Monthly Archives: August 2006

The Hitchhiker

On the outskirts of Huntington this morning, I passed a hitchhiker. He was probably around 50, with a thick gray beard, and he seemed harmless. There I was, driving a pickup truck with an empty seat beside me, just a couple of miles from work. And yet, I drove right on by…feeling terribly guilty as I did. Guilty, but conflicted. I still recall from probably 25 years ago a Reader’s Digest article about a guy out west who picked up a nice-looking hitchhiker who went postal on him with a hunting knife. It was a very vivid article. You just never know.

So what would Jesus do? Would he drive by on the other side of the road? Was Graybeard, plodding down the road on a hot morning, an angel in disguise? The biggest part of me says people simply shouldn’t be hitchhiking, and that picking up a stranger isn’t much different from taking a stroll at midnight on East Pontiac Street. But nevertheless, every time I pass a hitchhiker, and I’m by myself, I feel a twinge of guilt as I pass by, trying to read the person’s face without making eye contact.

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High School Musical and Perfect Strangers

HighSchoolMusicalLast night Pam and I watched the Disney movie “High School Musical.” What a delight! We watched all of the special features on the DVD, then went back and watched for a second time three of the musical numbers. The story, the music, the dancing, the acting–it was a total package of goodness and fun. I’ll be recommending this movie far and wide.

Two weeks ago I read A Day with a Perfect Stranger, by David Gregory. I found this book at Meiers. This undersized 112-page hardback is actually a stand-alone sequel to Gregory’s book Dinner with a Perfect Stranger, which I now must, absolutely must, read. A Day is about a woman on a plane, going on a business trip, and the conversation she strikes up with a seatmate. Her husband claims that he had dinner with Jesus himself, and now he’s gotten all religious, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. She figures on getting a divorce. On the plane, in the terminal, and then on a second plane, this woman and “perfect” stranger engage in a fascinating discussion about religion. I tell you–this is a wonderful, engaging book. I finished it in one day. David Gregory is obviously an evangelical Christian. I’ll read Dinner with a Perfect Stranger, and then eagerly await any future Perfect Stranger books, because this story isn’t over.

What I’m reading now.

  • Novel Without a Name, by Duong Thu Huong, a tale of the Vietnam War told by a North Vietnamese soldier.
  • Searching for God Knows What, by Donald Miller, the author of the outstanding Blue Like Jazz (perhaps the best book I’ve read this year).
  • Adventures in Missing the Point, by Tony Campolo and Brian McLaren. My niece Paula highly recommends this book. Thus far I like Campolo’s chapters, not so much McLaren’s chapters.
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When God Gets Around to Answering

There’s a young man, an expectant father, I’ve been praying for every day this summer. I hardly know him, but I’ve wanted the chance to get closer and, hopefully, gain the right to invest in his life. Since we only have one service this summer, and it’s an early one, most of that age group haven’t been coming to church (hey, most aren’t even Christians, so don’t criticize them for lacking commitment or making excuses). So I haven’t even seen this guy since early June. But I’ve continued praying for him, because God most definitely put him on my heart.

But today, at a get-together at a home after church, he was there. And when I took my food outside, he was sitting on a chair by himself. I joined him, and had the kind of conversation I’ve been wanting to have all summer. Chalk up another answer to prayer. It’s so sweet when it happens.

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Uncle Mark, Aunt Susie, and Wendy

Last night was great fun, one of those therapeutic times when you laugh and laugh and laugh.

My Uncle Mark and Aunt Susie were out from Boulder, Colorado, where they’ve lived since 1969. He retired this spring after a whole career, 40-some years, with IBM. Mark is my mom’s younger brother. As I write, Mark and Mom are attending their high school’s reunion. This was not a big school–Uncle Mark’s class had 17 students–and the school doesn’t exist anymore, so basically the reunions include anyone who ever attended that school regardless of year.

