight, us viewers could size up a winner by the 5th or 6th round. Fights gruelled on for 12 or even 15 rounds, except for knock out or TKO. Three judges voted on a winner and it was over.

Once the guts are drooping and the Holy Spirit Manager has his corner time, the hope of victory is painted. Kindness, tenderheartedness and care will flow in this new group of Christians. Old hates will lie unconscious, impervious to smelling salts and cold towels. Bitterness will be counted out and brawling will lose. They will all be defeated by love, God's love.

Light Versus Darkness

The Christian Paul gets excited about what God has going. The Ephesians are trying to thrive in a power based culture where magic and money rule. Paul writes to them that God's new kingdom, His new culture has the juice to totally remake the city.

I have been staring into chapter 5 of Paul's teaching specifically today. Paul aches for the Ephesians to own their new lives as Children of Light. Ephesus is a dark town with the largest temple to a demon, Artemis, in the known world and millions of dollars worth of materials dedicated to spells, charms, curses and other magic arts. Their statue maker guilds almost control the town.

Yet,

God had set up a living outpost of Light in the middle of their swirling darkness. Yet the outpost had shadows of sin, anger, lust, pettiness of various sorts gave folks places to hide from the light. Paul encouraged these believers to let the light of God's love shine out the negative and energize healthy care for the world around them.

The phrase I am working through is "making the most of every opportunity" or "redeeming the time" as the King James puts it. The full sentence that this phrase occupies advises them to live studied, wise lives. Children of Light want their lives to count and to get the most out of every chance.

As Christians in the 21st Century United States what does a life that counts mean? Like Ephesus, our country spins around power and influence. Our temples might be corporate headquarters or Club shopping warehouses. How do the shadows show up in our churches? How do we need to take ahold of being children of light as we see the darkness descend?

Make the most of every opportunity. Now some have interpreted this as finding a church that gives me and my children every opportunity to fellowship. Mega church attendance makes up a huge percentage of the attendance of the United States Christians, far beyond their actual numbers. That is likely a start. Healthy fellowship is key.

Paul wants them to look outside their fellowship to engage the darkness with God's light power. That requires a sacrificial, other centered view. The main focus is on God's will and carrying it out in the day to day. Its mowing the lawn kind of basic. Its lending $20 or raking leaves in Jesus' name. What else might it be?

Why leaves turn gold

My neighbor is crazy rich. His yard is graced with a 45 foot tall tree of gold leaf. They weren't always golden. He must have won the lottery and decided to show it off to the rest of us by replacing the regular green leaves with these wonderful gold ones. The joke is on him. The leaves are not staying on his fancy tree. The breezes of fall are plucking them to the ground. Tonight I'm sneaking over and loading up a wheel barrow full.

Why should leaves turn such fantastic colors just before they die and fall off? I'm not referring to the science with the different "phyls" in the leaves. I learned that or tried to in high school. I mean why should I look at dying leaves and find their colors fantastic?  When I look at an overripe banana, I am not equally amazed at its color. (Though Grandma Keeler said a banana wasn't ripe unless it had some black spots.) So why do dying leaves draw my gaze with wonder?

Some evolutionists may have generated some sort of explanation for the perception of beauty as a benefit to homo sapiens that has spilled over to my perception of leaves. Perhaps in earlier days people found the sight of reds, purples, golds and rusts instead of lively greens disgusting and our time has it wrong. I doubt both these explanations.

I believe there is a Superior Being who is crazy about color, patterns and light. Before the "bleak mid-winter" sets in, this Being designed these joyous explosions of color to give us hope. Just so we wouldn't miss the message, our eyes and brains were designed to respond to dying leaves as beauty.

Continuing through the Bible Genesis 8 and a new world

Imagine spending over a year shut in a boat, especially at age 600-601! For over half a year the Ark was grounded on Mt. Ararat as a wind from heaven dried the new world. Birds were sent and finally found land. The command was given and the door dropped. Noah and family walked out into a changed world. Few plants and only their animals to greet them. The wildness returned to the beasts and they began to scatter. Noah could empathize with Neil Armstrong descending to the moon.

