Column for syndication for last weekend in October 2021

Avoiding the Ruts of Spiritual Habits

 

If you're having trouble with your spiritual life, I'm happy to announce that there's an "app" for that. If you don't know what an app is, then you're in for a treat.

 

App is short for an application that works on your Smartphone to do a specific task. There are apps to help you manage every aspect of your spiritual life that you may currently be approaching with old-fashioned methods like prayer and such.

 

I once downloaded an app called EZPray that produced a prayer from any of 14 Christian saints that was directed toward the user's specific needs. There are hundreds of Bible apps including the Top 100 Bible Verses app that promises to provide "powerful and life-changing scriptures."

 

The spiritual apps aren't limited to Christian doctrine. Muslim apps provide prayer times and a compass pointed toward Mecca. New Age apps provide a guide for stones and crystals. You get the idea.

 

In all seriousness, I can't promise that using a new-fangled Smartphone application will bring you closer to God. However, I do encourage you to be open to the new ways to encounter God. The old ways may be easier, but they aren't always right.

It's like this: When I was a kid, my father asked me to dig a drainage ditch in our yard. He defined both the beginning and the end, but he let me choose my method for digging the ditch. At first, the digging was difficult, but it quickly got easier when I discovered a gopher trail along the ditch path. With a newfound ease, I put my pick into the hole and pulled up on the handle to transform the tunnel into a ditch.

 

Soon my father returned and ran his gaze up and down the ditch track. "How'd you do it so fast?" he asked.

 

"It was easy. I followed this gopher trail."

 

"That's nice," my dad said, hiding his smirk, "but I can't lay pipe in that ditch."

 

"Why not?" I protested.

 

He motioned me into the ditch where I eyed it from level ground. The ditch began and ended at the points he determined, but the path was as crooked as a hose laid out by a drunken fireman.

 

Choosing to follow the traditions and spiritual habits that are laid out by those before us can be helpful, but every once in a while, it's good to survey your path from another perspective. If your spiritual habits keep you from thinking, as did the trail of my gopher friend, then it's really no journey at all.

 

The ancient prophets wrote volumes about people whose traditional religious practices became their God. These worshippers were more in love with their forms of worship than they were the one they worshipped.

 

Using traditions to aid in our spiritual paths can be helpful when we are lost, but if we're not careful, we're going to find that we are simply following the crooked diggings of a confused gopher, an easy path devoid of meaning.

 

We can't simply assume that traditions are the only way. Bust out of your religious rut. Explore. God is everywhere. As you do, I think you will find the new paths refreshing. While scripture promises that God is, "…the same yesterday, today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8), we must remember that "His mercies are new every morning." (Lamentations 3:23).

 

 

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Read Norris's past columns at www.thechaplain.net. Contact him at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

 

 

Repeated graph removed

There was a graph that repeated itself. It began with "Public Schools"  I've removed it in this copy

 

 

 

COME FLY WITH ME

 

We've all watched the news stories of Honduran families making the treacherous journey across our southern border.

 

So today, I have only two questions.

 

First question: What makes them take such a risk?

 

Why do they trek thousands of miles through harsh weather, violence and rough terrain? Why do they risk arrest or even worse – rape, robbery, human trafficking or being separated from their children?

 

Public schools are overcrowded, underfunded, and poorly staffed. Children without the needed resources find school difficult and drop out. 

 

That's why my daughter, Sara, started Chispa Project, pronounced cheez-pah, meaning "spark" in Spanish. Hondurans use the word to describe people with spark or drive.

 

Chispa has a simple mission: Sponsor children's libraries and equip them with quality books in Spanish by working side by side with Honduran community leaders and educators.

 

In the 60 schools where Chispa works, they build alliances with communities to design, fund and manage their own libraries. Community members also volunteer in the library project and raise a symbolic portion of the funding that ensures sustainability and ownership.

 

Chispa, like Hondurans, wants to see children educated and grow up so they can remain united with their families and have choices in their future. It wants to see Honduran children dreaming their own American-like dream.

