Gathering Wool: Tales of a Black Sheep Living inPost-Christian America

Maybe Michael is at peace now ...

2009-06-25T22:48:00.005-04:00

Like most 50-plus-year-olds, I remember Michael Jackson long before the days of "Thriller."

In my adolescence, there was "I Want You Back," ABC," and "Ben," the latter of which always seemed a little creepy to me. After all, Ben was a rat, if I recall.

While the Jackson 5 was way too bubble gum for me in 1969 to the early 1970s, Michael and his family always seemed harmless enough. Their music was a strain of pop along the lines of The Archies, The Cowsills and 1910 Fruitgum Company.

Still, you have to wonder how stardom affects a 10-year-old boy -- particularly in USAmerica where we treat pop stars like little gods. On the other hand, we know how it affects the little gods we make in celebrity culture. Wipe the cobwebs from your mind and the names surface like so many ghosts in a Smoky Mountains cemetery: Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones, Keith Moon. And you don't have to look very far to see the ones that are still alive, but are bent on self-destruction.

I read somewhere that the average lifespan of a rock musician is about 37 years. If true, I guess Michael Jackson beat the system in that regard; however, as he became more and more of a caricature of his own character, I found myself often pitying him. As I watched his physical transformation and obviously troubled soul, I would often wonder what it was that drove him to such bizarre behavior.

I'm not a psychiatrist -- I don't even play one on TV -- but it seemed obvious that there was some sort of self-loathing going on inside his head.

I was washing our cars and thinking about him, which was strange since I never really cared for his music. Then again, it wasn't the music, or the talent, or even the bizarre antics for which many people will remember Michael that was crossing my mind as I wiped the grime away. I was thinking -- no, praying -- that Michael finally found the One who accepted and loved him just as he was, not as he wished himself to be.

Rest in peace, Michael.

Take my hand, and meet me at the Cross

2009-06-24T22:43:00.003-04:00

I just stumbled upon Brian McLaren's "synchro-blogging on sexuality" post. I had no idea this was going on today, which means I am really out of the loop or this movement was really under the radar.

Nonetheless, I thought I would prayerfully post on this issue. I have a great deal of respect for Brian, as well as Tony Campolo, who has also written and posted on this subject.

Personally, I am nowhere near where I was on this issue some 20 years ago; in fact, I find myself in a very questioning position because it is far more complex than it is often presented in the Christian community -- which means, it is more complex than I presented in prior writings.

Truth be known, I am nowhere near where I was theologically or positionally on this issue five years ago. The main commonality between the hugely conservative viewpoint I had in the late 1980s, the viewpoint I had when writing about it in 2004, and the viewpoint I have today is this: If your heart is as my heart is, then give me your hand.

In other words, meet me at the Cross.

I want to be a part of Bridging the Gap, so if I had to stake some ground tonight it would likely be somewhere in the same acreage of Bridging The Gap: Tony Campolo's take on "Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin."

Still struggling, but still open ...

Grace and peace ...

Life with Aunt Ginna ...

2009-05-23T17:37:00.006-04:00

My Aunt Ginna was a complex woman.

She could be tough as nails.

When I pick through the cobwebs of my mind, there is this family story of Ginna sitting at a stoplight in downtown Richmond in her blue and white Oldsmobile. The light turns green, and Ginna’s a bit impatient to get moving, but there’s this woman walking slowly in front her. The woman stops, turns her head, glares at Ginna and says, “You wouldn’t DARE hit me!”

Ginna guns the engine and shouts, “You wanna BET?!”

It was probably the hard-scrabble life of the 13 Harris children that toughened their young hides. When Ginna was 14, both of her parents were gone … and there were three children younger in the brood: Nora, Clifford and Bobby.

Tough circumstances can put a hard edge on your shell, but they can also create a place for grace -- and compassion. Because it is no longer, “There but for the grace of God go I,” rather it is, “I have been in your place …”

It is not the grace and compassion of sympathy; it is an incarnational grace of empathy.

That was Ginna: tough as nails one minute; full of grace and compassion the next.

Even though her toughness is legendary, it is the grace and compassion of Ginna and my late Uncle Russell – the grace and compassion of those two Christians — that sticks with me … and my mother … and my sister, Sheree.

And there’s good reason for that: We three who were sometimes vagabonds were great recipients of that grace, and compassion.

The three Harris siblings who lived in Richmond as adults – Ginna, my Uncle Willard, and my mother – sort of looked out for one another, even as adults.

I have commonplace familial memories of holiday jaunts from Horsepen Road to the Miffleton house in Lakeside, as well as Uncle Willard's residence.

But the … uh … uniqueness, if you will, of my family situation led to some likewise unique opportunities for grace and compassion on the part of Aunt Ginna and Uncle Russell – and I would be remiss if I did not offer thanksgiving for those acts.

In the summer of 1969, my mom was in the throes of a horrific marriage, to say the least, and she brought my sister Sheree and I to stay in Richmond while she sorted things out in Florida.

Sheree stayed with the Miffletons, and I went back and forth between my paternal grandparents’ house and the Miffleton household. I sort of had the best of both worlds for a 13-year-old boy. I’d go shooting with my grandpa, and travel with him and my grandmother. He was a professional baseball scout, and what red-blooded American boy wouldn’t love to spend a summer shooting and traveling around watching baseball games.

Ginna and Russell were gracious enough to not only let my sister live with them for the summer, but were also patient enough to allow an adolescent boy to pop in and out as he felt the need … or, perhaps, as the grandparents felt they had experienced all of the shenanigans they could take for a while.