Noah turned and strode back into the Ark. He emerged minutes later with tools and took apart the great gangplank door. He fashioned the gopher wood into a sturdy altar and lay kindling under it while his family watched and shook their heads.

"Shem, Japeth coral some of those clean animals before they wander off!" Reluctantly the men rounded up the 7th of some of the clean animals and birds. With determined rubbing, Noah coaxed a fire to life. The women gathered sticks and wood to build it up. Noah took out a stone knife, killed and cut up the animals.  The altar itself burned the pitch from the wood. When the flames died down,  Noah set the flesh on the charred wood. Mrs. Noah took care to turn the meat and roast it carefully.

Sizzling fat released the aroma of life to the heavens. As the meat finished on the dying altar, Noah raised his hands in prayer and thanks for this new world and this new chance to live with God. The rest of the family bowed in prayer.

The scent of the offering reached God and for the first time in over 120 years He relaxed and enjoyed the heartfelt worship of all of humanity carried to him in the fumes of sacrifice.

Maybe its time I set down the keyboard and took a walk.

"The whole Bible is about the 'loneliness of God.'" This idea is attributed to G.K. Chesterton in a book that surfaced recently in my library. I have just set out to preach through the entire Bible and this idea resonates with the first chapters.

Adam and Eve's fall draws God from heaven to find out what happened to His prized people. Cain's temptation finds God at his side to correct and encourage. Enoch and God took walks until the last one ended in heaven. Noah was found among the thousands on the earth. God searched intently for any who were looking for him.

In "A burden Shared" David Roper quoted Chesterton as part of his discussion of time alone with God. Roper picks up what he calls a 'throw away line' in Jesus' discussion with the Samaritan woman, "God is seeking those who will worship him in spirit and in truth." God found Enoch. The only attribute we hear from the Old Testament about Enoch is that "he walked with God." Yet that was enough to find him listed among the faithful examples in Hebrews 11.

Maybe its time I set down the keyboard and took a walk.

Mother's Day

The woman holds an uncanny physical resemblance to my mom, but her voice, words and vacant eyes give her away. I last talked with my mom four or was it five Mother's Day's ago? I knew my mom was leaving and this shambling charlatan was moving in, so I took Mom to lunch, just the two of us.

Even during the meal, Mom's mind was wandering in another land, called back by the need to move food or respond to the familiar face across the table. My familiarity won out for several minutes near the end of our time together and Mom's mind rejoined her body. The eyes lit with the old flame and the voice carried the old authority.

That voice had cut through so many minutes of my existence. She woke me with it every school day for all my public education career. With a snap of tone, she could capture my attention. Her intelligent words and ideas helped me through the angst of young adulthood at college, seminary and in my first church.

Oh we didn't agree. I love to argue and poke. Mom had been an easy target, low hanging fruit of emotion and intellect. And she didn't hit as hard as my brother.

All that has been hollowed out of her, scooped away from her existence by the steady unflinching hand of mental illness. All memory of Nancy Lee Keeler Ross has been meticulously removed down to the 3 year old level, just a shambling shell remains.

I can't help, but love the shell, it resembles her so much, resembles my Momma. I thank God He has granted me a long stretch to say my mental goodbyes. I thank God I can hug the shell and feel like I am hugging Mom. She smiles like Mom did, except for the confusion. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Dad is taking good care of your shell.

You may not be as close to your mom as you would wish. Don't wait for time to heal. I'm glad I enjoyed many close years with Mom and I hold no hard feelings to scrape at my memories.

Traditional Church

I know, the title sounds boring. We think of creaky buildings with peeling paint, many with a "For Sale" sign in front. Actually, traditional churches only meet in buildings and are made up of folks schooled in the Bible for decades, their grandkids, sometimes their kids and some curious folks. 

