Pre-Pubescent Leadership

We have… had fathers who disciplined us… No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.  Hebrews 12: 9, 11

     I noted on the news today that a lady has been charged with a crime for letting her young child drive the family vehicle.  We usually don’t allow children to make decisions that affect their safety and that of others.  Children lack the judgment to make weighty decisions.

       This may seem rather obvious, but wise parents limit their kid’s time on the play-station.  They make their kids do their homework, eat vegetables, take baths, brush their teeth and go to bed at a decent hour.  No child naturally chooses these things.  That’s why parents make the decisions.

      Don’t shoot me when I say kids shouldn’t be allowed to pick churches, either.  Please, don’t think I have it out for any set of churches.  We are all on the same team.  I’ve been a youth minister.  I’ve done the pizza parties, ping-pong tournaments, Kings Island trips, short term “mission” vacations, stayed up all night at lock-ins trying to make church fun.  At one time I tried to be hip for Jesus.

      It’s just that statistics suggest it doesn’t work.  In my tradition, over 80% of the children who have been raised in large youth groups apart from traditional assemblies no longer attend church by the time they turn 25.  It turns out that fun relationships with other children do not solely impart faith. Kids learn forgiveness by watching it practiced among adults. Kids learn of Jesus by feeling the gravity in an older saint’s smile.  They come to love scripture, not when it’s been made relevant to their adolescent drives, but when they are brought within hearing distance of a different world.  It turns out that whatever substantially helps their parents’ spiritual lives ends up being far more meaningful for kids in the long run. 

     Parents ought to drive the car.

Two Kinds of Bravery

     

    The B52 flyover at the Indianapolis 500 gave me goosebumps this year. I’m moved to gratitude when I think of men and women who have selflessly provided security for our messed up world.   Our society could not do without this kind of self-protection made possible by the sacrifices of what we call the “Defense Department.” 

      This Memorial Day allow me to retell one story from the life of a South Carolina sergeant from the Civil War era.  Richard Kirkland spent the night of December 13, 1862 listening to the cries of hundreds of Union soldiers his unit had shot down that day in front of Marye’s Heights outside of Fredricksburg, Virginia.  The next day he informed his commanding general that he wished to help the wounded Union soldiers.  The general, warning of the possibility of Kirkland being caught in a crossfire, allowed him to leave his secure position in order to help, but Kirkland would not be allowed to fly a white flag while doing so.

     "All right, sir, I'll take my chances."   Kirkland replied.

      Kirkland filled all the canteens he could carry and then went out onto the battlefield several times, giving the wounded Union soldiers water and warm clothing. While dangerous at first, Kirkland’s loving, vulnerable mission soon became obvious to both armies who started watching him.   Cries for water erupted all over the battlefield. Kirkland proceeded to help every wounded enemy, earning the title the “Angel of Marye’s Heights.”

       Kirkland engaged in one kind of sacrificial service on December 13.  It’s was a form of defensiveness that shot his enemies.  It was a different kind of sacrifice in which he engaged the next day.  Bravery that risks life to share water is about a vulnerable love for enemies.  Self-protection and a concern for justice can give way to compassion and mercy. 

        We celebrate selfless bravery which is about “preserving and protecting” on Memorial Day.  But we should not lose sight of the fact that this kind of bravery is only necessary because sacrificial deference, mercy and reconciling love—the kind Jesus showed on the cross—has broken down.

The Eternal in May

      As is typical in Speedway, the month of May is my busiest month.  There are family birthdays and anniversaries.  We have three sets of honor’s banquets, band concerts, talent shows, volunteer efforts, track meets, 4-H workshops, church duties, and extra rental business--all taking place in May.  On top of this, my doctoral program requires that papers be written this month.  These papers linger, still unwritten, as I write this.

       Feel my tension?  

       It arises because of my poor relationship to time. 

       The writer, Jim Forest, tells about a time experiment done at an American Theological School. A number of students were asked to prepare a sermon on the story of the Good Samaritan. The study divided preaching students into three groups.  Some were told they could arrive to tape their sermons any time of day; others were required to appear within a few hours; and the rest were told to come without delay.

        The experimenters also slyly arranged for each student to encounter a man lying on the ground by a bench near the entrance of where the sermons would be delivered. 

      The results?  Only one third of the preaching students took the time to stop and do anything for the person lying on the ground.  But those who did stop were mainly the ones who had been told they could come any time.  They felt they had time.  And the sense of having time freed them to be neighborly.

      Deep within we worry that our supply of time is evaporating, and so we get in a hurry.  Then, we get mad when people and circumstances do not bow to our schedule.

      The only cure for this anxious sense of losing time, is to experience participating in the eternal.  Following Jesus is described as “waiting” on the coming Son. (1 Thessalonians 1:10)  It is only when we take the time to prayerfully wait with those who image his presence that we discover the truth that we have all eternity to accomplish and enjoy great things.  Tension subsides when we deeply know that this schedule will not be interrupted.

Average Beauty

     For sixteen years I have gone to the annual Carl G. Fisher Elementary School Talent Show. 

      The program is not rehearsed, or, at least, it doesn’t appear to be.  My favorite assistant principal, Kevin Bourke, can’t get the sound right, though he tries.  Just in case Kevin reads this article I should say the acoustics were actually much better this year.  Give him the most improved award.

      The larger staff got into the spirit of things this year by doing a line dance as a show-stopping finale.  It wasn’t bad, though the entire town can, again, be thankful that Mr. Bourke pursued a degree in administration rather than in the performing arts.

      Seriously, I don’t want this to sound like I’m anything but admiring of the whole show.  There’s an occasional noteworthy piano recital or comedic act. Yet, mostly the show involves average kids doing average things in an average way.

