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Karen Klein Grace

June 22, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                        June 22, 2012

 

 

What would you do if you had been sitting on a school bus and been mercilessly teased by some classmates about your height, or your weight, or your stuttering problem, or some other personal difficulty that had a way of making you feel like half of a person? Some of us went through experiences like that…eighth graders tormenting the new sixth grader on the bus…obnoxious varsity athletes saying inappropriate things to an introverted young lady…bullies making fun of the math whiz…sometimes the school bus was the worst part of the school day.

Most of us, however, were infuriated at the completely different level by the viral video of a 68 year old, hard-of-hearing, grandmother of eight lady named Karen Klein. A school bus monitor in New York, she was tormented worse than the worst belittling of any political campaign commercial by four middle school male students. A fifth student videoed the torture on his cell phone, and then posted it.

The story hit the major news telecasts, and a fund was started to send Karen Klein on a vacation. The fund has raised over $450,000. Obviously the incident touched two nerves- one of outrage and the other of generosity.

Karen Klein’s sense of forgiveness and grace has risen to the surface in the midst of this. Whereas, many of us might be mentally constructing some gallows, she has voiced her hope that no criminal charges be issued. Perhaps the most appropriate discipline, she suggests, would be a one year ban on riding the school bus. The school district is weighing what the consequences should be for the students involved.

The situation has raised to the surface something that doesn’t get talked about very often, and that is, generational discomfort and disrespect. Too often there are inappropriate words and actions said or done b y adults towards the youngest generations. Hang around a mall long enough and you’ll hear some adult griping about sagging pants, ear-ringed guys, or inappropriately dressed young ladies. But, on the other side, watch a young adult who gets stuck behind a senior citizen driving five miles under the speed limit and the reaction is unbelievable impatience.

“Karen Klein grace” is an element that someone should write a book about. A grace that forgives, and encourages caring for one another even after mistreatment has occurred. A grace that is open to hearing what is going on in the other person’s life, even though I have a physical hearing problem. It’s a grace that has been through the flames (Her son committed suicide ten years ago.), and knows the depths a life might fall to, but the hope that a life can also rise back to.

It’s interesting that this story broke the week after I preached about the passage in James 3:1-12, about the power and potential of our words. It’s a reminder of the damage they can cause, or the joy they can help create.

I’m sure that as Karen Klein journeys with her grand-kids to Disney World on a vacation that has been given to her, there will be a degree of sadness. To realize that the Magic Kingdom experience is because of the troubling words of a few adolescents will not be forgotten by her.

I pray that her sense of being a grace-filled and gracious person will remain as clear within her heart and life.

 

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Grace, Parenting, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Perfection In An Imperfect World

June 21, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                      June 21, 2012

 

 

Sports analysts are amusing. They break down situations, and assess blame as quickly as it takes to order and receive a Beach Club sandwich at Jimmy John’s. If Lebron makes an incredible shot it gets lost in the occurrence of a missed free throw thirty seconds later. If Russell Westbrook scores 45 points, it gets forgotten in the scrutiny of an ill-advised foul with thirteen seconds left in the game. If an official misses a foul call, there is a rush to make instant replay a part of every moment and every movement of the game.

There is a thirst for perfection in a game that is determined by bad decisions. But more than that, there is a sense of being insulted by the allowance of faults.

TV sports analysis shows are created out of this sense of being offended. Listen to what the guys in suits say. If Jesus had played basketball they would have even been upset at his perfect shooting form and never missing a foul shot. I’m sure the conversation would drift to something like “His team needs him to step up in more ways than just never missing a shot.”

Perfection means coming to a point of satisfaction, and sports analysts are never satisfied. They are like a food critic in a restaurant. Perfect food can never happen, because there was a water spot on my fork!

We desire to live lives that are error-free, but there always seems to be a sense that we’re falling short of that…because we are! There is also that sense of seeing the faults in the beauty. Most of us are critical people who see a tear in one of the petals of a flower instead of the flower itself.

Churches that pursue perfect worship services may miss the presence of the One they are worshipping. The perfect sermon may be sanitized of any whisperings of the Lord. The perfect VBS might miss the fact that one little boy is struggling with a stuttering problem that has started as a result of other crises in his life.

