Go Figure

Well, it’s Thanksgiving Day.  Celebrated since the Civil War, Thanksgiving has become a national holiday that has evolved in meaning over the years of my lifetime, just as have many of the other holidays on the calendar.

The US Congress decided years ago that some of the holidays on the calendar would be combined, moved to Monday, or some such other thing.  Their fiddling with the holidays probably did more to secularize them and cause them to evolve into what they are today than anything else.

Memorial Day is one example.  It used to always be on May 30, but was moved to the last Monday in May in the late 1960’s by an act of Congress.  Labor Day, Columbus Day, and Washington’s birthday were also changed.  Washington’s birthday is now known as President’s Day.  The days were moved in order to provide federal employees (and by extension everyone else) with a three-day holiday.

Thankfully, they decided to leave Thanksgiving alone.  However, many times it seems that the holiday is overrun by the commercial aspects of Christmas, what with the black Friday and other related promotions.  And now black Friday starts earlier in the month for some and extends through the holiday season.  I’m not sure which I like less…the political ads or the black Friday ads!

But for those who still celebrate the original meaning of Thanksgiving at least somewhat, the holiday is a time to take a breather…to step back from the politics, the commercialism, and the crassness of what the season has become.  To remember our frailty and our reliance upon Someone greater than ourselves is in no small measure the purpose of the day.  Of course, in this society of self-reliance and individualism, it’s difficult for some to realize that they are fallible, fallen, and needy.  But it’s the truth, whether we like to admit it or not, and we would do well to take that truth to heart.

As a side note, we’re now watching the Macy Thanksgiving parade on TV.  The cast of “Cats” is performing out on the street.  Go figure what that has to do with Thanksgiving…

Words of Wisdom

Words of wisdom this election day, 2016 from Kristen Bennett Marble, a dear friend.

I write this devotion on Election Day, having stood in line at my polling place for almost an hour, and now proudly wearing my “My Vote-My Voice” sticker. Around the nation, American citizens are gathering to cast their vote in local, state and national elections. But regardless what is on your individual ballot, it is the presidential race which has clearly garnered more attention, airtime, division, and even hatred than many of us ever remember. And when the polls close, the votes are counted, and the projections made, what will have changed?
Yes, our country will have elected a new president. And given recent poll numbers, half of the nation will be elated. The other half will be devastated. Half will excitedly look forward to the Inauguration in January. The other half will dread that day, sure the world will soon end. There will be rejoicing and tears. There will be mourning and tears.

And yet, the God who created the heavens and the earth - the God who knit you together - the God who loves you - the God who sacrificed His Son for you - will still be on the throne. He will still extend his hand, desiring redemption and reconciliation among His people. And His Word still stands.

That word for today, taken from 2 John, offers us the way forward. The way out of the conflict and hatred. The way toward hope. But it isn’t easy.

God’s ways rarely are.

“And now, dear lady, I am not writing you a new command but one we have had from the beginning. I ask that we love one another. And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands. As you have heard from the beginning, his command is that you walk in love.” (2 John 5-6)

Walk in love. Toward your neighbor who proudly displayed “that” campaign sign. Toward your friend who shocked you by voting for the candidate you opposed. Toward your family member who never seems to “get it” no matter how often you try to persuade them differently.

Walk in love. Toward the candidate you embraced. Toward the candidate you resisted. Toward the victor. Toward the loser.
Walk in love. And as we walk in love, we reject anger and hatred. We let go of fear and violence. For these things cannot exist alongside love. They cannot. Either we commit to God’s ways or the world’s ways.

The world’s ways are to respond with vile hatred and violent evil. The world’s ways call for rebellion and instill fear. God’s ways respond with unfathomable love and nonviolent grace. God’s ways call for prayers of thanksgiving and bring peace.

You see, the world will be watching to see how we - who call ourselves disciples of Christ - respond to the results on Wednesday morning and beyond. Will they recognize our commitment to God’s ways? Will they see an outpouring of love? Will our witness be one that honors our Savior? Or will they see confirmation that what we profess on Sundays does not apply on Wednesdays? That our beliefs don’t really work in today’s day and age? That Jesus doesn’t offer any true hope for what ails the world?

Half the nation will be hurting tomorrow. The hopes and dreams they placed upon their candidate will be dashed. Yet we know - we have confidence in - the hope and truth that supersedes every election result. That goes beyond any earthly candidate. Demonstrate that hope. Speak of that truth. Model that trust. Strike up a conversation with whom you disagree. Extend kindness to whom you dislike. Listen to new perspectives. Find common ground. Pray - truly pray - for our leaders.

And walk in love.

Snipers and Such

Early today, a Tulsa, Oklahoma police sniper shot and killed a man who was holding a two-year-old girl hostage.  The man appeared outside of the home he had commandeered with the girl, and had for several hours been threatening the girl, the police, and anyone else.

Back in July a police sniper in Florida mistakenly shot and killed a hostage instead of the kidnapper.  The kidnapper would not allow anyone in to get the injured woman and she died from her injuries.  The kidnapper later committed suicide.

Have you ever considered what it would be like to be a police sniper?  If you served in the military, perhaps you knew someone who was a sniper for the military.  More probably, though, none of us has ever known anyone who is specifically trained to surreptitiously kill people.

When I heard the news about the Tulsa incident this morning, I put my spoon down that I had been using to eat my cereal, and I just thought for a moment about the man who shot the kidnapper.  I marveled that there are people willing to do that kind of thing, and was extremely saddened at the same time that sometimes people are put in positions of having to do that in order to protect someone else or maintain societal order.  I also decided very quickly that being in that position (as a sniper) was something that was totally outside of my realm of experience, knowledge, or even thought process.  I couldn’t remotely fathom the notion that I could be in such a position and wondered how anyone could.

As a society, we sometimes put our public servants, whether police, military, fire, or others, into positions that we find revolting and undignified…positions into which we would never place ourselves.  Yet we expect someone…someone…to come to our rescue when we foul up in life and living, and cause their services to be needed.  It doesn’t make much sense to me, and probably not to you either, but that’s the way it is.

Sadly, people whose job it is to kill other people will always be needed in this or any other society on the planet.  We will always have those who have no regard for life, law, society, or living.  We will always have need of the services of those whose job it is to do what we could not do ourselves.

Thankfully, there are such people among us who are willing to take on the hard things.  There are people who are willing to do what we can and will not do.  There are people who believe law, life, and living are worth fighting, and in some cases dying for.  These are the people we entrust with the foundations of our society.

So, while you’re eating your cereal, your bagel, or your bacon and eggs, stop for just a second and think of those who are on duty, alert and ready at a moment’s notice to respond to a need.  And give thanks that they are there.

The NFL Experience

We went to an NFL football game a couple of weeks ago.  We got tickets to the first Chiefs game with San Diego through our daughter in law, whose mother knows someone, etc…  We had a parking pass for THE prime parking spots directly between Kauffman Stadium and Arrowhead Stadium, and went early to soak in the pre-game stuff.  We also stayed after the game because it would have been fruitless to try to leave given where we were parked until all of the other areas of the parking pretty much emptied out.  In any event, we had great tickets in the club section and could see pretty much all that went on before, during, and after the game.

Let me tell you now; NFL games are choreographed, planned, timed, and executed down to the smallest detail…down to the second…down to the n^th degree.  What you see on television is precisely what the powers that be want you to see.  What you see and experience in the stadium is precisely what the powers that be want you to see and experience.  The NFL goes to extraordinary lengths to create another world…another existence…a fantasy world if you will, that rivals anything Disney can do or has ever done.  No expense is spared.  No stone is unturned.  No detail is forgotten or overlooked.

When you go to an NFL game, you are entering a world that is under the total and complete control of the NFL.  You are seen as a source of income for them; walking dollar signs, if you prefer.  And they know very well how to manipulate your thoughts, feelings, and emotions in such a way that you willingly part with your money not only right then, but in the future as well.  It’s their purpose to “hook” you into the fantasy that is the NFL and submerge you into that culture.  And you are doing that by the multiple tens of thousands.

You paint your face.  You bring big signs.  You yell loudly.  You buy NFL merchandise.  You get a second mortgage on your house to buy season tickets.  You idolize the players and the teams.  You join fantasy leagues.  You dissect each play…each fumble…each pass.  You know game stats, individual and team stats, and you know all about the players.  You may grumble a bit about the enormous salaries, but you willingly pony up ever-increasing ticket prices (virtually 100% of ticket sales go to the players) to support them.

