Tambi's Tidings

instrument of incarnation

2009-12-19T08:08:00.003-06:00

During this season of Advent, I have had a heightened sense of anticipation about the arrival of the newborn King. As I have had the privilege of being involved in worship planning for our Advent services at Immanuel, as I have listened intently to my pastor's thought-provoking sermons, as I have read Scripture aloud in worship, as I have listened to choirs sing, as I have sat quietly alone in a beautifully decorated sanctuary during my morning devotions, the story of Christ's birth has fallen freshly upon my ears. With childlike wonder I have been struck by the vibrancy of the story. As Mary contemplated all the events surrounding the birth of her precious son, Luke tells us that she "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Like Mary, I have been doing a lot of pondering these days.

One morning this week I came across these words in Calvin Miller's The Christ of Christmas: Readings for Advent: "How much convincing does it really take to share with someone the blessings of Christmas? The world rarely responds to our profound arguments. It is rarely moved by our wise perspectives, even when we present them well. It is more often won by our thoughtfulness than our theology. It is more often drawn to God by His presence in our lives than by our persuasion. It is our Christ, not our creed, which captures people's hearts." In his concluding prayer, Miller wrote: "Lord, make me an instrument of your incarnation. Live in me until my life is so submerged in Yours that I am invisible. Wherever I go, whatever I do, may I hear those around me breathe the word Immanuel, suggesting that I am nothing and You are everything."

What does it look like to be an instrument of incarnation? That's what I'm pondering today.

career choices

2009-12-09T21:32:00.002-06:00

This evening when I was on a quest to find a particular memento in my childhood scrapbook, I discovered the "Career Planning Report" I received in the ninth grade after taking a differential aptitude test. According to this informative report, my first choice of career goals was in the "Literary and Legal" group. "The occupational group which you name fits well with the school subjects and activities that you like," the report stated. "It also matches your educational plans and your tested aptitudes. On the basis of these facts, it looks like an occupational field which is a good match for your abilities and interests."

With great interest, I flipped the report over to learn which careers fell within the "Literary and Legal" group. Five choices were offered: book critic, librarian, editor, lawyer, and reporter. While I did aspire to be a reporter for a stretch during my childhood - when I was in the sixth grade I briefly published a newspaper that featured my own reporting on major league baseball games, with a strong emphasis on the Cincinnati Reds - I never considered any of the other four options.

Curious, I began to read through the groups of jobs and occupations listed on the back of the report to see which category "pastor" fell into, and I was surprised to discover that no ministerial career options were included at all. The closest thing I could find was the "Education and Human Welfare" category, which included: school teacher, college professor, guidance counselor, social worker, and clinical psychologist. I never considered any of those options either, despite the influence of my mother (school teacher) and my father (college professor).

I found the following instructive words in the report's fine print: "Remember that this report tells you how things look at the present time, and that your interests and goals may change." Indeed. I imagine that the percentage of high school freshmen who accurately predict their career path is fairly low. Not only may their interests and goals change over time, but they may discover career options that have never been on their radar screens - or their career planning reports. Thanks be to God, who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us (Eph. 3:20).

The Christ of Christmas

2009-12-05T22:43:00.006-06:00

In my devotions during Advent, I am using The Christ of Christmas: Readings for Advent by Dr. Calvin Miller. I had Dr. Miller for five classes at Beeson Divinity School - three preaching classes, one on church leadership, and a memorable course called "The Writing Minister." At the beginning of today's devotion on Luke 1:28-30, Dr. Miller writes: "A God big enough to make you afraid is powerful enough to accomplish all He is about to ask of you."

Do not be afraid, the Lord insists. That's easier said than done, I respond. The prayer that accompanies today's devotion speaks to anyone who has wrestled with feelings of inadequacy in the wake of God's call: "Lord, may I quit trying to figure out the mathematics of grace. You have chosen me because it is Your nature to use the bewildered. And that is enough for me. What would you have me to do?"

The Griever's Holiday Bill of Rights

2009-12-03T21:43:00.003-06:00

Tonight I attended a very helpful and meaningful program at Alive Hospice about "Grief and the Holidays." During the program, grief counselor John Baker shared "The Griever's Holiday Bill of Rights":

1. You have the right to say "TIME OUT!" any time you need to.

2. You have a right to TELL IT LIKE IT IS.

3. You have a right to SOME "BAH HUMBUG" DAYS.

4. You have a right to DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY.

5. You have a right to BE WHERE YOU WANT TO BE.

6. You have a right to SOME FUN!

7. You have a right to CHANGE DIRECTION IN MID-STREAM.

8. You have a right to DO THINGS AT DIFFERENT TIMES.

9. You have a right to REST, PEACE, and SOLITUDE.

10. You have the right to DO IT ALL DIFFERENTLY AGAIN NEXT YEAR.

Boulevard Bolt

2009-11-29T16:03:00.004-06:00

Last week I had my first experience with the Boulevard Bolt. This Nashville Thanksgiving Day tradition got its start in 1994, when a core group of folks from Immanuel Baptist Church, St. George's Episcopal Church, and The Temple Congregation Ohabai Sholom decided to collaborate to sponsor a race to raise money for Nashville's homeless community. This 5-mile race initially attracted 2,500 participants; this year 8,025 men, women, and children registered for the race - the largest number in the event's history. Through the years the Boulevard Bolt has donated over $1.2 million in grants to community agencies that assist the homeless, including Safe Haven Family Shelter, an organization my family has supported for many years.

As I worked at the registration table in Immanuel's Fellowship Hall four days last week, I had the opportunity to interact with an extraordinary assembly of volunteers from these three Belle Meade congregations. As I gave participants their race numbers, I learned that the Bolt has become a tradition for many families - an event they look forward to throughout the year. I registered several extended families, including one with 15 members. The "I came the longest distance to run" award goes to a young woman named Rachel, a Nashville native who now serves as a missionary in Guatemala.

On Thanksgiving morning, Paul, Chaney, and I reported for duty at the chip distribution tent at 5:30 a.m. As we pulled away from Belle Meade Boulevard several hours later, I marveled at the army of volunteers who had given of their time sacrificially to make this event possible. Without a doubt, the Bolt was the best part of my Thanksgiving weekend.

I confess that now I'm hooked. What an extraordinary event! I am grateful to the individuals from Immanuel, St. George's, and The Temple who took the initiative and chose to work together years ago to establish a race to help the homeless. Next year I look forward to volunteering to work the Boulevard Bolt once again - and this time I plan on walking it, too.

the Tambi heritage tour

2009-11-18T06:46:00.003-06:00

Last Thursday afternoon I headed west - not very far though, just a two-hour drive to my birthplace: Jackson, Tennessee. My ultimate destination on Friday morning was Memphis, where I had arranged to spend some time gleaning wisdom from my friend Carol, who has been serving as the associate pastor of First Baptist Memphis for nine years. I planned to stay overnight in Jackson, so that I could visit with my son's lovely girlfriend at Union University and spend time with relatives who still call Jackson home.

While in Jackson, I embarked upon a brief, memory-laden tour of the city of my birth. I drove past our former homes on Grandview, Highland, and Hollywood. I cruised by the three elementary schools I attended: Andrew Jackson, Highland Park, Alexander. (Why I attended three schools in five years is another story.) I sought out the site of my birth, Jackson-Madison County General Hospital, as well as the old campus of Union University, where I spent the first months of my infancy living in Ellis Hall, the men's dorm where Mom and Dad served as dorm parents. I passed by my maternal grandparents' home on Skyline Drive, where for one stretch of time in the late 60s my family of five - with #6 on the way - lived in obviously cramped quarters with my grandparents and uncle. I returned to the former downtown location of First Baptist Church: the site of my parents' wedding, the church I attended for the first eleven years of my life; the place where I made a public confession of my faith in Jesus Christ and was baptized in the winter of 1974.

I was struck by the odd collection of memories that came flooding back during my far-too-brief heritage tour: hanging upside down from the branch of a dogwood tree in my grandparents' front yard; my New Year's Day stroll to a market with my best friend Jean to spend the silver dollar my great-grandmother gave me for Christmas on a "book" of Lifesavers; the soft bonnet hair dryer I was using as a kindergartner on the day when the earthquake shook my bedroom; my sister's ballerina necklace that I hurled onto a window ledge; the grilled cheese sandwiches my mother used to buy me on our post-kindergarten lunch dates at Woolworth's; the pleasurable walks with my Dad from his office on Union's campus to the public library.

Soren Kierkegaard observed, "Life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backwards." I have been doing a lot of looking backwards in the past few months, and the understanding I have gleaned propels me forward. I am grateful to God for my past and eagerly anticipating the future.

delicious autumn

2009-11-04T12:02:00.003-06:00

A few days before my mother died, while I was seeking to pass the time while waiting and watching at my parents' house, I grew antsy. I felt the need to do something, to accomplish a task, even if it was insignificant. And so I began to sort through a wooden filing box that my mother kept in the kitchen near the phone. In this box I found a variety of items - an assortment of photos of her grandchildren, expired coupons, take out menus, recipes, my son's 7th grade awards day program, and a card from the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library & Museum.

The thing that caught my eye as I sorted through this random collection, though, was a page that my Mom had ripped from a magazine. The page featured the words of novelist George Eliot superimposed over a spectacular fall photo: "Delicious autumn. My very soul is wedded to it. And if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." I immediately stopped my sorting and emailed this memorable quotation to my son, who - like his mother - prefers autumn over any other season.

Yesterday Chaney posted his newest creative project on his website - a short video that features an array of photographs that he had taken over the past few weeks in East Tennessee in an attempt to capture God's autumnal artistry. When I watched it, I smiled as George Eliot's words appeared on my MacBook, superimposed over my son's photographs of fall foliage. Delicious autumn, indeed.

Welsh melody

2009-11-03T11:37:00.003-06:00

When I accompanied the Class of 2009 from First Baptist Nashville on their mission trip to Wales in July, our team visited the village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch on the island of Anglesey. This memorable name means "St. Mary's Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of St. Tysilio of the red cave" and is officially the longest recognized place name in the United Kingdom. During our obligatory stop at James Pringle Weavers Visitor Centre, I recognized a tune being played by the harpist who was situated near the snack bar. This was a hymn tune, one that I knew I could find in The Baptist Hymnal, but for the life of me I couldn't recall the title of the hymn. On the drive back to our holiday homes in Pwhelli, the other sponsors and I repeatedly hummed the tune and tried to conjure up the words to the hymn, but only fragments came to mind.

This morning when I awoke, I realized that I was once again humming this tune. Why was it lodged in my mind, I wondered? Then I suddenly remembered: As Paul and I walked down the aisle to join Immanuel Baptist Church last Sunday, this was the very hymn that the congregation was singing. Hymn #497 in the 1991 edition of the The Baptist Hymnal is "The Master Hath Come"- Words: Sarah Doudney (1841-1926); Tune: ASH GROVE; Music: Welsh Melody.

I particularly love the second stanza of this hymn:

"The Master hath called us; the road may be dreary,

And dangers and sorrows are strewn on the track;

But God's Holy Spirit shall comfort the weary;

We follow the Savior and cannot turn back;

The Master hath called us: tho' doubt and temptation

May compass our journey, we cheerfully sing:

'Press onward, look upward,' thro' much tribulation;

The children of Zion must follow their King."

Pressing onward, looking upward, I follow my King.

my vocation

2009-10-05T10:42:00.000-05:00

“A vocation found at the end of a long and twisting and surprising journey is no less a vocation than a vocation hoped for and dreamed of and lived for a lifetime.” Robert Benson in The Echo Within: Finding Your True Calling

On October 1, the Personnel/Search Committee of Immanuel Baptist Church in Nashville sent a letter to the congregation announcing that they were unanimously recommending me to serve as their Associate Pastor. I will preach next Sunday morning, October 11, and will share my faith story on Wednesday evening, October 14. The following Wednesday evening, members will vote on the recommendation to call me during the business meeting. My responsibilities will include providing leadership for young adults (with an emphasis on young families and their children), working closely with the Missions Committee to create opportunities for intergenerational ministry in the community, offering spiritual formation in small group settings, and participating in worship leadership and worship planning. Mine has indeed been a twisting and surprising journey, and I am inexpressibly grateful to God for providing me with this opportunity to use my gifts to build up the body of Christ at Immanuel Baptist Church. I look forward to sharing the details of my story with you face-to-face in the days to come. Many of you have been praying for me during the past year as I have sought to discern how God was leading me to serve Him in a new season of my life. God has very clearly led me down this path, and I deeply appreciate your intercessions on my behalf.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." Proverbs 3:5-6

the art of perception

2009-09-24T10:28:00.004-05:00

This month's issue of Smithsonian magazine features a fascinating article written by Neal Hirschfeld titled "Teaching Cops to See," which describes how art historian Amy Herman helps police officers refine their observational skills. In her course "The Art of Perception," Herman challenges officers to interpret the scenes depicted in various works of art without allowing them to read the associated labels. She also forbids them from using the words "obviously" or "clearly" as they describe what they see, since what one person thinks is obvious may not be clear to someone else. The goal of the course is to help officers fine-tune their attention to detail, a critical skill in the crime-prevention/solving business.

At one of her classes at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Herman showed a group of NYPD captains a painting by Caravaggio (see above). Noting the coins on the table and the men's gestures, the officers assumed that a crime had taken place and the guilty party was being fingered. After their discussion, Herman revealed the truth: the painting was titled The Calling of St. Matthew. The young man hunched over the coins is Matthew, the tax collector, and the finger-pointing man in the shadows is Jesus Christ: "As Jesus went on from there, He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector's booth. 'Follow me,' he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him" (Matthew 9:9).

Reflecting on what he had learned in Herman's class, one officer commented, "Amy taught us that to be successful, you have to think outside the box. Don't just look at a picture and see a picture. See what's happening."

After reading the article, I thought about my own powers of observation. How often do I allow preconceived ideas to influence how I read a given situation? What details am I overlooking? What context is missing? Where is God in the midst of the scene and how is He calling me to respond? It's time for me to learn to think outside the box.

patience

2009-09-23T12:46:00.002-05:00

"Don't pray for patience," some folks warn, "or you'll get it!" Somehow I don't think that a prayer for patience is a trigger for God to orchestrate a difficult set of circumstances in order to allow us to get on-the-job experience in the field of patience development. Instead, I believe that when we pray for patience, the Holy Spirit convicts us of our pre-existing impatient tendencies, prompting us to examine ourselves to uncover the reasons why waiting gets us so riled up.

During the past two days, I have had ample opportunities to reflect on whether or not I am making patient progress. On Monday I sat for nearly three hours with my parents in an uncomfortable oncologist's office waiting to get a report on my mother's recent scans. On Tuesday I sat in a hospital room for six hours with a friend while her husband underwent surgery. In both cases, I had expected a lesser wait. But in both cases, I kept frustration (and worry) at bay by refocusing my attention. Where was God in the midst of these situations? What good could I find in these extended periods of waiting?

“Patience is not an additive we take to withstand the perils of life, but rather an opening up and breathing in trust as we hope that God is indeed with us as we wait,” Bill Kees wrote. Waiting is never easy, even when you're anticipating that something wonderful is about to happen, but God is indeed with us as we wait.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience" (Colossians 3:12).

praying the Psalms

2009-09-11T09:55:00.005-05:00

I have recently returned to the practice of using Robert Benson's book Venite during my times of prayer. The book grew out of Benson's personal attempt to find a way to participate in the ancient prayer. I love the rhythms of the daily Offices, and even as I offer these prayers alone, I am aware that countless others are observing the same practice, praying the same words privately and corporately in faith communities around the world. The pattern of praise, confession, hearing the Word, and going forth is profoundly meaningful. I particularly love praying through the psalms in a 31-day cycle, and the timelessness of the psalmist's words never ceases to amaze me.

When I awoke this morning, I was mindful of the date - September 11. My mind drifted back to the events of 2001, and I prayed for those whose grief is heightened by this anniversary. Then I opened Venite and began to observe the Morning Office. The first of the three psalms to be read for the morning of the eleventh day of the month is Psalm 56: "Have mercy on us, for our enemy is hounding us. All day long the enemy assaults us and oppresses us. But whenever we are afraid, we shall put our trust in You. In You, Whose Word we praise, in You we trust and will not be afraid. You have noted our lamentations, and collected our tears in Your bottle. Are they not recorded in Your book?"

How those words must have resonated in the hearts and minds of those who uttered the ancient prayer on that morning eight years ago! Once again, God's Word strikes a deep chord. "In You, whose Word we praise, in You we trust and will not be afraid." Good words for the day. God's Word for the day.

walking on a leash

2009-09-01T10:40:00.004-05:00

On my morning walk at Radnor Lake, I encountered a young woman who was trying to walk a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel on a leash. I emphasize the word "trying" because the woman was heading up the hill while the puppy was attempting to travel in the opposite direction. When the woman saw me watching her struggle, she explained with a smile, "We're still trying to learn how to walk on a leash."

As I watched the dog straining to distance himself from his master, a stanza from Robert Robinson's classic hymn "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" popped into my mind:

"O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above."

Like the spaniel, I'm still learning how to walk on a leash. Like the spaniel, I am prone to wander. Like the spaniel, I need to be bound to my Master.

transition

2009-08-31T13:04:00.002-05:00

The word "transition" came up yet again in a discussion over the weekend. Verily, my cup has runneth over with transitions during the past 18 months. These transitions didn't have the decency to space themselves out; instead, I have been forced to deal with multiple transitions simultaneously. Yet, I have determined that transition is not a dirty word.

In the transition discussion this weekend, a wise woman who has been experiencing her own cavalcade of change observed that she has come to view each transition as an opportunity. I concur. Often, transitional periods are times marked by grief, but they can also be times of great growth. I have learned to look for the new thing God is trying to teach me in each transition, and I try to trace His activity in my life as I recall how He has prepared me to face a given change. Transitions are clearly teachable moments, and I know from firsthand experience "that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope" (Romans 5:3-4).

Baptist women in ministry

2009-08-30T19:18:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I was in a meeting that featured a lively discussion about Baptist women in ministry. These folks were all enthusiastic supporters of Baptist women in ministry, so we spent a fair amount of time considering all the reasons that women - from young women fresh out of seminary to more "mature" women who have been called to ministry later in life - have difficulty finding positions on church staffs, particularly pastorates.

Two fathers among the group spoke eloquently about their desire for their daughters to understand that God can indeed call them to serve as pastors. A college professor noted that fathers of female collegiate athletes provided much of the impetus for achieving parity among men's and women's sports when they began to speak out about the inequities they had observed.

The best story, however, came from a minister who serves in East Tennessee. She recalled the time when her church was searching for a pastor, and some folks made the argument that the congregation shouldn't consider a female candidate since the church's other two staff members were women. One member actually had the audacity to say, "We can't hire a woman as pastor because then we would have an all-female staff!" Imagine that - a single gender staff in a Baptist church. Who has ever seen the likes of such a thing?

walk and pray

2009-08-28T08:48:00.004-05:00

The single biggest challenge I have faced in the two weeks that have elapsed since Paul and I moved Chaney into his dorm room at the University of Tennessee has been rhythmic in nature. After spending nearly 19 years building my life around my son's schedule, I suddenly had the opportunity to develop a new rhythm of daily life. In recent days I have relished the opportunity to renew my commitment to walk regularly at Radnor Lake, a practice I had abandoned in the summer due to three student ministry trips and a family vacation.

Radnor Lake is my sanctuary - the place where I sense God's presence most acutely. As I have walked down Otter Creek Road along the lake's southern shoreline recently, my mind has drifted back to the countless prayers I have uttered in this park in years past. I remember when I began to pray regularly for the Class of 2009 at my church - back when these students were still in middle school - and I recall many of the specific requests that I lifted up day after day on their behalf. As these students begin their freshman year of college, I am overwhelmed with gratitude to God for the myriad of ways He answered all those prayers.

"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know" (Jeremiah 33:3). I have so much more to learn. Confident that God hears my prayers, I will continue to walk and pray.

Ode to AT&T Park

2009-07-31T01:57:00.004-05:00

I have attended major league baseball games in 21 ballparks, including two facilities that have since been demolished (Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium and the old Busch Stadium in St. Louis) and one that is no longer used for baseball (Houston Astrodome). Therefore, I believe I have the breadth of personal experience necessary to proclaim that AT&T Park in San Francisco is the best ballpark in Major League Baseball. Here are ten reasons why I became so enamored with this ballpark when I visited it for the first time on July 30, 2009:

1. Location, location, location - The view of San Francisco Bay is memorable. Coors Field in Denver comes close with its beautiful vistas, but I think AT&T Park has it beat.

2. Female PA Announcer - I had never thought about the fact that every other PA announcer at every other sporting event I have ever attended was a man. What a pleasant surprise to hear a woman's voice for a change!

3. Weather - I realize that the majority of folks think that San Francisco's weather is a drawback rather than an attraction, but I loved the chilly night air and the ever-shifting mist.

4. Giant Coca-Cola bottle - I have a Coca-Cola kitchen, so I obviously loved the giant Coke bottle that loomed over the left field wall. (Of course, I love the giant Coke bottle at Turner Field in Atlanta, too.)

5. Concessions - I always take note of the unusual culinary fare sold at various ballparks. AT&T Park offers garlic fries at the concession sessions plus roving vendors selling churros and hot chocolate. Yum!

6. Willie McCovey - Nicknamed "Stretch," this Hall of Famer made his debut for the San Francisco Giants exactly 50 years ago on July 30, 1959. When the PA announcer noted his presence at tonight's game and he waved to the crowd from his box seat, the Giants fans gave him a standing ovation. Over the course of 22 years, McCovey hit 521 home runs, and he is one of only three players to hit home runs in four different decades (along with Ted Williams and Rickey Henderson).

7. McCovey Cove - No other ballpark provides kayakers with the opportunity to catch a home run ball. Lacking the steroid-induced firepower of Barry Bonds, there are no longer hoards of kayakers circling just outside of the right field wall in hopes of snagging a souvenir, but there were two kayaks present tonight, and one lucky lady did fish a home run ball out of the water.

8. Ferry service - I loved watching people arrive at the game via ferry. It reminded me of the Vol Navy - the folks who arrive at Neyland Stadium via boat and "sailgate" prior to UT football games.

9. Evacuation Announcement - I had never been in a ballpark before where instructions were given about how to evacuate. Clearly, this is a necessary precaution in San Francisco because of the ever-present threat of earthquakes, and I found the instructions reassuring rather than frightening.

10. Seagulls - As soon as the game was over and the crowd began to disperse, a flock of seagulls descended upon the park to scavenge for scraps of concessions. Hitchcock would have loved it!

For the record, the Giants defeated the Phillies 7-2. Go Giants!

a salute to Galen Clark

2009-07-29T10:09:00.002-05:00

Often when I walk on the trails around Radnor Lake, I silently give thanks to God for the people who worked diligently to preserve this gem of a park from development. On Tuesday afternoon when I got my first glimpse of Yosemite Valley from Glacier Point, I wanted to shout with joy to thank God for Galen Clark, the man who is not only responsible for preserving the Yosemite area – including Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove of giant sequoias – but also for launching the nationwide preservation movement that resulted in the establishment of America's National Park System. I learned about Galen Clark from Ranger Phaedra Stefankas, who enlightened the crowd that had gathered at Glacier Point for sunset about Yosemite’s history. Thanks to Clark’s efforts, the breathtaking Yosemite Valley and the awe-inspiring Mariposa Grove of giant sequoias initially became the heart of a state park, an action that became official when President Abraham Lincoln, in the midst of the Civil War, signed the papers to approve the grant. A San Francisco newspaper began spreading the word about the wonders of Yosemite, and soon other visionaries, like John Muir, joined the effort to preserve areas of unique natural beauty across America.

This fall Ken Burns and Dayton Duncan will release their latest documentary project – a film about America’s national parks. It is fitting that footage of Yosemite Falls will be featured in the opening sequence of the film. In the latest issue of National Geographic’s Adventure magazine, Burns observes that our national parks aren’t simply places that our nation has preserved; they are “also something we’ve accomplished: one of America’s best ideas.” I wholeheartedly agree. And gauged by the number of international visitors who joined my family at Glacier Point last night to watch the sun set on Half Dome, I would say the world agrees that the establishment of America’s National Park System was indeed a grand idea.

“I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonders.” Psalm 9:1

The Nixon-vacation connection

2009-07-27T16:06:00.003-05:00

I have long associated Richard Nixon with summer vacations, so it was fitting that we visited the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum on the first full day of our California vacation. Let me explain.

On August 9, 1974, as my family pulled out of the parking lot at the Absaroka Mountain Lodge just east of Yellowstone National Park, my father flipped on the radio and we heard the news that Richard Nixon was resigning as the 37th president of the United States. Although I hadn't yet celebrated my tenth birthday, I was already fascinated with politics, due in part to the fact that my father had just run an unsuccessful campaign for Congress. But my particular interest in Nixon's fate had been stoked the previous summer when I spent countless hours at my maternal grandmother's house watching the Watergate hearings. Let me add that I did not initially watch these hearings because I was a young political junkie - rather, their broadcast preempted the game shows I usually watched while I tooled around in my grandparents' den.

So it was with great interest this morning that I paid a visit to President Nixon's library in Yorba Linda, California. Before we began exploring the library, we watched a 28-minute movie about Nixon's career titled "Never Give Up: Richard Nixon in the Arena." The movie was produced before Nixon's death, and it featured his personal commentary about various events. My favorite quotation came near the end of the movie when Nixon, reflecting on his life, quoted Sophocles: "One must wait until the evening to see how splendid the day has been."

The library is well worth a visit if you're in the area. The special exhibit "Man on the Moon: The 40th Anniversary of Apollo 11" brought back a lot of other childhood memories. The "World Leaders" and "Structures of Peace" exhibits reminded me of Nixon's significant achievements in foreign affairs. Because my grandmother was a florist, I was particularly taken with the First Lady's Garden, which was filled with aromatic roses. I was also fascinated with the display of Time Magazine covers featuring Nixon. Did you know he appeared on the cover 54 times - more than anyone else in history? I grinned when I saw the "Keep it Green" t-shirts for sale in the bookstore, a nod to Nixon's creation of the Environmental Protection Agency in 1970.

I have now had the privilege of visiting four of our nation's twelve presidential libraries - including the Harry S. Truman Library in Independence, Missouri; the Jimmy Carter Library in Atlanta; and the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston - and I hope to cross the other eight off my bucket list eventually. In the meantime, tonight I will get to check something else off my bucket list as we attend the Anaheim Angels-Cleveland Indians game at Angel Stadium. (Out of principal, I refuse to call them the Los Angeles Angels at Anaheim. Ridiculous name.) The Swiney family has been on a quest to visit all of the major league baseball parks, and this will be the first of five games that we will attend during our California vacation. Play ball!

how many states

2009-07-23T17:32:00.002-05:00

One of the latest chain notes that is winding its way through the pages of Facebook is titled "How many states have you been to?" If you follow the instructions, you are supposed to place an "X" beside the states that you have visited and an "O" beside those where you have lived. You are then supposed to tag the same number of friends as the number of states you've been to so that they can join in the fun.

I'll admit that I was a party-pooper the first time I got tagged in one of these notes. Instead of following the instructions, I commented on the note and simply said, "I've been to all 50 states." (Sorry, Bill.) At least I spared 50 of my friends from being tagged.

My parents believed that travel was an integral part of their children's education. The Brown family took our first cross-country vacation in the summer of 1973, when the six of us loaded up our station wagon and drove from Jackson, Tennessee, to San Francisco. In the years that followed, almost every summer we took a 2-week driving vacation, usually built around the location of State Higher Education Executive Officers annual meeting. By the time I left home for college, I had been to 46 states, missing only Oregon, Washington, Hawaii, and Alaska. The University of Tennessee at Knoxville picked up the tab for me to travel to Oregon and Washington when I served as a student representative on the National Orientation Directors Association's Board of Directors. In 1988, my father took my entire family - including my husband and my grandmother - to Hawaii, so then I only lacked Alaska.

With Chaney's birth in 1990, I began the state count again. The three of us took our first cross-country vacation in 1996, a dinosaur-themed vacation that included stops at 19 dinosaur-related sites in 13 states in 16 days. Five summers later, all three of us were able to mark state #50 off our individual lists when we made a July visit to Alaska.

On Sunday we leave on yet another family vacation. California is our destination, but this year there will be no cross-country drive (although I would have loved it). We will visit San Francisco, among other places, and I will relive fond vacation memories. My education continues.

faith begat faith

2009-07-22T21:29:00.006-05:00

One of the most memorable moments of our recent mission trip to Wales occurred one afternoon at a neighborhood park in Pwllheli. I had been taking photographs of our students as they interacted with the neighborhood children on the field and the playground, when suddenly I heard a cheer erupt from a group of children standing behind me at the skatepark. When I turned around, I realized I had missed a stunt - a teenage daredevil on bicycle had just jumped over a child lying on the top of the ramp. With the crowd egging him on, the teenager prepared to make a second approach, and several other children joined the brave soul on the ramp. Once again, the teen easily cleared the ramp, and the children hopped up and applauded.

Soon the neighborhood children began urging the American onlookers to join the fun and lie down on the ramp with them. "We trust him!" insisted one child. "He once jumped fourteen kids!" (Did he try to jump fifteen kids once and fail, I wondered?) Several brave souls from our mission team decided to trust this complete stranger, and soon they were lying on top of the ramp as the daredevil sped toward them. I simultaneously held my breath, snapped photos, and wondered what my students' parents would think if we brought a member of our group home wounded. Fortunately, the daredevil once again cleared the pile, and our students rose to their feet unscathed.

Why did some of our students take a risk and allow a complete stranger to jump over them on a bicycle? Why did I stand by watching and resist the urge to intervene? Because the neighborhood children trusted the teenage stunt biker, and the biker himself exuded supreme confidence. The children who chose to lie down on the ramp had faith that biker would easily clear them, and the biker clearly had faith that his stunt would succeed. Our students were willing to exercise faith because they saw others exercising faith. Faith begat faith.

from Mission Friends to the mission field

2009-07-20T17:33:00.003-05:00

When my family joined First Baptist Nashville in the summer of 1994, one of the first leadership roles I assumed was that of a Mission Friends teacher. (Mission Friends is the WMU* missions education organization for preschoolers.) I have taught preschoolers, children, teenagers, and adults in various settings in churches through the years, but being a Mission Friends teacher for five years was one of my all-time favorite church experiences. I loved introducing the preschoolers to different cultures, telling them stories about how missionaries were sharing the love of Christ with people around the world, and helping them to see how they could likewise help others in Jesus' name.

While I was in Wales last week on a mission trip with thirteen students from the Class of 2009 at First Baptist Nashville, I thought back to my Mission Friends days, since that was when I first got to know some of these recent high school graduates. When they were kindergartners, Paul managed to secure a bunch of boxes with handles, so each week in Mission Friends the kids put the new artwork they had created into their respective "suitcases." Each child also had "passport" that year - a little booklet full of blank pages - and every week after we learned about the place where our featured missionaries lived, each child would glue a sticker that I had created to commemorate our "visit" into his/her personal passport.

With those memories in mind, it was moving to watch these same students rolling their bulging suitcases through airports and showing their passports to customs officials. As I observed these teenagers sitting attentively in the presence of missionaries, asking them astute questions about their sense of God's call and probing them for stories about the joys and challenges of serving on the mission field, I recalled the days when they were squirming preschoolers sitting in a semicircle in front of me, listening to missionary stories. I watched with pride as these recent high school graduates made connections with Welsh children in a chapel, in four primary schools and a secondary school, at a castle, and on a neighborhood playground. My Mission Friends had become missionaries themselves. Thanks be to God.

*Woman's Missionary Union

Camp 09

2009-07-05T16:02:00.002-05:00

As I was driving home last Friday from Ridgecrest and reflecting on how God's had been at work in the lives of our students (and sponsors) at Camp 09, a passage from one of Paul's letters to the church at Corinth kept coming to mind: "What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building." (1 Corinthians 3:5-9)

This morning at First Baptist Nashville, five students came forward during the invitation to let the congregation know how God had been working in their lives. Three students made public professions of faith, one rededicated her life to Christ, and another announced he felt called to full-time Christian service in missions. I am grateful to God for this spiritual fruit, but I am aware that the seeds for these decisions were planted long ago. Parents, siblings, Sunday School teachers, missions leaders, discipleship teachers, choir leaders, and countless others have invested in these students' spiritual journeys through the years. Some have planted the seeds, others have watered them, and now those of us who were at Camp 09 were privileged to see the seeds bear fruit. God made the seeds grow - we didn't.

As a mom, I extend my deepest thanks to all the people who have planted seeds in my son's life and watered them during the 15 years that my family has been a part of the First Baptist Nashville family. As a student ministry volunteer, I am grateful for all the people who I have had the privilege of serving alongside in God's field. God has been gracious, and I am grateful beyond measure.

The Irresistible Revolution - continued

2009-06-22T11:42:00.002-05:00

As I continue to ponder Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, I recognize how God has been whispering to me over the past several months not just through through the words of this book, but also through Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, Robert Benson's The Echo Within: Finding Your True Calling, and Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light - The Private Writings of the "Saint of Calcutta." I have also been reading through the Bible this year - I'm now in Nehemiah 7 and Acts 3 - and time and time again the Spirit has prodded me to reconsider what it means to be a follower of Christ.

Early in his book, Claiborne writes about being born again and again and again as a student as he attended an annual summer Christian festival and responded enthusiastically (and repeatedly) to the altar calls. At some point, though, he realized that something was amiss: "I came to realize that preachers were telling me to lay my life at the foot of the cross and weren't giving me anything to pick up. . . . I believed all the right stuff - that Jesus is the Son of God, died and rose again. I had become a 'believer,' but I had no idea what it means to be a follower. People had taught me what Christians believe, but no one had told me how Christians live" (pp. 38-39).

Orthodoxy without orthopraxy. "As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead" (James 2:26).

The Irresistible Revolution

2009-06-21T21:34:00.003-05:00

I just finished reading Shane Claiborne's book, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. Judging from the number of page corners I turned down, the section that challenged me the most profoundly was Chapter 5: Another Way of Doing Life. In his discussion about the role communities like The Simple Way play in helping people to discern their vocations, Claiborne writes: "Beyond knowing that God has a purpose for our lives, most of us (especially non-Catholics) spend little energy seeking our vocation, especially in light of how the needs and sufferings of our neighbors might inform how we use our gifts for divine purposes. There are plenty of people who are miserable in their jobs, for they have not listened to God's call. And I would add there are many Christians who are not fulfilled in their spiritual lives because they have no sense of their gifts or purpose, and they just run to the mission field to save souls rather than transform lives and communities using their gifts and those of the people they live among. Both lead to emptiness and burnout" (p. 138).

Many times when I read a compelling book, I sense immediately what I ought to do in order to apply what I have learned. I confess that I have no idea what do with Claiborne's challenging words - I just know I must do something. A remark made by one of Claiborne's colleagues keeps bouncing around in my mind: "I gave up Christianity in order to follow Jesus" (p. 71). What does a Christ-follower really look like?

bumper sticker memories

2009-06-19T22:57:00.002-05:00

The back of my Toyota RAV4 is covered with bumper stickers, most of which are mementos of vacations past. When I'm stopped at a red light, I often glance into my rearview mirror and see the folks in the car behind me straining toward their windshield in order to get a better look at the stickers. Many times I have been able to read their lips as they try to figure out what the various initials stand for. (JH stands for Jackson Hole.) On more than one occasion, I have come out of store and found someone standing behind my car, snapping a picture of my bumper sticker collection with a cell phone. Sometimes, a passerby will stop and ask me to decipher a specific sticker. The most difficult ones to identify for most folks are usually WP (Walden Pond) and ANP (Acadia National Park).

