Debbie is out of town, in Arkansas spending a few days with her mother and sister.  So I am all alone in this big house, on a lonely hill, left to fend for myself.  Late last night I went to the store to buy a gallon of ice cream and a pound of cheese, and so I’m managing to keep my strength.   Friends are providing dinner for the evenings- Ron and Donna had me over for roast, Bob and Eula grilled sirloin, and I understand Marsha will supply spaghetti this evening.  So my stack of frozen dinners remains untouched. 

I’m using a couple of night lights, one in the kitchen and another in the hallway.  Big Dog and Cassie sleep nearby.  Early this morning the phone awakened me- the alarm company alerting of an opened door at church.  Such happens periodically, and always results in a false alarm- perhaps a spider crawling across a sensor or a banner fluttering from the air conditioning.  This time it was the custodian, cleaning the church at 5 a.m.  She had forgotten the code.  I shrugged it off- you forget a lot of things at 5 a.m.  So I went back home to sleep for another hour.  I found myself dreaming that the floors of the house were covered with foot-long cockroaches, and I was dancing around smashing them in fuzzy slippers.  It’s a strange dream.  Surely Freud could find some sense to it.  Later in the morning my wife called to tell of her dream, equally strange, but I cannot reveal the details in a public forum.

Well, guess I should do the dishes?  Nah, they can wait.

Kenshin Kawakami
I start the day wondering what the former Atlanta Braves pitcher is now doing?  He was a colossal failure, losing 2/3 of the games he started with talent mostly to give up colossal home runs.  He signed a 3 year contract as I remember for $23 million, spending the last year losing games for a minor league team in Mississippi.  Still, I can’t feel too badly for the guy- $23 million is adequate compensation for a bruised ego.  I do a quick Google search to discover he is back in Japan, pitching successfully for the Nipon Ham Fighters and no doubt living quite comfortably.  Personally, I would sure like to find a way to fail while making such profit.  I’ve a sneaking suspicion that, while Dick Durbin cannot not throw a curve ball, his bank account likely exceeds that of Mr. Kawakami. 

Pinewood Derby Cheater
This past Sunday evening, we had our annual Pinewood Derby races for the kids in the church Awana program.  I put together a gaudy-looking car and entered, just for fun bragging that I would beat all the kids.  It ended up, after a few early trials, that indeed mine was going to be the fastest.  I was picturing in my mind crying kids and irate moms, and wondering what to do?  After winning the first race by several feet, I quietly instructed the guy in charge of the race to do something to keep me from winning.  He assured that he had me covered.  Indeed, in subsequent trials I repeatedly lost.  He bent my wheel!  Usually I like to win in whatever I do.  I guess, with kids, you have to make an exception.

Babysitting
Yesterday was mostly spent watching my 3-month-old granddaughter.  Really she was no problem, displaying a great disposition as long as everything was going her way and her every whim immediately served.  I quickly learned anew the fine talents of changing diapers and warming bottles.  And, this baby insisted upon being held at all times.  I obliged without much complaint.  She found a comfortable spot next to me in the recliner and we had a great time.  Verdict: this one is just fine.

Regularly I remind myself that I am not the one scheduled to pass final judgment on any man.  And this includes John Edwards, the very ugly man and former Senator from North Carolina.  He is on trial for alleged misappropriation of campaign funds, accused of diverting money in attempt to cover up a sordid affair.  It is my opinion he will likely end up serving no time in prison, perhaps paying a fine or pleading guilty to a lesser crime.  But I have little doubt he is guilty of evil.  I am sure, by now, you have listened to the story of how his wife was absolutely devastated by the public revelation of his ongoing relationship with another woman.   I get the idea Elizabeth Edwards was no saint.  She was verbally abusive to others, unpredictable and prone to fits of rage.  But I cannot help but feel pity for her and contempt for John as I read of her meltdown at the airport, falling to the ground in uncontrollable sobbing, ripping off her shirt and screaming that he does not see her anymore.   As these matters were told in court, Edward’s daughter ran from the room in tears.  None of this will convince a jury that he is a cheat with campaign donations.  But it convinces me he is a subpar human being, perhaps but a molecule or two above a slimy mollusk.

There are all kinds of reasons why a marriage may need to end.  As I hear stories and observe relationships, at times I have frankly stated- “Hey, if I had to live with that person, I’d probably want to leave too.”  I know marriage is intended for a lifetime and that divorce is generally a sin.  But the reality of sin is that, sometimes, one mate or the otherstops contributing in a healthy way to the relationship.  Often both become skewed in behavior, attitude, and spirit.  The relationship can devolve to the point that ending the connection is the best thing to do.  In our culture we divorce too quickly, and often for wrong reasons.  Many broken relationships can be saved with hard work.  But still it happens.  Sometimes it needs to happen.

