Mr. Rogers Neighborhood

Last night when Scott Claybrook spoke to our youth group, he reminisced about his childhood fondness for watching "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" on PBS and his personal admiration for Fred Rogers. In particular, Scott referenced Mister Rogers' acceptance speech at the 1987 Daytime Emmy Awards. As he accepted the Lifetime Achievement Award, Fred Rogers implored the audience, "Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are - those who have cared about you and wanted what was best for you in life?" What followed was ten seconds of silence, which Rogers monitored using his wristwatch. With an economy of words, Rogers moved the audience to tears.

I, too, was a childhood fan of Mister Rogers. Even when I was a teenager, sometimes when I arrived home from school I would still tune in to his show. There was something soothing about his voice, and the slow pace of the show helped me wind down. I particularly loved the segments about how things were made - the Picture Picture Factory Tours. In fact, several years ago when my family took a vacation to the Northeast and travelled through Pennsylvania, we visited the Crayola Crayon factory and the Martin Guitar factory just because I had seen them featured on "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood."

For years I have had a yellowed newspaper clipping about Fred Rogers taped to the computer desk in our home office. At this point I can't even remember when or where I found it, but it is as meaningful to me today as it was the first time I read it. "John Rogers said his father met Ralph Waldo Emerson's definition of success: 'To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children . . . to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.'"

That's exactly the kind of success I'm striving for.

the end of the golf season

Yesterday my son, Chaney, wrapped up his fourth and final season as a member of the Overton Golf Team. If you have a son or daughter, I highly recommend that your steer your child toward the golf team. Here's why:
- Members of the opposing team will not try to physically harm your child.
- Your child is unlikely to experience an injury while participating in a match (although mine did recently show up on the 9th green with a bleeding wound, the result of an accidental collision between his pitching wedge and his forehead).
- The coach will not yell at your child during the match (in fact, coaches and parents aren't allowed to offer advice to golfers during a match).
- Other parents will not yell at your child during the match.
- The season lasts less than two months.
- Your child will learn a sport that he/she will be able to play for a lifetime.

During the past four golf seasons, I have enjoyed watching my son mature - both as a golfer and as a young man. The first year he went to the district tournament as Overton's #5 golfer (teams can only take 5 golfers); this year he was Overton's #1 golfer at the end of the season. During his freshman season, he barely spoke to the other golfers in his foursome; by his senior year, he conversed freely. As a freshman, if he had a bad hole early in a round, he had trouble regrouping and struggled throughout the rest of the match; by the time he was a senior, he had learned not to allow one bad hole to spoil an outing. I loved hearing him encourage the new golfers on Overton's team this year, reminding them that he had struggled mightily during his first season but had slowly and steadily improved with practice.

While Chaney didn't qualify to move on to the regional tournament, he met his personal goal at the district tournament by shooting an 88 on 18 holes at McCabe Golf Course. Since studies have shown that 75-85% of all golfers fail to regularly break 100, an 88 sounds awfully impressive to his non-golfing mom.

the wounded healer

I recently reread Henri Nouwen's classic The Wounded Healer. In the third chapter of this book - "Ministry to a Hopeless Man" - Nouwen analyzed a brief conversation between a hospital patient and a theology student. The patient, Mr. Harrison, was a 48-year-old farm laborer who was facing major surgery on his legs. The student, John Allen, was taking a year of clinical pastoral training under the supervision of the hospital chaplain. During the conversation, Mr. Harrison expressed fear that he would not survive the operation, and compounding his negative frame of mind was the reality that he had nothing waiting for him at home except more hard labor - no family, no friends, no hope. The theology student failed to connect with the patient and walked away from the visit feeling frustrated. Not surprisingly, the hopeless Mr. Harrison died during surgery the following day.

Reflecting on this interaction, Nouwen asserted that Allen failed to exercise Christian leadership during the visit. Nouwen identified three basic principles of Christian leadership: personal concern, a deep-rooted faith in the value and meaning of life, and an outgoing hope which always looks for tomorrow. Nouwen observed: "A Christian leader is not a leader because he announces a new idea and tries to convince others of its worth; he is a leader because he faces the world with eyes full of expectation, with the expertise to take away the veil that covers its hidden potential. Christian leadership is called ministry precisely to express that in the service of others new life can be brought about. It is this service which gives eyes to see the flower breaking through the cracks in the street, ears to hear a word of forgiveness muted by hatred and hostility, and hands to feel new life under the cover of death and destruction."

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure" (Hebrews 6:19a).

digging a trench

In October 1991, when I was a member of a mission team that ministered in Dundee, Scotland, I stayed in the home of a young woman named Aileen, and we formed a fast friendship. The following year, Aileen came to Nashville for a visit, and she brought me a book that became one of my all-time favorites - The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass (Age 37 3/4). I now have ten books written by this Scottish Christian humorist, and I have read many of them multiple times.

Last Tuesday morning I heard water running in the house, yet no faucets or toilets or spigots were turned on. A visit from a plumber that afternoon confirmed my suspicion that the pipe running from the house to the meter had sprung a leak. The following day, two guys came and dug a trench in our yard and replaced the pipe. Four days later, we still have an open trench in our yard, because the guys can't fill it in until a codes inspector comes to check out their work.

As we pulled in the driveway early this afternoon after returning home from church and I once again gazed upon the trench, I suddenly recalled one of my favorite passages from a Plass book. In The Growing Up Pains of Adrian Plass, he describes an extraordinarily difficult period in his life that was marked by "manic highs and miserable lows." One Sunday during this period, Plass was sitting in church when an image came to the forefront of his mind that proved to have great significance for his future.

"A picture started to form in my mind of a huge lake surrounded by plots of land, each one occupied by a single person. Behind the plots that gave access to the lake were more plots, again occupied by individual people. As I explored the picture mentally, I saw that the lakeside dwellers were made up of two kinds of people. The first kind rushed to and fro from the edge of the lake to the boundary between their own plot and the one behind, carrying cups of water to their landlocked neighbours. Most of the water got spilled in the process, but they worked on frantically, doing their best. The other kind were not working frantically at all. They were simply digging steadily on their plots of land, with no apparent interest in the fate of the waterless tenants whose land adjoined theirs. One of the cup-carriers stopped, red-faced and breathless, and spoke with some annoyance to one of the diggers. 'Why don't you do as we do? Why don't you get a cup and carry water to those who have none? It is selfish to work only on your own land as you do.' The digger leaned on his spade for a moment and smiled. 'You don't understand,' he said, 'I'm digging a trench.'"

Digging trenches is tough, time-consuming work, but the labor pays off in the long run. Time and energy must be expended in your if you want to be a conduit of the Living Water that comes only from Christ.

fuel shortage

Yesterday morning after I took my son to school, I began my search for gasoline. I already knew that the five stations within a mile of my house were out fuel, so I headed south a few miles. At station after station, I saw the same thing - gas pump nozzles covered with plastic bags or wrapped with yellow tape. At most of these stations, the numbers had been removed from the signs as yet another indicator that they were out of fuel. 

After a half an hour, I spotted a station in the distance that still had prices posted. People were utilizing every pump at this small station, so I wheeled into the parking lot and got in line. Unfortunately, it became quickly evident that customers were having trouble actually pumping the gas, and within a few minutes an employee came out and shooed us all away with a shout of "We're all out!" 

I hit the road again and eventually spotted a tanker truck at a Shell station. Cars were already lining up at the pumps, which were still shrouded in plastic. After waiting 15 minutes, an employee came out and unwrapped each of the "Regular Unleaded" nozzles, and grateful customers eagerly leapt from their cars. After passing 20 gas stations in 70 minutes, I was finally able to fill my tank.

According to today's local paper, at least 85% of the gas stations in the Nashville area were out of fuel on Friday morning. Things looked a little brighter by this afternoon, with "only" an estimated 50-60% of stations still lacking fuel. Our governor has warned us that the shortage will continue for several days, so Middle Tennesseans have been urged to conserve fuel (apparently West and East Tennessee are not experiencing the same shortages).

This experience prompted me to recall the words of Dr. Anna Carter Florence from her sermon “Filling Stations," which is based on Jesus' parable of the ten bridesmaids (Matthew 25:1-13). All ten of the bridesmaids grew weary and fell asleep waiting for the bridegroom’s arrival. All ten of the bridesmaids awoke to discover that their lamps were running low on fuel. However, the five wise bridesmaids had prepared in advance and carried enough oil with them to deal with the unforeseen circumstance, while the five foolish ones were unprepared and lacked the resources they needed to face the moment of crisis. The foolish bridesmaids then implored the wise ones to loan them some fuel, to no avail. By the time the foolish bridesmaids had gone out to purchase more fuel and returned to the house that was the site of the wedding feast, the door was shut and they were not allowed in. "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour," Jesus concluded.

Dr. Florence observed that the five wise bridesmaids weren’t really acting selfishly - their actions simply reflected the reality that we ultimately have to rely on our own spiritual resources. Other people cannot loan us their intimate relationship with God to use in a crisis situation. We can't borrow the peace that someone else experiences through Christ in a pinch. Simply put, there are things we need to do to maintain our own spiritual well-being, and nobody else can do them for us. Dr. Florence sagely observed, “You have to figure out what fills you up spiritually, and then make sure you have some to carry with you every single minute of the day, because that is how often you’ll need it.” 

an atheist's view of church services

Last week my father alerted me to an intriguing book co-written by Jim Henderson and Matt Casper called Jim & Casper Go To Church: Frank conversation about faith, churches, and well-meaning Christians. Jim Henderson (a Christian who has been involved in church planting, evangelism, and leadership development for more than a quarter of a century) recruited Matt Casper (a self-described atheist) to join him on a tour of twelve of churches across America, including: Saddleback (Rick Warren), Willow Creek (Bill Hybels), Lakewood (Joel Osteen), and The Potter's House (T. D. Jakes). 

In each church they visited, Jim and Casper would find seats, open their laptops, and begin recording their reflections about everything from the way they were greeted, the quality and style of the music, the method of collecting the offering, the sermon, and the general ambience in the worship space. Time and time again, Casper would ask Jim, "Is this what Jesus told you guys to do?"

Henderson believes that Christians need to shift from defending the faith to defending the space: "Too often, conversations we have about our beliefs are too much like debates, and we spend our time looking for chinks in the conversational armor, spaces where we can insert an argument or launch a rejoinder. The practice of defending the space means creating and obviously, defending such spaces. The practice of defending the space kicks in when we resist the urge to correct or attack and instead just listen (and maybe even take notes)."

Read this book!

Who Stole My Church?

About a month ago, a friend of mine recommended that I read Gordon MacDonald's Who Stole My Church: What to Do When the Church You Love Tries to Enter the 21st Century. MacDonald has crafted a work of fiction that authentically captures the dynamics of congregational conflict that arise when the necessity of change threatens church traditions.

My favorite part of the book was when MacDonald discussed the bell curve featured in Everett Rogers's book The Diffusion of Innovations. Rogers's research revealed that the different ways people react to change can be charted on a bell curve, and MacDonald used this diagram to identify the various groups found within a given congregation: 

• Innovators are the folks who fall on the right side of curve (2.5%). Innovators absolutely love change, are willing to take risks, and lead the way to make new things happen.
  
• Early adopters come next on the curve, just as the line is beginning to climb (13.5%). Early adopters recognize a good thing when they see it, and since they are typically trusted leaders in the congregation, when they get onboard others will follow.
• The early majority (34%) and late majority (34%) fall in the middle of the curve - the hump. The early majority is deliberate in their decision-making, while the late majority is skeptical and approach any change with great caution.
• The final group on the bell curve are the laggards (16%), people who are bound to tradition and will be the last ones to change - if they change at all.

