Kimmy

This summer, my daughter moved home, bringing all the attendant boxes, bags, and challenges. Among the things she unpacked was her cat, Kimmy. Now, I’m not a “cat” person. I do not have allergies or despise them. I’m just a dog guy. Perhaps it is the sphinxian nature of cats. Dogs wear their hearts on their sleeves. They let you know up front where you stand with them. Easy to read and well-suited to pack life, dogs provide fewer challenges in decoding their mood. Cats, inscrutable and given to aloofness, provide a greater puzzle. Sometimes they want to be petted. Sometimes you reach out a gentle hand and pull back a gnawed nub. Periodically I’ll reach down to pet Kimmy as she strolls past, tail waving, and she stops and enjoys the moment. A few minutes later when I reach down, she’ll squat, just out of reach, virtually crawling past to avoid my hand. Cats are just that way; independent and not given to obvious outward displays of affection. But, Kimmy is low maintenance. She’s pretty quiet. She does not urinate or defecate in the wrong place. She eats the food provided and plays pretty well with Arlo, Christopher and Megan’s adorable Cocker Spaniel. All in all, she does not intrude into my space...too much. She and I enjoy a comfortable detente. So why did she choose my lap?

In the morning, I get up, shuffle into the kitchen, and start the coffee. Then, I go into our living room, plop down in my easy chair, reach for my Bible and prayer list, and spend some time in personal devotion. After I pray, I pour coffee. It is my personal quiet time, me and the Lord. Well, it used to be personal. Now, once Kimmy hears me sit down, she galumphs down the hall, across the living room, and into my lap; where, without so much as an “excuse me” she settles down and commences purring. I put her down to go and get coffee. She usually waits there and hops back up when I start reading. It doesn’t seem to bother her that a cat in my lap gets in the way of my Bible. My contortions to get my Bible into a readable position with her in my lap work well for her; and, the little ribbon place-marker provides her some entertainment on those rare occasions when the rustling of turning pages wakes her up. And I’m the only one she does this with. Everyone else in the house, bonafide cat lovers, read uninterrupted. Me, the one verifiable dog guy, gets to adjust himself to an addition to my lap time. She also does this in the evening during my recreational reading. During that time, I frequently use a Kindle. She’s discovered that if she gets her paw-pad on the page she can either turn it herself when she wants or keep me from turning it by lightly resting her pad on the edge of the screen. So now, I must adjust two of my few alone times to Kimmy. When I sit at my desk writing, she will come and try to sit on the keyboard. Kimmy never asks. She just jumps up. She assumes a warm welcome. She assumes permission. She lives here so she feels she has the right to intrude upon my space and time. She does not do this to either Christy or Candace, just me. And in these quiet moments with an uninvited guest in my lap, God has spoken to me.

When I hear her galop coming down the hall, I know what’s about to happen. She does not wait for approval. This is how God wants us to relate to Him. He desires an open relationship which assumes reception. Romans 8:15 reminds us that God wants us to call Him “Abba, father,” a term of closeness and endearment. He does not want a standoffish formal relationship. He desires informal and loving. I’m not sure if my soul can purr; but, He wants me to stretch out in comfort and security and relax, conforming to His shape, taking pleasure in His presence and warmth. Kimmy did not “warm up” to me. She just made up her mind and concluded my lap was her domain. Now, she climbs aboard at will.

In Matthew 11:28 we read these sweet words of comfort, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” God offers a place of quiet, comfort, and rest. Despite my being a non-cat person, Kimmy knows that I offer refuge and comfort. I do not twist her tail. I do not torment her. Instead, I accept her and adjust myself to her. She’s comfortable with me. God offers a refuge from the chaos of the world. He looks forward to our jumping into His lap so He can scratch us behind the ears...metaphorically speaking of course. But the idea is true, God wants to extend comfort and rest. He wants to treat us tenderly.

In Luke 13:34, Jesus’ great lament over Jerusalem, He compares Himself to a mother hen seeking to protect her young. He drew from the rich metaphor tradition found in the Old Testament, Psalm 91:4 for example. God wants to be our protector. He wants us to know we are safe and secure. Kimmy enjoys knowing that I will not harm her or allow harm to come to her while in my lap. It is a place of security and refuge. And that is what God wants for us. He wants us to impose upon the peace and quiet of His easy chair. And, unlike a certain grumpy guy, He has no favorites. He wants us all. He yearns to hear the familiar sound of our gallop down the hall, across the living room, and into His lap.

The Importance of Truth

“It often seems to me that’s all detective work is, wiping out your false starts and beginning again.”

“Yes, it is very true, that. And it is just what some people will not do. They conceive a certain theory, and everything has to fit into that theory. If one little fact will not fit it, they throw it aside. But it is always the facts that will not fit in that are significant.”
Agatha Christie, “Death on the Nile”

38 Pilate said to him, “What is truth?” John 18:38

31 So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, 32 and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:31-32

6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. John 14:6 Jesus

“We live in a post-truth society.” Pundits and essayists use words with great gravity, hoping to sound wise, well-read, and avant-garde. Recent trends in public discourse and politics might make one think we’ve crossed a significant phase-line culturally. However, Pilate struggled with the same thing over two-thousand years ago. Socrates and Plato grappled with the same issue some five-hundred years before Pilate governed Judea. Look on backward into history and you find that humans always struggle with truth. We want to bend reality to fit our perceptions, our needs, our goals, and our feelings. Perhaps what has changed is our willingness to embrace a leader that speaks falsehoods. But, a quick scan of history and the Biblical record reveals a sorry legacy regarding holding leaders accountable for truth. Perhaps, the ease and rapidity of spreading falsehoods make this time especially perilous for those that embrace the truth. Whatever the cause or case, Christians must avoid the human penchant for distorting or disregarding truth to meet our own personal needs.

