Tag: Jesus

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Remembering the Stone

gregoryjoel

A blessed Easter morning to all! I’ve been thinking a lot about Easter this past week. It was never a religious holiday in our home when I was growing up. My Church of Christ upbringing prohibited the celebration of “religious” holidays if the specific date wasn’t mentioned in the Bible. I pointed out to them that we knew when Easter was because of the Hebrew calendar and Passover celebration. They simply said the Bible didn’t say anything about “celebrating” Easter. Henceforth, since there was no such thing as a liturgical calendar (way too Catholic- those heathens!), Christmas and Easter should be relegated to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny with no mention of Jesus. It wasn’t until many years later that my own spiritual journey led me to a much different view of such things.

Easter and the resurrection of Jesus began to take on true spiritual meaning for me some twenty years ago. That’s I found recovery from the alcohol and addiction that had plagued me for many years. I’m not one for “war stories” about the years prior to December 1, 2005, but suffice it to say that failure, degradation, separation from all things spiritual, and loneliness had become my way of life. Not for the sake of having tried to leave those ways behind, mind you. If I had a dollar for every time I quit or tried rehab, I’d be a wealthy, but probably dead man.

In the twelve step programs I’d tried they all talked about hitting bottom and I was there. A friend once asked me where the bottom was. When I replied I didn’t know, he said that it’s wherever I “put down the shovel”. So, I did. I simply quit digging. That’s when I learned what Easter is all about – resurrection.

I certainly don’t have all the answers nor the right to advise others on their spiritual life and a relationship with the God of their understanding, but my experience is that resurrection is real. I was dead, but now I’m alive. I’m alive because God loved me long before I loved myself. Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead on that first Easter morning to offer new life to me.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

I used to wear a cross necklace as if the cross and the crucifixion were the most important things to remember. I’m not talking smack about cross necklaces, but I think I needed a new perspective on my reality. It wasn’t the cross I needed to focus on (although that was a necessary step in the process), but the stone that was rolled away from the tomb to allow a new, resurrected life to rise for everyone. Unfortunately, a stone is a bit too big to wear around my neck. I should know. I wore several for a long time, just not the same reason…

Today I want to be an Easter person, a resurrection person. I’ve been blessed in more ways than I could ever imagine, and I get a chance each day to be a blessing to others. I can even love others and accept the love and grace of not just my friends, but of a loving Creator. It’s the new life I always dreamed of and could never have on my own. My prayer is that we all focus on the stone and the new life that awaits us all each day.

“We humans mistrust, murder, and attack. Now I see that it is not you that humanity hates. We hate ourselves, but we mistakenly kill you. I must stop crucifying your blessed flesh on this earth and in my brothers and sisters.

Now I see that you live in me and I live in you. You are inviting me out of this endless cycle of illusion and violence. You are Jesus crucified. You are saving me. In your perfect love, you have chosen to enter into union with me, and I am slowly learning to trust that this could be true.” Fr. Richard Rohr

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“Live right”

gregoryjoel

The arctic front has made its way east and we’re slowly rebounding from last weekend’s ice storm. I still can’t get much done at the farm, so I’ve been working from home the last few days. I’ve been blessed to have quiet meditation time in the morning, unhurried by the usual morning rituals that precede a workday at the farm.

Given the atrocities happening in Minnesota and the constant cruelty and hate coming from our nation’s capital, I’ve found myself reading the Book of Isaiah this morning. The prophets remind me that religious nationalism, authoritarian regimes, corruption, and abusive power have always plagued societies long before us. History and the prophets tell me we’ve been through this before. They also remind me that there’s a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel – that evil doesn’t prevail. I must hang on to that. Otherwise, hopelessness rears its ugly head.

This morning, I found a gem in Isaiah 33.15 (in The Message Bible) that offers me hope for today.

“The answer’s simple:

                Live right,

                Speak the truth,

                despise exploitation,

                refuse bribes,

                reject violence,

                avoid evil amusements.

I also find hope in the people of Minneapolis who have braved sub-zero weather to “speak the truth, despise exploitation”, and look out for their neighbors in the face of terrible atrocities carried out by ICE and the current administration. They’ve refused bribes (“we’ll leave if you give us your voter rolls” -another ploy to fix the next election). They’ve rejected violence, answering violence with peaceful protest. Unlike the ICE agents who celebrated the lynching of Alex Pretti (watch the video) or the constant laughing at another’s pain, they’ve rejected such evil amusements.

