Thursday, April 26, 2012



Somebody recently tweeted this poster that was up in a local elementary school.  The person commented, “I think this is funny.”  I’m sure that most people, myself included, chuckled a little bit when you first read the sign.  We can all think of people whom this sign would be useful, people whose body odor was bad. 

As I reflected on it more, my heart began to hurt a little bit.  This was at an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.  I’m sure that there are some really well off children who refuse to take a bath and stink.  Maybe one day my kids will rebel against baths. But what I worry about, more than those kids, are the ones who will read the sign who have not bathed because of issues like poverty and parents who struggle with addiction and such.  My heart breaks for kids who are already struggling at a young age because the almighty dollar is such a major driver of everything in our society.  In fact, I’m not sure that the sign is appropriate at all because some of the time, the kids who read this sign are not in complete control of their situation. 

Maybe I’m being too sensitive.  And if that is the case so be it.  As I have preached before, my prayer is that our hearts would break for the things that break God’s heart. Maybe this is one of those times.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012


Here I am in Tampa, FL for my first General Conference.  I have left South Carolina, my husband, my three year old son, and my nursing 6 month old daughter to gather with the people called Methodists.  So far so good.  I am a first reserve so my job is to hang out until needed.  
I have already gotten to see friends from seminary and from my home conference from Florida.  The connection is big and wide, but at the same time it is a small world and seeing familiar faces is one of the great things about holy conferencing.  
I will continue to blog throughout the week 12 days about the experience...we don’t officially start until today at 4pm.  Until then, I’m off to meet new people!
Peace,
Megan

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Defined By My Wheels

I watched today as several very well dressed men, i.e. suits, all jumped into their Cadillacs to drive away. I thought to myself, “At least their cars match their dress.” That got me thinking about the different vehicles I have driven over the years and what they say or said about me. Here’s what I came up with.


In school, I drove a manual transmission GMC Sonoma pick-up truck. I was proud to drive a little pick up truck. Most of the time, you would find my dog in the cab with me. When I had to go long distances, my luggage was always wrapped in garbage bags to protect it from the rain. This probably led people to think I was heading to a dump somewhere with my trash. I could listen to my country music and feel right at home in my truck.


Upon graduation from Divinity School and entering into my first real job, I knew I had to come across as a little more professional. After looking at some bigger trucks, I went in the opposite direction and I began to drive a VW Jetta. I was young and wanting to be hip driving around town. The Jetta was perfect. It said, “I’m cool”, or at least that is what I thought it said.


After Megan and I married, and mostly due to her Honda Accord being totaled, it came time for us to purchase our first car together. We’re not really SUV people because of the whole environmental impact/gas mileage stuff. We knew we needed something a little bigger especially because we were hoping to have a family, so we bought a Subaru Outback. We had racks put on to hold our bikes and our kayak. In my mind, this said, “We’re down to earth, fun folks that love the outdoors.” We wanted to look trendy, even if we were going to be a family. No need to sacrifice cool points just because of kids, right?


Well, that was my feeling for a while at least. Now that we have two kids, I quickly became aware that my VW Jetta was no longer big enough. I could not even get both car-seats in the back. The time came to go big or to go home. Actually, we just had to go bigger. As we looked around, it became obvious to us that we only had one option that made sense. Swallowing my pride and giving up the notion that I will be ‘cool’ for any time in the foreseeable future, we went with the Honda Odyssey. That’s right, I now drive a mini-van. While Megan has offered to be the van driver in the family, I have found that I enjoy the perks of the new vehicle too much to allow this to happen. In truth, it really is a great ride with all the bells and whistles a new vehicle can offer. Besides, we are family now. I’m not ashamed of that in the least bit. I love the fact that we begin the ‘nighttime routine’ around 6:15 each night and around 8:15 Megan and I are downstairs to enjoy a few quality hours together. That’s just our life now and it is great. I wouldn’t trade it, or my new mini-van, for anything.