When I look at these bumper stickers, I recall memorable moments from our various family vacations - like our river hike in Zion National Park, photographing grizzlies at Yellowstone, or the sunrise on Cadillac Mountain in Acadia. I acquire these bumper stickers because I am very goal-oriented - each one symbolizes a successful mission to a particular destination. I made a plan, and we reached the place. The problem with focusing on the destination, though, is that I often am so obsessed with the desired endpoint that I fail to enjoy the journey itself.

This summer is the busiest one in my personal history. I have already completed a five-day Choir Tour/Mission Trip to Williamsburg, Kentucky, with the youth group from my church. A week from Sunday I will accompany the youth to camp, and from that point forward, I will be out of town 27 of the next 40 days. If I'm going to make the most of those days, I need to focus not on my assorted destinations (North Carolina, Wales, California) but on the journey itself. Undoubtedly, God has much to teach me en route.

choir tour/mission trip

2009-06-08T20:23:00.002-05:00

Bright and early tomorrow morning a group of 50 teenagers and adults from First Baptist Nashville will head out on a choir tour/mission trip to eastern Kentucky. I am driving the cargo van on this journey, the first of three student ministry trips I will make this summer, meaning I'll spent 23 out of the next 41 days away from home.

In the midst of preparations for the trip, my thoughts drifted back to the one and only choir tour/mission trip that I participated in during my high school years. In 1981, the summer before my senior year, my youth group traveled in three 15-passenger vans to Detroit, driving through the night to get there. (In retrospect, I wonder why that was necessary?) We slept on cots in classrooms in a school, conducted a Vacation Bible School in another school, and performed several concerts (including a sparsely attended one in a city park).

For VBS, I was one of three students assigned to teach a class for sixth graders. On the first day, only two students showed up - Lori (a sixth grader) and Jennie (an eighth grader). We weren't about turn 50% of our potential students away, so we welcomed Jennie with open arms. By the end of the week, Jennie and I had become fast friends. After all, I was only three years older than she was. When we parted, we promised to stay in touch, and in the months to come we corresponded regularly.

Fast forward four years. In January 1985, five months before I would graduate from the University of Tennessee, Paul and I got engaged. When I wrote Jennie to share my good news, she responded promptly, pledging to attend the wedding. A trip from Detroit to Knoxville would be her high school graduation present, and I was thrilled to be reunited with her on my special day. Two years later my mother and I made a road trip from Washington, D.C. - where Paul and I were living - to Detroit so we could be with Jennie on her wedding day.

I am grateful for Jennie and a friendship that has spanned nearly three decades. You can never tell what God will do on a mission trip!

10 years ago today

2009-06-06T14:46:00.003-05:00

On June 6, 1999, during the invitation time of the Sunday morning worship service at First Baptist Nashville, I stepped out of my pew (third row, piano side) and walked forward to announce to the congregation that I believed God was calling me into ministry. The following January, I began my studies at Beeson Divinity School, unsure of exactly what God was calling me to do but confident that He had a plan. Over the next four and half years, I commuted approximately 100,000 miles in my quest to earn a Master of Divinity degree. In May 2004, with my cap perched precariously on my head, I crossed the stage at the Birmingham Jefferson Convention Complex and received my diploma.

As I reflect on the decade that has elapsed since I made my call to ministry public, I can clearly see how the Lord has directed my path. I am grateful for the opportunities I have been afforded to use my gifts in ministry, yet I long to do more. I don't know what the next decade will hold, but I am confident that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus (Philippians 1:6).

UTK orientation

2009-06-03T09:29:00.003-05:00

Paul, Chaney, and I spent Monday and Tuesday on campus at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville for freshman/parent orientation. When I attended UT's orientation as an incoming freshman in the summer of 1982, I was enthralled with the Student Orientation Assistants (SOAs) and aspired to become one myself. When I saw the flyers posted around campus announcing SOA interviews midway through my freshman year, I seized the opportunity. I was absolutely thrilled when I learned that I was one of 22 students - 11 girls and 11 guys - who had been chosen to work during the summer of 1983. I was one of the fortunate few SOAs who was able to be a repeater, serving again in 1984. That summer a young man named Paul Swiney was also chosen to be an SOA. We got engaged the following January and were married in October 1985.

As I observed the current batch of Orientation Leaders (SOAs are now called OLs) at UTK this week, I recalled just how formative my orientation experiences had been. Our orientation director, Debby Shriver, was an exceptional leader who inspired confidence and empowered students to use their gifts and talents. As an SOA, I learned how to plan events, how to convey dry information in a creative way, how to speak in front of adults and teenagers, how to keep a smile on your face even when you are exhausted, how to work with people with widely divergent personalities, and how to be flexible.

During my tenure as an SOA, Debby recruited me to serve as a student representative on the board of directors of the National Orientation Directors Association (NODA). I was able to make trips to Burlington, Vermont, Portland, Oregon, and Baltimore, Maryland, to attend NODA meetings. I also attended Southern Regional Orientation Workshops in Atlanta and St. Louis, and accompanied Debby to The Freshman Year Experience conference in Columbia, South Carolina.

I continue to use the skills I acquired as an SOA on a daily basis. I am grateful to Debby and to the University of Tennessee at Knoxville for giving me the opportunity to develop my leadership skills. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's great to be a Tennessee Vol!

looking back, looking forward

2009-05-21T18:35:00.002-05:00

When I was in high school, a college student named Allyson spent a lot of time working with my youth group. After I moved away from Brentwood - first to Knoxville for college and then on to Washington, D.C. - we lost touch. I knew that she left the Nashville area later as well - first for seminary in Fort Worth and then on to New England, where she continues to minister to students through her work with the Baptist Convention of New England.

Allyson and I recently reconnected through Facebook, and today we saw each other face-to-face for the first time in over 20 years. Talking with her brought back a lot of memories, and God used our conversation to confirm some stirrings in my heart. She told me that she has remained in contact through the years with a group of girls she began mentoring back in the 80s - girls she taught for three consecutive years in Sunday School beginning in their sophomore year. These "girls" are now 40-year-old women, but they continue to gather annually to nurture the bonds that were forged back in their teenage years.

I couldn't help but think about my relationships with the girls in the Class of 2009 at my church, girls who I have been teaching in Sunday School for the past three years. I have promised them that I will continue to mentor them after they head off to college this fall, and it's exciting to me to ponder the prospect of us still getting together regularly over two decades from now (not so exciting to think how old I'll be then). Allyson made a long-term investment in "her" girls, I hereby pledge to do the same.

graduation

2009-05-20T08:23:00.002-05:00

Last night my son graduated from John Overton Comprehensive High School. Chaney is a 13-year veteran of Metropolitan Nashville Public Schools (MNPS), and he has always attended his zoned school: 5 years at Norman Binkley Elementary School (0.4 miles from our house), 2 years at Rose Park Middle School (6 miles away), 2 years at Croft Middle Design Center (1 mile away), and four years at Overton (2.3 miles). MNPS have taken a lot of flack through the years, and certainly the school system has a lot of room for improvement, but our experiences have been very positive. Chaney has had excellent teachers at each school he has attended, and he would not have become a National Merit Finalist Scholarship winner without their help.

As we made our way through the crowded lobby after Overton's graduation ceremony last night at Belmont's Curb Event Center, a friend remarked that she felt like she was in the midst of the "It's A Small World Ride" at DisneyWorld because of the ethnic diversity. While such diversity frightens some parents, it's one of the things that I have treasured the most about my son's public education in Nashville. Just among the list of distinguished scholars (students with a cumulative average of 93-100), I found the following surnames: Abdullatif, Al-Jabbary, Boggs, Durani, Elassoulit, Hartzell, Hesen, Juarez, Juru, Le, Lin, Marquina, Martinez, McCann, Mohamed, Msoma, Quach, Sueing, Swiney, Tan, Yosuf, Young.

Chaney has gone to school with students from five of the seven continents. He has been in classes with refugees from Iraq and Kosovo. He's watched as students who started out in the English as a Second Language class in elementary school have become fluent in English and have excelled academically. He's brushed elbows with students from every socio-economic level. He's spent day after day walking the halls with more people who don't look like him than those who do - and that's a great thing, in my opinion.

In her valedictory speech last night, my friend Adriana made a reference to the One who knew her before she was in her mother's womb. Looking out over the crowd that had assembled to celebrate the accomplishments of the Class of 2009 last night, I thought about how intimately God knew each person in that room, how He made each and every one of us in His own image, and how He loves each one of us passionately.

My son has been well-educated by Metropolitan Nashville Public School, and I am extraordinarily grateful. And God has been with Chaney every step of the way these past 13 years, teaching him invaluable lessons about the diversity of His creation. Thanks be to God!

Remarks to the Class of 2009

2009-05-17T14:30:00.005-05:00

This morning First Baptist Nashville honored the Class of 2009, and I had the opportunity to address the seniors during a special breakfast. Here's what I said:

Years ago I read a book by Norman Cousins called Anatomy of an Illness. One of the many things that intrigued me about this book was the author’s assertion that laughter has healing powers. The writer of Proverbs observed that “a cheerful heart is good medicine” (Prov. 17:22), so I don’t think Mr. Cousins’ thesis was far-fetched. And if laughter indeed is good for you, then I ought to be in great health because the Class of 2009 has made me laugh more through the years than any other group of people I’ve ever known.

The laughter started back in the days of Mission Friends with several of you. From those early experiences, I learned that you couldn’t sit still, you loved to do crafts, and you consumed snacks in great quantities.

Then there were the Vacation Bible School experiences. I think I worked with your class at least four years in VBS. I remember laughing as I watched you enthusiastically learned the motions to the admit-believe-and-confess song of the year. And you couldn’t sit still, you loved to do crafts, and you consumed snacks in great quantities.

And then you entered the youth group. I hadn’t intended to work with youth, but when that first summer camp rolled around I found myself on a bus to Doublehead, ready to spend a week in a cabin with 7th grade girls. I distinctly remember our awkward cabin devotions that year – a bunch of girls sitting in silence under the watchful gaze of the framed picture of the Indian mother who looked like Nancy Brown. It’s hard to believe that there was a time when this bunch of girls didn’t have anything to say!

We found plenty of things to laugh about at each of the five camps we’ve shared together, but we undoubtedly laughed the loudest and longest the two years that Tom Richter was our camp pastor. And I still laugh when I think about the morning at Doublehead at the spirit circle when Bryan, attired in his Powerpuff Girls costume, tackled Josh from behind.

I’ve also laughed with you at five Labor Day Retreats. We’ve laughed in Sunday School classrooms, in Discipleship Training classes, and during the Monday Bible studies in my living room. We’ve laughed on mission trips to Atlanta, New Orleans, and Charleston, at DNow Weekends, at January basketball games, girls’ sleepovers, Super Bowl parties, family cookouts, Christmas cookie decorating parties, on the “Leadership Development Retreat” at Ridgecrest, and at the infamous cooking lesson at my house.

The ability to laugh has helped the Class of 2009 to navigate a difficult year. Many times, laughter has broken the tension. We’ve laughed, even though we haven’t really understood what God was doing – kind of like Sarai laughed when she overheard the Lord telling Abram that she was going to have a baby after all those years. And what did Abram and Sarai name that baby? Isaac – which means laughter.

But the best moments by far have been the ones when we’ve laughed together in sheer joy – and, thankfully, we’ve had an abundance of those moments during your senior year. I have watched you grow closer in your relationships with each other, but – more importantly – I’ve seen evidence that your personal relationships with Christ are ever deepening. Although this past year has been stressful, you’ve been able to take your faith to another level, as you’ve learned how to trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. And I have learned so much from watching your faith journeys unfold. So thanks for teaching me, and thanks for making me laugh.

I assure you there are many more laughs yet to come. We’ve got choir tour, camp, and the mission trip to Wales ahead of us this summer. In fact, missionary John Robinson has already warned us that we need to tone down our laughter while we are in Wales – that’s going to be a challenge for this group.

As you prepare for our adventures this summer and beyond, I hope you’ll remember this verse that we talked about in our Monday Bible study group earlier this spring – Zephaniah 3:17: “The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”

a little pencil in God's hands

2009-05-14T10:48:00.003-05:00

"Very often I feel like a little pencil in God's Hands. He does the writing, He does the thinking, He does the movement, I have only to be the pencil."
Mother Teresa, March 7, 1979

I have just finished reading Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light, a collection of Mother's Teresa's private writings, and "astonishing" is the word that comes to mind. I am astonished by the depths of her passionate love for Christ and her vow to "not refuse Him anything." I am astonished by her sacrifice, her vow of absolute poverty. I am astonished to discover from her own words the depths of her personal spiritual darkness, yet this interior darkness never extinguished the light of Christ that gleamed so brightly through her life in the dark holes of the slums of Calcutta.

A little pencil in God's hands. An astounding image of submission. Am I content to be such a pencil - allowing God to do the writing, the thinking, and the movement?

bubbles and hymns

2009-05-12T13:25:00.003-05:00

I have stored a way a lot of wonderful memories from Chaney's senior year, but few can surpass last night.

I started hosting a Bible study for my son and a few of his friends from church during his sophomore year. This year the group burgeoned to nine regulars with a couple of other seniors who dropped in from time to time as their schedules permitted. Each week we've been studying a different spiritual discipline, so we've covered a range of topics, including: lectio divina, Bible study, meditation, prayer, almsgiving, singing from the heart, forgiveness, spiritual friendship, and discernment. To prepare for the lessons, I have used a great resource from The Upper Room - Soul Tending: Life Forming Practices for Older Youth and Young Adults.

Last week we had our last official Monday Bible study, since AP exams and graduation ceremonies were looming. Last night, Lauryn Moody (a true spiritual friend who teaches Sunday School with me and who has been a regular at our Bible studies) invited the seniors over for a celebratory dinner. Joe Fitzpatrick, our church's new worship and music pastor, was our special guest.

As we sat around Lauryn's dining room table, I asked the seniors to tell Joe about the various spiritual disciplines we had studied over the past few months. One of the students even had her notebook from the Bible study with her (no surprise that she is the valedictorian of John Overton High School), so she let him take a look. As the students shared, it occurred to me that this was a fairly rare sight - a group of high school seniors excitedly discussing spiritual disciplines around the dinner table.

Afterwards, the students opened the festively wrapped graduation gifts that the mom of one of the seniors had sent for them. One student remarked that this seemed like Christmas, so as they tore into their gifts, Lauryn played "White Christmas" on the piano and we all sang along. The girls were thrilled with their bubble machines, but for lack of a screwdriver, it took a half hour for them to get one up and running. But once the bubbles finally took flight, spirits soared even higher.

The best part of the night, though, was when we all gathered around the piano and sang hymns together with Lauryn serving as our accompanist. Many people argue that teenagers don't like the old hymns of our faith - and many don't - but this group of seniors has a fondness for the Baptist Hymnal. A girl requested that we sing her favorite hymn, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing," and we sang in four-part harmony with gusto. Chaney then requested "My Lord is Near Me All The Time." We closed out the hymn sing with a rousing rendition of "Wonderful Grace of Jesus."

Bubbles and hymns are hard to beat. Thanks be to God.

advocacy for women in ministry

2009-04-21T07:35:00.002-05:00

Last Saturday at the Tennessee Cooperative Baptist Fellowship General Assembly, which was held at Immanuel Baptist Church in Nashville, Dr. Eileen Campbell-Reed received the Betty Galloway Advocacy for Women in MInistry Award. Tennessee CBF presents this award annually to a person, church, or organization that excels in promoting and advocating women in places of ministry. In her gracious acceptance speech, Eileen observed that she is looking forward to the day when this kind of award will no longer need to be given - a day when women will have ample opportunities to use their God-given gifts in ministry. Though that day still sees to me to be on the distant horizon, I pray for its advent. In the meantime, I am grateful to people like Eileen who encourage women to follow God's call courageously.

rest

2009-03-28T22:21:00.002-05:00

I have been reading through the Bible this year - I'm in Judges now - and I have been struck by the number of times the Lord instructed His people to rest in the first few books of the Bible. And the more I read about the necessity of resting, the more keenly aware I am of how much I crave true rest. I'm not talking about sleep here - although I certainly need more sleep than I've been getting lately - it's spiritual rest that I need.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls" (Matthew 11:28-29). I've got a lot yet to learn from Jesus about finding rest for my soul.

spaghetti luncheon

2009-03-10T14:52:00.006-05:00

Last Sunday, the seniors at my church hosted a Spaghetti Luncheon to raise awareness about their upcoming mission trip to Wales (Cymru if you speak Welsh). The kitchen prepared enough food for 350 people, and we ran out just as the seniors were serving the last tables in Fellowship Hall. As folks were eating, one of our seniors, Alexia, explained the rationale for our trip - only 5% of the Welsh people attend church regularly and only 1% are Evangelical Christians.

The Spaghetti Luncheon was success on many levels. First of all, we were able to raise awareness about our trip and cultivate a base of prayer warriors and financial supporters who will undergird our work. Second, we were able to remind folks about our church's longstanding tradition of sending the seniors on an international mission trip as the capstone of their experience in the Student Ministry. Third, the seniors had a chance to serve their church family in a very practical way. As one speaker remarked, it's always nice to see teenagers hard at work! Finally, we provided our congregation with an opportunity for intergenerational fellowship, something that many of us have been craving.