As Linda will so often remind us, that was the summer of the infamous Virginia Beach vacation … where I sincerely drove Ginna and Russell nuts. No one knew what ADD was in 1969, I am certain, but I bounced around the two of them like so many beach balls.

“Where’ we eatin’ breakfast Uncle Russell? Can we go to the pancake house again? How about the water slide? Can we do that again?”

Five of us crammed in The Emperess hotel room for a week; me harassing Linda every single chance I could get; and Linda and Sheree doing their best to lose me on the beach.

That was the same week the men walked on the moon.

It was a beautiful thing for Ginna and Russell to invite Sheree and I along, and it was a a beautiful thing for them to open their home and hearts to a niece and nephew.

A truly memorable summer.

But it was at summer’s end where we truly experienced the sacrificial Christian love that Ginna, and Russell, had for their family … maybe even a unique love for her sister Nora and her children.

Sometime late that summer, my mother exits the truly horrible marriage and makes her way back to Richmond.

Broke … and broken.

A single mom in 1969, with two teenage children.

No job.

No money.

No place to live.

Ginna and Russell are there, putting hands and feet to their faith, the teachings of which maintain that pure religion is to care for the widows and orphans.

Sheree and I were spiritual orphans.

My mother was a spiritual widow.

And in familial and Christian love, Ginna and Russell help her pick up the pieces and move on.

They help us find an apartment -- one that’s close by, I would note -- and Uncle Russell takes care of the rent, deposit, you name it, to enable us to move in.

He and Ginna then take us to Kenneth Lord Furniture, the business he had worked his way up to own on Cary Street, and we spend the evening picking out furniture for the apartment.

Even as my grandparents took me shopping for school clothes as the summer of 69 drew to a close, Ginna and Russell bought my sister Sheree’s clothes that year.

Afterward, Ginna would stop by our apartment while my mother was at work and put groceries in an empty refrigerator.

There are many other acts of grace and compassion on the part of Ginna, and Russell, that I could tell you about, but I’m going to close with something that is most important to me … and by osmosis, if you will, to my family.

Ginna and Russell were heavily involved in Hatcher Memorial Baptist Church as an extension of their faith. Uncle Russell was a deacon, and in the fall of 1969 I was strongly urged to begin attending.

I really didn’t fit in that well; after all, the closest I likely came to a church while in Florida was when I rode my bicycle past one.

But I hung in there for a while. Even sang in the youth choir.

And was baptized sometime within the next year.

My life being what it was, I went through my own struggles, and Ginna and Russell helped me pick up the pieces on at least one occasion.

And when God finally got a good grip on me at the age of 29, and I truly gave my life to Christ, I made sure Aunt Ginna and Uncle Russell knew, because God, through His Holy Spirit, was reaching down to me through these Christian actions.

I spoke with Aunt Ginna sometime after I committed my life to Christ on Easter Sunday, 1985, and wanted her to let my Uncle Russell know – particularly how grateful I was for his having led me to be baptized.

In her words, he said, “Well, I guess it took.”

We who live on this side of eternity can not know the exact nature of the experience of on the other side, but I can imagine Uncle Russell greeting Ginna in this way: “Dahlin, I didn’t mind waitin’ …”

And Ginna perhaps responding, “Russell, you’re not gonna believe what’s been goin’ on since you’ve been gone.”

Thanks be to God for the Christians in our life.

Grace ... and peace.

Thankful for brothers and sisters in Christ ...

2009-05-19T22:49:00.002-04:00

I'm really thankful for brothers and sisters in Christ.

I'm particularly thankful for the brothers -- men of faith whom I can call on and say, "Bruddah, I'm standing in the need of prayer." I say that because women of faith have long carried the church. It's only been in recent decades that I believe contemporary men have began to stand up and be counted as men of faith.

I knew a tough day was ahead of me and I called on one of my brothers as I was driving to work. It made the morning go easier. It was still tough, but knowing a brother was praying with me gave me strength, peace and courage.

I stand in grace ... and peace.

Taking a break ...

2009-05-05T22:56:00.001-04:00

Sometimes you've just got to take a break. But for some of us, even when we get a break we can find ourselves having to work.

For instance, I'm taking three days off to spend some time at Ripshin. I've got a few chores to do, but that's not really "work." The work I have to take with me is a 10-page paper on Karl Barth that's due in a little more than a week.

I'm printing out the material, some of which I have been reading, and taking it with me.

Well, at least the class will be over before Memorial Day weekend, which is my next break.

Remembering the Rev. Ray Robinson ...

2009-03-22T12:09:00.002-04:00

We were at The Meadow taking part in a fairly extensive work day with other Meadow folk and volunteers with Family Promise of Blount County when Carol Green told me Ray Robinson was in critical condition at UT Hospital. I learned later that Ray had died.

I knew of the Rev. Ray Robinson long before I met him. He was held in high regard by longtime members of Middlebrook Pike UMC in Knoxville, which was my home church for more than 15 years. Ray served that church from 1965-69, the church's history records it as "a time when we needed a boost."

The history, some of which I still have on my hard drive, goes on to say this:

"It was as if we had 'bottomed out' into a low plateau of enthusiasm, interest and church growth. The Rev. Robinson got the church 're-organized and re-vitalized.'

"Fellowship dinners were started; a newsletter, the 'Messenger,' was published; the old Hammond organ was replaced with a new and larger one; landscape improvements were made; and our first pictorial directory was completed.

"Attendance and programs increased as a new feeling of spiritual alertness permeated the congregation. Plans for a new education building came into focus."