Often we employ moral equivalence to excuse our behavior. How many times have we said, “After all, they all do it,” to justify our support of a leader, secular or otherwise, that has developed a track record for prevarication. While it is true that all humans fail, all of us have lied at some time in our lives, that does not excuse moral turpitude. We know the difference between someone that has displayed the fallen human condition and someone that exhibits a reckless disregard and disdain for the truth. Jesus counseled us, “24 Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.” John 7:24. We all know the seductive siren song. Our favored party or candidate fails grievously and still, we cling to them, hoping that they will continue to work on issues we feel important, and perhaps, they will. However, with abject failure in truth-telling, all trust is gone. We know that person does not tell the truth when it inconveniences them. Faced with difficulty they invariably choose the easy wrong over the hard right. Trust destroyed resists attempts to rebuild. And to ignore such failure in positions of responsibility is foolishness. As a junior lieutenant in Germany, I watched, dismayed, as one of my favorite Battalion Commander’s career evaporated due to his failure to tell the truth. He’d lied about his whereabouts in order to conceal an illicit affair. His superiors lost their faith in his ability to tell the truth regarding difficult issues. Once compromised over an issue of personal conduct, he could not be trusted with issues broader impact and gravity. We cannot entrust leadership to those who display a casual disregard for the truth. Yes, it is true that all people fail; however, we can, and should, exclude those who regularly and recklessly lie. It is a disqualifier from positions of responsibility. This sort of person or party does not deserve our loyalty.

As Christians, we must seriously consider the role of partisanship and loyalty in our lives and witness in the public square. When I cast my lot with a specific party, I also must carry their baggage. As a Christian, I must consider the entirety of the Bible, God’s revealed word, when developing my own socio-political philosophy. When examining political parties, I must consider all their stances. To what degree do they support truth-telling? Do they rightly handle information, or do they embrace deceit as a viable political tactic or strategy? Will they accept and support a deceitful person as a leader? Where do they diverge from my understanding of the heart of God? I must sort through these and other questions before I align myself with any given party. These days of bare-knuckled, winner-take-all, divisive politics makes independence as a voter much more desirable for those of us who consider allegiance with Jesus primary. Of course, one may choose a party; however, you must clearly consider what issues to agree with and those you find objectionable and be prepared to speak truth to leadership. An organization's stance on truth-telling must rise to the top of any issues list. Rightly handling information is critical for leaders and followers.

Often we quail when faced with facts or truth that fail to line up with our preconceptions or worldview. And, this is one of the more challenging areas of truth-telling in the world today. The internet, talking-heads on radio and television, social media platforms, and the proliferation of various outlets the spout propaganda under the guise of news, make developing a reality-based view of almost any issue difficult. And this is where we must develop a passion, a devotion to, a zeal for the truth, denying support to those who display a cavalier attitude toward truth. Jesus claims that He is the truth. While we tend to look at this statement as metaphor, in this bold statement Jesus reminds us of a key component of His essential character. He is truth and those that claim to love Him must also love truth. We must love truth more than political party or philosophical ideas. Like the man in Matthew 13, we must value truth above all things and expend every effort to apprehend it. This fervor for the truth leads us to demand truth from leaders, to hold them accountable for their statements. When we accept dissembling, disingenuous speech we put distance between ourselves and the one who is truth. We also embolden the prevaricator, making it easier for them to employ dishonesty. When we embrace those who traffic in lies and deceit, we erode our witness. Through our acceptance of this iniquitous behavior, we become complicit in the lie. Just as they have proved themselves untrustworthy, in a like manner, we prove ourselves unreliable, feckless, and faithless. Failure to embrace truth undermines the foundations of a successful civilization.

We must speak up in this time. We cannot embrace silence as a tactic. We cannot wait this out. Truth is more important than party, political ideology, and personal comfort. Jesus claimed that He was the truth. Early in His earthly walk, Jesus told us that we could know the truth and in that knowing, we would find freedom. Embracing truth is embracing Jesus. Defending truth is defending the one who is truth.

"Christian" Art

“There can no more be a “Christian” art than there can be a Christian science or a Christian diet. There can only be a Christian spirit in which an artist or scientist, works or does not work. A painting of the Crucifixion is not necessarily more Christian in spirit than a still life, and may be very well less” W. H. Auden in “The Shield of Perseus”

I gleaned this Auden quote from a post on Facebook by John Poch, a poet, a professor, a husband, a father, a friend, and most importantly a man of faith. I have found that one of the challenges of maintaining a friendship with former instructors is that they never stop.  They constantly introduce me to works I’ve not read, challenging me to continue my education. This is compounded by my father, a history professor, who still works on molding his progeny. After I finish this snatch of writing, I will need to look into purchasing yet another book, Auden’s collection of essays, “The Shield of Perseus.” In the quote above, Auden makes a very challenging point.
In our modern Western Worldview, we cling to the concept of secular and sacred, binning activities, artistic works, and even people in one of two camps. Look deeply enough into the heart of this dichotomous worldview we find our very human drive toward legalism. In this passage, Auden rightly pushes back against such a limited view of art and the Christian. For the Christian, nothing exists outside the realm of the sacred. In our modern world we like to think of ourselves completing discrete, separate tasks; now I’m doing my work, now I’m being a husband, now I’m worshiping. Almost two millennia before Auden picked up his pen, Paul wrote these words, “23 Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, 24 knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward.” Colossians 3:24-25 English Standard Version (ESV)
The thing is, God, a jealous God, wants it all. We, as selfish and timid people, want to limit the intrusion. God calls us to join Him in His continuing creative work. I hesitate, wanting to keep some area unto myself. If, if I can label some part of my life as secular, then holiness and its attendant considerations need not intrude. In the secular portions of my life, my desires, my rules reign supreme. After all, this portion of my life is secular and I can do as I please with it. We do not find this dichotomy in scripture. God owns it all. For me, as a husband, father, teacher, and dabbling artist, this fundamental truth alters my worldview. Now, everything I do bears the imprint of His hand and everything reflects His impact on my life. Do I work in conjunction with His Spirit?
If I believe what Paul and Auden say, the question is not one of secular or sacred, but one of alignment or influence. In a very fundamental way, we live in God’s masterpiece. Every sunset that flames the sky in bold and subtle colors is His work. The vast encompassing sweeping stillness of a prairie echoes with His footsteps on the wind. He made it and declared it “Good.” Waves climbing a sloping beach gently hiss His name. All creation reflects the imprint of the maker’s hand. So when I engage in activities, mundane or profound, I must consider their alignment with my maker. If I take God seriously, I do nothing out of hand. God is not some garment I put on and off at will. I cannot confine Him to a room I visit on the convenient occasion. He’s an overwhelming primal force that sweeps into time and space with a presence that demands consideration and oddly, at least from a human perspective, a gentleness that preserves our freedom. Whether I’m teaching a class, cooking a meal, shopping for “stuff,” or writing, I’m participating in an ongoing adventure of creation. My only choice is whether I participate in concert with Him, or work against His plan. I know that we speak of this frequently, but still, I find myself thinking of “Christian” music; as if music can somehow be Christian. For the Christian, the entire tapestry of life remains sacred.
When we let the modern penchant for compartmentalization enthrall us, we dilute the leavening effect of the Spirit. Through this, we close off rooms and wings of our lives, rendering much of what we do weak, anemic, and often impotent. God calls us to reckless abandon, not some paltry substitute, efficacious only on Sundays. We also leave open the door for legalism, the dry-rot that sinks so many ships of faith. When God’s love inundates our lives, it pushes out the need for, or dependence on, external rules or guideposts to keep a course. I do not need statutory guidance in creating art. I find freedom, freedom to create as moved, freedom to explore, and freedom to follow. When I bend to His will, letting the potter’s hand work freely, I create truly beautiful works of art in all that I do. I move with Him. I find His presence everywhere and in all things. My work, my ballot, my art, and my family all attuned to His guiding hand. And this may be what Auden seeks to clarify. When we seek to define or categorize some art as Christian and some as not, we severely curtail or limit the freedom we find in Christ. We also limit the voice of God through us, or our work, as a venue. 

