on local elections

I’m writing this note three hours before the polls close on this year’s elections. Odd-numbered years aren’t normally very exciting, but don’t tell that to those running for local offices. They’ve spent long hours shaking hands, hosting events, planting signs, and writing Facebook posts … all for the sake of serving the communities they love so much. 

I don’t yet know who will win our local elections, but I have to hand it to all those who throw their hats in the ring. It represents a high level of commitment to our neighbors, schools, parks, rec centers, public servants, and business partners. They are committed to our shared history, to government efficiency, and to making sure all our voices are heard. No doubt, they love this place. 

No matter who wins – and by the time you read this letter, we’ll all know – let’s pledge to support and encourage our elected officials, whoever they may be. And when that time comes to disagree, as it surely will, let’s do so from a place of common ground: that we’re on this journey together, all of us eager to make this community a better place. 

Thanks for your good work in the garden. 

The funeral of a friend

It’s November, which begs one simple question: Where did October go?!?

October is normally one of my favorite months. Cooler weather, colorful leaves, nights on the porch that beg for a sweater or a pair of wool socks. 

But not this October. I’m pretty sure it was 98 degrees one day and 62 the next. Not much transition at all for Mother Nature this year. 

Sometimes life surprises you. My preaching professor in seminary said that we have to be prepared for the occasional left-handed junk ball. I never played much baseball, but I always remembered his vivid description of the junk ball, a pitch designed to throw off a hitter’s timing because it’s either significantly slower and/or has confusing movement between the pitcher’s hand and the catcher’s glove. 

Life throws left-handed junk balls at you sometimes. 

Early October I was surprised with a phone call from a friend who told me that our close friend, Paul, had just died. 54 years old. Totally unexpected. It threw me for a loop during a pretty busy time of our year. A playground campaign, Consecration Sunday, G2G, a new staff member, expanding our 3^rd grade reading model to other schools, bringing the racial equity workshops to Rowan County. I didn’t have a choice but to keep busy …

… until the funeral. Krista and I took the day off and drove to Grace Moravian Church in Mt. Airy, a church on the outskirts of the neighborhood where Paul grew up. We passed his high school, some local hangouts, and the business his dad owned downtown. When we walked in the sanctuary, I was handed a bulletin … and that’s when it hit me. As we do with every funeral bulletin we print at St. John’s, there was Paul’s name in bold letters, the date of his birth and death directly below it. 

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I have the privilege – and often the terrible misfortune – of walking with a lot of people through some very dark patches of life. The left-handed junk balls you’ve experienced are sometimes overwhelming and can seem down-right confusing.

Many of you have done the same, in far more profound and remarkable ways. You’ve prayed, cooked, cleaned, driven, and sacrificed time and resources .. all for the sake of walking alongside a friend in need. 

And here’s what’s beautiful. You’ll earn nothing for your care. There are no extra jewels for your crown or fast-passes through the heavenly gates. That’s not why you care. You care because God cares. 

“We love because God first loved us,” John writes (1 John 4:19). Our love is to be a reflection of God’s love, a love given without expectation of reward or recognition. It’s like grits served with a good, Southern breakfast. You don’t order it; it just comes. 

A few days after Paul’s funeral, I pulled up that day’s scripture reading from the Moravian Daily Text, which Paul first shared with me when we were in college. I was stunned to read from Psalm 56:8, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in a bottle.” I needed to hear that word of comfort, a beautiful reminder that God hears my cries and has not overlooked my/our grief. 

When life throws a left-handed junk ball at you, my hope and prayer is that you’ll feel the strong support of this community of faith .. and that you’ll know the hope that is ours – of a God “who comforts us in all our sorrows so that we can comfort others in their sorrows” (2 Corinthians 1:4). 

What's with the red doors?

