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