A Grinch in Bethlehem

I have had the privilege of visiting Bethlehem twice. I must admit that I have been disappointed both times.

Bethlehem is a small city (population about 26,000) on the far side of a large wall which divides it from the metropolitan area of Jerusalem. The security measures make a short trip much longer than it needs to be. For some reason, they also make the trip depressing.

In 1948, 85% of the town’s population identified themselves as Christians. Today, that percentage has been reduced to about 40%. Of course I cannot be sure of this, but my theory is the Christians left because they grew tired of everyone trying to sell them camels carved out of “genuine” olive wood from Gethsemane.

Shopping is a big time business in Bethlehem – especially at this time of year. My memories of the city include tourist trap after tourist trap only separated by the occasional restaurant where all the staff is trained to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” in English. I don’t think I would find all of this so disconcerting if the waiters did not insist on singing the song ALL YEAR LONG.

In the Fifteenth Century a group of Franciscan friars from Italy introduced the art of mother-of-pearl carving to the town. Let me assure you, if you can make it out of Bethlehem without an olive wood carving or something created out of mother-of-pearl, you have probably experienced the second greatest miracle to ever occur in the city.

It makes you wonder how this circus actually began.

On a more positive note, the Cremisan monks founded a winery in 1885. In 2007, their production had grown to about 700,000 liters a year. The actual monastery is within the Jerusalem city limits, but the storeroom on the other side of the parking lot is under Palestinian Authority, located in Bethlehem. As you can imagine this is causing a headache for everyone – and not just those consuming the wine!

Now what DID catch my attention around Bethlehem was the fortress that Herod the Great built about 3 miles southeast of the town. The highest point of the Herodium (That’s right, he named it after himself) is about 2,500 feet above sea level – making it the highest peak in the Judean desert. Looking down from the top of it towards Bethlehem, I was reminded of the soldiers who must have poured out of it and down the slopes to kill the young children (Matthew 2:16-18) once Herod realized he had been outwitted by the Magi.

Another memory of Bethlehem that is etched into my mind is a Christian ministry attempting to reach out to the Palestinian refugee children in creative ways. They had sponsored a photography competition for the kids. As I toured the small building, a young man of about 11 or 12 years of age grabbed my hand and insisted I look at one of the framed black and white photos. It showed him – the same little guy now holding my hand – pointing a rifle at an Israeli soldier who was working his way across an open field. The boy looked up at me with real pride in his eyes, pointed at the picture and then at his chest.

Sometimes it is hard to know how to respond.

I think of another little boy born in Bethlehem before all the carved camels and bottles of wine with carved mother-of-pearl made their appearances in the local markets. I think of what it must have been like for a girl “that age” giving birth during her own visit to the town.

In Touching Wonder, John Blase imagined it this way: “Joseph thought Mary pushed. The truth is, she shook and rocked on exhausted knees as I held her by My strong right arm and the brightness grew until she could bear no more. Time pulled eternity from the womb of a girl, and bloodstained Love spilled on the hay.”

Well, done Mary! However, did you know what you were beginning?

What's in a Name?

Yesterday I received an email from a Christian ministry whose identity will remain anonymous in this note. At the end of their letter, they informed me that Woody Woodpecker celebrated his birthday last week. This piqued my curiosity for a few reasons:

First, why was Woody even mentioned in an email of this type? To my knowledge this particular woodpecker never displayed any public evidence of faith. Obviously, I have no information about his private life. However - and even though politicians continue to deny this reality -  I believe a man's private character is often reflected in how he lives out his life in front of the camera.

Second, how do you determine a cartoon character's legal birthday? Was Woody "born" the day Walter Lantz thought up the character? According to popular myth (which Lantz perpetuated) this happened on his honeymoon after marrying the actress Grace Stafford. However, since Woody actually appeared in an Andy Panda cartoon a month before the newlyweds got away to celebrate their nuptials at Sherwood Lake, one has to assume the honeymoon impacted Walter's ability to remember the plain facts of the situation.

Third, anyone with a memory for important history (or, lacking that, access to Wikipedia) knows that Woody first appeared in a short entitled "Knock, Knock" on November 25, 1940. Using this date as his "birthday" would mean that for the first time ever, a Christian ministry has sent out "facts" which, upon further examination, proved to be incorrect. Or, not.

