Don't Leave Heaven Without It

This reflection is the result of a mistake I made yesterday morning. I hit the road to drive to a customer, only to realize a few blocks down the road that I had forgotten my wallet. Oops. So, what did I do? I suppose the wise move would have been to return home and get it, but I didn't. I decided to save myself a few minutes and keep driving.

Well, friends, the good news is this: I never did get pulled over. Furthermore, I'd like to point out, before proceeding, that the last time I caused an accident was some ten years ago, and on that day ice on the road was the main culprit. That having been said, I'm not always the most cautious and law-abiding of drivers, where speed limits are concerned. Like most drivers, I speed "reasonably", however I am on the upper end of reasonable (which is itself a term capable of a wide spread of interpretations).

But without my license? I became a more tame driver. I still broke the posted speed limits, but much more cautiously than I would normally. I made a point to keep with ordinary traffic. I couldn't afford to stand out, and that got me thinking about the fact that I'm a safer driver when I have fewer rights and privileges. As a white, male, native-born American carrying a valid drivers license... yeah, I have privileges. Without the license? Not so much.

It struck me that driving without a license gave me a glimpse into the ordinary day-to-day life of someone less privileged than myself. Be that person Black, Hispanic, an illegal alien, or a wanted fugitive, all of them have reasons to drive as safely as possible, and push no buttons.

In the current politically charged Trump-as-spectacle world, perhaps all of us would do well to know what it's like to find ourselves without passport in a foreign land, at the mercy of a people who owe us nothing but can definitely make life difficult for us if they so choose. It would be a searing experience. Maybe attitude-changing. If you cannot think of a better way to experience this feeling, I highly recommend driving at high speeds without your driver's license as a reasonable proxy.

Yes, the more I reflected upon it, the more I realized how convenient my legal status is and what benefits my passport and driver's license give me. Things I take for granted. I was then reminded of a biblical concept that overlaps with my American citizenship, and that is my citizenship in heaven. I am, in fact, principally a child of a different kingdom. I have rights as an American, and I exercise them often enough. But what rights do I have as a citizen of heaven? And do I exercise them very often?

Hmmmmm.

Hmmmmm!

Our rights as citizens in America give us the courage to stand up to criminals and other wrong-doers. We can take them to court. What's more, because we're citizens, we've got a good shot at justice if anyone tries to accuse us of a fictitious crime. We have good standing with the judicial system. Even when we screw up, we can hope for kinder justice.

So... how does that play out with our heavenly citizenship? Well, friends, no crazy-deep insights here except to say that we have the Power and Authority of heaven behind us, if we want to take on the evil powers and authorities in the spiritual realms of this earth. They can accuse us, but we are in good standing with the King of the Cosmos. And if we so choose, we can intervene and speak with the Authority of Heaven into earthly mishaps. It's called prayer and action.

Well, the rest of what I might say here is probably clear. It's just a good reminder to me that I should do more than remember my wallet in the morning.

I should also remember my heavenly passport. And at all times behave like I have it on my person.

What Is It We're Trying Not To Think About?

There are a great number of things we desperately don't want to think about. That may sound like hyperbole, but since we're usually successful in not thinking about things we don't want to think about, the number of things on that list may be larger than... well... larger than we want to think about.

But let's draw this wandering claim down to earth and tie it to something. Shall we start with the Cultural Revolution? Not being Chinese, this is not a delicate topic for me, however I was inspired to write this reflection as I read this morning about Youqin Wang and her efforts to document the lives of people in China who were killed during those dark years. Here are two chilling quotes from the article:
1) "It's not known exactly how many people died, but estimates range from 500,00 to several million."
2) "...and while a handful of the people who participated in the violence have apologized..."

Let those numbers sit next to each other in your mind. Maybe a million people died. And a handful of people have spoken up to apologize. Welcome to human nature at its nadir, to my mind. Where are the other people responsible for that uncountable carnage? My guess (and I'm comfortable with it) is that they're trying not to think about it too much. Many of them quite successfully, though surely not all.

All well and good since we westerners don't hail from China. But let's make it personal. We'll do so by means of a three-course meal.

First Course: The Appetizer

The full article is here, but here's a snippet worth pondering for two reasons:

It is always hard to draw a line between the wickedness of the times and the evil of individuals, especially in the case of the Cultural Revolution, and when presented with such a grave issue, most people have chosen to keep silent and forget.

