Sunday, November 26, 2006

TROUBLING NEWS

(note: this text of this blog also appears in the December Southwood Spirit, the newsletter of Southwood Christian Church, Greenville, Texas)

There are times there are stories in the Bible that I read wishing that I knew more of the story. I long to be a fly on the wall, gathering pertinent details which would further enhance the story and give greater insight. For example, as many times as I have heard the Christmas story, there are details which remain a mystery. Even though I have heard a multitude of Christmas sermons and have prepared my share as well, every once and awhile, something new catches my attention and causes me to wonder about “the story behind the story.” It happened to me recently while doing some preparation work for upcoming sermons.

The section of the story concerned the visit of the Magi to Jerusalem (now I know, they came well after the birth of Christ, but since we always shoe-horn them into Nativity scenes, I figured you would grant me a little latitude). Remember the “wise men"? They followed the star and came to Jerusalem asking Herod, “Where is one who has been born King of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.” What follows next is the part I wish I knew more about. The Scripture goes on to say in Matthew chapter two, “When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him.”

I understand Herod being upset about this announcement. After all, Herod, though he was King, was merely a puppet for Rome and was, in fact, not even a Jew. I can understand that he would feel threatened by anyone who was “born” King of the Jews. It was his job security at stake and someone born to be king would obviously be a danger to his position, his comfort and his authority. We are talking about a guy who wiped out most of his immediate family because he was paranoid of the possibility that one of them might take his throne. Not exactly the most trusting of individuals.

What puzzles me is the “all Jerusalem with him” part. After all, it was not as if they did not understand who this was to be. Herod himself asked the best of the religious thinkers where the Christ (a.k.a. The Messiah) would be born and in fairly short order, they let him know that it would be in Bethlehem. So it was not a case of misunderstanding. The Messiah had been prophesied for many years. He was the hope of Israel. As a people, the Jews looked forward to the coming of the Messiah with great expectancy. Yet they were troubled along with Herod at the possibility of his arrival.

Maybe they were not prepared for the Messiah in the baby-sized package. Maybe they were so afraid of what Herod might do to him or to them. How would Rome react to Israel having an actual king on the throne rather than the more palatable Herod? No one knows. Suffice it to say, when the opportunity came to see the one all Israel had waited and longed for, the news of his arrival simply troubled them. Maybe they just weren’t ready for the Messiah.

With all the plans we have made, all the schedules we have to keep, and all that we long to accomplish in this life, it makes me wonder, “Is the world ready for the Messiah to come today?” Would the news of his coming disturb us as much today as it did the Jews then? We may have different reasons, but like Israel we have been promised that the Messiah will come. It is to be a glorious day, a day for us to celebrate, a day that is long awaited and expected by Christians. Though I cannot help but wonder, “If Jesus came this Christmas; would we rejoice or be troubled by his return?” Perhaps it might be for those different reasons than Herod or Israel, but I would guess there would be at least a few Christians worried that they hadn’t accomplished everything they wanted or gained everything that they had wanted … as though those things will matter in eternity.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that with all the troubling thinking that was going on, it would be wrong for us to miss the example of those Magi. They had traveled a great distance (no doubt at great expense) all for the opportunity to come and worship Christ, the Savior. The signs of the times did not trouble them, but inspired them. Did they truly know the ramifications of his coming? Possibly, especially when you consider that they searched the Scriptures to find such answers. It would be good for us to do the same!

We should celebrate his birth, honor his death on the cross, praise his resurrection, and anticipate the joy of his return for indeed it is true that, “Wise Men still seek Him!” and look forward to the day of his appearing!

Posted by Dave Smith at 8:06 PM | | Comments

Thursday, November 23, 2006

A Question of Etiquette

I was faced with a serious question of propriety today. I had traveled to my brother-in-law's parents' home for Thanksgiving dinner. I had plowed through a generous amount of food (I should point out that the question deals neither with the copious quanity of food I consumed nor the rapidity at which it was inhaled) and settled in for a little football viewing.

Let me set the scene for you: in the front middle of the room is the large projection screen, to the right of the screen is a 3/4 person couch (depending on individual sizes), to the left a single chair and ottoman, and directly in front of the screen is another 3/4 person couch (in this case a 3 person since I occupy part of the couch). Also scattered behind the couch I am on are a few folding chairs.