Up until I attended the game, I had moderately good thoughts about the NFL.  It seemed to be a mostly wholesome enterprise that provided good entertainment.  After the game, I see it more for what is, and for what it is not.

The NFL is, like most professional sports, a religion wrapped up in a culture, which in turn is a fantasy bubble in an otherwise mundane, routine, “going to hell in a hand basket” existence.  No wonder we would sell our firstborn for season tickets.  No wonder we consume an entire day going to, attending, or returning from an event that has no lasting value and accomplishes nothing of true importance.  No wonder we spend tons of money to support the dream world that is the NFL and the fantasy that somehow, we belong  to it all along with the players, cheerleaders, coaches, and mascots…and that they might actually wish to have some kind of relationship or kin bond with us (other than taking our money).

Will I attend another game?  Probably.  Will I continue to watch on TV.  Yes.  After all, if the fantasy is there for the taking…

Coincidental??

We went to a Wingnuts baseball game last evening.  If you don’t know, the Wichita Wingnuts are the current tenants of the venerable Lawrence-Dumont Stadium.  We went with a group from church on dollar night and sat in the hinterlands of the stadium.  Of course, being out in the far reaches of the stadium gave us plenty of time to do things other than watch the game, which was going badly for the ‘Nuts.

About 7:45 or so, I caught myself looking around at the people from church that surrounded me, and thought to myself a very spiritual thought in a very secular place.  “We are all on a journey together…a journey in life and toward eternity,” I thought.

And as I looked around, I could think of no one better to take this journey with than those people who were around me, and others that I could think of who weren’t here.  It was one of those “warm and fuzzy” moments that I truly relished.

As I said, the game was going badly for the home team.  We left at the end of the fifth inning with the score in favor of the visitors, 4-0.  After we had been home for a bit, I got a Facebook post from a friend of mine who is the younger brother of a childhood and teenage friend.  His post seemed unsettling, so I messaged him back and asked, “What’s up?”  He messaged back and wanted my phone number to call me.

Turns out, his brother, Roy, had passed away earlier in the evening, about the same time as I was thinking at the Wingnuts game about how we were all on a spiritual journey toward eternity together.  Roy had early onset dementia, and was in the later stages, but we were not prepared for his demise.

Think about it.  Roy had also been on that journey.  He’s much closer to the end, now, in the presence of God, waiting for a redeemed and glorified body that no longer has the signs of sin and decay.  He’s crossed the great chasm that separates the living from the dead, and is waiting for us to make that leap ourselves.

Now, I’m not certain of the exact sequence of events at the close of time.  There are as many opinions on that as there are people who devise those opinions.  But there are some things I DO know, if I read my Bible correctly.  We will meet again.  We will have bodies that are no longer subject to decay and disease.  We will be in the presence of God.

I don’t know if I was thinking about that journey with those who were surrounding me at the Wingnuts game in a coincidental way, or if somehow Someone was prompting me to think about that at about the same time my friend passed away.  Doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that we know we are on that journey.  And we’re on it with others, all around us.  We WILL arrive at the end one way or the other.  Are we prepared for what lies ahead?

(By the way, the Wingnuts rallied and beat their opponents 5 to 4…we should-have stayed!)

The Final Leg

Getting up on Sunday morning, we went to the breakfast bar at the motel and had a decent breakfast.  Most motels anymore have good, or at least decent breakfast areas anymore, but some still don’t “get it.”  This one seemed to be fine.

We packed up and checked out, knowing that we would be leaving for home after church services.  We got to the new building a few minutes early, and knew where we were going because we went by the place the evening before.  Going in, we were met by a couple of people we knew from way back when, and Brent also soon found us.

We took a quick tour of the building, and were told of future remodeling plans and how they envisioned church being done then.  But soon, it was time to start the Bible class.

Class was a 25 or so minute video, the last in the series, on the names of God by Tony Evans.  It was a good video and class, and I made a mental note to look up that series for our own use at RiverWalk.

