I never used to pay a lot of attention to Memorial Day, but then we moved here into a community and discovered that it has a real meaning. No, really, I'm not making that up. Before moving to Muskegon and walking the journey with the people of our church, Memorial Day met relatively little to me. I knew that it was a day when there were parades and, often, fireworks, but the significance eluded me.
Now, of course, I have a group of individuals who are helping sharpen my understanding of the significance of days of remembering. Yesterday in services we remembered over 60 individuals who either have or are serving our country in the armed forces. After that we paid tribute to another fourteen people from our congregation who have passed away in the past year.
It was a very emotional service for me this year. I suspect that seeing Aaron's picture up there had something to do with that. Knowing so many of the fourteen who passed away made things hit closer to home, too. I realized once again that I have now been here longer than I have ever been anywhere. I have lived in this house longer than I have lived in any house. I have known these people nearly as long as I have known anyone--the except to this would be the folks in New York--I lived there until I was 14, but we moved twice during that time. This is as close as I have ever come to having roots, and when there are roots I suspect that there is a greater potential for pain.
Yesterday, as I saw pictures, I thought of the lives represented there and all the ways my life is now connected here. We have been through a lot together--births and deaths, marriages and divorces, successes and failures--it's been an interesting journey. I am now a part of this community where we gather for parades and take off our hats when the flag passes by. I am part of a group that applauds our veterans and cheers on our bands. I am part of a group watching our children become teenagers and our teenagers become adults and our adults age.
Perhaps I can now begin to authentically commemorate Memorial Day by doing something other than just stuffing my face full of food from the grill.
I hope this was a good Memorial Day for you, too.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Commencement
I just attended my first and only commencement exercise of the year. High School graduations are the places I go to hear all the well-known cliches I have not heard for the past year--"This is the first day of the rest of your life." "Life is not what you get but what you give." Speeches are given, and some of them are quite amusing, but many of them seem to have a real disconnect with "real life." By "real life" I mean the place where you and I live and love and hurt and deal with "stuff" and "people." And so, with that in mind, here is my commencement speech for this year:
Class of 2008: you are about to begin a new journey that is going to be more difficult than you can fully realize right now. You have achieved some notable accomplishments--your freshman year, going to homecoming dance alone, the writings of Shakespeare (and you're right, you probably will never read them again, but that doesn't mean they aren't important), and the public humiliation endured when everyone found out who you really liked and spread that information all over school. Each of these events is, in its own way, a right of passage. We have all looked back upon the humiliating memories of our middle school and high school years and hoped that the evidence of our existence during those times could be permanently buried and never see the light of day again.
This is one of the reasons I am grateful for the finality of the educational experience that occurs at graduation, because now one gets to move on to the next phase of life. That's an exciting prospect, because there is so much potential, but it is also quite frightening, for now is the time when you have to begin making decisions that really count for something. Do I go to college or do I get a job? Do I continue to live in my parents' basement or do I go on the road with my band? Do I begin a new relationship with someone I like knowing that it's only going to last the summer, or do I stay "single" and hope to find the love of my life in the fall?
But there's another element that's frightening about the future you will face--it's unknown. As one who has been through what you are experiencing right now, I can guarantee you this one thing abotu the future: you have NO IDEA what's going to happen. This year marks my 25th year since graduation from high school, and as I look back over my own life I realize only in hindsight that many, if not most of the dreams I had when I commenced into adulthood have been forgotten. This is not to say that life has been a disappointment, it's only to say that I have learned to live in such a way that I take life as it comes--the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Pure statistics tell us that a certain number of you are going to be dead in 25 years. Some of you will face illness and disease. Many will become parents. There will be divorce and job changes and moves both local and across country. How will you handle these changes? The mark of an individual who has truly commenced a life that is worth living is the ability to handle these changes without losing sight of who you are. For me, my sense of value and recognition of "who I am" comes from an external relationship with a God who knows me by name and who walks with me through each circumstance of life, no matter how painful it may be. Because my value comes from my relationship to Someone unchanging rather than from my own accomplishments or gains, there is an inherent ability to weather change more easily, for the "who I am" part of life remains constant even when everything around me is changing.
So commence into life, but find an anchor against which your life can be held sure, for there will be challenges and disappointments you cannot imagine, and the last thing I want is for you to be washed away.
Class of 2008: you are about to begin a new journey that is going to be more difficult than you can fully realize right now. You have achieved some notable accomplishments--your freshman year, going to homecoming dance alone, the writings of Shakespeare (and you're right, you probably will never read them again, but that doesn't mean they aren't important), and the public humiliation endured when everyone found out who you really liked and spread that information all over school. Each of these events is, in its own way, a right of passage. We have all looked back upon the humiliating memories of our middle school and high school years and hoped that the evidence of our existence during those times could be permanently buried and never see the light of day again.
This is one of the reasons I am grateful for the finality of the educational experience that occurs at graduation, because now one gets to move on to the next phase of life. That's an exciting prospect, because there is so much potential, but it is also quite frightening, for now is the time when you have to begin making decisions that really count for something. Do I go to college or do I get a job? Do I continue to live in my parents' basement or do I go on the road with my band? Do I begin a new relationship with someone I like knowing that it's only going to last the summer, or do I stay "single" and hope to find the love of my life in the fall?
But there's another element that's frightening about the future you will face--it's unknown. As one who has been through what you are experiencing right now, I can guarantee you this one thing abotu the future: you have NO IDEA what's going to happen. This year marks my 25th year since graduation from high school, and as I look back over my own life I realize only in hindsight that many, if not most of the dreams I had when I commenced into adulthood have been forgotten. This is not to say that life has been a disappointment, it's only to say that I have learned to live in such a way that I take life as it comes--the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Pure statistics tell us that a certain number of you are going to be dead in 25 years. Some of you will face illness and disease. Many will become parents. There will be divorce and job changes and moves both local and across country. How will you handle these changes? The mark of an individual who has truly commenced a life that is worth living is the ability to handle these changes without losing sight of who you are. For me, my sense of value and recognition of "who I am" comes from an external relationship with a God who knows me by name and who walks with me through each circumstance of life, no matter how painful it may be. Because my value comes from my relationship to Someone unchanging rather than from my own accomplishments or gains, there is an inherent ability to weather change more easily, for the "who I am" part of life remains constant even when everything around me is changing.
So commence into life, but find an anchor against which your life can be held sure, for there will be challenges and disappointments you cannot imagine, and the last thing I want is for you to be washed away.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Life without End
I buried Virginia today. Not the state--Tom's wife, mother of Philip and David, daughter of the Birds, sister and aunt and friend and teacher. Virginia actually passed away on December 21st, and her funeral was on December 24th, but because of our cold Michigan winters she was not placed into the ground until today.
Her ashes (the "professionals" now call them "cremaines"--how sterile!) were in a beautiful box, and I watched as her husband put the box down into the hole in the ground, lovingly laying his wife's ashes back in the dirt from which they originated. It seemed fitting for each of us to take a handful of dirt and spread them on top of the container--a reminder that we all come from the dust, and someday to the dust we shall all return.
From there we went to the elementary school where Virginia had been a teacher where a memorial tree was planted to honor Virginia's memory. I must admit that I found it amusing when the man digging the hole found the school's septic tank on the first try--I think that Virginia would have found a lot of humor in that. Finally a second hole was dug and the tree was planted. A plaque is being prepared, and there will be flowers and landscaping around the tree. After that it was time for the family to go and eat, and that was it.
Or was it? I still think about this family. Tom, the young widower who has lost the love of his life at such a young age. Two sons who are both in serious relationships trying to navigate adulthood without their mom (I still call my mom when I get sick--who will they call?). A mother (who will have surgery for her own cancer) and a father who are left to grieve over a daughter--an ever present reminder that parents aren't really supposed to bury their children.
