Brainwaves

The young woman who conducted the training for our “Safe Crisis Management” class was obviously at least several months pregnant. She also teaches school, seven hours a day, five days a week, at a nearby juvenile correction facility; and I thought it amusing that she should pronounce a blessing on those of us working in elementary education. To her way of thinking, it was easier handling “the tough guys” than dealing with the younger children’s tears. She wasn’t petite, in the sense of being delicate and frail, but neither was she “built like a bull moose”. Skilled in the art of bringing an attacker into submission, she also learned the psychiatrics of her job until, now, having achieved the ability to get into both the heart and the head of her students, she finds herself endeared to a job that most of us would probably rather not take..…..

Take away the size and the physical strength of those inmates, however, and there are a lot of similarities between our assignments. First, while the powers that be address such issues in terms of “preventing bodily harm to all parties involved”, who’s kidding who? The real concern is trying to avoid legal responsibility that might be breached along the way. Money is always “the name of the game”. Secondly, the statistics passed from her to us, regarding what creates a young prisoner of the state, also apply to my kids. She’s just catching the final product, while we see it in its early stages; and therein, I think, is the difference. By the time the cell door swings shut behind them, their minds are set in concrete and it takes a miracle to break down those walls; but if, during construction, a greater truth can implanted, what sadness can be spared…….

Only three weeks into my summer break and I found myself, today, sitting in a six-hour training session, renewing my knowledge of “Safe Crisis Management” skills. Within the scope of my salaried position is a required minimum of four days attending classes which should prove beneficial to the job. There’s a variety of subjects offered. This one mainly presents methods for handling behavior problems, teaching us how to subdue a child so as to prevent any physical harm occurring to any and all involved parties. I’ve been to a couple of these schoolings in the past few years, but how much actual skill I’ve retained is probably debatable. My experience in Special-Ed has given very little occasion to ever utilize any of it and my memory is lucky anymore if it recalls what I had for breakfast, let alone ancient instruction force-fed my brain once upon a time. The basic idea, though, is pretty simple to comprehend: Never create contact with any other individual whereby you or your employer could be held legally responsible………

I’m wondering if the same thing applies spiritually. A preacher here locally was reported to have won a relative over to her particular theology of “If your faith is strong enough, if you stand upon it, He WILL heal you!” The fellow refused all treatment, firmly believing his disease had been cured. When he died, leaving behind a substantial portion of money earmarked for the ministry he had embraced, his sons took the matter to court, protesting that their father would still be alive had the prophetess not convinced him to walk away from the doctors. It made the newspaper; but if the issue was ever officially settled, the finale escaped me. I must have been taking it easy on summer break………

Not realizing the “Planet Earth” series could be purchased locally, after watching a couple of Discovery episodes, I asked Beth to order the package being offered via television. What she encountered was a high-powered sales pitch attempting to unload larger volumes of the product at much higher prices. She endured. Now, however, I’m tempted to investigate that which we declined. Not that my Annie Dillard literary collection hasn’t already brought me enough wonder about the world around us, but that this documentary gives one an ability to watch it as it happens. Sea turtles, frigate birds, and Arctic penguins, all possessing an inner navigational instinct bidding them to return each year to a particular beach, a specific hunk of rock, a certain spot in the middle of nothing but frozen waste, for no other reason than to ensure their kind continues. Survival: the name of the game, as if, mechanically, like little pac-men, the only purpose to such existence is merely finding something to eat before you, yourself, become the main course on the other guy’s menu! Androids, fulfilling individual roles; but, in truth, each somehow connected to the other in a circle of life……….

Where does that leave us, though, other than maybe at the top of the food chain if we think fast, aim well, and fire before the leopard leaps? There are those who would try to separate us from the beasts by declaring we, not they, are singular in owning something they call a soul; and if a soul can be defined as that reasoning part of who we are, perhaps they have a point. Then, again, some animals have exhibited uncanny potential to learn, solving simple problems, and especially if the reward involves something to eat or the right to take breath another day. No; we may, indeed, be a bit more advanced brain-wise, but I’m inclined to believe it is not so much our intelligence that distinguishes us, but our inquisitiveness. We tend to ask questions. It is not enough for us to know the sun gives heat. We want to know how it works, who put it there in the first place, and is there a chance it could ever go away. What we don’t understand, some of us worship, some attempt to bring it into those things already conquered, and others just take it all for granted. I count myself a member of that first group, trusting in those things already confirmed, believing He will continue to lead me through that which is beyond my grasp………

The monthly service at the rescue mission has been but one of two outreaches that have fed my faith for the last few years. The mission, in particular, though, allows for a sense of fellowship, bringing to us a few familiar faces who, having been ministered to by the program, still return there to worship. It varies, of course. Transients come and go. Even the staff changes from time to time. Almost always, however, what we find in this group is a knowledge of the Gospel and a hunger for hope. These are, for the most part, older men who have hit the bottom, possess nothing but a few meager personal items, and yet dare to believe in a God who still loves them…….