Memes

I follow detailed lesson plans; a habit I learned in the Army. I post my lesson plans on a web-based platform for my students and their parents. Eventually, all my students figure out that I pretty much follow my lesson plans, at least in the details; though I rarely keep up with my planned pace. I regularly utilize memes in my classroom. Most days, I start with a joke and find memes an excellent source of humor, at least the clean ones. But other than as introductory material, I find memes inadequate for educational purposes. You cannot well capture a complex idea or truth in a sentence fragment. The meme construct works well to deliver a joke but fails when utilized as a communication tool of the deeper, more complex, issues we face as people and as a nation. As I scan facebook, and other social media platforms, I find the pervasive use of memes disheartening.

Often, unscrupulous people find a photograph, manipulate it to make their own point, and then publish it. They choose venues designed to generate the most “likes,” stoking the fires of their own ego. Those who participate by sharing, also share in the culpability. Those who aid in the proliferation of such blatantly misleading and propagandistic memes participate in the perpetuation of a lie and the deluding of everyone that falls prey to such iniquitous activities. In a time such as this, when the stakes are so high and misinformation so pollutes every information platform, we must not become part of the problem through either carelessness or partisan fervor. Just because something carries a message that I agree with does not make it acceptable. A lie remains a lie. We must remain watchful against such intellectually deficient attempts to coerce or manipulate.

Additionally, memes, by their nature, fail to fully explain or represent an idea. All serious issues we face, as a nation and as people, require more than a snippet of information. Frequently memes give a partial truth, either ignoring a significant concept or crucial complexity of the truth they purport to proclaim. Memes rely on our desire to reduce things into easily digestible chunks; however, complex issues require more attention. If we are going to address the thorny, seemingly intractable, problems our nation faces we must take the time to fully explore and consider. Memes delude us by presenting the complex as simple. They appeal to our desire to see things in stark black and white, when the reality is much more complex, offering variations in shade, intensity, and color. If we envision a community or nation in which all may fully participate in public discourse and seek the blessings of liberty for themselves and their posterity, we must be willing to engage in serious mental work. Memes beguile. They drape themselves in the trappings of intellectualism without any rigor. They are a crass substitute for serious thought.

Finally, many memes traffic in sarcastic insults, designed to denigrate and separate. They gain traction through a simplistic worldview. No matter the side, they tempt the reader to view themselves as part of the “in” group and anyone that thinks differently as an outsider. Those who occupy positions of influence and power regularly seek to paint the other side as somehow unpatriotic, ignorant, befuddled, or villainous. Memes often encourage such broad-brush thinking and aid in the debasement of our society. We face serious enemies outside the gate. We need not encourage our unhappy tendency to bite and devour one another. We need to evaluate memes prior to spreading them.

Before we share or post, we ought to consider their veracity. Does the meme tell the complete truth or does it merely promulgate a few facts designed to obfuscate? Does the meme serve to unite or divide? Is it merely a joke? Laughter is good, so humorous memes serve a useful purpose; but, we must consider how the meme generates the laugh. Are we chuckling at the expense of others? After all, we assume responsibility for all the things we post or share. When we engage in reckless behavior we demean public discourse and for those of us that wear the name Christian, we besmirch the good name of the Christ. Perhaps if we spent more time contemplating the impact of an ugly or dishonest meme we might enjoy a better reputation among non-believers. Memes serve a use. They make us laugh at times and who could not use a good laugh today. We need to act responsibly and think before we post.

The Nature of allies

“Daddy, what’s that,” asked Candace pointing to a large collection of flowers, candles, and hand-painted signs loosely arranged over a large red sandstone fountain.

“Well, that’s a spontaneous display of solidarity with America after the 9-11 attacks,” I replied. The display had sprung up in Wiesbaden the day after the horrifying attacks. Starting with a few flowers and a candle or two it had grown to overwhelm the large fountain. I wondered who carted away the dried and wilted flowers and who replenished them. Months later the display remained fresh and seemingly well tended. It always encouraged me when I passed, this outpouring of support for my country. I clearly remembered watching the towers collapse in the office of the Staff Judge Advocate, knowing that my life would not be the same. That day revealed things. Those desperate hours, as the dust settled across Manhattan, revealed the true depth and strength of our German and NATO allies.

I’d joined the Army in 1981, fully expecting to fight the Soviet hordes somewhere in Germany. As a child of the Cold-War, the seemingly eternal conflict between the East and the West shaped my worldview. As a soldier, I knew that we shared a love-hate relationship with our German allies. The annual Return of Forces to Germany, better known as REFORGER, brought out legions of protestors. They lined the streets near all major military headquarters in Kaserns across West Germany. Small forests of demonstrators pickets sprang up wherever protesters could draw near to maneuver areas. These public displays left the impression of a people surly over long years of “occupation” by Western military powers. It was part and parcel of my military experience. Oddly, one of the most popular protest songs of that era, 99 Luftbaloons by Nena, was quite popular among young soldiers. Of course, Nena’s raven hair and winsome looks drew many of us young troopers. Who knows the number of tracked vehicles which rang with the strains of 99 Luftbaloons patched into CVCs during exercises. Whatever the cause, I assumed that a majority of Germans irrationally resented our presence. And then the wall fell.

