Recovering From Worship???

Today is Good Friday.  For Believers we’re talking about something super special – the day we commemorate the passion and crucifixion of our Lord and Savior.  But, first, let’s back up to yesterday – Maundy Thursday – the day Believers commemorate the last supper.  


This writer cares not for the technobabble about how the dates for Holy Week and Resurrection Day change from one year to the next, just as this writer gives no thought to December 25 not being the Savior’s birthday.  None of these issues negate the beliefs of those of my ilk:  that He was born of an immaculate conception, He walked the earth, He suffered and died, and He was resurrected.  What is of significance that we remember.  In fact whenever we worship, we should be reminded.  So, how does that work?  Well, let’s talk about it.


Back to yesterday, Maundy Thursday.  It was a typical April day in Houston, Texas, in a word, hot.   It is the time of year when my beloved sun because one of my worst enemies, causing the manifestation of Sarcoidosis-related issues – like not being able to breathe, reddening and blistering facial skin (not easy for this Chocolate Bunny, but it actually turns red), and a total draining of every bit of energy in my body. Yet, it is Holy Week.  And despite the climate, Holy Week calls for daily treks to the Westmoreland Chapel on the campus South Main Baptist Church for worship at noon, and, if one is so inclined thereafter, a nice lunch served in the shade of our Chafin Educational Building (we have an absolutely awesome kitchen staff – okay – that’s a plug, but true).


The noon worship on Maundy Thursday focused on the text found in verses 53 through 65 of the 14th chapter of Mark, and Pastor Steve’s question:  Who killed Jesus?   (If one recalls Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion, one might also recall the clamor at that time about just that question: Who killed Jesus?   One might also recall the close-up of various hands nailing Jesus to the cross, among them being the hands of Mr. Gibson.)  And toward the end of the message, Pastor Steve began answering the question by calling the roll: Jews killed Jesus – not all Jews but Caiaphas and the chief priests, the teachers of the law, the Sanhedrin that were assembled that night – a kangaroo court in Caiaphas’s home; and the Romans – not all Romans but those who handed Him over to Pontius Pilot; and, theologically, God the Father, who sent His Son into the world for just this purpose; and Jesus, who allowed Himself to be killed.  And, of course, there are more – many, many more: our sins killed Jesus.  I killed Jesus.  You killed Jesus.  And so it goes, folks: we all had a hand in nailing Him to the tree.  Wow.  Folks who only want “feel-good” church would have left unfulfilled and very much disappointed rather than convicted – and convinced that the only way we will stop killing Jesus is to become more like Him.


The day of worship continued Maundy Thursday evening, with the most somber worship time of any at South Main – the Service of Shadows – the time when we reflect on the betrayal, arrest, desertion, trial, scourging, crucifixion and death of the Only Faultless One to ever walk the earth.  Amidst voices pouring out words in haunting melodies and lush harmonies, words that salve and soothe one’s soul, our Ragan C. read from The Word, the scriptures that so vividly paint the picture that tells the story of how we all participated in nailing Him to the tree.  By the end of worship, there is silence and darkness – how the world was left then after they/we had killed Him – and words fittingly descriptive, even today, of lives that are without His light.  Wow.


And Holy Week continued today.  Yet, another trek to the Westmoreland Chapel for noon worship, a Silent Service – an intentional, deliberate means of focusing the worshiper, once more, on the sacrifice of our Savior.  


This service is comprised of a series of scriptures, each followed by a song played by our resident prodigy, organist Daryl Robinson.  Daryl is a favorite of this writer.  His musicianship is beyond comparison, going far beyond the mastery of his performance abilities, but technical knowledge as well.  What had not been realized until today, was Daryl’s tremendous gift of marrying scripture to music.   Thoughtfully choosing* familiar texts and melodies, as well as works that may not be known to many of us at all, Mr. Robinson took worshipers on a journey, from Christ’s condemnation, to the Via Dolorosa, to Golgotha, to the tomb.   Complementing the words of the chosen music, were the music arrangements themselves, employing harmonies, progressions and nuances that added more texture and brilliance to the pictures the Scriptures and lyrics painted.


Feel the moment of condemnation, knowing that what lay ahead was even worse than what had already transpired: 

Christ, who saves us by His cross,

And no sin committed

(J.S. Bach).   

Feel the weight of the cross beneath a battered and emaciated body.  

Must Jesus bear the cross alone

and all the world go free?  