St. Paul's Lutheran Church in Columbia SC It's Reformation again .. which means we'll get a lot of questions about red doors on Lutheran churches. Well, not on THIS Lutheran church, but most. Where does the red door tradition come from? Several ideas: The most common response is that Christians have entered into worship, into the presence of God, through the blood of Christ. In the earlier history of the church, it was common for wooden church doors to have the whole life of Christ carved into them. Tradition holds that Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the red doors of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. From that time onward, red doors symbolized the churches of the Reformation. During the Middle Ages in England, churches with red doors represented places of sanctuary. If someone was being pursued by a town mob, they'd find safe rest on the other side of the red door, where s/he could plead their case for justice without threat of violence. Our Jewish brothers and sisters would immediately recognize the connection between red doors and the Passover, where the angel of death was to "pass over" all the homes of those who smeared the (red) blood of a lamb over their doors. So there you have it. It's interesting to note that the red door tradition isn't limited to Lutherans. Most churches embrace the idea, although churches of the Reformation have been particularly proud of their red door heritage. What about St. John's? Well, take a look at our front doors and you'll see displayed the earlier tradition that uses a church's front door to tell the story of Christ, "the Word made flesh." And that, my friends, is the rest of the story.

The valley of the shadow of death

Over the next few days, we'll be celebrating the lives of two beloved folks in our community: Bee Soderberg and Barbara Benton. Among all the things we do as a faith community and as pastors, presiding at one's funeral is always the most humbling and profound, as we commend loved ones into the arms of Jesus.

Bee's life was defined by a remarkable sense of faithfulness to God, family, friends, and church. She and Rich were married for 70 years, always remaining each other's best friends. She was smart, witty, a world traveler and perhaps the best dog owner ever. She will be missed.

Barbara was a long-time middle school teacher in our community, 24 of her 30 years at Knox. So many former students have told me this week that Mrs. Benton was "the best teacher I ever had." Barbara had many other interests and passions, but what a beautiful way to be remembered, as such a fine teacher and mentor.

I normally don't write about folks who have passed along, but as we prepare for these two memorial services, we've been given the chance to press "pause" on the busyness of our week and give thanks for the chance to walk with folks through the valley of the shadow of death ... into the waiting arms of our Lord and Savior.

To fully trust

In our staff devotions this morning, we read from Psalm 23 and asked what it looks like to fully trust in God. Not partially, but fully.

That's hard, isn't it? I mean, trust is a scarce commodity these days. It's easy to lift up our federal government as an example, but the same is true for public institutions, schools, police, even each other. Our default is not to trust unless trust is proven, but even then suspicion and cynicism keep us from fully trusting others.

What does it look like to trust fully in God? What difference does it make? That's where Psalm 23 comes to mind: "As I walk through the valley of the shadow of darkness/death ...." As I walk, not IF I walk. "As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." Our trust in God removes fear and trembling, bringing us to a place of peace, shalom, joy.

We are better when we dare to trust -- in God and in one another. What a powerful message that would be for our elected officials. What a life-changing message that would be for you and me.

9-11. Where were you?

It was 8:46 am. I was on my way to work, listening to NPR's Morning Edition when  I heard the "breaking story." My left hand blinker was engaged, its rhythm becoming an odd drumbeat to the bizarre narrative of a plane and the World Trade Center.

Where were you on 9-11? That question will be asked multiple times today, the 18th anniversary of an event we'll never forget. Collectively, we pray for peace on days like these, in hopes that we may never again face the uncertainty and fear of such tragedy.

 Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy.

A new partnership in Bethlehem

Christmas Lutheran, Bethlehem

Sept. 22 was a very special day in the life of St. John’s, as we formalized a partnership with Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem. Pastor Munther Isaac was on hand to preach and sign the Covenant.

Christmas Lutheran is just three blocks from the location of Jesus’ birth and is the oldest Lutheran church in Palestine. The congregation has a long history of welcoming pilgrims to Bethlehem and peacemaking during times of great conflict and stress. It’s a ministry of hope, Pastor Isaac told an audience last Sunday night in the Faith Center.

“Hope is what we do,” said Pastor Isaac, quoting Mitri Raheb, the church’s pastor until 2017, when he stepped down to be the president of Dar al-Kalima University, the only Lutheran college in the Middle East. Mitri has visited St. John’s twice since 2012 and was the 2015 recipient of Sweden’s Olaf Palme Award, given annually to someone creatively committed to the cause of peace.

