My last six columns

Readers,

Wow, I got behind during the holidays. Sorry these are late.

I'm starting a low-residency program next week at Pacific University in Portland where I hope to get a Master's in Creative Writing. See more at http://www.pacificu.edu/as/mfa/index.cfm

Enjoy the columns,

Blessings,

Norris


Norris Burkes: God loves us, even when we fumble the ball

JANUARY 2, 2011

I have a New Year's confession: I've failed to keep my 2010 New Year's resolution in which I promised myself I'd learn more about the rules and strategy of football.

Not a life-changing resolution, but I made it because I love the game and I wanted to be conversant.

It's a hard thing for a man of my age to admit, but I know almost nothing about the game. When guys circle around after church to talk play-off chances, I nod and mumble. Usually, I can't even recall where my favorite team stands.
Of course, after the firing of 49ers coach Mike Singletary last month, I think I know where "we" stand.

Why would a learned and manly man (and heartfelt modest man) such as myself know so little about this testosterone-filled game? I suppose I could blame my elementary schools for my shortsighted ignorance.

During a crucial time of my education, between third and fourth grades, I transferred from Balboa Elementary to Alvarado Elementary. Balboa was planning to teach football in fourth grade while Alvarado taught football in third grade.

As a result, I fell between the educational gap and arrived at my new school completely ignorant of football. You've heard of No Child Left Behind. Well, I was left behind and quickly labeled as pigskin illiterate.

I have learned a few things since fourth grade and the 40 years that followed. For instance, I know each team gets four chances to advance the football 10 yards down a 100-yard field toward their goal. If they are successful in their downs, they get four more, etc, etc. Until eventually, they can score.

Since making my 2010 well-meaning resolution, however, I have yet to learn more significant details. I don't know what a play-action pass is. I don't know the difference between a fullback and a halfback. I still find the rules a bit confusing, and no one has been able to successfully explain why one touchdown should equal six whole points.

But here's what I absolutely know for sure about football: I know that I love to watch it. I love to see the aerobatic catches of the receivers and the acrobatic gyrations of ball carriers as they dance through a tough defense.

And, despite my ignorance, my love for football keeps me watching season after season.

Because love doesn't need details. If you love someone, you needn't have a detailed schematic of his life. If you love ice cream, you don't need the recipe. You simply know what you love.

I guess that's what so amazing about the love of God. For you see, God does have a schematic of our lives. He knows the details. He made the recipe. He knows the rules. He knows the players.

Most especially, he knows our important stats. He knows how many resolutions we've failed to complete. He knows how many of his passes we've missed. He knows how many times we've fumbled the ball.

He knows all of this and yet he still loves us.

So this year, as you review your stats and accomplishments, take it easy on yourself. You've had some failures, you've had some dropped balls, but God knows that. He's still at work in your life. He still loves you.

As for football, I'm going to try and learn a little bit more this year -- even though it might involve calling my best friend to ask him what night "Monday Night Football" comes on.

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net.

Contentious offerings from an irregular columnist

DECEMBER 26, 2010

Regular columnists often use their year-end column to remind readers of their dearest and most treasured columns of the year. Because I'm not often accused of being a "regular" columnist, I thought I'd use this space to recap my four most controversial columns of 2010.

Think of them as holiday leftovers. If you didn't forgive me the first time I wrote it, you'll get another chance to practice holiday grace today.

January started with a column about Tiger Woods and his sexual addiction. Ministers aren't supposed to think about sex, so I knew this column would likely "wind up in weeds," as golfers say.

Without making excuses for bad behavior, I referred readers to organizations such as Sexaholics Anonymous (sa.org) or Sex Addicts Anonymous (sexaa.org).

"If you have the addiction," I wrote, "treatment cannot begin without acknowledging the common adage: 'The first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem.' "
The column acknowledged that Woods is a legendary golfer, but posed the question: "Can you imagine how truly great he can be if he gets the treatment he needs to free his mind from this sand trap and really play golf?"

I think the same can be said for many of us with addictions.

I got in more serious trouble in a February column when I encouraged the faithful to inject a little doubt into their lives.

"Faith cannot exist apart from doubt, because if you don't doubt, you will become certain. And certainty may even be a greater temptation than doubt, because when you're certain, you merely create a god in your own image."

The column was a bit contentious because a lot of people interpret faith and doubt as opposite ends of the spiritual spectrum. I think they are both essential elements in our faith journeys.
On a lighter note, an October column highlighted a miraculously peaceful meeting between my new pound puppy and a neighborhood cat.

I was inspired by their mutual tolerance and curiosity and saw it as one of the "many miracles of daily life that contain wonder and awe."

