Every now and then I get a random piece of mail to my home or to the church, and it comes at the perfect time and perfect opportunity.
Christmas was a crazy time of year for both me personally and for the church as a whole. It seems like it wasn’t November 29th before my calendar was already overflowing with appointments and urgent to do items. With so much on my individual plate, and wanting everything to flow together and comfortably for the church, it’s easy to see, in retrospect, things becoming untied.
Usually, flopping down on the couch at 10pm after moving at a lightning pace for 15 hours is sign enough, but even then,…too often I don’t listen. Its only when the nerves get truly frazzled or you start walking perilously close to burnout that you realize.
Yet, God has a whopper of a sense of humor. For me, it seems to always be in that moment when God reaches his giant divine arm and flicks me with his finger.
God asks, with the flick mind you, are you paying attention? Every now and then those flicks come with a conversation, an email, a phone call or a letter. I have to recent receipts that I feel the need to share. The first is from a man whom I have renamed as “Arthur”.
Dear Pastor Scott,
I wanted to send you and your church this letter as a thank you. Over three weeks in November I found myself in need of the food from Joan’s Pantry.
Up until June of this past year, I had worked at a small manufacturing company on the outskirts of Brattleboro. In May, I was told that the company would be closing its doors.
Although I should have been more prepared considering my age, I was caught off guard. Although I managed to find a minimum wage part time job almost immediately, I had to leave after I was in an automobile accident and suffered a somewhat serious back injury.
Within no time my savings ran out, and I found that I could just barely afford rent and car payments.
I didn’t realize how bad it would become until I started to struggle to feed my family. Not only did I feel like a failure, I felt like half a man. I was embarrassed and I was ashamed.
I reached my breaking point the week I first visited Joan’s Pantry in Chesterfield. I am not sure why I waited so long, but perhaps I was afraid to admit that I needed help. I realized that it wasn’t going to be all that bad, that afternoon.
When I walked in I didn’t feel like a welfare case, and I was met with smiles from those I assume to be volunteers. They were laughing, were overly generous with the food on the shelf, and made me, for the first time in many months, feel okay. As I was leaving they talked me into a thanksgiving meal order.
On thanksgiving we were able to have an everyday celebration thanks to the food pantry’s generosity. I hope that I can stress to you just how much this has meant to my family and I, and you know what a good thing you do. I have enclosed $5.00, and although it is not a lot I wanted to say thank you.
With thanks, Arthur.
A pastor friend asked me the following question, and its haunted me ever since. I ask it of you this morning: Ever get so lost in the coming and the going, in both your regular everyday life and in the church that you soon become more about the doing, then the reason why?
Christmas was a crazy time for every one of us. If we were to stop and take stock of how much extra we have done over the past month, I imagine we would shake our head. Did the Christmas Cards go out? Did we buy Aunt Edna that gift? Did I schedule little Suzy’s winter concert? Was Christmas all that I planned and dreamed of?
After I read a letter like Arthur’s I start to wonder.
Truth be told, I speak a good speak.
I say all the right words from the pulpit on Sunday. I have spent the Christmas season trying to convince you to be different. Yet, if it so easy for me to lose sight of what the holiday and faith is all about, just how easy will it be for the rest of us? I needed to remind myself of what of what is important long before I start to frazzle. Too bad I don’t.
Now that Christmas is past, what did it mean and I wonder what faith means to Arthur?
Was Christmas a moment for Arthur where the world shut off?
Was Arthur’s Christmas like the Masters?
Was it three, four, or five weeks of hustle and bustle; rushing to and from… all coming to its climax in a moment of silence, and peace?
What were the three or four or five weeks of hustle and bustle like for Arthur? Did his family have that one moment, where all the noise of the world shut off for too few hours, and they just spend time as a family, enjoying one another.
Or was there sadness? Was there an awkward conversation with a child about why the space under the tree was empty, or why there is no tree?
Was there enough money for oil for the furnace, or wood for the woodstove?