I'm a pastor at one of these churches. We sing the Doxology on Sunday and pray for as many needs as are shared. We believe the Bible to be the inspired communication from God. We believe Jesus came not just to start a new philosophy, but to save the world from sin. 

I will be viewed as increasingly intolerant by our society. I will likely be called a bigot and a hater by those who don't know me and perhaps by some that do. I am not able to see the Bible giving the OK to the push button issues of the day such as homosexual marriage or LGBT lifestyle. I can't see the Bible OKing our treatment of the poor or mistreatment of the environment or taking advantage of the migrant worker or the pornographic treatment of kids on the internet either. 

I do believe that the traditional church has fallen into despair. We feel alienated from our culture for the first time any of us can remember. In this we find echoes in the New Testament experience of the early Christians. We need their courage and trust, but haven't had to lean on God to that degree ever. 

We can't generate the excitement of a mega church. That's fine for them and may God bless their efforts, but we want to know who is worshiping with us and be known by them. In close relationships comes growth and life as God moves from one to another. Help us to trust and live open and welcome every seeker with His love.

Arizona Veto

Some will call me a defeatist with this post. I think the veto of Arizona's attempt to protect religious freedom in our country reveals that Christians need to let go of the concept of "rights." The morality or immorality of our country, states, counties, towns and homes will not be won or lost by a battle for rights.

The ship has left port and is a dot on the horizon. At this point so many  groups exist and each clamor for rights. The few groups will the most influence or who appear the most cutting edge will receive rights. The groups with waning influence or who appear the most dated will lose theirs. This is the downside of democracy, the rule of the majority. The United States will never be a theocracy and never really was one. Judeo Christian principles, or those masquerading as them, have exerted greater influence than now, yet other principles: pragmatism, free markets and sexual liberty have existed with them.

Jesus never worried about rights, he cared for people. Jesus never demanded his voice be heard, he forgave and encouraged the forgiven to sin no more.

Should a photographer be sued because she doesn't want to take pictures of a same sex couple wedding? No. Did it happen? Yes. Should followers of Jesus who taught love and forgiveness been burned at the stake? No. Did it happen? Yes. In the character revealing moments of their execution the love and power of Jesus grew so clear that those who came to see a show left having seen God.

As has happened down through history, our country moves away from the pure love of God toward something else. Clambering for our rights doesn't reveal his love. Laying down our rights does.

The Ability to Change

I have worked at pastor duties at several churches. My first experience moved me across the border to the North Shore of Lake Huron. For almost five years tried to teach and learn to live with fellow Christians in Canada in the last decade of the 20th century. I learned cribbage and knitting and cross country skiing. I changed the way I said certain words and was welcomed into the homes of many great people. Five years represented 20% of my life. 

I married at 30 and moved to the UP of Michigan into a college town. I worked with teens and kids born in the 80s.  I learned to eat pasties, cross the Mackinac Bridge, swim in Lake Superior  and shovel lots of snow. We also became homeowners and parents in the UP. Christians with young kids made up our network.   I lost two jobs in Sault Ste. Marie. I resigned one and was laid off from another. Unemployment checks entered my vocabulary. 

At the edge of the 21st century, we moved to the LP of Michigan. I morphed to Mr. Mom, volunteered at a church in the Elk Capitol of Michigan and started distance education to deepen computer skills. Three years later God reeled me back in. I grew to love the Conservative Congregational Christian Conference. I learned about dog sledding, skijouring, school boards, substitute teaching, Christian Drama and Camp Barakel. By the time we moved on, 15 years of my life had been invested in MI, 33% of my life.

Does there come a point when the bumps, morphs and  of life render one brittle and challenged when trying to fit in to a new reality? For the last three years I have lived in upstate NY, trying to love my native Michigan wife and children, trying to become my father's son again, trying to walk as my younger brother's friend after 21 years away, almost 50% of my life. I'm also trying to understand, love and guide a Wesleyan group of believers in the Finger Lakes region. Most all are farther down the road in life experience. Can I make these changes and earn a living and keep up with my DNA matched teens? Not without help. 

