The Dumbfounding Rise of What We Thought We Were Better Than

Posted April 4, 2024 by wordsfromww
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At an NCAA Women’s Basketball Regional, the University of Utah team was getting pelted with so many racial slurs that they changed hotels. News reports said that the athletes feared for their safety.

What we thought we had grown past had grabbed hold of our ankles and worked its way into our lives and our language. Racism is as firmly planted in our culture today as the Celtics are planted in the Boston Garden. In the freedom of our nation, many have felt the freedom to be racists, sexists, and uncontrollably nasty.

Interestingly, this topic came to me today on the 56th anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King. It wasn’t planned that way…or maybe it was, but not by me! Dr. King paved the way for what we should have already known: Everyone has value and should be treated with respect.

Recently, at our middle school, the principal has talked to all of the students about the rise of racial slurs during the school day. Things said at a lunch table that is meant to get a reaction have done just that—a bad reaction! Many will look at those situations and think, “Kids will be kids.” Actually, Kids will be reflections of their culture. What they experience around them at home, in media, in music, and in things said in casual conversations get soaked into their minds.

We thought we were better than that. We thought we had evolved. We were wrong. One of the main ingredients in our cultural stew of chaos is racism. It pours salt in the wounds, spice into heated situations, and leaves a bad taste in the memories of those affected.

Although segregation has been outlawed, it still exists. Judgments are made based on a person’s ability, intelligence, and competence based on their skin color or background. It’s nothing new. Going back to Genesis 46, when Joseph brought his family to Egypt, he asked the Pharaoh if they could settle in the region of Goshen, “…for all shepherds are detestable to the Egyptians.” (Genesis 46:34)

The Apostle Paul made a sweeping statement in his letter to the churches in the region of Galatia. In Galatians 3:28, he said:
“There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.“

We are to see each other with equal regard. Such words, however, lost their meaning in a historical period of minimizing. As we sink deeper into the racism abyss, the meaning of the bracelet that many of us wear or wear…WWJD…What Would Jesus Do?…is clouded in a fog that leaves us guessing.

And so, a group of college women’s basketball players, 18 to 23-year-olds from a variety of backgrounds, races, and nationalities, feared for their lives even though all they were doing was eating dinner together in a restaurant.

That’s messed up!

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Separation Being a Follower of Jesus From Waving Our Flag

Posted March 29, 2024 by wordsfromww
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I’m an American Baptist.

In saying that, I must clarify what it means. American Baptists trace their roots to Roger Williams, a 17th-century Puritan minister who sensed the tension in a church-state union and established the Providence Plantation in Rhode Island. The plantation was a place where people, according to their convictions, could worship freely, a place where the freedom of religion was valued more than the mandates of the governing body.

Thus, there is confusion these days when the name of my denomination is mentioned. It is assumed that American Baptists are clothed in red, white, and blue and leaning heavily to the right side of the political pendulum. Truthfully, the American Baptist Churches, U.S.A., is about as diverse as a denomination can possibly be.

But I AM an American, firmly planted in the roots of freedom and a student of American History. In fact, I’m currently reading a lengthy biography about James Garfield. Two of my favorite books are Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals and The Bully Pulpit. I love our country. I recite the Pledge with my students each school day, and I take my hat off in respect and honor whenever the national anthem is sung.

In these confusing times, I am mindful of the increasing tendency to mix my spiritual freedom with my national freedom, as if they are peanut butter and jelly jammed together.

A new Bible recently introduced includes the Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and Constitution within its cover. I am thankful for those incredible documents, which form the foundations of our democracy, but I am troubled by their inclusion in any copy of the holy scriptures. It’s another indication that many Americans have a hard time separating their personal walk with Jesus from their commitment to their country.

I can sense it inside church communities where people fear being ostracized for having a different view on an issue. Many communities of faith have been transformed more into resembling political caucus gatherings rather than the coming together of the faithful followers of Jesus. Amid it, the younger generation has become disgusted with the hypocrisy and has largely looked elsewhere, or not at all, for their spiritual fulfillment.

Quite frankly, the new Bible that has recently been introduced ($59.95 plus shipping and handling) seems as if it is more an attempt at gaining the support of a certain group of voters than it is in easing the biblical illiteracy of the American population.