This would be a good point for you to ask why details of this nature are of any interest to me.

I have an answer.

I had a love/hate relationship with Woody Woodpecker. When I was a child I secretly enjoyed his out-of-control personality. He wasn't always a "good" woodpecker. My guess is I probably identified with him too much on a personal level.

On the other hand - and it was a very big "other hand" for me - in the fifties and early sixties I was forced to suffer through "the laugh" on a regular basis. It was a common experience for me to introduce myself, watch the other kid get a silly grin on his face and attempt to make Woody's signature laugh like, perhaps, it was the first time I had ever heard it.

My mother used to wonder why I started so many fights. Now she knows.

Some of you are aware that I have another given name. The natural question would be why I didn't use it if I found the name Woody to be so challenging. My short answer would be that while I enjoyed Jimmy Stewart as an actor, the movie "Harvey" was not his strongest effort. Besides, given a choice between invisible rabbits or raucous woodpeckers, I'll stick with Woody.

Still, I learned early in life that names make a difference. Some of the "who-you-will-become" deals with the name you are given to carry or choose to carry. All of us must learn to tote the load.

Jesus was given a name. It was an honorable name, a prophetic name. However, for a adolescent living in Nazareth, it wasn't the "right" name. During His time on earth, it would have been proper for the oldest son to be named after his paternal grandfather and the second to carry on the father's name.  Case in point, in Matthew 13:55 we find that Jesus' brothers Jacob and Joseph were named in honor of grandpa and dad. 

So, from the very beginning, Jesus' name told people in His hometown there was something not-quite-kosher about Him. My "sanctified imagination" tells me that Jesus suffered a great deal because of that. After all, it is hard for people in small towns to forget a good scandal... why else wouldn't He have been named for his grandfather? Psalm 69:12 may give us a quick snapshot into Jesus' experience in Nazareth when it says, "Those who sit at the city gate gossip about me; drunkards mock me in their songs." (ESV)

Still, God the Father used Jesus' name and life experiences to form Him into a "man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised..." (Isa. 53:3)

Talk about "love/hate" - I hate the fact Jesus had to go through all of that, but I love Him for it. I am thankful that He lived in such a way that He could identify with hurting mankind. I am thankful and amazed that He faithfully "toted the load" for someone named Woody.

Woody's Brain on Su

A Frightening Look into Woody's Brain on a Very Special Day!

I doubt anyone of a certain age who lives in the United States can forget the following public service advertisement: "This is your brain [an egg]. This is drugs [a hot frying pan]. This is your brain on drugs [one sizzling egg]. Any questions?"

Since its appearance in 1987, it has become one of the best-known, mass media, health campaign ads - encouraging parodies, jokes and, even, a few songs.  In 1999 TV Guide came up with a list of the top 50 commercials of all time. “Your-brain-as-a-frying-egg” came in at (drum roll) #11. Personally, I would have scored the old Welch’s Grape Jelly ad – the one with the vapor going up and coming back into the cooking vat – much higher.

Unfortunately, people are still attracted to drugs because it activates the part of the brain that makes you feel, well, good. After all, humans do enjoy that kind of feeling.
 

Now, here is why all this came to my mind today. Arthur Aron, PhD, says, “The area of the brain which is stimulated by drugs is the same reward area which is activated (when) people are experiencing intense romantic desire.” I think he means love, but scientists (and doctors) must get paid by the syllable.
 

Helen Fisher spent her academic career trying to figure out what is happening in the brains of people who are head-over-heels in love. She confirmed that the caudate nucleus – what our evolutionary friends sometimes refer to as the “reptilian brain” – is very active in people in love. I am not sure what that means. However, Fisher also says that love activates our brains a bit like chocolate. Now, that I get.
 

Another researcher, Ted Huston, had more interest in what happens in the brain in long-term relationships. He found that people who tend to idealize their mate have happier marriages. According to Huston, "Usually, this is a matter of one person putting good spin on the other, seeing the partner as more responsive than he or she really is."
 

Score one for blind optimism!
 

Today, my “chocolate-loving brain” is very thankful for Su. We are celebrating our 38th anniversary – certainly not worthy of being announced on Paul Harvey’s old radio program, but, for optimists like me, “something is something.”
 