After Ray retired, his charge was at Maryville First UMC. He knew of my connection to Middlebrook as well as of my work at The (Maryville) Daily Times. He would occasionally take me to task about something he didn't care for in the newspaper -- never in a mean way, but in a challenging way.

I'm guessing that was the way he served at Middlebrook, as well as his other pastorates: Challenging disciples to move forward for the Kingdom.

Please pray for his wife Jane, daughters Anne and Joy and their families, as well as for the many friends and family members who are affected by his passing.

Grace and peace ...

Editing 'In His Steps' may let a little more light shine through

2009-03-20T21:24:00.003-04:00

I first read “In His Steps,” by Charles M. Sheldon, in the late 1980s.

My Pa’s mother, "Momma T.," had it on her shelf, but the inscription indicates it actually belonged to his sister, Emily. Since I expressed an interest in reading it, it was placed in my hands.

In the Sheldon tradition, it has no copyright; however, the author’s introduction indicates it is a 1935 edition. Based upon a series of sermons by Sheldon, the book was originally penned in 1896 and the author notes that, “Owing to the fact that no one had an legal ownership in the book, sixteen different publishers in America and fifty in Europe and Australia put out the book in various editions from an English penny to eight shillings.

“Mr. Bowden, the London publisher, sold over 3,000,000 copies of the penny edition on the streets of London.”

In the early 1990s, the once public domain book and the “WWJD?” acronym for “What Would Jesus Do?” became a Christian subculture pop craze. I always felt a little funny about that, and I’m fairly certain Sheldon rolled over in his grave.

Today, my somewhat inherited copy of “In His Steps” — with its brittle, yellowed pages — has a high place of honor in my bookcase. The reason: It greatly influenced how I attempt to practice journalism today. One of Sheldon’s central figures was a newspaper editor, who stopped to ask himself "What would Jesus do?” before printing any story or advertisement.

When I first read the book, I was working as a copy editor at what was then Knoxville's other daily newspaper, The Knoxville Journal. At the time, I was struggling whether to remain in the vocation of "secular" journalism. The result: I eventually decided that there really was no difference between the secular and the sacred when you are on this Christian journey. When every day is viewed as a day of worship, and not just Sunday, it is all sacred.

Christians struggle in every vocation, but journalism offers some unique struggles for people of faith — not the least of which is a feeling that we sometimes peddle gossip for a living. That feeling serves as a reminder to me that the calling is much higher than merely peddling the darker side of the world.

Though we journalists often crack crass newsroom jokes about the events of the day, the responsibilities are far greater than we sometimes realize. We can be a cynical bunch, but the opportunities to impact our community in positive ways are evident -- if we have eyes to see and a willing pen to record. In the Christian vernacular, it can be “Kingdom work,” which is not to be confused with proselytizing for the faith.

Kingdom work is looking for places where the community — particularly, but not solely, the community of faith — is letting down its responsibility to care for the widow and orphan, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked and to ensure that ‘justice rolls down like a mighty river.’ Once identified, it sometimes spawns a news story.

Few people know that Charles M. Sheldon was actually invited to edit The Topeka Daily Capital newspaper as Jesus would for one week beginning March 13, 1900. Heather Hooper, writing for The (Topkea) Capitol-Journal in a Sheldon centennial section published in 2000, notes, “At that time, the Capital's average weekly circulation rate was around 11,200, and 12,300 on Sundays. During Sheldon week, the number skyrocketed to an average daily circulation of 362,684, with more than 2.1 million copies printed all together, according to an article published March 25, 1900, in the Capital.”

The March 13, 1900, New York Times carried a story headlined, “The Rev. C.M. Sheldon’s Newspaper Experiment.” The lead paragraph, datelined Topeka, Kan., read, “The main purpose of the paper will be to influence its readers to seek first the Kingdom of God.”

As a journalist-pastor who continues to follow two callings, it’s comforting to know that those who chronicled the original Good News struggled with discipleship as well — and yet, God worked it out for good.Perhaps God can do the same with those of us who are called into the world of journalism today.

In no way would I suggest that the person at the center of every news story that crosses my desk is treated with the same grace, mercy and compassion that would be provided by Christ. After all, this editor is 100 percent human, with only a spark of the divine. Yet, I can not help but believe that the spark of the divine that lives within a Christian journalist makes him, or her, better at plying their trade.

Perhaps it allows a little more light to shine through the darkness.

Grace and peace ...

Lent: A stimulus plan for The Church

2009-02-24T15:39:00.002-05:00

“You’re sounding a bit apocalyptic today,” my mentor said between bites of chicken at Buffalo Wild Wings recently.

Truth be known, it seems as if we are on the edge of an Apocalypse — and that’s likely a common feeling today.

Barely an hour goes by during the day without our receiving another disastrous economic report concerning layoffs, foreclosures, and the subsequent Wall Street plunge.

Federal bailouts and stimulus plans swirl around with mind-boggling numbers approaching a trillion dollars. Billions have been poured into the War on Terror, and newly inaugurated President Barack Obama is now upping the troop ante in Afghanistan.

What prompted my munching mentor’s response was the question of whether the Church would be up to the challenge of being the Church if the economy continues to fall.

“If we did plummet into a 1929-style Depression, would the Church answer the call to house the homeless, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked?”

To me, it is more than a rhetorical question.

In the past year, those of us working with Family Promise of Blount County have struggled to find enough Blount County churches who are willing to step up and either house homeless families for one week every three months, or support another church that is willing to do so. This is astonishing, given the fact that can you hardly throw a stone without hitting a long-established community of faith and it seems new churches are cropping up nearly monthly.

