Saturday morning cartoons were as much a mainstay for me as Saturday Matinee Serials were to the silent generation. Dick Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines was one of my favorites. The show focused on the efforts of Dick Dastardly and his canine sidekick Muttley to catch Yankee Doodle Pigeon, a carrier pigeon who carries secret messages (hence the name of the show’s theme song "Stop the Pigeon"). The cartoon was a combination of Red Baron-era Snoopy, Wacky Races(which featured Dastardly and Muttley in a series of car races). I have forever been one to tirelessly seek, find, and attempt to implement truth that transforms life and community. I was not (and am not) a 'dastardly' person seeking to stop the message from getting to its destination. As a boy I just wanted to know what that pigeon's message was! He was the "good guy" with "the message." In my brief life many have professed to me to know "secrets" to life and existence yet kept me at bay as to where they found their truth. "The Truth" was ultimately found in their obscure resources or they sent me on an "endless" quest to "find truth" and I seemed never to get there until I found the Truth that found me. My last blog entry was on July, 26, 2013, yes - 5 years ago. But now, as then, this blog spot is committed to not only finding God's truth but letting people know where that truth can be found so that all might draw and drink for themselves. The thoughts are not perfect, nor is the grammar. But it is from the center of my being. A Bible verse from the gospel of Mark 4:22 says, "For everything that is hidden will eventually be brought into the open, and every secret will be brought to light." Also Luke 8:17 says, "There is nothing hidden that will not become evident nor anything secret that will not be known and come to light." Where is your well of truth? I want to go there with you? I invite you to help me (not follow me) "stop that pigeon" each week to discover God's truth and apply that truth to daily living. I invite you to follow the One who is "the way, the truth, and the life." (John 14:6). Let's smile, laugh, cry, and share our questions, comments, and old war stories. "But I also have a message for the rest of you in Thyatira who have not followed this false teaching ('deeper truths, as they call them - depths of Satan, actually)." Revelation 2:24 "But it was to us that God revealed these things by His Spirit. For His Spirit searches out everything and shows us God's deep secrets." 1 Corinthians 2:10
Either
television writers have finally run out of ideas for bad situation comedies or
the baby boomers' like me long for our twentieth century (60's and 70's) youth. Whatever. In our retro-chic craziness, there is now a resurgence
of some of the corniest and kitsch-iest of 60's/70's programming. I am loving it! I watch it. I paused to watch Get Smart with the residents while visiting a nursing home this week. I had forgotten how hilarious it was...is. I'm not talking about the Get Smart with Steve Carell that boasts 2 and a half stars on rotten tomatoes. Or the cheesy 1980 remake (even if it was with Don Adams).
I'm talking Maxwell Smart - the original series, the TV show. Don Adams "Maxwell Smart" was a spy at the
height of the Cold War working for a CIA clone organization called Control to
defeat the powers of evil as embodied in the sinister organization KAOS. He was
a bumbling sort of an agent given to an odd grab bag of tricks to foil his
enemies, be it the old secret-panel-in-the-bookcase trick, or the more popular
old bulletproof-cummerbund-in-the-tuxedo trick. He was given to exaggeration,
however. Many of his descriptions were unbelievable.
Remember this? "Sorry about that, Chief"; "Missed it by that much ... "; and most famously, "Would you believe ...?"
Secret agent Smart would inevitably come up against some
brick wall of a bad guy from whom he had to escape. Smart would try to
intimidate his foe by scaring him off with some hopelessly transparent
exaggeration: "Right now, there are 50 armed police officers surrounding
this place." When the adversary doubted him, Smart would counter with:
"Would you believe 20 police and an angry dog?" With the crook still
not impressed, Smart would finally suggest: "How about a troop of Girl
Scouts on a cookie-sale drive?"
He
continually had to revise his reports until his statements were
believable. For example, "You better drop that gun because this yacht
happens to be surrounded by the Seventh Fleet .... Would you believe the Sixth
Fleet? ... How about a school of angry flounder?" Or, "As soon as
you're gone, by the use of sheer brute strength I shall be able to rip these
chains from the wall in one minute. Two minutes? How about a week from
Tuesday?"
