I've kind of had to sit on my hands for a bit as the news from Connecticut is being dissected. Although it is new, it is fresh, the details are hauntingly all too familiar. And in the bloody aftermath, the survivors are left to sift through the ashes and ask themselves a question that's asked too often these days: Why?
Many people are asking where God was yesterday as the events unfolded. However, as Longfellow penned "...God is not dead, nor doth He sleep, the wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on earth, goodwill to men". God was not absent yesterday, nor was He gleefully punishing the school for the lack of prayer within its walls. I cannot pretend to speak for God, but I can say with authority that both of those statements are true.
The answer to what happened yesterday is not gun control, not censorship, not "putting God back in schools". It is, to put it simply and succinctly, putting compassion and humanity back in our hearts.
We've come to worship things so much that we no longer care or concern ourselves with the needs of those around us. The shooter, whose name I will not mention in order to not be a party to the further spread of his infamy, was a person in a deep, dark place that most of us will never know. It's the kind of place a person doesn't reach without a lot of negative influences around them.
It's easy to hate the shooter, easy to wickedly imagine him turning on some spit in some deep, dark reaches of Hell. But if life has taught us anything, it is that the easy path is often the wrong one, and while we cannot in any way condone or mitigate the actions of the shooter on this fateful day, we can ask ourselves if there are any such people among us, and if so, how we can work to both save them from themselves and save those around them from their hurt. We are, after all, only as strong as our weakest link.
Looking at the myriad of solutions proposed by armchair policy makers, I have to ask: would strict gun control laws have made a difference? Reluctantly, I have to admit they might have; but they might have simply forced him to find another weapon. Would censoring violent material have made a difference? Almost certainly, but with the unintended consequences of opening the door to even broader censorship that would do more harm than good. Would prayer in the schools have made a difference? It might have made a small difference in helping to set the shooter's moral compass, but again with unintended consequences that would not be acceptable.
The only thing, the single thing, that MIGHT have made a difference is if someone would have taken the time to get to know this hurting individual; if several someones would have seen the investment in this tortured, tormented soul as more important than their own needs.
We can't unwind the clock, and in the end we'll never know what precisely ignited the series of events that unfolded on December 14, 2012. But wwe would be remiss if we didn't ask ourselves what we can do to prevent the next tragedy from occurring. Take time to reach out, to listen, to heal "the least of these". The life you save just may be your own.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
My Salvation is in Christ, NOT in the Church.
As the years go by, although I still go to church faithfully, I have to say that I have all but lost hope that the church will even begin to TRY to fulfill the Great Commission. I hate to sound like such a pessimist, but in light of my experiences, I would say it's more realistic.
See, today as I write this, I'm wrestling with the same problem that has plagued me most of my life. Oh, I know how to cope, and I'll bounce back like I have many times before. But I'm not that far removed from a time when I genuinely thought depression would take my life.
It's not, it never has been, an attention getting device. The truth is, the only reason I have a "fear of heights" has nothing to do with the heights, and everything to do with memories of a time I lived in gripping fear that I might not be able to prevent myself from doing a swan dive over the edge.
Again, I'm past that point. It's no longer an issue, and I have far too much to live for. But I can't get over the disappointment that I really don't have anyone I can seriously discuss these things with. It's not about needing a psychologist, it's about needing a friend, someone aho asks how things are and genuinely gives a rat's patoot.
Thing is, I've discussed this with pastors. Either they didn't care about me enough to try to minister to the problem, or they didn't know how. At any rate, they sure never minded my money in the collection plate.
I know I can be a difficult person at times. I get that. But if we only serve people when it's easy, how is that any testament to our faith? If we only love those who are easy to love, where is the saving power of the Gospel?
I guarantee, I can walk into half the bars in America and be made to feel welcome. It would be a beautiful thing if I could say that about a quarter of their churches. But I have visited churches where I have left without a single person speaking to me.
This sounds like a gripe blog, and in a way it is. But it's a sentiment I've heard expressed by others so many times, I have to believe it has validity. I think perhaps it's time we stopped worrying about programs, and started worrying about people. That's how you truly make a difference.