The worship was typical Church of Christ.  Brent’s lesson was done without notes and with enthusiasm and passion.  I really hope that the folks there know what gems he and Diana are, and treat them well.

In our discussions of why the church has grown, Brent and Diana tell me that it didn’t happen overnight…just a gradual, over the last 20 years thing that is the result of the church loving God, loving others, and serving the world (to borrow a phrase from Thom Ranier’s book “Simple Church”).  Evidently, in the early 1990’s, the church was on the verge of closing its doors.  One or two of the members were always, it seemed, the wet blankets for any new ideas or ways of doing things.  But those members went away, and the church began to blossom.

One thing that stands out is the number of little children in the church, and the truly intergenerational nature of the congregation.  There were only a few there who were older than we are (mid 60’s), but many in the child-rearing years and younger.  Brent tells me that they started years ago with just a few younger ones, who brought their friends, who brought their friends.  And families stay there.  Kids marry, have children of their own, and stick around.  Yes, some leave upon graduation, but many stay there…at least in the church there.  The congregation was young, vibrant, and passionate.  It was alive.

The children’s ministry is going strong, as is the youth ministry.  Parents and church members volunteer their time and effort in these two ministries, and the effect is telling.  Not only do the kids learn and grow, but so do the parents and volunteers.  The inter-generational nature of those ministries forms a bond between generations that carries forward into adulthood and is the envy of many churches who wonder what they can do to foster better inter-generational interaction and understanding.  Maybe, just maybe, the answer lies, at least in part, in finding opportunities for inter-generational interaction within the congregational organism.  Be intentional in befriending.  Don’t rely on paid staff to do all of the youth and children’s ministry.  Be involved.  Give yourself.  It seems to work in Goodland, Kansas…maybe they could teach us larger churches something.

Following a great time with the congregation there, we went to eat at what used to be Ray’s restaurant…now remodeled into a Mexican place.  Brent and Diana accompanied us and we visited more while we ate fajitas, enchiladas, beans, and rice.  The food was good, and so was the conversation.

Reluctantly, we said our good-byes and left the restaurant.  Heading out toward I-70, we took one last look at one of our favorite places in all the world, Goodland, Kansas, and headed down the road for home.

(Addendum:  The trip home was uneventful.  We arrived in good time that afternoon, unpacked, and decompressed, thankful for the opportunity to see what we saw and experience what we experienced.  God is Good!)

Goodland...the City

I mentioned last time that Brent and Diana Flanders had their sister Fawn staying with them in their home…and so couldn’t accommodate us there and had to put us up in a motel.  It was good to see Fawn again.  She was one of the starting five of the Goodland Cowgirls basketball team that became state 3A champions back in the last 1970’s (1979, I think).  I worked at the radio and TV station in Goodland at the time, and we followed them all the way to the championship game, taping the game and rebroadcasting it back in Goodland at a later time.  We also carried it live on the radio.  I was on the “travel squad” that went to those games for the station, and from time to time did some “color” work on the radio during the games.  She, Nyla Wilson, Bev Musselwhite, Cheryl Cooper, and Ann Jarmin made up the starting five of the team.  It was made even better because it was shortly after Title IX came out guaranteeing equal opportunity for women as well as men in sports activities…and the Goodland women proved themselves capable of playing “with the big boys.”

The Flanders family and we ate at a steak place in downtown Goodland.  As with many smaller towns, the downtown area isn’t what it used to be.  There are empty store fronts, and stores that used to be integral parts of the community no longer are there.  But the community seems to be making the best of it, and the businesses along the Interstate, even though most are chains, seem to be doing fairly well.

Brent tells me that there used to be over 5,000 people in Goodland itself; now there are not even 5,000 in the entire county.  That’s rather sad, because Goodland is a good place to live, work, and raise a family.  The people there work hard, deal honestly, and uphold the basic values that we appreciate and love.  The climate can be a bit harsh in the winter, but most summer nights, one can open the windows and let the cool, 60 degree breeze waft through the house…even when it reaches 100 during the day.  Goodland is the beginning of a more mountain-type climate.

Work opportunities are primarily agribusiness, services (plumbing, HVAC, etc) and education.  There is some tourism opportunity there, and for someone who would like to begin some kind of manufacturing small business, there is good vocational education there as well as a workforce that would show up, on time, on the day they were supposed to be there, and provide a day’s work for a day’s wage.

