I Must Confess That I Am Not Up To A Clever Title Today...

April 15, 2013 3:10 CST.

I have been watching news coverage over the last few minutes as the horror unfolds in Boston this afternoon.  Just after 3pm Eastern Time, two explosions tore through the Boston Marathon.  The number of dead at this time is officially counted at three, and it is my prayer that that number doesn’t change.  It wasn’t until they showed the video of the explosion and I comprehended that the unbelieving gasp I had just heard was mine that I realized that I had been holding my breath for a while. 

I am writing these words as tears roll down my cheeks.  I’m not entirely sure why I am so moved by something that happened so far away, to people that I may never know.  All I know is that it does.  Maybe it’s because in a very real way I do know them.  I may not know their names, but the lives they experience are not so unlike mine that I can’t share in their shock and grief as those lives are disrupted in massive and confusing ways.  Maybe it’s because of a faith that leads me to the understanding that in my humanity, I am to be in relationship with others in this world in significant ways and that means sharing in both times of celebration and of mourning.  Maybe it’s because I am grieving the loss of a false sense of security in the reminder that nothing in this world is permanent; nor is our safety guaranteed just because we are “good” Christian children.  Or it may just be some of all of it.

My New Job Title: Micheal Jordan's Chauffer

It’s official.  I can now say that I have met Michael Jordan.  I had no idea that things had gotten so tough for him, but he is an elderly black man who lives in a flop house on the south side of Memphis.  I have to confess that I don’t truly believe that the man whom I had the gift of meeting today was in fact THE Michael Jordan.  But that is the name he gave me as I was giving him a ride home today, so that is what I will call him until he trusts me enough to tell me his real name. 

I met Michael at a service station not far from the seminary when I stopped on my way to class to get my afternoon Diet Mountain Dew fix.  He was in the parking lot as I got out of my car, and was asking passersby for a little bit of food to eat.  He smelled of alcohol.  His eyes were red.  His clothes were ill-fitting and torn, and he had an unlit Kool Menthol hanging from between his lips.  He was carrying a backpack that had only God knows what in it and was holding it as dearly as a parent would hold a child.  And I found myself hoping that he wouldn't get around to speaking to me between my exiting the car and entering the store.  And worse, I had been on the phone with my older brother Rick talking about JUST such a scenario just 15 minutes earlier!  And I mean that literally.  (God’s timing is impeccable, isn't it?)  Needless to say I wasn't quick enough.  Michael caught me dead to rights.  “Hey man, could you help me get a little food?”  DANG!

What Makes Good Friday Good?

     I was told tonight of a moving letter written by a church member who had realized what Good Friday meant to him.  As I listened to the recounting of the words that this person used and said, “Amen!”  I was also given pause to think about what Good Friday meant to me. 

     I worry that in modern Christianity, or in predominantly western protestant denominations to be a bit more precise, we have come to a place in which we are all too often satisfied to skip over Good Friday so we can get to the good stuff of Easter.  In a celebration of Jesus’ resurrection, we get to spend time enjoying the good news of our salvation.  In remembering Christ’s sacrifice, we are reminded of our failings and a call to be better through a sacrificial existence, modeled by our King.  Sunday morning we get candy and baskets and wear our new Easter outfits… Friday evening if we take time to reflect, we get to think about depressing things, and images that are just too ugly and foreign to comprehend, plus, no candy.  Sunrise service reminds us that “Up From the Grave He Arose”!  Friday reminds us that our shame and sin put Him in the grave in the first place.  Easter Sunday reminds us that Jesus goes to prepare a place for us… Good Friday reminds us that His love was meant to transform us as we are freed from sin and death through His pardon and atonement; and we hate to be reminded that we need those things in the first place.