STONES

A group of people who I respect a great deal had an online conversation recently about water-boarding. Some of the folks were for it...some were against it. Some drew a political line in the sand proclaiming that one party had the bragging rights on the issue. I was impressed by the respectful way the conversation unfolded. Very few cheap shots were taken.  It was clear that there was a difference of opinion on the topic.

It got me thinking about torture in general...or “enhanced interrogation” as we are calling it these days.

I understand the need for information that will keep us safer. I get that sometimes people possess knowledge that could endanger or save the lives of 100’s maybe 1000’s of people. It is important to get that information. There have been occasions when “enhanced interrogation” has been effective in ascertaining important pieces to a particularly tricky puzzle of intelligence. There have also been occasions when the enemy has resisted the painful experience, and he or she has withheld the wisdom that is being sought.

I’ve heard a few folks argue that the interrogator needs to get “tougher” on their prisoner. I’ve also heard a few folks argue that this is why torture should not be bothered with in the first place. I confess, I don’t have the answer to which is right and which is wrong...and I don’t want to push my reader in any particular direction either.

What I am reminded of in this scenario is the time Jesus was sitting with a woman who was accused of adultery. It was a crime punishable by death. She was, in the eyes of those who had cornered her, an enemy of the faith. I’m guessing you remember Jesus’ response to this situation...he did not preach at the woman or her captors,...he made them an offer:

Whoever among you is without sin, feel free to cast the first stone.

My issue with enhanced interrogation comes out of my wrestling with that offer. I wonder if we are always in the right? I wonder if the enemy’s issue with us is always without virtue or merit? I wonder how we can feel outrage about the torture of our soldiers by the enemy, if we are engaging in torture? To take it a step more personal (and I do believe that war is personal, otherwise we would not have support groups for folks who are worried about their loved ones who are deployed or support groups for folks who have experienced so much trauma in war that they now have Post Traumatic Stress Response) I wonder how we can find it acceptable for the young men and women we pray for each Sunday in worship, to be subjected to “enhanced interrogation” if they were to be captured? Because when we agree as a country that it’s OK here...we imply that it’s OK over there. We’re all God’s creatures...right?

When I think about casting that first stone at one of the young people from Belchertown who are serving our country, I shudder.  It is not OK with me. I do not want to hurt them. I do not want anyone else to hurt them. I love them. I want them to come home to be with their families and friends. I want them to have as little to heal from as is possible in the midst of war. I am not naive. I know that there will be a lot to recover from; seeing people hurt, seeing people die, being on constant alert for the safety of your life. That is tragic enough for me. I also know that when they come home, if they come home, I will be there to help them (and their families) put the broken pieces back together again.

The thought of  adding  another stone to the heaviness of war is enough to sink my heart.

LOOK AT ME

I recently directed a pretty big show in and for our community. The cast was about 40 people, including a choir. And there was a tech crew of 4. And refreshments. And programs. And...well, it was a pretty big deal. The good news is, folks seemed to like it. A lot. The reviews I got ranged from: “I saw it 5 times and cried 5 times.” to “I really liked the way the contemporary music cued the audience to what was coming next.” to “Do you realize what a gift you’ve given to this community?” I even got a standing ovation during worship!


What was strange was that each time someone would throw an accolade my way, I would feel my soul shrinking into a small ball. I would bow my head. I would cover my eyes. I would try to hide.

Weird.

It was not a case of “not believing” what people were saying. I knew I had worked hard. I knew that the cast and crew had really risen to the challenge in a remarkable way. I knew that the kind words folks were sharing with me were sincere...and true. Nonetheless, I felt a need to hide.
I was talking to my therapist about this today and as we explored the feeling I realized that I have had to hide a lot in my life. Not so much as an adult, but as a kid...it was a survival thing. I had to hide from an out of control adult. I had to hide my feelings. I had to hide my shame. When someone was looking for me, or at me, the robot from “Lost in Space” would shout into my brain, “WARNING! WARNING! WARNING, WILL ROBINSON!” which was odd because that is not my name. I would bolt (either physically or emotionally) and hide...or at least, try to hide.

While that works pretty good for a kid who is living in terror, it is a strange way to order one’s adult life.

As I thought about my behavior I got to thinking about Jesus. He was a pretty out and about kind of guy for most of his ministry. He didn’t shy away from people who wanted to thank him. He didn’t duck when somebody called his name from a crowd. He would turn and look them in the eyes. He would listen to what they had to say. He would respond in the moment (maybe give them a ‘high five’ or a hug) and then he would move on to whatever he was doing next.

After being beaten, crucified, and resurrected, Jesus was a little bit cagier. He was a bit more selective about how long he stuck around and visited with people. One minute he was there...the next he was gone. I don’t think he was hiding, but maybe he was remembering the hurt he'd experienced from folks he had wanted to trust. Maybe he wondered about who he could count on.  Maybe it was hard for him to be seen. Maybe that robot was waving its arms in Jesus’ brain, too.

