I have debated whether or not to write anything about the Botham Jean case and its aftermath.
I'm a Southern white woman, and I can't speak to the racism and other things that my brothers and sisters of color have endured over the centuries. I also have never had a family member or close friend murdered.
When Botham Jean was first murdered, I wrote this post in response to it. I did not closely follow the trial of Amber Guyger, although I did know it was going on. I was glad that she was found guilty. I was not glad that she only got ten years.
I was also amazed when Brandt Jean, Botham's brother, told Amber Guyger he forgave her and hugged her in open court.
And I also agree that just because Brandt forgave, that does not negate the need for justice. Forgiveness and justice are not mutually exclusive. One can call for forgiveness, as the Bible does, while working for justice at the same time.
What crossed my mind after I heard of Brandt's gesture was, "I hope people realize that forgiveness is a process."
I grew up believing that if you forgave someone, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean. You were supposed to act like the offense never happened, you were supposed to never talk about it again, and you were not supposed to even think about it. If you did any of those things, it meant you hadn't forgiven. And the Bible says that if you do not forgive men their sins, God will not forgive yours (Matthew 6:15.)
But here's the problem: I couldn't do that.
I still remembered the hurts done to me. They still made me angry. I wanted to forgive, but if I was still thinking about what happened and still angry at what happened, how could I say I forgave?
Over the years, I've realized that forgiveness is a process. It cannot be demanded. It is commanded by God, but we cannot demand that someone forgive and we cannot demand that their forgiveness proceed on our timetable. If the person is a Christian, we can point them to the Bible, but their decision to forgive, and the process of that forgiveness, is up to them.
One of the most freeing things anyone ever said to me was a counselor I saw in my early '30's, not long after I moved to Atlanta. I've been in and out of counseling for a very long time (I am currently seeing one now). The major issue I hit is childhood bullying. I made a list of people who had bullied me at one time or another up to high school, and I got a list of 40 names.
The counselor said to me, "You're not ready to forgive yet. You will, but you're not ready yet."
What a relief to know that I could take my time with forgiving! It was not that I did not want to forgive. It was not that I did not refuse outright to forgive. It was that I was struggling with doing it. Her statement, "you're not ready to forgive," took the pressure off of me to instantly forgive the people who had hurt me. And her saying that I would forgive let me know that she had faith in me, that I would do the right thing.
Brandt Jean forgave. He has chosen the path to release bitterness, to release anger, and to allow God to work. The anger and the pain over Botham's murder, however, is going to return. But just because Brandt Jean will feel the pain and anger and hurt over Botham's murder, and just because he will remember what happened, that does not mean that he hasn't forgiven. It means that the healing power of God will take time to work.
Today is my 56th birthday. A few weeks ago, I'd mentioned to my current counselor that it was 50 years since I was first bullied. She suggested writing a letter (unmailed, of course) to the bullies as a way of letting it go.
What I chose to do was go to a nearby park, a new one, and pray. I did two laps around the pond there, and as I walked, I imagined myself dropping small stones on the path as a way of "letting go".
I've come to the point where I realize that I will be dealing with the consequences of what other people did for the rest of my life. It makes me angry that that is true. It's painful and hurtful to realize that I will probably continually battle feelings of anger and hurt over ways I was sinned against.
What I do not want to do, however, is to carry the burden of things that happened.
So I released those burdens to God, with full knowledge that I will probably have to repeat the process again . . . and again . . . and again. That doesn't mean that I have not forgiven. It means that I have told God, "I desire to forgive and I am turning to you because you can do in me what I cannot do. You can give me the power to forgive and the power to allow you to handle this person's ultimate judgment."
I hope no one ever gives Brandt Jean the idea that because he spoke the words "I forgive you" and hugged his brother's murderer that it's over, that he will never again deal with the pain and hurt and anger over his brother's murder. If Brandt ever expresses that he is angry, that he is struggling with forgiveness, I hope no one ever tells him, "Well, you said you forgave her. Did you really mean it?Have you really forgiven her?"
Preacher and writer Les Ferguson also knows firsthand the struggle of forgiveness. In October 2011, his son was repeatedly raped by a fellow church member. The member was arrested, and while out on bail, he murdered Les' wife and son. The man then drove to his own home and killed himself.
When asked if he had forgiven the man, Les said, "Yes, but I will probably have to do it again next week."
I will probably have to forgive the bullies again next week.
Brandt Jean will probably have to forgive Amber Guyger next week.
But I believe as long as the attitude of our hearts is, "God, you command forgiveness and I want to forgive. Please do in me what I cannot do," God does understand and he will give us the power to do what we cannot do without him.
Maybe Brandt Jean will be 56, walking around a pond in a park, and "dropping stones" on a path, praying to God to take the burdens from him. If he is, I believe God will do it.
In the meantime, remember that for him, as it is for all of us, forgiving is a process.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Statcounter
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Crazy in September
Today is September Day, the day where Earth, Wind, and Fire fans get together and celebrate the song September, the group's 1978 hit song.
