Just when you think it's safe to go back into the...
I'll leave it to you to decide what comes after "the." For me it's the space of honesty, openness and vulnerability. Events in the last several years have caused me to be very guarded about expressing what I really feel and think, especially to those from the "faith community." Much of this is due to the fact that the events to which I refer were painful and difficult and were all driven by people of faith, specifically, Christians.
Christians. My people. My tribe. Those who have hurt me the deepest and many of whom consider me to no longer be one of them, or at least not in the way they think I used to be or should be. But what motivates today's post is not about some huge injury (although God knows my family and I have had plenty of that in the last decade). Instead, I've been reminded that the thing that so many Christians seem to dislike the most in other people is their humanity.
That may sound crazy, but throughout my life I've witnessed this. Whether it was being raised in a setting that constantly decried humanity as the source of all sin, even though Ephesians 2 describes Jesus as having created in himself a brand new humanity, or the life-long occurences of watching people's expressions of pain, fatigue, fear or anger be met with either disdain or some ridiculous sounding phrase that's supposed to pass for kindness and empathy.
The phrases always seem to invoke the trump card of God in a way that invalidates the person's expression of pain, fear, etc. To argue with the phrase and the person uttering (or posting) it is to show that your faith is weak, you need repentance, you need to pray, you need any of 50 other things someone who just overlooked your humanity may insist that you need.
Life is not successfully lived through simple incantations or mantras. Life is hard, messy, beautiful, dangerous, wonderful, heart-breaking, exhilirating. And without honesty, life, at least the kind that is true and full, is pretty much impossible. The cornerstone of Christianity is the vulnerability, pain and suffering of Jesus, God coming to earth to reclaim his creation. How puzzling (and tragic) it is that many followers of Jesus today take every precaution they can to minimize or even eliminate vulnerability, pain and suffering, both in themselves and others.
This is not the way of Jesus. This is not faithfulness. Whatever it is, it makes those who dare express their own vulnerability and suffering feel that much more isolated. The body of Christ should be known for the sweetness of its words, not for leaving bite marks.
Please consider this the next time someone takes the heroic step of expressing to you that they're in a tough place. Please stop yourself from giving them some tired, worn phrase that's supposed to show how spiritual you are, but instead only shows them that you lack compassion and that they are even more alone than they originally thought.
We all have enough bite marks to last the rest of our lives. Too many of those marks have been left by our "brothers and sisters." May all of us who claim to be people of faith begin to be known as people who are slow to offer answers, but quick to extend cool cups of water.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
The Next Step
"Use your words. Please use your words." That's what a friend said to me yesterday during a phone conversation regarding a decision I've been contemplating for the last couple of weeks. I had called her to ask for both advice and help. Advice about whether or not to take a particular step and then help to take that step. It is a step that I've spent most of the last 21 months thinking I wouldn't (couldn't) take again. But my friend encouraged me that I both could and should take this step. Her voice is one of several who have talked with me over the last 2 weeks, each of whom giving the same encouragement as did my friend yesterday.
The step is a return to preaching (I actually hesitated just now before I could type the word. I wanted to just type "speaking" instead. I knew that doing so wouldn't be honest). A return to preaching. Years ago the idea of a "return" to it would have been foreign to me because I would not have been able to picture myself having left it. Over the last almost two years the same idea seemed just as foreign, but instead due to having done it, having been part of "organized Christianity." I grew up in organized Christianity and have spent most of my life trying to make sense of it as a human being, because the two (organized Christianity and being a human being) have seemed pretty incompatible for most of my 53 years.
Plus, I grew up in a preacher's home, so I grew up with an insider's view of the industry of religion, church, whatever you can call it. Feeling a calling to preach in my late teens pretty much scared me to death and I spent the next 17 years avoiding that sense of calling, primarily because I just wanted to be happy. Life in the church, and especially as a preacher, seemed to me to be the farthest thing from happiness I could imagine.
Over time, however, the calling began to feel more like an invitation than a life sentence of misery. So, as a man well into my 30's, I began the journey of moving into ministry, specifically preaching, which led to becoming a pastor. I did that for over a decade. It nearly killed me.
