New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
first column of April 2020


Column:

Focus on Thriving, not Just Surviving

Five years ago, I wrote a book called, "Thriving Beyond Surviving." The book is a compilation of my columns organized by themes.

These days, I'm challenged to live by my own advice. If I ever republish the book, I may consider the titillating title, "Seven F-Words I Live By," and begin with a new word – FACTS.

I've sat with families in hospital waiting rooms as they considered bad outcomes for their loved one. I tried to restore their focus by saying, "All we can do is act on the facts we know, not the options we don't know."

More than ever, today our faith must be informed by facts.

That's why I turn off sensational reports that make dire predictions. I've tuned out the ratings-driven network news. More and more, I look to the factual, if not sometimes somnolent, Reuters News Service or NPR.

The facts tell us to stay calm. Wash your hands. Don't touch your face. To paraphrase the Disney rides, "Keep your delirious arms and legs inside the car at all times."

FAMILY- There are two things I know from my own marriage: Becky needs space, but I need closeness. We find a happy medium between desertion and smothering as I go running while she does puzzles. We walk in the afternoon and rendezvous on the recliners to watch comedy.

New York Times' columnist Jennifer Senior recently summarized a study from the Journal of Family Psychology that looked at couples in the aftermath of Hurricane Hugo in 1989. The study compared the lives of those who'd lived in the afflicted counties in South Carolina to those who hadn't.

Senior observed, "More people in the devastated counties divorced the following year. But more people also married. And there was an increase in births. The hurricane spurred a great deal of emotional movement, in all directions."

Fortunately, my family headed in the same direction this week when both wife and daughter made it home from Honduras.

FITNESS – Don't get your medical advice from a chaplain, but I think we can agree that it's more important now than ever to focus on fitness. If you get COVID-19, you'll need all the lung power you can muster.

I'm running, walking and riding a bike. I'd try dancing but I'm still holding a Baptist membership. People tend to get hurt if I dance. But you're free to try it.

If you've not been active for a while, begin slowly. Increase a little bit each day. Before you know it, you'll be asking, "Who is that new person in the mirror?"

Whatever you do, don't just sit around watching your hair grow. Or in my case, it'd be plural, "hairs."

FUN- Not to say that any of this is fun or funny, but I am emphasizing funny today. Instead of binge-watching Star Wars or other melancholic mini-series, I watch as much comedy as possible.

My favorites involve clean comedians or a good network comedy series. I've even found some oldies but goodies with Red Skelton and Carol Burnett on streaming TV.

Use the funny papers to bring perspective. Or as one comic strip suggested, don't watch the news without your glasses. Beer or wine – your choice.

I'm nearly out of space, so I'll conclude next week with the harder F words, like Future, Faith and Forgiveness. But for now, from the "fun" category, I have a few fun offers.

Join me Sunday, April 5th at, 6pm EST for a friendly online chat using the video conferencing platform, Zoom. All you need is an internet device with a camera. It's super easy. You don't need any experience with it, and there is nothing to download.

If you email me, I'll send you instructions. I'll take the first twelve requests and will repeat the conference if successful.

Finally, if you want a copy of "Thriving Beyond Surviving," send me $10. This drastically reduced price covers printing and postage. If you send more, I'll donate it to the Chispa Project, the nonprofit my daughter started for establishing libraries in Honduran schools.

In the meantime, you'll be more spiritually fit if you try thriving with the good F-words.

—————————————-

Contact Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

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Norris' column -- Becky's home!