I think, for a married person to have an affair, is a revelation of character.  More precisely, a lack of character.  I understand, most of us men do not face the same level of temptation as John Edwards.  He is handsome, magnetic of personality, powerful, rich.  I’m sure lots of women are available to him.  And I also understand a person, even a good person, can slip and fall morally.  But when you do, the decent person gets up and cleans himself off, and watches carefully for the next mud puddle lest he fall again.  Mr. Edwards, from what I understand, got down in the puddle and wallowed.  And he only started trying to clean up when he was caught and found nowhere else to hide.  What a tiny little man.

Sexual intimacy is precious and sacred.  I believe, inherent to marriage, is an exclusive commitment to your mate of sexual purity.  If you cannot keep this commitment, then by all means do not marry.  Attractive women will come along.  They may seem tasty to your sexual appetite- the fleeting temptation you cannot avoid.  But you are not an animal controlled by your lusts.  You can choose what to do.  Say no.  Do not pursue, and do not make yourself vulnerable.  Your ring is a reminder that you have committed to someone with whom you intend to share life in a special way, as with no one else.  To break this commitment through infidelity is an insult to her, the purity of marriage, the sacredness of sexual intimacy, and the bond of family.  A person of character counts the costs and says no.

I do not know if John Edwards ever admitted to his wife how very wrong was his behavior, and asked her forgiveness.  She died, and now it is too late.  Surely he has apologized to his family and all others who loved and believed in him.  I do not know if he is still shacking up with this woman.  I have known men who left their wives for other women, and then proceeded to have long relationships.  As I have said, sometimes a marriage just needs to be put out of its misery.  But how you go about it reveals the kind of person you are.  A man who has an affair, and seems simply to get by with it- well, to me, he has slapped Something  precious in the face and seems not to have been held accountable.  And I just do not think God, or even the process of life, will let you do it.

Can John Edwards find redemption?  With God, of course.  With the public, it is doubtful.  With me?  I absolutely do not like him.  I guess me-n-God will have to discuss the matter.

Here's some quick thoughts concerning Spirit Airlines and their refusal to refund the cost of a ticket to a dying military veteran who cannot fly for medical reasons. I have not checked the internet for the thoughts of others to get a feeling for the matter, but I am pretty sure that 95% of the folks out there have an unfavorable opinion of the decision. But, personally, I am going to have to agree with the right of this airline to enforce its policy. Mr. Meekins purchased his ticket knowing it was non-refundable. He had opportunity to buy additional insurance which would enable a refund for just his circumstance, but chose not to. I've never flown this airline, but I know it cuts rates to the core, providing very affordable fares. Aren't they the guys who proposed selling tickets for standing-room-only? So, they cater to the hardcore cheap customer. If I buy a ticket from them, I do so knowing that customer service and kindness of heart is not part of their personality. I might dislike the whole process, but still go ahead and utilize their services just to save money. So, this guy made a calculated gamble when he purchased the ticket, and lost. It happens.

I feel sorry for him. I could see contributing to a collection to give him a refund. And I believe Spirit Airlines is in a no-win situation. Here is what I would do if I were chief executive of these cheapskates- I would uphold the no-refund-policy, then give the guy his money out of my pocket. And, for good measure, make a quarter of a million dollar donation to a veteran's charity. Finally, while I realize that millions of veterans and other outraged people are now swearing to never use this airline- I've a sneaking suspicion that, when it comes time to fly and their rate is the lowest available, most will be willing to swallow their righteous indignation and buy a ticket from these guys.

And, so goes my 5-minute opinion for the day.

I enjoyed the strange, recurring, childhood memory shared by surrogate in a recent blog.  It helps me understand better why he can sometimes devolve into such a strange individual.  So, inspired thusly, I will share my own demented childhood experience.  Actually there are several, but this one for some reason seems often to come to mind.  It involves our regular visits to the home of Uncle Harley.  He lived in the old, decaying family home.  No doubt it was once a nice, genteel, charming Southern house on a hill.  But now the paint was faded, grass a foot high, with weeds and thorns claiming what was once a backyard apple orchard.  Uncle Harley was a confirmed bachelor.  The story instilled in my mind was that his mean ole’ wife for no apparent reason took the kids and moved far away to Florida.  At the time, I never connected that it most probably had much to do with his propensity for distilled spirits, lots and lots of a strange clear liquid.  More than once I’d ridden in the backseat of Aunt Tiger’s Ford, along a winding road up the side of Lookout Mountain, where we would proceed to stop at a designated spot so Uncle Harley could walk down a little trail to retrieve another bottle of his prized liquid. 

Thus Uncle Harley lived in a big, old house without lights or running water.  His companions were a few disheveled old men who never seemed much interested in conversation with a kid like me.  And, he had 17 Chihuahuas.  This was an ever-expanding, extended family of dogs- little nervous, bug-eyed, mean creatures quite wary of everyone else including me, but absolutely devoted to their master.  They slept in his bed and ate at his table.  Somewhere along the way I gained possession of a dinosaur hand puppet.  This I would faithfully take to Uncle Harleys, where I would slip it over my hand to spend hours in battle with his array of stinky dogs.  It was fun.

Uncle Harley had several chickens running around the house, remainders from a previous time when they were used as laying hens.  Now they simply roamed about, clucking and scratching and feeding on the occasional loaf of moldy bread.  And, periodically, one would be chosen for dinner.  It was my job to help corner the poor victim.  Uncle Harley would hold the head over a fallen log, and chop it off with a rusty axe.  Sometimes he would let go, allowing the headless chicken to spurt blood and run in circles for a minute or two.  It was simply his way of entertaining a kid.

I’ve other indelible memories from Uncle Harley’s place, like watching wide-eyed as he and his buddy drowned a newly born batch of kittens.  One would think a kid should be shielded from such a disgusting thing, but as I remember the task was performed as if it were no big deal.  Looking back, more than once watching as these guys wolfed down dog food at the kitchen table,  I guess they were simply eliminating the competition?

A few years later Uncle Harley died in a house fire.  I’m told he was upstairs in his bed, having never awakened.  Around him, in the same bed, were the charred bodies of several dogs.  And, so goes a story too strange to be made up. 

I’m thinking it has the makings of a good country song.

Recently we put a message on the church sign reading “Need Prayer?  We Care.  770-476-1463”.  Within the hour a man called to say he has been out of work for some time and is getting very needful for a job, and would we pray for him?  So he has been on the prayer list for about a week.  Last Thursday he called, excited, to tell me he has found a job!  So, once more affirmation that prayer indeed works.  It was nice to play a small but significant part in helping someone that I may never meet face-to-face.

Sunday, 2 persons stepped forward to unite with our church in membership.  One gentleman now earns the designation as the tallest member of our church!  He is a former pastor in another denomination who has wandered for some time in various semi-commitments to church, and is now working security in a housing complex nearby.  He’s a smart man, much smarter than me, and I’ve spent a good deal of time getting to know him.  He will be a fine addition to our fellowship.  The other is a young man who is struggling with various life challenges, and has a strong need for a loving church family and hopefully a caring pastor.  We sat down about an hour ago and talked about man things.  I hope very much that we can help him.  It is interesting to me that everybody who comes our way has “baggage”.  Sharp, confident, on-top-of-everything people seem not to have time or inclination toward church.  People with needs, struggles, imperfection- they come our way and add to our already interesting mixture.  And, I’m convinced, that has always been the intention for God’s church.  We’re doing our best to be faithful to be the church we are supposed to be.

After worship this Sunday, worshipers went out to their cars and found flyers encouraging them to attend another church!  That’s right- the pastor’s face plastered on the front and time, info., etc. prominently displayed.  I think this is interesting.  So, this morning, I put in a call to the pastor.  He was not available, but his wife/secretary/girlfriend , or whomever, promised to give him my message and he would call me back this morning.  Well, it’s 11:45a.m. and no call!  Maybe this is the work of a wayward but nonetheless well-intentioned member?  If not, I want to have a conversation about what evangelism should be about, and how it is not about “stealing sheep”.  We will see.

I believe it is up to the taxpayers to provide health care for the most needy, most vulnerable of our society.  Whatever the cause, if someone needs health care and cannot pay for it, then the cost must be passed along.  Churches and charities cannot, or more precisely will not, pick up the slack.  Let’s be honest, my fellow conservative Christian community, we bloviate about the excesses of big government and the moral faults of the poor.  But Christ would not be pleased to allow people to needlessly hurt and die as we self-righteously mumble, “It’s their fault!”

What happened to the Baptist hospitals here in Georgia?  They became a financial drain, and so we dropped them.  But we seemed to have little problem paying 44 million dollars for a shiny new executive center on Sugarloaf Parkway, in the middle of affluent Gwinnett County and closer to the McMansions of our trusted leaders.  Where are the homeless shelters, and soup kitchens, and clothes closets?  I’ll assure you there are not nearly enough, and very few are run by evangelical conservative Christians- i.e. Southern Baptists. 

