Life with The Swell Guy!

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We have a black & white photo in our dining room that is matted, framed and mounted. I don't look at it often. It brings a smile when I do, but also strikes me with a deeper meaning.

The photo an original print and as best I can tell it was made in the mid to late 1960s. It was taken by a news photographer with a Jewish last name and features two young boys, one black and one white, running and jumping off a set of steps in front of a house. In the background you can make out the outline of an adult who is holding a garden hose and spraying the boys with water.

The boys are laughing and it is clear they are in it - whatever it is - together. They have short hair and are wearing the official 60s & 70s uniform of summer  - shorts, striped shirts, and sneakers. They appear happy and carefree.

I was 6 years old in the summer of 1969. We lived in a small farming town on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. It was the kind of town where in summer we could run and play outside from after breakfast until supper time or until we were just too tired to play anymore. We rode bikes, built forts, flew kites and looked for adventure. It seemed most of the folks around town kept an eye on us and cared for our well being. I can easily picture myself running off that stoop with a buddy while a grown-up squirted us with a hose.

For us kids it was a great time of innocence, but the tremors of revolution that was shaking our country was impacting the adults. News of The Civil Rights Movement - The Vietnam War - Free Love & Hippies - Assassinations - The Jesus Movement - and more were washing through our little community with polarizing effects.

Some of the white kids were no longer allowed to play with the black kids. Some white business owners no longer treated black employees with respect. The fact that Their Kids get the same educational benefits as Our Kids was troublesome. It was hard not to notice people, especially the men, started acting in cloisters as though they had some sort of tribe to protect or defend.

In our home we were allowed to go play with anyone in the community and we did. My dad allowed any of the kids and teens to pick pears off the big tree in our backyard. When we rode our bikes out to the road where most of the black families lived some of our white friends stopped where the sidewalks ended and said they were not allowed to go back there.

For some of us our world expanded. For others it did not. I did not need to leave the country to visit a dirt floor home or see cracks in the walls where you could see outside. For every person who gave an odd glance at white kids playing in that neighborhood there were two more who were kind, and gracious, and welcoming. I so much always hoped the same experience was true when my buddies came to play on my street. I knew it was not always the case for any of us, but for the black kids it was worse.

And my dad protested when the church wanted to take down the basketball nets in the parking lot because folks were uncomfortable that black teenage boys gathered some afternoons and evenings for pick-up games. Some of those folks complained that it was wrong for black people to drink from the water fountain on the side of the church building. It was a battle my dad lost.

A year later our schools integrated. Some of the local white folks enrolled their children in private schools - often citing higher quality educational opportunities instead of calling it what it was. In the public schools there was a bit of tension and friction that first year or two, but we figured it out. I am reasonably sure if I had understood all of the nuances back then I would have noticed much of the stress came from the adults involved.

I can't help but notice that Jesus spent a lot of time with people not like him.  He hung out with tax collectors, Samaritans, even prostitutes. This made others uncomfortable and they said things like it is more holy to stay with your own people. I think Christ must have enjoyed throwing a mix of folks together and watching what happened next.

White - Black - Indian. Christian - Buddhist - Muslim. Conservative - Liberal - Moderate. American - Arab - African. Heterosexual - Gay - Bi. Rich - Middle- Poor. People like you - People not like you - People you don't really know. You get it. Who are we going to go play with today? Who wants to make Jesus smile?

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 "People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along? - Rodney King

I smile...

thinking about the weddings of both our girls last December. thinking of those special celebrations.

thinking of Denine going with me to work in Hawaii this past January. thinking of the things she has done to care for our family.

thinking of friends that have gathered around our table for great meals and conversation over the years. thinking of how much that looks like communion.

thinking of days like the one in this photo with my friend John as we rode our bikes out of Red Rock Canyon. thinking of sitting around the table in the evenings with a group of guys in Costa Rica.

thinking of how Denine says "Don't go" every time I leave the house for a road trip. thinking of things that make her laugh.

thinking of The Epic Man Trip on the Blues Trail in Mississippi. thinking of catching that amazing fish with Kevin.

thinking of the laughter that I heard last week when our girls were home and they were in the living room hanging out with their husbands while Denine and I cooked. thinking of all the good things our kids have in front of them.

thinking of sitting with good friends last night and talking about our lives together. thinking of the laughter when we are together.

thinking of all the good men and women placed in our lives over the years...good people who have loved us well.

thinking of how BIG Jesus is. thinking of how he invites us to join his work to bring his kingdom. now.

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I am grateful. I am humbled. And I don't take it for granted. I am blessed.

