Occam’s Razor II

When I became interim pastor for a nearby church, I was given a set of keys by the clerk of session during worship on my first Sunday. Being granted access to everywhere and anywhere in the buildings was, of course, a sign of welcome and great trust.

But there were and are lots of keys. One for the front door of the house where my office is and one for the back. Another for my office door and yet another for my desk. And one more for the front door of the church building. I added the ministry key ring to my already existing wad of car key, house key, parents’ house key, and storage unit key, in addition to the keyless remote for my SUV. Pretty soon I began to worry that I would wear a hole in the pocket of my pants from carrying all those keys.

I was considering getting one of those old-fashioned key cases like I used to have years ago. I told Susan about my plan, and as usual, she came up with a simpler solution. I didn’t need to spend time looking for a case or money to buy one. All I had to do was consider what keys I had to have daily and put the rest away. Or take them with me, but not in my pocket.

What a great idea that was, and it’s working out great! And what a model for solutions in so many areas of our lives. So many of us seem to be wired to approach a problem or need by throwing money at it or buying something. We spin our wheels looking for an answer when the one we need is right before our eyes, if we would but open them.

Thinking outside the box these days means looking at life and organizations with the basics in mind. Not how we can spend more money, but how we can enhance relationships. Not how to build bigger buildings, but how to build self-esteem and confidence. Not complicated, wordy liturgies, but worship that touches people on an intuitive,experiential level and transports them into the presence of God. Not the first solution that comes to mind, but creative options that take a little thought.

As Occam’s Razor says, all other things being equal, the simplest answer is most likely the right one.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

Selfishness

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.—Philippians 2:3

You must understand this, that in the last days distressing times will come. For people will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, inhuman, implacable, slanderers, profligates, brutes, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, holding to the outward form of godliness but denying its power. Avoid them!—2 Timothy 3:1-5

God alone is Lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men which are in anything contrary to his Word, or beside it, in matters of faith or worship.—historic Presbyterian principle

I have been disturbed recently by some stories I have either read or heard that point to the selfishness of people who think they are entitled to foist their beliefs on others, no matter how hurtful the consequences. I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked or dismayed that folks act this way in our day of “my” this and “personal” that, niche marketing and customization to make sure you or I have exactly what we want. But these stories particularly struck me because they all involve people in positions of authority and responsibility who have abused those positions to promote their view of reality.

This one was on the national news. A justice of the peace in Louisiana refused to issue a marriage license or peform a wedding ceremony for an interracial couple. Such marriages are legal in Louisiana, but the JP substituted his personal belief for the law. He said that he felt such marriages were bad for children, and he would not apologize for what he knew in his heart was right. The couple got married by another JP, but not before the bride was reduced to tears by the insensitivity and outrageous behavior of the official whom they had asked first to help them.

Another story I read in the local paper. Students at a high school were having their pictures taken for the yearbook, as is common. A lesbian student who always wore masculine clothes wanted to appear wearing a tuxedo, like the guys, rather than in a “drape,” like the girls traditionally wore for photos. There was nothing in the school regulations that prohibited this young woman from doing so. However, the school administrator did not permit the girl to appear in the publication in a tuxedo, citing his “conviction” that she wouldn’t be in the yearbook so dressed. A lawsuit is in progress over the matter.

Finally, a friend told me this one. A little girl’s cat died. The family buried the animal in the back yard, saying appropriate kitty cat funeral words. The girl went to her “Christian” school the next day and told her teacher about the funeral, and how glad she was her beloved pet was in heaven. The teacher replied: “Cats don’t have souls. Your pet isn’t in heaven.” The little girl was reduced to tears and deeply hurt.

What sort of cold, insensitive teacher lectures a child on theology instead of acknowledging her pain and comforting her? What kind of school permits such behavior from its faculty? What possible secular educational purpose is served by an official forcing a girl to deny her developing gender identity because of his “conviction”? How much time and energy has been and will be spent on this issue that could have been better used on helping students acquire marketable skills? And even if the official in Louisiana felt it violated his conscience to marry people from different races, could he not at least have acknowledged that his actions caused pain? Or did he not believe these people worthy of such consideration?