And yet, in the midst of this, there is hope, for we are not a people who value life solely in terms of accomplishments and tasks. No, we value life for the relationships we build (both vertical and horizontal) that place us in a certain place at a certain time, thus giving a sense of "real-ness" to our presence. Virginia is more than a memory. Her presence is really here among us--I see her in her husband and her boys and her parents. I saw her in the kids at the school today. And I also see her when I look in the mirror, for she had a significant impact on me as well.
Perhaps we could call this an echo of Virginia that will live on as long as there is someone alive to relfect her personality and tell the story of her life. Oh yes, she has eternal life, and I am confident that she is in the Lord's presence right now; but I am just as confident that she is living on here on this earth as well, and I intend to help it stay that way.
Her ashes (the "professionals" now call them "cremaines"--how sterile!) were in a beautiful box, and I watched as her husband put the box down into the hole in the ground, lovingly laying his wife's ashes back in the dirt from which they originated. It seemed fitting for each of us to take a handful of dirt and spread them on top of the container--a reminder that we all come from the dust, and someday to the dust we shall all return.
From there we went to the elementary school where Virginia had been a teacher where a memorial tree was planted to honor Virginia's memory. I must admit that I found it amusing when the man digging the hole found the school's septic tank on the first try--I think that Virginia would have found a lot of humor in that. Finally a second hole was dug and the tree was planted. A plaque is being prepared, and there will be flowers and landscaping around the tree. After that it was time for the family to go and eat, and that was it.
Or was it? I still think about this family. Tom, the young widower who has lost the love of his life at such a young age. Two sons who are both in serious relationships trying to navigate adulthood without their mom (I still call my mom when I get sick--who will they call?). A mother (who will have surgery for her own cancer) and a father who are left to grieve over a daughter--an ever present reminder that parents aren't really supposed to bury their children.
And yet, in the midst of this, there is hope, for we are not a people who value life solely in terms of accomplishments and tasks. No, we value life for the relationships we build (both vertical and horizontal) that place us in a certain place at a certain time, thus giving a sense of "real-ness" to our presence. Virginia is more than a memory. Her presence is really here among us--I see her in her husband and her boys and her parents. I saw her in the kids at the school today. And I also see her when I look in the mirror, for she had a significant impact on me as well.
Perhaps we could call this an echo of Virginia that will live on as long as there is someone alive to relfect her personality and tell the story of her life. Oh yes, she has eternal life, and I am confident that she is in the Lord's presence right now; but I am just as confident that she is living on here on this earth as well, and I intend to help it stay that way.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
sin
I think that many have the notion that Christians are against sin purely on a moral basis. We are thought of as repressive individuals with regressive angst that causes us to be oppressive toward the personal freedom of others. I suppose that some of us are exactly like that--certain fundamentalists come to mind, certainly.
Here is my take on sin. I understand that sin, all sin, causes a breach of relationship in one way or another. The primary broken relationship is between us and God. Trust and covenant are violated. Vows are broken. The relationship we could have is damaged. And as we continue in sin that relationship continues to be driven farther and farther apart. I could probably go on and on here about prevenient grace and how God chases after us to span the gulf that separates us, but that is not my purpose today.
Today my thoughts are on the human relationships that are broken because of sin. I think of the diseases that are caused because we live in a universally fallen state--things like cancer--that separate loved ones from one another, and my rage, well, it rages. I think of two individuals who are supposed to be brother and sister in the Lord who engage in what is a spiritually incestuous relationship and the consequences of that as it plays out in the lives of their spouses and children. There is the woman who is dishonest with her co-workers, creating a world of fantasy that makes her feel better about herself but that forces her to keep them at arm's length so that they do not find out who she really is. There is the grandfatherly man who gropes women and makes them feel objectified and violated and then the code of silence that keeps them from speaking out because it was "just a little touch." Children are neglected by parents who would rather spend $5/pack on cigarettes than provide adequate nutrition for their kids. Wealthy day traders drive up the price of oil so that it now costs an individual an excessive amount of money to travel even to the grocery store or to the job every day.