The seniors have chosen Isaiah 6:8 as their theme verse for the trip: "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'" I am grateful that each of these 15 seniors has responded to God's call to go, and I look forward to seeing what God will do in and through their lives as He sends them to Wales.

10 years

2009-03-07T21:53:00.002-06:00

In an ongoing effort to reorganize my filing cabinets, last night I spent a couple of hours going through drawer #3 of filing cabinet #2 - the divinity school drawer. As I looked back over my class notes, papers, sermon manuscripts, sermon evaluations, Greek and Hebrew quizzes, and exams, I thought about the 4 1/2 challenging yet rewarding years that I spent working on my Master of Divinity degree at Beeson. Reading through the comments that my professors wrote on my papers and sermon manuscripts and the observations my peers recorded on sermon evaluation forms was affirming but also a bit unsettling, because they prompted me to consider whether I have been a good steward of my gifts during the five years that have passed since I earned my degree.

It was startling to realize that it has been a decade - ten years this month, in fact - since I sensed God was calling me into the ministry. How time flies. When I responded to God's call, I had no idea what He had in store for me - I simply recognized that He was asking me to prepare for something. While I was in seminary, I developed a pithy response to the inevitable question, "What are you going to do next?" My standard answer was, "God is dealing with me on a need-to-know basis, and apparently I don't need to know." And now in the spring of 2009, ten years after my call, God continues to deal with me on a need-to-know basis. I find that I am less comfortable with this arrangement today than I was five years ago, but undoubtedly God is still trying to teach me what it means to trust in Him with all my heart and lean not on my understanding. Direct my paths, Lord.

the science of generosity

2009-03-06T10:04:00.003-06:00

Last night as I was skimming through the latest issue of Newsweek before I drifted off to sleep, I came across a fascinating article about giving. In "The Science Behind Our Generosity," Princeton bioethics professor Peter Singer explains how psychology affects what we give charities. For instance, people are more willing to help a single individual than many, and they are more willing to help someone if they are the only one around. Noting that 27,000 children die every day from diseases that are easily treatable or preventable, Singer laments that too many people are influenced by the bystander effect - we assume someone else will help those in need. The trouble is, too few people are doing anything at all to address global poverty.

Singer is the author of The Life You Can Save: Acting Now to End World Poverty, and on the book's website, www.thelifeyoucansave.com, he challenges people to take a pledge to give a minimum amount of their income (based on a scale) to an organization that helps people who are living in extreme poverty. In doing so, Singer seeks to "change the public standard of what is involved in living an ethical life in a world that contains both great affluence and extreme poverty."

Will you take the pledge?

Tokens: Justice Songs

2009-03-04T11:48:00.003-06:00

Last night my family (plus Chaney's lovely girlfriend) attended the Tokens program at Lipscomb University. "Justice Songs" was the title of this show - the fifth installment of the Tokens series. Previous Tokens programs include: "The Christmas Revolution" (December 9, 2008), "The Politics of Jesus" (September 9, 2008), "Jubilee: Land, Greed, and Grace in American Folk" (May 27, 2008), and "The Appalachian Longing for Home" (February 19, 2008). Each program was recorded live, and you can listen to excerpts from the four 2008 programs online, and a clip from last night's program will available soon.

Lee Camp, Associate Professor of Theology and Ethics at Lipscomb, was inspired to create Tokens after attending Garrison Keillor's New Year's Eve show in 2006 at the Ryman Auditorium. (Ironically, my family also attended that show, and we have a framed Hatch Show Print hanging on the wall of our den to commemorate the event.) A long-time fan of Keillor's Prairie Home Companion show, Camp wondered what would happen if someone took that format and tethered it to theology. After all, Camp observed, theology is often most succinctly communicated through music.

Since I've been spending a lot of time as of late pondering exactly what it means to "act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly before your God," "Justice Songs" hit the spot theologically for me. The evening featured so many memorable moments: Brother Preacher's meandering sermon that made me laugh until I had tears in my eyes (you've got to hear his line about Jesus' golden sombrero), Odessa Settles's powerful rendition of "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord," the skit by the Tokens Radio Players about the English Only amendment (Would you like to order a baby donkey roll?), a prerecorded interview with Will Campbell about his famous book Brother to a Dragonfly, the music of the Most Oustanding Horeb Mountain Boys, and a prerecorded interview with Brad MacLean about his work with death row inmates. And did I mention that Vince Gill, Sonya Isaacs, and Buddy Greene sang, too? The ensemble's rendition of Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind" was breathtaking.

You can see Tokens yourself on June 25 at 7:30 p.m. when Camp and company present "Stories We Live By." Go to their website www.tokensshow.com and get on their mailing list so you won't miss another show.

the cowboy way

2009-02-19T21:58:00.005-06:00

On Thanksgiving Day last year - which also happened to be my father's birthday - my family gave Dad tickets to accompany us to see Riders in the Sky perform with the Nashville Symphony. Tonight the big night at Nashville's Schermerhorn Symphony Center finally arrived. My family has been fans of Riders in the Sky - Ranger Doug, Woody Paul, Too Slim, and Joey the Cowpolka King - for years and have seen them perform in various venues in the Nashville area, including the Opryland Hotel, the National Guard Armory, and Vanderbilt University. Their music reminds me of the two-week road trips my family used to take each summer, because my Dad had amassed quite a collection of cassette tapes featuring the best in western music. Consequently, I developed a fondness for classics like "Tumbling Tumbleweeds," "Cool Water," "Rawhide," "Don't Fence Me In," "Happy Trails to You," and - my personal favorite - "Ghost Riders in the Sky."

Tonight I happily reminisced about those good old days from my childhood as Riders in the Sky sang several of these classics, and I also fondly recalled a Riders in the Sky-related memory from Chaney's childhood. Nearly every day when Chaney was in kindergarten, as we pulled out of the driveway we would pop a cassette of the Riders' 1991 album "Harmony Ranch" into the player and sing the song of the same name together as we made the drive to Norman Binkley Elementary School. The song is only two minutes and twenty-five seconds long, and the drive only took about two minutes and fifteen seconds, so as we pulled up in front the school, Chaney would belt out the last line or two before hopping out of the car and heading inside to Mrs. Huggins's class. What a sweet memory! Now I'm compelled to go dig out his official Riders in the Sky lasso. Happy trails!

advocacy on Capitol Hill

2009-02-17T20:48:00.004-06:00

One of the most surprising things I learned last week on my Advocacy in Action trip was that constituents really can exert powerful influence over their elected officials in Congress - if they take the time to be advocates. Bread for the World - "a collective Christian voice urging our nation's decision makers to end hunger at home and abroad" - encourages citizens to write personal letters and emails to Congress. A study conducted in 2005 by the Congressional Management Foundation found that 96% of the Capitol Hill staffers surveyed reported that if their member of Congress had not reached a firm decision about an issue, individualized letters from constituents influenced the member's position. The study also confirmed that handwritten, mailed letters are the most effective way to communicate with members of Congress.

A Bread for the World staffer related a story that demonstrates how individualized letters yield results. A call came into Bread's offices from a Capitol Hill staffer who wanted to talk about Bread's position on a particular issue. This staffer commented that his office has been "flooded" with letters about the issue and recognized that Bread had been promoting this cause. After explaining Bread's position, the Bread representative asked, "By the way, just what is a flood of letters? How many did you receive?" The answer: 13. Thirteen individualized letters from constituents had been enough to get the attention of a member of Congress. Thirteen letters had spurred a Congressional staffer to make a call to find out more about an issue. Only thirteen letters.

Every year Bread for the World invites churches and groups across the country to take up a nationwide Offering of Letters to Congress on an issue that is important to hungry people. This year Bread is advocating the reform of U.S. foreign assistance programs so that they are more focused on ending hunger and poverty. You can learn more about the Offering of Letters at www.offeringofletters.org.

"And if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday." (Isaiah 58:10)

stewardship of citizenship

2009-02-11T14:24:00.002-06:00

I have spent the past two days in Washington, D.C., on an Advocacy in Action trip that was co-sponsored by the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, Together for Hope, and Bread for the World. I have fond memories of our nation’s capital because of the three years that Paul and I spent in the area when we were first married, but I had forgotten how attached I am to D.C. As I walked around the city – and I walked many, many miles during my stay – I was filled with the same giddy sense of exuberance that I recall feeling when I was 21 years old and new to town.

I learned a great deal on this trip about the work of Together for Hope, the Baptist Joint Committee on Religious Liberty, and Bread for the World. (I will be sharing more information about the important work of each of these groups in future posts.) Yesterday afternoon, as the staff of Bread for the World prepared to send us to Capitol Hill to talk our respective representatives and senators, they reminded us of the importance of being good stewards of our citizenship. I found that phrase to be striking. In the past I have thought a lot about what it means to be a good steward of my financial resources, my possessions, my time, and my energy, but it had never occurred to me to consider the stewardship of my citizenship.

My experiences on Capitol Hill yesterday convinced me of the necessity of being an advocate for “the least of these.” As I spoke with legislative assistants in the offices of Representative Jim Cooper and Senator Bob Corker, I learned that members of Congress really do want to hear from their constituents, and I realized that voices from home actually have an impact on the legislative decision-making process. I can make a difference, and so can you.

Last night I took a walk to the World War II Memorial, where I sat for several moments gazing at the Lincoln Memorial, and I thought about the men and women who have made sacrifices to create, preserve, protect, and improve this nation. I have always cherished my right to vote and have exercised it at every opportunity, but there is more I can – and must – do if I desire to work with others to create a “more perfect union” and a better world. I regret that I have not been more active in making my voice heard in the past. From this point forward, I am making a commitment to be a conscientious steward of my citizenship. Representative Cooper, Senator Corker, and Senator Alexander can expect to hear from me soon.

remembering Lincoln

2009-02-09T21:00:00.004-06:00

This morning after arriving at Union Station in Washington, D.C., via a MARC train from Baltimore, I made my way to the lovely Morrison Clark Hotel, my home away from home for the next two days. Since I still had a couple of hours to kill before my Advocacy in Action meetings began, I struck out on foot for the White House. When I arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, I watched with interest as workers disassembled the reviewing stands where the Obamas and other dignitaries watched the Inaugural Parade. Next, I visited my favorite shop in D.C., Political Americana, where I browsed through an interesting array of political memorabilia, including a pillowcase emblazoned with our new president's face. I resisted the urge to purchase an Obama bobblehead or an Obama Energy Stick, instead settling for a few new buttons for my collection.

As I walked back to my hotel, I stopped beside New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. I had noticed the church on my way to the White House because of the four banners hanging from the side of the building that read respectively:

Do justice

Love mercy

Walk humbly

With your God.

Those words are from Micah 6:8, one of my favorite passages of Scripture.

As I made a return pass by the church, I spotted a sign marking a stop on the Civil War to Civil Rights Heritage Trail, which I paused to read. During the Civil War, most churches in Washington were occupied by the federal government and used as offices or hospitals. However, President Abraham Lincoln insisted that New York Avenue Presbyterian Church remain open, and he regularly worshipped there. He also occasionally attended a mid-week Bible study at the church, although he chose to sit in an adjacent room with the door ajar so as not to be a distraction.

As our nation prepares to mark the 200th anniversary of our 16th President's birthday this Thursday, I'm thinking about one of my favorite Lincoln quotes. After a Northern minister remarked how glad he was that God was on the Union's side, the President responded: "Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side." Wise words, indeed.

details

2009-02-05T07:56:00.002-06:00

Did you know that curtain-making instructions are included in the Bible? I am reading through the Bible this year, and this week I have been plowing through the highly detailed instructions that God gave to Moses about how the Israelites were supposed to construct the tabernacle and related worship paraphernalia. The elaborate description found in Exodus 26:1-37 (and repeated in Exodus 36:8-38) of the ten curtains for the tabernacle - the portable tent of meeting where the Israelites would worship God during their sojourn in the wilderness - is but one fascinating part of God's DIY instruction manual for the Israelites. "How to" guides were also included for: the ark of the covenant, the table, the lampstand, the oil for the lampstand, the altar of incense, the incense, the altar of burnt offering, the basin for washing, the courtyard, and the priestly garments.

These highly detailed instructions are extremely appealing to me. This is exactly what I want to hear from God: Do this, and do it this way. I can follow instructions well. I like to know exactly what is expected of me so that I can hit the mark, and hit it dead on.

But this is not how God usually speaks to me. My experiences have been a lot more like Abram's: "Go to the land I will show you" (Gen. 12:1). When I was working on my M.Div. at Beeson Divinity School and people asked me, "What are you going to do after you finish your degree?" my typical reponse was, "God is dealing with me on a need-to-know basis, and apparently I don't need to know." God is still dealing with me on a need-to-know basis, and apparently I still don't need a divine, detailed "To Do List."

Millard Fuller

2009-02-04T10:24:00.004-06:00

Millard Fuller, the founder of Habitat for Humanity, passed away yesterday. I read Fuller's book No More Shacks two decades ago and have been an admirer ever since. In the 42 years since Fuller and his wife, Linda, founded Habitat, this nonprofit organization has built more than 300,000 houses around the world. Buoyed by the efforts of high profile volunteers like Former President Jimmy Carter, Habitat has been able to provide affordable housing for more than 1.5 million people. I have had the privilege of working on Habitat homes in Musicians' Village in New Orleans and in the Providence Park neighborhood in Nashville.

In a speech to the National Press Club in 1996, Fuller explained his motivation for starting Habitat for Humanity: "After spending most of my adult life in the pursuit of success in law and business, I wanted to make my life count for something of more lasting value. So I made a radical change. Linda and I divested ourselves of our wealth and sought a very different kind of life - a life of Christian service." May Fuller's tribe increase.

"If one of you says to him, 'Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." (James 2:16-17)

ONE

2009-02-03T20:49:00.003-06:00

While attending the regional gathering of A New Baptist Covenant last Saturday in Birmingham, I took part in a session on "The Challenge of Eliminating Global Poverty." In this conference, I learned more about The ONE Campaign. If you don't already know about ONE, you should. Bono was one of the cofounders of this grassroots campaign and advocacy organization. ONE boasts more than 2 million supporters from around the globe, people who have chosen to join the fight against global poverty and preventable disease, particularly in Africa. Visit www.one.org and sign the declaration:

"WE BELIEVE that in the best American tradition of helping others help themselves, now is the time to join with other countries in a historic pact for compassion and justice to help the poorest people of the world overcome AIDS and extreme poverty.

WE RECOGNIZE that a pact including such measures as fair trade, debt relief, fighting corruption and directing additional resources for basic needs - education, health, clean water, food, and care for orphans - would transform the futures and hopes of an entire generation in the poorest countries, at a cost equal to just one percent more of the US budget.

WE COMMIT ourselves - one person, one voice, one vote at a time - to make a better, safer world for all."

Jesus' inaugural address

2009-02-02T14:06:00.002-06:00

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4:18-19).

These verses have held special significance for me ever since the spring of 2002, when I was a student in Dr. Wilton Bunch's Social Justice Ethics course at Beeson Divinity School. God used those words, spoken by Jesus in the synagogue in Nazareth, to prepare me to become one of the "wild, praying women" who launched The Next Door, a transitional housing ministry for women coming out of incarceration. This passage is once again at the forefront of my mind in the wake of my experiences at the Celebration of a New Baptist Covenant regional gathering in Birmingham.

As Emmanuel McCall prepared to read these verses from Luke's Gospel at the gathering at Sixteenth Street Baptist Church on Saturday, he noted that this passage has been called Jesus' inaugural address, since Jesus spoke these words as He prepared to launch His ministry in Galilee. Throughout the day, the assembled Baptists were challenged by various outstanding speakers - including Former President Jimmy Carter and Marian Wright Edelman - to consider how we can follow Christ's example and preach good news to the poor through our words and actions. So once again, I am prayerfully pondering exactly what those words mean to me. What is God calling me to do?

In a few minutes, my house is going to be filled with the high school seniors who gather here each week for a Monday Bible study. We've been focusing on a different spiritual discipline each week, and today we're going to talk about how to do in-depth Bible study. For their homework, I've decided to ask them to study Luke 4:18-19. I look forward to discovering what God teaches them about this passage, because I suspect He will teach me something in the process.

sacred space

2009-01-31T22:01:00.007-06:00

Today I had the privilege of taking part in the Southeast Regional New Baptist Covenant Gathering at the historic Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham. The year before I was born, four girls lost their lives one Sunday morning in this church as they prepared to lead worship for Youth Day. The church had long been the center of Birmingham's African-American community and served as a meeting place for civil rights activists like Martin Luther King, Jr., Ralph David Abernathy, and Fred Shuttlesworth, thus making it a target of the KKK's wrath.

When I approached the church this morning, I was momentarily startled when I noticed a phalanx of police officers outside the building. I couldn't help but think about Bull Connor, fire hoses, and police dogs. Then I overheard someone make a comment about the Secret Service, and I realized that the beefed up security was there in anticipation of Former President Jimmy Carter's arrival to deliver our keynote address.

As I worshipped in that sacred space today with both black and white Baptists, I thought about how far the city of Birmingham has come since that tragic day in September 1963. When Kate Campbell sang the song she had written about the incident, "Bear It Away," I recalled a TV interview I saw last fall with the parents of one of the girls who perished in the bombing. I thought about their grief and the magnitude of the loss for the entire congregation. I thought about the courage it must have taken for parents to bring their children back to that building the following summer when the church was able to open its doors for worship once again. For that congregation, worship was an act of faithfulness to God and an act of defiance against the forces of evil.

Thanks be to God, we have come a great distance in this nation in the past 45 years in regard to racism. So help us God, we still have a great distance to go.

