Loss and Grief

This evening is my first journal post after learning of my Mother's passing Saturday morning. Our beloved physician told my brother, Jim and his wife, Linda, it was time to put Mom in “End of Life Care.” Mom died the next day. I am not surprised because Dr Cerna, was blindsided by Mom “return from the dead” after the physician said she had done all she could. Her clinical assessment in September of 2018 was to keep her comfortable and wait for the end. Mom rallied and made liars of us all.

So Mom died. Really, it should probably be said, “And Mom died.” So Anna and I raced to San Angelo to help my oldest brother and his wife make the funeral arrangements. Jim and Linda Chancellor have led their family to make sure Mom wanted for nothing. They are an incredible family—incredible love, empathy, and dependability. Mom was well served by the attention of my older brother's family. More than that, Linda, an in-law to Mom could not have loved a woman more. Linda is a woman of virtue.

So driving home from the funeral planning meeting and after suggesting to the funeral director who was also the owner that this family should get a discount because we are fun to work with, he laughed. Funeral Directors know of which I speak. Some families should be worked with boxing gloves on.

Most pastors will rarely claim it, but if they have been a pastor for any time at all they are both expert and student. It is a part of the calling. My records show over 500 funerals across 33 years, and thousands of grieving members. It is the nature of the work.

Coming home today, I was thinking of grief as being both mystery and art. Mystery and art. Mystery because we cannot know or predict how deeply influential a person is until they have died. Anna and I often joke about the inscription on so many gravestones, “Gone but not forgotten.” It could be understood positively or negatively. However, we do not really know until the person has died. That is the mystery of grief. It is seductive because we can be unaware of how this person has poured life and joy into our hearts. Only when they are gone, can we truly get a sense of how influential the person was in our life. They could be a steadfast anchor for the living of these days, or a faulty reference point of where we go off track.

Art describes for me the mosaic each person weaves from their individual life and experiences. Today, one of the nieces posted on the family page one of those rare relationships with Mom—of which I had no clue but I could not help but swell with pride—not for anything I had done, but what Mom had done. Art is good description for the way a person chooses to live their life. It is a great metaphor for how folks take difficult experiences and push ahead, believing God and knowing one can literally walk with God.

Art is what we make with our lives. I seemed to always been attracted to the art of stained glass windows. For me it is a visual of what God does when he takes the brokenness within us and then makes them into something of beauty.

Mom was not saint. She struggled when my dad was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx in 1979. It was the most difficult time in her life. She and Dad loved each other and losing him almost dragged her into death. Upon her death, sadly, she had live more years without him, than with him. However, I have not doubt they will be together again.

Thanks for all the encouragement and prayers The next few days will challenge us all.

Wash your hands, wear a mast because that is what neighbors do, and be kind

Racism and kindness

Mom and Glory

This morning, I received a call from my oldest brother, Jim, in San Angelo. He called to tell me Mom has pretty much been unresponsive for the last few days. This week, the decision was made to allow Jim and Linda to go in. Baptist Memorial in San Angelo has this vibrant senior ministry, nursing home, houses, and assisted living apartments. Jim told me that today, there had been no one in care, no staff, or any workers test positive for COVID. They are taking this virus seriously and I appreciate it. Mom's doctor has talked to my brother and sister-in-law about moving mother into “end of life care.” Dr Cerna tells them it is not Hospice, and she will remain directing the care for Mom but we are at that point. Anna and I hope to get there Friday and spend some time with her.

Our church is part of a media and preaching emphasis “What's After? ATX” (https://www.whatsafteratx.org/ and it has been an incredible series. The book, “Imagine Heaven” by John Burk explores the scientific and medical studies on what we have come to know as “Near Death Experiences.” If we get to San Angelo before Mom goes on to be the Lord, I will sit by her bed and talk to her about her journey which will take her from that room into glory. Whether or not I am there when it happens, it will happen and what I am learning is that most folks don't need a tour guide.

Mom has been a remarkable woman, not quite a force of nature, but she did stir up a lot of dust when she was around. She had a wonderful sense of humor as did Dad, and between them, well, it is hard to tell where her's left off and Dad's began. They both could be funny. I was at the station one late afternoon when one of the regulars came in after a really tough day. He wanted his company vehicle washed and serviced. Dad asked, “So Truman, what do you want us to do to it.” To which the customer replied, “You can burn the d_ _ _ n thing up for all I care.” So someone rode with the customer and when he got back, Dad and Mom took us out to eat. They had a favorite place, and about half way through the meal Dad was paged. Dad would never, ever get a page when we were out. He got up and went to answer the phone then came back and said, “There's been a fire at the station and we need to leave now.” So we did. Arriving at the station, we got the full story. Company cars were often covered in oil so the person who washed them would wash them down with kerosene. It was winter time, and he was out of kerosene, so he got some gasoline which was not unusual, but then threw it on the hot hood and it vaporized and exploded because there was a gas stove lit to keep the insides and workers warm. It blew out the windows in all the bays, and only scorched the man who was washing the car, but it smoked the white car. Dad, having made sure everyone was safe, went in and placed the call. “Truman, do you remember what you told me when we took you home about your car?” He replied, “Yea, I told you, you could burn the d_ _ _n up for all I care.” Dad said, “Well, you will be happy to know that is what we just did.”

I have walked with lots of folks over the years as they have buried a parent, and later another parent. It is a profoundly significant time in a child's life no matter how old they are. I know that good parents become the first to create a loving, safe, secure environment for each child. That sets the stage for all of life to come. In a home of faith like mine, it also gave me my first glimpse of the unseen God as Mom and Dad were the hands and feet of the God who loved me. Their influence in a child's life is huge. If home is not a good, safe place and many aren't it leaves childhood trauma that lives on in the body, heart, mind, soul of the person.

I have noticed something else as well. Not often addressed or thought about, but the death of a first parent is powerful. Dad died when I was 32 and Tim and Joseph were about 4 and 2. I knew they would never remember him, or get to spend time with him. He would only be a picture without a point of reference. For me, it was a deep loss because,well, he was my Dad. Dad hunted a little, loved fireworks, and hated to take us three boys fishing. He did it once and swore he would never do it again. However, what my Dad gave me was lifelong lessons in character, honesty, integrity, and doing the right thing no matter what the cost. Fortunately, God guided us to a new church after Dad was diagnosed with his cancer of the larynx which made the drive to Dallas quicker, but more than that, loved on us the first 3 years we were there because during those times, they only knew their pastor as “his Dad was dying,” and then “he lost his Dad.”

What I have learned from 33 years of walking with mostly adult children who have lost their last parent, is such a loss marks the end of a lifelong story. The parent who knew us longer than any other person in our world is now gone. Of course for our sibling group her passing will end an important chapter in our lives. It will end lengthy relationships our wives have shared with Mother. It will end the life long relationships grands and great grans have shared.

Mom has always been pretty independent, even after Dad died. In some ways it surprised me because they were always together always, Mom and Dad. My siblings and I entered a new chapter with her as she updated her will, put us all (sons and spouses) on her medical power of attorney, and then after about three years in the country began a process of downsizing. So, she would call us and say, “Come move me, I've found a house in town, I can't keep the other one up.” Then some years later she would call and say, “Come move me. I can't keep this house up so I have found an efficiency apartment.” She set aside all the things she wanted to keep and gave us the opportunity to carry off the rest—which we did because well, Dad told everyone when she worked at an Ethan Allen gallery, she took her pay in stuff.” It was nice stuff, so she wanted to pass it down. Then she found a new apartment across town, the phone ran and it was “come move me.” During these years, I was the one who had more control over my schedule so if a problem developed—mostly health, I would head out and communicate with the others about what was going on. At some point, Mom picked up the phone and said, “Come move me to San Angelo, it is too hard for you boys to help me out here where there is no family. So we moved her to San Angelo, and Jim, Linda, Jeff, John, Julie, and their families made sure mother wanted for nothing. It was awesome and in God's timing, it left Anna and I free to turn our attention and presence to Livingston where her only surviving sibling was taking care of her mother and step Dad. It was at times overwhelming. So we surprisingly, but wisely, uprooted ourselves from an awesome church, and moved off the grid to Livingston. It was there, I got an education in life in the shadows of Texas and perhaps the United States. I dreaded telling Mom because we were only 90 miles away, the closest we ever lived to her, but with her grace, she said “of course you need to go. I have had you for so long taking care of me. You are needed down there.”

