I love my church. I've found myself having to defend it fairly often. We're an odd lot at Quest. When we gather it's not your traditional hymns - announcements - offering - sermon - benediction type service. Our style of worship is not everyone's cup of tea. Sometimes it's not even mine. Our band plays lively music and the worship team leads us with energy and passion from one joyful or intimate moment to the next. I love the old songs of the church I grew up singing, and from time to time I'll enjoy visiting the services at one of the other, more traditional churches here in town to hear them again. I appreciate their worship just as much, and I value the heritage they honor. I'm glad there are places for all of us to meet with God in the way we enjoy most. But I really love my church.
I know there are other congregations like it, but I've never seen a more eclectic mix of humans who gather week after week all because they want to know God better. Before you ever get in the building you can tell something is up. Shiny, high-dollar sports cars, luxury models and SUVs are scattered among the muddy Jeeps, ragtag jalopies and family vans in the lot. The bumper stickers say a lot too. Some for Bush. Some for Kerry. Some for saving the whales. Some for saving the babies. A PETA and an AFA were parked side-by-side today. Somebody drove each car into the lot on their way to meet with Jesus. Then you get inside.
I just love looking at the odd assortment of people-types in this place. Two weeks ago I noticed a very clean-cut sixtyish gentleman with groomed silver hair, a tailored suit and a big bible sitting next to a younger guy with radical hair, ripped up jeans, a wrinkled tee-shirt and a piercing or two (or three). They sang the same songs, read the same passage of scripture and lifted themselves up together as the worship grew deeper and more personal. It was a beautiful picture; four hands in the air - two trimmed, two loaded with rings and scars; two voices - one singing properly in tune, one making nasally attempts; four feet tapping - two in designer Aldos, two in stringy flops; two hearts beating - one in love with a Redeemer that saves from complacency and pride, one melted by a God that wanted a loner on the run. Two men in worship. God saw two men. Nothing else.
3.26.2006
3.14.2006
welcome little abby
I was at the hospital this week. My niece Whitney delivered to my parents their first great grandchild. Her name is Abigail, and she is an obvious Bishop. I was able to stop by the hospital and visit with baby, mom, dad, grandma and a room full of friends for a while. Tiny, new life really inspires me - and frightens me.
When I see the itty-bitty fingers, the speck of a nose, hair with the texture of cotton candy, and know that her heart is the size of my thumb, I'm aware that her little personality will develop traits along the way that reveal who she is beneath her skin and that her little heart will learn the values that matter most. I get excited about the future she can control and concerned for the parts that will be left to the world around her.
My prayer for little Abby is this: "Father, you have blessed us with a brand new opportunity to mold a creation of yours into a child of opportunity, a youngster of ambition, and an adult of contribution. Please give our family the wisdom, patience, understanding and compassion to do it the way that honors You most. And let us see the world a lot like her innocent and inexperienced eyes do - without cynicism, prejudice or hatred. Help us rely on You as she relies on us for her very life. Make her Your instrument. In Christ's name. Amen."
When I see the itty-bitty fingers, the speck of a nose, hair with the texture of cotton candy, and know that her heart is the size of my thumb, I'm aware that her little personality will develop traits along the way that reveal who she is beneath her skin and that her little heart will learn the values that matter most. I get excited about the future she can control and concerned for the parts that will be left to the world around her.
My prayer for little Abby is this: "Father, you have blessed us with a brand new opportunity to mold a creation of yours into a child of opportunity, a youngster of ambition, and an adult of contribution. Please give our family the wisdom, patience, understanding and compassion to do it the way that honors You most. And let us see the world a lot like her innocent and inexperienced eyes do - without cynicism, prejudice or hatred. Help us rely on You as she relies on us for her very life. Make her Your instrument. In Christ's name. Amen."
3.11.2006
christians...
Is your email box loaded? It seems mine always has a steady supply of messages waiting to be read and responded to. I promise myself I'll get to everyone of them at some point - and I will - eventually. I love hearing from folks, and if someone takes the time to write, I should do my best to holler back when I can. Then there are the forwards...
Like everyone else with an email addy, it seems the "FWDs" fill much of my inbox space. Being totally honest with you, I don't read most of them. Between hellos from friends, encouraging notes from strangers, and business mail that has to be tended to, my time at the 'puter would be endless if all of the forwards got full attention. And some of them probably deserve it. Some of them are witty, some are strange, some are cute and some should've ended their tour of the cyber-world long before they found their course to my box - for the third time. Then there is the one that I do take the time to read (for some reason), that speaks something honest, simple and magnificent. Now I wonder what I've missed by not parking it for a while longer and taking the time to read them all.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
When I say... "I am a Christian"
When I say... "I am a Christian"
When I say... "I am a Christian"
Like everyone else with an email addy, it seems the "FWDs" fill much of my inbox space. Being totally honest with you, I don't read most of them. Between hellos from friends, encouraging notes from strangers, and business mail that has to be tended to, my time at the 'puter would be endless if all of the forwards got full attention. And some of them probably deserve it. Some of them are witty, some are strange, some are cute and some should've ended their tour of the cyber-world long before they found their course to my box - for the third time. Then there is the one that I do take the time to read (for some reason), that speaks something honest, simple and magnificent. Now I wonder what I've missed by not parking it for a while longer and taking the time to read them all.
CHRISTIANS
by: Maya Angelou
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven.
" When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
And need Christ to be my guide.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches.
So I call upon His name.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!
2.24.2006
losing anthony...
Even with a daily listing to remind us that our lives are not without limit, it is when the hand of death comes so close to us that we are shaken awake and reminded that we have only a few real opportunities to do the thing we are certain God has created us to do. He calls. He equips. We do. That's what Anthony Burger did to the very, very last moment. He did the thing that God had called him, and most certainly equipped him to do. And he did it till the end of his life.
We wanted him to do it a lot longer. We expected the energetic entertainment, the masterful music, and the special spirit that Anthony shared from the stage so many days and nights of his life to last many more years. Many of us depended on his friendship, his counsel and his wit to lighten our personal loads. His family needs his guidance, his support and his love because that's what family members do for each other. Now all of us are devastated by the abrupt ending, and broken by the terrible loss.
I just took a look at my local newspaper. I scanned the obituary page to see if there was anyone listed there that I knew. There were probably thirty or so names mentioned with just enough information to make me ask myself if that was the so-and-so I knew as a kid. Friends of mine who work at the newspaper tell me it is consistently the most turned to and read page issue after issue.
I was relieved to find a page full of strangers today. But, no doubt, someone opened the page and gasped at the news as they learned for the first time of a fallen friend, neighbor or relative. Depending on the closeness they knew, they may have been able to move on and live the rest of their day with a sense of normalcy. Those of us who knew Anthony well won't enjoy that feeling for some time to come.
We wanted him to do it a lot longer. We expected the energetic entertainment, the masterful music, and the special spirit that Anthony shared from the stage so many days and nights of his life to last many more years. Many of us depended on his friendship, his counsel and his wit to lighten our personal loads. His family needs his guidance, his support and his love because that's what family members do for each other. Now all of us are devastated by the abrupt ending, and broken by the terrible loss.
I just took a look at my local newspaper. I scanned the obituary page to see if there was anyone listed there that I knew. There were probably thirty or so names mentioned with just enough information to make me ask myself if that was the so-and-so I knew as a kid. Friends of mine who work at the newspaper tell me it is consistently the most turned to and read page issue after issue.
I was relieved to find a page full of strangers today. But, no doubt, someone opened the page and gasped at the news as they learned for the first time of a fallen friend, neighbor or relative. Depending on the closeness they knew, they may have been able to move on and live the rest of their day with a sense of normalcy. Those of us who knew Anthony well won't enjoy that feeling for some time to come.
2.11.2006
recording grace
I woke up this morning to more snow. The snow is not the news. Neither is the fact that I woke up. That I woke up this morning, however, is a bit surprising to me. I got in pretty late last night from three intense days of recording in Nashville. I was sure, and honestly, hoping, that I'd sleep at least until noon or later. But I didn't.
