“I’m Okay. I’m Just Tired.”

“I’m okay. I’m just tired.”

I don’t know what you usually say if you’re ever a bit tired and down and, truth be told, as you look around at our world and society, deeply disappointed.

But that’s what I say. To others and to myself at those times. I hope most folks don’t think of me as being depressive and depressing. I hope my tombstone has something engraved on it pointing to the real hope I absolutely believe is ours in Christ. But, yes, on some days, I figure that stone will say: “I’m okay. I’m just tired.”

Living in this world has always been tiring. And lots of people have had, and do have, things a lot harder than we do. I’m a wimp, and I know it. I should be far more grateful, and I know it. Which disappoints me in me a great deal.

No tribal warlord is hauling off my grandchildren. No “dear leader” is starving me so he can play with nuclear warheads. No sawed-off dictator is dropping bombs on my head and on daycare centers and hospitals while moaning to anyone who will listen (shame on us if we do) that he’s been seriously provoked and can’t be blamed.

“In times like these, it helps to remember that there have always been times like these,” a wise person once said. True, I think. But a lot of us do seem a bit more than usually tired. Stuff adds up. I hesitate to start listing much.

But, wow, when you think about it, in just the last few years… I’m talking about all of us here. Not even counting the individual challenges that come to each of us personally. Just a taste here. Serious racial strains and then riots, looting, and arson in summer 2020 in Oregon.  Such behavior is never defensible. Then the mess at the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021. No way that was defensible; it was shameful and pathetic. Oh, and the 2020-21 ham-handed withdrawal from Afghanistan. Disgusting.

And the politics connected? Pathetic. People, including chief executives, trying to defend the indefensible are always pathetic. In the military, generals presiding over serious wrecks on their watch are almost always held accountable by some combination of reduction in rank and pay, forced retirement, etc. I wonder why at the voting booth we don’t seem to hold Commanders-in-Chief just as accountable. I love the cartoon where one of our recent presidents (I’d make it two, and provide two horses) is handed the reigns of a horse: “Here’s a horse, pard, and there’s the sunset. You know what to do.” If only. How lobotomized and spineless do our political parties have to be to rush us, one more time, toward a choice in 2024 that the majority of Americans greet with as much enthusiasm as the choice between a near-fatal bout of hemorrhoids or half a dozen root canals?

Oh, and I almost forgot (not really, but I’d like to) about a little pandemic. Brutal and 10 out of 10 on the stress-scale, even before it was politicized.

So, are we all tired and a little depressed? And maybe a lot disappointed because, for some reason, we expected better? Yes.

I need to listen to the late Dallas Willard, one of the wisest spiritual mentors I can imagine. He warned, “You have only to ‘stay tuned,’ and you can arrive at a perpetual state of confusion and, ultimately, despair with no effort at all.” Ouch.

So, what to do?

Tune in much more and much more often to God’s wisdom in his word than to society’s idiocy always in our faces. Focus on what is good and permanent, not what is maddening and fleeting.

It wouldn’t hurt to demand with our votes some combination of wisdom, character, and integrity from politicians, even as we often remind ourselves to “trust not in powerful princes, mortals who cannot save” (Psalm 146:3). The psalmist goes on to say, basically, that they die quickly and decay into dust. I admit to indulging in a grim smile when one commentator recently used the term “actuarial arbitrage,” making the not very nice claim that leaders of both parties wouldn’t be all that cut up if a blood clot or myocardial infarction solved their 2024 candidate problem in a way that required no courage at all on their part. Nope, not nice, but true, I bet.

Remember my Dallas Willard quote? Jesus himself told his disciples long ago, as he was introducing a great parable in Luke 18, that “they ought always to pray and not lose heart.” So, how not to become cynical and deeply disappointed? Jesus tells us where to “tune in.” Keep praying, he says. And on a much lower level, I might suggest that, once you’ve done the above, it might be good to call a friend who could use some encouragement. Or go dig in the garden or mow the yard. Positive change. Small, but real.

And, of course, we do very well to remember our true King and the kingdom that can never be shaken. His really is “the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever.”

Oh, I so badly need to focus on that truth—if I want to have a healthy soul, the real and life-giving confidence of a child of God, and a much better epitaph than “I’m just tired.” 

You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2023 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“Don’t Forget to Say Grace”

Saying grace.

It’s an interesting term. What about . . .

Saying mercy. Saying hope. Saying love.

We don’t “say” those things. But we “say grace.” And we know exactly what we mean.

Wikipedia says that “the term comes from the Ecclesiastical Latin phrase gratiarum actio, ‘act of thanks.’” The article goes on to mention various biblical passages in which, no surprise, Jesus and the Apostle Paul pray before meals. For over two thousand years, “saying grace” before meals has been a sweet tradition for most Christians. I’ve not done much further research, but it seems that in Judaism, a benediction is most often said after the meal.