Take the Choke label off Mr. Manning

I feel for Peyton Manning. He didn't talk big, everyone else did for him. He played  below his potential for all but one or two drives. Yes, the Seattle defensive secondary was ready for their game, but so were many other teams that lost to the Broncos and Manning this year. Many act like this one loss on a giant stage negates his regular season hard work, others accuse him of choking. 

I feel for the guy because our society has made such a personality crippling deal over this one game. At the very outside he may be able to play for 5 more years, and then he will have to live with himself outside of football  accolades and condemnation. For your own sake, "Take the 'choke' label off Mr. Manning. I would love to see you make the next few years showing us how you can mentor a young quarterback into a player." To me that would demonstrate your character and knowledge of the game more than a Super Bowl ring.

Catastrophic Effects

As the area began to warm the ice hidden in our radiator pipe vaporized through a new crack and converted the back of our church into a steam room for who knows how long. The hole in the copper pipe was a bit smaller than the end of my pinky. At our final count we slurped up and carried out around 100 gallons of water from the church basement.

It's tempting to run off about how little trouble left hidden can cause lots of damage. That came to mind until I considered the bucket. Dirt and spider webs and half melted crayons, sawdust and black grit hung in suspension in each and every bucket. Decades of crud had been washed clean out and carried out.

Perhaps that is a reason these events come our way, grab our attention, fix it for hours, weeks and longer. Through catastrophe God removes crud. Catastrophe demands our full attention. The steam room where it shouldn't be shakes us to the timbers. Lakes and ponds in the cellar drowns forgotten spiders and works loose hidden splinters.

I hate catastrophes. My back hurts. My knees grow tired. I just want it to be done and back the way it's supposed to be. Yet without a flood some waste never gets dealt with. So thank God for the catastrophes.

Riches of Haiti

Last night our teens answered more questions about Haiti. The friendliness of the people left a strong impression. Short trips took extra time to stop and greet friends of the driver. Folks wandered over to visit and met each other with smiles. Even though electricity was spotty, each teen wished to go back for the friendliness. 

My wife spoke up. "That's close to how society operated 40 years ago." I remember my folks going back and forth with their friends. Lots of card playing, laughing and sharing life. As a kid, I often wandered onto my neighbor's porch to visit and pump the porch swing. People said "Hi." to one another with smiles. Kids greeted adults. Family visited each other. 

Now we live wary. "How will parents take me talking to their child?" I need to get home to enjoy my stuff. I don't have the time and/or energy to follow up with friends, except on Facebook. Family lives far away. 

I see why our team wants to go back. 

Courage and correctness

This morning I watched the Meet the Press podcast of yesterday's (1/26) show. At the end the producers aired a piece about Billy Jean King. She is traveling to the Winter Olympics as part of the US Presidential delegation as are several other high profile homosexual athletes. Harry Smith conducted a warm interview with Ms King interspersed with bits of her tennis days. 

During the interview she described some of the struggles that fell on her for being "outed" by a former partner. With courage and fire she is anxious to travel to Russia to stand against the mistreatment of homosexuals in that country. I admire Ms. King's courage. I'm sorry that her skills could not carry her past the ambush she endured in the tennis world. I admire her present fire to set wrongs right. 

Unfortunately courage and fire doesn't make a person's morals correct. I understand that morality is now considered a relative pursuit. In that vein Ms. King stands as a fine spokesperson for the power of love and conviction, while those who attacked her seem so much less. What if Ms. King is wrong? The quality if one's opponents doesn't make one right. Taking out a heterosexual Bobby Briggs is no feat. What if Ms. King's sexual attraction to women is morally wrong? 

I know the flow of history is freeing us from all those outdated morals, even as the ideas of slavery and racial superiority fell. Many of those who fought for the rights of women and the races took their energy from the words in the Bible. I don't believe they would be found among those declaring homosexuality permissible today. 