"How good and pleasant it is when brothers and sisters live together in unity!" Psalm 133:1

leading by example

2009-01-30T07:03:00.007-06:00

Last night my bedtime reading was the February 2 issue of Sports Illustrated, where I came across two memorable stories. The first was Kelli Anderson's tribute to Kay Yow, the North Carolina State women's basketball coach who passed away last week after a two-decade long battle with breast cancer. This Hall of Fame coach was known for her competitiveness and compassion, and in the wake of her death former players and fellow coaches recounted the lessons Yow taught them both on and off the court. Former player Gillian Goring's words were particularly striking: "You will go through a lot of stuff in life that will try to pull you down, but you raise up and shake it off. She lived by what she always told us, and I will try to do the same. Don't drown in self-pity. Swish your feet a little, then get out."

Selena Roberts' s "Point After" article on professional golfer Notah Begay was also instructive. Begay has become an advocate for impoverished Native Americans. Roberts observed, "Before Obama made personal accountability more hip, Begay understood the math of circumstance." His nonprofit Notah Begay III Foundation is promoting an economic stimulus package that would provide Indian reservations with increased revenue streams and new infrastructure. Begay observed, "I realize I can't change everything for everybody. But whether you're rich or poor, you have 24 hours in a day. That's your resource. As a athlete, you ask yourself, What do you do with it?"

Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of Ephesians 5:15-16 seems to sum up these two stories succinctly: "So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times!"

snow day

2009-01-29T06:52:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was a snow day for my son (no school) and a snow night for both of us (no church). The fact that the dusting of snow had largely disappeared by lunch time didn't matter - our Wednesday routine had been altered by "inclimate weather." And I was glad. Sometimes we all need a break.

As a teenager, I remember going to sleep with a feeling of anticipation when Tom Siler, the "Weather Wizard," forecast an overnight snow. When I woke up in the morning, I resisted the urge to actually look at the window to see if the world had becoming a winter wonderland and instead flipped on the TV to the Ralph Emery Show to watch the Snowbird report. Would Williamson County be one of the highlighted counties on the map? More often than not, I was disappointed. The snow had not come, the schools were not closed, and I had to get up and get going. But when a long-awaited snow day finally arrived - what a feeling of relief! Faced with a day wide open to possibilities, I immediately went back to sleep, because rest was really what I wanted - and needed - most.

I still find myself craving rest. During the past few years, I have tried to become more conscientious about observing the Sabbath for that very reason. I don't do chores on the Sabbath. I don't work on writing assignments. I try to refrain from looking at my email inbox (though that temptation looms heavily). Instead, I take a nap. I spend time with my family. I breathe deeply. Resisting the urge to work on one day a week leaves me better prepared mentally, physically, and spiritually to work on the other six days.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30

kindergarten shrine

2009-01-27T10:59:00.004-06:00

On a narrow slice of a kitchen wall between two doorways is our kindergarten shrine. The items displayed on the wall include: a life-sized outline of Chaney as a kindergartner, a poster he entered in a Wild West PTA competition, the blue ribbon he won for that poster, a Field Day certificate, the little sheet of paper he wore pinned to his shirt during Field Day with the order of his events, and the blue ribbon he earned at Field Day.

When I affixed these items to the kitchen wall during the 1996-1997 school year, I did not intend for them to still be there during the 2008-2009 school year, but there they are. I love the outline of my boy the best, since I remember helping Mrs. Huggins with that class project. We spread out sheets of butcher paper on the floor, and the students sprawled out and waited patiently for us to trace their outlines. The initial outlines were of the crime scene variety, but then the kindergartners personalized their outlines by gluing on a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth before using crayons to color their hair and clothing. After their works of art were complete, we taped them up on the wall in the hallway. For months to come, the life-sized likenesses of Tiffany, Brittany, Hojeen, Breanna, Miya, Marcus, Demetric, Danyal, D.J., Jessie, Andrew, LaKeyia, Chris, Robert, Latrevia, Chaney, Drew, Amber, Hayley, and Kristin stood guard at the end of the kindergarten hallway at Norman Binkley Elementary School. And for now, paper Chaney will continue to stand guard in my kitchen.

friendship

2009-01-22T18:29:00.002-06:00

As I was going through some old files last week, I discovered a couple of spiral notebooks that I used when Chaney was younger to jot down memorable things he said and did. As I flipped through the pages, I laughed out loud when I read an entry from February 1996, when Chaney was a kindergartner. Apparently we had seen a story on the news about co-joined twins, an account that prompted Chaney to say wistfully, "I wish that were me and Nathan."

Nathan and Chaney were born three weeks apart in 1990 and spent countless hours in the church nursery together. The friendship that was launched in the "baby jails" has endured for 18 years, despite the fact that boys have never gone to school together and were not in the same church for a decade. I am grateful that throughout his life, Chaney has been surrounded by extraordinary friends like Nathan who have pushed him to excel academically and - more importantly - encouraged him to grow spiritually. "As iron sharpens iron, so one friend sharpens another" (Proverbs 27:17).

an inaugural prayer

2009-01-20T13:12:00.003-06:00

No one asked me to pray at the inauguration of Barack Obama today, but if given the opportunity, I might have intoned the words of Ralph Mark Gilbert from 1941: "O Thou eternal God, Thou alone knowest what is in store for us. The distant unknown is dismal and dark; but we feel that the God who watches over His own slumbers not nor sleeps; and the Captain who has never lost a battle will see His children through. God speed the day when righteousness, and justice, and freedom shall spread over all mankind, and when bigotry, hatred, prejudice, pride, injustice, greed, and sin shall perish from the earth. Forgive us all our sins. Bless, we pray Thee, those who mourn for the loss of loved ones, and all who are confined upon their sick beds or in prison cells. Bless the President of these United States in this, his crucial hour, and God bless America. In Jesus' name we ask all this, Amen."

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

2009-01-19T19:57:00.005-06:00

Below is the conclusion of "The Ultimate Doom of Evil," a sermon that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., delivered at Central United Methodist Church on March 20, 1964:

"And so when days become dark and nights become dreary and we go through those moment of the chilly winds of adversity blowing all around us and are forced to stand amid the surging water of life's restless sea, gain consolation from the fact that there is a God in this universe who is able to lift us from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope and transform dark and desolate valleys into sunlit paths of inner peace. This is our faith, and this is our hope, and this is what can keep us going in difficult and frustrating days. 'Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass and wither like the green herb.' 'Trust in the Lord and do good, and He will give thee the desires of thine heart.' And now unto him who is able to keep us from falling, and to present us faultless before our Father's throne, to him be power and authority, majesty and dominion now, henceforth and forevermore, world without end. Amen."

deliver me

2009-01-17T09:34:00.002-06:00

Last night at the opening time of worship for our Student Ministry's DNow Weekend, my friend Sara Beth sang the song "Lord, Deliver Me From Me." This convicting song, which Sara Beth wrote, is based on one of Mother Teresa's prayers. Here's the text of the original prayer:

Deliver me, O Jesus,

From the desire of being loved,

From the desire of being extolled,

From the desire of being honored,

From the desire of being praised,

From the desire of being preferred,

From the desire of being consulted,

From the desire of being approved,

From the desire of being popular,

From the fear of being humiliated,

From the fear of being despised,

From the fear of suffering rebukes,

From the fear of being calumniated,

From the fear of being forgotten,

From the fear of being wronged,

From the fear of being ridiculed,

From the fear of being suspected.

Amen.

faith and politics

2009-01-16T11:20:00.002-06:00

In a blog post on Tuesday titled MLK and the Mountain Moving Business, Jim Wallis wrote, "Faith is believing in spite of the evidence and then watching the evidence change."

We live in a society that places a premium on evidence - hence the popularity of shows like CSI. Face the facts, we say. Get real. You can't deny the evidence. But sometimes, God calls us to do just that. Sometimes, despite all the evidence to the contrary, God tells us to wait for a change that seems unimaginable. In response, we cry out to God, just as the apostles did, "Increase our faith" (Luke 17:5).

Believe and watch. Anticipate God's action. "For nothing is impossible with God" (Luke 1:37).

waiting

2009-01-15T14:40:00.004-06:00

I've been getting a double dose of Moses lately at church, since my pastor is preaching a sermon series from Exodus on Sunday mornings and our interim student minister is teaching about Moses on Wednesday nights. While reading through the text notes in Exodus in my favorite NIV Study Bible, I was reminded that 40 years passed between the time that Moses fled to the wilderness of Midian after killing the Egyptian and the transformative moment when the Lord spoke to Moses as he inspected the burning bush. Moses was 40 when he fled Egypt and 80 when he returned to carry out his God-given mission to deliver the Hebrew people from bondage. The four decades Moses spent herding stubborn sheep in the wilderness was good practice for the 40 years he would spend shepherding stubborn people in the wilderness.

As Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers sagely observed, the waiting is the hardest part. But I am reminded that times of waiting are not inactive times - rather, they are periods when God is at work in our lives preparing us for the future.

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope" (Psalm 130:5).

reaping

2009-01-14T11:28:00.002-06:00

Because I am a freelance minister (my self-appointed title), I don't tend to get a lot of feedback about what I'm doing, and at times I have felt like I don't have much to show for the time and energy I have expended through the years. I don't really feel discouraged - I just wonder what God has been doing through my life, particularly in my post-seminary days. Will there be lasting fruit?

But God has been gracious to me in recent days and has given me a few glimpses into the fruit of my labor. In the process of reorganizing my files, I realized just how many Bible studies, commentaries, devotions, and articles I have written in recent years. In particular, I noted the volume of material I had produced exclusively for my church's Student Ministry. At Sunday School and in the Monday afternoon Bible studies that I lead in my home, I have noticed that several seniors still have devotions that I had written for various retreats and camps squirreled away in their Bibles. As we study God's Word together in my home and at church, students ask questions that demonstrate my efforts haven't been in vain: Wasn't this one of our memory verses at camp? Didn't we have a devotion about this passage on the Labor Day Retreat? We've studied this before, haven't we? Remember when I asked you about this passage and you said . . .

"Persevere in the humility of untitled ministry," Dr. Molly Marshall advised. And so I press on.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (Galatians 6:9).

Three Cups of Tea

2009-01-08T14:51:00.003-06:00

If you haven't read Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace One School at a Time, I urge you to put it on your reading list for 2009. The book, first released in 2006, recounts the circumstances that led climber Greg Mortenson, after a failed attempt to summit K2, to promise the tribal leader of the isolated Pakistani village of Korphe that he would return one day to build a school to educate the impoverished village's children. The climber made good on his promise, and in subsequent years the Central Asian Institute, under Mortenson's leadership, has established 78 schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan, with a special emphasis on educating girls.

David Oliver Relin, the reporter who co-wrote Three Cups of Tea with Mortenson, penned these words in the book's introduction: "So this is a confession: Rather than simply reporting on his progress, I want to see Greg Mortenson succeed. I wish him success because he is fighting the war on terror the way I think it should be conducted. Slamming over the so-called Karakoram 'Highway' in his old Land Cruiser, taking great personal risks to seed the region that gave birth to the Taliban with schools, Mortenson goes to war with the root causes of terror every time he offers a student a chance to receive a balanced education, rather than attend an extremist madrassa."

"Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it," the psalmist advised (Psalm 34:14). Mortenson is pursuing peace. May we go and do likewise.

Read the Bible through in 2009

2009-01-02T21:20:00.002-06:00

The first time I read the Bible through during the course of a year was in 1981. On New Year's Eve that year I had a babysitting gig at a neighbor's house, and I distinctly remember spending the waning hours of the year hastily reading the entire book of Revelation so that I could make good on my resolution (I had obviously gotten a little bit behind). I also remember that night well because my youth minister had challenged students to fast and pray on December 31, and I couldn't wait until the clock struck midnight so that I could finally consume the chocolate chip cookies I had spied on my neighbor's kitchen counter.

I know I have read through the Bible at least one other time in the intervening years, but I can't recall the year, so that means it's been far too long since I last undertook the challenge. So in 2009 I have resolved to read the Bible through again, and Paul and Chaney have resolved to do the same. I am using one of the Bible reading plans suggested by BibleYear.com. I chose the plan that allows me to read a passage from both the Old and New Testaments each day, while Chaney has chosen to do a chronological reading this year.

Are you going to read the Bible through in 2009?

tree of memories

2008-12-23T16:36:00.004-06:00

I know I need to take my Christmas tree down, but I hate to see it go. I love the fragrance of my stately Fraser fir (yes, I can still detect its scent after five weeks), the warm glow of the multi-colored lights, and - most of all - the memories associated with my vast collection of ornaments. One of things I enjoy most about the Christmas season is decorating the tree, since as I pull ornament after ornament out of our green and red plastic storage containers, I am reminded of story after story.

My most cherished ornaments are the oldest ones in my collection - three glass ornaments with felt designs (1971), a pair of purple felt mittens (1970), and a felt Santa head festooned with sequins (1969) - all handmade my one of my parents' friends. As a teenager, I acquired a UT football player made of dough, so he makes an annual appearance among the branches. The gold glass heart and a purple ball nestled among the needles were acquired in December 1985, ordered from a catalog as Paul and I prepared to celebrate our first Christmas together as husband and wife. Of course, several ornaments were hand-crafted by Chaney at various points in his childhood, including: a crumbling yellow bell and a green tree, both formed from dough and strung on lengths of green yarn; a gingerbread man made from sandpaper suspended by red yarn; a bell made of an inverted plastic cup with Chaney's picture taped inside; and two green construction paper wreaths featuring photos of Chaney in the center. A delicate glass sand spur hangs near the star - an ornament I procured on one of our spring break visits to Florida's Gulf Coast. The Mickey Mouse head covered in an array of small, colorful bells was a souvenir that I chose when we stayed at the Animal Kingdom Lodge on our visit to Disney World to celebrate Chaney's 16th birthday in 2006. The majority of the remainder of the ornaments were acquired on family vacations, such as: the moose in the canoe (Maine), the bear on a bicycle (Yellowstone), Santa hiding behind a starfish (Hilton Head), sled dogs in a sleigh (Alaska), Santa riding a whale (Hawaii), a UFO (Roswell, New Mexico), a glass chili pepper (Santa Fe), a tin guitar (Mexico), Santa clinging to the Eiffel Tower (Paris).

I know the ornaments need to return to their red and green plastic off-season homes. But for at least one more night, I'll enjoy the show and treasure the memories.

silent night

2008-12-23T16:10:00.002-06:00

Last week I developed a cough that progressively got worse, and by Saturday night my voice was almost gone. I stayed in bed most of the day Sunday so that I would be able to go to the Carol-Candlelight Service at church that night, even if I couldn't speak louder than a whisper. There is a longstanding tradition that the seniors who are in our Chapel Choir serve as candle-lighters at this service, so I did not want to miss seeing my son and the rest of the Class of 09 - some of whom I first began teaching when they were 4-year-olds - perform their candle-lighting duties.

Near the end of the service the sanctuary was dark, except for the light of a single candle held by the pastor. The seniors approached the pastor one by one, and after he lit their candles, they fanned out across the sanctuary to their assigned sections. Row by row, the seniors moved through the congregation, lighting the candles of the worshippers who were seated along the aisles, who then passed the light down their pews until every face in the congregation was bathed in candlelight.

Ironically for me, the song that the choir sang while the seniors lit the candles was "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence." At other points in the service when the congregation was invited to join the choir in singing, I was forced by my infirmity to remain silent, which was very frustrating but also enlightening. First of all, the experience allowed me to empathize with my mother, who lost her voice several months ago due to nerve damage from her chemotherapy. Not being able to sing must be especially frustrating for a woman who entered college on a voice scholarship. Second, the experience gave me the opportunity to focus more intently on the sounds around me - like the Robersons' strong voices coming from the pew behind me or the individual instruments in the Nashville String Machine playing on the platform in front of me. The forced silence was a blessing in disguise that allowed me to worship God in a completely different way. Silent night, holy night.

Christmas is coming!

2008-12-16T08:36:00.005-06:00

This has been a crazy month. Wait - let me rephrase that statement. This has been a crazy year. I have spent the entire year thinking, "If I can just make it to [insert date here], then I will be able to take a deep breath and regroup." Yet time after time, these dates arrived and passed and there was still no time for deep breathing. The year has been a blur of activity.

I like to have my Christmas cards in the mailbox as close to December 1 as possible. Today is December 16, and my cards have not yet been mailed. Addressing the cards is one of the things on my "To Do List" today, so if I'm diligent they will be postmarked only 16 days later than I had hoped. Our Christmas tree was delivered on December 2. I hung the ornaments on the tree on December 13. I intend to keep my tree up until well into January to make up for that lost time. In past years, I prided myself on having all my Christmas shopping done prior to Thanksgiving. This year, I didn't buy a single gift until December, and I still have a couple left to procure.

When I was a child, it seemed liked Christmas would never come. The December days dragged by as my anticipation heightened. As an adult, it seems like Christmas comes too soon. December is a blur, and - if I'm not careful - before I know it Christmas Day will have come and gone.

I'm thinking about Mary this morning, and wondering how she perceived the passage of time during the final days of her pregnancy. Did the time fly by for her? Maybe not, since she and Joseph were forced to make a difficult journey to Bethlehem and she must have been extremely uncomfortable on that road trip. Perhaps it did, though, as the young woman hoped and prayed that they could register for the census and make it back home to Nazareth in time to bring her baby into the world in the presence of family and friends. I'll bet those last few hours were a blur - the onset of labor pains, the frantic search for lodging, the birth of a son, the unexpected visit from shepherds. A year earlier, Mary could not have imagined this astonishing series of events, yet she embraced her God-given role with grace. "Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished" (Luke 1:45).

self-denial

2008-12-09T16:13:00.002-06:00

Two weeks ago, I started a Monday afternoon Bible study in my home for the seniors who I work with at church. We are focusing on spiritual disciplines for this study, which will continue through the spring semester, and I am using Soul Tending: Life-Forming Practices for Older Youth and Young Adults by Kendra Creasy Dean and Ron Foster as our guide. At our first gathering, I read through a list of 40+ spiritual disciplines from the book and asked the students to jot down which ones piqued their interest. Their lists surprised me.

