Wearing red for teachers

I'm wearing red today in honor of our teachers.

I know this has become a politically charged issue -- especially today, as teachers march on Raleigh, each of them wearing red -- but I'm not trying to make a political statement. It just seems to me to be an appropriate starting place.

Outside of parents, teachers have the most influence on a child's life. Because of some home situations, the teacher is even more influential than a parent. There's no doubt, then, that the future of our community is dependent upon good teaching from well-qualified teachers, just as the future of our community's health is dependent upon well-qualified health professionals.

With that in mind, surely we can agree that a well-trained, motivated, highly-engaged, intelligent, appropriately-paid core of teachers is critical for our students' success and necessary for our community's future.

So let's begin there, by honoring the teaching profession for what it is: a committed, professional core of men and women who have dedicated their lives to the future of our students and community.

I've heard legislators make a lot of critical comments about teachers these last few days. That's not a very good way to begin a conversation. I'd rather see these same legislators walk alongside teachers today, setting aside all the politicizing, demonizing and grandstanding that has dominated the debate for far too long.

Let's start this new legislative session by honoring our teachers. It's a great place to begin.

Thanks for your work in God's garden today. I'll see you in church.

Why does Donal Trump (and Rhodes Woolly) lie?

My friend, Wade, remembers vividly the day his young daughter lied for the first time. He laughed when he called to tell me about it .. then felt suddenly sad, knowing that she would be wrestling with the demon of "bearing false witness" the rest of her life.

Why do we keep lying with such regularity? Don't we ever learn?

Part of that answer is rooted in risk and reward. So many people inherently love taking risks, and lying is a risk with potential reward. The problem is that once we "win" the risk, we become hooked. The more we lie (stretch the truth, exaggerate, deceive, whatever), the more likely we are to do it again.

As you know, Trump's White House is the latest to be caught red-handed (so it seems) stretching the truth. Remember Watergate? Monica? LBJ's Gulf of Tonkin humdinger? All were presidential lies that eroded our trust in folks who need our trust to survive.

So, why do they (we) do it? Why not be honest with us? It's an age-old question, of course, and most of us have yet to come up with a good response. Except, well, this one: We lie because we are afraid -- afraid of losing something -- and the only way we know to get what we really want is to lie. Oh, and cross our fingers behind our backs.

Is lying an epidemic in American politics? Probably no more so than it has been in the past, but it's still so very tiring. After a while you wonder, "What can I trust? Is this just another, um, lie?"

1 John offers an antidote that presidential advisors should keep in their back pockets, ready to apply at a moment's notice: "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:8-9).

Honest confession. It's a start, at least ... for Wade's daughter, the president, and, well, you and me.

Blessings to you and yours. 

Too busy to worship?

We do a lot around here. Volunteers are always buzzing around this place, and even more are actively engaged in their own ministry all around the community. 

But nothing is more important than worship. And no week is more significant than Holy Week. 

This week we gather to hear the story of faith -- the whole story, not just part of it. Not just the good stuff, but the tough stuff, too. We hear about brokenness and wrong decisions and terribly painful sin and separation. Then, on Easter, we hear about new beginnings and second chances and another lease on life. We hear it all. And we worship a God who wants to tell us the whole truth, the whole story. Not just part of it. 

I've met plenty of folks who have given up on worship. They don't get anything out of it, or they feel they can worship while kayaking on a lake better than singing old hymns in a stodgy church. I get it ... sort of. 

Here's the problem: God didn't ask us to worship for his sake, but for ours. He invites us to step away from our consumer mentality and consider that worship isn't about us or our preferences. Worship reminds us that Christianity isn't a solo sport, a one person band. Worship is about being in community with God and with God's people. And when we decide that we don't need the church, we're effectively eliminating half of our faith ... which means half of the story.

Who wants to hear and know only half the story? 

A lot of folks are struggling with the discipline of regular worship. If that's you, may I invite you to give it another chance? As you do, ask God to give you the blessing of proper focus -- a focus on God. Ask God to remove your worries and opinions and all those things that get in the way of true worship. And set your heart on a spirit of gladness, that your worship might reflect the beauty of Psalm 100: "Shout to the Lord all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness, and come before him with joyful song. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise, for the Lord is good and his mercy extends forever; his mercy endures for all generations. 

I look forward to seeing you in worship, friends. Happy Easter!

