Notes From Jon

I still remember.

I still remember, and I’m sure that I’ll ever forget, where I was on that fateful Tuesday morning in September 2001.

I still remember the images and sounds, as if I had just been there this morning:  smoke billowing from buildings;  shaky footage of people running from what looked to be a solid wall of dust and debris;  reporters frantically switching between New York and Washington, trying to make sense out of the chaos.

I still remember the tears, the looks on people’s faces as they watched the terrible events unfold.

I still remember the words of disbelief I heard that morning, echoed in my own mind.  “This looks like a movie…” “It can’t be really happening.”  “Maybe it’s some kind of hoax.”

I still remember how the realization gradually settled in that this was really happening.  And I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach – sorrow, anger, fear.

Little as we want to admit it, that group of men accomplished their goal that September morning.  Their goal was not simply to fly planes into buildings and kill lots of people.  At least one set of hijackers ended up in a field in Pennsylvania.  But simply killing lots of people was not their goal.

Their goal was that of all terrorists – to plant terror in people’s hearts.  To create panic and fear so deep that it changes the way we look at things, the way we think about things, the way we live.  Anyone who flew on an airplane before 9-11, and has flown since, can attest to the simple fact that all these things have changed for us.

I still remember, and I’m sure you do too.  How could we ever forget?

But I still remember other things, too.

I still remember the awed voices of reporters, as new videos showed men and women rushing back to Ground Zero to help anyone they could.

I remember the litanies of fallen heroes, and photos snapped of their lives before the tragic day – firefighters, police, ordinary people.  A group of passengers who courageously took matters into their own hands.

I still remember the images of bright lights cutting through the darkness so volunteers could continue the search for survivors throughout those long nights.

I still remember watching with pride and approval as local, state and national governments worked swiftly to respond to the crisis.

I still remember being amazed how tiny towns, cities, small businesses and large corporations came together in those few days to do amazing things – providing care for victims and families; feeding the many workers who tirelessly dug through the rubble; giving shelter and food to millions of passengers whose flights had been displaced.

Our divided nation came together that day, as the world gathered around us.  We put aside our differences for a time – black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, pro-life, pro-choice.  Finger-pointing was put on hold.  Congresses passed new legislation quickly and efficiently.  For those few days and weeks following the attacks, we were the United States of America.

For the first time in my young life, I was proud to be an American citizen.  I was proud to see how my country could come together to meet the challenges  before us.  I was proud of our president and the many leaders who stepped up and did what was right in a difficult time.

The spirit of those times was astounding and comforting.  For once, we could clearly see God’s hand at work in a powerful way.

And I wonder… where is that country now?  Where is that spirit?

I’m not talking about all the current controversies and issues today.  Do we need healthcare reform, and what should we do about it?  Whose fault is the state of the economy, and how can we fix it?  What laws should we have about divisive matters like abortion, immigration, and gay rights, and how can we ever find a balance?  These are certainly important questions and decisions, but there’s an American spirit that has transcended those kinds of things in the past.

I’m talking about the spirit that brings us together in the face of challenges.  It’s the spirit that brought us together then, and in many other crucial times in our nation’s history.  It’s a spirit that assigns value, not blame.  A spirit that points out needs, not fault.  A spirit that puts aside differences, not friendships.  A spirit that seeks the good of the other, not the good of the self.  A spirit that values brotherhood above borders.  A spirit that seeks to build, not destroy.  A spirit of reconciliation, not divorce.

We’re a melting pot, for sure.  We will always have differences of religion, cultures, philosophy, morals, and values.  Since the earliest settlers first set foot on these shores, that’s the kind of place this has been.  We’ve seen the spirit that can divide us because of our differences, but we’ve also known a spirit that can rise above all that.  It’s the spirit that brought us together to fight for our freedom, and that drew us through contention to unite into a nation.

Who says this other spirit has to be the status quo?  Who says we have to wait for tragedies like 9-11 or Hurricane Katrina to bring out the true spirit of America?

I still remember.

I remember the spirit that has driven us toward greater things.  And I think that together, you and I might just be able to bring it back.

Is separate really better? I’ve been talking lately with some Christian people who sincerely believe it’s best to separate ourselves from the culture at large.  This is nothing new, nor is it completely unexpected.  As Christians we create a subculture that mimics and replaces mainstream.  One could be completely immersed in a totally-Christian world – reading only Christian books, hearing only Christian music, watching only Christian television and movies.  If you try hard enough, you could even eat only foods that are produced and prepared by Christians.

