Listen

I had been running on battery power for too long and the warning light had changed from orange to an unwelcome blinking red. The reserves in my soul were finally running down to near empty; I was lost and hope of a miraculous turn of events was fast fading.

In April of that same year I had bought a Bible. Owning a Bible is one thing; opening and reading it is another. I did not have a mentor. I was not part of a Bible Study. Basically, I was a formerly proud member of a vast new class of biblically illiterate Americans. Up through my teenage years I had attended church; I had been baptized and confirmed as a child but what little faith I had, I freely abandoned for the far more popular religion of self reliance and self indulgence.

So I looked down at this brick of a book and asked myself why bother to read it? How can it provide relevance to my own sorry situation? If I were to decide to explore its pages, where do I begin? Where so many of my contemporaries had rejected the faith of their youth, why would I turn to the pages of the Bible for answers to my own self inflicted crisis? How could it help?

But I did open that Bible and I did begin the long journey of coming to know it and love it. Years later, the answer to my many question became apparent and it came to me from one of the Bible's best know psalms. For even though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death; I came to realize that I am not in fact alone. When, early on, I choose to walk through this life on solo power, I inevitably lost that power and found myself without the resources to get to a safe place. As with so many of my contemporaries, I end up as little more than spent fuel.

The stories and accounts in the Bible speak to another source of power: the Holy Spirit of God that wants to abide within the heart of each one of us to restore our soul to the vibrant life God intended for us from the beginning.

As I began to engage the pages of the New and Old Testaments, I slowly learned to listen to what the ancient words were telling me about my own condition here and now. And as I began to absorb what I was hearing, I started to experience the cracking of my own shallow assumptions about the world and my place in it. I began to move from believing I could live a good life without God to believing I could not survive even one short day without Him.

The Source of Widsom

There was a time when I believed, truly believed, that wisdom, insight and success came from...me. And so, it is not surprising that eventually I would run off the road and end up in a ditch.

When you are blinded by self-regard, it is hard to steer a straight course. The really sad thing is that I was a typical example of my “boomer” generation. We were swerving all over the place when we thought we were plowing straight ahead.Ironically, the experience of disaster eventually restored my sight and my sanity. And with the restoration came the realization that victory of any kind can never rest with the singular possessive.

Jeremiah the prophet once wrote, “This is what the Lord says: ‘Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth for in these I delight.’”

Amazing Grace

To be human is to know trouble.

Many years ago, I found myself facing bankruptcy, threats of lawsuits and financial devastation. With blinding speed, my self-confidence was blown away and I was rendered defenseless. Fear filled every corner of my life. But when the chips were down and there was absolutely nowhere to turn, I cried out to God in my distress...and He answered.

Trouble is the common denominator in everyone’s life. Sometimes it is subtle and sometimes dramatic, but it always seems to be lurking on the fringe ready to pounce. In my case, when I found that I could not save myself, I called out to God, not knowing what to expect. What I received was undeserved beyond measure, and ultimately, the experience drew me back to Jesus Christ.

It was truly a life saving event; I was saved through my failure. I now look upon that period in my life as the time when I experienced God’s amazing grace.

In Times of Trouble

Who hasn’t experienced trouble? Who hasn’t been at the end of their tether? “Man is born to trouble” but this truth runs contrary to our fond fantasy that life is an easy pathway to a series of peak experiences on the stairway to heaven.

When trouble did come my way, it broke over me in waves. I should have known better, but I assured myself that I could successfully navigate to a safe harbor. Yet the storm only intensified, and I was pounded by the waves and blown and tossed by the wind. Like Jonah, “The engulfing waters threatened me, the deep surrounded me…and to the roots of the mountains I sank down; the earth barred me in forever.”

In my own day of trouble, all the usual answers proved to be empty and dangerous. And so when all options were exhausted and all doors had closed, I finally abandoned self reliance and prayed to God for deliverance from this impossible danger and distress. My situation was desperate, truly unsustainable, but miraculously I was lifted out of that storm and placed on a safe and secure rock.

Twelve years later, I was reminded of that storm and the miracle that saved me. During a Christmas Eve service at a local church, a group of children handed out little candy canes with a handwritten verse from one of the psalms tied to it. I almost rejected the small gift, but at the last moment, I accepted it. The note was this: “‘Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me.’” My eyes were suddenly opened, for I realized then and there why I had experienced that miracle so many years before. I also realized that I was being called to honor God with the life that had been saved. And at that moment, I experienced a new freedom that I had never known before.

Walking in Faith

Change is an iron law of the natural world, but it is a law that applies to the spiritual realm as well. God calls us to change; He asks us to depart from the rutted path we often tread and depart for places that may be new and unfamiliar. He calls us into service as He called Moses in the desert or David from the sheep pens or Paul from his zeal to persecute the new followers of the one who had died on a cross.

Though we often resist the call to leave the comforts of a safe life, God keeps nudging us to get up and go; He calls us to trust and have faith, even though we might interpret the call as nothing more than a risky venture. But before anything can happen, we must respond with an affirmation that allows us to transcend our inertia by turning our fears and trepidations over to the one who is calling us: “Here I am, I have come...I desire to do your will, O my God; your law is within my heart.”(Psalm 40:7) When we acknowledge God in this way with our very lives, His way no longer seems objectionable or intrusive.

God is always challenging our comfort zone; this spiritual pattern manifests itself on almost every page of the Bible; the truth is that walking in faith generates a higher level of comfort which many describe as a state of joy that overcomes our natural fears in all circumstances: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”(Psalm23:4)

WHERE I WILL BE ON SEPTEMBER 12

Most Saturdays, I choose to unwind at home, but not this week. On Friday I will be driving down to Washington DC to participate in the 912 march up Pennsylvania Avenue to the United States Capitol. I have no idea what I will accomplish by being a part of this rag tag crowd, but I have come to the conclusion that it is time to stand up and be counted. So what is behind this journey to the nation’s capitol? I have several reasons and I will list them in no particular order.

1. I have been inspired and encouraged by the ordinary Americans who believed it was important enough to show up at town hall meetings and be heard. If our congressmen and women lived in a bubble before August, they certainly have experienced a sharp injection of reality since then. So, my participation this week is in honor of all those who have already stood up against the powerful forces that control the politics of Washington.

2. I believe both political parties have been on a reckless financial joyride which will, in the end, destroy America. I can choose to do nothing, or I can raise my single voice in protest against the outrage that is present day Washington.

3. I am a businessman. I own three companies, all small by Washington’s standards because I cannot send lobbyists to walk the halls of congress to plea for my interests. I am one of tens of thousands who employee people, who provide services to other companies and who through diligence and hard work, have created opportunity for many people.