I think I fall into the "early adopters" category. What about you?

night light

Apparently my hike at Radnor Lake this morning coincided with woodland recess for the deer. This was not the first time that I have felt like I have been transported into the wonderful world of Walt Disney with Bambi and friends – fawns frolicking among the trees, does splashing through a stream, young bucks doing battle with their antlers. Indeed, on many occasions these woods have seemed magical to me, but none more so than during the ranger-led midnight hike on New Year’s Eve. 

At the beginning of this memorable hike, the ranger instructed us not to use flashlights. Your eyes will adjust as we walk, he promised us, and he was right. As we made our way single file along the trail, the full moon provided ample illumination. The moonlight was so bright, in fact, that the trees cast long shadows on the forest floor. As a barred owl hooted above our heads and a coyote howled in the distance, the ranger quietly called out words of caution and encouragement to us – there’s a step here, watch out for the tree root, we’re almost at the top – guiding us every step of the way on our ascent of Ganier Ridge. The ranger’s voice gave us confidence – he knew these trails backwards and forwards, and we trusted that he would lead us safely throughout our journey.

In Sunday School yesterday we studied the final verses from the book of Acts and reflected on the Apostle Paul’s journeys. Paul was a man who knew something about darkness and light. How many times did he face hardships and trials? Yet through each dark and difficult experience, Paul’s faith in God deepened. His spiritual eyes adjusted, and he kept moving forward as he followed the voice of the One who had called him out of spiritual darkness and into the marvelous Light.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6).

the power of laughter

"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones" (Proverbs 17:22).

About 15 years ago I read a book written by Norman Cousins called Anatomy of an Illness: As Perceived by the Patient. Cousins, a longtime editor of the Saturday Review, was struck with a life-threatening illness in 1964. Cousins credited his recovery to his active partnership with his physician and the use of humor to boost his body's capacity for healing. As a part of his treatment, Cousins watched episodes of Candid Camera and Marx Brothers films and read humorous texts like E.B. and Katharine White's Subtreasury of American Humor and Max Eastmans' The Enjoyment of Laughter. I have always remembered this section of the text: "I made the joyous discovery that ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep."

My family has been heavy-hearted this week because of the news that our student minister is moving. But last night we were able to share an evening full of belly laughs (and Chik-fil-A) with our student minister and his family and several other good friends - good medicine for us all. I'm still terribly sad and don't look forward to this transition in the least, but after a good dose of laughter I find that I can once again focus on the things that God has called me to do.

sad night

God has an annoying habit of making me practice what I preach. On Sunday I challenged the students in my Sunday School class to ask the question "Where is God working in this situation?" when they face trials. Tonight we are all pondering that question as we process the news that our student minister, Josh, is leaving in two weeks to take a position at a church in Texas. I do see God working in the midst of this situation, but that doesn't lessen my deep sense of sadness and loss. 

When I was preparing the materials for our Labor Day Retreat, I wrote a devotion for the students and leaders to use on Sunday morning based on Isaiah 55:8-9 - "'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'" Josh referenced this passage in his letter of resignation as he expressed how he had wrestled with God over this decision. I don't know what God is thinking in this situation, but I trust that the Father knows best.

fire from heaven

When I was a freshman at UT, my former youth minister, Jim, asked me if I would help him with a retreat. I had been an enthusiastic member of my youth group and was thrilled to have the opportunity to be a leader. Little did I know that my primary task would involve an unfortunate combination of a tree and a fire, and I would fail miserably in my attempt to carry it out.

The retreat was to be held at Camp Linden (now known as Linden Valley Baptist Conference Center), and Jim had devised a dramatic outdoor event as the retreat's spiritual climax. Jim had recruited two other alumni from my youth group days to help with this event - Brian and Wayne. The site of the event was an outdoor amphitheater, which was really nothing more than a few rows of wooden benches perched on a steep hill. Prior to the evening event, Jim and his crew constructed a small mountain of firewood at the base of the hill. They hammered small planks into the trunks of two towering pine trees that were located behind and the benches and created twin perches about 15 feet off the ground. From those perches they strung two cables that formed a V-shape between the two trees and the pile of firewood. At the top of each cable, they attached a small bundle of rags that had been soaked in a flammable liquid.