The imperfections of our lives need love and grace, and often simply a listening ear.

In the mean time we will continue to hear hyper-critical commentators and fans gone ballistic because someone missed a running left-hand hook shot. It will be made to sound like the world has been thrown off of its axis, and the end is near.

When you hear that “blast” just take a deep breath…hold it…and think of the perfection that is a part of the next exhale.

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Baptized With Hail

June 7, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  June 7, 2012

Our church got baptized last night…in several places…none of which involved the baptismal pool! A hail storm hit the area…and hit it again…and again! It was a non-stop hail experience for about an hour and a half. Storm drains couldn’t keep up. Cars got stranded and flooded. At our building there was a few places where the outpouring was evident. Our resistance to being baptized was broken. We succumbed to the waters! We broke under the pressure of the heavenly tears!

I stood helplessly as the Baptism Blob flowed into our fellowship hall entryway like it was an invited guest.

“Lord, can’t you send the rain in a more regulated manner?”

I got a water pitcher to help stem the tide, but, guess what! A 32 ounce water pitcher doesn’t do much against a wave. It’s like trying to protect yourself from the windstorm by holding a maple tree leaf in front of you.

“Lord, where’s the handle of the faucet? Righty tighty…lefty loosey! Right! Right! Right!”

If it is possible for the Baptist Church to get baptized, isn’t it also possible for the people who come in contact with the ministry partners of the Baptist Church to be baptized. Do we have a picture of people flooding to be baptized, because they’ve met, experienced, and accepted the Savior who is also Lord?

Can we pray for the day that the proclamation of the gospel will be so intense that like those who encountered Peter in Acts 2, we will have people saying “What shall we do?”

And Peter replied “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.” (Acts 2:38)

Would we welcome such a spiritual awakening? Or would we tend to say, “Listen! Some of you are going to have to come back later! There’s too many of you who want to know who Jesus is!” Please pick a number!”

Our cynicism of such a scene ever happening smacks of our belief in a God who sprinkles, but never pours. Our doubts grow out of a religious experience that tends to be void of God-moments and seasoned with a drizzle of spirituality.

Like my helplessness over uncontrolled rain waters, may we surrender to the showers of the Spirit!

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Hybrid Faith

May 25, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. May 25, 2012

 

I’ve driven a Civic Hybrid for the last few years. It’s a unique car. One young man, who is funnier than all get out always tells me, “Pastor Bill isn’t part of the problem. He’s part of the solution!”
Environmentally speaking.
People ask me how a hybrid car works and I tell them, “I don’t know.” It somehow switches back and forth from battery to gas and back again. I just drive it, and thank God every time I stop to put gas in it and see the other vehicles there consuming the family food allowance for the week.
So, as far as I understand it, the hybrid car combines those two forms of powering the car in some safe way that keeps it from exploding. And, as you may have noticed, more auto makers are churning out more hybrid models. A hybrid is becoming mainstream, not just some weird looking Prius that looks like someone cut the back end off with a buzz saw! By the way, a Prius is simply an AMC Gremlin with a new hairdo! If you don’t know what a Gremlin was…Google it!
Hybrid mainstreaming.
There is a mainstreaming happening in the faith arena also of “hybrid faith.” Hybrid faith is a combination of different beliefs and opinions and comfortable ideas that define a person’s faith journey. It’s spicy Italian food with twelves different herbs and spices- a pinch of this, a dab of that!
Hybrid faith is fueled by truth…as the person views it. If I’m a negative-minded person I might blend more Old Testament judgment into how I journey. If I’m more works-oriented I might blend in more of my beliefs from Rotarian community service. If I’m contemplative I might mix a little of the “Desert Fathers” in with some Transcendental Meditation and Buddhist prayer.
In other words, what powers my life gets determined by…me!
The result is that each individual is driving the vehicle for their faith. Absolute truth is what I determine it is.
Just as hybrid cars are getting a foothold now in auto sales, hybrid faith is getting a larger share of the market in the faith community. A Biblical faith is about as easy to find as an Oldsmobile.
Granted interpretation of Scripture needs some grace and flexibility. God is neither Democrat nor Republican, but you would never know it in talking to some believers. Whether one drinks alcohol or abstains from it can be supported with different opinions in different places for different reasons. What is worship is defined by one person one way and another person in a completely different way.
That is what makes hybrid faith a slippery critter to lasso. Defining it is difficult to do because, whether we want to confess it not, our picture of what it is includes our own faith journey experience. It becomes a “snipe” that is hunted, but never really found. The difference is that hybrid faith is there, and growing like the exhaust smoke trailing a ’66’ Chrysler Newport.