The last two or three recordings the Bishops made were based pretty much on a theme. We hadn't always taken that approach early on, but later we found it was a successful formula and helped the record companies and distributors market the recording. The last recording we made together, Stories, was probably the single best recording we ever put together. Every song was built around the idea of sitting around and sharing stories of faith, struggle and victory.
With an even more determined mindset, I wanted to do the same with my first solo recording in over ten years. When I started talking with the folks at Daywind Records, I had to work hard to convince them that what I wanted to try and do was worth the risk. They acknowledged a little concern, but ultimately felt good about the idea of putting together a record that makes grace and mercy the only thing you see - or hear. I'm grateful for their confidence in me. And now that we've chosen our songs, arranged the music, recorded the tracks, and put some singing on it, I'm more convinced than ever that this was the right thing to do.
Grace is just so huge. I mean, without it there would be no Southern Baptist Convention, no Roman Catholic Church, no Nazarenes, Methodists, Pentecostals, Mennonites, Adventists or anything else that teaches unconditional mercy. But grace is even bigger than all of the different flavors of Christianity. It's bigger than can be described in a sermon, a song, a book or a denominational creed. It goes and comes in so many different directions. It is given to us. We give it to others. There is the grace that sees past our sins to save us. The grace that sustains us in trouble and worry. There is even a grace that orders our steps. Grace is huge.
At first we were worried we wouldn't be able to find ten songs that say it the way we wanted to. In the end, we were disappointed that we had to keep it at such a limited number. We heard so many fantastic songs that gripped us, blessed us and made us shout. But we had to choose the ten that we felt said it best within the context of the complete recording. We could do quite a few records on grace. I'm really anxious for you to hear what we are putting together. A lot of my singing friends are joining me on several of the songs. I've been praying that God would make this the record that reaches the used-to-be believer. I've also been asking Him to use it to drag all of us who've been satisfied in our state-of-grace complacency, into the more dangerous places where grace can really abound. That has to be its real intent anyway.
We still have a bit more work to do on the recording. But grace will remain the focus, the message, the intent, the theme. I woke up excited about it way too early this morning.
The last two or three recordings the Bishops made were based pretty much on a theme. We hadn't always taken that approach early on, but later we found it was a successful formula and helped the record companies and distributors market the recording. The last recording we made together, Stories, was probably the single best recording we ever put together. Every song was built around the idea of sitting around and sharing stories of faith, struggle and victory.
With an even more determined mindset, I wanted to do the same with my first solo recording in over ten years. When I started talking with the folks at Daywind Records, I had to work hard to convince them that what I wanted to try and do was worth the risk. They acknowledged a little concern, but ultimately felt good about the idea of putting together a record that makes grace and mercy the only thing you see - or hear. I'm grateful for their confidence in me. And now that we've chosen our songs, arranged the music, recorded the tracks, and put some singing on it, I'm more convinced than ever that this was the right thing to do.
Grace is just so huge. I mean, without it there would be no Southern Baptist Convention, no Roman Catholic Church, no Nazarenes, Methodists, Pentecostals, Mennonites, Adventists or anything else that teaches unconditional mercy. But grace is even bigger than all of the different flavors of Christianity. It's bigger than can be described in a sermon, a song, a book or a denominational creed. It goes and comes in so many different directions. It is given to us. We give it to others. There is the grace that sees past our sins to save us. The grace that sustains us in trouble and worry. There is even a grace that orders our steps. Grace is huge.
At first we were worried we wouldn't be able to find ten songs that say it the way we wanted to. In the end, we were disappointed that we had to keep it at such a limited number. We heard so many fantastic songs that gripped us, blessed us and made us shout. But we had to choose the ten that we felt said it best within the context of the complete recording. We could do quite a few records on grace. I'm really anxious for you to hear what we are putting together. A lot of my singing friends are joining me on several of the songs. I've been praying that God would make this the record that reaches the used-to-be believer. I've also been asking Him to use it to drag all of us who've been satisfied in our state-of-grace complacency, into the more dangerous places where grace can really abound. That has to be its real intent anyway.
We still have a bit more work to do on the recording. But grace will remain the focus, the message, the intent, the theme. I woke up excited about it way too early this morning.
2.04.2006
saying goodbye to doug
It's snowing now. Just a few hours ago - this time yesterday in fact, it was sunny and pushing the mid-fifties. But now it's snowing and cold. Some people at the store this morning were complaining. Many had to change their plans. They'd enjoyed a few unusually warm and sunny Kentucky winter days this week, and planned for a few more. But now it's snowing.
Life is good for me now. I enjoy my work with the Governor's office; I have a lot of loyal, fun and honorable friends; the two most beautiful, talented and smart kids in the entire world call me daddy; I am awarded the grace of a loving God who believes in me. Life is good.
I woke up one morning this week to the same terrible and tragic news that you did. One of Christian music's most talented musicians, friends and believers stepped away from us. Had we known that Tuesday would be so sad we might have laughed a little more on Monday. Had we known, we'd probably have made one more call before bed. Had we known, surely we would've done something different, something at least to try and either prepare for the loss or avoid it all together. We wanted Doug Riley to stay with us. Had we known...
All of those people pushing their carts and whining about the weather had the luxury of a forecast. They had plenty of time to adjust their agendas. It was unreasonable to think that winter weather wouldn't show up in the winter. Complaining may have given them a sense of release, but the plows are still pushing snow to the side and spreading salt down the middle. The warmer days were a midwinter treat indeed, but putting the boots and shovels away was not ideal. Maybe they wouldn't have, had they known.
I didn't get to go to Doug's funeral. Another friend here in Kentucky said good-bye this week too. I was at his funeral. We had lots of time to plan for his passing though. He'd been very ill for quite a while. The news of his death was not unexpected. As sad as it was, it seemed much more natural and not nearly as difficult to believe. The thought of someone as alive as Doug, playing the drums or manning the mixing board or cracking a joke, taken so abruptly has left us all numb. The family of my friend in Kentucky had the luxury of a pretty reliable forecast. The family of my friend in Alabama did not.
It's still snowing. The forecast says it will for the next couple of days at least. But even if the experts told us differently, it's still winter in Kentucky - we might as well plan for it.
Life is good for me now. I enjoy my work with the Governor's office; I have a lot of loyal, fun and honorable friends; the two most beautiful, talented and smart kids in the entire world call me daddy; I am awarded the grace of a loving God who believes in me. Life is good.
I woke up one morning this week to the same terrible and tragic news that you did. One of Christian music's most talented musicians, friends and believers stepped away from us. Had we known that Tuesday would be so sad we might have laughed a little more on Monday. Had we known, we'd probably have made one more call before bed. Had we known, surely we would've done something different, something at least to try and either prepare for the loss or avoid it all together. We wanted Doug Riley to stay with us. Had we known...
All of those people pushing their carts and whining about the weather had the luxury of a forecast. They had plenty of time to adjust their agendas. It was unreasonable to think that winter weather wouldn't show up in the winter. Complaining may have given them a sense of release, but the plows are still pushing snow to the side and spreading salt down the middle. The warmer days were a midwinter treat indeed, but putting the boots and shovels away was not ideal. Maybe they wouldn't have, had they known.
I didn't get to go to Doug's funeral. Another friend here in Kentucky said good-bye this week too. I was at his funeral. We had lots of time to plan for his passing though. He'd been very ill for quite a while. The news of his death was not unexpected. As sad as it was, it seemed much more natural and not nearly as difficult to believe. The thought of someone as alive as Doug, playing the drums or manning the mixing board or cracking a joke, taken so abruptly has left us all numb. The family of my friend in Kentucky had the luxury of a pretty reliable forecast. The family of my friend in Alabama did not.
It's still snowing. The forecast says it will for the next couple of days at least. But even if the experts told us differently, it's still winter in Kentucky - we might as well plan for it.
1.28.2006
jesus for mayor
Jesus would've been a lousy politician. First off, he said what he thought. He also had a perspective that no one else had or could ever get. He saw humanity's needs within the context of eternity and spiritual condition. He knew why people did what they did, and he was surely convinced that laws and lines couldn't fix the ultimate problem. That's why he came. It would take more than words and penalties. It would take sacrifice - a self sacrifice. And what politician is willing to do that?
