Lately my attention was called to the fact that several have asked questions about me. I debated strongly whether to address the questions, or if it would be best to just let them lie. As I write this, I’m still conflicted, but will post my answers in an attempt to allay any concerns that you may have. If you, the loyal reader, are one of those who have felt it proper to ask these questions, then here are your answers, directly from me. If you know someone who would like to read these answers, I ask that you share the web address with them, or print this and share it. Furthermore, I am fully willing and eager to engage further discussion with you, and I invite you to contact me directly to continue the conversation. You can find a link to my email in the “comment” section at the end of this blog.
In constructing this posting, I have made every effort to avoid the opportunity, or even the appearance, that I’m casting stones or making others look inferior or bad. That is absolutely not my intention. Additionally, while my replies may seem dismissive of your concerns, they are not intended to be. It is difficult, though, to restrain the sharpness of some of the answers, and I trust that if you were in a similar situation you would understand.
What does concern me, though, is the fact that these questions have been posed to others. Why not come to me directly? I take no offense in your inquisitiveness. I do, however, take offense in that the nature of the questions presuppose that I am supposed to behave or conform to some intangible set of norms of which I am not aware.
Before you read the remainder of this posting, I would invite you to read my previous posts entitled Marhaba, I will give you rest, The Masquerade, and Finishing from Earlier. They will give you some background and insight into my line of thinking.
1. Why did he move back here?
I came back to Indianola for several reasons. First and foremost, I came back so I could be close to my son. Seventy miles of separation made it extremely difficult for me to fulfill any of my responsibilities as a father, not to mention the emotional toll it was taking on both of us. We could not exercise an appropriate relationship at such a distance. Secondly, Indianola has been “home” for about one-third of my life, and I have no desire to re-establish myself in a new area.
2. I thought they weren’t seeing each other any more?
I did not seek divorce. In fact, I sought reconciliation, but it was not forthcoming. I am a now single person, and am free to pursue any relationship that I may desire.
3. Why do they still come to church here?
Psalm 122:1 says “I rejoiced with those who said to me, let us go into the house of the LORD” … FBC Indianola has, like the town, been my “home” for about a third of my life. It is where I choose to worship. I am comfortable here, I enjoy the fellowship, and the family that our church is. I maintain my membership and attend there for one purpose – to worship. I’m not there to see or be seen. It is as much my church as it is yours, a place where I’m comfortable and feel welcomed and loved.
4. Do they not realize the pain they are still causing?
How can I still “cause pain” when I have confessed my transgression before God and man? It is my understanding that I have forgiveness, that my sins are remembered no more. How can I still “cause pain”, then, unless there are those who have not forgiven? What power do I have to ease your pain? Is not God’s forgiveness sufficient cause for you to forgive also?
5. Why do they parade around like they haven’t done anything wrong?
This question implies that I have been flaunting or forcing something upon someone. This question also implies that there exists a great deal of variance in perceptions. I do not perceive that I have flaunted or “paraded” in any way, save that I know where I stand as a forgiven Christian.
Jeremiah 9: 23 This is what the LORD says: "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, 24 but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight," declares the LORD
2 Corinthians 12: 8Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 10That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Ephesians 2: 8For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9not by works, so that no one can boast. 10For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
If I am parading/flaunting/boasting...it is in the full knowledge that although I committed a grievous sin and error, I am forgiven by the ONE, the Alpha and the Omega. Rejoice with me in that!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Big Five....
I did one of those online personality quiz thingies...the results are below. Agree or disagree? You can click on the link to get a full description of the scores.
| % | |
|---|---|
| Openness | 61% |
| Conscientiousness | 70% |
| Extraversion | 41% |
| Agreeableness | 79% |
| Neuroticism | 28% |
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
La Danse Macabre...
Sociology was my minor course of study in college, as I've always enjoyed watching people and observing how our social mores, norms, customs, and values influence our interaction. I'm most enchanted by our own regional influences of hospitality, grace, and etiquette..."Southern charm" as some may call it. I like it, and like to engage in it too.
Above all these things, though, it has been said that you can judge a society by the way they honor their dead. In fact, even a cursory study of funerary customs will reveal that on the whole, our practices have essentially seen little alteration from ancient history through modern times.
This writing is influenced by the knowledge that a family nearby is executing these rituals this week for a young son. They are participating in the dance of death...la danse macabre...quietly, almost unknowingly, repeating the social norms learned through other funerals attended. The initial shock and horror of the notification, the planning and conduct of a visitation, and today the funeral itself. They're carrying out unwritten rituals, and we are participating in their grief, almost without conscious thought, simply responding to something originating from deeper within ourselves. Perhaps it is because we have done it before, or know that our actions will be repeated in our own name one day.
