Today I thought I would share a memory that has sustained me through some difficult times. When you work with children in the inner city, it is pretty much inevitable that one of the children you are working with will be shot and killed. I am now up to three kids that have been killed by violence and two or three(that I know of - I am sure there are more that have been grazed) that have been shot but survived. I also knew one of the parents of the children that was shot and killed in a shot meant for the son. It is a rough world for these kids.
One of my favorite memories of New Orleans is the Chasing Rabbits memory. Since I have already blogged about it in full, I thought today I would just link to my highlight for today. Days such as the day that we chased rabbits allow me to remember that these teenagers and adults were once children who acted like children and loved like children and played like children. Remembering those days reminds me to love them now and pray for them. Since this memory includes two boys who have been shot and killed, it is one of the sweetest memories of them for me. Enjoy my adventure chasing rabbits in inner city New Orleans!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 19
I will never forget the first time I saw someone I know arrested. It was a strange day. I was in New Orleans for the summer in 2004. New Orleans was experiencing a spike in violent crime that summer. The decision was made to have state police officers join city police officers on patrol.
It was a Wednesday night, and, as usual, I was hanging out with the kids outside the Center. There was a huge crowd outside that night. I was enjoying the time with the kids. Guy and Marquis had been around but they left when they saw a police car go by. I asked why, and one of the kids informed me that the police were looking for two boys who stole a bike, and it was Guy and Marquis that stole the bike. Soon Kenny who is Marquis’ cousin and Geoffrey who is Guy’s brother came up on a bike and started working on the bike. Everything was normal for a Wednesday night and nothing seemed to be out of place.
I saw a cop car driving the wrong way up the one way street in front of the Center. I found it odd, and even remember making a statement about how odd it was. When I said it, some of the older boys started to scatter. Soon we were surrounded by four cop cars with two to three officers each and a police helicopter circling overhead. It was unreal. The cops surround Kenny and Geoffrey and started questioning them about the bike. I was in law school at the time (and even wearing my Baylor Law shirt), so Geoffrey kept looking over at me and I would shake my head yes if it was a question he should answer or no if it was one he should not answer. Obviously this frustrated the cops.
At some point I remembered that Kenny’s grandmother was inside the Center attending Bible study, and I ran inside the Center. As I heard the cops saying something to me as I ran in, I realized that maybe it was not the best decision for me to run inside like that. However, I was able to get Kenny’s grandmother outside to start handling the situation. I also remember everyone talking about calling Geoffrey’s mom so that she could come down and deal with the situation for Geoffrey.
While all of this was going on, the officers started walking around the crowd of people. One of the older guys was so high that he had the attachment for a blunt still in his mouth. The police arrested him for having drug paraphernalia. It was really odd to see someone I knew being arrested. The first feeling was a feeling of distrust for the officers. I was surprised by that feeling, but it probably came, in part, because of the apparent overreaction by the cops. It turns out that the cops were looking for the boys who had stolen a bike not far from the Center. Problem is that they had the wrong boys. Another problem is that four police cars and a helicopter seemed very excessive for bike thieves. Even worse, the whole event made the news that night.
As a result of being present at the arrest and due to the entire event, I came to distrust officers. I now understand why there is such a distrust of law enforcement in the inner city. There was something that made me feel less safe that night because of the presence of the officers. I am sure that the police department would say that the size of the crowd caused them to be concerned for their own safety, but they were looking for two boys who stole a bike. Even now, I have to remind myself that law enforcement is there for the protection of the public. I have to remind myself to trust law enforcement. It is a strange change that came over me that day, and it was a change I was not expecting or prepared for. I can understand how my friends in New Orleans do not trust the police department, even if most officers are good cops. The officers had no idea how much harm their decisions would make when they acted that night. It is possible that even without the overreaction I would have had the same distrust just because someone I knew was arrested (even though I knew he was guilty of the offense). What I do know is that I still struggle with trusting any law enforcement, and I constantly have to remind myself that police officers are there for the public’s safety.
It was a Wednesday night, and, as usual, I was hanging out with the kids outside the Center. There was a huge crowd outside that night. I was enjoying the time with the kids. Guy and Marquis had been around but they left when they saw a police car go by. I asked why, and one of the kids informed me that the police were looking for two boys who stole a bike, and it was Guy and Marquis that stole the bike. Soon Kenny who is Marquis’ cousin and Geoffrey who is Guy’s brother came up on a bike and started working on the bike. Everything was normal for a Wednesday night and nothing seemed to be out of place.