I had a couple of really interesting conversations this week. I guess you can call a rapid exchange of emails a conversation these days. Between my work with the Governor and my ministry, I probably receive and reply to at least a hundred or so emails a day. I know I spend an awful lot of time typing. But a couple of email conversations I had this week were a bit more thought provoking than the rest - if only because they were basically identical, only in reverse.
A lot of people figure since I work in a very political environment that I am always interested in talking politics. They also assume that I have very firm political leanings or a particular political party that I'm anxious to defend or promote. And honestly, they're right - partly.
Interestingly enough, early this week, on the same day, I received two emails - one from a very staunch Republican and another from a true yellow-dog Democrat. Both were cordial and friendly. The pachyderm was singing the praises of Abraham Lincoln, Ronald Reagan and current President Bush. The donkey was worshipping Franklin D. Roosevelt, JFK and Bill Clinton. Many politicians and governmental leaders are convinced they are a savior of sorts in many ways. This is why.
There are a multitude of political parties and organizations out there. Obviously, in our country the Ds and the Rs are the biggest and most influential. And I am convinced they are also one of our country's biggest stepping stones/stumbling blocks. Both of the guys I "chatted" with this week were completely sold on their respective political parties. It's good to have a rallying point, so I have no issues there. But neither would even admit that anyone associated with the opposing party was much more than human. The words and names they used were ugly, mean and unnecessary. It was disappointing to read, and dangerously narrow.
Both fellas took their jabs directly from their party's talking points. It was an echo of the same things you hear on the talking head TV shows. Both had more to say about the other party's infidelities and weaknesses and corruption than they did their own party's philosophy and platform. Both were reluctant to even acknowledge their own camp's problems and indiscretions. And when they did, it was totally excusable and no one else's business - unless someone from the other side did it. They each took great pleasure in beating up the other's humans. Neither was willing to even consider there could be good people and productive policy somewhere on the other side. They'd drawn their lines and it was on something as flimsy as a political label and nothing more.
I'm around politics everyday. I work in the middle of it. I've studied it, eyed it, promoted it and regretted it. I've watched good and helpful legislation get buried, ignored or defeated because someone from the "wrong" political party drafted it. I've seen otherwise cordial and respectable men and women who started out ready to serve the people who elected them get backed into corners, threatened into deals, and rendered ineffective because they didn't play with the right team. The object of the game has become, "beat the other guy only because he's not one of us," instead of, "work together and serve the people who sent us here." And some of the ways this is done is ugly and most hypocritical. We have some pretty unrighteous people throwing some awfully big stones.
Thanks to big media, those of us who vote now are not only segregated by a letter, an animal and a philosophy, but now we're assigned a color. You now live in either a red state or a blue state. And thanks to technology, your county, your city and your voting precinct is colored in as well. Just one more thing to mark us and separate us.
We have enough reasons to divide ourselves. Atheist versus believer. Christian versus Muslim versus Jew versus Hindu and all the rest. Protestant versus Catholic versus those folks who claim they're Christian but probably neither. Then there are enough split-off churches to confuse Confucius. We all need a place to go, a place to belong. But belonging to one place does not mean discounting everyone who belongs somewhere else.
I enjoyed the exchange I had with my political friends. Ultimately, I agreed with neither of them on everything, but both of them on some things. I wonder how Jesus would register if he voted in America today.
"It's amazing how much a man can accomplish when he's not concerned with who gets the credit."
"If two people always agree on everything, one of them is not necessary."
-Authors will not be identified so everyone can agree these are pretty good statements.
I had a couple of really interesting conversations this week. I guess you can call a rapid exchange of emails a conversation these days. Between my work with the Governor and my ministry, I probably receive and reply to at least a hundred or so emails a day. I know I spend an awful lot of time typing. But a couple of email conversations I had this week were a bit more thought provoking than the rest - if only because they were basically identical, only in reverse.
A lot of people figure since I work in a very political environment that I am always interested in talking politics. They also assume that I have very firm political leanings or a particular political party that I'm anxious to defend or promote. And honestly, they're right - partly.
Interestingly enough, early this week, on the same day, I received two emails - one from a very staunch Republican and another from a true yellow-dog Democrat. Both were cordial and friendly. The pachyderm was singing the praises of Abraham Lincoln, Ronald Reagan and current President Bush. The donkey was worshipping Franklin D. Roosevelt, JFK and Bill Clinton. Many politicians and governmental leaders are convinced they are a savior of sorts in many ways. This is why.
There are a multitude of political parties and organizations out there. Obviously, in our country the Ds and the Rs are the biggest and most influential. And I am convinced they are also one of our country's biggest stepping stones/stumbling blocks. Both of the guys I "chatted" with this week were completely sold on their respective political parties. It's good to have a rallying point, so I have no issues there. But neither would even admit that anyone associated with the opposing party was much more than human. The words and names they used were ugly, mean and unnecessary. It was disappointing to read, and dangerously narrow.
Both fellas took their jabs directly from their party's talking points. It was an echo of the same things you hear on the talking head TV shows. Both had more to say about the other party's infidelities and weaknesses and corruption than they did their own party's philosophy and platform. Both were reluctant to even acknowledge their own camp's problems and indiscretions. And when they did, it was totally excusable and no one else's business - unless someone from the other side did it. They each took great pleasure in beating up the other's humans. Neither was willing to even consider there could be good people and productive policy somewhere on the other side. They'd drawn their lines and it was on something as flimsy as a political label and nothing more.
I'm around politics everyday. I work in the middle of it. I've studied it, eyed it, promoted it and regretted it. I've watched good and helpful legislation get buried, ignored or defeated because someone from the "wrong" political party drafted it. I've seen otherwise cordial and respectable men and women who started out ready to serve the people who elected them get backed into corners, threatened into deals, and rendered ineffective because they didn't play with the right team. The object of the game has become, "beat the other guy only because he's not one of us," instead of, "work together and serve the people who sent us here." And some of the ways this is done is ugly and most hypocritical. We have some pretty unrighteous people throwing some awfully big stones.
Thanks to big media, those of us who vote now are not only segregated by a letter, an animal and a philosophy, but now we're assigned a color. You now live in either a red state or a blue state. And thanks to technology, your county, your city and your voting precinct is colored in as well. Just one more thing to mark us and separate us.
We have enough reasons to divide ourselves. Atheist versus believer. Christian versus Muslim versus Jew versus Hindu and all the rest. Protestant versus Catholic versus those folks who claim they're Christian but probably neither. Then there are enough split-off churches to confuse Confucius. We all need a place to go, a place to belong. But belonging to one place does not mean discounting everyone who belongs somewhere else.
I enjoyed the exchange I had with my political friends. Ultimately, I agreed with neither of them on everything, but both of them on some things. I wonder how Jesus would register if he voted in America today.
"It's amazing how much a man can accomplish when he's not concerned with who gets the credit."
"If two people always agree on everything, one of them is not necessary."
-Authors will not be identified so everyone can agree these are pretty good statements.
1.15.2006
dreaming of getting along
It is said that most Hatfields had no idea why they hated the McCoys. It was just expected, because Hatfields hate McCoys and vice-versa. Neither chose to be born to one family or the other, but once you were delivered into the clan, you were marked for hate and expected to return the affection. It's so hard for me to imagine that any person could hate another, especially for things that cannot be chosen or controlled.
Hate is never good and is certainly not the mark of anyone who wants to call themselves a follower of Christ. It may show itself in a variety of ways, but prejudice, however it is expressed, is still a form of hatred.
“I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed; ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'"
Who wouldn't want that? Who wouldn't want to acknowledge and act out the creed that places every person on an equal plane - a place where every human being is afforded their own right to live, thrive and love? I recently read the entire text of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s famous "I Have A Dream" speech. He delivered it on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC in August of 1963. I wasn't even born, and I was only two years old when he was buried. But I have great admiration for this risk taking giant.
"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave-owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood." He went on to say, “I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with the little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.”
