"Silent Night, Lonely Night: Christmas in Pandemic"

Silver starlight descends with the snow as 

aged hands light Christmas candles, 

alone at home though her family is near.  

Tears trickle with liquid love, reliving holidays past, 

with children and grandchildren gathered 

in a cacophony of grownup laughter, 

baby's cries, childhood play, and teenage angst.  

But not this year.  

Now, she is alone in her silent night,

lonely night, lonely night.

Two doors down the dawn will come 

to babies she will not see.

Little feet will race down stairs,  

delighted squeals above the sound of tearing paper.

But not for her.

This year has taken many things from her:

ability to travel, 

pure breath free from the filter of a mask,

financial security,

social stability.

But the greatest toll is being alone 

on this silent night, lonely night, lonely night.

Her mind reaches back to a couple, young, 

frantic in their need in that quiet Judean town,

turned away from human dwelling,

alone beneath the light of a single star.

Amid the agony of labor, 

a young woman pleads for her mother who isn't there.

Filled with desperation, 

a young man yearns for the steady hand of his father,

nowhere to be seen.

They, too, feel socially distant, isolated.

Silver starlight descends on angel wings as

Joseph kindles his lamp in the stable 

alone among beasts, though people are near. 

Even shepherds keep their distance when they visit,

faces hidden beneath their scarves,

because they are called unclean.

Tears trickle with liquid love, celebrating this present moment, 

grateful for what he does have:

the warmth of a stable, the love of his wife,

a newborn child,

in a cacophony of stable sound, 

and it is enough

on this silent night, lonely night, lonely night.

Grandma's heart reaches to the tent city

surrounded by bustling town, 

figures huddling beneath discarded layers 

of thin tarpaulin, wet cardboard, and sodden clothes.

Turned away from human dwelling,

alone beneath the light of a neon sign.

A cacaphony of souls scream in the night,

a bit of raucous laughter,

others cursing ghosts of the mind,

still more finding solace in strangers' arms

or the warmth and oblivion of a pipe.

Silver starlight descends with visiting angels

who bear no gold, frankincense, or myrrh, 

but whose treasures smell like coffee,

protect like masks and wipes,

and feel like love.

So Grandma puts on angel's wings, which look like PPE.

Leaving her warmth to join the Seraphim,

she shares her manna of  blankets and smiles.

Keen ears listen to well-traveled stories from a safe distance

as hot tears warm her cheeks with liquid love.

It's Christmas in pandemic, 

but change is in the air.

The Star shines as it hasn't done in centuries,

and hope for the nations wispers peace

to a weary and war-torn world.

"No room at your inn," say the mandates from above.

So Grandma takes her love outside

and gives,

behind mask, at a distance,

but gives,

on this silent night, lovely night, holy night.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

This is the dumbest picture of me, ever!  Not because I'm making a goofy face, but because of the stupid situation.  When this picture was taken, I was on the U.S. side of the border, and my wife, Christina, was on the Canadian side.  When she took the picture, we were separated by nothing more than an imaginary line, and COVID-19 restrictions that kept us apart.  So we met at the border for a no-contact visit.  

Being separated has been tough--and it looks like, for as long as Coronavirus is a thing, we're going to have extended periods of time apart.  Pre-COVID, I used to live and work in Washington on weekdays and go to Canada on the weekends.  Because of the mandatory fourteen-day quarantine in Canada, the new telework plan is to spend a month in Bellingham, followed by two weeks in isolation with Christina in Chilliwack--and to repeat that pattern until the border reopens for post-COVID travel.

Trailer in September, just after move-in

While I feel most at home with Christina, these are my temporary digs in Washington.  When I moved to the Pacific Northwest from Virginia almost two years ago, I rented a place from a little old lady, who passed away a few months ago.  Since I could no longer live there, I took up residence in my 31-foot travel trailer, which is a comfortable size for one person (or two, who are very good friends).  I've made these temporary acommodations as permanent as possible by ordering high speed internet at my RV site, getting a massive propane tank, and buying a generator in case I lose power in a winter storm.  I also added insulation around the slide-out, and as a skirt around the bottom to keep out the chill.  I'm learning how to live, and not just vacation, in an RV.  All this back and forth, and temporary living, has taught me a thing or two about what "permanent" really means.

Trailer in November, settling in for the winter

One thing that strikes me is that nothing is as permanent as it seems.  Everything is temporary.  I could go to a couple different places with this.  This could be depressing, if I focus on the very real fact that when we said "I do" last December, it means that we can only be together for fifty years or so before we die, if we're lucky.  But instead of living that downer, I'd prefer to spin that on its head and say that in all the back and forth, in all the temporary living, we've learned not to take anything for granted.  Sure, we'd rather be together full-time.  And of course, we look forward to the time when my "permanent" residency is granted and we can be together for good.  But for now, we take each day as a gift, and make the most of it.  Not to diminish what other couples feel for each other, but I think that people who can live together full-time often take it for granted.  It's just what's normal for them.  But married couples who can't be together because of military service, incarceration, long-distance employment, border separations, or other reasons--these couples learn never to take their togetherness for granted.  Which means that when they are together, they make the most of it, and appreciate every moment.