I saw a cop car driving the wrong way up the one way street in front of the Center. I found it odd, and even remember making a statement about how odd it was. When I said it, some of the older boys started to scatter. Soon we were surrounded by four cop cars with two to three officers each and a police helicopter circling overhead. It was unreal. The cops surround Kenny and Geoffrey and started questioning them about the bike. I was in law school at the time (and even wearing my Baylor Law shirt), so Geoffrey kept looking over at me and I would shake my head yes if it was a question he should answer or no if it was one he should not answer. Obviously this frustrated the cops.
At some point I remembered that Kenny’s grandmother was inside the Center attending Bible study, and I ran inside the Center. As I heard the cops saying something to me as I ran in, I realized that maybe it was not the best decision for me to run inside like that. However, I was able to get Kenny’s grandmother outside to start handling the situation. I also remember everyone talking about calling Geoffrey’s mom so that she could come down and deal with the situation for Geoffrey.
While all of this was going on, the officers started walking around the crowd of people. One of the older guys was so high that he had the attachment for a blunt still in his mouth. The police arrested him for having drug paraphernalia. It was really odd to see someone I knew being arrested. The first feeling was a feeling of distrust for the officers. I was surprised by that feeling, but it probably came, in part, because of the apparent overreaction by the cops. It turns out that the cops were looking for the boys who had stolen a bike not far from the Center. Problem is that they had the wrong boys. Another problem is that four police cars and a helicopter seemed very excessive for bike thieves. Even worse, the whole event made the news that night.
As a result of being present at the arrest and due to the entire event, I came to distrust officers. I now understand why there is such a distrust of law enforcement in the inner city. There was something that made me feel less safe that night because of the presence of the officers. I am sure that the police department would say that the size of the crowd caused them to be concerned for their own safety, but they were looking for two boys who stole a bike. Even now, I have to remind myself that law enforcement is there for the protection of the public. I have to remind myself to trust law enforcement. It is a strange change that came over me that day, and it was a change I was not expecting or prepared for. I can understand how my friends in New Orleans do not trust the police department, even if most officers are good cops. The officers had no idea how much harm their decisions would make when they acted that night. It is possible that even without the overreaction I would have had the same distrust just because someone I knew was arrested (even though I knew he was guilty of the offense). What I do know is that I still struggle with trusting any law enforcement, and I constantly have to remind myself that police officers are there for the public’s safety.
Countdown to 30: Day 20
Since I talked about 9/11 yesterday, I figured I should go ahead and talk about another national tragedy that made an imprint. I believe that I was in kindergarten when the Challenger blew up. For me as a little kid, it seemed like a normal day until our teacher was upset and we were watching TV reports about the space shuttle blowing up. I remember that we had talked about the Challenger at school before the liftoff because there was a teacher that was on board and was to be the first teacher in space. At that young of an age, you really just know that something bad has happened, but you do not yet know how to feel emotion about it. It was weird to watch footage at that age because, quite frankly, a blowing up shuttle looks pretty cool until you grow up and realize that there were people in it that died at that time. I wonder if that is how those who were kids when 9/11 occurred feel now.
In middle school or high school, I toured the local manufacturing plant where they made things that were used on airplanes and I do not remember what else. At the end of the tour, the students were all given posters that had the pictures of those who died in the Challenger tragedy on it with a picture of the shuttle itself. That poster hung on my wall of my bedroom until my parents moved out of that house while I was in college. I probably threw that poster away in the move, but I think I held onto it for so long because I was always fascinated by the tragedy. It was the first national tragedy that I remember as a child. The Branch Davidian compound burned when I was in middle school. The Oklahoma City bombing happened while I was in high school. 9/11 happened while I was in college. The shuttle burned up on reentry while I was in law school. However, I think that the Challenger tragedy was what taught me in a way how to respond to national tragedies even if it had to be learned over a period of time.
In middle school or high school, I toured the local manufacturing plant where they made things that were used on airplanes and I do not remember what else. At the end of the tour, the students were all given posters that had the pictures of those who died in the Challenger tragedy on it with a picture of the shuttle itself. That poster hung on my wall of my bedroom until my parents moved out of that house while I was in college. I probably threw that poster away in the move, but I think I held onto it for so long because I was always fascinated by the tragedy. It was the first national tragedy that I remember as a child. The Branch Davidian compound burned when I was in middle school. The Oklahoma City bombing happened while I was in high school. 9/11 happened while I was in college. The shuttle burned up on reentry while I was in law school. However, I think that the Challenger tragedy was what taught me in a way how to respond to national tragedies even if it had to be learned over a period of time.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 21
September 11, 2001 is a day that I will never be able to forget. It was the strangest day of my life, as I am sure it was for most people who were alive and old enough to remember the day. It started out just like any other with me hitting the snooze button a few times. I got out of bed early enough to turn on the TV for a few minutes before taking a shower. I turned the TV on to find a strange sight of one of the twin towers with smoke billowing out of the middle and a plane flying into the second tower. At first I wondered what new movie was being promoted on NBC’s Today Show. It was that surreal.