I know several folks who've been taught to look down on others who are not like them or don't measure up to a certain standard. I have Protestant friends who won't even consider Catholics to be their brothers. There are still congregations who are being led by prejudicial pastors to believe that they are God's only chosen and everyone else is the enemy. I have a couple of friends who express their prejudice through sad ethnic jokes that belittle anyone who is not white, Baptist, at least middle-class, and a proud tax paying American from the south. I wonder where their thinking was first molded. I'd like to know who planted the seeds of self-superiority in their minds. That kind of thinking certainly isn't found in the teachings of Christ.
Dr. King had some tremendous examples in his own life. His mother was known as a Godly woman who served her community and her church with a generous heart. Only six years after her famous son's death, she too was gunned down while she played the organ during a Sunday morning church service in Atlanta. After losing a son and his wife to hate and prejudice, Rev. Martin Luther King, Sr. said at his wife's funeral on July 3rd 1974, "I cannot hate any man."
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. will always be a controversial figure. He didn't consider himself a saint, and he knew his human nature would always be his biggest weakness. But he was a risk taker. Some will always like him and give creed to his words only because he was a black man. Some will always hate him and completely disregard anything he had to say only because he was a black man. He wasn't asked if he wanted to be born in the south, black, a male, or with the name King. So beyond the man, his color, his heritage, and his geography, was the principle he promoted and died believing in. It was the same one that was espoused and documented by the worthy white men who framed the foundation of our country.
"...let freedom ring. And when we allow freedom to ring – when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.”
Hate is never good and is certainly not the mark of anyone who wants to call themselves a follower of Christ. It may show itself in a variety of ways, but prejudice, however it is expressed, is still a form of hatred.
“I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed; ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'"
Who wouldn't want that? Who wouldn't want to acknowledge and act out the creed that places every person on an equal plane - a place where every human being is afforded their own right to live, thrive and love? I recently read the entire text of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s famous "I Have A Dream" speech. He delivered it on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC in August of 1963. I wasn't even born, and I was only two years old when he was buried. But I have great admiration for this risk taking giant.
"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave-owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood." He went on to say, “I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with the little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.”
I know several folks who've been taught to look down on others who are not like them or don't measure up to a certain standard. I have Protestant friends who won't even consider Catholics to be their brothers. There are still congregations who are being led by prejudicial pastors to believe that they are God's only chosen and everyone else is the enemy. I have a couple of friends who express their prejudice through sad ethnic jokes that belittle anyone who is not white, Baptist, at least middle-class, and a proud tax paying American from the south. I wonder where their thinking was first molded. I'd like to know who planted the seeds of self-superiority in their minds. That kind of thinking certainly isn't found in the teachings of Christ.
Dr. King had some tremendous examples in his own life. His mother was known as a Godly woman who served her community and her church with a generous heart. Only six years after her famous son's death, she too was gunned down while she played the organ during a Sunday morning church service in Atlanta. After losing a son and his wife to hate and prejudice, Rev. Martin Luther King, Sr. said at his wife's funeral on July 3rd 1974, "I cannot hate any man."
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. will always be a controversial figure. He didn't consider himself a saint, and he knew his human nature would always be his biggest weakness. But he was a risk taker. Some will always like him and give creed to his words only because he was a black man. Some will always hate him and completely disregard anything he had to say only because he was a black man. He wasn't asked if he wanted to be born in the south, black, a male, or with the name King. So beyond the man, his color, his heritage, and his geography, was the principle he promoted and died believing in. It was the same one that was espoused and documented by the worthy white men who framed the foundation of our country.
"...let freedom ring. And when we allow freedom to ring – when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.”
12.31.2005
measure in love
*Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,
How do we measure, measure a year?
We have some great opportunities ahead of us. A whole new year with fresh months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and even seconds to do something meaningful and life-changing. How exciting is that? But maybe I'm jumping the gun.
I've never seen the Broadway play Rent. But I have seen the movie version, and I really liked it. I loved the music, and the talents of the actors/singers/musicians/dancers left me jealous and inspired. To me the story-line was dark, sort of depressing and mostly presented only one side of some pretty serious issues. But the lessons learned while I looked in on the gritty lives of a group of struggling but determined friends were invaluable. The presentation was very in-your-face, and the way some of the issues are raised and handled may go against your ideas and convictions. But I'd recommend catching it if you think you can see these characters as living real life in a real world. You'll either feel deep compassion for them in their struggles, or as one of my notable Christian friends said, "They brought their problems on themselves. They were just reaping the fruits of their lifestyles."
Distrust for the system, abundant trust in each other, dedication to their beliefs, and unconditional love among friends were the more obvious points I gathered while in the theater. You couldn't miss the obvious bonds that were formed among those who were living a tough, unforgiving inner city life together. Death, disease and disdain from the "normal" world were very real. But the less obvious thought that kept crossing my mind was how all of these characters seemed to value and treasure their time together. It's like they knew their days and opportunities were limited, so they took full advantage of every moment. Thus the song, "Seasons of Love," and the lyrics about all the minutes.
This brings me back to the great opportunities that are ahead of us. Imagine our minutes were the talents Jesus spoke about in Matthew 25. The Master has trusted you with something very valuable. So, this year you and I will have 12 months or 52 weeks or 365 days or 8,760 hours or 525,600 minutes or 31,536,000 seconds to risk ourselves while we show charity and mercy to those who need it most, or we can waste every moment on protecting what we have for one more year. I'd like to be able to look back at this time in 2006 and say I invested and spent my minutes wisely - measured in love.
We have some great opportunities ahead of us. A whole new year with fresh months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and even seconds to do something meaningful and life-changing. How exciting is that? But maybe I'm jumping the gun.
I've never seen the Broadway play Rent. But I have seen the movie version, and I really liked it. I loved the music, and the talents of the actors/singers/musicians/dancers left me jealous and inspired. To me the story-line was dark, sort of depressing and mostly presented only one side of some pretty serious issues. But the lessons learned while I looked in on the gritty lives of a group of struggling but determined friends were invaluable. The presentation was very in-your-face, and the way some of the issues are raised and handled may go against your ideas and convictions. But I'd recommend catching it if you think you can see these characters as living real life in a real world. You'll either feel deep compassion for them in their struggles, or as one of my notable Christian friends said, "They brought their problems on themselves. They were just reaping the fruits of their lifestyles."
Distrust for the system, abundant trust in each other, dedication to their beliefs, and unconditional love among friends were the more obvious points I gathered while in the theater. You couldn't miss the obvious bonds that were formed among those who were living a tough, unforgiving inner city life together. Death, disease and disdain from the "normal" world were very real. But the less obvious thought that kept crossing my mind was how all of these characters seemed to value and treasure their time together. It's like they knew their days and opportunities were limited, so they took full advantage of every moment. Thus the song, "Seasons of Love," and the lyrics about all the minutes.
This brings me back to the great opportunities that are ahead of us. Imagine our minutes were the talents Jesus spoke about in Matthew 25. The Master has trusted you with something very valuable. So, this year you and I will have 12 months or 52 weeks or 365 days or 8,760 hours or 525,600 minutes or 31,536,000 seconds to risk ourselves while we show charity and mercy to those who need it most, or we can waste every moment on protecting what we have for one more year. I'd like to be able to look back at this time in 2006 and say I invested and spent my minutes wisely - measured in love.
Seasons of Love
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,
How do we measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee,
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes.
How do we measure a year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes.
How do we measure the life of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried,
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.
It’s time now to sing out tho’ the story never ends.
Let’s celebrate! Remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love.
Remember the love.
Remember the love.
Measure the love.
Measure the love.
Seasons of love.
Seasons of love.
12.25.2005
happy birthday grace!
I love the music. I love the commercials. I love the specials on TV. I love the lights, the ribbons, the holly, the poinsettias, the ornaments and the candy canes. I love the cider and the cookies. I love the gifts, the giving and the shopping. I love the feeling and the opportunities to serve. I just love this time of year. I love everything Christmas!
I don't usually join the chorus when I hear well-meaning believers complain that our society has conspired to rob us of the true meaning of Christmas. I actually see it the other way around. Without even realizing they've done it; our society, its commerce and government has acknowledged the most world-changing event in the history of AD.