4. I have believed for some time that our political culture has devolved into something approximating a crime syndicate with only members of the immediate family benefiting from the corruption.

5. I believe that this disaster can be stopped, but we are pretty near the invisible line of no return.

6. If this event were organized by either of the major political parties, I would not go. Both have discredited themselves by their endless profligacy, and they will have to earn back our trust which will take years if not decades.

7. Twenty years ago, my company went through a chapter 11 bankruptcy. Before the bankruptcy occurred I behaved no differently than our political leaders in Washington are behaving today. They are bankrupting this great country, but believe that it will all work out in the end. It won’t. There are many more losers in bankruptcy than winners, and in the case of the United States, the taxpayers will be the giant losers.

8. I am the father of four children; they are starting out in life, but given the current crisis, will they inherit the land of Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln or the land of Castro and Chavez?

9. I go to Washington in hope that the outcome will change because of the commitment of tens of thousands of citizens. This will not be a celebrity party; it will be a people of America party and I will be proud to be one of them.

10. An earthquake is about to shake America to the core. Many of the experts have turned off their political seismographs so they are not experiencing the tremors. But the tremors are there, warning of something catastrophic to come. I am going to Washington with the hope that the warnings will be heeded and America, awakening from its long unnatural slumber, will return to the values and principles that made it such a great source of good throughout the world.

11. I go to Washington with a great sense of humility. It is not really about what I want. It is about recognizing what is profoundly right about the United States.

12. Finally, I am going to Washington because of what Lincoln said on the battlefield of Gettysburg: “…that this nation, under God, shall have a new burst of freedom-and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.”

How Deserted Lies the City

King David of the Bible placed his life in the hands of a personal, loving and faithful God. As happened many times in his life, when all seemed hopeless and lost he would kneel before his God: “In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by setting me free. The Lord is with me: I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? The Lord is with me: he is my helper. I will look in triumph on my enemies.” (Psalm 118:5-7)

Compare the abiding faith of David to the stupendous claims of so many of our modern leaders who insist on staking everything on the belief that they have been called to power to not only save the whole of mankind but the planet earth as well. These contemporary Caesars may give lip service to God, but their deepest faith rests on their own power to build castles in the sky while commanding the seas to recede. Who needs God when man can construct paradise here on earth? For many of our leaders, it would be too humbling to admit the need for God: such an admission might preclude the possibility of building temples to their own greatness.

When viewed from the sweep of Biblical history, we see that the modern Caesar represents nothing more than mankind’s ancient and persistent rebellion against the presence of God in the affairs of man:

The word of the Lord came to me: “Son of man, say to the ruler of Tyre, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: “’In the pride of your heart, you say, “I am a god; I sit on the throne of a god in the heart of the seas.” But you are not a god, though you think you are as wise as a god.” (Ezekiel 28:1-2)

Many of the national leaders of our time have fallen for the same old false promise that has tempted and diverted mankind from the very beginning of written history. Here is God’s judgment against the ruler of Tyre: “…your heart has grown proud.”(Ezekiel 28:5) The hearts of our political and business leaders have grown proud indeed. Perhaps a little more knowledge of the warnings of the ancient prophets of Israel might steer some of these self inflated potentates away from the dangerous consequences of their impossible dreams: “How deserted lies the city, once so full of people! How like a widow is she, who once was great among the nations! She who was queen among the provinces has now become a slave.”(Lamentations 1:1)

The Last Mournful Note

Why are so many of us obsessed with money? On one level, gold does glitter, giving the appearance of prominence and power for those who possess it. Money can create the illusion that time has been expelled from the premises; the lavish parties of the rich cast a spell of beauty and splendor and the music plays on as the quests dance into the early hours of the morning.

For a moment, everything appears to be perfect, but soon enough, time ripples over the scene and all that remains in the end is a wrecked vestige of what was before. The band is now playing its last mournful note, the guests are departing, and the despoiled tables have lost their ordered elegance.

Money has the power to withhold the ravages of time for an instant, but before long it will exact its sweet revenge. If we stake everything on the deceptive power of money, we will live in fear that the cold breath of mortality will find a way back into the innermost rooms of the guarded palace. For despite our futile efforts, we sense in our hearts that “our days are like a fleeting shadow” (Psalm 144:4) that “vanish like smoke.” (Psalm 102:3) Thus wisdom says, “Though your riches increase, do not set your hearts on them.”(Psalm 62:10)

Who Do I Love?

Because the “heart is deceitful above all things,” (Jeremiah 17:9) it is important to undergo a thorough and frequent heart checkup. But this is hard and often inconvenient, so we often spend valuable time inventing excuses for avoiding what might be unpleasant news.

If we refuse to undergo a daily “heart exam,” we might consider wearing a sign around our neck similar to the one found on the side of cigarette packs: “Caution: This heart may kill you!”

Left untreated by God, the human heart is the center of great turmoil and raging conflict. Our affections shift like an altimeter in a storm; one moment we yearn to follow the right way, then the next we turn our back on the Lord just as Peter did three times immediately after claiming eternal allegiance to him. The battle we face every day is over the hidden constancy of our wavering hearts.

In the end, the question for each of us amounts to one thing: whom do I love with all my heart? We can fool ourselves into believing that we have been exempted from an ultimate pledge of allegiance, but when we fall into this common form of self-deception, we are implicitly admitting that the darker impulses of the heart have already prevailed and that, as a consequence, our troubled lives will continue to be “like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.”(James 1:6)

All Creatures Great and Small

A few years ago I walked 43 miles of the Appalachian Trail in central Pennsylvania. I have many reasons for wanting to get my feet back on the roots and rocks of the trail, but perhaps chief among them is the desire to break out of the artificial box I construct for myself as I maneuver through the concrete cityscape aspect of my life.

I suspect that I need to get closer to the earth itself to refresh my mind and memory to all the small marvels that move about with quiet intention all around my feet. Whole worlds of tiny beings seem to go about their important business, oblivious of my presence or even my existence. You can’t see any of this from the window of a speeding car.

The big things, like the mighty Susquehanna River, or a powerful midnight storm, or even the splendid beauty of the rolling hills of cultivated farmland, do generally catch the eye and cause us to stop in quiet wonder, but it is the smaller things of the land, the insects and tiny creatures when viewed through the lens of the poetic imagination that suggest order and resolve and purpose rather than inscrutability and aimless disorder. For me the trail suggests coherence, but I need to slow down to see it at work and that requires that I put aside my singular drive to get from here to there. So give me the trail any day, for it provides me with bigger themes through the miracle of its smallest creatures: “By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth....For he spoke and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm.”