I do not remember if I had figured out it was really happening before getting in the shower, or if reality set in some time during my shower. What I do remember is getting out of the shower in time to see the next breaking story of a plane hitting the Pentagon. There was no denying at that point that some sort of attack was happening. I went to class only to find out my first class of the day was cancelled. I went to some friends’ apartment where we watched the towers fall and the crash site of the plane in Pennsylvania. I remember thinking as the first tower fell that there was no telling how many hundreds of people lost their lives before our eyes. Then there was an eerie feeling of knowing that the second tower was still standing, but probably not for long. I started out for my next class at some point, but found out on the way that it was cancelled and returned to the TV coverage. We all talked to family quite a bit that day.
The coverage was on almost every channel. It did not matter if it was a cable, network, syndicated, or channels in other languages, the images were shown over and over and over and over. The stories about those who had died started to be told. The coverage was overwhelming at times. I remember that at one point we had to search for something that was not about the tragedy, but after just a few minutes, we were curious again. On American TV, they were talking about people that had jumped from the buildings because of the heat, but they were not showing those people jumping. On one of our channel flipping trips, we stopped on Telemundo or some other Spanish speaking station only to see people jumping and falling to their death. It was horrible. Those images made me decide to spend the night with my friends and caused us to need to watch A Bug’s Life just to be able to sleep some that night. The same night, my brand new car got towed and we had to go get it the next day.
Looking back on 9/11 seems surreal even now. Baylor had military jets flying over it all the time because Baylor had students that were seen as potential targets because of their parents’ positions in the government. A somber mood in general was seen for several weeks. Patriotism was cool again, although that did not last long. Churches were full again, but that also did not last long. I think that the media has overplayed the event and that people were tired of it after a while. In some ways that caused people to become a bit desensitized to the event. Now there are movies and documentaries and books and news specials galore that talk about the event. It was a life changing day in many ways because it was then that I really learned that I cannot trust anyone with my security other than God. Governments and cities and nations are vulnerable to attack. If my security is based on governments or militaries or airport securities, I have no hope. I have to trust in God and Him alone for my security, realizing that no one can take the security of my salvation away from me even if they take my life.
I do not remember if I had figured out it was really happening before getting in the shower, or if reality set in some time during my shower. What I do remember is getting out of the shower in time to see the next breaking story of a plane hitting the Pentagon. There was no denying at that point that some sort of attack was happening. I went to class only to find out my first class of the day was cancelled. I went to some friends’ apartment where we watched the towers fall and the crash site of the plane in Pennsylvania. I remember thinking as the first tower fell that there was no telling how many hundreds of people lost their lives before our eyes. Then there was an eerie feeling of knowing that the second tower was still standing, but probably not for long. I started out for my next class at some point, but found out on the way that it was cancelled and returned to the TV coverage. We all talked to family quite a bit that day.
The coverage was on almost every channel. It did not matter if it was a cable, network, syndicated, or channels in other languages, the images were shown over and over and over and over. The stories about those who had died started to be told. The coverage was overwhelming at times. I remember that at one point we had to search for something that was not about the tragedy, but after just a few minutes, we were curious again. On American TV, they were talking about people that had jumped from the buildings because of the heat, but they were not showing those people jumping. On one of our channel flipping trips, we stopped on Telemundo or some other Spanish speaking station only to see people jumping and falling to their death. It was horrible. Those images made me decide to spend the night with my friends and caused us to need to watch A Bug’s Life just to be able to sleep some that night. The same night, my brand new car got towed and we had to go get it the next day.
Looking back on 9/11 seems surreal even now. Baylor had military jets flying over it all the time because Baylor had students that were seen as potential targets because of their parents’ positions in the government. A somber mood in general was seen for several weeks. Patriotism was cool again, although that did not last long. Churches were full again, but that also did not last long. I think that the media has overplayed the event and that people were tired of it after a while. In some ways that caused people to become a bit desensitized to the event. Now there are movies and documentaries and books and news specials galore that talk about the event. It was a life changing day in many ways because it was then that I really learned that I cannot trust anyone with my security other than God. Governments and cities and nations are vulnerable to attack. If my security is based on governments or militaries or airport securities, I have no hope. I have to trust in God and Him alone for my security, realizing that no one can take the security of my salvation away from me even if they take my life.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 22
My grandfather died during my junior year of high school. Although I had known people who had died in the past, it was really the first time I dealt with grief in the context of the death of a person I was close to. I was old enough to understand the reality of death, and the pain that comes from the knowledge of knowing that I would not see him again in this life.
