To honor their spirit, as well as their ideas.

I don’t remember the first time I heard the names of Alexander or Thomas Campbell, or of Barton W. Stone, but I’m fairly certain I was in college before I began to learn the story of the brave men to whom I owe so much. As these men found themselves in a changing world with an uncertain future, they rejected the formalizations promoted by the churches of which they were a part, instead positing the radical position that the Good News of Jesus was open and accessible to everyone.

“It is not necessary,” Thomas Campbell wrote, “that persons have a particular knowledge or distinct apprehension of all divinely revealed truths in order to entitle them to a place in the Church; neither should they, for this purpose, be required to make a profession more extensive than their knowledge: but that, on the contrary, their having a due measure of Scriptural self-knowledge respecting their lost and perishing condition by nature and practice; and of the way of salvation thro’ [sic] Jesus Christ accompanied with a profession of their faith in, and obedience to him, in all things according to his word, is all that is absolutely necessary to qualify them for admission into his Church.” In other words, we don’t all have to agree about every issue of doctrine before we can all be one in Christ. What really matters is that we understand our helplessness without God, acknowledge our dependence on Him for salvation, and declare our obedience to Him as Lord of our lives.

The men who founded our fellowship were courageous activists who leave to us not only words, but their priceless example. As ministers of established churches with long and noble histories, they questioned the practice and teachings of their institutions, seeking to make the Gospel more relevant and accessible to their communities. It is often times all too easy for us to take the ideas put forth by our founders and set them up in a system of creeds and dogmas of our own making while ignoring the true spirit and purpose of their actions. We, like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, insist that “because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do,” though, when asked how and why these traditions were started, he can only reply “I don’t know.” In the same way, we enshrine the teachings of our fathers as unimpeachable pillars of a new institution, an institution they likely would have fought just as strongly against.

Our fellowship was born of innovative men in uncertain times questioning the doctrines and dogmas of their day, and asking why they could not set these traditions aside to be, in their words, “Christians only”. Now we who inherit their legacy face our own uncertain times and difficult questions – questions and challenges which they could neither foresee nor imagine. We do not honor our fathers with blind allegiance to their creeds, but by boldly continuing their spirit of innovation, crafting new approaches to changing questions of faith while preserving our heritage to whatever extent we can. As we move to the future, we must look to the past and learn its lessons without seeking to return there, knowing we live in a world different from the one we remember.

“nobody’s ever done anything nice for us before…”

Last night I was coming back from checking some equipment we have installed at a substation when I saw a car stopped on the side of the road. For some reason I felt compelled to turn around and see if I could help, which launched Sam and I on a long, interesting, funny, and sad misadventure for the next several hours.

Over the next few hours, we ferried around and towed two guys, a girl and their Camaro from College Station to 15 miles the other side of Caldwell. We didn’t charge them for gas, and we gave them a bit of money along the way. After I’d given them $25 and said not to worry about it, one of the guys said, “Man… you must make a lot of money…” Well… no… not really…

“Nobody’s ever done anything nice for us before…” he said, talking more to himself than to me.

The reality was that we didn’t do that much. We bailed them out of a situation their own stupidity had gotten them into. We gave them a little time, a little money, and a little attention, and somehow that was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for them.

I wonder what our world would be like if more of us took the time to be nice to people in small ways. It’s hard for me to believe what we did was literally the nicest thing anyone had ever done for them, but I live in a very different world than they do, and sadly I don’t know that our worlds meet that often. I hope they meet more. I hope we all have more opportunities to “be nice” to people… even – especially – when it costs us something.

memorial day

better to spend your time at funerals than at parties.
After all, everyone dies – so the living should take this to heart.
Sorrow is better than laughter,
because sadness has a refining influence on us.
A wise person thinks a lot about death,
while a fool thinks only about having a good time.

Honeymoon

Posted this on the videoblog a few days ago, but here it is on the main site now. I’ll try to post some pictures at some point. Our honeymoon was fantastic – relaxing in every way. Getting back into the real world… not quite so…

the vows

These, my wedding vows…

Today I pledge myself to you in the sacred bond and covenant of marriage.

Each morning I will remember the blessings you bring to my life, giving thanks to God for drawing us together as one.

