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He calls to share his discovery But is now alight with the fire of potential He came out of his mother the most beautiful baby His spirit soared from the moment Feet moving, voice calling Much like a bright flash ghosts the last viewed scenes He grew then, too, but sideways and backwards Miracles happen, we know it. Creating a new life for himself, Now, as suddenly as he entered our lives His rejuvenated spirit drives him to be “I’m a man now” he declares to all who pay “You’re a man now,” we answer back Sadness at the loss of the Can we lie quiet and in peace when confronted with this kind of story? Pray for the repose of the souls of the two young men gunned down by fear and unreasonable gun laws. Pray also for a society that won’t hold us accountable for consciously returning to frontier justice. Today’s NYT carries the story of one more nail in the coffin of the Anglican Church. Too bad that the schism is headed by Archbishop Peter Akinola, the same one who has vilified Muslims and suggested that gays be imprisoned for being, well, gay. Radical fundamentalism is the force goading this issue, as it is in so many of the troubles that face us in this world. It matters not that Christians, Jews, Muslims or Hindi practice the intolerance inherent in fundamentalism. It just matters that, unless we all face it down, it will bring much of what we value to its knees. Every night that I tune in the local Memphis news, there is something more to create enormous sadness. Tonight, it was the death of 6 year-old Ramon Swanson in Fraser and 18 year old Otisa McCraven in Memphis. Coming to Memphis, I’ve been told repeatedly that the violent crime here is something we just have to get used to. How is that possible? How can we become complacent about the daily suffering of so many people in this city? There is so much that needs to be done. But before anything will work, there must be real outrage at the injustice and suffering in this city from those who are the religious, political and educational leaders. Unfortunately, that won’t happen until and unless those same leaders see an economic as well as social imperative to improve life in our city. Until that time, the evening news will continue to be a daily reminder of how our city has failed its people. I moved to Memphis about a year ago after learning to blog in Blogsboro, NC where the climate for blogging was rarefied and the community felt by by bloggers was stimulating and mutually supportive. Active and energetic exchanges about blogging, its techniques and the social and political impact of the blogging scene on media and readers filled monthly meetings and a yearly conference called ConvergeSouth. Unusual personalities like Billy the Blogging Poet and Mr. Sun combined with steady political commentary from the likes of nationally-prominent Ed Cone and local political commentator Hogg’s Blog. So, moving into Memphis, I was looking forward to becoming part of a new blogging scene. My first step was to find a blog aggregator, and found it at M3mphis Blog. Kudos to the Commercial Appeal for providing this service to bloggers, although it feels a little odd to have the only newspaper in town be the aggregator of blogs that are, perhaps, frequently critical of it. And there are some interesting blogs on the site: Dining with Monkeys, at home she feels like a tourist, Shelf Life, The Bloodshot Eye, Steve’s Nude Memphis Blog to name a random few. Good writing is found on the Commercial Appeal blogs, including Blake’s Blog, Faith Matters and Pets on my Mind. What I miss is the community that we had in Blogsboro. So, here’s an open invitation to organize a Meetup at a convenient coffee + free Wifi place and get to know one another. It’s been a strange week. In the midst of fevers and fitful sleep, old wounds and still older regrets came crashing into his psyche, catching him unawares. He sought reprieve from these desultory moments amidst the cacophony of “Judge Judy” and poorly-written crime novels. Nevertheless, these illness-induced journeys into his past work on him as surely as the bacteria in his lungs. By the time his fever broke, he had been to places in the depth of his soul where light seldom reaches. In his darkest moment, God gave him a pathway to light and relief from his deepest fears. By His Grace he revived memories of love, optimism and quietude. By His Love, He renewed his hope in the sweet wind that will guide him to his future. He lay there, staring at the over-used pillow which has been his most consistent companion over the past week, not daring to move. He takes a tentative breath, air seeking corners of lungs, alveoli blooming in shy awakening. The reaction is swift: a flash-bang of noise and action signals his body’s rejection of the foreign intruder that has invaded his airways. The coughing fit fades after several jackhammer outbursts and his body settles in once more to a state of rest. A quiet breath later, he knows he has a momentary reprieve. The hot shower brings steaming air into his battered lungs, restarting the hacking but clearing his lungs of debris accumulated during the night. Refreshed, he starts in on the day’s business, confident that today, he’s back to his old self. “O God, creator of all things and light of the world, give me the Grace to love myself as a child of God, putting You above all, and fill me with the Holy Spirit so that I may breathe the sweet air of inner peace, unbounded love and spiritual wholeness. Amen.” Diversity Memphis celebrated its annual Humanitarian Awards at a dinner this past Thursday evening. For this writer it was an eye-opening experience and a lesson in Memphis politics and race relations — or lack of them. The racial make-up of the population of Memphis is made up of: Black — 61.1% White — 33.6% Asian — 2.4% Other Races — 2.9%, so it’s not surprising when the word “Diversity” in Memphis refers to the relations between its black and white citizens. What is surprising is that this week’s awards ceremony honored 5 very deserving individuals, yet only one of them was black. What’s that all about? Surely there are other individuals in Memphis whose service to people and the community deserve recognition and who reflect the racial demographics of the city. That said, there