Of Bicycles and Boy Scouts

OK, so before anything else I need to talk about one of my pet peeves. 

Sanibel is a biker's paradise.  We have just about twenty-three miles of shared use/bicycle paths.  They take you all over the island, they are well maintained and they are safe.  They are, in short, wonderful!  As a result, we have two thriving bicycle rental places, and lots, and lots of visitors who rent bikes when they get here (not to mention lots of residents who bike.)  Often you will see whole families out for a ride, which is also terrific. 

I love to see kids and adults excercising together.  But this is where my pet peeve comes in.  Kids are required to wear helmets.  The statute is clear:  "a bicycle rider or passenger who is udner 16 years of age must wear a bicycle helmet that is properly fitted and fastened securely . . . ."  (Florida Statutes, Title XIII, 316.2065 (3) d.)  Most parents appear to enforce the law.  Most kids seem to be wearing helmets.  But their parents?  Almost never!  Talk about a mixed message!  "Yes, Junior, you need to wear a helmet.  Why?  Because it will protect your head if you get in an accident or fall off your bike.  And, besides, it's the law.  Why don't I wear a helmet?  Well, I'm an adult.  I don't need to."  What?  Your head becomes unbreakable when you turn 16?  I'm sorry--I don't mean to be so sarcastic, but whatever happened to the idea of good modeling?  What ever happened to the idea that kids look up to the adults in their lives as examples.  Kids need to be able to see adults wearing helmets so that they better understand how important it is!

Which brings me to the real point of this blog (although I meant every word of what I just said about helmets!)  Thursday, May 23rd, 1,400 members of the Boy Scouts of America National Council will be meeting to vote on a proposal to admit gay youth into the Scouting program.  Currently, they are technically not allowed to be a part of this really terrific (there's that word again) program which teaches kids so many fine lessons.  Gay adults, however, will still be banned from taking leadership roles in Scouts.

Some folks don't want any gay people in Scouting.  Others want both youth and adults who are gay to be allowed to participate.  Allowing youth but not adults to participate is a compromise position.  But it strikes me as being a bit like kids wearing helmets while their parents ride around with their hair blowing in the breeze.  Talk about a mixed message! 

Kids need models, kids need examples.  Gay kids in particular (as high suicide rates among gay youth demonstrate) need to know they can grow up, that things will get better, that they will be accepted members of society.  I'm glad there is a chance gay youth will finally be allowed into Scouting but the ban needs to be lifted for youth and adults. 

Look, adults need to wear helmets when we ride our bikes.  And we need to continue to work for a day when all kinds of folks are truly welcome in Scouting. 

Boots, Booze and Baptists

They call Nashville Music City, and indeed it has a long rich history of music--especially country music.  Folks like Elvis Presley, Patsy Cline and Hank Williams all walked its streets and sang at that secular temple called the Grand Ol' Opry.

It is also called Guitar City, for obvious reasons.  All across the city there are guitars and guitarists, even big guitar statues on some corners.  You can't walk ten yards in some parts of town without passing a street musician with an open guitar case hoping for your coins, or better yet, your dollar bills.

But what really impresses me about Nashville isn't the music, which I expected, nor the guitars, they make perfect sense.  No what grabs my attention are the boots, the booze and the Baptists.

On one of my walks through the downtown area I passed at least four shops specializing in boots--cowboy boots if you will.  (Though nary a horse was in sight!)  One shop had a six-foot tall boot out front.  Another had custom boots in the window emblazoned with logos from different colleges including, to my surprise, this being Tennessee after all, the University of Kentucky!  A regular Appalachian hoedown!

The number of booterys, though, pales when compared with the number of bars.  Honky-tonk bars, dingy saloons, chain restaurant bars--what in heavens name does Jimmy Buffett have to do with Nashville?  And Hard Rock?  Hardly!  One spot even featured its own craft beers.  I imagine the multitude of drinking establishments makes sense, after all the musicians need someplace to play besides the streets, and most of them will never see the inside of a studio or play the hallowed halls of the Ryman! 

Which brings me to  the Baptists.  The place is crawling with them!  Next to my hotel is a Lifeway Christian Store.  The store is a part of Lifeway Center, a multi-story building complete with a fourteen-story cross on the front.  Lifeway is responsible for the "Christian Resources of the Southern Baptist Convention."  Across town are the offices of the Sunday School Publishing Board, the curriculum producers for the National Baptist Convention.  The conference attending is being hosted by the First Baptist Church (most gracious hosts!)  They worship over 1,000 souls on the weekend.  As I said, Baptists are everywhere here in Nashville.

So what is one to make of this convergence of boots, booze and Baptists?

