Stop Throwing Stones and Extend Grace

In the last few years several high profile and popular mega-church pastors have been in the news for issues, or questions related to their leadership.  Nearly all of them can be traced back to struggles with pride and control.  Their critics, both inside and outside the church have been relentless at times.   In some instances the critics have been as harsh, or difficult in their criticism as the very behaviors they single out in these pastors.  Among the critics have been former staff and church members, many whom disregarded and bypassed the Scriptural admonition to resolve conflict face to face (Matt. 18), by going straight to the news media, social media and blogs to air their complaints.  When you read some of this stuff you feel like you are in a married couples bedroom and they are discussing intimate things that shouldn't be available to those of us on the outside.

I am not a current, or former member of the churches in question.  Nor do I personally know the pastors or those bringing the complaints.  However, I am a fellow Christ-follower, which makes me a brother in Christ to all of the men and women on both sides.  Like ALL of these people I am fully human.  I am also a pastor so I can fully appreciate what it's like to be on the receiving end of healthy, constructive criticism and unhealthy, divisive criticism.  Neither is fun when it's done in public!

My role here is not to blindly defend the accused, or jump on the bandwagon of those bringing legitimate and illegitimate complaints.  There is a biblical prescription for local congregations when it comes to discipline and reconciliation.  Oh sure, I could talk about accountability in the body of Christ and how that gives me the right to weigh in and take a side, but am I willing to affirm that when I find myself, or my church in the same situation?  And is that what I am supposed to do biblically? I don't think so.

I think our default as Christians is supposed to be grace, reconciliation and restoration of the fallen.  I take no joy in the sin(s) of others.  I ache for them and I grieve for them.  I pray for their restoration.  I am supposed to practice the "one another's," in Scripture: love one another; forgive one another; encourage one another; serve one another, etc.  You get the idea.  So I've got a huge biblical assignment as a Christ-follower and that leaves no time for me to judge, criticize, or condemn the fallen.  There but for the grace of God......

C'mon church let's live in a way that fulfills what our leader prayed for in John 17.  That we would be known by our love for one another.  I'm not saying turn a deaf ear, or disregard sin.  However, I am saying that we need to speak truth in love and practice the same forgiveness that has been granted to each of us by God without exception!

32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.  (Eph. 4:32)

From Where I Sit

Everyone has an opinion on the situation in Ferguson, MO, following the police shooting that led to the death of teenager, Michael Brown.  The police officer involved was white and Brown was  African American.  The subsequent protests, riots, vandalism and looting that took place tells us the racial divide in America is farther apart than many of us had hoped.  Nut jobs and people who seem to chase these kind of events aside, we seem to be losing ground in race relations.   

While I have some thoughts on the subject this is not a commentary on race.  However, it is one on police officers.  Hopefully it's from a perspective the average citizen does not get to see.  Whenever I hear the words, "officer involved shooting," I tend to cringe because I know what's about to happen and it is the thing I fear most for everyone involved.  And that is the endless speculation that takes place in the media and public conversation before an investigation is ever completed.  Speculation is never good because it speaks before all the facts have been gathered and it can be damning to those closest to the situation.  

There is a reason police departments have endless policies, directives, orders and protocol.  While there are time I shake my chaplain's head at the level of it, I'm grateful for the process because it does not rely on, or embrace speculation and hearsay.  It is a process that deals strictly in facts and evidence.  It takes time to collect, gather and sort it all out.  People in Ferguson want "justice" yesterday, but they need to let the process work.  It's not going to be yesterday and believe me, if it's rushed you don't want any part of it.  Let the rule of law, evidence, and testimony be given the proper amount of time to work.  

Riots and protests are nearly always a spontaneous, emotional reaction to what has already happened.  It usually does not have a positive affect on the outcome.  If anything it usually adds to the chaos and and dissemination of misinformation.  If a life is lost, or someone is seriously injured (whether perpetrator/suspect, victim, police officers, etc.) doesn't it make more sense to make sure we take our time, let the process work and get it right the first time than it does to act on a hunch, or respond emotionally?  For Pete's sake these are lives, families and careers we are talking about.  

Police officers are easy targets.  Uniformed patrol officers/deputies are often caught in a "no-win" situation between the public, politicians, and the brass.  Their calling to serve and protect is hardly glamorous.  It has its rewards, but at times it can be brutal.  So often officers are despised, hated, or tolerated by the very people they serve!  And yes that cuts across all levels of income and education.  And while I have seen it first hand I still don't get it.  My generation and family were raised to respect those placed in positions of authority, even those with whom we disagreed.  It's called respect.  So when I hear people talk as if law enforcement's first response is to use force without discretion regardless of the circumstances, or who is involved, I realize the level of ignorance and uninformed opinion is rising in our country.  People forget that police officers are also fathers, sons, daughters, mothers, brothers, aunts, uncles, husbands and wives.  They aren't disconnected cyborgs acting without compassion.  

