Category: Current Event

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where are the david’s?

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Pondering the ancient scriptures on this global holiday… camping on one all of us know. I have two questions today…

“… A giant nearly ten feet tall stepped out from the Philistine line into the open, Goliath from Gath. He had a bronze helmet on his head and was dressed in armor — 126 pounds of it! He wore bronze shin guards and carried a bronze sword. His spear was like a fence rail — the spear tip alone weighed over fifteen pounds. His shield bearer walked ahead of him.

Goliath stood there and called out to the Israelite troops, ‘Why bother using your whole army? Am I not Philistine enough for you? … Pick your best fighter and pit him against me. If he gets the upper hand and kills me, the Philistines will all become your slaves. But if I get the upper hand and kill him, you’ll all become our slaves and serve us. I challenge the troops of Israel this day. Give me a man. Let us fight it out together!’

When Saul and his troops heard the Philistine’s challenge, they were terrified and lost all hope.

Enter David. He was the son of Jesse from Bethlehem in Judah. Jesse, the father of eight sons… David was the youngest son. While his three oldest brothers went to war with Saul, David went back and forth from attending to Saul to tending his father’s sheep in Bethlehem.

Each morning and evening for forty days, Goliath took his stand and made his speech.

One day… David was up at the crack of dawn and, having arranged for someone to tend his flock, took the food and was on his way just as Jesse had directed him. He arrived at the camp just as the army was moving into battle formation, shouting the war cry. Israel and the Philistines moved into position, facing each other, battle-ready. David left his bundles of food in the care of a sentry, ran to the troops who were deployed, and greeted his brothers. While they were talking together, the Philistine champion, Goliath of Gath, stepped out from the front lines of the Philistines, and gave his usual challenge. David heard him.

The Israelites, to a man, fell back the moment they saw the giant—totally frightened. The talk among the troops was, ‘Have you ever seen anything like this, this man openly and defiantly challenging Israel? The man who kills the giant will have it made. The king will give him a huge reward, offer his daughter as a bride, and give his entire family a free ride.’

David, who was talking to the men standing around him, asked, ‘What’s in it for the man who kills that Philistine and gets rid of this ugly blot on Israel’s honor? Who does he think he is, anyway, this uncircumcised Philistine, taunting the armies of God-Alive?’

They told him what everyone was saying about what the king would do for the man who killed the Philistine.

Eliab, his older brother, heard David fraternizing with the men and lost his temper: ‘What are you doing here! Why aren’t you minding your own business, tending that scrawny flock of sheep? I know what you’re up to. You’ve come down here to see the sights, hoping for a ringside seat at a bloody battle!’

‘What is it with you?’ replied David. ‘All I did was ask a question.’ Ignoring his brother, he turned to someone else, asked the same question, and got the same answer as before.
The things David was saying were picked up and reported to Saul. Saul sent for him.

‘Master,’ said David, ‘don’t give up hope. I’m ready to go and fight this Philistine.’

Saul answered David, ‘You can’t go and fight this Philistine. You’re too young and inexperienced—and he’s been at this fighting business since before you were born.’

David said, ‘I’ve been a shepherd, tending sheep for my father. Whenever a lion or bear came and took a lamb from the flock, I’d go after it, knock it down, and rescue the lamb. If it turned on me, I’d grab it by the throat, wring its neck, and kill it. Lion or bear, it made no difference—I killed it. And I’ll do the same to this Philistine pig who is taunting the troops of God-Alive. God, who delivered me from the teeth of the lion and the claws of the bear, will deliver me from this Philistine.’

Saul said, ‘Go. And God help you!’ ”

We know the rest of the story. The military leaders attempt to outfit David in armor; he resists, instead selecting five smooth stones from the nearby brook. When Goliath sees young David, he mocks and ridicules him even more. David is faithful. Man can never outdo God and what he would do. Hence, stones will beat a spear if God is the director of the stones. That’s how David beat the giant — with a sling and a stone… slinging it, hitting Goliath hard in the forehead, embedding the stone deeply.

So here are my two questions… First, recognize that no one encouraged David to do what he did. No one. There was no consensus. So question number one is: where are the “David’s” in life — where are those who are brave regardless of the behavior of the insulated groups around them? Does bravery only come via consensus?

And then, question number two: are we ever called to be the “David”?