I could outline numerous reasons why the experience almost did me in, but suffice to say the incompatibility between organized Christianity and one's desire/hope of becoming fully human is still alive and well. The more serious I became about my own journey of faith and the process of becoming a human who endeavors to reflect and live out the image of God, the more the gatekeepers of organized Christianity dug their knives into me. The fact that I had no interest in speaking in such a way that fed their self-focused, consumer-driven approach to faith and spirituality only made me more of a target.
So, they drove me out, drove me away. And then after a while I kept myself out, away. Because of my work with Second Life of Chattanooga, speaking has remained a constant in my life, but preaching has been something I considered to be part of my past. Even when a friend asked me to preach at his church this past September, it seemed like a one-off event for me, something that I appreciated but did not expect to happen again.
I realize that much of this has been self-protection, not allowing situations and people who seem dangerous to me to get near me, or me near them. But the past few months have brought about some conversations and consideration that led to the advice I've sought over the last couple of weeks. The conversations, consideration and advice have now brought me to this place where I can write these words, these words where I out myself as not just being willing to preach again, but actually seeking opportunities to do just that. It is my hope that 2014 will be full of those opportunities.
I know that I have been called to do this. I know that I am once again answering that call. I have been given words. I will use them.
The step is a return to preaching (I actually hesitated just now before I could type the word. I wanted to just type "speaking" instead. I knew that doing so wouldn't be honest). A return to preaching. Years ago the idea of a "return" to it would have been foreign to me because I would not have been able to picture myself having left it. Over the last almost two years the same idea seemed just as foreign, but instead due to having done it, having been part of "organized Christianity." I grew up in organized Christianity and have spent most of my life trying to make sense of it as a human being, because the two (organized Christianity and being a human being) have seemed pretty incompatible for most of my 53 years.
Plus, I grew up in a preacher's home, so I grew up with an insider's view of the industry of religion, church, whatever you can call it. Feeling a calling to preach in my late teens pretty much scared me to death and I spent the next 17 years avoiding that sense of calling, primarily because I just wanted to be happy. Life in the church, and especially as a preacher, seemed to me to be the farthest thing from happiness I could imagine.
Over time, however, the calling began to feel more like an invitation than a life sentence of misery. So, as a man well into my 30's, I began the journey of moving into ministry, specifically preaching, which led to becoming a pastor. I did that for over a decade. It nearly killed me.
I could outline numerous reasons why the experience almost did me in, but suffice to say the incompatibility between organized Christianity and one's desire/hope of becoming fully human is still alive and well. The more serious I became about my own journey of faith and the process of becoming a human who endeavors to reflect and live out the image of God, the more the gatekeepers of organized Christianity dug their knives into me. The fact that I had no interest in speaking in such a way that fed their self-focused, consumer-driven approach to faith and spirituality only made me more of a target.
So, they drove me out, drove me away. And then after a while I kept myself out, away. Because of my work with Second Life of Chattanooga, speaking has remained a constant in my life, but preaching has been something I considered to be part of my past. Even when a friend asked me to preach at his church this past September, it seemed like a one-off event for me, something that I appreciated but did not expect to happen again.
I realize that much of this has been self-protection, not allowing situations and people who seem dangerous to me to get near me, or me near them. But the past few months have brought about some conversations and consideration that led to the advice I've sought over the last couple of weeks. The conversations, consideration and advice have now brought me to this place where I can write these words, these words where I out myself as not just being willing to preach again, but actually seeking opportunities to do just that. It is my hope that 2014 will be full of those opportunities.
I know that I have been called to do this. I know that I am once again answering that call. I have been given words. I will use them.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Don't blame Tony Bennett
My tastes in music run the gamut...rock, blues, jazz, some classical, new age, alt-country, old school soul. I love great musicians and great singers, especially great singers. The majority of the rock bands I listened to while I was growing up was due to their great vocals. I still love to hear great singers, no matter their genre (well, almost no matter their genre...some genre trains I just can't get on, no matter how good the vocals...those who know me best know the specific train to which I am referring).