Thus, there is an unsettling intertwining of two very different kingdoms, one not of this world and the other too much of this world. One that is better characterized as humble pie and the other more enamored with the heat rising from apple pie.

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Changing the Message

Posted March 24, 2024 by wordsfromww
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Recently, Carol and I were having dinner at an Italian restaurant. Since we had skipped lunch that day, we went for an early meal at about 4:30. The golden voice of Frank Sinatra greeted us as we followed the hostess through the dining area to the back. After the Sinatra song ended, the sound of another soothing Italian male voice echoed through the establishment, one of those vocalists that illicit romance in the hopes of the romantic. It almost caused me to order a bottle of wine, except I’m not really a wine drinker. I settled for a Sprite, carbonated bubbles included.

The late afternoon was going splendidly…and then it hit 5:30!

The music that seemed to pair so well with pasta changed. Suddenly, almost as if somebody had changed the radio stations on my dad’s old 66 Chrysler Newport, the style of music switched. Senior Hour was over, and Pat Benatar’s rocking voice invaded the premises. And it was an 80’s Rock radio station! The wine connoisseurs had hobbled to their cars already and the beer drinkers had taken their places.

We skipped dessert as Tina Turner came crashing into the serenity.

Someone had done research on average dining-out times compared to age groups and decided that older folk like those early bird specials and middle-agers don’t show up until the 5:00 news is winding down…and the greybeards have wheeled themselves out to and out of the parking lot.

I couldn’t help comparing the situation to church catering. In my pastoring years, I encountered several different worshipping clientele. There was the die-hard hymn crowd, adamant about the shallowness of the new praise songs and hallow-ness of the red-covered hymnal. And there was the praise choruses cohort that enjoyed singing the same words over and over again because repetition somehow brought them closer to the Almighty. Blended services were like pairing a Whopper with a fruit cup instead of fries. Sinatra didn’t mix well with Benatar.

Expository preaching worked better in one setting and with one crowd than the messages that others said were “so relevant to life situations.”

“We’ve got to embrace change if we’re going to survive” would be a rationale that was uttered by the younger crowd, while the older folk would say, “What we’ve been doing has been highly valuable. Don’t just change for the sake of change!”

Jesus valued what had been while proclaiming a new day, a new birth, and a new covenant. Traditions were important, but so was transformation. In fact, He used the traditions to create a path toward transformation.

We have a way of minimizing those who have different tastes than we do, think differently, don’t look like us, make us uncomfortable, or cause us to feel disrespected. Like scratching the record album as the needle is carelessly lifted from it, or the sudden belting of Benatar singing “We belong, we belong” just as a soup spoon of minestrone is carefully raised to our open mouth, change causes cringing and crying, scratches and stains.

In my elder years, I pray that God would poke me about my close-minded responses, lead me into conversations, and push me to be a student of the things, and people, in life I don’t understand. As Pat Benatar would sing (with one additional word inserted), “We all belong, we all belong!”

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Heart Cries and an Emoji

Posted March 6, 2024 by wordsfromww
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 “Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts…” (Acts 2:46)

A close friend razzes me about responding to a text or message with a thumbs-up emoji. After all, he says, “I’m baring my soul or giving reactions to what you’ve written, and what do I get in return? An emoji!”

He pronounces “emoji” like it’s a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman who has disturbed his Sunday afternoon nap. He’s got a point.

If someone writes an email with several lengthy paragraphs that include their heart cry, pain, or confusion, responding with an emoji is a bit insensitive. Although there may be considerable thought behind that heart emoji, the receiver doesn’t know that. He assumes that the sender gave as much thought to it as the price of a loaf of bread.

Sadly, we’ve become an “emoji culture.” Pressing on an image takes a fraction of a second, whereas writing words with sincerity, thoughtfulness, and concern takes time. Symbolically, many of us have an enormous number of emoji relationships, but only a few of the people we communicate with are friendships of substance. Some might argue that we have so many superficial relationships that we don’t have time to invest in any of them. Healthy relationships, that is, relationships that have emotional depth, meaning, and value, require time. Like a savory stew that needs to simmer, something important needs patience and attention. Fully present, that’s the term.

Jesus was fully present. Can you imagine if He had responded to the leper with a crying emoji or to Simon Peter’s words, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God” with an emoji facial expression of “Wow!”? Thank God, no one has compiled an emoji bible that replaces Jesus’s red-lettered words with wordless expressions of minimal matter.

Jesus was fully present, fully engaged. That modeling of the importance of hearing people’s heart cries and knowing them in more than a superficial way carried over into the early church. People were committed to one another. Even in the depth of their community, there were still the downfalls, such as Ananias and Sapphira. However, for the most part, they were connected. In fact, they were so intimately connected they were known for their sense of community.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying that being closely committed means that we need to be wordy. Like one of my theology books from my seminary days, where a paragraph could be so long that I’d fall asleep before the ending, wordiness does not necessarily mean depth and a solid foundation. I don’t need to respond to my friend’s observation, affirmation, or heart cry with an analysis that resembles a thesis statement. The question to ask myself is, “Does he feel like I’ve heard him?”

In fact, some of us, like in the old days, may simply need to pick up our phone and call.

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Artificial Fear

Posted March 3, 2024 by wordsfromww
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“But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” (Daniel 3:18)

Just like my parents were, I’m a sugar-and-cream coffee guy. I learned it from them. Recently, at my neighborhood Starbucks (where I’m writing this on the last stool on the right), I decided to switch from my raw sugar and try one of the artificial sweeteners. One of the baristas, who I always banter back and forth with, said, “Bill, that stuff will give you brain cancer.”

I responded with, “It’s only one time. I don’t think I’ll get brain cancer from having one packet of sweetener.

“Just saying,” she said, a smile on her face. “They’ve done studies, you know.”

Another barista, with a somber tone, added, “Pretty much everything will give you cancer.”

I took my mug back to my stool and sipped on death for a few minutes. But it just didn’t taste right. It was more bitter than bitter and seemed to lay in my mouth like a spoonful of Castor Oil. After a few minutes, I gave in to my fear and went back for a fresh cup…with my usual raw sugar. The barista smiled at me and chuckled. It was as if she had triumphed over my insecurities and fears.

Someone once said, “Fear asks ‘what if.’ Faith says ‘even if.'” Those are great words, encouraging words. So often we allow a fear to grow from a seed to a full blown weed patch. A thought takes root and takes hold of our mind, our actions and inactions and faith gets defeated. We get mixed up on what the Book of Wisdom tells us and become convinced that we walk by sight and not by faith.

Three men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, faced death because of their faith in God. The penalty for their unwavering commitment was to be cast into a fiery furnace and burned up. Despite what was ahead, they said the words “…even if…”

Getting to the “even ifs” in the midst of our challenges is hard to do. It’s like convincing a child who is learning how to swim that he can float on his back if he trusts in what the swimming instructor is saying. Until he can be convinced to surrender, he will splash and thrash in the water, afraid to try what will keep him afloat.

To clarify, God also inserted common sense and wisdom into our DNA. Having faith does not mean being stupid. Having faith does not mean I should jump out of a plane without a parachute because I believe God will take on the responsibility of being my parachute. Faith and wisdom are not oil and water that don’t mix well together.

I’m back on my stool this morning, finishing these thoughts. I thought about conquering my fear of artificial sweeteners and having a packet mixed into my Pike Place but decided against it, not because of my fear of brain cancer but because I simply don’t like it. I figured out that it was a decision that didn’t depend on faith. It’s just what my taste buds communicated to me.

Maybe I should pray, “Lord, give me the ability to drink my coffee black.” However, that might be stepping into the land of the ludicrous.

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The Entitled Nature of Happiness

Posted February 25, 2024 by wordsfromww
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This afternoon, my family will sing “Happy Birthday” to three family members who have birthdays close together. We’ll enjoy being together, eating pizza and salad, opening gifts, and being amazed by the buzz of activity that occurs anytime our three kids, two spouses, one girlfriend, and five grandkids gather.

It will be a happy time, a blessed event. In the midst of it, assuredly, there will be a few moments of pouting because the four-year-old is being denied his third piece of cake, or the fifteen-year-old is told to put his third bottle of soda pop back and get a glass of water. The four-year-old may drop his chin and stare at the floor in protest of the denial, but the fifteen-year-old will engage his mom in debate with the question “Why?”, and further statements of the wrongful parental mandate.

And then two minutes later it will be forgotten.

Thus, the unrealistic expectation of happiness. Happiness is now something we have come to believe we are entitled to. Let me clarify. Happiness is “getting what I want,” no matter the effect it may have on others or the consequences it may have on myself. Happiness is about the moment, about my immediate desire, and, most of all, happiness is often in a battle with health…spiritual, emotional, physical, and mental.

The Apostle Paul had a few things to say about “happiness at the expense of others.” He has some heated words in 1 Corinthians 11 about the selfish actions of some of the attendees at the gathering, which usually included some kind of meal and the observance of the breaking of bread and drinking from the cup in remembrance of Jesus. The offenders were thinking only of themselves and happiness at the expense of others. Some people worship happiness at the risk of future peril.

When happiness becomes our narrative, things like “discipline,” “order,” “practice, “wise planning and actions,” and “what is just and right” get pushed to the back. Thank God, Jesus’ goal was not to be happy. If it was, He never would have gone to the cross for us.

Overseeing a four-year-old’s constant seeking happiness in each moment is one thing, but when adults have that mindset for their lives, it creates incredible and often ridiculous conflict. It can be seen in schools where students cringe at learning math concepts because it interferes with their screen time. It can be seen in churches where the wisdom of the church leader is questioned because it interferes with what some of the people want. It can be seen in a child’s relationship with his parents when he seeks fulfillment in the moment and they’re unyielding. It can be seen in a player’s displeasure with his coach because he doesn’t get the playing time he wants. And it can be seen in a mentoree’s disgruntlement with his mentor, who sees the future consequences if wants in the present are yielded to.

There’s nothing wrong with being happy, but for many people it is the sole platform to stand on. In the disorder of our times, it blurs the mission and purpose of our lives.

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Faith Blame

Posted February 16, 2024 by wordsfromww
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“When he had gone indoors, the blind men came to him, and he asked them, ‘Do you believe that I am able to do this?’

‘Yes, Lord,’ they replied.

 Then he touched their eyes and said, ‘According to your faith let it be done to you’;  and their sight was restored. Jesus warned them sternly, ‘See that no one knows about this.’ “(Matthew 9:28-30)

Recently, my wife told me about a sermon she had heard that touched a nerve. Without giving you the long version, I’ll summarize. It revolved around a person who was a part of a church, had cancer, and died. It may have only been one person, or it may have been several, whose cold-hearted analysis was, “Guess he didn’t have enough faith!”

It was a spiritual copout, a way of rationalizing why cancer, or any other disease, isn’t always defeated. Quite honestly, it’s a way for some followers of the Great Physician to protect part of their theology. Here’s the rub. There is nothing wrong with believing that Jesus heals. He does. But when healing doesn’t happen, maybe in the way we perceive it should, it’s bad theology to put the blame on the wounded.

It’s also bad theology to blame the community of faith for not having enough faith, to judge it as being lacking in prayer. After all, when a church loses one of its people, it is just as much a time of grieving for them, a wound to the fellowship, as it is for the family of the departed.

I was looking at “faith situations” in the Gospel of Matthew. Whenever Jesus mentions a lack of faith, he’s talking to His disciples, the very ones to are with Him 24-7. Whenever he mentions faith as what has healed someone, it is in connection with one of the least of these. For instance, Matthew 9 is ripe with stories of healing faith. They include a group of men who bring a paralyzed man to Jesus, a woman with an ongoing female malady, the blind, and the mute. In each situation, Jesus affirms them for their faith.

On the other hand, His disciples are questioned for their lack of faith when it comes to their fears during the storm that descends on the lake that they are sailing across, Simon Peter’s fear in the midst of walking on the water, and when the disciples ask Him why they couldn’t drive out a demon. Jesus seems to shake His head in the moments the disciples trust more in the power of nature than in His power.

Still, trying to wrap our arms around the framework of faith is like trying to catch the wind. It’s mysterious, not able to be packaged, and not restricted by our whims or the moments we spiritually high.

To use the “lack of faith” card to evaluate why someone isn’t healed, in my mind, falls into the same category as the disciples’ debate about who of them would be greatest in the Kingdom of God. It misses the point.

Jesus offers hope, peace, and an eternal relationship. The Holy Spirit comforts us in times of need. What an encouragement it is for someone who is struggling to know that his community of faith offers hope, peace, and comfort. What an encouragement for a discouraged soul to know that he is not alone and that his brothers and sisters are with him.

For someone to blame a loss on a person’s lack of faith is the spiritualized Christian way of really saying, “It sucks to be you!” It’s standing above the hurting instead of standing with them.

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Kidney Stone

Posted February 15, 2024 by wordsfromww
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“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.” (2 Corinthians 12:7)

I’ve been blessed with fairly decent health my whole life. Oh, there was the gallbladder episode, which made it a “past tense” part of my abdomen. And there was a broken jaw as a result of a first baseman not catching the softball as I stepped on the base. Other than those memorable experiences I’ve traveled the first 70 years missing the “potholes of life.”

Until this week, when I was in such excruciating pain that Carol drove me to the Emergency Room at 5:30 in the morning. Even a broken jaw didn’t compare with it. If I could, I would have knocked myself silly and laid on the couch unconscious.

A kidney stone.

There’s always been conjecture about the thorn in Paul’s side. Some think it was a person tormenting him. (We’ve all had people like that!) Others think it was some kind of situation that worried him sick. With my kidney stone affliction, my view of it has been altered. I know, I know, it’s a confusing verse. I mean…how was Paul bordering on being conceited…and what about this Satan messenger?

Sometimes, however, the thorns of life cause us to step back and see how blessed we are. For instance, I flew back from Ohio on Sunday. It had been a wonderful week of visiting my sister, and also meeting up with my brother. Thank the Lord that the misery in my tummy didn’t begin until I had returned. Small blessings are easily not seen until later.

Suffering and pain are a part of life. My assurance, however, is that the Lord is with me all the time and all the way. He goes before me and follows after me. No matter what kind of pain or suffering God is with each one of us.

No matter how much of the pain and complications are the result of our bad decisions (Can you say bad diet?), the Lord is with us. In fact, my uninvited visitor had been invited in a boatload of times as a result of my food and drink choices. Even though it was only 3mm in size, it felt like it was a snowball creating an avalanche of misery.

Just like in life, where the accumulation of our transgressions suddenly become too much and life takes on an emergency status. Even in the muck of our mess, the Lord is with us. His mercy is not dependent upon my perfection.

I still wonder, though, was it a kidney stone that was bugging Paul?

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Cringing At The Disinterest in Being Responsible

Posted February 10, 2024 by wordsfromww
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I was at a high school basketball game last night in southern Ohio. My sister’s grandson, a senior point guard, was playing and I had flown back from Colorado to see a couple of his final games. Unfortunately, we got to the school so early that we saw almost all of the JV game first. I say u nfortunate because the two referees officiating the junior varsity game looked disinterested in their responsibility.

Understand that my view of the situation was greatly affected by the fact that I wore the black-and-white stripes for 16 years, blowing the whistle at high school and small college contests. Not that I was a great official. Above average would best describe me, but all those years of doing games, watching games, and being instructed on the art of calling games has given me an eye for what is professional, what are good mechanics, and what good communication entails.

One of the JV officials wore black sweat pants and shot baskets during timeouts. Those are two things that are okay at a YMCA 2nd grade game…sometimes, but not a high school JV game. Everytime he blew his whistle, which wasn’t often, it was like a mystery about to be revealed. His partner looked like he was about to fall asleep. His walk to the scorer’s table after calling a foul made him look about as energetic as Floyd the Barber from Mayberry, North Carolina.

The game wasn’t close, which would also be the adjective to describe where each of them was in terms of positioning to be able to call the game. The varsity officials were on the other end of the spectrum, consistent, in good position, great communication, and…they looked like they wanted to be there.

Call me critical. Tell me I’m overreacting, but being disinterested in being responsible is something that makes me grind my teeth. Covid-19 and the pandemic get blamed for causing it. That’s a cop-out. It’s been around since Adam, morphing into different appearances and arenas. Jesus’ disciples had moments of disinterest in being responsible. Paul criticizes the Corinthian church for it in the midst of his instruction about observing the Lord’s Supper. Some were coming to the gathering early and gorging themselves without thinking of the meaning of the meal, and others couldn’t get there until later.

Disinterest in responsibility has rained down in every area of life. There aren’t many Mother Teresas around these days who genuinely (That means no whining!) see the poor, diseased, and downtrodden as their responsibility. Heartfelt responsibility is at a premium.

Just as the three varsity officials showed professionalism and interest, let me go in the other direction. I know of numerous teachers who are passionate about teaching their students. Long hours of preparation do not phase them, even when the physical and mental weariness is evident. I know pastors who aren’t disgruntled by late-night calls, some of which are from families in crisis and others from people who just have an axe to grind. I know of numerous people in the workplace (restaurants, office buildings, bus drivers, custodial staff, security officers) who keep their places up and running. When one of them calls in sick, the others look confused and disoriented. I know of neighbors who look out for one another even though no one has designated that responsibility to them. I know of faithful people of prayers who cry out to the Lord for those who are suffering, and they have told them they would pray for them.

Here’s the thing. Disinterest in responsibility is as easy to detect as mayonnaise on peanut butter. On the other hand, total investment in responsibility stands out like Pike’s Peak on the Front Range of Colorado.

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Losing Those You Haven’t Seen

Posted February 9, 2024 by wordsfromww
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“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” (Proverbs 17:17)

Another high school friend of mine, Jeff Grubb, died this week. We went to the same church, were in the same youth group, went to Giiovanni’s Pizza after Sunday night church, and razzed one another in ways that made us roar with laughter. Good guy! Funny, smart, and a friend.

The last time I saw him was probably in the late 70s.

I throw that in there because it’s part of the struggle and, unfortunately, the reality. As our lives get launched, we lose touch with most of the people that we grew up with, people that chiseled briefly into the sculpture of our life. Growing up in Ohio, but then going to college and seminary in Illinois, and then taking my first three ministry positions in Michigan before finishing in Colorado…the distance from my growing up roots always seemed to get greater instead of less.

Jeff is the third person who was a part of our youth group who has been called Home to Glory in the past year. It’s that stretch of our journey where the road becomes less and less populated with our traveling companions.

My dad had that experience. Living to be just shy of ninety, all of his close friends had preceded him in death. His last couple of years were a lonely stretch of road.

In less than three months, there will be a seven in front of my age. The number ‘7’ seems to be looking behind itself at all of the country it has already traveled. Most of the road is behind it, and there aren’t too many miles in front of it before reaching the exit ramp.

At 70, a person realizes, if he’s clueless enough not to grasp it already, that the important things in life have nothing to do with Las Vegas, soap operas, who the Bengals are going to draft first, or how upper-class the make and model of his car is. Those are irrelevant, the fluff of an ungrounded life.

The important things in life are rooted in relationships. Spiritual, emotional, intellectual, loving, and entwined relationships. Even the relationships with people you haven’t seen in 45 years are priceless.

Quite frankly, that category of long, lost friends is over-crowded. Facebook and other forms of social media have brought many of them back to us in a weird, sorta authentic, but superficial way. We’re able to see what’s going on in many of their lives, pictures of proms, parades, and promotions, but it’s different. Kinda like getting a postcard from the Grand Canyon. It’s different than actually seeing the place with your own eyes. Seeing a post from an old friend on Facebook is not the same as sitting in Giovanni’s and razzing one another on a Sunday night.

It causes an ache in my soul to know of the loss of someone who used to be on our church bus and it also makes me treasure what has been.

That being said, my journey this week to Ohio to see my sister, brother, nieces, nephews, and their extended families will end with a reunion at Skyline Chili in Cincinnati with two men who were a part of my college days period. I saw one of them about three years ago, but I have not seen the other one since 1974. Before I get on a plane heading back to Colorado, I’ll spend a couple of precious hours with them, reminiscing about the times we spent together and feeding the aching hunger in my soul for the old days and old friends.

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