(George N. Allen/Thomas Shepherd).  

See Simon of Cyrene carry the cross for Him.  

Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; 

learn of Christ to bear the cross.  

(Richard Redhead/James Montgomery). 

Feel the agony of the women who wailed for Jesus.  
There is a balm in Gilead 
to heal the sin sick soul 
(Negro Spiritual).  


Feel the nakedness of His body as the soldiers divided His clothing:   

A purple robe, a crown of thorn, 

a reed in His right hand, 

Before the soldiers’ spite and scorn 

I see my Savior stand.  

(David Wilson/Timothy Dudley-Smith).  

See the nails being driven into His hands and feet, but if like this writer, just try to avoid imagining the added pain they caused:  

God, give us each our own death, 

the dying that proeeds from each of our lives.  

(Camil van Huise/Rilke) 

Feel the darkness creeping into the world as He breathed His last breath:

Grim death, with cruel rigor, 

hath robbed Thee of Thy life; 

Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, 

Thy strength in this sad strife 

(Brahms/Bernard of Clairvaux).  

See them take His body from the cross:

When I survey the wondrous cross

on which the Prince of glory died.  

(Edward Miller/Isaac Watts).  

See Joseph wrap Him in a linen cloth and lay Him in a tomb hewn out of rock:

Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?  

Oh!  Sometimes it causes me to tremble.  

(Negro Spiritual).

As worshipers left the chapel in silence, words and music remained alive.  Just off the sidewalk, leaning against the accessible parking pillar under a tree (that must be older than any building on the campus), providing protective shade while God wrapped his arms around me in a light breeze that tempered the afternoon heat preventing pulmonary discomfort, the words and the music washed over me again, leaving images of the 24-hour period that began at noon on Maundy Thursday, and a thought: how awesome it is to live on this side of the resurrection, to be able to look back and see that whole picture.  Kevin Sinclair, our minister to youth, spoke as he passed by, asking if he could be of assistance.  Oh, I’m just recovering from worship.  Sometimes it takes me a while.  He gave me an understanding nod, and left me to continue me reverie.


Finally collecting myself, I drove away with another thought – a question: how does one recover from worship?   In retrospect, that just seems odd.  To recover – meaning to bring back or get back to normal – totally negates the purpose of worship.   Quite often, a prayer in worship at South Main includes the plea that we be transformed so that we will be less of what we used to be and more of what we ought to be through Christ Jesus.  And so, folks, recovering from worship is just not the desired thing to do.  To leave worship the same as one came is to spend an hour (or two, or however many) going through some ritual, reading words, singing songs, joining in prayers, and listening to sermons, that are no more than water off a duck’s back.  So why bother?


And so, rather than recover from worship, perhaps I should have told Kevin, I’m still renewing through worship:


Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is – his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2, NIV).  Perhaps with a little more renewing and transforming, we would kill Jesus less often.


Out of the most agonizing time of the first century A.D. was born the grace we experience today. Because of that, even in silent worship, there are conviction and comfort; veil-lifting and vindication; peace and promise; enlightenment and edification, and hopefully, a desire for renewal and transformation.




_______________________
*All right, thoughtfully choosing is conjecture on my part; still, this writer is sure it took more than a few minutes while nursing his favorite Starbuck’s beverage, for Mr. Robinson to well devise a worship service that so wonderfully reflects the gravity and majesty of the moment.

Defining Sin for a Contemporary Culture

First, I freely admit that this is not an original title.  I ran across this phrase earlier this evening as I perused my Facebook home page, trying to catch up on what is happening with my FB friends.  There was the usual stuff:  a new picture of my grand-nephew, P.H., a happy child of a fantastic mom; a rehashed obituary of the Pillsbury Dough Boy which still makes me laugh aloud [I refuse to use LOL -- oops -- I just did :( ]; an update from a musician acquaintance who writes often of sports (much better than getting it via television news) and church-related issues (sometimes funny, sometimes serious, generally thought-provoking); a couple of Friend Requests; more messages to which to respond than I really want to; you get the gist.  Amidst those common tidbits was a post that dealt with one of the most controversial issues of the day with LIKES and COMMENTS that followed.  Among those comments was a phrase regarding how we should define sin for a contemporary culture.   That phrase has so haunted me that I have revisited that blurb several times now.  It conjures up thoughts of recent discussions in my Sunday School class and Wednesday Bible studies at South Main Baptist Church (plug for SMBC).