A WING AND A PRAYER Readers: I wrote this column on Tuesday and the next day Becky and Sara found a last minute trip home. I returned home from Honduras last week with the nagging suspicion I was missing something.   Turns out I was. And I still am – my wife, Becky.   As you may know, Becky and I took a group of 24 Chispa Project volunteers to establish a library in an inner-city school of Tegucigalpa, Honduras.    I returned with the volunteers to U.S. airspace last week, but Becky remained to help our daughter, Sara, establish another library.    As it turned out, Honduran officials closed their borders the next day.   As I write this, Becky and Sara have bought tickets on four different carriers. Three flights were immediately canceled. Their homecoming could be days, weeks or unknown months away.    Late at night I toss in bed, trying to sleep. A muscle twitch turns me to see if Becky has come home on a late-night flight. She hasn't.    The whole thing keeps me humming Larry Norman's lyrics in the Christian apocalyptic song, "I Wish We'd All Been Ready."   A man and wife asleep in bed She hears a noise and turns her head, he's gone I wish we'd all been ready   Still, it's amazing what I've learned in the past 10 days without her.   First, the house gets dirty all by itself. I know this because I'm the only one here and it can't be me.    Even though I manage to sweep every other day, the floor remains a mess. I'm wondering if it's because Becky's not here to give me the stink eye when I drip water or track dirt in from the patio.   Second, I've learned what sympathetic neighbors I have. One woman brought me some chili and cookies. Another gave me a beer. Wait, don't get the wrong impression. I needed it for my corned beef recipe.   Fortunately, I have daily talks with my sweetheart of 40 years. After we finish, I continue the conversation with myself.    Some of you might interpret talking to oneself as "losing it," which is why I prefer to say that I'm "self-narrating." This is what writers do. It's perfectly normal.   Kidding aside, I have discovered two fairly important truths.    First, sympathy is a good trait, but it comes best with experience. This separation is similar to what Becky experienced during my three military deployments. Prior to those deployments, I often told her not to anticipate my homecoming until my replacement arrived in-country.    Now I await news that United Airlines has sent a replacement flight. I've literally tied a yellow ribbon around a tree in my front yard.    Second, talking to God is much better than talking to myself. God and I had a little convo today. I began my prayer with the bargaining stage. That's the part where I said, "Please, God, bring them home and I promise that I'll…."     I don't remember my promise because I just started crying. Then I prayed again. Then I cried some more. In the end, crying felt like the best prayer ever. I know God heard Jesus each time he cried, so right now, all I want to know is that God hears me.    I think he does. And I'm comforted to know that you care too.   Fortunately, I did manage to bring a piece of very good news home with me. My daughter, Sara, the Chispa Project Director, is pregnant with a boy. His name is Lucas Clay and his arrival has been predicted for late August.    In the meantime, I look for Becky and Sara to quickly return on a wing and our prayers.    ------------------------------------- Check my website for an update: www.thechaplain.net and sign up to get my weekly column. Email me at comment@thechaplain.net or send U.S. Mail to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or leave voicemail at (843) 608-9715. Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Revised version 27-29 March


Column:

A WING AND A PRAYER

I returned home from Honduras last week with the nagging suspicion I was missing something.

Turns out I was. And I still am – my wife, Becky.

As you may know, Becky and I took a group of 24 Chispa Project volunteers to establish a library in an inner-city school of Tegucigalpa, Honduras.

I returned with the volunteers to U.S. airspace last week, but Becky remained to help our daughter, Sara, establish another library.

As it turned out, Honduran officials closed their borders the next day.

As I write this, Becky and Sara have bought tickets on four different carriers. Three flights were immediately canceled. Their homecoming could be days, weeks or unknown months away.

Late at night I toss in bed, trying to sleep. A muscle twitch turns me to see if Becky has come home on a late-night flight. She hasn't.

The whole thing keeps me humming Larry Norman's lyrics in the Christian apocalyptic song, "I Wish We'd All Been Ready."

A man and wife asleep in bed
She hears a noise and turns her head, he's gone
I wish we'd all been ready

Still, it's amazing what I've learned in the past 10 days without her.

First, the house gets dirty all by itself. I know this because I'm the only one here and it can't be me.

Even though I manage to sweep every other day, the floor remains a mess. I'm wondering if it's because Becky's not here to give me the stink eye when I drip water or track dirt in from the patio.