 

Of the many Hondurans I've met, most don't want to leave their homes. They don't want our country. They don't want our welfare dollars or our jobs. They want their country. They want their homes. They want a way to provide opportunities for their children.

 

Now the second question: Would you consider spending a week in Honduras with me and 25 other volunteers to start three new libraries?

 

Come fly with me. It'll be fun, I promise. It's only a three-hour flight from Houston and we remain on Central Time.

 

The day after we arrive, we begin decorating libraries that will make children proud of their school. We paint the walls with colorful murals, assemble bookshelves, and stock and catalog an entire library.

 

Imagine us working together, rolling two coats of white paint on crumbling walls. The paint provides a bright pallet for those murals intended to inspire future readers.

 

The children surround us, chattering the few English words they know. Their smiles go for hours and hours as they read the picture books we bring.

 

The days are sometimes hot and long, but not to worry. I reward my volunteers with ice-cream cones from a street vendor.

 

I know some of you are asking me a question right now: Is it dangerous?

 

That's a risk you will have to assess on your own, but I can tell you that I have brought and safely returned several octogenarians in past years. I can also tell you that I'm comfortable with my daughter, Sara, her husband and her 1-year-old baby living in Honduras full time.

 

Now is the time to sign up for one of our two available volunteer trips.  The first for May 15-22, 2022, and the second, June 19-26, 2022. 

 

I know you have more questions, so check out our website at ChispaProject.org/volunteertrip.  Read the details, fill out the forms, and watch the five minute video. Email me or Sara if you have your own questions.

 

And if you can't fly with me, will you consider a donation to help us establish these libraries? Whoops. I guess I promised only two questions.

 

 

If you live in the Charleston area, come see Sara and me in person this week!  Check out our schedule at Chispaproject.org/charleston

 

Donate at chispaproject.org/thechaplain or send check payable to "Chispa Project" 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.  Read more columns at www.thechaplain.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Column for syndication for second weekend in October 2021

COME FLY WITH ME

 

We've all watched the news stories of Honduran families making the treacherous journey across our southern border.

 

So today, I have only two questions.

 

First question: What makes them take such a risk?

 

Why do they trek thousands of miles through harsh weather, violence and rough terrain? Why do they risk arrest or even worse – rape, robbery, human trafficking or being separated from their children?

 

Public schools are overcrowded, underfunded, and poorly staffed. Children without the needed resources find school difficult and drop out. 

 

Public schools are overcrowded, underfunded and poorly staffed. Children are required to buy expensive uniforms and have little hope of progressing past sixth grade because advanced education requires costly private schools.

 

That's why my daughter, Sara, started Chispa Project, pronounced cheez-pah, meaning "spark" in Spanish. Hondurans use the word to describe people with spark or drive.

 

Chispa has a simple mission: Sponsor children's libraries and equip them with quality books in Spanish by working side by side with Honduran community leaders and educators.

 

In the 60 schools where Chispa works, they build alliances with communities to design, fund and manage their own libraries. Community members also volunteer in the library project and raise a symbolic portion of the funding that ensures sustainability and ownership.

 

Chispa, like Hondurans, wants to see children educated and grow up so they can remain united with their families and have choices in their future. It wants to see Honduran children dreaming their own American-like dream.

 

Of the many Hondurans I've met, most don't want to leave their homes. They don't want our country. They don't want our welfare dollars or our jobs. They want their country. They want their homes. They want a way to provide opportunities for their children.

 

Now the second question: Would you consider spending a week in Honduras with me and 25 other volunteers to start three new libraries?

 

Come fly with me. It'll be fun, I promise. It's only a three-hour flight from Houston and we remain on Central Time.

 

The day after we arrive, we begin decorating libraries that will make children proud of their school. We paint the walls with colorful murals, assemble bookshelves, and stock and catalog an entire library.

 

Imagine us working together, rolling two coats of white paint on crumbling walls. The paint provides a bright pallet for those murals intended to inspire future readers.

 

The children surround us, chattering the few English words they know. Their smiles go for hours and hours as they read the picture books we bring.

 

The days are sometimes hot and long, but not to worry. I reward my volunteers with ice-cream cones from a street vendor.

 

I know some of you are asking me a question right now: Is it dangerous?

 

That's a risk you will have to assess on your own, but I can tell you that I have brought and safely returned several octogenarians in past years. I can also tell you that I'm comfortable with my daughter, Sara, her husband and her 1-year-old baby living in Honduras full time.

 

Now is the time to sign up for one of our two available volunteer trips.  The first for May 15-22, 2022, and the second, June 19-26, 2022. 

 

I know you have more questions, so check out our website at ChispaProject.org/volunteertrip.  Read the details, fill out the forms, and watch the five minute video. Email me or Sara if you have your own questions.

 

And if you can't fly with me, will you consider a donation to help us establish these libraries? Whoops. I guess I promised only two questions.

 

 

If you live in the Charleston area, come see Sara and me in person this week!  Check out our schedule at Chispaproject.org/charleston

 

Donate at chispaproject.org/thechaplain or send check payable to "Chispa Project" 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.  Read more columns at www.thechaplain.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Column for syndication for second weekend in October 2021

Editors, This column contains language that some readers may find offensive.  If you would like me to send another option, please let me know.

 

Also this column many links.  If possible, please include them in your website edition.

 

 

 

Names Matter

 

If you've seen my photo, you probably have reason to doubt that I once pastored an African American congregation.

 

But I did. 

 

During the last two years of the twentieth century, I served as an active-duty chaplain stationed at Izmir Air Station, Turkey. Inside this New Testament city of Smyrna, (Rev. 2:8,) the Air Force leased our chapel space at the 170-year-old St. John's Catholic Cathedral.

 

My duties included the 1 p.m. Gospel service which was made up primarily of African American service members from the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) or Progressive Baptist traditions. The gospel services kicked off with two hours of vibrant testimonies and thrilling music followed by, sadly, my preaching.

 

During the week, I often used my spacious third floor office much like civilian pastors. I hosted meetings with Sunday school teachers, choir members and worship ushers.

 

One Sunday, I held a meeting with our lay preachers. These were volunteers who rotated preaching duties one Sunday each month, allowing me a day off. I concluded the afternoon gathering by suggesting they check their email for the "lay-preaching schedule."

 

"Why do you call us 'lay preachers?" asked Keith Theory, a short, stocky Army sergeant.

 

"Uh, I uh, well…." I stammered. "None of you have been to seminary or held a paid pastoral position. This means that you are laymen."

 

Quiet assumed its position in the room.

 

"It's just a title," I shrugged.

 

Theory looked around at the others in the room and found his breath.

 

"Chaplain, our folks address us as 'Minister.' If you call us lay preachers, you might as well just call us nig***!"

 

The room dropped several degrees. I had no response until I finally tossed out the often-used chaplain standby, "Can you say more about that?"

 

That's when Theory's tall friend, Sergeant Johnson, stood.

 

"In our tradition, everyone who feels called to preach assumes the title of 'Minister.' We don't need a diploma," he said nodding toward my Master of Divinity tilting on the wall behind us. "If someone believes themselves to be a preacher, we call them 'Minister.'

 

"Calling us anything less than 'minister' means you are calling us ….  Well, I'm sure you see where this is going."

 

There are many ways in which I could have insisted that professional education combined with ministry experience is crucial to church leadership.

 

But to say that would discount their point. In fact, it would have been the wrong point altogether.

 

The ministers needed to hear their chaplain say that their contribution to God's work mattered.

 

Twenty years before it became a movement, these men were saying that their lives -- black lives -- mattered.

 

Today, I hear folks reply to people of color with, "All Lives Matter."

 

But that discounts and lessens the real message.

 

That's why it's often suggested that the phrase BLM could be clarified by adding the letter "T" --- Black Lives Matter Too.

 

My ministers weren't questioning my chaplain authority. They were saying, "We love God too. Please include us too. We are ministers too."

 

A few weeks later, Theory took the pulpit and seemed pleased to read his name listed in the program as "Minister Theory."

