Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Help Us Jesus! They're Killing Our Children!


        Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.  Some of the harshest words Jesus ever uttered were in response to someone who would hurt a child: “It would be better for a millstone to be tied around his neck and be hurled into the sea.”  Help us Jesus!   Our children are being killed and wounded in their schools, a place that used to be a safe sanctuary. 

        Yes, we do need divine help—but we need more.  We need human action!   We need elected leaders, community leaders, educators, clergy, parents, and everyday citizens to be bold and courageous by taking a stand.  And please!  For once, please!  Can we leave politics out of this?  Can we make decisions based on common sense and reason, rather than political posturing?  My God people!   They’re killing our children!  Don’t you have the guts to take off your political lenses for once and see this clearly for what it really is---cold bloodied massacres by disturbed people who have no business possessing guns.

        No parent needs to hear the news that their precious child has been shot and killed in a classroom.  No teacher needs to be forced to barricade the door and hide their class in a closet.  No coach needs to become a hero by standing in the line of fire to protect the children. 

        We live in a world full of evil and dark forces—we know this is true.  There are times that regardless of what we do, the powers of evil and darkness will result in destruction and despair.  But the light is always greater than the darkness and while we cannot eliminate the darkness we can expose it.  The greatest tragedy is that many of these senseless killings could have been prevented if the darkness had been exposed when the opportunity was there.   A depressed, confused, and dysfunctional young man should never have been able to purchase a weapon.  The fact the shooter in Florida was able to do so tells us our system is not just broken, it is in shambles. 

        Do we have a problem with guns?  Well . . . yes!  And our lawmakers need to finally have the courage to make some common sense changes to our gun laws.  Listen to the young people from Parkland High School.  Listen to the parents from Newtown.  Only responsible, stable, and mature citizens need to possess guns.

        Do we have a problem with mental health?  Well . . .yes!  We have a mental health crisis in our country that combined with the opioid crisis results in people who are walking time bombs.  This is a critical need that will require significant action.

        But the problem that we face is much greater than guns and mental health.  We have a spiritual crisis in our nation.  We have evolved into a society of winners and losers.  We speak despairingly of those who are different.  We espouse language of hatred and intolerance toward those of different faiths.  We proudly display symbols of hatred and racism.  We claim divine authority in condemning the LGBT community.   We judge the poor and needy.  We bully the weak and lonely.  We claim absolute truth while lacking compassion and mercy.   We bask in spiritual arrogance without a hint of justice or righteousness. 

        Look at the profile of these shooters.  What do you see?   Loners who have been bullied, ostracized, and rejected.   Wounded and broken people who have felt unloved and misunderstood.  Maybe if just one person had reached out . . . if one person had shown compassion, then maybe . .    .

        Help us Jesus!   They’re killing our children.  But we all must share in the blame and we all must come together and work together to find a solution.

        “If my people who are called by my name, shall humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.”  2 Chronicles 7: 14.
                                                               

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Blessed Beyond Measure

     Through the years, I have been blessed to receive many more honors and awards than I deserve.  Each one has been special and I have always been humbled and grateful.  But two weeks ago, I received one of the greatest honors of my life when I was asked to speak at the annual NAACP Freedom Fund Banquet. The NAACP went “outside the box” as President Elder Gloria Cross stated by asking a white person to speak.  That in itself was humbling, but the greatest blessing was experiencing the power of love, acceptance, and equality that permeated the packed YMCA Banquet Hall on this memorable night. 
        I have tried to be an advocate for racial equality throughout my ministry.  But I have always realized that while I can sympathize with minorities and people of color who continue to experience discrimination and oppression, I cannot truly empathize with them, because I am a white man.  I cannot know what it is like to be black. 
        I grew up in a nice brick house on Main Street, a street two of my best friends were not allowed to walk on because it wasn’t “proper” in our little Alabama town.  My two friends lived on the other side of a path that cut through some bushes on the backside of our property.  The bushes served as a dividing line between the white side of town and the black.  At the banquet I shared what it was like to grow up “on the other side of the path.” 
        I recalled how scared I was as an 8-year old boy who witnessed people filled with anger and hatred being worked into a frenzy by George Wallace with his venomous and vitriolic rants on segregation.  I told about a store owner who grabbed me and shook me, demanding to know what I was doing with two black boys, my two good friends who lived on the other side of the path.  I remember sitting in a barber’s chair while the barber bragged about carrying a gun to church to keep the blacks out.   And then there was the school principal.
        In an effort to circumvent the federal mandate on integration, the state offered what they called “freedom of choice” to students.  Ostensibly, the student could decide where he or she wanted to go to school.  I decided I wanted to attend the “Training School” on the other side of the path.  My friends went there and it was a short walk from the path behind my house.  I confessed I failed to tell my mother about this and when I came home from school that day she was shaken, but not from my wish to attend the black school.  The principal had called her up and chewed her out, asking if she had lost her everlasting mind wanting to send her son to a ---- school!
I shared these experiences and more that night at the banquet.  I concluded by telling about standing at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. one morning.  As I reflected on the 58,000 names in front of me, my first thought was “but by the grace of God.”  Yes, my name could have easily been on that wall if I had not gone to college.  But then it hit me that it wasn’t just the grace of God that spared me; it was because I lived on the other side of the path.  My family could afford to send me to college which deferred my being drafted.  When I finished college the draft had ended and the war was winding down.  
But my friend James, who lived on the other side of the path—he could not afford college.  He went to Vietnam.  His name is on the wall.
I shared these life experiences from deep within my heart.  As I did, an amazing thing happened.  I don’t know that I have ever felt such a dynamic connection with an audience.  As I was speaking from the raw pain of my experience, people were responding from the raw pain of theirs.  The atmosphere was electric and powerful as God’s Sprit descended with love and grace and God’s people were lifted up with hearts of healing and redemption. 
I was truly blessed beyond measure!