One more PHOTO for June 22/23 column?

Chispa Project Sara Burkes Brakhane uses puppet to teach library etiquette in Honduras.

 

 

 

Can you use PHOTOS for June 22/23 column?

 

 

 

June 22/23 column

 

Back to the Grind

 

If I say "1492," chances are it'll bring to mind that old school rhyme, "In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue."

 

But now I suspect I'll remember 1492 in a different light. That's because last week I flew to Tegucigalpa, Honduras, to sharpen 1,492 pencils.

 

You say, "That's an expensive trip for such a menial chore."

 

Yes, I get your point, but if you're a regular reader of this column, you know that Chispa Project needed those pencils for the inauguration of their 88th Honduran library at Pedro Nufio Elementary School.

 

I know I'm not the sharpest stick in the pencil box, but still I expected the project director to match me to something more in line with my talents.  

 

After all, the director is my daughter, Sara Brakhane. She knows that I've spoken to dozens of U.S. audiences. I thought she might arrange a speaking gig in a Honduran soccer stadium.

 

At the very least, she should have arranged for me to mentor the school's principal and share the B.F. Skinner Psychology of Education I learned in seminary. 

 

I mean, what's the harm in a little nepotism?

 

A lot, apparently.

 

She assigned me to count pencils, sharpen them, and drop said writing instruments into 421 of the new school backpacks.

 

Of course, I wasn't the only volunteer that arrived on the Dallas connection. The less jet-lagged and talented ones were slotted for important jobs.

 

Under the direction of Lester Reconco, an artistic Chispa employee, volunteers helped paint a large mural onto the library wall. It was no Banksy or Wyland Whale, but in quick time, our fledgling artists brought the room to life with bright primary colors.

 

Designed to inspire, the drawing features a Honduran boy in an oceanside scene. He's reclined on a wave of books while reading. On a field of blue, volunteers added a sailboat, a swan, and multiple fish.

 

Other artists meticulously painted a line of books that encompassed the room. (Photo on my website.)

 

Meanwhile my pencil sharpener overheated and forced Sara to assign me to the painting team. However, it was still not the fame I sought. 

 

My job was to pour various paints into red Solo cups, lug them to the talent, and wash their brushes. My nickname was Pour-Pour-Norris.

 

Suddenly, I became a truly irreplaceable member of the team.

 

I know this because I begged others to replace me.

 

They would not. 

 

But finally, after two days of painting, the moment came to shelve the books in the new library.

 

From the school parking lot, our volunteers worked an assembly line offloading 850 new books from our bus. We carried the books through a bustling playground of kids playing soccer and girl-chase-boy games.

 

Still, several stopped to hug us, sharing broad and cheeky smiles that stretched for miles and miles. Suddenly we were surrounded by a gaggle of schoolgirls and boys, all grinning with unrehearsed wonder. They weren't subtle. They wanted to see the new books we were shelving.

 

If you know the excitement U.S. children express over a new video game, you can conceive the enthusiasm building in these students as they saw their first children's picture book.

 

On the final two days, Chispa volunteers hosted the library inauguration, a sort of all-day birthday party. Students rotated among classrooms for hands-on-fun that included puppets, science experiments and storytelling. 

 

I never did get to deliver my Skinner lecture. But I can share with you that, like Skinner, Chispa believes that changing the environment can make education enjoyable and effective for all students.

 

Books are used to affect that change.

 

And the school where we were is definitely an environment that needed changing.

 

This rural school sits near the city's landfill where many parents work to collect trash, operate the landfill's incinerator, or commute by bus to a day laborer job.

 

When we left Honduras, the new library we had painted and filled with rows of new books had changed their environment for the better.

 

Chispa's challenging slogan suggests we all "Help change the story." I like to think that sometimes their stories can be changed, and a sharpened pencil can write that new story.

 

So, with more libraries coming soon, shall I "pencil you in" for the next volunteer trip? In the meantime, I guess you can say, it's back to the grind for me.

 

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You can be a part of the change by sending a check made to "Chispa Project." Or give online at Chispaproject.org/chaplain Send to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715. www.thechaplain.net

 

 

 

 

 

June 22/23 column

Sharing Your Faith By Listening to Others

In the years I served as a hospital chaplain, I was often asked, "Why don't you use your position to tell people about Jesus?" 

 

The question is much like the one I'm still asked as a syndicated columnist: "Why don't you use your writing to tell people about Jesus?" 

 

The first question assumes that chaplains represent Christianity and should use their position to surreptitiously evangelize patients.

 

The second question assumes that a Christian who writes a spiritual column for secular newspapers should use his writings to espouse Christian teachings. 

 

But neither assumption is true.

 

That's because hospital chaplains, like spiritual columnists, don't "represent" a single belief.