We were there only five years, but continue to enjoy our visits there and miss being there to enjoy the people, the climate, and the community.  It’s a different world and a different culture, but we enjoy both immensely.

Our purpose for stopping in Goodland was two-fold.  I wanted to reconnect with Brent and Diana, and I wanted to attend church services there.  We were active in the church when we lived there,, and I wanted to know how it was doing.  We had heard that the church had grown out of the old building, and had purchased a new (to them) building and were remodeling it.  Evidently, over the years, it had grown from about 20 to in the neighborhood of 85 to 100 in attendance.  As you may guess, that is relatively unheard of in any circle, but especially in a smaller community in Northwest Kansas that is losing population, how is that happening?  I wanted to know.

We had opportunity to visit at length with Brent and Diana, and to a lesser extent with Kevin and some others who were members of the congregation.  We got to experience the dynamics of a worship service and see for ourselves the nature of the congregation there.  And that’s the topic of the next blog…stay tuned.

Alternate Arrangements

We are nearing the end of our 9 day vacation to Western Colorado.  We have left Fort Collins after a pleasant overnight stay at a motel there and a peek at NIST radio station WWV.  Heading out on Highway 34 through Greeley, we got into the Eastern plains of Colorado…countryside that we both are much more familiar with.

We stopped at a small park in Otis to use the restroom.  Normally, those kinds of facilities are notoriously unclean, so I went into my side first.  Finding it pleasantly serviceable, I told the wife, and we took advantage of the facilities there.  Otis, by the way, is a small town of about 600 folks…they evidently do a good job of keeping that little park clean.

We went on to Wray and found a restaurant on the west side.  It was a typical place like one would find in a small town.  We ate our lunch and the waitress asked us about dessert.  She said they had homemade strawberry ice cream, which I ordered.  More strawberries than ice cream, it was the perfect topper to the decent meal.

As we went on down the road, it became more and more apparent that we would run into some rain somewhere along the way.  We did…at Haigler, or rather, just south of Haigler as we entered into Kansas.  The showers were heavy at times, and lasted for about 20 miles or so until we got almost to St Francis.

Now the territory was more familiar to us.  We have both driven this road before, and some of the landmarks were still there from years ago.  Long stretches of wheat fields were ready to be cut.  They looked great, and I’m sure resulted in a lot of bushels per acre.  They got rains at just the right time for a bumper crop.

We entered Goodland, and rather quickly turned East on the old highway toward Edson.  Our motel for the night was the Kuhrt Ranch 9 miles north of Edson, owned and operated by the Flanders family.  Brent Flanders is the preacher at the Goodland Church of Christ, and invited us to stay there.

Turning north just west of Edson, we made our way to the ranch on the west side of the road.  We knew we would room in the bunkhouse, so we first went there.  Going in, it looked like someone was staying there.  We went to the house to see if Paul Flanders or his wife were home.  No one was there but a couple of outdoor dogs.  Not having Brent’s phone number or knowing where he lived, we went around the back to see if the patriarch, Jim Flanders was home.  No luck there either.

We were about to leave when I decided to follow another road path farther onto the section.  Sure enough, a newer house was back there.  I pulled up and got out.  I heard some people talking in the back yard.  Going back, I found them and as non-threateningly as I could (one never knows in this country who shoots first and asks questions later), told of our plight and asked if they knew Brent and Diana Flanders.

They did.  Turns out that the people who live there are Paul Flander’s wife’s parents.  And Paul is Brent and Diana’s son who lives in the house next to the bunkhouse.  She called Brent for me, and we got things straightened out.

It seems Paul and Brent weren’t together on the bunkhouse, and Paul had rented it to someone else for that weekend.  Brent graciously had gotten us a room at a motel in Goodland, and paid for it as well.  He also told us that they lived in Edson, and to come on in.  We said good-bye, went on in to Edson, and had a great conversation with Brent and Diana in their newer home on the edge (actually, all of Edson is kind of on the edge of town…) of town.  Then we went into Goodland where Brent put us up in the motel for the night.  They couldn’t put us in their home because they had relatives (sister Fawn and her family) staying with them that evening.