The Lamb Thief

The first time I heard Keith Green sing, he was already dead.  

I was driving down the street, listening to the radio.  I didn't know he was dead, so that didn't influence my opinion of his performance.  Maybe if I had known I might have cut him some slack.  As it was, what I heard didn't impress me.  I didn't know he had been somewhat controversial, and I didn't know that he had written, co-written, and performed many best selling songs.  All I knew at the time was what I heard on the radio that day, and, as I later learned, it was not a song for which he was especially well known.

The piano accompaniment which Green was playing was slow, laconic, almost wandering; just about the exact opposite of the usual pieces I heard on the radio.  There was no driving back beat from a bass guitar, no drums to draw the singer back to the appropriate pace.  His voice was, well, not exceptional in any way.  He just sounded like a guy singing.  I found myself wondering just why this piece had made it to the radio, at all.

And then, there were the words.  They didn't rhyme, which was very odd; in fact, there appeared to be no attempt to come up with a rhyming pattern of any kind; not even words that didn't rhyme but almost did.  It moved so slowly, it sounded like he was almost reading something to music.  At that point, I was reaching for the controls to change the station.

But then, I REALLY heard the words.  And I stopped; my hand hovering over the controls.

"Create in me a clean heart, oh God
And renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence, oh Lord
Take not thy Holy Spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation,
And renew a right spirit within me."

THAT struck a nerve.  I had that feeling I had heard something like that before.  I know this is cliche, but it's true: I pulled my car over to the side of the road and listened to the rest of the song.  And when it was over, I pulled out my Bible and started searching.  By then, I was certain the man had been singing scripture, and almost verbatim.  I was used to songs ABOUT things in the Bible, but this--this singing verses without forcing them into some kind of rhyme--this was something a bit new to me.

And I found it.  In Psalms 51.  And I knew why it seemed so familiar.  David wrote this song after Nathan, God's Prophet, told him a story.  In the story, a man--a rich man; one with plenty of everything; power, wealth, accolades--stole, slaughtered, and ATE a poor man's only lamb rather than one of his own many lambs.  Scripture says David burned with anger against the man and said to Nathan, "As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this must die!" (2 Samuel 12:5 NIV).

Then Nathan, who already knew that David had secretly had sex with Bathsheba and arranged for her husband to be killed in battle, turned on David and declared, "YOU are the man!"

Ever have one of those moments?  That awful slice of time when it is shoved in your face that what you have done is not only wrong (really, REALLY wrong), but KNOWN!  It was a shocking wake-up for King David.  And it made an impact.

David, finally remorseful for his actions, feels the full force of being cut off from God by his sin.  And he writes what we now call Psalm 51 to express his remorse and desire to be forgiven.

You may have done some terrible things in your life.  David certainly did.  Don't let those decisions and actions keep you from God.  I encourage you to embrace the words of Psalm 51 as your prayer of forgiveness and reconciliation.  Yes, there are always consequences for our actions, and our bad actions can come with some pretty horrific consequences.  David's did.  

I was ungracious during that first minute of listening to Keith Green sing his song.  But by the end I began to grasp what he undoubted already knew.  With that particular song, the words are far too important to let them be overshadowed by anything, even the music.  Even the performer.  What I learned is this: if I am willing to change, God is willing to forgive, to restore and renew, and even create in me a clean heart.


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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Fifth Sunday in Lent (March 25, 2012)
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm 51:1-12 or Psalm 119:9-16
Hebrews 5:5-10
John 12:20-33

Annunciation of the Lord (March 25, 2012)
Isaiah 7:10-14
Psalm 45 or Psalm 40:5-10
Hebrews 10:4-10
Luke 1:26-38

Will you be in Waco Friday morning?  If so, join us for breakfast at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse).  We have a great time discussing the coming week's passages, and the food is delicious :-)

Enjoy the week!
Steve

Training Wheels

Training Wheels
(a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

My first bike, a Sears 26-inch JC Higgins, was so much bigger than me, I had to bring it to the end of our walkway (which was a full twelve inches above the sidewalk) in order to get on it. But, once on it, I could not keep it upright. That didn't keep me from trying, but I fell ... a lot. In fact, every single time I pedaled a couple of turns, I started to tumble. This kept me close to home. That way I could always tumble unto our slightly raised lawn.