If by their fruits you shall know them, then those officials and that teacher were all selfish. Without egos or self-esteem of their own, selfish people have to feed off the feelings, especially the hurt, of others to be sustained. They suck the life from their neighbors’ egos in order to feel good about themselves. They always have to be right; they never back down unless forced to do so. I would say they are a species of emotional predator.

This sort of behavior is bad enough when encountered on the street in the driver who blocks two lanes turning left out of a parking lot or the boss who eats all the Christmas cheese ball. But when we find it in public officials and those who teach children, we need to be particularly alarmed. My tradition says that wrongs committed by those in authority are “aggravated” by their public position (see Larger Catechism Q&A 151 for a full list of such “aggravations”). Such people should be held accountable and required to make whatever reparation may be possible.

That’s my conviction.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

PS I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the kitty cat that little girl grieves for is even now being cared for by the Lion of Judah.

 

 

After Seeing The Bucket List

For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?—Matthew 16:26

Speak to us once more your solemn message of life and of death. Help us to live as those who are prepared to die.
And when our days here are ended, enable us to die as those who go forth to live, so that living or dying, our life may be in Jesus Christ our risen Lord.—classic funeral prayer

My sister Carol Ann died a little over a year ago from cancer. But while she was still fighting the disease (and apparently winning), she and her husband David saw The Bucket List. She recommended it to Susan and me, and we put it in our Netflix queue, though below some others we wanted to see a bit more. The film finally made into our DVD player last week.

Directed by Rob Reiner, The Bucket List  is about two older men, Edward and Carter, who end up sharing a hospital room. Edward (Jack Nicholson) is a corporate mogul who owns the facility; Carter (Morgan Freeman) has been a mechanic for 45 years, but wanted to be a history teacher. Whatever their differences, they now share the common bond of suffering from cancer.

During their stay, the two men develop a friendship, and ultimately decide in the time they have left to do all the things they always wanted to do, but had neither the time, inclination nor money to achieve/see/enjoy. The list they follow is the titular one, with “bucket” being the proverbial object we kick when we die.

The two start out doing wild things like skydiving, driving fast cars, and globetrotting to exotic locations. But interwoven with the tale of their travels is the story of their relationships—Carter’s with his wife, to whom he is a stranger; Edward’s with his daughter, with whom he had had a falling out over some problems she experienced. And it is relationships, not doing this or that, which ultimately prove to be the most important items to attend to on the bucket list.

As they sit viewing the Great Pyramid at Giza, Carter tells Edward about the two questions that Egyptians believed they would be asked upon crossing over into the hereafter: What joy did you know in your life? What joy did you bring to others? I can think of few more profound questions to ask ourselves.

But let’s not wait till we suffer from a terminal disease or the death of a loved one brings us face to face with our own mortality. Each of us can start today to live as those prepared to die, and in so doing, truly experience the joy of living.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

The Changing Unchanging Road

Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour (Matthew 25:13).

I travel the same road twice a week to work as an interim pastor in a town about an hour north of Starkville. Except that it’s never really the same road. One day there might be more than the usual number of 18-wheelers or I’ll see some housetrailers being hauled. Sunday might be smooth sailing or a sunny day, but Wednesday it’s pouring rain or I get behind a slowpoke on the two-lane. Of course, I never know what sort of construction there will be; on one trip the northbound left lane somewhere along the way might be closed, the next time it will be open, but something else is going on. And the wildlife is always interesting to watch for. Deer might be grazing in one of the many open fields or a hawk perched on a wire, scanning for dinner. Another time, nothing at all.

Our lives are often routine. We do the same things day after day, and maybe we complain about the lack of variety or excitement or challenge. But truth be told, like my road, no day is the same as another. Each presents its own challenges and opportunities, which sometimes are the same thing. Yes, they may be variations on a theme, but different from the day before or last week, nevertheless.

Staying alert, as Jesus advised his disciples to be, is the key. The little details in each day make it different from the one before and the one to come after. Small choices might have big consequences. And, certainly, some days turn into something that we label with a capital “D.” The transformation from routine to memorable might come unexpectedly or even be planned, but the fact that some days become Days reminds us that anytime can be the moment of transformation, the time of God’s action, the day of his coming.

© 2009 by Tom Cheatham

 

Stolen Words

Last Sunday was Evangelism Sunday across my denomination, so I preached on the theme in the church where I serve as interim pastor. In a message entitled “The ‘E” Word,” I said that we often regard “evangelism” as a dirty word, rather like those others we refer to only by their initial letters. Perhaps we do so, I observed, because we have witnessed or experienced abuse of the practice by TV preachers and cold-calling tract-readers. Or it could be we simply believe in the mainline church that religion is private, and we shouldn’t invade anyone else’s space. The point of the sermon was the recovery of the word as a good and proper one that Presbyterians could and should embrace as their calling.

After worship, a member invited me to preach a sermon sometime on “semantics,” as he put it, how some words have been taken away from us and need to be recovered. He didn’t say what particular words he had in mind, but the idea so intrigued me that I decided not to wait for an opportunity to talk about it in a sermon, but to comment here.

Three stolen words immediately came to mind: “liberal,” “conservative,” and “Christian.” All of them were once good and honorable terms. But it seems to me they have had their meaning so perverted as to render them nearly useless. They are so dependent on context and the prejudices of the speaker and/or writer that I’ve almost quit using them.

“Liberal,” for example, comes from the root “liber” (free). Specifically, it meant “suitable for a free man, a gentleman,” or something not tied to a trade, a sense that survives in “liberal arts,” which are intended for the general broadening of the mind. Another meaning has been “generous” or “abundant.” But today it’s become a filthy epithet in some quarters, associated with wastefulness or even, as in the case of actions depicted in the ACORN videos, support of morally questionable endeavors.

The same can be said of “conservative,” also once a good and commendable word or quality. To conserve is to store up, preserve, protect from harm, keep for the future. Conservative estimates are cautious and thoughtful; a conservative dresser is modest and not flashy. The term even once meant what “moderate” means now. Earlier generations were conservative when they lived within their means instead of on easy credit, when they waited for things instead of insisting on acquiring or experiencing them right now. I dare say if our nation had learned those lessons from earlier days, we wouldn’t be in the financial mess we are now, having to remember those traditional values of thrift and savings. But, as with “liberal,” “conservative” has come to be a pejorative term for some. Conservatives are depicted as mean-spirited, angry, and uniformly fundamentalist in religion.

Which brings us to the third term, “Christian.” As a minister, I’m troubled by the way this word is used today even more than the redefining of the other two terms I’ve talked about here. The original name for the Jesus movement was “the Way,” but by Acts 11:26, the followers of Jesus were being called “Christians.” What I have always heard is that the name was not chosen by the disciples, but imposed. It means “little Christs,” and was intended as a term of derision. “Look at those little Christs,” the skeptics and pagans would say. “Who do they think they are?” But the followers of Jesus accepted the name and wore it as a badge of honor, just as their Lord had accepted insults and criticism during his ministry. To use for yourself a term coined by your opposition was a way of turning the other cheek, as Jesus had taught. It was a witness to the humility and gentleness of the One crucified and risen.

But today, “Christian” has become associated almost exclusively with a particular position on certain hot button issues, like evolution or gay marriage or abortion (usually all of the above). Attempts at pointing out that there is more than one “Christian” perspective on some issue are either drowned out by angry voices or else ignored by the media. We favor simplistic, sit-com answers, and are impatient with the nuanced discussion that admits more than one faithful and informed opinion.

I have all but given up on calling myself a “Christian” because of the abuse of the term these days. I prefer “believer” or “follower of Jesus.” But really in the end, what I’m called doesn’t matter as much as the way I act and the words I say. I intend for both to be faithful to my Lord, knowing that he will always be faithful to me. Others may take away and co-opt the historic term for my commitment, but they can never rob me of the presence of Jesus.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

 

The Parking Pass

Renault:  And what in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca?

Rick:       My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.

Renault:  Waters? What waters? We’re in the desert.

Rick:       I was misinformed.