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Old Voices With New Sound

May 9, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                   May 9, 2012

 

One of my closest friends in ministry is Tom Bayes. He, Chuck Moore, and I (Wolfe) met together for lunch every other Thursday for several years when we were all pastoring churches in the Lansing, Michigan area. We referred to ourselves as “The BMW Lunch Group” (Bayes, Moore, Wolfe).

Tom has a little southern twang to his voice that is distinctive. He and I were roommates on the first trip to Israel that both of us were on. He harassed me in humorous ways about the fact that I was only bringing back a pack of caramel candies to my wife from the Holy Land.

Tom and I talked on the phone about three weeks ago for a solid hour. He sounded like…Tom!

Last week I got a call on him that I couldn’t answer at the time, so I called him back a while later. The voice on the other end wasn’t Tom. It sounded like an 80 year old cowboy sitting around a campfire eating beans and chewing tobacco. It wasn’t his voice.

He asked me how I was doing.

“Fine…do you know who you are talking to?”

“Sure…Bill Wolfe.”

“And this is Tom Bayes?”

“Yes.”

“Tom Bayes in Illinois.”

Chuckle. “Yes.”

“Man, it just doesn’t sound like you.”

Our conversation went on. He was telling me a couple things about his wife, Diane. But it felt uncomfortable, because I know Tom’s voice and this didn’t sound like him. Finally, after just a few minutes I made some excuse about needing to be some place, and we ended the conversation.

The thing is, it was Tom. The problem, or the change agent if you will, was Verizon or AT&T. The connection made him sound different. I was used to him just sounding one way. (Of course, I never thought about the possibility that he sounded the same. It was my hearing that had changed.)

As people of God our hearing is often tuned in to a spiritual monotone voice. We can only hear one thing, one note, one voice, one way. One is a number that is used in Scripture quite often to talk about unity, focus, purpose, and wholeness, but we often play it out by thinking that the voice of God gets heard in only one way. When the voice is different than what we’ve been accustomed to it becomes just a little bit too weird.

In Scripture, Abraham heard from three visitors, Moses from a bush that was blazing, Balaam from his mode of transportation, Mary from an angel, Joseph from an angel in a dream, Elijah from a gentle whisper. The way God communicates his message is always truth, but in a multitude of forms.

Can we hear in new ways?

I’ll admit that it was tough to hear my old friend Tom with a new voice. Spiritually speaking, however, I believe you can teach and old church how to hear in new ways.

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Church Obesity

April 30, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 April 30, 2012

 

I returned last Wednesday from being with my mom and dad in Ohio for two weeks. Since my mom is almost entirely bedridden, Dad and I ate dinner at the house just about every night. My sister, who lives down the street, would cook a double portion- one portion for her and her husband, and one portion for Dad and me.

Chicken salad casserole…meatloaf…spaghetti and meatballs…pot roast…potato salad…lasagna…banana cream pie…the food just kept coming. “Lord, bless this second helping I’m about to have…and may there still be room in my tum-tum for pie!”

Seriously, I was there for two weeks and I gained ten pounds…and that’s with just eating an infant-size cup of Activa yogurt for breakfast! If I had stayed another week I could have applied for a position as a boulder! It would have been a new version of “Rock and Roll!”

The thing is…my weight gain was the result of a few subtle changes in my usual daily routine. In Colorado I’m usually pretty active…early morning hoops at the “Y”…walks with my wife in the evening…a lot of movement during a typical day…but in Ohio I was focused more on being with my parents, being stationary. The setting necessitated a lack of movement, and my sister is a great cook! Did I mention the squash casserole or the lemon cake?