In the late eighties, as a young lieutenant, I was stationed in Germany. I watched, astounded, as the great Soviet monolith unraveled and blew away in the space of a few months. The mighty enemy that I’d planned on fighting was suddenly gone, destroyed by interior forces. We had no inkling of the imminent collapse. Suddenly we had very little reason for our continued presence in Germany. I expected most Germans to agitate for our removal. After all, we cluttered up their rather beautiful terrain with our Kaserns, our tanks, our exhaust belching deuce and a halfs and five-ton trucks, our wide HMMWVs, and our rather boisterous soldiers. In the late 80’s you could not move around West Germany without tripping over American soldiers. We were everywhere with all the associated problems soldiers bring...and their strengths as well. Suddenly communities valued their soldiers. Somehow, these goofy, BDU clad, irreverent, and often ill-behaved soldiers had wormed their way into the hearts and minds of the German people. It turned out they kind of liked the hordes of young men and women who traipsed through their villages, castles, and forests. I may be wrong, but I can only remember one city that steadfastly wanted their soldiers out. Their Kaserne hosted an attack helicopter squadron and they were quite ready for all the noisy low-level flying to stop. Over the next few years, some units and soldiers went home, we adjusted to the new world order, and found out there were reasons to stay in Germany. And, the Germans found reasons to keep us around. Time passed.

Eventually, the Army took leave of its senses and promoted me to major and sent me back to Germany. Then 9-11. A few days later the local German Army Region Commander asked for a staff meeting. He was a three-star general. His staff and the 1st Armored Division staff, under the command of Major General Ricardo Sanchez, sat down for a meeting. The German General opened the meeting with the following speech (this is as accurate as I can make it from memory):

“My American friends. Our hearts go out to you in this dark time. We hurt with you. We watched in horror as planes crashed into your buildings, consuming thousands of innocent lives. We stand with you, our American allies, our brothers, and sisters. For over forty years you stood watch over my country. You kept watch on the wall. You kept my nation free. You spent years and untold millions of dollars ensuring the I and my children might grow up enjoying the pleasures of freedom. Now, it is our turn.

We will help you in this dark time. We will not forget the great debt we owe you. If you have any need. Any need at all. Come to us. And (hear he looked directly at his staff)  I want you to understand that I am the only one in my organization that has the authority to say no. No one else can say no. They may say, I will get back with you. But I am the sole no authority. We will help you in whatever way we can.

And he was true to his words. The Germans helped us in many ways. Later, when we deployed our tanks to Iraq, they cleared the rails for us, enabling a rapid deployment. The harbor of Bremerhaven was cleared of ships, allowing our ships to move freely. When our MPs deployed to Afghanistan, German MPs took their place, keeping us safe and secure. And these are just a few of the ways the Germans stepped up to help us in those chaotic days. That’s what allies do.

We need allies in this world. We may be mighty. Our military is very strong, the strongest in the world. Yet, we know that a handful of desperate men, well organized, can wreak havoc on our soil. Our economy may be the largest in the world, but we still need places to sell things and there are still things we want to purchase from others. You see, sometimes allies get the better deal. That is the way of things. International relations are not a zero-sum game with only winners and losers. As in any relationship there is give and take. Sometimes we give, sometimes they give, and sometimes we both give at the same time. 

Yes, for years we gave greatly to Germany and NATO without getting much back for our investment, unless you count a relatively peaceful Europe. But, when our backs were against the wall our German friends stood by us. Our other friends, the British, the Australians, the French, and even former enemies stood with us. We needed them and they did not abandon us. We cannot go it alone in this world. We need to strengthen our relationships with our long-term friends and allies not bully and belittle them. We never know what dark forces may be arrayed against us, waiting and watching, biding their time until the moment seems right. Then they will strike. And we cannot imagine what help we might need to quell fresh round of violence. So, let us work hard to build bridges, strengthen old relationships, and forge new ones. Allies may be troublesome, but good friends are worth the effort. 

Military Service as a Path to Citizenship

“It is the pride of my heart to have been one of the earliest adopted sons of America...I gave my heart to the Americans and thought of nothing else but raising my banner and adding my colors to theirs.” – Marquis de Lafayette

Honorable military service has long been a path into citizenship. Since the Revolutionary War, those immigrants that served found not only welcome in the ranks, but also a welcome in society. We have long recognized willingness to sacrifice on the field of battle as a demonstration worthy of citizenship. During the Civil War, twenty percent of the Union Forces were foreign-born. After World War I 192,000 servicemembers received citizenship due to their service.1 After World War II over 100,000 individuals were granted citizenship for their service in the military.2 The Korean conflict produced approximately 31,000 new citizens as a result of their service.3 And this continues today. Since September 11th, 2001, over 37,000 foreign-born servicemembers have earned their citizenship through honorable service.4 The line of men and women who not only voted for America with their feet, but also, their bodies stretches far back into our first revolutionary days.

Long ago, I went through basic training at Fort Leonard Wood with Peter Tsui, a Taiwanese immigrant, seeking citizenship. Having served in the Army of Taiwan, he found our training and discipline fairly easy. As a company commander at Fort Hood, Texas, long before the twin-towers, I stood next to one of my soldiers, a young mechanic as he proudly took his oath of citizenship. Years later, at a Forward Operating Base in Iraq, I watched as over one hundred young men and women from FOBs around the Baghdad area took their oath of citizenship, all serving under arms in defense of our nation. Military service, especially in a time of conflict, is a crucible and a process that produces battle-tempered citizens; ones that know what it means to sacrifice for their chosen land. This is a long and honored tradition.

It grieves me to see the Army, an institution that has long welcomed the foreign-born into its ranks, turn its back on such fine, brave young men and women. While certainly imperfect, the Army has long represented what is best in American ideals. Executive order 9981, signed by President Harry Truman desegregated the American military long before the Civil Rights Act of 1957. And that is just one example of how the Army has exemplified the ideals captured in our founding documents. During my 27 year tenure in the Army, we worked hard to create an environment which recognized individuals based on mission accomplishment, not race, religion, ethnic origin, or sex. We did not always reach our goals, but we did set the bar high and strive for excellence. To see the Army take such a step backward under pressure from civilian leadership disappoints. Our experiment in democracy involves risk. It always has and always will. To hear leaders, military and civilian, so mistreat honorable men and women in the name of security or risk saddens me. Military leaders, especially those who have served in combat, know better. We made a commitment to these men and women, we must honor it. To turn our backs on them now is tantamount to leaving them wounded and isolated on the field of battle; something, according to the soldier creed, we all swore we would not do.5 We cannot take counsel of our fears. We must do the right thing and honor our word. It is the only acceptable course of action.

