Archie Bunker and the Politics of Donald Trump

Back when our television took a minute to "warm up" my folks and I gathered around the set each night to watch reruns of Carrol O’Conner and Jean Stapleton’s hit show All in the Family. My dad cracked up whenever Archie insulted his son-in-law, Meathead. As a UAW factory worker Pop connected to Archie. I related to Edith in whom I saw my grandmother, a nervous housewife flitting about trying to keep peace between her husband and the kids.

The show began the same way each week: Archie and Edith sitting at the family piano singing the theme song before a live studio audience:

Boy the way Glenn Miller Played
Songs that made the Hit Parade
Guys like us we had it made
Those were the days 

And you knew who you were then
Girls were girls and men were men
Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again

Didn't need no Welfare states
Everybody pulled his weight
Gee our old Lasalle ran great
Those were the days

Watching the GOP debate tonight it hit me: Donald Trump’s demographic is the Archie Bunker vote. Folks who had what my late friend Rod Cameron called “a crawdad mentality - gazing longingly at the past while backing reluctantly into the future.” Fear is the root emotion for “guys like us” who “had it made.”

I get it. I understand.

I don’t like change all that much either. Even a lot of the good ones.

When I was a kid we’d get one, maybe two phone calls a day. We shared a party line with our three neighbors. If nobody was home you tried again later. These days I can’t get away from my iPhone. I was out of the office two days this week and returned to 133 unread emails, most of which were the modern-day equivalent of the JC Penney catalog and Ed McMahon telling me that I might already be a winner.

My great-great-great grandfather Joseph Weller moved to DeKalb County, Indiana in 1862. Most of the Wellers are still there. My grandfather lived (and died) on the same farm that his grandfather lived and died on. My wife and I moved eleven times in our first ten years of marriage. Now we live in Michigan. My sister lives in Africa. When she moved there we had to communicate by airmail on onion-skin paper. My daughter lives in Australia, and we speak face-to-face on Skype for free.

My high school had one black student, a guy who was rumored to have some beef with his basketball coach in Ft. Wayne. He transferred to Garrett High and started every game. Turned out his dad was my dad's boss at the plant; the whole school loved the kid. Still, our town was so white that our idea of diversity was crop rotation. Diversity is celebrated these days, as it should be. When I was at the grocery earlier tonight (buying lactose free “milk”) I overheard conversations in three different languages.

I knew one guy in high school that I thought might be gay. These days sexual identity isn’t just mainstreamed. For social conservatives it feels like it’s the whole river. All over America county clerks are striking the words “bride” and “groom” from marriage licenses. When I was a kid Bruce was on a cereal box; now Kait is, well, everywhere, it seems. Some church officials cover up sexual immorality and others wonder if they’ll be required to endorse it through forced same-sex weddings.

I’m guessing the rest of Charles Strouse’s lyrics to Those Were the Days were too politically incorrect, for even Archie:

People seemed to be content
$50 payed the rent
Freaks were in a circus tent
Those were the days 

Take a little Sunday spin
Tonight I'll watch the Dodgers win
Have yourself a dandy day that cost you under a fin 

Hair was short and skirts were long
Kate Smith really sung the song
I don't know just what went wrong
Those were the days!

Freaks . . . short hair . . . long skirts . . . judgmental words from folks who "don’t know just what went wrong." But Trump is counting on his electorate's uneasy feeling that something is wrong.

So when The Donald shouts, “I’m going to make America great again!”, what I suspect a lot of his supporters are hearing is that he is going to remove whichever of Archie Bunker’s pebbles have become lodged in their loafers.

I’m guessing that Trump knows even he can’t turn the clock back. Truthfully, I don’t think that matters to him. But he is counting on being able to get elected by promising that he can.

Surprised by God . . . again!

God still has the capacity to surprise me. I don't know why. His capacity to astonish me is certainly nothing new.

But the way I saw God show up this last week is too exciting to keep to myself.

At last month’s elders’ meeting our mission team proposed that our church become ministry partners with Sidd and Sangheetha, two former South Lansing Christian Church members who returned home last year to India. They were a huge part of our church, with Sidd serving as a deacon and Sangs being involved in our women’s small groups. I was sad to see them leave, but was inspired for their chief reason for returning to India.

Their families are not Christians, and Sidd and Sangs wanted to share the gospel with them. Thats all you need to know about them to know how much they love God and want to serve Him.

As they've followed God's leading, He has moved in the hearts of their siblings and parents. We continue to pray for them as the Holy Spirit convicts them that Jesus is the Christ.

In addition to reaching their families, Sangs has also become active in reaching out to battered women. Domestic violence is common where they live, and Sangs has had lots of opportunities to share Jesus with women who are in really bad situations. With this in mind, our mission team has been trying to figure out a way to financially partner with them.

It is there – at the intersection of need and resource – that I saw God at work.

I happened to have lunch with a group of ministers last week and connected with an old friend who works for a mission agency that is has ministries in India. As I told him about Sidd and Sangs he asked what city they are in. When I told him he said, “Frank, I have been looking for someone that I can partner with in their city. In order for our mission to expand there we have to have a local representative. Give me their email so I can contact them.” Now, I don’t know if it will all work out for that partnership to develop, but isn’t it just like God to orchestrate something like that?

But God wasn’t finished amazing me! As you know, we gathered Sunday to pray for the persecuted church. I specifically mentioned Sidd and Sangs and the work that they do. Wally asked you to pray for them during our prayer time. Afterward Jeff Badgero, the father of Brenda Glinke, approached me. Jeff asked where Sidd and Sangs live and I told him.

“I’ve been there twice,” he said, “In fact, I was there for five weeks last year and know dozens of Christians in their city. Give me their email and I will connect with them.”

There are no coincidences in the Kingdom of God, only divine connections. That is what God did yesterday, and I just wanted you to know.