A Fellow Passenger

Years ago—I do not remember exactly how many—I was on an airplane heading for Nashville, and like almost everyone else, quietly minding my own business. But I did notice the lady sitting by the window on my aisle; she was looking out at the world beyond our cabin and in her hands was a Bible. She was an older black woman and she possessed a quiet strength and dignity.

Well into the two hour flight we began to talk about the usual superficial things, but I really wanted to talk to her about her Bible, as I had begun reading Scripture a few years earlier. I don’t remember most of the details of our conversation but I was startled when she told me that she was a missionary from Africa who had come to do God’s work here in the United States. Moreover, she told me that she often traveled from city to city without knowing where she would stay or who she would help. Then she told me that the verse that she loved the most was Psalm 121: “I lift my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”(v1) As it turned out, that verse was one of my own favorites.

I have always treasured that simple encounter on an otherwise unremarkable airplane ride to Nashville. My preconceptions were knocked off balance when I was forced to realize that we need missionaries here in America just as much as Africa might need them. But it was not the mission that impressed me. It was the person sitting in that seat by the window, so meek and unassuming, so gentle and faithful. She clearly was one of God’s children doing God’s business in a way that would not attract much notice, but still, she had that unique concentrated power that has been changing the world quietly and effectively one person at a time for over two thousand years.

The Bottom Line

Denying our own sinfulness is as old as human history itself. After succumbing to temptation, Adam and Eve come up with every unsupportable excuse in the book to explain why they recklessly betrayed God’s commandment. Eve said, “The serpent deceived me and I ate.” And the man said, “The woman...gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate.” (Genesis 3:13, 12)


When we indulge our sinful nature and give way to temptation, we immediately default to self-justification and excuse making. But behind the assertion that "I’ve done nothing wrong” is the uneasy knowledge that I have done something very wrong and my weak claim to innocence will not wash away my very real guilt and shame.

In the Midst of Trouble

Have you ever read a passage from a book and suddenly a line or word or phrase leaps right off the page and grabs you?

Often the eye skims over the surface of the page and the words fail to register on the mind and the heart. You may be thinking of something else or you find other passages more compelling. You read but do not absorb. Then, at another time you reread the passage and, for no apparent reason, that same passage becomes electric and now you see it and feel it for the first time ever.

That happened to me with this verse: “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life.” (Psalm 138) With twelve short words, I finally felt the universal truth of those words and how the applied to a crucial moment in my own life.

It would be easy to say that when trouble befell me, I met the challenge and conquered the foe. I could have claimed victory, but my heart told me that the victory wasn’t mine at all. I had walked in the midst of very real trouble, but the trouble never wounded me in a mortal way. I walked through the conflict as if I was an observer rather than one of the battling soldiers. This verse finally revealed to me why I survived. It was not my will that saved me and realizing where my help had come from has made all the difference.

Crimes and Misdemeanors

Apparently Governor Mark Sanford has been involved in some pretty sketchy activities of late. I guess we could all play the part of the offended prig and condemn the poor fellow for some or all of the high and low crimes our wandering governor has been accused of. After all, he has tarnished himself and the high office he holds; he has betrayed his wife of twenty years, not to mention his four sons. And what about the people of South Carolina? No, this governor has earned the almost universal scorn being heaped upon him by commentators everywhere.

Well, I am not going to try to add too much weight to the suffering the governor has been experiencing of late, but I do have a major bone to pick with Mr. Sanford. You see, I am a hiker of the Appalachian Trail and for years now I have been telling my wife, my children and my friends that I am off for another long hike in the woods and the mountains. Yes, and worse, I would come back with tales of storms and bears and creeping things in the night and everyone would listen intently as they learned of my trail heroics. Better yet, they would envy my fierce determination and bravery as I forged ahead toward the lofty goal of getting to Mt. Katahdin, the trail’s terminus in north central Maine.

Thanks to our Lothario governor, though, the hiking population of America has now been consigned to sleeping in their tents in the backyard under the watchful and suspicious eyes of their wives and family. The men of America have lost their campfire bonding moments forever because the smitten governor decided to use the Trail as cover for his real trip to Argentina to see his darling Maria. For this reason alone our dear governor has earned a certain degree of my bitter contempt.

But while his offense against hikers is bad, his love letters to his South American bombshell are even worse.

Didn’t he realize that his saccharin prose, now available for all to see, represents a crime against everything that is true, noble and lovely and that every Romeo out there now has been left bereft by his florid prose? He certainly tried hard enough to match his words to the object of his not so secret ardor, but unfortunately, as he attempted poetic flight, the whole sorry linguistic contraption fell fatally to earth with a fearsome thud:

“You have a particular grace and calm that I adore. You have a level of sophistication that so fitting with your beauty. I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificent gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curve of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself… in the faded glow of the night's light - but hey, that would be going into sexual details ...(W)hile all the things above are all too true - at the same time we are in a hopelessly - or as you put it impossible - or how about combine and simply say hopelessly impossible situation of love…. I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never…covered before - so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know... In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul."

It boils down to this: Here we have the star crossed governor bleating over the age old dilemma of having your cake and eating it too.

Mark Sanford: Have you no shame! You stand guilty of the crime of mauling the English language. Perhaps you should resign now before you kill another word or ruin another hiker!

Consider the Eye

When we do think about it, we are amazed by images created by cameras. We are mystified by the extraordinary power behind digital technology. We sit transfixed before high definition TV screens often confusing the fleeting image with reality itself. But do we ever stop to consider the original technology that surpasses all the imagery generated by the genius of man?

Take a moment to consider the human eye with its stunning ability to translate trillions of particles of light into images instantly comprehensible to the human brain. We spent time explaining the function of the eye, but we have a rougher time dealing with its original invention. Worse, we tend to avoid the idea that the human eye had an inventor. We may marvel at the highly complex technology behind image making, but at the same time we assume that the far greater technology of the eye just somehow came into existence by chance or by the mysterious laws of nature. Perhaps the original design is far more astonishing than anything we have come up with since through our own ingenuity.

Gods, Kings and Mere Mortals

Evan Thomas made news last week. It is not known whether he was speaking for himself or for the entire editorial staff of Newsweek magazine, but here is the very cosmopolitan Mr. Thomas speaking to Chris Matthews on MSBC. "I mean, in a way, Obama's standing above the country, above--above the world, he's sort of God."

Wow. From mere mortal to “a sort of God” in five short months! But maybe we should pause a moment before elevating Barak Obama above emperors, kings and other assorted potentates. For as often as not, these god-like leaders turn their power against the very people who have chosen to be ruled by them. You do not have to look too deeply into the pages of history to find an A-list of scoundrels once considered god-like saviors. In the long course of human events, it is not difficult to find a palace full of such specimens from Nero and Caligula to Mussolini, Stalin, and Hitler. Luckily, Obama has not proclaimed himself to be God…yet.