Because I realize that everything is temporary, I also know that I am a stranger and an alien, wherever I go.  The Bible reminds us that believers are sojourners while we're on earth (1 Peter 2.11-12), and that we're to be in the world but not of it (John 17.16).  But unfortunately, many Christians have spent so much time looking forward to heaven that they have taken the license to mistreat the earth that is their current home.  Instead, we need to say, "Because I'm only here a short time, I'm going to make the best impression I can while I'm in my temporary home."  Living temporarily in Washington, I have realized that since I'm only in one place for a short time, I should keep my footprint small, and tread lightly so as not to disturb the balance of nature.  But I've also learned to make the best positive impact on this community while I'm here.  Just as a hiker "takes nothing but photos and leaves nothing but footprints," I'm reminded to enjoy the beauty of my temporary home while I'm here, and leave it for other wayfarers to enjoy.

I have also gained an understanding and an affinity for all immigrants, refugees, vagrants, vagabonds, and those who are living moment-to-moment, uncertain as they wait for their future to unfold.  If you've always lived in the same place, generally had the same job, and never felt like there was a great big question mark attached to your status, you might not know what I'm talking about.  While I'm far from the same condition as the homeless population that I work with 5 days a week, I've spent the past two years living temporarily, living in-between two countries.  It's hard for people, far from their birth-home, to feel like they belong.  But you learn to invest yourself in the place where you are, looking around instead of looking behind.  

Years ago, a cross-stitch similar to this one hung in a church where I served as youth minister.  The grandma who made it probably had no idea the influence she would make on my life.  For the past 27 years (give or take), it has reminded me that no matter how temporary a situation may seem, I need to invest myself in the community, in the people, in the world where I'm planted.  Whether the present situation lasts a month, a year, or longer, I will thrive in this blessed moment--because it is a gift to treasure. 

"Bloom where you are planted" is perhaps the best advice I could receive as a stranger, an alien, a traveler on this earth.  If you feel out of place yourself, I'd encourage you to put down roots, even if the soil is temporary.  Settle in, and bloom.  Because a seed that doesn't grow and bloom remains just a bundle of potential.  But when you grow and flower where you're planted, you give life--and you help others smile along the way. 

After the Election - "Now What" for Christians?

Today, after the election, many Christians are asking themselves, "Now what?"  Prior to the vote, believers on both sides of the aisle declared that you can't call yourself a Christian if you vote for the opposite party.  Many Evangelicals voted Republican, believing Trump to be God's anointed man for the presidency, and the defender of conservative family values.  Yet many Jesus-followers supported the election of Joe Biden, believing their candidate to represent dignity and wisdom, as well as the love of Jesus for the outcast and the poor.  Much as Confederate and American brothers prayed to the same God as they battled against each other in the Civil War, believers on both sides of this election claimed to be right.  No matter whether your candidate won or lost the election, Christians across America are asking themselves, "Now what?"

The answer: Act like Jesus.  But what does this mean? What would (or wouldn't) Jesus do, in the aftermath of a contentious election?  If you, as a Christian, want to act like Jesus (which shold be the ultimate goal of every believer), what should (or shouldn't) you do?

1.  Don't gloat.  If your candidate won, it's fine to party, to celebrate, to cry tears of joy, to dance in the streets.  After all, when the disciples told Jesus about their defeat of the devil's forces in His name, Jesus said:

I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy. Nothing will harm you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven (Luke 10:18-20).

Jesus recognized, and even enjoyed the victory that his followers celebrated--but he encouraged them to focus on the good things to come in the future, rather than the demonic nature of their spiritual enemy.  I believe Jesus would tell Christians who voted for Biden not to gloat, but to celebrate and look to a brighter future.

2.  Don't complain.  Many Evangelicals who claimed Donald Trump was God's choice for the presidency actually believed him to represent the character of Christ.  Others saw Trump's racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, lies, and deceptions, but likened him to wicked biblical kings like Saul and Cyrus.  Even though those biblical kings had their flaws, those Evangelicals claimed that God put them in office to accomplish particular things.  Similarly, they believed Trump to be God's anointed, as evidenced by the fact that he won the election over Hilary Clinton.  If you believed that Trump's election was evidence that God put him in office, then don't complain now--since, according to your logic, Trump's defeat ought to indicate that he lost God's mandate.  So if your candidate lost, don't complain--just trust that if God chose Trump four years ago, God chose Biden in 2020.

3.  Love your enemies.  If you refuse to gloat or complain, that will go a long way toward acting in a loving way towards those people who you may have considered your political enemies.  Besides loving them, Jesus told His followers to pray for those who persecute them.  Do you feel like the other side has been absolutely horrible?  Do you feel like they deserve to feel that way?  Maybe you're right--but Jesus expects His followers to treat other people with the same grace that they have received from God.  As in grace, God treats us better than we deserve, so believers ought to treat their enemies better than they deserve, as well.