Second, I also admit that this writing may offend others, including folks who may, loosely or sincerely, use the term friend in relation to me.  My hope, however, is that as I respect their rights to believe as they wish, they will respect mine, and perhaps this is a point on which we may have to just agree to disagree.


Third, I freely admit that I am a sinner.  I know guilt.  And shame.  Therefore, I judge no one; I condemn no one.  Judgment and condemnation of others are simply not in my purview.  It is enough for me that each morning and evening I can look in a mirror while brushing teeth and be grateful that God has  given me another day for work on my own human failings.  With that said, I freely admit, however, that some behaviors I simply hate:  lying, stealing, killing -- you know -- the stuff of the Ten Commandments (which is also foundational stuff for our laws).  Then there are also infractions like smoking, wearing fragrances ad nauseam, driving with a phone plastered to the side of one's face, and other behaviors that are a lot more than mere annoyances.  


Okay, on their faces, the also infractions are not normally construed as sins; yet, they have the potential to cause irreparable harm to the body, and not just the body of the smoker, fragrance wearer, or telephone-talking driver, but others around them as well, and even death.   For those who suffer with medical conditions caused through no fault of their own, to be subjected to the exacerbating effects of tobaccos and perfumes by people who put their rights to so engage themselves above all else is, to those who so suffer, a threat to their well-being.  They think of terms like assault and attempted murder.   Trust me; I know this to be true, and often have to work at stifling deep-seated anger and frustration, and the urge to kill them before they kill me.  And statistics show that folks who drive while engaging in telephone conversations are more likely to be involved in vehicular crashes resulting in debilitating, life-change injuries, or death.


So much for the prefatory.  The rest is pretty short, though not simple, and starts with a question.  How does one define sin for a contemporary culture?
Short answer:  I don't have a clue.  I never gave a thought to sin evolving as mankind devolved.  


Next question:  Well, why not?
Well, how about this question in lieu of an answer:  What makes one think that because the world has changed in technology, temperament and tolerance, that what was sin 4,000 or 3,000 or 2,000 years ago is different today?  


Well, there are schools of thought that condone killing under certain circumstances.  
Well, that may be true, and even while God gave the Word to the Israelites Thou shalt not kill, He also instructed them to kill all the people in the lands they were to occupy.  It seems then, that there is killing, and then there is Killing.


And what about the scripture that says God "hardened" Pharaoh's heart?  
Well, the Book does say that (Exodus 9:12).  Does how the Creator uses His creation give the created license to act contrary to His instructions?  I think not.  This passage has often troubled me.  Why would God harden Pharaoh's heart in such a way that ultimately led to Pharaoh's death?  And on several occasions I have had to remind myself that God can use anyone or anything He wants to, in any way He wants to.  In that regard I sometimes envision this scenario -- and while I cannot prove it was the way it happened, you cannot prove it did not:  


After losing his son to the plague that befell all of the first-born in Egypt who were not protected, Pharaoh  allowed the Israelites to leave, and in anger (and probably a lot of other negative emotions), pursued them until he, along with his followers, were consumed by the Red Sea.  The aftermath:  Pharaoh ascends to heaven and is welcomed by the Almighty for a job well done.*     


As I said, I cannot prove it, but neither can you disprove it.  Just admit it is something to consider (or not) and let's move along.*


And what is this DEVOLVING business?  
Well, I'm glad you asked.  A simple definition of devolve is to pass on or delegate to another.  In the context of this little blog, mankind is ever devolving.  The more knowledgeable and advanced we become, the more we shirk our responsibilities and commitments, passing them on into the ether where they become the responsibilities and commitments of some unknown force or entity as we continue to live in a foggy La-La Land, making excuses for our actions or lack thereof, buying into every frenzied trend of entertainment, including every gadget imaginable, 99.99999999% of which are made in other countries, providing jobs to others while 99.9999999% of corporate America embraces downsizing, rightsizing, cutbacks, layoffs and outsourcing, and any other gimmick one can envision, in the end making our country a slave to the rest of the world.  (Sorry about the outburst; I'll have to save that for another time.)


So what does all that have to do with devolving -- and sin?
Such great questions you ask!  Devolving and sin really go hand in glove.  While in a state of devolution, one succumbs to any compulsion to say and do anything one chooses without regard to the rights of others or the Way of the Almighty.  As Pastor Steve (www.smbc.org) might say, We live in God's world but not in God's Way.  And when one chooses to live his own way, justifying whatever one says and does according to one's situation or circumstances, or the thorn in one's flesh,** one shuts the door on the Father's grace which is sufficient for those who believe.  