With that in mind, what divine connection is God going to make for you this week? Maybe he has someone he wants you to invite to church. Maybe there is a struggling couple that could use a night away from their kids to reconnect. Maybe God is going to put you in the worst checkout lane ever so you can be a bright light of hope to a cashier that is in a dark place.

Its funny what happens when God shows up where you don’t expect Him.

You start to find yourself looking for him a little more frequently.

And it turns out He is pretty easy to find.

A lawyer's take on the prodigal son

A woman from our church brought a guest with her to our recent Friend Day at South Lansing Christian Church. I preached from Luke 15 about the lost son. You might remember the parable.

The younger of two sons asks his father to divide his estate and give him his share. This was shocking as he was basically telling his father, “I wish you were dead!” The father gave him what he asked for and, shortly thereafter, the son set off for a distant land and squandered all of his wealth in wild living. When a severe famine broke out in that distant country, the son determined to go home and beg his father to take him back, not as a son, but as a household servant. He journeyed home, and when he crested the horizon and his father saw him, the family patriarch ran to his son and showered him with kisses. He put a robe on his back, a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet – all signs that he was completely accepted and forgiven.

The older son, meanwhile, heard the commotion from the party that his father threw to celebrate his son’s return. When he inquired about the noise he learned that his wayward brother was back, and he reacted with bitterness.

The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, "Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!"

"My son," the father said, "you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."

The guest my friend brought had an interesting and thoughtful reaction that I have never considered. She is an attorney as it happens, and she noticed the father’s words, “everything I have is yours.” She noted that the older brother had every right to be angry. After all, the robe the father gave his younger son? It belonged to the elder. The ring? The shoes? Each was part of the older son’s inheritance. The fattened calf roasting on the spit? It was the older son’s bullock.

I’ve never noticed that before. I have always thought the older brother’s objection was rooted, primarily, in his father’s failure to recognize his faithfulness and hard work. And certainly that must have played a part in his anger. But his frustration must have also been economic. How dare the father give away what belonged to him? That’s just not right!

The older brother’s biggest problem was that he felt entitled. He didn’t view his inheritance as a gift, but rather as something he had earned. If you earn something, it isn’t a gift; it’s a wage. Naturally, the brother was upset because he saw the father’s generosity cutting into his wages. He couldn’t accept that the father would grace his wayward sibling with such extravagance. It was unjust.

But then grace is always unjust.

One of Jesus’ earliest followers, Paul, made clear the distinction between what is earned and what is gifted in Romans 6:23 – “The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The big difference between the younger brother and the older brother was their understanding of grace. One embraced it and was awed by the father’s incredible love. The other rejected it and wallowed in bitterness.

Grace is never fair, and it’s never just.

It’s just grace.

An undeserved gift given to people who have wandered far from the Father and are amazed that he takes them back.

Here’s Why Your Pastor Didn't Say Anything About the SCOTUS Gay-Marriage Ruling

Three days have passed since the SCOTUS same-sex marriage ruling and the bloggers are a bloggin’ and the preachers are a preachin’.

Just not yours.

Sunday came and went at your church with nary a word about gays, marriage, SCOTUS or anything associated therewith. Pastor didn’t ask you to pray about the ruling, and there was no surprise homily from Romans 1. You keep checking the church blog and clicking on his Facebook page, but there's neither a rainbow filter on pastor’s profile picture, nor handwringing about the church losing its not-for-profit status.

Just silence.

It isn’t because he doesn't have an position. Trust me, he does. He has a carefully thought out opinion that he can persuasively articulate. Nor is it because she doesn’t study her Bible. She has. The fanciful theological convolutions that some scholars “recently discovered” - your pastor thinks them hubris. For recently minted seminarians to jettison two millennia of theology? The arrogance is offensive.

So why the silence? If your pastor has yet to articulate his or her thoughts on the subject, here are six reasons why your preacher might be sitting this one out.

Because she cares more about making a difference than making a point. 
Here’s the deal: your preacher really loves people. She believes that people matter to God - all people. And when someone is far from God your pastor wants - more than anything else - to help that lost soul find his way back to Jesus. Jesus is at the center of your preacher’s faith, and someone’s sex life - while not exactly peripheral - is something she’s willing to trust to the Holy Spirit. Not wanting to alienate someone who already thinks Christians are judgmental, your pastor trusts the Holy Spirit to convict people of their sexual sin because that’s His job, not hers. So rather than risk pushing someone farther away from God, she just shuts up.

Because he genuinely loves people and doesn’t relish the thought of hurting them. 
He doesn’t think about "the gays"; he knows gay people. He shuts up because he doesn’t want to hurt his college friend that has been in a committed relationship with her partner for the last ten years. He thinks about the two guys he met at the barber shop that have been together as long as he and his wife have been married. And while he doesn’t quite understand why some people experience same-sex attraction, he doesn’t hate the people who do, or think of them as perverts and degenerates. He cringes when he hears Christians use gay slurs, identifies with the pain that his gay friends have experienced, and chooses to show up as loving, not condemning.

Because he has dual citizenship in Heaven and on earth. 
Your preacher recognizes that, in a plural society, not everyone believes what he does. Because of that he is genuinely okay with two US citizens sharing property, making end-of-life decision for each other, and reaping the benefits of a lifelong commitment. He just doesn’t think it should be called marriage. For him, marriage is a word that is defined by a Deity in a throne room, not nine justices in a courtroom. The fact is, he was hoping that SCOTUS would find some third way; that the justices would recognize two persons’ rights to form a civil union while retaining the definition of marriage that has existed since it was instituted by God: the spiritual covenant between a man and a woman when they stand before God to commit to a lifetime together.