I could go on, but there is no need. These are the messes we have to deal with in the broken relationships of people all around us and even, perhaps, in ourselves; and it comes from living in such a self-centered world where everyone seems to feel the "right" to do whatever they please without considering the consequences. My anger toward sin is not toward the morality or lack thereof inherent in the "sinful" actions--my anger is toward the mess left behind in the wake of these things and the horrifyingly expensive cost extracted in human relationships because of it.
Hopefully those of us who are following Christ can avoid falling into the trap of sin, working with all our might to help people experience reconciliation with God and one another. It just might be that this is what Jesus meant when he said, "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:35.
Here is my take on sin. I understand that sin, all sin, causes a breach of relationship in one way or another. The primary broken relationship is between us and God. Trust and covenant are violated. Vows are broken. The relationship we could have is damaged. And as we continue in sin that relationship continues to be driven farther and farther apart. I could probably go on and on here about prevenient grace and how God chases after us to span the gulf that separates us, but that is not my purpose today.
Today my thoughts are on the human relationships that are broken because of sin. I think of the diseases that are caused because we live in a universally fallen state--things like cancer--that separate loved ones from one another, and my rage, well, it rages. I think of two individuals who are supposed to be brother and sister in the Lord who engage in what is a spiritually incestuous relationship and the consequences of that as it plays out in the lives of their spouses and children. There is the woman who is dishonest with her co-workers, creating a world of fantasy that makes her feel better about herself but that forces her to keep them at arm's length so that they do not find out who she really is. There is the grandfatherly man who gropes women and makes them feel objectified and violated and then the code of silence that keeps them from speaking out because it was "just a little touch." Children are neglected by parents who would rather spend $5/pack on cigarettes than provide adequate nutrition for their kids. Wealthy day traders drive up the price of oil so that it now costs an individual an excessive amount of money to travel even to the grocery store or to the job every day.
I could go on, but there is no need. These are the messes we have to deal with in the broken relationships of people all around us and even, perhaps, in ourselves; and it comes from living in such a self-centered world where everyone seems to feel the "right" to do whatever they please without considering the consequences. My anger toward sin is not toward the morality or lack thereof inherent in the "sinful" actions--my anger is toward the mess left behind in the wake of these things and the horrifyingly expensive cost extracted in human relationships because of it.
Hopefully those of us who are following Christ can avoid falling into the trap of sin, working with all our might to help people experience reconciliation with God and one another. It just might be that this is what Jesus meant when he said, "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:35.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Happy Mothers' Day
I've always struggled with where exactly the apostrophe should go, but I think I have it right....
Happy Mothers' Day to my mom, Catherine Marie (Osborne) Parks, born June 29, 1930, to Russell and Rhea Osborne of Upper Sandusky, Ohio. (Why does it already sound like I'm writing an obituary?) She met my dad during her junior year of high school, and for purely selfish reasons I'm grateful. They married in October of 1948, right after they had both graduated from high school, and by all accounts were deliriously happy together. In fact, that's all I've ever known them as--very, very happy to be together.
My mom was always "Catherine" when I was little. Sometime later, I think after we moved to North Carolina and I was in junior high, she became "Kay" and even "Kate." Lately, though, she is known as "Cathy." That's still odd to me, because she never really struck me as a "Cathy" but more as a "Catherine."
She is regal and, as far as I can tell, always together. She has endured colon cancer, 59 1/2 years of marriage, three kids, lots of grandchildren and even some great grandchildren. She has faced disappointment brought on by the decisions of others. She has loyally followed my father wherever his dreams or job took him. She has changed cultures easily and willingly--she's one of the most adaptable people I know.
