When you're young you don't fully understand the gift of showing up. (Or at least I didn't.) We're invited to a wedding, or a graduation party, or we know someone who has lost a person they love, and we don't think it is that big of a deal if we show up -or not. They'll barely notice you stuck there in the middle of the crowd, right?
As our boys graduated from high school I noticed what it meant to us when people showed up. People drove a couple of hours, people carved out a good part of a day, and they showed up when Bryan, Nathan and Michael graduated. We noticed. It meant something. Somewhere down deep inside we felt the reality of friendship's blessing. We also, on the other hand, noticed good friends who didn't show up. Most of them had good reasons but some just hadn't learned that love means showing up.
I thought of this today as I drove north to Lebanon, Indiana for the funeral service of a colleague. David Patrick was a 46 year old United Methodist pastor who did great work mentoring young pastors and served on the Board of Ordained Ministry with me. I didn't know him well. He had served most of his ministry in the "old" South Indiana Conference, and I have always hovered around the Michigan state line. Until we came to Bloomington I had never served a congregation south of #30! So we didn't know one another all that well but David was a brother.
When you are a United Methodist pastor you are a part of something we call "the connection." As I write that it almost sounds mysterious. Or threatening (like the word is a synonym for organized crime!). Whether you like it or not, whether your theology or ministry style or political ideas match those of the pastor serving down the road in a nearby United Methodist Church, you not only belong to Christ but you belong to one another.
So I drove north on this beautiful morning with the top on the Miata down, the music of the Rolling Stones and then Joshua Bell playing on the stereo, with a cup of coffee in my hand. I sat in the back of a packed sanctuary. The family will never know I was there. I believe David noticed. I believe that love means showing up if there is anyway to do that.
Paul, in Romans 12, says if we are in Christ we are a part of one body. The apostle says love is to be genuine (not faked...not a going-through-the-motions type of love). He summarizes the commandments and then finally says love does no wrong to a neighbor (13:10) and that, in fact, love is "fulfilling of the law." In verse 15 he encourages us to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.
Love means showing up (if there is anyway to do that).
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Little Lights.
I've traded a place on a beautiful river for a spot in a condo development. This is a good place. Surprisingly quiet...which is in sharp contrast to the student apartments four or five blocks up the hill and down. Things are a bit more lively there!
One of the unexpected treasures of this place -there are almost always unexpected treasures wherever we are- is the fact that Fenbrook has no street lights for about one quarter of a mile. Fenbrook is the east-west road that our street "t's" into forty yards from our house. Walk down the sloping street we live on and you hit Fenbrook. You turn right and follow the sidewalk and, at night, the world is surprisingly dark.
There is a large yard behind a house to the right, just past a small woods, and there are often three or four deer in there. When they see you they look up and stare at you as if to say, "Who do you think you are staring at us?" If you stop you can hear the frogs down in a nearby pond. They sound like basses with an attitude. If you lean back, on a night like tonight, the stars seem close enough to touch. The darkness of the street allows them to shine.
The really cool thing about late June is that the woods, along the creek that runs along the south side of the street, are full of lightning bugs. (Are they the same as fireflies?) So in the woods there are these flashes of light going off and on. The pattern seems random. I remember reading that the bugs light up as some kind of way of attracting a mate. So the words, you might say, are full of love. Wondering if lightning bugs have speed-dating opportunities?
The dark of the woods seems as solid as mahogany. Impenetrable. Then, the little lights flash on and off...here and there...high in the trees and then down low to the ground. It makes me smile. And, after I stand there for awhile, it causes me to say, "There is a God."
Only God would put together a universe where something so silly, so delightful, so absolutely unnecessary, as lightning bugs would -at 11:27 at night- light up the woods along the creek.
Psalm 8 says that the heavens declare the majesty of God. There is something to be said for little lights.
One of the unexpected treasures of this place -there are almost always unexpected treasures wherever we are- is the fact that Fenbrook has no street lights for about one quarter of a mile. Fenbrook is the east-west road that our street "t's" into forty yards from our house. Walk down the sloping street we live on and you hit Fenbrook. You turn right and follow the sidewalk and, at night, the world is surprisingly dark.
