Matrixminister

I am posting over at www.matrixminister.com

My grandson Gavin loves the movie “Cars.” He is troubled that the cars have no eyebrows, but nonetheless, he loves that animated feature. Truth be told, so do I. The musical sound track is actually pretty cool too. You get Cheryl Crow, James Taylor, John Mayer, Hank Williams and Chuck Berry in the same place.

You also get a very cool song by Rascal Flatts entitled “Life is a Highway.” One phrase in the song reads:

Life’s like a road that you travel on
When there’s one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

“Sometimes you turn your back to the wind.” Is that not a very descriptive phrase?

I am a cyclist. I love riding my bicycle. I do not do it as much as I should now, but boy do I love it. However, I digress.

I have ridden my bike in all kinds of terrain. I have ridden the Blue Ridge Parkway (the entire 480 miles), Skyline Drive (all 105 miles three separate times.) I have also ridden hundreds of miles while on vacation at the beach. While at the beach I love the feeling that comes when your back is to the wind. It is like a huge hand is on your back giving you an assist that cannot be fully described. So when I hear those lines in the Rascal Flatts song that is the image that comes to my mind.

As I said, I have ridden a variety of terrain. If you read the locations, you noticed the mountainous territories on the list. There is a daunting feeling that comes over you when you approach the bottom of a hill and realize that you will be going uphill for miles. (One hill on the Blue Ridge is seven miles long!) The thrill of feeling your back to the wind is incredible. However, the thrill that comes from cresting a hill after a long hard climb is even more exhilarating. Words could hardly do this feeling of accomplishment justice. If I were to stop when approaching the hill and dismount I would miss that thrill. I have done just that.

Last week, while attending a two day conference, I had no less than tem individuals chastise me for not writing here. It was not intended as chastisement, or maybe it was. If so, it was received exactly as it was intended in the best sense. One person said something to this effect, “Terry, you have something worth saying. You have something worth writing. Stop depriving the rest of us of your gift that God has clearly given you.”

Ouch. And thank you.

Oh yeah, as much as I like the “back to the wind feeling,” or “the cresting the hill feeling,” my FAVORITE feeling on my bike is screaming downhill. I have gone 59 miles per hour downhill on those tiny tires! I absolutely love it. Guess what? If I do not climb; I do not cresting and I get no downhill. So, it is time for me to start climbing.

I accept the words from others as God speaking to me. I will not go into all that has happened, my fault or not, to cause me to stop. It really does not matter. I will just accept the words of admonishment and act accordingly. I will get back on the bike and climb the hill.

If you have neve seen the “Stop It” video . . . you must, you simply must!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYLMTvxOaeE

Bob Newhart is a comic genius.

I attended a viewing at a funeral home yesterday. It was the viewing of a 19 year old African American male who was shot a week ago in what appears to have gang connections. I talked to his uncle, who is a friend of mine who teaches African American Studies at Pitt, and learned that this you man had several uncles in his family who are engineers, and one uncle (great uncle?) who played a major role in putting a man on the moon.

As I stood there talking to them, I commented, “What are we doing to ourselves as a people?” I realize there are white on white killings, and hispanic on hispanic killings, but nothing on the order that is taking place in the African American community. We are losing vast portions of an entire generations of young black males? How on earth are we as a people going to replace these men and their minds? Their contributions to society are being lost forever to humanity. As I talked to the African American pastor who was to perform the funeral, he agreed and said, “The cure for cancer may be laying over their in that casket.”

Sobering thought.

In Africa we are losing a generation of young adults, in the prime of life, to the ravages of HIV/AIDS and in America we are losing a generation of young men, in the prime of life, to one another. The loses are the same.

What are we doing to ourselves? What can we do to address this atrocity?

In my teachings over the years, I have often said that Passover connection aside (and that is a huge aside I realize) if Jesus were instituting the Lord’s Supper today, it may be done with Pizza and Coke.

If that is the case, and for me it is on some level . . .

Jesus used the word “shepherd” when talking about the church because culturally that is the word that would be understood. I have heard churches for years making this the way they refer to their pastor. Yes, I am fully aware that the Greek word for pastor actually means shepherd. But hear me out.

Why did he use that word in the first place. It spoke to the people about what it meant to lead the people of God. It was totally counter to the use of the word “priest” as in the Old Testament where the leader was above the people. It envisioned a leader who cared for those he/she led. A person who identfied with them. They were, in many respects, was a part of them. They lived with them as they cared for them.

If He were speaking today, what word would He use? Would it be “Leader?” In our culture could that word carry the meaning he would want to convey? It was available 2,000 years ago and it was used differently in the New Testament than Shepherd.
But for today . . . I am just wondering, what word would Jesus use.