I admitted to often missing these miracles when "sprinting down the path of least resistance, that neat path we've memorized and analyzed. Soon, the miracles lose their power to mesmerize."

If I'd have stopped there, the column wouldn't be included here, but I couldn't resist concluding with this playful poke to cat owners: "If you were to ask me whether this 'epiphany' has improved the way I feel about cats, I'd reluctantly say -- 'a little.' But still, at the end of the day, I'd guess that if Jesus ever had a pet, it wasn't a cat."
Obviously I got a little scratch back from cat lovers on that one.

But my most controversial one came in March when I wrote about talking heads from both sides of the media.

Always combative and coercive instead of coherent and cohesive, these guys need "to stop promoting causes and start prompting conversations."

The column asserted that "pundits such as conservative Rush Limbaugh may be 'right,' but there are more righteous ways to be right. Liberal Bill Maher may be brilliantly clever, but there are smarter ways to bring change than labeling your opponents 'stupid.' "

While that 2010 column brought some complaints, I still think it concluded with the best advice for entering 2011. The words came from the Apostle Paul in Colossians 4:6."Be gracious in your speech. The goal is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not put them down, not cut them out" (The Message).

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net. You also can follow him on Twitter, username is "chaplain," or on Facebook.

Look for your sign this holiday season

DECEMBER 19, 2010

"Never let social workers in your house at Christmas time," is the joke I regularly repeat to family members this time of year. "It's been my experience that social workers can be like the Wise Men of the nativity story bringing unexpected news."

I jest about this, because it was during Advent of 1989 that social worker Richard Costa came to our house with news of great joy about our adoption application. Over Christmas cookies and apple cider left from Becky's annual cookie exchange party, Richard got to the point.

He told us he'd found a 3-year-old girl who would fit well with Sara, our 5-year-old birth daughter.

"Her name is Brittney," he said, "and she comes with some conditions."

We could hear the gears turning. While there seemed to be a light at the end of this two-year tunnel of adoption requirements, we couldn't help but wonder if these unforeseen conditions might be the lights of an oncoming train.

First, Richard said the foster family, who had kept this child for the past 15 months, wanted updates and an occasional visit.

Maybe we were just eager, but that seemed to us a reasonable request.
"No problem," we said.

"Second," Richard breathed before telling us the girl had a baby brother named Michael who was recently added to the same foster family.

"If you take the girl," he said, "you must be willing to consider the boy if he comes up for adoption next year."

Shaking my head, wondering how I would provide for a growing family on a clergy salary, I suggested we take the holidays to think about this.

The truth is, I guess I was looking for some kind of sign that this was supposed to be it. Was it too much to ask for a star and some wise men?

My wife didn't need to think about. She immediately started looking through Sara's toys and things for anything that might be unisex.

Was there a baby blanket in a closet somewhere with a little more blue than pink? Surely all the inflatable bath-time baby books could be used for a boy and a girl.

Four weeks later, we went to the foster home for a visit. I think we were all interviewing each other when, feeling the nervous need to impress the foster parents, I asked, "Did Richard tell you that I'm a minister?"

"He didn't have to," replied Aurel Gion, the foster mother, "That's what we prayed for."

This was it. This was our sign. And it was a helpful sign to us when, three years later, we were adding Brittney and Michael's unexpected sibling, Nicole.

Since then, not a Christmas has gone by in which I've not thought of that sign. For, like the social workers, the Magi of the Nativity also looked for a sign.

"And this will be the sign to you, the angel said to Wise Men. You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger."

Does God always give you a sign for such life-changing events? No, not always, but I am praying that this article becomes a sign for a select few of you.

Maybe the column is a sign it's time to invite a social worker to your home for Christmas cookies.

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net.

God hears our prayers -- even when we tweet them

DECEMBER 12, 2010

Stevie Johnson dropped the ball -- literally.

Johnson is the Buffalo Bills wide receiver who vented his anger at God on the social network Twitter after he dropped a game-winning pass last month.

Johnson's tweet read, "I PRAISE YOU 24/7!!!!!! AND THIS HOW YOU DO ME!!!!! YOU EXPECT ME TO LEARN FROM THIS??? HOW???!!! ILL NEVER FORGET THIS!! EVER!!! THX THO. . ."

Johnson has taken a lot of heat from fellow believers for his audacious tweet. But I invite you to hear a kind of a prayer in his tweet.

His prayer is in the best tradition of Job.

You remember Job. He's the guy who lost his entire family and then had the audacity to warn God: "I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul." Job 7:11

And like Johnson, Job too asked, "Why not give us a break? Ease up! Even ditch diggers get occasional days off."

If we were honest, most of us would admit to having uttered a similar prayer. Such as, "Give me a break, God. What are you thinking?" Didn't I ask you to heal my daughter? Or didn't I ask you to give me a better job?"

And believe it or not, these prayers work. Perhaps not the way we'd like, but they are heard by God.

Working as a hospital chaplain, I heard a similar prayer of rage from a minister and his wife after the death of their premature twins. The couple expressed to me in several ways how much they'd given their lives in service to God and now God had shortchanged them. They swore to me they'd never return to church again.

In all of my visits with them, I never hinted that their anger might incur a lightening strike from God. I knew God heard their hurts in the same way he heard those of Job.

The cries of agony, loss or pain are expressed in many different ways. They are expressed in a wordless whimper, and God hears them. They are expressed in bloodcurdling screams, and God hears them. These days they are even expressed in tweets.

Many of these expressions may offend the offhand reader. But, no
matter how they are said, Psalm 142:1-2 promises that God hears them: "I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble."

In some ways, God is like us. He can take criticism. He just doesn't like us talking about him behind his back. If you have complaints about God, take it to him face to face. Tell him up front what you think. He can take it. He's the creator.

In the end, keeping the conversation going with God is the most important thing, because as long as we talk to God, our reconciliation with God and our understanding of God will never be far behind.

Finally, as long as we're talking sports today, I think that perhaps Mike Sweeney, a devout Roman Catholic who plays baseball for the Washington Mariners, said it best when quoted by CNN: "It's easy being a Christian when you're hitting .345, but you let me know who you really are when you're hitting .245 and going through the valley."

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net. You also can follow him on Twitter, username is "chaplain," or on Facebook at facebook.com/norrisburkes.

Faith can be like a TV game show

DECEMBER 5, 2010

I sometimes wonder what it might be like if God had his own TV show.
Would it be a talk show where he'd give away cars like Oprah? Or would it be a news magazine where he'd put politicians on the hot seat like "60 Minutes"?

Would he produce a late-night show with a corny monologue and wacky guests?
The show could be titled "Faith Lite," with the accompanying disclaimer: "Faith portrayed on this show is meant for entertainment purposes only. Any attempt to reproduce this faith may result in a case of the stupids."

Personally, I think he'd do a game show. After all, there are several examples of game shows that could portray faith-seeking contestants.

"Deal Or No Deal" Subtitled, Name-it-claim-it, contestants use the theological strategy promoted by some televangelists by shaking their fist at the god in the overhead booth, "Make me a millionaire or I'll replace you with a god who can!"

"The Price Is Right" These players will only accept faith if the price is right. They remind me of the joke about the woman who quickly accepted a man's seedy offer to have relations for $1,000. Amazed at the woman's easy acceptance, the man asked, "Well, what about $100?"

Indignant at his price-slashing attempt, the woman asked, "What kind of woman do you think I am?"

"Madam," he said, "We've already established what kind of woman you are, we're simply haggling over your price."

"Dating Game" In this show, God plays one of three eligible deities. Contestants in this game are telling God, "Answer my questions right, and you'll get a shot at getting to know me better." For the self-centered godless contestant, it's all about the privileged "date" he or she will grant the winning deity.

"Are You Smarter Than a Fifth-Grader?" I think God would like hosting this one. He'd root for the fifth-grader so that contestants would experience the humbling truth in Jesus' challenge: "Approach God with the simplicity of a child, or you'll never win."

"Jeopardy!" This show challenges the contestant who glibly proclaims, "Jesus is the answer." A "Jeopardy!" game with God might teach us all that the hardest part of life is learning to formulate the real questions.

Truthfully, I think God might do best with the reality game shows.

"Amazing Race" God likely would rename this one "Amazing Journey," because life isn't a race; it's an amazing journey. Contestants would score when they stopped their harried race to express awe and wonder about their surrounding creation. The person in last place would be the winner under the rules of Mark 10:31: "Many who are first will be last, and the last first."

"Survivor" This is where many of us live -- alone on an island. Having been tested in life's most difficult ways, we're hoping to survive. Folks are dropping out all around us, and some have even been booted off because of us. Simply surviving is no way to live, but it's where some of us have to go before we discover God.

"Biggest Loser" This is the show God must identify with the most. It highlights Jesus' paradoxical message: "If you try to save your life, you will lose it. But if you give it up for me, you will surely find it."

At the end of the day, of course, faith is no game. But like many game-show contestants, you'll find that faith is intentional, meaningful and joyful.
But above all, faith always will include grappling with hard questions and discovering our wins in our losses.

Norris Burkes is a syndicated columnist, speaker and author of "No Small Miracles." He also serves as an Air National Guard chaplain and is board-certified in the Association of Professional Chaplains. You can call him at (321) 549-2500, e-mail him at Norris@thechaplain.net, or visit his website at www.thechaplain.net.

