What I have always called, “the best day/the worst day” started the night before. 

It was when I was a sophomore, majoring in music performance, at the state university I attended right out of high school.  On May 13^th (one day before my birthday) I was practicing, after the usual dinner of carbs and soda, in a practice room in the Music Building.  The rehearsal rooms were, by design, soundproof to the hallway and each other.  But that night, there were a couple of people standing directly outside my practice room door, I could hear them talking as I was packing up to leave.  I recognized one of the voices as a friend I was meeting for dinner the next day.  I started to open the door to say “Hi”, when I heard her say…

“…remember, tomorrow night at 7pm.  It’s a surprise for his Birthday, I’ll get him there by 7:30pm.”

 She was throwing me a surprise Birthday party!

Since I had never had a surprise Birthday Party, I was excited.  Even more so, since (as a control freak) I like to know about “surprises” before they happen.  (I know, that defeats the purpose…what can I say?)

However, even with the knowledge of that good news, the next day didn’t start well.  I had a “presentation” to give in my first class, which meant shirt and tie.  I woke up late (as usual). I leapt out of my bed and sprinted down the hall to the showers for the fastest shower and shave I had ever done.  Back to the dorm room and on with the white shirt, pants…I sat on the bed to slip on both my shoes while tying my tie.  Rushing, and doing multiple things to be ready in 15 minutes, I jumped up from the bed where I was sitting – ready to step in front of the mirror and behold my glory – when suddenly, without any time to catch a breath or blink, I was painfully on my back, on the floor.

In my multitasking frenzy I had zipped the end of my tie into my pants.  When I stood, I flipped myself on my back and ripped off the end of my tie.  After breathing in, I remembered… 

…I’m having a surprise party tonight! 

Things didn’t seem so bad.  I tucked the end of the tie in my shirt, put on a jacket to cover the mangled end of my tie if it slipped out of it’s hiding place in my button-down.  Then I grabbed my stack of books and raced to the cafeteria to grab a quick coffee (I was already addicted at this point in my life) before heading to my presentation…

…I’m having a surprise party tonight!

Once I arrived at the cafeteria, I placed my stack of books in a cubby downstairs and took two stairs at a time up to the second floor where the magic bean juice was dispensed.  Once my coffee lid was secure I raced (carefully) down the stairs to discover…my books were missing. 

Sure enough, someone had taken all my books (a thief who obviously enjoyed reading philosophy, music theory and opera, no doubt).  Now I need to add at this point that one of the books was borrowed from my mother.  It was one of her prized possessions and I promised her it would be safe, as I tucked it in my car on my way to school from my home, two hours away, some months before.

My first thought was…”I’m dead.”

My presentation notes, my books and my mother’s Christmas Book all gone, with no hope of return.  Then I remembered… 

…I’m having a surprise party tonight! 

And with that thought, the problem was placed in a folder a little further back in my brain and my day brightened despite the shredded tie, my aching back, the stolen books and a presentation that I would have to make up “on the fly”. (a little play on words, considering how my tie got mangled). 

The presentation was, miraculously, stunning. (I was carried around on the backs of my fellow students, as they cheered…at least that’s MY recollection).  My back recovered (ah…youth!) and with every hour of the day, good or bad, in the back of my mind was the constant underscore of a party in my future.

I returned to my dorm room around 4pm to find my wall phone blinking with a message.

(Editor’s note: For the young people: a wall phone is like an iPHONE without the screen or camera.  It is, if you can believe it, FASTENED to the wall; immovable.  People call, but you don’t know who is calling until you answer.  In the case of this particular phone, one could leave a message, and a little light would blink on the wall phone of the recipient…it was a brave new world.) 

In any case, I listened to the message and called the number.  It was the SECURITY OFFICE on campus.
“Are you missing a rucksack?” they asked.
Not totally certain at that point in my life what a “rucksack” was, I said, “No, but I AM missing some books.”
“Can you describe the books?”
“Well, one of them is big, red, and is titled, CHRISTMAS CAROLS FROM AROUND THE WORLD…inside is the name, Margery Baker.”
“You can come claim your rucksack before 5:30pm today.”

I went to CAMPUS SECURITY.  Sure enough, there was a backpack (what Shirley in CAMPUS SECURITY called a “rucksack”) that I didn’t recognize.  And after I showed her my campus ID she smiled and handed it to me.  My books were inside, along with several other things.  That’s right…whomever stole my books had lost their “rucksack”.
“Don’t you want it all?” Shirley asked.
I have to say, as tempted as I was by the idea of obtaining my thief’s stuff: an ANDY GIBB cassette, macramé key chain, WORLDS OF ADVANCED GEOMETRY book, and a corduroy cap, I refrained.

I returned to my dorm room in triumph, saying aloud, “God is good.” (Not realizing at the time, in my spiritual immaturity, that God would STILL be good, even if my books hadn’t been found…since “God, being good.” has little to do with me…but that’s another BLOG). 

The party I had dreamed of all day finally came to pass, and it was wonderful.  That party had colored my day; causing all that went wrong to be placed in priority after the knowledge of what was happening at the end of the day.  It was like knowing that the destination was worth any trouble along the journey.

Even at that point in my spiritual immaturity I realized the Spirit had led me into a Truth that would stay with me: knowing what is at the end of the journey puts everything else in perspective. 

Every-once-in-a-while I stand in awe as I look on the lives of the Children of God around me, especially my flock, my congregation.  These people who suffer loss, sickness, and circumstances that might cripple anyone else, not only survive, but thrive. They live as if they know what lies at the end of the journey.  They let all circumstances, good and bad, all moments, all people, roll over them, through them…with the knowledge that there’s a party at the end of the day.

For those of us who BELIEVE & FOLLOW: how would our experience of each day change, if we knew what was at the end of the journey?

Funny thing…we DO know.

Once again, this holiday, I performed with the Indianapolis Jazz Orchestra (the “big band” I’ve been singing with for over 19 years).  We have played many “patriotic” gigs throughout the years, and always some Glenn Miller, some George M. Cohan, some John Philip Sousa.  Many times there is ice cream, grandkids, lemonade and fireworks.  And of course, one of the highlights is to play the Military Service songs and have any audience members who served to stand at their song.  It’s always a good time.

Once, as I was leaving one of those gigs, at a retirement center, while walking through the crowd, a man stopped me by touching my arm.  He was surrounded by his kids and grandkids.  He pulled me aside and thanked me for the music and asked if I had served in the military (my short hair).  I said that I hadn’t, but that I was the son of an Army Veteran.  Then he asked, “Where did he serve, and did he tell you what he did, and share stories?”

“Well, yes,” I said, “He was a peace-time Vet in Germany and Korea…and he told me quite a few things.”

Then he asked me a question that I wasn’t expecting: “Have you told YOUR children?” He asked. “Because,” he said, “It’s important to keep telling the stories.”

He continued just for a short time, before his family led him away, obviously thinking that he had taken too much of my time.  But before he let me go, he said, “We need to remember…and we need to tell our children…and they need to tell theirs.”

I walked to my car wrapping my head around this conversation that took less than a couple of minutes, probably…as it affected me.

“We need to remember, and we need to tell.”

In this time and place, with renewed questions about truth in the news media, is it possible that families and generations become the care-takers of history…as it always used to be?  Is there, or should there be, a responsibility to tell our stories to each generation so that they remember?

Yesterday I listened to an historian on the radio.  He was saying how important it is to remember the story of the United States, because we are “losing our core”, as he put it.  He referenced a relatively new tradition in an African nation, where they get together in their neighborhoods, celebrating their National Day.  Along with the dancing, singing, fireworks, etc.  They “give their testimonies” (tell their stories). These are stories of their own personal survival through the genocide that rocked their people.  These are first-hand stories, and the people who tell them say they are afraid their children and grand-children will forget, grow apathetic and entitled.

A very wise tradition, in my opinion…because it’s true: generations forget.

The Spirit encourages the “telling of one’s story”.  It used to be that the Church carried that tradition out.  In MY home church, Sunday night was a time when the Pastor would regularly ask if anyone had a “testimony”, and someone would stand and tell about a recent “God Moment” they had.  Those times were far more effective on my young mind than reading the Bible…I KNEW these people, I trusted them.  Age and experience has taught me that everyone sees their stories through their own filters, much like today’s blurring of NEWS and COMMENTARY, but I’m not sure that’s all together a bad thing.

The power of someone’s story is evident at Central Christian, when some of our Elders tell THEIR stories…it is one of our most moving seasons of the year.

Of course, the stories related to a nation’s history, such as the beginnings of the United States, need to be repeated.  God’s people in the Old Testament told their history and made each generation learn it LITERALLY word-for-word, so that it did not get changed or edited with every telling.  The oral tradition of the Jewish people is legendarily accurate.

EVERYONE has a story.  Have you ever believed you have a responsibility to pass it on?  Remember that as mundane as you may believe your own life is, it may have an impact on someone else that you could never imagine.

Central Christian Church and THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH (DISCIPLES OF CHRIST) has a story…and our histories, or “core” (the reason our church began) needs to be continually remembered.

The story of America is the story of how, who, and why we were ever formed.  That needs to be remembered honestly and repeated loudly to those in power, and to the citizens of this nation.  The story of God is the story of His people and their journey with (or without) Him…and it needs to be repeated loudly and constantly to His children.

Your story; why you were created, your journey with and without God, needs to be repeated…loudly…regularly…and given freely to each generation…we have a responsibility to remember and tell.

I am so blessed and happy to live in a country that makes it relatively easy to be a Believer & Follower of Jesus the Christ.  I am thankful every day, as a Pastor, that I do not face the persecution and unfathomable struggles that many of my brothers and sisters throughout the world face daily.  We are truly blessed, in the United States, to be allowed to “live and let live”…though some of us could use a little more practice.

We, as a nation, have rarely had to face what other Christians around the world face, as tension between the church and the government.  Throughout the nations governments and non-Christians resent the fact that a Christian’s allegiance is FIRST given to God, and THEN to the nation.  Here in the U.S.A., although it has turned to a more politicized moniker, being a “Christian” is a label with some influence in the greatest circles of power, or at least a relative comfort level within those circles.  The same cannot be said for many countries outside of the U.S.

Does that make this a “Christian” country?  Although, for some reason, many believe that this nation is a “new Isreal”-type, the nation of the USA is no more “Christian” than Portugal or Australia (as illustrative examples only).  There is a flawed belief there were MORE Christians in political leadership at the dawn of this nation than there are now. But all one needs to do is read a little history to find the percentage was probably the same as it is now.  And what some of those leaders defined as Christ-like-behavior would shock us today.  But there WAS an eager tolerance, in that time, to allow the people of this new country to choose where, when, how or not to worship (unlike the countries from which our colonists came, where religion was forced upon the populace). 

Was this nation founded on Christian principals?  It would seem so, as many would define Christianity and as many interpret scriptures then and now.  But looking at the way some Christians have historically used their faith to justify slavery and aggressive war against other nations, one wonders what the difference is between patriotism and faith.  Again, Tzarist Russia (as an example) and Nazi Germany (as another) would have claimed, and DID claim, that theirs were Christian nations: their concepts about government and “who was in and who was out” were argued using the scripture AND the belief that God blessed their efforts and was “on their side”.

This belief in a “Christian” United States has, unfortunately, given some Christians pause.  Sometimes the Supreme Court of the United States hands down decisions that make some Christians (not all) shudder.  These decisions about marriage, about life before birth, etc. are reminders that this country is simply that…a country. It is not a nation set aside from any other nation, by God, for special “anointing”.  It is a country filled with God’s children…like all of the other countries of the world. 

 And AS God’s children, we understand that our allegiance to God dictates that we pray for, but not worship, our respective countries and their leaders.  We realize that our leaders and lawmakers will do things we agree with and some things we don’t agree with.  We will agree and disagree with our own Christian brothers and sisters also.  As children of God we realize that God and God alone will define what life is, what marriage is, what love is, and who has residency in His Kingdom…many of us would be surprised at His decisions about precisely those things.

Even in the Kingdom, the searching and re-searching of the scripture may lead YOU to define God and other things in ways which might be different from the way I see God.  How then can we expect our nation to always agree with what we individually define as “Christian”?

The laws of this country and the laws of God may at times connect, intersect, run parallel and/or conflict.  That is the reality of life in this Age.  We are promised, however, that in the Age-To-Come, there will be no boundaries, no war, no strangers.  There will be One King, one law, and one peace.  We’re not there yet, but we will be soon…and for now we need to practice not looking shocked at who else is sitting at God’s table (and not being offended when they are shocked to see us.)

We, as Believers and Followers of the One True God, manifested in Jesus the Promised One, have one agenda: to KNOW God.  We have a primary allegiance: to the Almighty Father and His Only Son…and we have one command from Him to follow: love one another as I have loved you.

I love this country, where we celebrate the freedom to worship as we please, we define our faith as we please, we agree or disagree with our country’s leaders as we please.  God help me to remember the millions that don’t have this freedom…and help me love the ones who have not chosen the ultimate freedom that comes from knowing God and His Son.