 

Chaplains don't wear the hat of a pastor, rabbi or even a guru. That's because once you're inside a hospital, it doesn't matter what you are.

 

What matters to the chaplain is who you are. 

 

In the hospital, like in this column, I try to help people get in touch with the spiritual component in their lives. I affirm the personal beliefs of the patient because when people are sick or dying, they tend to look toward their own healing rituals for comfort.

 

And while I believe that Jesus is my friend — and even theirs — I don't believe patients should hear that proclamation from a stranger.

 

While serving as a hospital chaplain, who happens to be a Christian, I did some unorthodox things at the request of patients that might make some Christians uncomfortable.

 

For instance, I've taped crystals to their wrists, turned their bed eastward, read the Bible, read the Koran, spread a healing blanket on their bed and placed garlic under their bed. I've collected bones to be burned and placentas to be buried.

 

I did these things because those patients deserved my respect, not because I personally share their beliefs.

 

When I've shown proper respect for people's beliefs, I was sometimes honored with questions about my beliefs. 

 

On one such occasion, I met a cancer patient who told me that he wasn't even sure he believed in God.

 

"That's fine," I joked. "I'm in customer service, not sales." 

 

He liked that retort, and we established a common ground for our visits over the next several weeks.

 

One day, in the grips of his illness, he fired multiple spiritual questions, which I answered in rapid succession. 

 

Yes, there is a God; yes, God is loving; yes, God wants an up-close relationship with you.

 

He then asked how he could talk to God.

 

"Talking to God is just like talking to me," I said. "Just say what you feel." 

 

He wondered aloud if God would consider him a hypocrite for waiting until his dying days to pray.

 

It was then he asked me to do something I've never done before or since. "Say the words for me."

 

Like I said, I've done some fairly unorthodox things, but nobody had ever asked me to lip-sync their prayers — very unorthodox. 

 

"OK," I agreed, "but if I pray something you don't agree with, squeeze my hand to indicate you want a do-over." 

 

As he reached for my hand, I told God that my friend wanted to know him. I told God that the man sought forgiveness and wholeness and was asking for God to be present in his life. 

 

It was a prayer I will never forget. It was a prayer that never would have happened if it hadn't started with respect. 

 

Is there someone you want to share your faith with? If so, ask yourself how that sharing might look if it starts with respect. Dare to hear their story before blurting into yours.

 

The result will, I hope, surprise you.

 

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Readers: I'm in Honduras this week finishing the 86th library for Chispa Project. Currently, the library is just over half funded.

 

Please consider helping by giving online at Chispaproject.org/chaplain or make check to "Chispa Project." Send to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715. Read more at www.thechaplain.net

 

 

 

June 15/16 column

A Mickey Mouse Prayer

 

 

Disneyworld opens a new ride this month to replace the decades-old Splash Mountain attraction. The ride called, Tiana's Bayou Adventure, is promised to California's Disneyland by end of the year.

 

For me, the ride can never match the magic I felt on my first visit to Disneyland decades ago. I'd come to the World of Mouse with my church youth group, led by our volunteer leader, James (JE) Newman.

 

As we waited for opening gates, JE suggested it might be a good time to voice a prayer of thanks.

 

I remember his prayer going something like this:

 

"Dear God, thank you for safe travel today and our wonderful youth group. But most of all thank you for putting Disneyland here just for us! Amen."

 

It was a short prayer, but before any of us had time to blink, the other youth sponsor, Mrs. Obenshain, blurted her astonishment. "JE! Why would you say that? God didn't make Disneyland. Mr. Disney did."

 

Knowing JE as we did, we knew to expect a well-thought answer. JE was a Ford auto mechanic who had some practical ideas about God. He didn't claim to know how this universe worked, but he could easily identify the things that did work.

 

"Sure he did!" JE insisted. "God created Mr. Disney's mind, right?"

 

"Well, yes, but JE, honestly," declared Mrs. O, "you can't really conclude that ..."

 

JE was undeterred. "If God made Mr. Disney's mind, then God must have created the picture of Disneyland in his mind long before Mr. Disney could draw it, right?"

 

"But JE . . ." Mrs. O. was wavering.

 

"Look," JE said in his Oklahoma twang, "don't the Bible say, 'All good things come from God?'"

 

Mrs. O. was slack-jawed, so JE continued. "And ain't Disneyland a good thing?"

 

Deterred by logic too simple to be wrong, Mrs. O. simply muttered something like, "Well, I guess so."

 

I remember JE's theology largely because I've heard it from a lot of patients over the years. They spoke with assurance that God made a certain hospital just for them. Or they believed that God placed a certain doctor or medicine to specifically help them.

 

I once heard a father tell me how a surgeon was going to reach into the center of his 2-year-old daughter's brain and pull out a tumor.

 

And this was his theology: "God put this surgeon here for my daughter."

 

His declaration, like JE's, sounded at first more self-centered than God-centered.