I was never a quick learner. In first grade I was in the “bluebird reading group” – in other words, I had the natural academic ability of wet cement. When we moved to Bolivia, Spanish was a challenge. I think it also took me more than the average amount of time to learn some of the basic marriage lessons a man needs to absorb. It could be my reptilian brain is stunted in the evolutionary process.
 

Still, marriage is a great school to help us evolve from “I” to “we.” The tuition is pretty high and the homework can be painful, but the degree continues to have value, even in a troubled economy.
 

Thinking of schools, when Su was in the ninth grade, one of her friends developed a crush on me. Hard to imagine, but true. When Su heard about it, she told her friend, “Stay away from him. He’s nothing but trouble.”
 

In retrospect, Su was probably right and would have been well-served to follow her own advice. Still, today I am very thankful that someone as bright and skilled as Su fell in love with a genuine bluebird like me.
 

So, today I celebrate “my brain on Su.” Next to the experience of following after Jesus, nothing has impacted me like life and love with her. In fact, as I look at the people, experiences and tools that God has used to form me as a disciple, no one and nothing has been used in my life like she has.
 

Happy Anniversary, Su! You probably were hoping for something more than a “fried egg” on this day, but keep in mind what Dr. Huston had to say about putting a good spin on what you got. More than anything, I hope you know that I love you more today than I did when that pastor wearing white patent leather shoes married us at Woodland Camp.
 

Some things you can forgive – but those shoes on that wonderful day in those beautiful woods are not one of them!

Desktop Discoveries

One of my mentors in ministry - and I have been blessed to have several - had a very orderly approach to any paperwork. First, he would only permit one file on his desk at any particular time. One. That was it. Second, he only handled a particular piece of paper once. If it required additional action, he took that action point then. He didn't wait. He didn't come back to it. 

Almost twenty years later (and with a safety boundary of 2302 miles physically separating us) I can now admit that I occasionally went into his office when he was out and purposely placed another file or piece of paper in his work area. Sometimes I even arranged them so they were not completely square with his desk - which was perfectly square to the walls. I must admit it made me smile when I heard him sigh rather dramatically when he returned to his office.

My own philosophy to the ecosystem that is sometimes referred to as my desk is that working on several projects at once often leads to some creative solutions, or, at the very least, creative thinking. Whenever I try cleaning my desk I either end up making a bigger mess or looking through files and documents I thought I had lost. To quote A. A. Milne, the profound British philosopher of the early 20th Century, "One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries."

This past week we had a cleaning day at IT Costa Rica. I was encouraged and even aided in cleaning my own office. One of my co-workers spent most of the morning simply shredding sensitive documents that I pulled out of long-forgotten files. However, proving Milne correct, I made several encouraging discoveries.

I found an old prayer card from a ministry I helped lead in Ecuador for 19 years. When this particular photo of the Youth World team was taken, everyone was a lot younger than they are today... including myself! As I looked at those faces, I had the privilege of remembering everything that team has accomplished - training leaders, leading youth ministries, developing a 300 acre facility dedicated to forming disciples through adventure in the mountains and much, much more. 

Action point: Thank the Lord for all that He has accomplished through the dedicated missionaries at Youth World.

I found another old prayer card of Miguel Olvera. Miguel worked for many years to help us begin IT Costa Rica. Miguel has now invested several years in developing our Sonlife team in Ecuador. Last weekend I was with Miguel in Guayaquil where he told me about the latest evangelism training his team did with 50 young people from six different churches. During the week-long training event the participants shared their faith in parks and shopping areas. As a result, over 90 people made decisions to trust in Jesus. More importantly, this was another step in the journey of discipleship for those sharing their faith. 

Action point: I need to write Miguel this week and tell him how much I value his leadership in this strategic ministry.

Another discovery that impressed me was an early executive summary our team had written to describe the hopes, plans and vision for the Multiplication Center here in Costa Rica. As I read this now ten-year-old document, I was impressed by how much has already been accomplished and by how much we STILL need to do. Today, IT Costa Rica has over 50 missionaries serving in 13 countries. There discipleship training conferences and mentoring going on in other countries as well. When we wrote out our vision statement we hoped that we would have 200 Latins serving by the end of 2014. We have a lot of work ahead of us if we hope to meet that goal by next year!

Action Point: Continue to pray Luke 10:2, begging God for workers for His harvest. There is so much to do, so many opportunities and so little time.