Into this problem stepped my Dad. One Saturday, he called me to come out front to show me that he had installed training wheels on my bike. This was great! I still had to climb on at the end of the walkway, but this time the bike stayed upright. My Dad gave me only one rule: whenever I got off the bike, I had to use the kickstand. He said that would keep the training wheels from wearing out (he intended to use them for my sister at some point). For the first few minutes, I just sat there, luxuriating in the realization that I was not going to topple over.

And then I took off.

I rode all over the neighborhood on that bike, for days and then weeks, I soared, my confidence placed firmly in those training wheels to keep me aloft. Oh, I still had some dismount problems due to that center bar, but on the whole it was the freedom I had dreamed of. This was more than happiness. This was joy.

One morning, after having come back from a ride, I carefully climbed off the bike, hooked the kickstand down with my sneaker, and turned to find my Dad standing in my path.

He said, "How was the ride?"

"Great!" I replied.

"So," he asked, "no problems riding without the training wheels?"

I whipped around and saw, to my horror, that there were no training wheels on my bike! I was almost overcome with the shock of realizing that I could have fallen.

"You took off the training wheels!" I accused.

"A week ago," he replied.

I had been riding without them for a week! But that was not all. Dad had never intended for me to rely on those training wheels. Like Stephen Covey was to articulate decades later, Dad "began with the end in mind." Every two or three days, he raised those training wheels ever so slightly, until, at some point, they never touched the ground while I rode the bike. And, because he had insisted I always use the kickstand, I never noticed that the bike could no longer stand on its own.

It is like this with God and us. God began a work within each of us "with the end in mind." God knows we have to make the journey, that we will encounter things we, initially, just cannot do without assistance; and we get that assistance. But the objective is that we outgrow that help; that, in fact, we grow to the point where, not only do we not need help with that challenge, but we become so skilled at it, we become someone else's assistance.

So, when you read Ephesians 2:10 and find that, long ago, God prepared good deeds for each of us to do; that God crafted a group of positive actions specific to you, for you to do; don't be surprised. Be encouraged: God thinks you're ready.

And be curious. Start looking for them. Someone needs their training wheels.

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Fourth Sunday in Lent (March 18, 2012)
Numbers 21:4-9
Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
Ephesians 2:1-10
John 3:14-21

http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

If you are in Waco Friday morning, join us for breakfast at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse). Good food and good discussion. I am so excited to be going!

Enjoy the week!

Steve

Wisdom and Perception

Wisdom and Perception

(a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

The coming week's Lectionary passages are all about wisdom and perception.  Read through them and see if you agree with me.  It's a quick read; there are only four passages.  What I see there underscores something that has been bouncing around in my head for a while: that these two things need each other; that wisdom without perception is powerless and that perception without wisdom is directionless. 

Wisdom absent perception just sits there.  No matter how wise one might be, without the ability to perceive the surrounding culture, without the ability to grasp the stimuli flowing by, the wise one can only be passive.  Speaking inappropriate maxims to unappreciative audiences or, more likely, waiting until someone comes seeking their wisdom.

Alternately, perception without wisdom has no compass, has no idea what to do with the received stimuli, is just as likely to fight or flee when neither is the best action.  No matter how perceptive one might be, without the reflective qualities of wisdom, without that spiritually informed rubric for decision-making, the perceptive one simply responds to the stimuli.  Slap for slap, eye for eye, life for life.

God gives wisdom.  All we need do is ask.  God gives us ears to hear, and will bless us with vision, when we seek it.  Ask.  Seek.  Knock.

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Third Sunday in Lent (March 11, 2012)
Exodus 20:1-17
Psalm 19
1 Corinthians 1:18-25
John 2:13-22

http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

If you are in Waco Friday morning, join our group for breakfast at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse).  Good food and good discussion.

Enjoy the week!

Steve

DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT [church] HISTORY

DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT [church] HISTORY

(a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

This week I passed a coworker in the hallway who had a smudge in the middle of his brow; a sizable dirty patch right smack in the center of his forehead.  I actually got as far as thinking about bringing it to his attention when I remembered: oh yes, Ash Wednesday.