See, today as I write this, I'm wrestling with the same problem that has plagued me most of my life. Oh, I know how to cope, and I'll bounce back like I have many times before. But I'm not that far removed from a time when I genuinely thought depression would take my life.
It's not, it never has been, an attention getting device. The truth is, the only reason I have a "fear of heights" has nothing to do with the heights, and everything to do with memories of a time I lived in gripping fear that I might not be able to prevent myself from doing a swan dive over the edge.
Again, I'm past that point. It's no longer an issue, and I have far too much to live for. But I can't get over the disappointment that I really don't have anyone I can seriously discuss these things with. It's not about needing a psychologist, it's about needing a friend, someone aho asks how things are and genuinely gives a rat's patoot.
Thing is, I've discussed this with pastors. Either they didn't care about me enough to try to minister to the problem, or they didn't know how. At any rate, they sure never minded my money in the collection plate.
I know I can be a difficult person at times. I get that. But if we only serve people when it's easy, how is that any testament to our faith? If we only love those who are easy to love, where is the saving power of the Gospel?
I guarantee, I can walk into half the bars in America and be made to feel welcome. It would be a beautiful thing if I could say that about a quarter of their churches. But I have visited churches where I have left without a single person speaking to me.
This sounds like a gripe blog, and in a way it is. But it's a sentiment I've heard expressed by others so many times, I have to believe it has validity. I think perhaps it's time we stopped worrying about programs, and started worrying about people. That's how you truly make a difference.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Understanding those who "Choose" to be Poor -- Part 2
Towards the end of the stay in Nevada, I was let go from the plumbing job. I worked it long enough to learn I was a lousy plumber, although I did pick up some rudimentary plumbing skills.
After I was unemployed in Nevada, we decided it was time to get out. I turned to blogging, which I had become quite proficient at by that time. I was offered what seemed like a great offer: a house in the TX Panhandle at what seemed like a great price to someone accustomed to houses worth six figures.
Unfortunately, we were unprepared both financially and emotionally for home ownership, and that situation became worse through our own neglect.
I spent the next two years throwing newspapers. I was still unprepared to deal with people and really had little experience handling conflict. I operated on the "if you ignore it long enough, it will go away" principle. I wasn't a good neighbor, I wasn't a good friend, and I wasn't a good father or husband at the time. I was coasting
So what brought me out of it? What changed? The realization that mountains weren't going to move unless I set about moving them. The understanding that success is often the result of planning and perserverance, not of luck and lottery.
It didn't come overnight. I went back to school first with the idea of attending a web design class. The school wasn't set up for folks who wanted to take some random class, though, and I had to enroll as a student to take the course.
After I was enrolled, I was steered towards the Network Technology degree plan. I got into it, and about halfway through decided I wasn't ready to stop with my Associates. That led to my enrolling to finish up the final two years towards a Bachelors.
There was a steep learning curve those two years. To start off with, we burned a few bridges, first with the family that had been kind enough to help us with our relocation to the Panhandle. Again, the lack of ability to handle conflict came into play, and to say we handled that poorly would be an understatement. I still didn't have a firm grip on the concept of "planning" and we moved out on the spur of the moment, leaving a lot of things unfinished.
The next two years were grueling. There were a lot of weeks with no free time, and I would come home and collapse, watching movies to motivate me and help me keep going. Quitting at that point was not an option, although it did at times seem to have its appeal.
My point in telling all of this is to explain that not only do I understand some of the inner thought process of those who choose to stay poor, but I have, I think, a unique perspective of how to get out and how those truly concerned with issues of poverty can help.
First, "things" don't help as much as people think they do. We had an abundance of castoff furniture, clothing and trinkets; enough that we couldn't possibly hope to manage it. Both because we had spent substantial time in poverty and because we felt beholden to those who donated the items, we didn't throw them out, we piled them up. In moving from the one house, I discovered painfully that a room we were using for storage had been overtaken by mice (it doesn't take as long as one would think), and that was the reason we had trouble eradicating them from the rest of the house. Piling up "things" when you lack good planning skills is, in essence, a bad idea. Strike that -- it's a HORRIBLE idea.