Last night, we all met for supper at Balyeats, a wonderful home-cooking restaurant in downtown Van Wert, Ohio. I’d heard how great it was, but hadn’t eaten there. A serious omission in my life. The swiss steak was incredible. Mark and Susie also brought their daughter (my youngest cousin) Wendy, who is eight years younger than me. Plus Wendy’s two young children (husband Curt, a veterinarian, remained back in rural Wyoming keeping the wildlife healthy).

During the meal, and later at the Holiday Inn Express where they were staying, we gabbed and reminisced and laughed wonderfully. My parents have always been close to Mark and Susie, and they carry on when they’re together. Pam and I got a glimpse of that some years ago when we joined all of them at Mark and Susie’s house in Boulder for several days. We had a great time.

Wendy, my cousin, is a real hoot. Very expressive, with a quick wit. Both of her parents are quick-witted, but Wendy tops them. She’s just a delightful girl. I really didn’t know her as a kid growing up; we older cousins preferred to avoid Wendy and my brother Rick, the two youngest. Our loss. Wendy is just doggone fun.

I’m not saying anything specific here. No stories for you to envision. I do have stories. Things that made us laugh. But you had to be there. And you weren’t, so what do you care? I’m just thrilled to have relatives like this. And I’m dismayed that, because of the distance, I see them so seldom.

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The Weather Channel

If the sky looks the least bit dark to the west, or to the north or south, there’s only one thing to do: check Channel 74. The Weather Channel. Sure enough, there’s a big patch of yellow, with some mean red inside. The shape changes slightly with each sweep of the radar.

I’m trying to remember life before Channel 74. We had little more to go on than a little “T-Storm Watch” notice in the upper left-hand corner of the TV. My, how vulnerable we were. That was a scary, scary world.

I remember, long ago, going for an extended bike ride when I spotted a huge thunderstorm coming from the west, with lots of lightning, between me and home. I was on the northeast side of Huntington, out on country roads. I pedaled furiously. The torrent struck just as I reached the outskirts of town. I could hardly see through my glasses. But I raced on back to my apartment, totally drenched.

If The Weather Channel had existed, I probably would never have left the apartment. I would have seen that patch of red surrounded by yellow surrounded by green and wisely avoided that little misadventure. Like a wussy. But I would also be searching for something to write about.

Channel 74 is surprisingly accurate. We can look at the screen and declare, “Yesiree, looks like it’ll miss us by a couple of miles. Probably nail the Village of Coventry.” The other night, we were supposed to get rain to finally cool down the place. I checked Channel 74 before going to bed. We were getting missed, but a long horizontal string of storms stretched across southern Michigan. I did not think to offer a prayer for the poor slobs living in its path. Of course, we got hit the next day. We watched it. On Channel 74.

Anyway, thank God and Mighty Doppler for Channel 74. Like so many things in our 21st Century lives, so replete with gadgets and services and ready information, it’s one of those things we think we can’t live without.

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Prayer, Broken Windows, Josh, and the Exodus

Our little prayer group met again last night, and Josh joined us. Josh is a high school dropout who most of us remember from the Friday night, probably four years ago, when a huge, honkin’ sheathed knife fell out of his trenchcoat and clattered onto the linoleum floor.

Josh moved away, but now is back, and spends his days wandering Third Street as he waits to begin taking classes to get his high school diploma. He came to church this Sunday, and I invited him to come to our prayer meeting. I doubt that he’s a Christian. Likewise for a few other teenagerish young adults who have been coming regularly. But they’re trying to connect with God, and they’re definitely connecting with us five adults who attend.

My heart leaped tonight when I saw Josh sitting at the table in the back of the (sweltering) sanctuary where we meet. I walked over to him, squeezed his shoulder, and said, “Josh, you made my day!” And he did.

Another window got busted out this week, a window which had gotten busted earlier during one of our concerts. But the culprits were caught this time–from what I hear, just two young kids. The windows have all been fixed.

Since our little prayer group–never more than 11 people–has been meeting, three families have announced that they are leaving the church. Three key, active, talented families. This hurts. I can’t imagine that our prayers are driving people away. But we definitely need to pray for God to raise up more workers. Because if we’re to continue making an impact on our community, we need them.