As an example, the cries for a mass “exodus” from the public schools is louder now than ever… if you have doubts, visit www.exodusmandate.org.  They have posted a video making a startling comparison.  The video tells the story of Dunkirk, a town on the French coast.  In 1940, at the height of WWII, more than 300,000 Allied troops were trapped in Dunkirk as the German Nazi army closed in.  Rather than allow their capture, an event that might have been a death knell for the Allied cause, French and British civilians gathered 860 boats of various sizes – from fishing boats to pleasure yachts – and ferried the soldiers to safety in Britain.

The founders of the Exodus Movement compare Christian children in today’s public schools to those troops at the village of Dunkirk – besieged by enemies who seek their utter destruction.  The best course of action, the movement claims, is a grassroots effort, much like the improvised armada of Dunkirk, that pulls all Christian children to “safety,” whether it be in Christian schools or to homeshool environments.

There is a constant tightrope for us as Christians.  We are called to be “in the world but not of the world,” a phrase we hear often that is actually drawn from Jesus’ prayer for his disciples in John 17:14-15.  It is a tightrope we constantly walk, and admittedly most of us (myself included) have trouble with one side or the other – that is, we are either too much “of” the world, or we are not enough “in” it.

I would say the trend of Evangelical Christians today is toward the latter.  I can certainly understand this point of view.  In a world that grows increasingly hostile to the Christian faith (at least, to the Christian faith that keeps its substance), it’s easy to put up our defenses.  To avoid the sin that is so prevalent around us, it is easier to separate than to resist.  And so we build our own little cocoon, piece by piece.  We surround ourselves with all things Christian – books, movies, music, church friends.  And as we make our exodus from the public arena, we seal off the cocoon at last.  We’re safe.

Problem is, when we are in the cocoon, we don’t have any way to influence the world outside the cocoon.

Isn’t this what the concepts of “epiphany” and “incarnation” are all about?  Jesus could easily have appeared as a fully-grown man, walked up to the cross and died.  For that matter, he could have found a quicker, less painful and humiliating way to die.  You and I understand this idea, too – we call it efficiency.

But that’s not what happened, is it?  Instead, Jesus took the inefficient route – he really came to be “in” the world.  Born in the messy business of childbirth, surrounded by cattle and dung.  Learning and practicing the all-too-mundane carpenter’s trade as he grew into a man.  Sleeping under the stars, a homeless man wandering from town to town with his band of friends.  Spending the great majority of his time not holed up in the courts of the temple or surrounded by the holy-rollers, but out in the streets, with beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Attending weddings, telling jokes, breaking down in tears because he’d lost a good friend…

It doesn’t sound like Jesus kept himself in a cocoon.  In fact, the holy people of the day accused Jesus of leaning toward the “of the world” bit they were so afraid of!  If there was any Dunkirk-ery going on, it was not geographic or social in nature, but spiritual.  Rather than Jesus being an allegory of Dunkirk, Dunkirk is an allegory of Jesus – who rowed in, got his hands wet, and pulled us from the water that meant certain death for us otherwise.

Jesus was in the world – he pitched his tent, but he didn’t build a permanent home.  He touched the world, but didn’t hold on too tightly.  He listened to the world, but he remembered and reminded us of the story that is beyond the world.  He enjoyed the world and its God-given pleasures, but he regarded them as shadows of the true pleasures that awaited beyond this world.  He took the world in, but he didn’t let the world take him over.  It was only by walking this balance – not efficient, but definitely effective – that Jesus was able to touch so many lives so deeply while he was here that his story is still being spread today.

Jesus is our role model in all things – so why not in this?

How must our cocooning seem to those who really need rescuing from danger?  Think how it must look to people outside the cocoon. We’re saying “come join us! Things are better in here. Just give up all the fun stuff and then we’ll talk.”  Why would anyone want to be a part of that?  No wonder people treat most Christians with distance at best, contempt and loathing at worst.

All of this ranting doesn’t make the fine line any bigger:  It’s still a tough road to walk.  But with Jesus leading the way, the path becomes clearer with every step.  We may not like where it leads us at times, but one glance at Jesus in Gethsemane reminds us that Jesus didn’t always like it either.  We may face ridicule sometimes.  We might even be persecuted, though we’re a long way yet from that.  We might even have to (*GASP*) enjoy the things of the world and enjoy them discerningly.  We might have to resist temptation rather than always run from it.