The Youth Detention Center is always a fresh bunch of teenagers, one or two sometimes looking no older than Fourth or Fifth Grade Elementary students. On the average, about half will raise their hand in a positive response to a belief in the Creator; less to a query of having any prior church experience. Whether here or at the mission, though, it makes little difference what their theological opinions are. What matters is that, as a body, we can touch the hem of His garment and know the flow of His presence in our midst; and, often, that’s a bit harder to accomplish with young minds who consider our being there just one more attempt to govern their life.……

Prayer is the key; but, in my use of that term, I do not refer to simply bowing our heads while someone else directs a well-worded paragraph toward heaven. Indeed, if “church” has mis-taught us anything, in my opinion, it is the notion that communication with the Almighty is achieved in such manner. The Bible says that faith is a divine gift which is created within our heart as He confirms Himself unto us. Shouldn’t, then, a resurrected Christ “in” me provide more than a one-way hook-up? Can it be that too often we, as a corporate gathering, are just too concerned with the next item on our agenda to wait on Him to complete the circuit?.......

When you frequent any certain restaurant nearly six to ten times a week, you not only develop a familiarity with the employees, but you also experience the blunders that just make all of us part of the human race. No “fly in my soup” yet, but items like: a turkey-spinach omelet once served void of any meat at all inside; and, last night, a barbecued chicken delivered to the table yet to be united with any barbecue sauce. While I try to be understanding of most issues, I did leave one particular location in Alabama once when we found ourselves waiting for waitresses to come to work before we could be seated. What if, though, instead of your next meal, the focus was on your next breath? How would you handle that situation?...........

My brother-in-law has had several reasons, lately, to question the credentials of the medical profession. A few weeks ago, during one hospital visit, the doctor dialoguing with him in his room admitted he must have examined the wrong files and therefore was talking with wrong patient! Yesterday, in the middle of performing Angioplasty, his doctor suddenly pronounces himself “unqualified” to continue; and Jess is then not only told he’ll have to wait on another member of the partnership to arrive before the procedure can be completed, but also that he will have to lie perfectly still until that time. If he moves, the wire exploring his arteries might tear something and he could possibly bleed to death! Over four hours later……….

It is at times like this that you are especially thankful for a relationship with your Maker that allows you to pray………..

To some, it seems they think their Christian conversion suddenly transformed them to raise the dead, run off devils, and replace the Holy Ghost in all affairs. Never mind they hurt people in the process. Authority has been stamped upon their credentials, boldness bled into their identity. At the same time, for others, membership in the Body mandates that the need to now change themselves by producing in their life certain spiritual fruit never successfully grown there before. Somehow, neither approach ever seemed to me to best represent what the Gospel teaches us. I tend to see carnality as always being a part of who we are; and the “good news” isn’t so much about an extreme make-over, but about a partnership regained………..

Thinking my oldest grandson to have been disrespectful to his aunt, I stomped into the room where he had been noisily wrestling with his cousin, pointed my finger in his face, and strongly suggested he could go home if he couldn’t behave. My wife would find him, afterwards, sitting alone, tears in his eyes, and with an attitude of “nothing matters” to her attempt of consolation. Discovering the original situation had not been the rebellious state of affair I had envisioned it to be did nothing to help my own spirits, either. Twice I went to him, confessing my error, extending my apology, and assuring him of my love. It’s not easy to patch broken china, though; and my mood going into Father’s Day wasn’t all that smug in its self-evaluation…………

Relationship, whether on a vertical or horizontal basis, is maintained through those same basics that Jesus laid out for the woman at the well: “in spirit and in truth”. Stumbling is part of the process, as long as we continue to work out the details of our salvation in all honesty and sincerity, surrendering ourselves unto each other in Him. It was humbling when Cody’s mother handed me the card Sunday. “With love from your daughter,” it began, and then began to list the superb qualities of my character. More than just verse, however, each member of her family had personally penned me a message; and when I arrived at the grandson’s, it was my turn to weep. “To the Papaw,” he had written, “who means everything to me”…………

In “Searching for God in America”, a Los Angeles radio personality interviews (circa 1996) a number of well-known people who represent a variety of religious beliefs. It’s my second time to peruse its contents and I’m no more in agreement with the Islamic, Iranian-born, university professor than during the initial reading. Likewise, when the Mormon elder thrice side-steps inquiry concerning disagreements between his faith and the rest of Protestant Christianity, he scores no points with me, especially after he then confesses to an ecclesiastical policy of “my way or the highway”……….

