Two of my April Columns

Don't miss life's big picture

Between a gauntlet of Pacific Coast storms last month, Toby and I find a swath of sunlight and go for a jog.

If you've not met Toby, he's my little pound puppy, half Jack Russell, half Lhasa apso. Toby doesn't really jog; he saunters alongside me, snickering at my jogging attempts like Muttley from the 1969 cartoon, "Dastardly and Muttley."

On our homestretch, I sense a wonder-filled moment along our creek trail, so I remove my headphones in time to hear ducks exchanging quacks in a family meeting. The creek dares to inflate its boundaries as the spring grass bends and bows before the beauty of the day.

Turning my gaze into the trees, I see our resident red-tailed hawk perching 15 feet away at eye level. The most common of hawks, the red-tail normally is skittish around people, so I stand in awe at my opportunity to see this one up close.

With five times the visual acuity I have, he's probably been watching us from a distance. I know he sees Toby, because Toby retreats between my legs. With nearly 200 pounds per square inch in those talons, he is well equipped to make Toby his supper.

Male and female hawks share much the same coloring, but the odds are that my friend is a male, and his lifetime mate is incubating their spring clutch about 60 feet above.

His feathers look a bit shaggy, as he is in the molting season. With a wardrobe consisting of about 7,000 feathers, it's the red tail feathers that give him his name and carry a spiritual significance in Native American culture.

I wish you were here to see him. I glance up and down the trail like
a revival preacher wondering, "Can I get a witness?" I'm looking as if to claim this hawk as mine.

Suddenly, I see a jogger and his dog approaching, oblivious to what they'll interrupt. I want to throw up a no trespassing sign. "Go chase a Frisbee, you stupid dog!" I mumble at the intruding couple. "No, I wasn't talking to you, Toby."

Wanting some proof that I own this moment, I pull out my camera phone and do the fat-finger fumble with the buttons. By the time I bring up the viewfinder, the jogging interloper is clopping past me.

"Fido" looks none the wiser than his owner for what he's missing, and all I see is an empty tree branch in my viewfinder.

The hawk swiftly made tracks into the clouds on a nearby thermal. He's not having any part of my plan to display his life like a voyeuristic trophy. A photo cannot capture him. He is wild and wants to stay wild.

As I thought about how my ego expected to capture and control this spiritual encounter, I could almost hear God's question to Job: "Was it through your know-how that the hawk learned to fly, soaring effortlessly on thermal updrafts?"

Here I had missed seeing the beautiful creature take wing and climb into the sky because I wanted to capture the moment on camera instead of trusting the experience to linger in my heart.

Trying to posture people into your own idea of life may cause you to miss life's best moments. You become like the young dad continually futzing with his new camera while his new baby is doing the cutest things.

Life calls us to become a part of God's picture. When we decide to lay aside the controlling aspirations of the photographer, we become part of the photo and the good memories become everlasting ones.

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Norris Burkes is a syndicated columnist, national 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 or write him Norris@thechaplain.net or PO Box 247 Elk Grove CA 95759 or visit his website at www.thechaplain.net.



Don't stand in silence when you hear hateful speech


Ocala pastor Terry Jones put the Koran on trial last month and sentenced it to be burned inside his Florida church.

In doing so, he accomplished an incredible thing: In a day when politicians can't even agree on a budget, his actions miraculously have galvanized both sides of the political aisle.

But, not in a good way.

For instance, President Barack Obama called the burning an "act of extreme intolerance and bigotry."

Before the burning, former Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin tweeted, "Koran Burning Is Insensitive, Unnecessary; Pastor Jones, Please Stand Down."

Ironically, even evangelist Pat Robertson asked his audience to "Imagine a preacher that is so egotistical that he would sacrifice the lives of missionaries and soldiers."

Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., best summarized the thinking when he said, "I think people should understand the consequences of what they do under the guise of religion."

The consequences have been the deadly protests in Afghanistan that claimed 12 lives with scores injured.

Minus the politically correct language, the politicians simply are saying Jones is a real kook. Of course, when I say kook, I mean it in a theological way.

Honestly, it's not particularly brave of me or anyone else to challenge hateful prejudice as glaringly obvious as Jones' actions. What is hard, and what is brave, is to oppose the hate and prejudice we encounter in everyday living.

For instance, what do you say when someone you respect says something that doesn't sound quite right? Perhaps a co-worker whispers a prejudicial word about cultural dress in the office or a relative or a friend attacks another person for their religious or political beliefs. What do you say then?

I ask the questions because I have to believe Jones' hate had a simple beginning.

For example, I can imagine a few scenarios in Jones' past where, thinking he was among friends, he mouthed off in some hateful way. Perhaps it first occurred in a neighbor's home or at a community clergy breakfast or city council meeting.

If so, why didn't anyone say, "Dude, you've spent way too long in the Florida sun." Or "Hey pastor, really? That doesn't ring quite true."

I know what you're thinking. It's scary because you don't know if anyone is going to back you up.

The result is you remain silent.

The price of calling someone out can be high. But we also know the price grows exponentially when someone like Jones encounters not a single word of resistance.

I can imagine these situations, because I've been privy to such conversations, at a neighbor's house and at a clergy breakfast, when someone said something that bordered on bigotry or prejudice. I know, because I, too, have taken a sudden and silent interest in my shoes.

When the 18th century Irish orator, philosopher and politician Edmund Burke said: "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

I think he was talking about our silence. Today, in the 21st century, we excuse our silence because we don't want to be too judgmental. Yet our silence has become the fertilizer for the seeds of hate to grow unabated.

In the future, I'd encourage Jones and his followers to refrain from burning the holy books of other religions and uncover the burning love promoted in Ephesians 4:29, which says: "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."


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Norris Burkes is a syndicated columnist, national 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 or write him Norris@thechaplain.net or PO Box 247 Elk Grove CA 95759 or visit his website at www.thechaplain.net.