There is a large yard behind a house to the right, just past a small woods, and there are often three or four deer in there. When they see you they look up and stare at you as if to say, "Who do you think you are staring at us?" If you stop you can hear the frogs down in a nearby pond. They sound like basses with an attitude. If you lean back, on a night like tonight, the stars seem close enough to touch. The darkness of the street allows them to shine.
The really cool thing about late June is that the woods, along the creek that runs along the south side of the street, are full of lightning bugs. (Are they the same as fireflies?) So in the woods there are these flashes of light going off and on. The pattern seems random. I remember reading that the bugs light up as some kind of way of attracting a mate. So the words, you might say, are full of love. Wondering if lightning bugs have speed-dating opportunities?
The dark of the woods seems as solid as mahogany. Impenetrable. Then, the little lights flash on and off...here and there...high in the trees and then down low to the ground. It makes me smile. And, after I stand there for awhile, it causes me to say, "There is a God."
Only God would put together a universe where something so silly, so delightful, so absolutely unnecessary, as lightning bugs would -at 11:27 at night- light up the woods along the creek.
Psalm 8 says that the heavens declare the majesty of God. There is something to be said for little lights.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Sad Heart Says the Journey is Worth It
Every day I am in Bloomington I see evidence that God has me in the right place. Confirmation of the rightness of this setting for ministry is all around me.
And yet, at the same time, the advent of summer has meant the onset of a pretty deep level of grief. There are a variety of factors to that, I think. A bit further down the road from old friends is certainly a part of it. Another part of it has been discovery, the reality, that I can't throw my gear in the back of the Miata and be at either Koontz Lake or Lake Webster in an hour to water ski. We could bounce over and back during the week and on the weekends. Whether or not I was preaching. So the summer confirms the fact that something has changed.
A colleague and fellow pastor named Paulwatched me go through a pretty profound greiving process when I left New Haven, and he told me he didn't think -and I agreed with him- I could survive another "uprooting." I know that is pretty dramatic language. And I know we all go through levels of grief as we pick up and move to the land the Lord is giving us. I suppose in some ways I "attach" too strongly to people and a place. Maybe a product of being a wandering Aramean as a child. Only a few of us have picked up and moved after a pastoral tenure of 14+ years (actually close to 20) so maybe the length multiplies the level of dis-location.
There's not a thing anyone needs to do or say about all of this. And the quiet sadness of the grief doesn't mean for a minute that I am anything but delighted to be in this place and with the blessed people of The Open Door/First UMC.
I thought, though, I would share two things I read in Christian Century while at the Y today. Carol Zaleski talks about the impact Virgil's Aenid had on C.S. Lewis. The Roman epic shaped his understanding of vocation. Aeneas obeys his calling and in Lewis' translation he says he is being led far over "alien foam." He says, "The mind remains unshaken while the vain tears fall." He speaks of Trojan women caught "Twixt miserable longing for the present land/And the far realms that call them by the fates' command."
In a conversation with Tolkien Lewis talked about the adult work of vocation. It's helpful for me to look at the journey as an opportunity to grow up, to grow deeper into Christ, and to understand that sometimes we are "men with a vocation, men on whom a burden is laid."
Dorothy L. Sayers, after reading the Aenid, said, "The effect is one of immense costliness of a vocation combined with a complete conviction that it is worth it.." Zaleski observes that Lewis understood "the poetry of vocation."
Whatever I am feeling is nothing compared to the challenges and tests in the lives of others. It pales to nothing when compared to the challenges before our friend, Stan Buck, or the losses endured by those living in Alabama, the Sudan, or Syria. But I thought it might be something I could share with friends.
In her book The Long Goodbye: A Memoir, Meghan O'Rourke talks about going through her mother's losing battle with cancer. She writes this: "I kept thinking, 'I just want somewhere to put my grief.' I was imaging a vessel for it: a long, shallow, wooden bowl, irregularly shaped. I had the sense that if I could chant, or rend my clothes...I Could, in effect, create that vessle in the world." But there was no ritual and she says "without ritual, the only way to share a loss was to talk about it."
God is good. I am so blessed. The work Jesus has for me among these blessed people is joy. After worship or a conversation or a meeting I sometimes almost dance down the hall! And, yet, there is always the heart.
The sad heart says the journey is worth it! Maybe you understand.