This Monday we focused on self-denial. In addition to talking about the practice during our time together, the students were given homework assignments. Each one of us publicly shared something that we would deny ourselves in the coming week, and next Monday we will report on what we learned from the experience. When one senior was having trouble deciding how to practice self-denial, I threw out an idea. This Thursday is a significant day for her, since at 4:00 p.m. that day she will learn whether or not she has received early admission to the Ivy League school of her dreams. When I (half-jokingly) suggested that she could wait until 5:00 p.m. to check her status online, she immediately embraced the idea. She decided that she would instead spend an hour in prayer seeking God's will before she checked her admission status. I was impressed. That really is an act of self-denial for a senior. I can't wait to hear what she learns from this experience - and I also am anxious to know if she got admitted!

toy store

2008-12-05T13:11:00.002-06:00

Last week four generations of the Brown family celebrated my grandmother's 90th birthday with great fanfare, but this certainly wasn't the only memorable party we've had in Mutt's honor. When she turned 75 - back in the day when Chaney was her only great-grandchild - we found a way to honor her and help others at the same time.

Every December the Nashville Baptist Association operates a toy store at Shelby Avenue Baptist Church for needy families who live in the 37206 zip code, and Baptist churches across the city collect toys for several weeks in advance of this event to stock the shelves. In conjunction with this effort, we decided that instead of buying gifts for my grandmother that she didn't really need, we would instead purchase gifts for people who really were in need. Family members were instructed to purchase toys for Mutt that reminded them of her, and they had to be prepared to share an explanation for why they chose a particular toy at the party as Mutt unwrapped the gift.

The party was a huge success, and Mutt thoroughly enjoyed unwrapping the toys and listening to our stories. A few days after the party, 3-year-old Chaney helped me haul all the toys into the church and place them in the collection box. This was a great life-lesson for Chaney and proved to be highly appropriate way for my family to honor a woman who is constantly on the lookout for opportunities to help those who are in need.

the mirth of Mutt

2008-12-04T15:18:00.003-06:00

Last Saturday night, four generations of the Brown family gathered at the Pie in the Sky restaurant in Franklin, Tennessee, to celebrate my grandmother's 90th birthday. Actually, this was a triple birthday party, since both my Dad and my niece, Olivia, also had birthdays the week of Thanksgiving. We were all disappointed that my Mom couldn't be with us, since she was hospitalized for five nights during the Thanksgiving holidays, but we took lots of pictures for her.

In advance of Mutt's birthday - we call my grandmother Mutt because my Dad couldn't say Mother when he was a toddler, and that's what he called her - I had contacted dozens of family members and friends and asked them to send me humorous stories about Mutt. My grandmother is a consummate storyteller - a true raconteur - so it was only fitting that we honor this milestone birthday with stories. The resulting collection, which I titled "The Mirth of Mutt," reveals just how resourceful, generous, thoughtful, funny, and unflappable my grandmother is. Many of the stories reference incidents that occurred during the three decades that she ran the Hospital Flower Shop.

Here's one of the classic tales that was submitted by one of her friends: "Hattie Lou told me to go to Fred's Dollar Store and pick up a plastic pink princess telephone. I stood there with my mouth open and finally asked, 'Why? She replied that the family of lady who had died wanted a pale pink ribbon on a funeral spray that said, 'Jesus called and sister answered,' and she wanted a pink telephone to place in the center of the spray."

Outliers

2008-12-02T16:42:00.004-06:00

After Chaney and I saw Steven Colbert's inteview with Malcolm Gladwell on November 17 and then we each heard Gladwell interviewed elsewhere in subsequent days, we decided we ought to read his new book - Outliers: The Story of Success. An "outlier" is something that lies outside of normal experience - something that falls outside of the statistical norms. In this fascinating book, Gladwell argues that extremely successful people owe their success to much more than personal intelligence and ambition. In fact, people who seem to have maximized their individual potential owe far more to their families, their birthplaces, and even their birthdates.

Gladwell had me hooked with his introduction about the Roseto mystery. In the 1950s, a physician named Stewart Wolf launched an investigation into why the people of Roseto, Pennsylvania, had astonishingly low rates of heart disease compared to the general American population. As Wolf explored why these Italian immigrants were largely immune to a disease that was at epidemic proportions nationally, he discovered that the secret to their health wasn't diet, exercise, genes, or location. Instead, the key was the sense of community that the Rosetans had imported to America from their ancestral home in the Italian province of Foggia. In Pennsylvania, three generations of Rosetans lived under one roof and shared meals together. Neighbors lingered on porches to chat, and passersby greeted each other warmly on the streets of Roseta. Individual health reflected the overall health of the community.

As I read Gladwell's account of the Rosetans, I thought about the sense of community that existed in the days of the Early Church, when Christ-followers gathered regularly for meals, fellowship, worship, and prayer. I also thought about how the Apostle Paul's emphasized the importance of the interdependence of believers. Individual spiritual health is indeed directly related to corporate spiritual health. This would come as no surprise to the Rosetans.

"Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it" (1 Corinthians 12:27).

giving thanks

2008-11-27T07:23:00.002-06:00

Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good. His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the God of gods. His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords: His love endures forever.

Psalm 136:1-3

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

Worship the LORD with gladness; come before Him with joyful songs.

Know that the LORD is God. It is He who made us, and we are His;

we are His people, the sheep of His pasture.
Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise;

give thanks to Him and praise His name.
For the LORD is good and His love endures forever;

His faithfulness continues through all generations.
Psalm 100:1-6

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:3-6

cornbread dressing

2008-11-26T20:07:00.002-06:00

Because my mom had to be hospitalized last night due to dehydration - a complication related to chemo side effects - we've had a change in our Thanksgiving plans. Instead of driving to South Carolina today to spend a few days with Paul's family, we have chosen to remain in the Nashville area for the holiday. This is a wise call for several reasons, including the fact that I am still suffering from a bit of post-surgery puniness. Flexibility is the name of the game.

This will be the first time in over a decade that Paul, Chaney, and I have been at home for Thanksgiving. But every Thanksgiving Day - whether we've been at a beach house on the Gulf Coast, at a log cabin in the Smokies, or at my in-laws' home in Spartanburg - I have been responsible for making the cornbread dressing. Tomorrow will be no different.

As a child, I loved helping Granda and Daddy Bent make the dressing. Daddy Bent and I enjoyed repeatedly sampling the uncooked dressing, in an effort - or so we claimed - to make sure it was properly seasoned. I recall seeing Granda's handwritten recipe for this dish years ago:

Cornbread Dressing

biscuits

cornbread

chopped onions

chopped celery

2 cans cream of chicken soup

2 cans chicken broth

salt

pepper

sage

Crumble biscuits and cornbread together. Add onions and celery. Stir in soup and broth until moistened. Season with salt, pepper, and sage. Bake for 45 minutes at 350 degrees.

Precise enough for you? I can't wait to taste it tomorrow - before and after it's cooked.

buttermilk chess pie

2008-11-25T11:44:00.002-06:00

There is something indescribably wonderful about watching my 18-year-old son bake a buttermilk chess pie. As the smell of this delicacy wafts through my house, I recall all the times I stood in my maternal grandmother's kitchen and helped her prepare this sugary treat. It simply doesn't seem like Thanksgiving to me if I can't have a slice of Granda's chess pie and a double-helping of her cornbread dressing. Although Lucille Baker passed away when I was a teenager, her recipes are now being used by a fourth generation to carry on a tasty family tradition. This recipe even garnered me a blue ribbon when I entered it in the Tennessee State Fair in 2005. Enjoy!

Granda's Buttermilk Chess Pie

1 1/2 cups sugar

3/4 stick of margarine (softened)

1 Tablespoon cornmeal

1 Tablespoon flour

3 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 frozen pie crust

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Cream sugar, margarine, cornmeal and flour. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add buttermilk and vanilla, mixing until well blended. Pour into pie crust and bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes.

lunch with mom

2008-11-18T14:01:00.002-06:00

Today I had lunch with my mom at Barbara's Home Cooking (or Barbara's Homecookin' as it says on Barbara's business card), a fabulous meat and three that is located in a small house in Franklin on Old Hillsboro Road. I highly recommend Barbara's fried chicken - I believe it's the best I've ever eaten.

As I was driving to pick my mom up to take her to Barbara's, I recalled the days when I was a student in the kindergarten program at West Jackson Baptist Church, where my mother was a teacher. I only have one distinct memory from my actual kindergarten class - the time when my teacher blindfolded random students and made them taste and identify various foods and I got stuck with a lemon - but I do remember the happy days when my mother would take me to Woolworth's in downtown Jackson after our half-day at school was over so we could share a meal together at the lunch counter. I always ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a Coke, but it wasn't the meal I was excited about - it was my mother's undivided attention. As the oldest of four children - at that point my sister was 3 years old, one brother was 2, and the other brother was 1 - one-on-one time with either of my parents was obviously hard to come by, so I cherished our Woolworth lunches.

Too bad there aren't any more Woolworth's in America. In 1997 F. W. Woolworth Company shuttered its classic five and dime stores and the company converted itself into a sporting goods retailer. Today the company is now known as Foot Locker, Inc. It's hard to imagine happy family memories being created in a shoe store.

Baptist Women in Ministry

2008-11-17T21:55:00.003-06:00

This morning I had the opportunity to facilitate a panel discussion at Vanderbilt Divinity School about Baptist Women in Ministry. This event was sponsored by the Tennessee Cooperative Baptist Fellowship with the cooperation of Vanderbilt's Office of Women's Concerns. What a privilege it was for me to hear four of my Baptist sisters share about the joys and challenges associated with their ministries!

• Dr. Eileen Campbell-Reed holds degrees from Carson-Newman College, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, and Vanderbilt University. Campbell-Reed earned her Ph.D. in Religion, Psychology and Culture at Vanderbilt in August 2008, and her dissertation is a study of Baptist clergywomen and the Southern Baptist Convention. Campbell-Reed, who was ordained by her home church in Knoxville in 1996 and served for 5½ years as an associate pastor at a CBF-affiliated church in Georgia, plans to teach in a seminary or divinity school.
• Kim Crawford Sheehan earned her Master of Divinity degree at Vanderbilt in 2005. Sheehan is an ordained Baptist minister who currently serves as Associate Minister at Corinthian Baptist Church and as a full-time chaplain at Baptist Hospital. She is endorsed to chaplaincy through CBF.
• Amy Dodson-Watts earned her Master of Divinity degree from Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond and was ordained in 1999. Dodson-Watts has been in ministry for the last 11 years, having served as a short-term CBF missionary, Minister to Children and Families, Associate Pastor, and Co-Interim Pastor. She currently serves as the Director of Pastoral Care at Donelson Presbyterian Church.
• Rev. Judy Cummings was ordained by Temple Baptist Church and has been on staff at the historic Fifteenth Avenue Baptist Church for six years, where she now serves as Executive Minister. Cummings holds degrees from Tennessee State University School of Nursing, University of St. Francis, and Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. She recently successfully defended her dissertation – “The Stained Glass Ceiling: The Continuing Paradox of Liberation” – to complete her Doctor of Ministry degree in Preaching and Church Leadership from Asbury Theological Seminary.

As I listened to their stories, I marveled at how God has uniquely gifted each one of us to serve Him. I was also reminded of the debt we owe to trailblazing Baptist women like Addie Davis, without whom it is unlikely that such a panel discussion would have even been possible. Two weeks before I was born, Davis became the first woman to be ordained to the pastoral ministry by a Southern Baptist congregation.

"Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are varieties of ministries, and the same Lord. There are varieties of effects, but the same God who works all things in all persons. But to each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good" (1 Corinthians 12:4-7 NASB).

preaching practice

2008-11-15T21:22:00.002-06:00

My grandmother, Mutt, was a florist in a small town in northwest Tennessee for nearly four decades. As a child, I loved to visit her at the Hospital Flower Shop for many reasons, not the least of which was that whenever I walked in the door - even if it was only 8:00 a.m. - she insisted that I help myself to a glass bottle of Coke from the antique machine in the front of the store.

One of the many things that fascinated me in the Hospital Flower Shop was a pegboard on the wall near my grandmother's desk that featured a vast array of keys. These keys provided the shop's employees with access to most of the churches in the area, allowing them to make the weekly delivery of altar flowers at their convenience. My grandmother made many of these deliveries personally at the break of dawn each Sunday morning. I thought Mutt must be one of the most powerful people in town to have access to so many churches!

Early one Sunday morning as Mutt was making her rounds, she made a stop at a small church - the kind where you open the front door and find yourself standing in the sanctuary. After unlocking the front door and stepping inside, she heard a voice. Looking up, Mutt realized the pastor was standing in the pulpit practicing his sermon - while wearing his pajamas! Not wanting to interrupt his rehearsal but needing to complete her delivery, Mutt quickly and quietly walked down the aisle, placed the flowers on the altar, and made a hasty retreat to her car.

Preachers, practice makes perfect, but it's probably wise to practice in something other than your PJs.

the amazing Mutt

2008-11-14T19:40:00.003-06:00

My grandmother, Mutt, is simply amazing. Two weeks from today, she will celebrate her 90th birthday. What do you think she is doing to pass her golden days in Union City, Tennessee? I'll tell you what she's doing - she's coordinating the "Community Feeding of the 5,000," an interdenominational effort to provide a hot Thanksgiving dinner to those in need. (And, yes, they really do feed more than 5,000 people.) The food is donated by local businesses, churches, and individuals - 300 turkeys, 300 gallons of dressing, 100 gallons of giblet gravy, 200 gallons of green beans, 200 gallons of cooked apples, 50 gallons of cranberry sauce, thousands of rolls, and 625 pies - and is prepared by an army of volunteers. Those in need have three options: they can enjoy the fellowship as they dine with other guests at First Baptist Church Union City's Family Life Center on the Monday before Thanksgiving; they can drop by the church that day to pick up carry-out meals for their families; or volunteers can deliver meals to their homes.

Mutt has been coordinating this event since its inception several years ago, doing much of the administrative work via email. (Who says that senior citizens aren't adept at using technology?) She also spends countless hours in advance of the event working with a team of volunteers who cook as much of the food as possible in advance and freeze it, and she will undoubtedly be in the center of the activity at her church's Family Life Center on the day of the Thanksgiving meal. In addition to the meal, she also oversees the collection of canned goods and non-perishable items that local Scouts and other volunteers will sort and bag, allowing needy families to take a grocery sack home with them after they enjoy the Thanksgiving meal. Last year the students at the city's elementary, middle, and high schools collected over 10,000 cans, providing grocery sacks for 600 needy families.

It goes without saying that I feel like a sloth compared to my grandmother! I am just shy of being half her age, but I certainly have less than half her energy, enthusiasm, and ingenuity. When I grow up, I want to be just like Mutt.

college decision

2008-11-12T15:05:00.005-06:00

Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking in Dr. Wilton Bunch's ethics class at Samford University. This is the fifth straight semester that he has extended an invitation to me to talk about restorative justice - specifically about the creation of The Next Door - but the first time that I have spoken to an undergraduate class. I told the students that it was ironic that I had ended up attending Beeson Divinity School at Samford in 2000, because eighteen years earlier as a high school senior, I faced a choice between attending Samford and the University of Tennessee.

During the fall of my senior year, I made a trip to Birmingham with two objectives: to attend a Barry Manilow concert (yes, I was and am a Manilow fan) and to visit Samford. I had arranged to spend the night on campus with my friend, Jan, who was a freshman. Jan and I had attended Franklin High School together, and we were both active members of our church's youth group - playing in the youth handbell choir, singing in the youth choir and girls' ensemble, and participating in a discipleship group. After the concert - which featured Samford's A Cappella Choir on Manilow's rendition of "One Voice" - as Jan and I drove back to campus, she suddenly panicked. "I don't have a pass!" she moaned.

Until that moment, I had not realized that Samford actually locked its students up on campus at night. If you intended to be out after the gates were locked, you had to have a pass signed in advance by your dorm parent to present to the guard at the gate in order to be allowed back on campus. Jan pulled over, rifled through her glove compartment, and discovered an old pass. After forging a new date, we proceeded down Lakeshore Drive to campus. We held our breath as the guard used a flashlight to inspect the pass, then grabbed a phone and made a quick call. After he opened the gate and waved us on, I asked Jan who he had been calling. She explained that not only were the students locked on campus at night, but the girls were also locked in their dorms. The guard had called Jan's dorm mother, alerting her to our arrival so she could unlock the door for us.

"Wait!" I exclaimed. "Are you telling me that guys are allowed to roam free on campus at night while the girls are locked in their dorms?" Jan nodded. I was appalled. I believe it was at that moment that the balance tipped and I was destined to be a Tennessee Volunteer. This blatant gender inequality, paired with an already restrictive environment, was not what I was looking for in my undergraduate experience.

I'm glad that God had a plan for me to eventually be both a Vol and a Bulldog, and perhaps one day I will add a third university to my education resume.

faith and politics

2008-11-05T15:33:00.001-06:00

This morning I attended a lecture by Melissa Rogers on "The New President and the Politics of Faith" - one of a series of outstanding lectures Belmont University has offered in conjunction with Debate 08. Rogers, founder and director of Wake Forest University's Center for Religion and Public Affairs and former executive director of the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life in Washington, D.C., reflected on the preliminary lessons we have learned during this election cycle about the intersection of faith and politics. Here's a summary of her observations from my notes:

1. Americans generally support some kind of separation of church and state, but we do not want to divorce personal faith from politics. (Rogers noted that Article VI of the U.S. Constitution mandates that "no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States," but this does not mean that citizens should not consider issues of faith when they enter the voting booth.)

2. The Republicans aren't the only ones who connect faith and politics.

3. Christians who are conservative in their politics and theology are not the dominant force in politics any more.

4. The challenge that John F. Kennedy faced related to his Catholicism in the 1960s has not gone away, and candidates who are the first in their faith tradition (Mitt Romney in this election cycle) continue to face added scrutiny.

5. The media are not going to ignore religious leaders who campaigns seek out for advice.

6. A candidate's house of worship can become a target for the media. (Rogers asserts that a candidate's house of worship should be a zone of non-interference - a place where the candidate can be challenged and refreshed spiritually without being held responsible for everything his/her pastor says.)

7. When it comes to religion, journalists often go for the sensational rather than substance. (Recalling the moment when debate moderator George Stephanopolus asked the Democratic candidates whether they thought prayer could have prevented the Minnesota bridge collapse, Roger observed that a more appropriate question would have been to ask the candidates what they would do to rebuild America's crumbling infrastructure.)

In conclusion, Rogers reminded us of the words of the late Representative Barbara Jordan, who offered this sage advice to those who speak in the public square: “You would do well to pursue your causes with vigor, while remembering that you are a servant of God, not a spokesperson for God — a servant of God, not a spokesperson for God — and remembering that God might well choose to bless an opposing point of view for reasons that have not been revealed to you.”

election day

2008-11-04T12:12:00.002-06:00

On this historic election day when voter turnout is widely predicted to be high across the country, I am recalling the student government elections that I took part in when I was a student at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville. I became involved in UTK's student government early in my collegiate career and was elected at the end of my freshman year to serve as a representative from the College of Liberal Arts on the Academic Council. I was one of a slate of candidates who ran with the Insight Party, and I have to admit that I was not a very good campaigner. I think I was only elected because (a) my last name started with a "B" which meant my name appeared near the top of the ballot and ( b) my first name was unusual. I am an introvert - I know I hadn't made enough friends during my first year on campus to be elected based on personal charisma.

I remember being surprised at how seriously my fellow party members took the election. I remember one fascinating conversation about the strengths and weaknesses of the opposing party's campaign logo - what message were they trying to communicating with their choice of font and color combination? Actually, there were three parties involved in that election, but we discounted the third party - Big Al and his Apathy ticket - as being a farce. We figured that truly apathetic voters wouldn't show up at the polls on election day. Boy, were we wrong. Big Al lost the 1983 student body presidency by only 100 votes, and the following spring he won in a landslide. Big Al's campaign was colorful, to say the least, with his proposal of building a chairlift to the hill, his commemorative campaign posters (collect all 12!), and the staged assassination attempt during a campus presidential debate. Big Al's campaign energized the student body, and voter turnout in April 1984 was the highest in a decade, with around 6,000 students casting ballots.

I hope that today Americans will turn out at the polls in droves. Let's set a new record for voter turnout. Now is no time for apathy. Even Big Al knows that.

The Godbearing Life

2008-11-03T16:42:00.002-06:00

Although I haven't had much free time lately for leisure reading, I have been making slow but steady progress through an insightful book called The Godbearing Life: The Art of Soul Tending for Youth Ministry. In the chapter titled "Sharing the Mantle: A Community of Colaborers," the authors remind those of us who are student ministry leaders of the importance of partnering with our students. Consider this excerpt: "By and large, adolescence provides a gold mine of leaders waiting to be asked, waiting to be gathered for God and to share the load in God's plan of deliverance. Not only does their inclusion freshen our perspectives and inject vital energy in our undertakings, but it also creates an atmosphere of mutuality in ministry. Godbearing youth ministry does not abandon its responsibility 'to' youth and 'for' youth, but it is always conscious that ministry exists 'with' youth as well. We are Godbearers to youth so that they may become Godbearers in their own right."

Yesterday morning, the seniors and juniors in our youth group who are family group leaders - students who have accepted the mantle of leadership and facilitate student small groups each Wednesday night - taught all of our youth Sunday School classes. For the past four weeks, these dedicated students have stayed late after our Wednesday evening worship services to be trained to teach a lesson on 2 Timothy 3:14-17. The students were enthusiastic - and a little nervous - about their assignment, but they rose to the challenge, and the feedback I have received from students and adult leaders has been overwhelmingly positive. Undoubtedly some of these students will go on to become church leaders as adults - as clergy and layleaders - but in the meantime, they are already leading well in this congregation.

Thanks, family group leaders. You certainly made me proud. "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity" (1 Timothy 4:12).

trick or treat

2008-10-30T17:21:00.003-05:00

My son has never enjoyed Halloween as much as I did when I was a child. First of all, he really didn't relish the idea of wearing a costume for any reason, and face painting was out of the question. He was a very reluctant Thomas the Tank Engine for a couple of years as a preschooler - but he looked so cute! The only costume I remember him being particularly excited about was the dinosaur one that I bought for him in the midst of his lenghty paleontological phase. (Check out the dinosaur documentary he did as a kindergartner - with my assistance - called "Zoorasic.") He actually wore his dinosaur costume around the house on many occasions, uttering appropriate dinosaur roars for the ultimate effect. But I was surprised today when I asked him which of his childhood costumes he liked the best and he recalled the year that he and his buddy, Andrew, dressed up like baseball players for the Atlanta Braves. "You can't go wrong as Greg Maddox," he observed.

The most memorable costume from my childhood days had to be my store-bought "Lil Devil" apparel, which included the typical red, one-piece jumpsuit that tied in the back at the neck, a plastic mask of a smiling demon, and a pitchfork. What were my parents thinking? Fortunately, my impersonation of Satan did no long-term spiritual damage. My other favorite costume was one I made myself the last year I went trick-or-treating as a teenager - a basic ghost created by cutting eye holes in a white sheet. My parents have a lovely photo of me wearing my ghost attire (I recall joking about being a holy ghost) while holding our black cat, Tar Baby. Again, what were my parents thinking? I found that my candy intake was heightened if I got on my knees on my neighbors' doorsteps, since then I looked like a cute little ghost (which I wasn't) rather than a greedy teenager (which I was). Of course, if I stood up too soon or the neighbor lingered at the door, the desired effect was lost.

The other reason that Chaney lacks my affection for Halloween is because he doesn't eat chocolate, so bringing home a bulging bag of candy wasn't particularly appealing to him, since he would only consume the Smarties, Blow Pops, Pay Days, and Starbursts. (My son does eat white chocolate, but that is not a staple of the Halloween candy industry.) I, on the other hand, would eat just about anything that was dropped in my bag, including the peanut butter taffy wrapped in orange or black waxed paper. All year long I looked forward to the happy half hour that my sister and two brothers and I would spend sitting crosslegged in the living room floor after making our trick-or-treating rounds trading candy. The first order of business for me was to try to get rid of any Mounds, 3 Musketeers, or Milky Ways in hopes of procuring Snicker's, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and little packets of candy corn. Anybody want to make a trade?

standing on the promises of God

2008-10-29T12:51:00.006-05:00

When I graduated from Franklin High School in 1982, one of my friends gave me a little book titled "The Jesus Person Pocket Promise Book: 800 Promises from the Word of God." The book was divided into three sections - God's Promises for Your Spiritual Needs, God's Promises for Your Personal Needs, and God's Promises for Your Future Needs. In each section, verses of Scripture were grouped under various statements or questions. For instance, under the question, "Do you need wisdom?" twenty verses were listed, including this key verse: "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him" (James 1:5 NASB).

I referred to my Pocket Promise Book frequently during my college days and found it to be very helpful in pointing me to passages of Scripture that applied to whatever situtation I was dealing with at the moment. But today when I pulled the book off my shelf for the first time in years, I was a bit startled as I reread David Wilkerson's introduction, since he was undeniably promoting a "name it and claim it" theology. "Carry this book with you at all times," Wilkerson advised. "Think of it as a Bible promise dictionary and refer to it for answers to all your questions and needs."

I love God's Word, but as I study and meditate on the holy Scriptures, I still have questions. Lots of questions. But I have come to embrace the mystery of God, and I don't expect to figure out everything during my limited time here on earth. But I do look forward to the day when all things will be made clear. As the Apostle Paul observed, "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known" (1 Corinthians 13:12). So for now, I will continue to stand firmly on God's promises, grateful for the salvation He has offered me through Jesus Christ, and trusting that Jesus is interceding for me and my family at the right hand of God (Romans 8:34).

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

close encounter

2008-10-28T19:01:00.003-05:00

This morning I nearly collided with a white-tailed deer. What made this close encounter with a female Odocoileus virginianus unusual was the fact that this near miss occurred not in my vehicle but on foot. I was almost at the end of my two-mile, very brisk walk along Otter Creek Road at Radnor Lake when I was startled by a sudden movement just a few feet ahead of me. Nice job of camouflage, deer. The doe eyed me warily but - surprisingly - did not immediately dart away. After I apologized aloud for disturbing her while she was grazing for her breakfast, we amicably parted ways.

This near miss was clearly my fault - I was preoccupied as I prayerfully pondered how to proceed regarding a pressing problem. (Ahh, alliteration.) Ironically, I had been thinking about Proverbs 3:5-6 - "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." Clearly, I could benefit from a little more (make that a lot more) directional help from above, lest I bowl over one of God's creatures in my haste to find my way along life's paths.

no favoritism

2008-10-27T09:56:00.002-05:00

Last Friday morning I made a two-hour drive west on I-40 to Jackson to attend the funeral of Kathryn Stewart Highfill. Mrs. Highfill - or Mama High, as she was known by family members - died last Tuesday at the age of 92. I am not directly related to Mama High - she is the maternal grandmother of my first cousins - but I wanted to support my extended family and pay my respects to a remarkable woman.

Mrs. Highfill left her mark on this world primarily through her ministry as a pastor's wife. Her husband, Reverend Hayward Highfill, died in 1998, but during their fruitful fifty years of pastoral ministry, together they served five different congregations. Predictably, many of the stories that were shared at Mrs. Highfill's funeral recounted her experiences as a pastor's wife, and I found one of those stories to be particularly striking.

Every Sunday, Mrs. Highfill chose to sit in a different place in the sanctuary. Her rationale? She didn't want to be accused of playing favorites, which is what she believed would happen if she sat with the same people every week. As I listened to that story, I thought about several passages of Scripture that address the issue of favoritism. In his letter to the church at Rome, Paul reminded the Roman Christians that "God does not show favoritism" (Romans 2:11). In his letter, James admonished his readers to follow God's example, warning that Christ followers who show favoritism are guilty of sin (James 2:1-9). Clearly, Mrs. Highfill took these words seriously. God doesn't play favorites; neither should we.

Happy Birthday, Son!

2008-10-24T06:44:00.003-05:00

On a Wednesday evening 18 years ago today, Chaney Paul Swiney was born at 9:47 p.m. at West Side Hospital (now the Women's Hospital at Centennial) in Nashville. Born on his due date (which perhaps explains his predilection for punctuality), Chaney weighed 8 pounds and 10 ounces and was 20 3/4 inches long. We had checked into the hospital at 8:30 p.m. on Tuesday evening, but after waiting nine months, what's another 25 hours? Relatives on my side of the family insisted he looked "just like a Brown" and relatives on Paul's side of the family observed "you can tell he's a Swiney."

Paul and I had not known in advance whether we were having a boy or a girl, but it was a good thing we had a boy, since we had been unable to agree on a girl's name. "Chaney" is an adaptation of the name of American gymnast Chainey Umphrey, who received his father's nickname, which the elder Umphrey earned after he defended himself in a Philadelphia street fight with - you guessed it - a chain. This is not the kind of name that has a super-spiritual meaning that can be shared at a baby dedication, but we liked it anyway. Chaney shares his middle name with both his father and grandfather - Ronny Paul Swiney, Jr., and Ronny Paul Swiney, respectively.

The past eighteen years have flown by, but every day it has been my unparalleled joy to watch my only child mature in wisdom, in stature, and in favor with God and people. A mother could not ask for a better son.

Wii Fit

2008-10-22T10:01:00.003-05:00

My parents knew I wanted Wii Fit for my birthday, but since their current life circumstances mean they don't have the time or energy to stake out the big box retailers waiting for a shipment of this difficult-to-find product, they simply gave me the money in a birthday card and wished me luck in my search. Since my schedule this fall has been incredibly busy, I haven't had time during the past two months to search locally for the game, even though I was eager to get my hands (or, more accurately, my feet) on it. In hopes of snagging one online, I subscribed to Wii Fit Tracker, but each time I received an email advising me that one was available, by the time I clicked the link, the inventory was gone.

Yesterday morning after I completed my walk at Radnor Lake, I had a sudden hunch that I ought to go to the Wal-Mart Supercenter near my house. (Question: Would the Holy Spirit actually prompt someone to go to Wal-Mart?) I made a beeline for the electronics department, and guess what I found locked in a glass case? Not one, but two Wii Fits were available. I guess if I had been feeling greedy, I would have immediately purchased both units and then put the second one up for sale on eBay, but I decided to let someone else experience the wave of happiness that washes over you when you finally find something you've been seeking.

Chaney and I played Wii Fit for quite awhile yesterday afternoon, and last night we introduced Paul to the game. The first time you play, Wii Fit asks you for your height and age, weighs you, and assesses your balance. After a few moments, Wii Fit informs you what your Body Mass Index is - and whether or not that is a healthy number. Then - with great fanfare - Wii Fit announces your Wii Fit age. As you take advantage of Wii Fit's four training modes - yoga, balance games, strength training, and aerobics - you should be able to lower your Wii Fit age over time. Suffice it to say that Chaney's Wii Fit age matched his actual age, while Paul's and mine did not.

As I thought about the concept of a Wii Fit age, I wondered what it would be like if someone manufactured a device that could assess a person's spiritual age. Theoretically, your desire would be to attain a higher number of spiritual fitness in order to demonstrate that you are maturing in your faith in Christ (as opposed to Wii Fit, where a lower number indicates physical fitness). Perhaps such a device would prompt a Christ-follower to consider what steps he or she needed to take in order to become more spiritually fit. Instead of focusing on exercising and eating healthfully, in order to succeed in this endeavor, a person would have to pursue a rigorous regimen of spiritual disciplines.

I certainly want to lower my Wii Fit age in the days to come, but I need to be even more focused on my spiritual health. "For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come" (1 Timothy 4:8).

Chaney's walk

2008-10-21T16:31:00.002-05:00

My dear husband of 23 years will admit that he generally lacks creativity, but I must give him praise for the plan he developed to help our son mark his 18th birthday. Several weeks ago, Paul contacted several men who have played key roles in Chaney's life and asked them to take part in a special event in which they would have the opportunity to spend a few minutes sharing advice with Chaney.

Last Saturday afternoon, Paul took Chaney to Radnor Lake. They walked the short distance from the East Parking Lot to the Lake Trail, where they met up with my dad, much to Chaney's surprise. Paul then passed Chaney off to my father, and grandson and grandfather walked and talked along the Lake Trail for several minutes - the conversation included a reference to Napoleon - until they rendezvoused with my brother Todd at the point where Ganier Ridge branches off from the Lake Trail. Todd and Chaney then continued to walk along the Lake Trail until they reached the lake overlook, where my brother Trev awaited his turn on the journey. Trev escorted Chaney to the Visitor Center, where Scott was waiting. Scott is a Belmont student who has been serving as a Student Ministry intern at our church, and he has been a wonderful mentor for Chaney during the past few months. Scott and Chaney backtracked up the Lake Access Trail, then walked across the dam where they met Bob, who has worked with Chaney at church for the past four years and is one of his current Sunday School teachers. Bob and Chaney walked east on Otter Creek Road along the lake's shoreline until they met up with Randy, another adult whose life has intersected Chaney's through the Student Ministry at our church. Randy and Chaney then completed the final leg of this special journey and rejoined Paul and some of Chaney's previous walking companions at the original drop-off point on the Lake Trail. The group talked for a few moments and then shared a prayer together before everyone dispersed.

Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." I am grateful for the countless ways in which God has used each one of these men to sharpen my son. I told Chaney that when he turns 21, he will be taking a walk with a bunch of women. :)

sauerkraut

2008-10-20T16:24:00.002-05:00

This morning I heard part of Terry Gross's fascinating interview with Michael Pollan about his open letter to the President-Elect that was recently published in The New York Times Magazine under the title "Farmer in Chief." Among the suggestions that Pollan offered in this lengthy article is the creation of a School Lunch Corps program that will forgive federal student loans to culinary-school graduates in exchange for two years of service in the public-school lunch program. His discussion of school lunch menus immediately transported me back to my days at Alexander Elementary School in Jackson, Tennessee, where I attended 1st grade, 3rd grade, 4th grade, and 5th grade. (We lived in three different school zones while I was in elementary school.)

My favorite thing about Alexander was the safety patrol room. Since my mom was a kindergarten teacher at Alexander, if I was sick (or was pretending to be sick), I was not sent home. Instead, I was escorted to the safety patrol room, where I could rest on a cot until the school day ended. Such happy memories!

My least favorite thing about Alexander (besides the scary 4th grade teacher who would chase children down the hall and corner them in the bathroom, where she would beat on the stall doors with a paddle in a vain effort to force them out of hiding) was the cafeteria food. In fact, when my parents informed me that we would be moving to the Nashville area at the conclusion of my 5th grade school year, I was relieved because it meant that I would no longer have to fear being assigned Mrs. Sneed's 6th grade class. Mrs. Sneed forced her students to eat at least one bite of everything that was slopped onto their lunch trays, and, consequently, there were always piles of uneaten food underneath her classroom's designated table in the lunchroom. Fridays were the worst days of all, since sauerkraut was always on the menu. I will always be grateful to God that he provided my father with a new job in Nashville in the summer of 1975, since it spared me from a school year plagued by sauerkraut. If a School Lunch Corps program is ever created, I trust they will institute a no sauerkraut rule.

green light

2008-10-19T16:12:00.004-05:00

This morning my pastor preached about being burned out. While undoubtedly there were many people in the pews who related to his message, I realized as I contemplated his words that I am anything but burned out. In fact, the image that came to my mind as I listened to the sermon was one of a driver who is sitting at a red light, impatiently revving her engine while waiting to see green so she can continue her journey as quickly as possible. As I pondered that image, a quotation popped into my head, one that I first read about a decade ago when my family visited Daytona International Speedway. The words are attributed to NASCAR founder Bill France, Sr., and were posted in large letters on a wall in an exhibit area: "On the plains of hesitation lie the bleached bones of millions who, when within the grasp of victory sat and waited, and waiting, died.”

