Altar Ego: June 2023

Spiritually column for July 1 2023

Remains of My Days

In a clothing store last month, I paused to try on a new hat, prompting my wife to ask if I was trying to cover my senior hair loss.

"I'm not losing my hair. It's receding."

Becky knew I was cuing her to deliver on an old Jeff Foxworthy joke. And she did not disappoint.

"I think your hair is receding into your brain and out your nose and ears," she said.

The truth is, I've been concerned about hair loss ever since I was ten years old and my mother warned me that genetics predestined me to resemble her balding father.

In college, a close friend teased me saying that my hairy arms looked like a "spider convention." I reacted by shaving my peach-fuzzed arms. Perhaps this is way too much information for your morning cereal but stay with me.

In seminary, I formulated a prayer that I called my "hair prayer."

"God, please let me keep my hair until I'm at least 40 years old."

For the most part, my expectations have been met with a handful of silver hair remaining into my sixties.

I know, I know. I should be praying for world peace or for the end of poverty and prejudice. Well, I do that too. But like many of you, I sometimes mutter prayers that are more about me than they should be.

I call these prayers "vanity prayers." Everyone prays them at one time or another. They represent our entitled beliefs that we should pamper ourselves rather than help others.

After all, we have our vanity surgeries, we buy vanity license plates and sometimes, even columnists will (gasp) use a vanity press to publish their books. (Only $12.95 at my website if you act now.)

In our hearts, we know these vanity products have little value. Still, we cling to them. We employ magical thinking by asserting they add value to our lives. This belief is not unlike how I tell myself that a certain hair product will add "volume" to my balding head — never going to happen.

Yet despite all our self-concern, Jesus suggested in Matthew 10:30 that "God cares what happens to you even more than you do."

Really?

Could God possibly care more about me than 'me' cares about me?

Jesus was convinced. He adds a descriptor, claiming God has, "even numbered the hairs on your head!"

There is a question implied in his hyperbole: "Why do we worry about fleeting things? What is it that makes us invest our time or our talents in things that don't last?"

Bending our concerns and prayers toward our outward appearance will always rob us of the self-reflective moments we need to honestly examine our internal realities.

I think British-Japanese author Kazuo Ishiguro expressed these thoughts well when he wrote "The Remains of the Day." In his 1989 novel, Ishiguro depicts a butler named Stevens who regrets how he'd lived a subservient life.

Things begin to change for Stevens when he turns his focus away from the past and considers what he will do with the remains of his days.

The whole point of the book, and I think the crux of Jesus' teaching, was that life has to include a daily spiritual examination and a search for eternal things and lasting realities.

So tonight, instead of looking for the remains of your hair on your pillow, examine the remains of your days.

And by the way, I read somewhere that hair grows for 2 to 6 years before it falls out. If there's no hair growing underneath to replace the loss, then one is destined for baldness.

Dang! If that's true, I'm probably already bald.

I'll need to buy some more hats.

________________________

Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or snail mail 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail 843-608-9715. Visit his website at www.thechaplain.net where you can read past columns or purchase his books.

Spiritually column for June 23

Taking a God Hike

"Who wants to skip church next Sunday?" I ask my little congregation.

No one dares an answer. I think they're still getting to know their chaplain-turned-pastor-again.

"Let's take a hooky-hike instead," I suggest.

I hear only squeaky pews until a church council member suggests we could do both hike and church.

"That's a good compromise," I admit.

"Why a hike?" someone asks.

"I want to test a theory."

More squeaks from the padded pews.

"I often hear that God can be worshiped anywhere -- on a golf course, a beach, or a mountainside."

For a moment, they seem to look for an answer in the hymnal racks.

"I think we should road-test the theory on a nearby trailhead."

Our church sits on the in-between. A one-hour car ride east ascends 6,000 feet toward the Nevada border, skating the Lake Tahoe shoreline. An hour west takes us into the flat land of our state capital. Add another hour and we're crossing the Golden Gate.

This is California Gold Country, dotted with boulders, crisscrossing streams and miles of mines. More gold came out of these hills than any other California county.

Hiking choices are infinite among the melody of leaf maples, dogwoods and Douglas firs. The Douglas creates a noble, upright growth with lush needles that form a beautiful downward sweeping canopy. This is not the California of palm trees, endless beaches and deserts.

