With a title and picture like that I am pretty sure you can see where I am heading. I am even sure that you have read pieces with similar sentiments. But the fact is I think my journey there may be a little different than most.
Last week two seemingly unrelated things happened that somehow pushed me down a strange path that helped this man’s soul connect with a bigger picture. Check this.
First, I was driving to work listening to a local gospel station when a commercial started. There I heard a passionate argument for why I would “need” to buy commemorative coins (shown above) honoring our first African-American president. For some reason, I couldn’t get that out of my head all day. Something irked about that 30-second sound bite, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
As I thought about it, I realized why I was annoyed. Since November the media has blitzed us with video & audio clips, stories, editorials, and pictures of our first “black” president. Don’t get me wrong; I get the historicity of the moment. As a man of non-white descent myself, I appreciate having a non-pigmently challenged man living in the White House. But the fact is and remains; he is not just African-American.
We (the media included) all understand the reality that Obama is half-white and half-Kenyan, raised for a time by an Indonesian step-father, and from then on reared by his white grandparents in Hawaii. But it doesn’t seem like the public wants to talk about or celebrate those facts. These facts reveal an incredible diversity that seem very reflective of today’s America. Yet, even with all this understanding we reduce a man because we are enamored with 50% of him.
A few days later the second event occurred and the gears in my mind shifted. One of my wife’s best friends went into premature labor. Their baby did not make it. Chloe Faith passed away 21 weeks into this thing called life.
As I have heard about how that family has tried to commemorate their daughter’s life and grieve their loss, I am humbled how little I understand. Death sobers one’s soul and forces you to look at life, whether you want to or not. So, even though I try to avoid totally getting lost in the self absorption of reflection, I fail miserably.
I begin to think through my kids and the time I have with them. I’ve tried to put myself in the place of that grieving family. As I do, I see that there are aspects of my children that I fail to recognize. One of them is reminiscent of the president’s plight.
You see my kids are like the president. They are bi-racial. Considering how they look, my daughter won’t ever be mistaken for a white girl, and my son may never be taken as an Indian. My wife can walk down the street with our daughter and people think she is the nanny not her mother. As humorous as that might be at times, when I think through the brevity of life this saddens me. The fact is even though our kids appear one way there is a whole aspect of their heritage that forms and shapes them that people may easily discard. I don’t want the beauty of my wife’s heritage to be slighted in my daughter’s eyes because people associate her with me simply due to the color of her skin. This also applies to my heritage in my son’s perspective.
Now I realize in light of the death of Chloe Faith, these simple thoughts seem trite. But I guess in some ways it feels safer for me right now to write about this than try and grapple more weighty things. So, thus I write all this to make one simple request. For the love, call the president something else. Call him bi-racial. Call him ethnically diverse. Call him pigmently well-endowed. But please, please, just don’t call the man black.
(Yesterday a friend of our family went into premature labor. The baby did not make it. This poem was my initial reflection on the passing of Chloe Faith.)
What does one say when words obviously fail?
Sitting, waiting, unsure of what happens next.
One may think it’s time to move on.
While Another whispers “linger, wait a little longer.”
What does one do when everything feels stale?
One says the answer is somewhere in the text.
Others cry, “God, this just seems wrong.”
And He whispers “linger, just wait a little longer”
What does one see when all colors begin to pale?
One clings to whatever’s closest, as the world around falls.
Others struggle to remember a line to any song.
The Whisper comes “linger, just wait a little longer.”
What does one have when God seems to fail?
No one is sure, but this is where we call.
Others scream just to be heard before the break of dawn,
The WHISPER is here; “linger, wait a little longer.”
When all is said, all is done,
I have nothing for my own.
All these hopes, all these dreams,
all these shadows I’ve lived for
pale as nothing – dust and ashes –
as I bow before Your throne.
So I leave all I want
just to know You more my Lord.
Here’s my heart, have my soul.
They’re Yours and Yours alone.
All I have, all I am, please make me more Your own.
All these cries, all these hurts,
all these things I’ve held to dear,
fall and fade – fade away –
as Your Spirit bids me near.
Well done good and faithful one
are the words I long to hear.
So I’d leave all I want
just to know You more right here.
Here’s my heart, have my soul.
They’re Yours and Yours alone.
All I have, all I am, please make me more Your own.
(written 07/29/2004 - found this the other day and was amazed how this still sums me up)
"Just like the Grinch, some part of everyone hates Christmas." Chuck Jones - director of the original cartoon rendition of Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas - uttered these words as he spoke of the appeal of the Grinch in the children's classic. I have to admit, for an instant I shuttered at the statement.
I mean think about all the stuff that happens this time of year. Temperatures drop and snow falls. Holiday lights go up and Christmas music is on every radio station 24/7. Every two-year-olds favorite refrain is "that's mine!!!" People get trampled to death in Walmart or shot in Toys R Us. It's the most wonderful time of the year… OK, maybe I can't fault Jones for holding that perspective.
The fact is the older I have gotten the more I do see parts of Christmas I hate. Some people are enthralled with the gift giving thing, or may be more so the gift getting thing. Others love the symbols and the traditions. Even others love the time off with (or in some cases not with) family. All these are good, but the fact remains that with each and every Christmas that passes I’ve become more disenchanted with the way we celebrate this season.
So many things have tainted my perspective about this holiday. I feel more pressured during this time of year than any other. You know what I am talking about. It’s the pressure to buy presents for people because I don’t want to be rude, rather than because I want to. It’s the pressure to somehow fit all these guilt induced presents into my ever reduced budget. It’s the pressure to somehow have my house look as obnoxious as the other houses on the block because Christmas lights are the measure of a man. If I don’t stop listing things now I think I might crawl up into fetal position and suck my thumb.