      It is beautiful. 

     But I noticed something far more impressive this year.  It is an attitude which has been long-cultivated by the staff, but this year it needed no reminder.  The kids, who chose not to participate in the show were amazingly supportive. 

      When I was a child and about to attempt something new, I was told by peers that I was going to “make a fool of myself.”  They may have been trying to do me a Simon Cowell-type favor and steer me to my better gifts.  But at Fisher a student will have the whole student body simply as a cheering section. 

     It is absolutely beautiful.

     Is there anything uglier than sneering at a person’s attempt to find and express beauty and meaning? We experience sneers as ugly because God counts a faithful try as a perfect performance.  Christ, the author and finisher of our act, opens our eyes to how much pride he takes in our giving our very best shot.  There is a freedom in knowing that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses from all ages who cheer us average people who dare to believe our average try will be eternally significant.

     

Mom's Open Checkbook

     

Walker Percy, half-amused, speaks of a woman who has moved in with her illicit lover, but who is nevertheless frustrated with the living arrangements.   When a counselor asks whether she talks to her boyfriend about his inexplicable spending, she replies, “I don’t yet know him well enough to talk about money.”

        This Mother’s Day I celebrate the way my Mom always made sure family finances were not a source of shame.  I remember one rare occasion when Dad asked about the grocery bill. He knew from the pot-roast to the vegetables, everything had come from the farm.      

       “How can anyone spend 200 dollars at the grocery? What else besides flower and sugar do you have to buy?” he asked.

      Fearing that my weekly quota of bottled Pepsi was in jeopardy, I was relieved when Mom brought out the receipt, schooling my Dad about the benefits of, among many other things, deodorant, paper towels, bleach, and the little dryer sheets that reduce static cling. 

       Years of ministry have taught me to realize how healthy a thing Mom’s receipt was.  She could account for every dime.  It wasn’t that Dad didn’t trust her.  He did. But that trust was always bolstered on the rare occasions he asked about an expense and Mom had an answer ready.  Purchases were subject to scrutiny.

       I know there are boundaries that ought to be observed in families and that those will differ from home to home; but secret checkbooks give me the creeps.  In my thirty years of ministry nearly every family scandal I’ve endured with friends was preceded by secret finances.  Accountability builds rather than undermines trust.            

        And accountability can’t be dodged forever.  “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account...And He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts.”  One day people are going to see exactly what we do with our money.  A little openness now can prepare us for it.

Relishing Relationships

        My wife and I just came back from whitewater rafting in West Virginia where we had an incredible time getting to know two young couples at our church. 

         Such relationships bring joy.  While we may experience a deep connectedness to the land by spending time by ourselves, hermits are seldom happy.  A 2015 Harvard study shows that happiness, rather, depends most upon strengthening the quality of our close relationships.

       As a culture we are currently digesting statistics about what happens to inmates who are placed in solitary confinement.  Like babies who are not held and older people who spend too much time alone with their thoughts, we see that all of us need constructive interaction to heal and thrive.         

       Isolation is toxic.  Even the great mystics who recommend extended periods of silence generally see spiritual retreat as a means of preparing for more meaningful engagement with others.     

       Charles Taylor, in The Ethics of Authenticity, suggests that even the most rebellious young people don’t develop their identities through mere experimentation, but through struggling with a community of persons with a gridwork of existing morals.   

      One of the challenges of our age is that people don’t work together with generations of family on the farm anymore.   Now, we grow up by “moving away from home.”  The cashier at the local grocery once knew us. Now we just order food delivery from the internet. 

       Consumer convenience has created a toxic loneliness of which we are barely aware… until we go rafting with friends.  It’s then we realize how much we need the church to resist the market forces which create isolation. 

       It’s one thing not to know a cashier.  It’s quite another not to know the man who stands in the pulpit.  The shape of a pastor’s life is what gives her words power.  We intuitively know a shepherd will not leave the 99 sheep to seek us out when we stray if he doesn’t know us well enough to specifically cherish us as individuals.  No pastor can love sheep he doesn't know as friends.  Deep within we know that it is relationship that counts.

Podiatric Gospel

       While the recent commercials from The Good Feet Store are amusing, I still find them instructive.   The store’s representative ends one advertisement by saying, “I helped a person deal with a problem he’s suffered with for thirty years.  How do you not go home and talk about that?”

       We talk about what helps.  I have a friend who recently purchased some shoe inserts that delivered him from a great deal of pain.  He is able to effectively walk again; and though he knows most people don’t normally want to talk about podiatric care, he just can’t help himself.  He has to share his joy at finding relief.

       Christian witness is like this. Christ shares our grief in a way that makes our burdens meaningful.   As the woman on the commercial asks, “How do you not go home and talk about that?”

       Most people appreciate their friends sharing with them what helps.  It’s the impersonal street preachers doing bad impersonations of John the Baptist who give Christian evangelism a bad rap. I have been shocked by the insensitivity these types sometimes display toward race fans who are just trying to enjoy a day at the track.  I understand there’s always been some lude behavior that sometimes accompanies the race, but I’m more offended by representatives of the Christian faith who do far more to dampen the party by defensively airing grievances rather than joyfully sharing help.

       I’d much rather have street preachers this May performing something like Bob Dillon’s When the Ship Comes In.  The folk song celebrates the hope that uncaring systems will not ultimately win over us. That’s not mere proselytizing; that’s just suggesting someone try good medicine.   In Isaiah’s day, God sent messengers to announce that Assyrian overlords would not oppress people forever.  This kind of hope can help.  And most people appreciate someone trying to offer hope, even if they choose not to pay much attention.  It is as God says, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those people” who are just trying to share what helps them—“who bring good news.”  (Isaiah 52:7)