Respectfully…
AR

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use of the word “hate”

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One of my lifelong bottom lines is that we continually misuse the word “hate.” From the angry adolescent who “hates” brussels sprouts served at dinner to grown adults “hating when that happens,” I question the use of the word. I even sometimes question the phrase “hate crimes” — not because of any lack of compassion. My thought is more that any crime intentionally directed at another is motivated by hate. Hence, crime is hateful.

So in trying to wrap my small brain around what happened in Belgium on Tuesday, I find myself wavering once again between shock, anger, denial, and throwing something semi-breakable at the newscast on my high definition TV.

How could a person do that?
How could they be so open to evil?
How could they care so little about the life of another person?

And don’t get me started on this one… If these men at some point attempt to proclaim that they were motivated by God or by faith… please. No omniscient, loving God would advocate the intentional killing of the innocent. No, their supposed faith is nowhere close to authentic or good.

There exists, no less, a valid reason to feel “hate.” While I much prefer peace (and am very thankful for my friends who consistently advocate for such), I do see a place for hate. Note the following: it’s limited, rare, and not self-driven.

Read that again: Limited. Rare. And not self-driven.

Where I’ve come out on this after extensive wrestling — and what I’ve tried to semi-humbly teach my kids — is that hate is valid if our hate is consistent with what the great big God of the universe hates. What does he hate? Here are six things… and one more that he loathes with a passion:

“Eyes that are arrogant,
a tongue that lies,
hands that murder the innocent,
a heart that hatches evil plots,
feet that race down a wicked track,
a mouth that lies under oath,
and a troublemaker in the family.”

Near 8 a.m. on Tuesday morning, two blasts detonated in the departures terminal at the airport in Brussels. It was one of the busiest times of day in one of the busier weeks of the year. Windows shattered. Ceilings collapsed. Hundreds bled. Just after 9 a.m., another blast occurred at the metro station. At least 34 people have died.

The radical Islamic terrorist group, ISIS, quickly claimed responsibility for the attacks, which occurred four days after the surviving suspect in the November Paris attack — in which 130 people were killed — was finally arrested.

More attacks may be planned. In fact, one evolving chief concern is that the radical Islamic group may now be firmly implanted in Europe; there have been three large-scale terrorist attacks in Europe in solely the past 15 months.

So allow me to now use the word “hate” appropriately. I hate what these terrorists did. I hate what they still plan to do. I hate what motivates them… arrogant eyes, murderous hands, evil plots, and feet racing down nothing less than a wicked track. I hate that.

God be with the families in Belgium.

(Now looking for something to throw at my TV.)

Respectfully…
AR

 

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just a game?

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As I empathized with many, watching my beloved alma mater be included in the unfortunate list of first round tournament upsets over the weekend, I wrestled with the timeless mantra of this being somehow “just a game”… “It’s just a game,” we like to say.

Right… so that’s supposed to make me feel better?

I’m not sure I believe that it really is “just a game” — and I say that not solely as one whose wadded up bracket is currently occupying space in the closest trash can. I mean, by definition — basketball, football, soccer, you name it — they are each games — show choir, band, gymnastics, etc. They are each a form of play or sport, played according to a certain set of rules.

But consistent with my frequent assertion, often articulated relevant to a specific post — that “this is not a sports post” — sports are where we learn so many valuable lessons far beyond the game idea…

… realizing the benefit of hard work…
… comprehending how hard work pays off over time…
… knowing the necessary investment in ongoing training…
… seeing the beauty of discipline…
… seeing the beauty of perseverance…
… recognizing the need for emotional control…
… keeping emotions from overtaking us and making poor choices…
… channeling our emotions into something good…
… not over-reacting to a given moment in time…
… recognizing that one “up” or one “down” is only a snapshot in time; it’s not the whole picture…
… grasping the concept of team…
… grasping the beauty of team…
… learning compassion and empathy for teammates…
… acquiring genuine respect for the opposition…
… acknowledging how solid competition spurs us on…
… and never seeing self as better and best…
… simply wanting to improve…
… simply wanting to grow…

I think better said than “it’s just a game” is that sports are an arena in which we have that opportunity to grow. But an opportunity is only an opportunity if and when we seize it.

When we refuse to seize the opportunity — when we attempt to simply brush it off a loss with the convenient “it’s just a game” mentality — I wonder whether that causes us to focus only on the outcome, instead recognizing all of the above listed benefits.