Robert Brault wrote, "I am never five minutes into stripping the clutter from my life before I start running into the clutter that is my life." Cleaning the office is a wonderful opportunity to straighten up the desk. Perhaps, more importantly, it provides an opportunity to strip some of the "life-clutter" out and re-focus on the strategic priorities that He has given us.

Singing Subversive Songs in Space

Last night, Kari, Su and I drove back to San Isidro singing well-worn Christmas carols. In a rather unusual Christmas season for us (with Su’s health issues), it was the most enjoyable holiday activity so far this year. There is something about those songs…

Early Christmas music was sung in Latin and theologically pretty heavy – it made its point, but wasn't something people started humming at the beginning of December. It was Francis of Assisi who popularized Christmas songs as we have come to know them. “Carols” were originally simple songs played on flute to which people danced. We don't see much of that anymore!

Christmas carols grew in popularity until the Brits decided to become the official Christmas party-poopers of all time and outlaw them. In 1647 Oliver Cromwell and British Parliament decreed Christmas carols to be “overly democratic” and “unsuitable activity” for the general public. There is nothing like being named a liberal subversive for singing “Away in a Manger!" Fortunately for us - and for the recording industry in general - King Charles II restored both the Stuarts to the throne and Christmas carols to the people.

Of course, many of our popular Christmas songs today have little to do with anything that Francis of Assisi, King Charles II or, for that matter, Oliver Cromwell could identify with Christ’s birth.

One of the most popular – and a personal favorite – is Nat King Cole’s, “The Christmas Song.” According to WCBS – FM, “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” is number six on the list of all-time best Christmas songs. Interestingly enough, it was written by Mel Torme and his friend, Bob Wells, as a way to distract themselves from the summer heat in 1944. Even so, it has a lot of holiday mojo going for it: embers, little tots, reindeer and the basic assurance that everything is right in the world. Still, for my money, it can’t hold a candle to Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” – currently number sixty four on the same list.

“A Merry Little Christmas” celebrates something very close to many of our hearts at the Christmas season – happiness mixed with a solid shot or two of sadness and melancholy. Hugh Martin wrote the song for the 1943 movie, Meet Me in St. Louis, starring Judy Garland. In the movie, Garland sings to a seven-year-old Margaret O’Brien as they process the sad prospect of moving away from their home. The original lyrics were pretty gruesome:

          Have yourself a merry little Christmas
          It may be your last
          Next year we may all be living in the past
          Have yourself a merry little Christmas
          Pop that champagne cork
          Next year we may all be living in New York
          No good times like the olden days
          Happy golden days of yore
          Faithful friends who were dear to us
          Will be near to us no more
          But at least we all will be together
          If the Lord allows
          From now on, we'll have to muddle through somehow
          So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

For the record, Garland refused to sing the original lyrics in the movie and had Martin do a re-write. Sinatra obligated him to make even more changes for his version recorded in the ‘50’s. I haven’t personally heard it, but I wonder if Twisted Sister’s heavy metal version of the song reverts to the original lyrics? 

In my opinion, one of the best Christmas carols written in the United States is Edmund Sears’ “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” Sears was a graduate of Harvard and spent most of his life pastoring small churches out east. He wrote the carol at a time when there was a great deal of national tension over the question of slavery. In 1849 the country was also adjusting to the realities of the growing industrial revolution in the north and social chaos caused by the gold rush out west. In that context, Sears wrote:

          And ye, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low, 
          Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow, 
          Look now! For glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wind:
          O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing.

I don’t know about you, but this is one of those years when some of “life’s crushing load” has given me even poorer posture than normal. In times like these I am especially thankful for the fact that Jesus broke through into time and space. Because He lived and lives there really is rest on the weary road and the angels’ message still speaks today.

P.S. Because I will probably never have another opportunity to share this bit of Christmas trivia: “Jingle Bells” holds the honor of being the first song broadcast from Space. On December 16, 1965 the crew of Gemini 6 reported seeing someone wearing a red suit in polar orbit. They then serenaded mission control with their rendition of the song, complete with bells and an eight-note Hohner "Little Lady" harmonica which they had smuggled on board their spacecraft. Come on! The picture of astronauts shaking bells and playing a small harmonica as their capsule shoots through space HAS to bring a smile to your face!