So that is Mom. One of the last conversations on the topic of her dying was when she was in a lot of pain, almost given up for dead, and earlier had expressed to all of us, “Quit praying for me to get better! I want to go on to Heaven.” So on that day, Joseph and I were getting ready to leave to get him back to catch a plane from Houston for home. I said to her, “Mom, I need to tell you that everyone—absolutely everyone in the family has quit praying for you to get better. However, if God chooses to spare you(and He did) you will have to take it up Him. We are not responsible!” Yep, we had that conversation.

So, the news today was not completely unexpected, but such news begins a process of grieving because a chapter will be closing, my last parent will go on to glory. And we will miss the dust.

Wash your hands, wear your mask as a sign of caring about others, mind the gap, and be kind.

Left Leaning and Racism

Today, I got a little “push back” from my journal post last night. Apparently I am a “woman” and “left leaning.” My gracious “push back” was met with a more mellow response and then an agreement to disagree.

I have never known I was “left leaning” until today. The swipe reminded me of a story Dr James Shields told in one of his classes about a student who went home over Thanksgiving to his parent's peanut farm. The son said, perhaps unwisely, “Dad, the way you talk about your peanut farm you would think it is the center of the universe.” The father looked at him and said, “That way is north, that way is east, that way is south, and that way is west. If this is not the center of the universe, I would like to know where it is!” So, left leaning is left of where we “stand” and what we “believe” which is always correct and in our Baptist world always conservative as we are “conservative.” “Left leaning” is a curse phrase spat with derision and contempt. In this culture war of today, “left,” or “left leaning” is always bad and is somehow flawed or cursed.

I read an Ethics Today post by a black pastor, Tyrone Keels(see in an earlier post) about why is “now” the time. I hear the anger and the pain, and I have no good answer. I believe that such questions will never have good answers. Watching the first season of “The Chosen” I was reminded of the slaughter of innocents in Bethlehem at the time following the birth of Christ. Why was only Joseph warned in time to rescue Jesus? What about the other mothers and fathers who watched helplessly as the Romans slaughtered their children two years and under?

This is what I do know. I know these recent deaths of African American men and women have somehow touched the heart of White America for reasons I cannot explain. I know, for me, there is something in me that says, “When is enough going to be enough?” “When is racism finally going to be faced, and resolved?” “When are we all going to be people equal in the sight of the law as we are before God?” “How long will our Constitution and Bill of Rights only apply to a few and not to all?”

After all these years, it is more than time for us to stand up(all of us) move forward to make the promise of this nation real and just for all. Some months ago, I started a couple of journal entries by saying, “I don't understand Black people. One of the things I had in mind is the reality that African Americans, Hispanics, and other people of color enlist, serve commendably, and yet come home to a culture in which they are not fully accepted. I don't understand how one can do that. However, I know thousands have, and continue to enlist and serve. The rights which should fall to all Americans should not have to be earned. They should not have to be proven in terms of worthiness but each and every day, soldiers of color prove their valor, their loyalty, their courage and hopefully return home only finding so little change for their people.

Why must the “white community” get behind the march for equal rights? We are over 60% of the population while 37,144,530 non-Hispanic blacks, comprise 12.1% of the population. That is why. That is also why People of Color have not had the opportunities and access to power which could tilt the scales of justice to more equality. When you look at those numbers above, Martin Luther King Jr did an amazing work of leveraging action from his marches and influence. However, today, I want to believe there are far more White Americans who realize it is time for this nation to get up, grow up, honor all as equal participants in this opportunity and enterprise. Listen to the African American voices. We cannot wait any longer.

Wash your hands, wear your masks respecting others, mind the gap and be kind.

The Idolatry of Religious Conservatives

I did not know or perhaps at a certain age chose not to know that my faith community was seduced by the Southern culture of slavery. By that I mean, they willingly chose to put their culture over God and allow the pulpits of our faith community and teaching to support the institution of slavery.

In these days of unrest and racial strife, I cannot help but look back and see how my whole faith roots were nurtured and blossomed in the toxic soil of slavery. The Bible was used to support the unsupportable, to defend the undefendable, to proclaim with pride what should have been whispered in shame. That is the legacy of my faith family. The Southern Baptist Convention over the last twenty years has made some weak efforts to repent of that ancient sin, but it has not either been enough or has informed leadership today.

The Christian faith is first and foremost about the Kingdom of God. It has always been about the Kingdom of God. From the beginning of God showing Himself and making a covenant with His people He has revealed Himself as Holy and Righteous. It was true for Israel and it is true for the Church. However, in countries like the United States, where freedom allows us to speak freely, worship freely, and participate in government, it is difficult for the Church to remain prophetic and independent listening only to God, obeying only God, and living out the character and fruits of the Spirit of God.

It is too easy to get entangled and become an advocate for what on the surface appears to be a noble thing. So, once again, the evangelical church has been snared by the culture and become a mouthpiece for the blaring racism, hatred, divisiveness of this current president all for considerations related to evangelical causes(more conservative judges, more legislation against abortion, more restrictions on LGBT persons, more visibility of extreme hate groups)

Some weeks ago in my journal entry for the day I mentioned the “despair” and “desperation” that has fueled faith leaders during this time. It is these two elements which drive this race to unholy alliances. Conservative religious leaders are afraid of losing the “blessing of God on America,” because of social sin/sins. However, this despair is focused on the wrong institution. Conservative religious leaders feel like godlessness has crept into the culture while God is more concerned about the godlessness that has crept into the churches who confess the Lordship of Christ. It is that age old issue Jesus spoke about when He(Matthew 7:3) spoke about removing the speck from from the eye of another but ignoring the beam in our own eye. Conservative religious leaders wring their hands about the state of the culture but are without tears for the condition of the Bride of Christ. The desperation then is using the tools of the world to somehow correct the morals of the nation. It has never worked, and will not work now. How many times must we go back and relearn this lesson? There has never been, nor will there ever be a ruler, a nation, a kingdom, a dominion which can legislate morals and character. It is folly to attempt it, and folly upon folly not to have learned this lesson. Law does not touch the heart of a person. It does not convince one of the right way and provide motivation to walk in it. The Conservative religious leaders should know this if they have read Romans at all. The law is powerless to change the hearts of people and turn people into citizens of character and compassion. Still we try, foolishly we try. The end result is always failure.

So one again, the stubborn heart, the frightened heart, the despairing heart, the desperate heart attempts to do what can only be done in crying out to God long enough for God to open the heavens and unleash the Holy Spirit in might and power. In my 70 years of life, I had heard the frustration of many people who were chaffing under some law they thought discriminatory. However, I have yet to hear any person complain when they have been captured by the grace of the Living Christ. It is like that!

Wash your hands, wear you masks for others, mind the gap, and be kind.

Law Enforcement and racism

One of the fun things I do under my counseling umbrella is what is called a “Substance Abuse Professional.” I am sure like everyone else you have no knowledge of what that function would be. Actually, it is a responsibility created by the Department of Transportation when they designated certain jobs and responsibilities as “safety sensitive.” Safety sensitive positions generally are jobs that impact the safety of the public. So as you would expect, 18 wheelers, delivery trucks, school buses, and all facets of pipe-lining, pilots, train transportation individuals, and many more fall into this category.

