Then Came the Morning…

I tried to sleep wondering when I would find a job, how would I support my family

Then came the morning…

My wife said she wanted a different life without me

I stirred all night considering the possibilities

Then came the morning…

I signed the papers forever putting us at odds with each other

I cried in jilted slumber

Then came the morning…

My children would hear the news that would forever impact their lives

I found sleep elusive and frustrating

Then came the morning…

I wandered through my existence looking for any justifiable means to continue

Nighttime presented a period when I needed to face the many demons that had taken up residence in my mind.  They never relinquished control and tormented an already confused thinking process.  I understand why children so fear the night and all the imaginary monsters, I’ve seen them and spent time wrestling them.  Those monsters don’t surrender to hope.  I hated when it began to get late in the evening for it meant the battle was brewing.  Peaceful sleep would never find me. 

Oh, how I hated the thought of a rising sun.

I dreaded the thought of going to church the next day

Then came the morning…

I would meet a woman who would teach me to love and trust again

I allowed my mind to stir with dreams of tomorrow

Then came the morning…

She said yes! She wanted to be my wife

I held her close and smiled as we slept

Then came the morning…

The news of our daughter was a wonderful surprise

I rest knowing my life is complete and full

Then comes the morning…

I give thanks for a delightful family, full of love, forgiveness, and acceptance.

Looking back at the hand of heaven providing strength in weakness, today I see that same hand bringing comfort and clarity to everyday life.

Bring on the morning.

Never Trust a Smile…

I’m very sad today.  Extremely sad.

This day I learned about the suicide of an old college friend.  Death makes others weary.  Especially death caused with one’s own hands.  This news stirs parts of me I prefer left dormant.

I think of my old friend…what a charming, handsome, gifted individual he was.  People saw in him grace manifested and kindness extended.  He had few enemies, if any; I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t like him.

Surrounded by friends and admirers, the often subject of the passing crowd.  He seemed to have it all. 

The pain must have been immeasurable to endure.  The loss of hope, the place where vibrant dreams go to die a slow death.  My friend lived with great sadness.

His death keeps me mindful of the people I encounter.  The man who smiles as we pass and marches begrudgingly to his own private hell.  Alone the misery slowly removes him from life.  Piece by piece.  The smile must be so hard; to fight the need to cry out, instead mustering a make believe sign of happiness pretending all is well.

The eyes never lie.  The soul opens up and projects it’s reality through this looking glass.  To really know someone, look in the eyes…there the hurts shout out, there joy proclaims.  Never trust a smile.

I hope you have found peace, true peace…and now rest easy my friend, it’s ok to smile.

Coming Out!!!!

I came across this article from the blog called “A Fettered Heart.”  The writer is named Ryan and speaks with great passion.  I share his stance on this topic and wish people would acknowledge we are all one in the eyes of our God.  I think having a willingness to converse on the topic is a good stating place.  Let’s see where this goes.

He writes…

I am mad! I am pissed off. I am hurt. I am a straight, white Christian male setting foot in the Louisville Gay Community with hopes of organizing support and attention to the unjust isolation of equal rights in America.  What do I have to be upset, angry, or hurt about? The Gay Community does not directly effect me in any way.

If the Gay Community is not guaranteed the right to marriage it does not make my marriage any less sacred.

If the Gay Community is not guarenteed the right to adopt or act as foster parents it does not inhibit me from adopting or fostering if I should so chose.

If the Gay Community is not allowed to answer the call to minister to this hurting, dying world it does not make my ordination any less valid.

I am angry that these are a few of the questions I and many others have asked ourselves.  The Gay Community is so small their rights do not matter.  I am angry that these questions are not only being asked, but they are being used to justify the systemic oppression of a people.

I am angry that Jesus, God, and moral values are being used to justify the injustice being perpetrated upon citizens of this nation.

Gone is the separation of Church and State when it suits us.  Gone are the manifold witness to a Gospel that proclaims a place for all as we all fall short of the glory of God.

Gone is the voice of champions of equality demanding that injustice be turned away from the swift application of justice.

I am angry that silence has paralyzed justice.  I am angry that religion, Jesus, and God are being used to silence the full inclusion of all citizen of the United States of America.  I am nation that guarantees that all of us are created equal, born with certain inalienable rights.

Those inaliable rights were once denied to folks due to the color of their skin.  Those rights were once denied to women because they were not men.  Those rights are being denied to a people because of who they love, who they share a life with.

I am angry because the silence is perpetrated in the shadows of religion.  A perverse application of Gods grace is used to deem a people unworthy of full inclusion into the fearfully and wonderfully made part of creation.