Wednesday

I find it interesting how people come to love Jesus. Better than another "my personal testimony" presentation is hearing honest words about coming to follow Jesus. It is so much better to skip the dramatic memorized bit with an agenda and simply speak the simple truth.

We will save my story for another day. The only thing to say right now is I grew up in the church and I am the son of a preacher. I knew how to play the part of a good church kid, but I really did not deal with this man named Jesus until my freshman year in college. Talking about against  odds...how does a student at an art school -where self expression is the rule of the day - decide that is the moment to follow Christ?

The church I began attending in college was very big on Wednesday night service. This was a challenge since I working most nights to pay my way through college. I heard the weekly Sunday pitch and sometimes felt I was a weaker Christian because I could not be there on Wednesday night. On the upside, by the end of college I met my wife through that church and we were married there.

A year after our wedding I found my first professional job and we relocated. And we looked around to find a church similar to our old one. We did. That church also was very big on Wednesday night service. Now I was caught since I was not working Wednesday nights.

Over the years, while living in a handful of different states and cities, it has seemed we had a church home that was big...BIG on Wednesday night service. It would be called things like "Family Night" or "Mid-week Recharge" or perhaps a little marketing spin was placed on it. It often seemed there was an underlying message that perhaps you were not a very good Christian if you did not attend church on Wednesday.

Eventually I began to question this position. Where in the bible does it say thou shalt attend church on Wednesday? Is it really fair to flog the Sunday worshipers when only a few saints are showing on on Wednesday evening? What if I was chosing to spend other times ministering in other ways? What about this following Christ as part of the fabric of our being? Are we only good Christians when we sign the attendance log several times a week? Is this what Jesus was talking about? When did he say Wednesday, or for that matter any other function on any other night, was sacred?

After that time I began doing other things on Wednesday nights. For awhile I started a ministry night in a local bar. Amazing things happened there and it was awesome in ways I can not explain even now. Then we relocated and that time came to a close.

These days, I have no specific Wednesday obligation and I wonder how that even became a sticking point in some church circles. I can't believe how long it has taken for me to understand every day involves ministry as part of what we do in life. And I finally understand more about honoring the Sabbath and what the early church was talking about when they were meeting house to house.

So after all that, tonight I am pleased to report I have just had the most epic Wednesday night service in my life. Denine is out of town, so I came home from work, fixed a bite to eat, and wandered our to our back porch. A time of reflection on the back porch led to a walk out to the dock to watch the evening set in and pray for a time. It was all mind clearing stuff.

As darkness came I entered the house and put on some very good praise music. I continued my prayers which moved from petitions to thankfulness. A little later I pulled out a drum and joined the musicians on the stereo. What a time. There was no hurry. Me and Jesus were meeting in a very personal way.

I've never seen where Jesus canned anything. It was all spontaneous and pure. I think that is what he wants for us. For the record, this was the best Wednesday church ever. Ever.

Lunchbox

When I was a kid we lived a distance from a town of any size. Most of our household provisions where purchased on the once-a-week visit to Pokomoke City, MD. We went on Saturday mornings because my sister and I took piano lessons with Mrs. Stevens. While my sister took her lesson I often wandered up to the Newberry's Department Store to check out stuff-of-interest. Afterwards we stopped at the A&P Supermarket on the edge of town to stock up on food and laundry detergent. The Eight O'clock coffee was ground right at the checkout and the air smelled great, but we only bought it when my grandfather came to visit.

Several times a year we took The Big Trip and went to The Mall and Other Big Stores in Salisbury, MD. As a kid I thought Salisbury was quite the metropolis until I heard of the mecca called Wilmington, DE which existed several hours north. I knew they had footballs teams and more in places like Baltimore and Washington, DC, but those places were in aonther universe that I had not yet seen.

One of those trips each year was the "Back To School" marathon when we purchased clothing and supplies for the new school year. They had a Real Sears Store instead of the Sears Catalog Store that was in Pocomoke. Between the two Sears my mom dressed me with selections from the "Boys Husky Department".

But the Apex of the Back-To-School trip was the Selection of The Lunch Box. We had a modest upbringing, but a new school year did involve a new lunch box. If there ever was a boy's second or third grade fashion statement it was the toting of a most awesome lunch box. Old lunch boxes were recycled to Hold Important Kid Stuff in the bedroom and that new vessel was hiked into the new school year.

I was a Hot Wheels, Evel Knievel, and Super Friends kind of boy. One year I went with a Gunsmoke pail because Matt Dillion played by James Arness was it. IT. Every Monday night we got dose of U.S. Marshall Dillon and Festus taking care of business and protecting the town where Miss Kitty ran the salon and Doc patched you up. Hey, even John Wayne was a fan of James Arness. Who needs The Smurfs?