And yet, at the same time, the advent of summer has meant the onset of a pretty deep level of grief. There are a variety of factors to that, I think. A bit further down the road from old friends is certainly a part of it. Another part of it has been discovery, the reality, that I can't throw my gear in the back of the Miata and be at either Koontz Lake or Lake Webster in an hour to water ski. We could bounce over and back during the week and on the weekends. Whether or not I was preaching. So the summer confirms the fact that something has changed.
A colleague and fellow pastor named Paulwatched me go through a pretty profound greiving process when I left New Haven, and he told me he didn't think -and I agreed with him- I could survive another "uprooting." I know that is pretty dramatic language. And I know we all go through levels of grief as we pick up and move to the land the Lord is giving us. I suppose in some ways I "attach" too strongly to people and a place. Maybe a product of being a wandering Aramean as a child. Only a few of us have picked up and moved after a pastoral tenure of 14+ years (actually close to 20) so maybe the length multiplies the level of dis-location.
There's not a thing anyone needs to do or say about all of this. And the quiet sadness of the grief doesn't mean for a minute that I am anything but delighted to be in this place and with the blessed people of The Open Door/First UMC.
I thought, though, I would share two things I read in Christian Century while at the Y today. Carol Zaleski talks about the impact Virgil's Aenid had on C.S. Lewis. The Roman epic shaped his understanding of vocation. Aeneas obeys his calling and in Lewis' translation he says he is being led far over "alien foam." He says, "The mind remains unshaken while the vain tears fall." He speaks of Trojan women caught "Twixt miserable longing for the present land/And the far realms that call them by the fates' command."
In a conversation with Tolkien Lewis talked about the adult work of vocation. It's helpful for me to look at the journey as an opportunity to grow up, to grow deeper into Christ, and to understand that sometimes we are "men with a vocation, men on whom a burden is laid."
Dorothy L. Sayers, after reading the Aenid, said, "The effect is one of immense costliness of a vocation combined with a complete conviction that it is worth it.." Zaleski observes that Lewis understood "the poetry of vocation."
Whatever I am feeling is nothing compared to the challenges and tests in the lives of others. It pales to nothing when compared to the challenges before our friend, Stan Buck, or the losses endured by those living in Alabama, the Sudan, or Syria. But I thought it might be something I could share with friends.
In her book The Long Goodbye: A Memoir, Meghan O'Rourke talks about going through her mother's losing battle with cancer. She writes this: "I kept thinking, 'I just want somewhere to put my grief.' I was imaging a vessel for it: a long, shallow, wooden bowl, irregularly shaped. I had the sense that if I could chant, or rend my clothes...I Could, in effect, create that vessle in the world." But there was no ritual and she says "without ritual, the only way to share a loss was to talk about it."
God is good. I am so blessed. The work Jesus has for me among these blessed people is joy. After worship or a conversation or a meeting I sometimes almost dance down the hall! And, yet, there is always the heart.
The sad heart says the journey is worth it! Maybe you understand.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A Wedding on the Beach.
Yesterday afternoon we stood on Cinnamon Beach here on St John, US Virgin Islands, as our son Nathan married Westra Bea Miller. This really wasn't a "destination wedding" since Westra grew up here.
The weather was just perfect. Slightly overcast with a breeze...which is just what you want at this time of year down here.
Westra was stunning...she is an extraordinary young woman. Bright as a whip and beautiful with a good heart. She was walked down the beach by her brother. Nathan was waiting for her in a pair of khaki slacks and a white, open-necked, dress shirt.
I was asked to say a "few words." Although couples rarely ever remember a thing a preacher says at their wedding I gave it my best shot! I read from 1st Corinthians 13. The translation of the Bible in the hotel room was King James so the language was a bit foreign to the thirty or so folks gathered on the beach. People heard, though, what the apostle Paul had to say about love being patient and kind, not keeping a record of the wrong but rejoicing in the right.
Several days before the wedding I had sent Westra and Nathan an email asking them to tell me, in a few sentences, what it was about the other that they most treasured. Their responses were both beautiful and honest...celebrating a very special kind of love and grace they have found together. So I read their words...and we all got quiet. Leaned in. Listened in. And realized we were in the presence of a very special kind of love.