Second, I've learned what sympathetic neighbors I have. One woman brought me some chili and cookies. Another gave me a beer. Wait, don't get the wrong impression. I needed it for my corned beef recipe.

Fortunately, I have daily talks with my sweetheart of 40 years. After we finish, I continue the conversation with myself.

Some of you might interpret talking to oneself as "losing it," which is why I prefer to say that I'm "self-narrating." This is what writers do. It's perfectly normal.

Kidding aside, I have discovered two fairly important truths.

First, sympathy is a good trait, but it comes best with experience. This separation is similar to what Becky experienced during my three military deployments. Prior to those deployments, I often told her not to anticipate my homecoming until my replacement arrived in-country.

Now I await news that United Airlines has sent a replacement flight. I've literally tied a yellow ribbon around a tree in my front yard.

Second, talking to God is much better than talking to myself. God and I had a little convo today. I began my prayer with the bargaining stage. That's the part where I said, "Please, God, bring them home and I promise that I'll…."

I don't remember my promise because I just started crying. Then I prayed again. Then I cried some more. In the end, crying felt like the best prayer ever. I know God heard Jesus each time he cried, so right now, all I want to know is that God hears me.

I think he does. And I'm comforted to know that you care too.

Fortunately, I did manage to bring a piece of very good news home with me. My daughter, Sara, the Chispa Project Director, is pregnant with a boy. His name is Lucas Clay and his arrival has been predicted for late August.

In the meantime, if you're editors accepted this late version of my column, please know that Becky and Sara are now boarding a last-minute flight. We will look for their return on a wing and our prayers.

-------------------------------------
Check my website for an update: www.thechaplain.net and sign up to get my weekly column. Email me at comment@thechaplain.net or send U.S. Mail to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or leave voicemail at (843) 608-9715.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
column for 27-29 March 2020


Column:

Editors: I may have an update to this column if you can wait until noon pacific time.


A WING AND A PRAYER

I returned home from Honduras last week with the nagging suspicion I was missing something.

Turns out I was. And I still am – my wife, Becky.

As you may know, Becky and I took a group of 24 Chispa Project volunteers to establish a library in an inner-city school of Tegucigalpa, Honduras.

I returned with the volunteers to U.S. airspace last week, but Becky remained to help our daughter, Sara, establish another library.

As it turned out, Honduran officials closed their borders the next day.

As I write this, Becky and Sara have bought tickets on four different carriers. Three flights were immediately canceled. Their homecoming could be days, weeks or unknown months away.

Late at night I toss in bed, trying to sleep. A muscle twitch turns me to see if Becky has come home on a late-night flight. She hasn't.

The whole thing keeps me humming Larry Norman's lyrics in the Christian apocalyptic song, "I Wish We'd All Been Ready."

A man and wife asleep in bed
She hears a noise and turns her head, he's gone
I wish we'd all been ready

Still, it's amazing what I've learned in the past 10 days without her.

First, the house gets dirty all by itself. I know this because I'm the only one here and it can't be me.

Even though I manage to sweep every other day, the floor remains a mess. I'm wondering if it's because Becky's not here to give me the stink eye when I drip water or track dirt in from the patio.

Second, I've learned what sympathetic neighbors I have. One woman brought me some chili and cookies. Another gave me a beer. Wait, don't get the wrong impression. I needed it for my corned beef recipe.

Fortunately, I have daily talks with my sweetheart of 40 years. After we finish, I continue the conversation with myself.

Some of you might interpret talking to oneself as "losing it," which is why I prefer to say that I'm "self-narrating." This is what writers do. It's perfectly normal.

Kidding aside, I have discovered two fairly important truths.

First, sympathy is a good trait, but it comes best with experience. This separation is similar to what Becky experienced during my three military deployments. Prior to those deployments, I often told her not to anticipate my homecoming until my replacement arrived in-country.

Now I await news that United Airlines has sent a replacement flight. I've literally tied a yellow ribbon around a tree in my front yard.

