Grief, Christmas, a Manger

It was a few days before Christmas and I was driving north on a deserted rural two lane highway. When I left the sun was shining, but as I drove northward the clouds darkened and the north wind began to blow. I would turn at the eight mile corner, eight miles north of a larger main highway and the road would be marked, cemetery. I found the corner, turned onto the gravel road and headed east. I arrived at the little country cemetery. I saw no tent, but a few cars were already around a fairly new metal shed. The shed had two roll up garage doors, one door opened and one door closed. The fresh grave could be seen forty paces or so away. Inside the shed chairs had been set up and arranged facing a sturdy old pulpit. In front of the pulpit was a small table and on it was placed the tiniest casket I had ever seen. A few electric heaters were placed at the side but the chill filled the little shed. Soon the grieving family would arrive and the coldness of grief would add to the chill. Twins had perished even as they were born, still and lifeless. “Briefly in our lives, but forever in our hearts” the memorial folder read. I felt a knot in my stomach as I turned away from the tiny casket. And then I thought of another country shed, more primitive with no electric heaters and the words of a song echoed in my head, “Away in a manger no crib for a bed, the little lord Jesus lay down his sweet head…” Surely the hope, grace, and love assured to us from Christmas would bear this family through this dark, dark hour. A few days earlier the dad in his grief had raged against God and the church. He would come to this service not out of his own faith, but out of love and respect for his wife’s faith. I was instructed to quote no scriptures and say no Christian prayer. The dad did give me a Native American prayer and it actually was quite well written. A nearby country preacher would also participate, he had ministered to the mom’s family since before she was born. I promised the dad and the mom that I would walk beside them in their grief. I had no answer for the depth of their pain and so I would offer none. I would pray for them silently and hope that by their sharing their pain with me and the rest of their large extended family that their grief would be diminished and they would know they are not alone. Two sheds 2000 years apart: One a shed of hope, the other a shed of grief. I’m sure I could not enter the shed of grief without knowing and singing the story of the shed of the manger. With a song in my heart, SoulSongWriter

Racism, Redskins, and Advent

Here we are, half way on our journey to Christmas 2014. Here we are in the midst of the Season of Peace, Joy, and Good Will to all. And yet, our daily news reflects anything but peace, joy, and good will. At the same time the ugly problem of racism and hate has raised its ugly head, again. The problem is about something more than racial profiling, or the predicament that police encounter somewhere on every shift. It is something more than black and white, or even red. In a minor footnote, the Oklahoma City School Board on Monday night voted that Capitol Hill High School change its mascot “redskins”. Note: All of my brothers are graduates of Capitol Hill and my wife (although I would never speak for her). I must confess I had not thought much about the meaning of “redskins” until I read “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” before visiting South Dakota last year. When I learned the historical roots of the word and the hate and atrocities that it represents, I found it heart breaking. To those who are CHHS graduates it has become a hot topic in social media the past few days. As one classmate wrote, “It should have been changed years ago.” But there are many other and more emotional words not reflecting that statement. How do we counter racism in the brokenness of our world? One fellow pastor wrote this, “We must accept that we all make mistakes. Once we can forgive each other’s mistakes, we have enough humility to live in harmony; the lion with the lamb; white, black, red and yellow together; rich and poor; one religion with another as well as contrasting philosophies. No one is superior, no one has the only truth, but all have gifts they can share. All have the potential to celebrate these gifts and learn from them.” ( A. Luiza M.) Then there is this from a professional football player who said, “…ultimately the problem is not a SKIN problem, it is a SIN problem. SIN is the reason we rebel against authority. SIN is the reason we are racist, prejudiced and lie to cover for our own…” Hmmm Benjamin Watson, New Orleans Saints player, you are sounding a lot like John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness. Before we can reach peace, joy, and good will, we might need some time on our knees for good old fashioned repentance. With a song in my heart, SoulSongWriter

ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, contributions, stewardship, church, fund raising

According to the ALS website today August 27, 94.3 million dollars has been contributed through the “ice bucket challenge.” This interests me because my grandkid has called me out to do the challenge, and who would ever want to let a grandkid down? Not me. Do I know about ALS? Yes, it has brought about a horrible demise to a good friend’s dad, ravaging the body and the mind as it progressed. Have I ever contributed to ALS causes? No, not until this challenge. And I tend to respond with contributions when personally asked, no one has ever asked me for this cause. At the same time my local church is struggling to meet it’s budget this year and actually for the last couple of years. Since I am the pastor naturally this concerns me. And I know from my reading that our church is not alone. We are all good folks. Our church members are involved in over thirty different causes around our community. Has the church been replaced on everyone’s list for causes that come up with unique challenges like the “ice bucket”? I’ve just started reading an interesting book, Not Your Parents Offering Plate, where J.Clif Christopher challenges most everything I have been taught about the offering and church. Also I have observed that many entrepreneurs and artists are fund raising for their projects on social media. I even contributed to one artist and received a free mp3 copy of their cd online when it was released. That was kinda cool. Perhaps that is something I should think about when I retire and turn my energy toward song writing and other hobbies. In the mean time I suppose I will keep trying to find ways to inspire folks to live for something greater than themselves and keep passing the plate at church on Sunday mornings. And I expect to get a really cold shower in a few hours. My plan is to hand out water to folks out exercising on the local trail system by my church, and then to take the ice bucket challenge with the ice used to cool the bottled water… With a song in my heart, SoulSongWriter

Tears,

It seems I weep a lot lately. A LOT. That should be no surprise, as my siblings tell me that they would sing to me in my crib, "poor lil lamb has lost his way..." just to watch me cry. I remember once on the edge of a race riot in high school I stood watching the fighting and violence and crying. Coach Willie (wrestling) came up to me and said, "Man, why cry? You can't change everything in this world." Last week I wept over the death of Robin Williams, then the death of a young black man in Missouri, then over the police officer and his family who had made the fatal, fateful decision to use his weapon. Last week I wept over the closing of a program in my local church because it is labor intensive and we folks who have grown older and tireder are simply worn out. Last week I fell off a ladder, it hurt, but I cried more when the call came that my grand daughter had fallen and was being taken to the E.R. to have her elbow x-rayed (no broken bones thankfully). And the news continues of violence in Missouri, and I weep. I watch my grand girls start school and I weep. Coach Willie's words still echo in my mind, "you can't change everything" and still forty plus years later, I weep. Can my words, my actions change ANYthing? I've reached out to folks with that horrible inner illness, just like Robin Williams, and then I've said words at their graveside, and gone home to weep. Racism is still rampant. I suppose tears are the price I pay for living and caring. I think I'll go home now, put on some music. Pray for our world, and hope I don't leak too much down my cheek. Where is that cd of John Lennon, Imagine? Yes that's the one. And then Eric Clapton, no tears in heaven... ... poor lil lamb has lost his way, bah, bah, bah... SoulSongWriter

Spiritual Disciplines

The longer I live the more I am convinced that relationships are more important than doctrine. I have always been wary and weary of doctrinal arguments. They are an exercise in futility. You take care of your doctrine and I'll take care of mine. I have no need to prove my doctrine "right". God created us for relationship. Spiritual Discipline and Spiritual Exercises are much more fruitful to me. When I am aligned with God, I do much better at keeping EVERYTHING in balance. My attitude is better. My outreach to those in need improves. I even listen better. With 2014 I want to think and pray less about myself and more about relationships, from local to global. To that end I found a great little resource free of charge to take a trip around the world in prayer. http://www.oikoumene.org/en/resources/prayer-cycle Copy and paste, and join me, won't you? With a song in my heart, SoulSongWriter