Waiting at the DMV

As I write this note, I’m sitting in the DMV office waiting to renew my driver’s license. 45 minutes in, I’m trying to find ways to occupy my time.

Within this 8 x 12 waiting area sit 19 people from all walks of life, each of us consumed by our own thoughts, living in our own little universe. One lady I recognize from the CDC. Otherwise, I don’t know a soul. No one is talking. Most are staring straight ahead. One older gentleman is asleep. Others are looking into their phones, lost in the pages of Facebook or Instagram. I’m pretty sure they have no clue I’m writing about them. 

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus approaches Jerusalem on a day we call Palm Sunday. The closer he gets, the louder the crowds become, crowds that just a few months earlier had been silent, lost in their own world of personal, daily concerns. When the Pharisees told Jesus to quiet the crowds, he said “If they keep quiet, the stones would begin to shout.”

What do we need to shout about today? What deserves our utmost attention?

Let’s not leave the gospel in the hands of stones. God needs us to stand up and shout! ..... although, admittedly, this lady sitting next to me might get a little nervous if I do.

What can we learn from each other?

I bet you and I disagree over gun control. In fact, I guarantee it.

Whether you’re a gun rights advocate or a gun removal activist, there likely are nuances in your position that would cause me to disagree with you. The same is true with most topics of conversation, especially the controversial ones. Immigration? Probably. Gay rights? Likely. The new tax code? Almost certainly.

But guess what? I’m not right about everything. I know that’s hard to believe (no comment, Krista!), but it’s true. As it turns out, I don’t have the corner on absolute truth, unless we’re talking about Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

Which is precisely why we need to be in conversation. I need to hear your opinion, and you need to hear mine. We need to do more than talk at each other and dare to listen to one another.

It’s not rocket science. And yet, well, why are we so bad at it these days?

I learned something in middle school that was critically important to me. I was at a youth gathering at Camp Kinard, although I can’t remember much more than that. We were doing the time-honored Trust Fall, when participants turn their backs to the group, close their eyes, and fall backwards into the arms of friends — trusting that they’ll be caught.

Trust is the key word.

The Trust Fall activity was old hat, one of those activities youth leaders rely on when they’ve run out of ideas.

But this time, one of the adults — I’ll never remember who — said something like this: “We’ll never learn to listen to one another unless we learn to trust one another.” Trust isn’t the ending point. Learning to trust one another is but a starting point that leads to better listening, which leads to better understanding, which sometimes leads to compromise, which almost always leads to peace.

We seem to live in an age when everyone wants their opinions heard, but no one wants to hear the opinions of others. Bizarre, isn’t it? We need to rediscover the art of listening ... which starts by daring to trust.

The NRA has a lot to learn from students in Parkland, Florida ... and the rising tide of gun control activists have something to learn from the NRA. So let’s stop the political maneuvering. Let’s stop sacrificing truth for the sake of protecting political turf.

Let’s dare to have conversations that matter in a spirit of trust and respect. Let’s open our ears so that the Spirit might open our hearts and minds. We just might learn something from each other.

“Encourage one another, and build each other up,” Paul writes to the confused and somewhat misguided church in Thessalonica. It’s good advice for us today, don’t you think? 

Another shooting

This is getting crazy. Parkland represents the 17^th school shooting in 2018 alone, a statistic that’s on the rise in significant and frightening ways.

As if by script, responses from politicians have been predictable and represent very little nuance. The NRA has yet to issue an official response, but I’d be surprised if it reaches beyond the standard response to school tragedies and mass shootings: “We need more, not fewer guns.”

Which is a curious response, it seems to me. Already there are over 325 million guns registered (note, “registered”) by private citizens in the US, more than twice as many per capita than any other country in the world. Even more shocking, 36 countries have reported a school shooting since 2000. The US reports twice as many as all other countries combined.

We need more guns?

We’ve been debating this issue for years, no doubt, and if you’ve been around me very often you know how I feel. I didn’t grow up in a family system that enjoyed the use of firearms, although I’ve often envied friends who did, especially given the bond it often generates between father and son. And though I’ve never had a gun in my home, I’ve been around gun enthusiasts all of my life, especially in the Shenandoah Valley, where we lived for 13 years – a region that syncs school calendars with the beginning of hunting season.

Bottom line: I don’t have a problem with guns. In fact, I think it’s a rather fascinating part of our social fabric.

But isn’t it time we started talking about what’s gone wrong? Isn’t it time we had an honest, gutsy conversation about gun regulation without fear of retribution or attack?

