"Back To The Future................................."

In 1961, one of my Serbo-Croatian instructors at the Army Language School in Monterey was insulted by my ignorance of life in Yugoslavia. Of a truth, it shocked me to learn his native country actually had movie theaters. Somehow, in my mind, that part of the world was still centuries behind us, their people still riding burros down dirt roads and washing their laundry in the river. Two short years later, the ship I served on anchored in the port of Split and I was able to see for myself the state of affairs there. Touring the town on an old-fashioned trolley and doing some shopping in a few small main street businesses was about the extent of it. No cinema that I recall. It wasn’t ancient history; but neither was it anywhere close to living in America. Everybody was friendly. I greatly enjoyed my visit and their economy, no doubt, probably accounted for the lack of progress……

Hopefully, that doesn’t make me sound as if my manner is to look down on those who do not possess as much as others. The intent was just to state the facts as encountered and to open a door of thought on the idea that we are different, as individuals, only in that which our existence has brought unto us. Our genetics, our nationality, our experience, and even such point in time that we find ourselves assigned-these things may help to make us who we are; but, beneath all such elements, the human spirit remains the same. Has not every generation that has ever been has known its heroes and its has-beens? Its politicians and its poets? Go to any part of the globe and step as far into the past as you might wish. The surroundings may not contain cell phones, six-lane ribbons of concrete, and enough atom bombs to eradicate the problem; but evil, as well as hope, will be in the heart of men…..

I’ve been reading Edersheim’s description of life as it was in Jerusalem during the days of Jesus. Like any other society, the inhabitants knew their city in the sense of its present, not so much out of its history, and saw themselves as “up-to-date” as one could be. Greek influence had permeated almost every aspect of their identity. If Torah had been filtered through the minds of men until the Law now amounted to little more than “thus saith the Sanhedrin”, it yet remained “the Word of God” and their signature of divine election. In the shops which lined their narrow streets, you could buy Arabian veils, Persian shawls, and a full-length mirror to check your appearance; but if you did it on the Sabbath, your husband’s membership down at the synagogue was immediately cancelled. A couple of millenniums later, here we are. We’ve gained some technology, but not much else….

"Wyle E. Thinking.............................."

If it means anything to anybody, my last post was number 666 with Blogspot

With the school year more than half-way accomplished, we have finally learned that the best way to achieve less bad behavior from one of our charges is to simply let him think he is performing menial tasks such as delivering mail or emptying recycle boxes into a common container. That said, he and I were returning, Monday afternoon, from his utilizing a push-broom in the hallways, when the school secretary announced that no one was to take any children to the playground at the rear of the building. While I was wondering just who would do that, considering all the ice and snow that covered the area, my thought was interrupted by the loud speaker one more time. Now no one was to go outside. Period!.....

There was no siren, however; no bells ringing to suggest we should all seek safety in a corner somewhere. In this day and age, it’s not all that silly, I suppose, to note that my mind entertained some serious possibilities about the situation. Fortunately, just before panic completely overtook me, a gym instructor passed me in the corridor on her way to the cafeteria, rushing to obtain the best view she could get of the area out back. The same coyote, it seems, that had been spotted last week, scrounging around for food near the kitchen’s trash receptacles, had now returned for more goodies and, hopefully, a phone-call made to “Critter Gitters” would soon us of the varmint in one manner or another. Beep! Beep!.....

Actually, it’s not like me to get hysterical about anything, whatever the emergency. My brain usually accepts circumstance calmly, reacts instinctively, and then turns to Jello afterwards, realizing what might have been. On the other hand, determining the best route by which one might avoid such danger in the first place has never been one of my attributes. Make a decision. Go for it. Face the moment as it comes to you and then worry about the next one. After watching the Democratic Debate last night, it’s indeed where I stand in this current Presidential race. No matter which way I look, I see another politician and remain baffled as to the future of this country. The answer, of course, is: Pray. Vote. Pray some more. Relax in Him…..

.

"Too Many Days Off................................"