It is not immoral to exist or receive equal treatment as other races or gender. That sort of thinking is a failure. Morality has to do with choice. What will I do in response to feelings or ideas that are out of bounds? Will I flow with the look another woman tosses at me or will I look only to my wife? Will I slip that trinket in my pocket out of sight of security or leave it be? Will I let my thoughts wander from what should be to what could be? That is the moral question to me. 

Now my moral problems are about as big as any you can imagine. I have lied and lusted, stolen and hated, attacked with fists and words. I am no expert on living a virtuous life. I have no right to declare anyone a sinner or a failure from personal experience. I have struggled with feelings that are out of bounds with very uneven results. When I ask a question about the rightness of someone else, I would be a fool to presume any right to do so. I ask about Ms. King's rightness as a fellow struggler to find the right and live it. I just feel society is leaving something precious behind by embracing homosexuality as acceptable and promoting those who have made that choice to make a statement. 

What are we leaving behind? I have an opinion as a fellow immoralist. Purity. 

What's So Funny?

I laugh like my Dad. Why in the world would I copy a laugh? I can see adopting a walk. I understand mimicking a handshake. Why pick up an awkward, and a bit out of control sound?

Laughing just doesn't make sense. Why make the same sound when nerves tickle as when Andre the Giant says, "Give him a break, he's been mostly dead all day" while holding doll like Dread Pirate Roberts/Farmboy Wesley's head so he can see Indigo? I can't decide which produces a larger response. A mystery that doesn't matter to be sure. 

One of my favorite takes on Jesus depicts him with his head thrown back in the grip of a laugh. The Bible paints God laughing at the nations lined up against him. The idea of trying to take down God is as comical as Dread Pirate Roberts out wrestling Andre. (That only happens in the movies by the way.). What else elicits a chuckle from God?  Maybe a son who laughs like his Dad. 

Song Burst Silliness

I let loose a song burst this morning as the kids were getting ready for school, "the soft and quiet nerfmobile keeps bouncing back for more." That's all I could remember. My wife, who is almost 6 years younger than yours truly was skeptical that such a toy existed. I found one for sale on ebay.

Our brains retain all sorts of dormant snippets of song, smells, sights that float to the surface for no apparent reason. Sometimes a song from the 60's or early 70's will flash me into a scene from then. No, I  was not part of the drug culture. Its a feature of mid age and older than allows us older folks to pass on what we have experienced to the younger generations.

That doesn't seem as relevant today.  Hundreds of years ago a son took up his father's trade and a daughter learned her mother's skills. Now technology changes by the second. New jobs are born and new industries push out old ones. Such staples of my childhood,  IBM, GM, Sears and Roebuck have lived through drastic change and restructuring. New names,  Apple, Google, Facebook, Intel and Cisco now command center stage. What seems to be important to the next generation was invented after our time.

Yet when past generations passed on their skills, they also passed on morals. We may not have the skills kids need. Hopefully we have found the morals.

Growing Stronger

"Get yourself under the spout where the grace comes out." - Keith Drury's Dad.  Prayer, fasting, communion, meditating on God's word, doing good, all these are spouts where the grace comes out. Until we have begun a relationship with God through Jesus these activities don't let much in. After connecting with God through Christ the valve is opened.

Of course God turns the valve. His Spirit moves in and causes us to grow. We get in the flow. He does the rest.

First Match

“So, Benjamin, where were you last night?” My fellow gladiators asked together.

“Sporting.”

“So you are no longer a boy?” Tertulus laughed.

“And she is no longer a girl. I had her moaning by the end.”

“Come to breakfast now. Master Silvus will not count hoaring as an excuse for missing training.” Tertulus swept me out the door. I didn’t care. I coursed with the strength of manhood. After chomping through breakfast, Master teamed me with Tertulus for advanced broadsword work. “So was I right about the slave-girl?”

“Not at first. She fought me, but after a few go rounds, she settled before my manhood.”

