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.

Who you should vote for

Early voting opened this week in North Carolina, so I thought it’d be appropriate to tell you how to vote. 

Yeah, right.

No doubt, voting in the US is a remarkable privilege. According to Quora, only 44 percent of the world’s countries are liberal democracies, which means that less than 50 percent conduct truly “free” elections. What we’ve learned over time is that people living in liberal democracies have, on average, a much higher level of education, per capita income, and good health. Furthermore, liberal democracies tend to be defined by stability, fair(er?) court systems, and a free press. Simply put, freedom promotes greater income potential and better standards of living.  

Estelle Schultz of Rockville, Maryland, votes in the
2016 election. She was born ini 1918, two years
before women were given the right to vote in the US.

We know that. Data doesn’t lie. And yet only 45 percent of eligible voters in the US will cast a ballot in this year’s election. 

Um, does that make sense? Not really, but, as they say, “it is what it is.” 

So rather than telling you WHO to vote for, I’ll make a simpler plea: vote. Get out there, friends, and vote. It’s your right and responsibility. 

But do so with something in mind: Voting will not save us. Only Jesus will. 

Here’s what I mean. When God invited us into community with one another (think Adam and Eve), he mandated that we actively care for one another (think Garden of Eden) and the kingdoms of this world (think “Proclaim repentance and forgiveness to all the world,” Jesus said), while recognizing that these systems of power can do nothing but curb our sin and create a pathway towards a semblanceof liberation, justice, and freedom. Some worldly kingdoms do a better job of that than others (think US versus Yemen), but none will ever be perfect at it. At the end of the day, the kingdoms of this world will never be able to heal the world or save us from ourselves. 

An Afghani woman votes for the first time
 in 2004, after the Taliban was deposed
and women's right to vote was restored.
Voters dip their fingers in purple ink to
prove that they have voted.

So why bother with politics at all? Why not opt out altogether? Because doing so fails to acknowledge God’s potential work through governments, public affairs, and leaders of this world. Further, scripture is all-too-clear that we are to be servants of all, actively seeking the welfare of others. This means playing a role in maintaining earthly peace and promoting a greater sense of stability and justice for all. 

When you choose not to vote, you deny both truths about God.

So … who should we vote for? Are some candidates better than others? Are some more “Christian” than others? Well, that’s hard to answer. 

What I’d suggest is something shared by Ken Chitwood when asked about the perfect
candidate: “Don’t fall into the temptation of thinking there is a perfect Christian candidate, a flawless Christian platform, or a one-size-fits-all way to vote like a Christian. Vote according to your understanding of the scriptural imperatives, your own creative conscience, and your own personal passions of freedom, liberty, and justice that God has called you to. But know that you will not make a perfect choice. Nor will I.” 

Martin Luther said something similar to Philip Melanchthon in a letter dated 1521. At that point in time, Luther had no concept of modern-day democracy or free elections, but he wrote as if he did. Be a voter, he may as well have said, and let your votes be strong, “but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world. We will commit sin while we are here, for this life is not a place where perfect justice resides, which is why we must look forward to a new heaven and a new earth where ultimate peace and justice will reign.” 

Bottom line: get out there and vote. 

Preparing for the worst, just in case

I stopped by the grocery store this morning to grab several gallons of water. Davin, Pastor Laura's "emergency management" husband, says we need a gallon of water/person/day of anticipated water shortage. I picked up 11 gallons. One never knows.

As we prepare for what The Weather Channel calls "a monster storm," we pray for those in harm's way and give thanks for those who are already working overtime in preparation for what could -- or could not -- be a catastrophic event.

I spoke with our city manager, Lane Bailey, at the Y on Monday evening. I was amazed -- and encouraged -- by the coordinated effort that goes into something like this. City and county maintenance and EMS employees already had been working hard cleaning storm drains and gutters, sharpening chain saws, securing evacuation routes and shelters ... just in case. All behind the scenes. No fanfare or glory. Just in case.

We'll pray that this storm will weaken and lives and property will be saved. But sometimes storms o'ertake us and chaos rules the day. In either case, good or bad, may we lean into each other and the grace of God for protection, guidance, hope, and encouragement.

"Grant us, O Lord, a consciousness of your presence and a strong confidence in you. In our anxiety, surround with your care. In our weariness, protect us by your loving might; through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen."