Sunday, May 20, 2012

The Real Threat by Chad Hess


Marriages are in trouble in this country.  The divorce rate is around 50%.  In addition, there are a large number of couples whose marriage is broken and bears no resemblance to what they think marriage should be, but they choose not to divorce.  It is obvious that there is a problem, and there are many ideas as to why.  What is the biggest threat to marriage?  Is it the "ease" of divorce (often said by those who have never experienced divorce)?  Is it gay marriage?  Facebook?  Texting?  Online dating?  Separate bank accounts?  The proliferation of women working outside the home?

In the course of my schooling for marriage and family therapy, I've heard many stories of failed marriages.  In those stories, any number of these reasons may be mentioned, but they are never the real issue.  The greatest threat to our marriage is ourselves.  Whatever the symptom, whatever the outside influences, the core of the issue lies in one or both of the people in the marriage (most often it's both). 

A marriage doesn't end because one person was browsing an online dating site and "found their soul mate."  The marriage ended because this person was unhappy and insecure in their marriage.  And most likely that unhappiness and insecurity was because of conflict and problems in the marriage that were not dealt with.  We are really bad at dealing with conflict in a constructive way.  It's easier to attack or retreat.  Both of these methods eat away at the fabric of the relationship.  You can't repair the relationship without dealing with the problem, so instead we retreat.  We retreat into our work, or Facebook, or a bottle, or whatever.  And when the marriage fails, we say the other person was a workaholic or an alcoholic or had an affair.  But these external things are not the problem.  The real problem is us.  We're not willing to deal with our problems because doing so requires an uncomfortable examination of ourselves and our issues.  So we blame something else.

In Matthew 15, Jesus says something similar.  The Pharisees were complaining about the disciples not washing their hands when they ate.  Jesus said it's not what goes into a person that defiles them (i.e., things from outside), it's the things that come out from a person that defiles them.  "For out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander.  These are what defile a person" (Matthew 15:19-20).  It's easier to blame something outside of ourselves, but that's not the real issue.  Take a hard and uncomfortable look at yourself.  Pray for God's guidance.  How are you contributing to the problem?  Then talk about it with your spouse or with a counselor.  These conversations will begin to rebuild the intimacy and move your marriage towards the blessing God intended it to be.

Chad Hess

Sunday, May 13, 2012

The Prodigal Mother by John Monday


Dear Child,

We’ve never stopped thinking of you. Please come home.

I’ve been told a thousand stories since you left.  Someone said you’ve wasted the family money on drugs and prostitutes. Another told me you’ve made millions on Wall Street.  Your cousin said you were a thief.  We love you. Please come home.

A friend said that, although you left alone, you now have a baby.  We love you, and we’ll love and celebrate your baby. Please come home.

I know you’re concerned about the scars you’ve developed since you left, but I’ve got them too.  I’ve just learned how to hide them.  When you come home, I’ll show you mine, and you’ll know that we’re no different. Please come home.

You’ve been told that we won’t like your friends, but don’t you remember the song we sang when you were little? “...all are precious in his sight...”  We don’t always live that simple truth well, but we’ll figure it out. Your friends are welcome.  Please come home.

Not everyone will be kind when you return. Despite the fact that we love your brother and try to display lives of mercy, forgiveness, and grace, he’s bitter and judgmental.  He doesn’t understand that, while he’s never left our home, he’s also never shared our heart.  Your father continues to love and pursue him with grace.  I see little difference, but your father believes he’ll change. Your brother needs you, too. Please come home.

The day you left your father adjusted his seat to be able to watch the highway over morning coffee and at the evening meal. Everyday he looks down the road hoping today will be the day. He misses you so much. Please come home.

I asked him why He doesn't send someone and make you come home? He said he doesn't want another child bound by obligation. He loves you too much to take your freedom. He said he’d wait for you to choose home; his patience astounds me.  Please come home.

Yesterday at the grocery He was smiling over the biggest roast I’ve ever seen; I bet it could feed 100!  When I asked him for his thoughts, his eyes turned glassy and he said, “one day.”  I think I know what he meant.  Please come home.

Whether you come back today or stay away awhile longer, know that we will never forget you and never stop loving you. Your father will continue to watch and wait, and there is a celebration, beyond your imagination prepared... 

...Please come home.