Various Christian traditions have used specific table graces. Most of us have taught our kids simple table graces. I remember an older and well-loved mentor, Dr. John Victor Halvorson, always leading us in the well-known, “Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest; let these gifts to us be blessed.” From what I’ve read, this sweet table grace is particularly prominent among North American Lutherans, though it has certainly spread much farther. Dr. Halvorson was Lutheran, for sure, but he was also Norwegian, and I’d wondered if his tradition might have had Norwegian roots. Anyway, I brought that table grace home with me, and my little family used it often.

And, of course, many of us pray more “spontaneous” table graces quite often. I wonder how many times my father said grace at our table as I was growing up in Amarillo. On the wall above the table hung a beautiful print of Warner Sallman’s “Head of Christ.” Beneath it, my dad and our family prayed.

However we thank God for his gifts and ask for his blessing, gratitude is the point.

May I pause here to chuckle a bit?

One of my blessings is having the best “birth order” imaginable. I was the fourth of five kids, but Mom and Dad had two families. Three kids first, and then fifteen years passed before my birth. Two years later, here came my third brother, the caboose, Child #5. My older siblings have always asserted that our parents were just tired after Jim and I came along, and we’ve always gotten away with a lot. Be that as it may (okay, they’re correct), I was the fourth kid but the firstborn of the second family. Fourth child license but also with some firstborn privilege. It doesn’t get better than that. Jim and I were along for the ride just for fun, and we’ve always considered that to be our job description.

For years, my brothers and I have been incredibly blessed to spend a bunch of good time with the older bros. (My sis passed away some years ago.) Twice a year, at least, for decades, we’ve gotten together at our maternal grandparents’ old place at Robert Lee, Texas. At a restaurant there, we discovered years ago a bit of a problem.

You see, our oldest brother, with (I suspect) the conscience that is his birthright as the true firstborn, is very committed to saying grace before meals, even at restaurants. My next oldest brother is equally convinced that Jesus meant it when he cautioned us about doing our “acts of piety” before men. For a year or two, I thought we might starve as we waited to plot a prayer course before the meal. Jim and I could go either way. But we were hungry.

Decades ago now, the older boys reached a compromise. Yes, we’d pray, but nothing long. And I must say, I agree that gratitude deserves a real place at any table, but a filibuster does not. Come to think of it, Dr. Halvorson’s prayer is a nice compromise. Saying grace is a good thing. It is a simple but rich reminder of the Source of all blessing. But let’s not stop there.

I like G. K. Chesterton’s approach: “You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and the pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in ink.”

Point well made. And well taken.

Grace to you and yours for a Happy Thanksgiving!

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Knowing When the Time Is Right

“When the time had fully come, God sent his Son” (Galatians 4:4).

Ten words in English. Thirteen in Greek. Packed full of enough wonder to fill the universe. I’m baffled by even the first phrase, and that’s the easier part.

A quick Internet search for “discerning the times” (it has a religious/biblical connotation) turned up a few good articles on plotting a wise course in our lives and culture.

I should also report that the majority of articles the search brought up didn’t pass my smell test. I think it takes very little discernment to know to be wary indeed of self-proclaimed “end of time” gurus, esoteric seminar speakers, and prophecy conference advertisements. “Hold on to your wallet and back away slowly; the circus is in town!”

I always find myself backing away whenever anyone begins using “God told me” or “the Lord has revealed to me” language. I suspect that “taking the Lord’s name in vain” by verbally writing checks with his unauthorized signature is at least as serious as using his name in a curse or punctuating conversation with “Oh” or “My” and attaching the name of the King of the universe. Anyway, the folks in my life whose spiritual maturity I most respect almost never use “spiritual-speak” to signal spirituality.

For most of us, knowing “when the time is right” for life course changes, even in rather small matters, can require wisdom, reflection, study, good counsel, and, yes, prayer. Then we make a decision and take action.

For more than a few decades, one of my brothers and I have been editing a little monthly devotional magazine. (We’ve both been blessed to serve churches that are supportive in this.) My brother Gene will soon have been editor/senior editor for 60 years. Almost 40 years ago, he asked me to come on board as managing editor. We both have written many issues, edited a few jillion articles by others, proofread our eyes out, and much more. For 20 years, he did it all. In our work together, he’s done the fundraising, circulation, and all the business. I’ve done the issue themes, planning, editing, layout, and design. (The fun part.)