While I know, intellectually, about such things, I didn't grow up with much of a church calendar.  In fact, I was grown before I actually heard someone say the words, "church calendar."  I was raised to believe in Jesus, but our church calendar took a break somewhere along about the death of the Apostle Paul, and didn't start up again until sometime in the late 19th century.  As odd as that may sound to many of you, I never even questioned it.

We weren't sequestered from the world, but none of the adults in my life connected such dates as Easter and Christmas to an official calendar of the "church year" (another term I have only recently begun to hear).  Most of my understanding of these things came after I was married and had become a father.  Before then, Advent was a word vaguely connected to the Christmas season somehow; Epiphany meant something like the kind of discovery that leads to shouting "Eureka!"; I thought Lent was something that your mother brushed off your clothes.  I was a grandfather before I learned that the 12 days of Christmas START on Christmas Day!

In case you're feeling sorry for my having grown up in a life absent from such knowledge; don't.  The simplicity of our beliefs fostered a life wonderfully absent of complication, and led to a faith uncluttered; neither of which I would ever trade.  In my life, Ordinary time was just that, peacefully ordinary.

Yes, I know all of these things serve a purpose, that people who practice them draw spiritual strength and comfort from them, that having a church calendar helps people focus their belief in positive ways.  However, and I cant stress this enough, while many find them useful, none of them are required.

And that's my point: in the priorities of our spiritual journey, such things must come lower.  They must support the main parts of our journey or they become simply a palliative distraction.  Am I advocating doing away with them?  Of course not.  If they serve you on your journey, as they do for many, then practice and observe them.  All I ask is that you place the following, and their like, higher on your list.

"But he's already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don't take yourself too seriously-take God seriously." (Micah 6:8 MSG)

"Religion that pleases God the Father must be pure and spotless. You must help needy orphans and widows and not let this world make you evil." (James 1:27 CEV)

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-40 NIV84)

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
First Sunday in Lent (February 26, 2012)
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-10
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15

Best Laid Plans (Burns Day Edition)

It's Burns Day, when people the world over gather to celebrate the life and writings of the gret mon ;-)
Even though I didn't know this when I wrote this piece, it seems like today is the day to post it. Enjoy, Steve

Best Laid Plans (a slightly longer than usual Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)


"The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft astray" says the Robert Burns quote, and my experience certainly agrees.  It hasn't put me off scheming, completely, but there ARE times I wonder why I bother.  You plan, organize, time-manage, equip, assemble, deploy, and, in some case, accessorize; not to mention hurry, fret, placate, rearrange, orient, and clock-watch (which is different than time-manage ... really).  But, it just doesn't QUITE work out.  To paraphrase Field Marshall Moltke: "No plan survives actual contact with the enemy."


In case this sounds defeatist, let me stop you right now.  Moltke was just warming up his argument that strategizing for battle must ALWAYS include contingency planning; the consideration of every possible iteration.  


And Burns was apologizing to a mouse.


No, I don't think either of these men would want their thoughts misconstrued.  Moltke, in brief, was saying "fret not;" rather, plan WELL, all the time recognizing you just cannot anticipate everything.  Have enough contingencies that you can be creative in your response when the inevitable breakdown occurs.  In fact, he not-so-famously also said, "Strategy is a system of expedients."


And Burns recognized the fact that disappointment (and disappointment is, perhaps, putting it too mildly for some of us) often accompanies the realization that our plans are not unfolding as we intended them.  Burns is sorry that his plowing has destroyed the mouse's home, but he a little envious that the mouse can focus only on the present, while he is subject to worry about both the past and future.


I've had good reason to reflect on the philosophies of these two men, recently.  I had a scheme go astray, a plan expire in the face of reality.  I had made careful arrangements for a successful appointment with my new trainer.  Having set the appointment later in the evening, I still left work shortly after five to ensure I had plenty of margin in travel time.  And, despite the torrential downpour that slowed traffic and made driving difficult, I still made it to the gym in plenty of time.  I had already carefully packed my gym bag so I wouldn't have any last minute concerns about essential clothing, lock for the locker, shampoo, etc.  I even packed a pen to use in capturing my workout plan for future reference.


