Ferguson

The day after the verdict in Ferguson the debate continues, "Was the shooting of Michael Brown justified?" How we answer that question probably has a lot to do with our race.

If you're white like me you're likely to believe the shooting was warranted. Michael must have done something to provoke the police officer. The police don't shoot someone for no reason, so Darren Wilson must have had no other alternative.

As I hear folks on the news make points and counter points it makes me sad because I really think it's the wrong question.

The question we need to ask is, why would an unarmed 18 year old boy attack a police officer? Cop or no cop, who in their right mind would punch a guy with a gun? Until we answer that question, nothing is going to change.

The thing I think we miss in our debate on race is we are culturally separated. There are social norms and cues we miss when we communicate with each other. Because we come from the same country and speak English we think we're speaking the same language. We aren't.

The prisms through which we see life skew our perceptions of reality in different directions.

Those prisms are created by our experiences, our race and socioeconomic realities. All of life is seen through my context, which makes it extremely difficult for me to understand yours.

There is no scenario where would think the rioting last night was justified. And I've never been a young black male in Ferguson. Until we are willing to address the issues that created an environment where my view could be so vastly divergent from those who lit the fires, we will never solve the issue of race in America. 

Time

We live in a society of instant gratification. I can have food, entertainment, banking, education, news all delivered directly to my couch. And I can access it all from my phone.

What sucks is, most of life doesn't work that way. Things of substance, things that matter, take time. Google might help you diagnose an ailment, but it won't make you a doctor.

The same is true for relationships. There are no quick fixes or shortcuts if we want them to be healthy. If we want them to matter, it takes time.

One of the most difficult aspects of cross-cultural ministry is differing perceptions regarding time. In Latin America, if you're waiting to meet someone and he shows up a half hour late without an apology, you might think he's rude.

If you're rushing to a meeting and don't stop for a five minute conversation with a friend, he would think the same of you. No one is being rude, the cultural norms are different.

If we struggle with our fellow human beings, how much more is our quick fix society culturally separated from an eternal God? When you exist outside of time what does it do to your perspective? I think it's why he always seems so slow.

When trying to build a cross-cultural relationship you need to adopt their cultural norms, even when you may not understand them. I think that's true in faith as well. We won't always understand God and his timing, but it may help if we took some time to slow down. 

Problems Painting

We're trying to do some work on our house to bring it out of the 1970's. So, the popcorn texture on the ceiling is gone and we've got some new paint on the walls.

Marcus, Kelsie and I were all painting away when Nancy walked into the room looked at the wall Marcus was working on and said, "You missed a spot." She rapidly followed it with, "Oh, and one there. And over there."

You could tell by his expression Marcus was about to "hand" her his roller.

Marcus wasn't doing a bad job, there were just some things he couldn't see from his perspective. Nancy wasn't trying to be critical, she was just standing far enough back she could see where his roller hadn't laid paint evenly.

We need relationship. We can be too close to a situation to see it clearly. We get so caught up in the pace of life, we don't always take time to step back and evaluate how we're doing. We need people who can come to us and say, "You're missing some things."

We need to "paint" together. Marcus may have received the advice better if Nancy had been rolling the wall with him. If we are not sharing life with someone, we should not expect them to receive critique from us. The right to speak has to be earned, usually by lots of time walking through life together.

Time adds perspective. Nancy came in after some of the paint had time to dry. There were spots she could see that weren't clearly visible earlier. In the same way, there are things you can see in your 50's that you just can't in your 20's.

It's why parents are constantly telling their kids what to do even after they're adults. Part of it is muscle memory but it is also because time has provided perspective. The problem is, if we aren't "painting" with our kids, it doesn't matter if we're their parent.

What makes me wonder is, if I can gain perspective in 20 years, how can I possibly understand the perspective of an eternal God? The only thing I can think of is through time, relationship and a lot of painting together.

I Wish Mom Would Die

You never dream, when you've been raised by a loving mother, that you'd think something so awful. I recoil at the title, yet it's how I feel. I never imagined a scenario where it would be possible.

But this is where Alzheimer's has taken me.

I love my mom. I love who she was. I even love who she is now. People who love me ask how she is. I understand. I ask my dad the same thing when I call. But we both already know the answer. She's alive. That's it.

What is hard to explain is Mom is just there. She lays in bed. Someone moves her to a wheelchair. Someone feeds her. And for most of that time, she just stares. Her eyes, once loving, are now vacant, sometimes confused and even afraid. We are way beyond the, "Does she know you?" question.