I remember Gene’s passing to me what is now a bona fide historical artifact: a large bottle of rubber cement, complete with brush. Gene taught me how to conceive issue themes, assign and edit articles, and lay out an issue completely by hand—creating dummy layouts, cutting and pasting, and indicating typefaces, sizes, etc., all in handwritten notes, marking galley proofs, cropping/sizing photos, indicating colors and screens, and sending it all in multiple mailings back and forth to our printer.

I once started developing some TMJ (jaw) issues and realized that I’d been holding pens in my mouth as I was working on the layouts.

Then came—oh, thank you, Lord—the days of computer page-making and QuarkXPress and then Adobe InDesign. The whole thing done on my computer screen. Rubber cement and dummy layouts retired. Almost heaven!

I enjoy creating pages, adjusting fonts and lines (kerning, tracking, and leading), working with photos (Photoshop), and playing with designs. Editing on-screen. I like this even though I’m reminded regularly of how much I don’t know about this craft.

Some simple math reveals that I’ve created around 475 issues over the years. That’s a bunch of deadlines. I’m usually late (in every sense). For some reason, I do most of my editing and layout work in the evenings, often late in the evenings, laptop computer in lap. My family has been understanding.

So here we are. Gene’s tenure, 60 years. Almost 40 for me. It’s been a blessing for us brothers to work together and work well together. It’s been a good thing. But even good things end. So, when? That was a hard question. We’ve wrestled with this, but we think 60 years of publication is a nice number. Our swan song will be the June 2023 issue. At least, that’s our plan.

Do I need to tell you that this is a bit like burying a friend? But that’s where this “discernment of the times” thing comes in. We began to realize that ending on a high note and with a great deal of gratitude to God for writers, donors, readers, and encouragers of all sorts is the best way to end. I won’t bore you with more of our rationale. But this decision, at a good and un-pressured moment, feels right and appropriate.

For all of us, it’s true to say that good things have beginnings, but they also have endings. Knowing “the times” is important. Who knows what amazing new beginnings the Publisher of us all has in mind for you and for me?

“When the time has fully come,” I’m confident that we’ll know.

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Good Luck Signing In!

I guess I’m safe.

On my computer, I mean. My passwords for my online accounts are so strong that I can’t even get into half of my own accounts more than half of the time. And it takes so much time.

You need “two-factor authentication,” the computer security experts say. What that means is that even if I manage to remember my password, I still have to go to my mobile phone to get the code that they send, or, for Google, head over to YouTube and tell them, “Yes, I would very much like to sign on to my Google account, or Gmail, or whatever. Please, may I?”

Or, for financial accounts, such as my bank or a credit card company, I might be required also to answer questions about the last name of my first grade teacher, or the best/worst car I ever owned, or the name of my first dog.

Carmody, I remember. I’ll never forget Mrs. Carmody. That amazing fire-headed Irish force of nature was fiercely determined that not only can “all kids learn” (the modern mantra), all kids in her classroom had better learn. Or else! She even checked our fingernails each morning. No dirt allowed. And she wielded a ruler that she might have occasionally used for measuring but was certainly able to use for discipline. I owe that great lady a lot.

The worst car I ever owned? Not hard. An AMC Pacer. It was also the only brand new car we’ve ever bought. It looked like a tick, and it soon failed and deposited my wife in an inside-middle lane of Houston’s Gulf Freeway. You can’t even find those cars in wrecking yards now. But should I answer “AMC Pacer” or just “Pacer”?

The dog? I loved our family’s cocker spaniel, but even I can’t remember if the canine’s name was spelled “Bootsie” or “Bootsy.”

The sad thing is that I chose these questions/answers myself, and I still flunk once or twice on two out of three. Fail too many times, and you’ll be forced to wait for—well, I guess for the planets to align or something.  Or, worst of all, you’ll be required to create a new password. (You’re supposed to change those things often anyway. Right.)

When I realized that the password file I stored on my computer (you’re not supposed to do that) was up to thirty pages, I decided to go with “password manager” software. Great, but even my password manager has a “master password.” I forget it. Then I have to change it. Then I forget it again. I make a note of it (you’re really not supposed to do that) and keep it in our pitiful little “fireproof” safe where, after a fire, someone could find it. More likely, its ashes.

Or, my new computer offers, I could use my face or fingerprint to sign in. Fine. If my face and fingerprint are available. (You should read about this. You’ll find that asking a funeral director to save your pickled thumb—maybe in a jar in your safe—won’t work.)

I decided to try a physical digital “key” (mine’s called a YubiKey), but don’t lose that thing! And make sure it will work on your multiple devices. On some, you can just touch them. On others, well, you’ll need the proper key with the proper connection to plug into the proper port. Don’t forget the assortment of dongles you now must carry in your computer bag so that your various PCs, Apple devices, Android devices, etc., can be built with only one type of port each. And be sure to keep an extra key so that your heirs can find it melted in the aforementioned not-so-safe safe.

