Bias

November 14, 2018

Recently, I’ve been having an email conversation with the chairperson of our Annual Conference’s Task Force on Peace with Justice in Palestine/Israel. This body of our denomination regularly speaks out on matters and events taking place in the Levant, inevitably siding with the Palestinians, never to my knowledge so much as acknowledging the legitimate right to self-defense Israel has, nor the common Palestinian chant of “Death to Israel!” Every pastor in our Conference received an email from this person encouraging us among other things, to once more condemn Israel for aggression against Palestinian children. 

When I mentioned the rockets and fire kites Hamas has sent into Israel, the response was that to her knowledge, no one had been injured by these attacks, and that my information obviously came from Israeli controlled media. Since most of the media reports of the events in that part of the world are clearly supportive of the Palestinians and critical of Israel, I wondered why, if Israel is indeed as she said, kidnapping and torturing Palestinian children, we haven’t heard about it. Given the biases of most media, they would be salivating like Pavlock’s dogs over such a story.

We have gone back and forth over this a couple times now, and although I strongly disagree with her, I am grateful tonight that we can discuss this in a civil manner. Too bad the same cannot be said of the players in that conflict. It’s hard to be civil when it’s your own rights and freedoms at stake.

The problem with these conversations is that one’s position depends entirely upon whose story one believes. The woman with whom I’ve been having this conversation cited Israeli offenses dating back to the birth of the nation in 1948 and the Six Day War of 1967. The former was met with immediate violence initiated by the surrounding Arab nations, and the latter was again incited by Israel’s neighbors’ determination to wipe Israel off the map. Unfortunately for the aggressors, neither time were they even remotely successful. I remember the Six Day War. Then as now, Israel’s right to exist is what was challenged. My partner in this conversation is apparently reading a different history than I remember.

I doubt if either of us will change our minds. I am willing to listen to what she says, and to research alternative accounts of events current and historical. But I do so with a certain amount of reserve. Bias is everywhere; our opinions are determined as much by our loyalties as by our learnings. I am grateful to have the opportunity to continue learning. I hope my friend on the other end of the emails is, too.

AAA

November 13, 2018

Pinching together the thumb and pinky finger of my left hand sends a shockwave through the base of the thumb to my wrist, and lifting my bass with my right hand sends the same kind of message from the outside of my wrist up my arm to my elbow. Welcome to AAA. No, it’s not the American Automobile Association, it’s age, aches, and arthritis. It’s somewhat worrisome to me; I like playing my bass in jazz band, and look forward to the day I can rejoin Park church’s worship team with it. But sometimes it hurts to play it.

On those nights when I wake up with my hands throbbing, I am faced with a choice. I can focus on myself and worry and complain, or I can look around me. My friend Pete has dealt with the pain of a bad back for as long as I’ve known him. Some years ago he showed up for the first time one Sunday morning for worship. “If I get up and walk around, I’m not trying to be rude; it’s just that sometimes I have to move.” I assured him he could walk around all he wanted. He’s had a variety of health issues, and last Saturday apparently had a medical emergency while driving. He didn’t survive. He was only 65.

My friend Rick is also 65. Three years ago while undergoing open heart surgery, he suffered a stroke that robbed him of left side mobility and speech. I have friends hobbling around on artificial knees and hips, others who move gingerly lest their back sends shock waves up and down their spines. Even my kids deal with aches and pains of which I know little, if anything. 

I’ll play my bass as long as I’m able, and thank God for each opportunity I am given to hold it and caress the strings. Some things are worth enduring a little pain. Being able to put it in perspective is a gift for which I am thankful tonight as once more I try to coax melody out of that old girl standing in the corner (the bass, not Linda!).

Blessed Enough

November 12, 2018

Eleven is an interesting age, especially for a boy. He’s getting too old for toys, but not old enough for cars or to want stuff that would impress the girls. Our eleven-year-Old is a prime example of the genre. For his birthday last month, I told him I’d take him shopping. He was excited to have received gift cards enabling him to pick out whatever he wanted, and was ready to go when I stopped by to pick him up. 

“Where first?” I asked. “This is your day.”

He didn’t even need to think about it. “The Game Store,” he replied enthusiastically. Shortly thereafter, I found myself in an alternate reality, staring at rows of shelves filled with every kind of electronic game one could imagine, most of which were pretty pricey by any standard. He went straight for the ‘previously owned’ rack, and after a mere ten minutes had two selected and paid for.

A couple sports stores and a stop at Walmart yielded nothing, so we went to Five Guys for burger and fries and came home via a stop at Tops supermarket to wire some funds to a Mongolian missionary couple I know. That stop gave the occasion for a conversation about giving. I told him that God has blessed us so that we have more than we need and are able to give generously to others, which gives us great satisfaction.

Nathan knows all about this. A couple weeks ago, we had the Firstfruits Sunday of our sacrificial giving campaign for a big addition to our building. Nathan’s birthday was the Friday before. He decided to give all the cash he received to the building project. He kept the gift cards, but gave every cent, a considerable gift from an eleven-year old. Even at this, he was hard pressed to find anything he wanted to buy with his gift cards, so he came home nearly empty handed. But giving feels good, and he knows firsthand the blessing it brings because he knows firsthand the blessing he has received, and is thankful. Eleven is an interesting age. Especially because this boy-man has taken a huge step into real manhood, making for one very thankful grandfather.

Human Grace

November 11, 2018

Veteran’s Day as we know it was originally called  Armistice Day, commemorating the end of World War I. The ceasefire was officially arranged for 11:11 on November 11, 1918, the exact time chosen for media purposes. Talking with a friend the other day, he noted that combat forces had come to a stalemate prior to that hour, but some of the military brass insisted on continuing the fighting right to the very end, in one case ordering a battalion of what was then known as “colored” soldiers to attack a strongly held line. They were decimated. It was about 10:30 am, half an hour before the official ending of the conflict. Diplomacy had already determined the war’s end, but that didn’t keep officers from sending troops to their certain doom. Estimates run in the thousands of needless deaths in those last hours of the war.

War is ugly business. Robert E. Lee, observing the fighting at Fredericksburg, is said to have remarked, “It is well that war is so terrible. Otherwise, we would come to love it too much,” the “we” being those who don’t actually have much skin in the game. 

I once mentioned to a good friend, a Vietnam vet, how at times I felt guilty about not serving in the military. It was during the draft lottery years, and my number was 153, high enough that I was never called. I could have enlisted, but was in college at the time, and didn’t follow in the footsteps of my grandfather, my father, and my brother. My friend gently chided me: “Don’t ever feel guilty,” he said. “Be grateful that you didn’t have to experience it.” I am, and I am also grateful for those who did, some by choice, others by simply responding to the duty imposed upon them at the time. They stood in my place, paying a price I never had to pay for the life I am blessed to live, human examples of God’s grace given freely when Christ died for us all. 

People like myself cannot know fully the cost of such grace; those who have braved the horrors of battle understand. As I thank God for the grace of Christ which bought my salvation, I am grateful too, for the grace of countless men and women who bought my freedom.

Work

November 10, 2018

It’s not uncommon when men retire for them to die within months. If as is often the case, their work has been their reason for living, their entire purpose for drawing breath, when it is gone it somehow snuffs out the spark of life in their souls. In the earliest pages of the Holy Scriptures, God gave Adam work to do, tending the Garden of Eden. After delivering the Hebrews from the unending toil of slavery in Egypt, God mercifully gave them the Ten Commandments, of which the fourth is, “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” I’m sure that after ceaseless slave labor, this was a particularly welcome commandment. Strange how easily we have abandoned it as we chase never ending activity in a fruitless quest for satisfaction. 

