22-24 Nov column

Fishy Story Suggests Catastrophic Ending

 

If you've been watching the news, then you know that the world is going to end soon.

 

No, I'm not talking about the recent election. I'm referring to the elusive deep-water oarfish.

 

Superstitious sailors have long considered the spotting of this rare fish a harbinger of bad news. And this past week, on the shores of Encinitas, California, it's been spotted again. This makes three times this year in California and only 22 times in the past century.

 

Japanese mythology recounts the doom fish as a precursor to earthquakes and tsunamis. More than a dozen were found on Japan's coastline just before Japan's 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, their largest recorded earthquake.

 

These kind of scarry indicators aren't new. Televangelists have been capitalizing on them for years as they expounded on their version of catastrophic and world-ending predictions.

 

If you were born before 1960, you'll likely remember that Hal Lindsey co-authored a 1970 best seller with Carole C. Carlson titled "The Late, Great Planet Earth." 

 

Some of us just laughed at him, while others tried to ignore him. 

 

However, when the Yom Kippur War of 1973 sent gas prices soaring, we wondered if the Lindsey scenario was creeping into the nonfiction section. Many began taking Lindsey so seriously that they ran scared into the baptismal waters.

 

Had we been a little smarter, I'm wondering if we might have seen how religious history was on a repeating track with Lindsey's approach. He was using the scare-the-hell-out-of-you technique used by centuries of religious thought. 

 

It's a thought expressed on the old bumper sticker: "The good news is, Jesus is coming back. The bad news is, He's ticked." (OK, the sticker doesn't say "ticked" but this is a family newspaper.) 

 

The real problem with Lindsey and people like him is that they characterize the Christian faith as a war between good and evil. Indeed, they demand that the faithful make a choice between spending eternity in a bottomless pit of eternal fire or going to church three times a week.

 

The fault in this thinking is that it forces faith into an all-or-nothing proposition. Faith isn't that way at all. Real faith is relationship-based, not fear-based. 

 

Faith is more like this: When I met my wife at a Southern Baptist Conference Center, I didn't introduce myself by saying, "Marry me or you'll burn." If I had, she might have hit me with a flame thrower. 

 

God doesn't use that approach either. He doesn't need to scare us into loving him. That's because God is not trying to save us from this world. After all, he created this world for us. 

 

Jesus made the same point quite well, saying, "God didn't go to all the trouble of sending his son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help" (John 3:17, The Message Paraphrase). 

 

God is all about helping us make it through our times of hurt and pain. He's not about inventing painful situations just so he can play the superhero. 

 

I suppose there'll always be fortunes to be made by capitalizing on demise, death and destruction, but I will continue to place my faith in my relationship with our creator.

 

The Lindsey star eventually faded. The counterculture of the 1960s never became the main culture, and Lindsey's predictions crumbled with the Berlin Wall. 

 

These days, Lindsey is 94 years old, living in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He's still doing video, but now he's predicting the final jihad that will come any day now. Same scared-as-hell program, just a different station.

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Reminder that my family and I will be matching all reader donations to Chispa Project up to $5,000 postmarked between now and GivingTuesday on December 3. You can donate online at www.chispaproject.org/chaplain or send a check made to "Chispa Project" to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. 

 

For an autographed copy of "Tell It To The Chaplain," or any of my books, order from my website www.thechaplain.net or send a check for $20 (per book) to the address above.

 

 

15-17 Nov column

Retirement, Really?

 

"Do you think you'll ever fully retire?" my wife, Becky asks a few times a month.

 

"Definitely!

 

"Mostly.

 

"Maybe?" I say, adding an I-dunno-know for good measure.

 

She asks, because she knows I struggle sometimes to write this weekly syndicated column, travel to speak in different venues, and pastor a small church.

 

Trying to explain my reticence, I simply say, "I'm just not sure of the best timing."

 

In past years, you readers have sent me many emails with quick and sound responses to my writings. You've rolled out the red carpet for me during our dozen+ years together, hosting me for speeches in your colleges, hospitals, churches and civic organizations.

 

You've traveled with me to Honduras for Chispa Project, the charity my daughter Sara began for establishing libraries in Honduran elementary schools. Many of you are generous, regular donors.

 

When I think of full retirement, I'm struck with a sudden case of FOMO. "Fear of Missing Out." I don't want to miss out on more wonderful exchanges, meetings, and friendships this writing ministry has brought to me.

 

But alas, I've come up with a compromised writing retirement, that will give us at least two ways to stay in touch no matter when I fully retire.

 

First, I'd like you to sign up to get my weekly column by email.  You can do this by sending me a quick email to comment@thechaplain.net.

 

Or even easier, sign up for my weekly email at www.thechaplain.net/newsletter. The website also contains everything I've ever written or will write. Check out the audio versions of past columns too. Remember to spell chaplain correctly, not chaplin. We've talked about this.

 

Second, while you're on my website, consider ordering one or more of the four books I've written. These books are a compilation of my columns from the past twenty years. And of course, I'll autograph them.

