When We Think The Rules Don't Apply

As an avid NFL fan managing three fantasy teams this season, I am heartbroken by the obvious lack of self control and healthy anger management displayed by players in this professional sport. While I hold my breath and pray that there is an end to the stream of players exposed for their excessive and violent behavior, I wonder if we, as a society, haven’t created our own monsters.

Plenty has been written about how professional football players are trained to be aggressive, rewarded for overpowering those opposing them, and being paid great sums of money to physically control and “take out” those weaker than themselves.  We cannot be surprised when young men with little life experience become millionaire superstars overnight based on their combat prowess and then inappropriately use these valued commodities on family and friends.

And so we bash the sport, and we bash the fans.  Those with no interest in the NFL—or professional sports in general—deride those of us who decorate our homes with team logos, spend our Sundays glued to the television, and spend hours pouring over stats in preparation for our fantasy drafts.  All for good reason.  I get it.  There is a problem when professional athletes think the rules don’t apply to them and managers and owners try to cover things up to protect their star players.

It’s a relief to have people at whom we can point fingers and say, “Wow!  They’re really horrible people!  I certainly would never do that!.” 

We view the tape of Ray Rice knocking out his then-fiancé, and suddenly flipping off the guy who cut in front of us in traffic is a rather tame reaction to our anger. 

We read about Le'Veon Bell and LeGarrette Blount being arrested on possession charges while we illegally download Rihanna’s latest hit or a recent blockbuster, confident the artists can afford the loss more than we can.

Our hearts hurt when we think of the injuries suffered by his four-year-old son when Adrian Peterson decided beating him with a branch was an acceptable form of discipline.  And we feel a little less guilt about how we demeaned our daughter for her poor performance at soccer because at least we didn’t leave visible scars.

We shake our heads when Josh Gordon is arrested for driving under the influence and quickly text our disgust to our friend while driving.

Jah Reid’s battery charge or Quincy Enunwa’s assault charge make us wonder how civilized people can beat up on each other.  Then we applaud church standards that have historically caused marginalization based on race, gender, or sexual orientation.

“And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.”  Matthew 7:3-5 NLT

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not minimizing the actions of the professional athletes.  They are inexcusable and rightly have been called out and given consequence.  I just think it’s appropriate for us to consider our own actions and abuse of others with the same spotlight. 

And I’m wondering if maybe it’s time we think about professional flag football.

Tami Cinquemani

A Last Day Message With No Last Day Music: The Great Musical Disappointment of the SDA General Conference Session of 2015

I recently tried to look up what song writing events might be available for the upcoming world church gathering of Seventh-day Adventists in Houston in 2015. Upon finding nothing I wrote to a very nice gentleman for some more information, the response is as follows:

Dear (Name Withheld),

Could you please tell me what music writing events for the church are being organized for the 2015 G.C. session? I don’t see anything on the website but find it difficult to believe that our church is not encouraging any type of new songwriting for the body of faith at large.

In Christ,

Richard Hickam

The response:

Brother Hickam,

I regret to inform you that I have not been informed of any music writing events that have been organized for the 2015 GC Session.  I am copying my response to you to our GC Session Music Coordinator, (Name Withheld), so that he can respond to you in the event that I have overlooked the detail to which you are referring.  I thank you, at any rate, for your interest in our Growth and Development.  Blessings to you and Yours!

As of this date, (months later) I have heard no response and that’s sad but okay; I will grow where I am planted.

There is the old story of Isaac Watts complaining to his father about the quality of songs and singing in the church of his day. Watts’ father, growing tired of listening to his son’s whining challenged him to do something about it.

We have the blessing today of celebrating with the scores of generations before us great songs of faith that have inspired through the centuries, but what about today’s struggles and victories? Who is writing those songs? Who is writing those songs in the language of the church in 2014? Hillsong United? Chris Tomlin? Anyone in our denomination?

We have a number of talented musicians in our local church with varying degrees of musicality. As a former music educator by trade I thought, if I can get them all in the same room together, cast a vision with a timeline and a destination, we could do some great things together. I could help with some music fundamentals and pairing the lyricists with the tune writers. We are a little ways into our journey, and it’s been fascinating. Here are a few comments from some of our musicians regarding this process:

“It’s good for a church to sing songs that are being written within the church, while having a universal application it has a certain resonance in the local congregation.”

“We are the new generation; we are adding to the collective history of the saints.”

“I have learned organizational skills, how my thoughts work, and about the process to create something new.”

“After I pray, I feel like God is speaking back to me. I write the words down and then comes the difficult part of finding the right music.”

“It is a process, a long process with many layers—the words, the music, the arrangement, the instruments, the recording.”

“I felt like I had a gift, and now I have a purpose to use it for God’s glory.”

We’ll keep you posted about our continuing journey . . . and also about some new songs!