In the first line, lead singer Maurice White asks the question, "Do you remember the 21st night of September?" which is why this is "September Day" for Earth, Wind and Fire fans.
The song is an upbeat, joyous celebration of a time when "love was changing the minds of pretenders" and how "hearts were ringing in the key that our souls were singing". An NPR article calls the first line "the one question that can get the whole family on the dance floor."
Kenny Davis, photographer and blogger, wrote this wonderful tribute to "September" on his blog in a style I can only hope to duplicate someday. When I told him that I wanted to write like him when I grew up, he said, "No you don't, because you don't want the deranged mind that creates this nonsense." (I reminded him that all writers are somewhat deranged. :-) )
When the song's co-writer, Allee Willis, asked Maurice White, "What does 'ba-de-yah' (in the chorus) mean? White's answer: "Who cares?"
Apparently, the majority of fans couldn't have cared less. The song peaked at number 8 on the Billboard charts in February of 1979. Allee Willis said that Maurice White taught her her greatest lesson in songwriting: never let the lyric get in the way of the groove.
"September" is an original song included on The Best of Earth, Wind and Fire, Vol. 1. I played that album in heavy rotation on my sister's stereo as a teenager. (Even then, I had a writing playlist. I would type on a manual typewriter while listening to a set of albums that would drop, one by one, onto the turntable. Since vinyl and record players are now making a comeback, I no longer have to explain what a "record player" is.)
In 2018, "September" landed on the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry as a "culturally, aesthetically, or historically significant recording".
So, since today was "September Day," I found the video on YouTube and played the song. I can always use something upbeat and infectious (especially since I need to catch up on dishes, laundry, and other stuff today).
Afterwards, I sat down at the computer to do some work and do some play (not necessarily in that order) and while on the computer, I watched the latest episode of Ken Burns' "Country Music".
When I see the name "Ken Burns" on a documentary, I know I am in for a treat, and I have not been disappointed so far with "Country Music".
The episode I just finished watching ends with the death of Patsy Cline. She was 30 when she and three other stars of the Grand Old Opry died in a plane crash in March of 1963. Over photos of her funeral, the soundtrack played her signature song, "Crazy", and the narrator, at the end, said that it was the number one jukebox recording of all time.
And after hearing it, in its entirety, for the first time, I understand why.
It is a heart-wrenching lament for a lost love, a woman who knew she'd lose him but just can't get over him . . . and she knows she's crazy for it. If you are a person pining for a lost love, this is the go-to song.
When I finished listening, I wanted to go cry. And I am not even lamenting a lost love that I know I will never get back, but who I still love.
It, too, is on the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry.
From a song that celebrates the joy of a memory of a night in September, that leaves you wanting to dance on a dance floor . . .
To a song that will leave you weeping on that same dance floor . . .
Yes, today is a "crazy" day in September.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
In the first line, lead singer Maurice White asks the question, "Do you remember the 21st night of September?" which is why this is "September Day" for Earth, Wind and Fire fans.
The song is an upbeat, joyous celebration of a time when "love was changing the minds of pretenders" and how "hearts were ringing in the key that our souls were singing". An NPR article calls the first line "the one question that can get the whole family on the dance floor."
Kenny Davis, photographer and blogger, wrote this wonderful tribute to "September" on his blog in a style I can only hope to duplicate someday. When I told him that I wanted to write like him when I grew up, he said, "No you don't, because you don't want the deranged mind that creates this nonsense." (I reminded him that all writers are somewhat deranged. :-) )
When the song's co-writer, Allee Willis, asked Maurice White, "What does 'ba-de-yah' (in the chorus) mean? White's answer: "Who cares?"
Apparently, the majority of fans couldn't have cared less. The song peaked at number 8 on the Billboard charts in February of 1979. Allee Willis said that Maurice White taught her her greatest lesson in songwriting: never let the lyric get in the way of the groove.
"September" is an original song included on The Best of Earth, Wind and Fire, Vol. 1. I played that album in heavy rotation on my sister's stereo as a teenager. (Even then, I had a writing playlist. I would type on a manual typewriter while listening to a set of albums that would drop, one by one, onto the turntable. Since vinyl and record players are now making a comeback, I no longer have to explain what a "record player" is.)
In 2018, "September" landed on the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry as a "culturally, aesthetically, or historically significant recording".
So, since today was "September Day," I found the video on YouTube and played the song. I can always use something upbeat and infectious (especially since I need to catch up on dishes, laundry, and other stuff today).
Afterwards, I sat down at the computer to do some work and do some play (not necessarily in that order) and while on the computer, I watched the latest episode of Ken Burns' "Country Music".
When I see the name "Ken Burns" on a documentary, I know I am in for a treat, and I have not been disappointed so far with "Country Music".
The episode I just finished watching ends with the death of Patsy Cline. She was 30 when she and three other stars of the Grand Old Opry died in a plane crash in March of 1963. Over photos of her funeral, the soundtrack played her signature song, "Crazy", and the narrator, at the end, said that it was the number one jukebox recording of all time.