4.  Make peace.  These times have been so divisive, and have been filled with such hate and violence on both sides.  Now is our opportunity to make peace.  Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God (Matthew 5:9)."  It's time to reach across the lines and take the hands (metaphorically, because--pandemic) of the people who see things radically differently from you.  In Matthew 12:25, Jesus said, "Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand."  These are tough enough times for the church, without the body of Christ being divided.  We need the whole body, undivided, to do the work of God.

5.  Continue to Confront Evil.  Yes, God is love, but "Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild" is just a song title.  Jesus wasn't afraid to cast out demons, confront religious and civil authorities, or overturn the tables of economic corruption.  The apostle Paul said, "If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all (Romans 12:18)."  But sometimes it doesn't depend on us.  Sometimes others bring the conflict, and other times the evil is so aggregious that Christians can't ignore it in good conscience.  So, if you call yourself a follower of Jesus, continue to confront evil by opposing injustice.  Stand in solidarity with people of color who are rising up, insisting that their lives matter.  Become an ally for LGBTQIA+ folks, who have to fight for their most basic human rights.  Defend the families of the poor, the alien, the stranger.  As the prophet said, "Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream (Amos 5:24)!"

For followers of Jesus, it's really important that we ask ourselves, "Now what?"  Because the church has been so divided and divisive that the rest of the world looks at us and says, "So what?"  So what, if you call yourself Christians, if you say you love your enemy, but don't even love your neighbor?  So what, if you say you believe you've received God's grace, but won't even give it to others?  So what, if you claim to have the answers that the world needs to hear, if you can't even get along with each other long enough to ask the right questions together?  So, after the election, "Now what?"  Don't gloat.  Don't complain.  Love your enemies.  Make peace.  Continue to confront evil.  Because in the words of Galatians 5:6, "the only thing that matters is faith working through love."

Photo Credits:

"Fallen NJ Marine returns home" by NYCMarines is licensed under CC BY 2.0

"Athens, Alabama KKK (Ku Klux Klan) Rally and Counter-Protests September 2007" by Gregory.Skibinski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

A Different Path to the Voting Booth

"Something told me go a different way," he told me, "and I started to--but then I turned around and went the same way I usually go.  That's when I had the accident."

I could identify with my friend who told this story, because I've had similar things happen to me.  Maybe it sounds familiar to you, too.

Another friend told me that she was walking home from college night classes, going throught an inner city campus.  Something in her spirit prompted her that she should walk a different route than she usually followed through the dark streets.  She didn't think anything of it, until she arrived home to watch the 11:00 news.  That night, along the street that she would normally have walked, and about the same time, somebody had been assaulted and mugged.  I'm not saying that God saved her and didn't save the other person--that gets into some weird theological problems.  But I am saying was that her own spirit was sensitive to the things the Holy Spirit already knew--and she chose to listen to this intiuitive voice.

I could give hundreds more examples, but I think you get the picture.  You normally follow one path, and something tells you to turn aside and go a different way.  Either you listen and things turn out well, or you don't listen, and disaster results.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, Moses was going along his merry way, tending his father-in-law's flocks, having no notion of being a national savior.  He was just walking down a mountain road, minding his own business, when he saw a burning bush.  The shepherd had to make a decision--to step out of his usual behavior and get spiritually curious, or to continue as usual.  He said, "I must turn aside and see this strange sight (Exodus 3.3)."  The rest is history.

In the New Testament, Saul of Tarsus was on a different road, to Damascus.  As a religious zealot, he'd found it his duty to persecute this new sect of Christians--and he was on his way to do just that.  Then God spoke to him out of a blinding light, and changed his life.  Saul realized that he'd misunderstood Jesus all along, and that the good he thought he'd been doing was not only harming God's people, but caused God pain as well.  So he changed.  Yes--he changed.  Right there in the road, he decided to take a different path.

Today, as you're on your way to the voting booth, I invite you to listen to the voice of God.  Ask God what you should do when you cast your ballot.  This is such an important election--it's too important to just vote the way you have always voted, or to select a candidate because your family and friends are all doing the same thing.  Ask Jesus what He thinks about the candidates--and which candidate most embodies the love of Christ.  Then, vote the way the Spirit leads.

This may mean taking a different path from the way you've always gone.  You may end up voting for a party you've never voted for.  You could end up voting against a candidate you supported in the past.  But remember--this isn't about staying stubbornly in the rut you've worn for such a long time.  It's about taking a different path, if that's what God sets before you.  You may never know the disaster that you avoid, by deciding to go a different way.  Like Saul, you may lose friends because of the change you make.  But deciding to follow Jesus, rather than following what the religious leaders tell you to do, will make all the difference.  It will set you, and this nation, on a path of greatest adventure--one in which not only America, but the world can be blessed.