What was Christmas like for the family that works harder and harder each day, but never gets closer to being okay. What was Christmas like for the family that could never make ends meet?
What were they eating this Christmas at Arthur’s table?
When they drove past the church did they see people reaching out or people that had forgotten?
So for a moment, I slow down and I think about Arthur. I think about Jesus. I think about faith. I think about the lessons I should have learned. I think about the issues I can fix, and those I cant. I think about the light of the past season, and ask if it still remains?
Then I think about the Christmas Lights that keep falling off that tree in the front of my house. I need to take them down before the snow comes. Maybe I need a new box to put them in. I decide to add it to my list. Then I start thinking about my January to do list. I think of the new year’s resolutions and the things that were put on the back burner for the month. In no time flat the frazzle returns.
This time I find myself at my desk with a pile of envelopes. The first is from the District Committee on Ministry who wants me to submit all thirty odd pages of my annual self and ministry assessment. I grumble and moan. I open another to see that there is a whole set of reports due on Thursday that need fresh statistics and new signatures.
I start thinking about when I can squeeze these fresh things into my schedule. Work is busy, so there is not a great deal of free time there. I have meetings coming up all over the state. Again, I grumble.
Finally, I hit a pile of paperwork that sat dormant on my desk for a week or so.
On top is an application we recieved for assistance for help buying toys for this past Christmas.
I should have seen the Divine finger reaching down to flick me again, because in that moment God basically said;
“Im not letting you forget this easy”
There attached to that fancy dancy form was that letter, attached by a parent. It was a Christmas wish list written in the words of a child. It is from a little girl named Jamie.
Dear Santa,
My name is Jamie, and I am 6 and a half years old.
I like purple, blue, green, and pink but purple is my favorite.
I have been very good this year and would like you to think about bringing me a Monster doll, cupcake makers, or lip gloss. Mommy says I could also use a new hat. I like Junie B. Jones and Penguins.
Do you have snow yet on the North Pole?
I have been good and not been in trouble too much. If you could bring me something I would like that.
But if you don’t have the stuff I asked for, Mommy and Daddy both need to work. They say that we might have to move back with Grandma, so work is what I most ask for…and monster dolls.
Merry Christmas and I will cookies for you on the counter.
Love, Jamie.
Again, have you ever get so lost in the coming and the going, in both your regular everyday life and in the church that you soon become more about the doing, then the reason why?
As I read Jamie’s letter I started to wonder.
Now that Christmas is past, I wonder what Christmas was like for that little girl?
Did she wake up on Christmas morning like my little girls woke up on Christmas morning?
When she closes her eyes and pictures that moment, what does little Jamie see?
Does she see an empty tree and wonder what she did wrong?
Was there a moment when everything is perfect, clean, hopeful, full of promise, that disappeared almost as quickly as it arrives.
For a moment, I slow down and I think about Christmas. I think about Jesus. I think about faith. I think about New Year’s resolutions. I think about that stable. I think about the light. I think about what all this should be about.
I start to wonder.
What was under Jamie’s Tree this Christmas?
What was on Jamie’s table this year?
Thankfully, because what occurs through the mission and ministry of Asbury Church, I can answer some of those questions, as they pertain to Jamie or Arthur. They got turkeys, and they got potatoes, and they got toys under the tree.
Jamie and Arthur are different, because there are others who have figured out, at least to some degree, that life, faith, and Christmas is not just about “what’s in it for me.”
Don’t get me wrong there are still a lot that we need to figure out. We need to figure out each and every day if we are doing this faith thing right. We need to figure out how faith travels beyond December 25th. We need to figure out how we can be Christmas people in January.
We need to understand how we address a world incredibly broken. We need to ask the questions again and again and again.
How do we become the face of faith, to the child who believes that hope and joy is for someone else?
How do we become the face of faith to the woman who equates love to a backhand, abuse or betrayal?
How do we become the face of faith to the man locked behind bars because of a series of bad decisions?
How do we become the face of faith to the woman whose cancer is slowly winning?
How do we become the face of faith to the 13 year old girl shivering at a bus stop because she lacks a jacket?