Yes, but I’m safe. Not safe from needing thirty minutes to access my bank account online. But safe.

Surely some nerd who can’t comb his hair but who can program a super-computer will one day find a better way.

I’m thankful that God’s children are invited to access the very throne room of heaven at any moment. He knows us. Recognizes our voices. Lets us in for a talk anytime. Two- or three- or four-factor authentication is not required.

No angel or door-keeping apostle will be asking, “What was your first car?” And I won’t have to remember if I should reply, “VW Beetle” or just “Bug” or just “VW” or just . . .

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Faith and Prayer, Healing and Rain

I’ve been thinking some more about this “rain thing.”

I recently wrote about rain—specifically, the heart-breaking, soul-sucking, economically disastrous lack thereof.

And, not long ago, I wrote a column about faith and healing, centering on the wonder-filled account in Mark 2. Jesus is teaching, and a paralyzed man is brought to him, carried on a mat by four friends. The room is so crowded that the only way they can get the man to Jesus is to cut a hole in the roof and lower him down. (A mess, I bet.)

What Jesus does is amazing on every level. First, he sees the faith of the “friends.” And then he says to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

The toxically religious leaders, always ready to throw cold water on any spark of joy lest a fire of it break out, immediately begin to grinch and grimace and, ironically, hit the nail on the head: Who does this guy think he is?! “Only God can forgive sins.” Bingo!

Then Jesus raises the ante. I paraphrase for brevity: “Which is easier? To forgive this man’s sins or to heal him and let him dance out of here? So you’ll know that I have authority to do the former, I hereby do the latter.” And he did.

In the column I wrote, I wondered what most folks might choose if we could only pick one: forgiveness or healing. Jesus asked, “Which is harder?” We might well ask, “Which is more important? Which is better?”

I know. So do you. If you think that means for sure that I know which I’d choose, your opinion of me is higher than my opinion of me.

This brings me to a little thought (maybe thin on a point or two) about rain, faith, and healing.

But, in general, it seems clear to me that God has set up the physics and biology of this world to work pretty predictably and well, though not always as I like. If I kick a door frame and break my little toe, both physics and biology are at work. Not God’s fault. But that my toe heals is his blessing and design. And the rain? It “falls on the just and the unjust” and follows the physical laws of creation. Most often, we’re blessed by it. But hail, floods, and such? Not so much.

Most of the time, I think, God chooses to answer our prayers by helping us deal with what is. And that is a very real answer, though I’d usually prefer “what is” to be changed to “what I want.”

But the fact is, Jesus prayed. He taught us to pray about any concern, any need. He taught us that prayer matters. Relationship matters. We’re kids. God is our Father. We can, we should, ask, and trust that our Father will answer by giving us what we need, what is the very best for us, now and forever.

And so, I pray. For others. For myself. For our world.

When I pray about health situations faced by my family, my church family, and others I love, I pray for healing, and I shoot for the moon, assuming that, since God invited me to ask, why not ask big?

And what about “answers”? That term seems subjective, but you know what I mean.

Do I sometimes get the answer I want? Yes. Always? Not even close. What about “flashy” answers? Rarely. The vast majority are, in my opinion, just as real but without obvious fireworks. (If I always need fireworks, is that less faith or more? Less, I think.)

Do I sometimes pray and then watch the health situation deteriorate, and then hate what looks like the end result? Of course.

But that I don’t see the whole picture, and that I too quickly assume that answers must be obvious to me in the “here and now” to be answers—well, that just proves my nearsightedness and that my basic assumptions about “effective” prayer are often quite wrong.

Am I assuming that great health and longevity here are always the best for me and those I love? I probably am. Is that correct? I doubt it.

But is that what I want? Yes! And I can be white-hot-angry when folks I love are hurting and my prayers seem to be bouncing off the ceiling.

God wants us to be honest about our feelings. Read the Psalms! Am I sometimes angry and disappointed? Yes. But I often need to be reminded that the Bible portrays God as the Father who loves us with a ferocity we can hardly imagine and who knows what needs to be built in us that is a much better “end product” than constant doses of health, wealth, and prosperity could ever produce. In my better moments, I know that I can trust him completely, even if I’m shooting up a hot prayer to heaven’s Complaint Department and my eyes are red with angry tears.

And now, let’s pause to pray for rain. Rain. Right now rain. Lots of it. Now. Please! Has it not been dry long enough!? Would rain right now not be among the very best blessings God could give us? Oh, yes!

I hate this drought, as my Father well knows. I’ve shaken my fist in the dirty face of the wind and used words saltier than “Peace! Be still!” To no avail.