I
can remember reading my first Ripley’s Believe It or Not comic. I was forced in every picture to make a faith
decision: do I believe this or not? Can I believe in the Fiji mermaid?
Is it a tall tale or fish tale? I wondered. And what about the "Chinese
Shrunken Head," the size of a lemon? Or "Wadlow the Giant" at
8'11" tall, the human high-rise? I believed it all. I was no
doubting Thomas. I hadn't learned to play the skeptic yet. If
Maxwell Smart had asked me, "Would you believe a shrunken head the size of
a lemon?" I would enthusiastically respond, "Yes, yes, I do!"
When
the disciples came to Thomas with the fantastic news of a risen Savior, they
asked him, "Would you believe ... that Jesus is risen? Would you believe
... that Jesus who was crucified between two thieves is alive? Would you
believe ... that he has appeared to Mary and to all of us?" Thomas'
response was that of doubt. Thus forever Doubting Thomas.
Thomas gets a bad rap. I think the time has come to rehabilitate
the reputation of Thomas. Poor Thomas has had to walk the corridors of history
known as "Doubting Thomas." There is now a Doubter’s Anonymous (dedicated to Thomas) for those who are not
satisfied with blind faith. There is a rock band which travels internationally
called Doubting Thomas.
It
does not matter that Thomas was no better and no worse than the average
disciple who would not believe either. It does not matter that tradition has
him carrying the gospel to India, where there still exists an order known as
Christians of St. Thomas of India. Nor does it seem to matter that this same
tradition has Thomas suffering martyrdom for the faith. No-o-o-o-o, he will
always be "Doubting Thomas." The disciple who opened his mouth only
to change feet. Thomas, the patron saint of all of those who are the last to
know. (And that would be me). Yes, Thomas has gotten a bad rap. His reputation as
a skeptic is not only undeserved, but is also the result of a too casual reading
about him.
Thomas
speaks up and, addressing himself to his fellow disciples, says, "Let us
also go, that we may die with him." (Pretty bold, not doubtful). Thomas
admits that he, for one, doesn't have a clue about what Jesus is talking about. (Sounds like something I would say). "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" This,
in turn, leads Jesus to speak in unambiguous terms that even we can understand,
providing one of the most memorable passages in the New Testament: "I am
the way, and the truth, and the life." Personally I am glad he asked. Remember your teacher telling you the only dumb question is the one you didn't ask? Gotta hand it to Thomas.
Jesus
appears among them fully aware of how incomprehensible his appearance is to the
minds and experiences of these gathered ones. He takes the initiative and shows
them in his hands and side the undeniable markings of the Crucifixion. Lest
you miss the significance of this, let me put it another way. The incredulity
of this group demanded proof no less than the disbelief of Thomas and what is
more, it demanded the same kind of proof. They doubted just as Thomas doubted
and just as I would doubt if I were in their place. All of which leads to a
more interesting question, which is, "Why have I developed such a negative attitude toward doubt?" I too am a "doubting Thomas" and have a lack of faith too often. I think our world needs to see my humanity. Yes I am a believer in Jesus - but human. I come off too many times as so heavenly minded I'm no earthly good.
I have been reared in a
religious environment in which doubt is posed as the antithesis of faith. And
this story of Thomas is often used to reinforce that lesson. But isn't the
"doubt vs. faith" dichotomy a false issue? Is not the real enemy of
faith unbelief rather than doubt? I think so. And what is more, I think that
doubt has a constructive and positive role to play in the exercise of
faith. So what am I to do? I don't want to be a "Doubting Thomas,"
but I am frequently beset with unresolved questions of faith.
The
three least used words in my religious vocabulary are too often, "I don't
know." And in this feasting under the tree of knowledge, I rob faith of
its humanness. Could I not, however, respond more positively to these
questionings and doubts by using them as teaching moments? I can learn from Thomas that even though I don't know where our journey may lead, it is enough that our Lord makes the
journey with me. I'm all about rehabilitating the reputation of Thomas as one who had the courage to admit his
lack of understanding. I know in saying that I run the risk of removing my mask and other's viewing my very human face. (no comments please).