Yes, I will agree that there are bad doctors, pastors, teachers, lawyers, clerks and even police officers that have forgotten why they do what they do and behave in unethical ways.  But they are the exception, not the norm.  I can't speak to the situation in Missouri.  I don't have all the facts, or know enough to weigh in there.  However, it has been interesting to simply listen to people in conversations, social media and news media talking heads describe police officers with a broad brush as being too quick to use deadly force.  And that is the point with which I want to take issue from my personal experience with police officers.  

Two days ago I rode with one of our city's police officers.  We responded to a call where three other units were already on the scene.  The officers were met by a raging pit bull that was not connected to the original call/complaint.  As we approached the dog was lunging toward one of the officers.  Its ears were back, jaw extended and teeth fully showing as it moved forward with a biting and barking motion.  The hair on its back was standing straight up.  You didn't have to be a dog person to realize this was one raging pit bull.  Oh and did I mention that she was obviously nursing and trying to guard the puppies she had just delivered under the complainants house?  At one point the dog was moving back and forth between the five of us.  Each officer had his/her taser out and ready to nail the dog.  

I don't spook easily and I love dogs, but I was ready to haul my butt on the back of a Crown Vic cruiser!  And twice I thought I was going to have to jump on the back of that car.  The officers were patient and deliberate.  Each would've been within their rights to taser and neutralize the out of control, unleashed, and unconfined animal.  But they didn't!  They called Animal Control and patiently waited the dog out as they sought its owner.  What's one less mad pit bull?  Well it was someone's dog and it was protecting its pups.  I'm gonna be honest, I would've neutralized the dog 10 minutes before, but our officers chose to exercise discretion and responded with deliberate discernment!  

During my short tenure as a police chaplain I can tell you this is the norm and not the exception!  Numerous times I've observed officers treating people with dignity and respect who treated them with anything but respect.  From where I sit (the passenger seat of a patrol car) the men and women of Greenville's Police Department are committed, capable and called as they exercise their duties with character and compassion.  Thank you to all who respect and support our officers.  Godspeed officers as you protect and serve us!  We are grateful for you and the vital role you play in our community. 

Good Night Captain

He made me laugh the first time I saw him.  And thereafter if he didn't make me laugh his characters moved me to tears.  His film, stage and television career is legendary.  To be honest I loved him best when he made talk show appearances and completely disarmed the most stoic of hosts with his uncanny ability to morph into any character at any moment.  He did it to Carson, Leno, Letterman, and countless news anchors.  His appearance always meant non-stop chaos and belly laughs.  You never knew what was coming next, but you knew it was going to be good.  
Among my favorite of his films:
Dead Poets Society
Good Morning Vietnam
Birdcage
Patch Adams
Good Will Hunting
Hook
Mrs. Doubtfire  

He played characters with incredible pathos.  He was at his best when he was allowed to ad lib and improv his characters.  Countless voices and characters could be strung together in one endless, serendipitous monologue that seemed like a giant stream of consciousness formed with great deliberation and intent.  And underneath it all was a solid and seasoned actor.  

He was transparent not only on stage, but also in life.  He openly shared about his struggles with alcohol and most recently his heart surgery experience.  Upon news of his apparent suicide his publicist says he was battling serious depression. When I heard the news I tweeted and asked, "Who wipes the tears of the clowns?"  It's as if he was haunted by joy, being able to bring it to so many, but unable to experience it himself.  And that is tragic and profoundly sad.

It's 2014 and there is still a huge stigma attached to mental illness.  It's time to stop it!  It reminds us that the human heart, mind and soul are indeed fragile.  And there but for the grace of God go any of us.  Mental illness is a brain disease and no one should feel ashamed, or beyond hope for a medical condition!   We have got to start having conversations that detach the stigma of mental illness so people can learn about it and get the help they need.  Applause to the attention Rick and Kay Warren have given to this devastating disease following the suicide of their son, Matthew.  

At some point all of us are touched by a family member, friend, co-worker, or someone we know battling mental illness.  It's time we cast light on this darkness so our friends and family members don't try and hide it, but cry out to us when the darkness hits.  When they cry out we run to them and hold them so tight they can't be overtaken by the immediate crisis and we can emerge together seeking the long haul help they so desperately need from committed medical and mental health professionals.  If you ever get that call, or just have a hunch about someone you know, or love, don't dismiss it, or wait.  Act and act with all speed, compassion and grace.  Don't take "no," for an answer!

In one of his early film roles (Dead Poets Society),  Robin Williams played an English teacher (John Keating) at a private school whose unconventional and creative methods opened the door of learning for his students.  In the movie he asks the boys to call him "Captain" if they dare in reference to Walt Whitman's classic poetic tribute to Abraham Lincoln in "Oh Captain!  My Captain!"  It closing lines:

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

RIP  Robin Williams.  I pray that the thousands of homeless you helped through your platform in life will be small compared to those who will get help for mental illness as the result of your tragic death.  May it move them from the darkness, Captain.

Community

There's something innate about our need for community.  You see it in the animal kingdom.  Lions gather in prides, fish school, gorillas live in harems and hundreds of Emperor penguin colonies huddle in the subzero temperatures of Antarctica to mate and incubate their eggs.  Everywhere you look you can find community.  Churches, recovery groups, professional affiliations, neighbors, golf club members, musicians, co-workers, athletic teams, investment clubs, academic and extracurricular school groups and much more.  Community is everywhere.

God embodies community by His very nature.  Community originates with God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  The triune God models community for us and Scripture states that we are created in His image.  So if God is in community at the most intimate level (the Trinity), not to mention His being in community with those who follow Him, then why wouldn't we share the same desire?  We do, even those who aren't willing to admit it.

Everyone wants to be part of something:  a family, tribe, team, small group, etc.  Deep within we all have a desire to connect with others.  You may not do it in the context of the local church, but give me five minutes of your time and I will be able to show you where you are living in community, even at the gym, or in your neighborhood, or workplace.

I think far too long the church has relied on the "big" community experience (weekly worship) to

provide what can only be found in smaller settings.  The intimacy, trust, support, growth and encouragement we experience in smaller communities cannot be replicated in weekly worship and that's okay.  Large gatherings have a different purpose.  If we are doing it right we are coming to them out of relationships within smaller communities and celebrating what God is doing in and through us as a larger community.  Talk to pastors, especially small group pastors and you will find their biggest challenge is connecting people to smaller communities beyond the Sunday worship gathering.   Too many churches boast massive worship attendance numbers, but in comparison have woeful per capita attendance when it comes to small groups, community groups, Bible fellowship groups, etc.  

I'm not bashing corporate worship.  In fact I love it.  But it cannot replace, or provide the level of personal growth, encouragement, support, service, confidentiality/trust, connection and accountability found in smaller communities/gatherings.   It's numerically impossible to expect large settings to do so.

Over the years we have had the privilege to be part of many special, small groups and most, but not all were usually tied to a single church, or ministry.  My small groups/community connections are precious to me.  I've gotten to know some really interesting people through the incredibly diverse groups in which I regularly participate.  I've grown as a person and in my faith because of them.  They are the people who know my heart and I know theirs.  There are people within them who share different opinions and values from mine and yet we not only respect one another we listen to each other.  There is a genuine sense of caring that goes in within them, not to mention the networking, resourcing and practical help we receive within them.

Having recently resigned as a lead pastor we are in a different season in terms of community.  Right now I can identify 3 distinct groups of which I'm a part.  None of them are "under," or tied to a single church.  Two of them are tied to the church (small "c") and are made up of Christ-followers.  And while the third group is not explicitly tied to, or originated out of a church context, it respects the church and people of faith.  It also gives me the opportunity to share from a faith perspective.  All three of these groups support me.  I wouldn't hesitate to call anyone within them if I needed help in the middle of the night.  They would be there for me just as I am for them.  We look forward to meeting together and sharing our stories.  We know our family members' names and what's going on in each others lives.  We celebrate our joys and share our challenges and defeats.  We have a genuine affection and love for one another.  We are invested.

Therein lies the rub.  To be part of a community you have to invest things like your time, energy, and resources.  You have to be willing to be vulnerable and transparent.  You have to be willing to love others, even those with whom you disagree.  That takes time and you may have to be a part of several communities before you find just the right one.  You can't force community either.  It sort of evolves, but it can organically evolve with intention.  By the way authentic small groups/communities are not always "safe".  Meaning you can't control everything and you aren't going to agree on everything.  But once you take the leap and invest in the group that's the "right fit" for you, you realize that you receive far more than you ever contribute, and you learn far more than you have to share.  You grow.   Dive in and find a community where you can love and be loved.

Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his classic on faith and community entitled "Life Together," observed: The person who loves their dream of community will destroy community, but the person who loves those around them will create community.

For Love of the Game

Every summer day I come home these neighborhood boys are playing baseball in a nearby yard.  Their dedication and passion bring back some sweet memories for me.  I relish watching them play.  Backyard baseball is a dying sport.  Their passion for the game is rare for their demographic.   Most kids have moved inside to online games played on tablets/iPads, Xbox, PlayStation, or they spend so much time in camps, training and being part of a traveling team in a single sport that they don't have time to just "play" in the yard.


My generation of boys hated to be inside in the summer.  It killed us if we had to play inside on a rainy day.  There were too many home runs to hit, balls to catch, baskets to shoot, or hook routes to run.  We played baseball, basketball and football like we were Joe Namath, Bob Gibson and Wilt Chamberlain.  Our parents would have to call us in for lunch and dinner because we spent so much time playing outside.

David, Brian, Tim, DeWayne, Scott, Robbie and I played wherever and whenever we could.  We were baseball crazy.  Not only could we play we knew the stats of all the Big Leaguer's and it wasn't from the Internet.  We got the stats off their baseball cards.  When we weren't playing we were trading and collecting cards of our favorite players like: Pete Rose, Hammerin' Hank, Seaver, Carlton, the Yaz,  Maury Wills, Frank Robinson, Willie Stargell, Clemente, George Brett, Rollie, Catfish and many more.

We road our bicycles everywhere.  Baseball gloves were strapped on the handlebars as we went from one end of the neighborhood to the other.  Of all the games we played one was constant for us and it was baseball.  It was true and pure.  When there weren't enough to play a game we would play catch, or a game of "hotbox" pretending we were chasing down a runner in a big league game.  Other days we would chase fly balls in the outfield as one of us would hit.  It was a simpler time.

The game always brought us back for another day.  What brings you back for another day?  Your faith, family, job, or a place of service?  Like the boys in the backyard who wake up every summer day chomping to play ball, what burns in your belly that can only be satisfied through that one thing?

For Christ-followers this is about purpose.  Our purpose enables us to make God known through whatever we do.  The Apostle Paul got this concept when he wrote in Colossians 3:23-24-

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward.  You are serving the Lord Christ.

What brings you back every day?

My Barnabas

Sunday 7/27 will be a year since my friend and fellow pastor, Charlie Summey lost his battle with glioblastoma.  He was only 45 years old.  Charlie's 16-month battle with this vicious brand of cancer was heroic.  He knew he had a death sentence and eventually ceased treatment opting for palliative care and the desire to die with dignity.  His final months showed us how to live.

We shared calling, second-career ministers, the same oncologists, a wicked sense of humor, books, a love for golf, all things college basketball (although our teams were foes) and a passion for broken and wounded people.  A few weeks before he was confined to bed I took him out for coffee.  I could tell he was tired and he was repeating some things, but I remember his courage and the pragmatic way he faced death as a long awaited prize.  The act of dying was not something he sought, but dying and being with Jesus was something he longed for.  He was open and direct about it.  We talked about the culmination of our faith and how much pain this world has compared to the promises we have in Christ.  He was living to die and dying to live.  I remember the tears that flowed from his eyes as he described leaving his bride, Julie and children, Becca and Adam.  He was so proud of them and loved them deep.

I still remember the late December night he called me from a Charlotte hospital saying they had found a tumor in his head.  He was classic Charlie, full of humor, honesty and faith.  I remember quoting the lyrics of a Rich Mullins song to him and praying together.  He chose that song to be sung at his life celebration service.  The next day we drove to Charlotte to see him in the Neuro ICU.

The week before I saw him at Starbucks after he had just run 5 miles!  I was about to finish my radiation treatments and the end of my cancer treatments.  We had no idea he was about to run the race of his life.  And so, "Running With Charlie," stickers and wristbands started popping up all over Greenville.  His race involved brain surgery at Duke, PT and OT rehab, chemo and radiation.

The last time I saw Charlie we watched the British Open together and shared stories of our favorite golfers.  He was weak and barely drinking water.  Before leaving and praying together he asked if I would pray for Julie and the kids.  I don't remember what I said, but I do remember holding his hand and head as we both cried through that prayer.  A week later our mutual friend, Amy called and gave me the news of his passing as I was about to speak at a church in Kentucky.  I couldn't believe it happened so soon.  He beat the national average, but the final months had flown and I simply couldn't accept it was time.