It gives me pause to consider what happens quite often in a church. There’s a lot of “feed talk” in church. People want to be fed the Word, they want to feast on sermons and Bible studies and Sunday morning fellowship donuts.

There is a time for a feast, and there is a time for implementing.

I wonder what the reaction would be is the pastor or the teacher were to say, “That is the lesson for the day, the food for thought. Now, there will be more no food until you do something with what you just received.”

What is we were to implement an exercise program, a putting my faith in action exercise program?

It was easy for me to become physically inactive, but a food glutton. Within a few days I had been transformed…and extra waist size!

The danger is for a church to encourage church obesity. That is, a person losing focus of what is outside the walls, and becoming focused on the next spiritual offering.

Don’t misunderstand me! There are plenty of examples of congregations that offer spiritual lean cuisine that leaves a person without the spiritual nourishment to put their faith into action. There just needs to be some balance. A church that doesn’t offer spiritual nourishment is a church that is, or soon will be, insignificant and irrelevant. A church that practices the “Golden Corral principle” is the church that will create faith waddlers, who partake of sermon after sermon and then take a long nap.

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One Side of the Conversation

April 29, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  April 27, 2012

“I don’t know! Should I get fresh broccoli or some asparagus? The asparagus looks pretty good, but the broccoli would be cheaper this week.”

As I stood in front of the cucumbers, I didn’t quite know what I should say to the attractive thirtysomething lady who was on my left staring at the broccoli. I paused…

“Well…what do you think? Which would you rather have?”

These are not easy decisions for a man to make who is now at a point in his life when he has to consider the implications of any food he eats and how it will effect his digestive system.

“I could get both!”

That’s what I usually do. Go to the store to get a loaf of bread and then I don’t want it to feel too lonely in my basket so I get a few other items to keep it company.

“I think I’ll just go with the asparagus.”

“That would be a good choice,” I finally manage to say.

“Did you say something?” she asked, turning towards me.

That’s when I noticed the Bluetooth headset that was positioned in her left ear.

“Oh…I thought you were talking to me when you were trying to make a decision on the broccoli or the asparagus.”

Awkward moment!

“No, I was talking to my husband.”

“I apologize. I didn’t think you were talking to me…but then I wasn’t sure…and I think I’ll head over to see what the strawberries look like.”

Awkward moment now punctuated with red face!

How strange it often is to try to understand the phone conversation of just one person when you aren’t privy to what is being said on the other end.

How strange do some of the prayers of others seem when we are knowledgeable of what has gone on in their lives, or what their hearts are crying out to God about.

That even became apparent in some of Jesus’ prayers. His disciples often didn’t understand what Jesus was talking to God about…okay, maybe they very seldom DID understand what he was praying to God about. They missed some of his heart cries, what ailed him.

Most of the time we are not in the know about what God has been stirring in a person’s spirit. Someone who is able to verbalize might be about to fill us in on the story, but “God leadings” are frequently hard to put into words. They simmer in our soul like a new pot of stew, waiting a bit to allow the favor to flow out. And when they flow the listener still heard just the one side. The voice of God may not be heard, but there is often a whisper of it in the storyteller’s sharing.

Spiritual journeys therefore are enriched when “one side of the conversation” people join together and share their stories of God. The more stories that we hear the more weavings get threaded through to the picture that God is creating.

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Grace at Walmart

April 23, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 April 23, 2012

 

Bobby pulled into a crowded Walmart parking lot. Walmart was not one of his favorite places to visit. He wasn’t a crowd kind of guy. As he navigated his way down one of the lanes he spied a wide space that he’d be able to turn his Chevy pick-up truck into. As he approached, however, a Honda Civic coming from the other direction sped up and then turned right in front of Bobby to take the space. Bobby had slowed to a stop to let the Civic go by before making the wide turn to get into the spot.

A thirty-something woman jumped out of the car, and walked right by Bobby, who was still sitting in the same spot he was before she turned in front of him. She didn’t even look in his direction, but just kept walking to the store entrance. The started guy in the truck shook in head in disbelief, and then proceeded to an open spot about thirty yards further down the parking lot.