Yet while I find it an interesting observation in an academic sense, the spiritual side of my being cannot understand the abject grief. Instead of deep sorrow at what is ultimately or own loss, why are we not celebrating the life that was lived, and the calling Home of a Christian soul? Today as a young man is remembered, I'm certain among his family there will be sorrow and grief for the life cut short, for all the hopes and dreams that will never be realized. Yet why? Why do we mourn that this young man will never have to experience the death of a beloved pet, the break-up with his first girlfriend, the defeat of losing a job, the trials of parenthood, the fear of battling diseases as his body ages? He is celebrating now, in a place where the sun never dims, where tears, if they are shed at all, are only shed in joy. Certainly I'm not wishing for the ultimate alternative, but I do have a bit of envy for him today.
A few years ago, a wonderful lady who kept watch over our children in nursery at church passed away on a rainy night, alone at home. A jovial lady, she was quick to laugh and take joy in all "her babies" as they passed through on Sundays, including my son. For him, it would be his first Black-folk funeral to attend. Mind you, with his age he didn't take to funerals very well, as the ones he had previously attended were for relatives. So as we dressed and tied our ties that day, I felt it incumbent to enlighten him about the cultural differences our African-American friends exercise in their danse macabre. He's a very bright boy, and is very observant of people too. But oh my I wish you could have seen his face as I described how this funeral would be vastly different from any he'd previously experienced. I just urged him to sit back and let it all soak in. While "white folk" funerals are solemn and somber occasions, this one would not be the case. This would be a celebration, and almost festive in a way. Certainly there would be wailing from among the family bereft. But there would be more enthusiasm on display to honor the life, not to mourn the death.
Midway through the viewing of the body, of which Jay would have no part of, I leaned over and told him that when I'm the one lying in the casket, he better send me out in a grand celebration, not some slow, somber ceremony. He laughed at me, but he understood. I want you to laugh at my funeral, to stand and sing, to clap your hands and raise your voices. Not for me, though. Sing in celebration, because I'm doing better than you!
If I could sit back and apply my sociologically-inspired observations to a funeral, it would be a New Orleans "funeral with music." (The term "jazz funeral" is not necessarily correct.) They celebrate! I seriously doubt that any of my survivors would contemplate the notion of such a festive send-off, but for godness sakes DO NOT MOURN ME! Have some fun, because I finished the race before you did. Celebrate that! Praise God and preach the Gospel at my funeral, friends. Let la danse macabre be a conga line!
Above all these things, though, it has been said that you can judge a society by the way they honor their dead. In fact, even a cursory study of funerary customs will reveal that on the whole, our practices have essentially seen little alteration from ancient history through modern times.
This writing is influenced by the knowledge that a family nearby is executing these rituals this week for a young son. They are participating in the dance of death...la danse macabre...quietly, almost unknowingly, repeating the social norms learned through other funerals attended. The initial shock and horror of the notification, the planning and conduct of a visitation, and today the funeral itself. They're carrying out unwritten rituals, and we are participating in their grief, almost without conscious thought, simply responding to something originating from deeper within ourselves. Perhaps it is because we have done it before, or know that our actions will be repeated in our own name one day.
Yet while I find it an interesting observation in an academic sense, the spiritual side of my being cannot understand the abject grief. Instead of deep sorrow at what is ultimately or own loss, why are we not celebrating the life that was lived, and the calling Home of a Christian soul? Today as a young man is remembered, I'm certain among his family there will be sorrow and grief for the life cut short, for all the hopes and dreams that will never be realized. Yet why? Why do we mourn that this young man will never have to experience the death of a beloved pet, the break-up with his first girlfriend, the defeat of losing a job, the trials of parenthood, the fear of battling diseases as his body ages? He is celebrating now, in a place where the sun never dims, where tears, if they are shed at all, are only shed in joy. Certainly I'm not wishing for the ultimate alternative, but I do have a bit of envy for him today.
A few years ago, a wonderful lady who kept watch over our children in nursery at church passed away on a rainy night, alone at home. A jovial lady, she was quick to laugh and take joy in all "her babies" as they passed through on Sundays, including my son. For him, it would be his first Black-folk funeral to attend. Mind you, with his age he didn't take to funerals very well, as the ones he had previously attended were for relatives. So as we dressed and tied our ties that day, I felt it incumbent to enlighten him about the cultural differences our African-American friends exercise in their danse macabre. He's a very bright boy, and is very observant of people too. But oh my I wish you could have seen his face as I described how this funeral would be vastly different from any he'd previously experienced. I just urged him to sit back and let it all soak in. While "white folk" funerals are solemn and somber occasions, this one would not be the case. This would be a celebration, and almost festive in a way. Certainly there would be wailing from among the family bereft. But there would be more enthusiasm on display to honor the life, not to mourn the death.