His life celebration service was Charlie to a tee, especially the jazzy version of "When the Saints Go Marchin' In".  I still miss him.  I still haven't erased his contact information from my phone.   He had been one of my strongest supporters and encouragers during my battle with cancer.  I guess deep within, despite knowing better, I thought I could encourage him and be present for his victory and one day when we were old men we would laugh about it all.

Charlie, you fought like hell.  You modeled grace, dignity, faith, transparency and grit.  I miss our chats, your jokes and funny stories.  I miss your encouragement.  You were in many ways my Barnabas.  Hold my spot bro and catch me up when I get there.  You are gone, but not forgotten and forever in our hearts!

Our Cancer Battle Song:
(Rich Mullins)
We'll sometimes my life just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small

So hold me Jesus 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace 

Don't Run From Your Roots

Remember where you came from!  A lot of people spend much of their life running from their family history or past.  My home and office have important reminders of my simple roots.  I don't ever want to forget that I came from simple, but honest people.  A miner's coal lamp and a lamp made from an empty bourbon bottle in my office remind me of my roots.  

 While I was born at a hospital in Louisville, Kentucky, we actually lived in a little hamlet in Nelson County called Cox's Creek.  Dad pastored a small church and we lived in a two-story parsonage near the church.  Nelson County is the home of bourbon.   Tobacco was the other big export in an area where the soil was ideal.   While an easy target of critics today, Kentucky natives know that tobacco and bourbon tax dollars built a lot of churches, schools and libraries in the Commonwealth.   Our church had many tobacco, cattle and pig farmers.  They were honest and hard working families who cared about their community and country.  Simple people who believed in God and were trying to make the world a better place by helping others.  And yes there were a few characters.

Both of my grandfathers worked in coal mines.  My maternal grandfather worked in the eastern coal mines while my paternal grandfather worked in the western mines.   If I remember correctly, I think my paternal grandfather was actually kicked out of the mines when child labor laws were passed and had to wait before he returned.  He repeatedly told my father growing up that he never wanted to catch him in a mine.  He knew how tough and dangerous mining could be and he wanted something better for Dad.  He wanted him to get a college education.  He lived long enough to see Dad get a college degree, a masters and his doctorate!  

Before he worked in the mines my maternal grandfather helped make moonshine.  Yes hooch!  Although illegal it provided an income for the poor families in the hills of east Kentucky.  He would probably laugh at all the legal moonshine distilleries popping up across the south these days.  This picture was taken of my grandfather (he is on the left) by a still.  I think my Mom said he was 18 at the time.  He went on to work in the mines and was later courted by big timber firms in the south because he could tell you anything you wanted to know about trees.  So my roots are found in coal miners and moonshiners!  For the record I've never worked in a coal mine and I've never made moonshine, but I didn't have to because their sacrifices enabled both of my parents to pursue higher education.  

I don't run from my past.  I've learned to celebrate it.  More importantly, I've come to realize just what the Apostle Paul meant when he described the past in regard to God's present work and call in our lives in 1 Corinthians:

26 My brothers, remember what you were when God chose you. Not many of you were wise by the way people look at it. Not many of you had power. Not many of you came from a family with a big name. 27 But God chose things that look foolish to the people of the world. He has used those foolish things to put the wise people to shame. God chose the weak things to put to shame the strong people. 28 And God chose the small things, things that people despise. Yes, he chose even the things which seem to be nothing. He did this to destroy the big things. 29 He did this so that people would not be proud before God.30 You are God's children through Christ Jesus. Christ came from God and made us wise. He put us right with God. He made us holy. He set us free from our wrong ways.

Every person has a unique story because it's their story.  No one else shares your exact story.  Perhaps you are one of those people that wants their past to go away.  You have spent more time trying to hide it, or get away from it.  Maybe you run in circles or associate with accomplished people your parents or formative family would've never met.  Maybe you battle a family history of abuse, addiction, or mental illness.  To be sure those are tough memories.  However, they don't have to define you.  They are simply part of who you are today.  You can even make peace with a broken past and I have a mother whose adult life is a testimony to God's incredible ability to bring transformation.  

More importantly, who are you becoming with God's grace?  Paul says that we shouldn't despise small beginnings because God uses the small, simple and humble to bring glory to His name.  Don't seek ways to cover or hide the past.  Instead, we need to ask this question in light of Paul's words:  How can we use our past to shape and inform our present and future to bring glory to God?  Now that's a question worth answering!  

Just think, one day our children, grand and great grand children will recall our history and it's impact on their life.  What are we building?  What kind of roots are we putting down for them and succeeding generations?