Because tension is hard.
It’s hard to wrap his brain around it. And it’s hard to talk articulate it. Your pastor recognizes the tension in grace and truth; that they are two sides of the same coin. Here's the truth: homosexual behavior is sin. Here's the rest of the truth: so is greed, selfishness, hate, lying, oppression, gluttony and on and on. Grace is bigger than all of that and your preacher knows that her sin is as revolting in God’s eyes as anyone else's. That’s why she clings to grace and that’s why she proclaims grace. For some, preaching about grace comes easily; for some, preaching about truth comes easily. But talking about grace and truth? That's hard for every preacher because it feels, sometimes, like they are diametrically opposed forces. Jesus was “full of grace and truth,” but your pastor feels entirely inadequate to proclaim them in the context go this subject.

Nobody wants a nuanced conversation anymore. 
Your pastor knows that most of the people he talks with about this don’t want a conversation; they want to conquer. They don't want to continue the discussion; they want to end it. They don’t want to talk about the social and spiritual implications of the ruling. And they for darn sure don’t want to recognize that “the other side” might be right - even if just a little. Dialogue means listening. It means hearing with the heart and the brain. And only then -  after really hearing - speaking. But this isn’t the time for that. This is the time for winning and that means someone has to lose, and since your pastor isn’t about people winning and losing, he just clams up.

Because he is grieving. 
Paul told the Romans “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” If your pastor is one of the majority of evangelicals that believes homosexual behavior is wrong, he mourns this decision. He grieves as he sees Americans, including many in his congregation, celebrating what was once thought to be immoral. When he sees the White House bathed in rainbow floodlights he aches. It feels, to him, like he is sitting shiva in the parlor, while there is partying in every other room of the house. When Facebook and Google are awash with gay pride, it feels like someone has died and he is expected to "just get over it!"

What now?
Truth be told, If your pastor is like me, I'm not entirely sure. Still, the path forward must wind its way through Paul's encouragement from Romans 12:

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.
Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.
Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. (vv. 9-13)

Disagree. Debate. Vigorously, even. But love each other, always keeping Jesus at the center.

If your life depended on passing a Bible quiz . . .

If your life depended on passing a Bible exam, how would you fare?

A story out of the UK details how Australia is struggling to deal with their refugee crisis. Like America, Australia has become home to asylum seekers. Among those are Christians from China who are eager to escape persecution.

One such believer recently found herself the object of intense scrutiny when an Australian tribunal tested her knowledge of the Bible.

According to court records,

The Tribunal member began by asking questions about the applicant’s baptism, the significance of baptism for Christians and in particular Catholics, and what was the significance of the water and pouring of the water. After asking further questions in relation to the applicant’s baptism, the Tribunal asked whether the applicant read the Bible, whether she had her own Bible, when the applicant first started to read the Bible, whether the applicant knew the Old and New Testaments . . . 

A lawsuit on her behalf also details some of the questions she was asked to further authenticate her faith. In truth, most of these have the feel of trivia. Check these out and ask yourself how would you do if your life depended on answering correctly.

1. What is the first book of the Old Testament?
2. Who was Abraham?
3. Who was Moses?
4. Who was the longest living person in the Bible?
5. According to Genesis, who was the first murder victim in history?
6. What did the dove carry in its beak when it returned to the ark?
7. What did God convey as a signal or message of his covenant with Noah and all living creatures?
8. Which plague fell upon Egypt from the sky?
9. What was Moses’ sister’s name?
10. Who went with Moses to confront Pharaoh?
11. Why was Jesus condemned to death?
12. Did the crowd have anything to do with Jesus being sentenced to death?
13. Where was the actual place of Jesus crucifixion?
14. When Jesus rose from the dead where did her first appear to two of his disciples?
15. How long after his resurrection did Jesus remain on earth before he was taken up to heaven?
16. What were Jesus’ final instructions to His disciples before he was taken up to Heaven?
17. What visible sign of the Holy Spirit did the disciples see on the day of Pentecost?
18. What was the name of the garden in which Jesus was arrested?
19. What is the second book of the Old Testament?
20. What were the Israelis supposed to put on the doors of their houses to save themselves from the last plague in Egypt?
21. How was Aaron related to Moses and what book is that in?
22. How often does Jesus say we are to forgive someone?

The tribunal, which took place in two separate sessions, determined,

. . .  the applicant “provided considerably greater knowledge of Christianity at her hearing than she did at the time of her departmental interview.” Second, the Tribunal rejected the explanation the applicant gave for the improvement in her knowledge and instead found “the applicant’s testimony was rehearsed and memorised [sic] in order to achieve a migration outcome”. Third, the Tribunal found that “even after having ample opportunity to study up on Christianity, . . . the applicant’s answers contained numerous errors” and “her lack of knowledge of Christianity is demonstrative of the fact that she is not a genuine practicing [sic] Christian.” Finally, the Tribunal found that, overall, “the applicant’s testimony in relation to her knowledge of Christianity was at best superficial, and lacked spontaneity, particularly at her first hearing.”

Not a genuine practicing Christian?! You have to wonder. . . If you were required to answer the same questions in order to gain asylum as a Christian, would you succeed? Knowing God's word is important. But - and let's be honest here - knowing answers in the book isn’t the same things as knowing the author.

Still, I am forced to wonder how American Christians would do if forced to prove their faith through a similar quiz.

Paradise (nearly) Lost

"I have come to believe that the major threat to the viability of our faith is that of consumerism. This is a far more heinous and insidious challenge to the gospel, because in so many ways it infects each and every one of us. I was trained as a marketer and advertiser before I came to Christ, and when I look at the power of consumerism and of the market in our lives, I have little doubt that in consumerism we are dealing with a very significant religious phenomenon . . . . Consumerism is thoroughly pagan." - Alan Hirsch, The Forgotten Ways

I experienced the lure of consumerism first hand earlier this week. After last year’s oppressive winter, my wife and I determined that we need to have a “cold weather survival strategy.” The resulting plan includes some warm weather and sun so, when our friends suggested we join them for a five-day vacation to Cancun, we jumped at the chance.

I will admit that I was not entirely comfortable with the idea. There is something that seems a little unfair about bailing out of Antarctica while our friends and family stay behind. Even though this is the first vacation my wife and I have taken in over twenty-five years that didn’t involve me working, or attending a conference, or our kids tagging along, I still felt a little guilty.