I am remembering a moment, a Christmas Eve in the living room, putting a massive toy of some sort together, as quietly as possible.  It’s something I wanted to get done quickly, it was late and I knew the boys would be up before dawn, wanting to get into the presents.  I was tempted to simply look at the picture on the package and build from that, except that this clever manufacturer had printed instructions that began with:

“Please follow instructions carefully, the designers and manufacturers of this product wish to do everything in their power to ensure your enjoyment and safety.” 

“…to ensure your enjoyment and safety.”

And I had another epiphany.  It was about something that had been in the news during that Christmas Season: The Ten Commandments.  Some city somewhere is going through some sort of thing about a stone in front of the courthouse and a manger scene and a menorah, or something.  Anyway I had either forgotten or suddenly realized the Ten Commandments (the Decalogue) are a prime example of “the Designer-Manufacturer’s…wish to do everything in His power to ensure our enjoyment and safety.”

The TEN COMMANDMENTS (or as I like to call it, “THE CODE”) are the pattern for life in this age, written by the One who created this age.  Said another way, “If you want enjoyment and safety here on earth…follow these ten easy steps”.

Following the THE CODE, or any rules and guidelines set by God, don’t get us into the next age of eternity, Jesus makes that clear.  Jesus says it is by our faith that we are restored.  It is a gift from His Father and our Father that we can be restored to the ideal created in Eden, and remain close to God, even into the age-to-come.

We don’t stand next to the Father and walk with Him through eternity because of who WE are, but because of who HE is.

Jesus spent His time as a Teacher on earth trying to re-explain, clear up misconceptions, and help us see His Father in a new light.  He was clear in what was and is expected of those who believe and follow, but His emphasis was on active love between each other…in response to the great gift given to us by His Father, NOT as some sort of test to see if we should “get into heaven.”

THE CODE makes practical sense in this created world.  These are the “directions” for living well, with our Creator and with each other.  I’d go so far as to say, even the most spiritually-insensitive could benefit from living in this world according to the THE CODE.

But again, following these rules have nothing to do with our forever life, or the restoration of it.  The Apostle Paul was also clear that we all fail.  We fail on purpose and/or innocently.  And when we do, Jesus stands to defend us as someone who has worn our skin, seen with our eyes, and walked our path.  The fear of disappointing and offending God, that many of us grew up with, is something that doesn’t come from God, except in the way that we should “fear”, or better said, “be in awe of” Him.  We should appropriately fear and respect a Being with the power to obliterate even our very souls with a blink of His eye…and yet chooses not to.

Does God sit in heaven, yearly “going over the books” and writing or erasing each of our names according to our deeds, good and bad?  I honestly am not there to witness that or see it.  I can only tell you what the scripture, the Spirit, and my own experience with God tells me: He would race across the universe to merely give us a hug.  He is completely and totally wrapped up in us…for us, it’s all about God, and for God life is completely about us.

His concern is not only that we are with Him and He is with us, forever.  But also that while we are here, we have a taste of what it will be like in the age-to-come.  We can do that by following the Designer & Manufacturer’s instructions for creating a better world.

“Please follow instructions carefully, the Designer and Manufacturer of this product wishes to do everything in His power to ensure your enjoyment and safety.”

As a child, I was first fascinated by theatrical productions not because of the performances, but because of the sets.  Now, more than ever, and after several years in professional and community theatre, I am fascinated by the craft of theatrical scenic design and execution.

I am currently in a stage show, a musical, and am once more enthralled by the art of “set design” and construction.  The designers and builders in this current show have done a fantastic job creating a workable “forest” of trees, with some creative material and lights…it IS really something to see, and fun to act on.

To sit in an audience and KNOW, in your mind, that the space you are looking at is simply a box open to the audience, but what you see is a lavish, marble-paneled palace interior, or a forest, or a village green…that kind of “suspension of belief” is a skill and somewhat mysterious gift given to designers who often need to be engineers of sorts as well.

The process of making one thing look like another and putting the audience in a frame of mind, sucking them into the story, is still a wonderful experience for me.

When one takes a trip backstage to see the “magic” revealed, the experience can be, as it is for me and some others, an even more fascinating time.  However, for others, the magic is gone once they realize that what they see is not the truth: that brick wall is a façade of a quarter-inch plastic…that tree is made of papier-mâché, as are the solid-looking-weather-worn stones.  The sky?  Material with blue light on it…and the stars, merely electronics.

The  papier-mâché tree wouldn’t stand a light rain, much less a storm.  The house has only 3 sides and is made of cardboard, some would, some paint…no one in their right mind would actually want to LIVE there.  The stones wouldn’t support a small animal, much less be shelter or foundation for more building.  The set is only a reproduction and real only to the audience…and much of that is in their own minds.