OK, so maybe the stone throwing is a poor analogy given that this could be taken as high criticism of my brothers and sisters in Christ. Believe me when I say it is not my intent to throw stones at my Blount County brethren, because I believe it’s merely a reflection of the Western Church at large. Let’s be honest, which of these building programs are you more likely to see in church newsletters across the nation: Family life centers and sanctuaries for the flock, or shelters for the homeless? If this is any indication, are we the sheep or goats in Matthew 25?

The mentor and the mentee munched on some more chicken, then the mentee the posed the question: If the economy continues to fall, sliding into a full-blown Depression, would the Church in USAmerica be there to serve those outside of the confines? Would the multitudes who flock to consumer Christian churches (sometimes referred to as “attractional,” or “program” churches) be willing to turn the massive resources that point inward to an outward focus? If the pastor at an attractional church were to stand up and say, “Sisters and brothers, the amenities that you have for so long enjoyed will no longer be available to you. We must now turn our entire resources to serving the least, the last and the lost outside of these walls.” Would the cost of discipleship be too high for most of the flock? Or, would the Church itself be in need of a stimulus plan?

Maybe it’s in need of one now.

Maybe the Holy Spirit is getting ready to write the check.

We’re less than 24 hours away from Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent, the ancient Christian tradition of engaging in 40 days of prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial leading up to Resurrection Sunday (Easter).

What better stimulus plan for the Church?

Grace and peace ...

Oh, I forgot to mention ...

2009-01-20T18:07:00.002-05:00

Sixth, I got a call saying that a pipe had burst at the back of the church, creating Superman's Fortress of Solitude.

At least it didn't burst inside the church.

Guess there is hope, after all.

Grace and peace ...

It began with hope ...

2009-01-20T17:50:00.002-05:00

I was really looking forward to today as a historical day of hope with the inauguration of Barack Obama.

First, I awakened about 2:30 a.m. with the same congestive crud that I have experienced twice before in the past few months.

Second, I paid for about $105 worth of meds to get rid of this crud.

Third, I arrived at the office and spilled part of the meds over the floor.

Fourth, I hitched up my pants only to pop a button.

Fifth, I felt way too bad to enjoy, or even take part in, what should have been an incredible day of online coverage.

So, I packed it up and went home.

Barack, tell me tomorrow's going to be better ...

Grace and (cough) peace.
Buzz

Steven Doyal's message on hate ...

2009-01-19T08:57:00.001-05:00

"Smoldering Cauldron" is absolutely one of the most concise, resounding messages on hate I have read. On this day of historic note, and the day before another historic moment, it would do everyone well to read it and take it to heart.

Grace and peace,
Buzz

On missional and attractional churches

2009-01-01T11:23:00.007-05:00

I'd never heard of Julie Clawson until I was perusing Jonny Baker's blog for worship tricks that I can stockpile for Advent 2009. (I know it may come as a surprise that I would plan that far ahead, but it's sort of like buying Christmas presents ahead of time and forgetting where you hide them. I sometimes gather worship tricks only to forget where I have them.)

Jonny's headline on a post caught my eye: "when did christianity become a popularity contest?" Call it a post about a post, I guess. (There's probably a geek-word for those things.) I clicked over to Julie's post, "Missional effectiveness." Jump over and read it, if you get a chance.

I was hooked by the first few lines:

"Foolishly entering the fray…
So the whole missional vs. attractional church debate has risen to the bloggy surface yet once again sparked by Dan Kimball’s recent post on the Out of Ur blog. ..."

Why did those lines hook me? Well, I know about Kimball and some years ago read two of his books, "The Emergent Church" and "Emerging Worship." I mean, hey, I've long been up to date on discussions concerning emergent Christianity. But when I saw the words "missional vs. attractional church debate," I thought, "Uh-oh. My intense vocation at The Daily Times has put me behind the curve in this arena.

The more I read, the more I decided I was wrong.

I arrived at Green Meadow UMC in April 2002, having just closed the doors on a fairly young church, Pellissippi UMC, which had been in decline for some time. At the time, my home church was Middlebrook Pike UMC, which was a resource-heavy, program-intense church where I helped start an alternative worship experience in 1996. I was an evangelist for those sorts of worship experiences, and still believe they have a place in the church. But when I arrived at Green Meadow, something started changing in my spirit.

Green Meadow was a new-church startup in 1965. From what I can determine, it likely never grew beyond an average attendance of about 100 to 120. (I should probably check the books on that estimate.) Just before my arrival, the church split. So, I thought, "Well, here I am again at a struggling church. Wonder where this will lead ..." To my surprise, these were not defeated people, merely wounded travelers. And so, our journey began.

In the discovery process, we began by asking, "What is God's purpose for this church, in this time, and this place." "This place" was a big one, for we discovered that within a five-mile radius, "The Meadow" is surrounded by nine United Methodist churches alone -- including a new church startup, Sycamore Tree.

As we discussed the purpose and future of the community of faith who worshipped at The Meadow, I would often say, "Green Meadow is not likely to ever again be a 'program' church." In a world filled with options for consumer Christians, or those entering the faith with an eye toward consumer Christianity, Green Meadow is not one of those options.

The question became, "If we are not now, nor ever will be again, a 'program' church, then what are we?" Over the years, the focus has moved from trying to create programs that served the flock to missions that serve others. The community knows little about buzzwords such as "missional," but that is exactly what has developed: a missional community.