The students would be led out to the benches in the dark. Brian would play the role of the prophet Elijah. Dressed in appropriately prophetic garb, he would stand in front of the pile of firewood and retell the story of his epic battle with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, as recorded in 1 Kings 18. Meanwhile, Wayne and I would be perched in the pine trees, equipped with lighters, prepared to ignite our fireballs at the right moment and send them sailing down the cables over the heads of the awestruck students, who would gasp in amazement as the firewood suddenly burst into flames, thus displaying the power of the Lord. A foolproof plan, right?

The problem was that as I stood on my perch that night, hanging onto the tree for dear life while Brian plodded through his monologue, I began to question the wisdom of my esteemed youth minister. Why in the world would he send two college freshmen up pine trees to play with fire? What a ridiculously dangerous plan! Why did I agree to do this? 

Suddenly, I became acutely aware that I had lost track of where we were in Brian's monologue. I knew I hadn't missed my cue, but it seemed like we must be getting close. Just then I heard Brian shout animatedly, "Send down fire!" That's my cue! I flicked the lighter, touched it to the fireball, and gave it a quick shove to start its downward trajectory. As the fireball sailed down the cable, I glanced over toward Wayne and realized that he had not released his fireball - in fact, he had not even ignited it yet. Immediately, I recognized my mistake. Brian was not yet to the part of the story where Elijah called down fire from heaven - he was still recounting the vain efforts of the prophets of Baal as they exhorted their gods to send down fire. Uh oh.

The students gasped as my lone fireball appeared, suspended over their heads. As planned, when it hit the pile of firewood a larger fire erupted, eliciting exclamations of surprise. Brian was eliciting exclamations of surprise as well. He abruptly fastforwarded through the story, explaining that when the prophets of Baal called out to their gods to send down fire, nothing happened, but when Elijah called on his God - the One True God - down came fire from heaven. At this point, trustworthy Wayne lit his sad little bundle of rags and send it gliding downward, but the element of surprise was long gone. Timing is everything. 

I wonder how many of those teenagers have a warped theology to this day because of my errant fireball. May God have mercy on them.

asking the right question

In our Sunday School lesson this week, we reflected on the storm, shipwreck, and snakebite that the Apostle Paul endured in Acts 27 and 28. I observed that we often ask the wrong question when we find ourselves in the midst of trials. While we are inclined to ask, "Why is this happening?" a better question to consider is "Where is God working in this situation?" 

Today I had the privilege of reprising the Nashville to Birmingham commute that I made twice weekly for four years while I was a student at Beeson Divinity School. I drove to Birmingham this morning so that I could attend a gathering of Beeson alumnae in the home of one of my seminary sisters, and - just like the Early Church - we ate, worshipped, prayed, and fellowshipped together in an intimate setting. As we sang together, I thought about the lesson I had taught on Sunday and the trials that I had faced during my seminary career - the most significant of which was the sudden death of my sister at the age of 34. When you are grieving, it is particularly difficult to gather your wits and look for God's hand, but I sensed even in the earliest hours of that tragedy that God was indeed at work. Today with seven years of perspective, I can see even more clearly all the ways that God was working in the midst of that loss. In fact, God used that experience to propel me to mentor the very group of teenage girls who I taught in Sunday School this week. 

Where is God working in this situation? On the Friday in April when my mother was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer, I asked that question. In the intervening months, I have seen God's hand in countless ways. Tomorrow my mother will have a scan to see if the chemotherapy is doing its job. No matter what we learn this week, I have no doubt that God is at work. One of my girls reminded us in Sunday School of Jesus' words from John 13:7 - "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand." I have faith that one day I will understand.

Sunday School

Today was "Promotion Sunday" within the Student Ministry at my church - the day when students advance to the next grade-level department in Sunday School. As I was gathering my belongings last night in preparation for my first Sunday with the seniors, I realized with a start that it was 22 years ago this fall when I taught Sunday School for the first time. 