I'm sure it wasn't their intent, but millions of shoppers got up early and thousands of stores opened their doors because a savior was born. Businesses stake their survival on it, and families plan reunions around it. Government, commerce, banks and post offices take the day off regardless of their religious beliefs - on Christmas day.
It was a mark in the history of the world that will forever be celebrated. Whether we gather around a nativity, a tree or both, we all declare that our lives are better and worth living because of the events of that otherwise normal day. But oh, what a day it was when grace was born.
I don't usually join the chorus when I hear well-meaning believers complain that our society has conspired to rob us of the true meaning of Christmas. I actually see it the other way around. Without even realizing they've done it; our society, its commerce and government has acknowledged the most world-changing event in the history of AD.
I'm sure it wasn't their intent, but millions of shoppers got up early and thousands of stores opened their doors because a savior was born. Businesses stake their survival on it, and families plan reunions around it. Government, commerce, banks and post offices take the day off regardless of their religious beliefs - on Christmas day.
It was a mark in the history of the world that will forever be celebrated. Whether we gather around a nativity, a tree or both, we all declare that our lives are better and worth living because of the events of that otherwise normal day. But oh, what a day it was when grace was born.
12.17.2005
pay it forward
I'm feeling anxious. Some friends and I have decided to volunteer again to serve at the Salvation Army on Christmas day. Debbie, the person in charge of operations at the Lexington center asked me to come sing to their guests while they enjoy their Christmas dinner. I jumped at the chance, then invited some friends along to help dish out the courses and be real servants on the day that marks giving more than any other. Now we're anxious to get to work.
Not everyone has the opportunity to do something like this on Christmas day. Family and other things require their attention. And that is fine. Those obligations are important, and should be encouraged. But for those of us who have the chance to do something for someone else on such a special day, we should take advantage of it, ante up to the challenge, and thank God for the opportunity that we have to manifest the love of Christ to others who deserve nothing less than to be honored and served regardless of their label or status.
A friend of mine is the host of a local morning radio talk show. As a matter of fact, next to Rush Limbaugh, his hours on the air everyday are probably the most listened to in central Kentucky. He covers everything from local, state and national politics to University of Kentucky Wildcat sports to hot topics like replacing "Merry Christmas" with "Happy Holidays." (He's also a national sports broadcaster that most college sports fans would probably recognize.) Dave Baker is a shaper of thought in his coverage area and beyond.
Not long ago Dave had a caller on the air who challenged every listener to pay it forward. I'd seen the movie of the same name several years ago, so I was familiar with the idea. But I hadn't practiced the concept routinely. I'm glad I was reminded of it again. It is a simple and kind thing to do - paying it forward. All you do is make the decision that you are going to help someone in some way, indiscriminately. No one is disqualified from your generosity. You do not preselect who you are going to bless, you simply say to yourself, "The next person I come into personal contact with, I am going to pay it forward." We do it all the time with our frustration and anger when we cut someone short or offer rude stares. Let's do it with our kindness.
I've paid for gas, bought coffee, covered an electric bill, treated someone to a meal, and even purchased a coat for a cold Salvation Army bell ringer. You get some strange looks when you do such things. I've been stared at and even been held in suspicion by a person or two. One guy wanted to know if I thought he didn't have the money to pay for his own food. He wanted me to know that he did. I told him I had been touched by others, blessed by the Lord and wanted to pay it forward. I encouraged him to do the same since he could afford to. That is the object of the concept. Just the other day I was praying in my car and told the Lord I wanted to pay it forward with the next opportunity I had. I turned on the radio and heard of a local toy drive. I thanked the Lord and went to Walmart.
We've all been blessed. Most all of us work hard, and some are able to do more than others. But according to what we can do, we should help the neighbors we've been blessed to know, honor the strangers we hope to know better, and reach out to anyone who has a need we can supply - even if only in small ways.
Let me encourage you; without hesitation, without prejudice, without pride, without selfishness, go ahead and pay it forward.
Not everyone has the opportunity to do something like this on Christmas day. Family and other things require their attention. And that is fine. Those obligations are important, and should be encouraged. But for those of us who have the chance to do something for someone else on such a special day, we should take advantage of it, ante up to the challenge, and thank God for the opportunity that we have to manifest the love of Christ to others who deserve nothing less than to be honored and served regardless of their label or status.
A friend of mine is the host of a local morning radio talk show. As a matter of fact, next to Rush Limbaugh, his hours on the air everyday are probably the most listened to in central Kentucky. He covers everything from local, state and national politics to University of Kentucky Wildcat sports to hot topics like replacing "Merry Christmas" with "Happy Holidays." (He's also a national sports broadcaster that most college sports fans would probably recognize.) Dave Baker is a shaper of thought in his coverage area and beyond.
Not long ago Dave had a caller on the air who challenged every listener to pay it forward. I'd seen the movie of the same name several years ago, so I was familiar with the idea. But I hadn't practiced the concept routinely. I'm glad I was reminded of it again. It is a simple and kind thing to do - paying it forward. All you do is make the decision that you are going to help someone in some way, indiscriminately. No one is disqualified from your generosity. You do not preselect who you are going to bless, you simply say to yourself, "The next person I come into personal contact with, I am going to pay it forward." We do it all the time with our frustration and anger when we cut someone short or offer rude stares. Let's do it with our kindness.
I've paid for gas, bought coffee, covered an electric bill, treated someone to a meal, and even purchased a coat for a cold Salvation Army bell ringer. You get some strange looks when you do such things. I've been stared at and even been held in suspicion by a person or two. One guy wanted to know if I thought he didn't have the money to pay for his own food. He wanted me to know that he did. I told him I had been touched by others, blessed by the Lord and wanted to pay it forward. I encouraged him to do the same since he could afford to. That is the object of the concept. Just the other day I was praying in my car and told the Lord I wanted to pay it forward with the next opportunity I had. I turned on the radio and heard of a local toy drive. I thanked the Lord and went to Walmart.
We've all been blessed. Most all of us work hard, and some are able to do more than others. But according to what we can do, we should help the neighbors we've been blessed to know, honor the strangers we hope to know better, and reach out to anyone who has a need we can supply - even if only in small ways.
Let me encourage you; without hesitation, without prejudice, without pride, without selfishness, go ahead and pay it forward.
11.25.2005
thankful to serve
Like most American families, ours gathered around the matriarch/patriarch house to share a Thanksgiving meal that gave us plenty to be grateful for this year. Like most of those same families, pretty much the only time every member of the clan is in the same room is when the prayer is offered and the digging in begins. After each Bishop has taken their portion out of the bowl or off of the bird, everyone scatters around the house to find a place to settle and eat.
The football fans find the tube with the games, the kids park in front of the cartoons. Some grown ups sit in the kitchen, others in the dining room. Clusters of family are scattered here and there - everyone sorted by their interests and entertainment. Not really the Norman Rockwell scene we'd all like to emulate, but the family is together, and that is good.
This year was even a little more scattered than usual. My daughter Casie, my youngest brother Chris and I decided to try and give this year by feeding others before stuffing ourselves. The Salvation Army typically feeds a hearty Thanksgiving meal to over 500 family members and loners in the Lexington area at their Main Street shelter downtown. So, the three of us volunteered to help. We signed up to serve tables, greet the guests and honor them like the precious jewels they are. I ended up singing eight or ten songs to one of the most beautiful bouquets of people I've ever had the opportunity to share a room with.
As I stood on that little platform and made my music, I watched Casie and several other teenage volunteers learn the value of life at every level and background. Casie told me later that even the migrant workers whom she couldn't understand were able to communicate their appreciation to her and the others who treated them with unbiased dignity, compassion and respect. Several widows and widowers who'd lost their companions since the last holiday season didn't want to eat alone, so they volunteered to serve others this year. Whole families who appreciate their own fortunate circumstances decided this year to bless others who've not known like comforts. Even Governor Ernie Fletcher and his wife Glenna left the Governor's Mansion, donned red aprons and became servants to a room full of people who most likely don't even vote.
The Salvation Army truly lives compassion and servant-hood. I have such enormous admiration and respect for anyone and any organization that acts and gives as Christ-like as it preaches. Every year they plan, organize and implement a simple idea that is a very complex task. And they trust that God will provide all of the parts to make a bounty like this available to those who would consider a KFC snack feast enough.