Second, talking to God is much better than talking to myself. God and I had a little convo today. I began my prayer with the bargaining stage. That's the part where I said, "Please, God, bring them home and I promise that I'll…."

I don't remember my promise because I just started crying. Then I prayed again. Then I cried some more. In the end, crying felt like the best prayer ever. I know God heard Jesus each time he cried, so right now, all I want to know is that God hears me.

I think he does. And I'm comforted to know that you care too.

Fortunately, I did manage to bring a piece of very good news home with me. My daughter, Sara, the Chispa Project Director, is pregnant with a boy. His name is Lucas Clay and his arrival has been predicted for late August.

In the meantime, I look for Becky and Sara to quickly return on a wing and our prayers.

-------------------------------------
Check my website for an update: www.thechaplain.net and sign up to get my weekly column. Email me at comment@thechaplain.net or send U.S. Mail to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or leave voicemail at (843) 608-9715.

 

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Norris' column 20 March 2020

The Great Toilet Paper Hunt   WHO ARE YOU TODAY?   Having just returned from a 10-day trip to Honduras, I hopped in my car to search for the budding prize of this COVID-19 pandemic – a package of 48 Double Roll Ultra Plush Bath Tissue.   The shelves were bare in four different stores, so I stopped at a chic downtown market known for their grand deli sandwiches. They were out of stock too, so I comforted myself by ordering a ham and turkey on a chibota bun.     While I waited for my sandwich, I pushed my cart through the aisles, grabbing impulse buys like a 16-ounce can of chili, some canned tuna, and a bag of chocolate-covered popcorn.   "Man," I thought, "No wonder I'm craving a jumbo roll of Ultra Plush."   That thought led me to make a quick stop in the store's restroom. Inside, I flipped the light switch and assumed my position in front of the toilet.    Suddenly, my eyes fell upon six rolls of 4-ply sitting on the toilet tank. They weren't the double rolls I sought, but they still looked luxurious.     As I zipped up, only one question came to mind –Could I fit a roll into my coat pocket?   I picked up the roll and wondered how obvious it might appear in the snug fit of my L.L.Bean jacket.   It just might work.   "No!" screamed a voice in my head. I'm never sure if the voice belongs to God or Mrs. Chaplain.   Nevertheless, I slammed the roll back on the pile. "You're not that guy! Have some respect for yourself, will ya?"    I left the bathroom and pushed my cart toward the checkout.   "Hey," I whispered to the balding clerk near my age. "You really need to secure your lavatory. There's a stack of toilet paper in there calling my name."   "What?" he said, perhaps wondering if I'd wandered into the store from the behavioral health facility a few blocks away.   I explained how I'd been looking all day for toilet paper but had found none.    "Your shelves are bare too." I said. "But just now, I find a pile in your restroom. I had to fight off the temptation to snag a roll."    He looked me over but found no suspicious bulge.    "Don't worry," I said, "I'm not that guy."   He slid my apples onto the scale without looking up again.   "At least not today," he said.   I shot a blank stare, so he repeated it, "At least not today, right?" "Right," I smiled, "At least today I'm not…"   He volunteered my ending, "a shoplifter."   "Right."   As I carried my bag to the car, I worked to remind myself who I am today.   For the moment, for today, I'm the guy who writes a spirituality column, encouraging hundreds of readers to keep the faith, not to give up, but to live out their faith in everyday life.   At least today, I choose to remain the hospice chaplain guy, daring to sit in the silence and unfairness of life.   For the time being, I decided I will remain the dad, husband and grandpa who will love and hold his family ever more tightly through this crisis.   I'm the very imperfect follower of a Jewish carpenter whose words from Mathew 6:34 are beautifully paraphrased in Eugene Patterson's work, The Message: "Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."   In these uncharted days, many of us have become "worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow."     But our faith calls us to give our entire attention to what God is doing right now. So for at least today, I encourage you to remain the person God has called you to be, that man or woman who chooses to let God "help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."   And guess what? I went home to find that Mrs. Chaplain had tucked six big double rolls into our bathroom cabinet. Maybe it was her voice I heard after all.   —————————————-   Contact Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.                                            Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column for 20-22 March 2020


Column:

WHO ARE YOU TODAY?