That path might not be as efficient and clean.  But it comes a lot closer to effectively following Jesus than the cocoon ever will.

[PLEASE NOTE FIRST:  While the following is not graphic, it shares my experience of researching the Jonestown Massacre.  It is disturbing at times, and rightfully so.  Be forewarned!]

Yesterday afternoon I had a very disturbing experience.  I was checking up on the news on cnn.com, when I saw that Soledad O’Brien was doing an extended piece on the Jonestown Massacre in 1978.  Next week will be the 30^th anniversary of that tragedy, and I realized that while I had heard a lot about Jonestown, I had never really found out much about what happened there.  In today’s information age, this kind of stuff is easy to find, so I decided to do a little research.

Now I wish I hadn’t.  But in a way, I’m glad I did.  The story might be familiar to many of you – but it wasn’t to me.

First, I saw some videos of Jim Jones, and he sounded just like a normal preacher – he had a powerful voice, a strong delivery, and a familiarity with the bible that showed in the little “scripture snippets” he wove into his narrative.  I didn’t agree with all of what he said, particularly his interpretation of some passages, but he seemed solid in his understanding.  But I did agree with his assertion that Christians should be involved in repairing a broken society.  In fact, if I didn’t know the rest of the story, I probably would have thought he was just another preacher like myself… just a bit more conservative.

Jones’ popularity and wide audience in his early ministry, along with his strong convictions for racial equality, made him a natural choice as director of the Human Rights Commission in Indianapolis.  His speeches about the treatments of blacks were impassioned and persuasive.  African-Americans were drawn to his cause and to his “church.”

Read the rest of this entry »

On October 26, I interrupted my series on Romans to speak about the difficult financial times we face.  Emotions are high, and anxiety is at a peak as we watch to see what the Dow is going to do today.

How can a Christian respond faithfully in times like this?  The answer might surprise you!

Desperate Times and Desperate Measures
A Christian’s Response to Economic Uncertainty

1 Kings 17:1-16, Mark 12:41-44
(also Matthew 6:19-34)

Intro: Letting Go

I had chances growing up to see all kinds of things.  We went on vacations once a year to places as far north as DC, and as far west as the Grand Canyon.  Strangely, though, I have only vague memories of some of these places.  I remember, for instance, the powerful feeling I had standing at the edge of the South Rim, but I don’t really remember any specific vistas, nor do I remember much of the long trip out west.

Strangely enough, one clear memory I have of growing up is going to the circus.  I remember cotton candy, silly toys that cost a lot and broke before I got home.  I remember animals and clowns – I even remember where we sat one time we went.

And one of my favorite things to watch was the trapeze artists.  What amazing skill they had, to fly through the air from bar to bar, flipping and twirling and ending up in just the right place at the right time.  I wasn’t the most adventurous child, but I could sure dream.  And I often imagined myself as a trapeze artist, flying gracefully through the air to the cheers of thousands.

That dream was shattered sometime in my teenage years, when I visited a particular ropes course on a youth trip.  Read the rest of this entry »

Someone always says what I’m thinking better than I could.  In this case, I’m linking to Chuck Warnock’s blog, “Confessions of a Small-Church Pastor.”  This is something like my post a couple of weeks ago, “How to Vote in the November Elections,” but Chuck’s version is much more concise and much better stated.

I encourage you to have a look at Chuck’s post from last week: “Why I will not endorse a candidate for president.“

I’ve read a lot of comments lately that Barack Obama should start fighting back against buckets of mud being tossed at him by his current political rival, John McCain.  There’s probably the normal amount of mud – I think McCain was just withholding it until after the political conventions last month.  And I’m sure that some mud is being slung out the “back door” of the Obama campaign, as well.  Yet in public, he remains cool and confident.

I’ve watched this election with more interest than any before because it actually seems like people are ready for a change.  Republicans, Democrats, Independents – people seem to be looking for something different.  And political lines aside, I feel like Obama best embodies that idea.  He’s refused to play the game… OK, well, maybe not “refused.”  More like, stayed on the sidelines, with an occasional foray onto the field.  I’m pretty naive at times, but I’m certain that his advisers are telling Obama to “keep the high road.”