I think of the NCAA tournament, now headed to next week’s slate of games that are advertised as nothing less than “sweet.” The reality of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament is that while 68 teams are included, 67 of those 68 will lose their last game. Should those 67 then walk off with their heads held in paralyzing despair? There is certainly room for disappointment — especially when not executing ability to one’s furthest extent; and that disappointment can drive us to improve and achieve. But there is also room for growth, if we recognize the contest actually is far more than any game. The idea is to not get so caught up in only the wins and losses.

Sometimes I think we encourage evaluation of the outcome only, as if such is the only measure of success. We miss the benefits in how the game is prepared for and played.

Perhaps then, the “just a game” idea is more said to make us one time hopefuls — those with the wadded up brackets — feel better after a disappointing loss. Maybe it’s said to soften the blow. After all, how many times is the “just a game” mantra mentioned after a rousing, spectacular win?

No, it’s not just a game.

Respectfully…
AR

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the underdog

photo-1433162653888-a571db5ccccfFor nine years, Shoeshine Boy’s heroic alter ego blessed many via his appearance on Saturday morning’s weekly slate of cartoons. “There’s no need to fear; Underdog is here!”

“…When in this world the headlines read
Of those whose hearts are filled with greed
Who rob and steal from those who need
To right this wrong with blinding speed
Goes Underdog! Underdog! Underdog! Underdog!
Speed of lightning, roar of thunder
Fighting all who rob or plunder
Underdog. Underdog!”

As we currently find ourselves wrapped in both the madness of March and current election cycle, I find myself dreaming of those simple Saturday morning cartoons… Underdog! The underdog is the little guy — the David in the world of Goliaths, the competitor thought to have little chance to win, with little to no societal status. The beauty of the underdog — if we pause long enough to see it — is that he is someone who is “humble” and “lovable.” In fact, his humility is much of what actually makes him so lovable.

I find myself thinking that encouraged humility is rare these days; it’s as if we’ve allowed humility to somehow have become equated with weakness or being imposed upon. Thus in this world where we continually aver to “stand up for oneself” and “not take crud from anybody,” we’ve somehow suppressed the consistent encouragement of humility.

We also applaud ample behavioral contradictions… all the ongoing chest thumping and bumping, the social media rants and frequent “take that’s,” the disrespectful protests and deafening cheers — like it doesn’t matter who else may be affected by our behavior. And when it doesn’t matter who else is affected, conceit — the opposite of humility — creeps in.

Conceit often seems a more accepted societal position. And when we willingly embrace that excessive pride in oneself and our way of thinking, we forget that in humility, there is something beautiful; in the underdog, there is something beautiful…

There is something beautiful in the NCAA men’s college basketball tournament, when the underdogs labeled as the 13th, 14th, and 15th seeds all win on the same day…
There is something beautiful when a tiny mid-major school succeeds over a prominent basketball powerhouse…
There is something beautiful in the “little guy” banking in a miraculous, last-second three point shot — perhaps the “best shot ever,” as some would go on to say.

No one expected these “little guys” to win.

That’s it; there is no expectation of winning in the underdog. If you win, it’s a gift. It’s an opportunity. It’s a blessing. Blessings should never be confused with entitlement or expectation.

And yet infused in our society, we tend to utilize a colloquial language so inundated with self… “I, me, my, myself,” my spouse and I often say. Too many of us too often employ a vocabulary centered on self. “We” are often the subject of our sentences.

It’s like the athlete or politician who believes they’re God’s gift to the world. Friends, let me be very clear: we are never God’s gift to the world; the world is God’s gift to us. I think the underdog knows that.

The majority of “Underdog” cartoons ended with a common scene. A crowd of people would look up to the sky, saying, “Look in the sky!” “It’s a plane!” “It’s a bird!”

An elderly woman would then exclaim, “It’s a frog!”

“A frog?!” said another.

To this, Underdog replied:
“Not plane, nor bird, nor even frog,
It’s just little old me. Underdog.”

Little old me… the little guy. Humble. Lovable. There’s something beautiful in that.

Respectfully…
AR

 

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an offensive position

80b0d25eThis election cycle is challenging for many of us; many of us are increasingly concerned about the selection of candidates and all that’s evolving. So let me start with the stated desire to ratchet it down a notch. One of the most challenging aspects of all discussion — thanks much to the influence of media and especially social media — is that the dialogue begins from a point of being all ratcheted up. I get it; treat my boys or beloved Boilermakers seemingly disrespectfully, and my ratcheting-up-potential rises exponentially, too.