My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer around the same time of the Oklahoma City bombing. I do not remember if it was that day or the day before or if the news was broken to me and my brother only on that day. It was a pretty odd time though with the family sadness and the national tragedy overlapping. The next few months were filled with treatment and the realization that the cancer was terminal. Eventually he got to the point where he had to be hospitalized, and then basically slipped further and further away as he was unable to communicate. My family traumatized me by forcing me to go in to see him when he was so bad the day or two before he died. I swear that I have had a fear of hospitals since that time (parents – don’t force your children to do things like that please!). It takes a pretty big event for me to go to a hospital to visit someone, and I usually will not go to a maternity ward even to visit a new mother and baby. I will not go to a hospital alone, and I am a BIG baby when it comes to actually walking into a hospital. Just ask my boy in New Orleans who had to come downstairs and outside to coax me in to see his new baby in the freezing cold.
It is odd to lose a family member to cancer. As you watch the person waste away in pain, you actually reach a point where you are praying for them to die so that they do not have to suffer anymore. It was an incomprehensible feeling for me to have at the time, but it is the point that you come to. Since that time, I realize it is OK for us to pray for God to allow someone to be released from pain at the same time that you are praying for God to heal them. It is a good lesson in learning to pray that God’s will be done in a situation.
I would not say that each death of someone close to me since my grandfather’s death has been easier, but I have dealt with each death better as I have learned more and more about God and the comfort He provides in that situation. I have also learned to see God’s grace in death. God did not allow my grandfather to suffer long. His cancer was quick spreading. However, we had a chance to prepare for his death and say goodbye. My grandfather lived a good life. God allowed me to have a relationship with my grandfather who was a godly man and good example for me. God also allowed my grandfather to see how his faithfulness to God contributed to the spread of the gospel down to my generation. All these things are blessings that God has enabled me to see through the life and death of my grandfather, helping to shape my theology of death.
My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer around the same time of the Oklahoma City bombing. I do not remember if it was that day or the day before or if the news was broken to me and my brother only on that day. It was a pretty odd time though with the family sadness and the national tragedy overlapping. The next few months were filled with treatment and the realization that the cancer was terminal. Eventually he got to the point where he had to be hospitalized, and then basically slipped further and further away as he was unable to communicate. My family traumatized me by forcing me to go in to see him when he was so bad the day or two before he died. I swear that I have had a fear of hospitals since that time (parents – don’t force your children to do things like that please!). It takes a pretty big event for me to go to a hospital to visit someone, and I usually will not go to a maternity ward even to visit a new mother and baby. I will not go to a hospital alone, and I am a BIG baby when it comes to actually walking into a hospital. Just ask my boy in New Orleans who had to come downstairs and outside to coax me in to see his new baby in the freezing cold.
It is odd to lose a family member to cancer. As you watch the person waste away in pain, you actually reach a point where you are praying for them to die so that they do not have to suffer anymore. It was an incomprehensible feeling for me to have at the time, but it is the point that you come to. Since that time, I realize it is OK for us to pray for God to allow someone to be released from pain at the same time that you are praying for God to heal them. It is a good lesson in learning to pray that God’s will be done in a situation.
I would not say that each death of someone close to me since my grandfather’s death has been easier, but I have dealt with each death better as I have learned more and more about God and the comfort He provides in that situation. I have also learned to see God’s grace in death. God did not allow my grandfather to suffer long. His cancer was quick spreading. However, we had a chance to prepare for his death and say goodbye. My grandfather lived a good life. God allowed me to have a relationship with my grandfather who was a godly man and good example for me. God also allowed my grandfather to see how his faithfulness to God contributed to the spread of the gospel down to my generation. All these things are blessings that God has enabled me to see through the life and death of my grandfather, helping to shape my theology of death.
Countdown to 30: Day 23
(Yesterday life happened and this did not get posted, although it was already written. That just means two posts today!)
For the spring break mission trip in 2000, our college and high school groups went to Flagstaff, Arizona. I learned so much about God on that trip that it probably was the turning point in making the faith of my parents my own. Too often in college children turn away from the teachings of their parents, but I had the opportunity to build upon the foundation that my parents had built.
Our mission trip to Flagstaff was to an Indian reservation where we were to have a vacation Bible school type ministry to the children and attend church on the reservation. When we arrived, it was around 70 degrees and nice enough that a group of us were able to climb a mountain. It was the first mountain I climbed (and I believe the last to this point), and the view from the top made the struggle of the climb worth it. The beauty of creation pointed toward the Creator. It was awesome. The next morning we woke up to a foot of snow on the ground. At that point I learned that a place has crazier weather than Texas!
The church was small and obviously filled with poverty. For example, to go to the bathroom, you had to use an outhouse ... without a door. Did I mention that there was a foot of snow in Flagstaff? Although there was not a foot of snow at that point on the reservation where the church was located, it was cold enough to have a foot of snow on the ground. The outhouse hole acts like a wind tunnel blowing right on your bare bottom. The scenery was also such that you really, genuinely expected Doc Holliday to come riding up on a horse over the hill and declare, “I’m your Huckleberry” while you did your business.