Why Christmas Lutheran? It’s not easy being a Christian in the Middle East. Once a majority population in Bethlehem, Ramala, and Nazareth, their numbers have dropped considerably in the last half-century. In Bethlehem today, only 12 percent of the population is Christian.
We believe that the Christian witness is incredibly important in Israel/Palestine, especially during these days of so much conflict and distress. The Christian community — including

Christmas Lutheran — has been a strong advocate for peace, non-violent resistance, and sharing the land. Unfortunately, their voices are being ignored and, in many cases, marginalized. Peace, it seems, is a threatening message to those trying to secure control.
What does such a partnership look like? This Advent, members of St. John’s and Christmas will join in writing the Advent devotionals as a joint project. In March 2021, 30 members of St. John’s will visit the Holy Land, including a four day stay in Bethlehem, where we’ll be hosted by members of the congregation and enjoy authentic Palestinian meals and hospitality.

Because both congregations have a strong appreciation for Christian art, we will exchange art with one another. Munther will also be a regular contributor to this Eagle’s View newsletter.

Pastor Munther Isaac

We are in the early stages of discussing how to share our expertise in VBS with the children’s ministry team at Christmas. VBS is a new idea there, but Munther says it’s an excellent way of drawing children from throughout Bethlehem, including Muslim children. “Muslim parents are more than willing to allow their kids to join our Christian education activities. They’re curious, which gives us a great opportunity to share the story of Jesus and our message of peace.”

During this highly-politicized era in Israeli-Palestinian relations, it’s more important than ever that we help amplify the Christian voice of peace. That voice comes from Christmas Lutheran Church. What a blessing to be in partnership with them.

When faith and politics collide

Our congregation is part of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (the ELCA), the largest Lutheran denomination in the US. Often I'm asked, "What does that mean? What authority does the ELCA have over St. John's?"

It's helpful to know a bit about church polity, ie, the way we're governed. Lutherans are both congregational (which means that we are legally independent non-profits with ultimate authority regarding issues of policy and procedures), and episcopal (which means that we find unity in our bishop, our church institutions, and our church-wide expression).

One of the things I love about being a Lutheran is our theological unity. Lutherans have been the world's great stewards of a theology of grace and our belief in a "priesthood of all believers." At the same time, our denomination makes room for a broad spectrum of those who would be socially conservative, liberal, and everything in between. We are at our best when we cling to our theological roots, while engaging in rich, respectful conversation around issues that matter, like race, sexuality, and immigration. We can approach these issues from different perspectives, as long as we first seek Jesus' high command to love God and love one another (Mark 12:30-31).

With all that in mind, let me share a few comments about last week's ELCA church-wide Assembly in Milwaukee. To be honest, church-wide gatherings receive very little attention (despite what we like to think), and that's certainly the case this time-around ... except when the ELCA passed a resolution claiming itself as a "sanctuary church" in regard to immigrants and refugees. Nothing terribly unusual. Christians have been a sanctuary church for 2000 years, clinging to a very distinct expectation to care for the stranger. No argument there.

Until Fox News got involved. During a 5 1/2 minute discussion -- which included no representative from the ELCA -- the four panelists ripped into the church's decision, saying that the church was asking its congregations to act illegally. Give me a break.

I hope you know me well enough that I value a variety of opinions -- political, theological and otherwise. But at the very least, let's get the facts straight. It was painfully obvious that the panelists had not read the statement and knew absolutely nothing about ELCA polity (see paragraph 1 above).

You and I might disagree about immigration issues. Hallelujah. Let's talk about it. But let's at least do enough homework to get our facts straight. With that in mind, the following links are helpful in better understanding the church's not-very-new statement about being a "sanctuary church."

1. ELCA talking points
2. An ELCA pastor responds to criticism

Interested in learning more? One of our members, Ted Goins, is the CEO of Lutheran Services Carolinas, which helps to resettle refugees in the Carolinas and advocate for just treatment of immigrants. We are hosting an open conversation with Ted on Tuesday, Sept. 3 at 7 pm in the Faith Center. It's a perfect opportunity to gather around the table and learn from one another.

Which is something else I love about being a Lutheran: gathering around a table of grace.

On hate speech, refugees and more shootings

It's another day of grieving around the United States as two communities bury victims of two unrelated mass shooting in El Paso and Dayton. 

As we continue to sort through the details, three questions come to mind: 

1. Why is hate speech the root cause of so much tragedy? The Texan shooter spent months writing a manifesto that spews mean-spirited vitriol towards immigrants. It’s hard to read, and even harder to comprehend how someone could be filled with so much anger. One thing is certain: such anger/hate rarely lives in isolation. It’s frightening to know that others feel the same way. 