Furthermore, if Evan Thomas were to look back to Old Testament history, he might not be quite so sanguine about the prospect of America being led by a “sort of God” president.
In the time after Moses and Joshua had died, Israel had no king. Eventually though, the people grew restless and so they demanded that a king be chosen. The people went to the prophet Samuel who turned to God for direction. God tells Samuel: “Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king….Now listen to them; but warn them solemnly and let them know what the king who will reign over them will do.”

Samuel does what God commands: He warns the people that the king will take their sons and make them serve in his armies; he will take their daughters to be “perfumers and cooks and bakers; he will take their fields and a tenth of the produce from those fields; and he will take their flocks “and you yourselves will become his slaves.”(1Samuel 8:8-18)

Perhaps Evan Thomas and the editors at Newsweek should be careful about what they wish for. Didn’t our Founding Fathers rebel against the tyranny of kings? Isn’t it more reasonable to think of our president as a mortal rather than compare him to a “sort of God”? Wouldn’t the history of the American experiment suggest that we should resist the temptation to think of our rulers as anything other than mere men? Or would Mr. Thomas prefer to see America suffer the fate of so many nations who ceded power to an all powerful god-leader who then led the people down the well trod road to serfdom?

Tear Down This Wall!

Has conservative talk radio been good for the Republican Party? For five long presidential election cycles, Republicans have offered America presidential candidates who have proved to be verbally challenged. At the same time, the stars of conservative talk radio have climbed from success to success, reaching a daily audience that any political leader would envy to have and creating an impression that conservatism is a force to be contended with in America. We know conservative talk radio has been wildly successful, but it is less clear what it has meant politically. Could the rise of one be linked to the decline of the other?

Conventional wisdom would suggest that Rush, Sean and many other talk show pundits have aided the conservative cause, but there may be a darker side to the phenomenal success of the talkers. Perhaps Republican candidates have steadily declined in power and effectiveness because talk radio has inadvertently separated the messenger from the message. Can you imagine Franklin Roosevelt, John Kennedy or Ronald Reagan allowing the media to do all their talking for them? Can you imagine, Winston Churchill stepping aside while a radio commentator communicated his inspiring messages to the British people? It would never have happened.

Democratic operatives have gone to some length to proclaim Rush Limbaugh the titular head of the Republican Party. They have a point. While Rush Limbaugh addresses an audience for 15 hours every week, conservative politicians slink around the outer edges of the Beltway avoiding the limelight if at all possible. Being sheepish is safe. It sadly seems that Republicans are afflicted by CAS (Controversy Avoidance Syndrome).

Only when the Republican Party recovers its voice will it have any chance to change the direction of America. It is not enough to become Obama’s Greek chorus. You need political leadership to bring genuine reform. And political leadership needs more than position or title to motivate the greater population for the need for real change. And you cannot divorce the message from the political messenger. Rush Limbaugh could not have said with any authority, “General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Only Ronald Reagan could.

A Copy and a Shadow

In the letter to the Hebrews the writer speaks about the priest being “copy and shadow of what is in heaven.” Have you ever thought of yourself and your life as a copy of something else? Or do you consider yourself to be an original?

Elsewhere, in one of the psalms, it says that God had an idea of who we could be even before we were conceived: “My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.”

What an amazing thought: God knew everything about each one of us before we even existed. And how agonizing it is when we fall away from God’s intention and pursue the unruly desires of our own unfettered hearts. This is what Cain must have meant when he lamented that his crime had rendered him “a restless wanderer of the earth.”

Unlinked from God’s intention for us, we stray to the right and the left looking for satisfaction where nothing lasting and beneficial can be found. But when we acknowledge at long last that we know we are known and we experience the transformation that brings us back into the genuine comfort of God’s good orbit, then we can say with a full and blessed heart: “I once was lost and now am found, was blind but now I see.”

A Light in the Ruins

An American friend who once lived as a missionary in Ukraine told me a story about an encounter he had with a friendly atheist. This young woman was giving him a tour around the city of Odessa. As they walked from place to place, she began to open up, and at one point, she told him that believing in God was both ridiculous and irrational. How could any educated person believe that God existed? She was not belligerent; she just stated her belief as a proven fact. She indicated that she was doing fine without God in her life.

As they were talking, they came to a blighted intersection that was nothing more than a ruin left over from the devastation of World War II. The decaying and empty structures were fragmented shells. Rubble rather than trees created an impression of an arid wasteland. Even flowers and weeds seemed to avoid this desolate place.

It was at that moment that my missionary friend turned to the woman and gently observed: “Look around. If you want to know what the world looks like without God, here it is.” She gazed at the wretched scene and seemed to make the link between a war torn world and man’s banishment of God. Did she see the relationship between famine, disease and war and mankind’s fractured relationship with the God who created us and nurtured us? Can love even exist in such a place? My missionary friend believes he touched her by using that wretched picture as a way of introducing God back into her life. He did not make his point with words, nor with arguments or talking points. He just revealed the obvious and he let that do its work in her heart.

A Fleeting Moment in Time

Many years ago, during my first long hike on the Appalachian Trail in New Hampshire, I witnessed a fleeting moment of beauty that has never left me.

Late one day, after an easy ten miles, I began to search for a place to rest for the night. About a mile or so beyond a small town, I happened upon an empty cabin about fifty yards off the trail. Inside, the uninviting shelter was dark and cold. I dropped my gear and settled in and resigned myself to a night in the woods alone.

After a light dinner, I felt an urge to get away from the cold gloom of that inhospitable place, and so I left it to take a walk toward an open field on a hillside that was surrounded by thick woods. As I approached the field, the light from the declining sun drew contrasting shadows against the bright yellows and greens of the long, uncut grass. It was a picture of tranquility and I was glad to discover it.

As I stood in the midst of this natural still-life, I became aware of three deer grazing above me on the hillside. They didn’t notice me, and so I quietly gazed on that scene of solitary beauty. Time seemed to suspend itself: even the wind briefly stood still. Just as quickly, though, a soft breeze cut across the scene and the deer lifted their heads in unison, sensing an intruder. They hesitated a moment and then vanished into the shadows of the surrounding woods. Once again, I was alone in a once bright place that was now turning cold as the ghostly dusk transformed the waning light into varying shades of grey.

Now, all these years later, I remember that beautiful scene as if it were an image painted by God himself. I felt the warmth of God’s peace that day, but I had to turn back to the cold embrace of the solitary cabin. I did not know then that the journey ahead would often be long and hard. Yet, wherever life took me, I carried with me that image of beauty and peace as sustenance for those times when I would experience hunger and thirst.