And after hearing it, in its entirety, for the first time, I understand why.
It is a heart-wrenching lament for a lost love, a woman who knew she'd lose him but just can't get over him . . . and she knows she's crazy for it. If you are a person pining for a lost love, this is the go-to song.
When I finished listening, I wanted to go cry. And I am not even lamenting a lost love that I know I will never get back, but who I still love.
It, too, is on the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry.
From a song that celebrates the joy of a memory of a night in September, that leaves you wanting to dance on a dance floor . . .
To a song that will leave you weeping on that same dance floor . . .
Yes, today is a "crazy" day in September.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Monday, September 2, 2019
Making donuts and selling oil
"Time to make the donuts!"
If you follow me on Facebook, you've probably seen me post that line at one time or another. A church friend who follows me on Facebook recently asked, "Who do you make donuts for?"
After I finished laughing, I explained, and here's an expanded explanation of what I do when I "make donuts".
I proofread deposition transcripts for civil cases. I work from home. The people I work for are a court reporting firm in another state. Most of the transcripts they send me and that I proof are along the lines of auto accidents, malpractice suits, workman's comp, and the like. The shortest transcript I've proofed is about nine pages. The longest has been over 300 pages. I don't think I've gotten to 400 pages yet.
Because of the nature of the work, most of the assignments I get have a next-day turnaround time. I often feel like Sam the Baker in this Dunkin' Donuts commercial, especially at the end where he is meeting himself coming and going. So when I was ready to go to work, I started posting on Facebook, "Time to make the donuts!"
(In fairness to the people that run the firm I work for, I imagine they often feel like Sam the Baker as well. And the woman in charge now has infant twins. She probably feels like she is constantly "making donuts" in a sense.)
A Facebook friend who has also been in the court reporting industry led me to this job after I talked about the student loan debt I'd run up being in court reporting school. After I told the person in charge who I was, who'd suggested me, and my school experience, she started sending me work. I work as an independent contractor and therefore, I get to report my earnings to the IRS every tax year. (And if I am ever tempted to cheat, there are two things that will stop me: One, Romans 13:6-7 commands us to pay our taxes. Two, I am married to an IRS employee.)
When I get paid, I look at the amount and drool, "Oooh, money!"
Then I think of the student loan debt and groan, "Ohhh, bills."
Then I remember another Bible verse, Romans 13:8: "Let no debt remain outstanding."
And then I go to the Wells Fargo website and pay the bill due. :-)
In addition to making donuts, there's another metaphor that applies to the work I'm doing right now and why I'm doing it.
In 2 Kings 4, the Bible tells the story of a widow who cried out to the prophet Elisha that her husband's creditor was coming to take her two sons as slaves in payment of a debt he owed.
Elisha asked, what do you have in your house?
She said, nothing but a small jar of olive oil.
He told her to ask all her neighbors for empty jars -- a lot of empty jars, not just a few. She was then to shut the door behind her and her sons, pour oil into all the jars, and set each aside as it was filled.
She did that. The oil kept flowing until she was out of jars.
When she told Elisha what she'd done, he said, go, sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left.
God has not seen fit to rain down money from heaven. But he has provided me with a way to "sell oil" and "fill jars". The "oil" I sell is my skill as a proofreader. The people I work for gladly fill my jars with work. :-)
There are other "jars" that get filled due to the people I work for and the work I do. My "jar" gets filled with money, and then that "jar" gets emptied into the bank account of the United States Department of Education. (I sometimes think that that jar is more like a bottomless pit, but that may be another blog post for another day.)
Because people have legal needs, and those needs must be documented, there will always be a cycle of "jars" to be filled: depositions that generate transcripts, then transcripts that go to scopists (the people that edit them), then edited transcripts that go to proofers, and then proofed transcripts that go back to the lawyers.
On the days I feel like Sam the Baker, I also try to remember that in a sense, I am a "widow" with "jars full of oil" that I can sell to pay off debts.
So, next time you see me post about "making donuts", not only am I making donuts, I am also filling jars with oil in order to sell. And for that, I am grateful.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
If you follow me on Facebook, you've probably seen me post that line at one time or another. A church friend who follows me on Facebook recently asked, "Who do you make donuts for?"
After I finished laughing, I explained, and here's an expanded explanation of what I do when I "make donuts".
I proofread deposition transcripts for civil cases. I work from home. The people I work for are a court reporting firm in another state. Most of the transcripts they send me and that I proof are along the lines of auto accidents, malpractice suits, workman's comp, and the like. The shortest transcript I've proofed is about nine pages. The longest has been over 300 pages. I don't think I've gotten to 400 pages yet.
Because of the nature of the work, most of the assignments I get have a next-day turnaround time. I often feel like Sam the Baker in this Dunkin' Donuts commercial, especially at the end where he is meeting himself coming and going. So when I was ready to go to work, I started posting on Facebook, "Time to make the donuts!"
(In fairness to the people that run the firm I work for, I imagine they often feel like Sam the Baker as well. And the woman in charge now has infant twins. She probably feels like she is constantly "making donuts" in a sense.)