So a few hours before the next Sunday worship, our group of hikers navigates curvy rural roads, pushing east of Nevada City onto Banner Mountain. We park in a small lot adjacent to the popular Cascade Trail.

We choose this trail because the county website promises our fit, 65+ age group "an almost level walk along a peaceful canal through a forest. At 3,200 feet elevation, it is a bit higher and cooler than many local trails."

During the hour-long hike, our group detects God in many places. Some discover the divine in each other as they converse, laugh and see each other in ways they don't notice pew-side.

A few hear woodpeckers telling knock-knock jokes on a Douglas fir. Our trail crosses the Woodpecker Wildlife Preserve named for the birds found in the area such as pileated, downy, hairy and red-breasted sap suckers.

A few congregants lag behind to examine plants like the bleeding hearts, while others search for Shelton's violet, the spotted coralroot orchid, and the more common American trail plant.

We stop on a small canal bridge where I revisit a game invented by Winnie-the-Pooh called Poohsticks. I tell each player to drop a stick on the upstream side of a bridge and the one whose stick first appears on the downstream side is the winner.

Having raised four kids, I'm an experienced player. I win two out of three.

Unsure if the game is churchy enough, I pause a few minutes down trail and gather an impromptu glee club to sing "How Great Thou Art."

A single mountain biker and a hiking couple patiently pause while we sing,

Oh Lord, my God, When I in awesome wonder

Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made.

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,

Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art.

A half hour later, we begin our drive down the mountain to rejoin other congregants for church.

It's Father's Day, so I follow the instructions of Psalm 100:2 to "bring the gift of laughter" by challenging them to tell their best dad jokes. We follow the Psalmist order of worship as we converse a few minutes, sing, open our Bibles and pray.

Then I preach a little, but my words aren't nearly as profound as the "words" the hikers heard that morning. We all knew of God's many cathedrals but we are blessed to have visited one of them today.

The words that conclude Psalm 100 seem profoundly true to us now. "For God is sheer beauty." (v.5).

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

Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or snail mail 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail 843-608-9715. Visit his website at www.thechaplain.net where you can read past columns. His books can be purchased from the website.

Spiritually column for June 16

To Judge or Not to Judge

In the short time since I have returned to the pastoring role, I hear again the same old complaints against organized religion.

I have to admit that sometimes my responses to these critics are served with a bit of snark.

For instance, when folks grumble, "Religion is strictly a cash business," I say, "No. We take online donations now."

When they protest, "The church is full of hypocrites!" I try to reassure them,

"No, no. We aren't full yet. There's still room for you."

The good-natured ones often joke in return, asking if "my boss" will do something about the lousy weather. I say, "Sorry. I work in sales, not customer service."

But I'll admit I lose my levity when someone paints religious people as being "too judgmental." These critics often use Jesus' own words, telling me to "judge not lest you be judged" (Matt. 7:1). And for good measure, they paraphrase John 8:7: "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."

I give them points for the scripture memorization, but I also remind them that the Judean teacher they so skillfully quote pronounced more than a few judgments.

That's because he wasn't one to throw up his hands and say, "Hey, whatever floats your boat. Who am I to judge?"

Actually, he said, "The world is against me because I expose the evil behind its pretensions" (John 7:7).

As a person of this planet, it's essential that I make judgments. But as a person of faith, I must follow grace and avoid denouncing the heart of another person.

"How do you balance grace and judgment?" you ask.

The answer might come from Judge Abner McCall, the late president of Baylor University, my alma matter, 1979.

"When people ask about the difference between our Christian University and a secular one," he said, "I tell them this: If our professors give you a failing grade, they'll sit down and cry with you."

McCall asserted that his professors were perfectly qualified to judge a student's work. However, with the mention of tears, he was referencing the offer of grace that must be accompanied with this judgment.

People of faith aren't disqualified from speaking on moral issues. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Spiritual folks are obliged to speak for those who have no voice and they are compelled to challenge injustice.

For instance, I will occasionally speak against the political decisions of our leaders. For me, this "condemnation" is what I call a "spiritual assessment."

"Assessment" is a word commonly used in the healthcare world where I've worked for more than 25 years. I've watched our nurses formulate assessments by gathering information about a patient's physiological, psychological, sociological and even spiritual status.