I am determined not to linger on the plains of hesitation. I know there are times when God wants us to wait, and there are great lessons to be learned in the waiting. But I'm watching for the green light (or green flag, if you prefer a NASCAR term), and I'll be ready to hit the gas when I see it.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart" Hebrews 12:1-3.

Saturday mornings

2008-10-18T07:33:00.002-05:00

As children, my sister and I always enjoyed the opportunity to spend the night with either set of our grandparents - especially since it allowed us to escape from our two pesky younger brothers for several blessed hours. I'm sure we had more of these Friday night sleepovers at Granda and Daddy Bent's house (since they lived just a couple of miles away from us), than we did with Mutt and Granddad (since they lived an hour away).

At Granda and Daddy Bent's house on Skyline Drive in our hometown of Jackson, Tifni and I would usually sleep in Uncle Ben's room. Ben was our mother's much-younger brother (age difference of ten years), and after he vacated his bedroom in order to attend Union University, it became the guest room. We usually woke up in his double bed a few minutes after 6:00 a.m., and as 6:30 a.m. approached we crept through the living room - past the crystal bowl full of lemon drops - to the den. After turning on the TV, we nestled ourselves into the twin recliners and restlessly watched The Farm Bureau Report, anxiously awaiting the magic hour of 7:00 a.m., when the Saturday morning cartoons would be aired.

While we watched cartoons, we always heard noises in the kitchen indicating that our breakfast of canned biscuits was being prepared. The best thing about the canned biscuit breakfasts was that there were always some left over, which we were allowed to toss out the backdoor to lure the squirrels. My grandparents' toy poodle, Thane, would then stand sentinel on his hind legs peering out the screen door, awaiting a squirrel's arrival. As soon as he spotted one, we would fling open the door and Thane would dart out the door, launch himself off the concrete slab of a back porch, and hightail it through the yard in a vain attempt to catch a biscuit-eating squirrel. He never caught a single one.

Our routine at Mutt and Granddad's house was very different and had its own charms. We had several options of where we could sleep at their house, but no matter where we slept we could hear the ticking of clocks. Restoring old clocks was one of Granddad's hobbies, so almost every room in the house featured a ticking, chiming timepiece. When we woke up on Saturday mornings in our paternal grandparents' white-columned house on Stonewall Drive in Union City, we knew we would not be reclining and watching cartoons. Instead, we had to get up early and go to work with my grandmother at her business, the Hospital Flower Shop.

As we walked through the business's back door shortly before 7:00 a.m., Mutt would unfailingly ask, "Do you want a Coke? Go get yourself one - the key is in the machine." This was the moment I had been waiting for - a chance to drink an ice cold Coke out of a glass bottle for breakfast! (It was a bad habit I continued to indulge for roughly three decades.) Fully caffeinated, my sister and I would then get to work alongside the Hospital Flower Shop's employees creating our own arrangements, which Mutt graciously allowed us to price and place on the shelves in the showroom. Amazingly, every Saturday after we returned to the Shop from lunch, our floral creations had been sold!

Mulling over these Saturday morning childhood memories has made me hungry and thirsty. While I can't bring myself to pop open a can of biscuits, I think I'll bake my favorite Pillsbury frozen biscuits as a suitable substitute. And since I have glass bottles of Coke in my fridge, I know what I can use to wash them down.

poverty

2008-10-15T21:11:00.002-05:00

Every morning when I check my email inbox, I see the “5 Minutes of Caring” message from CoolPeopleCare. These daily email messages from Sam Davidson are limited to 99 words that challenge individuals to consider how they can change their community and make a difference in the world.

This morning’s message emphasized “Blog Action Day” – a day when bloggers and media outlets are encouraged to highlight the issue of poverty. The timing is fitting, since right now the presidential candidates are debating at Hofstra University - Paul and I are recording the debate as we wait for Chaney to get home so we can all watch it together - but if the previous two debates are any indication, we will likely hear a lot about the needs of the American middle class, but very little about the plight of the poor who live in our country or elsewhere in the world.

Did you know that 37.3 Americans were living in poverty in 2007? (U.S. Census Bureau)
Did you know that 2.1 billion people - almost half the world's population - live on less than $2 a day, and 800 million of these people survive on less than $1 a day? (World Development Report 2008)

For a little perspective about just how fortunate we are, check out the Global Rich List. By inputting your income, you'll find out how you rank in wealth compared to the rest of the world. For instance, if your salary is only $20,000 a year, you fall within the top 11.16% of the richest people in the world. If you make $40,000 a year, you're in the top 3.17%.

So take the challenge and investigate the Global Rich List. I'll bet you'll discover that you're wealthier than you think. Then consider what you can do to help those who are less fortunate than you are. "I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me" (Matthew 25:45).

S'mores galore

2008-10-14T10:29:00.013-05:00

I think tent camping has a biblical basis. After all, didn't the Israelites spend forty years dwelling in tents in the wilderness? Unlike the Israelites, though, the 48 folks who camped together at Big South Fork last weekend didn't have a pillar of cloud by day or a pillar of fire by night to guide us, but we certainly had plenty of other reminders of God's presence in our midst.

What a glorious weekend! The colors of the leaves were more vivid than I can ever recall on our previous annual camping trips to Big South Fork. The weather was much warmer than we had experienced in the past - I had never worn sandals and shorts while delivering my mini-sermon at the Saturday evening campfire before - but the evenings were comfortably cool and well-suited for a slumber in a sleeping bag. The daytime skies were a brilliant blue, and the evening skies were studded with more stars than we could ever count. The twelve families who gathered at the group campground at Bandy Creek - Stewarts, Atkinses, Fousts, Kennons, Walshes, Hartzells, Robersons, Cateses, Swineys, Gipsons, Pollards, and Robertsons - made a fresh batch of memories this past weekend, served up with a heaping helping of laughter.

We took two group hikes during the weekend - a Saturday afternoon trek along the Big South Fork River to the O&W Railroad Bridge (4.6 miles round-trip) and a Sunday afternoon excursion along the Twin Arches Loop Trail (2.8 miles). During the rest of our time together, clusters of adults gathered around picnic tables and campfires, enjoying the kind of extended conversations that we rarely have time for during our busy days at home. Clumps of children shuffled through the woods on the lookout for the black bear that had been spotted in the campground earlier in the week. Some teenagers played football in the field, while others played cards in the pavilion. And we ate - a lot. Our community meal on Saturday evening - featuring four batches of chili and the Pollards' delicious cornbread, among many other dishes - was delicious as usual, but we were still able to consume large quantities of S'mores after the evening devotion around the campfire.

Camping at Big South Fork is like going back to a simpler time, a time when grownups passed the evening telling stories on the front porch while their children chased fireflies in the yard. Plenty of stories were shared this past weekend at Bandy Creek - stories that our children will undoubtedly recount to their own offspring in years to come. And while there were many outbursts of laughter among our children this past weekend, the adults laughed louder and longer. In fact, we often laughed until we cried. A cheerful heart really is good medicine (Proverbs 17:22).

happy camper

2008-10-09T14:21:00.004-05:00

In October 1996, my family took our first camping trip to Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area, which straddles the Tennessee-Kentucky border on the Cumberland Plateau. I had never camped in a tent before that weekend (sleeping in a car at a campground doesn't really count as camping, but those are stories for another day). I chose Big South Fork for our first camping experience because my friend Amy swore that the bathhouses were cleaner than her own bathrooms, so we acquired a tent and other basic equipment and made the three-hour drive to the Bandy Creek Campground. (FYI: The bathhouses really are incredibly clean.)

During that trip, we ran into Lauryn, a friend from church who I had first met on a mission trip to Scotland five years earlier. Lauryn told us that several families from our church were camping together at one of Bandy Creek's two group campgrounds, an experience that had become their annual tradition. Lauryn then invited us to join them for their community meal that evening, which we did. That night we asked them to add us to their camping roster, and we've been making the trip to Big South Fork every October since then.

Chaney was a kindergartner the first time we camped; now he's a senior in high school. Camping at Big South Fork is one of our family's most cherished traditions. Tomorrow our family will set up at camp at Bandy Creek once again, along with eleven other families. In accordance with tradition, we will take a group hike on Saturday, which almost always features one or more boys getting their shoes wet in the Big South Fork of the Cumberland River. Saturday night we will share a community meal (a chili supper) at the pavilion before regrouping around the campfire circle, where I will share an evening devotion (I'm thinking about Elijah). Afterwards, the teenagers (and some adults) usually head up to the field where we take advantage of the lack of light pollution and stargaze to our hearts' content. I can't wait!

"The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies display the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech, night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard" (Psalm 19:1-3).

the art of communication

2008-10-08T14:24:00.004-05:00

Recently I have been rereading a book that ought to be on every political junkie's bookshelf - All's Fair: Love, War, and Running for President by Mary Matalin and James Carville. In the book, this political odd couple recounts their starkly divergent perspectives from their respective camps in the Bush and Clinton campaigns during the 1992 presidential election. I first read the book shortly after it was released in 1994 and decided that I needed to revisit it during this year's election cycle, especially since Matalin and Carville are familiar faces on the cable news circuit these days.

I have been interested in political campaigns ever since my father ran for Congress in 1974 (he lost to the incumbent), and I ended up majoring in Political Science at the University of Tennessee. The behind-the-scenes stories that these two political operatives share in All's Fair are fascinating, and there is a lot to be learned from observing their successes and failures as they sought to communicate their candidates' messages to the press and the voters.

In one section of the book, Carville described the art of "wiring up the event" - anticipating who reporters will call to comment on an event, then preemptively contacting them to prepare them to respond in a way that reflects favorably on your candidate. Carville observed: "There are even times when you've got to wire up an event within your own organization. If you call and explain your plans and your reasoning, people will tend to be more supportive than if you just spring it on them. That goes for people inside the campaign, it goes for reporters, it goes for people in every day life. It's better to tell somebody ahead of time and get their support than to tell them afterward and try to change their mind."

One of the things that frustrates me most when working within an organization - whether it is a secular or religious one - is when leaders fail to anticipate the questions that will likely arise regarding a proposed plan. I am more keenly aware than ever these days that many leaders lack what Lee Atwater called the ability to "see around corners," and far too often leaders set themselves (and their plans) up for failure when they don't think through the consequences of a proposal. Even worse, many leaders believe that by springing a potentially controversial plan on people without notice, they are actually increasing the likelihood of its adoption. The element of surprise is great at birthday parties, but not so good for consensus-building.

the humility of untitled ministry

2008-10-06T21:46:00.006-05:00

I am still processing my experiences from the CBF-sponsored Women's Spiritual Formation Retreat that I attended last week in Atlanta. The retreat provided me with a remarkable - not to mention rare - opportunity to spend time with over 40 Baptist clergywomen (both ordained and unordained) who are using their God-given gifts in a variety of ways in ministry. My favorite job title was "Minister to Young Adults and of Creative Discipleship," but there were also pastors, associate pastors, ministers of music, church administrators, ministers for every age group, and chaplains in attendance.

Dr. Molly Marshall, president of Central Baptist Theological Seminary in Kansas City (the only female president of a Baptist seminary in this hemisphere), was one of the retreat speakers. Dr. Marshall is a hero to many Baptist women (and men) because of the way she gracefully persevered persecution within the Southern Baptist Convention. The first time I heard Dr. Marshall preach was at the Tennessee Cooperative Baptist Fellowship General Assembly in April 2006, and I was eager to hear her again. I was not disappointed. She is a brilliant theologian and a wonderful role model for women in ministry.

In a panel discussion during the final teaching session of the retreat, Dr. Marshall acknowledged the challenges that women in ministry face, and she encouraged us to persevere. "Begin with the humility of untitled ministry," she advised us. "It will open a pathway." Then she added, "God remembers He called you to ministry." I know I needed to hear those words. I'll bet I'm not alone.

two red things

2008-10-06T07:44:00.005-05:00

I always have two red things in my car - a tassel and a bracelet. I hung the red tassel from my rearview mirror in May 2004, and I placed the red bracelet around my gear shift in the summer of 2006.

The red tassel hung on the black cap that was perched precariously on my head during Samford University's Commencement on Saturday, May 22, 2004, at the Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Complex Arena. The presence of the tassel annoys my husband, who prefers to wrap it around the rearview mirror so it can't swing freely while he drives my car. But the tassel remains because it reminds me of God's call, His provision, and His protection. God called me to go to Beeson Divinity School to work on a Master of Divinity degree, He faithfully provided the resources for me to do so, and He protected me as I commuted twice a week between Nashville and Birmingham for four years (and 100,000 miles). The tassel reminds me that when I am willing to step out in faith and trust God to lead and empower me, He is able to do immeasurably more than I ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within me (Ephesians 3:20).

The red bracelet is made of plastic and emblazoned with the word "Courage." Debbie Harned's family and friends began wearing these bracelets when she began treatment for a rare form of cancer in January 2006. Since I do a lot of praying in my car, I eventually decided to place my bracelet in my car to prompt me to pray for Debbie and her family. Throughout her battle with the disease, Debbie continued to minister to others, even as they attempted to minister to her. Debbie was one of my mentors, and I deeply miss the lunches we shared in the physicians' cafeteria at Baptist Hospital where she served as a chaplain. Today when I look at that red bracelet on my gear shift, I remember Debbie's courage and take courage myself, recalling the words of one of Debbie's favorite verses of Scripture: "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure" (Hebrews 6:19).

Two red things in a green car - powerful, portable, personal symbols of God's faithfulness.

on a hallowed hill in Tennessee

2008-10-04T16:04:00.003-05:00

On a Hallowed hill in Tennessee,
Like Beacon shining bright,
The stately walls of old U.T.
Rise glorious to the sight.
So here's to you old Tennessee,
Our Alma Mater true.
We pledge in love and harmony
Our loyalty to you.

If you have ever been to a football game at Neyland Stadium on the campus of the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, you have heard these words sung during the Pride of the Southland Band's halftime show. I was a proud alumna yesterday when my family spent most of the day on campus for the UT Scholars Invitational. My son didn't need another campus visit to help him decide where to go to college (since he apparently made that decision about the time he started kindergarten), but we made the trip to learn more about the honors programs offered at UT. As a 1985 graduate of UT's College Scholars program, I was personally pleased to discover how the honors program has grown through the years, and I am confident that Chaney is going to receive an outstanding education at my alma mater.

During a browse session when we were encouraged to visit with representatives of various campus programs, we stopped at the booth hosted by the Office of Student Orientation and Leadership Development. The young woman who greeted us was extremely excited to discover that Paul and I were both former Student Orientation Assistants (SOAs). I served as an SOA during both my summers at UT, and Paul and I began dating when we served together as SOAs during the summer of 1984. We had actually interacted briefly during the previous summer when we both took a U.S. History course that required us to watch videos on small monitors in the library. We met when we both were waiting in the library to watch a documentary about Justice Hugo Black. During that first encounter, Paul was wondering why I was wearing purple overalls, and I was wondering where in the world Philadelphia, Tennessee, was. (For the record, Paul's hometown is located 40 miles southwest of Knoxville between Loudon and Sweetwater.)

I never dreamed as I roamed the campus of the University of Tennessee for three happy years that one day I would have a son who would follow in my footsteps. But by this time next fall, he will be the one roaming, and I couldn't be happier for him.

the sound of silence

2008-10-02T12:14:00.003-05:00

Earlier this week, I participated in the Women's (Clergy) Spiritual Formation Retreat sponsored by the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. The retreat was held at Ignatius House in Sandy Springs, Georgia, just north of Atlanta. Ignatius House is owned and operated by the Jesuit Fathers and Brothers of the New Orleans Province of the Society of Jesus and is named after Saint Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuit Order.

The retreat began at noon on Monday and ended at 1:00 p.m. on Wednesday. Of the 49 hours that we spent together, 25 were devoted to silence. Five times we observed hour-long periods of silence for reflection and sabbath. Each evening we observed the monastic tradition of the Great Silence, which began after our evening worship and was broken by the sound of a bell when we gathered for morning prayer.

In preparation for the retreat, we were encouraged to read Henri Nouwen's The Way of the Heart: Desert Spirituality and Contemporary Ministry. In this book, Nouwen focused on three of the spiritual disciplines practiced by the Desert Fathers and Mothers who lived in the Egyptian desert during the fourth and fifth centuries: solitude, silence, and prayer. Nouwen observed, "In our chatty world, in which the word has lost its power to communicate, silence helps us to keep our mind and heart anchored in the future world and allows us to speak from there a creative and recreative word to the present world. Thus silence can also give us concrete guidance in the practice of our ministry."

I had not realized how deeply I craved silence until I was afforded this opportunity to practice it for an extended period. As a writer and teacher, I was challenged by Nouwen's assertion that "silence gives strength and fruitfulness to the word." If I want my words to be fruitful - whether written or spoken - I must regularly retreat into God's silence.

Mr. Rogers Neighborhood

2008-09-24T16:58:00.003-05:00

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

2008-09-23T16:21:00.004-05:00

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

2008-09-21T18:17:00.002-05:00

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).