A Facebook friend who has also been in the court reporting industry led me to this job after I talked about the student loan debt I'd run up being in court reporting school. After I told the person in charge who I was, who'd suggested me, and my school experience, she started sending me work. I work as an independent contractor and therefore, I get to report my earnings to the IRS every tax year. (And if I am ever tempted to cheat, there are two things that will stop me: One, Romans 13:6-7 commands us to pay our taxes. Two, I am married to an IRS employee.)
When I get paid, I look at the amount and drool, "Oooh, money!"
Then I think of the student loan debt and groan, "Ohhh, bills."
Then I remember another Bible verse, Romans 13:8: "Let no debt remain outstanding."
And then I go to the Wells Fargo website and pay the bill due. :-)
In addition to making donuts, there's another metaphor that applies to the work I'm doing right now and why I'm doing it.
In 2 Kings 4, the Bible tells the story of a widow who cried out to the prophet Elisha that her husband's creditor was coming to take her two sons as slaves in payment of a debt he owed.
Elisha asked, what do you have in your house?
She said, nothing but a small jar of olive oil.
He told her to ask all her neighbors for empty jars -- a lot of empty jars, not just a few. She was then to shut the door behind her and her sons, pour oil into all the jars, and set each aside as it was filled.
She did that. The oil kept flowing until she was out of jars.
When she told Elisha what she'd done, he said, go, sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left.
God has not seen fit to rain down money from heaven. But he has provided me with a way to "sell oil" and "fill jars". The "oil" I sell is my skill as a proofreader. The people I work for gladly fill my jars with work. :-)
There are other "jars" that get filled due to the people I work for and the work I do. My "jar" gets filled with money, and then that "jar" gets emptied into the bank account of the United States Department of Education. (I sometimes think that that jar is more like a bottomless pit, but that may be another blog post for another day.)
Because people have legal needs, and those needs must be documented, there will always be a cycle of "jars" to be filled: depositions that generate transcripts, then transcripts that go to scopists (the people that edit them), then edited transcripts that go to proofers, and then proofed transcripts that go back to the lawyers.
On the days I feel like Sam the Baker, I also try to remember that in a sense, I am a "widow" with "jars full of oil" that I can sell to pay off debts.
So, next time you see me post about "making donuts", not only am I making donuts, I am also filling jars with oil in order to sell. And for that, I am grateful.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Saturday, August 24, 2019
Today sucked . . .
Today sucked for my BFF.
There are no other words to put it that wouldn't cross the line into being obscene.
Today, her mother-in-law died. She was 90, had lived a long life, and had been in declining health for the last several years. My friend has been a faithful caregiver to her. She had her times when she was tired of the job, when she got frustrated and let off steam; but always, always, she went back and did what she needed to do. Because she loved her, and part of loving her was caring for her.
They'd known since Thursday that this might be coming. My friend's mom in law went back to the hospital after coming home, and little by little, her body just gave out. My friend and her husband were at the hospital when her mom in law died.
My friend had barely slept since Thursday, hadn't showered, hadn't changed clothes. She was not sorry to be there, not sorry to be with her husband and give him the support he desperately needed at that point.
As I write this, they are back home, trying to get some sleep and trying to prepare for what will be a very difficult week ahead. The funeral will be next week. My friend's mom in law will be buried next to her husband.
Losing a family member is bad enough for a day to suck, even when you know it's coming and you're just waiting for it to happen.
That's not the entire reason today sucked.
Not only did they lose a mother and mom-in-law, they lost a family pet at the same time.
Their dog was acting oddly, so my friend's son took him to the vet. And that's when they discovered that the dog had a bleeding tumor in his abdomen.
The vet recommended he be put to sleep.
So he was.
And this was all happening at the same time. Not one happening in the morning and one in the evening, but both in the evening, both around the same time.
It does occur to me that maybe their beagle went to keep my friend's mom in law company.
But that above sentence is poor comfort when you lose two family members, a human and a dog, in the same day at the same time.
My friend said she was reminded of Job wanting to curse the day he was born, because she was tempted to curse today.
I don't blame her.
Today sucked.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
There are no other words to put it that wouldn't cross the line into being obscene.
Today, her mother-in-law died. She was 90, had lived a long life, and had been in declining health for the last several years. My friend has been a faithful caregiver to her. She had her times when she was tired of the job, when she got frustrated and let off steam; but always, always, she went back and did what she needed to do. Because she loved her, and part of loving her was caring for her.
They'd known since Thursday that this might be coming. My friend's mom in law went back to the hospital after coming home, and little by little, her body just gave out. My friend and her husband were at the hospital when her mom in law died.
My friend had barely slept since Thursday, hadn't showered, hadn't changed clothes. She was not sorry to be there, not sorry to be with her husband and give him the support he desperately needed at that point.
As I write this, they are back home, trying to get some sleep and trying to prepare for what will be a very difficult week ahead. The funeral will be next week. My friend's mom in law will be buried next to her husband.
Losing a family member is bad enough for a day to suck, even when you know it's coming and you're just waiting for it to happen.
That's not the entire reason today sucked.
Not only did they lose a mother and mom-in-law, they lost a family pet at the same time.
Their dog was acting oddly, so my friend's son took him to the vet. And that's when they discovered that the dog had a bleeding tumor in his abdomen.
The vet recommended he be put to sleep.
So he was.
And this was all happening at the same time. Not one happening in the morning and one in the evening, but both in the evening, both around the same time.
It does occur to me that maybe their beagle went to keep my friend's mom in law company.
But that above sentence is poor comfort when you lose two family members, a human and a dog, in the same day at the same time.
My friend said she was reminded of Job wanting to curse the day he was born, because she was tempted to curse today.
I don't blame her.
Today sucked.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Pig-pen for president!
I have decided who I am going to vote for in 2020.
Pig-Pen.
Yes, THAT Pig-Pen, the dirt-loving character from Peanuts.
Frankly, I can't find a candidate that is worth voting for and who will help bring this country together.
I wrote this morning on my Facebook page that in the last year, I have seen posts from Christians that have made me think that if they met each other in the hallway, they would come to blows. I saw it last year during the Kavanaugh hearings, and this morning, I saw it again between two Christians talking about certain new immigration policies.
Trump isn't the Messiah. Get over it.
Trump isn't the Antichrist. Get over it.
Trump is not the fulfillment of any sort of Biblical prophecy. Please, for the love of all things holy, DO NOT quote me that verse about Cyrus. While it's true that God can use whoever he wants whenever he wants, trying to fit Donald Trump into the verse that prophesies about Cyrus the king is like trying to put a square peg into a round hole. (And while these rocket scientists COULD "put a square peg into a round hole", us trying to do it with Biblical prophecy is a misuse of Scripture. Period.)
And those of you that tell me that Trump is a baby Christian?
I've been hearing that for three years now. I see no fruit of the Spirit. I see no increasing faith, goodness, brotherly kindness, etc.
"But the economy's good!"
How many people said that when Bill Clinton was president as an excuse to overlook his behavior?
"But at least he tells it like it is!"
Uh, there are ways he can tell it like it is without coming off as a total buffoon.
"But at least we have a conservative SCOTUS!"
But at what price?
We are at a level of anger I have not seen in my lifetime. I'm waiting for someone to bring a cane onto the floor of the Senate.
If this is the price that we have had to pay for a conservative SCOTUS, that price is too high.
The Democrats want free stuff for everyone and they want the rich to pay for it.
The Republicans . . . well, I'm not sure what they want, outside of a good economy.
Neither party is doing their job. So my vote is going to Pig-Pen to clean up government!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Pig-Pen.
Yes, THAT Pig-Pen, the dirt-loving character from Peanuts.
Frankly, I can't find a candidate that is worth voting for and who will help bring this country together.
I wrote this morning on my Facebook page that in the last year, I have seen posts from Christians that have made me think that if they met each other in the hallway, they would come to blows. I saw it last year during the Kavanaugh hearings, and this morning, I saw it again between two Christians talking about certain new immigration policies.
Trump isn't the Messiah. Get over it.
Trump isn't the Antichrist. Get over it.
Trump is not the fulfillment of any sort of Biblical prophecy. Please, for the love of all things holy, DO NOT quote me that verse about Cyrus. While it's true that God can use whoever he wants whenever he wants, trying to fit Donald Trump into the verse that prophesies about Cyrus the king is like trying to put a square peg into a round hole. (And while these rocket scientists COULD "put a square peg into a round hole", us trying to do it with Biblical prophecy is a misuse of Scripture. Period.)
And those of you that tell me that Trump is a baby Christian?
I've been hearing that for three years now. I see no fruit of the Spirit. I see no increasing faith, goodness, brotherly kindness, etc.
"But the economy's good!"
How many people said that when Bill Clinton was president as an excuse to overlook his behavior?
"But at least he tells it like it is!"
Uh, there are ways he can tell it like it is without coming off as a total buffoon.
"But at least we have a conservative SCOTUS!"
But at what price?
We are at a level of anger I have not seen in my lifetime. I'm waiting for someone to bring a cane onto the floor of the Senate.
If this is the price that we have had to pay for a conservative SCOTUS, that price is too high.
The Democrats want free stuff for everyone and they want the rich to pay for it.
The Republicans . . . well, I'm not sure what they want, outside of a good economy.
Neither party is doing their job. So my vote is going to Pig-Pen to clean up government!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Kyrie eleison ....
"This day is a day of distress and rebuke and disgrace, as when children come to the point of birth and there is no strength to deliver them." -- Isaiah 37:3 (New International Version)
Saturday, while on the computer, my phone alerted me to a shooting in El Paso, Texas. Twenty people died.
And then, shortly after I arrived at church yesterday, I learned of the shooting in Dayton, Ohio, where nine people are dead.
I spoke briefly to my preacher and told him I'd just heard of that shooting; he said he already knew (and at the beginning of his sermon, he asked one of the elders to pray, and he also acknowledged that it had been a hard week in our country.)