My discomfort abated considerably when we arrived at the Iberostar Paraíso Del Mar. The resort was simply amazing. We spent the first few hours with mouths agape at the wildlife, the pristine beach and the pool. The marble colonnades and the verdant landscaping were incredible. Tracy and I remarked to each other how humbled and blessed we felt to be able to enjoy such a sublime setting together.

The next morning we sat down with the concierge to learn what to expect from our five days of paradise. She went through the meals we could expect to eat and helped us make reservations. She talked with us about the beach and the pool and the activities we could participate in. She explained the nightly shows. (Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a Mexican theater troupe performing disco cover tunes complete with a live band and dance team!)

But then she did something unexpected. After telling us all that we could do, she told us what we couldn’t. She explained that our blue wristbands gave us access to two areas of the resort. But, if we wanted full access to all the resort, we would need to upgrade to a different wristband. Want to float

down the lazy river in tubes? You need the gray wristband. Want to enjoy the wave pool? Gray wristband. Want exclusive access to all the amenities, including the water park at the premium hotel? You got it. Gray wristband. It’s ironic, but our “all inclusive resort” turned out to have some exclusions after all.

Now here’s the thing: I was completely happy with my little corner of paradise until Shakira (yes, that was really her name) told me that there was more, and that – for only $70 more per day – we could have it all.

Truth is, that sounds a lot like the lie that the serpent told Eve. “You can have it all, Eve, just bite the fruit. God’s holding out on you. He doesn’t want you to be like him, but you can have it all if you’ll just take a little taste.”

And that is the challenge for most of us, I think. You got the 16 GB phone. Too bad, we just debuted the 64 GB. That 48-inch flat screen? So last year. Only one carat, and its not a princess cut?! Bigger. Better. Faster. Pricier. The god of consumerism whispers in your ear and mine, “Wait. There is more.”

Some sharp commenter will point out the deeper irony of me blogging about wrestling with consumerism after enjoying nearly a week at an all-you-can-eat-and-drink, cater-to-your-every-whim resort. Nevertheless I am grateful that Hirsch’s words came to mind as I sat at the Shakira’s desk. They reminded me that enough is enough. That I don’t need more, and that I can receive God’s provided blessings – including a vacation like this one – with grace and gratitude, knowing that the lure of consumerism is always present, tempting me to miss the goodness the Giver by overlooking the profound generosity of His gifts.

The fate of all nations who ignore God

In my quiet time, lately, I have been focusing on the YouVersion verse of the day. I use it as a springboard and go deeper into the context of each day's particular verse. Today's verse of the day was in Psalm 9, which led me to Psalm 9:17 - "The wicked will go down to the grave. This is the fate of all the nations who ignore God."

This resonates with the conservative in me. After all, it feels like we, as a nation, ignore God. Violence. Corruption. Our obsession with sex and the resultant promiscuity. 

But when you look at the context of Psalm 9, the characteristics of a godly nation become apparent:

Verse 4 - "from your throne you have judged the world with fairness."

Verse 8 - "he will rule the world with justice and rule the nations with fairness."

Verse 9 - "the Lord is a shelter of the oppressed."

Verse 12 - "For he who avenges murder cares about the helpless."

Verse 16 - "The Lord is known for his justice."

Verse 18 - "But the needy will not be ignored."

Verse 18 - "The hopes of the poor will not be crushed."

Reasonable people can argue all day long about what constitutes fairness, or how justice is administered. And reasonable people can come to reasonably different solutions.

But, if we are serious about being God's people, shouldn't we at least be having the conversation?

A Vietnam Veteran Finally Returns Home

Guest Blog by SSgt Tony L Lamson, USMC (ret), Deported Veterans Representative, Point Man International Ministries

Specialist Hector Barrios, a 70-year-old Vietnam Veteran who served with the 1^st Air Cavalry, is finally home with his family this Memorial Day. Hector passed on April 21, 2014. He wasn’t one of the lost or missing of the Vietnam War. 

He was one of the discarded.

One of hundreds of deported veterans that the media isn’t covering today.

Hector immigrated to the United States legally in 1961 and was drafted to the United States Army. He could have sought refuge in Canada like so many others of his generation. Or he could have returned to his home country of Mexico. Instead, Hector chose to serve the nation he called home, earning an Army Commendation Medal for his actions in Vietnam and receiving an Honorable Discharge.

As with many veterans that return from combat or traumatic events during service, Hector found himself unable to adjust to civilian life. The anti-war sentiment that pervaded the nation at the time didn’t help much, adding to the struggle that he faced coming back to the country he served.

Since Hector was not a naturally born United States Citizen, when he was arrested for possession of marijuana – an offense that isn’t even a crime in more and more states – he wasn’t treated the same as his U.S. born fellow veterans. While the U.S. Citizen will do his time for his crime and go home, Hector served his sentence and then was deported, the victim of changes in immigration law dating back to 1994 and 1996. Like many foreign-born veterans, his service in the armed forces was not taken into account.

It is difficult to know how many veterans have been deported since the mid 1990s. Current numbers are only estimates as neither Homeland Security nor Immigration Control track these individuals.  Point Man International Ministries, the organization I work with, has had contact with more 200 deported veterans in 19 different countries. And while some of those veterans have chosen to blend back into the fabric of their respective homelands, many others feel abandoned by the government and country they served.

When Hector Barrios was arrested for possessing a few grams of pot, he had been living in the U.S. for 30 years. He was forcibly separated from his family while serving prison time, and remained incarcerated during deportation proceedings before being transported to Mexico and abandoned by the country that he swore an oath to preserve and protect.