 

Yet maybe not.

 

What I found astounding about both men was how they relied on an innate understanding of the works of God. Neither had graduated from a theological or philosophical school, yet they easily identified "goodness" as one of the most important attributes of God.

 

The father didn't need to be a philosopher to acknowledge his good fortune at finding such a talented surgeon. Neither did JE have to be a Bible professor to recognize that Disneyland might provide one of many tools he could use to mentor and instruct our youth group in God's ways.

 

We often search far and wide to understand God. We read so much and attend every sort of lecture. Yet, I believe most of the time God continues to manifest his goodness in those people and things he's placed directly in our paths.

 

In the end, Mrs. O. couldn't refute JE's theology.

 

Finally, she managed to mumble, "Do you have our tickets, JE?"

 

Her request signaled the end of the theological debate, and we rushed to get in line for Splash Mountain. For like JE, we all knew goodness when we saw it.

 

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Readers: I'm flying to Honduras on Sunday to help establish the 86th library for Chispa Project. Currently, the library is just over half funded.

 

Please share God's goodness by giving online at Chispaproject.org/chaplain or make check to "Chispa Project." Send to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715. www.thechaplain.net

 

June 7 weekend column

Readers:  I'm still on vacation so I've asked Dane Dowell to guest-write my column.

Dane recently volunteered for Chispa Project. He is a life coach who loves to explore the confluence of spirituality, psychology and culture. He is also the author of an upcoming book, "The Light That Beckons." Based in Denver, he's often on adventures exploring the world. You can learn more about him at www.danedowell.com.

 

A Recovering Christian and the Catholic Church

Dane Dowell

 

In my teens, I grew up in the Methodist church. I sang in choir, played handbells, joined the youth group and sat on the finance committee. I was a "Christian."

 

In my 20s, I moved to Denver and started traveling the world. Experiencing other cultures, I began to question my faith. I learned to embrace my authentic self and rewrite my beliefs according to my lived experience. I called myself a "former Christian."

 

In my 30s, I began a spiritual journey learning to acknowledge my inner light. Organized religion seemed to emphasize the external God. Through my spiritual studies, I began to also see our inner divinity. Christians believe God is Love.

 

Though not necessarily aligned with any one faith, I believe Love is God. Given my upbringing, I began to use the term "recovering Christian."

 

Now in my 40's (all of two months), I took a trip last month to Honduras with Chispa Project, and I am now calling myself a "catholic." Not Catholic like the religion, but rather catholic in the true meaning of the word: the universal, undivided church.

 

The mission of Chispa Project is to partner with schools throughout Honduras to install libraries and bring books into classrooms.

 

Books empower kids with words. Children learn to tell stories. They read about different subjects. They learn critical thinking and engage their imaginations. Mostly run by Hondurans, the project is occasionally assisted by groups of volunteers who help local staff inaugurate a new school library.

 

In April, I joined the Chispa Project along with almost 20 other volunteers for one week. I met up with the group at the newly modernized Comayagua International Airport. We were an odd-looking bunch, but I was curious to hear everyone's story. 

 

After two hours of driving through lush green hills, we arrived at our destination close to Lago Yojoa. Honduras is a beautiful country where plants thrive, and life cannot help but burst forth everywhere. It felt symbolic of the abounding presence of life I hoped to experience that week in Honduras.

 

Gathered in a circle, we introduced ourselves. Within minutes, it became clear that we were a diverse group—diverse in terms of hometowns, ages, jobs, faith, sexualities, political ideologies and our lived experiences.

 

Back home, it would have been easy to draw lines and self-segregate. Instead, in Honduras, we spent a week volunteering together, and what a beautiful week it was.

 

I painted walls with Robert from Colorado, stickered books with Melissa from Florida, assembled bookshelves with Bob from South Carolina and organized classroom activities with Marianne from Tennessee. Throughout the week, I was afforded glimpses into the lives of more than 20 unique individuals.

 

Yes, we were incredibly different. Yet as volunteers, we became united in our actions as one collective family. There were many moments of levity and laughter and moments of sincere depth. Spending a week with these people, I came to see how we are all more alike than we are different. We all had an inner light: the Christ within. 

 

In the rural countryside of Honduras, I was reminded of a line from the Apostle's Creed:

 

"I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church…." Truly, that week kindness and generosity united us all; we were each connected by the spirit of love. Though a stranger in foreign lands, I found a family; though a "recovering Christian" among diverse beliefs, I found a new home in the "catholic church."

 

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Readers: I return from my cruise today and will be home only one week before I fly to Honduras to help establish the 86^th library for Chispa Project. Honestly, we'll need some big last-minute donations to fully fund this library. Thank you – Norris

 

Give online today at Chispaproject.org/chaplain or make check to "Chispa Project." Send to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715. www.thechaplain.net