Brainwaves

Forty-eight years ago yesterday, I awoke to my mother screaming and soon learned that my father had died of a brain hemorrhage on his way to work. Two years of combat during WWII failed to give him so much as a scratch. At forty years of age, a wrench dropped from the rafters hit him in the head and a week later proved to be the fatal blow. His loss was a knife in my belly, but there's little doubt that his death changed the course of my life. I dropped out of college, joined the Navy six months later, and became a firm believer that there was no God. Things happen. You take events as they come at you, get through them any way you can, and worry about tomorrow when it gets here. That's still pretty much my philosophy other than my first statement. An encounter in March of '72 taught me that Heaven and Earth connect through Christ, giving assurance of His reality if a man is but willing to admit his need of what the Creator desires to provide.....

For nearly thirty-six years, then, I have not just tithed and occupied a pew, but have surrendered myself unto the affairs of the local church as it represents the Body as a whole. Time, labor, financial donations-whatever the need, I gave and I do not regret it now. Never did I find perfection in her, anymore than it existed in me. What did come up out of the well from time to time, as we stumbled through the decades together, was a manifestation of His presence, the fullness of the Holy Ghost in our midst, and somehow that was enough. Things change. You take events as they come unto you, trust in what has already been proven unto you, and do your best to follow His voice within as you find it "through the veil". It is still my opinion that it is is still the encounters along the way that bring us back to the straight path, whether they come via the Word, a strong tug on our heart, or an enlightening boot in our rearend. Herman Nootics is a man I've never met; but he sounds every bit as carnal as the rest of us.....

If there’s currently one television show that I hate to miss, it’s “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?”. One might think me knowledgeable enough to ace their ten subject query on any given night, thanks to my having walked different students through that particular level of elementary education for the past four years; but I openly confess to missing one question almost every week. Just because some piece of information is taught, it doesn’t mean you’ll remember it a couple of decades down the road. So let it be known that I do understand when the high school teacher has no idea how many U.S. states border Lake Superior and when the rocket scientist can’t recall if the dolphin and the killer whale are kissing cousins. At the same time, though, there’s no denying that my ego enjoys having the right answers; and I wonder what that says about me?.....

A tape re-surfaced in my car this week and I’ve been listening to a member of the older generation preach hard on taking down strongholds. According to his theology, believers are purged from certain sins immediately upon conversion and if that didn’t happen, you didn’t get “saved”. Some things, of course, we, ourselves, must gain victory over as life continues to come at us; but he has compiled his own Biblical diagram to enlighten you as to which ones are which. If nothing else, his message was timely, our Sunday school class having just started a new series on “wrestling with the devil as a spiritual enemy”. We, too, were agreed that the fellow giving us the most trouble is usually the guy in the mirror. Demonic influence was minimal. For me, however, it all came down to a quote the teacher had written on the board…..

Approaching him afterwards, I shared with him an encounter I once had with a young woman surely possessed by something. His eyes expanded in shock as a portion of my tale unfolded; but, having witnessed for himself a similar experience, he voiced his own belief in a satanic reality capable of taking us into bondage. He had a C.S. Lewis quote written on the board and I pointed to the words “excessive and unhealthy interest”. For me, the author’s warning was absolutely correct. It is as dangerous to view the Devil as no more than a farce, as it is to find him in everything one faces. Then, again, isn’t that same statement just as true about a man’s relationship with the Holy Ghost? When we define Him rather than His manifestation serving notice of an indwelling, what we’ve got is a religion, not Christianity…..

That said: I’m wondering if I’m the only dummy out there who didn’t know, Thursday night, that not all carrots are orange? Bad enough that I answered it wrong. Even worse that it was supposedly First Grade information…..

“Memory is more than a looking back to a time that is no longer. It is a looking out into another kind of time altogether where everything that ever was continues not just to be, but to grow and change with the life that is in it still. The people we loved. The people who loved us. The people who, for good or ill, taught us things. Dead and gone though they may be, as we come to understand them in new ways, it is as though they come to understand us and, through them, we come to understand ourselves in new ways, too”……F. Buechner, “Listening To Your Life”

I’ve read the above quite a few times, trying to decide why it is that the message speaks to me, but, at the same time, leaves me wondering if I’m in total agreement with what it says. To possess “memory”, one must have “been there”, so I assume the author refers to those who shared with us at least a portion of our own segment of existence; and, if that is so, then I can attest to the fact that what might be “history” to some is indeed no more than “yesterday” to me. It is also true that, as age is added unto us, we arrive at a mile-marker previously held by others and can now relate to their perspective. Still, it yet remains that the world around us is not the same one they knew; and, just as youth cannot fully appreciate life as I knew it in the fifties, I’m not so sure that my ancestors, in any form or fashion, have knowledge of the present. We have but this breath, today as it is. They have whatever God has assigned them. He, alone, holds eternity…..

It was interesting, then, for me to read an article suggesting that society has taken the “I have a dream” speech given by Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and frozen it to identify the full complexity of the man and his mission. He has, it said, supposedly “slipped into the realm of symbol that people use and manipulate for their own purposes”. I’m thinking it pretty much on target. I was around during that decade, stationed I outside D.C. the day he was killed and a witness to the rioting that took place afterwards. My childhood has testimony to the reality of segregation as it was in northern Kentucky. That’s not to say, of course, that I experienced it from a black man’s point of view, but to simply say that I believe we’ve come a long way and no doubt MLK played a major role in bringing it to pass. Even so, generations come and go; and somewhere down the road the flesh and blood of what it was all about becomes no more than a figment of our imagination…..

George Washington: Cut down a cherry tree. Crossed the Delaware. Became the first president of a nation founded upon a desire for religious freedom within Christianity. Jesus Christ: Born in a stable. Died on a cross. His miracles accomplished in interim and His reported resurrection, three days after being entombed, producing a best seller upon which millions base their profession of faith. If the image has no more substance than the definitions we assign to it, however, all we really have is that which we have carved for ourselves out of words filtered through our own mental processing. Thank God that Scripture gives promise of greater assurance than that. He who is both alpha and omega, He Who is able to span the distance in-between, has re-established inner connection with the fullness of His Spirit. It is not merely through second-hand data that we know Him, but via an Indwelling Who transcends the story in its entirey…..

Beth and I sat in the gym bleachers of our former church Saturday afternoon and watched the grandsons’ basketball team play a visiting opponent. In the old days, you would never have found holiness people taking part in such “worldly” activity, having purged all such nonsense from their lifestyle and thus eliminating the potential for argument concerning who really fouled who. Some of our bunch, of course, held tightly to that familiar escape clause stating “church is church and business is business”, so that might explain how we arrived at our present position. Easy enough, I suppose, to simply extend that doctrine to read: “sports are sports”; and then, from there, to likewise reach the same view that many take with national politics. When God is on your side, the other guy’s integrity is the only one put under judgment…..

The varsity main event, on this occasion, was a hard fought battle from the very beginning and, although it is a “Christian” league (the coaches and players represent the membership of whatever assembly’s name is on their uniform), the referees, twice, temporarily ejected boys from the opposing team from the game. A lot of lip was being directed at them about their decisions. Indeed, we spectators would later learn that vulgar language was abundant throughout the contest and the officials weren’t the only ones taking the hits. Anger arose, but no major confrontation occurred. “Why don’t you shut your blankety-blank mouth!” a fellow on their side suggested of one of our lads; yet, when invited to step forward and do the deed, himself, he decided there were more pressing issues at hand. Thank goodness we began the game with prayer…..

Some find justification in the above exchange, the provocation set forth allowing for such response. I have to ask myself, though, (a) just what was said initially by our own player; and (b) which part of the whole affair excuses all from the command of Christ to love our enemy, to turn the other cheek, to walk in demonstration of that which we claim to possess. Human, we are; and I’ll certainly be the first to confess my own failure to achieve any form of sainthood; but it still remains that nowhere in the Book is it written that His grace can be taken for granted. Our navigation is faulty. Thus, whenever the journey is determined more out of our own reasoning than by the tug of the Holy Ghost upon our heart, there’s usually a penalty to be paid. A technical is a technical; and the only question is whether we have any respect for the whistle…..

It may just be my imagination, but the harsh reality of winter weather somehow seems to give our monthly congregation at the rescue mission a more desperate look. In spite of it, all present this past Wednesday evening entered into worship with us, joining us in a few hymns and attentive as the three of us shared. Testimony was centered on the Holy Ghost being the Source of all things we possess in Him and a young fellow came to me afterwards with a hint of tears in his eyes as he spoke of an alcoholic father that recently passed. With death at his door, the old man had cried out to his son, asking to be forgiven his abandonment of his family in earlier years. The son now told me of his ability, through Christ, to answer with love. “We all have our own story,” he said; “so how could I do any less?”…..