I got little confused with an African Methodist Episcopalian minister who not only identifies many of the Old Testament personage as having been black, but also sees the Church “called on to be militant”. The ex-Watergate-convict-turned-prison-evangelist gave solid testimony, in my opinion, and the first woman president of the Christian College Coalition spoke good sense regarding our salvation being a life-time experience. It was the Jewish rabbi, however, who fed me the most, defining prayer as “not a wish list unto God, but a coming into His presence and being changed”……….

There’s still a Trappist monk and the Dalai Lama to traverse, of course; but as I listen to all these servants of the Almighty (the latter perhaps questionable to some deist’s perception of things), I hear them all express themselves in terms that sound sincere. We are separated only by certain points into which each of us have sunk our egos deep enough to bet eternity on the outcome; and considering the condition of a man’s spiritual make-up, I ask: Just how secure are any of us in what we possess if it exists only in the reasoning of our own mind? How can we be sure of what we preach?............

I want more. More than my (or your) interpretation of the Book. More than emotions being stirred through realization of who and what I am. More than pride and self-satisfaction being nursed through finding purpose in ministry. The rabbi pointed to “contact” being possible; and this I have discovered a few times along the way. The rest is just stumbling, a feeling the wind, catching the flow, and being disciplined by what each day brings to me. Trusting in Christ and leaning on the Word, I simply take the next step, inviting others to join me in the journey as I go. He, alone, remains my north star……….

This morning I found myself involved in a discussion concerning the illegal immigrant problem we currently face as a nation and I was obviously outnumbered concerning my view on the subject. When I noted that, as believers, we are Biblically directed to obey the law of the land, someone served me, in return, Old Testament teaching that we are to be kind to the alien strangers who dwell among us, as if that verse simply cancelled the other. We didn’t argue. No debate took place. It was evident to me that all others in the conversation were convinced that, in this case, crime did pay; so I politely vacated the premises, leaving them to “work out their own salvation”………

How some people think is beyond me; but, then, what would life be like, I wonder, if we all, indeed, were “of one mind and one accord”? Is that what we expect to discover in Heaven? Will everyone suddenly be transformed, opinion-wise, into replicas of each other? It occurred to me the other day that, while the average person’s imagery of Glory is walking through the Pearly Gates to be re-united with friends and family, it’s a good bet the crowd will be a bit larger than that. Forget your grandmother’s holiness beliefs. Your great, great uncle who saw women as no more than the personal property of her husband will also be there! Cultural diversities. Time warp values……….

Unity, here or there, is achieved only in Him……….

Our focus, in Sunday morning’s class, was on “joy”; but, in general, we were discussing the fruit of the Spirit being produced in a believer’s life. The teacher, at one point, spoke to us of his father’s tragic death and of an aunt, Bible in hand, immediately coming to his mother with chapter and verse, trying to persuade her of the comfort and peace she should feel according to Scripture. “Have you, likewise,” he asked, “ever been force-fed advice on how to achieve that which Christ brings unto His own?”…………..

A friend of mine, the father of an elder teen afflicted with Cerebral Palsy, shared with us his experience of someone approaching him at his former assembly, suggesting that perhaps the lad hadn’t found healing because dad wasn’t praying correctly. With tears in his eyes and his voice faltering as he related the story, my friend relayed to us his reply. “Tell you what,” he said; “I’ll give him to you right now. You take him; and when you’ve got him cured, let me know so I can bring him back home!”…………..

That was, of course, the end of that conversation………..

We went to a wedding Saturday Evening, one not all that common in this neck of the woods: bi-racial, the son of white, affluent, possibly millionaires marrying the daughter of black, hard-working, middle-income folk. It happens here frequently, but, gender-wise, the other way around, and with money not playing a part in the transaction in any form or fashion. The couple met in church, her family crossing the Ohio into suburban, northern Kentucky because they liked the worship at that particular assembly; but when romance began to bloom, the parents, on this side of the river, at least, were not all that happy. It made no difference, of course, their love enduring until mom and dad were able to find peace and put their blessing on the union.……….