He walked into the store still muttering to himself, grabbed a basket to put the four things he was buying into, and proceeded to the aisle that sold mustard and mayonnaise. It took him a while to find the baby wipes. His wife usually did the shopping, and having to pass the aisle that had fishing rods and reels took an extra unplanned five minutes, but finally after close to fifteen minutes he had the four items he came for, plus a bag of chips that somehow got into his basket. He headed to the speedy check-out lane. As he was approaching, the Civic lady was coming from the other direction, and she seemed to be on a mission. She got to the lane right about the same time Bobby did, and once again turned in front of him- except this time she was driving a shopping cart.

Bobby knew that he could react in several ways. One would be to confront her. The other extreme to that would be to yield to her. He chose to yield.

The red-haired woman started tossing items from her basket onto the counter, but after putting several items there the check-out cashier said to her, “Ma’am, this lane is for orders of twelve items or less.”

If she would have had thirteen or fourteen, that would be one thing, but she clearly had close to twenty. The woman’s mouth dropped open. She looked troubled and perplexed.

Bobby had an opportunity to see justice rendered. The next few moments could cause him to break into applause, or react differently.

He thought of a recent experience where he was the beneficiary of a random act of kindness. There was no reason for him to even be involved in a solution to the situation, but…

“Excuse me, ma’am! Would you like to put six or seven of your items with mine? We can figure out afterwards how much you owe me.”

The woman who had caused him to mutter to himself, and question his salvation, looked at him, and her troubled facial expression suddenly changed.

“You would do that for me?”

“No problem!”

“Thank you! You don’t know what this means to me!”       They divided up her items, and ended up with each one of them checking out twelve. In the parking lot they took a moment to calculate what she owed him.

“I appreciate what you just did for me. I’m having kind of a bad day, and it seems like everything is a fog for me. My sister was just diagnosed this morning with breast cancer and I guess I’m a little shook. I didn’t know how to react to the news so I got in my car and came to Walmart. I don’t even remember where I parked.”

“Over here,” said Bobby, pointing her towards her Civic.

“How did you know?” the lady asked with a confused look on her face.

“Well…this is kind of embarrassing…but you cut me off when you pulled into the parking space.”

“Oh…I’m sorry! Why did you help me in the check-out lane? You could have gotten some revenge watching me with my excess baggage standing there with my mouth open.

“Each of us needs a touch of grace in our lives.”

Bobby detected tears running down the lady’s cheeks. She looked away, got her composure back, and then looked back at him and said, “Thank you!”

“Have a great day,” Bobby said to her as he started walking away.

The woman- Penny was her name- got into her Civic, sat there shedding tears that were a mixture of sadness and blessing. It wasn’t until she put the key into the ignition that it occurred to her she hadn’t paid the gracious stranger. She jumped out of the car and ran up and down the parking aisles, but the man was gone.

“Perhaps,” she thought to herself, “there are angels!”

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Earth Day at Starbucks

April 22, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               April 22, 2012

 

Bobby showed up at Starbucks ready for some early morning caffeine. At 7:30 on a Sunday morning he expected to have a few early morning church attenders to contend with, but when he walked in the store he was pleasantly relieved to see only one man, a little weathered from life, standing at the counter.

“Morning, Bobby!” It was the usual greeting from Judy, the seasoned Starbucks employee who had served about as much coffee over the years as McDonald’s had hamburgers.

“Good morning, Judy!”

The senior citizen thanked Judy as she handed him his tumbler of coffee. Judy’s face broke into a smile that Bobby could tell touched her to soul depth.

On the chalkboard behind the counter Bobby noticed the words written: “Get that warm feeling from doing good and from free coffee or tea. Celebrate the earth and save a paper cup. Bring in a tumbler on Sunday, April 22, and we’ll fill it with hot or iced brewed coffe or tea, our treat.”

“Oh, man! I didn’t know it was Earth Day! I would have brought my coffee mug!”

“That’s too bad,” Judy sympathized with him.

“Just been too busy to notice, Judy! Too busy with stuff to notice life around me.”