Last night Beth showed me a video clip produced by a friend we’ve known for years. The song was beautifully written, the quality of his work as professional as it gets. Its message as much as declared God’s blessing upon America and that as we, as a people, return to prayer, He would restore unto us victory over our enemies. I have no problem with the fundamentals of such theology, but do think that we, as a Church, have taken it into left field. As much as I love my country, it escapes me how some truly believe that the cure for this nation’s woes lies in electing a “man of faith”. I don’t doubt their heart for a second. It’s their thinking that has me shaking my head. Political “holiness” works no differently than it does in my own life: “There is none righteous; no, not one.” He, alone, occupies that definition…..

Frederick Buechner wrote that it is the sermons that we preach to ourselves around the ones coming from the pulpit that are the ones we hear most powerfully. Indeed, Peter’s “I do not even know who He is” denial of Christ, according to the author, is true of all of us. No matter the depth of our relationship with Him thus far, he observes that Jesus will always remain beyond our grasp, other than perhaps once in a while we may catch the hem of His garment. “We should never forget that”, he continues; for “We can love Him. We can learn from Him. But we can come to know Him only by following Him-by searching for Him in His Church, in His Gospels, in each other.” I agree; and would only add that, even then, we do not all gain the same perspective. That’s why it is His reality we are to extend, not just chapter and verse…..

Nowadays, I’m more at peace with the connection I find in homeless shelters, detention centers, and the average guy next door, than I am with most of what comes to me while sitting in a pew. Anybody’s pew…..

Beth and I enjoyed another movie date Sunday afternoon, our choice this time around being Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson in “The Bucket List”. While there was a bit too much profanity for my own taste, it wasn’t so vulgar as to be disgusting. Two older men have been diagnosed as having but months left to live and rather than spend such time dying at home in bed, they decide to achieve all that escaped them in their earlier years. Skydiving, racing each other in a pair of Mustangs, and going on an African safari are just a few of their experiences conquered. The subject of “faith”, of course, evolves along the way with each man giving his personal view, no mention of Christ, and abandoned at the point where most usually leave it: Is there or is there not a Supreme Being? Level ground, as far as I’m concerned, with room for all of us to erect our own opinion…..

Arriving at the Youth Detention Center Sunday morning, we were told there would be one fellow in the back of the “sanctuary” with permission to read the Koran. The news made not one iota difference to me since (a) considering the location, I always assume we have quite a mixture of anything and everything; (b) my purpose in doing these services has never been to insist they agree with me in my theology, but to hopefully bring these kids an awareness of a Reality known only through that which Calvary purchased. On this occasion, however, while we began in normal fashion, one young man began posing questions that demanded answers, indeed, bringing forth a guard to reprimand him if I hadn’t pardoned such exchange. It’s not giving explanation to belief that bothers me, but attitude, on both sides, during dialogue. On this occasion, I went “with the flow”…..

All that’s meant by that last statement is that there was an inner witness of God being in the incident. I sensed no aggression in the interruption, no disrespect, indeed no reason at all to think pursuing such sincerity would lead to an argument. I had confidence in my group that there would be no “charge of the light brigade” in an attempt to prove Christianity the only “true” religion. As it turned out, for nearly an hour what we shared with them was Jesus as He is: not some individual, doctrinal demand, but a resurrection manifested through a Gift given unto all who would make themselves a willing vessel. I loved it when Tony spoke of the greatest sin possibly being ignoring that holy tug on our heart and when Bob compared our connection with “the Source” to a maternal “um-Biblical” cord. Several times I looked back and noted the Muslim taking it all in…..

My knowledge of autism holds no degrees behind it, emerging instead out of a six-year working experience within an elementary Special-Ed classroom. There is a wide spectrum concerning its classification; but, for the most part, I’ve simply accepted my charges individually, for who they are rather than a label someone has assigned them. The Fifth Grade boy, with whom I’m partnered for this current ten-month adventure, speaks mostly in one-syllable grunts, is fascinated with string in any form he might acquire it, and is more a mischievous leprechaun than he is anything else. His hands are continually into that which he has no business disturbing. He often runs from me in the hallways, but his gait resembles someone trying to dance their way through a corridor full of snakes, or eggs, or something. It’s not an attempt to escape, merely a game of “catch me if you can”…..

Physically, he stands almost to my shoulders and probably weighs 120 pounds. His gut must give mom fits when it comes to purchasing pants for him and, since a belt just becomes a toy, the string issue presents a problem. At least several times a day, via his sitting, squatting, and bending, we find ourselves constantly being mooned. The old “plumber’s crack” appears quite frequently. Even worse, Thursday, after taking the kids bowling, we stopped with them in a small, sandwich shop for lunch. Business was booming. We were not the only customers there. No problems, though, until I walked across the room to dispose of some trash and, hearing my ward’s name spoken with shock, I turned to see him standing by the table, his denims down around his knees, held there tightly at that point by his fanny pack, and his white underwear revealed to the world at large…..