While rock and blues have made up my primary lifelong playlist, a lot of music from the 1940's-60s really appeals to me, again most of it primarily featuring great singers. I love Sinatra, Bing, Dean, Rosemary, so many from that era. But the singer from that time and genre who still captivates me the most is Tony Bennett. I don't care what I'm doing or where I am, if I hear Tony's voice, I stop and enjoy the pure genius of his rich, lush voice. I know many feel the same way and Tony has been and remains an inspiration to countless singers of multiple generations.
With that as a backdrop, here's the point of today's blog. Tony's birthday was earlier this month (August 3) and one of the tributes to him that I read online was from a music critic who said Tony inspired him to become a music critic. I really found this interesting, as so many singers over the last half century have credited Tony with inspiring them to sing, but this is the first time I've seen a critic credit an artist for inspiring them to a career of critique (or criticism, depending on the critic and artist).
This got me thinking about the difference between participation and observation, the divide between creativity and commentary. I know numerous people who do both, but in each case their observation and commentary comes from the foundation of their creativity, from the fact that they participate in the creative process rather than just add their opinion about what someone else has done. Their right to critique has been earned by their own engagement in the struggle to bring something to life that probably no one else can...or should.
None of this is to beat up the music critic who paid tribute to Tony. Who knows, maybe he has turned readers on to several artists who otherwise may not have been known by that section of the music-loving world? Maybe he can't sing or play or note, but his love for music is so great that this is the way he can be part of something that brings joy to all of us?
But, we're surrounded by critics on every front today, most of whom seem bent on bringing something other than joy to our shared journey. Maybe they criticize because they don't believe in their gift? Maybe they don't know what their gift is? Maybe they're just scared and over time became mean as well, so dumping on someone else's gift and courage is the only thing they're any good at anymore?
Whatever has made the critic the critic, you and I still have the opportunity (every day) to decide in which part of the process we will spend our time and how we will use what is inside us. Call it a gift, call it talent, call it inspiration, call it a calling...whatever you call it, something that only you can create is waiting for you to do just that...create it. Write it, build it, video it, choreograph it, speak it, sing it, whatever it means to create it. And most of you know what your "it" is.
In The War of Art, Steven Pressfield writes, "The professional learns to recognize envy-driven criticism and to take it for what it is: the supreme compliment. The critic hates most that which he would have done himself if had had the guts." Maybe part of your calling and mine is to give the perpetual critic something to hate.
Don't hide from yourself or "it" today. Create. Show up for work today. Show up for yourself. Critics need something to talk about. The rest of us need something to inspire us, move us, teach us, transform us, as well as something to sing along to.
While rock and blues have made up my primary lifelong playlist, a lot of music from the 1940's-60s really appeals to me, again most of it primarily featuring great singers. I love Sinatra, Bing, Dean, Rosemary, so many from that era. But the singer from that time and genre who still captivates me the most is Tony Bennett. I don't care what I'm doing or where I am, if I hear Tony's voice, I stop and enjoy the pure genius of his rich, lush voice. I know many feel the same way and Tony has been and remains an inspiration to countless singers of multiple generations.
With that as a backdrop, here's the point of today's blog. Tony's birthday was earlier this month (August 3) and one of the tributes to him that I read online was from a music critic who said Tony inspired him to become a music critic. I really found this interesting, as so many singers over the last half century have credited Tony with inspiring them to sing, but this is the first time I've seen a critic credit an artist for inspiring them to a career of critique (or criticism, depending on the critic and artist).
This got me thinking about the difference between participation and observation, the divide between creativity and commentary. I know numerous people who do both, but in each case their observation and commentary comes from the foundation of their creativity, from the fact that they participate in the creative process rather than just add their opinion about what someone else has done. Their right to critique has been earned by their own engagement in the struggle to bring something to life that probably no one else can...or should.