A Cup of Morning Theology

Keeping it simple and relevant seems to be a trial for many in leadership roles within the church. Yes, the Bible is a huge complex book filled with stories, parables, revelations and prophecies that sometimes seem hard to grasp, especially when it comes to applying what we are reading to how we are living. Last night, though, I came upon a wonderful way to understand the meaning of the word “Grace.” We hear about the “Grace of God,” but do we get it? What is Grace? Well, here is one way to understand Grace in a deeper way:

G…God’s
R…Riches
A…At
C…Christ’s
E…Expense

Grace is a gift of love. Love originates with God. This truth is foundational to everything that proceeds from the Genesis story of creation. “We love because he first loved us.”(1John4:19) If we want to know what it means to live an abundant life, we need to reestablish that love connection with God. And here is how Paul tells us it can be done: “Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2Corinthians 5:20-21) God’s riches at Christ’s expense.

Men and Marriage

In the mid 1980’s, George Gilder wrote an interesting book called Men and Marriage. In it, he argues that marriage is the glue that holds civilization together because, without marriage, many men would be nothing more than barbarians within the gates. Since marriage has been so central to our everyday experience, we tend to accept the arrangement without thinking much about the dynamic behind the institution. Gilder seems to enjoy troubling our normal perceptions, however, by arguing that marriage permits women to transform the barbarian into the prince who then becomes the protector of the community for this and generation to come. In short, Gilder argues that women civilize men and that marriage is the structure through which this happens.

Gilder explains that young men are characteristically dreamers, warriors and adventurers. Without the self-limiting relationship fostered by marriage, young men would be content to do whatever they want whenever they want. Though the institution itself has changed over the past fifty years, marriage still generally defines the role of men as provider and protector; he has willingly allowed his own freedom to be circumscribed for the sake of love and mutual interest. And this bond creates the context for commitment that is the essential building block for the next generation.

While marriage may seem to some men like a sacrifice and a loss of freedom, it would be more accurate to describe the marriage bond as a transition into a new stage of life through a new kind of freedom. The dreamer does not vanish under a mountain of new domestic responsibilities; rather the new purpose behind the dreams changes by including others as part of the new dream narrative. A Man’s instinct for adventure is a good thing and it needs to stay alive, but devoting one’s life to the well being of the family and the generation to come is a greater thing because our entire civilization depends upon it. The adolescent boy may dream great dreams and he may yearn to be a superhero, but in most respects, these dreams find their most powerful expression in the form of a committed and loving husband and an involved and caring dad.

The Old Man at the Window

One of my very favorite Trail Thoughts is about what it is like to be an old man. The selection below from Ecclesiastes was written over 3000 years ago, but the imagery and language is as powerful and beautiful today as it was when it was first conceived.

THE OLD MAN AT THE WINDOW

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them’— before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the rain; when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men stoop, when the grinders cease because they are few, and those looking through the windows grow dim; when the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; when men rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint; when men are afraid of heights and of dangers in the streets; when the almond tree blossoms and the grasshopper drags himself along and desire no longer is stirred. Then man goes to his eternal home and mourners go about the streets.” —Ecclesiastes 12:1–5

Thousands of years have passed since Solomon wrote this description of old age, but there is nothing old about it. It is immediate and contemporary and we can see and feel the dusty street “where the grasshopper drags himself along.” (v5) Even if we are young, we can imagine, through this verse, what old age feels like.

The poet transports us back in time into the person of the old man and there we are, sitting in the shaded room by that same window, unable to hear the sounds of children playing in the street or the music of the organ grinder. At one time, that same old man was like one of the little children playing in the same street. And one day that same child outside the window will grow into the old man who looks out at a world where “songs grow faint.” (v4)

Seek and Hide

Is God hiding from you…or are you hiding from God? The common complaint is that God has left each of us to fight our own fight. It is as if we are claiming to be like lost children who frantically search everywhere, but cannot find our parents anywhere. We are the abandoned ones, betrayed by cruel and unloving parents who have exposed us to a harsh and dangerous world because they have left us to fend for ourselves. Our assumptions are shattered. Our parents are gone forever. And this is how we feel about God, too.

But how hard are we really looking? Or are we just repeating in our own time a pattern that was set in place from the very beginning. In the Eden story, found in the Book of Genesis, the man and the woman transgress and immediately feel shame and, as a result, go into hiding. God calls out to them, but they hide from Him at the very time when God is searching them out. In the time of the prophets, Isaiah identifies the intractable persistence of this problem of who is seeking and who is hiding: “We all, like lost sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way....” (Isaiah 53:6)

What causes us to hide from God? Is it us or is it Him? And what might cause us to hide in the first place? In the Genesis story the man and woman flee from the presence of a searching God because of shame and fear. If they had nothing to hide, they would not have taken cover. But they did have something very real to hide which was an act of utter unfaithfulness. After the man and the woman are cast out of Eden as punishment for their original crime, they seem to pass on to their own child Cain the same inclinations of faithlessness and rebellion. Cain murders his brother, and when he is caught, he cries out that his punishment is more than he can bear. He rejected God and became not a seeker but rather a “restless wanderer of the earth.” From then until now that is the condition of despair that many of us suffer from day in and day out. Perhaps it is time to find out what it means to be a seeker rather than a hider.

In Praise of Richard Branson

Shortly after traversing that low, snow swept ridge in northern Tennessee (see Trail Epic), I embarked on a weeklong trip to London to attend the London Book Fair, an annual April event. My assistant is a wonderful person, but when it comes to booking flights, I sometimes get the impression that she is worried about the expense of the airfare ticket interfering with my ability to pay back my college loans. I try to tell her to stop projecting, but to no avail.

So when I discovered that I had been booked on Virgin Atlantic for the seven hour flight to England, I had no choice but to fear the worst. You see, I have never flown on Virgin and I figured that with a name like that I would be forced into the company of a whole host of aging hipsters. Of course, I do not know Richard Branson, the owner of Virgin Atlantic, but I had formed a fixed idea about him, and so, I approached JFK with much fear and trembling.

And my initial fears seemed to be confirmed when I stepped up to the check in counter and found that no seat in steerage (economy) had been assigned to me. “Oh boy,” I mused, “talk about prophecy fulfilled!” Yet the lady manning the computer persisted in her search, even as other passengers behind me began to shuffle impatiently. I half expected her to say, “Well, Mr. Kampmann, we have nothing in the cabin but we do have some extra space on the wing. Would that do?”

But she didn’t say that. Instead, she called a manager over and together they found a nice big comfortable seat in Premium Economy which is equivalent to Business Class. I was shocked (and delighted). But the real shock came when I entered the cabin and buckled in for the trip across the Atlantic. It has been a long, long time since I could say the experience of flying was as fun and worthwhile as the trip itself. Clearly, this is an airline with very high standards. I thought about my remarkable reversal of expectations and I finally had to conclude that Richard Branson must be responsible for the superior quality of service provided by the people working for his airline.

