Tending the Wilderness

Note: the following is my newsletter column for our church's newsletter. I repost it here in hopes that it may be interesting to a wider audience than those who get that newsletter.

The other day, I was riding my bike on my morning ride and I was struggling. I try to ride my bike almost every day to get a little exercise and to spend time out in creation. It’s not only good for my body to hope on the bike but it’s refreshing for my soul. Some days are more refreshing than others, though, and, on this day, I was in need of some refreshment. The air was thick with humidity, I rode into a headwind, and one of my tires was slowly getting flatter. As I worked to regain my breath and strength to push forward, I was looking for a sign of hope.

Right along the path on which I was riding was a sort of “waste area.” It is a large expanse of undeveloped land that, most summers, is overgrown with weeds that can grow as high as six feet tall. There can be beauty to this area if you look at it the right way—the weeds flower (unfortunately for those of us with allergies) and can have their own sort of beauty. But, that said, they are still weeds—not exactly something we would call “beautiful.”

So I rode along the path, looking for a sign of hope, and all I saw was a field of weeds that made my eyes redder and my breathing harder. On top of that, while I was riding I was listening to a sermon on Ezekiel, and the preacher was talking about life for the Jewish people in exile. I felt like I was in the wilderness with them and needed the prophet’s word of hope and comfort.

And that’s when I saw it. Off the side of the path, amidst the weeds, were two beautiful plants. These were not ordinary plants for that area. Instead of the brown expanse of weeds, these plants were brilliant green and vibrant. And bursting from the brilliant green leaves were beautiful white trumpeting flowers—like the flowers of a lily. There were dozens of flowers in every direction and they were as pristine as if they were in a florist’s display window.

Then I saw the “florist” for these particular plants. I had seen him many times before, actually, though his appearance had changed over the years. He is a homeless man who has been living in and around our area for many years. His beard has grown thick and the elements have aged him faster than the passage of time. I have spoken with him before and knew he was a bright man and a man who has a great deal of pride and self-awareness.

As I rode past I noticed the man was carefully trimming the bush, adding to its beauty. He was clipping the dead leaves and clipping some flowers as well. I don’t know if he was picking some for a loved one or just for his own enjoyment. All I know is that this man for whom society cares little about—who lives his life in the wilderness—was caring for this little piece of beauty in the midst of the “waste area.” And it was beautiful.

I think we are called to be like these plants. We are to be trumpets of beauty and grace in the midst of the “wastelands” of our society. We are to be signs of hope and renewal when everything around us is drear and dire. We are called by God to sound forth the message of hope to those who desperately need refreshment and peace. When we are at our best, we are as vibrant, beautiful, and set apart—holy—as were those plants on the side of the path.

And we are called to be like the gardener too. He cares little for the “stuff” of the world—he doesn’t have much of the things we “need” or worry ourselves with each day. What he cares for are these islands of hope. In the same way, we are called to care for God’s island of hope in the world—the church. We are called to make it as beautiful as we can, to take its beauty to those in need—those whom we love—and enjoy its beauty when we ourselves need hope and peace.

You may feel as I did that morning. You may be tired, frustrated, hopeless. Your neighbors may be wandering in the wilderness of grief, pain, and exile. For you and for them I have good news: God is with us in the wilderness, trumpeting a message of hope and peace for all people. It is a message of new life and new creation. It is indeed Good News, and it is the message of our church. I pray we would care for this church as the gardener did those plants on the path. I pray we would share its beauty. I pray we would be a sign of new life for all the world.

Great Thoughts from Thomas Merton...

(Note: Sorry for the LONG delay...but blogging fell down in priority to a new baby, lots of work at the church, and the need for rest...I can't say how long or short the next delay will be, but hopefully not as long!).

As we roll through the thick muck of a mid-term election year, it seems that the tiniest things can become subjects of heated debate (witness the "issues" of the Michelle Obama vacation, the Muslim community center in Manhattan, etc.). I've found a lot of these debates end up basically being divided down party lines more than any other sort of division. It's the same kind of irrational decision making that has led to so many differences in the past. Here are just a few of those divides I could think of off hand:

• Those who listened to NPR were more likely to doubt the presence of WMD's in Iraq, while those who listened to Fox News believed they were there.
• Those who lean to the left are more likely to believe George W. Bush had a role in 9-11.
• Those who lean to the right are more likely to believe Barack Obama is not a US Citizen.