Mostly, however, she has modeled Jesus to everyone. She's not a "wear your faith on your shirtsleeve" kind of person who protests at abortion clinics or spends hours trying to convert everyone to Christ. No, she's one of those genuine followers of Jesus who people seem to enjoy being around. She has won a lot of people to Christ without ever knowing the Roman Road or the Four Spiritual Laws. She has just, well, loved them like Jesus would love them.
And for that, I am most grateful. Thanks, mom, and Happy Mothers' Day!
Happy Mothers' Day to my mom, Catherine Marie (Osborne) Parks, born June 29, 1930, to Russell and Rhea Osborne of Upper Sandusky, Ohio. (Why does it already sound like I'm writing an obituary?) She met my dad during her junior year of high school, and for purely selfish reasons I'm grateful. They married in October of 1948, right after they had both graduated from high school, and by all accounts were deliriously happy together. In fact, that's all I've ever known them as--very, very happy to be together.
My mom was always "Catherine" when I was little. Sometime later, I think after we moved to North Carolina and I was in junior high, she became "Kay" and even "Kate." Lately, though, she is known as "Cathy." That's still odd to me, because she never really struck me as a "Cathy" but more as a "Catherine."
She is regal and, as far as I can tell, always together. She has endured colon cancer, 59 1/2 years of marriage, three kids, lots of grandchildren and even some great grandchildren. She has faced disappointment brought on by the decisions of others. She has loyally followed my father wherever his dreams or job took him. She has changed cultures easily and willingly--she's one of the most adaptable people I know.
Mostly, however, she has modeled Jesus to everyone. She's not a "wear your faith on your shirtsleeve" kind of person who protests at abortion clinics or spends hours trying to convert everyone to Christ. No, she's one of those genuine followers of Jesus who people seem to enjoy being around. She has won a lot of people to Christ without ever knowing the Roman Road or the Four Spiritual Laws. She has just, well, loved them like Jesus would love them.
And for that, I am most grateful. Thanks, mom, and Happy Mothers' Day!
Friday, May 9, 2008
And the word for today is....
My friend Philip and I declared yesterday to be "fry-day." That means that we borrowed a fryer, bought some oil, and prepared lots of things to fry. This is unusual for both of us, because we are both fairly healthy in our eating habits. I had some catfish in the freezer (thanks Rick Harper!) and I also bought some french fries. Philip brought over mushrooms, cheese sticks, and the fixins for S'mores. Trust me--the less said about that, the better!
Anyway, I had selected some beer-battered fries because, when it comes right down to it, I really like beer-battered fries. Philip looked at that, then he looked at me and said, "You're really an enigma, do you know that?" When I asked why he said it was because even though I don't consume any alcohol I still like beer-battered fries and even though I think that homosexuality is wrong one of my best friends is a homosexual and so on and so forth. Apparently when he describes me to his friends they get confused when they find out I'm a pastor.
I thought that was a fascinating thing for him to say.
Enigma: 1. a puzzling or inexplicable occurrence or situation: His disappearance is an enigma that has given rise to much speculation.
2. a person of puzzling or contradictory character: To me he has always been an enigma, one minute completely insensitive, the next moved to tears.
3. a saying, question, picture, etc., containing a hidden meaning; riddle.
4. (initial capital letter) a German-built enciphering machine developed for commercial use in the early 1920s and later adapted and appropriated by German and other Axis powers for military use through World War II.
I'm guessing that when Philip said that I am an enigma he had definition number 2 in mind. Apparently I act in ways that are puzzling and contradictory. Okay, so I know that's true. I really don't do it for shock value or anything like that, though. It's just the way I am. I've decided that the masks of who I am "supposed" to be are not as important as my just being authentically who I am, whoever that is.
I think that if we could all learn to be authentic, instead of trying to fit into others' expectations of us, we might all be rather enigmatic. Of course, that would throw many of our worlds into chaos as we let loose of some of the boundaries that have been imposed on us by others.
As for me, I'm just trying my best to be authentically who I was created to be which, I suppose, makes me enigmatic.