None of this is to beat up the music critic who paid tribute to Tony. Who knows, maybe he has turned readers on to several artists who otherwise may not have been known by that section of the music-loving world? Maybe he can't sing or play or note, but his love for music is so great that this is the way he can be part of something that brings joy to all of us?
But, we're surrounded by critics on every front today, most of whom seem bent on bringing something other than joy to our shared journey. Maybe they criticize because they don't believe in their gift? Maybe they don't know what their gift is? Maybe they're just scared and over time became mean as well, so dumping on someone else's gift and courage is the only thing they're any good at anymore?
Whatever has made the critic the critic, you and I still have the opportunity (every day) to decide in which part of the process we will spend our time and how we will use what is inside us. Call it a gift, call it talent, call it inspiration, call it a calling...whatever you call it, something that only you can create is waiting for you to do just that...create it. Write it, build it, video it, choreograph it, speak it, sing it, whatever it means to create it. And most of you know what your "it" is.
In The War of Art, Steven Pressfield writes, "The professional learns to recognize envy-driven criticism and to take it for what it is: the supreme compliment. The critic hates most that which he would have done himself if had had the guts." Maybe part of your calling and mine is to give the perpetual critic something to hate.
Don't hide from yourself or "it" today. Create. Show up for work today. Show up for yourself. Critics need something to talk about. The rest of us need something to inspire us, move us, teach us, transform us, as well as something to sing along to.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
A Dangerous Decision
I recently learned that someone who I have watched from a distance has undergone a significant life-change...one that that they were neither expecting or wanting. This life-change was self-induced, even though they have chosen to not see it that way. The point on which several people who have observed this life-change seem to agree is that the change was necessary. This individual was out of control, becoming more and more damaging to people who had no way to protect themselves. And the person most at risk for suffering irreversible damage was the individual about whom I am writing.
So a life-change has come to them, but it has also come for them, even if they do not currently recognize it as such. When I first heard of their change, an unexpected thought (more like a prayer) came to mind: Please give them the grace to develop some grace. This is not a sentiment I expected to have for this person, because I definitely agreed that they needed a life-change before they brought any more reputational harm to people they seemed to care nothing about. My tendency in cases like this is to say, "Good, this is what needed to happen to them," and then I move on (in the interest of full-disclosure, I did say this initially, but then moved on to the grace thought/prayer).
"Please give them the grace to develop some grace." Upon having the thought, I was not and have not been able to shake its implications. If grace is something we are able to develop, then that development only matters if we then become people who extend that grace. And when we decide to make the extension of grace part of our basic operating system, then we have just made a very dangerous decision.
Before I explain why I believe this is dangerous, let me explain what I mean by grace. Some readers will immediately default to phrases involving unmerited favor, etc., but I'd like to put it a bit plainer, which hopefully makes the whole idea of grace more accessible to each of us. By grace I am simply referring to giving others the benefit of the doubt, even when everything in us is screaming to not do so. In addition, I believe extending grace means that I am going to value your humanity as much as my own, thereby allowing for your flaws in the same way I make room for mine.
What makes this dangerous is if I actually do this, I take something away from myself that I tend to hold pretty closely and dearly...my perceived right to dismiss you as a person, as well as to hope that what I most need for myself is not available to you. In other words, I remove from my operating system those attitudes and actions that protect me from you, making me open to being wounded by your flaws and struggles. Maybe the most dangerous aspect of this is that I take away my insistence that you must pay for what your flaws have done to myself and others.
So if I am to truly become fully human, I must allow you the space to do the same. Nothing new or ground-breaking about that statement, but operating this way will change who we are at our core and that is no small thing. The act of becoming fully human, as we are intended to be, is definitely process-driven and I believe developing grace is part of that process. This process is...
...inconvenient...not always satisfying...dangerous....ultimately transformational. This is grace.
So a life-change has come to them, but it has also come for them, even if they do not currently recognize it as such. When I first heard of their change, an unexpected thought (more like a prayer) came to mind: Please give them the grace to develop some grace. This is not a sentiment I expected to have for this person, because I definitely agreed that they needed a life-change before they brought any more reputational harm to people they seemed to care nothing about. My tendency in cases like this is to say, "Good, this is what needed to happen to them," and then I move on (in the interest of full-disclosure, I did say this initially, but then moved on to the grace thought/prayer).
