F.M. Ebenezer

             Drive almost any F.M. (Farm to Market) in Texas and you will find at least one. The faithful gathered there twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday in sun-backed clapboard shotgun Churches, that still dot the landscape. Step inside the quiet, cut with slanting beams and listen. Hear the soft echoes of singing from worn dusty hymnals that still gather in the stillness between the pews. See the leather-faced men, and women, that defiantly wrenched a living from sandy scrub. Veneration of those self-made-independent-men-women informs our theology. Like Noah and the other patriarchs who stood alone with God, they faced great adversity, armed with fifth Sunday singings and potlucks, unaware of the source. Meringues and casseroles lined up on folding tables beneath a straggling Live Oak, planted in belligerence, against a cobalt blue sky. Sister Harshberger’s deviled eggs always set the bar high. The next round of farmers and ranchers frolicked in the spaces between the rows of cotton that press up against the caliche parking lot and dust-coated Fords, Chevys, and Dodges; after a good year Lincolns, Plymouths, and Chryslers sprout from the same dust. These grim prophets stride out of the bleak countryside with their message of hard work and unremitting faith. They believed in a God that wanted us to be self-determining, stand on our own, and carve out our niche with one hand on the plow and the other on the Bible. They knit together the thought fabric of West Texas, a place of harsh flatness, astringent weather, and heart-aching sunsets, with the warp and woof of sweat and toil. Muleshoe, Sudan, Lazbuddie, Friona, Bovina, Shep, and countless others strewn across the landscape each have their monuments. An F.M. tour of the caprock reveals these testimonials to stolid faith and hard work. And if you pause, in the quiet glow of setting sun, they will come to you and speak of their dreams and desires, failures and hurts. Some still grow under the silent sun. Others dried up and blew away leaving only the bleached ebenezers where ghosts still gather to commiserate about this year’s cotton yield.

            

Five Stones

            Recently the preacher where I attend challenged us to think of five moments in our lives where God had somehow intervened, orchestrated events perhaps, in order to change the trajectory of our lives.

            “Think of them as stones,” he said, “Like the five stones David picked up on the way to fight Goliath.” So here they are five stones God dropped into my life that changed everything, that altered the arc of my life. Stones that would make the difference between the man I am now and the other person I might have been. Stones that, at the moment, seemed in some ways crippling, but now, looking back, paved the way to a closer relationship with Father. But, before I can talk about stones, I must provide a bit of back-story.

            I grew up in a Godly home. Both of my parents were, and remain, committed Christians, active in their faith and congregation where they worship. I wanted for no good thing. I enjoyed friends and family in abundance. We attended a great community of faith (South 11^th and Willis St. Church of Christ); one where I was surrounded by men and women who daily sought to walk out their faith, where I was nurtured and cared for. Some of you that read this know, for you were there. I share this with you so that you will know that my mistakes were my own. They were produced by my own pride and stiff neck. I alone bear the guilt for my failure. Sadly some of those that love me bore the shame of my sin. Yet, God graciously bore with me, arranging for the stones needed to redirect my path.

            Stone # 1: Baptism remains a bright, shining moment in my path. Though I was a young teenager, the moment remains fresh. I still see the blurry wavering faces surrounding me in the pool at Camp Wildwood as a counselor plunged me deep into the water. Though I’ve vacillated and wandered as the years unfolded, that experience of being buried with Jesus has stayed with me. It reminds me that God has a claim on me. He owns me. I died then. He lays claim to all that I am and have. As His bondservant slave really, I am often recalcitrant. But, since that undimmed moment, He owns me, no matter how far I wander or how badly I fail.

            Stone # 2: I went through a time where I wandered far from God. In truth, I ran away. Like Jonah, I rejected God’s desires and admonitions. My actions brought dishonor to my family, earthly and heavenly. Some of you who were there know, the rest can well imagine. It is enough to say that I was despicable in my rebellion. Yet, in the middle of all the ugliness, Dub Orr, an elder in the congregation where I grew up, dropped by my place of work. He asked to eat lunch with me. I agreed. During our meal, he tenderly without rancor or condemnation extended fellowship and love. “Matt,” he said with sad eyes, “Right now you have rejected God’s path for you. I just want you to know, that when you are ready to come home, we are ready to accept you in love.”