Nevertheless, I am embracing the truth learned from Thomas that doubts may not always lead to answers, but they almost
always lead to growth. I doubt I missed it but if I missed it, it was only by "that much" believe it or not.
They say that confession is good for the soul, so here
goes. I had an affair. There I said it. My affair?
With laundry. With my wife out
of town I found myself staring down the stinky end of a
clothes hamper for the entire weekend.
Confession #2: On
weekends I have been known to re-wear my apparel. If it has weathered the previous week with
only a smudge of peanut butter and a couple splashes of coffee, there's a
pretty good chance I'll don it on Saturday.
I do however draw the line at clothing I happen to be wearing around
sick people.
I, like most men,
think my dirty clothes are capable of movement. Regardless of where the hamper is placed, my dirty
items are always found on top of it, in front of it, or hanging from a doorknob. My Mom once said something like, "Your
socks are so filthy, they could walk to the machine by themselves.", and I
believed her. Why not? The next time I looked they were gone and had
reappeared magically clean and Downy Fresh in my drawer. When I got married over 30 years ago I found
out very quickly that David Copperfield
does not walk in the house while I am at work and wave some magic wand that
obliterates skid-marks and ring around the collar. There is nothing magical about having grab a pair of balled up underwear and throw them in to the laundry. I
would rather stick my hand in a septic tank.
During my recent affair I discovered something. Chinese
engineers have developed a cloth that cleans itself. This could have a
revolutionary impact on the detergent or laundry industry. Soon, our everyday,
ordinary clothes will have the capacity to clean themselves. (www.extremetech.com/extreme/109215-chinese-invent-self-cleaning-cotton-clothes).
How is this possible? According to one study, dunking cotton
into a vat of specially-crafted nanoparticles creates a material that
self-cleans when exposed to sunlight. In one test, Chinese engineers dyed
materials for 30 minutes in an orange dye. They then hung the clothes beneath
simulated sunlight. The dye's hold over the fabric broke, and, after a time,
easily washed off with water.
Can you imagine? (I
suppose this could go well with the marketing philosophy of AX products). College students will no longer need to peel
off their clothes after a long night of ... studying. They now can awaken,
splash a little water on their faces, and stroll to class, ready and prepared
for the day. Or, no need to stuff a carry-on bag with extra T-shirts or
blouses. I can take a couple changes of clothes for my vacation trip and call
it good.
Self-cleaning clothes, however, aren't an excuse for
laziness. Something is still required if I really desire cleanliness. I can't
rip off my clothes and lump them into a pile, only to don them afresh come dawn.
I still need to, at the very least, both hang them and rinse them, which is,
strangely, similar to God's demands. In
other words, to be restored -- to be washed clean -- some work is necessary.
The first time one of our children came home from school
with a note proclaiming that the notorious head louse had once again made an
appearance I became a "nit-picker." Each "nit," or tiny egg
of the louse, must be meticulously combed, picked or pulled from the single
strand of hair it is attached to. The fact that this procedure was carried out
on our squealing, enraged, embarrassed six-year-old only made the task that
much more unpleasant. I have a confession to make. Unfortunately, I am like the people in my life who have perfected
the art of nit-picking. I too often feel compelled to demonstrate my skill in too many situations in my life. I have been on 'people patrol' for over 52 years now and I am not so sure that is a good thing. I am a Pharisee - there - I said it.
My Nit-picking always involves noting
what is wrong with something and someone rather than what is right. Too often I can't enjoy
anything, especially anything that has a flaw in it. With little sense of humor I get to be a pickiness-person and look for a spiritual or theological or moral
"gotchas" to flaunt at others. I too well remember the nit-pickers in the story
of the blind man's healing? Instead of rejoicing with the man at the miracle of
regained sight, they can only focus on the possible Torah infringements that
might have made it possible. (See John 9). Oh how the Bible interprets me more than I interpret it.