Midway through the viewing of the body, of which Jay would have no part of, I leaned over and told him that when I'm the one lying in the casket, he better send me out in a grand celebration, not some slow, somber ceremony. He laughed at me, but he understood. I want you to laugh at my funeral, to stand and sing, to clap your hands and raise your voices. Not for me, though. Sing in celebration, because I'm doing better than you!
If I could sit back and apply my sociologically-inspired observations to a funeral, it would be a New Orleans "funeral with music." (The term "jazz funeral" is not necessarily correct.) They celebrate! I seriously doubt that any of my survivors would contemplate the notion of such a festive send-off, but for godness sakes DO NOT MOURN ME! Have some fun, because I finished the race before you did. Celebrate that! Praise God and preach the Gospel at my funeral, friends. Let la danse macabre be a conga line!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Soon and very soon....
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King...Late yesterday evening, a close friend and colleague called, asking to put our Crisis Intervention Team on standby for paramedics, law officers, and rescue personnel who had worked a very serious case involving a young boy in a 4-wheeler accident. The lad didn't survive, as you might expect. Anytime people in my profession deal with kids, it is very difficult to say the least. And as hard as we try not to, we often "project" our own kids into the mental imagery we have of the event....and the demons make us ask ourselves "what if it was my own..." Our team helps those professionals in dealing with the emotions and stress, so that they can continue the important work they've been called to do.
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King...
Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King...
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, we're going to see the King...
But this case took a turn later in the evening. I found out the child was the youngest son of a friend of mine that I grew up in the same town with. She's the oldest of four sisters, and I'd graduated with the middle sister. A really great, close family.
In so many ways in life, our faith is tested...or we think it is being tested. Certainly our system of beliefs, fairness, justice, and sometimes faith is pushed. We wonder why, and far too often there aren't patent answers. But one thing I have learned...we're not truly being TESTED. We're being grown and made stronger in our tribulations. I've written before that "we" as humans probably put too much into what is really a simple faith. The span of eternity is not comprehensible to us as finite creatures that live on the movement of time. In truth, eternity is NOT time, as it neither began, nor shall it end.
This morning as I awoke with my own son, and took joy in the pleasure he gives me as both my son and my friend, I inadvertently "projected" him into a lot of the traumas I have participated in over my career in public safety. It didn't take me long to pull back to reality, and I'm fine. No problems. As the morning progressed, I checked in with some friends of this family that has been so horribly afflicted this weekend. They related news, that the contemplation of which is even still amazing to me.
Tyler, the young man who died Saturday, had become a Christian. He was walking in the life of salvation, with the promise that an eternity in Heaven with Christ would be his reward. He had taken that simple leap of faith....to say "yes, I believe." He had breathed those words just one day before his step into eternity.
No more dying there, we are going to see the King...Now a mother and a father, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents grieve. Tyler's story hadn't had a chance to even be told by the pastor of that vacation Bible school yet. He met the family at home after they made that long journey from the hospital. Wow! Both a heavy heart, and a cause for celebration in that one sentence he had to share with them.
No more dying there, we are going to see the King...
No more dying there, we are going to see the King...
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, we are going to see the King!!!
When I went into my own church today, our pianist and bass guitarist were practicing the choir's special. It was a very bluesy version of "Soon and Very Soon." Like a slap in the face, the words came. What does Tyler have in his salvation that I don't have in almost 30 years of being a Christian???? What does he know, what does he have? To me, the answer was simple...absolutely NOTHING. Nothing short of Heaven itself right now.
The sermon was on patience and longsuffering. How, though, can a mother who has just lost her youngest son be PATIENT with God? Remember, we're humans, we "put on" a lot to our faith that maybe shouldn't be there. God's not surprised with anything. He gave Tyler EVERYTHING that he offers "mature" Christians. While we put a lot of stock into a whole lot of activity, study, ministry, outreach, fellowship....with hopes of "laying up treasures in Heaven", Tyler got a full return on a one-day investment in BELIEF.
No more crying there, we are going to see the King...Faith is simple. We're called to believe. I hope you believe like Tyler did.
No more crying there, we are going to see the King...
No more crying there, we are going to see the King...
HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH, WE ARE GOING TO SEE THE KING!!!!
Friday, June 5, 2009
IMG00048.jpg
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)