There was, however, one little thing.  


I arrived timely, I met my trainer, we agreed on a rendezvous point on the gym floor, and I headed off to the locker room to change.  I selected a locker, started changing, set my bag into the locker, and slipped the lock into the hasp ... except, it wouldn't GO into the hasp.  I focused on the situation.  Perhaps something was blocking?  Maybe I was coming at it from an angle?


No.  It was, of course, the unanticipated thing; in fact, the almost unanticipatable thing:  the diameter of the lock's shackle was just THIS much too wide to fit through the hasp.  My first reaction: WHAT?!  Then, I had one of those little moments where you tell yourself not to panic, to apply some logic.  Of COURSE my lock would work.  I just needed to find a different hasp; something was wrong with this one, the odd narrow opening.


Nope. I tried my lock on every available locker.  No luck.  Somehow, the shackle of my ordinary Master Lock was just a few microns too thick, and no amount of calm logic was going to change that.  


These things happen to us, don't they?  Frankly, all the planning in the world can't prevent them.  Yes, we can and should make plans.  But we need to be ready to "roll with the punch" because the punch is going to come.  We WILL have to make a course correction, to put it in nautical terms.  And beyond the "what" of that creative response is something perhaps even more important: the "how."


We are free to choose any solution that satisfies us.  We could just throw up our hands and leave.  Let's face it: if you don't feel angry at the unfolding events, the other go-to choice is self-blame and then surrender.  And speaking of anger, we can, as my Great Aunt Vera used to say, "throw a hissy fit." It's emotionally gratifying and, conveniently, usually shifts the blame from ourselves to someone else.  Most of us think all our options lie on a continuum between these two poles: surrender or strike out at someone else; flight or fight.  Most people don't care to consider another response, to step outside the usual.  And freedom allows them to leave it at that.


But, as 1 Corinthians 8 says, "God does care when you use your freedom carelessly," especially as it affects those who may not be as strong of will or certainty as we are.  And how are we to know who is "strong enough" to not be impacted by our choices, actions, statements?  


As for me, well, there was no solution from Burns.  I'm old enough not to fret in disappointing situations ... at least, those that don't threaten my ego ;-)  And while I had already applied Moltke's strategic approach to planning the night, now seemed to be the moment for some of his creative response to the inevitable.  So, I went back out and made new arrangements with my trainer.  We will meet another night.  


In the meantime, I will buy a different lock.


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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (January 29, 2012)
Deuteronomy 18:15-2
Psalm 111
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
Mark 1:21-28


Join us at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse) if you are in Waco Friday morning.  Good food and great discussion of this week's Lectionary passages.

Blessings, 
Steve

Sent from my iPad

Passing Away

Passing Away (a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I have never been very good at endings.

I remember reading a comment one author made about his craftwork where he indicated he thought he wrote good beginnings and great middles, but that he had trouble with endings. Man! Do I get that! When I am in the flow of it; when my characters are doing interesting things, going interesting places, speaking interesting dialog ... it is SO hard to shut the door on that.

But it is not just in the realm of writing that I have this challenge. I hate to come to the end of the books I'm reading. Orson Scott Card, opining on the craft of writing, claimed the sad ending is not the opposite of the happy ending. He reserved that dishonor for the unsatisfying ending. And I agree.

I am coming to an ending of something that has given me great joy for several years, and I am very reluctant to be done. Some years ago I decided to read all of Ed McBain's 87th Precinct novels, in order. Just so you have the picture: he wrote almost 60 of these, starting in 1956 and continuing until just a few years ago (I think he published his last in 2008). This was a tall order.

Since I wanted to read them in order, I needed to start with books first published in the mid-1950's. So, part of the fun was the hunt! My family can testify that I have haunted every used book store in my path, be it in Seattle or San Diego, Boston or Kennebunk, Sitka or Quebec, Texas or DC. And, yes, I even made a point of going to 84 Charing Cross Road when I was in London. You never know where you will find that next book. And, little by little, I did find them.