Eventually, Jesus got comfortable enough to be with everyone...all the time. His Spirit lives in our communities and in our lives. He smiles at us and plays with us and cries with us. I believe that he looks us in the eyes, again. Somehow, he figured out that not everyone is out to hurt him...neither is everyone out to thank him. He discovered a way to be present and still protect himself. 

I don’t think that I am going to become a spirit in the near future, but I do think that I can live spiritually in the present. I can use my senses to advise me of folks who are sincerely offering a constructive word. I can accept and maybe even come to embrace with pride their thoughtfulness when they take the time to look at something I have done. I do not need to hide from them. I am an adult. Neither do I need to hide from people who are offering me a “destructive” comment or observation. I can acknowledge where they are coming from, and look them in the eyes, and agree to disagree.

I think this is going to take some practice. I ask for your patience as I come out of hiding. This is a hard thing to ask, but I’m gonna go for it anyway: Please look at me...it’ll help me grow.

TREADMILL: PART 2

I love to dance. My wife and I can go for 2-3, maybe even 4 hours at a wedding reception. We kick up our heels, spin, laugh, sweat...make fools out of ourselves. It's a lot of fun. We usually come home from these sessions exhausted and happy.

I posted in an earlier blog ( TREADMILL ) about my struggle on the treadmill. Today I tried again. I started early in the morning before I had time to work up too much anxiety about it. I got on and started the music. Breathe, Todd. Breathe. I prayed for God to move the past out of my way with a bulldozer so that I could just enjoy myself, or at the very least, not feel shame from the exercise. As I walked, I could feel my blood pressure rise. I could feel my heart beating faster. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. I kept on praying, "C'mon God...we can do this. This doesn't have to be terrible. There must be sometime when I get all worked up that doesn't feel awful to me. Help me to think of this like...like when I'm dancing with Martha!"

I smiled. I saw us whooping it up in our nice clothes. We were hot, and sweaty, and laughing and singing and swaying and...it was ok. And when a slow song came on I held Martha close and we joked about sticking together (ewwww). And I kept on walking. Song after song.  I even sang a little. It felt pretty good.

Somehow in my talking with God a shift happened. My anxiety diminished. A boulder moved. I was rocked and rolled. Perhaps that's how the boulder got moved away on Easter morning. Maybe Jesus said, "C'mon God...we can do this. This doesn't have to be terrible."

I wonder what kinds of shifts happen in your life when you talk with God? I wonder how the Spirit uses those conversations to leverage change that brings about wholeness?

It's been 3 hours since I was back on the treadmill. Still feeling pretty good. No shame. Kind of feels like Easter morning.
--todd

SMIRKERS

Have you ever met someone who clearly didn't care for you? They may not know you. They may never have had a face to face conversation with you, but when they do, it's like a stink bomb has been set off during worship. Their smile is strained. It pulls at the sides of their mouth and creates on their face: a smirk.

smirk  (smûrk)

intr.v. smirked, smirk·ing, smirks

To smile in an affected, often offensively self-satisfied manner.

n.

An affected, often offensively self-satisfied smile.

 The "smirker" looks at you like they can't believe you're wasting their air. They may politely answer your questions and respond to your statements...but there won't be any depth happening. Your conversation with them will be forced to dwell near the surface as if it is gasping for air. Any attempt to move closer will result in a polite diversionary tactic and a "goodbye."

I imagine that Jesus experienced that awkward interaction on a daily basis. Perhaps the folks who disliked him didn't even try to hide their discomfort. The Bible describes the outright, hostile mocking, of this guy who was just trying to offer compassion, hope, and healing to everyone he met.

I have a few of those smirkers in my life. When they see me coming they either hide, avoid making eye contact with me, ignore me if there is someone else with me, or smirk. That's what they do when I catch them off guard. They curl up their lips like the Grinch overlooking Who-ville with a dastardly idea. It drives me nuts. It sometimes leaves me feeling sad...or hurt.

Jesus smiled back at the smirkers. He looked past their discomforted dead eyes and embraced them with humor, or a challenge, or a direct question regarding their behavior. He did not let the "smirk" keep him from his mission. He did not let the "smirk" deny him the opportunity to share some Good News with the folks who, for whatever reason, did not feel comfortable in his presence. He let that be their issue, and he held steady with his issues.

I'm going to try and deal with the "smirkers" in my life more like Jesus did. I'm going to stop avoiding them for the sake of my own comfort, and just go up to them (even if it means hopping over a few chairs to catch them), and say, "hello." I'm going to engage them on my terms and say what I need to say. Who knows, maybe I'll catch them on a good day. Maybe the Spirit will be moving between us and they'll actually listen to something I have to say. Maybe I'll be able to figure out where their discomfort comes from. Maybe we'll get to dive a little deeper for my persistence.

Maybe they'll just get better at hiding from me when they see me coming.

--todd