Branson is a very successful businessman and he is successful for a reason. He is that rare entrepreneur that adheres to high standards and, as a result, passengers benefit in countless ways. American enterprise was built by people like Richard Branson. Unfortunately, too many of our great corporate leaders have been replaced by either pirates with an itch to pocket as much from the corporate coffers as possible, or men and women in grey flannel suits with endless advance degrees in this or that. Often the goods and services these faux leaders provide are as poor as the murky vision that guides them. So a toast to Richard Branson and to all entrepreneurs of vision: May the future belong to you.

Trail Epic

It’s 9:30 AM and I have made a last minute decision to hike a full twenty-two miles rather than the more modest trip I had planned days before. Though snow is on the ground, this is Tennessee. And it is April. Leaves should be budding from the branches of once dormant trees; flowers should be lining the sides of the trail leading me happily to my journey’s end. (I took the picture on the right during my journey.) Even with the snow and the clouds and the cold, I am still optimistic that I will finish with ease.

As I look about, though, the gray clouds are moving ominously across the sky from west to east. The temperature is in the low 20’s and the forested landscape is painted in a symphony of whites and grays. Even though I am in the mountains, the ups and downs aren’t too severe. And of course the weather could always clear later in the day. I convince myself that there is nothing wrong with this picture.

Bob Peoples, one of the most renowned mountain men in the south, has shuttled me to route 421 which intersects the Appalachian Trail fourteen miles south of Damascus Virginia. One reason for doing big miles now is that I have been trying to get to Damascus for over a year, but every time I set foot on the trail some obstacle is placed in my way. Last April, it was the flu and in November it was extreme cold and snow. So doing these miles makes sense to me because when I get done later in the day I will have almost reached my goal.

I start out with the hope of covering about three miles each hour which is a moderately fast pace, but the map profile indicates only slight elevation gain and loss. If I am able to maintain this pace I will finish before 5 PM. However, the map does not indicate 30 MPH winds sweeping relentlessly across the mountain ridges, nor does it show snow drifts accumulating to almost a foot.

And the plan does not allow for blizzard conditions worsening throughout the day. I had envisioned a clear path, but the snow comes hurling at me from every angle; after three arduous hours, I had covered a disappointing seven miles. With fifteen miles to go, I had no choice but to forge on.

Occasionally a north bound hiker would emerge out of the snow. We would stop and trade information and then quickly go our separate ways because without movement, the cold began to penetrate through the layers of gear. The real benefit of meeting another hiker, though, was to have their snow tracks point the way forward. Eventually the wind would erase most traces of their presence, but I appreciated the help while it lasted.

By 7:30PM I arrived at Vandeventer Shelter about three thousand feet above Watauga Lake. By that late hour the storm had relinquished its firm grip; occasionally, the full moon would peer out from behind passing clouds. Lights flickered around the lake pointing the way to warmth and safety. A few hikers were inside their tents near the shelter, but they did not bother to emerge, nor did I bother to stick around. The clock had become my greatest enemy as I still had over four miles of steep downs before reaching my car. So off I went, moving as fast as I could. The curtain of dusk descended slowly, but by 8:30 it was night. I lost the trail one time but quickly retraced my steps, found the right way and headed down. And at 9:00 I finally reached my car, and with it, I reached warmth, safety and a way back to a place to spend the night and a very long and sweet sleep.

Pirates at the Gate

I am not sure which is worse: the Somali Pirates holding world commerce up for random or the grey flannelled political class in Washington ripping down the paneled doors of the Treasury to pillage for profit. Perhaps one of our friends at Disney can produce a sequel to their wildly successful series which they might call "The Pirates of the Potomac."

The Green Eyed Monster

Jealousy is the stepchild of anger. They are related through the passion of hatred, but whereas anger often has a specific object as the focal point, jealousy is built on doubt, suspicion and fear. The fury generated by jealousy is often the product of inference, suggestion or doubt, such as the suspicion of betrayal by a loved one. With jealousy, the hurt often begins not with a specific action but within the mind of a person plagued by an imagined offense.

When the seed of doubt is planted, then it is watered and nurtured by an overheated imagination and soon what was merely the appearance of a wrong becomes a whole cause for war. Many marriages have shattered because of jealousy; much suffering has resulted from imagined slights and betrayals fed not by knowledge, but rather by the mere suspicion of a wrong.

Apparitions

I spent last weekend in Denver at an independent publisher conference. Though I was a speaker, I had an opportunity to sit in on a two hour writing seminar lead by Anne Randolph, an excellent writing coach. Anne led us through three exercises and the first was to write for five minutes starting with the word “unfamiliar.” Here is what I came up with:

Unfamiliar faces crowd the confined space of the stalled car. No one speaks. We are strangers, riding toward our individual destinations. We have unexpectedly paused and the sudden silence causes unease. The faces are impenetrable masks, revealing nothing of the complicated stories lying below the surface. Eyes avoid eyes and some peer out the darkened windows toward grey, soot packed walls that encase us here. Then relief: The train jolts into action and moves forward, slowly resuming speed and carrying each one of us on our singular journey toward an assignation that will add yet another chapter to each of our fragmentary books.

Ezra Pound is the father of this short piece of writing. In college I had memorized a two line poem he had written early in the 20th Century. It goes like this: “The apparition of these faces in a crowd/pedals on a wet black bough.”

A Vision for America?

Has it occurred to you that progress, as the secular culture likes to define it, often leads to the dilution of individual freedom? There was a time, and it wasn’t too long ago, when the innocent citizen was besieged by endless images of some utopian metropolis, new, shiny and functional where monorails glided far above the orderly streets on a mission to deliver its passengers to sleek towers of commerce that mounted up like spires into the comforting heavens.

This place was the endgame of the social engineer. Through the power of technology coupled with governmental support, individual man would become a willing cog in some great humanist wheel. Slums and garbage and inequities of all kinds would vanish; individual man would be spared disease, war and pain and finally the eternal problems of life would all be banished from existence: Finally, a story with a happy ending.

The trouble with this picture is that it is a fairy tale. The laws of nature cannot conform to this constricted vision concocted from the minds of mere mortals. Achieving a utopian order would require enormous coercion and resistance would inevitably lead to the same wars that nations and their people have experienced in the past.

The present day social idealist, though, is determined to finally get it right, even though that might mean forcing the common man to march in lockstep to the vision. Wasn’t this the very same picture we remember from black and white newsreels: Images of fearsome soldiers parading in impressive precision before leaders such as Stalin, Hitler, Mao and their henchmen? Wasn’t the last Great War fought to stop the spread of this maniacal tyranny that threatened countries built upon the principle of individual freedom and well being?