Is it somehow or another connected to that old joke about sinning on Saturday and confessing on Sunday?  Is it a reflection of society in general, or maybe Nashville's culture in particular?  Or is it no more profound than economics and smart marketing?  I really don't know.  But it makes for a fascinating combination!

Two Old Ladies Changing Lives

My first church was in a tiny hamlet called Temple, Maine.  There were only four hundred people in the whole town, and the congregation itself had a budget well under five thousand dollars.  The church building had just one room, the sanctuary, and seated one hundred at most.  There wasn't even a bathroom---just an outhouse.

When I went to Temple I was still a student in seminary.  The church was about eighty-five miles from school, and before I drove out to my first service there I was warned I'd be very lucky to have twenty people in church, but not to be shocked if there were only eight or nine.

Imagine my surprise then, when I showed up half-an-hour early for the ten o'clock service, and found the tiny sanctuary full of children--about fifty of them!  Many of them were dressed in very worn out clothes, and several of them obviously hadn't bathed for some time.  They were clearly very poor.  And there in the midst of them stood two elderly ladies, teaching the class.  Each child appeared to have a study book, and as they left before the service started, each one got a treat.

The women I learned were two sisters in their eighties.  Florence and Muriel Blodgett.  Florence had been engaged once, but her fiance left her for another woman--or so the local gossip had it.  Neither of them had ever married.  They lived on the edge of town in a rambling old house that hadn't been painted in years.  One of them had been a schoolteacher, and the other had kept house.  They managed to scrape along on what little they had. 

But they knew God's grace--and they shared it!  For they single-handedly kept that Sunday school afloat.  As they had for decades.  They bought the curriculum.  They purchased audio-visual equipment.  And annually they funded a big end-of the-year party complete with lunch for all the students and their families.  A lunch that usually included sandwiches, chips, drinks, cookies, and yes, a piece of chocolate. 

Sometimes people wonder if the stuff you read in the Bible reflects reality.  Especially the upbeat stuff.  But I must say, I never saw a more perfect illustration of St. Paul's words describing one of his churches than I saw in the Blodgett sisters.  "Their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty," wrote Paul to the Corinthians, " . . . overflowed in a wealth of generosity . . . ."  (II Corinthians 8:2)

The Blodgett sisters died years ago.  And the little church in Temple closed its doors for good about ten years after I left.  But I suspect there are still some of those children, now with children of their own--maybe even grandkids--who remember the Blodgetts, and who know, because of Florence and Muriel, that God is  good.

On Being a Full Time Christian

Sometimes people see pastors as being full time Christians, devoting every day to serving God.  And while I hope that is true, the reality is all Christians are called to full time faith!

I have a friend who is a pediatrician.  He is a wonderful doctor.  He treats each child as a unique and precious person.  He keeps himself up-to-date in terms of his skills and knowledge so that he can give his little patients the best care possible.  Beyond that, every morning he kneels down at home and prays for the children he will see that day.  For my friend, all that is what it means to be a follower of Jesus.  All that is part of being a full time Christian.

One of my former parishioners in Connecticut worked as an attorney for a large public agency.  Her tasks included seeing to it that laws designed to protect children were fairly enforced.  She took time to carefully research each case, even going so far as to consult with appropriate experts who could help her understand her clients.  And most every work day she and a co-worker met to pray (on their own time) not just for their personal concerns, but for the needs of those they were serving as well.  For her that, at least in part, was what it meant to be a follower of Jesus.  That is what it meant to be a full time Christian.

When my wife and I lived in New Jersey our home was located at a busy intersection.  The borough we lived in had city garbage pickup.  Every Tuesday and Friday that smelly old truck would come careening around the corner and barely slow down long enough for the guy hanging on the back to jump off and grab the garbage pails.  He was a large black man, dressed in coveralls.  I never did learn his name.  But each time I'd see him he'd smile and shout out "God bless you!"  And as he'd move down the street, he'd do that without fail for everyone he passed.  On cold, icy days, and in the heat of summer.  Without fail.  I suspect he was a follower of Jesus as well.

Whether you set down a briefcase or pick up garbage pails, whether you write sermons or brief, whether you take care of home and family, or treat sick children--if you are a follower of Jesus you are called to give your all.  You are called to be a follower, a disciple, a full time Christian.

The Important, The Urgent, and Planet Earth

Today is Earth Day.  Perhaps you forgot midst all the news from Boston and Texas and China.  Perhaps it just slipped your mind.  I heard no mention of it this morning on the news.  But maybe I wasn't listening carefully enough.  That happens.