But could it be that in the face of some deplorable meteorological physics, God can teach us something and build something in us that “rain on demand” could not? (Not that we’ve been anywhere close to “rain on demand.”)

One day, the rains will come (the real thing and not blowing mud), and I will thank him. But even I know that faith which just shows up when I’m in good health, enjoying a nice annual rainfall, and feeling warm, fuzzy, and (I’m afraid) spiritually a cut above my fellow mortals, is cut-rate faith. Not much faith at all. And not the kind my Father knows I need.

 

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Do Faith Healers Have Specialties?

Do faith healers have specialties?

Doctors do, of course. I’d not be surprised to find an LDP specialist available should you need a Left Distal Phalange doctor for your port side little toe.

Not that long ago, I could have used an RDP specialist for my fractured RDP, but my very excellent primary care/GP/family medicine physician and friend), since retired, was more than able to deal deftly with both left and right distal phalanges and anything else from head top to toe bottom. He also knew how my head might affect several different parts of me and when I needed it examined.

Yes, doctors have specialties. But, for some reason, I found myself wondering about faith healers and specialties.

Just so you’ll know, I’d never even consider “hanging out my shingle” as a faith healer. But, if I did, I’m sure I’d be more tempted to work with cancer or heart disease (or maybe headaches or upper respiratory infections) than amputations/prosthetics. If my “cure” rate became troublesome or I were accused of malpractice, I would (forgive me) just blame the patient.

“You have committed sin,” I could charge, and hit the mark since 100% of folks miss the mark.

“You need more faith,” I might say. Well, thanks, a patient who had limped in, crawled in, was carried in, might say. Do you know anyone who doesn’t need more faith?

Or I might say, “You not only need more faith, you need higher quality faith.” Guess what?  My patient already knows that, too, and now has the added burden (if he’s not very good at thinking) of thinking that folks with “Grade A” faith don’t get sick, have accidents, lose loved ones, see marriages fail, etc., so his faith must be “Grade B.” Deal with it and take two aspirin. Or not. If you have faith.

Or what if I, the malpracticing faith healer, said or implied, “You just need more faith, better faith, and better prayer technique, by which I mean exactly the right words, phrases, and formulae (incantations?). “Sure is a shame you or your loved one caught this malady, has this difficulty, is dealing with this loss, but if you or they just prayed with enough mental vigor and used exactly the right technique . . .”

Phooey.

Tough things happen. Bad things happen. Good people suffer. Bad people suffer. It’s far too simplistic to say that good people always prosper and bad people always suffer, and, if you’re suffering, you did something evil or wrong and certainly didn’t “do faith right.”

The simplistic—and wrong—answers are nothing new and are always tempting. Take a look at the Book of Job. Old Job and his friends (whom he could have done without) had the usual theories about his suffering—all sounded plausible, and all were wrong. The friends were, as Job called them, “worthless physicians,” but he also failed as a diagnostician, as God makes clear by the end of the book.

By the way, I don’t like suffering. And, by the way, if I am ill, I’d very much like to be healed. If Jesus would like to do an eye-popping miracle to accomplish that, I’m for it, and I know he can. If he chooses to use the “usual” methods which are just as much his blessing, I’m also for that.

I take it for granted that the Lord who sees when a sparrow falls really does care about “all” of us—the hairs on our heads, our left little fingers, livers, legs, kidneys, and all.

But here’s the thing: He seems to care most about our hearts, by which I mean, our souls.

I love the amazing account in Mark 2 where Jesus first heals a man spiritually and, only then, physically. He seems to think that the former is more important.

This fact brings to my mind a hypothetical question, admittedly flawed and one I doubt the Lord would force on the man in Mark 2 or on us, but what if the choice were between one or the other? Spiritual or physical healing? Not both. Hmm.

And, oh, do you need more faith? Me, too. But remember that Jesus seemed to esteem “faith as a grain of mustard seed” to be real faith, albeit quite small. For my part, I think most of us will be spiritually healthier and have greater faith if we avoid those who are sure that their own faith is quite large.

And prayer? It matters immensely, far more than we can imagine. Our Father has promised to hear and give us what we need. Just don’t forget that the best gift by far is the gift of himself.

A lot of these faith, prayer, and healing questions are way above my pay grade. Still, I don’t think our Father minds us asking them. I think he wants us to use our brains more, not less, than we do.

But, as Job found out, God is God, and we are not.

I choose to trust my Father who is completely good, completely powerful, and completely loving. He loves and delights in all of his children. Me, too. As weak and faithless as I often am, I think he likes me a lot. That, my friends, is a miracle!

You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“My Cell Phone Has Been Stolen–Again”

I’ve just had another cell phone stolen.

It’s not really a big deal; it happens at least once a day. I think the thief who keeps stealing it is one guy working alone. I have no idea why he is so persistent and why he bears me such ill will.