Figuratively speaking, I have found myself in such predicament more than a time or two. My derriere may not have been exposed, but my stupidity sure was. Too often I’ve opened my mouth, boldly stated my opinion, and then had to eat crow. Many a great idea has sent me rushing into making it come to pass, only to discover a fly in the ointment and me standing there with egg on my face. It would be nice to think I did get smarter as the journey continued; but probably closer to the truth to say I’ve learned to simply accept my ignorance with some humility. I’m thankful to God for His patience with me; my wife is a saint; and this job continues to bless me in many ways. If my health allows and the school remains happy with what this old man can give, three more years sounds nice…..

With school having started again after a two-week break for Christmas, my life has returned to its everyday non-stop normalcy. I stay busy; but mostly things are routine. Like a pet hamster and its circular treadmill, I crawl out of the sawdust each morning, work off a few pounds going round and round, and then go back to bed. Working with my Special-Ed kids, of course, is still both fun and rewarding. Learning yesterday that the insurance company finally settled with us concerning Beth being rear-ended in the Camry almost a month ago was good news. My being able to attend three out of the last four services at the Youth Detention Center in spite of my group having been assigned a longer rotation in the schedule has me ecstatic. Nonetheless, upon hearing our pastor announce we are beginning a Wednesday evening Bible study designed to bring us all into financial security, indeed a course that won’t be completed until sometime this April, I simply shook my head and left. Thanks; but no thanks…..

If church, however, remains “church”, surely it is just as true that politics also remain “politics”. Beth and I have been watching the debates on both sides and, while all the banter and barbs make for a more entertaining reality show than anything else on TV, the whole affair, it seems to me, resembles a cartoon recently handed me. It was but a single cell with nothing more than a picture of a cereal box whose front contained the faces of all the candidates and these words: Same old corn, a few flakes, and a variety of mixed nuts. I’m inclined to agree. They all speak of change, but which one of these multi-millionaires is a man supposed to believe? One of Fox anchormen, in discussing this country’s dilemma, said the other night that people need to remember some of the nation’s middle-class are disappearing because they are moving upward into the ranks of the wealthy. I’m sure that’s a comfort to the rest of us who are falling out the other end of the spectrum into Medicare…..

Personally, my trust remains in a higher connection than steeples and statesmen, in that which has already proven itself along the way.

Whoopi and the girls on “The View” were interviewing an actor the other day about his role as an inner-city, homeless derelict, asking him as to knowledge gained from the experience. His answer mirrored my own thoughts, voicing something I’ve long believed. While several organizations had objected to the movie not portraying such individuals as helpless victims of society at large, he nonetheless felt the theme held by the production to be true. Rather than just a bunch of nameless nobodies without rhyme or reason for their existence, these people, just like anyone else, have a story. Circumstances, environment, choices made along the way, and, indeed, perhaps the very genetics given at birth: all go into the script; but who the character becomes as the plot develops isn’t a predictable issue. Every human spirit is singular, unique in its identity by the plurality afforded it through free will. The question, then, is: just how gracious are we in looking at the other fellow?.....

Watching a bit of 20/20 last night, I was struck by the fortitude with which a young man born with only the upper part of his torso was able to tackle life. Wearing what he termed a “boot” but which resembled something more like a rubber acorn cap he slips over his bottom, he goes about his life much like everyone else. He just “goes” via skateboard. While searching for a link to his story, however, I came across this article on a woman, a few years older than Kevin, who lost both her legs at an early age. This amazing lady has married, is the mother of a seven-year old son, into auto-mechanics, and is rebuilding a 1968 Mustang which she intends to race! Surely it is incredible what our species so often overcomes in the form of a physical challenge; and, yet, it all depends on just who we are “inside the box”. Just how well we can handle our emotions. How level-headed we are in our reasoning. For, sometimes, I suspect, it all comes down to how we came to be in such situation…..

I work with a woman whose husband of twenty years suddenly left her and the two teenage daughters. She’s a professional, more than secure in her financial affairs, and, if she would admit it, probably much better off without him; but her everyday outlook has become consumed with a need for vengeance. Every conversation is always filled with her hate of him and the venom is eating on her up from the inside out. Will time heal such wounds? I only know that she, as well as he, has a history, and that neither of them, from what evidence indicates, has any solid, Holy Ghost connection to help them as the journey unfolds. Not that a profession of faith guarantees good judgment. As I suggested to another friend recently: Kneeling with Christ the first time was just enrollment; taking the course is another matter. The benefit of His wisdom is ours to possess only in as much as we return to the oasis; and, even then, one tends to “dry out” as one goes, retaining right to ignore divine counsel…..