I had all sorts of thoughts and feelings as I stood there on the beach, for the ceremony, and as I joined the party at the Ocean Grill in Mongoose Junction.
First, there was this deep gladness at watching our three sons be together. Bryan took the pictures. Michael helped the party happen. It was good watching them "hang" together. It was a joy watching the delight in the eyes of Michael and Bryan as they watched their brother get married.
Second, it is amazing how love links families people. People who were strangers to me before this weekend have now become a part of our lives...our family. I stood on a beach at a barbecue for friends of Westra and Nathan this weekend and looked around me with amazement...my family has grown in unexpected and delightful ways. Love brings us together...we end up making the journey together and it is all rather amazing.
Third, I realize how precious and powerful the love between young lovers is. It really is an extraordinary, breathless, miracle. The journey we call marriage is about finding some way -prayer, conversations in the evening before turning out the light, taking time to play- to keep that passionate, yearning, aching, delighted kind of love alive. Love changes over time. That is just the way it is. But too often we allow the exuberant love of youth to get lost along the way. So the marriage miracle is about holding onto the delight he had when we first found one another.
Fourth, for marriage to flourish we also not only need to hold onto the joy of our first love but also be open to new lessons along the way. To be open to the possibility that love may become a bit more quiet along the way but it also may deepen and mature in extraordinary ways.
Genesis tells us God created the first person and that person had it all. They did not, however, have a partner. God saw that wasn't good. So God made the second person. We may not all be married but we all need someone in our life who can be a partner...a dear friend...a brother or sister in the journey.
I am blessed...my face has been made bright by the sun and my heart is full.
The weather was just perfect. Slightly overcast with a breeze...which is just what you want at this time of year down here.
Westra was stunning...she is an extraordinary young woman. Bright as a whip and beautiful with a good heart. She was walked down the beach by her brother. Nathan was waiting for her in a pair of khaki slacks and a white, open-necked, dress shirt.
I was asked to say a "few words." Although couples rarely ever remember a thing a preacher says at their wedding I gave it my best shot! I read from 1st Corinthians 13. The translation of the Bible in the hotel room was King James so the language was a bit foreign to the thirty or so folks gathered on the beach. People heard, though, what the apostle Paul had to say about love being patient and kind, not keeping a record of the wrong but rejoicing in the right.
Several days before the wedding I had sent Westra and Nathan an email asking them to tell me, in a few sentences, what it was about the other that they most treasured. Their responses were both beautiful and honest...celebrating a very special kind of love and grace they have found together. So I read their words...and we all got quiet. Leaned in. Listened in. And realized we were in the presence of a very special kind of love.
I had all sorts of thoughts and feelings as I stood there on the beach, for the ceremony, and as I joined the party at the Ocean Grill in Mongoose Junction.
First, there was this deep gladness at watching our three sons be together. Bryan took the pictures. Michael helped the party happen. It was good watching them "hang" together. It was a joy watching the delight in the eyes of Michael and Bryan as they watched their brother get married.
Second, it is amazing how love links families people. People who were strangers to me before this weekend have now become a part of our lives...our family. I stood on a beach at a barbecue for friends of Westra and Nathan this weekend and looked around me with amazement...my family has grown in unexpected and delightful ways. Love brings us together...we end up making the journey together and it is all rather amazing.
Third, I realize how precious and powerful the love between young lovers is. It really is an extraordinary, breathless, miracle. The journey we call marriage is about finding some way -prayer, conversations in the evening before turning out the light, taking time to play- to keep that passionate, yearning, aching, delighted kind of love alive. Love changes over time. That is just the way it is. But too often we allow the exuberant love of youth to get lost along the way. So the marriage miracle is about holding onto the delight he had when we first found one another.
Fourth, for marriage to flourish we also not only need to hold onto the joy of our first love but also be open to new lessons along the way. To be open to the possibility that love may become a bit more quiet along the way but it also may deepen and mature in extraordinary ways.
Genesis tells us God created the first person and that person had it all. They did not, however, have a partner. God saw that wasn't good. So God made the second person. We may not all be married but we all need someone in our life who can be a partner...a dear friend...a brother or sister in the journey.
I am blessed...my face has been made bright by the sun and my heart is full.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
A Short Pilgrimmage on Mother's Day Weekend.