Today, as you vote, I pray that you'll be willing to change the direction in which we've been headed.  Listen, religious people, to the voice of Jesus, who says, "It's me that you've been persecuting."

"If I Were a Rich Man"

One of my favourite movies of all time is Fiddler on the Roof.  I always wanted to play Tevye in a stage production, throwing my hands in the air and singing, "If I were a rich man."  Most of us can identify with the dreams of the poor milkman, who yearns to be be wealthy--because he doesn't believe he has enough.  "One day, I'll have more," we say, "and things will be better then."

But how would it be, if we were simply graeful for what we had?

As God's people wandered in the desert, they dined on manna every day--food that they didn't have to work for, that miraculously appeared each morning.  Much like Bubba Gump's shrimp, they could have it any way they wanted it.  Mana burgers, boiled manna, stewed manna, manna creole, fried manna, steamed manna--the list goes on.  But they weren't content with the menu that God provided.  They began to sing, "If I were a rich man."  "If I only had more, I'd be able to do so much more!"  But, because they didn't have what they wanted, they grumbled until God gave them what they asked for.  Meat on the menu.  Quail came down from the heavens, blanketing the earth and providing so much meat that the people never wanted to see another squab kebab.  God taught them to be grateful by giving them too much of a good thing.

In the New Testament, Jesus tells the parable of a wealthy landowner who hired workers for his fields, some in the morning, some at midday, and some in the evening.  At the end of the day he paid them, and they were surprised that they each received a full day's wage.  Instead of being happy for those who received what seemed like charity, those who worked a full day grumbled at the unfairness of their pay.  What they probably failed to realize was that they were chosen in the morning due to their physical fitness to work a full day in the hot sun.  Those who were were hired in the evening were most likely disabled people waiting on the roadside for charity.  He hired them to spare their feelings by giving them the opportunity to do light work for a short time, for the same.  The employer decided to expect "from each, according to their ability," and pay "to each, according to their need."  But this seemed unfair to the more capable workers.  When they complained, their employer simply reminded them that it was his money, to give as he pleases.  Jesus told this story to illustrate that we don't always appreciate God's fairness, because our mindset has to do with merit, but God's big idea is grace.

Both of these stories focus on the ability to receive from God whatever blessings the Lord wants to provide, without grumbling that we don't have more.  Instead of singing Tevye's song, we might do better to live the apostle Paul's words to his young friend Timothy.  "Godliness with contentment is great gain (1 Tim 6.6)."  If you're curious what you'd do if you were rich, it's probably the same as you're doing now.  If you're stingy now, you'd probably hoard your wealth if you were rich.  If you're generous now with what you have, then if you were wealthy, you'd most likely be like the landowner who shared with those in need.  With contentment comes generosity, and the idea that people don't receive God's blessings because they deserve them, but because a gracious God wants to provide for people.

Today, I pray that you'll practice gratitude for the belessings you have received--not because you deserve them, but because God is good.  I pray, too, that you'll desire good things for others--not because they deserve them, but because a good God wants to provide for all.  And maybe ask yourself how you, who have been blessed, may share your manna, quail, and pay with those who are still waiting by the road.

Autopsy of a Christian Leader

Another Christian leader has fallen.  Some will condemn.  Others will defend.  Still more will celebrate.  What's the best way that believers can respond when we witness moral failures among our leaders--among our members?  

Certainly, appropriate measures must be taken.  Decisions must be made about this leader's career.  Firing or resignation is inevitible--but that's not the point.  I want to talk about the possible stance that the average Christian is going to have, when news like this comes out.

One position is to attack.  Attackers will spotlight hypocrisy, point fingers, and gloat.  They will celebrate the downfall.  Attackers will outline faults and flaws and failings, because they take joy in watching the demise of someone they dislike.

Another position is to defend.  Defenders can take several approaches.  Some will make excuses for their beloved leader, explaining why it's somebody else's fault.  Others will downplay the offense, using the passive voice and saying, "mistakes were made."  Still other defenders will employ the counter-attack, biting at liberals and secular society like a dog in a corner.  

But, what if, instead of attacking or defending, we simply did an autopsy?  What if we drew a chalk line around the body, examined the evidence, cut open the remains and tried to determine what caused the downfall?  There's a way to both respect the body on the one hand, while pulling out the entrails with the other, eager to find the cause without either condemning or defending the man.  This is the way of love.

Yes, in an odd way, it can be said that a medical examiner loves the person they are examining.  They treat the body with utmost care, not wanting to damage anything that mustn't be touched except for the sake of finding the truth.  They search out the facts of the case, not only so that justice can be done, but so that those who grieve might have answers.  And in the hopes of learning something so that such falls might be avoided in days to come.  