Although the church did not have much, that church was full of love and generosity. The people showed us hospitality providing food for us and serving lovingly even though you knew it was a sacrifice. The faith of the people in the midst of their adversity was a lesson for me. My church at the time met in a grand building, and even showed hospitality to college students, but we did not have the love that could be felt in this small, faithful congregation. My church’s attempts at worship fell short of what this congregation did with a small keyboard, maybe a guitar, and off-key singing that truly came out of a heart of worship. It was unlike anything that I remembered experiencing up to that point.
Since we were in Flagstaff, we were close enough to plan a trip to see the Grand Canyon. First, we went on the reservation to see where the actual start of the Grand Canyon is. Surprisingly, it starts as a small canyon that you can easily climb down into and did not go very deep. It was unamazing except for the fact that you knew that the Grand Canyon was present many miles away. We also, during the midst of a slight blizzard, went to see Sedona Canyon. The rock formations were amazing, and I remember thinking, “I do not see how the Grand Canyon can top this!” Boy, I could not have been more wrong!
I was not expecting much driving up to the Grand Canyon. Sure I had seen pictures that were amazing. However, I had been told that it was not as awesome as everyone acts like it is by someone else who had been there. I thought that the hour that we were planning on spending there would be too much. I was excited, but not overly excited.
I will never forget the first time I walked up to the sight of the Grand Canyon. My first surprise was that the side we were on was covered in snow. I always thought of the Grand Canyon as a desert. The other side looks like a desert. Much to my surprise, though, there is a forest on the tourist side. As we walked through the tourist trail up to the first observation point, I began to think that I might be in for a bigger surprise once I reached the view. Seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time, I was speechless for several minutes. The first statement out of my mouth was, “There is a God.” I knew that, but standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, you cannot deny the existence of God. God is obvious. There are colors that cannot be described or recreated by man. There is beauty that points to a Creator. Pictures do not do justice to the sight that you see. There is no way to make the Grand Canyon overrated or overcommercialized. It is a creation that God uses to point to Himself and to give delight to mankind. It was amazing.
Later in the trip as I enjoyed more of God’s creation, I read Psalm 139. It was probably not the first time that I read the Psalm, but it was like reading it for the first time. God had planned for me to go on that trip and to see His creation. God had created me just as He has created all of the other beautiful things that I had seen on that trip. God was preparing me to serve Him and had a plan for me. Psalm 139 became one of my favorite passages at that point, and the Grand Canyon is a testimony of the reality of God for me. Although I do not think that I have ever doubted the existence of God, or if I have, it was not for long, I do know that since viewing the Grand Canyon, I cannot deny the existence of God. Everyone needs a Grand Canyon moment.
For the spring break mission trip in 2000, our college and high school groups went to Flagstaff, Arizona. I learned so much about God on that trip that it probably was the turning point in making the faith of my parents my own. Too often in college children turn away from the teachings of their parents, but I had the opportunity to build upon the foundation that my parents had built.
Our mission trip to Flagstaff was to an Indian reservation where we were to have a vacation Bible school type ministry to the children and attend church on the reservation. When we arrived, it was around 70 degrees and nice enough that a group of us were able to climb a mountain. It was the first mountain I climbed (and I believe the last to this point), and the view from the top made the struggle of the climb worth it. The beauty of creation pointed toward the Creator. It was awesome. The next morning we woke up to a foot of snow on the ground. At that point I learned that a place has crazier weather than Texas!
The church was small and obviously filled with poverty. For example, to go to the bathroom, you had to use an outhouse ... without a door. Did I mention that there was a foot of snow in Flagstaff? Although there was not a foot of snow at that point on the reservation where the church was located, it was cold enough to have a foot of snow on the ground. The outhouse hole acts like a wind tunnel blowing right on your bare bottom. The scenery was also such that you really, genuinely expected Doc Holliday to come riding up on a horse over the hill and declare, “I’m your Huckleberry” while you did your business.
Although the church did not have much, that church was full of love and generosity. The people showed us hospitality providing food for us and serving lovingly even though you knew it was a sacrifice. The faith of the people in the midst of their adversity was a lesson for me. My church at the time met in a grand building, and even showed hospitality to college students, but we did not have the love that could be felt in this small, faithful congregation. My church’s attempts at worship fell short of what this congregation did with a small keyboard, maybe a guitar, and off-key singing that truly came out of a heart of worship. It was unlike anything that I remembered experiencing up to that point.