            Unremarkable in delivery and location, simple words that offered reconciliation made all the difference. We ate that day at Pizza Inn on East Highway 80. But there God dropped a stone that opened a door for me. I was not ready that day, but soon I was.

            Stone # 3: A night of debauchery and failure ended with a large policeman, one of Abilene’s finest, kneeling on my back while placing me in manacles. As the stony asphalt ground into my face, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my way would end in failure. I was not nearly as smart as I thought I was and I could no longer flout the law. My flawed decision-making process had led to the curtailment of my freedom. I was a selfish, drunken, stumblebum. Fortunately for me, that incident turned into a near miss. I did not hear the clang of a jail door. I was not confined. I did have some hefty fines and a car to pay for, but my future was not impinged. God used a dark night to pave the way for future growth. He had other encounters in mind.

            Stone # 4: The dark night of failure gave way to a dawn of repentance and restoration. I wish I could say that from that point forward all was well, that all my decisions were wise, that I did not stumble, but those would be lies. However, the path changed. I moved forward with a better understanding of how weak I was. Mr. Orr was true to his word. The faith community at South 11^th and Willis welcomed me back without judgment. A civil magistrate took care of that. Soon, I was stationed in Denver, Colorado. I attended a congregation there, meeting a fine, beautiful Godly young woman. As young men and women are wont to do, we started spending time with each other. One thing led to another and we grew more serious about a future together. One evening in the late summer we picnicked in a park just west of Denver. Sitting there, enjoying the quiet and watching the lights of Denver come on; she turned to me and said, “Matt, I feel myself falling in love with you.” Now, I thought this was great news; but she continued, “Consequently, this will be our last date. I will marry a Godly man, and you are not him. You play at church, but you are not serious about your relationship with God.”

            A door had closed. A moment had passed. I had been weighed in the scales and found wanting. She remained friendly, but there was no going back. Time and distance have blurred her face and erased her name, but that moment, that stone, remains. God used that to refine a self-centered young man. There was, and is, so much I do not know or understand.

            Stone # 5: Eventually, with a lot of work by God, He found me ready for marriage and brought Christy into my life. We married, spending two years in the Philippines as missionaries. Then I pursued a career in the military. We had children. And as things unfolded I was sent to Iraq multiple times. The last tour came at an inconvenient time for my family. Christopher, the oldest, needed serious surgery, Candace and Timothy were in high school with all the standard teenage problems. Christy, never a fan of large crowded cities, was not particularly thrilled with living in San Antonio. But, duty called and I shipped out for one final hurrah. Arriving in Iraq, I sorted out the location of the chapel on our FOB (Forward Operating Base) and trudged toward it on the first dusty Sunday there. Feeling despondent and rather sorry for myself, I paused at a spot where I could look out over the T-walls into the city beyond. Despair welled up in my soul and I cried out to God, “Why did you send me back to this God forsaken place!” And then I heard Him drop a stone, deep within my inner being.

            God spoke, “Matt, I have never forsaken this place. I am here just like I am in San Antonio. You cannot escape me. And, I love these people just as much as I love you. I sent my son for them too. Never forget that.”

            A stone dropped into the deep, dark well of my self-centered pity and pain. Its splash still ripples through my life. The deployment unfolded like they all do. I suffered separation from my loved ones. Christopher’s surgery, while good for him, was excruciating for Christy. I was rocketed, mortared, and participated in a horribly failed operation. But true to His word, God was there. He never left me. In fact, all of these stones, and others, serve to remind me that God is indeed with us. And He uses stones to move us, to change us, to reclaim us, and restore us.

Being Pro Life

            “Well! I’m pro-life!” barked a student over their shoulder as they stormed down the hall, slamming the door on a conversation with another student. Recent political activity has generated quite a bit of hallway talk, including some acrimonious confrontations. “I’m pro-life,” words often uttered with an air of sanctimonious moral superiority. I’m pro-life and I’m pro-choice, words we use to define people and parties. Words we use to paint bold bright lines. Words that enable us to avoid getting to know a person, after all, they’re pro-choice. That’s all you need to know, no further inquiry is required or desired. But what does it mean to say, “I’m pro-life.” For most of us, it means that we are against abortion. That is all. We are against abortion, which is fine as far as it goes, but it seems rather incomplete. For most people saying, “I’m pro-life,” really means I’m pro-birth. But it could mean so much more. I’ve burned a few gray-cells contemplating what it means to be “pro-life.”

