The Joy of Being Me

I notice church signs. Try as I might, I can’t ignore them any more than I can ignore a crash in the median of the interstate.  It’s there to be read.  I find some of the signs to be entertaining, some of them to be annoying. Some I find offensive and all along I find one to be thought-provoking and even insightful.

Several days ago I read a sign in front of a Lutheran Church.  It could have been in front of any church as I have seen it in front of many over the years.  It was the acronym JOY—Jesus first. Others second. And Yourself last. Such a nice thought. And at first glance that seems like it is indeed a prescription for joy.  At a second glance, not so much.  Putting yourself last is actually a recipe for personal disaster.

In the first place it’s not a good idea to put yourself last and in the second place I’m not sure that it’s even possible.  How is it possible for something other than yourself to relate to the world around you?  You may say, “No, the sign is right. I put Jesus first and my children come right after Him.  They are more important to me than anything in the world.”  Well, you just said two different things.  I understand the “more important to me” part, but not the “they are first” part.  Look at what you just said, “More important to ME!”  It is you that has a relationship with your children and your children have a relationship with you.  They need a healthy and whole person to take care of them.  How can “you” love them, take care of them, protect them, if “you” are somehow melded into them? If you are them then who is you? Who is it that they are relating to? And who then are you after they leave and have families of their own?

This discussion gets a little trickier when it comes to the Almighty—i.e. Jesus, God, the Holy Spirit, etc. If I believed that God was a Being separate from me then I would still argue that I can’t put God first.  It is still me relating to God. I/Thou.  Any God worth His salt doesn’t want me to disappear into Him.  God desires a relationship with me. God created me.  God likes me. God delights in me. But all of this business of who is first or second is easier for me since I don’t think that God is separate from me.  He not only counts the stars in the universe, He is the stars in the universe. There is not a molecule of my body or my mind that God doesn’t inhabit.   God surrounds me and is in me.  “The Word made flesh and dwells.” If I want to experience God I only need to “be still and know.” God is not somewhere out there, somewhere over there, He's right here, where I live and move and have my being.

You ask, "But David aren't you advocating a life of selfishness?"  And I reply, "No, not at all!" One of the synonyms of "selfish" is "self-centered."  The definition of "self-centered" is "preoccupied with one's self and one's affairs."  There is a world of difference between "self-centered" and "self." The people who completely gave themselves and changed the world had a powerful sense of self-- Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela to name a few. These were all very strong people. If you read their biographies you will learn of a passionate person, a whole self who gave from a core of confidence, conviction and love.  These people are the opposite of selfish and the epitome of self.

 If you want to really love your God, your family, your friends, the world, figure out who you are and be that empowered person every day of your life. You might not change the whole world, but you will certainly change yours.

Over thirty years ago a local church sign read, "An ounce of probably is worth a pound of perhaps." How do I remember it so well? The church moved and the building was for sale for over a year! What did it mean? No idea.

Life, Liberal-ty and the Pursuit of Happiness

  Liberal: "not opposed to new ideas or ways of behaving that are not traditional or widely accepted"
               :"marked by generosity; open handed, given to generosity"
               : "given or provided in a generous and openhanded way, e.g. a liberal giver"
               : " not bound by authoritarianism, orthodoxy, or traditional forms"  (various definitions on the       internet)

I don't consider myself to be a  liberal. I just consider myself to be an open-minded and well-educated person who is always searching for a clearer understanding of a multitude of issues both political and religious. I hold to my beliefs and convictions until I find beliefs and convictions that work better for me.

Conservatives call me a liberal.  And when they do it's not a compliment.  From the right my perspective is none of the things as defined above.  So from the conservative's point of view I'm sure I'm a liberal.  I voted for Barack Obama twice.  If he ran again against any GOP candidate I've seen in the current field  I would gladly vote for him again. I don't vote for Democrats because they're liberal. I vote for them because I like them for who they are and for the principles they stand for.