 

Keep the book on your nightstand or reading rack so you can read one 700-word story each time you crack open the book. You can read the books in any order and jump around between stories.

"No Small Miracles" contain stories I wrote as a pediatric hospital chaplain. "Hero's Highway" recounts my deployment to a combat hospital in Iraq.

 

"Thriving Beyond Surviving" is a compilation book of the columns I wrote about faith, family, fun and forgivingness. And my most recent book, "Tell it to the Chaplain" recalls my chaplain experiences in the hospital, hospice, and the military.

 

The last section of "Tell it to the Chaplain" tells the story of Chispa Project, so I especially hope you'll read that one. Thanks to readers like you, we've reached over 22,000 kids in Honduras get their first books by creating school libraries with my daughter's charity. 

 

To say thank you, and "spark" you into action one more time, my family and I will be matching all reader donations up to $5,000 postmarked between now and Giving Tuesday on December 3. I hope you'll take up my challenge for this ambitious goal.  You can donate online at www.chispaproject.org/chaplain or send a check made to "Chispa Project" to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.

Every $100 gives 4 kids a school library, training their teachers and parents, and providing books, shelves and colorful, painted murals. There are no words that can completely describe the joy that fills a child's face when they hold their first picture book.  It's why I go back year after year to volunteer. (Details for 2025 volunteer trips at www.chispaproject.org/volunteer)

 

Finally, know that I'm not completely retired. I remain the pastor of Community Church, Nevada City, CA. It's a little country church of two dozen in California's Sierra Gold Country. They've been patient with me, but they miss me when I travel at least 8 Sundays a year as grandkids and foreign adventures keep calling.

 

Keep me in your prayers and thoughts, as I will for you. Thank you, for your faithful reading and support.

 

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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.

 

 

Vet Day weekend Column

Say More Than, "Thank for your service."

 

This Veterans Day, I want you to do more than just thank a veteran for his or her service.

 

As a veteran of 28 years, I want to challenge you to go beyond patriotic rhetoric by asking some specific questions of the veterans you encounter.

 

First, ask us what we did in military service. Don't worry – our stories aren't just about bombs and bullets and boats. 

 

For instance, most of us would love to tell you about how we deployed on more than a few humanitarian missions.

 

If you ask, we'll tell you about operations like "New Horizon," where we built schools, clinics and playgrounds all over South America.

 

Some of us can tell you about cleaning up New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, while others will tell you about flying into countries devastated by earthquakes or tsunamis. 

 

Ask us what we did, and we might recollect building runways in the desert, pitching tents in the jungle, setting up communications links in the Australian outback, hot-loading planes and launching satellites that give you the cable TV you enjoy. 

 

Get us talking and we'll tell you about fixing planes, loading planes, flying planes, jumping from planes, fueling planes in flight.

 

As a chaplain, I can tell you about the blessings I prayed over planes as well as the blessing I had of walking away from one that crashed. 

 

This generation of service members might lose you in their technical talk, but I assure you they are proud to mention the satellites they control, the drones they fly and the cyber warfare in which they engage. 

 

After you ask them about what they did, ask them where they've been.

 

They'll likely share their version of Johnny Cash's song, "I've Been Everywhere." 

 

They've filled passports doing temporary duty in places like Antigua, Ukraine and Djibouti on the Horn of Africa.

 

They've flown planes over the North Pole, landed them on the South Pole and navigated submarines under both.

 

And yes, they've even spent some time in "dark sites" that "don't exist." 

 

They've shivered with their families on assignment in Minot, N.D. and spent a few sweltering years in Fort Huachuca, Arizona.

 

My family loved the two years they spent in Izmir, Turkey, while other military families enjoyed the island seclusion of Guam or the Azores.

 

A few lucky ducks will regale you with stories of embassy duty in Paris, London or Madrid. 

 

But if you want to go deep, ask them what it means to have served.

 

If you listen well and they think you're interested, they just might tell you. 

 

But it's just as likely they won't be able to tell you. It's just as likely that their voice will hitch, their eyes will mist and they'll turn away from that question.

 

Don't get me wrong. They're proud of the things they've done and they want to share them with you.

 

But I caution you: There are some things they won't share.

 

Taking an oath to obey the legal orders of those appointed over them meant that they also did the unimaginable and for some the unspeakable.

 

I know because they told their chaplain.

 

They told me about the lives they couldn't save and the lives they had to take. They've shown me their physical wounds and they've bared their moral wounds. 

 

Thankfully, the stories of most servicemembers run the course of everyday life; albeit a life of transfers every two or three years, endless inspections and exercises, family separations and making ends meet on military pay. 

 

It was a life of long ago, but it was life from only yesterday.

 

Ask us and we'll tell you. 

 

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Please join my mailing list so we can stay in touch. Either sign up online at https://thechaplain.net/newsletter/ or send me a direct email at comment@thechaplain.net.

.

 

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.

 

 

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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Please join my mailing list so we can stay in touch. Either sign up online at https://thechaplain.net/newsletter/ or send me a direct email at comment@thechaplain.net.

 

 

 

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.