I am tired.  I am angry.  I am coming out!

In the recent film “Milk” Harvey speaks to a gathered crowd of the Gay Community.  He tells them in order to defeat Prop 6 they must “come out.”  They must share their store with their friends, families, employers, everyone!  Everyone must know their story.   They must humanize the struggle against injustice.

In my anger, in my exhaustion I speak to the straight allies out there.  You must come out.  You got to share your story with your family, friends, EVERYONE!

Our silence is killing people.  Our silence is making it OK to isolate, interrogate, and victimize the Gay Community.  Every time you say, “I am not sure about this.  I just need more time.”  You are denying justice to a human being and endangering their very life as you dangle the carrot of justice before their eyes.

We are responsible for the harsh treatment of the Gay Community.  We may not be the ones harassing the Gay Community directly.  We may not be the ones actively fighting to exclude equal rights to all.  We may be quietly sitting in support of equal rights for the Gay Community.  My silence hurts, our silence kills.  Our silence is hurting people.  We got to come out!

Sisters and brothers in your faith communities speak up, in your classrooms speak out, in your homes share.  The Gay Community is unjustly being denied basic human rights in our silence.  Let us join together in a loud voice to demand that just be restored in this wind of hope, this sweeping march towards change.  Let us be a part of history that we can be proud of.  Let us come out and speak up in support of our sisters and brothers of the Gay Community.

Prayer pt. II

Here is the second part of Anthony’s lecture on prayer.  Are you willing to look at things differently?  Wake up! and look at life as it really exists.  Coming to grips with truth brings great freedom.

What is the Church?…

Recently I was approached to discuss and defend my political viewpoint in light of my theological perspective.  This aquantance doesn’t have the ability to couple a Christ follower the opportunity to be anything but a conservative Republican.  My present beliefs and lifestyle hopefully represent consistencies formed from years of learning, mistakes, and values.  These beliefs certainly are polar to what I accepted and practiced in my younger and less evolved life.

We agreed to have a civil discourse dealing with certain topics without need for debate, just plain discussion for the purpose of understanding each other.  I respect the willingness of my friend to comprehend other viewpoints and hopefully this will stay civil.  I personally feel no compulsion to persuade others to my belief system, especially dealing with politics.  There is no right answer, no right side to align with, no need for us versus them.  We each come to the place of understanding having walked divergent roads of growth and experience.  Therefore expecting each of us to completely agree seems fool-hearty at best.

The first question posed to me asked what is the purpose of the church?  A rather open ended question that leaves much room for opinion. 

Here is what I wrote…

In short the purpose of the church should encompass providing a sanctuary of hope and healing for the lost and hurting.  A place where action impacting the community near us and and the world around us is initiated and continued.  A safe haven of rest where the outcast of society are able to find refuge.  A locale of challenge for believers to walk more in the true image of the Christ.

I don’t feel the church is an induction station or boot camp preparing for battle.  I find the analogy of warfare offensive.  The church is about mobilizing its people to be lovers of other people.  Just like Jesus taught.  Loving people implies not killing them with hateful attitudes and actions.  Love is the overarching theme of the bible, not judgement.

The church, to me, is not looking for complete obedience to it whereby acceptance is granted to only those who willingly comply.  Individuality is what drives the healthy church.  The collective gathering of differences sharing the cause of kindness is what makes church so meaningful.  I feel no need to act like everyone else, look like everyone else, nor believe like everyone else.  I find no calling in scripture to enter into a personal cloning program.

Relationship forces us to encounter contact with Christ in a much more personal manner than rules could ever hope for.  Rules, especially one devised for the purpose of control, force us to withdraw from relationship and focus on a tally system of merit.  This is not my understanding of grace.

The church should be a place where ALL are welcome, loved , and accepted.  This is the responsibility of the bride-this is the promise of the bride.  We come as life finds us…filthy, unworthy, and in great need.  Each of us a sinner in desperate need of grace.  At no time is sin ever detailed by degrees of shame or offense.  All sin is equally problematic.  No sin worse than any other.

I understand the need to shower first before getting into a pool.  I do not understand the thinking that demands we come to the church already clean.  Besides, who are we cleaning up for?

When the church spends its time focusing on particular sins and grossly overlooking others—then the church has simply lost its way.

Actually when the church casts more care on shortcomings of others instead of sharing compassion and understanding then it truely has lost its way.

I tend to ramble.