Your Prodigal Mother,
The Church

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Hand Grenades on the Playground


“Anything worth doing is worth doing well.”
“Be punctual.”
“Clean your plate.”
“Look both ways before crossing the street.”
“Don’t cross your eyes or they’ll stay that way.”

These are just a few of the numerous life commandments my parents shared with me.  Some I have embraced . . . others I have not.  However, one that comes back to me with great regularity is “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” 

I find myself dwelling on this particular piece of advice every time I open my Facebook account or read comments on a blog.  I hear my parents’ words as my fingers are poised over my keyboard, ready to share a youtube link or comment on a friend’s post.  And their counsel comes to mind as I scan the ugliness that has become accepted as normal “conversation” online. 

I think most people understand the harm done to relationships when people physically stand before each other and sling verbal abuse, but we seem to think it’s perfectly acceptable to do this randomly and with great abandon through the written word. 

Individuals post and write things they would never consider presenting in a face-to-face conversation.  Do we realize that we are insulting and bashing friends, family members, and/or others we barely know?  Do I understand I am actually saying these things to my neighbor, my doctor, my racquetball partner, or the person sitting next to me in church?  I don’t know about you, but I have “blocked” people from my Facebook feed.  I care about these people enough that I do not want to “un-friend” them, but I cannot continue to read the things they post because I know it damages and may eventually destroy the relationship I desire to have with them.

But isn’t my opinion on this subject or my response to that blog something that needs to be known?  Isn’t the world richer because I have shared my great insight and wisdom on this topic?  Um . . . no, not really.  I have to be honest with myself – my interest isn’t for the betterment of my world – it’s a prideful and arrogant soap-box opportunity.  I don’t know about you, but when I am insulted by someone, my opinion is not changed – quite the opposite, actually.  Where kindness and understanding may be gently persuasive, this type of assault only serves to alienate and divide. This is not civil conversation.  This is the careless lobbing of verbal hand grenades that haphazardly injure feelings and kill relationships.

I write this with conviction that I have been a perpetrator of this crime.  I have injured and alienated with my words.  I have caused distress and even lost friendships because of my self-inflating and opinionated diatribes.  As someone who treasures the written word, I don’t believe this means we shouldn’t share our thoughts and ideas with others.  However, through the pain I have both caused and experienced because of past carelessness, I have learned that – whether the topic is religion, politics, or life in general – words of inclusion, grace, tolerance, and open-mindedness are a much better path to take.  I like to think that any comment I make now will be well received and understood to build up rather than tear down by those on both sides of whatever topic is being discussed.

I’m afraid Facebook has become the new “children’s” playground where our comments, posts, and “likes” are the new “So there!” “Nah-Nah!” and “My daddy can beat up your daddy!” 

If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.  For children and adults.  On the playground and on the Internet. Wise and timeless advice.

Tami Cinquemani

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Musical Rejuvenation by Richard Hickam


When I was younger, some of the best times of my life were spent participating in various music festivals. 

It always felt so good to get together with young people from other schools and work on pieces of music as one cohesive group.  There were certainly challenges with those scenarios.  Pulling off a concert with so many moving pieces presents more variables than one could imagine if they’d never done it before.

Thanks to amazing cooperation, though, we always pulled it off, and the shows were nearly always outstanding.  More important than the music itself was the interaction between kids who, most likely, didn’t see each other very often, if ever. 

Getting together with like-minded youths always breathed a breath of life into my musical drive.  Those kinds of events also boosted my social demeanor, at least for a while. 

Above all that, music festivals always gave my spiritual life a recharging that was, at times, sorely needed even if I didn’t always know it.  Whenever I left those events, I felt like I had been blessed in some way, as if - for a short while - I could feel the presence of God.

It is no coincidence that this feeling occurred.  I found an interesting verse a few months back that I believe explains this sort of inner feeling of spiritual bliss. 

Matthew 18:20 says, “Anywhere two or more are gathered in my name, there am I with them.”

I have no doubt that every time I felt that inner feeling of peace and blessing during and after a music festival, that was what had happened.  Christ had been there with us.   I believe Christ’s promise to be with those who gather in His name – regardless of what the occasion might be.

I had the privilege of directing the band at this year’s Southern Union Music Festival at Forest Lake Academy.  This weekend’s music festival was no different, and I couldn’t be prouder of the young people who worked so hard to pull off a spectacular show.  And once again, it feels so good to have that feeling of peace and blessing wash over us. 