“Hopefully things will be calmer for you today, Bobby! It’s Sunday! What do they say about it…being a day of rest, or something like that?”

“Doesn’t look like you’re resting much today, Judy.”

“Someone’s got to mind the store.”

“Well…their customer will take a coffee…dark roast. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Bobby had to hit the men’s room quickly, so he headed to the back of the store. Life had been busy for him. It seemed that anytime there was an open day on his calendar something had happened to bring the openness to a screeching halt. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. The last time his schedule was open all day long he came down with the flu the night before. Life wasn’t fair! Life was often brutal!

Bobby came back from the restroom and pulled out his wallet to pay for his paper cup of coffee on free coffee Earth Day. Judy intercepted his reach.

“It’s free, Bobby!”

“What do you mean, Judy? I don’t have a tumbler with me.”

“I know, but the gentleman who was in front of you paid for yours already.”

Bobby took on a surprised look. “What?”

“He paid for it.”

“Who is he? Why would he do that? He even had the common sense he bring his own tumbler today and get his coffee free.”

“I don’t know who he was, but he did.”

“What did he say?”

“He just said to tell you to have a great day, and he hoped that you would notice life going on around you today.”

“Why would a guy who didn’t need to pay for anything, pay for my everything?”

“I don’t know, Bobby, but I hope he comes back again. He made me feel like the customer instead of the employee.”

“Maybe today will be different for us, Judy!”

“It could be…it very well could be.”

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Behavior Modification or Transformation

April 20, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 April 20, 2012

 

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is- his good, pleasing, and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2)

 

When I was in first grade I pulled a chair out from the boy who was sitting in front of me in Reading. It was hilarious to me…for a moment! Then my teacher grabbed me off of my chair, stood me up, and shook me! Not something teachers, who want to stay employed, do today, but effective. Never again did I think about pulling the chair our from under an unsuspecting student, although I wanted to on numerous occasions.

My behavior was modified. The laughter of a student sprawled on the classroom floor was soon erased by a bespectacled  instructor peering down at my puny little body. I learned to not do things that upset my teacher…when she was around.

It was not a transformation experience. It was a modification moment. The first of many in my first grade year. (Another was throwing wet paper towels in the restroom at boys who were using the urinals! In case you’ve never done that…don’t! It resulted in my first opportunity to see the inside of the principal’s office!)

In our faith journey with Jesus we talk about having a transformation experience, coming to that point when we realize that we are saved by the grace of God through faith in Christ. We talk about asking him to be our Lord and Savior. It is a Damascus Road experience, a kairos moment> At that moment we know things will never be as they were again. It’s a new way.

Yesterday I was riding with my sister to Ironton, Ohio, where she teaches a Thursday afternoon class at the college. As we traveled along the usual route traffic was backed-up because of some work that the road construction crew was doing on the hillside removing some huge boulders that were putting vehicles in peril. My sister turned around, headed back the other direction, and suddenly turned left. We headed down a narrow road that had more curves in it than a Sandy Koufax Dodgers’ game in the Sixties. We actually went through a place called Possum Holler. It was like riding a roller coaster on asphalt.

But somehow we came out on a road that led into Coal Grove, Ohio, that then led to Ironton. The usual way led to danger. We had to change our way. It was the Ohio version of someone saying “We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy!”

Spiritual transformation is God grabbing hold of our hearts and then we realize we must change our way. It’s taking us through “Possum Holler”, because, otherwise, there is no reason why we would want to go there.

Behavior modification is changing my ways. Spiritual transformation is changing my way. Modification is realizing that the principal’s office is not where I want to visit very often, so I’m going to be a good boy, or maybe a better boy. Transformation is realizing that my life has purpose and the principal’s office is a dangling boulder that does not need to be a part of it.

In our faith walk there is a subtle difference between conforming to a church’s culture and being transformed by the Spirit. The first can mask itself as the second. The first changes the exterior, the second is an internal working that changes me externally. The first is my pulling the chair out from under my classmate, realizing that will get me into hot water, so I never do it again…but I’d still like to!

Conforming or being transformed…changing my ways or finding the Way.

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