My responsibility is to look out for the safety of people who might be impacted by carelessness or intoxication whether alcohol or drugs. If a person who falls into these categories is positive for prohibited substances in a UA(urinary analysis) , then they get referred to me. What I tell the person often amounts to this if they have been caught with using an illegal substance—most often marijuana, “Your employer may be willing to overlook one positive UA and put you back to work, but if you get another, you will need to find another career.”

I believe this same approach should be made with law enforcement and the use of unnecessary force(including unarmed persons). “We understand how you may have gotten all revved up and used more force than was necessary, but after the investigation is done and you are cleared, if it happens again, you will be terminated!” Perhaps the use of force was so outrageous, it merits termination within itself.

Some of what we are seeing is a pattern of some law enforcement officers repeated cited for unnecessary use of force. This needs to end. I believe most of us intuitively believe each uniformed officer represents first himself/herself and then all who wear the uniform or carry the badge. Aggressive officers mar the reputation of all who wear the uniform or carry the badge. It also becomes time for officers of integrity which most are, to no longer support those who use the badge and their authority to abuse, coerce, and hurt others needlessly. A team can only be a team if all play by the same rules working toward the same goals. Some law enforcement officers cannot and should not be allowed to endanger the reputation and safety of others who serve honestly and honorably.

It is difficult for any profession to police themselves. Physicians should do it but look the other way. Counselors should do it but often look the other way. It is also sadly true for law enforcement. However, law enforcement has a history in America that needs to be “redeemed.” That is, strides must be taken to show that law enforcement serves all equally.

There is a part we are all going to play in moving this nation forward beyond the racism of the past and even the present. Law enforcement is one institution which must become more transparent and sensitive to their history of oppression and their real responsibility in a modern society which strives for all to be treated fairly.

Tomorrow, the institution of Southern religion in justifying oppression and slavery.

Wash your hands, wear your masks in respect for others, mind the gap, and be kind

White Folks and Racism

Can I suggest that most of us “white people” have a problem with history. There, I have said it. Now if you are still listening or reading let me explain.

I don't know of any, any, Caucasian who lives like Colonists did before the War for Independence. That is to say, they continued to give their allegiance to King George and the British Empire. I don't know of any Caucasian who freely surrenders the rights articulated in the Bill of Rights. The point is we have absolutely no problem with reveling in the freedom secured, enumerated, and protected down through the years by law and blood. It never occurred to us to say, “Well, because I didn't do anything but be born in America I am not going to enjoy the freedom handed down to me and those I love.” We don't really feel like we have to secure our own freedom. We just live the privilege and think little about it.

However, when it comes to our racist past, our oppression of African Americans, our history of tolerating slavery not just in the South but literally throughout the United States, we sing a different song. We say, I did not do that. I did not have slaves. I did not oppress or discriminate. Those are not my sins, and I refuse to have anything to do with the idea that I am a bearer of the sins of the American past. We could for good measure throw in the Native Americans. I didn't wage war on them, or move them into reservations, or slaughter the tribes. It was not my doing. I refuse to accept responsibility.

So, we can accept the liberty purchased by the will, determination and blood of our founding fathers without hesitation or remorse. What is not to like about where many Caucasian folks find themselves. Freedom, opportunity, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We could even update our liberty by living in the security after a war called WWII for which most of us were not even born.

See this is the problem. We pick and choose what we will welcome and take responsibility for. And because of that, we shall never really end this deep poison of racism which has diminished us from the beginning.

I work with some teens and one of the features of their struggle is trying to break free and enjoy their emerging adulthood. So they are in conflict with their parents. They don't do their best in school, they are angry and really not enjoyable to be around. Each seems to be trapped in a web from which they cannot free themselves.

It is there I begin to cast a different perspective for them. William Glasser's “Reality Therapy” was actually tested in the juvenile detention centers of California. Most of all it works. What does it do? It give the person a chance to take responsibility and from that make positive plans, with positive attitudes, supported by positive behaviors.

That is the therapy which is needed for our time and for us Caucasians who are so helpless and unsympathetic for our brothers and sisters who are tired of a life which from birth is stacked against them every day even today.

We have to take responsibility and say that racism as is practiced covertly or overtly by Caucasian institutions and systems fostering structural racism has got to end. It has to end now. We are willing to see the problem and as it is within our power, end it now. Church houses, State Houses, and National government institutions which turn a blind eye to racism will be called to account by those who have the power to change it. The problem with African Americans changing these institutions is simply the inability to amass the power to do so. However, if we Caucasians, who day in and day out control these institutions would see, repent, and change existing forms of ongoing oppression, it will happen. However, we must humble ourselves and be schooled by our People of Color about the problem and how it is entrenched in our culture and society.

We must also grieve over the way criminal justice works for Caucasians but not people of color. In a short conversation with my oldest son, I told him my experience working in prison was an awakening of sorts for me. 70% of our 3,000 offenders were Black. I told him, “There is no way you can tell me that crime in America is done by only blacks. However, Whites well, we get the best lawyers, and they get public defenders who are overworked and unprepared.

I also believe that law enforcement in America has to come to terms with the racial issues (especially in the South) where law enforcement was the face of keeping slaves in their place and later keeping them scared and oppressed. In the same way law enforcement today did not do that, we still have to look at ourselves with a humility searching for the components which suppress the rights of some while respecting the rights of others. I support and deeply appreciate law enforcement and not just those in my family who have made that commitment. However, we cannot move forward unless and until we are willing to see what People of Color see inherent in the threat of law enforcement toward them. Frankly, I do not remember a time with the presence of a uniformed officer of the law has given me the slightest concern. But, I don't see what a person of color sees.

I believe White Churches should step up and help a culture sift through the issues, the unseen barriers, the pride that would not allow for equality, and most of all the Gospel of change that is our greatest contribution to life today. I was outside our small home this afternoon doing my “yard therapy” and found myself thinking about anything I might change from my past leadership as a pastor if I were leading today. I smiled at the difficult task I inherited at all the churches I served where we were organized into too many committees which did too little work. The silliest committee I found was in my third church where they had a “host committee.” I kept throwing them opportunities to “host” and they would throw them back. “Not our job.” After about four refusals, I got the bylaws down and started reading them. Yep, there was the Host committee. Seven couples(14) people with a simple responsibility: clean the oven in the kitchen. It was a continuous cleaning oven. And it was dirty!

If I were leading today, I believe I might consider a “Racial Response Team” which would monitor events, activities and the area news for opportunities to help bring progress to the never ending fight for equality. This team would lead the church in an appropriate, compassionate response which would honor the heart of God and His love for all His Children. Tragically, so many evangelical churches have been captured by Christian nationalism that has placed America over God. However, not every knee has bowed to Caesar or been swept up in panic created by a false fear of losing something America never was.

All I know is inequality between races in this country have gone on too long. We have passed on the malignant hatred however subtle, however covered for far too long. Let's end this in our time.

Wash your hands, please wear your mask, mind the gap, and be kind. We have a distance yet to go with COVID

The Inexact Science of Fatherhood

Fatherhood is not an exact science. By that I mean there is no training which would prepare a man for fatherhood. Most men might acknowledge the fun part of being a father was sharing in the conception—because men are like that. Everything after can be terrorizing. You can pay for a personal trainer, a golf coach, a martial arts instructor, but you are on your own as a new father. A pregnant wife is a wonder to behold, but living with during the 9 months of gestation not so much. Moods, craving, and tears.

Many men would admit in private they were not prepared for a pregnant wife followed by a baby or two or three. Moods, craving, and worst of all tears. Men can run a fortune 500 company, strategize an aggressive offense again gorilla soldiers, disassemble and reassemble a complex machine, but freeze when given a crying child. Think “deer in headlights.”