How do we be the face of faith to a child who’s parents will sold the gifts they received from an a caring mission or ministry this past Christmas?
How do we become the face of faith to the individual who walks into the food pantry looking for free food because it means they can buy more beer or more cigarettes?
How do we become the face of faith to a someone who is so hell bent on scamming the system that they don’t realize their efforts are actually bringing them lower and lower and lower.
How do we become the face of faith to the Good and the Needy as well as to the Bad and Greedy? And How do we not grow cynical, angry, and cold hearted in the process.
I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. Yet, there are some things I do know.
There are times I find myself frustrated and burnt out. There are times I want to throw in the towel, or shake someone. There are certainly times I find myself angry. Yet,…It is precisely those very moments when God reaches down with his great big divine hand and with his divine finger, flicks me firmly in the ear.
Its in that moment, that I can hear him say, as clearly as anything;
“ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION TO ME SCOTT? JUST KEEP ASKING THE QUESTIONS! THAT’S HALF THE BATTLE!”
You can disagree, but I contend that the miracle of this past Christmas is something that many of us who walk strongly in faith tend to miss.
I contend that Easter and Christmas morning are days where the whole world slows down. For many of those who would otherwise never listen, there is enough silence around them for God’s whispers to be heard or his screams to be recognized. In the end, that for me is the Christmas and Easter Miracle that runs so prevalent in our families, communities, and neighborhoods.
If that is indeed the case, then I think, as people of faith, the most important thing becomes not what we do, or where we find ourselves on Christmas morning, or any given Sunday throughout the year for that matter… but how we work in contributing to the stillness and the silence of our Holy moments.
If you agree, then for us, we can’t miss our chance to listen to the whisper.
We need to make sure that over the new year the hope, the joy, the peace, and the love we preach about and work for during December silences the ugly voices in the world around us, all year long.
Go home this week, and in the middle of your hectic schedules and your efforts to start the year off right, and find a quiet corner and close your eyes. Ask God what’s next? Ask God how can we make things different for my neighbors, for the stranger, for my spouse, for my community, and for my kids… and be sure to listen for his answer.
Know that someone is searching for the moment when the world silences and it could be you.
Know that it is this time when we can be assured that we can be something better.
We can love differently.
We can serve differently.
We can give differently.
We can worship differently.
We can be different.
We can experience a different Christmas, and we can experience it well after Christmas ends.
(Please note: This was a message originally delivered prior to the Christmas holiday, but reformatted to apply to a new year. Additionally, please remember the economic ministries of Asbury Church are a year round mission and ministry, if you would like to support these ministries, and would like to know how you can help, please send me an email. The picture above is from Alireza Teimoury, CCL 2011. God Bless, Scott)
Forgiving Michael Vick
I want to take a quick moment, and show you all one of the gifts that I got for Christmas. This is a fantastic gift that will take my neurosis to a whole new level. It’s called the NIKE PLUS Sports Band. I want to take a moment and show you all just how cool this gift is.
It is all built around a tiny little device, called the Nike Plus.
Along with this little gadget you need an incredibly flashy pair of running shoes, like these:
(Note: Besides being almost obnoxious in color, don’t they look fast to boot?)
Now, here is the genius of the plus; you pull out the insole of your shoe and insert the device and you can get all kinds of data, wirelessly beamed up to your wrist.
Then you pull a USB adapter out; plug it into your computer, and instantly all your runs, calories burned, effort, mileage and pace are wired up to cyberspace for safe keeping and bragging rights.
At first it seems too easy to be true, but it works. All you have to do is enter your height, weight, and age, take a few steps, and boom! It tells you, that you are ready to run. Somehow it counts the number of steps you take, calculates everything you need to know.
You should see me with this thing going. I try to fool it at the gym, by taking extremely small steps to convince it, that I have run a marathon, but somehow it knows. Like I said, it brings my neurosis to a brand new level.