Well, you really didn't answer the question and you definitely did not define sin for a contemporary culture.
True, and frankly, who can?  Still, without judging or condemning any, loving all through Christ Jesus while hating the thoughts, words and deeds that are not of the Father's Way, I do commend all to Him, whose grace is sufficient for all, for His power is made perfect in weakness, even so-called contemporary ones.  


The bottom line is this:  
The advent of situational ethics did not rewrite the Bible; rather it just gave us something through which to ride our chariots when looking for a loophole.  What the loophole does not account for, however, is the love that will make a parent suffer through disciplining, and even confinement in prison, of a child for the child's sake; or one not taking a life because one is not the giver of life.


Lying is still lying.  Killing is still killing.  Adultery is still adultery.  Stealing is stealing, even though in our contemporary ilk stealing has all kinds of labels -- misappropriation and embezzlement, for instance.  Covetousness -- well it's still that too, so if it's not yours, forget about it.  


For this writer, who often drafts documents for others with revisions so numerous that they end with the year, month, day and time (for example, 2011 0325 2219 means the 25th day of March 2011, 10:19 p.m.), there are no revisions to sin.  The 2000 AD version is  the 2000 BC version.  


So, dear ones, give yourself a break.  All of that energy devoted to establishing some new benchmark for sin by today's standards might best be expended with the Father, Who is strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.  I dare you to try Him, even in your contemporary situation.  His faithfulness was great whenever the book of Lamentations (3:23) was written, and, trust me on this, it's pretty great today, 2011 0327 2252.


To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy -- to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore!  Amen. (Jude 24-25).


Praying that you lean and not stumble . . .










__________________
*A note to Bible scholars:  This is my blog; these are my thoughts.  Let's leave it at that.
**⁶ Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say, ⁷ or because of these surpassingly great revelations. Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. ⁸ Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. ⁹ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Corinthians 12:6-9 NIV)

The Business I Want

This writer has never understood why folks get so caught up in the personal side of the lives of people who are famous for any number of reasons -- their political office, artistic ability, sports skills, or whatever.  How does society equate being a superstar of any ilk with being an upright human being with no faults or frailties -- especially when no such human being exists?  (Actually "human being" and "faultless" should not be used in the same sentence.)  Why do folks cry foul when a known person is caught lying, cheating, prostituting or stealing, just as many others do daily?  Don't we know that of the 100% who engage in such acts, 99.9% know better and do not care enough to stop themselves??

Enough of my rant -- this is where I'm headed:  Sitting here at my desk with the Golf Channel on for background noise, I perked up and sat at attention when I heard Tiger Woods say, in response to a reporter's question:  That's none of your business.  Mr. Woods sat still, calm, and in just few seconds (though I'm sure for the reporter it seemed like days -- at least, hours), the female voice who was designating whom should make a query to him, prompted the next reporter to speak.

After the press conference, another reporter asked someone else about the appropriateness of Tiger's response, and seemed to be disappointed that the man agreed with the way the question was handled.  

Everyday we awaken, there is a scandal brewing, one is about to be exposed, and one is in its beginning stages.  These are the things about which folks want to know.  Why?  

Everyday a couple celebrates a wedding anniversary, a healthy baby is born, a student passes a test, someone sees for the first time, someone gets a second chance at life with a newly transplanted organ, someone realizes he/she was not put on earth to live a self-centered life, that an unshared life is a waste life.  These are the things folks do not care to hear about.  Why?

Rather than dwell on the shortcomings of others -- whether Tiger Woods or the man who killed is wife or the woman who sells her body on the street corner -- if we're going to dip into someone's business, can it be to encourage, uplift, and even challenge them to do and be better, and to let them know that they are loved (even while their behavior is abhorred)?  That's the business I want.

After all, as we gossip about and gawk at them, someone is gossiping about and gawking at us.

Amen.

BEST POEM IN THE WORLD

Do you ever see or hear something and think I wish I could have thought of that!?  Well, for what I will share with you here, I had the same thought.  Many thanks to my distinguished colleague in San Antonio, Texas, R. Neff, for sending this to me:

I was shocked, confused, bewildered 

As I entered Heaven's door, 

Not by the beauty of it all, 

Nor the lights or its decor. 