After serving their prison sentences, some veteran detainees serve up to three years in lock down in deportation centers around the U.S. When they are deported, they are either dropped off at the Canadian or Mexican border or are put on a plane back to their country of origin where they end up on the street stripped of identity, without money, contacts or knowledge of anyone in the city or country, homeless, jobless, and without transportation or food. They are separated from everyone that they know and love, and dropped into a country that considers them traitors for having served in the U.S. military instead of the military of the country of their birth.

Hector was separated from his wife, children and grand children. Penniless, he was unable to collect Social Security benefits, veteran’s disability benefits for his service-related injuries, or have any access to medical or dental care through the Veteran’s Administration – each of which was rightfully his. At the age of 70, Hector worked sweeping the sidewalks and street surrounding a taco stand, delivering food to customers for 12 hours a day earning a meager $5 per day.

When Hector connected with Point Man Ministries he had lost all hope of ever being able to go home and reunite with his family. He tried to dull his pain and became addicted to heroin, living in a low-rent shack in downtown Tijuana. When he met other deported veterans living in Baja California he began to fight his addiction with the help of his deported veteran brothers in Tijuana and Rosarito.

Last month, after fighting through a lengthy illness and with access to the free clinics in Tijuana as his only healthcare option, Hector finished his fight. Surrounded by the only family he had - other deported veterans who looked after him - he was given military honors at a very low cost funeral in Tijuana before being cremated. Arrangements were made for Hector ‘s remains to be returned to his waiting family in the United States.

Ironically, the same government that deports these veterans and prevents them from ever returning to the U.S. provides a military escort to return their remains once they die. This is the only way most deported veterans will ever return home. Their deportation is a life sentence and the only hope they have of coming home is as Hector did – in a box, covered with the stars and stripes, receiving the full military honors “of a grateful nation.” 

They can be buried in a National Cemetery; they just can’t live near one.

This weekend we will honor and remember veterans who have given their last full measure of devotion for this country. We will remember veterans who returned home from war and who have since passed.

As we do, we should remember men like Hector Barrios and give them the honor they have earned. For Hector and his family, this weekend is a time that has been long awaited. They are once again a family. 

Once again, together.

Rest In Peace, Specialist Hector Barrios and welcome home brother!

Figuring It Out At Finish Line

Mrs. Frankly surprised me last night by suggesting we go walk around the mall. I’m trying to take 10,000 steps every day and I was a couple thousand short, so I was eager to agree. There was a time when we didn’t get out much. Little kids dominated our attention – as kids should when they were little. But now that the little Franklies are 22, 21, and 18 it’s fun to go out on the occasional whim.

We made a few laps around the Lansing Mall (soon to be home to a new Cineplex and Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and Grill, by the way) before stopping at Finish Line.

We love Finish Line. The moment you walk in you’re immersed in high-energy music, the sort that has you bopping your head and beat boxing “boots n’ pants n’ boots n’ pants.” If the kids are with us they roll their eyes and pretend to be orphaned. But, by now, Tracy just shakes her head and zigzags her way to the ladies shoes.

Me, on the other hand, I head to the clearance rack in the corner of the store. I have a simple rule: never buy shoes when you need them; buy shoes before you need them. That way you can take advantage of a deal. Which leads to rule two: never pay full retail. In fact, if you can keep it below $50 that’s a win. Below $40 is a blow out.

I looked at several pairs and, by this time, was joined by Mrs. Weller. Josh, a big strapping guy with a sleeve of tattoos and gauges in each ear was shuttling back and forth between the stockroom and the bench where I sat. He seemed like a great guy so I chatted him up. The song on the muzak was something like, “All the ladies want me . . .” (Okay it might now have been that, but Chad Cronin can tell you I know nothing about any music written after 1992.)

Anyway, I said something to Josh like, “Hey this is your theme song isn’t it?” He replied, “This is on all day long; I don’t even hear it.” By then the “All the ladies want me,” caught up with his auditory nerve and he laughed. I said, “Must be the sleeves and gauges, Josh.” Mrs. Frankly just laughed and shot me that, you-just-can’t-resist-chatting-up-a-total-stranger look.

I got a pair of Reeboks and Mrs. Frankly picked out a half-price hoody for Son #2 and we headed to the register to pay, giggling the whole way about something funny I can’t recall.

As Josh checked us out he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you two been married?” I told him, “27 years this year.” “Congrats,” he replied. And then he said something that kind of startled me: “It looks like you two really have it figured out.”

In a flash I thought to myself: I didn’t have it figured out last week when I came home cranky and was short with her. I didn’t have it figured out when I went straight to my home office and worked all night while she was alone in the bedroom. I didn’t have it figured out when I freaked out about . . . No Josh; I don’t have it figured out.

So I told him.

“No Josh, we don’t have it figured out. But I tell you what: we are committed to spending the rest of our lives figuring it out.”

For better. For worse. That’s what we chose when we said, “I do.”

And, nearly twenty-seven years later, I still would.

Inside Out

Recess can either be a child’s greatest hope, or his greatest fear.

I recall many afternoons at J.E. Ober Elementary School where two captains would choose teams for a game of kickball. We stood in a line waiting to be called. The worst possible scenario was to be chosen last. The anxiety of those not yet chosen increased with each selection. We trembled with nervousness. Some pleaded with their eyes; some cried “pick me, pick me.”

As overpowering as the anxiety was, as soon as you were chosen your fretfulness was washed away in relief. For most of us, the feeling so overwhelmed that we immediately forgot about those still in line waiting to be chosen. And while there might be a friend or two that we would lobby our team captain to select, for the most part, we were already thinking ahead to the game, completely oblivious to those still not chosen.

It is as if there was some mental blackboard that was erased the moment we went from outsider to insider.

The New Testament contains two interesting words in the original Greek that inform our understanding of those on the inside and those on the outside: OIKOS and XENOS. XENOS is translated as stranger or alien. It means outsiders – those who don’t know Jesus and, therefore, are not a part of the church. Interestingly enough, though, it also refers to how we are to live in this world.