Interesting to me what the light of Christ exposes to us in our journey with Him. We may think ourselves theological keepers of the kingdom; but, actually, it is the latter that tends to shape the former if we will allow it to be so. Life brings to us its daily lessons, inviting us to return to the Book, take a good look in the mirror, and re-evaluate what we believe; but we are stubborn and full of pride, holding people to our opinion of chapter and verse, seeing ourselves as having conquered truth and having no need, therefore, to follow it as He leads us in the way. We fail to recognize that our vessel, in its humanity, is subject to wear and tear, constantly in need of the Master’s re-making, changed in no manner other than the addition of a divine connection within………..

Beth took employment with the church daycare for this week, mothering the infants and exploring the possibility of a full-time position when school is back in session, and her vacancy has left me in charge of the home-front. Mostly that amounts to feeding the grandkids while making sure the remains in the same condition it was when she left. I make the bed, wash some dishes, and try to enforce a few rules like: Pick up your own mess! In my spare time, I’ve managed to rearrange my book collection and clean out all the junk amassed in the computer desk drawer, re-discovering in the process an Albert Einstein quote and a work by J. Keith Miller entitled “The Secret Life of the Soul”. …….

“The most incomprehensible thing about the universe”, said the fellow who always looked to be the perfect example of a mad scientist; “is that it appears to be comprehensible!” Having worked out a mathematical equation concerning some property of a cosmos that staggers the imagination, he evidently perceived hope of finding order within the infinite depths of all that’s out there; and, for me, that’s about as inconceivable as trying to explain the incredible complexity of humanity’s internal compass. You might be able to diagnose the evolution of one man’s psychological make-up, but to fathom it in its entirety and attempt to apply it to the next guy’s individual circuitry, to me, is ludicrous……..

In looking at the universe, I am speechless, not merely because of its galactic content, but by its possessing no boundaries by which to define it. One can quickly, in such magnitude, slip into a sense of holding no significance whatsoever, being no more than a microscopic dot in the grand scheme of things; and if you take that away from us, we are left with no meaning or purpose. In searching a man’s soul, it is the same. It is wired into us. This is what links us, one to the other. Not our achievements, not our goodness, but a common need for His reins upon our heart, His direction for our life. Whether to navigate among the stars, or simply take the next step in our journey……..

We began our annual kickball tournament yesterday, five Fifth Grade classes each battling the other for bragging rights. Two losses will put you on the sidelines watching the others. Forget that this is an almost daily sport during recess. Never mind no one, not even the adults, knows all that much about the rules of the game. The kids always solve their own disagreements. It is, after all, just for fun. Except, suddenly it isn’t. This is for the chance to be “Numero Uno”! An umpire is needed to determine the right call; and whom do they choose to fill such position?.... Right: the old man. Mr. Nice Guy. Does that run count if it crossed the plate before the last out was accomplished? Is she still safe on second if he dropped the ball after he tagged her? When it was all over, believe me, I was not all that popular. To be truthful, I wasn’t even sure if I yet liked myself..…

It’s one thing, though, to make a judgment call in a children’s recreational activity, then begin to wonder if it was the right decision; quite another to realize remorse over past mistakes until you’re wallowing in depression. All of us probably have a few regrets about something in our past; and, for some, maybe the act was so shameful, so devastating, that to forgive ourselves seems impossible. Even worse when it involves an addiction that still has you struggling with the error, repeating it as you go, and the same church that preaches “Jesus will set you free”, refuses to let you step through their doors until you conquer the problem yourself. I’ve seen it often enough and wrestled with my own demons in the midst of it all. For me, the answer was made clear when, after fourteen years into a walk with Christ, old thoughts returned to haunt me and I shook my fist at God…..

“Your mercy and Your grace I know,” I shouted heavenward; “but where, oh where, is Your delivery!” And a still, small, inner voice said back to me, “But, Jim, My mercy and My grace are My deliverance.” I melted in that statement and came to understand that the Creator isn’t defined by our linguistic vocabulary. He gives meaning to the word, instead of the other way around. Peace isn’t something I possess, but Something that possesses me. It’s the same with any and all attributes we might wish to attach to Him. He is not meant to be an image that we, ourselves, have carved out of chapter and verse, but a Reality Who continually breathes life into a relationship freely given. He, alone, IS my forgiveness. He is my strength, my faith to take the next step. For, if such things are achieved through anything less than a manifestation of Himself unto me, all I really have is religion.….

Prayer: communication between our earthly existence and a Supreme Being whom we believe to have created all that we know. The question is: How does it work? Is it simply a matter of sending “up” requests by faith, thanking Him when they are answered, and ignoring it when they are not? Is God really out “there” somewhere?...........