But it was the folks in Heaven 

Who made me sputter and gasp-- 

The thieves, the liars, the sinners,

The alcoholics and the trash. 

There stood the kid from seventh grade 

Who swiped my lunch money twice. 

Next to him was my old neighbor 

Who never said anything nice. 

Bob, who I always thought 

Was rotting away in hell, 

Was sitting on cloud nine, 

Looking incredibly well. 

I nudged Jesus, 'What's the deal? 

I would love to hear Your take. 

How'd all these sinners get up here? 

God must've made a mistake. 

'And why is everyone so quiet, 

So somber - give me a clue.' 

'Hush, child,' He said,

'they're all in shock. 

No one thought they'd be seeing you.' 

What Do You Do When You Don't Get Your Way?

Yesterday was Wednesday -- "hump" day -- the middle of the week. The day following our President's speech directed to children -- encouraging them to stay and do well in school -- a speech that too many folks did not want him to make. As one man put it: I don't want my child to be a little community organizer. This week I am listening to Mr. Obama's first book as I tool around the city in my Jeep. I spend a lot of time in my Jeep it seems. When I first heard the term community organizer I had an inkling, but now have learned a little more. In essence, what Mr. Obama did as a community organizer, was bring people together to work on problems to benefit their individual and common good -- the kind of stuff that many take for granted. (stuff we take for granted will be addressed at another time.) It turns out that when one reaps an individual benefit, it does affect the common good. But, again, I'll save that for another time. Back to the issue at hand -- Wednesday -- hump day.

Wednesday is a really special day. No matter how grueling it is, I try really hard to end it by four o'clock. If it all possible I like to spend 30 minutes or so with the beautiful rosewood Steinway that sits in the sanctuary of That Place where my family of God assembles for a myriad of reasons and activities (see previous blog). I missed that time yesterday, but arrived in time for dinner --- succulent, juicy, well-seasoned chicken breast tenders, a baked potato (custom loaded by yours truly), fresh leafy salad (they even remember I'm allergic to tomatoes), a roll that rivals any (even those from my mom's kitchen [don't tell her I said that -- even at 90 her baked goods are as scrumptious as they were 50 years ago]), and finished with a perfect peanut butter cookie (baked in our Place's kitchen, of course). Hmm. Anyway, trust me, I don't just go for the food. More importantly, I go for the fellowship and all that word encompasses.

There is something special about communing with a group of folks who share a common belief. It is the tie that binds our hearts in (at least in this case) Christian love. The fellowship part includes my pastor visiting our tables, taking a few moments for us to catch up with each other. Then we review our newsletter and get updates on what's happening with our friends and family. Then we have prayer. And then we begin Bible study, which brings us to the question pastor Steve asked yesterday evening: What do you do when you don't get your way?

I have yet to shake that question from the forefront of my thoughts. After Bible study I went to choir rehearsal -- as usual a mixed bag of musical genres. And, confronted with two pieces I really don't feel yet -- one in Spanish and another in a language I dare not even guess (something from Africa [no offense to my African brothers and sisters]), that question loomed in my mind: What do you do when you don't get your way? After rehearsal, getting into my second home (the Jeep [perhaps I should give it a name -- something gender nonspecific]), I received a phone call, and after my usual greeting -- this is Andrea -- what I heard was not hey, how're ya' doin' -- or the more gutteral vernacular -- whassup? -- but instead: did you hear that #!!*@??? (Remember Watergate? -- expletive deleted.) Anyway, no, I did not hear Joe Wilson. By now, most folks know who he is, so I'll just move right along. But after hearing the Joe Wilson excercise in uncivilized behavior (at least here in the United States -- not so in England or some Asian countries), there was that question again: What do you do when you don't get your way?

So, what about that question? Here are some broad strokes on the complicated canvass we call life (trite, huh?).

1. You remember your commitment. If you made it, you should honor it.

Is your commitment to your political party, or the people you represent, or to yourself? Is the oath you took a meaningless jumble of words -- you know, allegiance to the Constitution of the United States, swearing to well and faithfully discharge duties, blah, blah blah? These are questions -- particularly to legislators who enjoy great medical insurance and retirement benefits that are the envy of the folks they represent -- that merit answers. And don't forget these little gems: How many lobbyists do you actually know? Commune with? accept gifts from?

Suggestion to all: ask your legislator (how about all of them?) where his* loyalty lies.

2. You remember who's in charge. If you're not the leader, then you're a follower. If you dont' want to follow, get the heck out of the way.

Is your commitment to be the best choir member you can be, by following the instructions of the director, knowing that despite the numbers of bodies, there is only one soprano, one alto, one tenor, one bass (meaning if you screw it up there goes the whole section -- whether 2 or 12 or 20)? Is your commitment to serve at your whim, or to serve your God (mine gets the capital "G" -- how about yours) and minister to His people through music?

Note to self: review the Spanish and African language songs at home so you won't feel like a large-lipped bungling idiot trying to pronounce "mbwe" while in choir rehearsal.

3. You remember that He is the way -- so make your way His way. (Warning: you may not get with this blurb. That's okay for now; I pray that one day you will).

I have learned that most times our way is not the right way. We devise and scheme, plot and plan to shape, form and fashion what is right according to our own whims. Actually, we give little thought to the "rightness" of it all. Sure, we sometimes whitewash it in some lie on the Lord or Holy Spirt. You know of what I speak: I prayed and I prayed and the Lord showed me . . . The Lord led me to . . . The Spirit spoke to me and said . . . . Am I sayingHe doesn't speak to us? Absolutely not! He's always speaking to us; the problem is we are rarely listening. Why? Because usually we are hell bent on having our way. And most likely, that is where our way will take us: straight to hell. (Or as one man told me when I, substituting for his church's minister of music, asked the choir to reign in their conduct: Well, you know, we have our traditions, to which I replied: Yeah, and your traditions might take you straight to hell. Anyway, moving right along. . . .

The truth be told (another trite little saying), if we listened more often, we would have our way a lot less. But, we forge ahead with whatever, and when we get ourselves in another mess, He is still there. As the song says: Everytime I come back to Him, He is waiting with open arms, and I see once again He's been faithful to me. (That's really a nice song. Thank you, Carol Cymbala of Brooklyn Tabernacle.)

Sometimes not having our way is painful. This year has been chocked full of the most gut-wrenching pain I have ever experienced. I lost someone very dear to me in a most unsettling way -- not to a natural death, which is a natural progression of life -- but to divorce, which is the crudest tearing away (I rate it right up there with murder). If I had gotten my way, rather than having grieved over the loss of possibilities and potential, we would now be nurturing the growth and development of a viable means of help others. My thought about this last night: sometimes when we don't get our way it is because we have no control. And that thought begs the question: what do we do when we don't have control? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Even when I don't have control, The Way -- the Maker and Creator of us all -- is in control. He did not call Himself a Christian; He called Himself The Way. So whether it is a control issue or a getting my way issue (is there any difference? I think not), I choose to focus on Him. Only He has the ability to make sense out of confusion, turn darkness to light, open blind eyes and deaf ears that truth may be seen and heard, to melt hearts of stone. I pray for the day that my steps -- not some, but all -- are ordered in The Way -- the Word, the Truth, the Light. The Way is all that and much more.

____________________

*Please be reminded I care nothing for being politically correct. Use whatever gender pronoun you deem appropriate.

Happy Holidays??? Leave it to us to bastardize another word.

THIS RANT IS RATED "E" FOR EVERYONE.

Holiday is a word derived from the combination of holy and day -- a day set aside for a religious observance.   We took it a step further with our national days of observance -- Lincoln's birthday (now Presidents' Day), Independence Day, Memorial Labor Day, blah, blah, blah.  

When I was a kid we had time off for school at the end of the year and it was the Christmas break.  We actually had Christmas programs -- not Holiday programs -- at school -- complete with manger scenes and the singing of O Come All Ye Faithful and other such tunes that dare mention the Christ Child -- or Jesus.  And now, self-appointed PC police in every state of the nation have stifled even so-called Christians from saying Merry Christmas.  To display a manger scene in certain areas is verboten.   Happy Holidays is the catch-phrase of the season, which each year looks less and less like the celebration of the birth of the Savior of the World (at least for those of us who believe), and more like the season to create nostalgic moments of family gatherings for the primary purpose of exchanging gifts -- or regifting gifts -- all for the sake of some commercial bottom line.   

It is not lost on me that Jesus was probably born in what we now call March or April (or sometime around those months) and that to relate His birth to sleighbells and snow is ludicrous whimsy.  I made peace with that a long time ago.   What I refuse to make peace with is the commercial madness of this time of year.  

Perhaps it would be better to move Christmas -- the real Christmas -- the celebration of Jesus's birth -- to another time of year.  But I suppose things would really be thrown off if we were celebrating his birth around the same time of year he was crucified and resurrected.  It would throw off everyone's social calendar.  Can you imagine purple-draped crosses and hay-filled mangers side-by-side?  Or for one's heathen neighbor, Easter bunnies and reindeer on your neighbor's front lawn?  Have you ever thought of the logistics of some commercial concerns that rely on the Christmas season to make or break their year's profits???

To my Christian friends:  Do you say happy holidays?  Or do you say Merry Christmas?  Or does it vary depending on to whom you are speaking and whether you are at work or home or out and about?   Just curious.

And to my Jewish friends:  Do you say happy holidays?  Or do you say happy Hanukkah?   And if you say the latter, do you say it to everyone or just your fellow congregants?   Just curious.

And to my unbelieving friends (yep, got those too):  What do you really make of this day -- other than determining how many presents you need to purchase and for whom, and how many presents you expect to receive and from whom?  Do you get those warm, fuzzy feelings from attending family gatherings?  Or do you get wasted at your firm's holiday party?  Or both?

It seems that of all the religions in the world, Christianity, which accounts for about 33%(half of which are unfortunately Roman Catholic, but that's for another day) (according to the CIA's world fact book), is the one religion that is stifled in its attempts to celebrate God, at least in the United States.   The Constitutional right of free speech is easily tossed aside if Jesus is the subject.  Oh, it seems to be okay if one is Buddhist or Hindu or whatever else.  And, by all means, the Satanists and Wiccans must be allowed to practice their craft or whatever they call it.  But let anyone talk about Jesus.  Heads turn, eyes are cast down, and under-the-breath mutterings commence.  

News flash to Christians:  if you are ashamed to own Him, He will be ashamed to own you (see Luke 9:26).

One last thing about the process of bastardizing:   I am aware that this time of year was chosen to celebrate the birth of the Messiah because it was a pagan holiday or coincided with the winter solstice, and perhaps it was an opportunity to align with the old habits of new believers by having them celebrate something Christian on a day that they formerly celebrated something else.    

For whatever the reason, if you're celebrating Christmas, celebrate Christmas.  If you're observing Hanukkah, observe Hanukkah.    If either of these days mean something to you, I implore you to treat them as if they do.   And if you just want to spend a ton of money, incur a lot of debt, eat too much food and drink too much liquor-laced egg nog, I suppose you have nothing better to say than HAPPY HOLIDAZE.

Theology and Politics

Perhaps this piece is mistitled.  It should probably be Christianity and Politics, for I was raised by Christian parents, in a Christian home, baptized at the age of 6 - having accepted Jesus The Christ as my Savior, and came to really understand the need to rely on Holy Spirit for guidance and the need for a one-on-one relationship with God at the ripe old age of 28.    

Oh -- what's that?  You ask why am I posting this little note in my Coming Out of the Closet blog?  So glad you asked.  Actually, I will post it here and in my Oh My God blog.  I had a time deciding where it should go and since I couldn't choose I decided to do the next best thing.

I broke bread today with a wonderful young woman whom I rarely see.   It was an intentional meeting, requiring advanced scheduling, but well worth it, at least for me.   For the 11 years I have known her she has remained steadfastly herself in all ways that matter.  She has been a blessing to my family.

As usual, when folks haven't seen each other for awhile, a lot of time is spent catching up once they sit across from each other.   Aside from the usual family stuff, there was a new twist, which prompted this writing.  My young friend is an Obama-like creature.  She was raised by her paler-nation mom without the presence of her darker-nation father.  (Note to do piece on fathers of the darker nation who play active roles in their children's upbringing, lest some think it is an anomaly.  Further, note to start with my own darker-nation dad.)    

My friend (hereinafter "Samantha" -- [though fictitious, it alleviates the need to keep writing my friend]) now finds herself in a dilemma.   The current political climate has removed the masks from folks with whom she not only has daily contact, but with whom she and her fine family worship.   She has learned that her 50/50 hands are not allowed to tie the 100/0 shoes of children at her church.  Her 25/75 child has been warned by a schoolmate that her parents must vote for the white man or we will be in big trouble.   Yes, from the mouth of a babe is reflected the influences of his environment.  From school?  Church?  Home?  Who knows?  The source is known only to him and God.