But my point is that we too often start the conversation from an offensive position; we are already prone to pounce before any perspective is shared. It is thus very difficult to engage in dialogue when any of us — self included — are ready to pounce. In fact, I can state with almost all certainty that when we begin conversing from an offensive position, we will not listen well, not find solution, not discern common ground, and the probability is especially high that the only opinion we will affect or change is to assist another in becoming more quickly entrenched in their ongoing oppositional stance. Offensive positions — regardless of intellect — obstruct respectful dialogue and solution.

It is an offensive position to start with malevolent comparisons. For example — as shared in a recent post — many compare current presidential candidate Donald Trump and his rhetoric to Adolf Hitler; he is not. Eight years ago, many compared then presidential candidate Barack Obama and his rhetoric to the anti-Christ; he is not. Yet even as I write this, I’m sensitive to the notion that many will still fully justify one of the above, boldly averring why their comparison is the correct one.

Please know that my desire this day is not to compare Obama and Trump; my thoughts instead center around the comparable reactions of the people to these one-time candidates and the seemingly resulting mob mentality — both for and against them. Eight years ago, there were plenty of people admittedly scared about a possible President Obama; today there are plenty of people admittedly scared about a possible President Trump. I sense a lot of “scared-ness.” There are valid reasons for the concern. There are also groups on all sides that are inflaming the fear. They want us to be scared.

One wise-dialoguing friend shared her perception this week, that “the right is scared of liberals, and the left is scared of conservatives. You aren’t allowed to be independent.” The perception is that if you identify primarily with one party, you cannot have any opinion that strays from the group’s — aka “mob’s” — stated perspective; the group herds us in, almost unknowingly, even with highly intelligent people. That kind of mentality, I fear, existed long before this current election cycle began.

It makes me wonder if in today’s polarized climate, have we lost our independence? Have we numbed our critical thinking skills? Have we been so seduced by passionate partisanship and emotion that we can no longer see any wisdom in another side? Do we not carefully or prayerfully consider that wisdom will never be equated with one person or party’s political platform?

As acknowledged, while I am not scared — primarily because my trust is in someone greater than any candidate — there are multiple aspects regarding each of the persons still running for President this year that concern me; some concern me deeply. What concerns me arguably more than any candidate, however, is the reaction of the people to each candidate… seen, for example…

… in the violence at the Trump rallies last weekend…
… in the intentional inciting of violence by a left wing advocacy group…
… and in the resulting mob mentality.

A “mob mentality” means individuals adopt certain behaviors and beliefs because they are influenced by the groups with which they identify; they may consciously or subconsciously adopt the behavior. Typically in such “mobs,” emotions become heightened, wisdom becomes based on group desire more than actual prudence, and previously unacceptable behaviors become justified…

… such as calling any candidate Hitler… or starting from an offensive position.

Oh, to think this election cycle includes six more months… Time to be on my knees more, wrestle with my concerns, and surrender any “scared-ness”… because no candidate/President thus far is the anti-Christ… and none will ever be mistaken for my Messiah.

Respectfully…
AR

 

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cheering for the one who deserves it

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In this world in which frontrunners tend to dominate the news flow, one non-frontrunner stands out to me. It’s not one that I can vote for; if I could, I would. But there’s something about not being the frontrunner — and arguably, possibly never expecting to be there — that’s attractive. It’s humbling and sweet, precious and dear. Watching them, you just know they aren’t taking anything for granted. They’re not sitting there thinking any of the below:

“I was born for this.”
“It’s about time!”
“I deserve this.”
“It’s mine.”
“I’m so brilliant — such a gift to the world!”


There is an arrogance that permeates all of the above, it seems… a very unattractive arrogance, I would suggest.

But yes… this one… this is one I can get totally, wholeheartedly behind.

This one isn’t talking so much about self.
This one isn’t demonizing any opponent.
This one isn’t making promises he/she can’t keep.
This one isn’t advancing ideas that are economically unsound.
This one doesn’t just look good because he/she is being compared to another who looks a little wacko.
And this one doesn’t feel like they’re taking the opportunity for granted… like they should have been in this position long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away (…although some of us may wish they were in a galaxy fairly far away…).

