That's Garbage!

Today as I walked around church grounds I became more disgusted with each step.  As I surveyed the grass and sidewalk before me I saw garbage of most every description strewn all over.  I was aghast.  I was appalled.  Truth be told, I was and am sickened by the total disregard that so many have for our home … the earth.

            Please understand that I am not beating the “mother earth” drum here.  I am an educated man, yet I'm afraid I cannot speak intelligently about when the whole ‘mother earth’ craze began. Oh, I know I have heard the term associated with Native spirituality from my earliest winters.  However, those espousing Wiccan, New Age, Paganism, and even Greek mythology have perhaps focused more on the term than any of my Native brothers.

            What I am noting – even screaming – is that the way a vast majority of people treat the earth is utterly shocking. To their credit, we have church groups, civic groups, and families who care banding together to pick up the garbage lying along many American roads.  But I have to ask, “Why is this necessary?

            When did people get the idea that the earth is their garbage dump?  When did it become acceptable to treat the place we work, eat, drive, raise families, sleep, build homes, garden, and worship with such contempt? No matter who or what we believe created this earth … no matter how we believe it came to be … this is the only earth we have!  The only earth our grandchildren will ever know. 

            I've heard it said that the gum so many casually throw from their car will stay many decades upon the land.  I'm certain the cigarette butt won't last that long; yet the mindset is nevertheless the same. Is it that we don’t care? Or is it that we feel the earth will somehow absorb our folly? 

            I believe it was Chief Joseph who said, “Continue to contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.” Ouch.  I know we cannot go back to the days when a man could walk for months and not see another human being. I understand that we must somehow grow accustomed to every secret place of the forest being heavy with the scent of many men. Yet my brothers and sisters, are we now supposed to stand idly by and smile as the earth is raped and polluted? Personally, I think that’s garbage!   

Why did I do that?

         For a number of years I have found myself saying, "there's a reason behind everything we do -- good, bad, or indifferent to the masses -- there is a reason ... and it might not be the reason someone looking on might first suspect."

        The Rabbi addressed this issue by speaking about the benefits of doing things in secret. Prayer?  Go in to your closet.  Fasting?  Don't allow others to see your face disfigured.  Giving? Don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.  Of course, there is benefit in letting folk see you pray - you may well hear people say, "Oh how eloquent he is." There is benefit in letting people see you suffer through depriving your body - you may hear folk marvel out loud, "What a spiritual giant she is." There is   benefit in deliberately waiting for people to see you make your financial offering - they may well exclaim, "What a generous fellow that is!"

        Yet Jesus wasn't interested in the accolades of men.  The things he did ... the things he said ... he did them for The Father who sees in secret.  THAT was the benefit Jesus was looking for. And the funny thing is, he wanted his followers to see that benefit as well. 

        So when a member of the church asked me why folk were making financial offerings to a local Christian radio station and having their names broadcast for all to hear - I really didn't have an answer for him. Do you?

Hope you don't mind

 A while ago now there was an event on church property. A simple car wash. Nothing fancy. But the money raised went to help local veterans struggling with addiction and in need of medicine and travel money to get to their respective physicians.
       One of the veterans, in need of using the facilities, asked if I would unlock the sanctuary door for him. "Of course", I replied. Now I'm honestly not certain how long he was inside. Yet clearly, upon his exit, this particular veteran was feeling as if he had transgressed in some way and was feeling some culpability.
       As our eyes finally met, the man said sheepishly, "Hope you don't mind but I did a little praying in your sanctuary."
      Mind?  What are you kidding me?  Of course I mind!  There will be no praying in the sanctuary. Never. Ever!
      Actually, while I didn't say the above, neither did any great or witty comment emerge from the chasm of my open mouth. All that toppled forth over my tongue was a lame, "Don't mind at all."
      The more I consider this simple exchange the more I'm convinced there are only two possible reasons for this man to feel the way he did. The first potential reason is sad -- the second is far more troublesome and even horrible to consider.
      Perhaps this veteran, for reasons of his own, does not feel worthy to enter a church and have a conversation with God. Now that is sad given the Bible professes that God so loves the world that His Son died for our sin -- mine, yours, and this veteran's.
      Or maybe, just maybe, this veteran was concerned that the church wouldn't think too kindly of him praying in the sanctuary  because of the color of his skin or the gravity of his sin.
     Sound preposterous?  I don't know, I've known a great many folk who are disenfranchised from the church because of the way they have been treated. Like Ghandi, they think very highly of Jesus but don't see much of a resemblance in the eyes of those who follow him.
     Someone famous has said, the church is the only institution on earth that can give God a bad name. It gives me pause when I think that I make up a small part of that institution -- that I have, by my actions or lack thereof, put a blemish on the face of God.
     Today, all I can do is make apology for the past and move forward in hope that in the future I will do better ... That I will be a better witness for God. Isn't it amazing that God doesn't stop with second chances? Hope you don't mind but I think Jesus has been doing a little praying for all of us.

