…unless you actually DID just survive a tornado, or unless your crop was destroyed by drought, or something like that.

We in USAmerica complain about the smallest things, we vote with our wallets, we go out of our way to try to be better (getting better isn’t bad, feeling like I have to be better than you is another story). We feel like we’re entitled to a great number of things, maybe because so many of us grew up getting a trophy for “participation” (which makes us feel like we should get a promotion and a raise at work just because we showed up… and stuff like that).

I’ve noticed it seeps into my prayer life. When things go wrong I yell at God and blame him, about my situation, my broken A/C in my old rusty Jeep, my… whatever… Sure, I thank him for the good stuff, but when it’s not good, I complain… and complain… and complain…

A friend of mine told me a while back that he took a 30-day challenge with regard to prayer… It was simple… no complaints, no requests (for myself anyway), only blessings… I think I ought to  try that for a month in June…

…you in?

New beginnings are interesting. I’ve been blessed to encounter more than a few of them in my life, as my family moved from one place to another several times in my childhood (5 times before I graduated High School!), and I’ve moved to a new town a couple times.

So, here I am starting with a bare slate, in a new town and new job (leading artists in the church, what I totally love to do and what I was made for)…

The excitement of the new is chilling in some ways, and makes it so you can’t sleep at night thinking about the great stuff you might encounter. It alternatively makes you feel older than your years and younger than you’ve ever been… sometimes those feelings step on each other (in a quite wonderful way).

I can’t wait to see what this next chapter holds, for those around me, for my family, for new friends, new ventures, and for the Kingdom.

You GO, God!

I was thinking about this this morning when I woke up late because I forgot to set the alarm last night. I ran downstairs in my PJs and told my son Charles that we had to move, that we were going to miss the bus because I got up a half hour too late, but I would drive him to school. Then I ran upstairs, got cleaned up and shaved and stuff and dressed, and ran back downstairs.

Charles was dressed for school, had laid out his breakfast and mine, poured our drinks, and basically was standing politely by the table waiting for me to come down so we could eat breakfast together, as we always do.

Then I remembered a little further back last year when I had gotten some disappointing news, some of the most disappointing of my life, and was so in a funk about it that all I could do was just sit on the couch in the living room in disbelief. When I got up and went to the kitchen about an hour later, my son Charles had (as quietly as he could, because I didn’t remember hearing it) put all the dishes away in the dishwasher (which normally I do), loaded it up (which normally he does) and then washed all the hand-wash stuff (which I always do). I found out later that he had turned to my wife and said “I think I’ll help Dad out, because I think he’s really sad today.”

So we finish our breakfast and Charles already has laid out all his school stuff. He brushes his teeth and hair and gets his shoes on and we go outside to wait for the bus where the trash has been taken away but not the recyclables yet. Charles grabs the trash bin and brings it up the driveway like he often does, not even thinking about it. Helping out is just something he does. (Yes, I know, he’s not a teenager yet…)

Now I’m thinking of the time a few weeks ago when I had to clear the driveway of snow on a Sunday when we would normally have been watching a movie together, just Charles and I, and to make it go faster, so that we could spend more time together, Charles grabs the snow shovel and starts helping me clear snow, which he normally doesn’t do, and he really DOES help out… a little…

Or this past Christmas Eve, when I got the best Christmas present of my whole life when Charles, who was sitting in the seats while I was up front playing guitar and leading the music, turns to the perfect strangers sitting behind him, points to me, and says “That’s my Dad” (I cry every time I tell that story). And then adds “I get my musical talent from him,” adding a touch of hilarity to that amazing moment. (Remember, not only is Charles adopted, he’s not even the same color as me!)

So, as Charles got on the bus, after our hectic and rushed morning, and as the bus pulled away, I thought of that hope and prayer that all parents have.

Yes, Charles, I Hope You Have a Child Just Like You Someday… I hope, someday, that you are blessed enough to have an amazing child… who is just like you…

Most importantly, I still remember how devoted she was to God, how fervently she prayed, how hard she worked to pass that devotion along to her kids, and how much she loved everybody that came into her circle.

So… today, if you have a mind, you can read the chapter that God put in the Bible about my mom. It’s at the very end of Proverbs…

The schools where I live all have off today. They call it a “teacher in-service day”, though, even though it’s Martin Luther King day. As a father of an African American son, I find this a bit of a slap in the face. I wonder, honestly, why they can’t just call it what it is, and give it the same name the banks and Post Office do.

The answer I have gotten from some is that they don’t think King should have had a holiday because he was so deeply flawed. Yes, he was. Have you read any decent biography of Thomas Jefferson lately? What an incredibly flawed individual, and yet we still leave him on the nickel and the 2-dollar bill.