"Please give them the grace to develop some grace." Upon having the thought, I was not and have not been able to shake its implications. If grace is something we are able to develop, then that development only matters if we then become people who extend that grace. And when we decide to make the extension of grace part of our basic operating system, then we have just made a very dangerous decision.
Before I explain why I believe this is dangerous, let me explain what I mean by grace. Some readers will immediately default to phrases involving unmerited favor, etc., but I'd like to put it a bit plainer, which hopefully makes the whole idea of grace more accessible to each of us. By grace I am simply referring to giving others the benefit of the doubt, even when everything in us is screaming to not do so. In addition, I believe extending grace means that I am going to value your humanity as much as my own, thereby allowing for your flaws in the same way I make room for mine.
What makes this dangerous is if I actually do this, I take something away from myself that I tend to hold pretty closely and dearly...my perceived right to dismiss you as a person, as well as to hope that what I most need for myself is not available to you. In other words, I remove from my operating system those attitudes and actions that protect me from you, making me open to being wounded by your flaws and struggles. Maybe the most dangerous aspect of this is that I take away my insistence that you must pay for what your flaws have done to myself and others.
So if I am to truly become fully human, I must allow you the space to do the same. Nothing new or ground-breaking about that statement, but operating this way will change who we are at our core and that is no small thing. The act of becoming fully human, as we are intended to be, is definitely process-driven and I believe developing grace is part of that process. This process is...
...inconvenient...not always satisfying...dangerous....ultimately transformational. This is grace.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Wake-up call
"I've been absent from my own life." Those were the words I spoke to a friend recently to describe both where I've been and who I've been for the better part of the last 18 months. For people who do not know me well and who observe my day-to-day activity, such a statement might be a surprise. For those who do know me well (of which there aren't many), I'm sure the statement is no surprise.
Life piles up on us, typically while we're busy with the things we mistakenly believe are central to living. But as most of us know, the un-examined, un-intentional life over time becomes empty and un-sustainable. At least that's what it became for me. Those words spoken to my friend came at the end of a day where an undeniable wake-up call was being offered to me. It wasn't a wake-up call of thundering voices and events, but was instead made up of small components of a day-long theme. It was an invitation. I said yes.
What I have needed to wake up from really isn't important. Bad stuff happens to all of us. We all get hurt, disappointed, misused. We lose sight of dreams. We lose sight of ourselves. I allowed the external hurt and disappointment to cloud over the dreams and selfhood I know to be true. I have begun the process of coming back to life, back to myself, reclaiming hope and true identity in the process.
And it is a process. I have not DONE this, but am instead returning to DOING it. To be absent from one's life does happen one day at a time and then the days pile up, turning into weeks, turning into far too much time. The reclaiming of one's life happens the same way. I know this, but there is a difference between the knowledge of it and the practice of it. And to practice it is to begin to reclaim the days and weeks, thereby reclaiming oneself.
The wake-up call keeps coming and I'm doing my best to answer it each day. It's nice to be present in my own life again. Hope that's true for you as well today.
Life piles up on us, typically while we're busy with the things we mistakenly believe are central to living. But as most of us know, the un-examined, un-intentional life over time becomes empty and un-sustainable. At least that's what it became for me. Those words spoken to my friend came at the end of a day where an undeniable wake-up call was being offered to me. It wasn't a wake-up call of thundering voices and events, but was instead made up of small components of a day-long theme. It was an invitation. I said yes.
What I have needed to wake up from really isn't important. Bad stuff happens to all of us. We all get hurt, disappointed, misused. We lose sight of dreams. We lose sight of ourselves. I allowed the external hurt and disappointment to cloud over the dreams and selfhood I know to be true. I have begun the process of coming back to life, back to myself, reclaiming hope and true identity in the process.