Friday afternoon we headed north to Walkerton. Walkerton is located in the southwestern corner of St. Joseph County in northern Indiana. It's where Sharon and I both graduated from high school.
We went that way to join about 80 others in a surprise birthday party for Sharon's younger sister, Linda. The air got chilly as people partied out in a large garage on a farm between Plymouth and Walkerton. Kids played games. A fire was burning in a fire pit out near the fields. A slice of the moon appeared despite occasional clouds. It was good.
This morning I spent some time chatting with my in-laws, and then I made a solo trip to South Bend to visit my Mom's grave. Her body is buried across from the University Park Mall on the north side of South Bend. Knowing how much our Mom enjoyed "retail therapy" we all thought the setting was just right.
I stopped at a nearby store and bought one,red rose to place on her grave.
In the past I have had to search to find her grave but this time I walked right to it. I placed the red rose across the grave marker that lies flat against the grass. A marker that says "United Methodist Missionary" was half-covered so I spent some time cleaning it all off.
What do you do when you stand at the grave of someone you love? You try to pull up some memories, some mental pictures, but you discover that is too much. You can't do a life justice in a few minutes like that. I looked up at nearby trees full of spring life, and I realized how death cannot quiet the music released by a life well lived. My Mom had her share of the craziness that marks every human life, but when God gave her to the world it was a good day...a special gift. She brought joy and music and faith and passion to us. She could be distracted. Overly involved in the church. She drank diet pop and loved Twinkies. She was a gift. Death cannot silence the blessings she gave away.
I stood there looking up at the traffic passing by. I studied a nearby tree. Then, I turned away. With a heart more full of gratitude than loss.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
We went that way to join about 80 others in a surprise birthday party for Sharon's younger sister, Linda. The air got chilly as people partied out in a large garage on a farm between Plymouth and Walkerton. Kids played games. A fire was burning in a fire pit out near the fields. A slice of the moon appeared despite occasional clouds. It was good.
This morning I spent some time chatting with my in-laws, and then I made a solo trip to South Bend to visit my Mom's grave. Her body is buried across from the University Park Mall on the north side of South Bend. Knowing how much our Mom enjoyed "retail therapy" we all thought the setting was just right.
I stopped at a nearby store and bought one,red rose to place on her grave.
In the past I have had to search to find her grave but this time I walked right to it. I placed the red rose across the grave marker that lies flat against the grass. A marker that says "United Methodist Missionary" was half-covered so I spent some time cleaning it all off.
What do you do when you stand at the grave of someone you love? You try to pull up some memories, some mental pictures, but you discover that is too much. You can't do a life justice in a few minutes like that. I looked up at nearby trees full of spring life, and I realized how death cannot quiet the music released by a life well lived. My Mom had her share of the craziness that marks every human life, but when God gave her to the world it was a good day...a special gift. She brought joy and music and faith and passion to us. She could be distracted. Overly involved in the church. She drank diet pop and loved Twinkies. She was a gift. Death cannot silence the blessings she gave away.
I stood there looking up at the traffic passing by. I studied a nearby tree. Then, I turned away. With a heart more full of gratitude than loss.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
Healing Power of the Road.
I've had friends going through deep water. Each of them seemed to be headed down the road to visit a family member who was ill or they were packing for a new chapter. I sent several notes and said "May the road give you healing mercy."
I know Jesus is the source of all healing. I know blacktop and gravel can't lay hands on us and put together the pieces that are broken. However, there is something about the road that can offer healing mercy. The road can be a place where we discover the reality of loneliness: that's true. It can also be a place of healing.
There have been frantic, exhausted times in my life and I have set off down the highway with a Diet Coke, a stack of CD's, and a gym bag packed with clothes for a day or two. Something has happened to my heart and soul as I've driven along. I've followed the road as it rhymes it's way up and down the gentle hills of southern Indiana, I've listened to the hum of the tires on the blacktop, and something about being on the road calms me...heals me.
Music is often a companion. I'll sample different channels on XM. Early rock and roll, anthems by Queen, jazz, Springsteen all work together to do something good about the broken, tired places in me. Then, though, I turn the CD player off. I unplug the iPod. I shut down the radio. And the only music I hear is the music of the wind rushing past the half-opened window or the hiss of the tires on wet pavement. There is, I have discovered, a special melody that only the sounds of the road can provide.