Picked up the new Eagles CD the other week. It was one of those only at Walmart $11.88 deals. It is 20 original studio songs by the original band guys. It is the best $12 I have spent in many a year. It is visually and musically and lyrically and incredible piece of work. The lyrics are powerful, the music is off the charts and even the artwork on the cover and booklet is amazing. This CD reminds you of why the Eagles are one of the best vocal bands ever!!! The vocals are so tight and right on.

I have literally listened to it 50 times already. There are (as is always the case) one or two songs that do not really hit it, but out of the 20 . . . there are 17 at least that knock your socks off.

Living with a 4-year old at this stage of my life has me noticing things that I might have missed at another age. Two nights ago I was awakened at around 1:30 am by this tiny voice (that I usually love to hear!) saying “Granddad, I’m scared.”

I was instantly wide awake and said, “Come on Gavin. Get in the bed with me.” (Now that alone is a unique event. Years ago I may have not even heard him!) After crawling into bed beside me Gavin said, “There is a monster outside my window.” We then dialogued about said monster until he fell back asleeep. A hour or so later, I returned him to his own bed where he remained (as he usually does) the remainder of the night. The next day, we talked about the event and how real it actually was for him.

As I reflected on that event over the next day or so, I was taken back to my own childhood. I recall quite often at a very early age lying in my bed deathly afraid of “whatever” but also too afraid to go see my own father and tell him I was “scared.” (The reasons for that are varied and not the purpose of this entry.) As I thought about that event, I was suddenly aware that I was smiling. Riding alone in my car . . . and smiling. I was smiling because Gavin felt okay coming to me in the middle of the night to tell me he was “scared.”

For millenia Christians have referred to God as “Father,” but do we feel the freedom to go to him and say “Daddy, I’m scared.”

This is the exact idea in Romans 8 Paul had when he wrote that the Spirit allows us to move forward in spite of fear and say Abba, Father. Scholars quickly recognize that the word “Abba” was an Aramaic word in that day. It was a term of endearment for the paternal parent. “Daddy,” if you will. Paul is saying that when we are afraid, we can go to our heavenly father and say “Daddy, I’m scared.”

What are you facing? What is your biggest fear at this moment. What monsters wake you in the middle of the night. What drives you to fear? Can you . . . do you . . . go to your loving heavenly Father (and all that is good about that word and nothing that is bad about it) and say “Daddy, I’m scared.”

Right now . . . I could sure use that. My guess is that many of you could as well.

Country music is not my favorite music. I have no dislike of it. In reality I was raised listening almost exclusively to it with my father. I was able to see many of the old time country music greats (George Jones, Bill Anderson, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette, Buck Owens, Carl Smith, Loretta Lynn, Kitty Wells, the list could on) in the mid 60’s live with my Mom and Dad.

Now, I am just basically a rock and roll fan.

That being said, I think country musicians are the best story tellers as song writers. (I write that in spite of the old joke about backward masking country music getting your truck, girl, and dog back.) In my opinion, the only music to come close was the old R&B in the late 60’s and early 70’s. There were some great stories woven in there as well!

Two years ago, while on my flight to Africa, I came across a song by the country duet Brooks and Dunn. The song gripped me like only a song can do. It held my attention the entire flight over on the in-seat music programming, and did the same on the return flight. That song is entitled Red Dirt Road. It tells the story of an aspect of the author’s childhood and his outlook on life. In many respects it could be my story. (Full lyrics are below.)

This weekend I will be driving to North Carolina, where I was born to perform my baby brother’s wedding. (He is 46 years old.) I will be traveling with my grandson Gavin. He and I have made this trip a couple of times now. I left NC in 1976 at the age of 22 and have never lived there since. It is still HOME in many respects. And for the first time last fall, I felt a tinge of homesickness on a return trip. Many things played into it, at that time, but feel it I did.

As I thought about that experience, and my song experience with Red Dirt Road, I tied it to something I have been trying to do for some time. I have been wanting to get a tattoo. I have wanted one that connected me with my heritage as a southerner. In my later years, I am more proud of that than I have ever been. Over the last decade I had many ideas of what the tattoo should be, but nothing fit or it could have been misconstrued and been offensive to someone. Thus it never happened. But now it will. I have chosen what the tattoo will be. (I am not about to tell you what it is now!) I am making plans for my tattoo and preparing to visit my old stomping grounds. It will for me be a Red Dirt Road sort of experience.
===============

Red Dirt Road
by Kix Brooks and Ronnie Dunn

I was raised off of Route Three
Out where the blacktop ends.
We’d walk to Church on Sunday mornings,
Race barefoot back to Johnson’s fence.
That’s where I first saw Mary,
On that roadside pickin’ blackberries.
That summer I turned a corner in my soul,
Down that red dirt road.