And it is a process. I have not DONE this, but am instead returning to DOING it. To be absent from one's life does happen one day at a time and then the days pile up, turning into weeks, turning into far too much time. The reclaiming of one's life happens the same way. I know this, but there is a difference between the knowledge of it and the practice of it. And to practice it is to begin to reclaim the days and weeks, thereby reclaiming oneself.
The wake-up call keeps coming and I'm doing my best to answer it each day. It's nice to be present in my own life again. Hope that's true for you as well today.
Monday, November 5, 2012
The 3rd option
Tomorrow is election day in the U.S. Millions will go to the polls (or already have through the opportunity of early voting) to elect a president, senators, congressmen and congresswomen, as well as countless state and local representatives. The right and privilege to vote is one that so many around the world do not enjoy, nor do many of them have any hope of doing so in the near future, if even at any point in their lifetimes. To say that as Americans we are a privileged people is an understatement...
...and our privilege is destroying us. Throughout this election cycle (something that now appears to last 4 years at a time) I have witnessed "we the people" behave in ways that I believe are beneath us. I am not referring to the countless candidates courting our votes, but instead to me, to you, to each of us for whom "they" (the elected officials) supposedly work. Whether a more privileged society has ever existed, there is no way to tell but what is clear is that our position in the world has intoxicated us with the false beliefs that the rest of the world does not matter quite as much as we do, that freedom of speech requires that no actual thought and reason accompany what we say, that only one half of the country's political spectrum has anything of value to offer and that the other half (the one whom we dislike and with whom we disagree) is the reason this country is going to hell on a bullet train.
We say we stand for things like "liberty and justice for all," "give me your tired, your poor," that we are a model and beacon of hope for the rest of the world. But I have read on social and traditional media sites the thoughts from everyday, ordinary citizens (many of whom I know personally) such as myself and I find there very little that seems to exhibit any concern for the tired, the poor, that insists on justice for everyone. How did we become so un-feeling, so un-caring, so mean? When did the absolute crap that flows from cable news outlets 24 hours a day replace reasoned thinking (as well as the civil expression of that thinking)? Why do we refuse to allow the other person with whom we may disagree to express their views without us telling them what an idiot, fascist, communist, etc., they are?
The problems we face as a country are huge. The leadership we have in place at nearly every level of government seems unable or unwilling to tackle those problems in any substantive way. I have heard many people express that they wish there was a viable 3rd option running for president. While that may not be the case regarding the presidency, there is a 3rd option.
You are the 3rd option. I am the 3rd option. No, not to be president (not interested whatsoever), but to be the citizens we are called to be. At his inauguration the first President Bush called on us to be a kinder, gentler nation. Dear God, if ever this was needed, it is now. The founders of our country as well as countless men and women have given their lives to protect the freedoms you and I enjoy. I do not believe their sacrifices were so that you and I could spew venom and call it patriotism, or to deride entire groups of citizens because they do not measure up to my standards of being a "good American." We can be better than this. We should be better than this. We must be better than this.
This is the first and only time I have used social media to share my views during this election. And at the end of the day that is all they are...my views, the views of one guy in the face of a tidal wave of spin and poison that passes for political discourse in 2012. But I am a citizen of the United States of America. I have been handed tremendous freedom, simply because I was born here. With that freedom comes tremendous responsibility. Whether my candidates win or lose tomorrow I am not absolved of the responsibility of living and behaving like a citizen of this nation should.
I am the 3rd option.
...and our privilege is destroying us. Throughout this election cycle (something that now appears to last 4 years at a time) I have witnessed "we the people" behave in ways that I believe are beneath us. I am not referring to the countless candidates courting our votes, but instead to me, to you, to each of us for whom "they" (the elected officials) supposedly work. Whether a more privileged society has ever existed, there is no way to tell but what is clear is that our position in the world has intoxicated us with the false beliefs that the rest of the world does not matter quite as much as we do, that freedom of speech requires that no actual thought and reason accompany what we say, that only one half of the country's political spectrum has anything of value to offer and that the other half (the one whom we dislike and with whom we disagree) is the reason this country is going to hell on a bullet train.