In the days following a Christian leader's moral failure, attackers and defenders line up and spit at each other across social and theological lines.  But perhaps there's a third way--neither one of making excuses nor derisive comments.  The third way is to treat the fallen with care, treat the situation as the grave thing that it is, and respectfully make the first incision.  Because you won't find anything worthwhile in snide remarks or useless defenses.  But finding the truth might just set us free--so that this can be laid to rest, and so that the things we learn from this might shape a better future.

*Photo credit: "autopsy tables" by reallyboring is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

It's OK to NOT go back to your church during COVID...or after.

Churches are opening up during COVID--but it's okay NOT to go.  I know what you're thinking--how could a pastor say that?  I can say that BECAUSE I am a pastor.  It's in my heart to care for people.  No, I'm not currently serving a church, and many may discount what I say because I don't have "skin in the game" in terms of making sure that the institution keeps running.  But I served churches for over a quarter century and I still pastor people's souls--so here's why I say that YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO BACK right now.

Maybe you're immunocompromised, or you have family members who are, and you don't want to risk infection.  Maybe you're not immunocompromised, but you realize that you regularly come into contact with other human beings--and Jesus has put so much love in your heart for them that you'd like to save their lives,if possible, by not becoming an asymptomatic carrier.  Whatever your reason, it's okay to NOT go back to your church during COVID.

Now, I know, there are a lot of intrepid souls out there who value church gatherings to the extent that you're willing to risk your own health for the sake of your own worship experience, for the sake of participating in fellowship and service.  I get that.  Many churches are opening during COVID for the benefit of the people who feel just that way.  I'm not saying you shouldn't go.  What I'm saying is that if someone is telling you that you need to go, no matter the risk, you should consider THEIR motive.

There are a few false messages going around that are telling you that you need to go back to church.

1.  "Jesus died for you---you should be willing to die for him."  Wait--what???  Yes, I've actually heard pastors say this in relation to COVID.  While I do believe that there's a time and place for martyrdom, this is not it.  Maybe God will one day call you to enter the pearly gates through the martyr's path, but that would involve a person or persons murdering you for the sake of your faith--not falling victim to a disease that doesn't care what your religion is.  

2.  "The church could die unless we open back up again." No doubt whoever says this is thinking about the church's bottom line.  They're thinking about money.  Because  It's true that some churches will see a drop in giving due to COVID-19.  Many Christians forget to give their tithes and offerings when they're not physically present in the building, and don't generally make it up once they return.  It's also true that your church has expenses that don't go away, simply because they're not having services.  Salaries still neeed to be paid, as do mortgages, et cetera.  But your church can trim its budget to all but the bare essentials during this time.  Maybe this is the time your church needed, to reexamine its priorities.  In any case, if your pastor or anybody else says they need to reopen church in order to bring in the money, this is a clear indication that they HAVE reexamined their priorities, and PEOPLE'S LIVES are not the priority.  

3.    "Church is too important to give up, because it's an exercise of your freedom."  Really???  Did you actually hear what's embedded in those words?  If that's your reason for going to church, then you've placed exercising your freedom as the top priority, as the end goal--and you've made churchgoing simply the means to the end.  If you've elevated the flag to this position, you've diminshed the cross.  Your exercise of your freedom isn't worth causing someone else to get sick and die.

4.    "Fellowship, worship, and giving are so important that you need them for your spiritual health."  Okay--to me, this is the best argument for going back to church during COVID.  But it still doesn't convince me.  It's true that church on YouTube and small group through Zoom aren't quite the same as participating in them live.  But they're not so bad, and they're a whole lot better than risking your life or someone else's.  Our ancestors have had to put up with a lot more hardships than having to use awesome technology to keep in touch with people during a pandemic.  We can do this!

If someone has used any of these arguments to convince you that you MUST go back to church during COVID, then you've got to examine THEIR motives, and wonder whether they've placed their own desire for you go return to church, over your own physical needs.  

After you wade through other people's motives, it's tiime to examine your own.  You might think that worshiping together is worth YOUR risk of getting sick.  But what about the risk of you infecting the oldest member of the church--somebody's grandma who's well-loved?  Are you willing to risk getting her sick?  I hope that you'll give this some consideration before you return to church during COVID.  Time and time again, the Bible encourages Christians to put the needs of others over our own desires.  Maybe living out your faith means staying home just a little while longer.

It's okay not to go back to church during COVID.  It's also okay not to go back to your church after COVID is done.  No, I'm not saying you should give up church altogether.  But I am saying that maybe during the pandemic, you've been checking out a few other churches through their Zoom meetings, YouTube videos, or other online resources.  If your church has handled this oubreak poorly--if the leadership has shown that their first priorities are church finances or defiantly exercising freedom--then maybe it's time to find a different church.  It's okay for you to spend this time that God has given you to thoughtfully and prayerfully consider whether you should return to the same congregation, or find another one.  Because Proverbs 13:20 says, "Those who walk with the wise grow wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm."