But as commonly as that commandment is violated today, so is its companion, “Six days shall thou work.” While many never slow down, others never even get going. If one never really works, how can they know the pleasure of genuine rest?

Today was busy. Grandkids overnight needed to be fed in the morning. A funeral occupied the rest of the morning, while a trip to town to pick up 200 lbs of sunflower seeds for the birds followed by lunch with Linda took us into mid afternoon. I plowed the driveway and put winter tires on our granddaughter’s car before locking her keys in the ignition. We gave her the car a couple years ago, and in the interim I forgot that it had a nasty habit of occasionally locking the doors automatically after exiting the driver’s seat. Forty five minutes of wedging the door and maneuvering a homemade slimjim finally got it opened, to my relief. Delivering the car to its owner was a pleasure enhanced by the lock episode. 

All this doesn’t sound like much, but it occupied my entire day, and as I watch the fire in our stove at the end of it, I am grateful for work. Today’s was pretty ordinary stuff, but it needed to be done, and I was given the gift of doing it. It was one of those Six Days; now I’m looking forward to the Sabbath, even though it too, brings a measure of work for me. It gives a rhythm to life that I need as much as a song needs rhythm, and directs me to the real Purpose of life—as best as I can, to give God glory in all I do. 

One Accord

November 9, 2018

“These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication.” (Acts 1:14)

“When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place.” (Acts 2:1)

“All who believed were together and had all things in common...So continuing daily with one accord in the temple...the Lord added to the church daily those who were being saved.” (Acts2:44, 47)

“One accord.” All the good that happened in the beginning came about in part because they were “in one accord.” Perhaps that’s because “one accord” is the very nature of God. The Christian doctrine of the Trinity emphasizes this even from the first pages of Genesis where God says, “Let us make...” Creation was designed to operate “in one accord,” but the entry of sin into the world shattered that design, alienating the Creation from its Creator and requiring a sacrificial act on God’s part to bring back into one accord that which had been set at odds. 

These three little words describe the goal of redemption and the purpose of the Church as well as the modus operandi of salvation, so much so that when Jesus prayed his high priestly prayer in Gethsemane, he went so far as to ask on our behalf that “they be one as we are one, so the world may believe.” The stakes are high; we are seeing in the world around us the devastating effects of dis-integration as our country is divided to the point of self-destruction. 

It’s happened before. The Church burst on the scene with explosive growth as people heard the message. But in addition to the message of the Gospel, the goal and ideal of “one accord” was lived out as never before and perhaps as never since. It can happen again, but only if as at the beginning we once more continue with one accord in prayer and supplication. I’m all for it, am praying into it, and looking forward to seeing it once more.

Singled Out

November 8, 2018

“Now go and tell his disciples, including Peter, that Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died.” —Mark 16:7 NLT

Jesus’ disciples weren’t exactly at their courageous best when he was arrested. According to all four of the Gospels, they all panicked and beat feet. But Peter is singled out as particularly cowardly. I don’t think he was any worse than the others, but he seems to have had a reputation as a loudmouth and braggart, so perhaps he unwittingly asked for the special attention he got. Along with the rest, he vehemently declared that though all others might abandon Jesus, he would even die for him. Well, that didn’t happen; at least not yet. That day would come, but on this night he denied even knowing Jesus. Three times he repeated his denial till on the last occasion, Jesus caught his eye, and Peter broke down. I can imagine he believed himself beyond redemption. 

The Gospel of Mark is widely believed by scholars to be based on Peter’s preaching, so when he alone of all the Gospel writers notes that after the resurrection Jesus specifically mentioned him by name, we have a record of Peter’s amazement at being once more the recipient of Jesus’ special gracious attention instead of being rejected. 

This is good news indeed! At the very place of our failure where we could expect rejection, we find not only forgiveness, but Jesus actively seeking and singling us out as objects of his loving attention. As many times as I’ve effectively denied Jesus, I am thankful he not only forgives; he goes looking for me at the very moment I would expect him to turn away.