1. https://www.nps.gov/articles/immigrants-in-the-military-during-wwi.htm 

2. https://bipartisanpolicy.org/blog/immigrants-in-the-military-a-history-of-service/ 

3. https://bipartisanpolicy.org/blog/immigrants-in-the-military-a-history-of-service/ 

4. https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/immigrants-us-armed-forces#12 

5. https://www.army.mil/values/soldiers.html 

Patriotism

Every year we engage in corporate displays of patriotism. Right now my facebook feed is full of flags, fireworks, and (a sad amount of) military hardware. Of course, as a soldier, I enjoy the many respects to service-members and veterans. But, I wonder. What does it mean to be patriotic? Have we distilled patriotism down to a few memes of flags, red, white, and blue bunting? Does posting a picture flexing our national military muscles make me a patriot. Surely there’s more to it than that. As a History / English teacher I naturally turn to historical documents. Three key sentences come to mind. 

      From the Declaration of Independence: And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor. 

      From the Constitution: We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America. 

      From the Army Oath of Enlistment (originally adopted in 1789 and updated in 1962): I, Matthew E. Robinson (and yes I took this several times), do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God." 

      These three key documents clearly define patriotism. All three speak of sacrifice to a higher cause. They include language that speaks of looking forward, of laboring for an unseen, yet hoped for goal. American soldiers swear to defend a body of ideas, not a particular piece of territory. In that we find a key to true patriotism. If we are truly patriots, we give of ourselves. We take risk. We look to a future that includes not only our posterity, but also, a more perfect union and greater welfare for all of us. American patriotism pulls another chair up to the table, not closes the door. American patriotism expands the borders of freedom for all and does not savagely curtail the freedom of certain groups. As challenging as it is, American patriotism toils to welcome those less fortunate; even at great cost. So when we think about patriotism we should consider the following: 

1.  Have we sacrificed for our country? 
2. Do we live serving a higher purpose, or do we merely seek to gratify our own desires? 
3. Do we think more about expanding freedom or crushing the “opposition?” 
4. Are high ideals the basis of our politics or a political party? 
5. Do we place our faith in powerful arms or powerful ideas? 
6. Are we willing to take risk for our ideas or do we want to play it safe? 

     So when I ruminate on my status as a patriot, I must consider my ideals. Do I carefully consider such documents as the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the Declaration of Independence. Or, do I consider my own needs, wants, and more importantly comfort. After all, our founding fathers, and other great patriots, all risked greatly. And, some lost greatly. Isn’t patriotism more about a grand experiment than a grand bank account?

 

The Leper

Years ago, Christy and I lived in Cagayan de Oro on the island of Mindanao, the southernmost large island in Philippine archipelago. We regularly shopped in the local market, named Agora. Years later that I learned the word Agora was an ancient Greek word meaning marketplace or public gathering space. I always enjoyed the busy crowds and colorful stalls with wares artfully stacked to entice buyers. In the early eighties swarms of jeepneys converged on the large barn-like structure with a red corrugated tin roof, disgorging passengers intent on finding items needed for daily life. If you needed it, you could find it at the Agora. If you could not find it, you didn’t need it. After a few weeks we found our favored vendors and normally frequented the same places, vectoring our walks through the crowded aisles each visit. The bumpy, near daily, ride soon became a fixture in our lives. Once we rode on a jeepney with two five-foot tuna tied to either side of the back entry. There was one other fixture of the Agora market, the begging leper.

He squatted in the same spot every day, holding up two gnarled stubbs that once were hands. Missing most of his nose and teeth, he was a twisted sunburned caricature of a man. At that time, the leper colonies and hospitals would provide negative lepers paperwork enabling them to beg in public. We saw him, rain or shine, each time we came to the market. For me, having grown up in the relatively sheltered environs of Abilene, Texas, seeing a leper almost daily was quite a shock. He was uncommunicative, never responding to my attempts to speak with him. The only real response was a politely muttered, “Salamat (Cebuano for thankyou),” whenever I gave him a few pesos, which was normally every time I saw him.  To be truthful, I never made serious attempts at communication. His mutilated hands and visage put me off and it was just a bit easier to drop a few pesos in his battered cardboard box, accept his thanks, and move on. So unlike Jesus.

In the closing verses of Mark, chapter 1 we read these tender and challenging words, “40 And a leper came to him, imploring him, and kneeling said to him, “If you will, you can make me clean.” 41 Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand and touched him and said to him, “I will; be clean.” 42 And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.” Mark 1:40-42 ESV Before he healed, Jesus reached out and touched. Many of the healing accounts include this poignant and crucial detail. In the Jewish world He made himself ceremonially unclean. And even in our day of living under the new covenant, I found it almost impossible to make myself ceremonially unclean through touch or serious human interaction. Here’s the thing, I found it easier to pitch a few pesos the lepers way than to try and meet his true human needs. 

Meeting people’s needs, their true human needs, is difficult. It is messy. It is never easy. Frequently, it threatens our stable lives. We enjoy associating with those most like us. I look around during worship and I see people generally like myself. We’re all relatively prosperous, buttoned-down, and with few sin problems that spill out into the public domain. At least what we count as sin. We do not really attract those that differ from us. A few verses later in the next chapter of Mark, we read, “15 And as he reclined at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners were reclining with Jesus and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. 16 And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” Mark 2:15-16 ESV Jesus scandalized the Pharisees by associating with those who were different. We certainly do not want those how are different associating with us. In fact, in many churches we employ teams carrying concealed weapons in order to make sure that those with problems keep their distance. Jesus ate with them, let them weep on His feet, and touched them first. 

We want to erect walls and legislate barriers to those who are different. We find their messiness embarrassing and challenging, forgetting our own innate depravity. But our reluctance to associate with or help those who differ from us is more than something we need to grow in. Apparently, it gets to the core of who we are as Christ-followers. In one of the  most sobering passages in the gospels we read, “45 Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” Matthew 25:45-46 ESV Our ability to welcome and care for those who are suffering and need, dare I say, those who are different and problematic, reveals something basic and fundamental about our relationship with the Lord. Perhaps we ought to spend more time swallowing our pride and dignity and loving the unlovable instead of seeking ways to fence them out of our view. After all, these are the type of people Jesus associated and dined with, and we are no better.