Since we were in Flagstaff, we were close enough to plan a trip to see the Grand Canyon. First, we went on the reservation to see where the actual start of the Grand Canyon is. Surprisingly, it starts as a small canyon that you can easily climb down into and did not go very deep. It was unamazing except for the fact that you knew that the Grand Canyon was present many miles away. We also, during the midst of a slight blizzard, went to see Sedona Canyon. The rock formations were amazing, and I remember thinking, “I do not see how the Grand Canyon can top this!” Boy, I could not have been more wrong!
I was not expecting much driving up to the Grand Canyon. Sure I had seen pictures that were amazing. However, I had been told that it was not as awesome as everyone acts like it is by someone else who had been there. I thought that the hour that we were planning on spending there would be too much. I was excited, but not overly excited.
I will never forget the first time I walked up to the sight of the Grand Canyon. My first surprise was that the side we were on was covered in snow. I always thought of the Grand Canyon as a desert. The other side looks like a desert. Much to my surprise, though, there is a forest on the tourist side. As we walked through the tourist trail up to the first observation point, I began to think that I might be in for a bigger surprise once I reached the view. Seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time, I was speechless for several minutes. The first statement out of my mouth was, “There is a God.” I knew that, but standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, you cannot deny the existence of God. God is obvious. There are colors that cannot be described or recreated by man. There is beauty that points to a Creator. Pictures do not do justice to the sight that you see. There is no way to make the Grand Canyon overrated or overcommercialized. It is a creation that God uses to point to Himself and to give delight to mankind. It was amazing.
Later in the trip as I enjoyed more of God’s creation, I read Psalm 139. It was probably not the first time that I read the Psalm, but it was like reading it for the first time. God had planned for me to go on that trip and to see His creation. God had created me just as He has created all of the other beautiful things that I had seen on that trip. God was preparing me to serve Him and had a plan for me. Psalm 139 became one of my favorite passages at that point, and the Grand Canyon is a testimony of the reality of God for me. Although I do not think that I have ever doubted the existence of God, or if I have, it was not for long, I do know that since viewing the Grand Canyon, I cannot deny the existence of God. Everyone needs a Grand Canyon moment.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Very Rare Political Sidenote
I imagine, due to recent actions or lack of action on the part of the President in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, that there was a conversation at the White House similar to the one below sometime soon after the inauguration:
President: Let's start fulfilling my campaign promises and bring the troops home.
Pentagon Official: Are you sure you want to do that Mr. President? Here are the things we could not tell you until you were Commander in Chief.
[Pentagon Official shares top-secret, extremely confidential, "if I tell you, I would have to kill you" information]
President: Oh. Hmmm. Now I am in a bad spot. I made all of those campaign promises and now I have to figure out how to keep them. What will I do?
Even if this is not what occurred, it is a logical explanation for the recent indications that the President may have to increase troop presence instead of decreasing it. Let's hope that the President will care more about our national security and the matters that we do not need to know, but need to trust the Commander in Chief to handle, than his inability to fulfill campaign promises (or his recent Nobel Peace Prize win).
President: Let's start fulfilling my campaign promises and bring the troops home.
Pentagon Official: Are you sure you want to do that Mr. President? Here are the things we could not tell you until you were Commander in Chief.
[Pentagon Official shares top-secret, extremely confidential, "if I tell you, I would have to kill you" information]
President: Oh. Hmmm. Now I am in a bad spot. I made all of those campaign promises and now I have to figure out how to keep them. What will I do?
Even if this is not what occurred, it is a logical explanation for the recent indications that the President may have to increase troop presence instead of decreasing it. Let's hope that the President will care more about our national security and the matters that we do not need to know, but need to trust the Commander in Chief to handle, than his inability to fulfill campaign promises (or his recent Nobel Peace Prize win).
Countdown to 30: Day 24
I read Cry, the Beloved Country for the first time my junior year of college. It was the worst two weeks of my life up to that point since I had a major test in each of my classes, a chapter of my honors thesis due, a term paper due, and I was supposed to read this book that I had no desire to read for my honors discussion group. Since there are only a limited number of hours in a week, Cry, the Beloved Country did not get read in time for the discussion group and it was apparent that I was the only student in the room that had not completed the assignment. I knew that I would have to hurry up and read the book and get something turned in as soon as possible in order to keep from having to make up the discussion group or get an incomplete. I was determined not to like the book.
I began reading after the class, maybe even that night, and once I started the book, something happened. The story changed me. It was a simple story, written in a simple way, that convicted me of areas of my life that needed to be changed. Since it was a story about South Africa, I was deceived into thinking it would not have implications for me in America until I was too far into the book to protect myself from the message. It was a story about racism without being about racism. Racism was institutionalized without placing blame on a particular aspect of government. It was a story that personalized a criminal without making him a hero or, in some ways, a victim other than of his own choices. The true victim accomplishes almost as much in death as he did in life, and his death is an irony given his convictions. It is a book that makes you uncomfortable as you read it. It is about forgiveness and justice, mercy and punishment.