The fact of the matter- if the government does not do it, then we as organized and meeting Christians are not going to do it.  We are too busy playing church and offering pious excuses as to why we do not take seriously the words of Jesus in the whole chapter of Matthew 25.  I remember the first church I pastored, in Belleville, MI.  On Sundays we perhaps had 40 in attendance.  Next door was a large and booming Independent Baptist Church.  I found it curious that they were, regularly, sending to my office needy people for help with light bills, food, etc.  One day I called to ask what was going on, that surely they could help some of these people?  The Pastor angrily stated that he helps the needy to the tune of thousands of dollars per week.  How?  They send out over 40 buses into the communities to pick up kids for church.  No deliveries of food or clothing, or provisions of shelter and health care.  But the church numbers sure look good!  And this guy was righteously indignant that I would dare to ask them to help with other more trivial things he thought should be met by my church.

Such is symptomatic to the church in America, in general.  We have grown fat with our buildings, programs, and numbers.  And we push off to someone else the dirty work of meeting the real-life needs of dirty people.

It is what it is.  That’s why we have socialized medicine on the horizon.  A society with any semblance of decency cannot just let sick people die when we can do something about it.  Christian, you can vote against it.  Maybe you should.  But first you had best look in the mirror.

 

Why are people homeless, and what is my responsibility?

Cain asked of God, and likely with a smirk on his face, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”  Basically the answer, consistent throughout scripture, is yes.  And I do not think that God really cares whether I agree with His analysis of the matter.  But, since He is God and I am not, He expects my full compliance.  Such is my understanding of service to God in matters of loving others.  I may not find the person before me at the particular moment to be appealing.  He may be very different from me, and have all kinds of ugly features.  But he is made in the image of God.  So I had best treat him with respect.

Since this particular series of blogs is about me sharing personal opinions and insights, intentionally I have avoided searching for statistics on the matter.  But I think it is safe to surmise that the majority of those who are homeless in America suffer from substance abuse and/or mental illness.  A significant percentage of the homeless that I saw during my recent visit to Oahu, although likely not a majority, are dubbed the “working homeless”.  They actually seek to be part of the system, but many simply cannot keep up. 

But, I want to take a few minutes to consider another category of the homeless.  These I do not think are victims of substance abuse or mental illness, although surely the thinking is a bit skewed.  These are persons who strangely have found homelessness to be the most comfortable path of life. Theirs is a pitiable combination- traits, personality, understanding, disabilities, background, choices- that render the individual unable to follow the rules of society necessary to live as do the rest.  For whatever reasons, here is a person who cannot or will not fit into the systems of society.  He does not have discipline, focus, or desire to follow the rules.  Therefore, he is homeless.  He is not stupid or evil.  But he is willing to manipulate others to support his lifestyle.  And I encounter this person regularly.  My challenge is to try to balance compassion for his need with a desire to not support his unhealthy choices.

I find these people, or more accurately they seem to find me.  They tell me their stories and then usually I have to sit back for a minute to try to comprehend, because it all does not seem to add up.  This person does not appear to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol.  He seems at least as smart as the average person, and in good health.  He does not sound psychotic or seem to be dangerous.  Yet, here he is, asking me to support a lifestyle that seems to be chosen and unhealthy.

A middle-aged guy in dusty dress clothes and brogans walks in from the street, bulging backpack across his shoulders.  He has been meandering  across the country, from far out west and heading somewhere far to the east.  How he ends up at my place I am not sure.  But I quickly deduce that his food and shelter, for the last several months, comes from the graces of churches and charitable people that he finds along the way.  He tells me he just needs a hot meal…  And a place to stay for the night…  And maybe just a little spending money?  Oh, and he’s a Christian, loves the Lord, etc.!  I tell him yeah, I’m not going to help you, please move on.  Later that day I spot him at the Interstate ramp with a cardboard sign that reads “Florida”.

A family of three pulls into the parking lot in an old dilapidated Buick.  The little 10-year-old girl comes to the office and gives the spiel.  They are traveling to a new home in a state a thousand miles away, and need gas...  and food.  Her hair is matted and face dirty.  Obviously they have been living in their car.  I tell her to go tell Dad to come talk to me.  It frustrates me that these two adults use a kid to do their dirty work.  He is kind of wild-eyed and never really makes eye contact.  He has hope for a job in this new place somewhere on the horizon.  Again I suspect this to be an ongoing way of life, traveling from town to town begging churches for sustenance, with the added and disgusting strategy of using the kid to get what they want.  And it works.  I have them follow me down to the QuckTrip for a half tank of gas, and allow them to stock up on food.  They thank me and move on.