I needed the reminder today that no matter how I feel (does “really pissed off”, hurt and grieving resonate with you?), I can heed Isaiah’s words. There is hope. Jesus even made clearer by reminding me that loving God and loving others takes care of everything else. It enables me to “speak the truth, despise exploitation, refuse bribes, reject violence, avoid evil amusements” too…

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I Voted

gregoryjoel

It’s a grey, yet glorious, Sunday morning. A gentle soaking rain started awhile ago and the dripping from the roof is a constant reminder of the gratitude I have today. I’m grateful for the rain that allows me to sit here and write rather than be at the farm irrigating (it’s been an unusually dry October). I’m grateful for the quiet of the house (I’m the only one awake). I’m grateful for the coffee that seems to be extra tasty this morning. I’m grateful for my four dogs who are all curled up and sleeping around my feet as I write this even if I can’t get up for more coffee without disturbing them. Life is just pretty darn good…

I’m truly thankful that the election is only two days away and the constant barrage of negative political ads will cease. I’m worn out simply watching the weather before I go to bed. Through much of this campaign season I’ve chosen to disconnect (not completely mind you) from the unceasing bombardment of campaign coverage, put on some great music, and get on with the day. I took advantage of early voting here in Texas and plan to offer rides to the polls on Tuesday for those that can’t drive.

I struggled with voting several years ago. As my relationship with God began to deepen, I began to realize that my true sovereign was the God of my understanding; that my citizenship likes in the Kingdom of God rather than my country of birth. If this is the case, my civic responsibility is somewhat different. I had become increasingly cynical of the electoral process anyway so maybe I should refuse to participate in the politics of empire. After all, many early Christians refused to acknowledge Ceasar as God, often with severe consequences.

My questions were answered when it occurred to me that I don’t vote for myself or my personal beliefs. I vote for others. I vote for the voiceless to give them a voice – the immigrants who are often left in the shadows. I vote for the powerless and the marginalized. I vote for all of those that fought for the opportunity to vote and to have a seat at the table. I vote for the common good. It’s not about class, color, religious beliefs, or party. What benefits the “least of these”?

That makes me responsible for going to vote. That makes us responsible for voting. I’m not going to tell anyone who to vote for a specific individual or party, but I am going to ask that we all take a moment to ask ourselves what benefits the common good; not what benefits only “me”. What is consistent with the values we claim to possess? In other words, I’m asking to look beyond our individual selfishness and seek people and policies that build our common community and unify our brutally broken population.

I don’t know what’s going to happen this Tuesday, but I do know this: I’m hopeful that we can begin to overcome the petty nonsense that divides us and return to some degree of sanity in our communal civic life. That may seem naïve to most these days, but my faith dictates that I constantly seek the best in others and act accordingly. I voted Friday and I hope you do too on Tuesday.

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

“Faith in God is not just faith to believe in spiritual ideas. It’s to have confidence in Love itself. It’s to have confidence in reality itself. At its core, reality is okay. God is in it. God is revealed in all things, even through the tragic and sad, as the revolutionary doctrine of the cross reveals!”
—Richard Rohr, Essential Teachings on Love

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Just Vote…

gregoryjoel

Thoughts From the Porch: Yes, folks. This is another voter turnout post. I’m sure you’ve been bombarded by political ads, voter turnout robocalls, and every conceivable mailer you can imagine, from applauding your voting record to shaming you for apathy. Please bear with me, though. This is an issue close to my heart. It matters!

white and grey voting day sign
Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

I questioned my role in voter participation as a Jesus-follower. I know where my true citizenship is. I may be entitled to U.S. citizenship by virtue of birth, but I follow my Rabbi first and foremost. I realized just how privileged I am to live here, especially in Texas. This is my earthly home, where my friends and family are, and where I’ll more than likely stay until I leave this world. I’m not confused, though. One’s spiritual beliefs are not an excuse for not voting. However, they change my motivation for voting.

The Gospels reflect Jesus’ concern for the neglected and marginalized. He went as far to say that how we treat them is how we treat Him. Pretty powerful words. In an election year that will affect the poor, the elderly, the immigrant, and the disenfranchised, your vote does matter. How you vote is also a reflection of how you see them.

While elections are always about how we see our political leadership, this year is also a reflection of how we see ourselves. What are our values? Are our decisions based on fear, class distinctions, and exclusion or they ones of faith, the common good, and inclusive of all? Everyone will answer those questions for themselves. Elections are important. How we vote matters to us all…

I took advantage of early voting and a rainy Wednesday last week to place my ballot. I was thrilled by the diverse crowd that was there on a Wednesday afternoon. I spent time in prayer and reflection about the matter before me and performed one of the privileges of my physical citizenship. It should be done with reflection.

I’m overjoyed when I hear the reports that voter turnout is exceeding expectations. I’d love for everyone to vote for my choices, but that’s unrealistic. The bottom line is that they were there casting their ballot.

Results will be in Tuesday evening. There will be winners and losers. Some of you will be elated by the results and others frustrated and disappointed. That’s how it works.

My friend Edgar always says, “Chop wood and let the chips fall where they may”. Go out there and vote. The chips will take care of themselves, but you won’t have chips if you don’t chop the wood…

person dropping paper on box
Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

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I Can’t Remain Silent

gregoryjoel

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”—Dietrich Bonhoeffer

 

It’s probably a good thing I’ve been too busy to post anything this week. I’ve struggled over today’s post and it’s been on my mind since last weekend. It’s hard to write and even harder to put it out there on social media and in the blogosphere. You see, as much as I enjoy writing of God’s infinite love, grace, and mercy, there are times when I fall far short in extending the same to others. This is one of those times. Please allow me to explain.