Richard Hickam 

and the songwriting team at the Florida Hospital Church

Walking By Faith

Walking by faith is hard.  Every week our technical teams send out our worship services into the unknown.  We have people all over the world who watch our stream, but we really don't know who most of them are.  We broadcast live to 2000 TVs at six campuses of Florida Hospital with no way of knowing who watches and who doesn't.  We have visitors every week in our Worship Center and Worship Cafes.  We have members whose world is falling apart, and we have no idea.  But we walk by faith that the message of hope will reach a needing heart and have an impact.

At least that's what we try to do.  It’s easy to get caught up week to week and wonder if there is anyone even out there, if it even makes a difference.  That's why it was so refreshing last week when I got a series of testimonies from the people at our Winter Park Memorial Hospital Worship Cafes.  Stories of families in crisis who received the hope they needed.  Families united in a time of worship, even though one of them was in the hospital and another was at church.  People who have come to believe in Jesus through our services.

John 4:37 says that "one sows and another reaps."  In evangelism, it is incredibly rare that the same person who sows the seed will also see the harvest.  We each play our own roles, big and small, seen and unseen.  We live by faith that for every story we hear, for every harvest we see, there are others that we will never see.

The same is true in my own life.  I’ve had people who knew I was a Christian even though I never said anything about God, but something about the way I lived my life told them.  We never know when a smile or a simple word of encouragement will make a difference in someone's day.  We may never know the impact of the things we do, but by faith we can know that it makes a difference.  And every now and then, we may even get to hear a story that reminds us that this is true.

Chad Hess

Touchstone

I’m more than occasionally afflicted by sentimentalism, and my family recently underwent a group case of the disorder.

In February of 2000, Vickie and I traded her sporty Thunderbird for a practical Ford Explorer.  She was seven months pregnant with Luke, and as awesome as the Thunderbird was, it wasn't a family car.  Two months later, we drove our first baby home in that Explorer.

On Sept 11, 2001, we were on our way to get the tires exchanged due to the Firestone recall when she heard on the radio that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center.  I was following her and will always remember watching her get out of her car at a traffic light and come back to my truck to tell me what was happening.

In March of 2003, our almost three-year-old son and I went to pick up Vickie and our new baby girl, Taylor, in the Explorer.

For almost 15 years we drove that car (Sally) on countless family vacations—from the Florida Keys to Upper Michigan.  It made more than 1500 trips to school. It faithfully took us to doctors appointments, church, the beach, and always to work.  It’s safe to say that we drove our money out of that car.

So in August, it was evident that Vickie needed to trade. Sally squeaked (or talked according to Taylor) at every bump and turn in the road.  The oil stain on the driveway was becoming embarrassing.  The carpet was a series of stains (or memories according to your perspective), and you were reminded of the leak in the back window by the vague musty smell every time you opened the door.

Yet when the time came, it was hard to see the Explorer go. Intellectually, we understood that a car is just an arrangement of steel and plastic, glass and rubber.  It has no soul, no heart, no personality.  Yet we sense an emotional bond, a loss at seeing it go away. Why?

To be human means to experience loss. The older we get, the more acutely we understand our ultimate inability to hold onto anything.  We lose childhood homes. We move from the cities or towns of our youth. We leave one school for another; we get a job and leave a job. We lose friends and relatives to time, space, and eventually to death.  All of these things are the touchstones of our lives, be they a friend, a house, a parent, or a car.

These touchstones trigger the memories that make us who we are. Anyone who has ever revisited an important place from their youth will understand. When you walk into a home or down a school hall that you haven't seen in decades, or when you reconnect with a friend or relative who has been missing from your life, the lost memories flood your mind. When we lose a touchstone, we instinctively realize that we are losing a part of ourselves, a set of memories that we may never recapture.

Loss is death . . . but it’s not supposed to be that way.

God whispers that we were built for life, not for death.  That death and loss are unnatural. That there is a reality of eternal discovery, exploration, and relationship.  The reality that we were made for, the reality that our spirit is testifying to every time we sense the pain of loss.

As Jesus hung on the cross, the thief next to him, being convinced that Jesus was indeed a king who would survive this crucifixion, uttered the words, “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” I love those words. He didn’t ask to be saved or spared.  He didn’t seek pity or mercy. He asked to be remembered. So many seek to be remembered, to leave a legacy, to make a lasting impact, but this remembering is different.

Jesus’ response to the request to be remembered was to declare that the thief would be with him in paradise.  Jesus displayed himself as the ultimate touchstone, the cornerstone on which our true reality is founded. To be remembered by Jesus is not to leave a legacy—it’s to be his legacy.

To be remembered by Jesus is to be completed, to be healed, to be restored to the divine intention—to return to the eternal life of discovery, exploration and relationship. To be remembered by Jesus is to never lose or be lost again.

He has sought us, and he has saved us. He has done everything to restore us to the eternal life that’s written in our hearts and declared in his word. He loves us.

So our Explorer is gone.  It’s a little sad, but it’s okay.  After all, it’s just an arrangement of steel and plastic, glass and rubber.  It’s just a small touchstone of loss to remind us of a greater reality.

John Monday