Several weeks later school started and we packed off with 100 sheet wide rule black marble composition books, No. 2 pencils, and lunchboxes. Trapper Keepers would come a few years later. Most days I did not look inside the box until lunch period.

My lunchbox usually contained these basic staples: A bologna sandwich with American cheese & mustard or if I was lucky - a can of Vienna Sausage. Man did I love those Vienna Sausage! There was fruit or pudding cup along with a pack of crackers, bag of chips, or sweet snack courtesy of Little Debbie or one of her friends at Hostess. My Thermos usually had Tang, or Kool-Aid, or in the winter it might contain hot soup. So a epic day would be Vienna Sausage - Del Monte Fruit Cocktail - Ho Hos - and lime Kool-Aid. That was living large. And I'll add that these foods, my friends, represent the real basic four food groups.

By middle school we all became too cool for lunchboxes and convinced our parents that school lunch was the way to go. Years later I purchased a Fat Albert lunchbox at a local auction and I carried my grandfathers scuffed-up gray painted metal lunchbox to work for several years. It was usually packed dinner leftovers and fruit. I've not eaten a Vienna Sausage in a long time.

These days I don't think about my school lunch box very often, but when I do it serves as a bit of a metaphor. Whatever ever my mom managed to pack inside may have or may not have been my favorite, but it was something that took care of what I needed to get me through the day. That is a bit how trust works with God. It seems we so often get hung up on what we want, but if we can take a moment to think about it don't we get what we need? And if we stop worrying about what is there we find all that we need has already been done. So simple, but it can free us for other, perhaps bigger things.

That is it for today. Go in peace, Super Friend.

Zig

What if he meant all that stuff about health care, food, and other Jesusy things like peace?

River(a)Life

Baby Girl has a new blog. She has something to say and she if a fine writer. Check it out here. And maybe you should consider subscribing.

This pretty much sums up how I spent my Second Grade school year.

Forward

For the past five years, maybe more, I have said I am Purple when it comes to politics. Most people know what I mean when make the comment. When exactly did we decide Blue means Democratic Party and Red means Republican Party?

Who decided The Right holds the moral high ground and The Left represents equality and social justice? Moreover, who anointed one side The Right and the other The Left?

Why do some people believe Christians only hang out on The Right? Really? We are saying Christ did not defend the poor and support sexual equality?

When did we decide you had to choose...Had To Choose one over the other? When did we decide we could Demand Rights, but we don't need to be Responsible?

How is the response to The Red or Blue Question with little or no conversation a meter of your level of acceptance with the questioner? WHO decided this should be the question that determines if you are "with them or against them"?

And I just love those questions that are asked only to verify position or designed as a launchpad to lay out personal ideology. Did they even take a moment to figure out what they actually believe and why they believe it? Sigh.

The other day I was reading a book intro which mentioned the political Right and Left. And then the writer commented that Jesus always moved Forward when it came to politics. Bam! Pow! Eureka.

I love how that simple statement resonated. We get so hung up on Right/Left - Red/Blue - Either/Or that we forget Jesus was all about The Third Way. I'd like to do more of that Third Way work this election year and going forward. It will take work, but I'm eager for the effort.

All the recent election rhetoric has made me a little rebellious in answering questions about my position. I have good work to do. It's time to reflect on that third way thing and be more kind & patient in my responses as well as relationships. You can remind me if you see me failing... or flaying someone who asks one of those lame baiting questions.

I noticed another bloggers mention that he loved a recent Rick Warren comment in a ABC News interview. I too, think it is quite solid. Warren said:

“The coarsening of our culture and the loss of civility in our civilization is one of the things that concerns me most about our nation. We don’t know how to disagree without being disagreeable. The fact is, you can — you can walk hand-in-hand without seeing eye-to-eye. And what we need in our country is unity, not uniformity. There are major differences, politically, religiously, economically in our nation. We have many different streams in our nation . . . What is solvable is how we treat each other with our differences . . . In fact, the Bible tells me in I Peter, show respect to everyone, even people I totally disagree with. So I’m coming from that viewpoint in that we must return civility to our civilization in order to get on. But the reason I do that is because of the deeper reason, there’s a spiritual root to my reason for civility.”

Nice, Rick Warren. At least a Bam Pow for you.

So here we go. Onward with living The Third Way.

Easter Postscript

Sometimes I find myself thinking that The Good News is much better than we have ever imagined.

Resurrection? Yes.

This is 10 minutes long, but worth the time. Enjoy.