This is what is fascinating about the Clauson-Kimball debate: In 2004, I was asked by Dan Benedict at the General Board of Discipleship to provide a perspective on what was happening at Green Meadow in terms of emergent Christianity. In that discussion, I used the word "missional" in describing The Meadow, and "consumer-oriented program churches" in apparently describing what Clauson-Kimball would refer to as "attractional."

What bothers me is the "us vs. them" tone that these things tend to take. When I first read Kimball's books, it seemed as if he was offering an alternative to traditional Western Christianity, which might be attractive to those who are put off by the current state of the Western church. Likewise with Clauson and missional churches. The problem: bickering among the flock is what likely turns off the unchurched the most. (Believe me, I've got my own log to deal with in this arena ...)

One more thought: In terms of the "effectiveness" of missional vs. attractional churches, why not let God make that decision? Do what God is calling you to do, and do it faithfully.

Whether conversions are evident, or not, a missional church with a heart for God's people will lead people to Christ. A missional church without a heart for the people is nothing more than a civic club with a cross and candles.

As for "attractional," consumer Christian churches: You can forget about conversion scorecards, or counting the notches on your Gospel gun, because only God knows who is truly converted anyway.

In short, we've all got our cross to bear when it comes to living out the faith, at this time, and in this place. It's my prayer that in 2009, the world will look at the Church and say, "See how they love one another ...," not "Gee, wish they'd quit bickering and pointing fingers."

Grace, peace and the love of Christ ...

Christmas and the Advent Conspiracy

2008-12-25T22:37:00.006-05:00

As I began worship services for Advent at Green Meadow UMC, I stumbled upon the Advent Conspiracy. I led off with a worship experience with a Conspiracy theme, and introduced the congregation to the idea of an Advent where we sought to Worship Fully, Spend Less, Give More and Love All -- the idea behind the Advent Conspiracy.

As we moved through Advent, I believe we actually did those very things:

The Wednesday before the 1st Sunday in Advent, The Meadow conducted a charge conference where the community agreed to formalize our cooperative mission with Family Promise of Blount County, which includes renovations for the purpose of housing the day center under a lease agreement to be negotiated by the trustees of Green Meadow and Family Promise of Blount County.

On the 1st Sunday in Advent, the community held its annual benefit auction and dinner, raising about $1,400, with half going to help with renovations for Family Promise of Blount County Family Day Center, and the other half going to School of Hope.

The community of faith at Green Meadow contributed just under $200 out of $1,500 that was raised to provide for families whose bread winners had been laid off by a local company. (Pastor Buzz and Donna made deliveries to eight families, ranging from Rutledge to Niota.)

The Rev. James R. Green led worship on two Sundays in Advent, allowing Pastor Buzz to attend to daughter Elizabeth's graduation and relocation.

To be sure, this was a different season of Advent and Christmas. And while I believe it was unintentional, for we were merely living out life as a community of faith, the people of The Meadow lived out the Advent Conspiracy: Worship Fully, Spend Less, Give More and Love All.

Grace and peace ...

Does God Have a Sense of Humor?

2008-09-25T16:27:00.004-04:00

It takes a different kind of faith community to embrace a different kind of pastor.

I guess that’s why I’m in my seventh year as pastor at Green Meadow United Methodist Church — aka “The Meadow.”

Some Christians see the media as anti-Christ and, if Bishop James E. Swanson appointed me to their church, would call for the ritual of exorcism upon my arrival. Thankfully, that’s not been the case at Green Meadow UMC.

Over the years, we’ve found a lot of things in common:

We embrace the missio dei, the “mission of God,” in seeking and serving others outside of the church walls.
We resist using our size — we average about 20 to 25 people in worship — as an excuse to not engage in that mission.
We believe in the “connectional” system of the United Methodist Church in that we can do far more together for the Kingdom of God than we can do going it alone.
And while the Gospel is serious business, we try not to take ourselves too seriously and believe God wants us to have fun.

It’s that last part that appears to raise a few eyebrows around my parish.

When the newspaper isn’t keeping me too busy, I like to put sermon titles on the sign, and sometimes I get a little feedback about those titles.

For instance, a few years ago I preached a sermon based upon Donald Miller’s “Blue Like Jazz” that led to the title of “Christian Belief is Like Penguin Sex.” At least one church member got a call from someone asking, ”I Googled ‘penguin sex’ on the Internet and saw where a study showed some penguins were homosexuals. Is he preaching about homosexuality?” The parishioner assured the caller that, no, the sermon was not about homosexuality.

Sometime after that I received my first anonymous note at the church, the contents of which escape me right now; however, I have the distinct recollection that it was not complimentary.

More recently, I preached another sermon entitled, “The World Needs More Jedi Christians,” the idea for which came from a Leonard Sweet sermon. The next week I received a note that read something like this: “I don’t know Jedi, but I do know Jesus. I can’t find ‘Jedi’ in the Bible.”

This note was accompanied by two Christian tracts. Apparently, this anonymous writer thought I needed some instruction in the very basics of Christianity.

My first thought was, “I wonder if this is the same sort of Christian who leaves tracts instead of tips for waitresses on Sunday mornings?” Which brought to mind another sermon title; “Why Are Christians Such Lousy Tippers?”

I was beginning to think some Christians were a pretty mean bunch until this past Wednesday evening. I had just finished a pre-marital conferencing session (I refuse to call it “counseling,” because I’m not a trained counselor) when the husband-to-be said, “Buzz, when we came in there was a package on the sidewalk. We were afraid to pick it up.”

I thought something along this line: “This guy’s career military, and he’s afraid to pick up a package on my church’s sidewalk? He must have heard about the notes.”