Many of these things are not based in hard factual evidence (though, trust me, I've seen the e-mails) but a baseless irrational opinion based more on partisan affiliation than one's own opinion--which made the statement I read in my devotional time this morning all the more interesting.

I'm currently reading a collection of writings by Thomas Merton called "No Man is an Island." I am only at the beginning but it is an amazing work from an amazing man. For those of you who are not familiar with Merton, he was a "Trappist monk, writer, and social critic" (according to the back of the book) who lived in the mid-20th century. The closest thing I can compare him to is a modern version of Francis or Benedict, people who lived their lives with deep intent, deep thought, and a deep devotion to God and their neighbors. I'm a big fan of all three but am just getting into Merton more deeply. Anyway, in my reading, I read this:

"The immature conscience is not its own master. It is merely the delegate of the conscience of another person, or of a group, or of a party, or of a social class, or of a nation, or of a race. Therefore it does not make real moral decisions of its own, it simply parrots the decisions of others. It does not make judgments of its own, it merely "conforms" to the party line. It does not really have motives or intentions of its own. Or if it does, it wrecks them by twisting and rationalizing them to fit the intentions of another. That is not moral freedom."1

He goes on to say that this same "immature conscience" makes "true love impossible." Meaning that if you don't have something to give--if your conscience is not really your own--than you cannot give yourself to another in love. To put that in terms of our current debate, maybe our decline in "neighborly behavior" as seen in road rage, border battles, and partisan screaming, is a direct result of our inability to make up our own mind when it comes to important issues. Maybe instead of simply parroting the decisions of others (Glenn Beck, Keith Olbermann, candidates from either party, etc.) we can use the brains God gave us to make our own "moral decisions."

As someone who has been registered as an Independent for the last 4 years now, I'll say that registering as such has helped me a lot in this regard. Sure, I have my own fall-back leaning and my own situations where I delegate to the ideas of others. But I've found myself more able to make judgments based not on rhetoric or sound bites but on the merits of the situations involved. This has helped me A) to feel more free in making the moral decision of who to vote for, B) to see the good in people of all opinions, and, C) to love them for, despite, and beyond their opinions. I'm not saying I'm perfectly free, perfectly moral, or perfectly independent--not by any means--but I am saying that it worked for me.

Anyway, I thought others might want (or NEED) to hear those words from Merton. Before you click away and get back to your day, I encourage you to go back and re-read Merton's words a few times through and let them soak into your conscience. You can make up your own mind on what to do with them after that.

1. Merton, Thomas, No Man Is an Island (Boston: Shambhala Publications, 2005), p. 28.

Partners in Life and Death

A few weeks ago, President Obama was raked over the coals for a comment he made on a phone call with a group of Rabbis about health care. He said, "We are God's partners in life and death." Though many rabbis on the call described the statement as "unremarkable," a number of people latched onto his phraseology, especially in the wake of the "death panel" distraction.

I've thought a lot about that phrase, especially today. As a pastor, I am party to a lot of events in people's lives that, though common, don't often happen in such quick succession. Births, baptisms, weddings, and deaths are part of what I do. As a religious professional, I am party to things that are often relegated to family and close friends. I can see why the rabbis on the call found the statement "unremarkable." It's something that those with our calling see regularly.

Take today, for example. In the last 12 hours, I:

--met with an adult who is being baptized on Sunday about the meaning of baptism (new life, family of God, etc.)
--heard my son's heartbeat at a baby doctor appointment (never ceases to amaze)
--started birthing classes to get ready for said baby boy
--rehearsed for a wedding tomorrow night
--watched and waited as a beloved member of the church struggled with his last breaths.

Yes, as a pastor, I clearly am a "partner in life and death." But I was not alone in any of these meetings. Families, friends, churches, and communities all face these issues of life and death on a daily basis. We all make decisions that can either bring new life or bring us (or others) closer to death. And, sometimes, life (and death) just happens. Whether we like it or not, we walk the fine line of life with every step, and every breath we take is part of a beautiful mystery none of us can fully comprehend.

Especially today, as we all remember our feelings and pain from the events eight years ago, I pray that we recognize that, just as we were bound on that day by a common experience, we are in this thing called life together. I pray we recognize that we are indeed partners in life and death. That even as we celebrate when we hear a heartbeat or that amazing first breath, others mourn as a heartbeat fades and breath comes to an end.