There is that Irish blessing that says "may the road rise up to meet you." I don't know how exactly a road can "rise up" to meet us but maybe it involves some kind of healing power.
I know Jesus is the source of all healing. I know blacktop and gravel can't lay hands on us and put together the pieces that are broken. However, there is something about the road that can offer healing mercy. The road can be a place where we discover the reality of loneliness: that's true. It can also be a place of healing.
There have been frantic, exhausted times in my life and I have set off down the highway with a Diet Coke, a stack of CD's, and a gym bag packed with clothes for a day or two. Something has happened to my heart and soul as I've driven along. I've followed the road as it rhymes it's way up and down the gentle hills of southern Indiana, I've listened to the hum of the tires on the blacktop, and something about being on the road calms me...heals me.
Music is often a companion. I'll sample different channels on XM. Early rock and roll, anthems by Queen, jazz, Springsteen all work together to do something good about the broken, tired places in me. Then, though, I turn the CD player off. I unplug the iPod. I shut down the radio. And the only music I hear is the music of the wind rushing past the half-opened window or the hiss of the tires on wet pavement. There is, I have discovered, a special melody that only the sounds of the road can provide.
There is that Irish blessing that says "may the road rise up to meet you." I don't know how exactly a road can "rise up" to meet us but maybe it involves some kind of healing power.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Bin Laden: Sometimes Love is Tough.
The news from Pakistan about the killing of Osama bin Laden has elicited cheers from around our country. That's understandable. Bin Laden and others like him have been driven by a blind conviction that the world would be better off with one particular kind of fundamentalist Islam in control of all things big and small. Their willingness to take the lives of innocent people in the pursuit of their political and religious goals was unrestrained.
A friend sent me the following quote from Mark Twain: "I've never wished a man dead but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure." - Mark Twain
As a follower of Jesus I have struggled for a long time with the question about the appropriateness of war/violence as a means of solving problems. Jesus, after all, says (Matthew 5), "Here's another old saying that deserves a second look: 'Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.' Is that going to get us anywhere? Here's what I propose: 'Don't hit back at all.' If someone strikes you, stand there and take it. If someone drags you into court and sues for the shirt off your back, giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. And if someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously."
Early Christians caused a scandal when they refused to serve in the army of the Roman Empire. Many Jesus followers were, from the beginning, pacifists. A great many Christians -including the sizable Amish and Mennonite populations in northern Indiana- continue to renounce violence in all situations.
I am not a pacifist. I believe Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. Period. There is no "but" coming. I believe the world would be a much better place if we "bombed" nations like Iraq with things like food, blankets, and medical supplies. I believe living generously, practicing compassion with those who distrust us and wish us ill, will get us further down the road to a better world than resorting to violence. I am deeply concerned by our continuing high level of spending on weaponary. If we are not careful we are going to end up as a hollow empire with unlivable cities, failing schools, inadequate healthcare, and a state-of-the-art military machine. President Dwight D. Eisenhower warned America against the temptation to build our national agenda around the "military industrial complex."
And yet. And yet...we live in a world that is imperfect. We live in a world where there are very dangerous people who want to hurt the innocent. Every now and then there is a kind of evil loose in the world that must be confronted. Not to oppose this kind of implacable evil is to become a partner to the destruction caused by that evil.
I suppose the issue that "tipped" me in support of the "just war" side that of the Christian community (which claims there are times when military force may be our last, best option) was the Holocaust. As a teenager I came face to face with the reality of the deliberate efforts of National Socialism in the Germany of the 1930-40's to exterminate the Jews. Historians say that more than six million Jews, Gypsies, Communists, Jehovah's Witnesses and others were killed by the Nazis and their helpers in such nations as France, Russia and Poland. I did my best to imagine how a non-violent response, on the part of Christians in Europe and around the world, might have stopped Hitler and his plan. I finally came to the conclusion that this evil would have been prevented if France, Poland, Belgium, and other nations had militarily confronted Nazi Germany as it began its expansion.
Sometimes what you get when you seek to satisfy the demands of a little bully is a bigger bully. I learned that on the playground.