Second, personal involvement helps a LOT, but you have to be fairly rugged to do it. I can't say that someone directly and personally involved in our lives would have helped tons, unless it was a VERY persistent person, because I'm a very stubborn one. Unlearning habits of poverty means accepting and acknowledging personal weakness, and a person who has spent a lot of time in survival mode is usually somewhat short on those skills. It takes a gradual, gentle approach at times, and a bit of a smack upside the head at others. That smack upside the head may hurt at first, but once the pain subsides, and you sit back and analyze it, you come away with a MUCH clearer understanding.
Third, money is a "sometimes" thing. Throwing money at the problem doesn't address the underlying issues; it only postpones them. But there are some problems, some situations that require a monetary solution, and that's where individual, direct investment in someone's life can help to address that. But money itself is at best a salve.
Fourth, politics is not the solution. Politicians can help, of course, by steering resources to those working to address those problems, but ultimately, problem solving requires being above politics, being beyond them.
Fifth, accountability is key. Blame helps noone, and ultimately, the only person to get out of poverty will be the person who got themselves into it in the first place. People standing on the sidelines can help, they can advise, but they can't fix it.
Sixth, it doesn't come quickly and it doesn't come easily. Getting into poverty doesn't come easy, neither does getting out. It takes involvement, investment, and hard work. You ultimately have to decide that there is no option for failure.
There are, of course, those who are poor because of circumstances entirely beyond their control. And we need a way to help them, to give them the means for their own escape from poverty. But while some may choose poverty, it is still my contention that nobody WANTS poverty; they just are not aware that there is another way.
As for me and my family, we've still got a ways to go. It's a day by day thing. But ultimately I've come to realize that we are the ones who need to make sure that if we aren't happy with our circumstances, we should set about to change them. But I also see a lot of other folks struggling, and believe that it is our mission as Christians to reach out, to be the hands and feet of Christ, and to offer them both hope and help.
After I was unemployed in Nevada, we decided it was time to get out. I turned to blogging, which I had become quite proficient at by that time. I was offered what seemed like a great offer: a house in the TX Panhandle at what seemed like a great price to someone accustomed to houses worth six figures.
Unfortunately, we were unprepared both financially and emotionally for home ownership, and that situation became worse through our own neglect.
I spent the next two years throwing newspapers. I was still unprepared to deal with people and really had little experience handling conflict. I operated on the "if you ignore it long enough, it will go away" principle. I wasn't a good neighbor, I wasn't a good friend, and I wasn't a good father or husband at the time. I was coasting
So what brought me out of it? What changed? The realization that mountains weren't going to move unless I set about moving them. The understanding that success is often the result of planning and perserverance, not of luck and lottery.
It didn't come overnight. I went back to school first with the idea of attending a web design class. The school wasn't set up for folks who wanted to take some random class, though, and I had to enroll as a student to take the course.
After I was enrolled, I was steered towards the Network Technology degree plan. I got into it, and about halfway through decided I wasn't ready to stop with my Associates. That led to my enrolling to finish up the final two years towards a Bachelors.
There was a steep learning curve those two years. To start off with, we burned a few bridges, first with the family that had been kind enough to help us with our relocation to the Panhandle. Again, the lack of ability to handle conflict came into play, and to say we handled that poorly would be an understatement. I still didn't have a firm grip on the concept of "planning" and we moved out on the spur of the moment, leaving a lot of things unfinished.
The next two years were grueling. There were a lot of weeks with no free time, and I would come home and collapse, watching movies to motivate me and help me keep going. Quitting at that point was not an option, although it did at times seem to have its appeal.
My point in telling all of this is to explain that not only do I understand some of the inner thought process of those who choose to stay poor, but I have, I think, a unique perspective of how to get out and how those truly concerned with issues of poverty can help.