Speaking of God:   I wonder if folks -- of whatever race, creed, color, etc., pause in sufficient time to soak in the reality that He is the Creator of all, including us?  Okay -- everyone doesn't believe in my God.  Fine (actually not fine, for my heart yearns for all to believe; still God does not force Himself on any of us, and while I seek to introduce Him, will not force Him on anyone either).  For those non-believers, the question is:  By what means did you derive the color of your skin and eyes, and the texture of your hair?   Before conception did your mom or dad choose one with whom to copulate in such a way as to create the person that is you?  Or while you were in your mother's womb, did she check off a list of available options and -- voila! -- after an appropriate gestative period you popped out just as ordered?  Perhaps you were visited by the Creator who asked you to choose:  skin (chocolate, caramel, vanilla), eyes (blue, brown, green, gray, other), hair (coarse or fine, wavy or straight, slow-growing and short, fast-growing and Lady-Godiva-long), lips (wispy thin or ultra thick -- or somewhere inbetween), nose (skinny, pointed, flat, wide).  And let's not forget the really important stuff to choose:  feels rhythm on beats 1 and 3, or beats 2 and 4?  Short, tall, chunky, skinny, legs long or short?  Plays basketball or bassoon?  Football or foosball?  Tennis or baseball?  Swimming or soccer?   Alright -- enough of that.

Back to Samantha.  The poor thing is being reminded in all kinds of subtle, and some not so subtle ways, that she is not 100%.  As a management type she's stuck in the middle, dealing with superiors and subordinates.  Hostility on both fronts.  Can you imagine such a sandwich?  A Samantha sandwich is not a wonderful snack.  It's kind of like a peanut butter sandwich.  You know how it is, when you put a glob of Peter Pan in the middle of a slice of multi-grain bread, top it with another slice and then mash it together?  It spreads out to the breads' edges, and the more pressure applied during the mashing process, the more the peanut butter tends to ooze out -- beyond the edges.    The resulting sandwich is just not as pleasing to look at -- or to eat.  That's what happens when folks are threatened; the pressure breaches their protective barriers, threatening the loss of their energy and substance, and they ooze, they leak.

The tragedy of this unmerited negative attention is that Samantha, like many regardless of origin, is a valuable commodity who contributes to the positive vitality of the organization for which she works, and more importantly, her immediate family, including her 100/0 mom.  When any of us is put upon in this fashion, we all lose.  Why should Samantha be punished for an outcome of which she has no control???  Why should anyone -- regardless of race, creed or national origin be irresponsibly held in contempt for not having control over those characteristics, just as you -- or you -- or you -- or I have no such control???

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.  He spoke everything into being.  And God saw all that He had made.  And it was very Good.   (Genesis 2:31, The Holy Bible, NIV.)  And in case one cannot relate to the Creation, please state any and all processes performed by you to make you the human being you are, including without limitation, the time of your conception, the man and woman who came together in such a way as to cause that conception, the color of your skin, shape of your nose, and texture of your hair, etc.  And finally, if still not convinced, consider this:

One day a group of scientists decided that they could do anything God could do, and confronted God with their foolishness, challenging Him.  So God reached down, scooped up dust from the ground, formed it into a man, and blew into him the breath of life, and man became a living soul.  The scientists were unimpressed.  They knew creating a man was a cakewalk.  One of the scientists bent down, and just as he was about to gather some dust, God stopped him and said:  Wait a minute; get your own dust.

So what does this have to do with politics?  As usual, I'm glad you asked.   When we free ourselves of narrow, short-sighted mindsets and realize that the people who are sufficiently intelligent, educated, qualified and positively motivated to fill a position -- public or private, political or otherwise -- for the betterment of the organization or government -- local, state or national -- come in all colors, shapes and sizes, and are not limited to people who look like you -- or you -- or you -- or me, we will all be better for it.   And a question to those who claim to be believers:  How can you say you love God, whom you have never seen, but hate any of His creation -- including Samantha -- and me?  

The theology of politics:  God allows stuff to happen.  He even allows people of mixed heritage to aspire to unite a nation of people whose origins (except for the disenfranchised natives) are rooted in other parts of the world.  He allows people who don't look like you to try, just as He allows people who look like you to try.  When He created you He did not breath into you a breath of privilege -- or of prohibition.  Those are traditions conceived by our foreparents.  It is the choice of each of us to continue those traditions of privilege and prohibition -- or let them die.