Category: Current Event

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coming soon…

LJIZlzHgQ7WPSh5KVTCB_Typewriter-1For the past seven years, we have covered multiple incidents, issues, and current events. Some posts have been more personal and passionate; whereas, others have been more factual and informative. We have covered much. For a very brief example, since November of 2008, we have covered:

The events… the election of Barack Obama, subsequent elections, the earthquakes in Haiti and Japan, the tsunamis and tornados, the ongoing conflict with militant Muslims, the worsening economic crisis in Europe, the atrocities — here, there — way too many… we even covered Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee.

The issues… healthcare, heroes, caring for the least of these, education, the economy, increasing debt, marriage, gay marriage, God, guns, bailouts, idol worship, 80’s music, vacation, vaccines, false religion, racism, and all the wild, manipulative rhetoric.

The ideals… humility, arrogance, patience, kindness, self-control, freedom, sacrifice, acceptance, tolerance, selflessness, greed, gluttony, and love (…because the greatest of these will always be love).

The people… Joe Biden, Jack Kemp, Rod Blagojevich, Tom Brady, Condoleezza Rice, Tim Tebow, Mark Twain, and Prince George. We covered Habitat’s Millard Fuller, (way too many) Bush’s and Clinton’s, the singularly-named Seinfeld, Oprah, and Beyoncé… and never forgetting lessons learned via those three, cute, teenage boys in my own household.

The sports… Baseball, fantasy football, golf, March Madness, the Packers and Patriots, Lions, Tigers, and Bears, FIFA, and especially, this summer’s awesome, women’s World Cup team.

Yes, we have covered much.

Let it always be said of the Intramuralist that we care more about articulation than agreement. It is not important that we always agree. We can’t. Throughout my life, for instance, many have insisted that I must like mushrooms and pickles… “What’s wrong with you?!” I’m sorry. I don’t like them. I won’t. And I don’t plan on changing my opinion any time soon. It’s ok that we disagree. 🙂

What’s not ok is our inability to have the conversation. There are far too many on Facebook and elsewhere who find no discomfort calling a brother or sister an “idiot” or “douchebag.” Excuse my language; I’m making a point. The insults and indignities say more about the person who employs them than the person they are attempting to target.

Consistent with that value, let it also be said then that while I so appreciate this blog and means of communication, I don’t think it’s always important that you hear from me. I want you to hear from one another. I want you to hear from someone other than me — and other than self.

Beginning Sunday, therefore, is our annual summer Guest Writer Series. Over the next three and a half weeks, you will hear from other people. You will hear from a parent, nursing professional, a police chaplain, and a communications expert; you will hear from three known published authors and a philanthropic CEO; you will also hear from an insightful, new friend made on the spring “grad party circuit” — and even from a sitting State Senator. You will hear angles and articulations different from mine.

Please know that the opinions expressed here may or may not be consistent with mine. I may totally disagree, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we learn to express ourselves in ways respectful to one another so that we can discuss, learn, and sometimes, hopefully even solve.

I will add that this year’s group of writers is a talented, expressive group. They will address some challenging subjects — beginning Sunday — but they communicate consistently with respect.

Hence, feel free to comment. Share with our guest writers where you agree or disagree; share with them why. Talk to them here or on Facebook or Twitter. Join the conversation. Let our writers know what you appreciate. Ask questions. Ask for more insight. And as always, do so respectfully. Let’s articulate ourselves wisely and well.

Respectfully… (I can’t wait…)
AR

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playing by the rules

photo-1433785567155-bf5530cab72cFunny how this world works… how one thing leads to another… how what we learn in one area is so often applicable to something else…

As the year’s summer baseball season wraps up for my middle son, we found ourselves neck-and-neck in the late innings of one game in a highly competitive tournament last weekend. In fact, since this team has found significant on-field success, we were playing mostly teams a year older.

This game was especially tight, but with two on and no out, our cleanup hitter came to the plate. He quickly smacked a long double to right center field, giving us a two run lead, which seemed somewhat insurmountable in a game where runs were rare.

Before the cheers had yet to subside in the stands, the coach of the other team was out of his dugout, yelling at the umpires. “Check his bat! Check that bat!”

Yes, we were playing in a wood bat tournament, a series where no metal nor composite wood bats are allowed. Funniest thing… our four hitter’s bat sure looked like it was wood. And it was. But buried deep within the rules was the edict that the bats must be made of a singular piece of wood. The bat in question was actually made out of two pieces. Granted, it was not a error of deception; rather, it was an innocent error by a teen with a previously-thought, cool looking bat. After an extended conference with both umpires and opposing coaches, the batter was called out and our two run lead was erased.

Let me be clear. The opposing coach was right. He was completely within his jurisdiction to question what was a potential violation of the rules. In fact, I learned later that this coach was a baseball bat salesman; he knew what he was talking about.

Here’s the problem. Remember we found ourselves neck-and-neck in the late innings of the game. This was the third time the cleanup hitter was at bat. The previous two times at the plate, his at bat did not affect the outcome of the game. Only when it affected the outcome of the game did the opposing coach speak up.

Hence… my questions of the day — my learning from one area applied to another…

  • How often do we play by the rules only when it affects the desired result?
  • How often do we demand that others play the rules only when it affects the desired result?
  • How often are we silent about the rules — because we don’t necessarily want to totally play by them either — until, of course, we can gain some sort of advantage?

I wonder when we play by the rules and when we don’t.

I wonder how often we announce the rules… and… when we choose to stay silent.

Does the end justify the means? Does the game matter?

Is it hypocrisy? Is it unethical? Seems to me way too many inconsistently play by the rules, embracing them when they want to — ignoring them when they don’t.

Let me again say that the coach had every right to come out of the dugout. He was right. The challenge is, though, that too many only come out of the dugout when it benefits them… when it affects the outcome of the game. In business… in government… in activism, etc.

Oh, how I wish what we learn in one area would affect other areas as well…

(And FYI… for the record, the good guys still won. 🙂 )

Respectfully…
AR

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pausing

photo-1433185000771-ec45c869c61bAs I’ve said multiple times previously amidst these posts, every now and then there’s an incident or event that promptly causes me to dismiss what I originally intended to say. Today is one of those days.

In the late hours of Thursday night, just before midnight, a long line of traffic was slowed to a near standstill due to construction on the interstate near my alma mater. Notably in line were a semi-truck, Honda Pilot, and Toyota Yaris. Behind them was a fourth vehicle — driven by a man who when he looked in his rear view mirror, shockingly saw an 18 wheel tanker rapidly nearing at full speed behind them — not slowing for the construction zone. The driver of the fourth car somehow was able to swerve his car out of the way, but the tanker then hit the three aforementioned vehicles, reportedly at full speed.

The Yaris was first knocked into the adjacent ditch, killing the driver, a promising postdoctoral physics student at Purdue. Next hit was the Pilot, driven by a beloved mom and respected optometrist — a member of the community in which I grew up. Also in the car with her were her two young sons, 8 and 10.

When the tanker hit the Pilot, it caused the stationary vehicle to spin initially into the median. The tanker then struck the semi, at which time the tanker caught fire and the Honda Pilot spun into the two semis, also then catching fire. When police arrived on the scene, the tanker and the Pilot were fully engulfed in flames. The driver of the tanker, the mom, and her two children were killed.

My heart aches. I simply cannot easily, emotionally grasp the depth of this tragedy.

Hence, what caused me to pull my planned post today is the thought that moments such as this should make us pause. These moments should stop us. These moments should stop us in our tracks, shake us to our core, and prompt us to ask ourselves what we really believe. What we believe should then affect how we behave.

But we’re too busy. We go from one thing to the next to the next to the next. It’s not that we’re engaged in so-called “bad things”; we just keep going on life’s continuous treadmill without stopping to take note of the surroundings.

If we did take note of the surroundings, I wonder what we’d do differently…

I think we’d be better at putting ourselves in the shoes of another… I think we’d take more time to listen and honor and view the perspectives that are different than our own… I think we’d be better empathizers… I think we’d quit shouting at singular people or people groups…

I think we’d be less likely to embrace and repeat extreme, rhetorical rants — realizing that the often, originally legitimate rant sometimes evolves into a disrespect of someone else… I think we’d be more respectful as a whole… I think we’d be humbler… I think we’d have fewer blindspots…

I think we’d be better at taking time to acknowledge and thank the great big God of the universe. Ever since the world was created, God’s invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — have been evident. Often, though, we don’t seem to pause long enough to see him… thereby becoming far too dependent and puffed up on self.

As said, it’s hard for me to shake the death of this mom especially. As any who have felt such dire loss across the country — from California to the Carolinas — we share in the grief of the families who today struggle with the depth of such unthinkable tragedy.

 How do we honor the victims?

Might I suggest we begin with a pause…

Respectfully…
AR

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belief

photo-1415226355641-7f90f89def6aAnyone who is President or runs for President tends to do three things:

  1. Kiss babies.
  2. Claim to know Econ. And…
  3. Talk about God.

As the 16th entry into the diverse 2016 GOP presidential field, Ohio Gov. John Kasich concluded his announcement on Tuesday with the following:

“As for me, I’m just a flawed man, a flawed man, trying to honor God’s blessings in my life. I don’t even understand it. He’s been very good to me. And I want you to know that I will do my very best to serve you, because you are in my mind’s eye… God bless you and God bless America.”

Ah, yes, to appeal to the masses, we like to invoke the name of God; it sounds good. But when is such a reflection of what we really believe — and when is it merely a strategic manifestation of — shall we say — lip-service?

Even in our seemingly all-things-go society, non-belief is still politically unpopular. I speak not of atheism or agnosticism — those who claim God doesn’t exist or simply say they do not know him. According to the Barna Group, 75% of us believe in God; 92% say Jesus Christ was a real person who actually lived; and 62% of us have made a commitment to Jesus that we say is still important to us today.

But my sense is that belief means something more. Belief cannot be qualified as lip service. Belief changes us. And belief radically changes how we behave.

Belief in an omniscient, omnipotent, amazing grace-giving, compassionate God means we learn to love our brother and sister well. It means to look out especially for the poor, sick, elderly, and orphan. It means that all lives matter.

Belief in this great big God of the universe means we trust more in him than in ourselves. That means I allow my prayer and my pause to direct my heart, mind, soul, and strength. That means I am submissive to someone other than myself.

Belief in God means that I recognize that I don’t have life all figured out… that I don’t know all there is; and I can’t. My experience doesn’t equate itself with exhaustive truth. I recognize there must be someone greater and wiser than me.

Time and time again, I find myself struck by those who share their belief in God, but then seemingly, in the same breath, turn around to chastise another… to only love one person or people group well… or to arrogantly proclaim only they or their tight knit people group has been solely, divinely enlightened. So many times I have been struck by the lack of humility claimed by those who say they believe.

Allow me one more notably, transparent sentence: so many times I have been struck by my own lack of humility.

To say we believe means we are changed. It means our trust comes from God, our empowerment comes from God, and thus our peace and confidence comes from him. That person will be like a tree planted by the water, that sends out its roots, but doesn’t fear when the tough weather comes. The worry is less. The need to control is less. The need to only love some people is less. The need to trump one people group over another is less. The need to proclaim one’s own enlightenment is less. The need for arrogance is less. God is more; we are essentially… “less.”

Make no mistake about it; believing isn’t always easy. It takes faith. It is peace giving and confidence building, but it takes investment on our parts. It takes time. It takes pause.

So many proclaim their belief, but we should also be able to see their belief in how they behave.

It’s too easy to simply kiss all the babies.

Respectfully…
AR

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the sound of silence

photo-1433959352364-9314c5b6eb0bIn the first published novel by Nicholas Sparks, “The Notebook,” which is based on a true story, the author pens the following:

“We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.”