Brad

Let’s try this again

So for the last few months, I have been reading a lot of blogs. I’m realizing that this crazy thing we call the internet provides a voice to anyone and everyone. Some of which, I enjoy hearing, some of which I could do without. I’m sure our voice falls into that category, probably both, depending upon the day. But looking at our blog, I realize it has almost been a full year since we last touched it. And before that, it was spotty at best. We have tons of stuff going on in our lives right now, so the frequency of blogging might not be consistent. But once at least once a week, I’m (Brad) hoping to throw something out there, for better or worse. While updates on Facebook and Tweets are fun, they don’t provide the necessary space for a full voice to be heard. So here we go again.

Monday, May 2, 2011

A Few Thoughts of my Own...

It seems that all the world is chiming in right now with their thoughts about the death of Osama Bin Laden. While my feelings are by no means unique, one of the only ways I know to express them is through the written word. Twitter and Facebook statuses do not provide the necessary space to fully explore the thoughts and feelings that exist in my heart and head. So I instead thought I would blog or write a note. So here goes.

Like many, I remember that Tuesday morning. I was in my first year of Divinity School at Duke. I had begun pursuing my Masters of Divinity only a few weeks before, beginning the process of becoming an Ordained Minister in the United Methodist Church. I had just finished up my early morning Old Testament Class with Stephen Chapman, when word started to spread that there had been a plane crash in New York. I thought how unfortunate that was and how crazy it must have been in such a populated place. As I walked into the student lounge, I found many of my classmates glued to the television that had been rolled in, watching as the events unfolded. As details came out, and we figured out what was going on, sadness and fear began to replace the shock. The rest of the day, classes were of course cancelled. At that point, having just started in a new place, I did not have a good group of close friends yet, so I retreated to my apartment. I lived alone my first year of school and after a brief conversation with a couple of people, including my parents, I literally sat in front of the television for nearly 18 straight hours, watching with horror with the rest of the world. I remember going to bed that night, keeping the television on in my bedroom, as image after image of the destruction and devastation filled the screen. I slept off and on, waking to those images, wondering if more was to come. I think that was probably the most scared I have ever been. Living by myself for the first time ever, in a new place, some four hours away from my family, I felt very alone. My thoughts about God were very similar. Where was God in all of this? Of course, that question would be answered in the days and weeks to come, as stories rolled in about the heroism of volunteers and witnesses, running to the aid of strangers, laying their lives down in the process. I was in the perfect place to be able to process the events that unfolded that day, a place that would not allow easy answers to float by, but rather a place that challenged me to my core to look at these events in the light of Christ and called for me to respond, not in a vengeful sort of way, but rather in a way that was quiet, deep and profound.

Meanwhile, the political figures began chiming in, presenting the country with their take on the events that had occurred. “This attack was an attack on Freedom, on Democracy, on our way of life.” “These Muslims had declared Holy War on the US.” Songs were written and performed, talking about waking up a sleeping giant and how the eagle of America would swoop in the destroy tyranny. And the United States declared a “War on Terror.” I remember hearing the line uttered by our President nine days later, “Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.” A line had been drawn in the sand. The problem with lines is that there are only two sides. Rarely, if ever, are there only two sides. As all of this unfolded, I remember thinking about how we, as Americans, were now living in the same world that many countries across the globe had been living in for a very long time. Terror was now our reality too. This of course led to an increase in attendance at churches across our nation. People flocked to hear a good word spoken, to hear their ministers preach inspiring messages that made some sense of the chaos that we now found ourselves immersed in. People were driven to the church by FEAR. What we have found since then, is that fear does very little to bring about true transformation in individuals’ lives. Instead, fear became a driving force behind many policies and procedures that would take hold in the world around us. This fear dictated to us that if we allowed our guard to relax just for a moment, another event like this would occur. We began giving up rights for the perceived ‘common good’, thinking that if we tightened security, we ultimately would become ‘safe’ again. ‘Security’, ‘safety’, ‘common good’ are all words I struggle to fully understand, especially in a Christian context.