As we continue to look at issues like health care, I hope we don't concern ourselves merely with our own health, our own well-being, our own care--but instead ask ourselves how we can be partners in the health of others, in the well-being of our neighbors, and in the care of those less fortunate than ourselves. Maybe it means starting a walking group, stopping smoking, or helping someone in need. Maybe it means getting to know someone who just lost their job or their health insurance, or was diagnosed with a disease. Maybe it's visiting a family member, friend, or neighbor in the hospital. Maybe it's merely getting to know the people that eat, drink, sleep, and live next door or across the street. That's not just what Jesus would do, it's what good folks do. It's what we see when we see good community in action. It's what we see when we see our country at its best.

Maybe then we won't find ways to kill good ideas. Maybe then we won't bicker about who lied first, or who is being political. Maybe then we'll just get down to the issue of how we can be the people we are supposed to be. Maybe then we'll decide to be partners not only in times of birth and death but in the stuff called "life" that comes between.

Of Punters and Presidents...

Have you ever seen a really good punter? For my friends who are Texas A&M fans, you were blessed with seeing one of the greats in Shane Lechler...still one of the best. But you won't find a lot of people out there wearing Lechler jerseys (certainly not in the top 25 best sellers, although if the punter for the Vikings gets his way, he might crack that list). The role of the punter in a football game may not be pretty, it may not bring great fame, but it's key to the success of a team.

Here is one example:


In the above video, Buffalo Bill's punter Brian Moorman punted a ball in such a way that his teammates were able to stop it on the opponent's two yard line. By doing so, he put the opposing team at a serious disadvantage by A) limiting their offensive options as they fear the dreaded safety, B) making the field much longer and therefore offering decreased chances to score, and C) greatly increasing the chances that his own team will have fantastic field position when they get the ball back. It may not be as sexy as an interception, a deep bomb, or an ankle-breaking run, but it is a game-changer in its own right. They may not sell many jerseys, but punters can make themselves a lot of money with punts like these because a good coach knows the value of field position.

Having watched the speech from the President tonight, the best way I can sum up his performance is that it reminded me of this kind of game changing moment. However you feel about the President or health care reform, take a moment to watch the speech from a "big picture" perspective (like from the old hole in the roof of Texas Stadium). The speech really wasn't all that pretty (though the end had some of the best lines I've heard in political speechmaking in a while). It was incredibly utilitarian in its specifics and response to criticism and I thought at times he wobbled a bit by straying into partisanship. But, like a good punt, I think it changed the game in his favor in many ways.

This was confirmed to me when I watched the Republican response. First of all, I thought at first that Rep. Boustany looked a bit like a rookie punt returner waiting for the punt to drop while the "gunners" for the other team raced to tackle him. But, to his credit, he picked up his stride as he moved into the response. That said, it seemed to me that his response played more defense than offense. He seemed forced to say where Republicans agree with Democrats (lowering health care costs for all Americans, readiness to work with the President, American people want health care reform, etc.) rather than offer plans of his own. While that's good bipartisanship, and is to be applauded, it just seemed he was backed up against his endzone and deep in the Democrat's offensive turf. He got a few yards out of his government bureaucracy stats around the 2 minute mark (I especially liked the wordsmithing required to make us feel bad about raising "taxes for job creators by $600 billion"...I would feel bad about that...if those job creators weren't the massively uberwealthy health insurance companies...here's a list of how much some of these poor CEO's make...don't you feel badly for them?) but, by and large, it reminded me of a slightly nervous backup quarterback with his back on his own goal line trying to stay in the game.

The president's speech didn't seem to be the ankle breaking show of offensive force some expected it to be and it wasn't merely a defensive stop to the attacks that have been coming from the right (though it had moments where it did both of these things). What it seems to have done is help the Democrats win back some field position they lost in August. They may not have had a very clear offense (at times they seemed as confused as a group of practice squad regulars playing their first big game). They didn't seem to have much of a defense against the stunts and trick plays of their opponents ("death panel" is the new "statue of liberty play"). But tonight they had a pretty good punt. Now we'll see how both sides respond.

Don't Eat the Marshmallow!