I speak of one…

… one who perhaps never expected to be here. Something about that is refreshing this primary day.

On Saturday, with time running out and no polling data predicting a victory, the playing field looked even at best. Top-seeded New Mexico State was facing the California State Bakersfield Roadrunners in the Western Athletic Conference tournament final. It’s not the most formidable, talked-about conference or primary. 🙂

And Bakersfield… well, in the history of CSU Bakersfield, they have never before even qualified for the NCAA Men’s Division I Basketball Tournament. The small school has a little over eight thousand enrolled.

The game was tied in the closing seconds, and while it had been a battle, Bakersfield had never led. And then, in an instant, with less than a second remaining, Roadrunners guard Dedrick Basile “got his team dancing — both figuratively and literally,” as said by Bleacher Report — by shockingly draining a three point shot, right before the buzzer… for their first and only lead of the game.

The Roadrunners win!

Said Basile thereafter, “It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world right here. I mean, this is what I’ve always dreamed of.”

How good and pure and right and fun… How seemingly humble.

Way to go, Bakersfield! May you do well in the days ahead… may your attitude remain as contagiously sweet, regardless of outcome. May you always find victory in the journey — as opposed to measuring success only via victory for self.

Note: have I mentioned yet, how much more fun it is to root for “Roadrunners”? — as opposed to frontrunners?

Just sayin’…

Respectfully…
AR

 

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learning from the locker room

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The tributes have poured in from across the country — from teammates, fans, celebrities and stars…

From former NBA’er, Allen Iverson: “Congrats to the best EVER! Peyton Manning! Thanks for GIVING US U!!!”

From actor Rob Lowe: “Peyton Manning’s farewell speech: a clinic on class, gratitude, humor, intellect and emotion. Football’s GOAT ambassador moves on. #18.” [“GOAT” refers to the sports acronym of “Greatest Of All Time.”]

From Tiger Woods: “It was an honor to watch #18 for all these years. He revolutionized the position. Now we can play more golf in the future, but this time I need shots. Also my Raiders have a better chance of finishing higher than 4th in the division now.”

From Indianapolis owner, Jim Irsay: “Few have left their marks on a sport as Peyton Manning has. Simply put, he revolutionized NFL football.”

From Denver legend, John Elway: “Peyton was a player that guys wanted to play with. The impact he has made and will continue to make to youth is second to none.”

And from New England, respected rival, Tom Brady: “Congratulations Peyton, on an incredible career. You changed the game forever and made everyone around you better. It’s been an honor.”

When a good man walks away — a person whose integrity is solid — people notice; the man will be missed. It was clear on Monday, when Peyton Manning retired from the NFL after 18 years, that he indeed will be deeply missed.

As a longtime Colts fan (although paling more than slightly in comparison to my older brother, a clear Manning aficionado), I enjoyed many of the insights and stories shared as a tribute. People spoke of his character and his work ethic; they spoke about his talent; and so many remarked about Manning’s meticulous preparation, a readiness that seemed second to none. One story, though, stood out to me, especially relevant here.

It wasn’t a story, however, that appeared on the front pages or web headlines; it went arguably unnoticed; and if shared, it was buried perhaps in the middle of longer commentaries of seemingly greater significance. But there was something deeper laced within the perspective that made me think of all those who desire to lead us now…

It was shared in a reflection between Bill Polian and Jeff Saturday — an executive and player who worked with Manning in Indianapolis. They spoke about Peyton’s locker room…

Most all pro football players dress, prepare, wind and unwind before and after games fairly near each other in their respective team locker rooms; the individual quarters are notoriously close to one another. The quarterbacks, however — especially the more well known in the league — typically have more segregated quarters. They have space roped off, allowing more room for both self and media interest.

That, though, was not the way of Peyton Manning.

Choosing to forgo the option of more isolated quarters, Manning chose to locker with his offensive line. He could have claimed a rightful space all his own, but he did not. He purposely chose to change along with the men who would protect him on the gridiron — interact with those whose names rarely show up in the headlines. Manning was building relationships of trust through routine, locker room activity. In other words, he forwent personal privilege for the purpose of building relationships and enhancing communication. His actions — which spoke far louder than his words — showed he never looked down on those whose role was different; he never thought of others as lesser.

Question (and especially relevant here): how are our leaders, truly servant leaders? How many are willing to forgo personal privilege because the organization they lead would be better served by their sacrifice?