Paul uses this word in Ephesians 2 to remind Christians that they were once outsiders:

Therefore, remember that formerly you who are Gentiles by birth and called “uncircumcised” by those who call themselves “the circumcision” (which is done in the body by human hands)— remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ . . . .

Each of us was once estranged from God. We were outsiders, and not heirs to the promises of Christ. Tens of thousands in our city fit into this category. In fact – and I have repeated this so many times that our church must be growing weary of it – 36% of the people who live within three miles of our steeple, or nearly 20,000 people, have no faith involvement of any kind. They are XENOI. They are where each of us once was; they do not know Jesus.

The opposite of XENOS is OIKOS. OIKOS is often translated as household. In our culture household means something different than it did in Paul’s day. In Paul’s day it referred, not just to one’s family, but also to his neighbors, friends, co-workers and acquaintances. It had a much more eastern feel to it. Maybe the best way to think of it is that OIKOS refers to our spheres of influence. Who are the people in my life that I have influence with? They are my OIKOS.

Paul uses each of these words in Ephesians 2:19 to explain the transition from outsider to insider: “Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers [XENOS], but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household [OIKOS]. . . “

The challenge for us, both as individuals and as a church, is to expand our OIKOS by moving people from XENOS to OIKOS. But how to we do that? We do so through a process that that Eric Bryant, a pastor at Gateway Church in Austin, Texas, explained to me a few weeks ago using the acrostic IPSIS:

I – Identify our OIKOS. Those people that God has already given us influence with.

P – Pray for our OIKOS. How often do we pray for our neighbors? Our co-workers?

S – Serve our OIKIS. I’ve been trying to do this this winter by snow blowing.

I – Invite our OIKOS. Not just to church, but whatever. Ballgames. Barbecue, etc.

S – Share with our OIKOS. We share our faith as God gives opportunity.

The problem, I think, is that many of us who are inside the church simply forget what it was like to be outside Just as we did when chosen by the team captain for her kickball team, we forget what it was like to be still in line, looking on with longing at those who were already part of the group.

When we become Christ followers there is such relief to know that Jesus’ death has purchased our freedom. There is such excitement as we dive into God’s Word and learn the amazing truths therein that now apply to us as new believers in Christ. There is a whole world of “Christian culture” to learn and interact with. Bible translations, Christian music, Christian events. On top of that are the great doctrines of the faith, the theology that helps us better understand this newfound belief. And so – quite unintentionally I am convinced – we forget about those who are still outsiders.

This is why Paul tells us in Ephesians 2:11-12 to remember. It is so easy to forget what it was like to be an outsider. And if we forget what it was like, we lose the motivation to reach those who are still outsiders.

This is doubly difficult for those of us who grew up in a church. Although there was a time when we were theologically outsiders – that is, before we submitted ourselves to Christ as Lord and Savior – we were still very much culturally insiders. We knew the Christian lingo; we were part of a church family even before we made our parents’ faith our own faith. Lifelong insiders are even more challenged to understand what it is like to be an outsider – a XENOS.

This is a challenge we face at South Lansing Christian Church: we are a church that is primarily made up of people on the inside.

The only way to change that focus is to turn our church inside out. To become an outsider focused church. We need to maintain our efforts to grow those who are on the inside while releasing them to go to those who are on the outside.

We need to remember what it was like to be “. . . separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world.”

And then, having remembered, we commit ourselves to being an inside out church that sacrifices comfort and convenience for the sake of those who are still XENOS.

The parable of the skater

When Stephen was a kid he always wished he knew how to ice skate. There was something about the faces of the kids out on the ice. They seemed so full of joy. Sometimes the skaters raced around the rink. At other times they glided slowly and silently as if pondering something weighty.

But not Stephen. He sat in the bleachers with a couple of other kids who were equally frightened at the prospect of defying physics by placing the full weight of a human body on a couple of sharpened steel rails a few millimeters wide.

Most of the time the skaters were oblivious to the bleacher-bound crowd. They were skaters, after all. If you had to ask, then you obviously wouldn't understand. Stephen used to think, "If I knew how to skate, I would never be like them. I would teach other non-skaters how to lace up their skates and conquer their fears." And that's how life was for Stephen. Year after year. Outside looking in.

And then one day Stephen conquered his own fears. He noticed a pair of skates lying in the bleachers, left behind by someone who must have hurried out and forgotten them. He tried them on. They fit.

His first steps onto the ice were tentative. Comical even. He held tightly to the rail, struggling to keep his ankles from turning in and then out and then in again.

Occasionally someone would slow down and offer him some advice, but mostly he just mimicked what he saw the other skaters doing. He eventually let go of the rail and soon he was vertical more than horizontal. He was doing it. He was skating.

He left the rink that day a changed person. Having carefully tucked the borrowed skates beneath the bleacher where he found them - he wasn't a thief after all - his first stop was at a sporting goods store to buy a pair of his own. That night at home he stayed up late watching how-to-skate videos on YouTube. He weekly trips to the rink took on new purpose as he tried out what he was learning. Slowly, he became a skater.

He immersed himself in the culture. He studied skating. It's origins and history. The various forms. Hockey with its frenetic pace and violent collisions. Figure skating with its precision and attention to detail. The artistry of ice dancing. He loved them all. Each was different, but all had the blade and the ice. Water formed from steel encountering ice, creating a microscopic layer of frictionless freedom.

Finding other enthusiasts like himself, he joined a skating club. They talked about skating. They argued over their favorite professional skaters. They traveled to other rinks and met other enthusiasts. He got involved with YES - Young Energetic Skaters - at his home rink - a program designed to teach the children of the club's skaters so their craft was passed on from one generation to the next.

Before long Stephen was thoroughly, passionately, hopelessly immersed in the world of skating.

So much so that he never noticed the guy just on the other side of the glass.

Sitting alone on the bleachers.

Wishing he knew how to skate.