First, "things" don't help as much as people think they do. We had an abundance of castoff furniture, clothing and trinkets; enough that we couldn't possibly hope to manage it. Both because we had spent substantial time in poverty and because we felt beholden to those who donated the items, we didn't throw them out, we piled them up. In moving from the one house, I discovered painfully that a room we were using for storage had been overtaken by mice (it doesn't take as long as one would think), and that was the reason we had trouble eradicating them from the rest of the house. Piling up "things" when you lack good planning skills is, in essence, a bad idea. Strike that -- it's a HORRIBLE idea.
Second, personal involvement helps a LOT, but you have to be fairly rugged to do it. I can't say that someone directly and personally involved in our lives would have helped tons, unless it was a VERY persistent person, because I'm a very stubborn one. Unlearning habits of poverty means accepting and acknowledging personal weakness, and a person who has spent a lot of time in survival mode is usually somewhat short on those skills. It takes a gradual, gentle approach at times, and a bit of a smack upside the head at others. That smack upside the head may hurt at first, but once the pain subsides, and you sit back and analyze it, you come away with a MUCH clearer understanding.
Third, money is a "sometimes" thing. Throwing money at the problem doesn't address the underlying issues; it only postpones them. But there are some problems, some situations that require a monetary solution, and that's where individual, direct investment in someone's life can help to address that. But money itself is at best a salve.
Fourth, politics is not the solution. Politicians can help, of course, by steering resources to those working to address those problems, but ultimately, problem solving requires being above politics, being beyond them.
Fifth, accountability is key. Blame helps noone, and ultimately, the only person to get out of poverty will be the person who got themselves into it in the first place. People standing on the sidelines can help, they can advise, but they can't fix it.
Sixth, it doesn't come quickly and it doesn't come easily. Getting into poverty doesn't come easy, neither does getting out. It takes involvement, investment, and hard work. You ultimately have to decide that there is no option for failure.
There are, of course, those who are poor because of circumstances entirely beyond their control. And we need a way to help them, to give them the means for their own escape from poverty. But while some may choose poverty, it is still my contention that nobody WANTS poverty; they just are not aware that there is another way.
As for me and my family, we've still got a ways to go. It's a day by day thing. But ultimately I've come to realize that we are the ones who need to make sure that if we aren't happy with our circumstances, we should set about to change them. But I also see a lot of other folks struggling, and believe that it is our mission as Christians to reach out, to be the hands and feet of Christ, and to offer them both hope and help.
Understanding Those who "Choose" to be Poor -- Part 1
As the push towards the 2012 elections continues, poverty has come to the forefront, and for good reason: more Americans than ever are on food stamps, and a good number of people (drawing not only on polls but empirical knowledge) are increasingly desperate and uncertain about their future.
One of the long held assertions of Republicans is that the poor "choose" to be poor. Like all stereotypes, there are enough people who do choose to be poor that it's easy to point in their direction and make a stereotype that fits. But there's a strong untruth that isn't revealed in this simple statement: while some people may CHOOSE to be poor, nobody WANTS to be poor.
And the difference is something that needs to be understood by our leaders, our ministers, anyone who has any desire to deal with the issues of poverty.
I'm going to draw on my personal experience here, as for a good portion of my life, I was one who chose poverty. Not a welfare lifestyle, but poverty nonetheless. For reasons I won't go into here, I eschewed higher education, and although I briefly attended college, I just as quickly left it behind, choosing hand to mouth employment in the restaurants, factories, and ultimately in homecare.
The reason was simple: from about 18-27, I didn't believe I would live past the age of 30. This wasn't just a fatalistic post-adolescent angst thing: I buried one younger brother at 16 and another at 23. And nothing in the world around me gave me hope for greater optimism. I believed I had a ticking clock, and I lived like it.
When I was 27, I made the decision to move into homecare. I decided it was time to gain a sense of purpose, a sense of working towards the long term. And I loved it at first, and put everything into it. But I burned out quickly, and I quit about 3 years after I actually should have. I went to working at WalMart briefly because I had become so overtaken by circumstances that I simply couldn't handle being around people.
