Interesting encounter, wouldn't you agree?

I met this little fellow yesterday, while on my way to a remote place on the map known as Bennett's Point. Skylar and I wanted to see some birds. Indeed we encountered a flock of wild turkeys and stopped to watch a big whirlpool at a spot where the tide comes in. Then the sign said, "Wildlife Viewing Area Ahead". As I turned the corner, this Guy was crossing the road. More precisely, he seemed to be napping in the middle of the road. Now, what do you do with an alligator in the middle of the road? I certainly did not want him to be flattened by the next good ole' boy in a pickup. So I pulled up to about a foot from his face, and honked my horn! He became rather belligerent, quite offended by my challenge. I learned that an alligator can hiss and open his enormous mouth quite wide. So, we agreed that he should own this part of the road.

I rolled down the window to take this picture. He is probably about eight or nine feet long, and might hit about 300 pounds in weight. Later in the day, safe and sound back at the motel, I was informed that my new friend probably could have leaped up, with lightning-quick agility, to snatch my camera and attached hand. Lesson learned.

Here's my best little friend. We are on the beach at Tybee Island, trying to outrun the surf.
"Do it again, papa! Do it again!"

We traveled to Savannah today, and found ourselves having lunch in the heart of downtown, at an eatery on Bull Street.  The streets are paved with bricks, historic markers are everywhere, and truly the place seems to ooze with evidences of a bygone time.  Somewhere along Bull Street is a marker noting the spot where slaves were auctioned.  I've studied a bit about the barbaric and profitable enterprise.  It makes me cringe with anger and guilt that fellow human beings could be so mistreated.  These people were held in slave pens like swine.  They were collared and shackled and lead onto the platform, and sold to the highest bidders.  The owners and often the buyers were leading citizens of the community- fathers, mothers, deacons and Sunday School teachers.  It all seems so bizarre to me that one could have ease of conscience while engaged in such evil.  I know there is a context to it all- systemic and perhaps justified in the minds of the perpetrators.  But how can you read a Bible, and worship God, and then treat a fellow human being as a piece of property?

Of course, the white people of this area no longer own slaves.  Sherman and his armies marched through here and forever changed the landscape, at least on the surface.  But, as I have traveled about the area for the last several days, I've noticed an obvious pattern.  The service jobs are almost exclusively filled by black people.  It's painfully obvious when visiting ritzy Hilton Head, where blacks man the hotels and restaurants and I'll bet own very few.  We found ourselves leaving town during rush hour, and spotted a stream of modest and older vehicles headed off the island and driven by persons of color, people who cannot afford to live in the condos and luxury high rises but can do a good job of maintenance.

I was at McDonald's yesterday.  The middle-aged lady behind the counter had some spare moments, so she came into the dining area and proceeded to wash the walls.  I asked if she lived in the area?  She said no, that she drives 45 minutes everyday to come to work.  I complimented her work ethic.  She said she works there because the pay is good, and she has three children at home who depend upon her.  I smiled and told her that I admire her.  She has a good attitude, works hard, and takes care of her family.  And I think she deserves better.

Race relations is a subject of high interest for me.  I've grown up in the deep South around the "separate but equal" mentality.  When I became a Christian as a teenager, I felt prompted to examine my heart and seek to change what needed to be changed.  I know without a doubt that I cannot love God and treat another human being with contempt.  And I also know that the Southern church, especially outside the metro areas, is filled with righteous hypocrisy and even evil concerning this issue.  But, before most other areas of American society point fingers this way in judgment, I'll equally state that racial disparity and mistreatment is systemic in so very many parts of our society. 

If you travel down Main Street of my hometown, you will find that every single business is white-owned.  But, I think you would likely find it to be equally true in Hilton Head.  Why is the normal scenario that blacks clean the tables and make the beds that are owned by whites?  How can so many good Christian folk worship in lily-white churches, and feel not even an ounce of discomfort with such an artificial scenario?  In the name of God, it's all more than a bit troubling to me.

Now is opportunity to check in with the t-Blog family while on my vacation.  We are staying for a week in Ridgeland, South Carolina, which is truly at least 30 miles from anywhere.  It is 12:30 at night and I just had a need to make a run to the local convenience store to pick up some medication.  I asked the desk clerk where that might be, and sure enough he told me of a place 30 miles down the road.  Fortunately I checked at the Texaco station next door and found just what I needed.  Right now, that's one greedy oil company for whom I am very thankful.  The clerk, a rotund fellow with a deep Southern drawl, seemed genuinely lonely.  He kept asking questions trying to strike up a conversation.  As I paid twice the price for a dust encrusted box of Immodium AD, I learned that he has been to Atlanta exactly once in his life, and it seems I recall it was for a dump truck convention.  He seemed a jolly fellow, but when you need Immodium you do not need a long discussion about the driving habits of the big city.  As the door closed he earnestly bid me to come back anytime.