[Editorial aside: The author of this blog is nodding vigorously]

On this point, Wang Youqin loves to tell a story she heard from a science teacher. The teacher worked on a farm during the Cultural Revolution, and he was in charge of a herd of cattle. There was a patch of thick grasses below a big willow tree, which was a favorite food of the cattle, and, one day, the villagers slaughtered an old cow under the tree because it was too old to work; ever since then none of the cows would go anywhere near the willow tree even though the grass was delicious. The chickens, however, upon seeing the innards of their fellow hens chucked into the yard, would all hurry over and peck at the guts of their own kind.

“So mankind is somewhere between cows and chickens,” Wang says. “But now that we have a choice, we need to decide whether to be the cow or the chicken.”

Did you see it? I am betting not. Sure, there was heavy food for thought there, regarding humans and human nature... whether mankind will remember or forget what has been done to other humans. What we have done to other humans. And that is indeed the main point. But for those who eat meat regularly, a second heavy thought regarding food should have left us with indigestion: The cows missed their dead. They abhorred the slaughter of their own. Sure, one may pooh-pooh it as a lonely anecdote, but my own father once related to me a very similar story. He once witnessed the killing of a cow by bullet. After the cow hit the ground, all the other cows gathered around and silently encircled their departed fellow cow. And stared at it.

Ummm, I didn't want to think about that while eating my Big Mac. And yet we do. Eat the meat, that is. As for the cows? We try not to think about them too much. More serious consideration might leave us feeling too guilty to enjoy the meat. And that would be a shame.

That just goes to show how many times a day we avoid thinking about any number of things. However the vegetarian digression seems out of place, it being so trivial when compared to the evils of the Cultural Revolution. But that was just the appetizer. The next dish served will not similarly disappoint.

Second Course: A National Disgrace

We Americans have our own "Cultural Revolutions" that have been both ignored and forgotten. Sordid history that we don't think about too often. Or was it never? An example (but let's not forget that there are others!)... Watch this TED talk and tell me if we've honored our treaties with the native Americans who owned America for thousands of years before we Europeans came along. Oooh, have I touched a soft spot? A log we don't want to turn over?

Here's a picture from that TED talk. A picture we oughtn't forget.

That's a map including the land that the Lakota Indians legally own. Never seen it before? If we don't recognize it, then we have successfully forgotten what our forefathers didn't want us to remember. (I am sure there area a lot of grandparents in China hoping their offspring will be equally forgetful.)

Here are some words from that TED talk. Words we oughtn't forget.

"1980: the longest running court case in US history, the Sioux nation vs. The United States, was ruled upon by the US Supreme Court. The court determined that when the Sioux resettled on the reservations and seven million acres of their land were opened up to prospectors and homesteaders, the terms of the second Fort Laramie treaty had been violated. The court stated that the Black Hills were illegally taken..."

The facts, friends, are cold on this matter. It's their land. And we took it. Illegally. Our own Supreme Court said so. But we'll forget the map and the ruling. Just as have our forefathers before us. The Lakota Indians are still waiting for us to remember. But we won't. We're trying not to think about it.

This is tough stuff to stomach, and those wrongs lay heavy on my heart when I drove through that land myself just last summer. But there is at least that wonderful out: It's a national problem, and not one I, as an individual, can remedy on my own. That's very convenient thinking, and it does help things go down more smoothly. But one dish remains to be served.

Third Course: It Gets Personal

Jesus called us to take up our crosses. I know a few people who have really gotten closer to this kind of radical life. But I haven't. Have you? There is an awful lot about my life that does not reflect the radical teachings of Jesus. Do you feel the same? Here's a word: Incarnational. We love to talk it. Jesus didn't stay in heaven. Jesus became nothing. Became like us ants, as one analogy works it. Yada yada yada. But that yada yada is not derisive of Jesus. Yada yada is for me. For us. Because it's so many words. We say it and love it. But most of us, myself included, don't do it. I live in a comfortable suburb outside Chicago. Living incarnationally in the inner city? Yeah. Didn't happen. I'm just very much in favor of it. In theory.

We like to leave big problems as theoretical. National. Nothing I can do. In practice, however, the solution is personal. Individual. Each of us responding as Jesus would. And therein lies the problem, because my life doesn't look nearly enough like the life of Jesus. That's something I'd rather not think about it, and I certainly don't want to reminded of it, either!

But people have this annoying habit of breaking into our protective amnesia. On the national scene, Wang Youqin reminds China of their past. Aaron Huey (of that TED talk) reminds us Americans of our own. Aaron, it is worth noting, incarnationally went and dwelt among the Lakota. Shared in their suffering. In doing so, he proves that theory can become practice, if we're willing to give up our own comforts. That reminder is annoying.