Having just returned from a 10-day trip to Honduras, I hopped in my car to search for the budding prize of this COVID-19 pandemic – a package of 48 Double Roll Ultra Plush Bath Tissue.

The shelves were bare in four different stores, so I stopped at a chic downtown market known for their grand deli sandwiches. They were out of stock too, so I comforted myself by ordering a ham and turkey on a chibota bun.

While I waited for my sandwich, I pushed my cart through the aisles, grabbing impulse buys like a 16-ounce can of chili, some canned tuna, and a bag of chocolate-covered popcorn.

"Man," I thought, "No wonder I'm craving a jumbo roll of Ultra Plush."

That thought led me to make a quick stop in the store's restroom. Inside, I flipped the light switch and assumed my position in front of the toilet.

Suddenly, my eyes fell upon six rolls of 4-ply sitting on the toilet tank. They weren't the double rolls I sought, but they still looked luxurious.

As I zipped up, only one question came to mind –Could I fit a roll into my coat pocket?

I picked up the roll and wondered how obvious it might appear in the snug fit of my L.L.Bean jacket.

It just might work.

"No!" screamed a voice in my head. I'm never sure if the voice belongs to God or Mrs. Chaplain.

Nevertheless, I slammed the roll back on the pile. "You're not that guy! Have some respect for yourself, will ya?"

I left the bathroom and pushed my cart toward the checkout.

"Hey," I whispered to the balding clerk near my age. "You really need to secure your lavatory. There's a stack of toilet paper in there calling my name."

"What?" he said, perhaps wondering if I'd wandered into the store from the behavioral health facility a few blocks away.

I explained how I'd been looking all day for toilet paper but had found none.

"Your shelves are bare too." I said. "But just now, I find a pile in your restroom. I had to fight off the temptation to snag a roll."

He looked me over but found no suspicious bulge.

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm not that guy."

He slid my apples onto the scale without looking up again.

"At least not today," he said.

I shot a blank stare, so he repeated it, "At least not today, right?"

"Right," I smiled, "At least today I'm not…"

He volunteered my ending, "a shoplifter."

"Right."

As I carried my bag to the car, I worked to remind myself who I am today.

For the moment, for today, I'm the guy who writes a spirituality column, encouraging hundreds of readers to keep the faith, not to give up, but to live out their faith in everyday life.

At least today, I choose to remain the hospice chaplain guy, daring to sit in the silence and unfairness of life.

For the time being, I decided I will remain the dad, husband and grandpa who will love and hold his family ever more tightly through this crisis.

I'm the very imperfect follower of a Jewish carpenter whose words from Mathew 6:34 are beautifully paraphrased in Eugene Patterson's work, The Message: "Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."

In these uncharted days, many of us have become "worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow."

But our faith calls us to give our entire attention to what God is doing right now. So for at least today, I encourage you to remain the person God has called you to be, that man or woman who chooses to let God "help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."

And guess what? I went home to find that Mrs. Chaplain had tucked six big double rolls into our bathroom cabinet. Maybe it was her voice I heard after all.

