Everything That Rises

I'd like to say that I've been angry at God lately, but I always feel like that's a bit cliche and dramatic, so I'll just say I've been angry lately. Maybe it's the holidays; truth be told I haven't really looked forward to Christmas since I was kid. I can't get behind the idea of buying gifts for people you hardly know or even buying things for people you do know who are completely capable of buying things for themselves. Maybe the entire notion of gift-giving is lost on me, but I absolutely hate the unnecessary stress of having to decide what to buy for people. Maybe it's the added stress that comes with my vocation around this time of year; there are more services to plan, more sermons to write, more people to see, cards to write, calls to make, people to help. Don't get me wrong, it's times like this that I love my calling and love the change it brings to the lives of others, but it truly heaps stress upon stress. Maybe it's some of t

As a minister I think about church a lot...I mean A WHOLE LOT! It's my life, my vocation, my passion of sorts, so it's natural that it would occupy my mind most of the time. Lately, however, I've been thinking more intentionally about church. I haven't been thinking about the usual stuff (sermons, events, Sunday school lessons, etc.); I've been thinking about why we even do church in the first place. Why does the congregation I lead even bother to meet? We are in a county of Alabama where there are at least 85 or so other congregations that are not too dissimilar from ours in terms of worship style, general practice, and doctrine. There are well over 100 churches in and around our city doing good things--"getting people saved," feeding hungry mouths, giving people gas money, etc.-- so why is it necessary that we exist? Is it even necessary at all? Of course, I could easily extend that question to myself. There are hundreds of Christians in and around my c

I'm sorry the A/C is too cold... I'm sorry the A/C isn't cold enough... I'm sorry the fellowship hall isn't clean enough for you... I'm sorry the sermon was too short... I'm sorry the sermon was too long... I'm sorry you didn't know about the meeting mentioned in the newsletter, bulletin, and the beginning of the service... I'm sorry that some of the youth were playing tic-tac-toe during the service, while another baby was crying... I'm sorry I didn't do that the way you think it should've been done... I'm sorry if other members of the staff/congregation don't do things the way you'd like them to... But here's the deal... You can stop complaining... You can take a more pro-active role in the church... You can do more than offer your two cents... You can actually stop practicing your faith on the sidelines, critiquing everything that I do, or telling me about everything you think is wrong with everyone and everything el

Hell. The word "hell" is mentioned only 13 times in the Bible (that is the New Revised Standard Version of the Old and New Testaments, excluding the Deuterocanonical books, for those of you keeping tabs). Eleven of those times it is in fact Jesus who speaks the word, which is the Greek word Gehenna (if you'd like to learn more about Gehenna and the history behind the word, you can click here ). To give you a sense of perspective, while the word "hell" is translated some 13 times in the entire Bible, the word translated "poor" is used some 25 times just in the four gospels of the New Testament (of course in both cases this excludes allusions to the ideas of hell, poverty, etc.). Hell has been the topic of some of my more "theological" discussion as of late, so I thought it might be useful to put some of my own thoughts on the subject down if for no other reason than to simply sort them out. I have to say I'm not "thrilled" abo

A year ago, the most influential person in my life passed away. I wrote the words below a year ago in reflection of her influence. Rosie Orene was born on a day no one remembers in a year no one recalls, in a place too soon forgotten. She grew up poor when poor wasn ’t noble. Her father was a drunk, her siblings were transient, and as a little girl she sat beside her mother’s bed as she slipped from this world into Beulah Land. She grew up the audience of violence, watching her father and brothers fight over booze money and the last spoon of peas. She lived in the gritty reality of a romanticized world and was all too often its victim. Like the other great heroes and heroines of human history, her adolescence is untold, but maybe that is best for all of us, to protect her innocence and the great magnitude of her selflessness. Still, she grew to be a woman, a wife, and a mother. As a woman, she was anything but dainty. She had more in common with “Rosie the Riveter” than merely a name…