Silence… the beauty of silence. Like Sparks, I’m not sure we’ve embraced its beauty. Our brashness and impatience often prompts us to speak out… often glaringly, selectively.

Sometimes we fall prey to being selectively silent. For example, we may be boldly comfortable condemning the shooter in one senseless setting — but in another, because we identify emotionally with the aggrieved, we quietly instead pray for mercy (…why not condemn both acts — not people — and pray for all crime-committers — praying for truth to enter those messed up places in their minds and hearts that obviously led to the heinous acts?)…

We are selectively silent when we are comfortable only calling out one kind of people or partisan group…

We are selectively silent when we are comfortable proclaiming that only one kind of life matters…

In other words, we are selectively silent. We seem silent when it serves our own purposes — albeit arguably, blindly.
Allow me to humbly share a few sentences on what the Intramuralist chooses to be silent about and why…

I am selectively silent on Donald Trump — not on his presidential candidacy; in fact, pompous as he appears, I do appreciate the fact that he doesn’t seem to avoid any topic — unlike most announced candidates thus far, save maybe Fiorina, Rubio, and Sanders. But I am silent in regard to the disrespect Trump too often utilizes in his word choice. Why? Because I feel it doesn’t deserve any more attention.

I am selectively silent on The Huffington Post’s decision to no longer report on Trump’s campaign in their political coverage. Why? Because the bias within sites that wish to be considered respected news sources wears me out… from all sides.

I am also selectively silent on the hypocrisy laced within selective silence; for example, the world watched when Pres. Obama made multiple heartfelt statements, openly grieving for the Trayvon Martin’s and Freddie Gray’s of this world, but then said nothing after innocent Kathryn Steinle was killed by an illegal alien who had been deported multiple times. Why do I choose to be silent? Because it grieves me… but I’m certain, too, there’s a bit of a plank in my own eye, as I have been blinded — and there have been times, too, when my blindness has caused me to see only what I’ve wanted — only identifying with some… not all.

There is thus a beauty in silence — in the totality of silence, not in the strategic or blind selectivity. Silence causes us to pause, step back, and recognize our own pockets of hypocrisy.

This past weekend I attempted to practice this a little more — being still. I took some extended, intentional time to get away, be out in nature, celebrate, fellowship, pray… and focus on what’s good and true and right…
…focusing on what’s good… wrestling with the truth… gently pulling out the planks… listening to others…

…and embracing the paradoxical beauty of silence.

Note: this may take a lifetime to learn.

Respectfully…
AR

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WHAT I MIGHT BE WRITING ABOUT — IF I WAS WRITING

Friends, today I’m off celebrating my birthday. (Fire up.) But if I wasn’t off celebrating my birthday (and one of those big ole’ decade ones at that), one of these headlines is what I might be writing about…
How the Chattanooga Shooting Unfolded — appearing in the Washington Post

ISIS Suicide Attack Kills 115  — as reported by the Associated Press

Why They’re Cheering in Tehran — appearing in the Wall Street Journal

Chaos: Athens — appearing in the Huffington Post

Re-Re-Re-Introducing Hillary Clinton — appearing in the NY Times Magazine

Obama Profoundly Misjudged Regime in Tehran — appearing in the Daily News

Iran & Obama: A Day That Will Live in Infamy — appearing in the American Spectator

The Bloody Business of Abortion — appearing in National Review

Planned Parenthood Isn’t Hawking Baby Parts — appearing in the Daily Beast

Online Porn to Boom in Next Five Years, Thanks to Smartphone Growth — appearing in India Today

Have Mantle, Mays & Aaron Returned? — appearing in Real Clear Sports

What a Woman President Should Be Like — appearing in Time

GOP Debates — Why Not a Two-Night Mini-Series? — appearing in Real Clear Politics

Socialism, RIP — appearing in the Washington Times

In my desire to focus on what’s good and true and right, sometimes it’s hard to wrestle with the things of this world… on what’s in the news… on the subjects that so easily fill up both social media and mainstream outlets.