Thanks for the Common Things

Every year I fight a rear-guard action to make Thanksgiving last as long as possible. Admittedly, with the fact that most stores begin to promote Christmas sales in October (or September!), this is a lost cause. Still, all true-lovers of pilgrims, turkey and actual giving of thanks should give me credit for at least trying.

In Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis has Wormwood, the master demon, write the following to the inexperienced tempter, Screwtape: "The man who truly and disinterestedly enjoys any one thing in the world, for its own sake, and without caring twopence what other people say about it, is by that very fact forearmed against some of our subtlest modes of attack. You should always try to make the patient abandon the people or food or books he really likes in favor of the 'best' people, the 'right' food, the 'important' books. I have known a human defended from strong temptations to social ambition by a still stronger taste for tripe and onions."

Of course, this is really what sincere gratitude is all about. If we spend more time thanking God for what really delights us - even the most common things of life - we will be less tempted to conform to the general attitude of always wanting more, better and bigger. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, "We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts." 

With that firmly in mind, I would like to give thanks this year for some common things that I have enjoyed in life - kind of on the order of "tripe and onions", which I will not include on my own list!

Thinking of food, I am thankful for Bodacious Bar-B-Q. The restaurant was founded in 1960 as "Lil Roland's Bodacious Bar-B-Que" in Duncanville, Texas. However, Roland, and his wife Nancy, relocated to Longview, Texas in 1968, and by the grace of God opened their first East Texas location right across from my alma mater, LeTourneau University. Back in the Seventies, when Su and I were young and broke, on Tuesdays you could buy five sandwiches for $1.00. I ate so many them that I sweat the odor of mesquite smoke on hot Texas days - and I seem to remember there were a lot of those!

I am thankful for the Swift Jewel Cowboys, Louis Innis and His String Dusters, and The York Brothers. In other words, I am thankful for old time music. Truth be told, I enjoy many genres of music. However, this year I have especially appreciated listening to guitar players who couldn't do it digitally, didn't do unlimited retakes, and actually had to own their mistakes - maybe it is because they sound like actual human beings playing those instruments.

I am thankful for root beer floats. I do not eat many sweets - don't even take sugar in my coffee. However, there is something about root beer floats that somehow realigns the universe in its proper course. I am not sure why that is, but the man or woman who discovers the science behind this phenomenon will probably be awarded a Nobel Prize. 

I am thankful for times when Su is a bit more with it and in a lot less pain. We do not get many of those days, but when they happen it is something very special indeed.

Although they do not really fall into the "common category," I am very thankful for life-long friends. I am thankful that I can be who I am with them and they still let me come back the next time. I am thankful I can share my hurts, questions and, even, doubts and they still continue to share the "long obedience in the same direction" with me.

I am thankful for authors like Henri Nouwen who wrote, "Gratitude goes beyond the 'mine' and 'thine' and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift... The discipline of gratitude is the explicit effort to acknowledge that all I am and have is given to me as a gift of love, a gift to be celebrated with joy."

Finally, I am very thankful for one of the basic necessities of life: water! I imagine you rarely think about it. But, we have spent many days and, even, weeks this year with the house's water supply cut off. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I am so happy when we can open the tap and have water come out of it! Well, that and flush the toilet.

(Su wants you all to know that she is thankful for pumpkin pie, especially pumpkin pie made by Kari. She even had it for breakfast today!)

Politics and Religion

Warning: This post includes two topics we are never supposed to talk about in polite company - politics and religion.

Well, the hour has finally arrived for all of our friends and family in the States: The Superbowl of political activity - the presidential election. Having lived away from the United States for so many years, I sometimes feel like I have lost all right to comment on its internal politics. Still, I continue to watch the entire process with great interest.

I think I always had a political bent to my personality. Is it possible that type of thing is included in our DNA spiral?

As a boy I remember that Vice President Nixon looked "scary" in that first debate. Apparently, his mother was in agreement. She phoned him afterward to ask him if he was sick. Most experts think Nixon won the second and third debates, and the fourth one (probably the best performance by both men) was a tie. Still, if you look up the Kennedy-Nixon debates on YouTube all you get is that "sweaty-lip-heavy-beard" one. I guess first impressions really do stick.

