It seems we are surrounded with arguments on every side. Each sentence in the conversation seems to grow more strident and more hateful. The spiral is downward in every arena of life.
The Left and the Right are at each other. The only portion of the battleground that is emptying is the moderate group in the middle.
The US of A is scatter shooting all over the middle east. ISIS hates Americans and Americans seem willing to oblige ISIS, its just that we are so much more sophisticated and humane in our killing.
America has managed to keep the racial wars going. Now the war has centered more directly on police, which seems the height of irony.
And Christians have found a way to hate everybody. While clinging to our guns and bibles Christians are a formidable bunch. But the homosexuals, the Muslims, peace mongers, and the democrats better beware, Christians are out for blood. Of course the last thing you will hear as an enemy of this group is the refrains of "God is Love".
Where did this world take a turn to violence and stridency? When did we lose the ability to debate, reason, and treat each other with deference? The downward spiral can't continue. As a Christ-follower, a Kingdom resident it seems we should be this voice of reason.
But now we see the decline and erosion, at least in numbers, of the Christian world view. I have noted this in other blogs, but the fact remains that this world view has been marginalized and generally ignored.
I came across a quote in a book I am finishing called "Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from the Gay-vs-Christians Debate" by Justin Lee ( by the way, this is nice starting point if you are really interested in discovering what a devoted Christian and a gay man struggles with)
"And while so many of us in the church have been focused on the "threat" to our culture posed by homosexuality, we've missed the realization that the church in our culture is under attack-not by gays, but by Christians. We Christians are the sleeper agents. The bomb is in our car. We have become the unwitting assassins of people's faith. The Christians are killing Christianity"
Christianity is being erased by the actions of those who are the most fervent about making this world view dominant.
It is time to place on the ground the armaments we cling most closely to, the entitlement of righteousness, the lofty place of condemnation, the battle cry of "rights". As a Christ-follower, I have no rights. The mental image for me is standing on a battlefield and stooping down and quietly placing my gun on the ground, waving a hand in salute to the other side, and walking away. I cannot kill them into understanding.
So the ratios may change. Instead of my side killing them 10 to 1, it may take my side experiencing the loss ratio of the same magnitude. Only when we see that the harm we have done has at least matched the harm they have done will we begin to understand the true dynamics. We can no longer have a voice in this if we continue to insist on resolution only on our terms.
Godspeed to those who seek another way.
Don
Friday, October 16, 2015
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Forever Young
Forty years ago today, October 4, 1975, I married the person who would become my partner, my most constant companion, my critic, my love, a traveler through the world, my bride.
We have shared the struggles and the joys of growing older. Our bodies once slim and sound have begun to shift and falter, sputter a bit as Father time has exacted his toll. There is not much illusion left between us. She knows my faults and insecurities and I know hers. We still each know the ways to make the other happy or sad or mad. There is not much left that would surprise either one of us. Because neither of us are willing to avoid a good old fashion confrontation, we still can mix it up like newly weds, except that now we know where to hit causing the most damage. Even the arguments are long-standing, we don't have much new stuff to bring to the table. I have always felt that long marriages are made up of two tough-minded people, each demanding that the other bring their best to the marriage daily. Sometimes this means that it can get a little tense.
But along with the tough, hard, implacable existence we call marriage and life, there is another ledger being filled. There is the tenderness that can only come from someone who understands and without words comforts. We have both suffered loss of parents, she has agonized through her parent's divorce. There have been very long nights worrying and praying over our kids when they were suffering. The number of nights where we crawled exhausted into bed; her head tucked under my chin, clinging to each other as the dark and merciless world did its best to plow us under. But the common determination, the common fight in us both gave us the strength to batten down the hatches and lift a defiant unified fist in the face of the overwhelming odds. This woman, this lover, this fighter, this mother of my children has always had more strength and determination than I can fully explain. And together we have fought, at least to a draw, what the fates have thrown at us.
So the bodies have changed shape and the spirits are covered with scars, there is a part of us that has stayed forever young. The heart never seems to grow old. Perhaps this is the illusion we all hold until the very end. Perhaps this is the quiet voice in the final moments saying, "Not yet" You see there is still the moments that catch me by surprise. The jump of the heart when I open the door, cinderblock weight of my backpack and suitcase forgotten, and she stops and hugs and kisses me like the young lovers we once were. When we find a meal at home after a long week on the road and she scoots her chair to sit as close as possible simply because she has missed me, and how silly this sounds to outsiders and how precious it is to me. To wake up in the middle of the night and realize that the arm is numb from holding her, but not wanting to shift because it would mean just that little bit of separation that I am not yet willing to give up. The old heart would see all these things as mundane and familiar, the young heart cherishes all of these little moments, fresh and new as the first time we met. And now I realize that the heart we share will never grow old. She will always be my bride. My heart will never grow old as long as she is with me.
Godspeed to my bride, Beverly Jolly. As I have told you for the past 40 years, I have always loved you and always will.
Don
We have shared the struggles and the joys of growing older. Our bodies once slim and sound have begun to shift and falter, sputter a bit as Father time has exacted his toll. There is not much illusion left between us. She knows my faults and insecurities and I know hers. We still each know the ways to make the other happy or sad or mad. There is not much left that would surprise either one of us. Because neither of us are willing to avoid a good old fashion confrontation, we still can mix it up like newly weds, except that now we know where to hit causing the most damage. Even the arguments are long-standing, we don't have much new stuff to bring to the table. I have always felt that long marriages are made up of two tough-minded people, each demanding that the other bring their best to the marriage daily. Sometimes this means that it can get a little tense.
But along with the tough, hard, implacable existence we call marriage and life, there is another ledger being filled. There is the tenderness that can only come from someone who understands and without words comforts. We have both suffered loss of parents, she has agonized through her parent's divorce. There have been very long nights worrying and praying over our kids when they were suffering. The number of nights where we crawled exhausted into bed; her head tucked under my chin, clinging to each other as the dark and merciless world did its best to plow us under. But the common determination, the common fight in us both gave us the strength to batten down the hatches and lift a defiant unified fist in the face of the overwhelming odds. This woman, this lover, this fighter, this mother of my children has always had more strength and determination than I can fully explain. And together we have fought, at least to a draw, what the fates have thrown at us.
So the bodies have changed shape and the spirits are covered with scars, there is a part of us that has stayed forever young. The heart never seems to grow old. Perhaps this is the illusion we all hold until the very end. Perhaps this is the quiet voice in the final moments saying, "Not yet" You see there is still the moments that catch me by surprise. The jump of the heart when I open the door, cinderblock weight of my backpack and suitcase forgotten, and she stops and hugs and kisses me like the young lovers we once were. When we find a meal at home after a long week on the road and she scoots her chair to sit as close as possible simply because she has missed me, and how silly this sounds to outsiders and how precious it is to me. To wake up in the middle of the night and realize that the arm is numb from holding her, but not wanting to shift because it would mean just that little bit of separation that I am not yet willing to give up. The old heart would see all these things as mundane and familiar, the young heart cherishes all of these little moments, fresh and new as the first time we met. And now I realize that the heart we share will never grow old. She will always be my bride. My heart will never grow old as long as she is with me.
Godspeed to my bride, Beverly Jolly. As I have told you for the past 40 years, I have always loved you and always will.
Don
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