If you feel like maybe you shouldn't go back to church just yet, here are a few ideas to BE the church, even if you don't GO to church:

• Start a small group of like-minded believers and meet in the park where you can socially distance.
• Find a service project that you can do with other people.  Instead of a worship-service, think about what service-worship would look like.
• Connect with other people using social media.  
• If you have extra time on your hands during COVID, call your pastor and ask how you can volunteer.
• If you're concerned about the church's budget, conider increasing your giving during this time of financial pinch.

Remember, the church isn't a building where you meet--it's a group of people who follow Jesus no matter where they are.  Just because you don't return just yet, that doesn't mean you aren't faithful.  It just means you're giving yourself, and others, a little bit of breathing space.

"Church_2" by planetirony is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Dear Former Church Members (If the Shoe Fits)...

Dear Former Church Members (whose congregations I once served as pastor),*

Some of you, with notes of pity or disdain in your voices, have told me, "You've changed."  Well, this is true and untrue at the same time.  Let me explain.

In some ways, it may seem to you that I've changed because you never knew ALL of what I believe.  Because in Southern Baptist churches, where the pastor is employed by the individual congregation rather than by the denomination, every single church member considers themselves the pastor's boss.  This means that Baptist pastors know all too well that they can't put all their cards on the table--whether those cards are political, theological, or social.  When you have a hundred bosses at each church you serve, it keeps you on edge.  Did you know how much you (if the shoe fits) kept me on edge, trying to make you happy while I was serving you?

Because we constantly walk a tightrope, many Baptist pastors (including myself) have learned to keep their opinions about politics to themselves, because if their opinion differs from that of their church members, their jobs might just be on the line.  That's because unfortunately, American Christians often confuse political opinion and religious belief.  So if many of my Republican church members knew that sometimes I vote Democrat, it could have been professionally disastrous.  So I kept my views quiet.  Now, when I voice my political opinion, you say I've changed.  To which I respond--yes, I've changed in that I've learned that now I can actually be like everybody else and express my political opinion.  Isn't that a good thing?

You also say I've changed because I've begun expressing theological opinions that are different from yours.  To which I ask--why did you assume I believed the same as you, anyway?  The beauty of being Baptist is that we believe in the doctrines of the Priesthood of the Believer and Soul Competency.  This means that freedom and individuality is honored in churches--at least, it's supposed to be.  But that has been pretty rare in Southern Baptist churches for the past 40 years or so.  Instead, conformity is preferred, and anybody who differs must certainly be wrong.  Because of the current climate with so much intolerance for difference, many Baptist pastors try to keep everybody happy by keeping the main thing the main thing, without trying to get sidetracked by issues that AREN'T 100% central to salvation message (where salvation is defined as going to heaven when you die because you accepted Jesus as your savior).  Pastors know that if they're growing spiritually and trying out different theological ideas, they'd better not let anybody know about it.  Best to just tow the line.  But now that I'm no longer pastoring your church--I feel freedom to express myself and hopefully let you know that it's okay for you, too, to stretch your wings and fly beyond the expectations of the fundamentalists around you.  You say I've changed.  Yes, I have.  I'm soaring.

You say I've changed in my position on social issues.  Well, that makes sense.  You didn't know about my political mind, and I couldn't share my deepest spiritual thoughts with you, so it's no surprise to me that you're shocked when I express my opinions on social issues and they're different from yours.  Since I'm divorced and remarried, I've had to really evaluate my views on marriage.  With several LGBTQIA+ people in my family, of course I believe in supporting their rights.  You'd believe so too if you knew how many of them are in your family.  And if you don't know how many there are, it's because you've shown them that they can't trust you enough to come out.  You say I've changed when I support Black Lives Matter--but that's only because you assumed my views on race were the same as yours.  Have I changed?  You bet--now that you're not my employer, I have freedom to tell you exactly how I feel.  Which just might be (gasp) different from you.

So yes--I've changed.  In a lot of ways.  If you've known me since I was a young pastor--maybe in my 20s or 30s--you did actually know a more conservative man.  I began to change a lot in my viewpoints about ten years ago.  In some other ways, maybe five years ago.  So if you knew me back in the day, then yes--I've changed in my opinions, perspectives, and views from when you knew me.  But I've changed because I'm open to life teaching me new lessons, because I'm open to God's spirit which still calls me to grow.  An active faith means an adapting one.  Honestly, if YOU haven't changed in the past 10 years, it's probably because you're not growing.  

But let me tell you the ways in which I have NOT changed.  In ministry and in life (yes, those two can be separate things), I have always tried to be motivated by love.  No matter how my family has been formed, I have always tried to love unconditionally and with my whole heart.  I have always been frustrated by "Christians" whose faith has functioned more to exclude people than to include people.  I have always tried to read the Bible through the lens of the Spirit of Jesus, which is more important than tradition.  And I have always tried to be instrumental in leading people to the many types of salvation that Jesus offers.  In these ways, I have remained constant.