I will daily strive to be more Christ-like in my thoughts and my actions, learning to embrace and express the perfect love of Jesus in our marriage.

I will listen to and respect your feelings and desires, valuing your thoughts and opinions as we make decisions through life.

When we disagree, I will look first for my own failures and shortcomings.
When I am wrong, I will admit it quickly.
When I am wronged, I will forgive unconditionally.
In both joy and sorrow, I will support and encourage you.

Today I promise these things to you
before God and in the presence of those we love –
a covenant between us for as long as we both shall live.

the call of Christ

The call of Christ:

Look past the surface to see the reality of who people are.
Treat all people with dignity and respect – even those who are different.
Seek to heal divisions instead of creating them;
and remember your own humble position before the ruler of Heaven –
standing firm not in your own strength,
but in the richness and power
of the Holy blood of Christ.

paulo coelho

Needing something to read yesterday, I picked up Coelho’s new book, which, while interesting enough itself in its own right, had this retort from a woman who was refused communion by the church:

“A curse on this place!” said thoe voice. “A curse on all those who nevere listened to the words of Christ and who have transformed his message into a stone building. For Christ said: ‘Come unto me all ye that labor and hare heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ Well I’m heavy laden, and they won’t let me come to him. Today I’ve learned that the Church has changed those words to read: ‘Come unto me all ye who follow our rules, and let the heavy laden go hang!”

“I swear that I will never set foot in a church ever again. Once more, I’ve been abandoned by a family, and this time it has nothing to do with financial difficulties or with the immaturity of those who marry too young. A curse upon all those who slam the door in the face of a mother and her child! You’re just like those people who refused to take in the Holy Family, like those who denied Christ when he most needed a friend!”

With that, she turned and left in tears, her baby in her arms.

I just want to complain about it…

A couple of weeks ago, I received an anonymous email stating that I’d “hurt a fellow brother in Christ” due to “[my] actions regarding his choices”. The fact that I have no idea who I’m alleged to have hurt or what I’m alleged to have done notwithstanding, the email caused me to think quite a bit.

As I’ve thought about it on various occasions over the past few weeks, there are two things I keep coming back to. First, it’s interesting to me what people will write when their name isn’t attached to something. I was talking with Seth, who told the story of a preacher who received a letter in the mail with only the word “fool” on it. “I’ve had a lot of people send me letters and forget to write their name,” he quipped, “but this is the first time I’ve ever had someone write their name and forget to write the letter.” A policy I’ve inherited from multiple mentors is that anonymous complaints are best sent straight to the circular file. The sad commentary, I think, is that we are willing to write things without our names attached that we would never write if people knew it was us. One of the challenging things about writing on this space for the past two years has been that everyone out there knows it’s me, and has a direct line of fire this direction.

The more important point of the story, at least for me, is that the person who wrote the email, despite their assertion to the contrary, didn’t really want to solve the problem. While I generally don’t respond to anonymous complaints, I did write a brief note back stating that I would be more than happy to apologize and make the situation right, but I had no idea how to do that. As expected, I have yet to receive a response. There are dozens of ways the situation could have been improved, and almost all of them involve coming to me personally. The real issue, though, is not pointing the finger at my anonymous critic, but myself.

How many times am I exactly this way? Often, I am faced with something I don’t like, and my first instinct is to complain about it, even when an easy solution is at hand. It will be late at night, I won’t have any food in the house that can be made quickly, and, talking to a friend, I’ll say that I’m hungry. “Go get something to eat,” comes the response. “That requires that I get up and get my car keys/walk into the kitchen/expend some effort… I don’t want to do that – I just want to complain about it.”

I just want to complain about it. How true. How often are there situations in my life when my first response is to complain before doing anything to fix the problem? I’m reminded of a story in John 5 where Jesus comes to a man who’s been an invalid for years and asks him this simple question: “Do you want to be healed?” Instead of answering the question, the man quickly starts making excuses, causing me to question whether he really wants to be healed or just wants to complain.

I think the main lesson I’ve taken from this episode is that when confronted with a situation I don’t particularly like or am upset about, I want to make a renewed effort to be a part of the solution, rather than part of the problem. I don’t want to stand there while someone offers to fix the problem, and turn them away, preferring simply to complain.