I have always thought that concession speeches said a great deal more about candidates than the more victorious variety. I confess I shed some tears listening to Hubert Humphrey's concession speech in 1968. No one thinks about Humphrey much today, but he demonstrated character when he conceded to Mr. Nixon. Later on, when he was dying of bladder cancer, he spent his last weeks in the hospital going from room to room, cheering up other patients by telling them jokes and listening to them. He also called former President Richard Nixon to make sure he knew he was invited to Humphrey's funeral. Now THAT would have been an interesting phone call.

In 1976 no one filed for a rather obscure position in Gregg County, Texas, where Su and I were living at the time. As such, a space was left on the ballot for people to write in their choice. At the end of the day, without having campaigned a minute, I think I came in fourth! Apparently, a lot of my college-aged friends thought it would be humorous to write my name in when they voted.

When we lived in Bolivia we were obligated to vote in national elections. It was considered a "responsibility" and not a "right" by Bolivian law. If you didn't vote you could not cash a check, buy gasoline or sign a legal contract for sixty days after the election. Su voted blank. I always tried to figure out the "best of the worst" - a real challenge at that point in Bolivian politics.

Thinking of which, the best bumper-sticker I ever remember seeing was from the 1992 governor's campaign in Louisiana. This was the rather infamous race between David Duke and Edwin Edwards. The bumper-sticker read: "Vote for the crook. It's important." Talk about a campaign slogan!

Whoever wins on Tuesday - or whenever the election is called - I hope that all of us (including those who do not live in the States) can remember a few important things:

We should remember the real power in this world - the power to save, the power to transform lives, the power to create change which matters - is in the hands of our God.

We should remember that real freedom has a price. It's free to us, but it had a high price to God. In fact, the cost of freedom was Jesus Christ - the Creator of all the universe -  hanging on a cross in a dusty, Roman, back-water province.

We should remember that as followers of Jesus we cannot conform to the patterns of this world. Instead, we must be transformed by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12:2).

We should remember that we live as we are meant to live when our passions reflect the passions of Jesus. No matter who wins on Tuesday, we need to wake up on Wednesday and go about the serious business of reflecting His character and His priorities in our lives and in our communities.

The God of Continuity

People who know me well are sometimes reluctant to watch movies with me. The reason for this is rather simple: I take great joy in pointing out continuity problems in films. When something doesn't match up from one scene to another, I will often share my unsolicited insights with those around me... sometimes destroying the cinematic moment for my long-suffering companions.

The 1968 movie, Bullitt, has one of the best car chase scenes ever filmed. In the movie, Steve McQueen goes after a miracle-performing Dodge Charger in his Ford Mustang. The Charger keeps losing its hubcaps only to have them reappear on the wheels in the next scene. If I remember correctly, by the end of the 10-minute chase scene the Dodge has lost a total of five wheel covers... and still has some in place!

In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines [2003] the central characters, John and Catherine, get into a Cessna with the N number (what you see on the tail of a plane) N3035C. Once they take off they are shown flying the same model plane with the number N3973F. Upon landing, the number miraculously returns to the original N3035C.

Like I said, people can get real touchy when I point these things out in the theater. 

For some reason only explained by my defective DNA spiral, I do not have the same issue with continuity in vintage cowboy movies. I rather enjoy seeing John Wayne shoot his pistol approximately fifty times before reloading. If John manages to kill fifty bad guys in the process, I experience no personal sensitivity. I realize this reveals a profound character flaw on my part, but as long as people do not bleed in old cowboy movies - and they rarely do - I feel no pain at their passing "to the round-up in the sky."

I find the same personal insensitivity is present when I read certain parts of biblical history. In 2 Kings, chapter 1, we find the story of Ahaziah falling through the lattice on the second floor of his palace. Rather than seek after the true God, the injured Ahaziah sends his messengers to ask Baal-zebub, the god of the flies (or, god of the Earth), about his possibilities for a full-recovery. Elijah, the Tishbite stops the king's men with the question, "Is it because there is no God in Israel that you are sending to inquire of Baal-zebub..?"

The part of the story where I have to confront my own insensitivity is when King Ahaziah sends fifty soldiers to bring Elijah back to him. The prophet calls down fire from heaven and all fifty are immediately microwaved. This happens a second time with the same results. Finally, the captain of the third group of fifty sent by the king humbles himself and begs for the lives of his men and Elijah goes "down with him to the king."