Which then makes me ask: how many leaders have been as effective and successful as Peyton Manning?

Respectfully…
AR

 

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seinfeld, god & stephen curry

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One of the things that continually astounds me is how so many things seem to fit together — how we can find great learning in one area that seems totally unrelated to another, and yet, the lesson totally applies on a broader scale. I think of it first like an ongoing “Seinfeld” episode, a scenario in which all things will eventually relate, whether it be mind-blowingly good soup or Kramer losing Elaine’s armoire or Jerry’s girlfriend’s infuriating “schmoopie” routine; it all fits. On another hand, I think of it more deeply as the creative, powerful, amazing hand of God — setting the world up, giving us multiple ways in which to learn, grow, and wise up a little. Both God and Seinfeld make this semi-humble blogger smile.

One of those areas, no less, in which I often see broader lessons unfolding is via athletics — which is why I often preface posts laced with sport references as “not a sports post”; in other words, a deeper, greater learning exists. I see this now on the professional hardwood…

In the port city of Oakland, California, there is one team that stands out — not only in the state’s eighth largest city — but across the country and in the NBA. Here is the home for the Golden State Warriors… a team that originated 70 seasons ago in Philadelphia… a team that has a career winning percentage of just over 47%.

Last year the Warriors won the NBA championship. They accomplished such with many talented players on their young roster — including Draymond Green, Klay Thompson, and Andre Iguodala — but they are clearly led by the almost high-school-looking Stephen Curry, a humble, wholesome, joy-filled, scrawny star who has an uncanny ability to seemingly make three-pointers from anywhere on the court. He has been so successful that even though he doesn’t have the stereotypical physical stature of other stars, Curry won last year’s NBA MVP and the ESPYs Best Male Athlete award.

Curry’s success has led directly to the team’s success. After last season’s championship, the Warriors began this year’s 82 game season by winning an unprecedented 23 games. As of this posting — having played 60 games already — they have only lost 5 games. If they continue this pace, they will have the best record in NBA history.

Hence, to the broader lesson…

Every NBA team has an annual salary cap. The primary distribution of the Golden State Warriors is as follows:

(1) Klay Thompson — $15.5 million
(2) Draymond Green — $14.3 million
(3) Andrew Bogut — $12.0 million
(4) Andre Iguodala — $11.7 million

And…
(5) Stephen Curry — $11.3 million

Note that Curry currently makes the fifth most amount of money on his team — even though he is clearly the team’s best player… fifth most.

Consistent with that humble and wholesome character — which is affirmed by those who know him best — Curry doesn’t complain. In fact, it’s quite possible that it doesn’t bother him. He agreed to a wage; he knows he’s been blessed; that’s enough for him. As teammate Shaun Livingston said, “His [Curry’s] faith, his beliefs and his value system [are] unprecedented.”

One of the reasons teams, relationships, etc. don’t stay together is because individuals often believe they are entitled to something more… “I deserve better… I deserve more… I have a right to it.” An individual demandingness and entitlement arises that can be so paralyzing and unhealthy. That often leads to a team or relationship’s downfall… although not so fast for the Golden State Warriors.

Stephen Curry, by all accounts, at least compared to his peers, deserves more money. But to Curry, that is not a priority. How then can teammates make it a priority? How do they justify any attitude of entitlement when the one who most clearly could demand more, is humble enough to choose not to?

Humility, my friends, is always attractive. It, too, always makes us smile.

Respectfully…
AR

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singing

photo-1428829969150-e014ae1b7daaWhen contemplating today’s post, I knew it would be challenging for me to write. It was a year ago yesterday my 34 year old sister lost her courageous battle with cancer. FYI: I don’t like the word “lost” in that sentence. Nicole has always been beautiful and brave. Now, though, I fully trust that she has a far better eternal perspective than any of us here. That doesn’t equate to “losing” to me.

That said, knowing the emotional hurdle necessary to pen any post about anything lesser (which includes all that small stuff we still seem to sweat), I pulled out last year’s post, entitled “That’s My Sister” — a heartfelt tribute to Nicole in how she sharpened me and many… encouraging us to focus on what’s most important… on powerfully showing by example how deeply our faith matters… and on how we can hold onto hope regardless of circumstance.

I get that such is easier said than done. It also would have been easier for me to run with the previously penned post.