I read the book after going to New Orleans the second time. I went to a high school that was not diverse at all. I attended Baylor where diversity was present, but not really true. I had preconceived ideas about criminals. I did not believe in institutional racism. I believed in justice, but really did not know my responsibility to forgive. Cry, the Beloved Country changed the way I thought about crime, criminals, inner city problems, and my responses to all of the above. Cry, the Beloved Country taught me that personal relationships mean more than institutional attempts to fix the problems. It is not the government’s responsibility to fix the inner cities, although it is often necessary to depend on the government. It is not the government’s responsibility to feed the poor or heal the sick because it often leads to more problems. Instead it is the responsibility of the church, and individuals investing in lives, to reconcile relationships in the inner cities. God used this book to teach me important lessons that have remained with me throughout my experiences since that time. I have had to deal with forgiving people who have wronged those I loved, even murder. I have also seen those I love commit crimes. Fortunately I have been able to see the human behind the acts and even how society and the church have failed the human, but how God can still redeem the human and the situation for His glory. Next to the Bible, this book has probably done more to change my life and my perspective than anything else I have read.
I began reading after the class, maybe even that night, and once I started the book, something happened. The story changed me. It was a simple story, written in a simple way, that convicted me of areas of my life that needed to be changed. Since it was a story about South Africa, I was deceived into thinking it would not have implications for me in America until I was too far into the book to protect myself from the message. It was a story about racism without being about racism. Racism was institutionalized without placing blame on a particular aspect of government. It was a story that personalized a criminal without making him a hero or, in some ways, a victim other than of his own choices. The true victim accomplishes almost as much in death as he did in life, and his death is an irony given his convictions. It is a book that makes you uncomfortable as you read it. It is about forgiveness and justice, mercy and punishment.
I read the book after going to New Orleans the second time. I went to a high school that was not diverse at all. I attended Baylor where diversity was present, but not really true. I had preconceived ideas about criminals. I did not believe in institutional racism. I believed in justice, but really did not know my responsibility to forgive. Cry, the Beloved Country changed the way I thought about crime, criminals, inner city problems, and my responses to all of the above. Cry, the Beloved Country taught me that personal relationships mean more than institutional attempts to fix the problems. It is not the government’s responsibility to fix the inner cities, although it is often necessary to depend on the government. It is not the government’s responsibility to feed the poor or heal the sick because it often leads to more problems. Instead it is the responsibility of the church, and individuals investing in lives, to reconcile relationships in the inner cities. God used this book to teach me important lessons that have remained with me throughout my experiences since that time. I have had to deal with forgiving people who have wronged those I loved, even murder. I have also seen those I love commit crimes. Fortunately I have been able to see the human behind the acts and even how society and the church have failed the human, but how God can still redeem the human and the situation for His glory. Next to the Bible, this book has probably done more to change my life and my perspective than anything else I have read.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 25
I decided to attend Baylor University for my undergraduate studies because I wanted to go to law school there. I made the decision without really considering the cost of the university. I even determined to attend without visiting the campus. The decision to attend Baylor has shaped me in several ways.
First, I let God lead me to where I needed to be trusting that He would provide. Of course I am paying a ton of my salary to student loans now, but it was still worth it to spend seven years in Waco and to create friendships that last to the present. There were times where I was not sure I would have enough money to get what I needed, but God always provided. I also learned how to give sacrificially during that time because I could not afford to tithe, yet I cannot think of any time that I did not tithe without making it up in the next month or two.
Second, I learned a lot about myself during my years at Baylor. You really decide who and what you are going to become when you leave your parents. It was one of the first tests of my faith when I had to really decide if I believed in God like I said that I did. I had many tests of my salvation, and my faith remained intact providing me with assurance of what I knew had occurred as a child. There were many trials over the seven years that I was there, including roommate issues, thesis advisor issues, national crises, money issues, fires in my apartment complex, to name a few. Each trial confirmed my faith in God.
Third, I realized that my love for children had to be incorporated into my adult life somehow. I worked at a daycare for five of the seven years (even though some of that time was subbing and not really regular). I love children. I love working with children. I am a natural at working with children. I am a lawyer. Lawyers do not typically work with children. However, my years spent at the daycare taught me how to be a minister to people with children and how to talk to children. Now I am able to use that experience to represent children in abuse and neglect cases in the courtroom. Also, I am almost always available to babysit for my friends who have children. Finally, my church figured out I am good with children and I am currently teaching in the preschool three year old Sunday school class.
The college years are formative times for almost anyone who moves away from home. I am glad I chose Baylor. The environment was right for me. I plugged into a local church. I confirmed my faith by continuing to experience spiritual growth. There is so much more that could be said about Baylor and my years spent in Waco, and maybe it will make another appearance on this countdown, but for now, these are my brief thoughts as I reflect on my Baylor years.
First, I let God lead me to where I needed to be trusting that He would provide. Of course I am paying a ton of my salary to student loans now, but it was still worth it to spend seven years in Waco and to create friendships that last to the present. There were times where I was not sure I would have enough money to get what I needed, but God always provided. I also learned how to give sacrificially during that time because I could not afford to tithe, yet I cannot think of any time that I did not tithe without making it up in the next month or two.
Second, I learned a lot about myself during my years at Baylor. You really decide who and what you are going to become when you leave your parents. It was one of the first tests of my faith when I had to really decide if I believed in God like I said that I did. I had many tests of my salvation, and my faith remained intact providing me with assurance of what I knew had occurred as a child. There were many trials over the seven years that I was there, including roommate issues, thesis advisor issues, national crises, money issues, fires in my apartment complex, to name a few. Each trial confirmed my faith in God.
Third, I realized that my love for children had to be incorporated into my adult life somehow. I worked at a daycare for five of the seven years (even though some of that time was subbing and not really regular). I love children. I love working with children. I am a natural at working with children. I am a lawyer. Lawyers do not typically work with children. However, my years spent at the daycare taught me how to be a minister to people with children and how to talk to children. Now I am able to use that experience to represent children in abuse and neglect cases in the courtroom. Also, I am almost always available to babysit for my friends who have children. Finally, my church figured out I am good with children and I am currently teaching in the preschool three year old Sunday school class.
The college years are formative times for almost anyone who moves away from home. I am glad I chose Baylor. The environment was right for me. I plugged into a local church. I confirmed my faith by continuing to experience spiritual growth. There is so much more that could be said about Baylor and my years spent in Waco, and maybe it will make another appearance on this countdown, but for now, these are my brief thoughts as I reflect on my Baylor years.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 26
My parents moved me from Texarkana before my second grade year, and I still have not forgiven them from moving me away from Texarkana. OK, maybe I have (notice, it is a maybe), but the years in Fort Worth did shape who I am today.
My parents had a good reason for moving me. My daddy knew that he was called to the ministry and he was being obedient to God in attending seminary in Fort Worth. It was quite a move of faith for my family though. The relationships that we had in Texarkana were deep. I had to leave my second mother, Ms. Brenda (who took care of me even before I was born); my favorite Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Crystal (no one else compared to her); my favorite teacher, Mrs. Gentry; a good school; an even better church; and the only home I had ever known. It was traumatic.
Our family had to depend on God for everything while we were in Fort Worth. At the time my brother and I probably did not know how much we were depending on God, but my parents have continued to tell stories of God’s provision during the time that we were in Fort Worth. Our family had to depend on God for payment of unexpected bills, clothes and shoes for me and my brother, payment of tuition, Christmas gifts, everything. People from Texarkana were obedient to provide for our family when we were in need.
When I have a need, I usually recall how God was faithful to provide when we were in Fort Worth, and that enables me to have the faith in God to provide in the current situation. I also believe that seeing the generosity of others during that time has made me more generous when I see someone in need or feel God’s Spirit urging me to meet a need. Although I still sort of wish that we had never moved away from Texarkana, I can now see how God used that move to teach me to depend on Him, even through hearing of the stories of provision. Plus, God has allowed me to return to the place that I have always felt is home.
My parents had a good reason for moving me. My daddy knew that he was called to the ministry and he was being obedient to God in attending seminary in Fort Worth. It was quite a move of faith for my family though. The relationships that we had in Texarkana were deep. I had to leave my second mother, Ms. Brenda (who took care of me even before I was born); my favorite Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Crystal (no one else compared to her); my favorite teacher, Mrs. Gentry; a good school; an even better church; and the only home I had ever known. It was traumatic.
Our family had to depend on God for everything while we were in Fort Worth. At the time my brother and I probably did not know how much we were depending on God, but my parents have continued to tell stories of God’s provision during the time that we were in Fort Worth. Our family had to depend on God for payment of unexpected bills, clothes and shoes for me and my brother, payment of tuition, Christmas gifts, everything. People from Texarkana were obedient to provide for our family when we were in need.
When I have a need, I usually recall how God was faithful to provide when we were in Fort Worth, and that enables me to have the faith in God to provide in the current situation. I also believe that seeing the generosity of others during that time has made me more generous when I see someone in need or feel God’s Spirit urging me to meet a need. Although I still sort of wish that we had never moved away from Texarkana, I can now see how God used that move to teach me to depend on Him, even through hearing of the stories of provision. Plus, God has allowed me to return to the place that I have always felt is home.
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