Turn Down the Volume.

(The views I express on my blog are my own and they do not represent in any way the members of Trinity United Methodist Church or the United Methodist Church, okay?)

Our nation is in the middle of an "election cycle" (that is what the "talking heads" call it) and the volume just keeps getting louder and louder. Candidates from the fringe, or candidates who have grown desperate, are using their "outside voices" rather than their "inside voices" (these are phrases the mother of a 3-4 year old will understand). I think the rhetoric is dangerous.

During the last presidential election some people were questioning the patriotism of our current President. Which is a dangerous road to travel. Can't we disagree with someone on policy issues but respect the other person? Not take that next step and attempt to question their love for the republic or their character?

A local candidate for Congress has been accused, I saw in a banner ad on the internet last night, of promoting "anti-Christian causes." Billboards accuse him of promoting abortion. I know the man who is being attacked and he is a decent, hardworking man who is a Catholic Christian. And doesn't deserve to be "shamed" by billboards paid for by some Political Action Committee funded by folks we may never know. Down in Kentucky the Democratic candidate for Senator has brought up an incident that GOP-candidate Rand Paul was involved in as a college student more than 30 years ago, and the Democrat is suggesting Paul -a Presbyterian, I've been told- is somehow anti-Christian.

I worry for our country. Some politicans are deliberately playing to the fears and frustration of people. Much of that fear and frustration has been born of an economic recession that is severe. Policies at the national level, supported by both parties over multiple administrations, led up to the economic crash. As did personal decisions we all made to spend too much on the wrong things. But by pouring the gasoline of extreme rehetoric onto the fire of people's fears and anger and frustration politicans are damaging the country.

It is striking. In Exodus 16 the ex-slaves are marching across Sinai and they are scared. Don't see how they are going to be fed. So they turn on their leaders. They turn on Aaron and Moses. So it is. When people are scared they turn on their leaders. We want someone who can fix this -right now!

Here is what I long for: I long for thoughtful leaders of both political parties who will work together to solve the serious challenges facing our country. I long for political leaders who will work together for the common good and not be driven by a blind desire to make the other party look bad so they can "win" the next "election cycle." We're going to have get honest about crumbling infrastructure (including bridges, highways, neighborhoods and broken, dysfunctional families) and try new and creative solutions to things like the crisis in education. We're going to have to get honest about the price we are paying in Afghanistan and in not setting appropriate limits on well-meaning entitlement programs. We're all going to have to sacrifice so America can be strong, can be great, again. There will be no long-term gain without short-term pain.

My Grandpa Owen was a Republican politican who spent most of his working life as Chief Deputy Treasurer in the Indiana Statehouse. Bill Owen worked for -and was friends with- Democratic governors and state treasurers. He was also a fan of two strong political parties.
And I hear stories about how Democrat Representative Tip O'Neil would battle with President Reagan over policy questions and legislation, and then they would sit down together as friends for a drink.

America has been -and can be- a strong republic where courageous men and women work together for the good of the earth. I am praying we'll all turn down the volume. Disagree with one another on policies or philosophy but still respect one another as fellow citizens of a great nation. Let's turn down the volume. Let's respect one another. And let's view the more extreme claims of some candidates with a healthy dose of skepticism.

So How Did the Time Away Change You?

Three months. Twelve weeks. Time in Elkhart and Michigan and Europe and on a ship and in Florida. Time alone. Time with Sharon. Time with the family and our granddaughters. What did it mean? What did I learn?

A friend who went on a sabbatical several years ago told that you really don't fully understand what God has done in you for several months or years after you have returned. I have this image of a sort of "time release" of truth and change that will keep going off for weeks and months.

Here are some things I noticed/learned:

• Stopping is good. Many of us are on a treadmill that moves too fast and it is good to stop. My relationship with God grew and deepened when I stopped.
• I felt "lighter." I am someone who has been pretty serious. A problem solver. Thinking about the big challenges facing us. And I discovered it felt good not to be constantly thinking through how every big problem could be solved. I discovered I felt "lighter" the more I trusted God to handle the world. I realized it is okay to stop...to smile...to laugh... to play...and not to carry the responsibility of the world around on my shoulders 24/7.
• Joy is cool.
• One of the best gifts God has ever given us is ourselves. Sometimes we let the person God made us to be get covered up...papered over...and we need to be good stewards of our own heart and mind and body and soul.

So I've come back and as I do I think I will:

• Work hard to focus on a few essential tasks God needs for me to do here at Trinity.
• Do my best to "fit" into the way God has been at work in my absence. The staff and our leaders have developed a new rhythm while I have been away and I don't want to get in the way of the good that is happening!
• Do less and do it better.
• Love God and continue to make an extended time with God the first thing I do every morning.
• Don't even look at email until I am well into the day, and not do any work on-line in the evening unless it is absolutely necessary.
• Head home earlier. Remembering the lesson of our neighbor in Mishawaka. Carlton was a farmer and when it was time for supper he turned off the tractor and went home. Even if he was close to having a field planted or harvested. There was a time to stop because the work was never done.
• Listen to less news in the evening.
• Watch less tv.
• Spend time each week beginning the writing ministry our leaders have been nudging me to undertake.
• Do my best to finish writing the sermon on Wednesday so that every Friday I get a full day off.