In the eyes of God, I am no different that the poor beggar holding up gnarled stubs in the scorching tropical sun. I look the same to Him. We focus on our physical success, forgetting it is all blessing from God. We casually disregard our own spiritual depravity, holding others to a standard we fail to meet. All the while, God calls out to us, reminding us that we are turning our backs on our brothers and sisters. No matter our stance God still reaches out to them, inviting them into the great banquet. 

How sad for us. Jesus, our living Lord, still reaches out and touches. He still welcomes. He still absorbs our sin and pain, leaving healing in His wake. He took all our sin, shame, and ugliness to the cross in a thick coat of blackness where the fury of God burned it all away, leaving only His holy son behind. Yes, I know that particular image is not in scripture; however, I see it every day in my mind when I seek forgiveness for my failures and a man. Oh to be like Him in His willingness to reach out and touch those in need, to open welcome arms to those who are different, those who need love and help. 

Justice and Mercy

                The young Specialist stood in front of my, eyes downcast. He was a competent electronic maintenance specialist. He handled his assigned weapon well, always qualifying, normally at an expert level. Notwithstanding his stocky build, he always passed both the PT test and the associated height-weight measurement. Despite these good traits, he now stood in front of me awaiting my judgement under Article 15 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ). He was an inveterate liar. He frequently missed formations and then lied about his whereabouts. He promised to meet critical deadlines and then attempted to shift the blame, lying about circumstances. His NCOs and Platoon Leader had applied a variety of corrective measures all to no avail. He’d stood in front of me before and I’d extended mercy, resorting to verbal reprimand and then extra duty. His continued inclination toward prevarication required sterner measure.

                “Specialist, in view of your continued fabrications, I am reducing you in rank to the grade of Private First Class (PFC), effective immediately.” It was then that I had noticed he’d showed up to these proceedings with sew on rank. Inside my heart, an ember of anger, fanned by his behavior, grew into a roaring fire. He’d counted on my continued display of mercy, and that incensed me. Usually, if you showed up for proceedings which might end in your reduction, you wore pin-on rank, easily removed and replaced.

                “I have s-s-sew-on rank, Sir,” he stammered.

                “Here,” I barked handing him a knife that my grandfather had carried in WW II and I would eventually carry to Iraq, “Cut it off with this. And be careful. A real soldier used that knife so it’s sharp!” He set about removing his rank as silence filled my office. Soon tears trickled down his cheeks and nose dripping off onto the highly polished floor. Another soldier working off some minor infraction had worked hard with a buffer, producing a glossy shine. Eventually, rank hacked off, he faced me. I tossed him a set of PFC insignia, “Put these on and get out of my area!” He saluted, I returned the salute, and he turned on his heel and left my office. My work as the keeper of good order and discipline was done.

                The military world thrives on “good order and discipline.” In fact, units without good order and discipline cannot complete their assigned mission effectively. My role as the commander required an intense focus on good order and discipline. My commander expected me to train the ignorant, reward the excellent, retrain the recalcitrant, and finally, as a last resort, punish the malefactors. In Romans 13: 1-7, Paul lays out this principal for Christians. In the opening sentences he reminds us, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore, whoever resist the authorities resist what God has appointed and those who resist will incur judgment.” PFC Swift had resisted the appointed authority and that authority had responded appropriately. Later in the Romans passage Paul reminds the reader that appointed authority, “…does not bear the sword in vain.” For the good of the entire unit, I had to take appropriate action, despite the cost to PFC Swift and myself (inflicting punishment is rarely easy). Justice required action. Those soldiers under my command who regularly completed their appointed duties deserved their reward. And justice would not let a shirker slip by without their reward. My actions, despite their just results, weighed on me. “Bearing the sword” is a burden for the sword-bearer. But events sometimes provide unique opportunities.

                A few days later, my first sergeant (ISG) brought me my morning stack of paperwork. He lingered after pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Sir,” he began, “You were really hard on PFC Swift (not his true name…I’ve long forgotten).”

                “How so, Top?” he’d been in front of me several times before. And besides, you and I talked about this and we were in agreement over the punishment.”

                “Yes, but, look at the paperwork on top of your stack.”

                I picked up the first item and saw that it was the start of discharge procedures for, now, PFC Swift. When I’d reduced him, I’d put him past his retention control point (RCP). In those days, the Army required promotion to the next rank for retention. It was an “up-or-out” policy; one that very few were pleased with as it often forced excellent soldiers out due to slow promotion rates. I sighed as I thought of the implications. PFC Swift was married and had a child. My reducing him, while a just action, would put his wife and child in dire straits. Though a PFC did not make much, she worked, and their combined salaries allowed them to make ends meet. He’d hoped to make the Army a career. In fact, his father was a career officer and had reached the exalted rank of full colonel, O-6. In fact, his father had called me once and pressured me to show leniency toward his son; which did not help matters.

                “Look at the next item,” intoned my 1SG.

                I picked up the next in my ever-replenished stack. It was a set of orders for PFC Swift, taking him to Germany. It was a good assignment; one which would afford him excellent opportunities for advancement and travel with his family. I sighed again. His RCP paperwork would make all of this null and void. His punishment, though fully just and required for the good order and discipline of my unit, carried severe repercussions, far beyond my desires. As I stared at the two pieces of paperwork on my desk, an idea started to form in my mind.

“Shut the door, Top. I think I have an idea to run past you.” With a perplexed look, he shut the door and commiseration began.

God does not deal with us solely according to justice. In fact, He shows great kindness and leniency toward us. In Psalm 103, the psalmist reminds us of God’s great graciousness and compassion toward us. He filled this passage with rich imagery designed to illustrate the depth of God’s love and longsuffering. Phrases such as, “...as high as the heavens are above the earth…,” or, “…as far as the east is from the west…,” and, “…the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting…,” drip with God’s desire toward us. He knows and remember that we are indeed frail and fraught with failure. He indeed lets mercy triumph over justice. And those of us who bear the sword in an official capacity ought to do the same whenever possible.