Christian friend, it bothers me that you've looked at me with pity or disdain and said, "You've changed"--as if change is a bad thing.  It bothers me for your sake--not for mine.  I mean, in't CHANGE 100% the content of the Gospel message that I preached over 26 years of ministry?  This is the meaning of the word REPENT.  When we're going in the wrong direction, it takes humility before God to faithfully and honestly consider our own mistakes, to turn around, and grow towards God.  Change is also the core of the Christian message, when we understand it in terms of transformation.  This is what the resurrection is all about.  It's about being like Jesus--letting God transform me, like a gnarly old caterpillar coming out of a cocoon, now with legs and beautiful wings, ready to fly.  

So have I changed?  I hope I have--and I'm glad you noticed.

With love,

Greg

*If you're one of my former church members who isn't upset that I've changed, then it's because you're one of the good ones, who recognizes that all people grow, and your former pastor has grown as well.  So this is one of those "if the shoe fits, wear it" kind of articles.  If you're offended by what I've written, then this probably was, in fact, written for you.

Photo credit: "Butterflies!" by Manue@PrettyKiku is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Tenderfooted, Tenderhearted People

It's summer--time for bare feet in the grass, on the sand, and soaking in the water.  But you don't want bare feet on gravel, hot pavement, or (for Die Hard fans) on broken glass.  Barefooting is great in certain situations, but not in others--because even folks with calloused feet hurt themselves from time to time.  

A tenderfoot is a person with unusually soft soles on their feet.  The term is also used to refer to a person who is new to a job or an organization.  It used to refer to people who were new to living on the frontier--city slickers who were used to wearing shoes all the time.  They would be called "tenderfoot" until they had literally developed callouses on their feet, or until they had become figuratively calloused to frontier life.

Today, I think a lot of people are tenderfooted when it comes to conversational skills.  It seems these days it's difficult to discuss things we hold dear, without being offended or hurting other people's feelings.  Recently, somebody commented to me about how we're taught not to discuss religion or politics--but what we really need to be taught is how to have a civil conversation.  We need to learn how to be sensitive to the feelings of others--and how not to have fragile feelings ourselves.

As we walk this earth, it's easy to get our feet cut by the sharp comments of others.  One solution would be to cover the whole earth in bubble wrap--but that could be suffocating, couldn't it?  Shantideva, the eighteenth century Indian scholar, said maybe you could cover the world with leather so that you could walk more safely.  But...

"Where would there be leather enough to cover the entire world? With just the leather of my sandals, it is as if the whole world were covered. Likewise, I am unable to restrain external phenomena, but I shall restrain my own mind. What need is there to restrain anything else?"

I can't cover the world--but I can cover my feet.  This means that while it's impossible to make the world a softer place, it is possible to protect my heart and mind.  What's the leather I can use to cover my tender feet?  It's called LOVE.  By putting on love, I can keep my tender heart safe, and protect others as well.  1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NLT) says:

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. 

Love is a power that heals the cuts and bruises made by others.  It also guards your tender feet and heart so that you won't be so easily offended by people--because you'll be walking with them in Jesus' sandals instead of your own shoes.  No, you can't cover the world in leather so it won't cut you.  But when you cover yourself in love, God will give you angels to help you, "lest you dash your foot against a ston[y hearted person]."  This means you realize that you can't change the world, but you can change yourself.  You can't cover the world, but you can cover your heart and mind with love.  And by doing so, you'll be able to be tread lightly among tenderfooted people, and have your heart protected, at the same time.

Photo credit: "Bare feet" by zhang_yiwei is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Photo credit: "002-365 footwear" by cukuskumir is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

How to Have Conversations with Other Humans

During COVID-19, have you forgotten how to talk with other humans?  No, really--that's a serious question.  If you've been quarantining, working from home, unemployed, flattening the curve, and living inside your bubble, then chances are, you've had a smaller circle of people that you're talking with lately.  Social distancing isn't just staying six feet away--it's also keeping extended families apart, friends away, and made coworkers just another face on Zoom.  All this isolation can make you lose your "people skills."  Social media may be your primary form of communication these days.  And, based on the way folks interact on those platforms, it seems all our social skills have taken a nose-dive.

Add to that, the fact that it's election season for Americans.  This has increased tensions between friends and family members who may see things from different perspectives.  It seems that people have forgotten how to have civil disagreement these days.  So, maybe we need a refresher on how to have conversations with other humans.

Sometimes it's not WHAT is said, but HOW things are said that make the difference between a broken relationship and a healed one.  I'd never suggest that you abandon your cherished opinions, but perhaps with the right OARS, we can paddle through the rough waters of difficult conversations.

In William Miller and Stephen Rollnick's counseling technique called Motivational Interviewing, practitioners utilize four key skills, called OARS.  These OARS aren't just skills for counselors--they're just good communication skills for humans to have conversation with one another.  The acronym stands for Open-ended questions; Affirmations, Reflections, and Summaries.