"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways." The Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 13:11 When I was a child... I assumed everyone somehow started out the same way I did. They all came from the same sort of family with they same sort of resources. Everyone had the same experiences and the same opportunities. When I was a child... I thought there came a point in one's life where he or she purposefully decided to "make it" or simply get by. I thought those who were broke, poor, in jail or on the street wound up in those situations by their own free will. When I was a child... I thought crimes were committed by those who were purely evil and couldn't possibly have any good in them, those kinds of people who did bad things because they were bad people. When I was a child... My eyes were covered with the rose colored glasses of childhood, my horizons were only as broad

I've heard a lot lately about the National Day of Prayer. So I thought I'd say just a few things about it and move on. First, why is it that so many people are conveniently religious when stuff like this happens? People I see maybe three times in a year in the Sunday morning congregations tend to come running out of the woodwork to let everyone know that they don't want their "Christian" beliefs violated, or their religious rights taken away. Seems to me like honest believers would just sort of shrug of a National DAY of Prayer, seeing as how EVERY day is a day of prayer for them. Second, what's the big deal with having a National Day of Prayer? (That question is aimed at all of those people who think we shouldn't). So we set aside ONE DAY to encourage prayer in the lives of the people of faith in this country. There comes a point when all either side is doing is trying to piss off the other side, so really, what's the big deal if there is a National D

Why are we in love with stuff? Stuff breaks. Stuff gets old. Stuff wears out. Stuff is expensive. So why do we love it? I say we because I love stuff too. Of course, I'd like to think my stuff is a bit more socially acceptable, but at the end of the day it's really just more stuff. Stuff is a symbol of our spending power--our worth. Stuff gives us control, grants us status. Stuff clutters our hallways and offices, yet we don't want to get rid of it, because we know we'll just go out and get more. There are people who have serious issues with stuff; we call them hoarders. However, the strange thing is no one has ever come to my home, seen some stuff I don't use, and say, "Hey man, why you got all this stuff over here that you don't use? Are you a hoarder?" I don't know. Maybe we're all not that obsessed with stuff, but it does say something that we live in a country with an entire industry built around storing excess stuff. I'd like to

"Why do the heathen rage , and the people imagine a vain thing?" -Psalm 2:1 ( KJV ) Why are so many people angry? You can tell me it has something to do with politics, religion, or the vanishing of some idealized reality that never really existed in the first place, but that's a bunch of malarkey (and you know it!). Frankly, I'm tired of hearing and reading about people who constantly have some ax to grind, some banner to wave, some freedom being taken away. The last time I looked these same people aren't any less comfortable today than they were yesterday or the day before. I can't understand it. It seems to me like no one has a positive opinion about anything anymore; nobody is "for" anything--we're all "against" something. What happened? When did we allow our political affiliation or opinion determine our worth? When did opposing views begin to lead to radical, even violent, actions towards each other? It's more than troubling. W

I was fine. For about three years I had been preparing myself for that day; I knew it was coming soon. I always asked myself what I'd do when it happened. Would I be upset? If I was, would I show it? Would the world stop spinning? What about everyone else; how would they react? It seemed like that day would never come, but then it did. And as soon as it did it started to feel like a distant memory--fading at first around the edges, creeping its way towards the center of my memory like a dissolving acid. We hadn't been home long. Our move back across the Mississippi River was a long haul, but we were here, back where there were hills, pork barbecue, and boiled peanuts. We hadn't even unpacked the boxes in our temporary rent house. I was getting used to the routine (or lack thereof) of being the "new guy" when my phone rang. I knew who it was and what they were going to say: "She's getting worse. It won't be much longer now. Can you do the funeral?"