And now I am waiting for the ghastly and blessed chemicals to kick in and do their work.  Let's see, what additional experiences of the week can I pass along?

The proprietors of this establishment are of Indian descent, of course.  They seem to have a large, extended family, with several family groups residing in different motel rooms.  My wife walked past one of their rooms and noticed there was no furniture.  She thought it odd, and I am still trying to process why they were all sitting upon the floor.  Maybe it is part of their culture?  More likely, they probably work all of the time and use the room only for sleeping and showers.  Yesterday I saw the matron of the clan standing on the balcony.  She was gazing off toward the sunrise, all the while shaking her hand in an up-and-down rhythmic fashion.  I walked by slowly, fascinated by what must surely be a morning religious custom.  She must have noticed my curiosity, as she looked at me and said, "Darned arthritis".

I'll now try to go to sleep, again.  t-Blog is a marvelous remedy for insomnia, don't you think?  Let's see if it helps with another malady.  I just may be checking in with you again in about a half hour. 

Here's what is on my reading agenda right now:

I'm in the process of reading through the Bible for the year. Currently I am behind (of course), finding myself in the middle of the Book of Judges in the Old Testament, Luke in the New, and of course daily readings from Psalms and Proverbs. I download mp3's from The Daily Audio Bible and highly recommend Brian Hardin and his ministry.

For light reading- and let's be honest, most of my reading is light and simple, I'm moving through The Giant Book Of Jokes, by Dave Phillips. I'm marking the ones worth remembering. To me, a well-placed joke or story in a sermon quite effectively drives home a point. Plus, I like to laugh, and I'm not beyond irritating you guys with some of my bad humor.

I like to listen to audio books, and am a member of audible.com. Currently I am listening to The Portable Atheist, by Christopher Hitchens. It is read by the author, himself, and gives brief sketches of the history and views of notable atheists throughout history. Why would I bother with such a book? I benefit from my faith being challenged. Such does not threaten- “I know in whom I have believed...” Reading the likes of Hitchens helps me to consider why I believe. Besides, I think I should know well my enemy.

Also, in bits-and-pieces I am listening to When You Are Engulfed In Flames, by David Sedaris. He's funny, but quickly tiresome. And, enjoying Spook: Science Tackles The Afterlife, by Mary Roach. It is a chronicle of her search for proof of the afterlife. Roach is funny. Her best book is Stiff: The Curious Lives Of Human Cadavers, a macabre and addictive little read about all the things we do to human bodies after death. And even as I tell you about it, I know you likely think I am especially weird for enjoying such subjects.

Finally, I just ordered some books from Amazon.com, where I almost exclusively order used books. I ordered two books by Larry Gonick, The Cartoon History Of The United States and The Cartoon Guide To Sex. The latter is not porn, at least I do not think. Gonick is hilarious and insightful- I have his first two volumes of The Cartoon History Of The Universe. Finally, I ordered The Dead Guy Interviews: Conversations with 45 of the Most Accomplished, Notorious, and Deceased Personalities in History, by Michael A. Stusser. I saw it advertised in Mental Floss, and thought it to be worth the price of a used copy- one cent, plus $3.99 shipping.

So, there you have it, a window into my reading habits. Surely I'm not so strange?

A happily married man had only one complaint: his wife was always nursing sick birds. One evening he came home to find a woodpecker with a splint on its beak sitting in his favorite chair. In another chair was a condor wrapped in a blanket, while in the kitchen his wife was comforting a shivering little wren that she had found in the snow. The furious husband strode over to where his wife was towelling down the cold little bird. "I can't stand this anymore," he yelled. "We've got to get ride of all these darned...!" "Please, dear," she said, cutting him off in mid-curse. "Not in front of the chilled wren."

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A mechanic got hooked on drinking brake fluid. His friend became seriously concerned. "You've got to give it up," he insisted. "Brake fluid is poisonous." "Don't worry," said the mechanic. "I can stop any time."

My son writes from Marine Boot Camp. Here's his question and accompanying opinion:

"What exactly is going on with the world right now? All I know basically is that we're possibly about to go to war with Russia because they invaded Georgia. Send me all the details. And if it makes you feel any better we can't allow Russia to do whatever they want. I'm prepared to protect my country no matter what the cost (it's what I've trained for, anyways)."