Open-Ended Questions

Instead of asking "yes" or "no" questions that invite only a simple answer, try asking questions that really elicit a detailed response.  You'll learn more from the other person if you can get them talking.  You might try questions like:

• "Can you tell me about__________?"
• "What would it look like if _______?"
• "What do you think about_______?"

"Yes" or "no" questions can make people shut down instead of opening up.  A good conversationalist uses open-ended questions instead.

Affirmations

Affirmations are more than compliments--because they're true.  Affirmations are not flattery--they are observations and appreciations about a person or their perspective.  When you give someone an affirmation, it makes them feel built-up, and it encourages them to continue the conversation.  You might try:

• "You really seem to value ________."
• "You're really good at_________."
• "I'm impressed that you___________."

Everybody likes to talk with somebody who appreciates them.  Just make sure your affirmations are sincere, because flatter will get you nowhere in a genuine conversation.

Reflections

People want to know that they're heard.  And you need to know that you're hearing them correctly.  If you didn't understand them, you want to know that, too, so that they can clarify anything you misunderstood. You might use phrases like...

• "It sounds like you're saying_________."
• "It seems like____________."
• "If I'm hearing you right, _______________."

When you reflect back to somebody what you think you're hearing, you can make sure that you understand them.  They can also know that they're being heard.  And people who feel heard want to keep on talking.

Summaries

Whether it's at the end of a conversation, or at a turning point in a conversation, it's useful to summarize what someone has been talking about.  Summaries are kind of like reflections, but they are geared toward what comes next.  They make good transitions--either shifting toward the end of the conversation or moving to a different topic.  Summaries look like:

• "We've talked about ____.  What else is important to you?"
• "From our conversation, I've learned ____ and ____."
• "I'm glad we've established________."

Summaries help you maintain your focus in a conversation.  An unfocused chat may be fine sometimes, but true understanding takes intention.

In times like these, when isolation makes you lose your "people skills" or when political tensions threaten the loss of friendships, it's important to practice good conversational skills.  Talking is more than just speaking--it's listening.  It's asking good questions.  It's paddling skillfully through an interaction so that you enjoy the journey, see the scenery of another person's soul, and hopefully come to understanding.  


Photo credit 1:  "Talking on the edge in Zurich"by Alexandre Dulaunoy is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Photo crecit 2: "Paddle" by ArnelGenterone is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Blessed are the Pacifiers?

If you're readying this, then by now you should have outgrown pacifiers.  Everybody knows it's bad for your teeth, and I cringe every time I see a full-fledged child (not a baby) with a pacifier in their mouth.  And, did you know that you can buy adult-sized pacifiers on Amazon?  What is this world coming to?

When Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers," he didn't mean pacifiers.  Yes, it's true that both of these words stem from the Latin word pax, meaning "peace."  But there's a vast difference between the two.  When he said this, he knew that his listeners lived under the Pax Romana (Peace of Rome), a system of oppression that brought about peace through domination and oppression.  So he had to make sure his hearers understood the difference beween people who make peace, and people who are pacified, or who pacify other folks.

A pacifier is something you give a baby, in order to keep them from crying.  You're "peacifying" them for your own good, so you don't have to hear them scream.  In this sense, it's not really peace at all--but simply the absence of noise.  A pacifier is something you give a hurting or hungry baby--to shut them up.  My Scottish foster sister used to call a pacifier a "dummy-tit," which is a nipple for dummies who don't know the difference between a piece of plastic and the real thing.

Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers," and that's a different thing altogether.  Peacemakers are NOT pacifiers.  They don't throw out platitudes to keep people happy.  Instead of saying, "Can't we all just get along?" real peacemakers do the hard work of actually listening to the cries of their hurting neighbors.  Instead of saying, "You're hurting?  I'm hurting too--let me tell you about my pain..." (a tactic designed to shut the other person up), real peacemakers simply sit and listen.  Whether they agree with the story that the other person tells or not, they make sure that the really hear their neighbor, and make sure that their neighbor knows they're heard.

I've gotta admit--pacifiers are easy.  When I was raising babies, I gave them all pacifiers.  But pacifiers are something we should outgrow.  Once a kid is old enough to talk, the pacifier should come out of their mouth.  Kids need to quit using them--and adults need to quit trying to give them to young people who are fully capable of conversation.  Because real dialogue is better than a pacifier.

Are you having trouble in your marriage, and this message is hitting home because you realize you've been a pacifier instead of a peacemaker?  Have you been troubled by racial injustice, but you've been unable to really deal with the seismic weight of actually dealing with it--so you've been saying "all lives matter" rather than sitting down to listen to stories of black pain?  Have you been changing the topic every time a friend brings up a difficult conversation, because you just don't want to deal with it?  Jesus blessed the peacemakers because their courage to have a conversation leads to the kingdom of God manifesting in the lives of hurting and hungry people.  I hope you'll have the guts to be a peacemaker, rather than a pacifier--that you'll take the time to listen.