So fast forward to last night. Uncharacteristically, I was awake at 10:20 on a Sunday night, but I was also flipping channels, which I never do anymore. I stumbled upon MSNBC and saw that the President would be addressing the nation. At first I just thought, ‘huh, that’s odd.’ But then the more I thought about it, the more something didn’t seem right. What in the world was going on? This couldn’t be good, right? Megan and I went back and forth on possibilities. She said, only half joking I think, “This feels like in the movies when the President addresses the country to tell us a huge asteroid is coming to destroy the earth.” As crazy as that sounded, the butterflies began to form in my stomach. I said, “It’s got to be pretty bad to not be able to wait until the morning, right?” I felt the same fear and trepidation that I did that night so long ago, as those images rolled across the screen of NYC. As the word began to trickle out, even before the President spoke, that, that Osama Bin Laden had been killed, relief began to set in. Another catastrophe was not to be reported this night, instead the death of a single individual brought about the media circus. I supposed I shouldn’t downplay it like that. Bin Laden was not just a single individual, but rather had become the face of the enemy in our ‘War on Terror’. But, after all, he is only one man.

I think what has shocked me more than anything else, and what has left me feeling odd, is the response that we have seen. Immediately Facebook statuses and tweets began pouring in, claiming victory and celebrating. Being a pastor, my newsfeed carried a fair number of cautionary words, reminding people of their Christian faith and words from the Bible concerning our enemies. Then came images of people dancing in the streets, waving flags, holding up signs. Here’s the thing, and I guess this is where the rub comes in; we have all watched images like these in the past come from foreign countries, many of whom are in the Middle East. And when we watched, we were absolutely disgusted by all of it. “How could they celebrate like that?”, we ask. But yet, there we were, as Americans doing the exact same thing.

In the days that will follow, I am sure that yet again the political figures will begin to spin this thing as they see fit. Already I have seen someone say that the ‘War on Terror’ is over and that we won. We will hear stories of sacrifice and images of 9/11 will come back to the screens of our televisions. Some will feel as if justice has been served. I am cautious in my desire to boast such a claim. And here is why: Jesus came to free us from the concept of Lex Talionis, which means, “Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth.” You can find this idea in Matthew 5:38ff. While the Quran appears to re-establish such a claim for the Islamic Faith, the God whom I am called to serve and to love and who loves me has laid before me a different way, a way that is through peace, hope and love, a way that is through Jesus Christ, the author and perfecter of our faith. The question that keeps coming up in my mind is this: Can peace ever be truly accomplished through violence? I wrestle with this. Honestly, I do not know. And I struggle with this while living in a land that is free, and whose freedom was and is granted and protected through violence, so you can see the difficulties that I believe we all as followers of Christ must face.

So rewind one more time, back to my Divinity School days. At some point, I listened to my ethics professor Stanley Hauerwas say, “My world didn’t change at all on September 11th, instead, my world was rocked in 33 AD.” If that is the case, for you and for me, then the events of last night should pale in comparison to the celebration that we experienced a week ago, because it was early that morning that the real enemy, sin and death, was defeated once and for all. Thanks be to God for the Easter Season and for real reasons to celebrate.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Watering the plants

They say that the Sunday after Christmas and Easter are considered ‘low Sundays’. If that be the case, then how low is the Monday following Easter? We have just come out of an amazing Lenten Season, culminating in an incredible Maundy Thursday presentation that our church shared with another. And then we kicked off the Easter Season with a sunrise service at Megan’s church and an amazing Resurrection Sunday worship service with my congregation. Needless to say, this Monday following such a powerful day has proven to be a little difficult to get up for. I’ve zoned out several times. I’m easily distracted. I’m not tired, just unsettled. It’s like my mind is saying, “Ok, what’s next?” and my body is saying, “Come back later.” Maybe I’m just excited about baseball starting (good win by the Red Sox last night…come from behind against the Yankees) and the NCAA basketball championship game that the Devils will play in tonight. (A quick side note: I most certainly stood up yesterday on Easter Sunday from the pulpit and said, “How ‘bout them Devils!” God forgive me.) Maybe, maybe not.