But to be fair I spent years as a member of the Republican Party. As such I voted for George W. Bush twice.  From the last Bush administration until the 2008 election I took a college class on the U.S. Government.  In that class we took an online inventory to see where we stood on the political pendulum.  I didn't just lean to the left, I pegged off the chart to the left.  I decided that night that I must not be a Republican anymore. Either the Republican party had moved on without me or I had moved on without it. It was the latter case I'm quite sure.

This morning I found myself in conversation with a man who graduated from my seminary, the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky.  He didn't graduate much later than me, but late enough that the theological landscape had shifted dramatically to the right. The takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention and its institutions by more right-leaning Christians was in full swing.  "Southern seminary" had already fallen victim to the prey. It was dying from the roots up.

My acquaintance said, "The seminary was still very liberal when you were there, wasn't it?" Before I could respond he added, "It was fairly liberal when I was there but I didn't let it affect me."  At that point I knew that I was not talking with a kindred spirit. Since he had let me know where he stood, I let him know about me.  I replied, "Yes, it was very liberal, but I'm very liberal so that was fine with me."  We both remained polite and respectful but the conversation didn't last much longer after that.

I had a two hour trip home from Atlanta to process what he had said and to consider what I might want to write about it.  Here's the thing, "Are you telling me that you moved your family to Louisville, Kentucky from Alabama, you paid your tuition, you bought your books, you spent countless hours in class with some of the most brilliant theologians on the face of the earth--and you didn't let it affect you? And that's a good thing?"   I find that to be fascinating and a little disturbing.

The two years I spent at "Southern" were two of the most mind-opening, knowledge expanding years of my life. I was there for their music school, but I had enrolled in a school of theology as well. During my very first chapel service in August of 1977 Dr. Duke McCall held a Bible to his chest and said, "For your whole life you've held the Bible to your heart and read it devotionally. As he pushed it away and held it at arm's length  he said, "You are now going to be asked to read it critically.  Be very careful.  There is no place easier to lose your mortal soul than at a theological seminary". As he pulled the Bible back to his chest he said, "After your time here you are going to be invited to bring the Bible back to your heart with a new understanding of its truth and a new ability to share its beauty and power. The Word of God will be fresh and new as your ministry will be  fresh and new." Granted a few students never found their way back, but I don't blame the seminary for that. There were warning signs all over the place.

One thing you've got to give my friend in Atlanta, he certainly  didn't risk losing his soul.  But he paid a heavy price for that precaution.  He left "Southern" with no more understanding of the Bible or of Christian ministry than he entered it with  (by his own confession).  What was the point?  I guess he just wanted the degree on his resume from a prestigious Christian seminary. And there's certainly something to be said for that. But isn't the purpose of "higher education" to achieve higher education?  Or is it just my radical, liberal left-winged misunderstanding of what seminary is supposed to be?

I don't like meaningless labels such as liberal and conservative,  but if liberal is a  label I'm stuck with then I'll proudly wear it.  "Not bound by authoritarianism, orthodoxy or traditional forms" sums me up pretty well. Is my friend in Atlanta equally as proud of the alternative?  He seemed to be happy enough to me.

Fragments

"and there are forces of conflict
Taking portions of my mind
In whose realm laced with trickery
The fragments I must find."   Oysters, Tori Amos

I am not a very courageous writer.  Pat Conroy, for example, is a very courageous writer.  Besides being incredible works of art, his books of fiction and non-fiction expose the underbelly of his family and significant institutions.  He has paid a heavy personal price for his rise to becoming a New York Times bestseller of books several times over. He has members of his immediate family who do not want to have anything to do with him.  There are people at the Citadel who never want to see him. You can only surmise that the words he writes and the stories he reveals are true.  But that doesn't mean that those people wanted to be found out. It doesn't mean that they wanted the stories of even those who are deceased scratched up in very public places for all the world to see.  But he continues to write. And I can only assume that he continues to alienate.

There are stories that I know by heart that I want so badly to write about.  Well, I do write about them. Just nobody sees those words but me.