The three of us eventually made it back to the family table. But we were certainly able to enjoy our own heaping plates more fully because of our own experience as servants to others. I hope your Thanksgiving was just as blessed.
The football fans find the tube with the games, the kids park in front of the cartoons. Some grown ups sit in the kitchen, others in the dining room. Clusters of family are scattered here and there - everyone sorted by their interests and entertainment. Not really the Norman Rockwell scene we'd all like to emulate, but the family is together, and that is good.
This year was even a little more scattered than usual. My daughter Casie, my youngest brother Chris and I decided to try and give this year by feeding others before stuffing ourselves. The Salvation Army typically feeds a hearty Thanksgiving meal to over 500 family members and loners in the Lexington area at their Main Street shelter downtown. So, the three of us volunteered to help. We signed up to serve tables, greet the guests and honor them like the precious jewels they are. I ended up singing eight or ten songs to one of the most beautiful bouquets of people I've ever had the opportunity to share a room with.
As I stood on that little platform and made my music, I watched Casie and several other teenage volunteers learn the value of life at every level and background. Casie told me later that even the migrant workers whom she couldn't understand were able to communicate their appreciation to her and the others who treated them with unbiased dignity, compassion and respect. Several widows and widowers who'd lost their companions since the last holiday season didn't want to eat alone, so they volunteered to serve others this year. Whole families who appreciate their own fortunate circumstances decided this year to bless others who've not known like comforts. Even Governor Ernie Fletcher and his wife Glenna left the Governor's Mansion, donned red aprons and became servants to a room full of people who most likely don't even vote.
The Salvation Army truly lives compassion and servant-hood. I have such enormous admiration and respect for anyone and any organization that acts and gives as Christ-like as it preaches. Every year they plan, organize and implement a simple idea that is a very complex task. And they trust that God will provide all of the parts to make a bounty like this available to those who would consider a KFC snack feast enough.
The three of us eventually made it back to the family table. But we were certainly able to enjoy our own heaping plates more fully because of our own experience as servants to others. I hope your Thanksgiving was just as blessed.
11.23.2005
praying for the judge (me)
A friend sent this prayer to me today. I wanted to share it with you.
Heavenly Father, help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours yesterday and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.
Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.
Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.
Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that this could be the last year that they go shopping together.
Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts You give us, the greatest gift is love.
It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not to just those who are close to us, but to all humanity.
Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive. Help us show patience, empathy and love.
Amen.
Heavenly Father, help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours yesterday and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.
Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.
Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.
Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that this could be the last year that they go shopping together.
Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts You give us, the greatest gift is love.
It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not to just those who are close to us, but to all humanity.
Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive. Help us show patience, empathy and love.
Amen.
11.21.2005
really good gossip
If gossip were a fuel there'd be no energy shortage at all. What is it that makes a person so ready to share someone else's embarrassment, misfortune, grief and issues? Does it give them a sense of value to feel they own a bit of information that comes across as entertaining at best and destructive at worst?
I don't expect to open a newspaper and read that an elected official has done a good job at governing. It's not because that public servant isn't getting good things done. That sort of news just doesn't sell papers. (And certain newspapers have vendettas against certain elected officials.) It's not routine for the television news to report a great act of charity. Good news doesn't get ratings that translate into revenue. Gossip magazines and television shows that circle celebrities like vultures twenty four hours a day are willing to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for that one photo of an A level star in a moment of apparent (or not) compromise. And the courts have basically freed them all from any standard of truth telling. But regardless, it is the hope of dollars that motivates the professional gossips. But what motivates a gossiping person who has nothing apparent to gain?
There was a time when I was a willing participant when it came to sharing the failures and faux pas of others with a group of willing and curious ears. The satisfaction and even the delight of having a bit of information on a so-and-so that others didn't have gave me a sense of esteem. Then knowing that the juicy little bit of tale toting that I'd just shared might be retold (with me getting the credit of course) made me feel even more important. It should've made me ashamed.
The destructive force of gossip had to be reason enough for Paul to list it as a top level offense. And even if such a man of God didn't mention it, knowing the harm and hurt that it causes is reason enough for a person with compassion or a desire to be like Christ to never let it be their practice.
There aren't very many days that go by that I don't hear some sort of unnecessary chatter about someone I know. Honestly, most of the time much of the information I hear is about me. Which is fine. I'd much rather they bring their blather about me to me than to continue the tale-chain. Maybe it's because I've been the subject of so much unforgiving and painful talk that I've decided not to participate in the easy evil any longer. It serves only the purposes of the person whose lips are moving. It says a lot about their heart too.
Gossip has destroyed a lot of reputations. Mostly the ones of those doing the talking.
I don't expect to open a newspaper and read that an elected official has done a good job at governing. It's not because that public servant isn't getting good things done. That sort of news just doesn't sell papers. (And certain newspapers have vendettas against certain elected officials.) It's not routine for the television news to report a great act of charity. Good news doesn't get ratings that translate into revenue. Gossip magazines and television shows that circle celebrities like vultures twenty four hours a day are willing to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for that one photo of an A level star in a moment of apparent (or not) compromise. And the courts have basically freed them all from any standard of truth telling. But regardless, it is the hope of dollars that motivates the professional gossips. But what motivates a gossiping person who has nothing apparent to gain?
There was a time when I was a willing participant when it came to sharing the failures and faux pas of others with a group of willing and curious ears. The satisfaction and even the delight of having a bit of information on a so-and-so that others didn't have gave me a sense of esteem. Then knowing that the juicy little bit of tale toting that I'd just shared might be retold (with me getting the credit of course) made me feel even more important. It should've made me ashamed.
The destructive force of gossip had to be reason enough for Paul to list it as a top level offense. And even if such a man of God didn't mention it, knowing the harm and hurt that it causes is reason enough for a person with compassion or a desire to be like Christ to never let it be their practice.
There aren't very many days that go by that I don't hear some sort of unnecessary chatter about someone I know. Honestly, most of the time much of the information I hear is about me. Which is fine. I'd much rather they bring their blather about me to me than to continue the tale-chain. Maybe it's because I've been the subject of so much unforgiving and painful talk that I've decided not to participate in the easy evil any longer. It serves only the purposes of the person whose lips are moving. It says a lot about their heart too.
Gossip has destroyed a lot of reputations. Mostly the ones of those doing the talking.
11.12.2005
read john fischer
I've just finished reading John Fischer's book 12 Steps for the Recovering Pharisee (like me) for the third time. I can't seem to put it down. I expect I'll read it again just as soon as I finish reading another of his books Love Him in the Morning.
I knew who John Fischer was before reading these books, but I didn't really know who he WAS until I started looking for his materials and keeping up with his writings. I'd read a couple of his pieces in CCM magazine and other publications, but this 12 Steps... book has really turned me on to his way of thinking and responding to grace. You've gotta get it and maybe even be like me and read it more than once. Every time I reread a chapter (he calls them steps) I get the wow! of a first time read.
From Step 7: (Bible reference 1 Corinthians 15:9-10)
More of God, more awareness of sin. The more I see of God, the more I am aware of that in me that is not of God. That's why Paul's statement here is in the present tense: "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst." Paul experiences a continual awareness of his sin nature. I would want to say I was the worst of sinners... but not Paul. The reality of his sin was as current and fresh as the reality of God's grace. Paul knew that he couldn't really know God's grace without knowing his sin and how little he deserved what he was receiving. Deserve it, and it is no longer grace.
Is that powerful or what!
John has several other books that I am anxious to get hold of. His newest is called Confessions of a Caffeinated Christian. That's the next book on my list. When you get a chance, take the time to visit the Fischtank at www.fischtank.com. You'll be able to spend hours reading John's previous periodical writings, going through the lyrics of his many songs, and get an idea of why God is using him to open lots of eyes and expose us to our own sense of religious pride - the kind that has kept many good hearted believers safe in their pews and out of the dangerous places.
I knew who John Fischer was before reading these books, but I didn't really know who he WAS until I started looking for his materials and keeping up with his writings. I'd read a couple of his pieces in CCM magazine and other publications, but this 12 Steps... book has really turned me on to his way of thinking and responding to grace. You've gotta get it and maybe even be like me and read it more than once. Every time I reread a chapter (he calls them steps) I get the wow! of a first time read.