Reinhold Niebuhr, a pastor during the middle years of the last century, broke with other Christian leaders who were insisting that we stay out of the conflict against the Axis Powers. Niebuhr said that love sometimes means you do all you can to maximize justice in the world.
One Christian writer says there are two sides to love: one is soft (grace, acceptance) and the other is hard (accountability, discipline).
We live in a broken, imperfect world where there is too much injustice and where there are some very, very dangerous people who intend to harm the innocent. I am thankful that Osama bin Laden will not be able to create any more destruction in the world. His removal was, I believe, necessary. I do not feel joy at his death but a weary kind of relief.
Before I end these thoughts I need to say how deeply grateful I am for men and women who do heroic things to confront evil. The team that went deep into Pakistan and took a great risk and was extraordinarily brave, bright, and gifted. What they did was amazing.
I still yearn for the day when, as the song says, we aren't going to study war "no more." I yearn for the day when, as the prophet says, we will beat our swords into plowshares.
A friend sent me the following quote from Mark Twain: "I've never wished a man dead but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure." - Mark Twain
As a follower of Jesus I have struggled for a long time with the question about the appropriateness of war/violence as a means of solving problems. Jesus, after all, says (Matthew 5), "Here's another old saying that deserves a second look: 'Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.' Is that going to get us anywhere? Here's what I propose: 'Don't hit back at all.' If someone strikes you, stand there and take it. If someone drags you into court and sues for the shirt off your back, giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. And if someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously."
Early Christians caused a scandal when they refused to serve in the army of the Roman Empire. Many Jesus followers were, from the beginning, pacifists. A great many Christians -including the sizable Amish and Mennonite populations in northern Indiana- continue to renounce violence in all situations.
I am not a pacifist. I believe Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. Period. There is no "but" coming. I believe the world would be a much better place if we "bombed" nations like Iraq with things like food, blankets, and medical supplies. I believe living generously, practicing compassion with those who distrust us and wish us ill, will get us further down the road to a better world than resorting to violence. I am deeply concerned by our continuing high level of spending on weaponary. If we are not careful we are going to end up as a hollow empire with unlivable cities, failing schools, inadequate healthcare, and a state-of-the-art military machine. President Dwight D. Eisenhower warned America against the temptation to build our national agenda around the "military industrial complex."
And yet. And yet...we live in a world that is imperfect. We live in a world where there are very dangerous people who want to hurt the innocent. Every now and then there is a kind of evil loose in the world that must be confronted. Not to oppose this kind of implacable evil is to become a partner to the destruction caused by that evil.
I suppose the issue that "tipped" me in support of the "just war" side that of the Christian community (which claims there are times when military force may be our last, best option) was the Holocaust. As a teenager I came face to face with the reality of the deliberate efforts of National Socialism in the Germany of the 1930-40's to exterminate the Jews. Historians say that more than six million Jews, Gypsies, Communists, Jehovah's Witnesses and others were killed by the Nazis and their helpers in such nations as France, Russia and Poland. I did my best to imagine how a non-violent response, on the part of Christians in Europe and around the world, might have stopped Hitler and his plan. I finally came to the conclusion that this evil would have been prevented if France, Poland, Belgium, and other nations had militarily confronted Nazi Germany as it began its expansion.
Sometimes what you get when you seek to satisfy the demands of a little bully is a bigger bully. I learned that on the playground.
Reinhold Niebuhr, a pastor during the middle years of the last century, broke with other Christian leaders who were insisting that we stay out of the conflict against the Axis Powers. Niebuhr said that love sometimes means you do all you can to maximize justice in the world.
One Christian writer says there are two sides to love: one is soft (grace, acceptance) and the other is hard (accountability, discipline).
We live in a broken, imperfect world where there is too much injustice and where there are some very, very dangerous people who intend to harm the innocent. I am thankful that Osama bin Laden will not be able to create any more destruction in the world. His removal was, I believe, necessary. I do not feel joy at his death but a weary kind of relief.
Before I end these thoughts I need to say how deeply grateful I am for men and women who do heroic things to confront evil. The team that went deep into Pakistan and took a great risk and was extraordinarily brave, bright, and gifted. What they did was amazing.
I still yearn for the day when, as the song says, we aren't going to study war "no more." I yearn for the day when, as the prophet says, we will beat our swords into plowshares.
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