The Fascist and Communist movements rose up in the twentieth century to install a new order and build a new man. But both of these forces, conceived by human intellect as propositions for constructing a better life for all, ended in rubble and ruin with tens of millions of ordinary citizen lying dead in unmarked graves.

The American proposition was built on the enduring principle of individual freedom. In the beginning, when the new nation was defining its form of government, the founders looked back over the vast canvas of history to determine what would work best to protect those “certain unalienable rights…of Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness….” The new government would be instituted to protect those individual freedoms and so it was stated in the preamble to the Constitution: “We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

For the utopian visionary the operative word will always be “enforce”. We will use the inherent power of government to enforce Justice as we chose to define it. We will enforce domestic Tranquility by silencing all opposition to our way. We will defend ourselves against those we consider our common enemies, both domestic and foreign. We will enforce the Welfare of some by using our power to take from others. And in the end, we will use the power of government to elevate our own stature and power and wealth.

Sometimes it feels that these very same social visionaries are already hard at work in the halls of government. Who will protect the rights of the ordinary citizen? Who will answer the call to honor and sacrifice? Who will blow the trumpet call to warn the people of this great danger? Who?

The Sweet Power of Music

Somewhere it says that man is “made a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned…with glory and honor.” If this be the case, then it is no wonder that man needs “the sweet sounds of music” to calm his troubled soul. How sterile and desolate life would seems without music. In the Book of Job we hear that music was present at the creation: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?...On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone-while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?”

The absence of music suggests a void, a godless place where “the man that hath no music in himself, nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; the motions of his spirit are dull as night, and his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.”

But Shakespeare also says that music transforms all of nature into an all inclusive symphony that notes the harmonious presence of God if only we have ears to hear. Even wild animals respond: “For do but note a wild and wanton herd, or race of youthful and unhandled colts, fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, which is the hot condition of their blood; if they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, or any air of music touch their ears, you shall perceive them make a mutual stand, their savage eyes turn’d to modest gaze by the sweet power of music.”

It is hard not to conclude that music on at least one level opens the heart to a deeply submerged memory of the original state of harmony that existed between God and the creature He loved above everything else. It is as if music lifts the heart up into the company of angels choiring in heaven. Holy music speaks to us about the presence of God in all dimensions of creation, both at the beginning and even now at this very moment.

Johann Sebastian Bach said this: "The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul. If heed is not paid to this, it is not true music but a diabolical bawling and twanging."

So be still, and with Shakespeare “let the sounds of music creep in (your) ears. Soft stillness and the night become the touches of sweet harmony.”

We Surround Them

On March 13 I happened to turn on Glenn Beck’s show on Fox News. I rarely see it, as I am usually at my desk in New York City at that hour in the afternoon. But yesterday, I was travelling and so TV was an option. Glenn Beck, for those who do not know him, is a passionate radio and TV commentator who is deeply concerned about the dangerous drift going on in America today.

Unlike many of the pundit class, Glenn has focused on the corrupt elite in government, in finance and in the media, all of whom have been selling out the country of Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln for what amounts to personal gain. To Glenn Beck, these corrupt Masters of the Universe have become the new Axis of Evil. Their lust for power, and the money they use to buy it, is insatiable and they will not stop until they have succeeded in their perverse quest to preside over the smoking ruins of what was once was The United States of America.

Beck has inaugurated a movement called “We Surround Them” (www.the912project.com). He believes that this home grown Axis of Evil can be defeated, but it will be the people of American who must arise from their acceptance of the status quo to take back what has always been the most precious gift of all: our freedom. It is freedom that is being squandered by our runaway federal government. It is freedom that has been stolen by Bernie Madoff and the arrogant elites on Wall Street. And it is freedom that has been turned upside down by a compliant press that has abrogated its authentic responsibility in order to promote the ascension to power of what appears to be a misguided and inexperienced leader.

Glenn Beck has become a modern day Jeremiah. Jeremiah is the Old Testament prophet appointed by God to warn ancient Jerusalem that their corruption would bring a terrible end to everything they once loved. Speaking to the rulers of the day, Jeremiah says: “Hear this you foolish and senseless people, who have eyes but do not see, who have ears but do not hear:…Among my people are wicked men who lie in wait like men who snare birds… their houses are full of deceit; they have become rich and powerful and have grown fat and sleek. Their evil deeds have no limit; they do not plead the case of the fatherless to win it, they do not defend the rights of the poor. Should I not punish them for this? Should I not avenge myself on such a nation as this? A horrible and shocking thing has happened in the land: The prophets prophesy lies, the priests rule by their own authority, and my people love it this way. But what will you do in the end?”

Has the country that placed “In God We Trust” on its coins departed to a place where the elite now say implicitly that “there is no God” and that they, with all their earthly power, have become like gods themselves, prophesying falsely to the people? Have these false prophets declared that they are a law unto themselves and that they will take the people wherever they choose, whatever the cost? And have they become blind and deaf in their own swill of corruption and cannot stop destroying what was once good and strong and beautiful?

Stand up Mr. Beck! Stand up people of this great land! Because we do surround them!

March Madness

In the spring of every year, hundreds, if not thousands, of enthusiastic hikers take their first steps on a 2,178 mile journey on the Appalachian Trail. Months of preparation have led to this moment. They have read books, bought equipment, packed food and talked to others who have come before them. They have diligently studied every aspect of the journey to come, and now they stand under the stone portal as they prepare to ascend Springer Mountain, the true starting point of the trail.

Yet no amount of study can prepare them for what lies ahead. Nature is beautiful and alluring and very hard. Hikers can expect sore knees, turned ankles, persistent thirst, lonely nights and lingering doubts. They will be slowed by blizzards in the Smokies, startled by lightning strikes in Virginia, exhausted by searing summer heat in Pennsylvania, drenched by chilling downpours in New Hampshire, and tested by everything in Maine.

But, as they walk the trail and become hardened by its challenges, hikers will experience a change of heart and mind. With time and miles, a veteran slowly emerges; the novice at Springer becomes the confident and knowledgeable Thru-Hiker who will keep on striving to achieve victory over every large and small adversity. The postcard landscape of the armchair hiker has given way to a more profound understanding. What began as toil and trouble has become something akin to joy.