Leading up to this, though, I did see what was happening, and did what I could to forestall the inevitable. At one point, I even went to my pastor trying to explain what I thought was depression (but later learned was despair -- I was overloaded, ill equipped, and worn out). He came back to me with the simple answer that he had spoken to his wife asking about depression, and she stated "I think all men suffer from it". That was it. No honest, sincere attempt to reach out, to be there...at a time when I really needed him.
Keep in mind these are not words of bitterness -- I'm beyond that. These are words to help people who wonder what leads to poverty and how they can help.
At the same time, my support system was crumbling. I had spent several years trying to rebuild a relationship with my father, only to see him becoming increasingly bitter, cynical and critical -- at a time when I needed people to help me through. I was long on problems, and short on answers.
And the bills were mounting. And having mouths to feed at home certainly didn't help.
In desperation, I did the only thing I knew how to do, an incredibly stupid decision in retrospective, but one that had a fortunately positive outcome -- I ran.
We didn't discuss it with most folks around us, just picked up and left and headed out west, ostensibly to start fresh, but with no knowledge of where we were going or what we were doing. I often liken it to Paul Theroux's protagonist in "The Mosquito Coast" -- I was trying to move forward, but was acting in desperation, not in common sense, and I had no idea where I was going.
This led us to nearly a year in the Nevada desert, where I worked a variety of jobs, from mining to laying septic in the middle of the mojave desert, to day labor. It was backbreaking work, and it was uncertain. On top of that, we hit at the peak of housing in Southern Nevada, and rents were insanely high. Add to that low wages, and our financial situation was not improving.
I'll summarize the "rest of the story" in the post following.
One of the long held assertions of Republicans is that the poor "choose" to be poor. Like all stereotypes, there are enough people who do choose to be poor that it's easy to point in their direction and make a stereotype that fits. But there's a strong untruth that isn't revealed in this simple statement: while some people may CHOOSE to be poor, nobody WANTS to be poor.
And the difference is something that needs to be understood by our leaders, our ministers, anyone who has any desire to deal with the issues of poverty.
I'm going to draw on my personal experience here, as for a good portion of my life, I was one who chose poverty. Not a welfare lifestyle, but poverty nonetheless. For reasons I won't go into here, I eschewed higher education, and although I briefly attended college, I just as quickly left it behind, choosing hand to mouth employment in the restaurants, factories, and ultimately in homecare.
The reason was simple: from about 18-27, I didn't believe I would live past the age of 30. This wasn't just a fatalistic post-adolescent angst thing: I buried one younger brother at 16 and another at 23. And nothing in the world around me gave me hope for greater optimism. I believed I had a ticking clock, and I lived like it.
When I was 27, I made the decision to move into homecare. I decided it was time to gain a sense of purpose, a sense of working towards the long term. And I loved it at first, and put everything into it. But I burned out quickly, and I quit about 3 years after I actually should have. I went to working at WalMart briefly because I had become so overtaken by circumstances that I simply couldn't handle being around people.
Leading up to this, though, I did see what was happening, and did what I could to forestall the inevitable. At one point, I even went to my pastor trying to explain what I thought was depression (but later learned was despair -- I was overloaded, ill equipped, and worn out). He came back to me with the simple answer that he had spoken to his wife asking about depression, and she stated "I think all men suffer from it". That was it. No honest, sincere attempt to reach out, to be there...at a time when I really needed him.
Keep in mind these are not words of bitterness -- I'm beyond that. These are words to help people who wonder what leads to poverty and how they can help.
At the same time, my support system was crumbling. I had spent several years trying to rebuild a relationship with my father, only to see him becoming increasingly bitter, cynical and critical -- at a time when I needed people to help me through. I was long on problems, and short on answers.
And the bills were mounting. And having mouths to feed at home certainly didn't help.
In desperation, I did the only thing I knew how to do, an incredibly stupid decision in retrospective, but one that had a fortunately positive outcome -- I ran.