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Pluto and Lost Causes

Pluto is a planet only by popular opinion. Many astronomers would say it’s more a round chunk of ice, and that it’s smaller than several similar objects discovered well beyond Pluto. A fellow named Mike Brown has discovered 15 such “planets,” some of them twice as far from the sun as Pluto is. He’s not in favor of giving them planet status. And yet, if tiny Pluto is considered to be a planet, why shouldn’t Xena, a large round object which is even larger than Pluto?

In the past, Brown argued for eliminating Pluto as a planet. But public support for Pluto–not based on science, but on mere sentiment; it would be like taking statehood away from Alaska–was too strong. Pluto, since its discovery in 1930, has been part of our culture. And Brown, being pragmatic, says, “There are places where science reigns, and others where culture reigns. Science doesn’t have to win this one. I’m willing to give up the hard-nosed science view of what a planet is in lieu of a cultural view.”

I like that approach, and I see it applying to Christian political action.

We live in a secular, religiously pluralistic culture that values freedom of religion. That’s bedrock America. But Christians constantly fight for causes which go against those values, advocating things which support our religion (Christianity) at the expense of other views. I’m of the opinion that we should just say, “On this one we can let the culture win.”

For instance, I’ve never supported the hubbub over school prayer. Maybe it was okay once upon a time, but the culture has moved on. Prayer doesn’t belong in schools. That just demeans prayer. Let this one go. Kids can still pray if they want. I did.

Nativity scenes on public property? That goes against religious pluralism, which I think is a much greater value in a secular society like ours. Likewise for posting the Ten Commandments in courthouses. What does it gain us? It does offend other religious groups. Maybe they’re being overly sensitive, but that’s okay. Better to live in peace and be able to submit to the other’s desires (a Christian concept about which the Religious Right is clueless), than to stubbornly insist on a “Christianity First” approach.

Including “In God We Trust” on our money, and “one nation under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance? Those aren’t battles I care to fight. Besides, they are lies. We’re not a nation under God, at least not anymore. Why would I say it as part of the Pledge, which is actually a display of loyalty toward my country? I can pledge my loyalty to the USA without pretending that we operate under God’s authority.

But other battles are still worth fighting. I don’t want to see gay marriage legalized. I would be surprised if it’s not legal throughout the country in 20 years. The culture will have moved on, and we’ll need to deal with it (just as we dealt with the end of prohibition). But the inevitability doesn’t mean we should cave in now.

Some issues, too, are just a matter of fairness. Like the teaching of creationism alongside evolution. We have a right to fairness. So do Buddhists and Muslims and atheists and all the rest (which  means if we can display our religious symbols on public property and post them in courthouses, so can they).

It’s okay to fight on behalf of the public good, too, as in opposing gambling, the legalization of drugs, pornography, abortion, racism, and global warming. Those go beyond religion, and it’s not necessarily necesssary that we craft them as religious causes and thereby exclude people who also oppose those things, but for more secular reasons.

We white evangelical Christians could, if we wanted, even fight on behalf of the poor. But alas, I’ve strayed to the back burner.

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In Hell’s Suburbs

It’s hot. Perhaps you’ve noticed.

When we lived in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., I didn’t mind the heat. And we’re talking 115-125 degrees. The national nightly news often cited nearby Blythe, Calif., as the hottest place the nation. We were usually hotter in Lake Havasu City, but in those days we lacked an official weather station. So we didn’t count.

I was a teenager back then, which may account for my imperviousness to the heat. Plus, it just meant we took a jaunt to the lake or found a swimming pool. I spent a lot of my teenagerdom in the water, and I miss it. We had youth group outings on the lake all the time. The piano in my house was once in the back of a pickup truck on the beach in Lake Havasu City.

In California, I played tennis on two conference championship teams. My junior year, in the first round of the San Juaquin Valley championships, I played three matches one afternoon in 115 degree heat. Ate an orange between matches, drank plenty of water, and won two out of three (doubles matches) so we could advance to the next round.

Yessiree, I’m quite the macho man.

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