Dr. King, we remember your dream… and we still dream that dream with you.

Sleep, sleep tonight…
And may your dreams… be realized…

“I wonder which of the great kings on earth God is going to send us to for this awesome news. Maybe Caesar? Maybe King Herod? Maybe on of those wise men far off in the East? (Oops… they already know about it, that’s right…) I wonder? Hmmm…?”

Nope.

God’s economy is really messed up. How about this. How about we tell the very least of the least, the people who nobody will even associate with, the people no one will be friends with, the people who have been totally forgotten by society, who have nothing and rule nothing and influence nothing… Yeah… Shepherds…

What kind of sense does that make?

God is so cool…

You can find out if re-sending that email will really get Apple and Microsoft to give money to that poor little cancer patient child (they won’t) or if Jon Bon Jovi is really dead (that one was funny) or if you really need a facebook copyright disclaimer on your facebook timeline (you do not).

This is why it still burns me up when people quote facts at you that aren’t facts. When people re-post rants from Morgan Freeman that he never said, commencement addresses from Bill Gates (or Kurt Vonnegut) which he never gave, facts to skew your views during an election season that are lies or touching stories about heroic acts that are made up.

You can google that stuff, you know.

But worse… there are the folks who hang onto this stuff like it’s LIFE or something. I’m talking grown-ups. (If you are one of those people and you are reading this, I am NOT sorry for offending you.)

Recently, I heard one of those certain old “facts” about our current president from someone who heard it from their very right-wing conservative pastor at their church, and I immediately retorted, “but that is not true at all.” This individual, rather than engaging me in any kind of further discussion, simply said, “I guess you’re the wrong person to talk about this with” and left it there. (for the record, I am rather conservative myself, but I despise stuff like this.)

Ignorance that you enjoy engaging in and hold onto rather than checking your facts or even questioning whether it might be true or not… is something far worse than ignorance. It’s the kind of stupidity that leads people to demonstrate at funerals against our country using horribly obscene rhetoric, it leads people to believe, for generations, that the color of your skin or the religion you practice or the country you live in or come from determines your value to society and to God, it leads whole societies to commit genocide, it leads people to fly planes into buildings and it leads people to train children up believing things that are not so, raising up future generations of bigots, terrorists, fascists and extremists.

The truth, I PROMISE you… will set you free… but only the truth will. Not some lame approximation of truth, and not some lie that got told so many times that everybody believed it. You might have to google it first…

While many are evacuating either voluntarily or because they are ordered to, these brave men and women are heading away from home (from places like Texas, Ohio, and Indiana from what we saw) towards the storm.

Will you join me in praying for them?

Father, keep these brave folks safe, and let your grace and mercy protect and defend them from harm. Be in the midst of every difficult situation and show your love to the world in the middle of all this mess. Bring them home to their families soon. Amen.

However, I believe he did write what might have been the first piece of literature in the Italian language. Here it is in English.

Canticle of the Sun

Most high, all powerful, all good Lord!
All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing.

To you, alone, Most High, do they belong.
No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars;
in the heavens you have made them bright, precious and beautiful.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
and clouds and storms, and all the weather,
through which you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, My Lord, through Sister Water;
she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
through whom you brighten the night.
He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.

Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth,
who feeds us and rules us,
and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you;
through those who endure sickness and trial.

Happy those who endure in peace,
for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death,
from whose embrace no living person can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin!
Happy those she finds doing your most holy will.
The second death can do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks,
and serve him with great humility.

Fast-forward to this year, when my son, Charles, who hated to read, decided to start reading the Harry Potter books. I bribed him, telling him that he could only see the movies after finishing the books. As of today, he is almost done with the sixth book (after which we will watch the sixth movie, we watched the fifth, and best, last night), and he’s only 10. Your books have turned him into a real reader. Thanks so much for that!

But that’s not all, Miss Rowling.

The other day at breakfast, Charles started up a conversation with me about how the characters in the Lord of the Rings (he’s seen the movies, he hasn’t read the books yet… gimme a break, he just turned 10!), the Chronicles of Narnia and your Harry Potter books are… well… a lot like the characters in the Bible.

He thinks Dumbledore is supposed to be like Jesus, and “he who must not be named” is like, “the guy down there”.

So, not only is he reading a lot more than most grown-ups I know, but he’s getting a whiff of the “history of redemption” that seems to be flowing through all things. Obviously, it’s a lot more obvious in your final Harry Potter book. I can’t wait till he reads that one!