“I told you I had seen her eyeing you up, so will you go back for more?”

“I, I don’t know.”

“I see.” I fought Tertulus to a standstill for 10 sessions that morning. “I have nothing more to teach you. I will report that to Master Silvus at midday meal.” As I sat for lunch the activities of the night and morning climbed on my back. I almost fell asleep in my plate. I certainly planned to sleep instead of chasing once I reached my bunk that night. Master Silvus had other plans.

“Master Benjamin, come here. Tertulus tells me that you are a young magician of the broadsword. Your sparring is done for the day. Tonight you will test your growing skill in the ring. Rest yourself this afternoon to be prepared for the contest tonight.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And Benjamin . . .”

“Yes?”

“No sporting with the slave-girls until you have won.”

After a bath and rub down, I headed back to my room to wait. A Roman slave girl met me at the door with a sly smile. “Drucilla, I will see you later, after the fight.”

“You will not ‘fight’ tonight, Benjamin. A fight allows both to come out alive. Call them ‘contests’ or ‘spectacles.’ If you think of tonight as only a fight, you could be carried home in a bag.”
“Where did you come from, Emander?”

“I heard my Father give the order to put you in the ring tonight, so I sought you out.”

“What other cheery words do you have for me?” I asked trying to appear unconcerned, but hungry for any advice.

“You will have the advantage tonight with the crowd. They shout wildly for fellow countrymen. Father is starting you in the early rounds to break you in. The best and toughest matches are saved for the end of the evening, so the vendors may sell more of their stock to the spectators. The shouting of the crowd can lift you too high, so keep your emotions under control, but take your strength from their cheers.”

“What of the other gladiator? Who am I likely to fight? I mean best.”

“These rounds are usually the prowling grounds of old and half broken gladiators or children with lots of strength and little skill. There are also a very few highly trained up and comers like yourself. You understand, Benjamin, that tonight you will only leave the ring if you have killed or been killed?”

“I, yes, I u-understand.”

“Good. You should fear. Any of the opponents I just named could and would kill you if you hesitate too long. Practice on the old gladiators to learn their tricks. Finish off the children without revealing your skill. Take down the up and coming as quickly as you learn how.”

I ate alone. At least I moved my food about alone. My stomach was more nervous than my head and refused food. Master Silvus took me himself. We arrived at the back of the arena in time to send me into the second round of battles. I wore my sword resting easily on my hip and my helmet tight on my head. My feet were totally covered with heavy boots, but the rest of me was lightly clad for maximum speed.

My foe and I stared down each other on the way through the arch and into the ring. His name was Jerome and he looked older than my father. He was covered with scars and looked like he had his left eye sown back crooked. He stood as tall as I, but I had 20 pounds on him. “Watch this one.” Silvus whispered.

We met in the center. Our names were announced to the crowd. Emander was right. As my name echoed around the stone seats, a cheer arose that almost took me off my feet. “Swish” “Clang!” Jerome took advantage of my greenness and almost took my head off. He dropped back into a crippled looking stance and staggered back a couple of steps. I threw a tentative blow at his mid-section. He weakly blocked it. Must be he put all he had into the first swing, hoping to catch me unawares. I throw a more forceful swing at his shoulder. He blocked and ducked, almost falling into a heap. I don’t know why Silvus was worried about this one. I remembered Emander’s advice about sparring with old gladiators to learn their tricks. I exchanged half-hearted blows with Jerome, learning little. The crowd started jeering. They wanted action. I couldn’t let them down. I took a huge roundhouse swing, and he was gone! Off balance, I felt him slice across my back and set it on fire. I fell, tucked and rolled upright, but Jerome was nowhere to be “Whack!” He caught me right at the base of the helmet. I went down like a stone and lay still. I hoped the actor in him would have to play up his big victory over me. He kicked me. I didn’t resist. His next kick lifted me over onto my back. I groaned, but didn’t open my eyes. I heard the crowd gasp and felt the shadow of his sword fall on my face. Now. My sword leapt for his throat and opened it wide. I rolled after the sword stroke and I came up in a defensive crouch. Jerome made one last swing as the life blood left his head. The crowd roared in amazement. Maybe I had learned something from old Jerome after all.