On the personal scene, occasionally a Jesus freak (or a Lakota freak) will challenge us to become more like Jesus (perhaps among Native Americans) and radically enter into the suffering of our world as ambassadors for Christ. Our response as Americans and as Christians is well described by Henri Nouwen, who here encapsulates the distinctive character of secular prophets Wang and Aaron as well as the Christian variety—and then goes on to describe our typical response to such prophets when they cross our paths.

"There are people in our midst who have allowed the pain of the world to enter so deeply into their hearts that it has become their vocation to remind us constantly, mostly against our will, of the sins of this world. There are even a few saints who have become so much a part of the human condition and have identified themselves to such a degree with the misery of their fellow human beings that they refuse happiness for themselves as long as there are suffering people in this world. Although they irritate us and although we would like to dispose of them by labeling them masochists or doomsday prophets, they are indispensable reminders that no lasting healing will ever take place without a solidarity of heart. these few "extremists" or "fanatics" force us to ask ourselves how many games with play with ourselves and how many walls we keep erecting to prevent ourselves from knowing and feeling the burden of human solidarity."
– Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out

When Vices Become Virtues

Last night we broke from our standard digital-free Sunday tradition and watched the Superbowl. Not being big on football, I used to watch it mainly for the commercials, but those days have passed. Now I pass through commercials like a 10-yr old passes through cemeteries on dark and foggy nights. With fear and trepidation.

What will my children see?

Sadly, more than they should have. A commercial overtly built on a theme of sexual bondage S&M–for cell phones, obviously. A woman getting horny with "Mr. Clean"–yeah, the household cleanser just tried to darken my soul. The best that could be said is that Mr. Clean was, apparently, her husband–helping around the house on stain-removal tasks. The tagline, however, must be noted: "Mr. Clean gets dirty."

A few years ago, in one memorable sequence along a highway, I noted three violations of the Ten Commandments in just two miles.
1. Something suggesting loose sex, the details of which are not necessary to recount here.
2. Tagline for some product being flogged: Creating neighbor envy for XX years
3. Tagline for some tough-guys movie being flogged: The Best Don't Rest

Today I flipped open a Dell computer catalog that came in the mail. And here came the motivation to finally just jot this ridiculous stuff down in a blog post.

GETTING LOST ISN'T THE PROBLEM. IT'S THE GOAL.

Wow. If that doesn't just capture how lost our society has gotten. So lost that being lost has become a desirable destination. Why? Because we're so lost, of course. If we weren't so lost, the notion of getting lost wouldn't be so tempting.

But we are lost. And when life gets that bad, escapism starts to look good.

A friend showed my his latest purchase a week or two ago. Oculus. Virtual reality. The game was of the shoot-em-up variety, but I'll be honest because I'm male and any adult with a pulse would know it without my saying it. I knew and I know where this will go. It won't be too long before quite realistic harem experiences will be available. A bit more time and they'll be able to add physical sensations to the visual cornucopia. A new temptation around the corner.

Why not get lost in a harem, after all?

Enough said, but even if we know to avoid virtual harems, the siren call of getting lost is still well-sold. My own smart-phone is a continual distraction to me, and much worse to many others.

For these reasons I was thankful to put down the Dell advertisement and pick up my latest Nouwen purchase: Reaching Out. Truth pours out on the page before me. "When, after a busy day, I am alone and free I have to fight the urge to make one more phone call, one more trip to the mailbox or one more visit to friends who will entertain me for the last few hours of the day. And when I think about the busy day I sometimes wonder if [what I did today] has, in fact, not become one big distraction-once in a while entertaining-but mostly preventing me from facing my lonely self which should be my first source of search and research."

Nouwen wrote that some thirty years ago. What would he have to say about our habits today? I can say this for him: if he checked his mailbox then as often as we checked our digital inboxes today, he'd have had no need for a gym membership.

Dry humor aside, Nouwen would never have made it far in the advertising world. He calls out our disease and hopes for himself and for us that we seek not more of it but rather the cure.

As to what that cure entails, I would suggest that Nouwen's book is a great start for those who care to know. As for me, I have some work distractions beckoning, so I will end this blog simply recognizing that my world has become so lost that the very notion of being found out is a worrying one to it.

PS—that advertisement about getting lost?

Yeah. It's for Dell Alienware computers. If alienation is the goal, it's only fitting that Alienware should get you there. We're an alien nation, indeed.

The Christian Church Is The Only Army That...

If you've been in church circles long enough, you know how this line ends.

The phrase came up yesterday in a conversation I had with a friend. He'd recently been shown the door, professionally speaking, and is now out of work. He had been working for a Christian non-profit organization, but the circumstances surrounding his departure were quite ugly. Being a close friend, I might fairly be deemed biased, but anyone with eyes to see knows where the real problem lies.