We didn't discuss it with most folks around us, just picked up and left and headed out west, ostensibly to start fresh, but with no knowledge of where we were going or what we were doing. I often liken it to Paul Theroux's protagonist in "The Mosquito Coast" -- I was trying to move forward, but was acting in desperation, not in common sense, and I had no idea where I was going.
This led us to nearly a year in the Nevada desert, where I worked a variety of jobs, from mining to laying septic in the middle of the mojave desert, to day labor. It was backbreaking work, and it was uncertain. On top of that, we hit at the peak of housing in Southern Nevada, and rents were insanely high. Add to that low wages, and our financial situation was not improving.
I'll summarize the "rest of the story" in the post following.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Thoughts on the New Year
A new year has begun. The nation is in political conflict, 1.5 million Americans are homeless, 27.7% of US children live below the poverty line, and nearly 48% of Americans live at or near the poverty line.
It sounds bleak, and, indeed, positive news and positive thoughts are in short supply. If I were to go from empirical observation I wuld say that less than 10% of the people I have encountered believe that on January 1, 2013 we will look back on the year in positive reflection.
But it does not have to be that way. While I myself have questions and doubts on what the coming year will bring, I can say one thing with certainty: if we all believe that the coming year will be negative, it will be.
I do realize certain things happen that are beyond our control. Sickness, famine, natural disasters, wars. But these things all happen in good years and bad. And while there is a temptation to mourn what we have lost, it is our choice to celebrate new opportunities and new beginnings.
To that end, I am personally making the following declarations for the New Year. Not resolutions, I don't believe in those, but a declaration I can use as a benchmark next January:
--I will be salt and light in 2012. While we may curse the darkness, it is imperative to understand that the darkest hours are when the light is most needed.
--I will endeavor to the best of my ability to embrace adversity for the challenges it brings and not shun adversity for the sake of my own comfort.
--I will work passionately to be the hands and feet of Jesus, actively and passionately seeking opportunities to serve, to build, to nurture and to heal.
--I will not knowingly allow a single person to pass by my door with a need without attempting to fill it. If I cannot fill it, I will attempt to find someone who can.
--I will focus on others and not self in the coming year. While I will not focus on self denial, I will place my wants below the needs of others.
--I will work diligently to encourage others to maintain a positive focus and work to make a better and brighter future.
In closing, I would like to leave you with the following words of encouragement:
3 Not only so, but we[a] also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. --Romans 5:3-5 NIV
Be blessed and let's embrace every day we have as a challenge that we will rise to accept.
It sounds bleak, and, indeed, positive news and positive thoughts are in short supply. If I were to go from empirical observation I wuld say that less than 10% of the people I have encountered believe that on January 1, 2013 we will look back on the year in positive reflection.
But it does not have to be that way. While I myself have questions and doubts on what the coming year will bring, I can say one thing with certainty: if we all believe that the coming year will be negative, it will be.
I do realize certain things happen that are beyond our control. Sickness, famine, natural disasters, wars. But these things all happen in good years and bad. And while there is a temptation to mourn what we have lost, it is our choice to celebrate new opportunities and new beginnings.
To that end, I am personally making the following declarations for the New Year. Not resolutions, I don't believe in those, but a declaration I can use as a benchmark next January:
--I will be salt and light in 2012. While we may curse the darkness, it is imperative to understand that the darkest hours are when the light is most needed.
--I will endeavor to the best of my ability to embrace adversity for the challenges it brings and not shun adversity for the sake of my own comfort.
--I will work passionately to be the hands and feet of Jesus, actively and passionately seeking opportunities to serve, to build, to nurture and to heal.
--I will not knowingly allow a single person to pass by my door with a need without attempting to fill it. If I cannot fill it, I will attempt to find someone who can.
--I will focus on others and not self in the coming year. While I will not focus on self denial, I will place my wants below the needs of others.
--I will work diligently to encourage others to maintain a positive focus and work to make a better and brighter future.
In closing, I would like to leave you with the following words of encouragement:
3 Not only so, but we[a] also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. --Romans 5:3-5 NIV
Be blessed and let's embrace every day we have as a challenge that we will rise to accept.
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