It's a Girl!

OK, I confess! I always swore that I would not be one of those annoying "let me show you pictures of my grandchildren" grandfathers. My first grandchild is still in utero and here I am posting her picture to the world wide web. How over-the-top is that?

But let me tell you what I am beginning to understand. Annoying grandparent bragging is not for your benefit; it's for the benefit of the grandchild! Every kid needs to know that he is loved, treasured, and valued beyond measure. She needs to know that her grandparents are insanely crazy about her. And you can't turn that on and off at will. So, when someone says, "let me tell you about my grandkids," please be kind. That grandparent's love is communicating a crucial message of unconditional love, acceptance, and honor to a child. You're just getting the overflow.

So, let me show you a picture of my grandchild. And yes, the doctors say that from this picture, they are 100% sure that it's a girl. Woohoo!

Off to Chicago!

The happy couple you see here is my son Alan and his fiancée, Sheila Neely. They are getting married August 26. Cheryl and I will be spending Memorial Day weekend with them in Chicago making wedding plans, celebrating a belated Mother's Day, and celebrating our 35th anniversary (Sheila's parents, Art and Sue, are celebrating 30 years of wedded bliss on the same day!)

Stupid Question

I'm attending the Sermon Seminar at Rochester College this week. The theme is the Sermon on the Mount. Yesterday, Warren Carter and Chuck Campbell both spoke about the Empire and identified it with the "powers and principalities" that form the background of much of the New Testament. They then talked about modern institutions that partake of the oppressive nature of the Empire, including the institutionalized, post-Constantinian church.

Last night it was my task to moderate a panel discussion that included Carter, Campbell, Richard Hughes, Dennis Dewey and the inimitable Stanley Hauerwas. I asked this question: "If indeed the institutionalized church has adopted the structure, tactics and goals of the fallen powers and authorities, can it be redeemed? Or would we be better served to abandon it and start anew creating a counter-cultural community of Jesus?"

"That's a stupid question!" bellowed Hauerwas. There was a collective gasp from the audience, followed by some nervous laughter. He continued on to say that as long as the church has the capacity to examine itself, acknowledge its shortcomings, and strive for more a authentic witness, of course it can be redeemed. After all, he stated, the church is the church not because we've formed it perfectly, but because it belongs to Jesus.

All through school, I was taught that the only stupid question is the one you don't ask. Apparently, that was wrong. I still think my question has some validity. There are a lot of people out there who are rethinking "church" and how it can best build a bridge to our post-Christian, post-rational, post-modern, post-just-about-everything culture. I think it's valid to ask whether the church as we have known it is capable of fulfilling the mission of Jesus.

But it's wrong to conclude that the church's success depends on our ability to "get it right." That's selling Jesus short. He's been working through fallible humans and fallen structures for 2,000 years now. If you think he can't continue to do that, well that's just plain stupid.

Thanks, Stanley. I needed that.

Headlines

One of my guilty pleasures is The Onion, a satirical newspaper/web page. It sometimes crosses the line between appropriate and outrageous, but it cracks me up. I generally just read the headlines, because I find them funnier than the accompanying stories. Some recent favorites: (Just the headlines; no links. It's my blog, and if I don't read the articles, neither can you.)

Muppeteer's Right Hand In Critical Condition Following Elmo Assassination Attempt

Heroic Computer Dies To Save World From Master's Thesis

Study: Alligators Dangerous No Matter How Drunk You Are

Illegal Immigrants Returning to Mexico for American Jobs

Rotation of Earth Plunges Entire North American Continent into Darkness

Girls Gone Wild Released Back into Civilization

Detroit Sold for Scrap (Ouch!)

Quotes Worth Re-quoting:

"An organization begins to die the day it begins to be run for the benefit of the insiders and not for the benefit of the outsiders."

--Peter Drucker

"Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it."

--Jesus

¡Quinceañera!

After thirty-five years of ministry, I thought all my "firsts" were behind me. But this Saturday, I'll be conducting my first quinceañera ever. The word means "fifteenth year," and is a rite of passage in Latino culture for girls turning fifteen. Sasha Reeves, whose mother Nuzly is from Honduras, is celebrating her birthday by embracing her heritage with a full-blown quinceañera.

American culture, sadly, is lacking in positive rites of passage. Getting drunk on your 21st birthday is as close as we come, and that's hardly positive. I'd like to see families and churches "institutionalize" some rites of passage like the quinceañera. At Sasha's ceremony, her family and our church community will be sending her four very important messages:

1. We value you. We have invested years of love, hard work, money, and patient instruction in you. We did it because we believed in you and in your future.
2. Your contributions count. You are now capable of shouldering more adult responsibilities and we're counting on you to do your part for the good of the community.
3. Your decisions matter. You will be enjoying greater freedom to make your own decisions. But the stakes are higher than ever. Wrong decisions at this stage in life can result in irreparable harm or death, either to yourself or others. They may even have eternal consequences. But wise decisions can result in incredible--and eternal--good. We're praying that you choose wisely.
4. We're here for you. Children need parental rules and discipline. Adults need the mutual care and accountability of a close, loving community. We welcome you into our community and pledge to encourage and support you.

I'm so honored to be the spokesperson who gets to convey these messages to Sasha. But the message is not to her alone. There will be 28 attendants in her "court of honor," all young adults like herself. If just a few of them catch a glimpse of how valuable they are to God and their community, it will be worthwhile.

Recently, I attended a retreat at Ashland Theological Seminary. It was the first of five retreats that collectively are called the Pastors of Excellence experience. Eighty pastors, all chosen following a thorough selection process, attended. I roomed with a long-time friend, Jeff Slater, who every night dutifully attended to his blog while I mindlessly surfed the web (he only thought I was engaged in meaningful activity).

Well, watching Jeff blog (see, I've already learned that "blog" is a verb as well as a noun) sort of inspired me. Jeff appears to be a regular guy, and if he can do it, then maybe I can too. So, welcome to my little cranny of the blogosphere. It's kind of spartan right now; not too many posts, links, or other furnishings. But I'm working on it.

And oh yeah, no one much knows about my blog yet, so I'm amazed that you're reading this. I'm like the girl in the itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikini; not ready to come out of the locker room just yet. So, if you happen to like something you see here, leave an encouraging comment. On the other hand, if my posts are the literary equivalent of cellulite... well, let me down easy, please.

Mother's Day is almost over. I spent part of the day reflecting on the fact that motherhood is an intricate dance of joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain. Children are conceived in pleasure, delivered in pain. And the mingling of the two continues. My mother had a wonderful little expression: "Mark, I wouldn't take a million dollars for you, but I wouldn't give a nickel for another one just like you."

My memories of Mom are also a mixed bag. I can remember her infectious laughter, which communicated her pure delight in me, her son. But I can also remember many dark times as she sank ever deeper into clinical depression during my teenage years. I remember wonderful family vacations to places like Yellowstone Park, the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, the Black Hills, and even Volcanoes National Park in Hawaii. But I also remember her worry and weariness as we launched a family business that nearly bankrupted us after Dad retired from the Air Force.

I called Mom tonight. Mom has Alzheimer's Disease now. The same laughter is still there, but most of the time, it seems more like a reflexive response than a genuine expression of delight. Her confusion is increasing. She's fixated on the date of Alan's wedding, but has to remind herself that Caren is pregnant. She still knows me, and still loves to hear how my week has gone and what's happening with my children. But the conversations are growing shorter and a greater part of each phone call is spent rehashing previously stated but forgotten information.

If we live long enough, all of us will have to cope with losing our mothers. I'm losing mine one tiny piece at a time. I know both ways are painful. I suppose you could have a debate on which one is worse, along the lines of whether it's best to remove a band-aid slowly or with one excruciating rip. The outcome is irrelevant; we don't get to choose how we lose our mothers like we do with band-aids.

There are some minor compensations to the struggle. My sister and I have grown closer. We talk much more often than we ever have before; we have to work hard to keep the level of care no more than one step behind her current need (keeping one step ahead would be better, but we've never come close to achieving that). So, the dance of joy and sorrow continues. When I was young, Mom led as I tried to learn the steps. Now, I lead as she strains to recall the steps.

As Mother's Day comes to a close, I struggle to make sense of the complicated, convoluted, and confounding relationship I have with my mother. And finally, I find a way to capture its essence: I wouldn't take a million dollars for the experience, but I wouldn't give a nickel for another one just like it.