From Step 7: (Bible reference 1 Corinthians 15:9-10)
More of God, more awareness of sin. The more I see of God, the more I am aware of that in me that is not of God. That's why Paul's statement here is in the present tense: "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst." Paul experiences a continual awareness of his sin nature. I would want to say I was the worst of sinners... but not Paul. The reality of his sin was as current and fresh as the reality of God's grace. Paul knew that he couldn't really know God's grace without knowing his sin and how little he deserved what he was receiving. Deserve it, and it is no longer grace.
Is that powerful or what!
John has several other books that I am anxious to get hold of. His newest is called Confessions of a Caffeinated Christian. That's the next book on my list. When you get a chance, take the time to visit the Fischtank at www.fischtank.com. You'll be able to spend hours reading John's previous periodical writings, going through the lyrics of his many songs, and get an idea of why God is using him to open lots of eyes and expose us to our own sense of religious pride - the kind that has kept many good hearted believers safe in their pews and out of the dangerous places.
11.10.2005
my girl is growing up
The most lovely and gorgeous girl in all the world turned seventeen today. My baby doll daughter Casie is a beautiful young lady now. Her attitude, spirit and demeanor are just as beautiful as her pretty face. I couldn't be more proud of her. Happy birthday CayRay!! You'll always be Daddy's girl forever and ever.
11.09.2005
recording grace
The excitement is building on this end as we begin the actual recording process for my first solo recording in nearly ten years. I was in the studio earlier this week beginning the tracking process. In case you aren't really sure what tracking is, the first step of actually recording only comes after weeks and sometimes months of preplanning that includes negotiating contracts; praying for creative and message direction; putting out feelers to song writers; selecting a producer; writing, gathering and choosing song material; creative meetings; booking musicians, studios and engineers; and arranging music. Now we are ready to make some noise.
This week I was at Masterfonics Studio Six in Nashville with my producer Woody Wright, engineer Pete Green and his assistant Chris Carroll and musicians Gary Prim on the piano and keys, Paul Leim on the drums and percussion, Mark Hill on the bass guitars and Biff Watson with Jeff King on the guitars. There are several more instruments to add before the music is finished. We had a blast!
I am really so anxious to let you hear the music we made. But there is still a lot more that has to be done. We have the basic rhythm tracks and a few lead instruments down now. But the additional instruments, along with some great background vocals and guest voice appearances to record will make it a super project. The record won't be ready for consumption until late spring next year, and waiting is gonna be a booger. As a matter of fact, Woody and I were talking yesterday about our excitement to finish the recording. I think we're both feeling really inspired right now.
This record is all about grace, mercy, love, forgiveness and acceptance. I think at first there were some who were a little concerned that I wanted to keep the message so singularly focused. They were worried that people would get bored with ten songs that basically say the same thing. However, I think those folks are going to be really happy with our decision to make this project so message driven. Grace covers a lot of ground, and there is a lot to be said about it. I think you'll be thrilled with what you hear too. How can anyone ever get too much grace?
This week I was at Masterfonics Studio Six in Nashville with my producer Woody Wright, engineer Pete Green and his assistant Chris Carroll and musicians Gary Prim on the piano and keys, Paul Leim on the drums and percussion, Mark Hill on the bass guitars and Biff Watson with Jeff King on the guitars. There are several more instruments to add before the music is finished. We had a blast!
I am really so anxious to let you hear the music we made. But there is still a lot more that has to be done. We have the basic rhythm tracks and a few lead instruments down now. But the additional instruments, along with some great background vocals and guest voice appearances to record will make it a super project. The record won't be ready for consumption until late spring next year, and waiting is gonna be a booger. As a matter of fact, Woody and I were talking yesterday about our excitement to finish the recording. I think we're both feeling really inspired right now.
This record is all about grace, mercy, love, forgiveness and acceptance. I think at first there were some who were a little concerned that I wanted to keep the message so singularly focused. They were worried that people would get bored with ten songs that basically say the same thing. However, I think those folks are going to be really happy with our decision to make this project so message driven. Grace covers a lot of ground, and there is a lot to be said about it. I think you'll be thrilled with what you hear too. How can anyone ever get too much grace?
10.21.2005
really important choices
It's been a while since I've been to a high school football game. In the south, the weekly ritual of fans, bands, teams, cheerleaders, mascots and local politicians gathering around a manicured, painted and roughed-up field to root for their local favorite is akin to a Sunday morning church experience. That's where I was last night.
The hottest ticket in town this weekend was to watch the University of Kentucky basketball team take the floor and, well, practice. It wasn't a game - just practice. But it's an annual tradition that native and transplanted Kentuckians all over the country plan for all year long. It's called Big Blue Madness, and they come from everywhere to watch the future champions begin their journey to the Final Four. According to the local paper, over twenty-three thousand tickets were snatched up in less than four days. (I have to tell you, the Lexington newspaper is not known as a reliable source for unbiased info on much of anything. However, their coverage of Wildcat basketball and the obituaries are usually fairly accurate.)
But why would I want to be there when I could be in Irvine, Kentucky watching the Estill County Engineers play their hearts out at a high school football game? The team was getting thumped. But I was there to see the cheerleaders. Well, one of them anyway.
I had just had a conversation earlier in the week with my daughter Casie. I told her that I was disappointed that I hadn't been able to see her cheer this season. She said she'd let me know when the next game was so I could watch her in action. I learned yesterday it was last night. The same night as the Madness. And four of those hot, in-demand tickets had my name on them. In fact, they were proudly in my pocket when I got the call that notified me of Casie's upcoming performance. This was a conundrum for sure. Until I thought about it.
Huge, must-see annual event featuring future star athletes,lights, lasers, smoke and hot nachos in a massive, state-of-the-art arena!
- VS -
Chilly, weekly event that showcases the athletic talents of a future teacher or engineer (Estill countians will like that) while sitting on cold, metal bleachers sipping pop/water.
Obviously, I went to the football game. For one thing, Casie was there. And so was Christian. That was reason enough. But I also had the chance to visit with friends I hadn't seen in weeks, show pride for the most important girl in my life, support a local school club with my concession stand splurges and wipe hot chocolate off my son's face. Now what could be more valuable than that?
The hottest ticket in town this weekend was to watch the University of Kentucky basketball team take the floor and, well, practice. It wasn't a game - just practice. But it's an annual tradition that native and transplanted Kentuckians all over the country plan for all year long. It's called Big Blue Madness, and they come from everywhere to watch the future champions begin their journey to the Final Four. According to the local paper, over twenty-three thousand tickets were snatched up in less than four days. (I have to tell you, the Lexington newspaper is not known as a reliable source for unbiased info on much of anything. However, their coverage of Wildcat basketball and the obituaries are usually fairly accurate.)
But why would I want to be there when I could be in Irvine, Kentucky watching the Estill County Engineers play their hearts out at a high school football game? The team was getting thumped. But I was there to see the cheerleaders. Well, one of them anyway.
I had just had a conversation earlier in the week with my daughter Casie. I told her that I was disappointed that I hadn't been able to see her cheer this season. She said she'd let me know when the next game was so I could watch her in action. I learned yesterday it was last night. The same night as the Madness. And four of those hot, in-demand tickets had my name on them. In fact, they were proudly in my pocket when I got the call that notified me of Casie's upcoming performance. This was a conundrum for sure. Until I thought about it.
Huge, must-see annual event featuring future star athletes,lights, lasers, smoke and hot nachos in a massive, state-of-the-art arena!
- VS -
Chilly, weekly event that showcases the athletic talents of a future teacher or engineer (Estill countians will like that) while sitting on cold, metal bleachers sipping pop/water.