Over the years, I have been with these fictional people through good times and bad. I have watched them become parents and struggled along with them as they attempted to raise their kids they best way they knew how. I was there when some of them met harm in service to the greater good, and was saddened when some of them didn't recover. [Little plug here: If you ever enjoyed an episode of Hill Street Blues, Law & Order, or NYPD Blue, you may want to take a look at these. All of those trace their roots right back to the 87th Precinct.]

But now, after all these years, I have come to the very last book. I had to skip this one, initially. I found and read the two on either side of it, but I could never locate this particular one (it came out in 1976). Oh, I could have ordered a hardcopy from one of those websites, but that was not part of the game at the time. Now, because ALL of them have become available on Kindle, I am going to read it electronically.

And I am reluctant to start. But I am going to start. And I am going to read it. Partly because I just can't stand to not know what happened. But it is also partly due to the fact that I have learned something important about endings: they aren't really endings.

They are transition points.

True; this particular thing is ending, but it leads to something else. That is the reality. What we have to do is stop looking at endings like they are stopping points, find a way to see where they lead. Because there is always a "next." There's a reason graduation is called "Commencement." It says in 1st Corinthians: "the present form of this world is passing away." And that is true. But it is only part of the truth.

There is something else coming to replace it.

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Third Sunday after the Epiphany (January 22, 2012)
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62:5-12
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20

Jumping the Green

Jumping the Green
(a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

My Dad was unable to teach me to drive.  I say unable; but perhaps "unwilling" is a better description of the matter.  

This was way back in the dark ages, before schools included Drivers' Ed in the curriculum.  Driving was not considered a very complicated process, so instruction was left to "a responsible adult driver" to accomplish.  On top of that, we could not obtain a learner's permit until one month before our 16th birthday.  Do that math any way you want: it comes down to having to learn to drive in 30 days.

When the magical day arrived, Dad drove me to the courthouse so I could get my permit.  In Kentucky, this required interacting with some pretty scary-looking State Police officers.  I was asked how I had come there that day.  I couldn't seem to find my voice, so I just pointed to my Dad.  I was issued a driver's handbook along with an admonition to not operate a vehicle, alone, until after I had obtained my license.

My younger sister had already learned to operate Dad's VW Beatle (a manual transmission) on some farmland near our home.  It was an unending source of glee for her, and embarrassment for Dad, that I could not master the "stick."  So, I had to learn to drive in Mom's Barracuda (an automatic transmission).  On our first (and only) outing (taken on country roads to limit exposures to other vehicles), Dad spent most of the drive clinging to the passenger door and hissing through his teeth.  While he never spoke to me about it, apparently my every action frightened him.  Because when we got home, he told Mom she would have to teach me.  I was not sad about that development.  Who can think with a hisser in the car?

Since Mom's Barracuda was blue with white interior (my high school colors!), I was happy ... several less things to have to think about, and a little bit of cool in case any of my friends saw me.  After a few more country road outings, Mom decided I was ready for the surface streets in our town.  Much of this is a blur, but I clearly recall one incident from that month.  We stopped at a red light, my first.  Mom looked over at me and said, "Don't go when it turns green.  Give it a second." 

I remember thinking that was an odd thing to say.  I had read my driver's handbook.  I knew we were supposed to stop on red and go on green ... yellow is still up for debate ;-)  In fact, not only was it expected, it was my right.  When the light is green, I have the right of way.  But, being the dutiful son, and having no desire to be cast off to some other relative for the balance of my training, I obeyed her.  Imagine my shock when, shortly after the light turned green, a car ran the red light, cutting straight through the space we would have occupied if I had asserted my rights!

I learned a lesson that day, and not only one about driving.  I call it "jumping the green," those actions we take simply because we can.  They are allowed, so we do them.  But, as was so stunningly demonstrated to me that day late in my 15th year, such actions may not always be the wisest.

Something to think about.

"Just because something is technically legal doesn't mean that it's spiritually appropriate."  (1 Corinthians 6:12 MSG)

http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday after the Epiphany (January 15, 2012)
1 Samuel 3:1-10, (11-20)
Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18
1 Corinthians 6:12-20
John 1:43-51