 

With a nod toward me, he began the service as the ministers often did -- with John's words to the Church at Smyrna, the current day Izmir.

 

"Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches." (Rev 2:11)

 

I'm beginning to hear, Minister.

 

-----------------------------

 

 

 

Visit Norris' website at www.thechaplain.net where you can read past columns and order his books. Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.  

 

 

 

 

Column for syndication for first weekend in October 2021

Editors, This column contains many links to past columns.  If possible, please include in your website edition.

 

 

 

Twenty Going on Twenty-Five

 

This week, I celebrated my twentieth year as a syndicated columnist.  Every Wednesday, by 9 a.m., I have submitted 600 words to my editor -- 52 weeks a year multiplied by 20 years. You do the math.

 

My column began in "Florida Today" on October 5, 2001, the month after 9/11. The editor, Tom Clifford, asked me to write a spiritual response to the terrorist attack.

 

"Sure," came my sarcastic reply. "No problem. I'll just whip that out."

 

But I settled down and wrote a piece that concluded with…

 

"If the fear of death stops us from living, loving and longing for a peaceful future,then the planes that toppled the World Trade Center will also have succeeded in toppling the foundation of a peaceful society. Death is close, but life can be closer, and I choose life."

 

Clifford quickly titled the column -- "Spirituality in Everyday Life." The theme seeks to prove that faith is useless if it doesn't work in day-to-day living.

 

My wife, Becky, often calls that column the best one I've ever written.

 

My response is always the same: "So it's all been downhill since?"

 

She's rolls her eyes. 

 

In 2002, I told you how she helped a college student save an escaped pig in holiday traffic.

 

"Becky threw her arms up quicker than a charismatic in a tent-revival meeting to bring four lanes to a screeching halt while the young lady ran after her pig. Cars were careening and bacon was squealing as the young girl cornered her chase in roadside bushes."

 

 

In 2003, I shared the impact of gun violence on my depression. In the aftermath of the mass schoolyard shooting at Cleveland Elementary, I was asked to tell parents they'd lost a child.

 

"She did not cry," I wrote about one mother. "Neither she nor her son even moved. But suddenly, in something that can only be described as a sort of emotional ventriloquism, her grief shown in the eyes of her surviving son's eyes. A small tear traced a path along his frozen face."

 

Everyday spirituality also means laughing at myself, so I've not held back on self-deprecating humor. I've told you about dropping my military hat in the toilet, dropping my pants in the gym and accidently stealing a package of toilet paper.

 

In 2009, readers sent me packages and letters of support while I served as the chaplain for the Air Force Field Hospital in Balad, Iraq.

 

While there I wrote about a soldier who asked me to help him pray that "God will forgive the insurgents that killed my friend."

 

"What would that kind of prayer sound like?" I asked.

 

"You know the prayer Jesus said on the cross?" he coaxed, as if trying to remind me of a forgotten password. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

 

Forgiveness continued to be a theme of my writing as I shared my struggle to forgive a former colleague in 2011.

 

"… over the years, the hurt grew so much in my head that I created something much bigger than what it really was. In my revised version, he wasn't just critical. He was a big liar out to get me. He was paranoid. He was … blah, blah, blah, went my revised side of history."

 

Readers even followed me with reassuring support as Becky and I sold all our belongings in 2015 to travel the world.

 

"We drew a fiscal line in the sand to declare that we had more than enough things. We said goodbye to all the stuff that weighed us down. We saw wisdom in the biblical admonition from Hebrews 12:1 to 'throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.'"

 

But the greatest reward of my twenty years is how you readers have supported Chispa Project, a nonprofit started by my daughter, Sara, to establish libraries in Honduran elementary schools. You've not only given thousands of dollars in the past five years, but you've come to Honduras on volunteer trips. Your response inspired the National Society of Newspaper Columnists to present me with the 2019 Will Rogers Humanitarian Award.

 

In addition to that, you've bought my books, hosted me for speeches, and sent me hundreds of compassionate emails and letters.

 

It's been such a great twenty years that I'm setting my sights on 25. Hope you can join me.

__________

 

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, Calif. 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.