—————————————-

Contact Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

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Chaplain Norris’ column

Who Made You Stop Going to Church? Are you among the few who are planning to give church another try during the Lenten season?   There are many reasons you might have taken a sabbatical from church. Perhaps you took offense in something the church did. Or maybe you were put off by a church scandal related to money or sex. Or maybe you can't sit still for the sermons.     If this happened to you, I can identify with you. I could have easily made the same decision on the day I left for college.   My high school church youth group was co-led by a petite woman in who flashed a bright smile while pitching her loaded question, "Have you received the gift of the Holy Spirit?"   The question is not unlike asking, "Have you stopped beating your wife?" the query was  was impossible to answer. If I said, "Yes," she'd lay out her Bible like a religious yardstick to determine if my Holy Spirit measured up to hers.   If I said "No," I confirmed her first impression that I wasn't a very good Christian.   Worse yet, a "no" answer brought more questions such as, "Aren't you interested in the filling of the Holy Ghost?" or "Don't you want to be healed?"   Her most loaded question was, "Do you want to speak in tongues?" (Now, if you don't know about "tongues," read the New Testament book of Acts. But it's still unlikely you'll understand — neither did I, really.)   However, judging by her ecclesiastical syntax, I believe she was referring to an ecstatic and unintelligible language spoken by thousands of people in charismatic churches. The language wasn't the problem. The problem was that this was the Southern Baptist Church my dad pastored – not a charismatic church.   If you've ever been turned off by religion, you were likely the victim of one of these or other similarly loaded questions – fired by the sanctimonious into innocent bystanders with much the same insensitivity as the infamous drive-by shooters.    These inquisitors reduce spirituality to some kind of test that only they can pass with questions such as: "Don't you believe in Jesus? Don't you want the spirit in your life?" or "If you were to die tonight, did you know you'll go to hell?"   How do you answer questions like that? My best answer was to use a quote from a more moderate pastor of her tradition. When asked whether these kinds of spirit-fillings were a requirement of faith, the Rev. Jack Taylor simply responded, "Somebody might, nobody must, and I haven't."    However, this woman could never hear that answer. She thought, "Everybody must!" and she never abandoned her attempt to make me bilingual with her Holy Spirit. Honestly, I think she believed that the ecstatic language could cure everything from depression to my raging acne.   Fellow columnist Carolyn Hax has suggested that we search for people's "nutritional label" and ask if they are worth the time. If not, she says, "Friends with a low decency content need to be treated as junk food."    I think the same problem occurs in our efforts to find a spiritual community too. Some people and places are just gonna be junk food, but we can also find quality people when we make the effort to look for them.   At the end of the day, spiritual junk food doesn't "fill" you any more than this woman's version of the "holy" spirit. You only encounter God through a spiritual relationship. And as in all relationships, you ask questions, converse, you can even lose your temper, but you will also learn to laugh at yourself and forgive others.   In the meantime, if you are tempted to use this column to affirm that old assertion that "The church is filled with too many hypocrites," I say give it another chance. I did. And you know what I found? There was plenty of room for one more.   —————————————-   Contact Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.          Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column 13-15 March 2020


Column:

Who Made You Stop Going to Church?

Are you among the few who are planning to give church another try during the Lenten season?

There are many reasons you might have taken a sabbatical from church. Perhaps you took offense in something the church did. Or maybe you were put off by a church scandal related to money or sex. Or maybe you can't sit still for the sermons.

If this happened to you, I can identify with you. I could have easily made the same decision on the day I left for college.

My high school church youth group was co-led by a petite woman in who flashed a bright smile while pitching her loaded question, "Have you received the gift of the Holy Spirit?"

The question is not unlike asking, "Have you stopped beating your wife?" the query was was impossible to answer. If I said, "Yes," she'd lay out her Bible like a religious yardstick to determine if my Holy Spirit measured up to hers.

If I said "No," I confirmed her first impression that I wasn't a very good Christian.

Worse yet, a "no" answer brought more questions such as, "Aren't you interested in the filling of the Holy Ghost?" or "Don't you want to be healed?"

Her most loaded question was, "Do you want to speak in tongues?" (Now, if you don't know about "tongues," read the New Testament book of Acts. But it's still unlikely you'll understand — neither did I, really.)

However, judging by her ecclesiastical syntax, I believe she was referring to an ecstatic and unintelligible language spoken by thousands of people in charismatic churches. The language wasn't the problem. The problem was that this was the Southern Baptist Church my dad pastored – not a charismatic church.