Richard Hickam

Sunday, April 22, 2012

In The Beginning God by John Monday


“In the beginning God.”  These have become some of my favorite words in scripture.  They bring comfort, stability, and assurance - although that hasn’t always been the case.  For too long, these four words have been nothing more than a throw-away introduction, a lead into real and important biblical stories and principles.  While they used to be a thoughtless statement of an obvious fact, they have become the words that echo in and undergird the universe. 

The story that follows that ominous introduction, is a beautiful depiction of the power of God in creation.  It’s filled with rhyme and repetition, with nuanced language and cultural imagery, but most importantly, it’s filled with God.  The first chapter of Genesis places God squarely in the midst of the story.  It leaves no doubt that God is the author and finisher of creation and that he is intimately and inextricably intertwined with every facet of his creation.  It is the account of love’s beginning. 

Unfortunately, those words, that story, have become some of the most divisive words both inside and outside the church.  Rather than hearing the story, we’ve begun to focus on the “facts.”  Rather than being awed by the God, we’ve become lost in the details.  But does it have to be that way?

Can we accept others with different views on these facts? Can we view the Bible and Genesis as a book about who and why, rather than about how and when? Can we accept that "In the Beginning God" is the abiding truth, and exactly how and when are secondary issues?  Can we trust that God also speaks through nature ("look to the birds and they will tell you") and that, for many, nature points to a very old and long creation process? Can we accept that someone who believes that God has been in this process for 14,000,000,000 years rather than 7,000 years can be a God follower?  Can we accept that time and creation methodologies are not the issues and that God and redemption are?

This isn’t an argument for one scientific version of creation or another.  The question is, does it matter?  God followers should be the most flexible of all people, not the most rigid.  If it turns out that God took 14 billion years to create the world, then let’s be awed by his incredibly long vision and planning, if it turns out that he spoke everything into existence yesterday complete with memories and history, then so be it.  Let’s praise and thank the geologists, biologists, astronomers, and physicists that are studying God’s creation.  It’s through their efforts that the majesty of God’s handiwork is revealed.  If a new scientific discovery is made next year that indicates the previous dating methodologies were flawed and the world is actually 7,000 years old, well great!

The Gospel of Christ is extraordinarily resilient.  The truth of Jesus and the good news of his love and salvation have and will continue to adapt to all cultures, realities, peoples, times and sciences.  As long as we remain focused on the point - God - then we will remain malleable, and God will use us for his purpose.  But if we insist on dogma, if we assert that we know it all and there is nothing more to learn, if we refuse to adapt our religion to the mission of Christ, and the realities of the world, then God will find someone else.  God will be there.  Whether or not we will is up to us.

I'm tired. I’m tired of a faith that is forever dying on meaningless hills.  Tired of a faith that dies from religious dogma.  I'm tired of having to apologize for christians before being able to tell those seeking God about his love, his forgiveness, his grace, his story.

So help me out. Is this an acceptable outline of faith?:
  • God created us.
  • God loved us more than we can possibly imagine.
  • We wanted to become our own authority, so we walked away from God.
  • We screwed up.
  • Having chosen imperfection, rebellion, and disease, we can never attain the perfect love of God.
  • God has pursued us ever since the day we walked away.
  • We really screwed up.
  • Since we are now fatally flawed and completely incapable of restoring a relationship with God, he provided a way back.
  • Jesus is God’s way back.  Jesus came and earned what he did not need to attain (redemption and unity with God), and attained what he did not earn (death for our rebellion).
  • Jesus demonstrated by his life of flawless obedience, his death for crimes he did not commit, and his resurrection from the dead, that he is indeed holy, God, and the world's way to restoration.
  • Jesus freely gives what only he has earned to all who will accept.
  • God re-creates us in Christ.

Is this gospel okay? Or do people have to accede to our peculiarities? 

If someone hears this and says, "YES, that's what I've always wanted!" can we say welcome to the family of God? Or do they have to agree that the earth is 6938 years old before Jesus will accept them?

Maybe there are other specifics they have to agree to?  Maybe they have to agree to never dance again.  Maybe they have to be immersed in water, or tithe, or avoid alcohol, or accept a prophet, or go to church school, or sell their TV, or genuflect, or avoid eating certain foods, or eat certain foods, or throw away all their jewelry, or put on certain jewelry, or regard a certain day as holy, or regard all days as the same, or or or . . .