                                                                   –Casablanca, 1942

Whoever speaks the truth gives honest evidence, but a false witness speaks deceitfully. Rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Truthful lips endure forever, but a lying tongue lasts only a moment. Deceit is in the mind of those who plan evil, but those who counsel peace have joy (Proverbs 12:17-20).

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Earlier this month I came out of the Sanderson Center, the large recreational facility at MSU, and was confronted in the parking lot by a couple of young women in a golf cart who had stopped their vehicle in back on my SUV so that I couldn’t leave. “Do you have a parking pass?” the driver asked. I told her I didn’t know I had to have one, since I never did before, and no one had told me otherwise. And what’s more, the whole requirement that I had to have a pass to come work out twice a week was outrageous. None of that mattered to her; I guess she was of the “ignorance of the law is no excuse” mindset. I had to have a parking permit if I came over at least twice a week or five times a year. I knew where to get one, so the only question was how much it would cost me. “I don’t know,” she said, “but I think they’re about $100 a year.”

You can imagine that I was none too happy to hear that. I fumed most of the way back home, then got on the phone as soon as I could to the Sanderson Center membership office, to which I had already paid over $100 for a semester’s worth of visits. I happened to talk to the young man who sold me my renewal, and he confirmed that indeed I had to have a pass. When I confronted him with his failure to tell me that in the first place, he was apologetic, then let me know that the passes were only $1.00 a month. I subsequently got in touch with Parking Services, found out the guy was right, and bought a pass. Problem solved.

The whole incident and sequence of events got me thinking about how important it is to have and give accurate information. The girl in the parking cart could have and should have been briefed on what had to be a FAQ. I would have been OK with her ignorance if she had simply said “I don’t know, but Parking Services will be happy to help you.” Instead she bluffed and gave me misinformation, which brought me distress at the thought of having to spend more money.

How much customer anger, confusion, and lost business could be avoided if the people answering the phone or responding to email inquiries committed either to having ready-at-hand accurate, up-to-date information or else finding out the facts before answering a question? How much teenage fear and foolishness could be avoided if young women and men only had the facts about everything from acne to drugs to puberty to sexuality? How often could church conflicts be cooled if all sides at least agreed to a common set of facts about some hot button issue? How many reputations could have been saved if someone had refused to repeat gossip?

Of course, sometimes people intentionally spread disinformation and misinformation to promote their agendas. Pundits and bloggers do it all the time these days to fan the flames of distrust and suspicion in our society. The lies spread virally over the Internet and pretty soon, the truth is silenced. That’s not just irresponsible; it’s wrong and unethical. It’s bearing false witness. The sad thing is that it is sometimes those who shout loudly about their faith and make a show of it that are the worst offenders.

Giving a wrong answer to someone unintentionally out of ignorance isn’t sinful. But such action can nevertheless have consequences, even hurtful ones, made all the worse when the error is compounded as it is repeated over and over in conversations far removed from the original. So all of us need to make sure we commit to best practices like checking our facts with reliable sources, being cautious when we speak about subjects with which we are unfamiliar, and being willing to admit we don’t know.

As the old saying goes, it’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

 

A Visit to My Alma Mater

Thirty-seven years ago, in the fall of 1972, the skinny nineteen year-old kid you see at right—me—stepped onto the campus of the University of Georgia for the first time.  I had taken no tour, asked few questions. Up to that time, I had never been away from home, not even to summer camp. I would have gone to a school only 35 miles away, instead of four hours, had not my community college advisor convinced me that maybe I needed to get out and experience the world a little.

And over the next two years I did meet a few people who were different from me. There was Charles, my assigned roommate my first year in Reed (AKA “Weed”) Hall; he was the first gay person I ever met. Then the guy who roomed with me in the basement of Reed one quarter, whose name I can’t remember, but who loved to skateboard, and had done so in Switzerland. (“Il skie sans neige!”  [“He skis without snow!”] he reported the Swiss saying of him.) He had also read Paul Tillich, of whom I had never heard. There was Katie, with whom I managed to have two dates (I was usually a one-date wonder), and who had traveled abroad also, with a symphony orchestra. She was surprised when she found out I was a Presbyterian, given my ultra-conversative theo-babble. “Presbyterian!” she exclaimed. “They’re some of the most liberal people I know.” Uh, not me, honey.