Thank God this day I’m off celebrating my birthday… even if it is one of those big ole’ decades.

Respectfully…
AR

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just a game

IMG_4630Games are supposed to be games. There are some things that are not games — that are serious — but people still seem to play. I think of politics… I think of all the skirting of hypocrisy that is rampant in far too many… where we each seem to sigh and slowly mutter under our individual breaths, “oh, the games people play.”

There is one game the Intramuralist has always loved. There is no logical rhyme or reason for my semi-healthy obsession. It’s a long and sometimes complicated game… sometimes boring… and sometimes those who play — including my two oldest boys — get really, really, unattractively hot and sweaty… and even more hot and sweaty.

Also true in this game is that sometimes the parents get a little nutty. Let’s face it; any parent who gets thrown out when 12 year olds are competing against one another is a little nutty (… and, uh… maybe something more than that).

But truth told, the Intramuralist has always loved the game of baseball. Maybe it was the Big Red Machine in the mid 70’s; maybe it was Reggie Jackson and the surnamed Mr. October; maybe, too, it was the young, innocent heart I had that so admired Rod Carew and Roberto Clemente.

Maybe it was the forced humility witnessed on the ostentatious grand stage when Boston’s Bill Buckner allowed that ground ball to trickle between his legs in the ’86 World Series… or when Angels’ reliever Donnie Moore gave up that playoff home run, that sadly seemed to haunt him the rest of his life… or maybe it was when the Cubs floundered again in 2003, blaming a fan infamously named “Bartman,” instead of wrestling with their multiple miscues that occurred thereafter. Baseball is a funny game. But then again… it is just a game.

I remember when the game was just a game
And you could count on your home team
And know all the players names
But now it doesn’t seem like anything stays the same

But I’m so glad one thing hasn’t changed
Hot dogs and a nice cold brew on a nice hot summer day
And the thrill of my team going all the way
On that October stage
In a game that doesn’t change

In the field of dreams
Bases loaded two out home team down by three
And yeah that’s me with the chance to be your hero
I wanna be your hero in the field of dreams

I’ve love that Blessid Union of Souls song… reminding me of my home team and how I’ve always known all the players names — ever since I was some seven years old… reminding me of a game being just a game… reminding me of the joy of healthy competition… reminding me of the strategy instilled… reminding me of my youth — when my brothers and I would purchase a complete Topps card set each year — and then roll the dice enacting out our own version of taking ourselves out to the ballgame.

Tonight in Cincinnati is the 2015 Major League Baseball All-Star Game. It will be the 86th edition of our national pasttime’s summer exhibition. For the first time ever, the Intramuralist will be in attendance. We will take our boys. We will “oooh” and “ah” at the likes of Pujols, Trout, and youngster Bryce Harper. We will cheer on hometown favorites Todd Frazier and Aroldis Chapman.

We will also stand and cheer when the spotlight briefly beams on all time hits leader, Pete Rose — a man understandably banned because of betting — even though the filter of morality is rarely applied consistently.

But more than all the pomp and circumstance and publicity and fanfare, there is one thing I will remind my boys of this night — embrace it; get it; there is one thing that stands out…

Remember… this is just a game. Never allow a game to become more than it is. Never, too, allow what’s serious to become a game.

Respectfully… kind of excited, too…
AR

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shout!

unsplash_5252bb51404f8_1(Tapping first into my deep appreciation for 80’s music…)

“Shout, shout, let it all out
These are the things I can do without
Come on, I’m talking to you, come on

Shout, shout, let it all out
These are the things I can do without
Come on, I’m talking to you, come on…”

What is it with the plethora of people on Facebook, Twitter, media and social media who feel a need to shout at the rest of us? What is it about people who feel tolerance only goes one way?

Whether it’s about how we should feel about Bruce Jenner, Caitlyn Jenner, same-sex marriage, religious freedom, gun control, the Confederate flag, white privilege, black oppression, immigration, activism…ugh… can I simply state the obvious?

 Some of you are shouting at us.