Will I ever get to the place that I am willing to tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may?  I doubt it.  As much as I enjoy writing and receiving feedback that my words have struck a chord, I'm not all that thrilled when my words strike a nerve. As I type, there is a force field around those characters. My words send out vibrations that test the waters.  They ping the depths of possible outcomes and consequences. If they come back with an all-clear then I continue to write.  If they warn me of possible offenses, then I stop writing.

In her incredible book "The Forest For the Trees",  Betsy Learner, a writer and editor, says that if you ever want to be a writer who is taken seriously, you have to be willing to write with little or no regard for the consequences of your words. You simply write for the joy of writing. She says that you tell the story simply  because the story must be told.

I'm no Pat Conroy and I never will be.  His skills approach sorcery as he divines the depths of his experiences, his plot and character development. But I have stories that Conroy will never know.  They are my stories.  As good as he is and as fabulous his stories, he can never write my stories. Only I can do that.  My problem though is that most of the people in my stories are still very much alive. They are flesh and blood.  They have significant others. And attorneys. So does this make me a coward? Does this mean according to Lerner that I will never be taken seriously?  Or does it mean that I'm smart?

So what you read of me is the tip of the iceberg. It wasn't the tip of the iceberg that sank the Titanic.  The iceberg will have to wait. With much  respect to Pat Conroy and Betsy Lerner, two writers I deeply admire,  I will probably never  write with little or no regard for those involved. I write what I'm willing to write; I'll leave it to you to read between the lines.

A Right Turn

A few days ago I was behind a man on a Harley when he did something that I have not seen in years.  He flipped on his turn signal to make a right turn, but he also put out his left arm, bent upwards at the elbow, to signal a right turn.  Back in the day, before motorcycles had turn signals, we signaled every turn with our left arm.  Left arm bent upwards at the elbow--right turn.  Left arm straight out--left turn.  I had stopped riding motorcycles long before the turn signal, but if I did have a motorcycle I'm sure I'd be doing exactly like the Harley rider did, using all available methods to signal a turn. One cannot be too careful on two wheels.

Besides a physical right turn in our vehicle, turning right metaphorically has come to mean several different things.  Turning right can mean setting off in a new direction.  It can mean making necessary changes in our lives.  Turning right can also mean giving up bad habits or deadly addictions. We arrived at this image no doubt from right as opposed to wrong.  Isn't being right always the best option?

The political and religious worlds also include movement to the right.  In politics, if someone is moving to the right then they are becoming more conservative than they already are.  In the context of religion and theology, movement to the right usually indicates becoming even more dogmatic regarding specific religious beliefs.  Moving to the right doesn't make this person a religious fundamentalist; he could be a raging liberal, move right to a position closer to the middle and still be a liberal.

The words "conservative" and "liberal" have no inherent meaning.  They only have meaning in context with the other.  You can't be "a conservative" just as you can't be a "liberal." A conservative can only be conservative in relation to something else. The same is true for a liberal.A conservative is to the right of a liberal and a liberal is to the left of a conservative.  You can't be either one without the other.  Yin/yang. Yin doesn't exist without yang and yang doesn't exist without yin. Someone said that no matter how far to the right you move, the person immediately to your left is a liberal.  And then a self-described conservative said to me in response,  "And no matter how far to the left you move, the person immediately to your right is a nut job". Touche!

When the man on the Harley-Davidson put out his left arm and bent it to the sky,  I'm quite sure he had no idea it would inspire the person behind him to deep thought and reflection.  More importantly though, it inspired me to slow down and give him room to turn, which I'm quite sure was his intention. But he did, in fact, inspire me to deep thought and reflection. He made me  thankful that I never had an accident on my Cushman Silver Eagle.  I certainly had many opportunities for injury or death. He reminded me that although something isn't required for personal safety, many times it's a good idea. Why not use two different turn signals?  It doesn't require much effort and could make a difference.

Metaphorically, regardless of your political and religious persuasion, being right doesn't make you wrong and being left doesn't make you right.