But mostly I hung out with the familiar crowd, namely conservative evangelicals, even as I felt a stirring within me to push those boundaries a bit. (Typical young adult stuff, but I considered my pushing to be sinful, given my upbringing in a fundamentalist church.) I got “strokes” from the Campus Crusade ministry I became part of, like playing guitar for worship or being part of a Peter, Paul, and Mary-ish singing group; meeting and listening to Mark Heard and Pat Terry, soon-to-be-famous “Jesus music” singers who were my classmates; and being complimented on my “boldness” against professors whom we all considered pagans who were distorting God’s Truth. Most importantly, I found friends.

What has occasioned all this nostalgia? On a recent vacation, Susan and I took a side trip to the university, only 30 miles off our route. I got to show her my old dorm (excuse me, residence hall), which had been vastly improved with a new lounge and access for students in wheelchairs. It looked so small. Reed was and is in the shadow of the stadium, which had had a good many gates and fences added. We saw Memorial Hall, where I remembered going to some Crusade events. It had been repurposed for offices. The old Union had been renovated and also augmented by a new plaza and bookstore. I became disoriented for a moment, because the shopping plaza had been built on the hill I used to walk down to get to the cafeteria, and there was nothing of the former landscape to be seen.

The memories were nice, but in the end, I was ready to come back to the present. I didn’t mind that the old landscape had changed, because that’s the nature of universities and of life, and the change seemed for the better. It was OK that buildings were repurposed, expanded or even torn down and replaced. And I was really glad not to be that skinny, shy, clueless, sheltered kid anymore.

For some, change is an enemy, if not the enemy. They try to look younger, sometimes going to great expense. They keep reliving the past, remembering those halcyon college years. They refuse to consider new ideas that challenge their established way of thinking.

I don’t like change for the sake of change, but I have been by and large glad for the changes life has brought me since college. Sometimes the lessons have been hard-learned. But if I am wiser, mellower, more tolerant, and a little more sensible, I thank God for whatever and whoever have made me that way. I like being a grown-up.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

 

The Right Questions

Lanning:  Good to see you again, son.

Spooner: Hello, doctor.

Lanning:  Everything that follows is a result of what you see here.

Spooner: Is there something you want to tell me?

Lanning:  I’m sorry. My responses are limited. You must ask the right questions….

Spooner: Why would you kill yourself?

Lanning:  That, detective, is the right question. Program terminated.

                                                                                  –from the film I, Robot

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Sometime ago I decided, on a whim, I guess, to uppgrade to IE 8 from version 7. Of course, I created a restore point first. But then I uninstalled the latest incarnation of Internet Explorer, having seen that its new features lacked a certain “wow” factor. Big mistake! Things started going wrong, like the failure of Windows Live Writer (the program on which I edit this blog) even to load. Having the restore point didn’t help me.

After trying to figure things out myself, I emailed my friend the IT guy, and he guided me through some steps to try to recover the program’s function. Unfortunately, and through no fault of my friend’s, none of them worked. But his guidance emboldened me to try again on my own. So, I Googled various possibilities for finding what I needed, like “reinstall Windows Live Writer,” “fix Windows Live Writer,” and others I don’t remember right now. Finally, the one that produced the answer for me was “Windows Live Writer crashes.” I followed the instructions I found on the site I chose, and voila, my program was up and running once more!

The experience led me to begin thinking about the questions we ask in life. Like the Dr. Lanning hologram from the movie dialogue above or like the search engine, life seems to require us to ask the right questions if we are to find the answers that will help us regain our emotional health, discover what God is calling us to do or be open to new possibilities.

For example, a man I know lost his wife of many years to illness. He insists on continuing to ask “Why did this happen to me?” with the result that he routinely ignores the pain of his children and his late wife’s parents. The widower is asking the wrong question. Instead, if he is to move through the dark tunnel of grief, he needs to wonder how he can help his loved ones with their pain. Move out of himself, asking “How can I help others?” I am sure he will discover in such service that his own hurt is transformed and even diminished.