So I was sitting in this strange state when I remembered that I did have something constructive that I could do. This past Saturday, a group of my congregants met at the church and did some major gardening and planting in order to make our grounds look better. With near record high temperatures on the way in the next couple of days, all those new plants needed some water in order to survive. As I am watering the azaleas and other flowers, I started thinking about how similar we are to the plant life that I was watering. Those plants are not new. We planted some flowers that were already blooming and the azaleas were already a pretty good size. But, they were new to the ground in which they had been planted around the church. In order to survive, they were going to need some tender care and loving, mainly through the water that was now coming out of the hose that I held in my hand.

On Resurrection Sunday, the first Sunday of the Easter season, churches all across the country were filled, ours included. And all those in attendance, like the plants that we planted on Saturday, were not new creations. Instead, they had some years on them, some growth already, probably a few scars along the way as well. But here’s the thing, God was planting them, all of us, in a new place, giving us another opportunity. That’s the heart of the Resurrection Story, God planting something new into our hearts, each of us being reminded that we are being put into some new ground, so some roots can take hold and some new growth can spring forth. Maybe that’s what it means to be a new creation in Christ Jesus. But, I think we have to remember that like those new plants outside my church, all that was planted on Sunday needs to be watered, cared for, and tended to in some way, both personally and communally. I am not naïve. A lot of the people who came to church on Resurrection Sunday will not be seen again for a while. However, I am hoping that at least some of those plants survive, lasting long enough for the roots to take hold. I guess I, or better yet we, need to get to work doing what we can to provide the needed care for those new plants to make it. And here I was thinking I had some free time on my hands after a busy season. I better turn the water off and get to watering those other new ‘plants’.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Practice Makes Perfect

We’ve all heard it before. Most have even said it at some point or another. Sunday before last, I was at basketball practice with my junior boy’s basketball team. I challenged them with a drill that they had never done before. They had to have a full court scrimmage against each other, but the catch was they could not dribble the ball. We tend to dribble too much, so I wanted them to practice passing the ball a little better. You would have thought I had asked them to do something terribly difficult. They complained and whined like a bunch of little kids. We kept at it, eventually moving to something a little more enjoyable. Fast forward to this past Saturday in our game. We jumped all over our opponent in the first half, sprinting out to a 19-3 lead. They played so well and passed the ball better than they have all season. The crowning moment for me was when one of the biggest complainers about the passing exercise lends forward and says to me, “Coach, I guess that passing drill worked.” Indeed.

Last Wednesday, in choir practice, our director had us singing in a very different and unique way. As a voice major at USC, Craig knows little tricks of the trades that many choir members pass off as silly or ridiculous. He knows what he is doing, but it doesn’t stop some of our members from hemming and hawing about the silly exercises he puts us through. Again, they sounded a bit like a bunch of little kids. The kicker is that when it came time to sing the song we were working on, we pulled it off better than expected. Yet again, practice, no matter how awkward and different, truly paid off.

I wonder how it this relates to our lives as Christians. John Wesley believed that we all are working towards Christian Perfection. While we often fall very short of that goal, the point is that we are always supposed to be improving ourselves as faithful disciples of Christ. And, based on the previous two scenarios of life, it means that we should be practicing, and not just going through the same routines and motions. Instead, we should be challenging ourselves, doing things that are often times uncomfortable and not natural for us. I wonder what that would look like. Lent is coming up in a month and what a better time to put ourselves in situations that make us uncomfortable and to practice our faith in a different and unique way. After all, practice makes perfect.