It's time to start living in the moment
Nov 21-10

The miniature grandfather's clock in my living room has a way of harassing me about the writing deadlines that threaten the daily bliss of self-employment.

Everything is going well until each additional bell reminds me that an hour has slipped by without accomplishment. Hemmingway may be right, and the bell may toll for me, but what is the intent of its persistence?

Is it a bell that seduces me into my future? Or is the bell dragging me into, and nagging me about, my past failures?

Or perhaps the bell serves as a foghorn beseeching me to remain on the course set by the moment.

If so, I hear the bell announcing: "This is the moment you are given. This is the time. There'll be no others."

In fact, not to be gloomy, but the chimes ask a very scriptural question: "For what is your life? It is even as a vapor."

The chimes remind me that life will end shortly and will take with it any chances I have of making this moment into something meaningful.

So to risk a cliché, I use the bell to ask myself, "What would I do if I knew this bell was the prelude to my funeral dirge?"

Asked properly, even the common tasks are blessed with new significance.
What might I eat? What might I read? Would I finally let Toby, my pesky pound puppy, soak my face with his salivating tongue?

If I knew this bell signaled my final round in my fight for life, would I become an ambassador for peace? Would I stage a sit-in to protest the war and end my midnight chaplain visits that carry the "regrets of the secretary of the Army"?

If it were my last bell, whom would I love? Whose forgiveness would I seek? To whom would I grant grace? Would I use the moments to make peace with my adult daughter who is finding no peace about her future?

Would I tell my aging mother I love her more than once? Or would I make certain that my brother, who displays many of the symptoms of Asperger's syndrome, knows that God has always loved him just the way he is and so do I?

As we read this column together today, we are among the fortunate who have heard the next bell. Welcome to our future. We are here.

Now the question is, what has God blessed you with? What are you thankful for? And will you share these blessings with gratitude?

I believe this is what my clock is asking. It's not harassing me for busting a deadline, and it's not enticing me into a future.

It's saying that we've arrived in the now. This moment is all we are promised. It's time to live it. Be it. Absorb it.

And most important, as we approach the season of giving, the clock chimes are asking us to give someone our "now." And since the now is all we have, giving it away may be the most valuable gift you'll ever give this season.

Burkes is a former civilian hospital chaplain and an Air National Guard chaplain. Write norris@thechaplain.net or visit thechaplain.net.

It's better to give than to receive
November 28, 2010


There are a lot of folks who are attaching their hopes to you this year.

For instance, Aunt Sue, whom no one else will invite to holiday dinner, is hoping you'll invite her.

Your children or grandchildren are eager for you to bring home the latest gaming console.

And your spouse is hopeful you'll consider the diamond she's never received or the vacation he's always wanted.

Even my own church, with mortgage rates interest increasing, is asking me to dig a bit deeper this year.

But during these times of economic downturn, no one has put on you with quite the same amount of desperate hope as have the charities.

So the question is, why are we unable to give more? I think it's because with each passing year, we find we are more owned by things we think we own.

At least three major world religions teach the futility of appending our hopes on our possessions, yet each year our stuff multiplies, seemingly exponentially. In ecological terms, our stuff has become a "footprint" that is trampling our Garden of Eden.

For the futility of stuff, you needn't look any further than the latest natural disaster. Earthquakes in Haiti, floods in China or fires in California show how all of our stuff can become rubble in an instant when it encounters the force of nature.

The disasters put me in mind of the homeless man in whose name this season celebrates -- Christ Mass. You remember him, right? He's the one who pointed out that while "foxes have holes," he had "no place to lay his head."

He challenged us with the teaching not to "store up for yourself treasures on Earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

So, every year since being deployed for the Katrina cleanup, I have tried to put these teachings to practice by declaring in this column: "Norris Burkes has enough stuff. I don't need any more stuff. Stuff has no value."

In years past, I've asked family and friends to make donations to the Red Cross, Doctors without Borders, AidChild or the Heifer Project. I encouraged them to buy blankets for the homeless or send a donation overseas to the latest earthquake, flood or fire victim.

Those donations are especially important now, because according to the Chronicle of Philanthropy, 400 national charities are operating with an average of 11 percent less donations. That's the biggest drop in two decades.

Still, none of them are depending on you quite so much as the local charities.

So this year, I'm changing my emphasis a bit. I'm asking friends and family to look toward local donations such as Thanksgiving Day runs for the homeless or Coats for Kids.

I hope this is the year you declare your independence from the possessions own you. My prayer for you is that you discover that real treasure isn't what you buy; it's what you give.