2. Politics can be brutal, and this isn't the first time politicians have hurled insults toward one another in the aftermath of tragedy. Regardless, are there any grown-ups in Washington? I'd sure like to hear from one. 

3. When will we learn the difference between immigrant and refugee? An immigrant is someone who chooses to resettle to another country. A refugee is someone who has been forced to flee his/her home country because of war, genocide, etc. There is no doubt we have immigration issues that have to be brought under control. While we figure things out, let’s not leave refugees out in the cold. They are widely considered the most vetted group of people trying to enter the United States. Since the late 1940s, the Lutheran church has been at the forefront of resettling refugees in the US. So why is the administration proposing to slash refugee admissions to zero next year? It's a ludicrous idea that's contrary to any sense of Judeo-Christian values. The United States has a long history of embracing refugees with a different kind of compassion. Let's not stop now. 

Join me in prayer for our brothers and sisters in Texas and Ohio ... and for all of us as we find ways to be a more civil, faithful, forgiving, peace-loving society.

A fun 4th

I love the 4th of July. It's a great break in the middle of the summer, especially if it falls close to the weekend. There are loads of opportunities for cookouts, lake trips, fireworks, and time spent with friends. 

As a kid, our neighborhood pool always hosted a 4th of July party with crazy relay races and eating contests. The highlight was tossing a huge, greased watermelon into the deep end. Whoever pulled it out won some kind of prize. Um, not a very safe game .. but it was a blast. 

I've often heard about the textile mills closing for 4th of July week, which led many of the families to head straight for the beach. It was the highlight of the year, an annual excursion to Myrtle, Ocean Isle, or Carolina Beach. Kids met up with friends they'd only see that particular week of summer. Parents saved all year to cover necessary beach expenses like cotton candy, cheap T shirts, hermit crabs, bottle rockets, and rides at the Pavilion. 

I'm a sucker for tradition -- annual events/traditions/rituals that draw us together year-after-year. Whatever your tradition is this 4th of July, may you be blessed by the warmth of community, the delicious smell of grilled burgers and baked beans, and the joy of celebrating our nation's freedom. 

Singing at the top of your lungs

When do you stop singing songs at the top of your lungs? 

Pastor Laura and I are at Lutheridge this week with 17 confirmation campers. It’s been a great week, no doubt, and a wonderful time to experience these students on a different playing field. 

On the way to lunch, I heard counselors leading their campers in singing. Well, screaming mostly. At the top of their lungs, leading chants with hand motions and cheers. They were on the porch of the dining hall, but I’m sure their voices could be heard all the way down the mountain. Especially one counselor – Isaiah, I think – who had a particularly loud voice that started to crack by the end of the chant. The kids were going crazy. 

34 years ago I may well have been that counselor. Not that I was some crazy cool counselor or anything, but I do remember getting hoarse from singing at the top of my lungs. 

I wonder when that ended? 

I’m older, of course, so maybe that has something to do with it. More mature? Some days. Wiser? Definitely … and I’m glad for all that. I like being in this stage of life, with kids in different places, a job I love, memories of fun times in the past, and the anticipation of fun times in the future. 

But I have to admit that I miss singing at the top of my lungs, unfettered and totally free. Listening to Isaiah sing/scream, I wished I could go back to that place in time. 

That’s one of things I like so much about confirmation camp. Our 17 kids arrived with hesitation, maybe even some fear and trembling. They were anxious about meeting new people and worried about what others would think of them. But it’s Thursday, and, well, they’re starting to sing a little louder, dance a little crazier and laugh a lot harder. This morning, I saw Chris Kafitz totally let loose with a crazy man dance that made me laugh out loud. 

Sure, I miss that in myself, but I sure am glad to see it in others. Because our life and faith is something to sing about at the top of our lungs. And maybe even do the crazy man dance every now and then. 

Normandy, 75 years later

Today marks the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landing of June 6, 1944, ranked by many as the boldest and most successful large scale invasion in military history. On this one day, 160,000 Allied troops crossed the English Channel to successfully secure a beachhead on the coast of Normandy. They were supported by 7,000 ships and boats, and 5,000 landing and assault crafts. Within ten days there were a half a million troops on shore. Within three weeks, that number swelled to 2 million.