Paul and I lived in Gaithersburg, Maryland, a suburb of Washington, D.C., during the first three years of our marriage, and while we lived there, we were members of a Southern Baptist congregation in a neighboring town. This church was significantly smaller than the ones I had been a member but significantly larger than the Methodist country church that my husband grew up in. The woman who directed the church's preschool program was married to the man who was our Sunday School teacher, and when our class had socials, Renee noticed that I spent more time playing with the children of the couples in our class than with the adults. 

One day Renee asked Paul and me if we would consider working occasionally in extended session - teaching a group of preschoolers during the worship service. Renee was smart - if she had asked us flat out to teach Sunday School, we would have said no. By asking us to take on a less demanding responsibility, she gave us a chance to get our feet wet, and by the time the fall rolled around, we were ready (and better equipped) to take on the challenge of teaching 4-year-olds in Sunday School. 

One of my favorite students that year was Charlie, even though Charlie clearly was not happy about coming to Sunday School. Every week he cried when the moment arrived for his parents to drop him off in our class. After a few Sundays, I learned to crack the door open just wide enough for Charlie's mother to push his small body inside the room, thus giving her an opportunity to escape down the hallway and minimize the drama of the moment of separation. Charlie would then proceed to crawl under a table, where he would stay for 10-15 minutes until he felt comfortable enough to come out and play. 

One Sunday our lesson was about "God Made the Animals," so when we gathered the children together in a circle for Bible story time, I asked them to raise their hands if they had a pet at home. Predictably, several children mentioned cats, dogs, birds, and fish, and one child even had a turtle. As the children took turns sharing, I realized with no small amount of amazement that Charlie had tentatively raised his hand. This was highly unusual! Maybe Charlie was finally breaking out of his shell! Excitedly, I asked, "Charlie, do you have a pet?" Eyes brimming with tears, he blurted out, "My family EATS fish!" Poor Charlie. 

We had no drama in our Sunday School class today - no teenagers clung to their parents at the door, hid under the table, or burst into tears as we discussed a biblical truth. We talked not about God making the animals but about how God led the Apostle Paul on an indirect path from Jerusalem to Rome, where Paul would have yet another opportunity to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ. Even though my class of seniors is markedly different from that class of preschoolers that I taught 22 years ago, I realize that I still approach the responsibility of being a Sunday School teacher in much the same way. The lessons I learned that year shaped me as a teacher and helped prepare me to eventually teach in a variety of settings with a range of age groups. I will always be grateful to Renee for recognizing that I had the gift of teaching and for giving me an opportunity to use that gift within the church.

blue ribbon day

My family just returned home from our annual visit to the Tennessee State Fair. This was the sixth consecutive year that Chaney and I have entered food and/or photographs in the competitions sponsored by the Fair's Creative Arts Department. 

This year we each had multiple entries in the amateur photography division (Seascape, Animals, Nature, Architecture, and Cityscape for me; Still Life, Action & Sports, Nature and Architecture for him). As usual, we enjoyed browsing through the displays of photographs, and we were pleased to discover an honorable mention ribbon affixed to Chaney's entry in the Action & Sports category.

This was the last year that Chaney was eligible to enter the Bakery Youth Division (17 and under), so he was hoping to go out with a bang. In 2003, the first year that he entered his peanut butter pie at the Fair, he not only won a blue ribbon but also the purple Sweepstakes Ribbon, awarded to the best overall youth entry. He has won some sort of ribbon each year that he has entered this pie (an entry can win only two consecutive years). Today when we approached the refrigerator where portions of the prize-winning pies were displayed, we were thrilled to discover that Chaney had not only won a blue ribbon again but also an orange Overall Division ribbon, a fitting way to end his youthful run at the Fair.

I was pleased to see that my souped up version of his peanut butter pie (sprinkle crushed Reese's Cups and drizzle melted Ghiradelli's chocolate on top) was also on display, since I had been awarded a blue ribbon in the Refrigerated Pie category. Next, we walked over to the display cases where the cakes, cookies, bread, and biscuits were arranged. At first I couldn't find the leaf-shaped, iced sugar cookies that I had entered in the Rolled and Cut-Out category, but then Chaney spotted them on a plate that sported not only a blue ribbon but also a purple Best of Show Cookies ribbon, a division that included 18 categories. 