“PFC Swift, I have some paperwork to show you,” I said, sliding the RCP paperwork across my desk to him. He picked up and read through it quickly. He was not surprised. Evidently, he’d expected this. Most career soldiers kept up with such things.

“Now, look at this,” I continued, handing him a copy of the orders taking him to Germany. This he did not expect, and his face fell. He understood the opportunity that had slipped from his grasp.

“CPT Robinson did not bring you in here to gloat,” my 1SG quickly interjected.

“PFC Swift, I have a plan,” I said, “I am willing to put your RCP paperwork at the bottom of my stack and give you your orders for Germany today. If you can clear post and get to Germany before I get to your RCP paperwork, you may be able to recover. A soldier of your skills will quickly get your rank back and if you stop lying and do the right thing, you can continue with your career and make something of yourself.”

“Would you do that,” queried PFC Swift, hope filling his face?

“Yes, I would. Here are your orders for Germany. Get out of my company!” The last sentence I said to PFC Swift’s backside as he dashed from my office to start clearing post. I and my 1SG smiled. PFC Swift managed to clear post and transfer to Germany before I got to his RCP paperwork. In those days, the wheels of the Army personnel section ground ever so slowly and ever so fine.

                James 2:13, “…Mercy triumphs over judgement,” succinctly sums up our relationship with God…or the one He desires. We claim to love justice, until it applies to us, then we love mercy. In our clamor for justice, we often forget our own deep and abiding need for mercy. We want to see the other guy held responsible for his actions. We gladly apply the appellation perpetrator to others, forgetting that we too are perps. All too often, we take on the role of the unforgiving servant in Matthew 18:21-35, forgetting our own great debt. Perhaps, things might be different were we to keep this in mind.

                We churlishly withhold aid and succor to those in need, thinking it unfair for them to take advantage of us. We do not stop to consider how much we have received from God…and in truth our own society. None of us enjoy all our blessings based solely on our own efforts. All along the way, we’ve enjoyed grace, mercy, and assistance in a wide variety of forms. None of us are truly “self-made.” All of us enjoy blessings, spiritual and physical, we do not deserve. We, like PFC Swift, stand deserving punishment. When PFC Swift hustled out of my office at FT Hood, he left my life. I’ve never seen him again. But, I know something of the rest of his story.

                Years later as a senior Major, soon to be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, the phone on my desk rang. I answered, and a strange voice said, “This is Chief Swift.”

                So much time had passed, I did not recognize the name, “Yes.”

                “You don’t remember me,” he queried?

                “No, Chief, I’m afraid not.”

                “I’m not surprised. The last time you saw me I was a PFC you’d just busted. I left your unit and went to Germany.” The rest of the story tumbled out. PFC Swift had gone to Germany. He’d discarded his bad habits. He’d gained back his SPC rank and then gone on to become a Warrant Officers and a very successful career in the Army. You see, a little mercy had gone a long way in his life. Perhaps, if we were more merciful as a nation, even to those we do not think deserve it, we’d enjoy more success stories. We’d also do better in reflecting God’s love into an often-dark world and maybe, just maybe, move closer to being a “Christian Nation.”

Legal and Moral

                Yesterday, Christy, Candace, and I trekked down to Holloman Air Force Base and shopped in the PX (Post Exchange), BX or Base Exchange to my Air Force brethren. We enjoyed being on a military installation again. The orderly neatness, the clearly labeled buildings, the subdued hustle of servicemen and servicewomen going about their duties, the crisp salutes at the gate, and the lack of litter wrapped us in the comfortable blanket of military life. All of this is undergirded by a joint understanding of the rules and the roles of everyone involved. As a retiree, I enjoy a minor place in the orderly military machine. It is specified. Christy and I have certain rights and privileges, and limits. I’ve left the active ranks. During the duty day, soldiers in uniform, airmen in this case, may go to the head of the line in the PX or Commissary to facilitate a rapid return to duty. No longer part of the mission, no longer subject to field training exercises, no longer subject to deployments, I stand on the periphery. I understand this and gladly follow the rules which order this time in my military life. Rules bring order. Rules ease personal interactions. Rules help keep chaos at bay. But rules are not the ultimate good.

                I’ve watched events surrounding the treatment of the families of aliens at our borders with growing dismay. Through legal machinations we, as a nation, separate children from their parents. According to our executive spokesperson, we do this as part of the “rule of law.” And when pressed regarding the severe nature of this action, they referenced the Biblical imperative of following the law as their justification. Indeed, Romans 13, I Peter 2, and other passages require believers, Christians, to live law abiding lives. As a professional soldier, cum teacher, I strongly support following the rules. After all, much of my professional life revolves around equitable rules justly enforced. I understood the rules governing military life and submitted to their restrictions. I expect my students to comply with the guidelines that govern life in my classroom. A citizenry the follows the laws generates a peaceful society. A government the operates within the rule of law generally results in a prosperous country. So, as a Christian do I sit back, hands folded, and watch this unfold? After all, the executive branch is pursuing a legal course of action.

                One thing I’ve discovered during my professional life, military and civilian, legality does not equate to morality. Enacting a law, no matter the political party, does not make enforcement a matter of justice. In Isaiah 10:1-2 the prophet condemns “…those who decree iniquitous decrees, and the writers who keep writing oppression, to turn aside the needy from justice…” I understand the need of a modern nation to exert some manner of control over its borders. Throwing open the gates and crying out, “allee, allee income free,” may not be the wisest of actions; however, neither is the callous separation of parents and children. As a Christian, one who must cry out against injustice, I must raise my voice against such iniquitous decrees. Iniquity carries the implication of continual heinous behaviors and I believe this law is iniquitous, evil, and morally indefensible.

                As Christians we must speak truth to power. We must not stand idly by and let the powerful twist scripture to rationalize such abhorrent treatment of the weak. If we want to maintain our prophetic voice, we must stand against such immoral laws. We must work to overturn such policies and encourage our government to adopt more civil enforcement practices. We must not let those who traffic in fear, who delight in strengthening their positions of power by abusing the weakest among us, continue uncriticized and unchecked. The situation at our border is not so dire as to justify such callous and inhumane treatment of the poor among us. Surely, we can spare a little of God’s great blessing. Surely, we can spare a cup of water for the thirsty and tend to those in such great need.