He went on to say, “It’s got a note on it that says, ‘Does God Have a Sense of Humor?’”

We walked out the front door.

On the sidewalk, near the parking lot was a package wrapped in gold foil paper, all poofed up on the top. Sure enough, there was a tag that read, “Does God Have a Sense of Humor?” Inside the card was a smiley face and the expression, “Hmmmmm ...?”

I held the package away from me, untied the note, spread open the foil and peered inside to find a small metal pail holding a purple stuffed animal in the form of a duckbill platypus.

Looking at such an animal, even turn-or-burn, tract-passing Christians must admit that God does indeed have a sense of humor.

I laughed out loud and recalled this passage from G.K. Chesterton’s “Orthodoxy” in which he speaks of the playful child-likeness of God:

“It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening. ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

God created us in his image, and it’s obvious that there is a divine sense of humor. After all, he played the greatest cosmic joke ever on Death: He raised Jesus from the dead.

What a gas! Brilliant!

Buzz Trexler is pastor at Green Meadow United Methodist Church in Alcoa (www.themeadow.org) and managing editor print/online at The Daily Times. You can e-mail him at PastorBuzz@nxs.net.

Nothing like honest struggle ...

2008-07-24T09:27:00.002-04:00

I was cleaning out my e-mail and ran across a link someone sent me to a blog. I think Timothy H. sent it to me. I decided to follow the link as I drank my first cup of coffee this morning.

The blog is called Real Live Preacher, and contains the musings of Gordon Atkinson, pastor of Covenant Baptist Church in San Antonio. When I hit the About page, I followed the link to "The Preacher's Story," a posting he says was made once-upon-a-time when the blog was anonymous. It's a good thing, because some Christians can only take but so much honesty about struggles in "The Dark Night of the Soul." Some Christians also have a problem with colorful language, particularly when it is emitted from their pastor's mouth.

I wonder where Gordon was serving at the time ...

I encourage you to read "The Preacher's Story," because there is nothing like honest struggle in this journey with Jesus Christ.

But be forewarned: It's not for the faint of heart, nor the faint of faith.

Grace and peace ...

Can't believe it's been nearly two months

2008-07-15T23:56:00.002-04:00

It's difficult to believe that it has been two months since I posted on this blog.

Man, time flies when you're consumed by work.

I had a voice from long ago contact me concerning information on Hepatitis C and I went into the archive to get a link to the first entry I made the week I was starting treatment. When I saw my last post was May 19, I thought, "Surely not!"

Wow.

At any rate (fast, slow, or whatever, I suppose), I'll try to get better.

Been writing some letters seeking donations for School of Hope and listening to sermons from Mars Hill. Heard Walter Brueggemann. Pretty powerful stuff.

Grace and peace ...

What do you do when the news comes to you?

2008-05-19T21:20:00.004-04:00

I spent last week in the Caribbean with my wife and another couple. Normally, the first day back from vacation is spent going through 900-plus e-mails, getting caught up on problems and accomplishments from the past week, and generally just getting your feet on the ground. That's what I did from 9 a.m. until 3 p.m. today.

But then, things changed.

We came out of the daily news budget meeting today to hear the scanner report a fire at the back of The Daily Times.

About a half-dozen news staffers headed down the back stairwell to check things out. I grabbed a fire extinguisher along the way.

I half-expected to see a smoldering fire beneath the pallets that were stacked on a loading dock, but was shocked to see flames climbing up the side of the building, melting away the siding and sending black smoke billowing into the sky.

I pulled the pin out of the fire extinguisher, aimed and fired a blast of fire retardant at the base of the pallets. Comptroller Danny Williamson was standing at the loading dock above me, doing the same. His extinguisher ran out and I handed mine up to him, believing that he had a better angle; however, the extinguishers were no match for the fire, which was growing by the second. Fortunately, Maryville Fire Department trucks were now arriving on the scene.

Fire Chief Ed Mitchell and crew did an outstanding job controlling the blaze and saving our press. It was a testament to their professionalism, and we owe them a debt of gratitude.

Waiting on Pentecost

2008-05-05T22:02:00.002-04:00

Pentecost is one of my favorite seasons of the Christian year. This will be the first Pentecost Sunday that I have missed in worship since I can remember. Out of habit, I went to the General Board of Discipleship's Web site.

If you are creating Pentecost worship experiences, check out Safiyah Fosua's "Pentecost Fire."

Grace and peace ...

Finding my way on "The Road to Daybreak"

2008-04-23T07:48:00.003-04:00

Those around me have occasionally heard the name Henri Nouwen escape from my lips. Nouwen died in 1996, but I am certain his writings have continued to inspire others in the same manner in which they inspire me.

Over the past two years, I have written many times about walking through a spiritual desert. I recently picked up my copy of "The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey" and have been reading it as a devotional. It was recommended to me by my first assigned mentor, the Rev. Jim Bailes, in 2000. I was preparing for a short-term mission trip to Antigua, Guatemala. God used Nouwen's journal as a way to prepare me for many things, not just that singular experience.

I believe God is once again using Nouwen in my life.

Grace and peace ...

Still get the occasional Hep C e-mail ...

2008-03-27T23:03:00.005-04:00

I still get the occasional e-mail from someone who is beginning the combo tratement of PEG-Intron and Ribavirin. It's hard to believe it was three years ago that I was in that boat.

When I was first diagnosed, you had to do two Interferon shots a week and the success rate stunk for Genotype 1's, which was the genotype I had. I waited five years for something better to come along, and a year after pegylated interferon hit (PEG-Intron and Pegasys), I decided it wasn't going to get any better for a while. So, I took the plunge. It was a long journey, but I would likely do it again.