Margaret and I each had grown children when we wed nearly six years ago. Our daughter, who has come out as transgender and changed her name to Gael, moved in with us a couple of years ago so it would be financially easier to complete her college. I only mention her identification as Gael, so you’ll know who I’m talking about. I’m still new to speaking and writing of our kid in the third person, but that’s the accepted means by which to refer to transgender individuals and what they have requested of family and friends. Moreover, I’m not sharing anything that Gael hasn’t already made public their self.

Perhaps because our children were young adults when we married, blending families went a bit smoother for us. Margaret and I have no ‘step’ children, just our kids and grandkids, and we love them to death. So, when Gael asked about moving home to finish school there was no thought of saying no. I’ve become closer to them as a result.

Margaret has been open about Gael having been sexual assaulted by their uncle when they were twelve years old. What I didn’t know until the last couple of years is how deeply that affected them. The confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh to the highest court in the land after sexual assault accusations probably triggered Gael’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) last weekend. As a result, we had an emotionally volatile weekend. I saw, and see daily, the lingering results of emotional pain caused by perpetrators such as their Uncle Phill. Although he, and people like Mr. Kavanaugh, go on about their lives without a care in the world, victims like Gael and their families live with the consequences of such heinous acts for a lifetime.

Needless to say, I’m angry: so much so that I want to lash out in revenge. I have a special place in my heart for women and children, but especially when it’s my kid. I wasn’t part of the family when it happened, but I am now and I see their lingering pain regularly. I see the tears and pain of remembrance. They, like all survivors, bear the scars of their trauma daily. Their uncle, like so many abusers, has never shown remorse and prefers to sweep it under the rug, ignoring the harm he has caused. Unfortunately, that happens in families and society as a whole. Part of me wants to make sure he pays a consequence, and quite frankly, I’d like to ‘kick his ass’, but that isn’t the answer. My first thoughts about anything like this are usually wrong…

It’s not my place to act as judge, jury, and executioner. God has freely granted me grace and mercy, not justice. I’m so glad I didn’t get what I deserved. So, who am I, having been lifted from the depths of addiction and self-centeredness, to withhold grace and mercy from others? That isn’t how my life works today. Revenge and ill-will only lead to resentment and bitterness, neither of which are appealing to me.

That being said, an acknowledgement of the wrong would allow some healing to take place, and that is what Margaret and I want for our kid. I’ve learned the importance of taking responsibility for my actions, acknowledging the harm done to someone else, and being willing to go to any lengths to make it right. Such an admission made it possible to receive the love, grace, and mercy waiting for me. I have no illusions that it’s not the case for men like their Uncle Phill or Brett Kavanaugh. Ironically, much can be forgiven when the crime is acknowledged. That’s when the healing begins…

So, what am I to do? Three things come to mind. First, I will love my kid through this and, though I wasn’t able to protect them then, I will do my best to protect them now. That means keeping my kid away from their perpetrator even if he shares DNA. That, too, has lasting consequences for others far beyond my kid or their uncle. They affect family get-togethers and holidays. Even when forgiveness is involved, it doesn’t mean forgetting. I will not allow my kid to be victimized over and over, placing them in the same room as their assailant and acting as though it’s all in the past so it’s okay re-traumatizes them.

Secondly, and probably more importantly, I can pray and seek God’s guidance through this whole mess. I truly believe in Jesus’ teaching. When he said that there is a better way than “an eye for an eye”, I believe him. I trust that his is a radically different view of the world than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s uncommon sense that leads me to live and love better, to be a better human being, and to be there for my kids, especially Gael.

Finally, I need to listen. I need to put aside preconceived notions about someone and listen to survivors of sexual trauma. I need to be empathetic and be there. Trevor Noah said that,

“People struggle to understand that two things can be contradictory and true at the same time. You could know somebody as a great person, and they could also be doing something that you don’t know about that makes them someone who you wouldn’t recognize. With Bill Cosby, people were like ‘that’s not the Cosby I know,’ and yeah, it’s not the Cosby you know. Unfortunately, it’s the Cosby somebody else knows.”

Just because somebody puts on a good guy image doesn’t exempt them from scrutiny when accusations are made. The past year and the emergence of the #metoo movement reminds me that ignoring the issue of sexual assault and harassment is to sanction it. To sanction it is to be a part of the problem. Like Dad used to say, “Son, you’re either part of the problem or part of the solution…”

Last weekend, Gael used social media to speak out against her perpetrator. The week before Christine Blasey Ford spoke to the world about her abuser. I applaud their courage and unwillingness to remain silent. Sexual assault, harassment, and, in Gael’s case, the assault of a child, is not a once and done crime. It has long lasting effects that plague survivors, their families, and society as a whole. Thank you Gael for speaking out and being an example. I can no longer be silent either. I hope you, gentle reader, won’t either.