Now let me set the players for you: As I sit down on the rear couch to view, there is another male on the couch. We sit at extreme ends of the couch knowing the we are not allowed to touch, nor put a hand down on the middle cushion lest we accidentally touch hands. We are good here. The chair is occupied by a sleeping female (not my issue for today, but I do have problems with a prime viewing location being wasted on a sleeping skirt). The right couch is occupied by my sister Michelle (also wavering dangerously close to sleeping) and my crocheting mother. Various other females pop in and out and occupy the third slot on the right couch. Many folding chairs still remain unoccupied.
In the midst of this another male enters the room. He spies the open middle seat on my couch and plops down, seriously violating my "personal bubble" without even considering the folding chairs strewn about, but again, as awkward as this is, it is not my major concern.

Approximately halfway through the game, a mass exodus occurs as people leave and vacate the right couch and the chair. The problem is, we three kings still occupy the middle couch. Additional seating is available and still we sit, cozy as sardines next to one another. Eventually, male in the middle pops up, and leaves the room. Finally, I think, we return to comfortability. No joke, two minutes later he returns, surveys the room (with its multiple open seats) and returns to sit between us on the couch.

I believe a serious breech of man etiquette was violated and made it difficult for me to concerntrate on the game. Why was this man refusing to acknowledge the personal man-bubble that each of us has, that space that most men instinctively know prevents us from standing at urinals next to one other, the one that even boys understand shouldn't be violated.

I am reminded of a King of Queens episode where Deacon, Spence and Doug enter Cooper's and take a seat at a booth. Because it is a four-seat booth, Doug and Spence sit together on the same side. Because of some situation, Deacon is forced to depart, leaving Doug and Spence sitting next to one another alone in a booth. Spence is oblivious to the obvious man etiquette issue here and continues eating until Doug asks/orders, "Are we dating? Move to the other side!"

See this is how I felt. I wanted to blurt out, "Are we going out, dude? Why don't you move to an open couch?" But I didn't want to offend him since I hardly knew him, so I just sat there feeling weird. I ate half a pumpkin pie to alleveate my concerns. While it may not seem to be the ideal situation, at least it took my mind off of the issue and as a side bonus, seeing me plow through half a pie caused the space violator to turn to his wife and say, "Let's go and we can catch the rest of the game at home."

For this reason alone I will try to always keep pumpkin pie on hand for just such emergencies. Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted by Dave Smith at 9:17 PM | | Comments

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Confirming My Brother's Sanity

Having returned from my vacation recently, I felt the need to share that I have put to rest some concerns that I had about my brother Steve. You see recently, I have become concerned that the grind of being the Minister of Creative Arts at Shively Christian Church, a husband, a dad, etc. had become too much for the poor guy. I say this because a couple of his recent posts on his MySpace page have revealed a somewhat darker side ... dare I say, a violent side. In fact, two of his more recent posts have been titled "Punching a Sixty-Year-Old Woman in the Face" and "I'm Not a Violent Man ... But I'd Like to Be". They seem to indicate the thoughts and imaginations of a man who is slipping over to the southern side of crazy.

I thought that during my vacation I could spend some time with him and "talk him down from the ledge" so to speak. I needed to get to the heart of what had made him become so derranged toward this little old lady named Ms. Panter. To be honest, I knew that my brother's angst was excessive. I have known some irritating older people, but his reaction reminded me of Mr. Furious' comments in the movie Mystery Men: "Don't mess with the volcano my man, 'cause I will go Pompeii on your...butt" Hardly the response of a clear-thinking individual.

I went with Steve over to the beautiful Dixie Bowl to join my nieces, Grace and Faith, for the monthly bowling trip for their pre-school. It was here I would meet Ms. Panter and once and for all, be able to empirically discuss his unwarranted desire for pugilism with this sectagenarian. When we got inside, Ms. Panter was barking some orders to the kids about where to put their things and their lane assignments. I thought, "Hmm, she's a disciplinarian, but hardly the embodiment of evil I have read about."

Grace and Faith came to the lane Steve and I were on, along with a couple of their schoolmates, Isabella and Sophie. We also found out that Vic was going to be there. We didn't know who Vic was, but we know that Isabella was excited that he was coming. She dropped it into the conversation 37 times in the first five minutes of the bowling. I thought, "Boy, I sure hope Vic shows up or there is going to be problems." Quick side note: I am interacting and watching over two girls from this class. As far as I know, outside of Steve and my nieces, no one knows who I am. Solid background checking system in place.