This area of the country caught about two inches of dry, flakey, powdery snow yesterday morning and the temperature dropped to eight degrees. They said the roads were bad for early traffic, but Beth and I had breakfast at Bob’s as usual, drove out to Ace Hardware for an electrical safety device to complete my new treadmill, and then finished up at the local supermarket. She’s made vegetable soup and fed us all some wonderfully prepared home-made feasts these past few days; but, I swear, it seems cheaper and easier for us to simply eat out. At any rate, with the gas fireplace in one end of the house and an electric heater in the other, it keeps the house cozy beyond what the furnace provides. So bring it on. We’ll survive the next couple of months, the good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise…..

The crowd wasn’t all that large last night for midweek service crowd. When you’re only catching maybe a third of everybody who shows up Sunday, though, it doesn’t take many to miss before you notice the empty pews. Worship music was good, just not my personal preference. A lot of announcements, but no film clip this time around. Then, pastor began his teaching with the prayer of Jabez and I figured we were about to be spoon-fed more of today’s television theology that so much of the Church has adopted. Instead, he opened a door for group discussion. We heard two testimonies of how such theme had successfully worked in their life, before one fellow up front suggested that, while God may grant such requests material blessings, it nonetheless also remains true that often He does not…..

One of the things I like about my present ecclesiastical affiliation is that only once have I ever heard disagreement grow to the point of someone displaying anger. The shepherd of the flock is very good at keeping peace amongst the brethren, and the congregation, itself, quite willing to examine all perspectives. Toward the end of the evening, then, raising my hand, I spoke of my own tendency to go back to Paul’s “armor of God” where the sword we are told to pick up is “of the Spirit”. The Word, to me, is like loading a shotgun and I want as much of it in me as possible; but if there be any “magic”, any promised “power”, within it, surely it must come forth of the Holy Ghost. My “beating the Almighty over His head” with any particular verse is not my idea of “how it works”…..

The indwelling. It all comes down to “connecting” with the Reality of the indwelling. The Scripture says that He, alone, knows our heart and our need. My personal outlook about beginning a new year? I just want to get through tomorrow. Then I’ll consider the next one…..

Well, the clock has ticked, the old calendar replaced with a blank, new score-sheet fresh before us, and here I once more sit in front of the fireplace reading Buechner on the dawn of day number one. The daughter and her brood went to a Watch Service last night and, by the time they returned home, this old man had long been asleep under the covers, oblivious to any and all festivity. That particular ecclesiastical event used to be one of two favorites to attend, a gathering of people with whom you shared a life in Christ. Testimonies of His grace were abundant and, for a few hours, His presence would flow and fill the sanctuary. Then, somewhere along the way, it became just another program and fellowship occurred more in the kitchen than it did anywhere else. The wife and I opted to watch “The Bourne Ultimatum” about nine o’clock and went to bed well before midnight…

Buechner, in a sermon simply entitled “Waiting”, speaks of the church as possessing both light and darkness. The first element he finds in stained glass, music, candles, and silence, having them point to something beyond themselves, something that he refers to as “beauty” and I prefer to call a “connection with Christ”. Indeed, he names the second state as a place where all the “beauty” seems “artificial and theatrical”, a condition which, rather than give evidence of His being in our midst, testifies to nothing so much as God’s absence, not only in the building, but also in ourselves. He next proclaims that darker still is the sense that a church can give us of its being somehow an end in itself, that all of the hymns, prayers and preaching, all the ways we have of being religious, there, is the only light there is; and that, instead of merely foreshadowing the kingdom, realistically speaking, may be all that there is to the kingdom He has…

The author seems to have captured my own thoughts, except to say “I have been to the well. I have tasted of its living water, swam in the depths of its current, been revived more than once when the journey had me discouraged and wondering just how much truth I had acquired.” Someone told me yesterday that I no longer believed as I did years ago. To me, that’s good, indicating progress from one place to another; and the only question is whether the One who took up residence in me almost thirty-six years ago, now, is still at the helm directing navigation. The answer, according to my Book, anyway, can only be confirmed by the fulfillment of His Word, a manifestation of His reality, the Resurrection, alive in me. It comes as “it” always has, when I least expect it, at the end of my rope, in the middle of all the chaos and confusion, when I stop to hear the wind and feel the oasis as it bubbles up in my soul…

The sun is about to reveal itself once more over the horizon. God is good and my home is shortly going to hear again the patter of little feet. May His blessings so fall on all…