But still, he’s shown me hope that things might be heading for a change in our nation’s landscape – no matter who takes office in January.

This is informed by my faith, of course.  I have to have hope that human beings can aspire to improve ourselves and our societies – I need to have hope that God can make a difference in our world, even in the political arena.  But every time I’ve thought, “what would it be like to be in politics?” I hear the instant response from my conscience:

“Impossible.  How could I live as a follower of Christ and “turn the other cheek” when someone slings mud at me and my family?  How could I resist slinging some mud of my own when I get information that might make it easier to get me elected?” I know myself.  I’d make decisions that would override my integrity, if those decisions gave me a better chance of reaching my goal.

I don’t think I could play the political game with integrity.  But I’m glad to know someone can, and I hope he will ignore all those people urging him to do otherwise.

We found this card on a gas station pump in Richmond about a month ago.  I was kind of speechless then, and I still am not sure what to say.  I will say this – this is only one side of the Jesus I know, and it certainly doesn’t seem like the tactic he used in his preaching.  I suppose (i.e, HOPE) their efforts are well-meaning…

Side 1 - WWJD?

Side 2 - "Things aren't looking too good for you friend."

Album Cover: Before the Throne by Sojourn Music

Shea Gilbert, a friend of ours, stumbled on an interesting song I decided to check out.  I love it – the tune has a simple, hymn-like quality, and the lyrics express what (in my opinion) should be Christians’ proper prayer and concern for our nation (ourselves included).  It’s certainly not the “strong” position we’re used to hearing as Americans: it exhibits weakness, expresses doubts about our own motives and actions, it’s repentant and thoughtful…

It’s published by Sojurn Music, and it makes me want to hear some more of their music.  The lyrics are below, and you can find an mp3 recording here.

Falling down upon our knees,
Sharing now in common shame,
We have sought security,
Not the cross that bears Your name.
Fences guard our hearts and homes –
Comfort sings a siren tune.
We’re a valley of dry bones;
Lead us back to life in You.

Lord we fall upon our knees,
We have shunned the weak and poor,
Worshiped beauty, courted kings
And the things their gold affords,
Prayed for those we’d like to know –
Favor sings a siren tune.
We’ve become a talent show;
Lead us back to life in You.

You have caused the blind to see,
We have blinded him again
With our man-made laws and creeds,
Eager, ready to condemn.
Now we plead before Your throne –
Power sings a siren tune.
We’ve been throwing heavy stones;
Lead us back to life in You.

We’re a valley of dry bones
Lead us back to life in You.
We’ve become a talent show
Lead us back to life in You.
We’ve been throwing heavy stones
Lead us back to life in You.

I got a message a few days ago about a friend in Birmingham who passed away, and it’s just now begun to dawn on me what has happened.  Dewayne was a good friend, a frequent study partner, and a very skilled and thoughtful minister.  He had begun work with a counseling center in the Birmingham area – a job I feel he was perfectly suited for.  He was about my age, and last week he had a completely unexpected seizure that took his life.  He leaves a wife behind.

A little more than a year ago, I heard on the news that a Beeson grad in Virginia was murdered.  I checked, and sure enough, she had graduated with me.  Nancy Copin was a Christian Church (Disciples) pastor in our area while she was in seminary, and we had a common link to the Mexico trip we both loved taking every summer.  I had hoped to contact her, since she was close by, about going to Mexico with us sometime.  But on Ash Wednesday last year, she didn’t show up at church for a special service.  Church members found her in the parsonage – she had been murdered, apparently in a failed robbery attempt.

There’s a part of me – and I imagine there’s a part of you, too – that wonders, “how could God let this happen?”  These were two very sensitive and compassionate friends, servants of God much better qualified and suited to ministry than I will ever be.  Their absences have left a hole that cannot be filled, and like most everyone, I have to wonder what their deaths might have accomplished – if anything.

I may never know, this side of heaven.  But their examples of service and faith remind me of the many things I learned from them, and I am surely better for having counted them as friends for a part of my life.

I found out today that Gospel singer/songwriter Dottie Rambo died in a bus accident this weekend.  As a musician, I’m very aware of her impact on the world of Christian and Gospel music in the last four decades… and I suspect, if you look down the list of songs she’s written, you’ll realize her impact as well.

I don’t know why I felt compelled to comment on this, other than that I am grateful for what God was able to do through her, and rejoice at her homecoming – untimely though it was.