Anyway, we were about ten minutes into the bowling when the aforementioned Ms. Panter came and sat down in the scorekeeper's seat to engage me in conversation. I should mention that she did stop by briefly to ridicule my brother's aptitude at setting up the automatic score-keeping system on our lanes. I felt no compulsion toward violence because of it, but did inwardly laugh at my brother.

Ms. Panter sat down directly opposite of me and we were face to face, but rather than addressing me, she spoke to Grace, who was standing next to me. As Ms. Panter plopped down in the seat, I sensed Grace's grip on my arm tighten ever-so-slightly. She snapped at Grace, "Grace! Is this the Uncle that you told us is visiting you?" Grace nodded. After a slight hesitation, she demanded, "Well, aren't you going to formally introduce us?" I quickly scanned my memory for a time when I had ever witnessed a six-year-old who had ever formally introduced anyone. I couldn't remember ever seeing it except for my second-cousin-once-removed T.J. McGill, but in all fairness he wore old man suits and used Brylcreem (a little dab'll do ya!) ... creepy, just creepy.

Sensing Grace was in a spot, I introduced myself to Ms. Panter, eschewing the need for the formal introduction from Grace. Thankfully, she didn't require the formal introduction either. Once I had started the process she enthusiastically joined in, "I'm Ms. Panter ... Grace's teacher." Apparently, she is unaware of my brother's thoughts of violence toward her otherwise she would have known that I already knew exactly who she was.

I should make a small note here. I believe Ms. Panter asked Grace to introduce me instead of my other niece, Faith, for two important reasons. 1) Grace is actually in her class and Faith is not. It is a small school so she knows Faith, but Faith is with the four-year-olds where Grace is with the Kindergarten-age kids. 2) Since she knows Faith, she probably realizes that were she to ask Faith such a question at best, Faith would ignore her and, at worst, Faith would punch her square in the nose. You see, Faith's got moxie!

She wasn't done with us. She asked Grace, "Is your uncle as silly as your dad?" This question puzzled me since the situations in which Steve had interacted with Ms. Panter had led me to believe that she thought him to be more moronic than silly. Perhaps she was "nice-ing it up for the kids." Grace was quick to say that I was not silly like her dad. It was kind of Grace, but it was clearly her way of trying to end the conversation with her teacher since Grace regularly tells me I am silly.

Undaunted, Ms. Panter insisted that she would get the answer she wanted. She glared at Grace and asked the question, "Is your uncle your dad's brother?" Grace was confused. After all, that is the way it works in a six-year-old's mind. Uncles are mom or dad's brothers. Now Ms. Panter was questioning the very fabric of that relationship. At this point Isabella walked by and reminded me that Vic was coming today.

Ms. Panter was too busy to wait for Grace to work out this dilemma so she quickly added, "If he is your dad's brother then he is just as silly!" And with that quip that is sure to make the "Quoteables" section of Reader's Digest one day, she got up and left.

She traveled to the next lane and watched as a five-year-old dropped a slow-rolling ball onto the lane and barked, "Weak Lilly! That throw was weak!" I was reminded that there is nothing classier than ridiculing a five-year-old's strength.

It made me want to walk over to her and act out a scene from the movie Uncle Buck, with appropriate changes in the script to match our story:

I don't think I want to know a six-year-old who isn't a dreamer, or a sillyheart. And I sure don't want to know one who takes their student career seriously. I don't have a college degree. I don't even have a job. But I know a good kid when I see one. Because they're ALL good kids, until dried-out, brain-dead skags like you drag them down and convince them they're no good. You so much as scowl at my niece, or any other kid in this school, and I hear about it, and I'm coming looking for you! Take this quarter, go downtown, and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face! Good day to you, madam!

I don't want to know a five-year-old that can throw a bowling ball with such velocity to smash the pins and garner Ms. Panter's grudging approval. In fact, the very thought of it frightens me. Isn't part of the fun of watching little kids bowl is seeing a ball that rolls so slowly that it gets stopped by running into the head pin?

So, my assessment would go like this: my brother is still as sane as he ever was (nice backhanded compliment, huh?). I found my own ire being raised at the contemptuous Ms. Panter. In fact, when he is ready to rumble, I am there to be his wingman. However, having reviewed the situation, I would guess that Ms. Panter is probably former Army Special Forces or maybe a drill instructor that was kicked out because her methods were too harsh so now she teaches kindergarten with that same daring and tenacity!