To be accurate, the miscreant is not actually a thief; he’s more of a prankster. Yes, he does take my cell phone, but he just hides it, moves it, buries it, and seems to take pleasure in wasting my time and driving me nuts as I try to find it. Every day. Sometimes twice. Villain! Thief or not.

I’ve thought about having the phone finger-printed. (I’ve just been watching NCIS.) But you already know whose prints they’d find, don’t you? Only mine.

So, humiliated, I confess. Yes, I lose it myself. Repeatedly.

My wife says I need to use my head and be less absent-minded. I maintain that it’s because my head is present and very much in use that I seem absent-minded.

Over-thinking this, I’ve wondered if maybe it’s a passive-aggressive thing. Perhaps my subconscious mind resents an instrument that can reel me in at any moment. It rings, and I behave like Pavlov’s famous dog. Oh, the irony! If this hypothesis is correct, I lose the phone to assert my control over it. Then I search, which sort of sounds like being a bit out of control, doesn’t it?

The hypothesis is overly complicated. I lose my keys, too, and I have no dicey relationship with them. So maybe the “absent-mindedness” thing is all that this is about.

I never lose my phone at night. It sits quietly, brain-dead, on its charger in the other room.  That it sleeps as far away from me as is possible in our house is purely coincidental, I’m sure.

At night (I’m afraid this could be another control issue), I punch its lights out. I’ve found that I rest better when it is well and truly OFF.

I’ve asked me about that, too, and I think my reasoning is that bad news will be just as bad in the morning, and good news will be just as good. Good news never comes in the middle of the night. As a pastor, I need to be available in an emergency at whatever hour, and I’m certainly willing to be found at need, but anyone who really needs me (along with a million telemarketers) knows my land line number.

So the phone is safe and secure and quiet at night, tucked in away from me as I’m tucked in myself. Both asleep.

At a decent hour in the morning, I faithfully turn the thing on so as to be able to use it—and to get on with the seemingly obligatory business of losing it yet again.

I confess, the phone would be easier to find if its ringer was turned up. My wife would be happier, too, though I maintain that I do turn it up more than half of the time. I confess again: I could find it more easily if it was never muted. I do have the “Find Me” app, or whatever it’s called, enabled lest it wander off more seriously than usual.

I wonder. If Jesus was speaking to his disciples today, and if he’d just told the parables of the Lost Coin, Lost Sheep, and Lost Son, would he possibly add one about the Lost Cell Phone?

Or would he even get through a parable or two before Peter or John’s cell phone went off and momentarily took center stage? “I’m sorry,” Matthew sheepishly apologizes, “I’ve got to take this.” And Thomas shoots him a look and quietly growls something that might be mistaken for “Idiot!” Andrew reflexively checks for his phone, can’t find it, and wonders if Judas took it.

No, just lost. Misplaced. Andrew finds it near the nets back in the boat.

Cell phones can be nice blessings or harsh masters. And they won’t reach the One we need to be calling a lot more often than we do. But our Father really is in control, really loves us, and is always willing and ready to listen.

No phone required.

    You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“Trapped on a Ledge, a Guy Prayed, and…”

Question: What is the proper attire for a person attending a mask-burning event?

Answer: a smile.

I laughed when I learned that our local senior citizens’ center was hosting a “mask-burning” a few weeks ago. It was partly “tongue in cheek.” Ditching your mask is very helpful if you’d like folks to know that your tongue is in your cheek.

Those good folks really weren’t engaging in civil disobedience, thumbing their noses, or extending lengthy middle fingers toward anyone—except the blasted COVID-19 virus. Though they did burn some of those annoying masks (good riddance!), their meeting was mainly an opportunity to get together (getting together, we now realize, is a fine blessing) and get a report on our community’s latest virus statistics. (Unfortunately, I was out of town, or my lighter and I would’ve joined in.)

The short version is—here’s my take on it—in our community right now, you’d have to be pretty serious about catching the virus even if you wanted it. For weeks now, our case numbers have been from none to a handful.

Why? No surprise, mostly because of vaccinations. In conjunction with our local medical and other authorities, our senior center was instrumental in helping get vaccinations to around 3,000 folks. For us, that’s a big bunch.

I wondered how they could possibly get computer chips in that many doses. I was quite concerned about one of the known side effects, that pregnant women who were vaccinated had a high likelihood of giving birth to naked babies.

Okay, the last paragraph is tongue in cheek. But, seriously, I’m button-bustin’ proud of how our community handled the vaccinations.