Obviously, I went to the football game. For one thing, Casie was there. And so was Christian. That was reason enough. But I also had the chance to visit with friends I hadn't seen in weeks, show pride for the most important girl in my life, support a local school club with my concession stand splurges and wipe hot chocolate off my son's face. Now what could be more valuable than that?
blind loyalty
It's just a truck. And the only reason I'm even driving it is because mine is on the fritz. I have a weekend full of stuff going on that takes me from Lexington to Alexandria, Indiana to Detroit and back, and I had to have something reliable to drive. The car rental folks didn't have the smaller car I'd reserved, (gas prices and all) so they upgraded me to a nice big Dodge Ram truck (so much for the gas idea). That's when I became aware of what seems to be the battle of the big trucks.
Evidently the folks who drive the big Dodges, Chevrolets, GMCs and Fords are all in direct competition with each other. There must be some features and traits that make a person want one truck over another, but from what I've learned these last couple of days, it seems to be more of a pride thing than anything else. It didn't take me long to learn either. I hadn't been behind the wheel but just a few minutes when I got the thumbs up from a fellow Ram tough driver and a couple of direct challenges and snarls from some non-Dodge men in their own non-Dodge trucks. I couldn't tell you the differences in them myself. So I wasn't even aware of what was going on at first.
Labels. They make for great marketing. People will pay a lot more for their favorite logo, and pledge allegiance to their brand of choice many times simply because it is the popular thing to do. Younger folks need to be seen in the right clothes to be accepted by certain groups. Their jeans, shorts, shirts, shoes and even their underwear has to have the hip logo somewhere in view, or they just won't fit in. Any business executive who wants to appear successful has to flash the proper signature or their credentials could be called into question. Look at their briefcases, sunglasses, luggage, suits, shoes and ties for proof. I've talked to enough of them to know how important this is to them and their image.
If it isn't pride that causes us to choose one brand over another, it's probably our loyalty to heritage that does. I know life long Republicans and Democrats who are what they are just because their family always has been. Party platforms aside, they will find a good reason to be loyal even if they don't believe it themselves. I wait with a great sense of longing for a time that most likely will not come when allegiance to principle will mean more than the proper name of the political group. Sometimes even when they agree on an issue, the leaders of our government can't say it publicly for fear of supporting an opposing party's initiative. If we all hope to achieve the same thing, working together would be a great way to do it.
We do it in church too. There are a lot of political parties in our country. There are a million times as many different types of churches. How many times have you been to a gathering of Christians to hear someone get up and ask how many Baptists or Methodists or Pentecostals are in the house? We label ourselves. I understand that we have to call all of the varieties of belief something. But I actually know some who feel their denomination is superior to the others. Most don't feel they are exclusive, but some actually do. And some wear their denominational affiliation like a teenage preppy does their branded clothes. If we all hope to achieve the same thing, working together would be a great way to do it.
Loyalty is admirable. I am loyal to a lot of things and people. Some folks may feel my loyalties are valid, and some may not. But I hope my allegiance will not be a barrier to anyone. And I certainly don't want them to be cause to challenge the guy driving the other brand of truck when I don't even know why he's driving it.
Evidently the folks who drive the big Dodges, Chevrolets, GMCs and Fords are all in direct competition with each other. There must be some features and traits that make a person want one truck over another, but from what I've learned these last couple of days, it seems to be more of a pride thing than anything else. It didn't take me long to learn either. I hadn't been behind the wheel but just a few minutes when I got the thumbs up from a fellow Ram tough driver and a couple of direct challenges and snarls from some non-Dodge men in their own non-Dodge trucks. I couldn't tell you the differences in them myself. So I wasn't even aware of what was going on at first.
Labels. They make for great marketing. People will pay a lot more for their favorite logo, and pledge allegiance to their brand of choice many times simply because it is the popular thing to do. Younger folks need to be seen in the right clothes to be accepted by certain groups. Their jeans, shorts, shirts, shoes and even their underwear has to have the hip logo somewhere in view, or they just won't fit in. Any business executive who wants to appear successful has to flash the proper signature or their credentials could be called into question. Look at their briefcases, sunglasses, luggage, suits, shoes and ties for proof. I've talked to enough of them to know how important this is to them and their image.
If it isn't pride that causes us to choose one brand over another, it's probably our loyalty to heritage that does. I know life long Republicans and Democrats who are what they are just because their family always has been. Party platforms aside, they will find a good reason to be loyal even if they don't believe it themselves. I wait with a great sense of longing for a time that most likely will not come when allegiance to principle will mean more than the proper name of the political group. Sometimes even when they agree on an issue, the leaders of our government can't say it publicly for fear of supporting an opposing party's initiative. If we all hope to achieve the same thing, working together would be a great way to do it.
We do it in church too. There are a lot of political parties in our country. There are a million times as many different types of churches. How many times have you been to a gathering of Christians to hear someone get up and ask how many Baptists or Methodists or Pentecostals are in the house? We label ourselves. I understand that we have to call all of the varieties of belief something. But I actually know some who feel their denomination is superior to the others. Most don't feel they are exclusive, but some actually do. And some wear their denominational affiliation like a teenage preppy does their branded clothes. If we all hope to achieve the same thing, working together would be a great way to do it.
Loyalty is admirable. I am loyal to a lot of things and people. Some folks may feel my loyalties are valid, and some may not. But I hope my allegiance will not be a barrier to anyone. And I certainly don't want them to be cause to challenge the guy driving the other brand of truck when I don't even know why he's driving it.
10.08.2005
just because they belong to me
I wonder if God enjoys spending time with me the way I love being with my own kids. This is fall break week in my kid's school district, so we've had a chance to hang out and spend more time than usual with each other these past few days. I've had a blast. Christian and I traveled to North Carolina together this past weekend. All of those hours in the car with my son were a treat for me. I think he got bored. Casie and I have watched movies, shopped and eaten more in the last couple of days than is probably legal. Our excuse is the occasion. Daddy-daughter time.
I often lay down at night wondering what is on my kid's minds. What are they thinking? I can ask, but they don't often tell. I can't imagine that they are always thinking of video games, cars and boyfriends. But then again, maybe they are. I don't expect them to have me on their minds all the time, but do they ever think of me the way I think of them?
If you have kids, you know that it is impossible to think of life without them. Of course, I know some folks who don't have kids, and don't want any. They couldn't imagine life with them. But I'm in the former group. My life without my children in it would simply be incomplete and void of a certain element that I can't even explain. I get frustrated sometimes with my inability to express to Casie and Christian how very, very deep my love for them is. I wish there was a word for it. Or at least one they could understand.
I could imagine how corny it would sound to them for me to say, "You are my child, my blood, my creation. My love for you is agape." They'd say, "When do we eat?" They have no idea what agape means. But that is the closest word that explains the passion that I have for my children. They don't have to earn it, pay for it, manipulate it, convince me they deserve it, work it up or even appreciate my love. They don't have to understand what motivates it, or why it is so dependable. They are in a position to simply receive my love. And just as they can't do anything to make me love them any more, it is impossible for them to force me to stop loving them - try as they might. They are my children, and I will love them through the worst decision they will ever make, the ugliest moments of their lives and even when they resent it. That is agape love. Sound familiar?
I often lay down at night wondering what is on my kid's minds. What are they thinking? I can ask, but they don't often tell. I can't imagine that they are always thinking of video games, cars and boyfriends. But then again, maybe they are. I don't expect them to have me on their minds all the time, but do they ever think of me the way I think of them?
If you have kids, you know that it is impossible to think of life without them. Of course, I know some folks who don't have kids, and don't want any. They couldn't imagine life with them. But I'm in the former group. My life without my children in it would simply be incomplete and void of a certain element that I can't even explain. I get frustrated sometimes with my inability to express to Casie and Christian how very, very deep my love for them is. I wish there was a word for it. Or at least one they could understand.
I could imagine how corny it would sound to them for me to say, "You are my child, my blood, my creation. My love for you is agape." They'd say, "When do we eat?" They have no idea what agape means. But that is the closest word that explains the passion that I have for my children. They don't have to earn it, pay for it, manipulate it, convince me they deserve it, work it up or even appreciate my love. They don't have to understand what motivates it, or why it is so dependable. They are in a position to simply receive my love. And just as they can't do anything to make me love them any more, it is impossible for them to force me to stop loving them - try as they might. They are my children, and I will love them through the worst decision they will ever make, the ugliest moments of their lives and even when they resent it. That is agape love. Sound familiar?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)