So, if you stumble upon this blog looking for Hep C information, let me be an encourager. I know not everyone had the same positive outcome, and I pray often for a cure, but it was worth the journey for me.

You can track my journey, beginning with these posts:

The Pre-Journey Column
The Friday Before Beginning Treatment on Sunday
The Treatment Begins ...

And from there, it goes on.

Grace and peace ...

P.S.

Remembering Larry the Lamb

2008-02-26T20:07:00.011-05:00

Larry was kind enough to sign this CD cover from "Only Visiting This Planet."

NOTE: I penned this column in The (Maryville, TN) Daily Times a few years ago. (I think it was in 2004.) With Larry the Lamb now in the arms of the Great Shepherd of the Sheep, I thought it was timely to put it on the blog. The line drawing is a self-portrait by Larry.

It was an interesting plea on Larry Norman’s Web site:

“Could you look around your city and find the names and phone numbers of Christian bookstores and the churches which sell music inside their building? We’d like to contact them and see if they’re interested in Larry’s music. Thank you so much.”

So, I thought I would call one of the area Christian bookstores to get their response.

One store representative said something like, “Who? Never heard of him.”

The next one was a little more diplomatic, saying she never had anyone request his music, pretty much attributing it to a lack of airplay. “They (customers) usually come in asking about songs they’ve heard on the radio,” she explained, noting that stores don’t have time to individually deal with “just any artist.”

Pardon me for taking offense, but my response was along the lines of, “He’s pretty much the reason those folks (Christian music groups) are in your store to begin with.”

I neglected to mention the fact that Larry Norman’s breaking of fallow ground has yielded a great crop of green for Christian music retailers.

OK, Norman would admit that it wasn’t his work alone, but this really gripes my butter.

Granted, most of you readers have never heard of Larry Norman, particularly if are not Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) fans.

But for more than 30 years Norman has been referred to as the “father of Christian rock.” Nowadays, with the exploding CCM industry arguably entering a second and possibly even a third generation, he should probably be referred to as the “grandfather” of CCM. (Sorry, Larry.)

According to The Gospel Music Hall of Fame’s biography of Norman, his recording ministry began in 1966. His band People! opened for groups such as The Grateful Dead, The Doors, Janis Jolin and The Byrds. People! had a pop song entitled “I Love You!” that topped the secular charts and is among the more than 300 covers done by variety of non-gospel artists.

Rock artists ranging from Bob Dylan, to John Mellencamp, U2 and Van Morrison are said to be fans. The most telling statement of his originality and creativity in the rock arena: “Pete Townshend (of The Who) credited Larry’s own rock-opera, ‘The Epic,’ for inspiring the rock-opera ‘Tommy.’”

Unfortunately, it was all of those accolades from secular sources that caused suspicion in Christian quarters.

By 1969, Norman had recorded three albums for Capitol Records, the last of which was “Upon This Rock,” that included the original “left-behind” song, “I Wish We’d All Been Ready.” As “evangelical” a song as it was, becoming an anthem for the Jesus Movement, the album “Upon This Rock” was banned by Christian bookstores for about two years.

There is far more to the Larry Norman story than can be told here, but the question remains: Why does Larry have such a hard time getting into Christian bookstores? Truthfully, in 1999, a CD project of various artists covering his songs, entitled “One Way: The Songs of Larry Norman,” made it to the shelf. However, Larry’s classic albums — “Upon This Rock,” “Only Visiting This Planet,” “Stranded in Babylon,” and others — never seem to see the light of day in U.S. stores. Truth be known, Norman’s music does well in Europe, where retailers appear not to have any problem dealing with smaller labels, such as Solid Rock or Phydeaux.

Perhaps it’s not a retailer or airplay problem at all. Perhaps the issue has its roots in the attitudes of the church.

True, the lyrics are probing, even risqué at times — so much so, they are a bit uncomfortable, even though evangelical. Take, for example, “Why Don’t You Look Into Jesus,” from “Only Visiting This Planet”:

Drinking whiskey from a paper cup, you drown your sorrows til you can’t stand up.

Take a look at what you’ve done to yourself, why don’t you put the bottle back on the shelf.

Yellow fingers from your cigarettes, your hands are shakin’ while your body sweats.

Why don’t you look into Jesus, he’s got the answers.

If you’re going to affect society, sometimes you have to face it squarely on its own turf.

Again, given the sameness of much of CCM today, Norman’s approach may be part of what makes the industry — and the church — uncomfortable.

In one interview, cited by Donald Hughes’ in a column headlined, “Being Larry Norman,” Norman minced few words:

“Christian music barely affects society anymore. It’s really become a microcosmic subculture without much power to change lives. It’s like a soda fountain for Christians where they can go to taste different flavors. The best Christian music comes from the artists who work outside the industry and consider themselves ministers of the message, not purveyors and panderers.”

Norman told an interviewer for CCM magazine, “Christian music isn’t supposed to be polite. It’s supposed to be relevant.”

In a way, Larry kisses the culture; however, you could never say he beds down with it the way some CCM artists do.

Outside of his ministry struggles, Norman has faced other problems:

There was a 1978 airplane accident resulted in partial brain damage that took years to overcome.
In 1992, he suffered a severe heart attack, and like so many people has had to deal with issues of what insurers will and won’t cover in terms of costly treatments.

When he was inducted into the Gospel Music Hall of Fame in 2001, his son Michael flew to Nashville to accept the honor
and deliver a speech to the attendees.