There are some lessons I learned raising three boys. Generally though, the solutions came well after the event. In reflection it was like “oh, I should have said/done this!” Now what I have learned looking back is that a child enters the world as the undisputed master of his or her universe. I did not know that. I did not understand that. No one told me it would be this way. I did not understand this tiny child would shift the balance of power in my world in ways nothing or no one else could. It took a while to figure out that fundamental lesson even though there were reoccurring teachable moments throughout the day. For many dads, we were clueless. We thought we could just set aside a couple of minutes because of the new child in the house, perhaps stop by the crib or bed and make funny noises and talk to our newest boarder. How stupid was that?

First, it was the crying which had the force of a King's royal authority. “Stop whatever lesser important thing you are doing and come here!!” The bellowing cry, often with tears, made many a new father panic and attempt to do anything to get them to stop crying. Men have quaked with fear and made ridiculous promises in an attempt to get them to stop crying. “I will buy you a new car when you are 16 if you will just stop crying.” You want to go to Harvard—not a problem, just stop crying. Because, men don't do well with crying. Well except when the team loses an important game. But it is manly to cry then, but a wife, a child shedding tears is the most unnerving horror many men will ever see. And then the man starts down his check list because that is what men do. We have check lists. We make lists and fix things. So, what is not working here? Diaper need changing? Nope baby dry. You hungry? Nope just fed. What is the problem? What am I supposed to do with another life form that won't tell me what is wrong? This lesson is critically important. You no longer have a say regarding what your day will look like. You no longer have autonomy over your check list. You have gone from a master of your domain to a servant of this tyrant child. Yep, that was the first lesson.

I also learned that somehow, the newest member of the household came into the world smarter than me. I can't explain it, because, well, I was supposed to be an adult who could be trusted with great responsibilities. I could think. I could think through a problem. I could work hard enough to provide for the family. Somehow that was not enough. So, at a certain point, I began to learn the wisdom of saying, “Stop that/ pause that/ quit talking and I will get back to you in a few moments. Then I would scamper out of the situation like a squirrel trying to escape a predator. Then I would think—quickly but perhaps no quickly enough. By the time I got back, the situation had changed so my solution was obsolete. It's just that way.

I also learned this new life was subversive and perhaps that was the greatest exercise of power, after the child's mother found her way into the deepest parts of my heart and world. Without any apparent effort, the child would bore into my heart and capture it in ways I did not dream possible. The smile of recognition, the giggle when we played silly simple games. Yep, I was powerless to stop it.

I also learned as my child grew I needed to learn new or different ways of leading and loving this child. I came from a good family and a father who showed his love by his tireless work to provide for our family. Dad didn't talk much as I recall. I knew he was there, I knew he cared deeply about me, but I can't remember us talking much. I don't think his dad talked much to him. So, I asked myself if I wanted to change that in raising my child. I did, because talking says so much to a child. It tells the child, “I see you. I extend my heart to you because you are connected and important to me. It says nothing else is really more important right now than your question, your comment, your need. I hoped it said, Like I see you and love you, Your heavenly Father sees and loves you so much more.” That time and spoken word or words were not always there as perhaps they should have been.

However the inexactness of the science, my sons have done well and moved on to marry and have families of cherished children. They have entered into this inexact science just as their father did. It was after they had married, we brought another son into our family both our home and extended family. Again, because of what happened before in his life, my efforts to move fatherhood a little more down the road has been a stretch. However, I know, this son deserves to be loved, to be kept safe, and to have some hope of a positive future.

Happy Fathers Day to all the men who have waded into this inexact science and become a part of the brotherhood of fathers. You are more important to your child than you will ever know.

Wash your hands, please wear your mask, mind the gap and be kind.

Day's End

This morning, we said goodbye to Anna's sister and husband, and began our long trek home. Arkansas is an amazing state with magnificent overlooks, majestic mountains, and some pretty good food. All of these we enjoyed.

Anna and I have stayed pretty close to home for the last couple of years which included putting down new roots in Round Rock. I guess it has been two years since we took vacation, so this was wonderful and visiting with Sandy and Bill in their new home.

Our trip took a slight detour to have supper with some very important people in our lives. Jarret and Allison Richardson and their two daughters hosted us for supper. We have not seen this branch of the Richardson family since their last daughter was born. They are amazing little girls, and reminded me a little of my granddaughters.

Jarret was one of three youth in our youth ministry who went on to get PhDs. For a small church it was amazing. These and the rest of the youth during that time were led well by Nick and Ann Marie Reeves. Course Nick got the money and Ann Marie did all the work. They were all amazing and I must say not only made good decisions, went on to college, and often married within the youth group. Jarret teaches at Centenary College of Louisiana. Allison works as a CASA supervisor for Shreveport. She also had a birthday the last couple of days and so we took birthday cupcakes and Blue Bell Vanilla Ice Cream. We threw in Jarret's early Father's Day just to round out the evening.

Allison is one of those people who endures the system because her faith demands she is on the front lines of intervening for at risk kids. Previous to this position, she worked for CPS in Texas which has the problems of under-staffing, under-budgeting, and early burn out of new workers. The last time I checked new employees to CPS lasted about three years, and then left. She has endured and unsurprisingly, with more passion and dedication to children, who no fault of their own, are neglected or abused. On the home front, during COVID, Jarret is being Mr Mom, as well as taking care of his curtailed duties at the college.

I know that one can take the measure of the function or dysfunction of a home by watching the kids. They were joyous, full of energy, but well behaved. I laughed with Jarret about being a father to girls comparing some of his experiences with those of Joseph. Both men are awesome dads.

Often, in the moments of events, one does not realize the significance of these times. Crescent Heights was absolutely the most missional, caring fellowship of believers. I had the privilege of pastoring three such congregations. Seventh Street Baptist Church was easy on the new to pastorate couple and walked with us through the birth of our two boys. Calvary Baptist Church, Mineral Wells, was an amazing people who came along side us when my father was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx and began a losing battle lasting two long years. Calvary did not just love us, they loved everyone who found their way to us. I remember a visit from some friends from Seventh Street who came for church and then went with us to K-Bobs Steak House for lunch. While we were eating, a man approached our table and asked, “Aren't you the pastor of Calvary Baptist Church?” I introduced myself and our guests. Then he said, “We got a note from your church after my daughter's baby died. It meant the world to us that your church acknowledged our deep loss.” That was Calvary.

Crescent Heights was the last church I served for over 15 years cutting our service short because Anna's sister was alone with the increasingly demanding care of their mother. I had seen what happens when adult children's ministry is too important to stop and come give care to their parents. I knew we could not do that. Something about honoring your father and mother. So, quickly gathering ourselves together, we transitioned to East Texas where I went to manage the Mental Health Department in the maximum security prison which housed Death Row.

I still remember my interview for the position because I met the peers and boss with whom I would work. I did a mediocre job of answering the questions, but as the interview was finishing, I asked a three questions, “How many Mental Health Managers have you had in this position in the last ten years?” I had done some research and my future boss hedged her answer, “I couldn't say exactly?” So I rephrased the question, “How many Mental Health Managers have you had at Polunsky in the last five years?” She gave me the exact number to which I asked my last question, “So what is wrong with the Mental Health Department at Polunsky?” Each of the panel looked at each other and then at me, and I detected a strong desire not to go there. I suspect if the question has been asked previously by a candidate, the answer was the deal breaker for the candidate. Finally, the future boss answered, “Well to be perfectly honest, it is a dysfunctional department, in a dysfunctional Infirmary, in a dysfunctional prison in a dysfunctional prison system.” I thought for a minute, and then responded, “Oh, I have been a Baptist Pastor, I do dysfunction. That is not a problem.” I think all my poor answers faded away when they discovered I would go in with my eyes wide open and was unafraid. Time passed and the yearly evaluation was presented to me over lunch in Huntsville at the Chili's right off the Interstate. We chatted and then she passed my evaluation to me. Then she said, “If I believed you could move this department from dysfunction to functioning as it should, there was no way I could see it happening in a year.” It was then I passed on a little gem I had learned two years before I left Abilene. It was a leadership gem. Jim Collins summed it up in his work, “From Good to Great” when he said, “Leadership is getting the right people on the bus, the wrong people off the bus and the right people in the right seats.”