I often wish that matters of life were so clearly right and wrong, good and bad, where the side to be chosen and even for which to die would be so obvious. An 18-year-old is an idealist by nature, and surely any young adult of quality would be busy trying to change the world. I am a bit saddened that the military, by nature, takes such zeal and focuses it toward accomplishing the worse that a man can do to another man. Do not misunderstand me. We must have a strong and ready military. It must be composed of men and women willing to kill and die for their country. But I think we who are not military must carefully define and clearly instruct our armed forces concerning exactly for what we should and should not die. That is why our President and Secretary of Defense come from the civilian ranks. And that is why we have elections.

Let me be clear and blunt about this matter.
*I wish the people of Georgia and South Ossetia would love one another and all get along. It seems their conflict has simmered and blazed for centuries.
*I wish the leadership of Georgia had more clearly discerned the referendum of 2006 in which 95% of the people of South Ossetia voted, in a free and non-coerced election, for political freedom.
*I wish the political and military leadership of Georgia had more fundamental wisdom than to provoke Russia into armed conflict with their ill-timed effort of ethnic oppression. And I sure wonder why the political leadership of America and Europe could not keep this foolish move from taking place?
*And now I feel pity for the people of Georgia, as the mostly innocent will bear the brunt of suffering on behalf of foolish men. It seems to always go that way.

The question I ask myself: How much American blood is this matter worth? I am not a pacifist, and most If the time I at least have a foggy clue about what is going on. I know that Russia is eagerly using this provincial conflict as a reason to assert control upon their weaker neighbors, and that is not good. I also know that America is not politically innocent. Would we allow such interference from Russia with nations on our border? We would be even more aggressive and militant. We might even see such American might played out with Cuba in the next decade.

It's a dirty trade-off. Russia has stayed out of Iraq. In response, we'll have to stay out of Georgia. I do not equate the sacrifice of our soldiers blood in Georgia with dying for America. If I happen to find myself in a dangerous part of the city and come upon two men in a personal fight, common sense tells me not to step in between. Don't get me wrong- I do not like to see conflict. I may call the police, but I'll not use ignorance, adrenaline, nor testosterone as reasons to die that day. So, why do this with American soldiers?

As a soldier, the duty of my son will be to obey orders. He will be trained to fight and kill. These are valuable skills. Wisely employed, they can be tools to make and to keep the peace. May the American people be wise and courageous with such awesome responsibility.

And may we stay far from Georgia. For all that is happening, and much of it quite sad, it is not worth the red blood of a single American soldier.

He was hanging out behind my house, about a week ago, and I made the mistake of petting him.  So he began to spot me when I was walking over to the office, and would join me along the way, licking my hand and embarrassingly begging for some sign of attention.  He caught my eye as a fine dog.  Surely with such friendly ways, he would be someone's pet?  So I put him in the backyard fence to keep him from being run over by a car, and considered how to find his owner.  We put ads on craigslist and the newspaper.  I drove around adjacent neighborhoods to look for signs, hopefully posted by the owners.  So far, the only responses have been from persons who would like to adopt the dog.

Now, I like him.  He seems to have latched onto me, and of course I like the attention.  He is so much different from the little dog that I lost and for whom I continue to grieve, and I think such contrast will be important when I decide to get another dog.  He is obviously starved, with ribs showing.  However, he hesitates to eat dry dogfood.  So I've gotten him a case of canned food, which I mix with the dry food, and he devours it.  Right now, as I write, he is in the back yard.  However, he readily leaps over the fence whenever he spies me in the distance. 

I've determined that I just cannot quickly adopt him as my own, without first making an honest search for his owner.  I think that is what someone did with my little dog- they found him, liked him, and kept him.  And while that might have made the person happy, it sure did our hearts no good.  So I'm going to post his picture and put up some signs, and see what will happen.

I call him Big Dog.  Today I taught him the command to sit.  Yep, he would make a fine pet for someone.

I guess this incident is a reminder, to naive folks like myself, that a Funeral Home is foremost a business and not a ministry.  They wear suits and play soft music.  The decor certainly reminds you of a house of worship, and there are lots of religious undertones with the proceedings.  But I am a bit irritated with what transpired tonight.

I will be conducting the funeral tomorrow for a longstanding member of the church and community.  Several hundred people will be present.  The family requested that a hymn be sung as part of the service.  So I called the funeral home office and told the man in charge that we would need copies of the song for those who will be present.  He seemed tired and a bit irritated, even though he promised me earlier this would be no problem.  He said that he could probably make 30 or 40 copies, but no more, because too much time and cost would be involved.  Then he had the nerve to ask if my church had the equipment to make the copies?  I told him yes, but my church is not in charge of the funeral.  He was silent for several seconds, and I am thinking he was a bit surprised that I would counter so directly.    Then he said o.k., that he would see what he could do.