Speed Kills

                “It’s my money and I want it NOW!” We’ve all heard that line from the J.G. Wentworth company, which panders to one of the basest desires of our current culture, the near unshakable believe that we somehow deserve what we want immediately. This seemingly bedrock belief assails us at all times. Even as I type this looking out over the serene mountains of New Mexico, I chafe at the sluggishness of my computer as it spools up. The lack of WIFI slows the process significantly as my laptop spends fruitless moments searching for a nonexistent network. Eventually, it gives up, assumes some sort of IT Armageddon, and lets me set about the task of writing. Meanwhile, I drum my fingers impatiently, missing out on the opportunity to peacefully revel in God’s splendid handiwork. Sadly, I’ve succumbed to our cultural lie about the inherent goodness of speed and connectivity.

                Our modern culture tells us that we should enjoy whatever we want whenever we want it. We assume that rapid progression equates to rapid pleasure. I see it in the vast, and growing, array of easily microwaveable dinners, complete with entre, vegetable side, starch side, and some sort of desert. If I do not desire to take the time to zap something in the micro, I can just swing into a local drive through and pick up something without leaving the confines of my truck. The proliferation of streaming services enables me to customize and prioritize my media input to suit my needs, my taste, and my time. Why bother to go to a store when I can download a desired book in a matter of seconds. I see this in my students and the growing urge to shave a year off the high-school experience.

                Some students, and increasingly their parents, assume goodness in skipping a year of high-school and the associated maturation in order to jump into college. They feverishly pour over schedules and take summer school classes, seeking to compress a year of instruction into a few quick class, crossing the stage exhausted, and then plunging into college barely able to engage or thrive in the intensive university education experience. All to what end, to enter the work force a year or two earlier. We’ve forgotten the phrase, “…the fullness of time.” Galatians 4:4

                You see God understands why time must pass. Some things cannot be rushed. Every good cook knows this principal. Right now, in the refrigerator, supper is working; at least the lime, chipotle, and other spices are. Eventually, I’ll take the mix out and throw it on the grill. A delicious supper will emerge from the process. If I were to take it out now and throw it on the grill, it would produce a lessor product. Time is an essential ingredient. God teaches this throughout scripture.

                I remain convinced that He could have pulled through the heavenly drive-through and ordered up a quick batch of universe; however, He took His time (whatever that was) reflected and enjoyed the process. He set Abraham out on a journey without telling him the end point. Imagine doing that with Google maps. He wrestled with Jacob all night. He let His children linger in Egypt for four-hundred years. David endured years on the run waiting, waiting for God to put him on the throne. He trusted God to take care of the situation. He understood the words Paul would pen years later, “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness,” II Peter 3:9. God, the creator of time, understands the need for time to pass. And when the time was just right, He sent His son; who endured the growth process normal to all humanity. For reasons, not always entirely clear, God willingly lets time pass.

                And when we fall in step with His ordering, His time-table, His viewpoint, things work much better in our lives. God’s pace is measured. He allows time for growth and maturation. He encourages, though His word and example, time to pause and reflect. To look out over the valley of time and space and consider the good growth. Some things take time, trees for example. But as they unfold, their beauty and grace reflect His handiwork, His plan, and His care. A life walked out at His pace takes on His shape. Oh, there may be those difficult passages, those time in which that goal seems so far away, but we need never fear. Like David, we might endure a period of hardship in which we take refuge in caves, but God’s promise is sure and He will bring it about in His own way and in His own time.

Later Parenting

            Life often surprises us; sometimes with pleasures, sometimes with frustrations, and sometimes pain. There is no revelation in that statement. Anyone that lived through high school knows this, most through bitter experience, others through casual observation. I always expected my kids to grow up, attend university or start a career, and then move away, leaving Christy and I waving goodbye from the porch. Due to various twists and turns, all of my children returned unexpectedly, spending time with us. Among the items they brought back, was joy, great joy in parenting.

            I find parenting at this age intensely rewarding. Do not misunderstand me, nothing dims the joy of those first staggering steps or babbling attempts at speech, but there is a special joy in sharing a quiet cup of coffee with a son or daughter (please note that I include “in-laws” though I do not care for the term as I love them as my own). Even when unforeseen problems force a return the parenting is sweet. This does not mean that there is no work involved. Sometimes people generate significant problems through their choices and those choices generate significant consequences for all involved; but that does not dim the joy of second-chance parenting.

            Second chance parenting is more about mentoring or parenting without repercussions. When my children were young, I always considered the consequences of my guidance and actions. Would this work out well for them? Would I have to account for their behaviors based on what I said? I often anguished when things did not seem to work out well based on what I’d said. Now, when I share advice with my adult children the burden rests on their shoulders. I’m not responsible for their decisions. I need not fear judgment. Of course, as an older man, comfortable in my own skin, I care less about what others may think. It does not bother me as much when my adult children disregard my advice. After all, they are adults and responsible for themselves…sort of.

            I know more than I did at the age of 30 and 40. I look back over many mistakes and wrong turns. I realize that many things I thought were absolutely critical were not. I worry less about their minor mistakes, knowing that they will figure it out without my intervention. When they disregard my advice I accept the decision as their own and not a repudiation of me personally. Additionally, I’ve noticed that the more I experience, the less I know. There are some bedrock, foundational things I cling to and I find that they cling to them as well. So when they diverge on one thing or another I can let them without feeling threatened or needing to straighten them out. And, they seem to listen more.

            The world scuffed off some of the youthful tendency to assume parents are doddering idiots. That, coupled with my willingness to let others find their own way makes our interaction much smoother. This goes along with time scuffing off some of my own self-assurance. I’ve endured serious personal failure and realize that is part of the process. Now, my offspring have greater faith in my ability to provide reasonable counsel, and then let them decide what to do. Willingness to let others make their own decisions helps open the door to conversation. Now, we enjoy more conversations and fewer lectures. I save the lectures for the classroom now.  Truthfully, my willingness to trust them, to believe in their judgment, does more than anything else to improve our relationships and is the foundation of joyful adult parenting.

            And perhaps trust is the greatest lesson learned. I know that my children make mistakes, just as I do. I also know that my children make many good and wise decisions without my influence. I see them growing each and every day. I rest comfortable in the fact that on the rare occasion that they need wise counsel, I’m on their short list. And more importantly, I see them pushing roots deep into the Lord and letting Him shape and mold their lives. This fact reassures me since, His counsel and guidance is the best and when I exit the stage, He remains.