So ends this little trip down memory lane. Anna and I often remark how we truly have lived “in the goodness of God.”

Wash your hands, please wear your mask as a caring gesture for all, mind the gap, and be kind.

A Conversation with Mr Stupid

Today Anna and I took her sister and husband out to eat for their 4^th wedding anniversary. It was a renown restaurant in these parts. We checked the website to see if they were open and on the website the adjusted times were most convenient for lunch. They boldly said the customers were to wear masks until eating and remove them only for the meal after which they were to put the masks back on. Worked for us and off we went. Reality was a bit different and mostly it was servers in masks and us. Everyone else were in the place without masks. We sat a comfortable distance from everyone, the meal very good, and I went to pay out. That is when I engaged(how shall I put this nicely) Mr Stupid. I affirmed I could only imagine how difficult it was to operate a restaurant at the lower capacity because of COVID-19. He said it was and that this whole COVID thing was a sham. He cited his wife as his greatest authority saying that “she said” people who came in for testing who had had a flu shot the last three years would test positive. I commented I had taken a flu short for the last 20 years and tested a month ago for COVID and it was negative. He said it was all nothing and there were no more deaths than the flu.(untrue https://www.livescience.com/covid-19-deaths-vs-flu-deaths.html) I mentioned not remembering a world wide economic shutdown—including the USA--for an outbreak of the flu. He said it was all a sham, just a rehearsal for the government declaring marshal law.

Generally, I don't engage people who choose to disbelieve good science and good medical advice. But somehow, it just slipped out. I have spent a lifetime listening to people's fantasies, ignorant opinions, but somehow this time is very different. The person who chooses to disbelieve the best information, choosing instead to believe unfounded conspiracy theories, baseless rumors, and bizarre ideas, can create a more dangerous place for everyone else as we move through this time.

What we know is that COVID is killing 20 times more people per week than the worse week with the flu. We know practically no one is immune and reports show children who have contracted the virus and died, teens who have contracted the virus and died, young men and women in early adulthood with no underlying health issues have had horrible experiences with COVID. Nick Cordero a 41 year old New York actor is fighting for his life, still has a steep road ahead, and has lost a limb to blood clots from the virus. While these stories are not daily occurrences what we do know is youth or health does not automatically exempt us from COVID. It is true that many will contact the virus and be asymptomatic that does not exclude them from being carriers which can infect others if everyone does not do their part.

Some have carelessly forgotten we all share this good earth. The power to face, flatten, and defeat perhaps one of the most potent viruses in our time requires us to love our neighbor as ourselves. It requires us to take steps for the common good. It requires us to be understanding and kind, and think about how we would respond as someone who believes they are not “at risk” if we were “the ones at risk” and would want others to respond. It is the “do to others what you would have them do to you,” truth of Scripture(Matthew 7:12).

One of the most troubling trends I see in our time is a selfish vocal minority demanding to be able to do as they please. “I have a right. . . .” “Don't deny me my right to. . . .” “Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and cannot do?” A nation such as ours can tear itself apart if we forget to love our neighbor. For too long we have limited that command to people like us, color like us, language like us, culture like us. Jesus, though, agreed with the expert in the law who spoke of the real neighbor as the one who showed mercy(Luke 10:25-37).

As we walk through these days, let us walk through them together, encouraging each other, and showing mercy to one another.

Wash your hands, wear your mask, mind the gap, and be kind

The Lack of Courage Today

While on our week vacation in the Ozark mountains of Arkansas, I am trying to get in a little leisure reading. I brought two therapy books, but have left them in the backpack in favor of a book I purchased some months ago. “The End of Greatness: Why America Can't Have(and Doesn't Want) Another Great President,” by Aaron David Miller.

These days on the mountain top looking over to another mountain range in the distance, reading this book, has caused some reflection on the shape of real leadership in our time. My conclusion has been we are poverty stricken for real leadership at most every level of life in America.

I sent an email to the president of Hardin-Simmons University, Eric Bruntmyer this morning following an email from him about all the wonderful things he and his team are doing. This is the president who refused to acknowledge the contacts and phone calls of over 1,000 stakeholders of Hardin-Simmons after he persuaded the trustees to close Logsdon Seminary. If that were not enough during his four years, he has closed whole schools, laid off numerous faculty, closed satellite campuses across the state, put out false and misleading financial reports all the while refusing to talk with Logsdon Alumni Association and others.

So, I sat down and wrote him a personal letter contrasting qualities of great leadership with his.

I was truthful but unsparing. Gathering up all the ways he has undermined the future of Hardin-Simmons I contrasted that with what great leaders would have done differently. I also mentioned he pushed off the problems he had created to former presidents. I noted I knew two of them and unlike him, they were great leaders.

Apparently, I struck a nerve because later today I looked and he had responded to my email. I have not decided when to read it and respond. I am on “holiday” after all. I waited on a response from him since February. Perhaps he can wait a few days on me---since I am “on holiday.”

I believe perhaps the missing character trait in leadership today is “courage.” Our military forces in war know courage because they must summon it each day. As I work with veterans, early on I tell them from my heart, what we are working on has absolutely nothing to do with weakness or lack of courage.

They have proven themselves courageous. I cannot say the same about leadership in our nation today. I have noted previously, elected leaders seem to be narrowly focused on getting elected and then staying elected. Little more than that happens of any consequence—except what happens in the absence of courage. Our racial strife is solely due to a lack of courage. Leaders refuse to address the historic problems related to African Americans desire to be fully equal to every other citizen. We struggle right now with a dysfunctional federal government which has been years in the making. Miller notes that Congress has degenerated into a profound partisanship unwilling to compromise and move the interests of us all further down the road. Compromise has become the new “obscenity.” Too many agendas, too many opinions and all of them of equal value. However that is not the case. It has never been the case.

Where are the national leaders of both parties who stand up and say, “We have allowed a broken immigration system to exist too long. We must come together and make compromises which enable us to do the right thing for those who are in our country or want to come to this country.” Where is presidential leadership during COVID-19? I suspect, as the death continues to rise across the nation, supporters of this president who lose a beloved relative because of the current administrations handling of this pandemic will so easily support the Republicans in November.

I believe it is courage that has shaped this nation, courage which has preserved this union, and courage which is profoundly absent in our time. Politicians only speak if they can run for cover. Politicians are afraid of the voters so that serve with a profound lack of integrity. Politicians today are easily frightened, easily cowered, and easily pressured. While I did not agree with everything John McCain advocated, without a doubt he was a politician of unusual courage.

There is probably no quarter of American life today that is not bereft of courage. That more than any other single issue may undermine everything we have come to value.

Wash your hands, wear your masks, and be kind

Sabbath and the rat at the end of the day

Where I grew up, I was not used to see water in shallow ponds, or small creeks. We lived in front of a “dry lake” from the time I was in 4^th grade until we left home. Only at the last did the city and the YMCA figure out a way to put water in it. That was just West Texas. Fortunately, all the world is not like West Texas.

Today we spent the day driving a scenic circle that started at the home of Anna's sister and husband and took us in a large square around some of the most beautiful scenery I have had the pleasure to enjoy. And I have seen a lot.

There are some things I have learned down through the years about self care, therapeutic rest, and the Old Testament concept of Sabbath. I have not always appreciated what I learned or put into practice what I learned(God's Slow Learner).