At our men's Bible study this morning, we learned that Don Duggan was a new 18 year old recruit exactly one year later, on June 1945. After a week of training (one week!), he was headed to Japan, where almost everyone was anticipating yet another invasion, what certainly would have been the largest amphibious invasion in history.

All but one of the men around the table (20 or so?) had a family member who fought in WW2, many of them part of the Normandy invasion. They spoke of Col. Robert Sink of Lexington, commander of the famous 506th parachute infantry regiment, the first men to land. Two months later, he was named commander of the 101st Airborne Division. Others spoke of Col. Thomes Ferebee, known as the man who dropped the first Atomic bomb, destroying Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, but saving the life of Don and millions of others, American and Japanese alike. Ferebee grew up on a farm in Mocksville and was the cousin of Joe Ferebee, the long-time baseball coach at Pfeiffer and good friend to men around the table.

For most, WW2 is a thing of history books. But for many of these men, June 6, 1944, was a day of vivid memory, after which brothers, uncles, and dads would soon be coming home.

I hate war, but I'm thankful for those who had the bold conviction to fight when war was necessary. Today, we remember their sacrifice and pray that someday God will bring peace to all the land, when even lion will lie with the lamb. What a day that will be.

Growing old .. and red wine

My favorite news magazine is The Week, a summary of news articles and commentaries from around the world. This week they shared a report from National Geographic about the secrets of longevity. Researchers pinpointed five areas -- called Blue Zones -- where residents made it to their 100th birthday at 10 times the rate of the general US population. Places like Sardinia, Italy; Okinawa, Japan; Ikaria, Greece; Nicoya, Costa Rica; and Loma Linda, California.

We would all do well to look closely at what researches say are the nine most important contributing factors: keeping physically active, maintaining a sense of purpose, taking time to relax/play, avoid overeating, plant-based diets, close family ties, socializing, drinking wine (1 or 2 glasses a day), and participating in a faith-based community.

Well there you have it. If you've ever wondered why you should come to church, now you know. Well, let's just claim it as "yet another reason." Staying active in your church, researchers tell us, cultivates a sense of purpose, protects against cognitive decline, boosts happiness, and may well be the secret to longevity.

It's all in the data. Oh, and a glass or two of red wine can't hurt.

Don't you just love working in God's Garden?

More shootings. Where's the leadership?

Two more mass shootings. Another young adult male arrested. 3 more deaths and 7 more injured. More "our prayers go with the victims" and, soon, more proposals to spend even more money (excuse me, reassign already-budgeted monies) securing public space.

Do we see an end to any of this?

One of the shooting victims in Charlotte was a friend of our communications specialist. One of the students present in the classroom is related to our children's minister. Even if there were no connections at all, the fact that UNCC is but 34 miles away is chilling.

But what hurt as much as anything was hearing the grim story of Lori Kaye, a member of the San Diego synagogue who courageously jumped between the shooter and her rabbi, a close friend. She later died in her husband's arms.

When will this end? The common thread to all of these shootings -- and there seem to have been a lot lately -- is hatred. White supremacists and

anti-Semites are easy to blame, and sure enough their brand of hatred has to be identified and called out on the national stage.

But there's more to it than that. Our increasingly violent culture (something Psychology Today has been writing about for years) is a mixed bag of mental health issues, TV and video game violence, domestic disputes (54 percent of shooting deaths are committed by intimate partners), our imprisonment philosophy, racial unrest, and the proliferation of guns, just to name a few. We'll wring our hands about all of them, but several weeks from now, little will change. Which, interestingly, is the street definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.

We need leaders who heed the words of Moses in times of crisis and uncertainty: Now is the time to "be bold and courageous," he told the people of Israel (Deut. 31:6). I agree. Now is the time for bold and courageous leaders who set aside grand-standing and partisan bickering in order to find common ground and create viable policy. It's possible.

In the meantime, our prayers go with the victims, their families, and the UNCC, San Diego, and Jewish communities reeling from yet another senseless act of hatred. May God grant to them and all of us a "peace that passes all understanding" (Philippians 4:7).

A make-shift memorial at UNCC's Kennedy Building, where the shootings took place.

If Trump and Pelosi met at a bar ...

Krista, Anna, Leo, and I ventured up north for Spring Break, stopping at some of the most historic cities in the country: Washington, DC, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Since Anna and Leo are both high school juniors, we also toured some colleges along the way, but the main item on the agenda was to reconnect with our country’s past. 

And that we did.

If you haven’t been to DC or Philly lately, do yourself a favor and go. From a private tour of the Capital (thanks to Congressman Budd’s office) to the National Portrait Gallery (the new, life-size Obama portrait is amazing) ... from standing where MLK delivered his “I have a Dream” speech, to a silent walking tour of the Korean War memorial ... from a glimpse at one of the few Guttenberg bibles still in existence (Library of Congress), to an interruption of an NBC live news update at the Supreme Court building (yep, that was us). And that was Day 1!

Anyway, go if you can. You certainly won’t regret it.

I learned something new at the Betsy Ross house in Philadelphia. As you probably know, the Pennsylvania colony – and Philadelphia itself -- was founded by William Penn, a Quaker who was determined that the city be designed and ordered according to Quaker beliefs. Central to Quakers is the belief that all are created equal and possess within them a bit of God’s eternal light. Government, by extension, must be a work of the people, and decisions should respect the opinions, insights, and “truth” that all bring to the table. And the people, Penn thought, should reflect a rich variety of backgrounds, denominations, and races. He actively recruited non-Anglicans and made sure that Pennsylvania was the first colony to outlaw slavery.

In addition, City leaders gathered in circles so that no one voice was more dominant than another. The country’s first flag symbolized that ideal, with 13 stars arranged in a circular pattern, all states as equal partners. Likewise, representatives to the first Continental Congress (1774), chairs arranged in a circle at Carpenters’ Hall, weren’t yet interested in revolutionary phrases or incendiary actions; they simply wanted the English king to hear their collective voice and be recognized as equal participants in decision-making.

Here’s an idea: let’s force President Trump, Nancy Pelosi and leaders of Congress to take a walking tour of Philadelphia! And what if we add to that list talk show hosts from MSNBC and Fox News? Reconnecting with a little Quaker-inspired ideology just might make a difference in these oddly combative, ego-centered, overly-opinionated times we’re living in. Or we could always hope .....

Until then, circle up with some friends and enjoy some time together. Listen to each other’s opinions and be open to glimpses of light that emanates from within. Sounds like a good way to spend a Spring evening, doesn’t it?

Michael Jackson

I enjoyed growing up in the 1980s. 

I mean, this funky little decade gave rise to some of the best (and cheesiest) music, the most iconic movie themes and images (think “ET, come home”), styles that made you laugh (leg warmers? Parachute pants?), and moments in history that made you stand and shout (“Mr. Gorbachev, bring down that wall!”). 

I know everyone thinks “their” era was the best, but, well, the 80s was pretty darn cool. 

For me it started by playing PacMan endlessly at the local Put Put Golf Course. Some highlights were sneaking into my first R rated movie (Caddyshack), convincing my mom that midnight movies were safe, wholesome places (I’m not sure I mentioned anything about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show”), and watching Michael Jordan sink the game-winning shot to win a national championship. 

I remember thinking MASH was edgy, until MTV introduced me/us to a whole new world of temptation and overexposure (think “Like a Virgin” by Madonna). I remember driving to Charleston with my friend Allison singing “The Heart of Rock and Roll” and searching through Brad’s vinyl collection for anything by Police (sing with me, “Every breath you take …”) or REM. 

The 1980 Olympic hockey victory brought us to tears while four years later Carl Lewis and Mary Lou Retton brought us to cheers. When I think of the ‘80s I think of the Reagan Ranch, the Challenger, fall of the Berlin Wall, and the first PC. I think of the Wall Street Crash, Iran-Contra, and the Cold War. 

I sing along to Queen, Footloose, We Are the World, and the song of my youth, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

I also think of Michael Jackson. And that’s where it gets a little touchy. 