If you've ever been turned off by religion, you were likely the victim of one of these or other similarly loaded questions – fired by the sanctimonious into innocent bystanders with much the same insensitivity as the infamous drive-by shooters.

These inquisitors reduce spirituality to some kind of test that only they can pass with questions such as: "Don't you believe in Jesus? Don't you want the spirit in your life?" or "If you were to die tonight, did you know you'll go to hell?"

How do you answer questions like that? My best answer was to use a quote from a more moderate pastor of her tradition. When asked whether these kinds of spirit-fillings were a requirement of faith, the Rev. Jack Taylor simply responded, "Somebody might, nobody must, and I haven't."

However, this woman could never hear that answer. She thought, "Everybody must!" and she never abandoned her attempt to make me bilingual with her Holy Spirit. Honestly, I think she believed that the ecstatic language could cure everything from depression to my raging acne.

Fellow columnist Carolyn Hax has suggested that we search for people's "nutritional label" and ask if they are worth the time. If not, she says, "Friends with a low decency content need to be treated as junk food."

I think the same problem occurs in our efforts to find a spiritual community too. Some people and places are just gonna be junk food, but we can also find quality people when we make the effort to look for them.

At the end of the day, spiritual junk food doesn't "fill" you any more than this woman's version of the "holy" spirit. You only encounter God through a spiritual relationship. And as in all relationships, you ask questions, converse, you can even lose your temper, but you will also learn to laugh at yourself and forgive others.

In the meantime, if you are tempted to use this column to affirm that old assertion that "The church is filled with too many hypocrites," I say give it another chance. I did. And you know what I found? There was plenty of room for one more.

—————————————-

Contact Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

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Are you an Advice Monster?

Monster or Minister -- Which will you be? Readers:  I'll be flying into Honduras when you read this. We have 25 readers going with us. See how you might help at www.chispaproject.org/burkes NOW, onto my column..... "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," I was a 25-year-old seminary student assigned to preach a series of messages in a Phoenix church. The pastor of the church fancied himself a mentor to ministerial students, so he paused from his busy schedule to offer his unsolicited advice:   "I recommend that when a parishioner visits your office for a second counseling session, ask him or her if they've followed the advice you gave on the previous visit.     "If they say 'no,' then you should dismiss them. Pastors give professional advice just like doctors, so you shouldn't take time for people who won't heed your professional advice."   "Well," I thought. "That's guidance I'll never forget – mostly because I don't forget bad advice."   But these 40 years later, I get it. Ministers see and hear the deep hurts of people, so it's more tempting to dictate quick advice than it is to walk with folks in their pain.    The old pastor had become what Michael Bungay Stanier calls an "Advice Monster." Stanier is the senior partner and founder of Box of Crayons, a company that claims to "help people and organizations do less Good Work and more Great Work."    I recently heard Stanier speak at the TEDx Talks in Reno. If you haven't heard of TED Talks, imagine a day-long parade of people presenting 20-minute speeches from Technology, Entertainment or Design — hence TED Talks. (The "x" indicates the economical version.)   I'm sure you've met an advice monster or two. Stanier says you'll recognize them as the people who enter your business determined to solve your problem. Their monstrous approach tells people they aren't good enough to solve their own problems. Unfortunately, they often become busy solving the wrong problems. Or worse yet, they offer bad advice.    Anxious not to morph into a critical creature, I listened closely to Stanier explain the three ways advice monsters are motivated to:   "Tell it." This guy will tell you what to do because it's the only way he can add value to his life.   "Save it." This is the rescuer who must save people to claim his own value. (As a chaplain, I most identified with this one.)  "Control it." This is the worst. This person gives advice to control others.   Fortunately, Stanier offered a method that managers, coaches and well-meaning clergy can use to shake their advice-giving habits. He calls his technique "Stay Curious" because it promotes curiosity over our need to be instant problem solvers. "Stay curious a little longer," he says. "Be a little slower about rushing to action and advice-giving."   The Stay Curious approach involves asking three problem-solving questions. "After all," Stanier notes, "questions are the kindling of problem solving."   If you're really trying to help someone, begin by asking them, "What is the real challenge here for you?"   It's a good beginning, but Stanier admits that people will rarely be completely honest. So he recommends that you ask it again. Say, "And what else? What is the real challenge?"   Finally, ask "What do YOU want?"   This is the question that separates the monsters from the ministers. Monsters will seek to control a person with their brand of wisdom. Someone motivated by ministry will seek to discover the needs and wants of others.    Stanier's teaching rang with a truth I'd heard before.   In James 1:19, words traditionally considered to be written by Jesus' brother say, "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry" (New International Version).   As I finished my first TEDx conference, I left with a ringing question: "Which do I want to be? Monster or Minister?" I have resolved to be the latter. Which will you choose?   -----------------------------------------------   Contact me at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.  Twitter @chaplain               Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
First column of March 2020