Have you noticed that an accomplished nit-picker can burst any celebratory
balloon? "The wedding was so beautiful; such a shame the groom couldn't
have lost a few pounds for the occasion." "Congratulations on your
new promotion. But you've still got an awful lot of the ladder to climb, don't
you?" "The new sanctuary looks wonderful. Of course, we'll probably
never grow enough to fill it or pay for it!" Deflating joy, tarnishing
triumphs - that's what nit-pickers do best. Ouch!
Wound-Lickers
I remember getting a mosquito bite or a small scratch when I was a kid and then having to listen to my parents' repeated, "now don't
pick at it." Of course, they had to keep telling me because there is
something self-destructively fascinating about an open wound. We are drawn to
it, we want to mess with it, re-examine it, pull off he scab a little at a time
to see how it is healing. But this fixation can easily lead to infection - even
to death.
Veterinarians must go to ridiculous-looking extremes to
discourage this self-destructive instinct in their patients. In dogs and cats
repetitive, damaging wound-licking can undo in a matter of minutes all the work
a vet has put in on a patient for days. We once had a cat named Mr. Rogers that lost his leg in a trap. Three inches of infected leg and paw was amputated and the remainder carefully
stitched up. A week later Mr. Rogers managed to get at the healing wound, licking
and gnawing it open. More infection. Now left with
nothing but a four inch stump, Mr. Rogers began to convalesce once more. But
again the wound-licking fixation drove the cat to try and get at the healing
stump. His licking caused the bandaged stump to swell and a horrible infection
set in that spread throughout his whole system. To the best of my memory a head-gear (a cone), tranquilizers and massive amounts of
antibiotics managed to save our cat's life. A wound had nearly destroyed
him.
When the Pharisees in John 9:18 recall the healed man's
parents as possible witnesses against his previous condition of blindness, they
are being wound-lickers. They cannot leave the situation alone, but return to
it, trying to expose some imagined wrongfulness. These Pharisees do not even
realize that the wound they are re-opening is the gaping hole of their own
ignorance and spiritual bankruptcy. Double Ouch!
Goodness-sakers
Remember the old saw about the mother who had to leave her
two young children alone in the house for a few minutes? Before leaving, she
sternly ordered the children, "Now don't put beans up your noses while I'm
gone!" Left to their own devices it probably would have taken an eternity
before those kids would have come up with such a bizarre idea, but since their
mother had singled it out as an especially obnoxious act, the children were
inspired. Of course, when their mother returned home, she found two children
rolling around in pain with beans firmly stuffed up their noses.
There is a distinct category of people who inspire similar
kinds of contrary behavior in most of us. "These" are the
"goodness-sakers" - those self-appointed crusaders for the promotion
of righteousness. "They" consider themselves - and let all the rest of us know it
- to be super-spiritual. These are people who stand around
saying, "For goodness sake, why doesn't somebody do something." Or
"For goodness sake, look at what they're doing." Now - I would NEVER do that. Truth is I have probably done more hindrance to the Good News than help over the years. Truly thankful God is not finished with me yet - I hope. I really do.
Few people can be as infuriating and sin-provoking as
goodness-sakers. Smart-aleck remarks and visions of dirty tricks seem to float
to the top of our minds all by themselves as we listen to the platitudes and
puffed-up piety goodness-sakers blow at us. The Pharisees in John's story
haughtily invoke their relationship to Moses as a sign of their spiritual
superiority (v. 28).
The healed man, who had shown great self-control up to
this point, is at last driven to jab back at these upright, up-tight self-appointed
guardians of do-gooding. As usual with goodness-sakers, however, they don't
even get the point of the sarcasm directed their way. Triple the Ouch!
Arm-Wavers
Thank heaven that besides the nit-pickers, wound-lickers and
goodness-sakers there are also arm-wavers. These are the people that celebrate
victories and lend support in times of defeat. Arm-wavers hoot and holler when
their child's Little League team wins the big game - but they also give great
hugs and "it's O.K." looks when the team loses 10 in a row. It's not
that arm-wavers don't see all the imperfections in that hand-knit size 98
sweater or in life. It's just that they focus on all the beauty that surrounds
the flaws instead of the flaws themselves.
It is amazing how arm-wavers are absent for so long from
John's story of the healed blind man. Here is a stunning miracle - a man blind
since birth suddenly given sight - and no one celebrates. His neighbors are
doubtful, his parents are worried about the religious and legal ramifications,
while the Pharisees find the whole episode threatening and foreboding. Not
until the healed man himself finally realizes who Jesus is and what his
presence means do we get the first sign of arm-waving. Indeed, when Jesus'
identity finally sinks in, the man offers a full body-wave - he falls on his
knees and worships the "Lord" (verse 38). I am not blind and have not seen nearly enough. Back to people patrol duty.
I got caught. I was holding my cell phone at arm's length
like a rancid diaper. Why do I lean away
from the menu with my eyes agape, like the blue-plate special is a cat? Would you believe I just might have
presbyopia? I know what you are thinking
but it is not a religious disease that only Presbyterians catch. Yes, Presbyterians may come down with it, but
Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, Lutherans, Muslims, Hindus, and Buddhists are
equally susceptible.
I have learned that Presbyopia
is a common eyesight problem. It comes
from presby (meaning "elder/older man) and opia meaning "eye" or
"having to do with eyesight").
It is the slow deterioration of close-up focus. I am certainly not an ophthalmologist or
optometrist. My little bit of internet
research (now that's reliable right?) tells me that Presbyopia develops when
the clear lens of the eye loses its elasticity.
Elasticity changes focus, and focus determines whether I order sirloin
steak or shrimp scampi.
Yes, I got caught. I was trying to make out the caller ID, and
trying to read a menu. Even with
bifocals I hold my reading material like God never gave me elbows. A few years ago my wife treated her eyes to a
laser.
She now treats her progressive
presbyopia with inexpensive reading glasses.
We both juggle not four eyes but six.
She more than me. She stashes
several pairs of cheap readers in all sorts of places - nightstand, office,
couch cushions. But none of them seem to
be around when the cell phone rings or it is time to change the channel on the
TV.
There is a treatment for
this. It is a light beam aimed at the
ciliary muscles (the lens focusers).
Apparently after five 10-minute sessions and periodic tune-up
treatments, patients report that their glasses are obsolete. In other words, application of light sharpens
focus on the world. Who would have
thought?
There is a guy named Bartimaeus
in the Bible who has two strikes against him - he is blind, and he is
begging. In Jesus' culture this was a
perfect prescription for being overlooked (no pun intended).
As Jesus passes by, Bartimaeus
calls out for mercy. The crowd rebuked
him - and attempted to put Bart back in his place on the food chain. He had persistence and faith told him that
this Jesus fellow was his only chance at sight, so he yelled out even louder.
Turns out that Bart is the only person in the crowd who could truly see that
day. Jesus heals him and he receives his
sight. Bart knew what I need to hear
every day: Application of Light sharpens our focus on the world.
I have presbyopia in more than
one way. I don't see things clearly or
spiritually most of the time. A lot of
things are still blurry to me. I need to
sharpen my vision. I have Baptisopia -
others have Methodyopia, Lutheropia and so on.
This week is a time that has
been set aside to pray for victims of Human Trafficking and for those who
participate in this appalling, disgusting slavery.
The anti-human-trafficking
agency Not For Sale reports that there are
more than 30 million slaves in the world today.
That's more slaves than were kept at the height of the transatlantic
slave trade in the 1800s. Lest you think
this kind of thing only takes place in countries other than the good old US.
My Christian view of God
recognizes that every person is made in the image of God. Life is valuable. This is certainly an issue that needs more
Light application for more focus. The coming of Jesus means Light
into dark places (John 1:5). Bartimaeus
knew that day and screamed out in faith and received his sight. For Bart, there was only one way to get sight:
Apply Light to sharpen his focus on the world.
I confess I too often have
blurred vision when it comes to issues.
For me and my blurred vision the answer is the same: "Apply Light." My prayer is that I will have renewed courage
to learn from Bart. I pray that I will
be able to take the lens of Scripture and Light of Christ and apply them to
issues that I don't focus on and don't see clearly. How about you? Join me.