Remember the old joke about the fellow trapped on a ledge who prayed to God for help? It’s told in a hundred varied versions, but, in most, help arrives, in turn, on a jeep, a boat, and a helicopter with proffered rope ladders, and the guy waves them all off, shouting that he’s waiting on God to save him. After he falls and dies, he complains to the Lord about the Almighty’s absence. And God says, “What do you mean? I sent a jeep, a boat, and a helicopter!”

The vaccine is a rope.

I know. It’s virtually impossible to convince folks whose minds are made up. For me, getting the vaccine brought an incredible sense of relief and no lasting arm harm. I admit that now I can’t bench press 300 pounds. But I never could. A little fever and a day or a few at home would have been a small price to pay.

Everybody I know who has had symptomatic COVID-19 says, usually with deep feeling, “Get the shot!” I don’t personally know anyone—not one person—who has had truly serious side effects from the shots even a smidgeon (medical term) as consequential as those from the real deal virus. (A few years ago, I had a friend who died from the flu vaccine. Sad story. The decision to get it is for me still an easy one. It’s stats, folks, it’s stats.)

But I do know folks who have died from the virus. I’m thinking of yet another one right now hanging on by a thread. And I recently talked to a good friend and pastoral colleague who said he wasn’t sure if he was “madder or sadder” as he’d done a series of funerals for friends and members who thought it wise to wait on or take a pass on the vaccines. Bad enough if they’d just died, but they and their families went through weeks of needless but very real misery before they arrived at the cemetery. Then their families got to continue the grief. For. No. Reason.

I’m told that, across the U.S., 67% of adults are at least partially vaccinated, 47%, fully. I hope those numbers grow quickly.

Life in my community is becoming wonderfully close to “normal.” I like it that way. I still occasionally see someone walking masked in the wide open outdoors. Why? Neurosis?

Still, it’s no time for complacency. The “delta variant” is becoming the dominant strain of the virus, showing increasing numbers in many areas (among the unvaccinated). It’s more contagious and—mark this—connected to worse illness in young adults (who really are not bullet proof). I could give you a list right now of friends I know who have the virus and very much wish they’d taken the vaccine. Is there any good reason to doubt, with the new variant, that our nation will almost certainly see, at the very least, an uptick in cases this fall? To me, this says, roll up your sleeve. Your kids and grandkids need you here and intact. Lots of us love you. And I don’t want to be ticked off at your funeral.

If you choose not to be vaccinated, that is most certainly your right. But you might consider taking a vaccinated person out to lunch or sending them a nice card. You’re counting on them.

Personally, I think I know where the rope is coming from, and I hope you’ll grab on.  Your choice. But not just your consequences.

I’d put my chances of being right on this at about 93.5%. But I could be wrong. And, for my part, we’re still friends.

You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

Mercy Received Should Also Be Mercy Given

  Some things never change. Most things, in fact. “In times like these,” said one wise man, “it helps to remember that there have always been times like these.” Yes, and people, too.

  While no one is absolutely one or the other, people here will always be by default basically cold people or warm people, institution people or “people” people, and, at heart, grace people or “law” people.

  I remember a Bible study at our church when we found ourselves discussing Jesus’ “Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector” (Luke 18:9-14). It’s short, pithy, and to the pointed point. A “respectable” toxically religious man stands praying “about himself,” thanking God that he is “not like other men,” sinners who fall far short of God’s mark. But a nearby (despised) tax collector won’t even lift his eyes to heaven but prays, “God have mercy on me, a sinner.” Jesus indicates that the latter pray-er is the one God approves.

  This was fresh on my mind as I was reading another of Ellis Peters’ delightful Cadfael Chronicles.

  Brother Cadfael is an old soldier/seafarer turned Benedictine monk in 12th-century England who often finds himself acting as a sort of ancient detective/CSI operative solving mysteries in the village of Shrewsbury and surrounding Shropshire. (Hmm. My Grandmother Key’s maiden name was Shropshire.)

  In one Cadfael story, a new parish priest has just been welcomed, but the welcome turns out to be premature. The fellow turns out to be a “law” person of the most ultra-conscientious, unbending, meticulously scrupulous—and odious—sort.

  I disagree pretty completely with the theology in the examples that follow, but that’s not the point; the attitude is the point.

  A child is born but so sickly that death is certainly coming soon. The priest is quickly sent for lest the child die unbaptized, but the priest is busy saying his prayers and refuses to be interrupted until he is finished with his holy observances. The child does die, unbaptized, and the priest then refuses to bury him in consecrated ground. He believes that he has no choice. (“Law” people never do.) He felt some sadness about it, but, no, no choice.

  A weak and pitiable woman makes another in a sad line of mistaken alliances, bears a child, and asks for absolution. The same priest refuses, won’t admit her to mass. She despairs and ends her life. What else could he have done? No choice, he thinks. She had choices and made the wrong ones all down the line. A shame, but . . .