I will have to write a thank you note to Mrs. K this week. She was Chaney's children's choir teacher for three years (4th-6th grades), and she hosted a party each December for the choir during which the students baked and decorated Christmas cookies. I have been using her sugar cookie recipe ever since it was printed in our church's Advent Guide several years ago, and she will be pleased to know that it has netted me two ribbons!

a plea for Christian civility

If you are like me and find yourself increasingly frustrated with the lack of civility in the current political discourse - especially among believers - I highly recommend reading Jim Wallis' recent blog entry "Obama, Perkins, Palin, and a Plea for Christian Civility." Wallis, the president and executive director of Sojourners, is the author of God's Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn't Get It." I heard Wallis speak at the Festival of Homiletics earlier this year and have a great deal of respect for him. Like Tony Campolo, Wallis seeks to bridge the ideological divide that hinders Christians from effectively carrying out the work of the kingdom of God.

In this blog entry, Wallis suggests "Five Rules of Christian Civility":

1. We Christians should be in the pocket of no political party, but should evaluate both candidates and parties by our biblically-based moral compass.
2. We don't vote on only one issue, but see biblical foundations for our concerns over many issues.
3. We advocate for a consistent ethic of life from womb to tomb, and one that challenges the selective moralities of both the left and the right.
4. We will respect the integrity of our Christian brothers and sisters in their sincere efforts to apply Christian commitments to the important decisions of this election, knowing that people of faith and conscience will be voting both ways in this election year.
5. We will not attack our fellow Christians as Democratic or Republican partisans, but rather will expect and respect the practice of putting our faith first in this election year, even if we reach different conclusions.

The comments that follow this post are fascinating. Here are two particularly thoughtful observations:
- People of faith are cynically allowing themselves to be divided -- and then conquered -- through the constant use of a lexicon of discord and incivility.
- Civility has nothing to do with how one votes and everything to do with how you treat others who vote differently.

Wise words.

Red Letter Christians

This morning I had the privilege of hearing one of my heroes speak at Belmont University. Tony Campolo, professor emeritus of Sociology at Eastern University in Pennsylvania, is the founder of the Evangelical Association for the Promotion of Education (EAPE) and the author of 34 books, including Is Jesus a Republican or a Democrat? (answer: neither) and the recently released Red Letter Christians: A Citizen's Guide to Faith & Politics. I first heard Campolo speak in 1994 when my family was on vacation out West and we decided to drop in on a session of the Woman's Missionary Union's annual meeting in Salt Lake City to hear his keynote address. Since then I have heard him speak four other occasions - three times at Belmont and at the Celebration of a New Baptist Covenant in Atlanta earlier this year. Each time Campolo has inspired me and challenged me to consider whether I am following the words of the prophet Micah: acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with my God. Today was no different.

Campolo began his speech - one of the many events sponsored by Belmont leading up to the October 7th presidential debate - by quoting George Bernard Shaw: "God created us in His own image and we decided to return the favor." Campolo then asserted that we are practicing idolatry when we take the God Who Is and turn Him into a god who embraces our own ideology. God transcends culture, Campolo maintained, and we must resist the temptation to attempt to incarnate God with our own traits and values.

Campolo describes himself as orthodox and evangelical and currently serves as associate pastor of Mount Carmel Missionary Baptist Church in West Philadelphia, an African-American congregation that is affiliated with both the National Baptist Convention and the American Baptist Convention. Campolo is rallying believers to identify themselves as Red Letter Christians - people who focus on the "red letters" of Jesus' words in the New Testament, rise above partisan politics, and view issues through a moral and biblical lens. He admitted that this is a challenge, since, as Mark Twain observed, "It's not the things I don't understand in the Bible that bother me - it's the things I do understand." Campolo's belief that you can't win people to Christ if you don't love them and you can't separate love from justice prompted him to found EAPE 30 years ago with the mission of "inspiring and enabling followers of Jesus to live out God's love for the poor and oppressed, in inner-city America and around the world."