It’s where I drank my first beer.
It’s where I found Jesus.
Where I wrecked my first car: I tore it all to pieces.
I learned the path to Heaven,
Is full of sinners an’ believers.
Learned that happiness on earth,
Ain’t just for high achievers.
I’ve learned; I come to know,
There’s life at both ends,Of that red dirt road.

Her Daddy didn’t like me much,
In my shackled up GTO.
Oh, I’d sneak out in the middle of the night,
Throw rocks at her bedroom window.
We’d turn out the headlights,
Drive by the moonlight.
Talk about what the future might hold,
Down that red dirt road.It’s where I drank my first beer.

It’s where I found Jesus.
Where I wrecked my first car:I tore it all to pieces.
I learned the path to Heaven,
Is full of sinners an’ believers.
Learned that happiness on earth,
Ain’t just for high achievers.
I’ve learned; I come to know,
There’s life at both ends,
Of that red dirt road.

I went out into the world,
An’ I came back in.
I lost Mary: Oh, I got her back again.
An’ drivin’ home tonight,
Feels like I’ve found a long-lost friend.

It’s where I drank my first beer.
It’s where I found Jesus.
Where I wrecked my first car:I tore it all to pieces.
I learned the path to Heaven,
Is full of sinners an’ believers.
Learned that happiness on earth,
Ain’t just for high achievers.
I’ve learned; I come to know,
There’s life at both ends,
Of that red dirt road.

As I have begun to look on the process of my blogging, I have had to do some serious evaluating. When I first began doing this in 2005, it was meant as a means to help the church where I was serving as Pastor. Since I am no longer in that position, it has caused no small amount of consternation. It has caused me to ask such questions as:

• “What is the purpose of doing this?”
• “Why should I continue?”
• “Should I continue?”
• “Does anyone read it?”
• “Does it really matter if they do not?”

While pondering this I have come to compare this stuggle with the lyrics of the Paul Simon song circa 1973 Kodachrome. The song sums up a lot of the message with the lyric “Everything looks worse in black and white.” (The entire lyrics are below.) Simon seems to be saying we color things in our mind to be a certain way, and when we see them as they really are it is not very pretty. Let me keep the colorized version.

I have come to think that the writing of this blog is actually like that. I have been viewing it through Kodachrome eyes and when I really look at it in black and white, it is not that pretty. In reality, much of what is said here really does not matter to those who read or do not read it. I am only kidding myself to think otherwise. I am sure the content of the writing has revealed that very stuggle.

As I have pondered this issue (while mowing the lawn, or on a long bike ride) I have come to a conclusion. It can best be summarized like this: I am actually writing for me. It is my outlet. I really cannot be doing this in the hopes that someone else reads it or likes it or is changed by it. Truthfully . . . in black and white . . . I write for the same reason every great and not-so-great writer in all of history has written. “I have something I want to say” and this just so happens is one of my venues.

So . . . my writing will change . . . or not. But I will be doing this because I really want to say something and leave whatever happens, or does not happen, to others.
Kodachrome
by Paul Simon

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school
It’s a wonderI can think at all
And though my lack of education hasn’t hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day
Oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don’t take my Kodachrome away

If you took all the girls I knew when I was single
And brought them all together for one night
I know they’d never match my sweet imagination
everything looks worse in black and white

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day
Oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don’t take my Kodachrome away

Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away
Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away
Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away

I know. I know. I know.

With the passing of Jerry Falwell there will be no end of folks lining up to take pot shots at him and the “religious right.” I have no intentions of doing any such thing.

Did I agree with all of his theology? Did I agree with all of his politics? Did I agree with all of his methods? Do I agree with yours? Do you agree with mine?

The answer to ALL of these questions is, of course, “No.”

In spite of the areas where I disagreed with Jerry Falwell, I would like to point out one area where I did agree and he actually did Christians a major service. He taught us to GET INVOLVED IN OUR CULTURE. You may not have liked what he did or how he did it, but at least he got off his duff and did something.

Personally, I cannot always say the same thing. I will wager, that neither can you.

If I do not approve of his issues . . . then pick my own issues.

If I do not agree with his stances . . . then take my own stance.

If I do not think his attitude was always loving . . . then by God’s grace let me be loving.

Jerry Falwell is a hero to some and a villian to others. I do not really know what your opinion is on this one. And I will guess, you do not care what mine is, so I will not state it (especially since it is not simple and clean cut.) But ALL of us can learn from him that as Christians we should become involved in our culture and not simply sit on the sidelines and take pot shots at it.

Which unfortunately is all most of us actually do I fear. At least he did not simply do that. He tried in his way to get involved and make a difference.

I wish I could do that half as well.