In Psalm 51 David says "teach me wisdom in my secret heart." Later, he goes on to say, "Fill me with joy and gladness." God is, I say with thanksgiving, doing both in my life right now.

Every morning I begin with this prayer: "Jesus, thank you for this morning and this breath. Give me a sweet and joyful spirit, a soft and compassionate heart, and the courage to say and be who you need me to be today."

"So Were There Any God Moments?"

That's the question a friend asked me at breakfast this morning. I've been away on a three-month Lilly Endowment-sponsored sabbatical and my colleague asked me, "So were there any God moments? Did God speak to you?"

A group of us was sitting at a table at Perkins and I stammered...searched for words. "Yes," I finally said, "there were a lot of God moments." All sorts of memories and moments and places ran through my head.

There was time on the beach at South Haven, Michigan. Right at the beginning of the clergy leave. Walking. Reading. Swimming. Spending the day on the beach. Taking a break for lunch and then going back. Until it was time for supper. And then returning to see the sunset and walk along the sand under the stars. Psalm 8 tells us that the glory of God taps us on the shoulder as we look up at the stars.

Shortly after that Sharon and I were at the Art Institute in Chicago. The room that stopped me was full of paintings by Monet. The artist had a way of catching the light. Finding the light. Even in a stormy seascape...there is light breaking out in the waves and sky.

We took several trips over and back to Columbus. Visiting Ella and Olivia. Going to a nearby park. Playing in the pink "Princess Castle" tent set up in the dining room. We spent some time at local lakes -Koontz and Webster- where we swam and I water-skied. All good. Both those little girls have a way of releasing my heart from whatever prison has locked it away.

There were eight days on a ship crossing the Atlantic. I was on my own...Sharon gets seasick. So I read and walked the deck and swam in the pool and attended a few lectures. Mainly, though, I looked at the water and sky. Journaled.

Sharon and I then spent the better part of a week with good friends in a small town 50 km from Stuttgart. We took the train to Florence where all three adults sons, and their wives and children, met us for a week outside the Tuscan city of Lucca. The house we had looked down on a small town...a river valley. We swam. We sat and talked. We made pizza in a wood-fired oven. (My attempts were a spectacular failures!)

One evening we took Olivia and Ella down to the piazza of a small town in the evening for gelatto. People in Italy come out of their homes for the evening. Old men on benches. Young couples on dates. Children riding bicycles in the plaza. All under a full moon. Another evening we went back and I ended up dancing with Ella outdoors as people did karaoke (which sounds about as bad in Italian as it does in English!). We danced and she laid her head on my shoulder.

There were two days in Rome with Michael while some of the family flew home and others
-including Sharon- went to Paris. The girls and us played in the city parks. The Eiffel Tower was three blocks away and was the first thing we saw when we opened the windows. Sharon and I walked into Notre Dame just as evening vespers began. Light was pouring through the windows of the great church and a beautiful soprano voice was calling God's people to prayer.

The last chapter of the sabbatical included a Miata trip south. The Spirit of God surrounded me, filled me, as I spent three days with Trappist monks in an abbey in central Kentucky. We worshipped in the middle of the night, early in the morning, the middle of the day, and in the evening. I walked...I journaled...and prayed. And God wouldn't let me step away from his presence...it was an experience of such holiness that I sometimes felt like my soul needed to shout, "Glory and enough!"

Right after that I spent several days in Nashville. Going to the string of country and western clubs on Broadway. Listening late into the night to all sorts of music. Surrounded by people who aren't the sort of people I usually hang out with. It was great! I laughed. There was this lightness, this playfulness, this delight in trusting God to take care of the world while I just enjoyed the music and the place, and it was good.

I drove on south towards Florida. Through Alabama on a moon lit night with the top down on the Miata. At the end we spent a few days in Fort Myers. Reading. Walking the beach. Eating grouper. And then we headed towards home. Through the mountains of north Georgia where we left the interstate and found a beautiful, winding river we might have otherwise missed.

There have been so many moments when God has been so close... One of the most powerful experiences with God, though, took place this weekend at Trinity. Being home. Being with you. Looking out and seeing your faces. Singing great songs. Seeing what Jesus has to say to us in Luke 12 about how we can move beyond worry and anxiety over money. God is here...the floor and walls and air hum with the Presence of the God who is Creator, Redeemer and Spirit. Jesus is all over this place!

It was good. Oh, there was a bump here and there, now and then, but it was good. I am so grateful you let me go. And I am so very glad you have loved me back!