Rather than experiencing moral conflict and remorse about the death of one hundred men (101 if you include the king who eventually dies as a result of his fall), I actually find the story rather captivating. I think the life and ministry of Elijah would be a great movie and almost certainly have spectacular special effects. I know I would buy a ticket to see it... even if I had to go alone.

Of course, I doubt this will ever happen. After all, the "continuity" in Elijah's story is that God is great and man is, well, sinful. No miracle-performing Dodge Chargers will ever change this fact. No Hollywood sleight of hand can do away with this truth. Much to the chagrin of many movie-making elite, there is still a God in Hollywood and He does not take kindly to the entertainment industry bowing down before the god of this earth.

My Imagination Ate My Homework

Su left me the assignment of writing about how things have changed in our first 14 years in Costa Rica - time flies fast when you are having fun (or, are at least very busy)! However, as I washed dishes this morning and listened to the BBC interview Buzz Aldrin about the passing of his colleague, Neil Armstrong, my mind was taken back to the lunar landing in 1969. So, I guess I will have to fulfill my assignment next week. I'll just tell Su that "my imagination ate my homework."

People often remember where they were and what they were doing when a national calamity occurred. President Kennedy's assassination (I actually know someone who was on the infamous knoll when the shooting took place); MLK, Jr.'s assassination; the Challenger disaster, and, unfortunately, many others just stick in our minds. For some reason, it is not as easy to remember the same detail with the big, positive events which impact us. Maybe that says more about humankind than we care to admit.

My father can remember where he was and what he was thinking when he first heard about Charles Lindbergh's solo flight across the Atlantic. It marked him in a very profound way. Probably as a direct result, when my sister Janet was particularly fussy one Sunday morning, he took her for a ride in the car to allow my mother to actually listen to the sermon. Can you believe it? Somehow that car ended up at a local airport where he went on his first plane ride!

At least that is his story and, at 90 years of age, he is sticking to it.

For those who watched it on television, the moon landing was one of those positive moments in history which will always be a touchstone in your personal history. I watched it at my sister's home (now all grown up and not quite as fussy) in the Minneapolis area. Even for someone as confused as I was in 1969, it was still memorable.

One of my favorite facts about the mission is that Armstrong and Aldrin actually broke the ignition switch for the ascent engine when they were moving around the lunar module in their rather bulky spacesuits. So, innovating as all good techos do, they used part of a pen to push the circuit breaker in to activate the launch sequence. Aldrin claims to still have that pen - and all engineers of a certain age would give their favorite Pickett "slipstick" to get it!

Since that time, I have always paid special attention to Neil Armstrong's rare interviews. In public he was a man of few words regarding his "small step/giant leap" experience. He did not capitalize excessively on his personal fame. He insisted he was one man on a very large team. He remained uniquely proud of the fact that he was a "pocket protector kind of nerd." 

That kind of humility is rare today - even in Christianity. We have become enamored with popular personalities. If the "most-recent-preacher-to-hit-the-bestseller-list" says something, we tend to believe it and repeat it - even though it may have little basis in the Scripture. Hype overwhelms and eventually destroys the value of an honest, everyday spiritual walk. Unfortunately, Marshall McLuhan's secular prophecies have come true.

In an age where "all media exists to give our lives artificial perceptions and arbitrary values," I am admittedly a bit jaded. However, it seems to me if our Christianity had a bit less marketing and bit more walking and applying, we might come closer to what Jesus had in mind for His disciples. If we were willing to say we are simply "grace-saved, sinner kind of guys," who are one part of a larger community, we might end up doing more and talking less about it than we have since Neil Armstrong took "one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind." 

What? No Tug-of-War in the Olympics?

With the beginning of the Olympic Games in London it is finally time to give credit where credit is due to one of the lesser-known, competitions in the history of the Olympic games. I am, of course, referring to tug-of-war which was an official Olympic competition from the Paris games in 1900 through the 1920 games in Antwerp.


I am not making this up.


Great Britain will forever remain the ultimate champion of tug-of-war at an Olympic level. In total they won five medals: two gold, two silver and one bronze. For the record, the very first gold medal (in Paris) was not even given to a club representing a single nation. Apparently a group of Danes and Swedes united in a multinational effort to defeat France for the top honor. I can hear them counting cadence now: "Uff da, uff da, uff da..."