Column:

Monster or Minister -- Which will you be?

"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I was a 25-year-old seminary student assigned to preach a series of messages in a Phoenix church. The pastor of the church fancied himself a mentor to ministerial students, so he paused from his busy schedule to offer his unsolicited advice:

"I recommend that when a parishioner visits your office for a second counseling session, ask him or her if they've followed the advice you gave on the previous visit.

"If they say 'no,' then you should dismiss them. Pastors give professional advice just like doctors, so you shouldn't take time for people who won't heed your professional advice."

"Well," I thought. "That's guidance I'll never forget – mostly because I don't forget bad advice."

But these 40 years later, I get it. Ministers see and hear the deep hurts of people, so it's more tempting to dictate quick advice than it is to walk with folks in their pain.

The old pastor had become what Michael Bungay Stanier calls an "Advice Monster."
Stanier is the senior partner and founder of Box of Crayons, a company that claims to "help people and organizations do less Good Work and more Great Work."

I recently heard Stanier speak at the TEDx Talks in Reno. If you haven't heard of TED Talks, imagine a day-long parade of people presenting 20-minute speeches from Technology, Entertainment or Design — hence TED Talks. (The "x" indicates the economical version.)

I'm sure you've met an advice monster or two. Stanier says you'll recognize them as the people who enter your business determined to solve your problem. Their monstrous approach tells people they aren't good enough to solve their own problems. Unfortunately, they often become busy solving the wrong problems. Or worse yet, they offer bad advice.

Anxious not to morph into a critical creature, I listened closely to Stanier explain the three ways advice monsters are motivated to:

1. "Tell it." This guy will tell you what to do because it's the only way he can add value to his life.
2. "Save it." This is the rescuer who must save people to claim his own value. (As a chaplain, I most identified with this one.)
3. "Control it." This is the worst. This person gives advice to control others.

Fortunately, Stanier offered a method that managers, coaches and well-meaning clergy can use to shake their advice-giving habits. He calls his technique "Stay Curious" because it promotes curiosity over our need to be instant problem solvers. "Stay curious a little longer," he says. "Be a little slower about rushing to action and advice-giving."

The Stay Curious approach involves asking three problem-solving questions. "After all," Stanier notes, "questions are the kindling of problem solving."

If you're really trying to help someone, begin by asking them, "What is the real challenge here for you?"

It's a good beginning, but Stanier admits that people will rarely be completely honest. So he recommends that you ask it again. Say, "And what else? What is the real challenge?"

Finally, ask "What do YOU want?"

This is the question that separates the monsters from the ministers. Monsters will seek to control a person with their brand of wisdom. Someone motivated by ministry will seek to discover the needs and wants of others.

Stanier's teaching rang with a truth I'd heard before.

In James 1:19, words traditionally considered to be written by Jesus' brother say, "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry" (New International Version).

As I finished my first TEDx conference, I left with a ringing question: "Which do I want to be? Monster or Minister?" I have resolved to be the latter. Which will you choose?

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Contact me at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain

 

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