Those assessments weren't personal judgments. Instead, they were professional judgements offered with a grace that often led to recovery.

Pastor and theologian J.D. Greear put it best when he concluded:

"Don't judge others by withholding the truth. But don't judge them by speaking the truth without grace.… Truth without grace is judgmental fundamentalism; grace without truth is liberal sentimentality."

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

Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or snail mail 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail 843-608-9715. Visit his website at www.thechaplain.net where you can read past columns. His books can be purchased from the website.

Spiritually column for June 9

The Sin of Certainty

Last month, my wife, Becky, and I spent the weekend in California's San Luis Obispo.

This gorgeous college/farming community sits in a chilled Pacific Ocean breeze halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Called "SLO-town" by locals, I knew little of its cool factor while attending high school in nearby Atascadero during the early 70s.

It wasn't until 2010, while training with the California Air National Guard at Camp SLO, that I discovered San Luis Obispo's famed Farmers' Market.

Thriving with college students and locals, this is not your basic farmers' market. Dozens of vendors bring a country-fair aroma every week with block after block of amazing BBQs, funnel cakes, corn on the cob and crepes.

After I bought a tri-tip steak sandwich, Becky followed my dripping BBQ sauce trail toward two booths, catty-corner of each other but taking opposing stances.

I left Becky for a moment to examine the booth manned by a local atheist club. I took note of the table literature. Mostly negative. There is NO god, NO Heaven, NO Jesus. Evolution rules, faith drools.

Not much there to encourage a conversation, so I rejoined my college sweetheart who'd made a beeline for the Christian booth. That's where she found the Bible Answer man pulling in inquisitors with the Socratic Q-and-A approach. He was promising candy to anyone who played his Bible trivia game.

Becky was reading the questions as I approached and I honestly heard her ask, "Do you have something more challenging?" Oh yes, she did.

This guy didn't know who he was dealing with. Becky's a Baptist Sunday School teacher from way back. I stepped away when I saw the new questionaire concerned the Book of Revelation. My seminary grades weren't that good.

As I licked the bbq sauce from my fingers, I scanned his pamphlets about heaven, hell and the various proofs of God's existence. There was little positivity there in tracts about how evolution and hell were related.

Mostly, his brochures were a retread of circular logic. Namely, "God exists because the Bible tells us so, and the Bible is true because God says it's true."

Both booths were engaging in the science-versus-faith debate and asked their followers to commit to something Peter Enns calls, "The Sin of Certainty."

This Harvard scholar and seminary professor wrote, "The Sin of Certainty: Why God Desires Our Trust More than Our 'Correct' Beliefs'" and "The Bible Tells Me So: Why Defending Scripture Has Made Us Unable to Read It."

His titles nearly make his complete case as he argues that certainty is dangerous and downright unbiblical. He cites numerous examples of where doubt played a prominent part in faith development throughout the BIble.

I don't think Enns would have seen room for doubt or questions inside these two camps represented at the market. Both sides seemed to be cursed with a dualistic approach that labeled one side as right and the other wrong.

Perhaps that's because, as the expression goes, they weren't "staying in their lanes." They each sought to answer the questions the other was responsible for.

My personal approach is to allow science to settle the "how" or "what" questions. The job of science is to answer questions such as "how are landmasses formed?" or "What did dinosaurs look like?"

However, if you're asking "who" questions like, "Who put us on this earth?" then I suggest you look toward faith because these are relationship questions.

Just as important as the "who question" is the "why."

Why did mankind come into existence?

Or even more to the point, why am I here? Why are you here? Do we relate? These are all existential questions best examined through the lens of faith, not under the scientific certitude.

"How did Becky do on the quiz?" you ask.

The only question she answered correctly was naming the wife of the Old Testament prophet Hosea.

Turns out Hosea married a gal that'll remind you of the 50's TV character, Private Pyle.

Her name was Gomer.

Who knew?

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

Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or snail mail 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail 843-608-9715. Visit my website at www.thechaplain.net where you can read past columns. My books can be purchased at Combie Maillbox or on my website.

Spiritually column for June 11

The Sin of Certainty

Last month, my wife, Becky, and I spent the weekend in California's San Luis Obispo. This gorgeous college/farming community sits in a chilled Pacific Ocean breeze halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles.