Nov 1-3 Column

Riding with Power – or Riding with Jesus?

 

Tell me, did you have a frightening Halloween? Were you visited by a slew of goblins and ghosts?

 

If you thought that day was frightening, brace yourselves. Election Day comes this Tuesday and a good many of us are absolutely terrified by how our new president may exert their new powers.

 

Fortunately, I found some clarity about power in an incident recorded in the eleventh chapter of Mark's Gospel, v. 31 and following.

 

In the account, you'll find Jesus leading his parade of followers toward Jerusalem as he shares with them a ghoulish prediction.

 

In a grizzly prophesy, Jesus claims he's about to be mocked, flogged and killed. And three days later, he says, he will rise from the dead.

 

Following this chilling forecast, James and John interrupt Jesus's talk, asking, "Can we get a seat in your kingdom cabinet, one on the left of you and the other on the right?"

 

The appeal is the perfect example of non sequitur speech – a conclusion or statement that does not logically follow from the previous argument or statement.

 

These guys are supposed to be the main dudes of the twelve, but they aren't on the same page with Jesus. In fact, they aren't in the same book. You know the type. Their autobiography is all about me, me and me.

 

"Can't I be the one who assumes power with you?" they ask.

 

Jesus is like, sure, you'll get a piece of this too. The ones who follow me will be "drinking out of the same cup."

 

Jesus wasn't talking about happy hour here. He was saying, following me has a cost you might not want to pay.

 

Jesus directs James and John to compare their request for power to the abusive power practiced by the influential rulers and religious leaders of the day.

 

"You've observed how godless rulers throw their weight around," he said, "and when people get a little power how quickly it goes to their heads."

 

He points out that Christ-followers have to be different. "It can't be the same with you. Whoever wants to be great must become a servant.

 

"That's what I've done," Jesus explains, "I came to serve, not to be served."

 

This story tells me that if we're casting our vote to bring Jesus into power, he doesn't want that power. And if all we seek in this election is a shortcut to Christian power, we only damage ourselves and our neighbors

 

Power is not the model Christians should seek. Instead, Jesus shows that we can wield ultimate power only by setting ourselves aside.

 

We employ true power by serving—even to the point of giving our lives away.

 

So if you count yourself as a servant of Jesus, let your vote fall silently into the ballot box. Then accept the results and return to the service God has called you to.

 

As one who's sometimes tempted to seek authority, I'm grateful that Jesus was patient with James and John in their misguided search for power. Jesus's patience is good news for me as it means I might have a winning chance as well.

 

The real winners this election year will be the ones who serve. Not the ones who demand they be served.

 

Christ didn't seek to ride with the powerful. And neither should his followers.

 

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Some inspiration for this column from Dr. Derek Weber, Director of Preaching Ministries, for United Methodist church.

 

My latest book is called, "Tell it to the Chaplain."  All of my books are available on my website or by sending a check for $20 (per book) to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comments to comment@thechaplain.net or by text or voicemail to (843) 608-9715. See past columns and other books at website www.thechaplain.net.

 

 

Oct 25-27 Column

Right to Judge or Judging Right

 

During the past 23 years of writing this column, I've occasionally used my platform to cast a negative spotlight on scoundrels, rascals and scallywags.

 

I've even gone so far to name the names of the political pundits, candidates and officials who've used their offices to spew hateful rhetoric on the less fortunate. 

 

And I haven't held back my judgments when it comes to the religious field, I've panned plundering preachers for their judgmental-Jesus, churches who've brought politics into the pew, and chaplains who've pressed their views on the sick.

 

I've censured meandering athletes for their marital missteps, disparaged depraved entertainers, and even called out commanders who forced their religion on their subordinates.

 

My ruminations have occasionally inspired a few readers to insist that I apologize for my judgmental stance toward their cute celebrity, their precious preacher, or their nuclear network commentator.

 

Invariably, there are those who measure my words against Matthew 7:1, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged."

 

Matthew 7:1-5 is not telling us not to judge, it's telling us HOW to judge, Jesus is saying we can't judge hypocritically. He never suggested that we can't ever judge!

 

The problem with using the verse against your critics to disqualify their judgments is that the verse loses balance without Jesus' commandment from John 7:24, "Stop judging by mere appearances, but instead judge correctly." (NIV)

 

The former verse is an admonition against self-serving judgment; the latter verse allows us to make discerningly helpful judgments. 

 

It's useful to understand that the first verse plays a small, but important part in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. It chastises the hypocrites who use their judgmental pronouncements as a smoke screen to hide their own inequities.

 

This kind of judging is hypocritical and it's not restorative as it only serves to help the judge feel better about him or herself. Over the years, I've heard the verse grafted into a popular philosophy that professes that any kind of judging attitude is wrong.

 

This thinking becomes a flippant way of saying "I'll ignore your shortcomings if you'll ignore mine." 

 

To that I respond, "No. I won't give you a free pass from criticism and neither will I expect one in return."

 

At the end of the day, a world without discerning judgments will become a lawless one. That's why it's important to mix in Jesus's words from the above-mentioned verse.

 

The verse from John 7:24 is a weighty and difficult pronouncement that finds modern clarity in this paraphrase from The Message, "Don't be nitpickers; use your head — and heart! — to discern what is right, to test what is authentically right."

 

This admonition coaches a more self-reflective attitude toward judgment. It calls for us to apply our discernment in a humble manner. That humility only comes when we acknowledge our own shortcomings.

 

In other words, even though we may be right in our judgments, we acknowledge that there is a place inside of us that is not yet right — a place that will only be made right in the sight of God.

 

Finally, while I have used this column to share my assessments about the actions of others, I will not take God's place in determining someone's eternal spiritual fate.

 

That verdict belongs to God, whose judgments I would never assume and whose endless love I can only imagine.

 

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Oct 18-20 Column

The Chaplain's Day Off

 

Long before the 1986 movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I too imagined a day off work of fun and frivolity.  

 

After all, who hasn't feigned illness to take a day off from work? 

 

This was my self-justifying question as I called the Baylor University Bookstore one Friday morning in the fall of 1978. When my manager picked up the line, I winked knowingly at my new girlfriend sitting beside me.

 

"I'm not feeling well today." Cough, cough. "I can't come in until Monday."

 

"Then you're fired!" he said.

 

I wasn't expecting the finality in his answer. I could hear a pulse in my ears.

 

"Don't come back," he added before slamming down the phone receiver.

 

My face flushed and my eyes suddenly felt overhydrated. I was having a grief reaction, anticipating the loss of the prestige I'd enjoyed interacting with university professors and freshman co-eds.

 

How had I miscalculated this scenario? Was my boss aware of the love-struck hormonal illness with which I was afflicted? How would I afford to take my girlfriend to the back-to-school dance?

 

I had to make this right for many reasons. The bookstore was the center of university life and I didn't want to be dodging my boss for the next year. I needed to apologize.

How does one apologize for such bald-faced lying?

 

First, it's always good to allow a cool-down period. I waited a few weeks for the back-to-school rush to end and called for an appointment.

 

Once inside the manager's office, I kept it simple. I admitted that I hadn't been sick. Plain and guileless. "I'm sorry for lying."

 

I didn't excuse my action or bring my girlfriend into the picture.

 

Second, I expressed understanding for his situation. I admitted that I abandoned my colleagues, causing them to be short-handed at his busiest time of the year.

Third, I asked for forgiveness. He granted that.

 

Finally, I think I surprised him when I asked his help to clarify the lessons I needed to learn.

 

That question brought his deepest thought.

 

"Who is it you want to be?" he asked.

 

"Pardon me?"

 

"Well, I know you're a ministerial student, so I know WHAT you want to be. But beyond that, WHO do you want be?"

 

I thought I got his drift, but I wasn't entirely sure.

 

"I think above all," he said, "you want to be a person who people trust. I think you want to be a person who keeps his word."

 

"I see three lessons," he continued.

 

"First, don't lie. Lying demonstrates that you don't believe you're capable of being who you want to be. Don't sell yourself short. I know you are capable of being who you want to be."

 

"Second, if I'm not mistaken, Jesus said, "Let your yes be yes, and your no, no. Whatever is more than these is from the evil one."

 

In other words, my ex-boss was telling me to be sure of what I want before I commit to something. And when I do commit, I should keep my word.

 

"Third." He cleared his throat, trying to remember his third point.

 

He gave up on that. "Just remember those two for now. Don't lie and keep your word."

The bookstore manager was OK in my book – even if he didn't give me my old job back.

 

Fortunately, he gave me a good reference to a better-paying job as a night watchman in a local bank. Good thing too. I could afford to take the girl to the dance.

 

Unfortunately, since I can't dance, she broke up with me.

 

Happily, I met and married my wife Becky a few years after that. But that's a story for another day.

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For an autographed copy of "Tell It To The Chaplain," or any of my books, order from my website or send a check for $20 (per book) to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comments to comment@thechaplain.net or by text or voicemail to (843) 608-9715. See past columns and other books at website www.thechaplain.net.

 

 

Oct 11-13 Column

What Would You Do If You Weren't Afraid?

 

Earlier this month, I celebrated my 67^th birthday with a couple of pieces of German chocolate cake.

 

Fortunately, experience told me not to go for a third. 

 

That's because I still remember my seventh birthday when I sneaked a half-dozen cupcakes from my mom's cake carrier, devoured them and threw up just prior to the party. 

 

But still, that birthday wasn't the worst.

 

My worst birthday was my 45 ^th when my Air Force chaplain supervisor came into my office at Patrick Air Force Base, Florida, wearing a strained expression. 

 

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he said, "but your name didn't appear on the Air Force promotion list to major." 

 

I was unsure how to interpret the news. The pessimist in me said I'd just been fired.

 

And if my optimist was saying anything, I couldn't hear it because the pessimist was choking him out.

 

The military doesn't keep officers who don't make the rank of major. This meant I had only six months to find a new job before I would be unemployed and stranded 3,000 miles from my California home. 

 

The only reaction I offered my supervisor was, "And this is my birthday." 

 

It was about that time that a colleague presented me with a helpful book

titled, "Who Moved My Cheese?" by authors Spencer Johnson, M.D. and Ken Blanchard. Johnson and Blanchard seemed to be proclaiming that change was the only certainty in life, so deal with it.

 

The book uses a parable format to depict talking lab mice that work to outsmart the scientists who are constantly moving their cheese into an unfamiliar part of their maze.

 

Somebody had indeed moved my cheese, and the military maze I'd known for eight years became an unfriendly place, so I spent the next hour hunting for help.

 

About halfway through the book, I stopped, taken aback by a particularly evocative question that the mouse characters found written inside their maze. "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" 

 

I looked away, paraphrasing the conundrum aloud in a slow and thoughtful repetition. "What would I do if I weren't so afraid of change?"  

 

It was abundantly clear what I normally did when I felt afraid. I got upset, I fretted and then became a generally rude person toward those who loved me. 

 

But the authors were insisting that I answer a different question: "What would I do if I weren't afraid?" 

 

I went to the copy machine where I enlarged the quote into a mini poster which I placed above my desk.

 

A few weeks later, as fear melted from the equation, I came to know exactly what I would do. 

 

I would return to my California home and to the most rewarding ministry of my life — I determined to resume my career in hospital chaplaincy. 

 

No, the cheese question didn't work magic. It didn't totally suspend my fears.

 

I was still scared, but I was determined to keep fear from obscuring my goal. I printed my resumés, scheduled hospital interviews and kept pressing toward the goal. 

 

Three months later, I had six job offers for hospital chaplaincies and I returned to part-time military life as an Air National Guard chaplain. 

 

Twenty-three years have passed since that harsh announcement. But that day continues to remind me that whenever I'm uncertain, fearful or just plain indecisive, I can reach into my resiliency repertoire for the refrain of that birthday question. 

 

When I think about it long enough, the answer usually floats to the top. 

 

You may ask, "Does that always work for you, Norris?"

 

No, not always. Sometimes I default to eating a half dozen cupcakes.

