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.