Winter weather has now brought northern Kentucky two consecutive weeks of public school being shut down other than a day here, a day there. What it’s given me is a sense of ennui. A lot of crossword puzzles, a good book, and some television stuffed between occasional visits to the computer might sound like the life of Riley to some people; but, with the multitude of personnel occupying this house at the moment, a quiet space has been hard to find. My mind is in a funk, blog-wise, soaking up all the political hoopla, contemplating something I heard, in passing, the other night on one of those celebrity gossip shows. Seemingly, the New York Times has merely assassinated its own integrity; but, beyond all the individual mud-slinging, I find myself disappointed with the way the networks, themselves, have transformed the task of providing us with facts into a three-ring circus. Not only do they influence our opinion by bouncing theirs off a panel of “experts”, but they also share with us professional assessments of each candidate’s body expressions. Biting one’s lip, for example, may indicate anger being repressed. Furrowed eyebrows could indicate nothing more than a need to pass gas…..

If the Presidential race, as filtered through the media, though, isn’t enough to raise suspicions about the state of this country, Delta Burke’s recent interview concerning the struggle she has with depression makes me all the more distrustful of the medical community, in general. The seriousness of the condition is undeniable, of course, and I’ve nothing but the highest respect for the star’s open surrender to psychological counsel regarding it; but when she revealed that doctors, prior to this latest treatment, had her on no less than five different prescription drugs, all at the same time, trying to combat the problem, I wonder if their cure hasn’t simply made things worse. You take one pill to get your mind out of the basement; then swallow the next to control the speed at which you ascend; and the third one to ensure that you level off before reaching Outer Space. The last two attempt to minimize side effects such as hair loss, nausea, diarrhea, and damage to your liver. If this is, indeed, the same health system being suggested to sell us under a governmental policy, I think I’ll pass. My chances for survival appear to be much better if I put my trust in my mother’s home remedies and prayer…..

That, then, brings me to my final lament: the prostitution of Christianity as a religion. Most assuredly, it is impossible to assassinate “the real deal” once the transaction has been sealed within the inner sanctuary; but there does remain that space between the heart and the head, and we, as a species, have never been all that good at determining truth. I’m willing to leave the definition of the above term to one’s personal interpretation of the Word, believing that, while the induction of the Spirit is a vital part of the experience, it is the surrender and the set of one’s “self” that determines the journey. Life, however, is an obstacle course in more ways than one; and, even if we possess the reality of His Promise, the best we have is a stumble in our attempt to follow Him. How sad, therefore, that so many of those who profess leadership status have utilized the Book to promote a profitable business venture, claiming it either “for the church” or “for God”. I do not speak of a world selling everything from bumper stickers to board games where a dice roll decides one’s eternal destiny, but about ministers who have price tags attached for everything up to and including the pulpit behind which they stand…..

End of rant. I’m going back to the family room and watch it snow…..

"Through the Veil.........................."

Some time ago, one of my old navy buddies somehow discovered me afloat in the middle of this on-line Internet Ocean and it opened the door for re-connecting with forty-five year old memories. There’s only a handful of us, so far, who were part of a special unit serving aboard Sixth Fleet’s flagship in the Mediterranean back in the early Sixties. We came and went as individual designated tours would end, a bunch of young sailors given access to see the world, sharing those experiences gained as our lives overlapped while there. Home-ported in a small inlet community that was just outside Nice, France, and but a few miles from Monaco, we consistently sailed with the admiral for short visits to various coastal cities such as Barcelona, Naples, Lisbon, Venice, and Istanbul. Too many to list and too far back for any of us to tell our stories from anything other than personal perspectives filtered through an aging process that tends to make recollection like looking through a fogged up telescope. Each of us sparks something in the other’s memory and then details, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, come together as singular views of the event are recalled…..

I listened, Sunday morning, to my pastor preach on the two words, “I thirst”, that were spoken by Jesus while on the Cross. As he wove his sermon, taking those who were there with him on a different kind of cruise, his interpretation of that particular declaration envisioned the Savior’s compassionate cry for humanity as He gazed on those who occupied the hill that day. A noble thought, no doubt, and one reflective of Christ’s heart; but, in truth, I’ve long seen that moment as expressing a different theology. Born of God, conceived via the Holy Ghost, the Galilean is referred to in Scripture as the “second Adam”. Here was man, incarnate, but once more indwelt by the Almighty! From birth, he knew, more than mere unity, indeed a “one-ness” with His heavenly Father through a connection restored to what it had been in the original creation. Now, nailed to the tree and about to take every man’s walk into Hell, He voluntarily surrendered the Spirit, descending into the depths even as you and I should if He hadn’t already taken our place. I’m convinced that water wasn’t the focus of His lament, but a reunion with that given for our salvation…..

"Biblical Analogy............................."

Thursday was not just the first day I worked this week, it was also the last and not all that filled with work. Being both Special-Ed’s regular community outing and society’s annual Valentine celebration, it found me escorting our kids to the public library during morning hours and then watching them enjoy cupcakes, candy, and cards in the afternoon. Believe it or not, though, today began a four-day weekend, courtesy of the county and a long line of national Presidents, taking me into about the same scenario next week. Another escape with our bunch Thursday and then a visit to Cincinnati’s Freedom Center Friday with the Fifth Graders. It’s a hard job; but somebody’s got to do it. Actually, considering both my age and my lack of skills, other options for employment are either bussing tables down at Bob Evans or greeting customers at Wal-Mart. Taking a handful of boys to the restroom, applying Kleenex to an occasional runny nose, and dealing with childhood temperaments as they come to you at the elementary level may not be everyone’s idea of retirement, but I count myself blessed. It keeps me alive…..

A co-worker and I keep returning to an on-going discussion on the Bible, she apparently thinking my comments concerning the Book indicate a denial of its divine influence. Aux contraire! I find God, indeed, well able to speak to us via Scripture. It’s the other side of the arrangement that gives me problems. Jesus, Himself, said that the Pharisees had made void the Law by their traditions; and it seems to me that we, the Church have, likewise, done no less with Grace. While Paul proclaims the Word worthy for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness, he also declares it to be the sword “of the Spirit”. Never, then, was chapter and verse meant to be a weapon in our hand, wielded by our ego, but a scalpel utilized by the master surgeon, Himself, removing cataracts from the eyes of our understanding, enabling us to see He who inhabits the very essence of that which is written and the truth concerning who we are in Him. I do not find myself some divinely appointed, theological crusader for Christ, but more like one of my Spec-Ed kids, thankful for an Assistant who gets me through each day…..

"Cabin Fever.........................................."

Fighting acute bronchitis, I stayed home from school Monday only to have the weather further extend my hiatus into a mini-vacation of sorts. The rest has been recuperative so far as my body is concerned, but being cooped up in a small house where the other folk enjoy their television has my brain in a funk. In an attempt to keep at least a semblance of sanity, I’m re-visiting a volume I own on “The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah” by Alfred Edersheim. It’s been on my bookshelf for years, never completely conquered, filled with more information than I can mentally ingest, and each new attempt begins at the beginning, in hope that repetition will prove beneficial in retaining a few facts. This is a study, an educational exploration into Jewish history and is an ongoing process…..

The author opens by addressing the manner in which the Jew set himself apart from all others. The very dust of heathen soil was supposed to carry defilement, like corruption or the grave. It was a religious principle, a spiritual hope, no truth more firmly rooted in the consciousness of all than that in Jerusalem, alone, men could truly worship. God in one: one location, one people, and one righteousness able to be reached via the keeping of the Law. Without their religion, they had no history; and, without their history, they had no religion. Seeing themselves as divinely appointed keepers of the Law, they fine-tuned the commandments, paraphrased the Scripture, and developed their own form of theological worship wherein the Word, as it stood in the minds of men, was God…..

Enter Christianity. It was interesting for me to read of Daniel Everett, a linguist whose present career evolved out of spending several decades as a missionary in the Amazon basin of Brazil. Now an atheist, he points to an inability to convert anyone, the Gospel message offering them nothing that they didn’t already possess. Indeed, he claims that their concept of truth eventually blew away his own faith. One has to wonder, though, how much he had in the first place and in exactly what had it been grounded. If a man has no more than a doctrinal dogma, void of the very Reality it represents, he is left to convince himself, as much as anybody else, of its credibility. Jesus didn’t come to put the Book in our hands, but the Holy Ghost in our heart. Anything less is just humanity as usual…..

"Penentrating Our Existence................."

Another long Friday evening spent in the gymnasium of the old church watching the grandsons play basketball. While the congregation has evolved drastically since my departure four years ago, we are not yet strangers to the crowd, in general, and such visitation keeps friendships and fellowship alive in spite of our attachment elsewhere. With Beth transporting the boys to and from the assembly’s school, she knows all the kids, is familiar with many of the new faces, and is never shy at initiating a discussion with whosoever. I tend to be more reclusive. On this occasion, however, I did manage some small talk with a few people (including the pastor) and, having just bought some food items from the “gee-dunk” room, suggested that the signs on the doorway read “confessions” rather than “concessions”. Then, unexpectedly, news came of one young woman’s death in an automobile accident; and, as shock and disbelief passed through our ranks, ministers left to attend to their calling. Varsity pulverized their opponents, winning by thirty points…..

In response to my last post, a friend commented that “The struggle is to bring Him along with all that makes us human. We can fill our lives with activities, but: do it all with God.” His statement, I think, captures the essence of where my thoughts have been lately. No matter our doctrinal theology, no matter our format, in the midst of all we are and are not as the Body of Christ, I suspect He abides, ever the compassionate shepherd of our souls. In our amusements and our interactions as well as in those moments when tragedy strikes us out of nowhere. Yet, if all that we possess of Him is merely religious definitions of faith that we, ourselves, have assigned unto Him, then isn’t a relationship formed from no more than a variation of that old Rene Descartes’ supposition: “I think; therefore He is”? Surely, somewhere in the arrangement, Heaven must meet Earth, and in such a tangible way so as to demand the lower end of that spectrum to do nothing but bow before the obvious. Such connection has its own sanctuary and isn’t limited to a Sunday morning service…..

"That Which Remains.............................."

While killer storms swept through the southeastern part of this country Tuesday night, and as a good majority of the nation was determining how to divide the delegates, I curled up in the front seat of my car and cat-napped in the parking lot of the old church. A jewelry party was being held in the school building’s reception center and, with Beth’s night vision being not so good anymore, I volunteered to chauffer her and a friend both ways. Going home for a later pick-up was an option, of course; but unseasonably warm weather and the virus I’ve been fighting gave me reason enough to simply lean back, pull my hat down over my eyes, and slip into a semi-slumber. Besides the women’s get-together, there was also a volleyball practice in progress and a Youth Ministry gathering of some sort. In the darkness, with the glow of the inside lights penetrating my windshield, my mind continued to register the flow of individuals passing in and out, their voices like muffled interruptions to my dreams…..

Thirty-five years ago, this congregation’s membership numbered about three hundred, but cramming them all into the small sanctuary on an Easter Sunday morning took some doing. We didn’t believe in league sports, movies, bowling, and any music other than Gospel. If it looked or sounded “worldly”, we didn’t want to risk our “witness”. If we opened our doors, it might involve an occasional wedding or funeral, but, other than that, worship took place. Nowadays, with the balcony, the sanctuary holds a thousand or so. There are fellowships in most any classification one might wish to find, programs of various nature for the children, a pre-school through twelfth- grade educational outreach, and a gymnasium to please those so inclined. Seldom is the complex, from early morning until late evening, completely void of humanity. The place is alive, far beyond their three scheduled weekly services; but often I wonder how much is just “busy”-ness and how much is Christ….

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting the freedom which we now walk in is indicative of relationship lost, nor did I ever hold legalism as a standard confirming one’s authenticity as a believer. When I fell into this, more than thirty-five years ago, it didn’t take long to learn that “holiness” was a divine Entity, not a condition we achieved via a list of doctrinal shall-nots. In arriving at this side of the spectrum, however, it yet remains that there IS a Reality at the foundation of our faith, a Holy Ghost who is not just authority “in” me, but also unto me. There is no other “absolute truth”. The Bible may well be inspired of God, a reference to which we turn in our stumble down the path; but Jesus, Himself, made it known that, in our perusal of Scripture, what we should really be looking for is the Spirit’s manifestation. Even then, humanity being humanity, what we hopefully learn as we go is: theology ought not be set in concrete. Anchored in Him, we follow His tug on the line…..

At one point Tuesday, I left my vehicle, entered the facility, and sat down at a table in one of the empty classrooms. With my mind pushing the above thoughts around in my head, I suddenly became aware of His presence springing up from an inner well and, as tears ran down my face, for a few moments we were one…..

"Pondering Relational Values......................."

There were twelve children born to my wife’s mother and father. Three were lost in their infancy; and, of the nine remaining, six yet reside here in northern Kentucky. Other than a wedding or a funeral, though, it is a rare moment to find them gathered as a family unit. Saturday was an exception to the rule, being the oldest sister’s eightieth birthday. We all sat down as a family, not only to share a great dinner, but also memories of days gone by. A few of the younger folk had come. For the most part, though, the older generation held the conversation, a group in which Beth and I, having but recently been introduced to the realm of Medicare, just happened to occupy the bottom end of that spectrum. Regardless, the fifteen year gap between us and the octogenarians seemed small, indeed. Thoughts on retirement, politics, and familiar friends were passed among us as we talked and laughed our way through more than two hours of enjoying each other’s company…..

I grew up in the inner city, moving to the “country” at the age of twelve. These people’s roots are in Whitley County, not too far from our border with Tennessee. We’ve a picture of some of them standing in front of what my one daughter thought to be a barn, but what was, in actuality, their home. Dad’s annual income, in those days, amounted to less than three hundred dollars. Hope of finding a job in Cincinnati eventually brought them to this neck of the woods, but not before Mom got “saved” in an old-time holiness, house prayer meeting. Her experience introduced the kids to Pentecostal fundamentals. From early on, they were not strangers to tongue-talking, tambourines, and the “thou-shalt-nots” that go with legalism. Nonetheless, all these decades later, some yet attend the church that grew out that old assembly. Only the eldest sibling goes nowhere at all; but I’ve never felt led to address the subject with him. He’s heard the message. God knows the heart…..

The problem with Christianity, as I see it, is that we have reduced the whole experience into a Book, sliced our individual perspectives into doctrine, and then demanded that the entire world accept our “truth”. This weekend, in Sunday school class, we examined the Apostle Paul’s list of what we know as “the armor of God”. While some seemed willing to accept the idea of the Spirit providing and empowering each unit, there was hesitancy to dismiss the need of our somehow doing the footwork. If the righteousness within the breastplate was His, then wearing it required walking some path of “perfection”. Rather than girding our loins with the “I am”, correct arrangement of chapter and verse was the key to “holding up our pants”. I’m not sure we ever grasped the journey as being an “in-and-out, through-the-veil” adventure with the reality of the Holy Ghost. Only immersed “in” Him is the mystery, ever so briefly, made known to us. The rest is a stumble…..

"Reflections of Church and State......................."

Beth and I watched most of the Democratic Presidential Debate Thursday evening. We are both registered republican, tend to disagree in most any conversation on the subject, but find ourselves interested enough in this particular campaign to view it anyway. She likes McCain and examines these two merely to strengthen the negative verdict she has already pronounced upon them. I like McCain, but confess to being so disgruntled with our government having long ago abandoned all regard for the middle-class upon whose backs it was built, that I sit up and listen when candidates speak of change. Hope is yet alive in my soul. This is still the nation whose flag I salute and whose principles remain a truth I believe. Hillary? Barak? Maybe all their promises are just politics as usual and the only authentic piece of excitement they bring to the table is their identity offering a first either way it plays out; but, even if that’s so, I’m desperate enough to sit in on the presentation…..

It’s my nature. If I had been a passenger on the Titanic, just before the last of its bulk disappeared into the deep, you’d have found me somewhere in its bowls continuing to bail out water. My present assignment within a Kentucky Elementary Special-Ed unit gives me many reasons to wonder how much intelligence a college degree extends to some people. Nonetheless, the mission, itself, provides me ample reason to persist for as long as my health holds and they’re willing to have this old man. Church-wise, it is no different. I still attend services, worship from the back pew, try not to stir things up too much with my point of view; and, with the grandsons playing basketball for the old assembly, the fact is: I probably fellowship the old congregation as much or more than I do this new one. God remains God; and, while the Christian community, at large, seems to have arrived at Laodicea, until His Spirit directs me elsewhere, I’m content to simply sit, pray, and wait for the Wind to once again fill the sanctuary…..