were inspiring moments: Gayle Rose encouraged us to not let others define us and resist taking up the mantle of privilege or of poverty - Gid Smith, obviously ill, receiving the award with maximum dignity and Mark L. Stansbury who had a solid hold on his “drug” problem (you had to have been there). Kudos to these recipients, but Memphis, you should know better and do better. A friend of mine came out a couple of years ago to his friends, family, wife and children. The decision to come out was deeply felt and prayerfully made. As a deeply religious man, he turned to his church, of which he was an active member, for solace and support. Instead, he was condemned and ostracized. Worse, he was told that what he was doing would cause him irreparable harm with his family, his friends and especially with God. Two years later, battered and bruised, he has come through this ordeal stronger and perhaps more cynical about the frailty of friendships. He tells me, however, that his love of God has not wavered. I know God’s love for him has not. I have written many times before about my views of gays and the church. The issue has driven a monumental wedge between Christians all over the world. The simple fact that all of us, straight and gay, are children in the sight of God becomes lost in the vitriol and misinformation. That’s why this note in the Commercial Appeal makes me so sad. Instead of loving one another as God’s children while being unwilling to be another’s judge, we set ourselves up as the mediator of God’s law, and create unimaginable pain in the process. We wear a mask of solid iron, bonded onto our features by a solder made from the sweat of defensiveness and fear. It’s corrugated surface, rough with the chiseled marks of countless rescue and escape attempts, She alone can see beneath the burnished sheen of the mask. Cringing in shame at the knowledge that our nakedness is so apparent, we shrink from Her knowing scrutiny, retreating to the depths of our wounded selves.
She pursues us in spite of ourselves. We turn our backs in hopes to hide, but She knows where we are, shining a light on the pathway before us. The Holy Spirit cleanses us from the soil of faithlessness and fear. She soothes us with the balm of acceptance, forgiveness and salvation. We remove our mask, and in so doing, we become open to the light of the world and the promise of transcendent life in the Spirit. An apple carries within it the essence of God. Joy comes when we pursue responsibility, not happiness. A monumental tragedy may have meaning un-looked-for; un-hoped-for. Anger lies beneath the surface to rear its ugly head at a moment’s notice. All this I learned today. O God, seed of the fruit that feeds our souls, Amen. How does God act in our lives? How do we know our prayers are answered or even heard? How do we reconcile asking God to assuage our own personal pain when there is so much pain surrounding us? Today I observed a soul whose personal struggles prevent him from seeing his own gifts and blind him to the path out of his self-made wilderness. For him, prayer has stopped being effective because he has been asking for the un-grant-able while rejecting the opportunities clearly set in his path. For him, God has become the easy way out, a metaphysical “Mr. Fixit”. For him and for us all, the path to personal peace is the acceptance of the reality that God fixes nothing except our ability to walk in concert with Him. God’s beacon of hope is His love and the pervasive effect it has on our lives and those around us. Without this sense of oneness with God, we are adrift in a desert of doubt, indecision and uncertainty. With it, we know that no matter what, we cannot be alone. O God of the Universe, Creator of all and our perfect Companion, give strength to those whose sight has been blinded to your Love. Give them Hope that they may find their way in this world by opening their eyes to the comfort of your Presence. Give them Shelter so that they kind find protection from their fears, and give them the Confidence of your love so that they can become living guideposts for others whose fear is yet to be assuaged. This we ask in your name, Amen.
Life gives us no rest. Transitions, part of the nomenclature of survival, The Lord is that shepherd which calls our name, It’s happening too fast.
As a cradle Episcopalian, the concept of “taking up the cross” is foreign to the Christian culture in which I was brought up. Our rituals, both in and outside the context of formal worship, our overly-dramatic sectarian politics, our monumental buildings and the sense of entitlement we feel as “God’s elect”, separates us from the crucifixion much more profoundly than the passing of centuries. Popular culture focuses on the grand drama of that day 2000 years ago. The beatings, the humiliating walk through the crowds, the cruel nailing of hands and feet, the torn earth and the dying God who would be man. Indeed, Hollywood would have us look for good and evil in its clear separation and cheer on the “winner” as he “triumphs over evil”. In a sort of 2000-year-old reality show, we view this event through the filter of “only the strong can survive”. It’s not hard to see, then, why we miss the central message of this supreme act of love. Christ’s journey though the wilderness of pain, degradation and sorrow melds with journeys taken by so many others - all of us - repeated over and over as we play out our lives. And it is in those journeys that we find ourselves becoming closer to the Christ that climbed onto the cross. As we come face-to-face with His reality, we know we cannot continue as we were, self-absorbed and inwardly-focused. Ultimately, Christ invites us to join him on the cross. From that vantage point we see the full sacrifice asked of us: to abandon who we were and to become vessels of love and servanthood made real for us by His gracious example and Sacred Heart. |
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reveals little of the turmoil beneath.
The author of SpiritBlog is a lifelong Episcopalian who attempts to express his faith through posting to this blog. He especially believes that all are precious in the sight of God and that religious labels have little or no relevance to the Grace given to us by God.
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