The NIKE Plus Sport Band and Snazzy Shoes are like the ALMOST perfect gift for runners. I say ALMOST because in the end it is a NIKE product, and I have an enormous love hate relationship with this company. If you have ever talked to me about Nike in the past, you would know how angry I was with something Nike did a little over two years ago.
I very deliberately made the decision almost a year ago to shed all my NIKE products due to their endorsement of Michael Vick. It wasn’t so much that I did not believe in the ability for a man to make good on past crimes, but rather spoke to my disappointment with NIKE.
It started long before Vick came crashing front and center. Well over two decades ago, NIKE found themselves as part of the sweat shop scandals of the mid 1980 and 90s. It turns out they had deliberately chosen to manufacture their shoes in some of the poorest places of the world, and do so for pennies a shoe. Instantly my stomach churned at the thought. Shame on them, I thought. I started to see them as the proverbial face of evil, corporate America.
Yet, amidst the pressures of an angry shoe buying public, NIKE started to change. They were one of the first companies to create large departments with large budgets focused on Social and Corporate Responsibility. The changes were quick and impactful. Millions upon millions of dollars has left the coiffeurs at Nike and made its way to underdeveloped countries, non profits, inner city missions, and schools across the globe.
They soon became the example of what a company could be. Although far from perfect, they were trying. In the end, I found that refreshing. In the end, all we could do is ask that others try; try to be different and to make a difference.
Then, enter Michael Vick.
Vick was the new face of the National Football League and a role model for millions. His was a story of a young boy growing up in the Ridley Public Housing Project in Newport News Virginia. His parents were on welfare, and on his front stoop drive by shootings, drug dealing and violence were common place. As a kid he dreamed of being a professional fisherman, as fishing was his escape from the violent neighborhood he grew up in. He used to put his hook into the dirtiest of water, just to be away from his neighborhood. Eventually, he chose football over fishing.
At football he was a star. He was drafted by Virginia Tech, broke all kinds of record and started to grow in popularity. He was third in the Heisman Trophy balloting while in college, and he was drafted first overall in 2001 by the Falcons. Atlanta quickly started building a team around him.
Sadly, a great deal of it, if not all of it went to his head. Soon the size of his ego exceeded his talent. That is a dangerous situation.
Due to that enormous ego, the world was not entirely surprised when they learned that he was an investor in an illegal dog fighting operation with his cousin. The world was shocked, however, by the barbaric way he treated those dogs though. The cruelty of this man towards his dogs was immense, and he was eventually sentenced to 21 months in prison, and two months of house arrest for his crime. Along the way, he went bankrupt. He lost his career, his home, and the respect of a nation, if not a world. To be honest, there was little sympathy or compassion from me on this.
When he finished his prison sentence, he chose to start over. In 2010 he became the starting quarterback of the Philadelphia Eagles and was named the 2010 comeback player of the year, and was named to the Pro Bowl. As his reputation started to return so did the endorsements.
When NIKE signed him again, I was angry. I was mad that NIKE had made it back from the sweat shop scandals only to once again throw it all away with the likes of Michael Vick. It made me sick to my stomach.
I remember calling NIKE, telling them that all my NIKE gear would now be trashed…and that’s what I did. I was angry and there would be no way my hard earned income would find its way into NIKE or Vick’s pockets.
Today, now that it is two years later, and in my gym bag, I find two new NIKE products, I can’t help but ask had anything changed or did I just forget? Are my principles less intense than my desire to own the new fancy gadget? What happened?
Over the last few weeks, I have struggled with this.
It wasn’t until just recently that I started to remember that I am a follower of Jesus, who is a God of Second chances. I am a person who believes in the power of forgiveness and fresh starts. If I truly believe that, how can I reconcile what I believe with my anger and resentment towards both Vick and NIKE?
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. A few months ago, I remember a turning point. Like the rubber-necker at the accident scene, I decided to download the 10 episode documentary entitled “The Michael Vick Project” which televised his attempts to revive his career. In that series, I saw a genuine regret, shame, and desire to make things right and doubt started to creep in. I was still angry, but perhaps in watching that series, the ground work for my eventual return to the world of Nike was laid.
