Oblivious

I told the story recently of how it was that I woke to better understand the challenges that black Americans live with. After retelling it, I felt it should be reduced to a poem…

The death of George Floyd happened in a galaxy far far away. 

I was more aware of Luke and Leah's struggle than I was that of Freddy Gray

The ignorant things I wrote really set you off

Your anger made me angry and I was ready to write you off

But love would not allow that
 

I knew you

I respected you

We had history

I liked you

I loved you

And we were both angry

It didn't add up

I couldn't give up

I began to finally listen

I began to finally learn

I began to understand

I woke

Why Can't the Little Doubts Stay in their Place!!?

When I doubt one little thing

That little doubt whispers "If one thing might not be true what else?"

I start to doubt many things

There are things I want to believe badly but the doubts pester me incessantly.

I say shut up and hum loudly

Others criticize me that I listen to the doubts at all.

They say it's my fault for not having enough faith.

I recall the words:

I believe, help me with my unbelief.

The other's words and the doubts' pestering fades. I embrace Jesus and doubts together. This is how I roll. 

When We Assume the Other Person Already Knows

When we Assume the Other Person Already Knows

1. I know
2. I assume you know
3. I don't know you don't know
4. I don't tell you
5. You don't know
6. Problem
7. Oops
8. Repeat

 

Michael Tait

Recently Michael Tate came out as gay and admitted problems with drug and alcohol abuse and sexual harassment. I don't EXCUSE Michael for his harassing behavior, but there are REASONS for some of his behavior.

I feel sympathetic for his intractable situation. I can only imagine he felt trapped in his skin and trapped in his career. We have all seen the shame the church heaps onto LGBTQ Christians and non-Christians. For Michael confessing his authentic self would have risked his connection to his community, the respect of others, and his lively hood. Hiding his authentic self preserved all that but must have caused incredible mental and emotional stress that could easily make drugs and alcohol seem like an effective soothing, numbing option for coping. He was in a catch-22.

Too a far lesser degree, I understand Michael's challenge as I am part of the CSDT (Christian Skeptic Doubting Thomas) community. When I considered coming out of the closet in my skeptic free evangelical church as a CSDT, I was terrified to lose the connections to and respect of the community I had nurtured for thirty years. Yet I experienced anxiety, pretending I could not even spell the word "Doubt." We are inherently social creatures and there is little that drives our fear more than the potential loss of community and family.

As a Church we need to recognize the real pain we cause people in the LGBTQ community. That's not to say we must abandon theology or that experience trumps theology. But in our theology, we must fully acknowledge that our words have consequences, and we must consider that carefully as we seek to understand God's opinions.

The Perfectionist Who Loved Wood

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I am a perfectionist, and I love wood. You don't see the connection. Wood is anything but perfect and yet it is beautiful. Someday I want to see myself as imperfect yet beautiful.

I just finished building a bed for my daughter. The ornamental wood has history. Years ago, it was one of a handful of trees growing on our property, and every one of the years are seen in the grain. Through sweat, disappointment, tragedy, and success those trees were turned into lumber. I was looking at the six drawer fronts and fell in love, each one unique with its own beautiful flaws. There was insect damage, rot, knots, grain differences. They were larger than the boards I had so I had the join boards edge to edge to get them big enough, each puzzle assembled by imperfect hands.

Also, one of the trim pieces has begun to warp. I wonder if I can make it behave again with a well-placed screw, but then I think better of it.

I coated all that imperfection with stain that reminds me so much of honey that I taste a hint of sweetness on my tongue when I gaze at it. Three layers of urethane somehow reach deep into the wood and pull beauty up from within and fling it toward me.

I don't really understand how beauty and imperfection are so entwined. It seems they dance a waltz around the room. I ask beauty to dance with me too, but she refuses.

We also have wood floors. They don't look like when they arrived at our house. They are both more worn and more beautiful. There is a lot of patina where the sun spilled through the windows lighting up the foyer where little jackets were zipped up for little people running off the elementary school. There are worn tracks in the hall where kids and parents slid in their slipperiest socks chasing each other in endless circles. There are worn spots next to the counter where thousands of potatoes, carrots, and brussel sprouts were cut up to fill little mouths with nutrition. Memories of a beautiful family life have written their history deep into the red oak. Now as I walk around the memories seep back up and surround me like a cloud. No, these floors are not perfect anymore, but they are more beautiful than any floor an expert craftsman could lay.

I still don't really understand how beauty and imperfection are so entwined. It seems they dance a waltz across the floor floating from memory to memory. I ask beauty to dance with me. This time she says yes, but only if I let go of perfection to make room.

I don't like being corrected…

I don't like being corrected

But I love to learn

I don't like being corrected

But I Love to learn

I don't like being corrected

But I LOVE to learn more

I let the contradiction do the back stroke through my brain

I decide I will accept correction in order to learn

But who will accept my snarky expression to help me learn?

The Three S's: Skeptical, Sarcastic, and Cynical

Our pastor gave a sermon today. In it he was talking about the people waiting in the upper room. He surmised with one raised eye brow that there were no skeptics in THAT room, and punctuated it with "I'm just sayin." I was not offended, but I am definitely skeptical, so I took his comments negatively. 

Like many of my scientific pals, I embody the three S's

• Skeptical
• Sarcastic
• Cynical

Part of it's in my DNA and part of it is learned behavior from my church experience. But whether nature or nurture, that is who I am and it's not changing any time soon. 

Is it reasonable to say this is how you made me? At least I can say that who I am is a product of forces outside myself and my control. 

It seems that we who abide by the three S's are unfairly at a disadvantage in "entering the kingdom of God" or knowing You. You said that about the rich man, but I don't think he's the only one. 

What I'm hoping is that somehow you account for the personalities (you gave each of us) when you judge us in the end. What are your thoughts God?