One of the more interesting characteristics of tug-of-war as an Olympic competition was the fact that different clubs from the same country were allowed to compete. Because of this anomaly, the United States took gold, silver and bronze in the 1904 St. Louis games... the only time the country ever medaled in tug-of-war. (photo to left)


Thinking of the 1904 games, Frank X. Kugler, member of the bronze medal tug-of-war club, also won a silver medal in wrestling (heavyweight category) and a bronze medal in the all-around dumbbell events. Frank did this even though he took last place in 9 out of 10 events in the dumbbell competition... it would seem there were only three competitors in that particular sport in those games! 


To give credit where credit is due, Frank remains the only competitor to win a medal in three different sports at the same Olympic Games. If you allow me to mix my sporting allusions, now matter how poorly he did in dumbbells, he at least got up and answered the bell.


My guess is that all of us occasionally feel like we are in a tug-of-war.  Some times we feel like we are the rope and forces larger-than-ourselves are pulling on us from each side. As we get stretched, we feel the tightness and pain. On other occasions we feel like we are tugging on the rope and the team on the other side has us severely outnumbered. 


Max Gunther, the now deceased author of books and articles about finance, was fond of saying,  "If you are losing a tug-of-war with a tiger, give him the rope before he gets to your arm. You can always buy a new rope." There is a lot of truth in that. However, when it comes to certain bedrock principles we simply don't have the option to give up the rope. Whether the tiger gets us, or not, we cannot let go.


Sometimes, all we can do as Christians, or as plain-old-human-beings, is to imitate Frank Kugler and get up and answer the bell one more time.

1922 Plus 90

Yesterday, June 1st, was my father's 90th birthday. Really. Some of you who know Morgan tell me he doesn't look a day over eighty. However, to be truthful, I am not sure if he thinks that is a compliment, or not.

Thinking of telling the truth, 1922 was a lo-o-o-o-ong time ago. In some ways, it feels like Morgan was born into another world.

It was in 1922 that President Warren G. Harding placed the first radio in the White House. For the record, he was also the president who decided that government needed to regulate the new-fangled technology. Makes you wonder what he heard on that radio, doesn't it?

Morgan grew up with an interest in aviation. Coincidentally, it was in 1922 that the first commercial airline midair collision occurred - seven people lost their lives. Since then, I only find record of 49 midair collisions of scheduled, commercial aircraft - most took place before the military air controllers could communicate with civilian controllers. This is probably one of the strongest arguments that could be made for the need of good communication between government branches. Since contemporary evidence exists that this lesson still needs to be learned, it proves that not everything has changed since Morgan was born.

 

The Lincoln Memorial was dedicated in Washington the day before my father's birth. Since then this monument has made its own special history. In 1939, Marian Anderson sang there when she did not receive permission to sing at Constitution Hall. Martin Luther King gave his moving "I Have a Dream" speech at the Lincoln Memorial in 1963. In one of the stranger happenings on its sacred steps, Richard M. Nixon met one night with anti-war protestors during the Vietnam era. That incident reminds me of other conversations between Morgan and me during the same war.

It was in 1922 that the British archaeologist, Howard Carter, discovered the entrance to Pharaoh Tutankhamen's tomb in the Valley of the Kings. King Tut, as he has been popularly known, reigned about 1300 years before the time of Christ - making him technically a few years older than Morgan. Still, since Tut died at 18 years of age, it is probably not a fair comparison.

In 1922 the United States had a population of about 106 million. Only 343,000 of those served in the military - down from 1,172,601 just three years earlier. The average salary was $1236 dollars... a year! A teacher earned only $970. More relevant to the subject, or father, at hand, the average life expectancy for a male was just 53.6 years.

I am glad that Morgan beat the averages from when he was born. He has been a mentor, encourager and, occasionally, early on, the source of merited discipline. As the years have gone by he has become a friend... and that is about the best thing a son can say about his father.

So, happy birthday, Morgan! You are younger than King Tut and about the same age as the Lincoln Memorial (which, for the record, already needed restoration at a cost of $18 million). You managed to learn to fly your own plane and see other aircraft fly that you couldn't have imagined when you grew up on that Minnesota farm. May God continue to bless you in each day that He gives you the grace to live.

PS Since I will never have the opportunity to note this fact again. It was also in 1922 that an Australian named Fred Walker invented Vegemite. This has nothing to do with Morgan, but does provide evidence that not everything which happened that year was a net positive for humanity.