The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned…

Like many young people college was a time of experimentation, exploration, and discovery.  I found myself one day classified as a college freshman when only days earlier I was content having absolutely no purpose or direction in my life.  To this day I’m not sure how I graduated from high school having not attended most of the last two months of school.  Maybe it was decided to move me on and allow my poor influence the opportunity to effect a new group of lucky people.

Anyway, somehow I found myself in college with little understanding of why I was there or what I was supposed to do.  How my mom managed to get this college to accept me with my credentials was a feat of epic proportions.  I mean how particular could this college be.  Like Groucho Marx once said, “Any club that would have me as a member… I don’t want to be a part of it.”

So here I am sitting in class feeling completely overwhelmed by the whole experience.  I soon learn the college I am attending is a Christian college.  A small detail that somehow is never mentioned to me earlier.  When I ask other students what a Christian is they are only too excited to tell me in lengthy, emotional detail.  What kind of mess have I gotten myself into this time?  I’m an obvious outsider noted by the excessive length of my hair and the two outfits I own alternated each day.  My sleeping in on Sunday’s soon puts me on every religion major’s radar.  Somebody help me!

One day I have an awareness that something is amiss with my college experience.  Something just didn’t make sense that brought me to the point of utter confusion.  I looked at the other students in my class and studied them hard.  My time for this activity was plentiful as I never bothered to listen as the professor spoke.  I note the other students have short well coiffed hair.  I also notice most wear suits to class and the balance wore a shirt and tie.  Even the girls seem to dress like they worked in a bank.  They all seemed so much older and more sophisticated.  My best thinking tells me this must be the look of a Christian, complete with a briefcase.

Today was the day..I would finally participate in class…I would ask a question.  As I sat there in my sleeveless tee shirt, surfer shorts and flip flops I raised my hand to provide understanding and make my world right again.  The professor seemed shocked to see my hand reaching towards the ceiling and allowed me to ask my question with great trepidation.   I asked, “Dude, what class is this?” (dude was a word that found its way into most sentences those days.)  The class of lookalikes stared at me in disbelief wondering why this infidel sat among them and now he even had the nerve to speak.

I remember the look of compassion in the professors eyes, for the first time I saw this man for the kind individual he was not just the guy who talked all the time.  He said in the most patient manner, “what class do you think this is?”  I said “freshman psychology.”  Funny sounds burst forth from members of the class as they were let in on my stupidity.  “Son,” the prof said, “this is senior level Pastoral Counseling, the class you are looking for is located next door.”  “So that’s why I have no idea what you’ve been talking about,” I mumbled.  The kindly professor asked me to meet with him after the class was over to which I reluctantly agreed.

He started the conversation, “Son, you have a real problem. It’s much too late in the semester to switch classes.”  I answered with typical brilliance “Bummer man.”  He told me,  “Today I am going to teach you a lesson that you may remember for some time.”  I looked at him quizzically.  “We are going to make a deal together, just you and me. Today I’m going to teach you about grace. What I will do for you is give you a grace grade of D for this class. All you have to do is show up everyday and sit still and not sleep.  You need not take any quizzes or tests and you don’t have to do any homework. How does that sound?” 

Now I have never been much of a student.  Even when I tried hard reaching the level of a D grade was quite a lot of work.  Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth his offer was readily accepted.  Imagine my good luck.  Did I ever pull one over on this guy.

As the weeks went on I held up my end of the bargain.  I dutifully sat in my seat and tried to give each class my complete attention.  Towards the end of the semester I once again decided to ask a question.  This time when the professor called upon me there was no reservation, no reluctance, just joy.  He was delighted when I inquired about something that was said and added meaningful matter to the existing conversation.  He looked at me like a proud father.  His acceptance of me gave me a feeling of warmth, almost like I was appreciated and cared for.  Something I never forgot.

As promised, when grades came out I was graced with a D for that class.  Something I didn’t deserve or earn.  He gave me something I never could provide myself.  Dignity and self-respect.  Little did he know that generous gesture led me to question my purpose in life and seek a faith to provide comfort and meaning for my life.  I learned the meaning and value of grace.  Grace exists on a dimension beyond words for it’s experienced a time of real need.  Grace once encountered finds itself struggling for release to others who find themselves in need.  Such small efforts have the potential for lifetime effectiveness.  What a tremendous gift to share with others.  That wonderful little man gave me a chance at life by simply sharing God’s excellent grace.  Where ever you are I thank you.

When it comes to grace..give freely and often.  You never know the depth of impact one kind action may have on another.

I guess I didn’t pull one over on him after all!