We say we stand for things like "liberty and justice for all," "give me your tired, your poor," that we are a model and beacon of hope for the rest of the world. But I have read on social and traditional media sites the thoughts from everyday, ordinary citizens (many of whom I know personally) such as myself and I find there very little that seems to exhibit any concern for the tired, the poor, that insists on justice for everyone. How did we become so un-feeling, so un-caring, so mean? When did the absolute crap that flows from cable news outlets 24 hours a day replace reasoned thinking (as well as the civil expression of that thinking)? Why do we refuse to allow the other person with whom we may disagree to express their views without us telling them what an idiot, fascist, communist, etc., they are?
The problems we face as a country are huge. The leadership we have in place at nearly every level of government seems unable or unwilling to tackle those problems in any substantive way. I have heard many people express that they wish there was a viable 3rd option running for president. While that may not be the case regarding the presidency, there is a 3rd option.
You are the 3rd option. I am the 3rd option. No, not to be president (not interested whatsoever), but to be the citizens we are called to be. At his inauguration the first President Bush called on us to be a kinder, gentler nation. Dear God, if ever this was needed, it is now. The founders of our country as well as countless men and women have given their lives to protect the freedoms you and I enjoy. I do not believe their sacrifices were so that you and I could spew venom and call it patriotism, or to deride entire groups of citizens because they do not measure up to my standards of being a "good American." We can be better than this. We should be better than this. We must be better than this.
This is the first and only time I have used social media to share my views during this election. And at the end of the day that is all they are...my views, the views of one guy in the face of a tidal wave of spin and poison that passes for political discourse in 2012. But I am a citizen of the United States of America. I have been handed tremendous freedom, simply because I was born here. With that freedom comes tremendous responsibility. Whether my candidates win or lose tomorrow I am not absolved of the responsibility of living and behaving like a citizen of this nation should.
I am the 3rd option.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Hope in a shopping cart
In the almost 6 years that I have been part of the anti-sex trafficking organization, Second Life of Chattanooga, I have found myself in a variety of settings/meetings/events, all of which were hopefully designed to help our cause of bringing an end to the terror of human sex trafficking in Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee. Many of these gatherings have been encouraging, inspiring and transformational. Others, not so much. But of all the events I have attended during this time, the one I was part of last night was definitely one of the most personally impactful.
Every Fall, Lee University in Cleveland, TN has a competition between their residence halls called "Dorm Wars." Dorm Wars is now a 20-year long tradition at Lee and consists of a night of some of the craziest, loudest, most intense competition you have ever seen. The winning dorms (1 men's residence hall winner, 1 women's residence hall winner) get trophies, medals, serious bragging rights, as well as prize money that they donate to the local service organization they have decided to sponsor for that year's Dorm Wars. This year the women of Simmons/Nora Chambers contacted us and asked us if we would be interested in being their service organization. Even though I did my undergrad work at Lee, given the fact that I went to school there 100 years ago, Dorm Wars was something new to me, but hey, any opportunity to further our cause is something we say "yes" to.
A few weeks before the competition my Second Life partner, Terri Self, and I met with the resident director of Simmons/Nora Chambers and several of the residents so that they could get to know more about us and us them. It was a fun, engaging time and they told us they would love to have us come to the competition, which we of course said that we would. So, last night we show up at Walker Arena and they're waiting in the lobby for us with our own "SNORA" t-shirts and direct us to their section in the arena.
I swear I've been to quieter rock shows. The place was packed, each of the dorms had their own specific uniforms, performed an opening routine when they were introduced and never sat down or stopped screaming during the entire 2 hour event. The music never stopped and was everything from hip-hop to pop to 80's rock to Bieber (which we all know is a genre unto itself).
