Praying With My Grandmother

Seldom do we have a life impacting experience. Events that could be called seminal would be even less frequent. This past summer I surely had one.

December 26, 2012, my paternal grandmother will turn 96 years of age. Her name is Dora Canup Mann. It is pretty astounding for me to even think about that. Long life has not been the hallmark of my family. My mother died at 41 and my father at 67. All of my other grandparents died at a relatively young age. So to be able to talk to my grandmother achieving this age is pretty amazing. (She is an astounding woman on multiple levels by anyone’s account, but that is the stuff for another entry.)

I have lived in a separate state from my family for over 35 years, so spending time with them is a rarity. This past summer while on vacation, I was able to visit her as usually try to do. This one was different than any visit in the past. I owe that in part to my cousin Beverly. She, along with a several other family members, has been one of the care givers for my grandmother. This gives her some very good insights into what makes my grandmother tick. Beverly commented to me about how important it was for her to be touched and held. (I am reminded that this is actually true for most elderly folks.) As she was talking I realized, to my dismay, I had not done that nearly enough with my grandmother.

When visiting her later that evening, she was not feeling well and was in her bed. She sat up when I came in and I sat beside her. I then reached over and held her hand and just slowly stroked her hand and her arm as we talked. This lasted for half an hour to 45 minutes. My wife Kay and grandson Gavin were in the room for a while, but after a few moments they excused themselves. It was far and away the most intimate experiences I have had with this very important woman in my life.

When it was time to leave, I said something that astounds and shames me even today that I have never done it before. I asked her if we could pray together. We placed ourselves where our faces were touching and I prayed aloud. I do not recall everything I prayed for, but it was for our family, for all of my cousins and their children, for my uncles, and so on. I then prayed for her. I prayed for God to look out for her. I thanked God for caring for her through others. I prayed for God to care for her as long as he allowed her to be with us. I thanked God for my grandmother and the impact she has had upon my life. She then began to pray as well. She prayed for, me and my family. She prayed for our safe travel home. She thanked God that a grandson of hers was in ministry, something that was very important to her I could tell. The experience was so moving to me that tears well up in my eyes as I write this some four months later.

The next day I returned to see her again before I left town. Gavin came with me. He played with some children of my cousin Ed, who lives with her, while I spent time with my Grandmother alone. She was still not feeling well and was lying in her bed. I knelt beside her bed. I placed my face close to hers. For the next half an hour we just talked while I gently stroked her arm. I do not remember exactly what we talked about. It really does not matter. We were together.

When it was time to leave, while I was still kneeling beside her as she lay in her bed, we prayed together again. This time was with more ease and more passion than the previous evening. These two times of prayer are without a doubt near the top of the list of the most significant moments of prayer in my entire life. I was changed by those two days.

I owe thanks to Beverly for pointing out to me that touch was important to her. I told my wife the other night, I am not sure why I did not realize it before. Physical touch is one of my primary love languages. It is the first on Gavin’s list. It is the first on my son Richard’s list as well. I should have already known, but it took some reminding.

As important as that touch was, and is, I learned that for this woman who is by all accounts nearing the end of her days, prayer with her grandson and just getting in touch with God together was just as important. In addition to touch, prayer together is something else we now share.

A side note, it is ironic that I am writing this on December 11. This is the day that in 1999 my father died. I am the oldest grandson of her oldest son, who is no longer here. I am sure that fact is not lost upon her.

Election Season

I love that we have elections. I love the opportunity we have to vote for representatives in this country, some of whom actually turn out to be leaders. I have seldom missed an opportunity to exercise that voting privilege since I was 18 and voted in the Nixon / McGovern election. That has remained true even for me when I had to hold my nose while I voted. If you study our nation's history, you will see that "election season" has always been, shall we say, less than civil. Sometimes in the 1800's it was ugly and downright mean in ways that far surpass what we see in our era of attacking another person while remaining politically correct in our word choice.

That being said, I really dislike the 6 solid months of posturing by men/women of power seeking the one thing that men/women of power have always sought . . . more power. Issues are raised and ignored, on pretenses quite often, when in reality most often it appears it is just about getting elected.