It's easy to see why.  The unfolding drama in Massachusetts is filled with details to take in and comprehend.  The tragedy in Texas is hard to imagine.  The earthquake in China, which has resulted in thousand and thousands of injuries seems so far away, yet so very real.  It is easy to get caught up in those stories and forget that it's Earth Day.

Or, maybe, for you, there are important personal issues that have you preoccupied.  Maybe you are preparing for a wedding.  Maybe you have a very sick family member.  Maybe you are coping with a rebellious teenager.  Maybe someone you love has just passed away.  Whatever the nature of the concern, you have really been out of the public loop, and so you've missed lots of things, not just Earth Day.

All of that is very, very understandable.  The trouble is that just as Earth Day may have slipped your attention this year, so, very often, have environmental concerns.  We seem to constantly be finding reasons to put environmental issues on the back burner.  Something always seems more pressing, more immediate.  And so we say, "We'll deal with the environment  tomorrow."

I was once told that there is a significant difference between something being urgent and something being important.  That which is urgent is in your face, it presses you to act right now.  It may or may not be truly important in the long run.  The pushy waiter to asks you to order and makes you feel rushed creates a sense of urgency--but is your choice of fish or chicken really important?  Some things are both urgent and important--certainly all the things mentioned above probably fall into that category.  But all too often we allow the urgent to replace the important.

Caring for the earth is important.  I worry that we'll not make it a true priority until we realize that in the grand scheme of things it is also urgent.  

To Run or Not to Run

They've been holding the Boston Marathon for over one hundred years now.  Since 1897    folks have run 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to downtown Boston.  Some have run it in record times, and others have been lucky to straggle across the finish line hours later.  And every year, those who qualified for the event have had to decide to run or not to run.

This year folks ahd to make the same decisions before the race, and during the race as they tired out, especially near Heartbreak Hill.  But some also ahd to make such a decision for reasons that had nothing to do with physical conditioning.  Some had to decide to run or not to run because of the bombs that went off at 2:50 PM right at the finish line near the intersection of Boylston and Exeter.                 .

One ER doctor, who was waiting for his wife to finish the race, who experieinced the explosion, who was unhurt by the blast, had to decide whether to run to safety or not.  He decided to not run--but rather made his way to the medical tent where he helped provide much needed treatment and care for the victims.

Many runners nearing the finish line had to decide whether to run to safety or not.  They decided to keep running, all the way to Mass General, where they volunteered to donate blood for the victims.

The Boston Athletic Association volunteers who lined the route near the finish line had to decide whether to run to safety or not.  They decided not to run.  Rather, they styed to help aid the many victims.

Next year many runners will need to decide whether to run or not to run.  One Southwest Florida runner told reporters he has already decided to run.  How could he do otherwise, he said.  Otherwise the bombers win.

Sometimes, in the race called life, we we need to run, and sometimes we need to stay put.  But we are always being called on to decide.  And sometimes just making the decision takes more courage than the running itself.

Red Sun in the Morning

Every summer when I was a little boy we would spend two weeks of our annual vacation at my aunt and uncle's camp on Lake Champlain, in Vermont.  It was a wonderful place called Elm Point.  From the front porch you could see across the lake to New York and the majestic Adirondack Mountains.  Many an evening we would sit and watch the beautiful August sunsets.  I think it was there on the lake that I first learned that ancient ditty about the weather which goes:  "Red sun at night, sailor's delight.  Red sun in the morning, sailor's take warning."

My younger brother Bob and I would be very excited if the sunset was full of red hues, because that would mean the next day we would have good weather and would be able to swim.  And although we saw far fewer sunrises than sunsets, when we did see a reddened sky in the early morning, we would make sure we took a swim as soon after breakfast as possible, because there was bound to be rain later in the day.

Watching the signs in the natural order which point to the future is nothing new.  It probably goes back to the earliest days of human existence.  Jesus famously talks about fig trees at one point, and observes that when their tender shoots appear, people know that summer is fast approaching.

I saw yet another story this weekend in the newspaper about the record number of manatees who have died this winter and early spring here in Southwest Florida due to red tide.  One of the reasons for increased red tide appears to be a higher phosphate content in the water.  Phosphates that come from the run offs created by human use.  I can't help but wonder if it is another warning, like the red suns of my youth.  Is it another warning that we need to be taking much better care of the earth?  Rising sea levels, seemingly greater amounts of catastrophic weather patterns . . . the list goes on.

I don't mean these are supernatural signs sent by God.  I mean these are signs from the fragile ecosystems of the earth itself.  The planet can only handle so much abuse, and then it starts to break down.  We can ignore the signs, or like wise sailors, we can take warning.