Dorm Wars's competition involves things like 3-legged races, sack races and an obstacle course. But it was during the shopping cart relay (complete with crash helmets and students throwing themselves out of the cart so their next teammate could jump in) that what was really going on began to hit me. The various service organizations for which each of the dorms were competing are all fine organizations and do great work. But as I watched our SNORA girls go all-out on behalf of Second Life during the shopping cart relay I was struck by the thought that in the middle of the screaming, music and mayhem as the carts sped through the course something else was speaking even louder: the power of human joy. I witnessed, was surrounded by and participated in the joy of being alive, of knowing that in spite of how hard and at times dark life can be, sometimes a shopping cart relay is exactly what you need to remind you that life is precious, laughter and music are gifts from above, and everybody deserves them.
Terri and I, along with the scores of others who make up our organization, fight trafficking every day with awareness that creates collaborative action. We sit in meetings, we leverage relationships, we utilize media, we advocate, we use every tool at our disposal to see the captives set free and the traffickers shut down. Last night the women of SNORA used a shopping cart against the backdrop of un-contained human joy. I don't think I've ever seen a more powerful weapon.
My ears rang most of today from how loud it was in that arena last night. It is my hope that the echo of last night will somehow reach the ears of those who are waiting on all of us who fight on their behalf, that they will hold on because we are doing our best to get to them, to get them free, to get them home. In this fight we use weapons like passion, belief, un-ending faith, hope. And joy. And shopping carts.
Every Fall, Lee University in Cleveland, TN has a competition between their residence halls called "Dorm Wars." Dorm Wars is now a 20-year long tradition at Lee and consists of a night of some of the craziest, loudest, most intense competition you have ever seen. The winning dorms (1 men's residence hall winner, 1 women's residence hall winner) get trophies, medals, serious bragging rights, as well as prize money that they donate to the local service organization they have decided to sponsor for that year's Dorm Wars. This year the women of Simmons/Nora Chambers contacted us and asked us if we would be interested in being their service organization. Even though I did my undergrad work at Lee, given the fact that I went to school there 100 years ago, Dorm Wars was something new to me, but hey, any opportunity to further our cause is something we say "yes" to.
A few weeks before the competition my Second Life partner, Terri Self, and I met with the resident director of Simmons/Nora Chambers and several of the residents so that they could get to know more about us and us them. It was a fun, engaging time and they told us they would love to have us come to the competition, which we of course said that we would. So, last night we show up at Walker Arena and they're waiting in the lobby for us with our own "SNORA" t-shirts and direct us to their section in the arena.
I swear I've been to quieter rock shows. The place was packed, each of the dorms had their own specific uniforms, performed an opening routine when they were introduced and never sat down or stopped screaming during the entire 2 hour event. The music never stopped and was everything from hip-hop to pop to 80's rock to Bieber (which we all know is a genre unto itself).
Dorm Wars's competition involves things like 3-legged races, sack races and an obstacle course. But it was during the shopping cart relay (complete with crash helmets and students throwing themselves out of the cart so their next teammate could jump in) that what was really going on began to hit me. The various service organizations for which each of the dorms were competing are all fine organizations and do great work. But as I watched our SNORA girls go all-out on behalf of Second Life during the shopping cart relay I was struck by the thought that in the middle of the screaming, music and mayhem as the carts sped through the course something else was speaking even louder: the power of human joy. I witnessed, was surrounded by and participated in the joy of being alive, of knowing that in spite of how hard and at times dark life can be, sometimes a shopping cart relay is exactly what you need to remind you that life is precious, laughter and music are gifts from above, and everybody deserves them.
Terri and I, along with the scores of others who make up our organization, fight trafficking every day with awareness that creates collaborative action. We sit in meetings, we leverage relationships, we utilize media, we advocate, we use every tool at our disposal to see the captives set free and the traffickers shut down. Last night the women of SNORA used a shopping cart against the backdrop of un-contained human joy. I don't think I've ever seen a more powerful weapon.
My ears rang most of today from how loud it was in that arena last night. It is my hope that the echo of last night will somehow reach the ears of those who are waiting on all of us who fight on their behalf, that they will hold on because we are doing our best to get to them, to get them free, to get them home. In this fight we use weapons like passion, belief, un-ending faith, hope. And joy. And shopping carts.
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