I'd like to think that Jesus was an enigma to those he lived with, too.
Anyway, I had selected some beer-battered fries because, when it comes right down to it, I really like beer-battered fries. Philip looked at that, then he looked at me and said, "You're really an enigma, do you know that?" When I asked why he said it was because even though I don't consume any alcohol I still like beer-battered fries and even though I think that homosexuality is wrong one of my best friends is a homosexual and so on and so forth. Apparently when he describes me to his friends they get confused when they find out I'm a pastor.
I thought that was a fascinating thing for him to say.
Enigma: 1. a puzzling or inexplicable occurrence or situation: His disappearance is an enigma that has given rise to much speculation.
2. a person of puzzling or contradictory character: To me he has always been an enigma, one minute completely insensitive, the next moved to tears.
3. a saying, question, picture, etc., containing a hidden meaning; riddle.
4. (initial capital letter) a German-built enciphering machine developed for commercial use in the early 1920s and later adapted and appropriated by German and other Axis powers for military use through World War II.
I'm guessing that when Philip said that I am an enigma he had definition number 2 in mind. Apparently I act in ways that are puzzling and contradictory. Okay, so I know that's true. I really don't do it for shock value or anything like that, though. It's just the way I am. I've decided that the masks of who I am "supposed" to be are not as important as my just being authentically who I am, whoever that is.
I think that if we could all learn to be authentic, instead of trying to fit into others' expectations of us, we might all be rather enigmatic. Of course, that would throw many of our worlds into chaos as we let loose of some of the boundaries that have been imposed on us by others.
As for me, I'm just trying my best to be authentically who I was created to be which, I suppose, makes me enigmatic.
I'd like to think that Jesus was an enigma to those he lived with, too.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
On being disabled
We have a monthly service at our church for the developmentally disabled that we call "Sonshine Fellowship." It's an odd service, programmed for people with limited function and/or cognitive ability. They are a joy. I watch them as they come in and see their excitement at being here and it is humbling. I watch them sing, recognizing that many of them probably do not fully understand what exactly they are doing. Many simply do things that they see others doing, following so that they are not left out.
I look in their eyes, and in many of them I see pure and unadulterated joy. I look in the eyes of others, though, and I see shadows. I wonder what it would be like to be inside of their brains. Do they have an awareness that they are, well, disabled? That's the label we put on them as a society, but do they feel disabled? Do they view themselves that way? I'm sure that cognitive levels vary and so different individuals will have different levels of awareness of what they can and cannot do compared to others.
It makes me wonder, do we really recognize just how disabled we are? Do we see the stuff inside of us that locks us up and suspends us in a state of arrested development? I think of the emotional junk we all carry around, not to mention the "sinful nature" that plagues us (thanks Adam and Eve!!!), and I wonder if we could stand it if we ever really saw it all.
Of course, maybe those who are farthest on the journey are the ones who have seen themselves in their most disabled form, fallen into the loving arms of God, and been content to be counted among the needy. Perhaps they are the ones whose eyes glow with the greatest joy.
I look in their eyes, and in many of them I see pure and unadulterated joy. I look in the eyes of others, though, and I see shadows. I wonder what it would be like to be inside of their brains. Do they have an awareness that they are, well, disabled? That's the label we put on them as a society, but do they feel disabled? Do they view themselves that way? I'm sure that cognitive levels vary and so different individuals will have different levels of awareness of what they can and cannot do compared to others.
It makes me wonder, do we really recognize just how disabled we are? Do we see the stuff inside of us that locks us up and suspends us in a state of arrested development? I think of the emotional junk we all carry around, not to mention the "sinful nature" that plagues us (thanks Adam and Eve!!!), and I wonder if we could stand it if we ever really saw it all.
Of course, maybe those who are farthest on the journey are the ones who have seen themselves in their most disabled form, fallen into the loving arms of God, and been content to be counted among the needy. Perhaps they are the ones whose eyes glow with the greatest joy.
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