Someone once asked me how old I thought we'd be in heaven. I didn't even have to think about it too long; I said "3." My answer has no real theology behind it, no real biblical citations to proof text, just my own personal preference. I mean think about what life was like for most of us when we were 3: No school. No real responsibility. No worrying about politics. No real concept of religion. No bills. No understanding of hatred or difference. No diets, just eating whatever was put in front of you--if you liked it. Your imagination could actually take you places. Your experience of loss was minimal if not non-existent. Your only great worry was whether or not you could play outside. You weren't judged. Come to think of it, 3 was a pretty awesome age, and who knows, maybe the eternal kingdom of God is full of non-judging, loving, carefree children, all seeking the same goal with the same purpose. And you know, now that I've written this, maybe there is a passag

Stepping into her house was like stepping back in time. A large, framed portrait of a handsome young man in a tan polyester suit clings to the faux-wood paneled walls. The tweed upholstered furniture sits on the rust colored carpet—unworn monuments of an uninterrupted life. She sits in a small lift chair by the door, surrounded by shelved trinkets of memories that pierce the marrow of her ever-aging bones. There are figurines of bright-eyed children, vases with no flowers, and pieces of lined paper taped to the wall above her phone with the numbers of the local hospital, her home nurse, and the man who brings her lunch and dinner everyday. Her ninety-one years plays like the lines of ancient Greek tragedy. Like most women in her generation, she married young to the man that everyone knew would be her husband. The happily married couple soon became a trio with the birth of their daughter, and several years after, the family was completed with the birth of a son. The family of four was l

What do you think of when you hear the word "luxury"? Personally, I think about walnut-accented interior, heated leather seats, in-ground pools, marble counter tops, and real silverware you actually eat with. Maybe you think about gated driveways, Armani suits, designer sunglasses, and "tea-cup" breeds of dogs. Perhaps you think about high-rise apartments with rare works of art and handmade oriental rugs. Whatever the case, I'm willing to bet you think about those things that are intrinsically tied to money, or to be more specific, a lot of money . I have a real hunch you would never consider running water a luxury. Or how about electricity, for every hour of every day? What about food (and I don't mean caviar or Kobe beef)? Is food really a luxury? What about health care (too political?)--is it a luxury too? Here's one to really send your head spinning: is debate a luxury? Hear me out. Is it a luxury that we can actually sit in groups and argue about t

It's taken me a while to write this entry (mostly because my schedule has been crammed lately), but after having time to "stew in my juices" I hope the following exposition is worth something. In light of the recent tragedy in Haiti, a lot of people have been asking where God fits in all of this. It happens nearly every time there is some cataclysmic event that shocks the world to attention. Not to mention that it's usually quasi-religious people asking religious "authorities" these kinds of questions. The questions usually go something like this (following a typical pattern dealing with theodicy...you can google that word): "Why would God let this happen?" "How could God do this?" "Where is God/hope in the midst of all of this devastation and despair?" These aren't unfounded questions, but it does seem (at least to me) that most of the people who are asking these sorts of questions are comfortably stationed in their (still

As most of you know who read this, I am a Baptist, and that means one thing --you can't tell me what to do! Baptists are natural offspring of the Enlightenment: we (traditionally) cling to our autonomy, and we loudly claim that religion is a personal choice and can in no way be imposed upon an individual by a government, church, ordained clergy, or any other exterior force aside from the Holy Spirit and only then at the acceptance of the individual. (I certainly hope that is a fair assessment of the Baptist tradition, feel free to correct my misinterpretation). While I am a Baptist, I am first and foremost a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ; I am a Christian. As such, I tend to hold certain beliefs that are considered universal across denominations: the divinity of Jesus, his resurrection, the Trinity (though I guess that would exclude Unitarians, Mormons, and Jehovah's Witnesses, but...) the value (authority, etc.) of the Scriptures, etc. However, as a Baptist, this m

[So it's been a while since I've written anything here, but I have several good excuses: the holidays, the increased workload that comes with the resignation of staff members, a slow desktop computer (now replaced with a more efficient laptop), etc. But the most likely reason I haven't written in a while is because I've felt as if the words I would've written here would be little more than digital sawdust (and who am I to say they haven't been thus far?). So I'll take a new stab at writing something semi-worthwhile.] You were born into a family that couldn't afford to keep you, but couldn't afford to get rid of you. You were raised thinking that people with stairs inside their houses and pools in their backyards had to be the richest people in the world. You've always assumed that everyone smelled like secondhand smoke and cheap laundry powder. You thought all hot dogs were red and bologna was the preferred sandwich meat. As you got older, you w