The seasoned hiker overcomes through endurance and perseverance. In this respect, he is like the faithful pilgrim. Both are on a long journey; both must endure hardships; both are tested at every turn. And both keep pushing on to the goal, knowing that there is a prize to be won: “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)

The Second Garden

The movie The Passion of the Christ opens in the depth of night. A full moon hangs ominously in the sky, creating a supernatural light of dark blue streaked with silver. The place is the garden of Gethsemane and Jesus is the man fervently praying. Quietly, a shadowy figure emerges from the background looking on with a cool curiosity. Jesus has already begun to suffer and some of his words are preserved in the four gospels, but many words are not recorded and so we can only imagine what Jesus was saying.

The words of the psalmist, beginning with “Save me, O God,” could easily reflect the words that Jesus uttered alone in that garden: “I am worn out calling for help…Those who hate me without reason outnumber the hairs of my head…My eyes fail.”(Psalm 69)

Jesus knows what is in store for him; he knows why he came to earth and he knows that the shadowy figure wants him to give in to temptation by escaping from what is about to happen. Satan would appeal to Jesus’ human nature, and as we learned from the encounter in that first garden, Eden, mankind was tragically susceptible to the serpent’s subtle powers of persuasion. Jesus is reenacting the first encounter where mankind failed so miserable. This is a redo and Jesus ultimately triumphs by crushing the serpent under his foot. “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.

Ideas Have Consequences

In his Inaugural Address, our new president said this: “The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit, to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea passed from generation to generation: the God-given promise that we are all equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.”

In the Declaration of Independence, the founding fathers wrote this: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness….”

Thirteen years after the Declaration of Independence was published, the French people rose up in revolt against an unjust government under the banner of “Equality, Liberty, Brotherhood.” The French Revolution was a direct offspring of the Enlightenment and had strong atheistic roots. Hence the proclamation of Equality, Liberty and Fraternity had to be the product of an idea separate from God and not the truths declared by the American founders because many of the intellectuals behind the French Revolution rejected the very idea of God.

Built on a set of noble human ideals, the French Revolution bred reaction which led to the struggle over who would wield the power to enforce the “noble” ideas. And that struggle was the father of the guillotine, the Gulag and the Nazi extermination camps.

America was built on the solid foundation of several “self-evident truths” all of which had their origin with God and not with man. So when the new president speaks about the precious gift of a noble idea of equality, freedom and happiness, where does he stand: In Paris or in Philadelphia? Ideas are from the mind of man; according to the Bible, Truth is a revelation from God. If the foundation of the United States had been built on a set of ideas invented by men, then other men with other ideas could wrench those ideas away with the power of the sword and enforce those ideas through the power of the state. The history of man, and particularly the history of the twentieth century, has been an ongoing battle between the truths of 1776 and the ideas of 1789.

Yes, the president does mention God in his Inaugural, but he structures his sentence to suggest that the “God-given promise that we are all equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness” is a generations old idea, albeit, a “noble idea.”
Many argue today that God is a necessary invention of man; man needs the idea of God in order to pursue “noble ideas.” However, this notion turns the biblical narrative on its head: In the Bible, God is the creator and man is the creature created in God’s own image. “God” created by man is the atheist’s conceit. To the atheist the claim for the existence of God is an insult to the nobility of man’s rational nature and needs to be put to rest once and for all.

So, does the new president stand in the great tradition of 1776 or has the noble appeal of 1789 caught hold of his imagination? It would be nice to know because the real meaning of his words will tell us much about where he wants to lead America.

Ash Wednesday 1991

The day was Ash Wednesday, February 13, 1991. My family and I were on an island in the Caribbean which was not a well traveled place because the U.S. Navy had reserved large sections of the island for practice bombing runs. The bombs no longer were falling and the house we were renting was situated near the top of a hill. It was in that house on that day that I unexpectedly came across a two year lectionary hidden deep in the pages of the Book of Common Prayer. When I discovered this lectionary, it was if I heard a voice telling me that this was the map I needed for the way ahead. So on that day many years ago, I quietly committed myself to following this biblical road map everyday of the year no matter where I was or what I was doing.

Thus began my response to God’s call. I would honor God by coming to know his Word by setting aside time every morning of every day. This journey would be slow and it would require perseverance. But if I was going to truly honor God through my life, I would have to be equipped with a deeper understanding of God’s Word. And through an everyday encounter with the Old and New Testaments, I began to understand what it meant to walk on God’s ancient pathway.

In the Company of Angels

On Friday, I received the call at my office from my sister. Almost immediately, I understood that this was the real thing. Mom was in the Emergency Room at Abington Hospital and in great pain. My sister Megan was extremely upset as it was taking the hospital forever to deal with Mom’s situation.

We had known for more than a year that my mother had a blood condition that would inevitably lead to the end, but despite her 88 years, she remained a huge life force. She seemed to withstand all of life’s afflictions in a perpetual state of good will and good humor, all amounting to nothing less than sheer joy. She faced the darker forces of this life combatively and her friends and children and acquaintances fed off of her powerful and positive spirit of life. The Bible says “choose life” and Mom chose it to the power of ten.

I traveled from New York to the hospital in the suburbs of Philadelphia that evening. When I got there, Mom was in intensive care and heavily sedated. Her breathing was labored but she was asleep and resting and seemed to be beyond the reach of the physical pain that she had suffered through earlier in the day. Megan and I sat with her for several hours and then we reluctantly left for our own resting places for the night.

Saturday was a day of choices. The doctors all were clear that she was in the last days of her life. We learned that the hospital had a hospice facility and Megan, my brother Steven and I visited it and were impressed by the people who ran it. And after conferring with my brother David, who was still in California, we decided that hospice care was the best option. Mom remained under sedation and asleep all that day and we began to believe that she would never awaken again. She would be moved to hospice care on Monday.

On Sunday, after attending a local church service, my sister and I returned to Abington to be with Mom who remained in intensive care. Soon Steven arrived with his laptop and a DVD of ancient home movies. Unknown to all of us, Steven had brought medicine from heaven. We turned the computer on and watched flickering images of children and parents and places from long ago and we spontaneously began to share stories and memories prompted by what we were looking at on the screen. Soon, the mood changed from the normal hush of a hospital to laughter and jokes and joy. And then Mom awoke from her deep sleep. This was a party she was not going to miss! She recognized all of us and said “I love you” several times. Even the nurses looked up from their stations to see what was going on. Tracey, the nurse in charge of Mom, came in and joined the party that celebrated life in a place where illness and death was so prevalent. This time of light and life would be short lived, but for everyone present it was a miracle. When I think back to those precious moments, I think of the words of King David’s psalm:

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.

On Monday, Mom had fallen into a deep sleep once again. She was moved from intensive care to the hospice and so we sat with her throughout the day. That night I returned home as did Steven. We fully expected the vigil to last for a good long time, but on Tuesday in the early afternoon in the presence of my sister Megan, Mom took a gentle last breath and then her spirit rose from that place in the company of angels.