I recently listened to a sermon by Paul Simpson Duke, from which today's post comes. Along with his wife, Stacey, Paul is Co-Pastor of First Baptist Church, Ann Arbor, MI (American Baptist). I first heard Paul preach when I was in seminary in Louisville, and Paul was the minster at Highland Baptist Church, in Lousiville. It was always a privilege to hear him. You can listen to sermons by Paul and Stacey at their church's website. I express appreciation to Paul for his moving words.

Sometimes in life, we feel lost, no sense of clarity, much ambiguity, too little comfort for now. To keep living, to keep moving, and loving, and waiting in that long uncertain season of your life is what it means to be a child of God. Do you want to know what your life is going to be like next year, next week?—see a psychic. But faith is open-ended. And the blessing is in the step by step of trust along an uncertain way.

Thomas Merton once offered this prayer:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Or to put it in the words of the old gospel hymn:
Many things about tomorrow,
I don’t seem to understand;
But I know who holds tomorrow,
And I know who holds my hand.

~Paul Simpson Duke
Co-Pastor
First Baptist Church (American Baptist)
Ann Arbor, MI

Civility

I’m a political junkie. Because of that, I have watched portions of some of the Republican presidential debates. If there were also Democratic debates, I’m certain that my observations would be similar. Some of you would rather watch paint dry than listen to these debates. One thing that has struck me is the lack of civility. I’m not just thinking of the lack of civility of candidates toward each other. That’s a given. I’m not one of those who thinks that politicians are less civil with each other than they used to be. History shows us that this is the way it has always been. I’m talking about the lack of civility of some of those in the audiences where the candidates have been debating.

At one of the debates, Stephen Hill, a soldier serving in Iraq, asked a question that our country has been wrestling with for some time, and will continue to. As you may know, until September 20, the military’s policy was “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” Under the law, commanders were not allowed to ask about someone's sexual orientation, and gays and lesbians were expected to keep their orientation under wraps. Gays and lesbians who were open about their sexual orientation—or who were outed—faced punishment and expulsion. On September 20, Congress repealed “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” Now, gay and lesbian soldiers can be open about their sexuality and continue to serve our country.

Stephen Hill prefaced his question by saying that he was a gay soldier serving in Iraq and that prior to September 20, he had to lie about who he was in order to serve in the army. He asked the candidates, if they were elected president what would they do to ensure that the old policy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” would not be reinstated. But before he could get to his question, there were some who booed him. Why? It seems clear that they did so, because he is gay and can now be open about this, without fear of being kicked out of the military. Not one candidate confronted those who booed, and not one candidate thanked Stephen Hill for his service to our country.

There are differences of opinion in our country about Congress repealing “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” That’s a vast understatement. Not surprisingly, there are differences of opinion about this in the congregation I serve, and there is nothing wrong with having these differences of opinion. Regardless of how we feel about the decision Congress made, surely, we can not support the booing.

I wonder how many in the audience who booed were serving or have served in the military? Here is a man who may be in harms way, all for his country, and he is booed? It seems to me that he is courageous, and they are cowards.

But I also have to wonder what would happen if one of the people who booed were to have lunch with Stephen Hill. Undoubtedly, they would begin to feel how much he loves our country. They would find that he loves our country as much as they do. They might find out that he has parents and siblings who love him and whom he loves. They might find out that he is a really likeable guy, and that they have much more in common than they would have thought. And Stephen Hill might begin to feel the same way about them.

There was moment in another debate that comes to mind. Moderator Brian Williams was directing a question to Rick Perry, governor of Texas. He began by saying, “Gov. Perry, Texas leads the nation in the number of executions...” Before Brian Williams could get to his question, several people in the audience cheered.

Regardless of how we feel about capital punishment, and there are difference of opinion about this in the congregation I serve, surely, we can not feel that it’s appropriate to cheer in this situation. Captital punishment and everything surrounding it, such as a brutal crime that someone has committed, ought to make us pause and be somber, not cheer.

Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

I

The words that I have chosen as my blog title are borrowed from Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist, Anna Quindlen. This is the title she chose for her weekly contributions to the New York Times. I have no delusions of grandeur—I can only hope to come within a country mile of her insights. I was lucky to find a compilation of some of her thoughts in a book by the same title as her column. I commend the book to you.

Some see me above all as a preacher. “Preacher” or “minister” was an identity that I once did not readily embrace, even though it was my chosen profession. I wanted to be seen simply as “one of them.”  With age, and a bit more maturity, I have come to see that my vocation is a big part of who I am. Many can say that about their vocations. As with me, when they walk in a room, they are first seen as doctor, lawyer, or teacher.  

I now gladly embrace the label “preacher.” It is a privilege to stand before a community of faith every Sunday and take a shot at bringing something that might touch at least a few.

I have had the good fortune to pastor four churches in my twenty-nine years of ministry. I can even say that the one in which I experienced a lot more pain than joy was a blessing in disguise. In retrospect, I can say that I learned more about myself than I would have otherwise. Make no mistake about it, I would have gladly exchanged a little less growth for a little less pain, but life doesn’t give us this choice.

Yes, I am a preacher, yet I still claim to be “one of them.” Lenny Bruce once said, “I’m not a comedian. I’m Lenny Bruce.”  First and foremost, I’m a human, not a preacher. Like everyone else, I experience hurt and joy. I have the same needs and wants as any other person. I want to love and be loved; I want to be happy; I want to make a difference in the lives of at least a few people; I overestimate the limits of my humanity; I can sulk, and I can also have great equanimity. I, like you, am a mixture of all kinds of things, much of which I am unaware.

I conclude this first post by introducing you to some important people in my life. First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Georgetown, KY  has been good to me since the first day of my sixteen years of ministry among and with them. Like all congregations and ministers who are together for a tenure as long as mine, we have been through ups and downs and smooth times. Regardless, it has been and is a privilege to be part of their lives. I am especially grateful for their unending support through some personal, rocky times. They have treated me as family members ought to treat each other.

The most important people in my life are five beautiful women. Donna, my wife, has brought me more happiness than one person deserves. If you have met her, you know that it is no exaggeration to say that she possesses an inner and outer beauty that in large measure comes from being at peace with herself.

The other four women are my daughters and Donna’s daughters. I brought Emily and Lydia to our blended family. I am lucky beyond measure to call them “mine.” Donna brought Natalie and Olivia with her. I would gladly have picked these two wonderful, young women, if I had been looking to adopt.

I’ll throw one man in for good measure. My son-in-law Brandon became part of the family two and a half years ago. Even though we root for different teams, we have found a connection in our common love for the best sport God ever created—baseball. I have yet to convert him to the right political party, but with age, I’m sure that he will see the error of his ways.

Thanks for reading my first post. I hope you will stop by every now and then and add your comments to my reflections, so we can “think out loud,” together.