She's been this way for years. It's been 13 years since we noticed her decline, over 6 years in a nursing home, most of that without any real communication.

As the title indicates, her condition has taken me to some pretty dark places and forced me to wrestle with some pretty difficult questions. What would I do if it was legal to end mom's life? What would I do if I am diagnosed at 60? Would I move to Oregon like, Brittany Maynard?

What would be the most loving thing for Mom? For me? For my family? And as I try to work through what seems like a loving response, what does the suffering of a faithful saint say about God?

I don't think I have good answers for those questions. But I think sometimes we make the mistake of too quickly short circuiting the pain. It's like taking morphine to stop hurting when we touch a hot stove.

There are things we learn in suffering we can't learn any other way. Something about it forces us to shed pretense and platitudes. It makes us real.

I don't understand the purpose of Mom's suffering, or my dad and sister's as they care for her. Still I try to trust the God she loved and long for him to take her home.

A Prayer For Our Country

I woke up this morning to giddy Republicans celebrating the senate take over, and Democrats mourning the potential of a lame duck president for the next two years.

The question now is, will they be able to do anything, or will they descend into the name calling and finger pointing we've grown so accustom to?

In times of transition we are reminded to pray for our nation and for our leaders, but I wonder if we've been doing it wrong.

We tend to pray for things like, freedom, prosperity and security and it's natural to do so. But we've had those things, and even unparalleled power, for years. Still we hear, "Our country is headed in the wrong direction."

It makes me wonder if we're praying for the wrong things.

What if, instead, we woke up every morning and prayed, "Lord bring revival, in my nation, in my church and in my heart. Help me to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with you. And help me to love you and love others more than my own freedom, prosperity and safety."

I'm not sure that's the kind of prayer that would change the nation in the next two years, but it might change me. 

Self Aware

I think the greatest gift we can give to the people around us is to be self aware. I can learn scripture and quote from Romans better than Paul, but if I've never dug into the darkness and light of my own heart... cue the clanging bell.

There are a few questions I think we should all ask ourselves:

Who has God created me to be?
Knowing our areas of strength is crucial, but it's more than just knowing our gifting. We are each unique creatures with unique abilities to touch the lives around us. Understanding and accepting our unique wiring sets us free to engage in whatever setting, church, work or neighborhood.

What are my limits?
The difficulty in answering this question is we seldom deal with it honestly. The needs we see may be so great we overextend. Or our insecurities prohibit us from accepting challenges. A balanced understanding of our capabilities and insecurities combined with the difference between what's stretching and what's exhausting can be a lifelong struggle.

What are my areas of struggle?
We all have hangups, or more plainly, pet sins. Stress, exhaustion, loneliness, pain can trigger all kinds of poor choices. What are they? What are my triggers? Why? If I hate myself for doing the same thing over and over, at some point I should stop and ask, where it comes from?

Whose am I?
This is really the most important question. Is there really a God who loves me? So often we gain our self-esteem from the three questions above, what I do, my weakness and my failures. None of those things will tell me who I am. Understanding my intrinsic value gives me the freedom to dig into the other three questions without fear.

For a long time I didn't like questions like these, or at least the answers they revealed. I can still struggle with them. But as I'm understanding more clearly that I have been created, the way God wanted me to be, with all the beauty and struggle that comes with it, and he loves me just as I have been created, it gives me the confidence and humility to dig further inside.  

Yippee!

There's nothing quite like coming home from a long day at work and being greeted by a three year old. Arms go up, cheers erupt, hugs are catapulted and weariness melts away.

A welcome home from a dog is almost as good, but isn't quite the same. Even a good cat can make you feel welcome, but it always feels like they have an agenda.

Nancy and I have started cheering for people when we see them. I'm not sure how it started and we've never really talked about it. It just sort of happened. We don't do it all the time, but just at random moments throughout the day.

Marcus and Kelsie come home from work, we cheer. Andrew stops by for a visit, "Yippee!" Someone shows up for work, church, the car rental company, we celebrate.

I have to tell you, it freaks people out.

"What was that about? Am I late? Did I miss something?"
"No. We're just happy to see you."
"Um... oh. Thanks?"

As we get older, we begin to expect Dad to come home every night. We believe Mom will always be there. The surprise and wonder of their return wears off and drifts into the mundane.

I wounder what the world would be like if we always greeted the people we love like a three year old. Not superficially, but with genuine excitement for the gift of reconnection. Because we never really know.

If you knew it was going to be the last time you saw someone, how would you greet them? How would you treat them?