Several years ago, back before we had children, one guy actually lived with us for about a month.  We tried to help him get an apartment and a job.  He went along with the plan for a while, and then moved on toward what he said was his ultimate destination- Florida.  He seemed to have so much potential.  Sometimes I think about him and wonder whatever happened?

Well, we will continue with this issue with the next post…

A basic question- why is this person homeless, and do I have any responsibility for his well-being?

While recently on vacation in beautiful Hawaii, my heart and mind were struck by a vivid social juxtaposition.  Amidst all the glamour, beauty, and wealth of Oahu were many homeless people.  There are dozens along the streets and parks of Waikiki.  Especially noticeable is the makeshift homeless community on the western shore of the island.  The waves, boulders, and sugary sand make a picture-postcard sight.  However, the view is a bit blighted by the thousands of homeless who call the area home.  They live in makeshift abodes constructed of various discards- driftwood, cardboard, vehicles in need of repair, etc.  They live without running water or electricity, literally just a few feet from Paradise.  I conversed with a family who seemed to be making the best of the situation, sitting next to a tent and singing along to the strums of a ukulele as the kids played in the surf.  Should I care?  Of course, for these are persons of value made in the image of God.  For whatever reason and whoever may be at fault, I am made aware of human beings whose lives are in peril.  Though considered by some to be bums and parasites, they none the less are members of humanity with basic needs- food, shelter, safety, health care.  That’s right, health care is a basic need.  And, a person who cannot afford lights, water, and sewage likely cannot afford a $500 per month personal health insurance policy even with its steep deductibles and co-pay.

On several occasions we found ourselves walking along the streets and parks of Waikiki, a plush tourist district on the beaches of Honolulu.  I remember, while cleaning my hands in a public restroom, standing at the sink between two men engaged in conversation.  One was washing his shirt and socks in the sink, and the other was brushing his teeth.  While walking away, I watched the first man carry his laundry to a spot next to a palm tree, where he laid his clothing out on the grass the dry.  It was obvious to me this was his home.  I also noticed he was wearing a badge with his name and photo stamped.  It was the type of ID worn by employees in the many shops that cater to tourists.  So in all likelihood this guy has a job.  So, I guess, out the window must goes the quick characterization of him as a bum!

Earlier in the morning, around 7 a.m., we went to a coffee shop for a bagel and to plan the day.  After parking the car, I had to literally step over a man asleep on the sidewalk.  I can still picture him- flowery shorts and shirt, tanned, grizzled beard and peppered hair, in his mid-50’s.  He was soundly asleep, oblivious to dozens of people scurrying by.  His glasses were crooked on his face.  He looked nasty, ugly callouses on his bare feet and skin blotched with crusted dirt.  At first I wondered if he was breathing, and then saw his chest rhythmically going in and out.  I looked for a bottle of booze but found none.  He was deeply sleeping.  This was likely his routine- pass out wherever, and sleep it off!  I thought about taking his photo, but a sense of guilt came over me at the consideration.  A voice came to mind, “Leave the man alone.  Allow him some dignity.”  Another thought countered, “Dignity?  Where is there anything even remotely deserving respect in this scene?”  Later I figured it out.  Allowing for all that is ugly about the scene, this man is still a human being.  He is of value simply for that reason, and therefore deserves to be treated as something more than an object of derision or disgusting picture on a Facebook page.

In recent conversation about a related social issue, the antagonist asked me what I thought should be done about the matter?  Now that is irritating, for someone to ask me to give thoughtful solutions instead of complaints.  I admit that complaints and criticism come much easier.  So, I want to explore the issue of homelessness in the next few posts.  And, try to do more than just gripe and judge.  It won’t be easy.

Here's a slideshow of some highlights and activities from our recent trip to Honolulu.  It is probably the most spectacular place I have ever seen- mountains disappearing into the clouds, beaches caramel of color and simply beckoning to the waves...I wax poetic as I consider the place!  But, when trip is done, home is the place I most prefer.  There are so many places to visit.  It sounds crazy, but I think my next big trip will be one of three places- deserts of Utah, mountains of Montana, or the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  And, God willing, I'll be back to Hawaii one day.

 

 Roosevelt quote about warfare

 Spectacular waterfalls after heavy rain

 Cruise ship

 Spam, the official junk food of Hawaii

 Memorial wall at Pearl Harbor

 Line of palm trees.  The dot in the middle is me.

 Lighthouse.  Quite a hike, but worth it.

 Koi pond. 

 9 foot Buddha

 Hawaiian dancer.  I'm eating.

 Cross on the beach

 Banyan tree

 Bird of Paradise

 Bird in airport terminal.

 Room with a view!