Or maybe Jesus meant what he said:  Believe in the Son, and have eternal life.
Can we really live lives of generosity, grace and acceptance?  Can we really love without fear?  Give without expectation? Help without strings?  Can we just go into all the world, love them into a life-long friendship with God, and let Him worry about guarding the gate? Could it really be that simple?

John Monday

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Thank You, Harrison! by Tami Cinquemani

This morning I woke up in a charming apartment in Savannah, Georgia. My husband, Jeff, and I met our daughter, Brittany, and son-in-law, Josh, for a little mini-vacation. As our kids were preparing for the day’s adventures and I was doing a quick check of my e-mail, Jeff took a book and went outside to read. The apartment we rented is on Crawford Square, one of the lovely community squares common in Historical Savannah, and Jeff chose a shaded bench to enjoy the cool morning.

As Jeff sat reading, he heard a distressed cry in the distance. The cries came closer, and soon he saw a young woman coming around the corner trying desperately to stop the horse that was pulling her carriage. Jeff said the poor woman was screaming, “Stop, Harrison! You have to stop!” but Harrison the horse seemed completely oblivious to her pleading and trotted along on his merry way.

Now you have to understand something about my husband. He grew up in the country and knows how to handle a horse. Needless to say, his cowboy instincts kicked in, and realizing the direction Harrison was taking the carriage, he ran into the street, grabbed the horse by the bridle, and using all his strength on this massive animal, was able to turn his head to the side until he came to a complete stop.

After taking a quick look at the horse, Jeff realized that, when hooking up his harness that morning, someone had failed to attach the horse’s reins to his bit. Harrison was simply following the route he was used to, oblivious to the fact that he was in any kind of danger by careening through the intersections on his way. He was having a good time, picking up speed, and since he never felt the familiar pull on his bit, he thought he was in good shape.

Needless to say, I was pretty impressed with my husband – as were Brittany and Josh. Had it been any of the three of us, the poor woman would have continued her wild ride through the streets of Savannah. This experience made me consider several things in my own life.

First of all, I’m very thankful that God has blessed each one of us with unique talents, and I hope I am as attentive and aware as Jeff was when the opportunity to use these gifts is presented.

Secondly, the woman whose rescue my husband came to was overwhelmingly relieved. However, as grateful as she was, she had nothing to offer my husband but a handshake of gratitude, and Jeff wouldn’t have accepted anything anyway. I have a Savior who has stepped in and saved me from certain destruction. He did this because he loves me, knowing I have nothing to offer in return.

Finally, the one in this story I most closely relate to is Harrison. There are so many times that I neglect getting properly “hooked up” to the One I count on to guide me. I careen through my life, oblivious to the very real dangers that I am unprepared to face alone. I am so thankful for those people and situations God puts in my path to help me realize how desperately I need that connection. Today my reminder came through a runaway horse . . . thank you, Harrison!

Tami Cinquemani

Sunday, April 8, 2012

A Good Friday by Chad Hess

Last year, I had the pleasure of attending my first Tenebrae service. Tenebrae is a service typically held on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday. It's a dark service with mournful songs, readings, and the gradual extinction of candles as the betrayal and death of Christ is described. That is how the service ended – in darkness, in silence, in contemplation. There were no joyous songs of the resurrection; those would come on Easter Sunday. The service ended with the mournful sadness that was Friday.

In our Western culture, we're not very fond of pain and sadness. We have lots of medication specifically designed to fight those feelings. We like quick fixes as much as we like fast food. When someone is going through a very difficult time, they are told to accept that God has a plan (a not so subtle attempt to shut up their sadness). However, this Tenebrae service reminded me of the value of mourning.

You cannot appreciate the joy of Easter Sunday without the pain and sadness of Good Friday. The power is found in the juxtaposition of the two. If you really want to celebrate the resurrection, you must feel the sadness of the crucifixion. Sit there in the mourning, the shattered dreams, the brokenness. Dwell in the sadness. Remember that the disciples didn't know that Jesus was going to rise again on Sunday. Only then can you feel the joy that the disciples felt on Easter Sunday.

We live our lives in the period of Good Friday. We have pain and heartache and sadness. We have the hope that Sunday is coming. We know that one day God will make everything right. But we can't see it. For now, we still live in the brokenness. Let yourself feel the pain of Friday, and rest in the hope that Sunday is coming.

Chad Hess