In an attempt to view this from a theological perspective, I pose the following question  for personal pondering: Are we seeing ourselves played out before our eyes? Are we simultaneously seeing both the image of God that is in all of humanity and the depravity of humanity that comes from what sin has done to all of us on display in a very public manner?

How Times Have Changed OR Temporal Viewpoints

This summer I had the privilege of being giving the invocation and closing prayer at the Fourth of July celebration for the VFW in the town where I was pastoring. It was an honor.

While the normal events were moving, the parade, the veterans, etc. two things stood out. The high school young lady who won the annual American Heritage Award really showed how times have changed.

The first thing that stood out was that she was 100% oriental. She was attractive, did a nice job and presented herself well, but it revealed a true changing of the culture racially in America for her to receive the American Heritage Award. I am not being critical in any form. I am simply making an observation.

Her words were likewise telling. She spoke of how wonderful the country is and how you can accomplish so much her with so little to begin with. Her two primary (and only) examples: Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg. They are not any of the normal historical figures usually associated with such comments. If the first item I noticed showed a racial shift has occurred. This one shows a age or generational shift has likewise occurred.

Times have indeed changed.

The Death of Andy Griffith

Kay and I were discussing yesterday the vast amount of Internet traffic and incredible number of Facebook posts regarding the death of Andy Griffith. I have seldom seen anything like this. It got me to wondering just what was it that attracted him to the general public. He did not fit the typical actor mold. He was seldom political or out front on any contentious subject. So, why all the interest?

While Andy Griffith had multiple iterations of his acting career, including Shakespeare, outdoor theater, and a gig in comedy, he is most well-known for the roles of Sherriff Andy Taylor and Matlock. His most famous role was clearly the small town sheriff in the television series that carried his own name. If you think about it, in many ways, Matlock was an older and even wiser Taylor.

Still I ask, what drew people to him and why did folks feel the loss in such a personal level? I have tried to speak my thoughts on that question here. I know it was a part of many of our “childhood,” but I think it goes deeper.

Southern Cooking Made Genuine

I am a southerner. I was born there. It was and is in my blood. Now, I have loved living 1/3 of my life in the north. I love the people here. I love  my home here, I love my various ministries here. However, even at that, they remind me often of where I am from. I am not longer offended. I am proud of that piece of my heritage. Having grown up in North Carolina, I remember being so happy to see a program on the black and white television that was set in North Carolina, albeit a fictitious town in North Carolina. It gave us a feeling of credibility I guess.

Andy was from the south. Why is that an important part of his allure? For one thing, Andy could make fun of us southerners because he was one. He could talk about the south with sincerity, because he was part of it. There have been many actors who have played southerners, but deep down the southerners did not really respect it. It was sort of like Amos and Andy pretending to be African American to us. African Americans did not take them seriously, because they were not black.

Andy poked fun at the folks in the south and our way of doing thing and did so in a way that was not offensive, because he was part of it. It was in his blood as well as ours.

Loving and Challenging Acceptance

I think the real genius of Andy Griffith’s characters lie here. He accepted peoples where they were and as they were but was not content to leave them that way.

It did not matter if it was Otis, or Floyd, or Barney, or Gomer, or Goober, or Opie, or Helen or Aunt Bea, Andy accepted them for who they were and what they were. His character may not have approved of the other character’s behavior (e.g. Otis and his alcoholism) but he loved and accepted them. At the same time, there was this challenge to move and live beyond whatever it was that needed addressing. It may have been oh so subtle, but it was there.

This is an important lesson to me. As a Christian minister, is that not how I should behave? Shouldn’t I accept people where they were, but not be content for them to remain there? Is that not what Jesus does for me? He accepts me as I am, but he is not content to leave me as I am.

If I learn no other lesson from the character that was Andy Taylor, that would be enough. Enough indeed.

Scarecrows and PC

These Federal "Reports and Continuations" are killing me time wise, but we all need  break time and again.

Last weekend, The Wizard of Oz was on the tube so Gavin and I sat and watched a bit of it. We own it, but it still  captures you in the story. I noticed something on the TV edited version we were watching. In the original  movie there are a couple scenes where the Scarecrow is caring a handgun. It is while they are headed to get the broom of the wicked witch. He was obviously not very good with it since no one is hurt except him! He is totally dismembered and has to be rebuilt. On the TV version we saw, those portions were edited out. Gavin and I both looked  for them to joke about it. (Please, no lectures on handguns. He and I have talked at length about this subject.)