The Scandal of the Church in America

Jessica wrote me a note following yesterday's sermon:

 

You obviously have me thinking. Here is a question that pairs with an article I just sent: if global wealth continues to become more and more concentrated in a small number of people, how will churches be able to stay afloat? If there is more competition for fewer dollars, it makes sense that at some point churches without wealthy donors won't be able to offer much outside of traditional services, and maybe not even that. Am I missing something? Is this an issue that is talked about amongst church leadership?

Here is an edited version of my response to her:

 

I'm glad that you're thinking! I think the institutional model of the church that has dominated the landscape in the West since Constantine made Christianity the official state religion in 325 AD may be unsustainable. There are many who are looking at a different expression of faith than what we have experienced in the institutional church all our life. Because of that, the church will always "stay afloat," but perhaps in a different form. Many of the trappings of the church - large buildings, paid clergy persons, extensive programming - might become things of the past in the next generations. If so, that is okay. The church in China grew from 700,000 persecuted and imprisoned believers under Mao in 1948 to over 67,000,000 people at the time of Mao's death.

 

And yes, our leadership talking about these issues. I recently began exploring the issues of cultural engagement, trying to understand how our church can best impact the post-christian culture in which we live. That study is resulting in conversations that I am bringing back to our elders so we can wrestle with them.

 

What will ultimately define Christians in the west is how we handle our wealth. I imagine a world in which those who vehemently disagree with what Christians believe on issues of morals nevertheless deeply respect Christians because they are characterized by a compassion that moves us to live sacrificial lives so that others can benefit from our generosity. 

Jesus did not say, "the world will know we are Christians by our morals." He said that the world would know that we are his disciples by our love. (John 13:35) This same disciple, John, who recorded those words, wrote this in one of his letters, "If someone has enough money to live well and sees a brother or sister in need but shows no compassion—how can God’s love be in that person?" 

The church in America is the richest in the history of the faith. Only 12% of American evangelicals tithed to their church in 2012. This abdication of responsibility for our brothers and sisters in need is the scandal of our generation.

Peanut Butter Boy

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I taught all day at the seminary, five hours on my feet.  It was hot and humid and I was exhausted as I made my way through the muddy street back to the mission compound where we were staying.  I heard the cries of children – “blanc! blanc!” – as tried to push my way through the crowd.

By now I had learned to largely ignore their shouting.  Give one a bit of money, or some food, and soon a riot would break out as children and even parents clamored for a gift.  I felt a bit guilty about that, but what difference could one person make in the face of overwhelming poverty on such a huge scale?

I stepped over the open drainage ditch and turned the final corner that led to the mission.  Forced to wait for the crowd to clear a bit, I paused, and felt someone slip their little hand into mine.  I looked down and saw that it was a young child – a boy.  He looked to be about five or six years old.  His stomach was distended, his hair a kinky orange tint – signs that I had come to recognize as malnutrition.  He looked up at me and said two words: “peanut butter.”

They might have been the only two English words he knew.  And, surrounded as they were by a cacophony of Creole and French, they struck my like a hammer blow.  I knew what he wanted and, as he accompanied me back to the mission, I formulated a plan. 

Arriving at the mission, I asked the gatekeeper to tell him, in Creole, to wait there a moment.  I hurried to the kitchen and found a plastic spoon and a jar of Jif.  Plunging the spoon into the golden butter, I twirled it around several times creating as large a “peanut butter popsicle” as I could.  Holding it in front of me, I made my way back to the gate where the boy waited with hope.

When he saw the peanut butter-lathered spoon his eyes grew wide and he smiled.  He took the spoon and said, “Merci.”  Thank you.  I expected he would shove it in his mouth, but instead he spun around and began running.

Puzzled, I asked the gatekeeper what had happened.  He was obviously hungry, so why didn’t he eat.  The gatekeeper replied simply, “He is taking it home to share with his family.”

The genius of Apple

I saw something remarkable tonight.

I stopped by the Apple Store to pick up the new iPad Air. The Genius who greeted me was incredibly efficient and helpful. He had an individual shadowing him - a new employee, I assumed, who took my information and sent a runner to retrieve my iPad.

As we stood, chatting and waiting for my iPad, every red-shirt wearing Genius broke out in a sustained, raucous applause - the sort of applause one reserves for a celebrity. In fact, I assumed that someone famous must be making his or her way from the back of the store to the front.

But it wasn't anyone famous. Just a regular looking guy, wearing a flannel shirt with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

I asked my Genius what was up and he told me, "Today is his last day at our store. This is how we congratulate every person when they leave."

"How long has he been here?"

"About a year?"

"Where's he going?"

"To another Apple store."

As the customers and employees in the packed store parted and the guy made his way through the crowd, he was stopped multiple times to receive hugs from his co-workers. I am not exaggerating when I say that this applause went on for five minutes.

I appreciated what Apple communicated through this experience:

1. Their associate, at least for these few minutes, was the most important person in that store. I stood by, as did every other customer, while 100% of the attention was focused on someone who wasn't making Apple a dime at the time. In a world where the bottom line is almost always the bottom line, I was happy to wait while someone was recognized positively by his peers.
2. Apple values celebration. The gentlemen assisting me told me that - not only does each employee's experience with Apple end this way - but that it also begins this way. When he arrived for his first day of training to become an Apple Genius, Flannel Guy was greeted with similar enthusiastic applause. What a great culture!
3. People want to work at Apple. Not long after our hero headed out into the mall I saw him return. Having run into a customer who was looking for the Apple Store, he walked him to the right location, took him inside, answered a few questions, and then connected him with another Apple Genius.
4. People get it. I didn't see a single grumpy customer complaining about being ignored while Apple loved on one of their own. 

What about you? When have you seen similar examples of companies that have created a culture where their employees are valued and acknowledged? And, for those of you who interact with this blog in the context of a church, what can we learn about creating amazing environments where we serve?