Don’t get me wrong, there is a foul taste that Vick still illicit in me.
Today, I see Michael Vick and I still see what he did to those dogs. I see in Vick, what is wrong with our country, our sons, and the sport that I love. I still get angry when I see the pictures of the saved dogs in a newspaper or magazine. Part of me is convinced that he got off easy in light of the fate of those dogs.
But… and there is always a but…
I also recognize something that NIKE seemed to have embraced that I, as a pastor and follower of Jesus failed to see.
When asked about the decision, NIKE officials issued a very clear cut response to the controversy, which I never discovered until much, much later;
“We, under no circumstance support or condone the past decisions of Michael Vick,” NIKE commented, “but sometimes forgiveness is only possible when another is willing to take a second chance.” They continued: “sure, we might hurt because of it, or we might gain immensely, but we believe we are called to be about second chances to people trying to make a change. Should we all be willing, now that we told Vick he was wrong, to listen to see if Vick has said he has heard? Truth be told the power of redemption is seen in proportional levels to how far the redeemed have fallen, and few have fallen further.”
So there we have it.
I read the statement and wondered.
I wondered why when I was calling for the life time imprisonment of Michael Vick, NIKE was able to act more like a Christian than I.
Sitting back and thinking about it, maybe there is finally SOME forgiveness on my part available to Michael Vick. At the same time, I think that point when I can freely give it is miles away. While I still look at him and see the face of a dog beater, I feel compelled, by the nature of my faith, to be willing to let him prove me wrong again. I feel compelled, while part of me, still wants the jury to be out a little while longer.
I want to be ready to offer Michael Vick forgiveness because I want to be more Christ like in my walk…but I still see the faces of those dogs.
I want to be ready to offer forgiveness for the vile acts of this man because if I can forgive a man that did this horrible things…but nothing directly to me….maybe,…just maybe… I can forgive those who did bad things to me….
Or maybe, better yet, I can forgive myself for the stupid things I’ve done.
I want to be ready to offer Michael Vick forgiveness because I want to experience what a life fully lived in Christ is like, and I can’t do that until I am willing to let go of the reality of all the past hurts, past mistakes, and past shames of my own life.
If I am ready to admit that freedom from the crap of the past is available to Vick, than its available to me too. When I close my eyes and see the images of the mistakes I’ve made I know that I want them gone. I won’t be able to fully recognize that ours is a God that erases the past guilt, embarrassment, and shame of all of our lives until I can offer it to myself.
Although I am ready, I am not there. Maybe part of me doesn’t want to forgive. I certainly cannot envision forgetting. Maybe it’s because there is something bigger than football, and fame. Maybe when I give my forgiveness to Vick, I can’t see past my own dogs… or maybe I can’t see past my own mistakes.
Maybe I am wrapping up forgiveness in the separate concept of fairness. Maybe I want more punishment and less love.
Then again, maybe its more about me not being ready to fully being ready to admit that I am a new creature in Christ, and as such there are implications and responsibilities due to that fact. Maybe I am not ready to let go of the same old same old.
Maybe I am hesitant to admit that I was made new, but that’s for me, and not Michael Vick.
I believe, with every ounce of my being, that forgiveness is more something we do for ourselves than for others. In the end, there is nothing easy about it. It’s hard and its unnatural. Maybe that’s precisely why we need to be about it. If it was easy and without effort, would it be worth doing? If I don’t accept the possibility of another being a new person, can I ever expect to view myself that way? When I see myself in the mirror do I see the man before my own Damascus road experience or the man after?
I wish that when I lace up my shoes on the sidewalk or in the gym and I see that swoosh, I didn’t think of Vick with each step. I wish I wasn’t thinking about the mistakes of years or decades past. I wish I wasnt thinking of those dogs.
God, I wish this entire faith thing was easier, amen.
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Posted by pastorscott2007 on January 20, 2012
http://jesseleeproject.org/2012/01/20/forgiving-michael-vick/