This friend is the just the most recent in a very long line of difficult departures. The entire leadership has moved on over the past five years. The CEO has been ensconced in his role for decades, but no one who works directly for the man ever lasts anywhere like as long.

The Christian Church is the only army that shoots its wounded.

Yeah, that was the phrase that came to my friend's mind, but as soon as the words left his lips I blurted out, "True, but I've got it one better for you!"

The Christian Church is the only army that allows the wounded to shoot the healthy.

Yes, that is much closer to the mark. My friend is spiritually healthy, as were many of his former colleagues. But they're all gone. It's the sick-puppy CEO who continues to resolutely steer the ship. He'll ride it right to the bottom if the board lets him. So far there's no sign that they won't.

My friend and I have both been here before. On the last pass we were in it together, part of a group of healthy families who were collectively ejected from a dying church we had hoped would revive. It did not. The dynamic is tiresomely predictable. In almost every church situation where I have found myself needing to do so, I find after inspection that the entire group of people tasked with a leader's oversight are themselves hand-picked by that same sick puppy. Be it a vestry or a board of directors, the results are usually the same when conflicts arise. The overseers fall in line behind the sick puppy. The organization (if indeed it survives at all) emerges from the storm a very much weakened vessel.

But I think something else needs to be said: We have been too hard on the church in all of this. Waaaaaaaay too hard. I've seen the exact same sick dynamics in the working world. I don't think there's anything particularly unique to the church in all of this. This stuff is what happens when humans are involved.

All those platitudes about shooting the wounded? They are well suited to describe precisely some churches and some organizations. The church I now attend does not shoot its wounded. Our pastor is a good man. As for the board? I submit that churches with healthy elders don't generally have to deal with sick-puppy pastors—because they don't hire them. That has been the case with our church, so kudos to our elders as well.

And yet. And yet we have these phrases about shooting the wounded. Why? Because we believe we were supposed to "do it better". But while our failures are a cause for sorrow both for God and mankind, it is only we humans who are surprised by our failures. God is not. Jesus clearly had no illusions that his followers were going to achieve perfection. Two scripture passages come to mind.

John 2:23-25
Now while he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Festival, many people saw the signs he was performing and believed in his name. But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all people. He did not need any testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in each person.

Takeaway? Jesus can be trusted. The rest of us? Not so much. Myself included. In Jesus' absence we must appoint leaders. But along with Jesus we should not trust them blindly, as too many vestries and boards have done. My friend is now out of work and a Christian organization has lost a good manager. Because of a sick-puppy CEO and a blind board.*

A final thought. I have essentially equated church dysfunction with secular dysfunction, but it must be noted that Jesus himself was not as generous.

Luke 16:8b
"For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light."

Maybe we really are the only army that...

-------------------------
* Actually, one board member was not blind. She resigned in protest. God bless her for her principled stand, but her action makes the indictment of the remaining board members that much the more severe. They didn't even listen to their own peer. Sick-puppy CEO was given more credence. My friend was tarred as the sick one. Shocker? No. Business as normal. Jesus help us, your church. We weren't supposed to be a poorly managed business.

The First Documented Fool For Christ

It took me a while to find it, but Yes. I have blogged on this woman before. After that ink had dried, I didn't anticipate having more to say about this delightful soul, but here we are again.

John 4:28-30
Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

These verses follow on the heels of a conversation Jesus initiated with a Samaritan woman at a well. He met her there at mid-day. She came alone to draw water at the hottest (worst) time of the day. Why? Because she was the town slut. Respectable women came together during the more temperate morning hours. Jesus isn't a local, so he shouldn't know anything about her history. Except that he does.

John 4:16-18
He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”
“I have no husband,” she replied.
Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”

In the prior blog I focused on the reversal of gender roles. With Jesus' invitation, she ably performed work appropriate to a (male?) minister. And she did it while the other twelve disciples (yes, the men) went about a woman's work. All they ever brought back from that village was groceries. She went to the same village and returned to Jesus with people. (This passage is good fodder for the argument that missions work is best done by locals!)

At any rate, I concluded then that this woman was the first documented ordained female minister of Christ. No mean feat. However, it dawned on me today that this woman has yet another title to claim. She's also the first documented "Fool For Christ".

“Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did."

Didn't we just say that this woman was the town slut? Didn't Jesus point out how many husbands (let alone lovers) she'd gone through? If we were to tally a list of all the things she had done, it would not be family friendly material! I don't think this point needs further explanation.

A digression with a purpose: they say Middle School is the hardest phase in childhood. We called it Junior High in my day, but both phrases mean the same thing in Latin: Hell. In those days, when I had news of interest I sometimes hoped that sharing it would improve my situation. It did not. Being the bearer of interesting news never changed my status. The news was valued, but the medium (read, me) was not.