Or how about the comments of the Stated Clerk of the PC(USA) General Assembly, the Rev. Gradye Parsons? When faced with dismal statistics about more losses in the denomination (a little over 69K in 2008), Parsons insisted that Presbyterians can be evangelists. He went on: “But we often stumble over the words. Can we not challenge one another to be able to answer these basic questions… ‘Why do I believe in God? Why do I go to church? Why do I go to that particular church?’”  For the whole story, visit http://www.pcusa.org/pcnews/2009/09525.htm.

But on the blog of the Presbyterian Global Fellowship, a writer observes that Parsons asks the wrong questions for the postmodern age. “Of course Presbyterians can be evangelists, but how eloquent we are (or are not) is not the issue….To be be effective witnesses of the Gospel, it is not what we can posit or defend theologically (although that remains important.) Rather, to be effective witnesses of the Gospel in today’s culture requires authenticity, deep relationships, and sacrificial action for the sake of others…. In short, I don’t think the question is getting the words right. I think we have to recover the ability to be Christlike in the world for the sake of our communities.”

The writer comments then on the specific questions Parsons invites us to ask: “I don’t think the question is helping people communicate WHY we believe in God but rather WHO Jesus is and how we desire (and try!) to be more like him…. ‘Why do I go to church?’ is indicative of the institutional and attractional model of church that is…shrinking as an institution and failing to attract people to it. The question missionally minded people would ask is, ‘How can we be the church for the sake of the community?’”

There’s more, but for the sake of space and your patience, I’ll stop there. If you’re interested, the whole piece, with comments, may be found here: http://pgf.typepad.com/outbox/2009/06/gradye-parsons-asks-the-wrong-questions.html. I accessed it through Dr. Steve Hayner’s blog, www.shayner.tumblr.com, which I also recommend to you.

The similiarity between the grieving man’s question and the shrinking church’s question is striking to me. Both focus on survival; both turn inward. In the former case, on the widower’s hurt; in the latter, on the denomination’s dwindling resources and influence. But as the PGF blog pointed out, the right questions are those that focus on getting out of ourselves in personal, involved ways.

Ironically, the PC(USA)’s own standards say that very thing. After outlining various kinds of Christlike service, the Book of Order has this memorable and profound statement: “The Church is called to undertake this mission even at the risk of losing its life, trusting in God alone as the author and giver of life, sharing the gospel, and doing those deeds in the world that point beyond themselves to the new reality in Christ (G-3.0400; emphasis mine).

Maybe this is the right question: what would happen if we really lived what we say we believe?

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

Note: The next post will be September 18.

 

Dragonflies

“Joy…is as notoriously unpredictable as the one who bequeaths it” (Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking). _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Earlier this month I was out in the back yard cutting the grass. Suddenly all around me there were dragonflies, darting, circling, dipping. I had never seen so many, merely the odd one here and there, and always in the front yard. The photo I feature here, by my wife Susan, is of one such insect that was basking in the sun and stayed still long enough on our front walk for the picture to be taken.

I was so impressed with the sight of so many of these beautiful insects that I decided to try to find out if they meant anything special to cultures ancient and (post)modern. What I discovered was fascinating.

In ancient Japan, the presence of dragonflies meant a good rice harvest; they were also believed to bring good luck in battle. In paintings, they represented new life and joy. They continue to be symbols of courage, strength, and happiness in contemporary Japan.

Native American cultures also saw the insect as a symbol of life, featuring it on their ceremonial pottery. One story tells of a dragonfly made of corn and straw that came to life as a messenger of the gods and saved the people in a time of drought and famine.

Other and more modern interpretations focus on the dragonfly as an old and adaptive insect or as an inhabitant of two realms, namely, air and water. So, according to this way of thinking, if you have the dragonfly as your totem (spirit guide, patronus), you may be emotional and passionate in early years, but gain more balance and control in maturity. The insects are also associated with creative imagination and our calling to reflect the light of the divine image in us. They stand for the power to gain vision, to change and grow.