“So, you will have to learn quicker next time. Did I not tell you to watch him?” Silvus chided half serious and half humorous. “Well-done only a few bruises from your first fight. You have more seasoning to do, but you are well on your way to be a gladiator. Off with you before the cheering crowds swell your chest too large.” I turned to leave. “And here . . .” he threw a purse of coins at me. “Don’t forget your take.”

As soon as I passed under the grandstand, I opened the purse. Inside lay 30 silver denarii! It would take a month worth of work to come close to this kind of money. I couldn’t believe it. I counted again. When I was at about 5, Tertullus tapped me on the shoulder. “So, going to stand there and count all night or can we do some spending?”

“Tertullus! Did you see me! That old lion almost got me, until I fooled him with his own trick.”

“That’s why I’m here. Since I taught you, Silvus wanted me to review the match with you. I think we should do that with some food. Are you hungry?”

“Now that you remind me of my stomach, let’s eat!” Tertullus took me to one of his favorite eateries. I paid of course.

“Pretty proud of yourself, are you Benjamin?”

“Yes, he didn’t even get a scratch on me.”

“I observed about 7 different times that he could have put you in the grave.”

“Well, I know I made a few mistakes, but . . .”

“What do you think were your two biggest mistakes?”

“I was fooled by his crippled old gladiator drama.”

“That was almost your worst mistake. What do you suppose was the worst mistake I saw?”

“When he got around behind me?”

“No. Benjamin, you focused hard and long on splitting that stone in two. When you tore into that rock with all your anger and frustration, you accomplished the impossible. I didn’t see any of that focus or energy tonight. Benjamin, if ‘that old lion,’ as you called him had realized that Silvus has been training you, he would have taken you apart in the first 10 seconds.”

“No, no he wouldn’t.”

“You can think what you like, but I watch all the swordsman fight, and this gladiator has taken down more skilled men that you. Now don’t turn so pale. You are alive and eating a huge steak with me and he isn’t. What do you think you did right tonight?”

“Well, when I faked being knocked out. That was a turn I used to my advantage.”

“You almost overdid it. How did you know it would be safe to lay there that long?”

“Since he was such a great actor when playing the cripple, I figured he couldn’t resist playing up my death scene.”

“That was a lucky read, or very smart. Now let’s talk about your technique.” For the next hour Tertullus and I relived the battle blow by blow. I learned more in that hour than I had in the last month and a half sparring. “Are you satisfied that we went over everything?”

“You are a great teacher.”

“Listen to me, Benjamin. This is my last piece of advice. I don’t get friendly with other gladiators like Emander does. I watch out for me first. I went through all this with you, because Silvus wanted me to. It doesn’t mean I am your teacher or friend, it just means I was ordered to.”

“I, I understand.”

“Anytime you need someone to introduce you to all that your money can buy here in the city, I will be glad to help you spend it.” I found out that was true.

What do you do when you are bored?

As a kid I don't remember getting bored. Trees beckoned me to climb. Basketballs cried out to be dribbled in the NBA finals of my mind. Comic books and youth novels waited with adventure. I even watched TV.

At 13 I started a relationship with God through Jesus the Christ. Before I had known about God. At 13 he and I became friends. I started reading the Bible, the King James authorized version of the Bible and God made it live. I would read something on the bus to school and that passage would explain a part of my day, crazy exciting! Sermons actually seemed like God speaking to me. All the churchy stuff I had sat through as a kid, now pushed me to the edge of my seat.

What do I do now when I grow bored? Browse Facebook, instead of talk with God. What do I do now when my mind finds an open moment? Pull up a youtube video, instead of opening my Bible. Was all that excitement just for my teenage years? Even as I ask I know the answer, "No."

What do you do when you are bored?