Stumped by Trump

Yesterday, I joined a group of Canadian Christians for lunch and before I had even put my napkin in my lap, they asked, “So what is going on with the US election?”

We talked for about 45 minutes as they expressed dismay and confusion about the possibility of a Trump presidency.  While they could agree with many conservative positions, they didn’t understand how we could risk putting the office of the leader of the free world in the hands of a man who is reckless and ignorant. Again and again they asked, “Why?”

They hadn’t heard about the conservative conspiracy theories that fuel much anti-Clinton sentiment and while they were appalled and bemused, they seemed to understand a little better why many Americans will choose a man like Trump just to defeat Hillary Clinton.

One woman said that she had been abroad for the last month and asked me, “Do Americans know that the rest of the world is either laughing at them or terrified?” I noted that most Americans don’t think a lot about the rest of the world. 

The whole group wondered if we understand how much the rest of the free world is depending on us and why we would risk our position and influence for a man like Donald Trump. They were deeply concerned about his pro-Putin sentiments and his aggressive, bullying style where other nations are concerned.

When I reminded them that more than 70% of evangelical Christians (with whom most of these friends would sympathize) support Trump, they shook their heads in disbelief. Again they asked, “Why? How?” I wasn’t sure what to say.

We were laughing about all the Americans who say that if one candidate or the other wins the elections they will move to Canada, my new friends joking, “We’ve already started building our wall.”  However, they also expressed real anxiety about their powerful neighbor being in the hands of an erratic narcissist.

After lunch, we reminded each other that the next time we are all together, there will be a new occupant of the White House and we will have the conversation again.  It will be interesting to see how that goes.

Books worth reading

Every so often, I read a book that makes me think, “Every pastor should read this.” It’s almost never a religious book or a leadership book and in fact, many pastors read too many of those books and not enough of the kind of book that I’m talking about.

So far this year, I’ve read three of those books and I’ll share a few thoughts about them here. These aren’t book reviews, only a few thoughts, the kind of thing I would say if you sat down next to me at the airport and asked me what I was reading and whether I liked it.

Lila is literary fiction, one of those fictional books that is actually more true than real life while at the same time being nothing like real life.  Like Marianne Williamson’s other award winning book Gilead, it’s a theological story. Gilead is the story of theology seen through the lens of grief; Lila is the story of theology seen through the lens of trauma. One practical suggestion: Read Gilead first if you haven’t already; then read Lila before you’ve forgotten it. Notice the difference in the voices, the difference between male and female, Reformed and unformed, secure and traumatized and then notice your visceral reaction to them. You’ll understand more about the people you serve and more about your self.

When Breath Becomes Air will break your heart. Paul Kalanithi becomes a neurosurgeon because he wants to confront the issues of life, death, meaning and morality and he wants to walk with others as they do the same. Later, he reflects that maybe he should have become a pastor instead, realizing as many pastors no longer do, that this is exactly the work of the pastor. With words more elegant and effective than the words you and I will ever have, he describes his own life and his own death as he struggles to understand these issues in his work with patients as well as in his experience with terminal cancer.

Being Mortal is a more practical book than either of these. Atul Gawande, also a physican, tells the story of aging and dying in America and wonders with us,

“Does it have to be this way?”

“How do I want to face my own aging and death?”

“What are the right questions to ask?”

“How do I measure quality of life?”

“How will I make the tough end-of-life decisions?”

“How will a support my parents and friends as they face these issues?”

I know, what a downer, right? But Gawande is a conversational storyteller and he draws us in, helping us think about the big existential issues as well as the practical considerations that pastors are asked to help with on a regular basis. He is very careful not to tell us what to decide but instead walks us through how to decide, which is exactly what we need.

There’s one more book that I’m debating adding to this list: A Man Called Ove by Frederik Backman. It’s not profound exactly but it’s a quick read, entertaining and a fun way to explore what it means to cross boundaries in our relationships which is, of course, the essence of missional living. Backman's book My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry is actually my favorite of his and, like all his books, is about grief and community. But you should probably start with Ove and see what you think.

We're better than this

One of my bad habits: checking my phone and opening my email as soon as I wake up, before I’ve even got a start on the day. This morning, already annoyed that I was wide awake at 6:00 on a Saturday—on a holiday weekend, no less—I opened my inbox to find a forwarded message from a friend describing Syrian refugees in Germany as “animals.”

The message was hateful, anonymous and, supposedly, “patriotic.” It urged me to blame the federal government for allowing these “animals” to come to our shores, for allowing it to “happen here.” 

When I saw who in my friend group had originated the message, I felt sick. Each of these women is a church lady, a patriotic American and a committed Christian and this kind of thing is deeply unworthy of them. And yet, they read this and hit “forward” to share it with their friends who (I guess) they assume are likeminded.

I understand how we can express real concerns about immigration. I understand fears about terrorism. I understand skepticism about the policies of the federal government. I understand how we can vehemently disagree with each other about these things. There are days I even disagree with myself about them.

I don’t understand how followers of Jesus can refer to other image-bearers of God as animals. I don’t understand how we can forget how unbearably awful things happen when we demonize and dehumanize groups of people.  I don’t understand patriotism that is defined less by the values we cherish and more by the people we hate.

This is dangerous stuff. It’s dangerous to friendships and it’s dangerous to our faith and it’s dangerous to our country. And just in case you were going to forward me an email like that? Don’t.

Be the change

My dear friend Clint is like a lot of us . . . he's watching the scary stuff happening in the world today and looking for ways to be part of the solution, not part of the problem. He's a very smart guy and so he understands things like nuance and probability and holding things in tension and avoiding polarizing over-simplification. He's also a compassionate guy and aligns his life with the teachings of Jesus, including "Love your enemy" and "Treat others like you want to be treated." So last week he sent a message to a local imam; Clint shared this with me because this is part of an ongoing conversation we are having about how to live as Christians in the wider world and I asked him to let me share it here because it shows one example of the kinds of conversations that are possible. I'm inspired by Clint's action and I'm adding my voice to his, partly by sharing it here:

I have been watching the news for the last few weeks and have found myself, as a Christian American, with a sense of guilt-by-association. The hate and vitriol being poured out against Islam in recent days is unprecedented. As a Christian, I am not looked upon with suspicion just because someone who associates himself with my religion performs a terrible act of violence and I am sorry that you, as a follower of Islam, can’t enjoy the same level of grace. I reject the negative stereotypes of Muslims that are portrayed by the media, politicians, and even those around me in everyday life, many of whom claim Christianity as their faith. Please know that these people do not speak for all Christians. 

My best to you and to those with whom you worship,

(my friend's full name)

Clint said, "The imam's response was one of the most gracious things I've ever read." Here it is:

Hi, Clinton.

Thank you ever so much for reaching out to us and for being so supportive. We have always been certain that most Christians and Americans are not filled with hate, prejudice, or bigotry, and messages from incredible people like yourself only reaffirm that belief.

Please do not feel guilty, by association or otherwise, because you are following the true message of love and harmony as preached by our beloved Prophet Isa (Jesus) (peace be upon him).

Lastly, thank you for understanding that the actions of a handful of people should never, ever be representative of a faith which has over 1.6 billion adherents.

You are more than welcome to visit us any time to get to know us and to allow us the pleasure to get to know you. Thanks again! 

Sincerely,

A Story of Hope

There are a lot of opinions flying around right now about refugees from Syria, most from people who have never known even one.  

My friend is a medical professional in Jordan and serves Syrian refugees there, meeting women and children in their deep desperation with kindness and medical care. She and her team intentionally bear witness to the love and care of Jesus while respecting the faith of those they serve. 

I asked her, "What do you wish that people here in the United States knew about what you do overseas?" This is her answer.  

If you like what you read, would you consider making a gift of any size to my friend to help her continue this work? If you're interested, please contact me via email, PM or Facebook or leave a comment at the end of this post.)

I have loved all things medical since I can remember. From volunteering in hospitals and observing surgeries when I was in high school to field trips and being glued to every episode of ER when it was on television. 

I received my nursing degree from Baylor and it was in those college years that my eyes were open to something: the world. The world which holds within it; people of all different cultures, background, and languages.  I had the opportunity to travel to to other countries on medical trips and my heart and life were never the same. 

There was something deep within that called out as I held babies and saw the tears of the suffering. And my soul was forever changed...the quiet, tender voice of God began calling me forward to live and work among another culture besides my own. I said yes.

The yes was a journey of several years, various trips and questions, doors opening and closing. But there was one door that swung so wide open last year in 2014, that I knew the time had come, this was the opportunity before me to walk into. So I moved to the Middle East, to Jordan, a country that borders Syria. Jordan has taken in more than a million Syrian refugees. I had taken a trip there in 2013 to work with the Syrian people  and this was one of the seeds planted within my heart to call me back to work among them full time as a nurse.

I don’t have all the answers to the Syrian refugee crisis. But I can tell you what I’ve seen during my time of working with them. 

There is a common thread we can all relate to with the Syrian people. The desire to survive horrible tragedy and the hope for a better future. This is what I’ve seen with my Syrian friends and the glimpse I want to give you into their hearts and lives:  their resiliency. 

And so many times, when I thought I was there to help and serve them~ they would be taking me in to their home and serving me coffee, tea, and food. They have been some of my greatest teachers of care, respect, and compassion. The deep cultural value to honor your guests and welcome the stranger have touched my heart and made me know I have a place in a culture and country that is not my own, among a people fleeing for their own lives.