Whatever they may mean, they were a gift from God to me that particular day. The sight of them filled with me with joy, hope, and excitement. They came unbidden and unexpected, and I only saw them once more, the next day. But that’s how the gifts of God are. He grants what we need for the moment, whether a marvelous sight or extraordinary boldness, strength to keep going or sudden insight into a difficult problem. Indeed, he is as gloriously unpredictable as the flight of a darting dragonfly reflecting the light of the sun.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham 

 

 

“As One Unknown”

“He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lake side, He came to those men who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same word: ‘Follow thou me!’ and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal Himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is” (Albert Schweitzer).

“ …their eyes were kept from recognizing him” (Luke 24:16).

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Recently CNN/HLN reported that Bob Dylan was stopped last month by police after someone called the authorities to report a “suspicious” man who might be a prowler. Apparently, Dylan, clad in a jacket with the hood up, was taking a walk in the rain before a performance and was looking in the windows of vacant houses for sale. The 24 year-old police officer who questioned him recognized his name when he gave it, but Dylan had no ID to prove who he was. The young woman only believed the legendary singer was who he claimed to be when they drove to his tour bus and everyone testified to his identity (see http://www.rollingstone.com/rockdaily/index.php/2009/08/17/outlaw-blues-bob-dylan-stopped-by-cops-after-suspicious-walk/).

It seems incredible to me that someone would look at that face we have been seeing since the ‘60s and not know it belonged to Bob Dylan. But then, the disciples failed to recognize Jesus on several occasions. Even Mary Magdalene thought he was the gardener on Easter Day (John 20:14,15).

If you’re wondering why I’m spending time on a story about Bob Dylan, it’s because I see in it some clues about the difficulties people may have recognizing Jesus for who he is. It also helps us understand how the Church might better carry out the task of helping the world believe that Jesus is who he claimed to be.

First, Dylan was in a hood, mysterious and, to the caller, “suspicious.” Christ was once shrouded in mystery (“veiled in flesh the Godhead see,” as the hymn says). But now the mystery has been revealed (Romans 16:25,26; Ephesians 1:9 and elsewhere), and we are to make it known. Yet I wonder if we in the Church do not keep Christ hidden behind our jargon and ritual and most of all, by our inaction. The way people see the face of Christ is in our faces, feel his touch is through our touch, experience his welcome is through our welcome. If Christ is unknown, it is because we have stayed behind our walls, whether of stone or of fear, keeping him hidden. And when we have ventured out, we have not “lowered our hoods,” as it were, in order that the world may see the shining glory of Christ in us. Yet such revelation is precisely our calling. As the Scripture says: “And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Second, the young woman who questioned the rock star had little experience with him. She knew his name, but that was it. Given her generation, probably she was not particularly familiar with “Blowin’ in the Wind” or “Positively 4th St.” If she had watched “Battlestar Galactica” on TV, she would have heard “All Along the Watchtower” several times, but may not have known it was written by Dylan. I doubt if she had seen a concert by, or read an article about, the singer.

What experience have our neighbors had with us as believers? Are we out and about, visible, involved, always available and helping when some need presents itself or there is some way we can contribute to the good of the community? And how is our public involvement perceived? The Church is to be the visible demonstration of what God intends for all humankind, the presence of Christ. Does our behavior lead others to think that Jesus was intolerant, judgmental, prejudiced, narrow, hurtful, and concerned with institutional maintenance and rules above all? Or do we reveal what our Lord was really like, the Jesus to whom the Scriptures testify—winsome; caring; concerned with the vulnerable and the marginalized; impatient with injustice and self-righteousness but helpful to those who admitted their need; and most of all, willing to give himself even for those who hated him? Encountering us, will people say "I like your Christ; I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ” (Gandhi)? Or will their experience of Christ through us be positve and winning, a true reflection of our Savior?

Finally, the police officer eventually believed Dylan was who he claimed to be when those traveling with him bore witness to his identity. Of course, that is the key task of the Church: to bear witness. “And you shall be my witnesses,” commanded and promised Jesus (Acts 1:8). If we keep quiet, if our lives are not authentic representations of our Lord’s life, then he will remain as one unknown.

But God forbid that should happen. Let us tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love. Let us live as faithful disciples, truly following the Way (Acts 9:2).

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

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