In light of some recent comments from Sen. Tom Coburn (pictured at left) about armadillos and marshmallows, I think it's about time for a post I've been working on about Philip Zimbardo's marshmallow experiment. If you haven't heard about Zimbardo's experiment, I highly encourage you to check out Zimbardo himself speaking about it at a recent TED conference (as a sidebar, I highly encourage regular viewing of these TED talks...I'm always amazed and come away with greater insight).

For those of you who don't take time to watch, here's a synopsis. Philip Zimbardo (pictured at right), the leader of the notorious 1971 Stanford Prison Experiment ("average" people given roles of prisoner and guard), also did an experiment on the ability of children to wait for later rewards. Using kids as test subjects, Zimbardo put a marshmallow in front of the kids. He then told them he was going to leave the room for a while. If the marshmallow was still there when he got back, they got another marshmallow. If they had eaten it...no extra marshmallow.

The results were amazing, though a bit predictable I guess. 2/3 of the kids ate the marshmallow. Only 1/3 had a "future" mindset that prioritized the reward of another marshmallow over instant gratification. But what was more amazing was the follow-up. 15 years later, Zimbardo brought the kids back in, now having completed their SAT testing. The kids who did not take the marshmallow scored 250 points higher on their SAT than had the 2/3 who chose instant gratification. That's a significant difference, and Zimbardo uses it to make a great case for the importance of having a "future" perspective. The video is really worth watching.

I've been thinking a lot about this experiment over the past month for three reasons. The first is that I also just read The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. Not great literature by any imagination, but a great reminder of the power of childhood dreams and what is possible with luck, hard work, and help along the way. It's a gripping story, not the least of which because the author died shortly after the book was published (not really a spoiler...it was all over the press). Randy Pausch certainly had the future perspective as a child, as a professor, and as one who believes that even his work was not as important as that which would build upon it. And his future perspective carried him to live into his dreams. A great story and one that helped me as I prepare to be a dad to encourage my own children to dream big dreams.

Which brings me to the second reason this experiment has been on my mind: I'm about to raise a child. I want to raise my child to be the best he can be. I want him to know that his dreams can happen, that God has great plans for him, and that--with hard work, help, and a little good fortune--those dreams can come true. And I want to teach my son to fight the cultural impetus on instant gratification and leave the marshmallow on the table...knowing that greater rewards are possible than those the world provides. I'm truly excited to be a dad, and I want to be the best I can be.

And I've had a little practice lately at fatherhood, as we just finished an 8-week summer camp at our church called Project Transformation. It is an amazing camp that takes kids from our lower-income neighborhood and provides one-on-one reading, math, computers, arts and crafts, recreation, and great afternoon activities (not to mention breakfast, lunch, and a snack). All for $5 for the summer. Again, it is an amazing camp. But as I pondered this experiment, I realized something important: the kids I was seeing are the ones who probably would take the marshmallow--but then again, they don't have a lot of choice. Some of them have had such painful experiences in the past that a "past perspective" as Zimbardo calls it is simply inevitable. Others--over 75% based on our summer--have fears that they will not have food over the weekend, let alone at dinner time. They can hardly be blamed for having a "present perspective" if it means getting food now that they may not get later. What I soon came to realize was that, while some of these kids might have a "future perspective, such a perspective is significantly harder for those in poverty to maintain in the midst of past and current trials.

So what do we do with all this? For those of us who are Christians, our call in response to these facts is clear: live into our baptismal vows. If you are like me, you have made many vows in churches across the country to raise children in the example of Christ only to never see those children grow into adulthood. While that says something about the nature of Christian community in our times, I think it also offers a larger call to go and serve all children...to help all children see the example of Christ...to help all children come to see the Kingdom of God. That certainly calls us to be good dads and moms to our own kids, but I think it also calls us to be good brothers and sisters to all kids--those in our neighborhoods and communities--especially those who are less fortunate. Maybe part of our task as Christians who have made vows to so many kids over the years is to live out those vows with the children in our midst--to help all children dream big dreams and know God's plan, to help all children see the coming Kingdom. Maybe part of our call is to help build a world where the marshmallows aren't as tempting, because we know what God has in store for us.

But who knows...I probably would have taken the marshmallow.

A Better Anti-Smoking Campaign?

I've been thinking about a lot of different posts lately (thus the long delay between posting)...but most are variations on the same theme: American Christians need to either actually read the Bible or stop calling themselves Christian.

But, frankly, that's a bit overdone (even if it is sadly true).

So I decided to go in a completely different direction, although it may be related somehow. Today I'm going to focus on a better way to keep people from smoking.

This is not something new either, I realize. Everyone from the President to the folks here in Oklahoma realize that smoking is both dangerous and costly (especially as we look at health care reform) and want to do something about it. That said, most anti-smoking campaigns are comprised of either scary labels like the one to the left, or items like the patch (or pills, etc., etc.). Unfortunately, studies have shown that these labels are largely ineffective and the FDA has recently added it's own warning for those who take anti-smoking pills.

Truthfully, neither of these methods really get at the root of the problem. Labels dealing with the health risks of smoking may prevent some people from smoking but people take far more obvious life-endangering risks all the time (see this video for at least 20 examples). And pills might help the most motivated to quit but these too don't ultimately deal with the root cause.

What might work better is a direct attack on the reason many people start smoking in the first place: smoking is perceived as "cool." People often start smoking because somebody they perceive as cool smokes. It's the same reason people want to "keep up with the Joneses" and, probably, why most Americans are in debt up to their eyeballs after buying bigger houses and nicer cars than their income can support. People want to be richer and smarter, or at least appear to be richer or smarter. Thus these ads:


That's why I think we should change the labels on cigarettes to say: "Smoking will make you look stupid and poor."

After all, you can back that up with more studies. Here's one from Virginia:


I realize this general idea is not new. The Truth Campaign and others have similar efforts. But why not make this the new label the FDA is looking into?It may not keep people from smoking altogether (the population who chooses to smoke does so for a variety of reasons, thus no campaign is a "silver bullet"), but it might work for some. And if that's the case, it's worth throwing into the mix.

Re-think, Repent, Reimagine...Renew?

My brother-in-law, an excellent blogger, recently suggested I should get a blog. I didn't have the heart to tell him I already had one but so rarely posted on it that it wasn't worth putting out there. But, it got me thinking...so I decided to start posting a bit more often (say, once a month instead of once a year?). So here goes...

A friend recently began an excellent conversation about "The New GM" and lessons for churches. I think he hit the nail on the head and so I wanted to share his wisdom. As I got ready to hit the "share with note" button on my google reader, I realized I had seen this video before except a bit longer and without the rah-rah America imagery...the "Re-think Church" video now being pushed by my very own church, the United Methodist Church. I've posted both below and I encourage you to watch them in succession to see the similarities...





Pretty good ads, huh? And it would be great if these organizations actually live up to their media campaigns. Both ads show at least a modicum of confession and move toward repentance (although, sadly, GM does a better job of taking responsibility for its own culpability than the UMC does) and both look forward to a vision for renewal of their organization. And both, implicitly, look to a brighter future for the entire planet. Good news indeed.

But that's where my schizophrenic nature to be both idealistic and cynical reared its ugly head. The problem I see with these campaigns lies with the tendency for institutions to maintain the status quo rather than move beyond themselves (call it Jaynes' First Law of Institutional Dynamics). For example, see just about any "movement" that has become an instution, from the church, to the US government, to starbucks.

And, sadly, we've all seen this tendency in action. The United Methodist Church had another ad campaign (not completely retired) suggesting we had "Open Hearts. Open Minds. Open Doors." All it takes is a quick search of youtube for "united methodist amendments" and you can see that we are still fighting about just how "open" we want to be...years later. And GM is not free from focus on maintaining its own institution either. They were supposed to use the $20 billion in bailout money to "reimagine" and prevent them from bankruptcy...instead, as Jon Stewart notes in this typically insightful clip, they "pimped their building" (not really, but seriously...where did that money go?).

My question for both GM and the UMC (and any institution that needs "re-thinking") is, how are you going to get beyond the hype campaign and actually do what you say you are going to do? When it comes to actually closing dealers (or churches) are you going to do so with grace and vision for the future? When it comes to innovation and new ideas, are you going to support innovation and innovators as your media suggests or channel them into your own vision for "what's best" for the institution? In other words, are you going to put your money where your mouth is, or just your foot?

Confession and Vision are both important, indeed crucial, to the work of repentance, but there must also be Action for the true work to be accomplished (see the series of posts from a friend on Wesleyan sanctification theology). I like that GM is re-imagining its brand structure and models. And I am ecstatic that the UMC is wanting to re-think church so that we are more missional. But, the cynic in me says "believe it when you see it."

Let's hope we all "see it" soon. It is, at least, a good start.