Sabbath is a confusing thing for Baptists, always has been and probably always will be. Early on as a pastor, I thought it important to help the congregation Sunday was not the “Sabbath.” It was the Lord's Day. It was one of many losing battles I fought. In my mind, it was pretty clear. Sabbath was the commemoration of Creation, worshiping the Creator and rest. It also was strictly speaking Sunset on Friday to Sunset on Saturday: the evening and the morning. Sunday was the Lord's Day and commemorated the Resurrection of Christ and the Worship of God. Same God, different focus. However, one of the things that fell away in the shift from Sabbath to the Lord's Day was the ritual of rest.

My journey in faith, in full time Christian service led me in paths where I began to understand what God had known all along. He has made us so that we are at our best when we take the time to rest. The problem is though we are fearfully and wonderfully made, we often do not understand the need or the power of whole body rest.

I have always been very curious about the meaning of being human. I remember taking a course in my curriculum for my Masters in Family Psychology, and the assignment Dr Doug Thomas gave his class. We were to provide a short theoretical paper on our concept of the self. After all, he reasoned if we were going to be treating people, we needed to know the target and its composition. That class, “Theories of Personality really challenged me to integrate my faith and psychological understandings in such a way I was better treating the whole person.

So, my etiology of the person needed to be more holistic. It was not surprising in my work I discovered problems were often more complex than presented or formulated. Teaching the Bible needed to reflect that, preaching needed to reflect that and living needed to reflect that.

I discovered some simple realities about myself. My mind could get tired. Emotionally, I could get tired. Certainly my body would get tired. However, those were not the sum of who I am. That vague “soul” could also get tired. Never really sure where it was in my body, but sure it was there. As the years have passed, I have sadly met a few soulless people. My shorthand for them are psychopaths/sociopaths.

Sabbath speaks to the pieces parts of our being. It is about rest: rest from the routine; rest from our daily rituals; rest for the weary body and often in Bible times the animals humans depended on; rest for the mind, for the emotions, and rest for the soul. Soul rest in my mind is the essence of worship. The soul which God placed in us is well described by Augustine of Hippo when he said, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” The soul/heart rests in worship drawing close to the Living God and the people of God. Sabbath rest for the soul is not a once a week exercise but a daily routine developed from love for God and devotion to God utilizing the Word of God, Holy Spirit enabling prayer and living out loud that renewed relationship.

There is also a sense in which mind rest, emotion rest, physical rest have a daily and a weekly cycle. However, we also need more than that. Some churches began to realize pastoral leadership needed a Sabbath rest beyond a vacation which was longer than a couple of weeks. Borrowed from academia, sabbaticals slowly came into the church. However, as technology has crept into the world, it is more difficult to withdraw from the world. Even when we are not away, well, we are not fully away.

Of course today, we have words to describe what happens when we do not do Sabbath. Pastors, ministers “burn out.” I remember hearing again and again pastors usually speaking at conferences referencing the notion “I would rather burn out than rust out!” I would remind myself and those ministers I would work with there is always a third choice: “We can wear out.” However, in order to wear out, we have to go the distance. We can only do that with Sabbath.

So Anna and I are doing Sabbath in a place where nature meets heaven offering splendorous landscapes which I am trying to capture with my camera. Deer come close to the house to feed. We found upon returning one lounging next to the road up to the house. I saw a beaver's butt scampering for safety after crossing the road thinking we were going to hit it. I remarked to my brother in law, “Not growing up around such a wondrous variety of animals, it is made harder when all I see is their butts and tails scampering for safety.” In answer to that smart remark, arriving at the front door Sandy noticed a critter behind an ornamental milk can. I saw a nose, large beady eyes, and then Sandy kicked the can and a rat ran out toward Anna. The only thing worse than hearing Anna scream into my right ear is hearing her sister equally loud, screaming into my left ear. I noticed they did not have the warm fuzzy feeling about the rat as they did about the deer.

I hope your summer plans include Sabbath.

Wash your hands, wear your masks, mind the gap and be kind.

It is Past Time to Cure the Poison of America's Racism

Took in a little sightseeing and went into Jasper. We stopped at an overlook beside a gift shop and not only was the scenery beautiful, I purchased a “soda pop” for $1.00. I saw a rebel flag and had a conversation in my head. “You know for a lot of folks when they look at that flag feel anxiety because they see that as a symbol of the slavery and oppression of their family members ages ago.” I imagined the person retorting, “It's just a flag, they need to get over it and move on.” My response would be, “You lost the war, you need to get over it and move on!” Those conversations are best left in my head.

This tipping point moment is not helped by the King's false prophets who rise up and defend the undefendable, support the unsupportable, and explain the unexplainable. In my lifetime I have never witnessed such extraordinary efforts to undermine the reputation of conservative Christians by cloaking this President in a mantle of Divine appointment. And continue to defend every divisive action of this cruel man.

What believers of faith need to focus their attention on in these days is the helping of African Americans move the issue of civil rights further down the road. It may not be the “best time” with a Republican Senate majority, and a president who has terrorized Republican office holders into a complicit silence allowing him to breach every boundary, cheapen public discourse, spew hate speech toward most immigrant groups and anyone who disagrees with him.

But it is the “right time.” It is the opportunity of people of faith to identify closely with those God identifies with. Anyone who reads Scripture with understanding cannot escape noticing God has an unchanging attitude toward corruption, injustice, and cruelty. His call again and again is justice and mercy. Truthfully, that is the struggle of our African American community since most of their forefathers were brought to America. No person is property. No person is less significant than another. No gender inferior to another. Their value and worth are settled in the heart of God because each is one for whom Christ died. So many times I walked the halls of the prison setting my heart on that truth. No one I ever met in prison was outside the love of God and the offer of salvation in Christ. The truth is more basic than even that. No one I have ever met is outside the love of God but is someone for whom Christ died.

If we truly want America to be great, really great(and not again), we will focus our attention on healing a poisonous wound which predates this nation, overlooked in our Declaration of Independence, ignored in the adoption of our Constitution, explained away in our writing and adoption of the Bill of Rights, and suppressed after the Civil War during Reconstruction, and left unhealed and untreated to this day. Historically our leaders have compromised on the rights of others they had no claim on which to compromise. The Bill has come due.

Some have pointed to some nebulous sinister forces pushing this movement for more justice, more inclusion in the opportunities of America, and more medical and mental health resources for all. In my mind, if there really are some sinister, radical groups working under the cover of this movement, the best way to isolate, expose, and neutralize the radical groups, is to elevate the rights of African Americans to the same freedoms, the same access to justice, the same opportunities shared by most Americans. Radicalism only works on the margins.

Let us join our brothers and sister at the back of the movement giving support, density, and encouragement as they lead to bring this nation to resolve and heal the one powerful poison which has over time made our national life sicker and sicker. Let's forego our temptation to tell others how they should go about this great work, and simply let them lead.

There are many in my generation who realize our days and our “summers” on this earth are drawing to a close. It would be one of the great accomplishments of our national life to finally face and begin to heal the racism and prejudice which has killed more than the COVID virus.

Wash your hands, wear your mask, mind the gap, and be kind

Journey's End

Today the Hobbit Chancellors made their way into deep Arkansas finally arriving at our destination at the home Sandy and Bill Cummings are transitioning to. It literally sits on top of a hill or mountain(not sure of when one becomes the other. They have this scenic overlook that is stunning. Bill, my brother-in-law paints and so he sees scenery from the vantage point of an artist. He tells me that between the clouds, the changing location of the sun, and shadows, every look is at a different scene. I plan to take my camera, a new gadget, my tripod and take pictures.

We passed by Toad Suck(yes there is such a place), and discovered to our dismay that Booger Holler no longer exists. Of course we were shattered by that news. We had stopped at an overlook and was admiring the view when another car pulled up and out came two really old adults(as opposed to just old) He was deaf and his wife was inquisitive asking Anna if this was our first time this way. She replied it was our first time. She asked where we were from to which Anna replied, “Texas.” Again she queried, “You are not from Florida?” It was not as odd a question as you might think. Our rental car had Florida plates. I was tempted to say, “The couple we hijacked the car from was from Florida—you got a problem with that?” I kept silent as the deaf husband asked the same questions. Then looking out over this majestic scene of rolling hills covered with trees, he said, “You know this used to be a beautiful sight until the trees grew too tall and covered everything up. They used to have souvenir shops all up and down this road, and traffic almost bumper to bumper. And now look at it, the trees have covered everything up, Booger Holler is gone, the shops are gone, the traffic is gone. Not the same. Just lots of trees!” I confessed that being from West Texas, trees still captivated me. He did not hear what I said, but gave a grumpy huff and got back in his car with his wife and they fled the scene. Nothing left to look at.

We overnighted in Texarkana, Arkansas, and trying to follow our son's instructions looked for takeout which we could eat in our room. IHOP had a limited take out menu—no salads. Micky Ds had a limited menu and no salads. We finally ended up in the drive thru at What-A-Burger behind a long line because their dining room was closed until further notice. Salad was still on the menu and as we waited, I found myself thinking of all the people who were showing up to work, so that we could get groceries, prepared foods, and the basic necessities of our lives. So I promised myself to redouble my efforts to find ways to express my personal appreciation for their efforts and bringing some sort of normality to the chaos of our time.

I could not help but notice how many people have wrongly believed COVID-19 is no longer a threat because “it's just the flu” The evidence is overwhelming it is not. However, facts are no match for ignorance. I rattled off in my mind what I knew: COVID-19 has crashed the economies of the world; people have flooded hospitals with critically ill patients where the treatment at the end (respirators) are in short supply and surviving the respirator is 20%; death rates are 418,000 world wide and rising; 117,000 deaths in the US alone partly because the government response was too slow and too erratic; One fourth of the deaths world wide have happened in America which one would think should have one of the greatest health care systems in the world coupled with one of the most efficient federal and state governments in the world.

Tragically, it is not over, the “curve has not flattened” and in Texas alone the death rate is climbing daily as life gets back to “normal.” Wise church leaders without a political agenda are very slow to reopen for services and have never believed this is or was a first amendment issue. Most common sense pastors will tell you doing funerals is not their most favorite pastoral duty. It is just a part of the job. In fact in all my years of pastoring and working with pastors, I don't remember any single person saying, “You know what I really love doing? Preaching funerals!” Wisdom says this is real and we need to lead the way in adjusting to this reality knowing it will not last forever. I thank God for those undershepherds who serve wisely in their leadership.

I find myself saying, “The greatest badge for being foolish and selfish in this time is not wearing a mask when you interact with others.” Foolish because so many of the faces I see are at high risks including people of color, morbid obesity, compromising underlying health conditions, age, and the randomness of who this virus kills. I was struck by the story of a New York Broadway actor/dancer aged 41 who is fighting for his life. He fits none of the factors which would put him at greater risk, but he has already had a leg amputated(blood clots from COVID), and even with that is still fighting for his life. This virus is very nasty and some scientists believe they have found evidence this virus has already mutated which means while proven treatment protocols might not change, a vaccine in time may not be enough to stop the virus.

I am always a proponent of getting the right information, listening to those who are spending their lives in treating or researching issues such as these, hearing the medical community as they speak into the issues surrounding this(hopefully) once in a lifetime pandemic. We should ignore those who are amateurs in the field of gathering, understanding, and communicating the truth without bias about what this virus is all about. It is really as simple as, “Would you rather me come to your house with my encyclopedia of knowledge,my wealth of experience, access to the World Wide Webb and diagnosis your sickness, and then proceed to perform surgery on your kitchen table with a dull knife and dirty cup towels; or would you choose to allow a skilled physician or surgeon take a scalpel to your body to resolve your issue?” It really is that kind of choice. However, in addition to that, getting out without a mask shows an unbelievable level of careless disregard for others who are trying to get what they need and stay safe. If you are an asymptomatic carrier as many are, your lack of social concern for others may kill someone you do not know, have never met or will never be linked back to your foolish demonstration of your personal right to be stupid. And, as we seeing, many are getting infected who are not “high risk” but end up in the Hospital ER, then ICU, and hopefully moved to a floor all of which puts your care givers at greater risk because you did not do your part. You will not be asked when you show up at the ER with a raging fever, sweating, inability to breathe if you did everything to protect yourself and if the answer is an honest “No, I thought it was just the flu.” They will still treat you. Your foolish decisions have put fathers, mothers, and their families at risk because you believed “it was just the flu.”

One of the virtues of this nation has been a sense of community and caring for others who are not our family. We need to see a little bit more of this consideration for your “neighbor.” Why? Jesus told us to do it. So let's do it.

Wash your hands, wear your masks, mind the gap and be kind.

Of Old Statues and Racial Pain

It was my intention this evening to just put a pause on my journaling because we were leaving on a trip to Arkansas. Anna's sister and brother in law are relocating there and well it would not do but for us to stuff ourselves in a car for 12 hours to make the trek.

So, as we began our little Hobbit journey, we looked in the rear view window to wave goodbye to the short nosed busy body with the ruffled feathers peaking over the hedge. Her feathers always seem to be ruffled about something or someone.

As we sailed haltingly down the interstate 35 without any significant traffic because of COVID-19---wait did I actually say that? The traffic was horrible and people were no longer thinking about COVID-19. Masks were cast recklessly aside and folks were running headlong into an impending re-occurance of the disaster we were not completely free of.

Anna and I were chatting and talking clients, cases, challenges and the things of our practices. That is what therapists do—at least that is what we do. But having caught up we passed by West,Texas and I was reminded of the tragedy that befell them. I thought I remembered the explosion that leveled the town was actually started by a volunteer fireman trying to help the department raise their budget.

Growing up in Odessa, I was not exposed to a lot of things, and exposed more than healthy to some seriously carcinogenic oils and odors. However, Volunteer Fire Departments were something of which I had no knowledge or exposure to. Our firefighters were city employees, stationed at firehouses around the city and when they took off sirens and barking dogs had us looking every direction to make sure we were not going to be run over by the professionals. It wasn't until my first year at Odessa College, I heard and learned about Volunteer Fire Departments. A new friend at the Baptist Student Union was from Notrees(You got it because there were—wait for it—no trees. Our Boy Scout troop actually did a camp out at Notrees and from that day forward, I refused to pray for my scout leader who subjected us to such torture. This friend noted with pride he was a member of the Volunteer Fire Department. I responded with a quizzical look and said, “Volunteer Fire Department? What is that?” A conversation ensued in which he regaled me about some of his adventures working with the VFD. I have forgotten most of his comments except when he told me, “Our motto is 'We have never lost a lot yet.'” We laughed, I remembered.

Imagine my surprise in the years to come at least two communities where I pastored had volunteer fire departments. Our last residence was in a community with VFDs. One of the interesting features of this venerable institution was that often they were funded by the County Commissioners based upon the fire calls they responded to. So occasionally, a VFD person would take it upon himself(always a man) to set a few fires to help out the funding of the department. I sort of think about that in the political climate right now in America. We have a great “fire starter” but a less successful “fire extinguisher,” and in the process does great harm. So to distract for the miserable job of containing the mess, he sets another fire as a distraction to the one he was unable to control.

The other random thought I had traveling down I35 was the uproar over Confederate heroes memorialized in statues placed in public places most often in the South. It reminded me of a Member Care trip Anna and I made to see all our families scattered through out Eastern Europe. One family was in Hungary right outside Budapest. The visit with the family was memorable, as were the sights of Buda on the one side of the Danube and Pest on the other side. It was on one side of the Danube we were able to look across at the Hungarian Parliament Buildings. This incredible sight looked for Anna and I straight out of the Lord of the Rings saga. Somewhere in being shuttled from place to place, our hosts pointed out a road that went to a statuary park where all the heroes of Communist era's statues had been relocated to.

I don't believe whites can fully appreciate what the trappings of the old South do to African Americans. It seems the society has not moved on, has not left behind a dark, dark period in the history of this nation that kept African American descendants as slaves. It is as if, nothing had really changed and so these symbols flaunted with such pride and nostalgia are intentionally done to hurt those who were most vulnerable to slavery. These are not empty symbols, empty names, meaningless statues, these are a history of injustice and oppression.

All of that is to say, let the Hungarians influence us. Gather all the statues in each state, designate a park of some kind where these are displayed for those who want to come and see. Remove them from public spaces that are supposed to invite all to enjoy the space. It would be a huge step toward repentance and reconciliation which would not go unnoticed.

Wash you hands, mind the gap—even in Arkansas, and be kind.

A Hill To Die On

Tonight Anna and I got out for our date night interrupted by COVID-19—which gives me another reason to dislike this particular virus. So we went out to our favorite place for our favorite food. As it happens today was their first day back in business. Liberty BBQ has awesome brisket, sausage, and sides that are good for me. So Anna wins because she loves BBQ, and I get to eat more than meat.

It was during that meal I shared with her my sense this time in America could be a tipping point in combating the scourge of racism which has hurt us all. Some would argue differently, but I know that when we allow people to be treated with less value than the value we hold for ourselves and our family, it diminishes us all. So, I told her about something I was thinking about as I was headed to the office for an appointment. On the way, I saw an auto with “Black Lives Matter” on the back glass. And then it hit me. My response should be “Black Lives Matter To Me Too.”

Routinely, across this nation we have struggled with immigrants, (which has some irony in that everyone but Native Americans are immigrants)but on the whole over a period of time, many are assimilated into the “value stream” of America. There are always haters, always bigots, always people who believe elevating another ethnic group or race to equality somehow diminishes them, but such thinking is not grounded in reality. African Americans are different in that most or nearly all who ended up in America did not want to come. They were kidnapped brought to America against their will, sold at auctions like some livestock or commodity, and then worked the rest of their lives with their value determined by their “owner” in the category of property. Those core differences are what makes the African American experience so fundamentally different than most every other ethnic group with perhaps the exception of Native Americans who were hated, slaughtered, ultimately confined to reservations with all their lands stripped from them. We still have a distance to go with Native Americans.

So I told Anna I wanted to put up a sign in our front yard that simply stated, “Black Lives Matter to Me Too.” She suggested I talk with the oldest son before I do that. As a law enforcement officer, I have ridden with him when he was on patrol as he arrested folks put them in the back in hand cuffs, and then talked to them about Christ. I know the kind of officer he is. I know the kind of man he is. I also know how easy it is to struggle when you see other law enforcement personnel treated badly, thrown at, shot at, and generally disrespected. We both know there are some which should not be in any place of power or influence, but I also know how deeply I respect those who choose to serve their communities in times like these. I support them, I pray for them, and I want each man or woman in law enforcement to go home after their shift with all their fingers and toes.

However, if we stop kicking the can of “judgment day or reckoning day” down the streets of time, it will take the visual support of a lot of white people. We don't have to support those who under the cover of marches loot and destroy, but such reckless behavior must not dissuade us for vocally standing up for what is right. I confess I am not much of a marcher or demonstrator, but there have been several tipping point moments for me. In Livingston, the national atmosphere was becoming too toxic toward immigrants and I purchased a sign online that read, “Where ever you are from, I am glad you are here.” It stayed in the front yard until it fell apart. It was a small step but an important statement I felt very deeply about. Several years ago, I was reading a devotional book and there was one line that captured my heart, my mind, and went down into my soul. “You don't have to die on every hill, but you need to pick one.” That I am still alive does not convey my efforts to make a difference in my world wherever I was. There were several hills I shed some blood on, but lived another day. This issue, this cause may be a hill I am willing to die on. One person can only do so much, but he can do something. But one person standing with other passionate people can change a nation, redeem an ongoing national sin, elevate a people into the equality they always deserved but were not given. That will truly make America Great.

Wash you hands, mind the gap, and be kind.

George Floyd and a Tipping Point

George Floyd's death at the hands of law enforcement is not more important than any other person who has died unnecessarily at the hands of law enforcement but neither is his death less important or less tragic as any person who has needlessly died at the hands of law enforcement. However, George Floyd's death could be what Malcolm Gladwell called a “tipping point.” Gladwell puts it this way, “The tipping point is that magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behavior crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire.”

That is what we need at this point to move racial equality forward in America. We need a “wildfire” movement that spans the nation and brings together everyone who has an investment in making this country what its founding documents said it was but has not been nor is not now. Rioting will not work, the destruction of property and the loss of life will not work. All of those will be used to discredit the movement. The deep seated racist hatred in this country will try to push back. Already feeling ignored and disenfranchised in a modern America, they will react with vengeance. Of that I have no doubt.

The inspiring work of Martin Luther King Jr is exactly the paradigm for what must happen with a couple of differences. “Black Lives Matter” leadership and demonstrators need to be joined by white people of faith and courage. If the privileged of this country, and this economy cannot see the inequities which settle heavily on people of color, the poor, the illegal immigrants, this tipping point will be for naught.

We also need to focus that “wildfire” to identify clearly who the enemy is and who the enemy is not. I would suggest routinely, law enforcement is not the enemy. As I have mentioned previously, law enforcement has had both an ignoble history of cooperation with the structures of racism. Today's law enforcement must understand that history as well as deal with the challenge of a more dangerous street. The Congressional failure and neglect on stemming the flood of weapons of war pouring into our cities has multiplied the grief and loss of life both of people of all colors and law enforcement dying in the line of duty.

The enemies of racial equality in my mind are first those institutions whose deep histories have perpetuated racial inequality. State governments, political parties, local and county governments, and the United States Congress, the Executive Branch, and Judicial Branch have failed to move equality forward from the beginning of this nation. Legislation that guarantees equality, immigrant rights, illegal immigrants safety and judicial rights are wanting. More than that, courts at the local level fail to require able defenses for people of color and the poor. State and federal courts which rule unfairly and exclusively. Criminal Justice is often another pillar of discrimination. Prison populations should more closely mirror population demographics than are currently seen. When that changes, voices should be raised and solutions found. In fact, ongoing studies of who ends up in prison can guide us to better ways to educate, better ways to deal with juvenile offenders, better ways to treat the mentally ill, and better ways to have accessible health care. The current banking system is really closed to many lower income and people of color. In America, the poor are limited to “payday” loan companies, and pawn shops. I remember a rather wealthy man in the church I served who was retired but kept an office downtown. One of my visits with him was interrupted by a Black city employee who came to make a payment on his car. The payment was made, the receipt was given and then he left. The businessman looked at me and said, “You are probably curious about what just happened?” He went on, “I have know this man since he was a child. He has worked for the city for years, I loaned him the money to buy a car because none of our banks would. He has never missed a payment.” This is what I am talking about.

Most of all, with this long list(but not complete—which should bother us) of structural racism, what is most needed is a tsunami of white people of faith and white people who are moved by the years of struggle of our neighbors and coworkers who daily arise to be faced with diminished value, opportunity, and resources.

Whites can lend support, leverage, but must humbly go to the back and let our people of color lead. There are two reasons why. First they have the most experience in racism and standing up to it. Second, they have so much to teach us about the struggle to be free. Flooding the streets with support but humbly getting at the back of the “bus” will move us further down the road in our own atonement for our participation perpetuating inequality.

This could be our “magic moment”

Wash you hands, mind the gap, and be kind.