Whatever the case, I am just glad one thing happened. Vic finally showed up and Ms. Panter started ridiculing him.

Posted by Dave Smith at 3:31 AM | | Comments

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Cups of Water and Bean Bag Beds

"I tell you the truth, anyone who gives a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his reward."
--Mark 9:41 (NIV)

I am on vacation. I like being on vacation, not because I go on extreme adventures, cruise the Caribbean, or even fly to exotic locales; I enjoy vacations because it gives me the opportunity to visit with friends and family members that I don't get to see as often. It is what I enjoy most about those trips that I take to see my brother and his family, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc.

Like the majority of these trips, this one was to Louisville, Kentucky to see Steve and his family for a few days, this fact is not uncommon. What was uncommon was that for the first time, I stopped off in Nashville, Tennessee to visit with my friends, Zane and Jodi Williams.

Zane is a singer/musician/song writer. I would say he is Country/Bluegrass, but he does a variety of music. I should point out that I am not a huge fan of the aforementioned music genre, but I enjoy listening to Zane's music. I admit probably because I know him and it becomes a "Hey, listen to this friend of mine." Plus, I genuinely like Zane and Jodi so I am glad to see him find success and continued opportunities to use his talents. Jodi serves as his erstwhile #1 fan, critic, source of encouragement, road manager, etc.

I had planned to stop by for just a dinner visit, but circumstances changed and I needed to take them up on their offer for overnight lodging.

I rolled into town and, following Zane's excellent directions (complete with the "turn at the fountain with dancing naked statues" instruction) found them with little or no problem. We chatted briefly and then headed over to Judge Roy Bean's Authentic Texas Barbecue (the irony of going to Nashville to have Texas cuisine was noted). I had the BBQ Brisket Burrito ... it was excellent. Dinner conversation was minimal because the Country Music awards were on the various televisions playing throughout the restaurant and the volume level of each television was seemingly set at maximum. Newsflash: Country Music is big in Nashville!

Afterward, I received a brief tour of the city of Nashville in their veggie van (named thus because it runs on used vegetable oil). It was a busy night with the Country Music Awards going on. The police and security were out in force. Zane even had to receive important driving instructions from a policeman who apparently wanted to ensure that Zane had no plans to crash through the barricade with the wildly flashing lights. Pretty sure he wasn't planning to do so, but the officer wanted to clear it up.

We stopped briefly by Bongo Java to pick up some coffee for a friend of mine (If you have never heard of Bongo Java, you are like me, but to her, it is a religious experience of sorts. So buying a couple pounds of Bongo Java beans gets me a whole lot of friend credit!)

We made our way back to their apartment and stayed up late telling stories, laughing, catching up, etc. Their place was small and not fancy at all. I say that not as a criticism; after all, my own "deluxe apartment in the sky" is, conservatively speaking, modest. I say it to point out that they are living the life of hopeful songwriter/singer. Yet, I was struck through the evening about the ways they shared what they had with others, including me.

At one point, we talked of a friend they had made who didn't know much English. They had been a help in explaining things that were difficult for her to understand about a lot of things; they had given her a place to stay for a while; they had looked out for her.

They talked about bags of non-perishable food items they carried around with them to pass out to homeless people they might meet. Imagine carrying around such things assuming that God might provide you the opportunity to interact with folks that most of us actually try to avoid.

You may think that pride motivated their sharing these things, but it would be because you were not there. You missed the joy they had in sharing what God was doing for them through them. They were not bragging about what they did, but about what God was doing for them.

Late in the night, Jodi showed me the bean bag they had that converted into a comfortable bed (ah, the wonders of modern science), while Zane was fluffy it out "just right" for me, Jodi tried to give me the rundown of all the food and beverage offerings that were available to me. I assured her that I was alright, but she continued to let me know everything they had to eat or drink (the perfect hostess). After finishing the bed, Zane summed up not only Jodi's comments, but in a way, what seems to be their overall philosophy. He said, "There's not a lot, but whatever is their you are welcome to it."

After a night of rest, we all awoke in the morning. As I prepared to leave, we said our goodbyes and in the living room of that little apartment, we shared a prayer of faith with one another and then I was on my way only to return five minutes later to get the coffee beans I had forgotten (dodged a bullet there). I headed on up to Louisville to spend time with my brother and his family from there.