That, friends, is how I've always met this story, emotionally speaking. When the woman at the well went back to town, in my mind's eye I could well envision her delivering the interesting news—and also how it was received. Would it change how people viewed her? Nah. They'd be curious to meet the prophet, but you can almost see the woman falling out of the camera's frame of reference as the men hurry out to the well.

But I see more clearly today how that telling of the story misses the mark. On two counts.

For starters, when I was a lonely child hoping to improve my social status, the news I shared never involved me, much less my own poor reputation. The whole point was to draw attention away from everything that exposed me as a loser. But this woman? She dove headlong into the worst parts of her life. "He told me everything I ever did." This woman was not acting like my Junior High self.

Furthermore, the villagers for their part were not behaving like my classmates of old, either. They didn't respond to the woman as my fellow classmates did to me. The news I shared back then never bought me respect or friendship. It never worked that way. But these villagers? Before it was over they clearly saw this woman in a new and different light.

John 4:42
They said to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.”

That is peer-to-peer communication of the sort I doubt this woman had heard in a while. To put it another way, notice that the news has been repeated back to the medium. That only happens when the medium has value. In this case, the medium is the village slut. Or was. Yes, in the presence of Jesus all the folks in that town became equals—mortals in need of a savior. Co-recipients of a priceless treasure.

Is this woman the first documented Fool For Christ? Yes, I think she is, but I now find myself moving past the initial humor in that assertion. There's heavy material here. The more I compare her actions to my puerile efforts to gain friend in an equally tight and small village called Junior High, I am struck in a sobering way by the parallels and contrasts.

Try to bring news so as to improve your reputation? Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.

Throw your reputation to the wind in order to bring no-strings-attached good news? Now you've got people's attention—and among the wiser ones you'll have gained respect as well.

This is yet another ironic case of seeking the Kingdom first, only to discover in hindsight that other good things we wanted—and failed to acquire on our own—come with the package. The irony is not that it happens that way. Jesus said that it would. The irony is that we don't follow Jesus' advice more often.

Hats off to the woman who forgot herself while heaping honors upon Jesus. She's a hard act to follow. But we really should try.

When I reach eternity, dear woman, please do me a favor and find me out. I'd like to shake your hand. And maybe you could introduce me to Jesus, too? I'd like that.

On The Sabbath, Can It Wait?

A short thought, and quickly to the point.

Luke 23:56a
Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes...

This is from the end of the book of Luke. The "They" in this verse is the women who had just seen Jesus crucified. Now it was time to prepare the body.

In many areas of life we find that there is the fast way of getting things done and there is the more elaborate method. And often the results reflect the effort. There are fast-food meals and then there are Thanksgiving feasts, which can take a whole day to prepare. The former are forgettable, and the latter can be quite memorable. But the more delightful meals come at a cost of time and effort. That's a reality my wife can wearily attest to, and even now she has put in some serious shopping time in for our upcoming Thanksgiving feast on Thursday.

So it was with these women preparing for the burial of the dead. There were things to be done. For Jesus. There were no doubt some shortcuts that could be taken, but these women would have wanted to go the extra mile for Jesus just as my wife is going the extra mile to make a wonderful meal this coming Thursday.

But of course it makes little sense to compare a Thanksgiving meal with Jesus' burial. The importance of the latter is infinitely greater. How could we possibly do justice to all that these women were feeling? To how much effort they'd be willing to put forth in order to give Jesus a good burial? The evidence from Luke's account is clear enough. These women were fanatical about Jesus. That there's just about nothing that they would not have done to make his burial the best burial they could possibly give.

And yet Luke ends this verse with a very pointed statement:

Luke 23:56b
...But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.

Now I said I would keep this short, and I will. Not much really needs to be said. I simply have three questions. Questions we should all be asking ourselves.

#1 Do I honor the Sabbath as carefully as these women did?

No.

#2 When I don't, am I working on something more important than giving Jesus a good burial?

No.

#3 When I don't, are my circumstances more urgent than the need to perfume Jesus before his body began to stink?

No.

I guess I have room to grow, here. How about you?

Evangelicals For Trump

I guess it was six years ago that I abandoned the title Evangelical. Time flies.

I guess there isn't much I wish to say here except that I'm glad I began those divorce proceedings six years ago. Dealing with the fact that Evangelicals helped put Trump into office is painful enough. The pain would be worse, however, if I didn't have so many years of space between myself and that label.

Evangelicals For Trump is a true headline. Thank God I don't have to own it personally.