  This priest stands not with his parishioners as a fellow struggler making his way through life and seeking to honor God even in the midst of human weakness. He is sure he is “not like other men,” completely dependent upon God’s grace. Sure that he needs little mercy, he has little to dispense. Too much grace and God’s holiness and justice will surely suffer, after all. (And if you think this man’s self-righteous arrogance is the property of any one religious group and not easy to find among any “flavor,” I think you’d be mistaken.)

  Some things never change. We meet this fellow and his kinsmen every day, maybe even under our own hats. Those who choose to live by “law” will die by it, religiously cruel. We would do well to ponder Jesus’ words: God desires “mercy and not sacrifice.” And when our Lord says that “the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath,” I’m betting he’s telling us not just about a law or two but teaching us an incredibly important principle about living meaningful lives, lives filled with blessing.

  When God walked this earth, he walked with us, full of grace.

You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“We’re Still Friends If You Disagree”

Since this column has my name on it, this should be obvious: The opinions expressed herein are simply my own to own.

G. K. Chesterton died far too long ago for me to tell him, in this life anyway, how much I love his writing. I do indeed love his way with words and his wit regarding politics (and everything else).

Regarding government in general, he writes, “All government is an ugly necessity.”

Regarding politics, he recommends, “What we should try to do is make politics as local as possible. Keep the politicians near enough to kick them.”

And he continues, deciding that a kick may be inadequate: “It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged.”

His only error, I think, is in giving politicians too much slack.

I’ve taken a few of those online “political typology” quizzes, and I invariably fall into the “Core Conservative” category, a group that accounts for only about 13% of the general population. I’m an even rarer species if you take into account a couple of big elections in which 95% of the 13% and I aren’t exactly on the same page. (Being hard to categorize is fine with me.)

“Core conservatives” have fallen on hard times, but I guess I am one. I’d like to see us actually try free enterprise sometime. I believe that capitalism with its many faults has far fewer faults than any alternatives. It seems clear to me that most governmental attempts to “end poverty” perpetuate the problem and end up being incredibly cruel even as they salve the consciences of well-off elites who need the help to feel good about themselves. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to me that to vote, folks need to provide the same I.D. they’d need to buy beer or write on themselves with tattoos. I confess: I’ve never been sure why our nation is in any way blessed by “Motor Voter” registration. I don’t think registering should be hard, but if I don’t care enough about voting to at least actively register, maybe I should bless our republic and my fellow citizens by staying home.

So I guess the surveys have me correctly “filed.” No wonder I chuckle with Chesterton about politicians. I am, I admit, a tad squeamish about hangings. A worse fate for politicians these days might be to hang them only if they break out of the luxury hotel we lock them into for a forced vacation where they’re required to actually talk to each other. (Personally, I’d still vote to hang the ones, either party, whose now customary post-election whining about “stolen elections” is equally annoying.)

I do mean a “luxurious” hotel or resort. Make it nice. Beyond comfortable. (But no hiding in rooms. Conversation between political enemies is required.) Feed them well, even lavishly. If we could get them to really talk, human to human (a few may have some humanity left and not be entirely plastic), this would be an incredibly worthwhile use of taxpayer dollars.

Political talk would be off-limits. (Shock collars?) Talk about families, kids, grandkids, and pets, encouraged. No lectures, just maybe board games and conversation over jigsaw puzzles or even cigars, by those not offended by such incense. (Ya know, peace has often broken out over a little legal smoke. Peace pipes.)

I wondered about offering bowling or darts, but overt competition and sharp objects probably should be avoided. Cornhole?

Two weeks, I’d say. On the second, they could be ferried to another fine resort for a change in scenery. Cheap at any price.

During the whole time, no phones. No staff. No calls to staff. No media. No mail, in or out. No grandstanding for fawning followers. No fund-raising letters disguised as surveys written for dunces who can’t spot a rigged question, who can’t wait to be manipulated, and who can’t wait to send checks.

I think my proposal would help us all. Some among “us all” are surely equally committed Christians who hold a wide variety of political viewpoints. We need to remember who our King is and, as one wise person said, realize that “salvation does not arrive on Air Force One.”

The Apostle Paul commands us (1 Timothy 2) to pray for our rulers (one of his was the Emperor Nero who would later kill him) so that we may live “peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” I like the sound of that.

Anyway, don’t you think that folks from both the ultra-left and the ultra-right have more in common than they like to think? Looking for “salvation” in politics, they take themselves far too seriously to be able to laugh healthy, good-hearted, face-fully-involved laughs, and they almost never utter five syllables: “But I could be wrong.”

Well, I could be wrong. But, for my part, we’re still friends if you disagree.

You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2021 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.