INTEGRITY.  The word describes what is incorruptible, sound and complete.  Integrity is something that truly is, on the inside, what it appears to be on the outside.  If it looks like a tree or a stone, or a brick wall, on the outside…INTEGRITY demands that it BE a tree, or stone, or brick wall on the inside.

A related word, INTEGRAL, suggests completeness, wholeness…trueness.  It’s root from a practice, in Roman days, of filling in the cracks of poorly made, or not so fine, marble columns with wax so that they would appear more perfect (more “integral”).  Of course, later, the hot sun would melt the wax and the buyer would realize that the “good deal on columns” was a bad deal for his house.

Are you what you appear to be?  Do all of us present an “audience side” to those we want to please or “perform for”?  Sometimes we do.  Being “nice” is not what being a Believer & Follower is all about…being “good” is.  Nice is “façade”, put on for some, but not for others. “Good” implies that at our core we have the Spirit of God burning as a furnace and warming from the inside out.  The scripture warns us that a façade will not stand the test of life…eventually what is TRULY in our hearts will come through.  The papier-mâché of our own stage set will wear quickly away…and if there is nothing but chicken wire and cardboard behind it, our friends will know…worse, we will not have the strength to merely walk through life.

 Let’s build from the inside out…start with a good designer, our Heavenly Father.

It was 39 years ago this week (May 18^th, to be exact and hard to believe) that Mount St. Helens erupted.  It was a Sunday, early in the morning, I was living in Seattle.  What I remember is that I heard a sound outside my house, like someone had thrown a big ball up against the wall – it was loud enough that I looked out the window.  But the mountain was far enough away that I wouldn’t have seen anything.  The wind was blowing east and the mountain was some hours south of Seattle, so it wasn’t until we were in church that we heard about the eruption.  Later in the day, during an outdoor bar-b-que, a few of us guys got up on the roof of the house (which was on a hill) and looked with binoculars at the ash cloud in the distance.  But we were somewhat unaffected by it all.

My parents, some 4 hours east, were at church. My Mom was a greeter that day, standing at the door and watching a dark cloud in the distance grow larger and larger with every hour.  When the announcement was broadcast that the mountain had erupted and the cloud that all of eastern Washington was seeing was an ash cloud, church was cancelled, and people were told to go home.  No one really knew what the cloud contained; something poisonous?  Something dangerous?  And so, to avoid panic, people were sent home. They had a totally different experience than we did in Seattle.

Then there was the woman with her two kids, travelling close to the mountain in their station wagon when the mountain blew.  Suddenly, she said, the sky was black and all around her was chaos: trees were being stripped of their limbs, lakes were evaporating.  She made her kids lie down in the car and drove as fast as she could, but finally couldn’t see where she was going, and then her tires melted and she was stuck.  Her mind shut down, unable to comprehend what was happening.  Her children were terrorized by the event, and her reaction.

She spoke from her home, weeks later, after returning from the hospital where she was treated for shock.  You see, to HER it seemed as if the world had ended.  Everywhere she looked, everything she saw was black, desolate and alien.  She saw no living creatures but herself and her children. She had no idea if the devastation had consumed the entire world or not.  That experience made her lose her mind a little.  When she and her children were discovered a few hours after she pulled over on the back road she was travelling, she was incoherent, her children were panic-stricken and in shock. She was brought around when she was shown photos of her home and city still intact; when she was shown that the eruption, though massive, didn’t destroy the world.  Even though, from her perspective, the world was destroyed. 

That’s what I took away from the story.  From her perspective the entire world (or, at least, her world) was destroyed.  It was only when care-givers understood HER perspective that they could break through and help her.

We all have trauma, we all have to deal with devastation in our own lives at times.  Sometimes we fail to get the support we need because others around aren’t feeling the same effects of that trauma, as we are.  This should be a lesson to us.  As Jesus dealt with each living being according to THEIR need and THEIR perspective…so should we be able to “put ourselves in their place” and therefore help to bring them out.  Just because you or I may not react in the same way to the same predicament doesn’t mean that another’s pain is less important.  Sometimes we reject the call to care because we don’t think that other person is really “that bad off”.

On May 18, 1980 I was barely affected by the “blast”, as we called it.  While just a few miles away a woman and her children thought their world was gone.

Every day we walk next to someone whose world is collapsing and every day we are reminded, by God, that the way to His heart is to love our neighbor.  Today, this week, watch for, reach out to, and love the ones that God sends our way.