Let me state the next most obvious — a huge point that I believe the shouters totally miss:

None of the rest of us will change our minds because of your shouting. In fact, it is more likely that we will become more entrenched in our positions precisely because of your shouting.

You can shout, shout, and let it all out, but the rudeness of your shouting — the fact that you only are good at loving some people well and have little respect for those who may or may not believe differently — means the rest of us will be minimally encouraged to act and think like you.

Let me say that again…

When you shout… when you’re rude… when you’re mean… when you say you don’t care that you’re being rude or mean — whichever side you’re supposedly on — when you engage in such disrespectful articulation, very few outside your small circle of influence will want to adopt your opinion. You are doing more damage than good.

Not only are you embracing the above Tears for Fears’ mantra from 1985, you also seem to embrace the The Isley Brothers in 1959…

“You know you make me wanna (Shout!)
Kick my heels up and (Shout!)
Throw my hands up and (Shout!)
Throw my head back and (Shout!)
Come on now (Shout!)…

(Shout) yeah, yeah, yeah…
(Shout) yeah, yeah, yeah…
(Shout) yeah, yeah, yeah…”

While both songs share the same simple title, I’m thinking our shouting friends need to re-read the lyrics from the entire Isley Brothers melody. Two-thirds of the way through the song, they share a message to our shouters. In fact, they say it 17 times before giving way to continued shouts:

“A little bit softer now.”

Yes… a little bit softer now. Please.

Do we each want us to discuss the legitimacy of our perspectives or points? Do we want to make progress? Do we want to move toward solution or peace? Or are we incapable of respectful debate? Are we simply more comfortable being loud, justifying disrespect, and hearing our own selves think?

May I humbly suggest we begin by stopping the shouting.

Respectfully… always…
AR

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reasons to love america’s team

photo-1413787489051-bcbb6209ece1Ok, ok… I must admit… these past few weeks I have been a total bandwagon jumper — my entire family, in fact.

[No, not for Bernie or the Donald… with all due respect, doubtful either of those will be happening anytime soon.]

We just couldn’t get enough of the 2015 American women’s World Cup team!!

Setting our days and schedules around each match, we found ourselves again huddled Sunday night, when the women won the cup, dominating reigning champion Japan, 5-2.

There were so many reasons to love this year’s team — starting, of course, with the women’s oh-so-cool, glow-in-the-dark, neon yellow socks…

There was first the obvious manifestation of perseverance and hard work — a lesson all students and athletes and young entrepreneurs can learn from. Note that World Cup qualifying began in April of 2013. Then — out of 134 teams — only 24 made the field. That means the athletes had to work hard, fight through adversity, and keep their eyes fixed on the prize… for over two years. I am struck by how that completely contrasts with current culture, which way too often embraces entitlement and instant gratification — equivalent to the total absence of perseverance and hard work.

The women also modeled how success is found in teamwork. Said arguably best by the Hope Solo, awarded the cup’s best goalkeeper, who has notably faced significant off field controversy: “As for my Golden Glove award, I’d like to dedicate it to my teammates and all the coaches that have stood by me all this time, in good times and bad, when I needed their support. It may be an individual award, but there are a lot of people who enabled me to be here holding this trophy today, which is the greatest moment of my career, and I thank them. I dedicate it to my coaches and my teammates, especially my defenders.”

[America’s team won this cup. How often in American do we forget we are a team?]

I also jumped on this enthusiastic bandwagon because I was attracted to what seemed to be just the right amount of pride laced within the accompanying patriotism… Too many proclaim themselves as “patriotic” but still shout insults at others. Too many scream at others and their flags. Too many from the left and the right adopt a sense of patriotism that excludes any opposing viewpoints on our team. Too many are too arrogant. My sense is that those “too many” don’t know what patriotism really is.

[How awesome, no doubt, it was to witness the women wave and wear the flag, running around the field, as the victory was sealed.