That got me to thinking, does editing out portions of old movies you do not agree with make revisionist history? Are we changing something that "was"  because in our day things are totally different? Did you hear the uproar resurface last week during the Titanic's 100th anniversary regarding the wealthy getting on lifeboats and the poor (steerage) not? I am not agreeing with this, but in the early 1900's the world worshiped the wealthy much like we do celebrities today, thus making it: "Well, of course they get on the lifeboat," in the minds of some.

This  plays into our reading of Scripture as well.  I am doing a message series in my church on the Book of Ruth and the world was just different then. Not better, just different. We have to be careful not to "revise" what we read into what we think it should mean. This is especially true when applying principles from these passages.

Let's not be too quick to judge folks who lived before us because we are "more enlightened," or have more facts. If the Lord does not call everyone out of the pool, in less time than we care to admit, we will be the ones folks are looking back on and having our behavior judged by another standard.

Generosity and a 9-year Old

Gavin (my 9-year old grandson) has a heart that is very pure when it comes to caring for others in need. He comes home quite often and asks us to pray for a friend at school who has fallen, has hurt himself, has a family member who is sick, and many other things. He will share details about why this is important to him and why it impacts the individual. He has prayed with us many times for our friends in Tennessee whose 28 year old daughter is having surgery for a brain tumor. He has never even met Katie! No doubt he care partly because he has seen it modeled for him, but at times it goes beyond that.

Let me give you a case. In Gavin's room he has three glass jars. They are labeled "Spending" "Saving" and "Giving." Each week he takes his $2 allowance and places $1.50 in spending, .25 in saving and .25 in giving. We have done this for years with him. (Kay and I both actually wish we had been better at this with our three adult children.)  In any event, he has witnessed us, and heard us talk about giving of our income to ministries, our church, the less fortunate, and overseas. (We support three children through World Vision in Africa.) There are some weeks, many in fact, where Gavin has said, "I want to put all my money in giving." He has earned extra money for report cards, etc. and portions have gone into the "giving jar."

Now back to my case. Some time back (over a year I imagine) Gavin began talking about the advertisements on TV for the children at St. Jude Research Hospital in Memphis. He said to us once, "They have a different kind of cancer than you had Annmomma, and they are just kids!"

This concern for those kids continued until he came to us last fall and said he wanted to take the money from him "giving jar" and send it to St. Jude to help the children there. How do you say "No" to a pure generous heart like that? He and I counted his money out, and went to purchase a money order with his money for $55.00. (Think how long it took him to save that $55.00 even adding in extra at times.)

I had him write a letter to St. Jude, in his hand writing, explaining why he gave this money. I wrote a cover letter giving them the information. He signed his money order; we put it in an envelope and away it went to Memphis. I wondered if we would hear anything.

I learned that St. Jude did not know what to do with this gift and its donor.

In late December I received a letter, mailed to ME from St. Jude. It was thanking me for my gift to St. Jude in honor of Gavin Mann. They totally missed what had happened.  I did not give it . . . Gavin did. (I also think they missed a golden fund raising opportunity, but that is another subject entirely!)

Now, I have not told Gavin the results of this event since we mailed it. I did tell him we received a thank you letter and he was pleased, but unfazed by it. He gave from a sincere and a pure heart out of his ability to someone in need that was laid on his heart.

I have to admit, I was, and am, challenged by the purity of his heart and the generosity displayed by this 9-year old boy. I was, and am, convicted of my need to care more for others. I imagine you are also.

Joe Paterno and My Faith

This week will be the funeral service for Joe Paterno. I have kept pretty quiet about this entire series of events over the past fall, but finally feel it is time to state some of my opinions, for me if for no one else.

Let me begin with a few disclaimers. First of all, I am not and have never been a Penn State fan. I am originally from North Carolina, so I hold no particular allegiance there. The truth be told, I actually dislike Penn State from an athletic perspective. I have always however had great respect for Joe Paterno as a person. I have admired him from afar. I say that because I have no particular axe to grind here in relation to the school.

Secondly, and I say this in spite of the sports writer pundits who keep saying, “It is about the kids who were molested.” Let’s not forget the kids. Yeah, and let’s not forget the ratings either.

I am not in any way putting down the impact of what happened to those kids. Lest you doubt those words and say, “You cannot understand what it is like to be sexually molested by an adult.” Well, actually, yes I can. You see, I myself and a victim of sexual abuse. I experienced this when I was a young adolescent, so I know full well what that feels like to be in a position where an adult abuses you and you feel powerless to say or do or feel anything. So you do not say, or do or feel anything.

I am not an impartial observer when it comes to this issue. I know it is horrific beyond words. It is indefensible and should never ever ever occur. But it does. As bad as it is, it is not unforgivable. I myself had to forgive those who were responsible for my abuse when as an adult I came to grips with what had happened. I confronted one of the responsible parties in order to state that forgiveness. This entire incident has caused me to relive some of those moments in my mind, and be hurt again, but I released the anger years ago and have never picked it back up.

Back to my thoughts on the Joe Paterno situation. The day this entire episode broke, I told some co-workers that Joe would be dead within a year. This was before it was released that he had cancer. I just knew it. The job, and the people around it, was who he was. His family and the football team were all he cared about. When that was taken away, and he was terminated for a “neglect” that he himself wishes has never happened, the clock began to tick. The following week, I had the church where I serve to take some time praying for Penn State, for the coaches, for the leaders and for the young men who were molested.

I am not going to write a new exposé or bring up and angles you have not thought of before, but I want to hinge my thoughts on two questions and go from there.

Question #1: How did we get to the point that we define someone’s life by their worst moment?

I am not making light of what APPEARS to be Joe Paterno’s failure to follow up further in a situation that should have been followed up on. I have read so many articles where folks talked about his deeds and caring that were beyond selfless. He cared for others. He gave to others. He was a man of wonderful character. But for this one incident he would have received accolades in Happy Valley that would be tough to match.

It is amazing for me now that we are taking an 85 year old man’s life and summing it all up in one incident. One terrible oversight. One horrible neglect. But one out of thousands if incidents in his life.

When I look at Scripture I see people with great lives who had horrible acts of failure and then I read where God calls them righteous or even better. How does that happen? How can Abraham, Moses and David, repeat liars and murderers, be called “the friend of God,” "the most humble man on the earth," and “a man after God’s own heart?”

It is a matter of perspective . . . ours versus God’s. We view life in linear fashion. We see how a life is lived out one incident after another. We have a difficult time doing anything else. We are bound up in our temporal world. Time limits us. We have a hard time stepping back since we live in time. This makes us see the most recent items more clearly than the more distant.

God is not bound up by time. God created time. This allows God to view our life in panorama. God sees us as a child and as an adolescent as a young adult and as an older adult at the same time. God sees our entire life at once. God does not see one incident after another like we do. This perspective difference allows him to judge a life “as a whole,” and not by the latest act.

I wish we had more of that. It may allow us to see Joe Paterno’s life in more clear perspective. It would not make the incidents a decade ago any more right, or any less heinous, or resolve anyone of deserved guilt, but it would give a man’s life perspective.

Question #2: What would Jesus say about this entire situation?

This question is just as tough as the first one. Jesus had some serious words to say about anyone who harms a child. He used harming a child as an illustration of harming a child of his. The words Jesus directed at those who harm children, are arguably the harshest words to come from his mouth. He made his thoughts pretty clear on the matter.

While that is true, Jesus also spoke about faith and forgiveness always being available when it is genuinely requested. He told a man who was wicked and breathing his last breaths that he would be with him in paradise later that same day.

If Jesus were here, he would in no way make light of the horrible incidents that appear to have transpired. I also do not think he would allow us to sit in condemnation of anyone from a morally superior position, because we are not in one, no matter how much we may feel we are.

Is there a legal process to play out? Yes. Are the consequences for such horrible acts of violence? Of course. But let us be careful that we do not put ourselves in a position higher that we ought to  while this plays out.

I am very saddened by the entire sordid affair. It dredges up pain from my past, but it also reminds me of forgiveness I was able to extend and still extend today.