Here is my thinking behind my insistence that the Funeral Home provide this service for the family:
This funeral is not being provided free, or even cheap.  My educated guess is that the cost of this funeral will be between six and ten thousand dollars.  And several hundred dollars of that cost will include the use of the chapel and the funeral service.  As the pastor of this fine family, I am actually providing a valuable service for the business.  Therefore, since I believe the Funeral Home and by extension the workers are making a healthy profit from this family, I think they should do whatever is necessary to accommodate.  A little extra time, a few ounces of ink- likely there is an "incidentals" category included with the funeral bill.  

Personally, I would really like to see the funeral business be more competitive and open to mass marketing.  
*Why not buy your casket online, or at Costco?  Actually, you can do both!  
*I think it is wise to make your funeral arrangements and purchases ahead of time, precluding the influences of guilt and raw emotions and shady salesmen.  
*Heck, in my opinion, what is wrong with a cardboard, biodegradable casket, instead of gold and mahogany?
*Cremation?  It saves money, space, and simply speeds the inevitable journey to ashes and dust.

I think a funeral is a valuable, even necessary event.  It helps with closure.  It is an opportunity for grief and then encouragement, and both are healthy phases to work through.  I just have some problems with the "funeral business".  

Should I accept a position of leadership in my church?

 

First, let me say I have a problem with the terminology.  It is a common phrase, “church leader”, but it is borrowed from the corporate/political world and really has no place in the church.  Jesus, the founder and head of the church, has much admonition toward service and little toward being served.  As the disciples argued about who would be greatest in the coming kingdom, He used a little child to illustrate his intention for their approach to life.  “If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all…”  (Mark 9:35).  It seems to me our foremost goal in life is to be a faithful servant of God.  Especially in the church our place is to be far removed from the pedestal and the limelight.

I remember as a young pastor attending a convention of my denomination.  By nature, the attendance of these meetings is largely composed of pastors and “church leaders”.  As soon as I walked into the door, I was greeted by a stranger in a nice suit.  His hair was greased, smile was big, and handshake firm.  Systematically he was glad-handing everyone as he mouthed his name and feigned interest.  Soon I found out his name was up for nomination for president of the convention.  Now, I was young and inexperienced in denominational politics, but it seemed odd to me that a person would campaign for a voluntary position within the church. 

It has been twenty years since that evening, and I have learned a thing or two about the nature of church folk.  But I still find it incongruous for a person to politic for a place of authority within the church.  Jesus could have set any example, and He chose to model servanthood.  I am pretty sure He wants us to carry on with the lifestyle. 

So, in whatever capacity you find yourself within your activities of the church, keep in mind that you are there to serve.  Any glory and praise is to be reflected to God.  And you will serve Him, not by exercising power, but by following the example of Jesus in John 13- He washed feet!

Shortly after becoming pastor of a small church, I was greeted by a big, tall, self-confident member.  With vigor he boasted, “I’ve run this church for 14 years!”  That hit me the wrong way, and before I could get my humility in gear my mouth blurted out, “That’s funny.  I thought the Lord was supposed to run the church.”  This man was serious about exercising his power, and proved to be a great source of hindrance to the health of the church and its ministry.

Should you accept this position?
*With initial response, do not say yes or no.  Pray about it until God gives you a peace about what should be your response.
*Feel honored about the opportunity.
*Understand clearly that what is being offered to you is a place of service, and in no way a place to be served.
*If you accept the offer, use it magnify God and minimize self. 
*Personally, I think you should read John 13 over and over.  Then, before you ever accept the title of your new place within the church, .grab a towel and a wash basin and get to work.

Harry, in his mid-80's with full shock of white hair and still a spring in his step, asked if I had been to see Eunice?  Of course I have.  She is our oldest church member, having been a member for over 75 years.  She is now in hospice care with life being measured in hours.  She is unresponsive after a series of strokes.  Uncomfortably I remember seeing her last night, eyes frozen with a half-open glint, mouth contorted open.  This was a lady who took pride in her appearance, with a sharp wit and refreshingly frank demeanor.  Standing at the foot of her bed and saying a quiet prayer, I remember briefly thinking that life should end with more dignity.

Harry said something that caught my attention.  Usually he is muttering something about the bad economy and the fault of all those Republicans.  Or, he's waxing grand about his offspring.  But this time he was unusually somber.   He has been friends with Eunice longer than I have been alive.  And he will not go see her at the hospice.  

"Preacher, she is lying there, just dying.  She's getting no food or fluids.  She'll die of dehydration."

I remain quiet.  I think Harry is right.  I have seen people linger for over a week in such a state.  Seems, to me, we could do better.

"Preacher", continued Harry, "they ought to just give her a shot and put her out of her misery."

Were I her son or husband, with the deepest of abiding love, I think I would not regret making such a call.