]

A few more random notes…

I loved the pomp and circumstance. I loved the national anthems. I loved the kids in the crowd and the creative, painted faces. I loved the respect and civility between the countries — between the players. I will not quickly forget soccer great, Homare Sawa — the 36 year old beloved icon in Japan, who found a way to smile and sincerely congratulate the American women even in her disappointing defeat.

And one more thing…

America loves a good hero. I think that’s why we too quickly fall prey to worshipping a candidate or celebrity; we’re always looking for that deserving hero — the one that’s “gotta be strong… gotta be fast… gotta be fresh from the fight.” And Sunday we found one.

 Amid this totally team game, captain Carli Lloyd emerged as the hungry, humble star. Lloyd scored 3 goals within 16 minutes. She scored one goal from approximately 60 yards away. She was the best player in the biggest moment on the biggest stage. And when her teammate, soccer legend Abby Wambach entered the game as a substitute in the 78th minute — playing in her last World Cup — Lloyd took off her captain’s armband, wrapping it instead around Wambach. The crowd swooned.

[Again, we all love a good hero.]

It was a fun month and a special, American team — one the bandwagon jumpers will always remember… such great reasons to love them…

[… did I mention the neon socks?]

Respectfully…
AR

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an honor & a privilege

IMG_4603There are some moments in life that change us. Let me rephrase. There are some moments in life that have the potential to change us — that is, if we intentionally pause… hesitating long enough to grasp the sobriety of the situation… to recognize all that’s going on… to learn from the moment and say “I want to change this now.”

Friday was one of those moments for me. While state senator and pastor Clementa Pinckney was eulogized in Charleston, South Carolina, police officer Sonny Kim was honored in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Each man was widely respected in his community. Each man led others by the depth and consistency of his character. Each man believed, as was said so eloquently at the funeral in Cincinnati, that “service is the rent you pay to live on planet Earth.” Each man came face-to-face with evil. Each man did not know the day he would die. Each man sacrificed his life. Each man loved Jesus. “Amazing Grace” was thus sang at the funeral of each man.

Attending the service in Cincinnati was an honor and a privilege. Several observations moved me…

  • Upon arrival, a stranger greeting an unknown policeman, hugging him, thanking him for his service.
  • The massive outpouring of policemen; some 6000-7000 attended the funeral; some 4000-5000 were officers.
  • The three teenage, surviving sons… no words.
  • The charge to each of the boys… courage to the youngest, embracing his father’s example to the middle, and duty to the oldest.
  • The brother, remarking how he saw his sibling change the moment he held that beautiful, oldest son.
  • The blessed widow, reaching out to touch the casket, as it rolled away a final time.
  • The grieving mother, shaken.
  • The diversity of the audience… black, white, Asian, Latino…
  • The oldest son’s show choir singing… “Until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.”
  • The teens in the audience, supporting their friend, learning about the tougher moments of life.
  • The minister’s message, acknowledging how the officer’s life reflected Jesus, pondering how we can reflect God more, too.
  • The 750 police cars included in the processional to the burial.
  • The thousands who lined the streets, saluting one more time.
  • The pending rainstorm, that seemingly kept no one away.
  • The riderless horse.
  • And the final dispatch… “Communications to Badge P396″… and then the acknowledgement of no response.

It was an emotional, powerful day. My words do not say enough.

When I returned home five hours later, I was drained. Instead of immediately grappling with the truth of the day, I numbly turned on my computer seeing what else was in the news. I immediately read the reports of Rev. Pinckney’s service; it, too, seemed bittersweetly beautiful.

And then I encountered all the tweets and status updates surrounding the Supreme Court. Many were fine, but too many others had “#lovewins” or “#sinwins” followed by a “take that” at the end of their rant. Hence, I turned my laptop off.

Instead of the crud that too often pollutes our world, I wanted to stop, sobered by the reality of the day. I want to honor both Pinckney and Kim by wrestling with aspects of my life that I have opportunity to change, if I’m willing to pause and examine where I reflect God well — and where I do not. Changed lives keeps sacrifice from being in vain.

Some posts are harder to write than others. This was one of them.

Respectfully…

AR