Ordination

After nine years, I finally made it to recognition of orders in order to become an Elder in Full Connection of the the Oklahoma United Methodist Conference.

Here's one of me and the fam at the reception following the ceremony

This is during the ceremony












I'm very grateful.


And now, after all this time and work, I'm asking the question: "What do I do now?"

The Offended Little Kid

He was about seven years old, attending the Church’s Vacation Bible School. I barked at him to get down from the banister. I didn’t want him to get hurt. I also didn’t want him to hurt the furniture. While both he and the furniture remained intact, I might have hurt his feelings, although I really think he was rather sturdy internally too.

He climbed down and then looked at me with outrage.

“You have no right to make me feel this way.” He declared.

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going to tell my father what YOU DID!”

“Why don’t we call him right now and you can tell him.” I offered.

He considered it, and then said, “No, that’s alright. I forgive you.”

He went to class with his dignity repaired.

It’s interesting to me how people will often act offended when they’ve been called to account for their own act of offensiveness. A melodramatic little kid makes us smile, but grown people who act this way cause heartache (and headache). I’ve known plenty of adults act the same way when confronted with their mistakes. And I’d have to include myself in this group.

We do this because we’re defensive, of course. We try hard to do good things and we don’t like being blamed. And when it looks like we’re going to be blamed, we attack. It’s not me; it’s you and everyone else.

But growth is found in the humility to examine ourselves. Real grownups respond gently in the face of criticism.

I guess I’m still more like that little kid. I have a little more growing up to do. How about you?

Small Treasures

I baptized one of our babies at church yesterday. I must be getting better about holding babies or this one was pretty calm—she didn’t cry at all. Anyway, she let me hold her and I walked her up and down the aisle so everyone could smile and wave at her.

It’s only the beginning of the week, but I can’t imagine anything topping that moment.

There’s something good about holding a young life in your hands. She was a beautiful, powerful, fragile, transforming treasure.

Babies make us better people. They inspire us to try harder and give more. We remember that we are grown ups with responsibilities and as such, we are supposed to give care, not demand it.

For the babies, we put aside our selfish woes. They make us lighten up. As I made the tour with this child, people forgot that they were supposed to be quiet in church. Instead, they leaned forward with their smiley faces, waved, and said high pitched silly things.

We remember our own children who could be grown (heck they might be old)--but they were once our babies, and really, they still are.

I held this treasure in my arms. I felt her fingers rub the hair on my face. And I took in the restoring power of the baby.

Blowing Bubbles

 

I have to confess I’ve been in a gloomy state for a few days. I’m tired of this weather. Everyone in my house is sick, and now I’m coming down with this creeping crud that everybody else has—so of course it’s hard to get any sympathy around here.

 

I came to work this morning snorting and blowing and grumbling.

 

Then I heard the preschool children playing in the gym area—the weather’s too crummy to go outside. The teachers had the bubble machine going—like they used to use on Lawrence Welk? And the children were running about chasing bubbles and laughing. Some reached out to pop them. Some liked to look closely to see the pretty colors. Others wanted to stand of them and just watch them float.

 

I’ve been told I need a hobby—something unrelated to work—something fun.  But everything I enjoy I incorporate into the job: writing, music, speaking… eating jelly doughnuts.  It’s important for all us to have a break, but like many of you, I have a hard time doing that.

 

However, the bubbles looked fun.  I stood with the kids and let the bubbles cascade slowly down around me. The kids and I discussed the matter: “I like bubbles!” “Me too!” “Try to pop some of them.”

 

I thought about how fun blowing bubbles used to be, how I used to have nothing more on my mind than watch a clear sphere float in the air. 

 

And I felt a lot better. 

 

Are the cares of the world getting you down? We have a lot of them these days. But we shouldn’t let them steal our joy. Maybe you need to go blow some bubbles.

 

Cover Up

Alright already. I'm sick and I admit it. Happy now?

I hate letting the general public know that I feel bad.

But I caught something last week and I'm still not over it. I knew I needed to rest, but Saturday, we were hosting the Regional Christmas party for our denomination and I couldn't miss that because the church (and practically the whole world) cannot go on if I'm not there to run things.

When I got there, they had managed to get ready without me. Donnie had the room set up. Jay checked over the sound system. Jennica handled the entertainment. And Danny had the food going. But they still needed me. After all who was going to greet people and tell them where the bathrooms were?

We had just sat down with our food when my vision got fuzzy and I nearly passed out into my mashed potatoes. Kathy was out with the car, so I called a friend to ask for a ride. I put a lot of effort in preserving my dignity. "Please," I croaked with only the mildest tone of desperation, "Can you come take me home?"

Chick came to get me and helped me as I wobbled into my house. I swore him to secrecy—"Don't tell anyone about this." He crossed his heart. But he wouldn't leave me alone. Todd came over to check me over. Jennifer came with him. They both swore a blood oath that they wouldn't tell a soul.

Then Kathy and the boys came home and I made them pinky promise to keep it a secret. But now I had a whole church committee in my church living room and they all voted against me to go to the doctor. So I did.

I told the doctor that I needed to preach the next day, and sing in the choir concert, and rehearse with SonShine kids. I sort of resented the sweet tone of her voice when she told me that it was not going to happen. However she agreed to abide by the HIPAA Laws regarding confidentiality.

Kathy found people to fill in. Jim preached. Kristen led the SonShine kids. And the Choir somehow managed to do their concert without me—they even came by and sang Christmas carols to me afterward. I thanked them and told all thirty of them not to tell ANYBODY I was sick.

Maybe I need to remember that the reason we live in community is so we can cover for each other during times of weakness.

So now you all know I've been sick. Just keep it to yourselves. Okay?

Tiger Woods

I have an idea about the latest news items concerning Tiger Woods.

How about everybody just leave him and his wife alone?

It's well documented that I don't follow sports, but even I know who Tiger Woods is. The public consensus is that he's very good at golf, makes a lot of money, and seems like a nice guy.

Does he have marital problems? Is it possible he's not always as nice as he appears in public? Is he a bad driver?

It's none of our business.

To put it bluntly, the TV, papers, magazines, and internet media need to shut up and butt out. This is not news. It's gossip about real people and they deserve the same polite respect anyone else does.

I feel bad for them. If they were in my church, I'd want to help them. If they were my neighbors I'd help protect their privacy.

At this distance, there's not much I can do except pray for them.

But gossip is a wicked thing. No matter how mean his golf game is.

Learning from Athletes

It's becoming a source of humor around here that I don't keep up with sports. People mention unfamiliar names with a tone of reverence and I'll ask about it: "It he a movie star or maybe a politician?"

When I make a faux pax, people roll their eyes and look each other with incredulous expressions. It's just going to have to be one of my adorable idiosyncrasies, and I don't see it changing.

However, I respect people who are into sports and I'm glad to see the kids involved in them at school. I think we can all learn something from the work ethic and what they call the psychology of winning.

I've noticed that the very best athletes have certain qualities in addition to special skill. They all work hard, above and beyond their regular schedule; they practice the basics and are always tweaking their performance.

The other thing they have in common is their ability to recover from errors. The greatest athletes miss the goal, drop the ball, get tackled, stumble and fall. But they always get back up, evaluate their mistakes, and correct their errors. Embarrassment is the least of their concerns—it takes away from the focus of winning.

Seems to me that this is good strategy for the rest of living, too. It makes one a better student, businessperson, and civic leader. It's also good for our relationships. How much better a friend would I be if I did not try to defend myself so much, but instead evaluated myself without shame so I could be an even better friend?

It's also true in terms of morals and spirituality. How much better a whole person would I be if I quit hiding behind pride, looked clinically at my mistakes, corrected my actions, and moved ever closer to God?

"One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13-14).

I will never be a good athlete. But I want to be a good servant of Christ.