I have the privilege of volunteering in a clinic in which the Syrian people have access to medical and dental care. Our team also does education classes and medical follow up visits in their homes. Our vision that I would like to invite you into is this: To see a restored, deeply rooted Syrian community that is a beacon of light, reproducing new life.

I know what you are seeing in the news, but I want to encourage your heart today that there is another story in the Middle East. 

One of hope, redemption, and God’s love breaking through barriers, and bringing people together of a different background, language and culture. It’s the beauty of the kingdom of God that Jesus talked so much about in the gospels. 

I am constantly learning over there. Messing up and learning really. The one for sure thing I have learned is that it can only be sacrificial love that can bring change at the deepest level of our souls. The kind of love that says yes before you know the person’s background or story. Yes, I’ll help you, yes, I see you in your pain and suffering. Yes, you are worthy.

I don’t think the policies of the United States or the United Nations can never be enough to touch the deepest need. Would you join me in great expectation and faith that there is a story of hope He is weaving in this region?

A few things for you to know:

*The civil war in Syria has gone on now for over 5 years.

*Syria is a country of 20 million people, with over half of them now internally displaced within their own country, or have been forced to flee to a neighboring country.

*Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan have taken in the vast amount of the Syrian refugees.

*The majority of the Syrian refugees are women and children.

*If they do return to Syria, each family faces the possibility of their remaining men in the family to be forced to fight for the army or to be killed in retaliation for leaving or if there was some suspicion they had any kind of tie to the rebel army.

*There is a complex layer of issues that are forcing many to want to flee to Europe, including the fact that Syrians can not legally work in Lebanon, Turkey or Jordan. The World Food Program had a funding crisis that stretched its budget very thin, thus drastically cutting a big source of food aid to Syrian families. This combined with the fact that the ongoing civil war in Syria has left behind a country filled with an uncertain future, has led many Syrians to think long-term and how to survive. 

When it comes down to it, they are a people who want to be able to live and have a better life, free from the threat of death, and lack of needed resources.

Love your neighbor

While C and Boo and I were headed to the Wortham to see C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters, 17 year old Kelsin Flores was bleeding to death on the patio of his apartment half a mile from our house. Police responded to random gunshots in the Bel Lindo complex at W. Bellfort and Bob White, shabby apartments that have been unfairly described as “Guatemala after an earthquake." 

When police arrived, things seemed calm but a search revealed Kelsin alone on his porch, shot by no one for no reason.

This is the fourth murder at the entrance to our neighborhood in less than two years. 

Since we moved here, a woman’s body was found in a dumpster, a man’s body was found in a car, a woman was killed by her husband during what is euphemistically called “a dispute” and Kelsin’s life ended on a Sunday afternoon. All of these happened within a block of each other, on the same side of a busy street, half a mile from my house. 

Kelsin was my neighbor.

When we returned from the play, all that remained were a few bored police officers, a small crowd of young people and some yellow tape. Reading the comments under the news story, I read about how this area is full of “trash,” “thugs,” and “ghetto.” I read one person’s evaluation that “there was probably no victim here,” implying that Kelsin got what he deserved, even though there was absolutely no information about him in the article. Several joked about the photos of the crime scene, calling the complex “a dump” and saying that no one with any pride would live there. One commenter said, “Just hope they don’t start moving to other parts of town.” 

All this about a kid who will never be an adult.

I don’t know how to relate to my neighborhood.   An online apartment finder ad describes  it as “one of Houston’s most budget friendly areas” (which is why we are here), that it has  “a diverse and sometimes challenging history,” and that it is a “melting pot of ethnicity.”

It’s actually a pretty nice place to live. The trees are big and spread their green canopies over those lucky enough to live under them. Most of the noise is from kids playing (or partying) at the pool across the street. Most days, I see parents and grandparents walking their little ones to and from school. The moms stand around outside the entry to the school waiting for the kids to get out, just like my friends and I did when our kids were in school in a very different neighborhood. Sometimes, we pass groups of families and friends, men barbecuing in the tiny green spaces outside their apartment doors, surrounded by children playing and women chatting.  They look relaxed and happy and if I spoke Spanish, I might stop and talk, hoping someone would offer me a burger.

And . . . in the first five months that we lived here, I witnessed five arrests. I know that my neighborhood confronts me every day but I don’t know exactly how to respond. I know to get to know my neighbors—all of us very different from each other so that every conversation in the front yard or in our den is a cross-cultural experience. I know to pray for the kids at the elementary school when I drive by at least twice a day, and for their families and their teachers.  I know to use the local businesses when I can and to smile and to make conversation when it makes sense.

But I don’t know exactly how to live in a community where a teenaged boy is randomly killed on his own patio and it is literally no big deal.