I took a large candle, about eight inches tall and maybe six inches in circumference, with me when we visited the Youth Detention Center yesterday. Bob led off with a song, but from there we went into a Sunday school lesson introduced by the above and designed so as to allow open discussion. Having pre-drilled two holes into the candle and cut an orange pipe-cleaner in half, I now pointed to those verses of Scripture which declare the spirit of every man to be lit by his Creator and inserted a “flame” into one of the holes. Then, holding the other fiery bit of fuzz up over my head to represent God, I suggested that most of us attempt conversation with Him as if such vast chasm had to be crossed in order to be heard. What’s more: after sticking that second “flame” into the other hole, my next words were to wonder if, as believers, we didn’t yet pray the same way even though the Holy Ghost had set up camp right beside us!..........

While making it plain that, any time we sincerely reach out to Him, the Almighty does indeed hear our petitions heavenward, I compared it to a fellow who once served with me on a hunk of rock in the Bering Strait, fairly close to Russia. Needing to talk with his wife, he was forced to utilize the one and only method available to us in those days: Ham radio. It connected him with the mainland where a collect telephone call was placed to his wife and he then explained to her the need to end each part of their dialogue with “over” so that the intermediary would know to throw a switch reversing the flow. His spouse, however, was so shaken by the experience that, each time he shared with her as much information he thought able to be comprehended in one gulp, the only response given to his pronouncement of it being her turn to speak…was silence. People can settle for that, of course, but Christ provides us with so much more……..

Reaching for the two pipe-cleaners, I asked if anyone had ever watched as two flames burned in such proximity. As they grow in intensity, they are drawn unto each other and become one; and, to illustrate that fact, I twisted the two orange S/spiritual representatives together. Indeed, I noted, THIS…is prayer as it is meant to be. We may not always achieve it, but most certainly this ought to be our goal, for what it brings unto us is “faith” as the Bible defines it. Not some arduous “grunt and groan“, trying to produce that which might compel the Entity on the other end to comply with our requests, but a gift of God giving divine assurance of our position in Him. It floods us with boldness, not arrogance, for it humbles us even as it empowers us; and this, it seems to me, is what the writer of Hebrews refers to when he inquires: “How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?”………

For the third time in a row, our hour with these kids closed in an individual heart-felt seeking of His witness in their life………

In gathering my thoughts for tomorrow’s encounter with the Youth Detention Center, it occurred to me that Jesus never did extend unto His disciples any diagnostics for the mechanics of prayer. Some, of course, would immediately jump to debate me over that last statement. Most certainly there are at least several places in the Gospels where He instructs them to pray for this, pray for that. There is also mandate within the Sermon on the Mount concerning how NOT to pray. It is only in the New Testament Epistles, though, that we find teaching on what turns the endeavor into a more rewarding experience……..

I’m thinking this was possibly because Christ knew that the disciples had no inkling of what He was about to bring unto them. They had heard Him speak of a “Spirit”, point to a “Comforter” that would come, but such terms were beyond their understanding. When, after His resurrection, He breathed on them and commanded, “Receive ye the Holy Ghost!”, they knew not that which He had just established in them. Enlightenment would require an Upper Room dunking. There, on that day, filled with a River that overflowed the temple, men discovered the Cross bestowed more than forgiveness. God had re-established “connection”……..

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Fifth Grade Graduation last night. Probably not a major achievement in the grand scale of life in general, but it does perhaps mark a transition of sorts. Everyone next year has their own locker instead of a “cubby”. Hallways won’t be shared with Kindergarteners. Recess becomes an obsolete term. The kids were all decked out in their finery and one young lad kept telling anybody and everybody he met: “My mother made me wear this suit”……..

The ceremony wasn’t pomp by any means: some remarks from the principal, a piano duet by two classmates, a slide show of memories made this year, presentation of certificates, and a group rendition of flying away “On Eagles’ Wings” that touched my heart. When my toothpick limbed, bucktoothed, jug-eared, Elvis-loving young charge, with whom I’ve been educationally involved for half of his journey thus far, approached the teacher for his credentials, he struck an appropriate pose and belted out: “Thank you. Thank you very much!”…….

Today was an all-day, outside marathon of competition events. They shot water balloons out of slingshots, battled each other in a tug-of-war, and raced each other in various form and fashion. Monday morning there’s an awards ceremony scheduled, after which we’ll challenge each other in a round-robin kickball war that will continue through Tuesday. Then it’ll be one last mass exit to their individual buses and I’ll climb into my old, blue Toyota Corolla to go enjoy a few weeks of summer heat and relaxation………

Mid-August, good Lord willing, we’ll do it again with another bunch…….