Anyway, as I look at all the stuff that pressures me to hate the season and give up on it completely, something in my soul cries out. As a man who follows after Christ, I am humbled. In this moment I realize that this moment is the very reason that this pressure induced season disturbs the masses – myself included. So much of what Christians celebrate is that God the Son became a man to save humanity from the eternal consequence of our sin. And while it is true He came to save us from hell, He came for another reason all together.
If I am saved from something it means I have been saved for something. You see, the fact that I am saved from hell is a bonus; it’s not the greatest reward. I have been saved for Christ. He has saved me, but that isn’t even the most scandalous reality. He didn’t just save me this one time for keeps throughout eternity; He is progressively saving more of my soul each day to live His life to fulfill His purposes for His glory.
So in this moment I can’t help but whisper to the God who took on flesh, “Lord, in the midst of all my ‘grinchin’ I pray save me once again. Save me from myself and the darkness of hell - which I find by the way I do not choose You my every moment. Save me to Yourself by Your workings, past and present, for Your glory. In Your name...”
I know it has been a while since the presidential election has taken place, but the fact is for many it is still a topic of discussion. (Actually, I think I have thought about it more now than I did prior, which I didn’t think was possible.) Talk-show pundits project/predict the ramifications the new regime will have on the economy. The public bickers and/or banters about how momentous a moment this is in our history because for the first time a non-white (ok, at least half non-white) male has been elected to be the leader of this country. I have even heard pastors/preachers proclaim from the pulpit that even though Obama is the “appointed” leader for the next season of our country’s history, he is not necessarily the “anointed” leader.
These are all interesting realities, but it is this last one that has caused me to reflect on this election. Because of this and similar perspectives I have noticed a chasm growing between people who call themselves followers of Christ. It seems that there has been a line drawn in the sand. I have seen notes posted on sites like Facebook entitled “to my Evangelical friends” or “to Christians”. Some of these writers seemed hurt and astonished by the attitudes displayed by those who follow Christ. Whereas others give off the vibe as though they were better than their readers; because they were too holy to vote for Obama or just “edgy” enough to vote for him. No matter which side of the line you choose to stand the fact is the line is still there.
I think this division haunts me and causes me to ask the question “where is a Christ follower supposed to stand?”
The more I look at the way I look at leaders I confess I am not sure I have the best perspective. I have enough baggage with past leaders to realize that my view has been tainted, sullied, and skewed. I do what is necessary to protect myself, and my interests, so that the least amount of damage is done to my situation as possible. But the fact is I don’t necessarily think that is the perspective I am supposed to have.
When I was trying to figure out what God expected of the kings of Israel in the Old Testament I was surprised to see how simple He made it. (I know that comparing the kings of Israel – including Judah – to the presidency doesn’t correlate perfectly, but the fact is this was the most suitable Biblical comparison I see. So, please keep this caveat in mind as I move forward.) Scholars much smarter than I have concluded that when God judged these kings He graded them based on two main criteria – the justice with which he ruled the people of the land and the righteousness with which he walked before God. (This “righteousness” included restoring the proper worship of Yahweh to the temple and destroying the “high places”). Even though this may seem like obvious criteria – this is very reminiscent of the love God/love people motif Jesus modeled - it seems the kings of Israel had issues making the grade. Only 8 kings after Solomon were deemed “good” in Judah and Israel when their lives were over. That’s 8 of 39 kings, and not all 8 of those were “fully” good kings. I’m not a math guy but I know enough to say that ratio doesn’t inspire any delusions of grandeur let alone much real hope.
With these basic criteria of justice for the people and righteousness with God established as the basis of my refined perspective, I have to say that I don’t know where Obama will rank in either. I know what he has said about a lot of things and how he has voted in the past. Actually, I dig some of his positions on social/economic issues; while some his of other positions I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. This is where conviction falls upon my head.
You see if this criteria is what matters, then it honestly doesn’t matter anymore whether I agree with him. It doesn’t matter whether I did or didn’t vote for him. It doesn’t matter that some may or may not like him solely because he’s not fully white. It doesn’t matter that you like or do not like him because you think he’s a closet socialist. It doesn’t matter whether we like or do not like him because of his stance on abortion. From this point on - for the sake of his own soul, the good of this nation, and the glory of God - what matters is that he leads in justice and with righteousness.
Don’t get me wrong, it mattered what we thought and felt about his leadership and track record during the season of voting. It mattered that we sought out and stood in accordance with God’s heart on the issues. But for us who are the Church to now stand on either side of this growing divide and ridicule each other and/or denigrate the president-elect is not an option that is beneficial.
So, in this moment my understanding of what matters deepens a bit more. The way God judged leadership is different than the way I have judged it in the past. The more I begin to see the weight of life, love, and leadership from the lens of justice for people and righteousness with God I stand undone. Who could stand?
In light of this I am seeing a response that I need to embrace for the sake of my soul, the good of this nation, and the glory of God. The only worthy response I see is prayer. I confess, I have not been one to pray for the president on a consistent basis. It was just never my bag. But now that I am accountable to what I see, I am compelled to commit to this response.
As I said the question before me is “where is a follower of Christ to stand?” Now the answer is clichéd but appropriate. I am to “stand on my knees.” So, this is my simple prayer for the president elect as he endeavors to lead this nation. “Lord have mercy on this man. Tutor his heart to walk in righteousness with You that Your justice may be known in our day. In our time make this known, in Jesus name…”
With a title and picture like that I am pretty sure you can see where I am heading. I am even sure that you have read pieces with similar sentiments. But the fact is I think my journey there may be a little different than most.