Thankfulness

Recently one of my closest friends noted that I am “a very busy man”. It is true, my roles and their respective responsibilities tend to keep my time occupied.  When I am not operating in my role as a substance abuse counselor I am normally doing something commensurate with the duties of the pastorate.  And when my role of pastor is not requiring specific time in service or meetings or preparation for the meetings, I tend to fill the void with the responsibilities of my role as President of New Wine Ministries.  Thrown on top of these responsibilities are the very real needs which surround my being a husband, father, and grandfather. Like many I know, my schedule is full and my time is limited – which leads me to what I want to share today. 

        Truth be told, were it not for some very key players in my world, I would not be able to do what I do.  First of all, my ‘higher power’ is Jesus Christ – without him to turn to and to converse with, I would surely lose myself in the chaos and quagmires of life. Secondly, there is my bride – the woman who proves on a daily basis that she is for me and not against me.  Marie is my helpmate and my partner, adeptly picking up the pieces I leave behind and performing tasks for me needing to get done, that honestly I have ignored, or knew about and had forgotten altogether. Thirdly, there are a host of support persons within the ministry, both domestic and international – you know who you are.  You are my go to people.  The ones I count on for innumerable tasks from the mundane to the creative, and the ones in which I am so very seldom disappointed. Most of you operate tirelessly behind the scenes with little or no fanfare.  

        As I write, I find the “key player” list just grows – my beautiful daughter, who for 17 years has given me reason to keep going when I’ve lost my way – my mother, who gave me life and has kept on giving life each time I hear her voice or feel her embrace over the 52 winters of my experience – Christie, who cared enough to theologically spar and ultimately challenge me even when she trembled inwardly at how her challenge might play out – Hannah, who offered true friendship during the most traumatic period of my life – Grandma, who gifted me with a no matter what kind of belief in me – and Lowell, who was willing to see past my idiosyncrasies and insecurities long enough to embrace me as a friend and a brother.  

       For all of you who are mentioned and for the many I have mentioned only in the recesses of my mind and heart, I AM SO VERY THANKFUL! 

Seasons

The chill in the air and the falling leaves remind me that I have entered the 52nd winter of my life.  I have always loved the way my ancestors align themselves with other wonders of creation – years become winters, months become moons, days become the rising or setting of the sun. More than just a novel or quaint way of describing the same period of time, I have found that there is great wisdom in acknowledging the parallel between our human experience and that of the trees, the animals, and even the mountains.

While none would debate that as humans we possess ability and gifts which eclipse that of the rest of creation, nonetheless it is utter folly when I hear others completely dismiss the conversation of the frogs around the pond, the wisdom shared between the owls in the trees, or the voice of the waterfall as it echoes through the mountains.  All creation has the same Creator – therefore we honor the Ancient of Days by acknowledging that we share much in common with that which surrounds us. One of those commonalities must certainly be the seasons. 

I have found that there are seasons within the seasons.  Though difficult for me to pinpoint, it was somewhere around the 48th winter of my life when I experienced a vague sense of also being in the “fall”.  The spring of my youth had passed, the summer of my adulthood had slipped by, and fall had come upon me much like the afternoon shade of the forest. Moreover, I have no doubt, should my life on earth continue for many more winters, I too shall experience the coming of winter upon my life as a fog that settles within the valley.

All this makes me wonder why so many run from, rather than embrace the changing of life’s seasons. And for all of our running, not one of us has ever escaped the realities which permeate our existence.  There is, as many have said, the circle of life – we are a part of this and not above it! Life is to death what death is to life. All things on earth have a beginning and an end. And yet the end of one thing is merely the beginning of another. “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies …” (John 12.24)

Each season has its purpose.  The bear grows during hibernation – flowers bloom in the spring and summer – the squirrels scurry to gather food in the fall – fields left to fallow rejuvenate for the future! You also are in the midst of a season.  Are you embracing it?  Are you using this season for what the Creator intends for you?  Seasons … I’ve come to see them as a gift.

I'm against that!

During the winter of 2007 I had the honor of leading a team of seven on a mission trip to India. The mission was simple in its premise … verify the work of God being done under the banner of New Wine Ministries and further train some 30 pastors who were or had established churches in their respective areas.

            Countless times we were whisked away from preaching engagements for no apparent reason – our host would simply interrupt and say, “We must go now.” After nearly 3 weeks, while baptizing those assembled in the Bay of Bengal, I began to understand the real danger of the crowd behind the crowd.

            The “againtists”, as our host explained, refers to those who rise up against all things contrary to the official religion of India --- especially Christianity --- he went on to say that the againtists have the full support of the Indian Government and can burn entire villages without consequence if they feel their religion is not being observed in the proper manner. 

            My mind was teleported back to India today as I overheard a man (who knew nothing about which he spoke) say, “I'm against that.” It seems to me that there is a fine line between being convinced your course of action is a correct one and blindly (without knowledge) being “against” everything else. Knowledge and wisdom are good teachers while intolerance is, well, simply intolerance.

            The funny thing is, I do not recall a single recorded event in the life of Jesus Christ in which he would not listen to what his opponent had to say – never a time in which he was too scared or too hardhearted to listen and then respond.

            Now I'm thinking that those who profess to be Christians, as well as those who profess to be something entirely different, could make the world just a little better place if we would listen before displaying (in word or action) our intolerance. I believe I can go on record as saying, I’M AGAINST THAT!