Yesterday morning, however, I noticed something. Alone in my quietness — wrestling with the weight and awareness accompanying this sobering anniversary — I heard a single sound…

I heard a bird outside, singing.

Then it donned on me… I know it takes time to grieve — lots of time. And I’m not certain my heart will ever fully be the same. But I never want the pain on this planet to keep me from hearing the bird outside, singing.

I believe that those who’ve faithfully gone before us — those who now have that unprecedented, amazing, unparalleled, eternal perspective — would encourage us to quit sweating the small stuff… to quit getting bogged down in the daily crud of life that causes us to be so demanding and self-focused. I believe they would encourage us to…

Keep the focus on what’s most important…
Grapple with your faith…
Come near to God…
Hold onto hope…
And never be so bogged down with the messiness of life that we miss the bird outside, singing.

Nicole, too, had a blog in which she sometimes chronicled her experience. In one of her final posts, she shared the following:

“As this journey may be tough for me, I know that many others are struggling with something in their life and I just ask that you take a moment and say a prayer for them. This weighs heavy on my heart, feeling like I have it pretty easy compared to so many others out there.

That being said, I would like to share the lyrics to a song by Steven Curtis Chapman that has hit me the past couple of weeks…

‘… I know this is not
Anything like you thought
The story of your life was gonna be
And it feels like the end has started closing in on you
But it’s just not true
There’s so much of the story that’s still yet to unfold
 
And this is going to be a glorious unfolding
Just you wait and see and you will be amazed
You’ve just got to believe the story is so far from over
So hold on to every promise God has made to us
And watch this glorious unfolding
 
God’s plan from the start
For this world and your heart
Has been to show His glory and His grace
Forever revealing the depth and the beauty of
His unfailing Love
And the story has only begun…’ ”

I hear her voice. I hear her hope. I also believe with all the wisdom Nicole has now she would encourage us to not get lost in the current events, emotions, and circumstances that threaten to pierce our peace; she would encourage us to trust God… and to always hear those birds…

…outside, singing.

With truth in my tears…

AR

Posted on

election update

photo-1453282716202-de94e528067cLet’s be honest: it’s hard to talk about the 2016 election process.

Wait. I take that back.

It’s actually not hard to talk about it; there are many who are talking. They just aren’t all talking very respectfully.

The reality is that we don’t always talk respectfully either.

My sense is each of us is prone to falling prey to engaging in the ignorance or disrespect, trumping (tee, hee) one aspect over another… ignoring some of the realities of this race, due to preconceived ideas or desired results…

For example — and please don’t get mad — my desire here is to wrestle honestly and respectfully with the truth…  each of these statements is — [sigh] — true…

… one party frontrunner has been regularly offensive to multiple people groups… another party frontrunner is under investigation by the FBI… multiple contending candidates have been caught in lies or mistruths… one candidate is touting socialism as a healthy form of economics… another candidate has articulated seemingly zero willingness to compromise… some have very little knowledge of foreign policy… and…

… I think arguably all candidates have forgotten that whoever is elected will represent all of us — not just a few, loyal, select some.

Part of the challenge is that we compare and contrast — suggesting that one person’s lack of integrity in one area — be it personal or intellectual — is not as bad as someone else’s. The challenge is that as soon as we make that conclusion, we often justify ignoring our preferred candidate’s obvious (to everyone else) flaws, and sometimes, often perhaps, then also justify in joining in the chorus of disrespect.

Let it be said that there is nothing wrong with healthy, constructive criticism. But from my limited vantage point, there is nothing healthy about any adult calling another a “lightweight,” “dope,” or “enemy” or referring to the size of another candidate’s ears. That, my friends, is not constructive criticism. Dare I suggest it’s not intelligent either.

And so this day I come with two questions:

First, what am I overlooking in my preferred candidate that’s significant?

And second, what have I ignored in my preferred candidate because the flaws of another make my candidate seem so smart, wholesome, and good?

As I wrestle with those questions, my primary concerns in this election currently are as follows:

(1) That we are overlooking what may be significant.
(2) That we are focusing too much on too few.
(3) That we don’t have the best candidates in the race. (… Joe, Condoleezza… where are you?)
(4) That we are not utilizing our critical thinking skills. And…
(5) That we are justifying disrespect.

As said, it’s hard to talk about the 2016 election process.

Change that: it’s hard to talk about it thoroughly, wisely, and respectfully.

Respectfully… yes…
AR