Perhaps – perhaps – that’s what’s happening these days. It’s far too early to say, but the Parkland shooting has stirred up more than emotion. It’s stirred up a hive of high school activists who are saying “enough is enough.” Just nine days removed from the Parkland shooting, high schoolers have stormed Washington, Tallahassee, and the majority of our nation’s capitals. Even President Trump said, “It’s time to listen.”

My prayer is that good folks on both sides of the issue will use this tragedy to do just that: listen to one another. We’ve heard enough opinions. We’ve drawn too many lines in the sand. We’ve already spent too much campaign money. It’s time to listen.

And as we listen, let’s pray for spiritual freedom – that minds on both sides might be open to new insight. That our hearts might be enlarged to consider new possibilities.

That’s precisely what happened during the great suffrage and civil rights movements in the United States. It’s precisely what guided the Peaceful Revolution to a united Germany.

It’s what we need right now. Let’s not wait for yet another mass shooting. Let’s do the hard work of listening to one another. 

U2, the Grammys, and learning how to breathe

Krista and I watched the Grammy Awards last Sunday night, our annual opportunity to catch up on a contemporary music scene that is slowly slipping away from us.

It’s always a fun event — loaded with amazing performances, emotional challenges, and over-thetop grandstanding. This Grammys went a bit overboard we thought, becoming more of a political commercial than musical entertainment. Not a surprise, given a celebrity culture that loves to award itself — how many awards shows can there be? — and pretend, for one night at least, that they are more prophet then performer.

In any case, we were blown away by U2's contribution. I'm a biased U2 fan, I'll admit, but this performance was incredible. Staged on a barge in New York's harbor with the Statue of Liberty in the background, the band challenged us to rethink the whole immigration debate. U2 doesn't take a traditional approach to anything, and that was certainly the case here. The performance was powerful musically and substantively. 

Immediately following, someone on the Grammys stage made a quick and all-too-obvious political statement, and then we were off to a commercial — within seconds of U2’s performance — only to return to the next political rant from some rather unknown (to me) performer/prophet.

I was frustrated, but I couldn’t put my finger on why until the next morning in our staff meeting. We were talking about the Grammy’s when Angel, our communications assistant, said, “They didn’t give the song time to breathe. They were so quick to move to the next topic.”

So true. I needed time for the song/performance to sink in. I was challenged, and, let’s be honest, I didn’t necessarily agree with everything Bono was trying to get across — but I wasn’t given the chance to breathe, think, soak it in, reflect.

… which is a problem these days, don’t you think? Our fast-paced society produces so many fast-paced opinions that we’re hardly given the chance to think. It’s a crisis, in my opinion. A crisis of thoughtful reflection. We simply don’t take the time to breathe.

In my first year of pastoral ministry, I was required — which was a good thing because I probably wouldn’t have gone otherwise — to attend a retreat on Spiritual Reflection. Day 2 of the retreat was to be a silent day. No talking. No conversation. No casual reading. We were to spend the time in theological contemplation and prayer. Sounds brutal, doesn’t it?

But I learned something: that without time set aside for reflection, we’re not giving our souls and spirits time to breathe.

When I was a camper at Lutheridge, a pastor-chaplain asked us, “What do you listen to when you go to bed at night?” I used to listen to the Cincinnati Reds baseball network or a replay of Casey Kasem’s American Top 40. We all had something that we listened to.

He suggested that we turn it all off and listen to nothing. “Your day is loaded with sound. Enjoy the sound of silence.” (I’m making up that quote, by the way, but he certainly said something like that.)

Later in life, I’ve interpreted his comment as one that reaches beyond the “sound of silence,” into the realm of theological reflection. “Create time,” he may as well have been saying, “for creative reflection in your life. Think more deeply about things. Don’t rely only on the opinions or thoughts of others; take time to think for yourself.”

I must admit that I worry about our addiction to a social media empire that pulls us away from quiet, reflection, and a deeper level of thinking. I worry about a news industry that invites us to tune in only to opinions we already agree with.

I worry that we don’t take time to breathe.

Perhaps that’s where the church comes in. Worship is many things, but it’s certainly a time set aside to breathe. A place where we invite the Holy Spirit to encounter us, challenge us, and walk alongside us.

After his resurrection, Jesus tracked down his confused disciples and did a curious thing: “He breathed on them” (John 20:22). He knew they needed it.

So do we.