Last fall, he performed what is likely to be his last concert.

As one who has benefited from Norman’s artistry, and the fields he plowed and seeded for others to harvest, this less than benign neglect on the part of the church — and the money-making machines associated with the church — pains me.

I’ve e-mailed the names of Christian retailers to Solid Rock with hopes that the stores will see fit to stock Norman’s records. I guarantee they’ll sell at least as well as some — if not better than most — of the artists they stock. ...

The Official Larry Norman Web site: www.larrynorman.com

‘Jesus Music’ Web site: www.one-way.org

Larry Norman's gone home ...

2008-02-26T12:23:00.003-05:00

God has a way of keeping me humble as a journalist: He usually lets my wife find out about the big stories before I do. Now it seems he's taken to using others: Richard Richter, a real mentor to me, called me today and some time into our conversation he said, "Man, I saw on the news ticker that Larry Norman died and I thought of you."

"What? Larry Norman died?"

I hadn't been on the wire today, so I missed the news.

Sure enough, Larry has gone home. you can read the news on LarryNorman.com.

My kids tease me about how most of my favorite artists have left this world. I now have to add Larry the Lamb to that list.

I'll post more thoughts later.

Grace ... and peace to his brother, Charles, and the rest of the family.

Inspired, but unsettled ...

2008-01-26T23:42:00.001-05:00

Daughter Elizabeth interviews Shane Claiborne at Divine Rhythm.

It’s after 11 p.m. Saturday night and I really should be in bed, but I feel a need to get some of my emotions on paper (OK, in bits and bytes) before going to bed.

The past 24-plus hours of word and worship at Divine Rhythm have been inspiring, unsettling, and even filled with hope.

Joining with hundreds of others in worship led by the Michael Gungor worship team renewed my spirit. They were authentic worshippers leading others who sought to engage the Spirit through authentic worship. It was inspiring and filling.

But I was also unsettled in that Shane Claiborne’s words reminded me of my own life of spiritual contradictions (of course, it was not the first time). The contradictions did not fill me with guilt, but with hope in that I continue to recognize them for what they are: The struggle to live like Jesus while walking in the world.

And therein lies the hope, for as long as there is a struggle, there is hope.

Grace and peace ...

We are God-dust ...

2008-01-26T23:27:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite songs from 1969 was written by Joni Mitchell, but it was really made famous by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

If you are a baby boomer, you likely know the song and the festival it memorializes: “Woodstock.”

The chorus goes:

“We are stardust, we are golden; We are billion-year-old carbon; and we got to get ourselves back to the garden.”

The song personified the baby boom generation — a generation of which I was on the cusp, having been born in 1956. I was only 13 when “Woodstock” took place, but within a year or two I began to embrace the countercultural persona. The last photo taken before I left for Navy boot camp shows me in a Wrangler jacket, hair flowing to the shoulders, and a copy of Abbie Hoffman’s “Revolution for the Hell of It” in my hands.

The hair didn’t last long and I have no idea what happened to the book. (If you doubt the hair, thinking I’ve always been this bald, go to http://www.buzztrexler.com/.)

“Woodstock” has run through my head for nearly four decades, but I only recently discovered the second line of the chorus: “We are billion-year-old carbon.” I always mumbled my way through that second line, because I didn’t have the lyrics — they didn’t come with 8-tracks.

What’s more fascinating is that in the last refrain that second line is replaced with these words: “We are caught in the devil’s bargain.”

Are we merely “billion-year-old carbon?”

Are we hopelessly “caught in the devil’s bargain?”

After the 13-year Human Genome Project completed the human DNA sequence — the molecular stuff of life — it didn’t take took long for companies to find a way to make a profit off of everyday consumers through such a discovery.

The New York Times reported that companies are creating services to help consumers interpret information contained in their genomes. The prices range from $985 to $2,500, depending upon the level of services.

Embryo-screening technology has been around for several years, allowing parents to identify embryos that carry serious genetic diseases. The technology is also being used to select children of the desired sex.

What characteristics might we want to propagate? What characteristics might we want to weed out of the gene pool? What about people of certain hair color, height, weight, or intelligence? What if there were a “gay gene?”

Why not make such choices, after all ...

“We are stardust, we are golden; We are billion-year-old carbon ..."

The Associated Press recently reported that scientists in California produced embryos that are clones of two men. The cloning approach involves inserting DNA from a person into an egg, and then growing the egg into an embryo about five days old before extracting the stem cells — thereby destroying the embryos.

After all …

“We are stardust, we are golden; We are billion-year-old carbon ..."

Stop.

We are not merely billion-year-old carbon.

In a sermon that recently led me to think about this “ethical quagmire,” contemporary theologian and author Leonard Sweet suggests “it’s time for Christians to call humans what the Bible calls us: ‘God-dust.’”

In a previous generation, I would say, “Right on!”

We are God-Dust! We are golden! We are far more than merely billion-year-old carbon. And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the Garden!

Certainly, there are monumental benefits that have been gained — and can be gained in the future — from genetic technology, but let us not be “caught in the devil’s bargain” of playing God by cloning humans and manipulating genes to determine an unborn child’s gender.

Let’s find our way back to the garden.

Grace and peace ...

"The Final Post"

2008-01-08T12:30:00.000-05:00

Major Andrew Olmsted was serving in Iraq and maintained a blog on The Rocky Mountain News. He was cut down by a sniper Thursday, Jan. 4.

I didn't know the soldier, but judging from the blog and others' comments, he appeared to be a remarkable man.

Grace and peace to his family and friends ...