Last week I watched part 1 of the new HBO documentary, “Leaving Neverland,” that uncovers the sordid story of Michael Jackson’s obsession with children. It’s hard to watch, in large part because this performer had such a defining role in my growing up years, the 1980s. Billy Jean, Thriller, Beat It. Even if you didn’t like Michael Jackson, you knew all the words to his song. He was everywhere. 

But I’m having a hard time listening to his music these days. Suddenly it feels like a lie, that it represents something entirely different from what I remember about his music and the ‘80s. It represents an underside that was always present — there’s always an underside, right? — but that I chose not to accept. 

I don’t mean to cast stones before everything is known about Jackson and the men who are now sharing their brutal stories. But I am reminded of how careful we have to be in choosing heroes. 

I’m also reminded of a Gospel that sets aside heroes for the sake of servants, ego for the sake of humility. I’m reminded that truth is not always connected to perception, but is found in faithful living. And, yes, I’m reminded that in spite of the sordidness of sin, there is always the promise of new life. 

The season of Lent walks us from that place of sordidness, sin, and death to a place of truth, light, and resurrection. While Mary Magdalen walked to the tomb assuming death, she walked away that Easter morn filled with life. 

The lesson: Hope wins. Love wins. Light shatters the darkness. Good stands in the way of evil. Why? Because God is always about the business of restoring the Garden until all the world might know the beauty and power of his love. 

“What’s love got to do with it?” you might ask. Everything, as it turns out. So, my fellow ‘80s friends, “Don’t stop believin’.” 

Please, don’t stop believin.’ 

On suicide and school shootings

It was heartbreaking to hear about the suicides of two Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students, just a little more than a year after the tragic school shooting in Parkland, Florida. Although the precise cause of the suicides is not yet clear, parents of both admit that their children struggled with “survivors guilt.” One of the students, senior Sydney Aiello, was best friends with one of the students killed last year.

Then, on Monday, the Parkland community was hit hard with the news of another suicide -- that of Jeremy Richman, father of one of the children killed at the Sandy Hook shooting in 2012. 

Much will be written about school shootings, rising violence across the US (including two teenagers shot just a few blocks from our house early Sunday morning), the proliferation of guns, etc. But let’s not overlook two very important realities: 1, While news and social media attention quickly moves on after tragedy, people who remain are left to pick up the pieces. 2, The US suicide rate has increased by 25 percent since 2002, while the increase among males 15-24 has been significantly higher than any other age group, especially in the last five years.

Let this sink in: A recent study by Promundo revealed that 1 in 5 males between 18-30 thought about suicide in the last two weeks. 1 in 5.

There are lots of factors involved, but the most important thing you can do as a friend, parent, or grandparent is to check in with your loved one. Talk about it. Do your best to make sure they’re engaged socially. Pull them away from video and online activity if it’s consuming their lives. Have dinner together and talk about the day. Don’t underestimate the lasting effects of trauma or worry over current events. Be open about drug and alcohol use. And talk about suicide. It’s hard, I know, but your kid/grandkid/friend desperately needs to know that they have an ally who is willing to talk through the hard stuff of life. 

And by all means, if you or someone you know may be considering suicide, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1.800.273.8255. 

The ash of Ash Wednesday

From ashes, new life. 

25 years ago, my parents built a little cabin near Lake Lure. It’s always been a favorite gathering place to escape, chill, and reconnect. Imagine our worry when 7,100 acres surrounding the Chimney Rock/Lake Lure area were engulfed in flames in late 2017, what has been called the Party Rock Fire. Thankfully there was no loss of life, though the charred ashes of such a massive fire lingered on and on. 

But a funny thing happens after a fire. Holes in the forest canopy have allowed new species to grow. Fire resilient trees like oak and hickory are replacing non-fire resilient trees. And the animals are loving it. 

Driving around the area last week, it was hard to see any remnants of the so-called “fire of the century.” In fact, ecologists can hardly wait to see what emerges from the ashes this spring.

Which brings us to Ash Wednesday.Ash, the reminder of death, brokenness, and our own, very real mortality. The ancient ritual that rubs a haunting reminder into our forehead: “You are of dust and of dust you will return.” It’s a brutally honest day that comes with a parental warning of sorts: your sin will be exposed. 

It also comes with a promise: that from ashes, new life will arise. 