About my father's business

Twelve-year-old Jesus had just been confronted by his mother for going AWOL on the trip home from Jerusalem to Nazareth. While the rest of his family made the post-Passover trip home, Jesus remained behind in the temple to chew the scriptural fat with the theologians. On realizing that Jesus is missing and not just hanging out with the other preteen kids in the caravan, his parents return to Jerusalem for a panicky three-day search.

The first red letters in Luke's gospel, that is, the first words that Luke records Jesus speaking are, "Why did you need to search? Didn't you know that I must be about my Father's business?"


Why these words?

Why this story?

Luke wasn't there, obviously. This is not an eyewitness account. Someone told Luke this story and, presumably, many others. Was it Mary, Jesus' mother? Did Luke interview her after Jesus' ascension and record this among the events she had "stored in her heart?"

Surely there were other stories, other tales of Jesus growing up in his daddy's carpenter's shop. The time when he got a splinter in his hand. Stories of him falling off a scaffold or hitting his thumb with a hammer. Jesus' back-when-I-was-a-kid tales that took on greater gravity given his father's early death.

So, why this story?

These prepubescent words plucked from an adolescence that is otherwise ignored in the gospels?

(The next time we see red letters in Luke's gospel he isn't talking to his mother; he isn't speaking to his cousin, John, about to be baptized in the Jordan River. The next time Luke turns his attention to Jesus' words he's talking to Satan.)

Why this story?

Maybe it is because all the red-letter words that follow Luke 2:49 are the fulfillment of twelve-year-old Jesus' declaration that the purpose of his life was to be about his Father's business.

Turns out that is the purpose of your life - and mine - too.

Fear and comfort

Sunday is the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church. Millions of Christians worldwide will join together to pray for our brothers and sisters who experience terror because they follow Jesus. South Lansing Christian Church will be joining them.

The statistics are shocking really. I could write about the dozens of belligerent nations that persecute believers - nations like North Korea that are not U.S. allies. But what shocks me most are the persecuted Christians who live in countries like Afghanistan where the United States has invested time, money, and the blood of our service members.


Earlier this year the Washington Post reported on a Harvard study that projects the war will cost U.S. taxpayers $4-6 trillion by the time we are done paying for it. (The study factors in the cost of a lifetime of care for wounded veterans.) To date 2,274 service members have died there. The cost of this war - in blood and money - is making it less and less popular with every passing day, with two-thirds of Americans saying it is not a war worth fighting.

I'm one of them.

But not for the reason you might think.

Our nation has long stood for freedom.

Freedom of speech.

Freedom of thought.

Freedom of faith.

And if I thought we could guarantee those freedoms to Afghans my support would be full-throated.

But is there anyone who seriously believes that Afghans will permit Christians to practice their faith in an unoccupied Afghanistan when they're murdering Christians while United States Forces are still there?

After he and his wife converted to Christianity six years ago, Obaid S. Christ and his wife were forced to leave Afghanistan to relocate to India. According to The Voice of the Martyrs,

Afghanistan is an Islamic nation under sharia law, where the penalty for conversion to Christianity is death. Pastor Obaid knows of at least 22 missing Christians, who are feared to be imprisoned or executed. He believes there are around 1,000 Christians in the country, who meet in underground churches of between 10-15 members.

Not surprising given the leadership of numerous public officials like Afghan Minister of Parliament, Nazir Ahmad Hanafi who was quoted by an Afghan news service as saying, “Numerous Afghans have become Christians in India. This is an offense to Islamic laws, and according to the Quran, they need to be executed.”

The fact remains, though, we're not getting out of Afghanistan any time soon. While troop levels are decreasing - an Army Times story indicates a 20% reduction - we're going to be engaged in Afghanistan through at least the end of 2014. What is more, we are currently negotiating for at least some troops to remain in country after that.

So what should a thoughtful Christian do?

Pray.

We need to pray for Afghan Muslims. There are moderates in Afghanistan who need Jesus. And there are radicals in Afghanistan who need Jesus. But all Muslims need Jesus. There is no place in the believer's life for a kill-em-all-and-let-God-sort-them-out mentality. Paul wrote, "Christ came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst." Do you suppose there were believers praying for Paul when he was the Sanhedrin appointed persecutor of Christians? I suspect so.

We need to pray for our service members. One of our church's elders has a son who will be deployed in 2014. Afghanistan has been mentioned as one of the possible places of his deployment. This soldier is a follower of Jesus. He takes Jesus with him wherever he goes. He is a believer first and a soldier second. Should he be deployed to Afghanistan, he is probably the closest thing to a missionary that our church will ever be able to send to there. I'm praying for his safety; I am praying for his ministry.

Finally, we need to pray for Afghan Christians. 

That's what we'll be doing this Sunday. But perhaps we could pray for persecuted believers every day.


I read something in my quiet time last week that has rattled around in my brain, refusing to go away. In his history of the early church, a church that experienced horrific persecution, Luke mentions, almost as a postscript to his previous thoughts,  

The church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria was at peace. It was being built up and walked in the fear of the Lord, and with the consolation of the holy Spirit it grew in numbers.

Three years after he came to power, Emperor Caligula ordered a statue of himself erected in the Temple in Jerusalem. Suddenly the Jewish leaders had bigger problems than this strange Jewish sect of Jesus followers. With their attention diverted to stopping this idolatrous intrusion into their temple, the church experienced a period of calm.

In the midst of this calm, the church grew. Luke tells us that the growth was the result of two co-existing realities: the church "walked in the fear of the Lord," and the church experienced, "the consolation of the Holy Spirit." 

This is my prayer for the church. 

Not just the church in Afghanistan, but the Church universal. 

That we would walk in the fear of the Lord. That believers in nations such as ours, where the church is increasing in carnality and looks far too much like the unbelieving world, would begin to walk in the fear of the Lord. 

And that in nations wherever the church is persecuted believers would experience the consolation of the Holy Spirit.

The fear of the Lord. 

The comfort of the Holy Spirit. 

This Sunday, on this International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, we have the opportunity to partake in both.