            If I deeply and passionately care about life, many things engross me. If I truly am pro-life then a multitude of things clamor for my attention. Life begins at conception and continues until the last exhalation, and for Christians far beyond. All of the space, all of the endeavors between the womb and the narrow room fall under the prevue and concern of someone who is truly pro-life, so yes, I care.

            I want the mother to have access to appropriate healthcare. I want her to enjoy good prenatal care and all of the associated vitamins and checks. If she needs them, specialists must be on hand. Birth ought to take place in a clean well-appointed and equipped facility. If the mother desires home birth and her conditions support such a choice, then she ought to be able to do so. I want her to enjoy the same good care my wife enjoyed during her pregnancy. For one birth, we needed an ambulance and one came at my frenzied call. Every mother should enjoy such access to required resources. All families want the best for the expectant mother and new child.

            All family issues and values interest me as a pro-lifer. I’ve enjoyed good jobs with appropriate remuneration for my labor. It is hard to be a good parent when one must work two or three jobs just to make ends meet. Good parenting requires an engaged parent. Being an engaged parent requires abundant energy. It is hard to summon such energy when you run from job to job. Living paycheck to paycheck leaves little room for emergencies that attend the life of every family. Being a pro-lifer makes me very interested in wages. Families need more than four hots and a cot. Families need access to healthcare, education, and those things that feed the soul, the arts. As a pro-lifer, I want people to enjoy a living wage, not a minimum wage. I want them to enjoy family time together, building and strengthening those ties that help anchor a young life. Working multiple jobs turns a loving caring parent into an absent parent. We need to craft a society in which a mother or father can reasonably expect enough pay to provide food, clothing, and shelter; plus those such things as an occasional vacation, a set of encyclopedias, or hobby supplies, those things which enrich life. I want that little baby to enjoy a nurturing environment that fosters life-long growth and learning.

            As a pro-lifer, I find education falls within my area of interest. I want to enjoy the benefits of living in an educated society. That means I care about the quality of our public schools. I want to see well-paid and equipped teachers in appropriately sized classes. All children need a quality education if we want to compete in the increasingly integrated and computerized world economy. I do not want our nation to develop a two-tier education system in which only those able to pay the premium enjoy the benefits quality schooling provides. I cannot support those programs that siphon off scarce public education funds in order to provide the already well to do extra moneys to send their children to tony schools. Life is too precious to waste in ignorance. Children need to grow up in a challenging and nurturing environment.

            As a pro-lifer, I fully support those actions and policies that preserve our environment. I want all children to grow up with clean air and water. We need not soil and squander our resources. I want to protect beauty and bio-diversity for those children we bring into this world. We live in a country with near Eden spaces, which need careful tending in order to preserve them for future generations to enjoy. I care that they find a land unravaged and able to well support life and the endeavors that support it. In truth, my pro-life stance includes all life. And I want newborn babies to look forward to a healthy environment.

            For me, being pro-life naturally includes easy access to high-quality health care. Healthy families raise healthy children. Families should not have to make difficult, heart-rending choices regarding health care. One family member should not go without proper treatment in order to provide for another. Our health care system should be open to all regardless of income level or social status. We want the lives we’re fighting for to unfold in good health. Providing good health care for all would require a reallocation of assets, but think of the creative energy and power we would have available with a vibrant and healthy population. Being pro-life includes being pro-health.

            So when I think of my pro-life agenda, I consider a wide variety of issues that do not involve pregnancy or birth. Life is so much more than the first few moments punctuated by a cry. While getting to and through those moments is critical, life is so much more. Being pro-life requires that I consider the entirety of life, that messy, convoluted, sometimes breathtakingly beautiful path, between birth and death. Life, at its best, includes opening previously unknown vistas. Life includes those moments of raucous familial laughter. Life steers its course through those sublime moments of shared quiet joy with a spouse. Instead of limiting my considerations to a single political issue, embracing the concept of pro-life makes me embrace all of the issues attendant to human existence.