I believe that Campolo is one of God's modern day prophets, and hearing him speak today was a refreshing change from the harsh, divisive political rhetoric that has emanated from both sides of the political spectrum during the past two weeks. May God increase Campolo's tribe of Red Letter Christians - and count me in!

James Tealy - worship leader extraordinaire

My favorite moment on the Labor Day Retreat came on Sunday morning during our worship service. James Tealy, who happens to be my all-time favorite worship leader, divided the room into three groups - two groups of students and one group of adults - and gave each group an assignment. The first group of students was instructed to turn to the book of Psalms and look for passages that spoke about God's holiness. The second group of students likewise turned to Psalms, but James asked them to identify verses that spoke of God's beauty. The adults were supposed to find passages in Psalms that addressed God's mercy.

There are few sounds in the world that are more pleasing to me than the sound of a room full of people flipping through the pages of God's Word. When I was in college, my pastor was never content to dwell on just one passage of Scripture during his sermon. Instead, he began with a focal passage and then led the congregation to turn to a series of verses - usually from both the Old and New Testaments - that underscored the message, letting Scripture interpret Scripture. We called this weekly exercise jogging through the Bible with Brother Bob. I think something important is lost in worship services when worshippers are never asked to turn to a passage in their own Bibles. Reading God's Word on a screen just isn't the same as finding it in the Bible you hold in your own hands.

I heard that wonderful sound again on Sunday morning on the retreat as students and adults flipped through their Bibles (we made sure that everyone had their own copy). After a few minutes, James asked for volunteers to read the passages they had discovered. Then I heard one of my other favorite sounds - voices of teenagers reading Scripture aloud. In rapid succession, students and adults recounted scriptural examples of God's holiness, His beauty, and His mercy. Then James led us to sing one of my favorite choruses, which is based on Psalm 46:10 - "Be still and know He is holy, be still and know He is God . . . be still and know He is beautiful . . . be still and know He is merciful." 

Thanks, James, for leading us through this hands-on exercise in worship.

Labor Day Retreat

On Saturday morning shortly after 7:00 a.m., nearly 100 students and adults boarded two yellow school buses and headed for the Linden Valley Baptist Conference Center, this year's location for my church's Labor Day Retreat. I don't know when my church first sponsored this retreat, which is the kickoff event for the new year in the Student Ministry, but it has been on the church calendar each of the fourteen years that my family has been a member of this congregation. This was my fifth year to be a counselor on this retreat, and the second year that I have written the Bible studies and devotions that we have used at the event.

We pack a lot into this overnight retreat. During the 35 hours that we were at Linden Valley, students participated in four worship services, four Bible study sessions, and a personal devotion period. Students also participated in group recreation on Saturday and had several hours each afternoon of free time, during which they could go kayaking or tubing on the Buffalo River (no current = no fun), swim in the pool, play soccer, football or ultimate frisbee (student minister got a fat lip), and spend a lot of money at the Snack Shack (Nerds Ropes rock).

I have been working with the class of 2009 for many years, and these seniors have been looking forward to this Labor Day Retreat since they were 7th graders because of the senior traditions associated with the event: leading family groups, introducing the new 7th graders, doing the senior skit, and staying up all night. The seniors set a positive tone and a positive example for the younger students throughout the retreat. Their introduction of the 7th graders was creative and enthusiastic, and they made an effort throughout the retreat to build relationships with the newest members of our youth group. The seniors actually did three skits instead of one - "The Race," "The Twelve Days of Christmas," and "The House is on Fire" - which were all hysterical. And, despite the fact that they stayed up all night (almost), they continued to be extraordinary leaders the following day (no grumps). These seniors made Labor Day Retreat 2008 memorable for all of us, and based on the status updates I have read on Facebook today, the general consensus is that this was "the best LDR ever." Thanks, seniors. You never cease to amaze me.