In some respects, Ash Wednesday is a mystery I’m not sure I fully understand. But I do understand the power of an ancient ritual that shows no partiality to race, sex, wealth or social status by simply saying, “We are all sinful, each and every one of us. We will all die, each and every one of us.”

But from ashes, new life. Remarkable, isn’t it? What an amazing God we serve. 

Sharing raw emotions

We read Psalm 44 this morning in our staff Bible study, a psalm loaded with anger, fear, and frustration towards God. We considered the different places in society that are loaded down with the same kind of raw emotions.

The United Methodist Church came to mind, especially after its jarring vote yesterday regarding gay and lesbian pastors. Others thought of immigrants. One spoke about her grandmother's care of her husband after his diagnosis with Alzheimer's -- a grandfather who transitioned from being kind and gentle to mean and mouthy. Her grandmother could easily resonate with the words of Psalm 44 ...

... if given the space to do so. So many of us have been conditioned to hide raw emotions, especially towards God. Expressing anger and frustration towards our heavenly Father feels, well, un-Christian.

But the psalms make room for that kind of emotional release. It would have been easy to leave these "psalms of lament" out of Scripture, but that didn't happen. Why?

"I think it opens the door for healing," one staff member said. It might not feel like it in the moment, but if the emotion is repressed for too long, it festers into something far worse. So true.

To that I would add a reminder of the church's other responsibility: to provide space for hope. That's what the church brings to the conversation -- hope. Hope revealed by a God who can bring life into the darkest of places. We like that message of hope, no doubt. But let's not go there too quickly. Sometimes we need to just sit in the raw emotion of it all. Sometimes we just need to hear and listen. When ready, we provide a hand to hold as we walk into a new tomorrow.

Blessings to you in these days of raw emotions. May we be a church that listens .. and a church with hands to hold through it all.

A nightmare in Palestine

Sometimes the truth is uncomfortable, but it sure is necessary when addressing some of the world’s critical issues. 

One such issue comes to mind: Palestine. 

The Israeli-Palestinian situation is a nightmare. Michelle Alexander wrote an alarming column in the NY Times earlier this week comparing the treatment of Palestinians to apartheid in South Africa and Jim Crow segregation in the US. But the Christian Zionist movement and the Israeli lobby have been so strong that everyone’s afraid to throw up a warning flag. 

It’s stunning, really, that Christians and civil rights groups haven’t had a fit over this. Christian Palestinians have been so marginalized that they’re leaving in droves. Bethlehem and Nazareth, once home to the largest concentration of Christians in Israel, have seen their percentages dwindle to single digits while Palestinian property and homes are confiscated by Israel, land is bull-dozed and settlements are built in their place. There is severe lack of access to decent housing, food, clean water, and schools. Palestinians wait for hours at their own checkpoints every day, and a large wall has been built that divides communities, neighborhoods, and even farms.

We support Dar Al Kalima University in Bethlehem,
a college started by the Lutheran church to raise up
a new generation of Palestinian leaders

The Lutheran church has been particularly active in Palestine. Lutheran churches in

Bethlehem and Jerusalem are historic pillars in the Protestant community, and the Augusta Victoria Lutheran Hospital near Jerusalem is one of five hospitals allowed to serve the 5 million Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. Earlier this year, the US suspended funding to the five hospitals, sending the Palestinian medical community into a panic.

And yet there is refusal to even talk about this nightmare in Congress for fear of being labeled anti-Semitic or, worse, a terrorist lover (because all Palestinians are terrorists, right??). In fact, members of Congress and Christian leaders around the country have remained oddly and non-courageously silent. 

Where is the prophetic voice? Where is the cry for justice for all? Martin Luther King, Jr., once wrote that "justice denied anywhere diminishes justice everywhere."

Some would label this a political issue. I label it a human rights issue that begs the religious community to stand up and cry “enough!” You can do that by becoming more familiar with the situation, starting with the above-mentioned article. Google "Time to Break the Silence on Palestine." For more, check out Mitri Raheb's The Cross in Contexts, Naim Ateek's A Palestinian Theology of Liberation, or check out "If Not Now," an advocacy group formed by young Jewish Americans who are struggling to break the silence about occupation. After all that, you might feel compelled to speak with your member of Congress. At the very least, I hope you'll pray that a Judeo-Christian understanding of justice will prevail in Palestine.