All my sorrow, all my sadness, all my frustration over yet another shooting just exploded into two words, one phrase:
Kyrie eleison.
The first song our praise team sang yesterday was "Shout Hallelujah," and although I sang with them and worshiped with them, all I could think was, this is not a time to shout hallelujah.
(That above comment is not intended as a slam on our praise team. I sing on our praise team approximately once a month, and I know the work that goes into practicing and singing. And they had no way of knowing that there would be two mass shootings in less than 24 hours.)
"Kyrie eleison," as I just used it, is not a reference to the wonderfully upbeat Mr. Mister song of 1986. Rather, it is Greek for "Lord, have mercy." It's an ancient prayer dating back to the early days of the Orthodox and Catholic Church. There are places in the Gospels where people cry out, "Lord, have mercy on me." The Canaanite woman with a demon-possessed daughter cried out for the Lord to have mercy on her. Many others cried out for mercy as well.
Lord, have mercy indeed.
This Wikipedia article lists 256 mass shootings in 2019 alone, with 283 dead and 1,057 wounded. I am not exactly clear on the definition they are using as "mass shooting", so I am going to cut and paste the paragraph the article used when talking about the definition of "mass shooting":
No matter how you define a "mass shooting", one is too many.
Already the screaming, blaming, and finger-pointing has started. The usual suspects are being blamed: too many guns, lax laws, mental illness, etc. etc. And "white supremacy" as a cause is also raising its ugly, deformed head, mainly because of a manifesto left by the El Paso shooter which stated that "this attack is a response to the Hispanic invasion of Texas". The El Paso shooting is being investigated as an act of domestic terrorism and as a possible hate crime. In the case of the Dayton shooting, the suspect was taken down in less than a minute after the first shots were fired -- and he still murdered nine people, including his own sister, and injured at least 27 others. There's no known "hate crime" motive in the Dayton shooting as I write this.
Lord, have mercy.
If the usual pattern holds, people will scream at each other on social media, post hashtags, and demand action, and nothing will happen. And then the next mass shooting will happen and the cycle will begin all over again. Over and over, lather, rinse, repeat.
This 1987 song by Richard Marx has a line that sums up our current situation well:
Lord have mercy
For we know not what we do
Lord have mercy
We've forgotten to be afraid of you.
I recently read where Donald Trump kicked off his 2020 presidential campaign "in the name of Jesus Christ." If Donald Trump is really serious about invoking the name of Jesus in his campaign for president, he will call for a national day of prayer and repentance, starting with his own sins.
This is not the time for finger-pointing, screaming, hashtagging, or anything else, for that matter. This isn't even the time to shout hallelujah (as appropriate as that is at other times.)
This is a time of distress.
This is a time of rebuke.
This is a time of disgrace.
This is a time to lament, to fall flat on our faces before the living God and just simply cry out, "Kyrie eleison."
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie eleison . . .
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Saturday, while on the computer, my phone alerted me to a shooting in El Paso, Texas. Twenty people died.
And then, shortly after I arrived at church yesterday, I learned of the shooting in Dayton, Ohio, where nine people are dead.
I spoke briefly to my preacher and told him I'd just heard of that shooting; he said he already knew (and at the beginning of his sermon, he asked one of the elders to pray, and he also acknowledged that it had been a hard week in our country.)
All my sorrow, all my sadness, all my frustration over yet another shooting just exploded into two words, one phrase:
Kyrie eleison.
The first song our praise team sang yesterday was "Shout Hallelujah," and although I sang with them and worshiped with them, all I could think was, this is not a time to shout hallelujah.
(That above comment is not intended as a slam on our praise team. I sing on our praise team approximately once a month, and I know the work that goes into practicing and singing. And they had no way of knowing that there would be two mass shootings in less than 24 hours.)
"Kyrie eleison," as I just used it, is not a reference to the wonderfully upbeat Mr. Mister song of 1986. Rather, it is Greek for "Lord, have mercy." It's an ancient prayer dating back to the early days of the Orthodox and Catholic Church. There are places in the Gospels where people cry out, "Lord, have mercy on me." The Canaanite woman with a demon-possessed daughter cried out for the Lord to have mercy on her. Many others cried out for mercy as well.
Lord, have mercy indeed.
This Wikipedia article lists 256 mass shootings in 2019 alone, with 283 dead and 1,057 wounded. I am not exactly clear on the definition they are using as "mass shooting", so I am going to cut and paste the paragraph the article used when talking about the definition of "mass shooting":
There are many definitions of a mass shooting. Listed roughly from broad to specific:
- Stanford University MSA Data Project: 3+ shot in one incident, excluding the perpetrator(s), at one location, at roughly the same time, excluding organized crime, as well as gang-related and drug-related shootings.[8]
- Mass Shooting Tracker: 4+ shot in one incident, at one location, at roughly the same time.[7]
- Gun Violence Archive/Vox: 4+ shot in one incident, excluding the perpetrator(s), at one location, at roughly the same time.[4][9]
- Mother Jones: 3+ shot and killed in one incident, excluding the perpetrator(s), at a public place.[6]
- The Washington Post: 4+ shot and killed in one incident, excluding the perpetrator(s), at a public place.[5]
- ABC News/FBI: 4+ shot and killed in one incident, excluding the perpetrator(s), at one location, at roughly the same time.[10]
- Congressional Research Service: 4+ shot and killed in one incident, excluding the perpetrator(s), at a public place, excluding gang-related killings and those done with a profit-motive.[2]
No matter how you define a "mass shooting", one is too many.
Already the screaming, blaming, and finger-pointing has started. The usual suspects are being blamed: too many guns, lax laws, mental illness, etc. etc. And "white supremacy" as a cause is also raising its ugly, deformed head, mainly because of a manifesto left by the El Paso shooter which stated that "this attack is a response to the Hispanic invasion of Texas". The El Paso shooting is being investigated as an act of domestic terrorism and as a possible hate crime. In the case of the Dayton shooting, the suspect was taken down in less than a minute after the first shots were fired -- and he still murdered nine people, including his own sister, and injured at least 27 others. There's no known "hate crime" motive in the Dayton shooting as I write this.
Lord, have mercy.
If the usual pattern holds, people will scream at each other on social media, post hashtags, and demand action, and nothing will happen. And then the next mass shooting will happen and the cycle will begin all over again. Over and over, lather, rinse, repeat.
This 1987 song by Richard Marx has a line that sums up our current situation well:
Lord have mercy
For we know not what we do
Lord have mercy
We've forgotten to be afraid of you.
I recently read where Donald Trump kicked off his 2020 presidential campaign "in the name of Jesus Christ." If Donald Trump is really serious about invoking the name of Jesus in his campaign for president, he will call for a national day of prayer and repentance, starting with his own sins.
This is not the time for finger-pointing, screaming, hashtagging, or anything else, for that matter. This isn't even the time to shout hallelujah (as appropriate as that is at other times.)
This is a time of distress.
This is a time of rebuke.
This is a time of disgrace.
This is a time to lament, to fall flat on our faces before the living God and just simply cry out, "Kyrie eleison."
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie eleison . . .
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Monday, July 29, 2019
The most important thing
"Dad molested me when I was a kid."
Those are hard words for anyone to say, hard words for anyone to hear.
When preacher Jimmy Hinton heard those words, they punched him in the gut.
Because the person who said those words, Alex Howlett, was Jimmy Hinton's sister.
So when Alex said, "Dad molested me," she was saying that it was their father, Church of Christ pastor John Hinton, who'd preached for the Somerset Church of Christ in Pennsylvania for 27 years, who'd done it.
Jimmy Hinton did two things.
First, he told Alex, "I believe you."
Second, he reported his father to the police.
That report prompted an investigation which resulted in John Hinton pleading guilty to the sexual assault of four girls, ages four to seven. John Hinton is now in the Rockville State Prison, serving a 30- to 60-year sentence.
Contrast this with an incident in the Uniontown Church of Christ in Uniontown, Pennsylvania.
When a judge sentenced volunteer youth minister Clyde Brothers on charges of "corruption of minors and indecent exposure", part of his ruling was to order Brothers not to attend the church "until and unless there is a signed waiver of this provision . . .by the governing authority of the said Church."
Soon after, the elders met to consider granting that waiver and to allow Brothers to continue worshiping with the congregation.
A mother of one of the victims told the Christian Chronicle, "It's almost like Clyde is more important than the victims are."
(The judge's decision was reversed on appeal due to the fact that the statutes of limitations had run out.)
Les Ferguson, pastor for the Lake Harbor Church of Christ in Mississippi, is tragically familiar with the subject of sexual abuse. A member of his former congregation, the Orange Grove Church of Christ in Gulfport, Mississippi, offered to babysit Les' son Cole once a week. Cole was severely disabled, and Les' wife Karen badly needed the break.
Les Ferguson has remarried, and he preaches, but he is still without his first wife and his son.
(Snark alert here.)
But go ahead, let's keep arguing about instrumental music, and whether or not women can preach, and whether or not we can have kitchens in a church building, and whether or not it's a sin to turn in your contribution to the church early because you're going to be out of town on Sunday.
Because we all know that we are saved by the five-step plan of salvation in order to perform the five acts of worship -- preaching/teaching, singing, prayer, taking up of a collection, and taking the Lord's Supper -- on Sunday, and only on Sunday.
After all, that's the most important thing.
Those are hard words for anyone to say, hard words for anyone to hear.
When preacher Jimmy Hinton heard those words, they punched him in the gut.
Because the person who said those words, Alex Howlett, was Jimmy Hinton's sister.
So when Alex said, "Dad molested me," she was saying that it was their father, Church of Christ pastor John Hinton, who'd preached for the Somerset Church of Christ in Pennsylvania for 27 years, who'd done it.
Jimmy Hinton did two things.
First, he told Alex, "I believe you."
Second, he reported his father to the police.
That report prompted an investigation which resulted in John Hinton pleading guilty to the sexual assault of four girls, ages four to seven. John Hinton is now in the Rockville State Prison, serving a 30- to 60-year sentence.
Contrast this with an incident in the Uniontown Church of Christ in Uniontown, Pennsylvania.
When a judge sentenced volunteer youth minister Clyde Brothers on charges of "corruption of minors and indecent exposure", part of his ruling was to order Brothers not to attend the church "until and unless there is a signed waiver of this provision . . .by the governing authority of the said Church."
Soon after, the elders met to consider granting that waiver and to allow Brothers to continue worshiping with the congregation.
A mother of one of the victims told the Christian Chronicle, "It's almost like Clyde is more important than the victims are."
(The judge's decision was reversed on appeal due to the fact that the statutes of limitations had run out.)
Les Ferguson, pastor for the Lake Harbor Church of Christ in Mississippi, is tragically familiar with the subject of sexual abuse. A member of his former congregation, the Orange Grove Church of Christ in Gulfport, Mississippi, offered to babysit Les' son Cole once a week. Cole was severely disabled, and Les' wife Karen badly needed the break.
The member used that time to rape Cole, and he threatened Cole with death if he told.
Cole eventually did tell, and Les and Karen reported the predator to the police. The man was arrested, released on bail, and while out on bail, he murdered Karen and Cole before committing suicide.
And just last week, a Church of Christ minister in the Sarasota, Florida area -- a registered sex offender -- was arrested on charges of possession of child pornography.
I've deliberately picked stories from Churches of Christ because they are my "tribe" of believers. The news media, over the last several years, has covered the abuse of children by Catholic priests, and more recently, they've covered widespread sexual abuse in Southern Baptist convention churches and in other evangelical churches. But this is not a problem that exists only in "denominational churches". Churches of Christ deal with it, also. We are no different.
I grow weary of the continual reports of sexual abuse among people who claim to be Christians. Jimmy Hinton grew up admiring his preacher father, and it was because of him that Jimmy, himself, entered the ministry. Christians tend to be trusting of other people who claim to be Christians. We love a good repentance story and we love a good story of forgiveness. God does forgive. People do repent and change and stay changed.
On the other hand, sexual abuse is a crime that stays with the victim for life. I don't think we appreciate just how shattering the crime of sexual abuse is. Too many of us treat it as a "sin" and tell the victim, "the Bible says you must forgive," and demand immediate forgiveness. I don't hear the same emphasis on telling the offender "you must repent and prove your repentance by your deeds".
Jimmy Hinton still preaches. He also is an advocate for victims of sexual assault and consults with church leaders on the topic of abuse.
Alex Howlett no longer goes to church. She said in an interview, "I don't like the idea of God as a fatherly thing. If that's who He is He wasn't there for me. If my dad was supposed to be someone who was spreading His word -- that's not the case at all."
And just last week, a Church of Christ minister in the Sarasota, Florida area -- a registered sex offender -- was arrested on charges of possession of child pornography.
I've deliberately picked stories from Churches of Christ because they are my "tribe" of believers. The news media, over the last several years, has covered the abuse of children by Catholic priests, and more recently, they've covered widespread sexual abuse in Southern Baptist convention churches and in other evangelical churches. But this is not a problem that exists only in "denominational churches". Churches of Christ deal with it, also. We are no different.
I grow weary of the continual reports of sexual abuse among people who claim to be Christians. Jimmy Hinton grew up admiring his preacher father, and it was because of him that Jimmy, himself, entered the ministry. Christians tend to be trusting of other people who claim to be Christians. We love a good repentance story and we love a good story of forgiveness. God does forgive. People do repent and change and stay changed.
On the other hand, sexual abuse is a crime that stays with the victim for life. I don't think we appreciate just how shattering the crime of sexual abuse is. Too many of us treat it as a "sin" and tell the victim, "the Bible says you must forgive," and demand immediate forgiveness. I don't hear the same emphasis on telling the offender "you must repent and prove your repentance by your deeds".
Jimmy Hinton still preaches. He also is an advocate for victims of sexual assault and consults with church leaders on the topic of abuse.
Alex Howlett no longer goes to church. She said in an interview, "I don't like the idea of God as a fatherly thing. If that's who He is He wasn't there for me. If my dad was supposed to be someone who was spreading His word -- that's not the case at all."
None of the victims from the Uniontown Church of Christ remain in church. One victim is in jail, and two of them have committed suicide.
Les Ferguson has remarried, and he preaches, but he is still without his first wife and his son.
(Snark alert here.)
But go ahead, let's keep arguing about instrumental music, and whether or not women can preach, and whether or not we can have kitchens in a church building, and whether or not it's a sin to turn in your contribution to the church early because you're going to be out of town on Sunday.
Because we all know that we are saved by the five-step plan of salvation in order to perform the five acts of worship -- preaching/teaching, singing, prayer, taking up of a collection, and taking the Lord's Supper -- on Sunday, and only on Sunday.
After all, that's the most important thing.
Isn't it?
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
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