 

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Parts of this column excerpted from my book, "Thriving Beyond Surviving."  All of my books are available on my website or by sending a check for $20 (per book) to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comments to comment@thechaplain.net or by text or voicemail to (843) 608-9715. See past columns and other books at website www.thechaplain.net.

 

Oct 4-6 Column

Don't Talk About God Behind his Back

 

Last Sunday, I admitted to my congregation that I sometimes, feel like the man who had had enough with life's difficulties, so he went to live in a monastery.

 

The abbot restricted the man's spoken words to only two words every year.  

 

After his first year, he reported to the abbot to share his first two words – "Bed hard."  

 

On his second annual opportunity, he pronounced, "Food bad."  

 

Finally, on his third year, he came to the abbot's office to proclaim, "I quit."  

 

"I'm not surprised," said the abbot. "You've done nothing but complain since the day you arrived."  

 

Well, I don't want you to think I complain too much, but I once spent a few days fretting over lost keys, car repairs and my daughter's somewhat risky international travel to Honduras.

 

On those occasions, "Mrs. Chaplain," (that's what I call her when she's not around) asked, "Have you prayed about it?" 

 

"At this point," I said, "honestly, my prayers would sound more like complaining."  

 

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.  

 

I took a few minutes to think about her challenge when I remembered a guy who did a fair bit of complaining himself: Moses.  

 

You remember Moses. He's the one who bugged, literally bugged, the Egyptian Pharoh to free the Jewish people from slavery. Once the people were liberated, Moses ran his egress route through the oppressive heat of the Sinai Desert.

 

The people quickly forgot their wonderful freedom and started whining about the lack of good Chinese takeout. (OK, maybe they weren't that picky, but they were a bit famished. Read the complete story in Numbers 11.)

 

So Moses, also resenting his situation, asked God, "Why are you treating me this way? What did I ever to do to deserve this? Where am I supposed to get meat for all these people?"

 

He continued. "If this is how you intend to treat me, do me a favor and kill me. I've had enough."  

 

Just an observation here – I don't recommend daring God to kill you; it's not a prayer for the faint of heart.  

 

Nevertheless, God threw down a challenge of his own and said to Moses, "Gather together 70 men from among the leaders of Israel, men whom you know to be respected and responsible. . . (and) you won't have to carry the whole thing alone."  

 

In the end, Moses wasn't struck dead for his audacious request. Quite the opposite. God answered the prayer – providing a little help from Moses' friends.  

 

Now, I don't pretend to know how prayer works, but I think Moses' prayer was effective for two reasons.  

 

First, the prayer was simple and direct. 

 

It wasn't a flowery prayer packed with analogies, metaphors or obtuse tangents. 

 

God likes direct words. (He also dislikes dictionary words like "obtuse.")

 

Whenever I encounter someone complaining about their raw deal, I've always told them: Stop gossiping about God. Talk to God directly, not behind his back.  

 

Go right up to God (wherever you talk to God) and say, "Hey, God! My life stinks!"  

 

Then turn it into the prayers Anne Lamott describes in her book, "Traveling Mercies." 

 

"Here are the two best prayers I know: 'Help me, help me, help me' and 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.'"  

 

Moses' simple prayer worked because God heard the heart of the prayer — honesty.  

 

In the midst of the griping, God heard a confession known by anyone in a 12-step recovery process. 

 

It's a prayer that has various wordings, but the gist is, "I'm powerless to do anything by myself. I need help." 

 

It was the same kind of prayer my wife was challenging me to pray. 

 

A little later, she asked, "Find your keys yet?"  

 

"No, but I think God's given me a plan to find them."  

 

"Really?" 

 

"Yeah. How do you feel about having 70 readers come over and help me look for my keys?"  

 

"Really? After 23 years of column writing, do you still claim to have at least 70 readers?"  

 

I think I'll start calling her "Mrs. Moses."  

 

Just not to her face.  

 

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Please subscribe to my weekly email newsletter at https://thechaplain.net/newsletter/ All of my books are available on my website or by sending a check for $20 (per book) to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comments to comment@thechaplain.net or by text or voicemail to (843) 608-9715. See past columns and other books at website www.thechaplain.net.