I was touched by their kindness and generosity and was reminded again about the joy we have as Christians in fellowship with friends. They didn't have a lot, but what they had they offered in abundance and I was blessed by it; a worthy example for us to follow in offering hospitality and kindness to others.

Posted by Dave Smith at 4:58 AM | | Comments

Thursday, November 02, 2006

I'm No Hero

I recently watched Flags of Our Fathers with some people from the church here. While I do not necessarily endorse the movie (it was R-rated and had very visually graphic violence in many of the battle scenes), I was impressed by the movie’s presentation of this story.

The movie’s main plot revolved around the planting of the flag on Mount Suribachi at Iwo Jima in World War II, what some consider the turning point of the war. I found the sub-plot of the three main characters to be the most engaging part of the story. Each one of them dealt with the reality of being lauded as “the Heroes of Iwo Jima” in vastly different ways. To varying degrees, each of them felt somewhat uncomfortable with the title because they did not see themselves as heroes. While they were the ones pictured planting the flag, each knew that the flag they had planted on that hill was merely a replacement for the one that others had planted on the hill on the initial surge up the hill. It seems that the photo, while not necessarily staged, was not a picture of the actual event.

One embraced the opportunity and got as much out of it as he could. Another could never come to grips with it and drank heavily to forget about it. The third never felt comfortable, but seemed to feel that if it could aid the war effort, he needed to just “do his part” to help out. In the end, none of them really ever reconciled themselves to being called heroes, claiming that no one is a hero that had seen the things that they had witnessed.

While I have, in no way, had to endure the struggles that they, or other veterans of war, have suffered, I must confess that I have wrestled with concept of unwarranted praise that has been given to me.

I am regularly thanked for sermons that I preach, lauded for good deeds that I have done, honored for sacrifices that others perceive that I have made, etc. In truth, it makes me feel very uncomfortable, not because I don’t appreciate it, but because I know the truth about myself. I sometimes outwardly and, even more often, inwardly accept admiration from others that belongs solely to God. While I’m fairly certain I have never been called a “hero of the faith” I do know that, like most people, I enjoy it when others show appreciation to me for things that I have done.

The trouble is, how much adulation am I, as a Christian entitled to? For instance, we have the example of Herod from the book of Acts:

On the appointed day Herod, wearing his royal robes, sat down on his throne and delivered a public address to the people. They shouted, “This is the voice of a god, not of a man.” Immediately, because Herod did not give praise to God, an angel of the Lord struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.

Acts 12:21-23 … NIV

Ouch! What a way to go there. Obviously, this is an extreme example from a guy who clearly had spiritual issues before this. Plus, I am sure that few of us have ever been called a god. However, if we accept that what we are doing as Christians is for God, through God, by God and because of God, how do we handle it when people express appreciation to us for that which God has done?

For starters, we remind ourselves of where our strength and motivation for such things comes from. As the prophet Zechariah stated:

"Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,” says the Lord Almighty.

Zechariah 4:6 … NIV

It would probably also help if we regularly reflect the praise to God, reminding others who might put us on a pedestal that we are recovering sinners, just as they are. You think it didn’t make Peter (who denied the Lord on the night of his crucifixion) feel uncomfortable when Cornelius bowed down at his feet. Peter tells Cornelius:

Stand up … I am only a man myself.

Acts 10:26 … NIV

Of course, there is no need to alienate or hurt someone who thanks you for kindness, sacrifice or effort you have offered by correcting their mistake in front of others or making a big deal about it. “Don’t thank me; I have done nothing for you. It was the Lord. I am but a vessel.” Often, this comes across as self-righteous and condescending to someone who is simply expressing their gratitude.

Instead, as a mature, loving Christian, recognize that those things you do for others, you’re doing in his name and for his sake. While you don’t have to contradict everyone who offers thanks, remember to give glory to God at all times.

Finally, it would be a good practice to always take a moment to express your appreciation and thanks to God when others honor you with his praise for something you have done. After all, he is entitled to it for all that he has done for us and through us.

Our vision statement reminds us of that. It states that, “We are called to make a difference in people’s lives and to change the world in which we live …” and when we do that, people whose lives are affected will often be grateful for the things that we have done. We will be remiss if we fail to remember those final words of the vision statement, “…through the power of and for the glory of Jesus Christ!” He is the real hero of our faith!

Posted by Dave Smith at 5:21 PM | | Comments