Context
I read a story on the CNN website today about a father's reaction to seeing his son's alleged killer in court. You can read the article here. It talks not only about the victim's father's hope for healing in the aftermath of tragedy, but also the great potential this young man had and the relative rarity of cross-racial gang violence in Los Angeles.
Commentary
I find myself dismayed that CNN felt like they had to tart up this story of one person killing another in order to make it interesting.
Perhaps I should clarify: I don't think any of the information included in the story was useless, irrelevant or false. As a pacifist, I find stories of reconciliation in the face of violence very uplifting. As an avid student of our social interactions with each other, I'm intrigued by the news that gang-banging tends to be a segregated activity. And I understand that news outlets are going to seek a little "human interest" in every story they report. A few personal details about the victim will keep us from treating this crime as just another statistic.
And therein lies the problem. Apparently it is possible for us to read about a human being fatally shooting another human being and find it neither compelling nor surprising. I'd like to believe that CNN is wrong about us and we would have cared without the extra details, but I don't. I don't know if we've gotten used to a certain amount of crime or if we've always been callous, but either way I think we've bartered away our capacity for outrage way too cheaply.
What did you see today?
3/16/2008
I heard a sermon on the prodigal son
Context
I'm in Dallas today, so I attended a worship service at King of Glory Lutheran Church. Pastor Jon Bustard preached on, among other things, the prodigal son story from Luke. The text and a recording of his sermon of the week usually get posted to the King of Glory website, but as of this writing, they're not up yet.
Commentary
I think Pastor Bustard preached a great sermon today. That's really saying something coming from me because I hate preaching. It's even more surprising because, being having been a Christian all my life, I've probably heard at least 25 prodigal son sermons. But this one actually made me think about a new aspect of the story, because Pastor Bustard was challenging us to be involved in God's recovery of the rest of His prodigal children, instead of just emphasizing how happy we are that God found us.
Rationalist that I am, if I'm going to be involved in solving a problem, I need to know what causes it. Pastor Bustard's sermon made clear to me that there are two reasons the prodigal son stays away from his father, and that both of those apply to people who stay away from church today:
1) Guilt. Late in the story, the prodigal son realizes what he's done wrong and is convinced his father will never want to take him back. Today, there are many people who think, "I can't go to church. Who I am and what I've done are too awful to be in the holy presence of God." This is not true, but I think as Christians we forget that. After all, how often do we seek out child molesters to join our congregation?
2) Lack of perceived need. This is the one that really stood out for me today. As I was saying to my husband, "you can't catch the prodigal son when he's received his inheritance and he's walking away." It's kind of like the first step in Alcoholics Anonymous: "we admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable." Only when one's life becomes unmanageable (like when one's out slopping pigs and starts wanting their food) does one really need Christ.
This second reason made me feel worried. If people I knew had that lack of perceived need for years and years and constantly told me how unnecessary religion was in their lives, would I get lulled into inaction and not be prepared or available when their need suddenly came up and punched them in the stomach? I hope not, and here are two ways I can think of to prevent it:
1) I can insulate them a little. When they lack a perceived need I can say things like, "I understand that this is not necessary in your life, but here's how grace works for me," kind of like programming 911 into their spiritual speed dial in case of emergency.
2) I can keep my eyes open. I can recognize that opportunities to bring back prodigals may be sudden and brief and be prepared for them at all times. In other words, I can stay awake and keep plenty of oil in my lamp.
What did you hear today?
I'm in Dallas today, so I attended a worship service at King of Glory Lutheran Church. Pastor Jon Bustard preached on, among other things, the prodigal son story from Luke. The text and a recording of his sermon of the week usually get posted to the King of Glory website, but as of this writing, they're not up yet.
Commentary
I think Pastor Bustard preached a great sermon today. That's really saying something coming from me because I hate preaching. It's even more surprising because, being having been a Christian all my life, I've probably heard at least 25 prodigal son sermons. But this one actually made me think about a new aspect of the story, because Pastor Bustard was challenging us to be involved in God's recovery of the rest of His prodigal children, instead of just emphasizing how happy we are that God found us.
Rationalist that I am, if I'm going to be involved in solving a problem, I need to know what causes it. Pastor Bustard's sermon made clear to me that there are two reasons the prodigal son stays away from his father, and that both of those apply to people who stay away from church today:
1) Guilt. Late in the story, the prodigal son realizes what he's done wrong and is convinced his father will never want to take him back. Today, there are many people who think, "I can't go to church. Who I am and what I've done are too awful to be in the holy presence of God." This is not true, but I think as Christians we forget that. After all, how often do we seek out child molesters to join our congregation?
2) Lack of perceived need. This is the one that really stood out for me today. As I was saying to my husband, "you can't catch the prodigal son when he's received his inheritance and he's walking away." It's kind of like the first step in Alcoholics Anonymous: "we admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable." Only when one's life becomes unmanageable (like when one's out slopping pigs and starts wanting their food) does one really need Christ.
This second reason made me feel worried. If people I knew had that lack of perceived need for years and years and constantly told me how unnecessary religion was in their lives, would I get lulled into inaction and not be prepared or available when their need suddenly came up and punched them in the stomach? I hope not, and here are two ways I can think of to prevent it:
1) I can insulate them a little. When they lack a perceived need I can say things like, "I understand that this is not necessary in your life, but here's how grace works for me," kind of like programming 911 into their spiritual speed dial in case of emergency.
2) I can keep my eyes open. I can recognize that opportunities to bring back prodigals may be sudden and brief and be prepared for them at all times. In other words, I can stay awake and keep plenty of oil in my lamp.
What did you hear today?
3/06/2008
I saw an editorial about Brett Favre
Context
Brett Favre, the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers for over 15 years, retired on Tuesday. Mike Lopresti wrote an editorial column on this event on Wednesday, but I only got around to reading it this morning.
Commentary
It must be hard to write a summing up column on Brett Favre's career. I think Lopresti did a good job, but it seems like a path fraught with possible missteps. I mean, you want to give appropriate tribute, but there's some things you just can't say.
1) You can't say Favre was the best quarterback in the NFL. At least, I don't think you can because there are guys like Peyton Manning who are both more technically proficient and strategize better.
2) You could say he started 275 consecutive games, but that seems like damning with faint praise. In the NFL, starting that many games takes some determination, sure, but it also takes a measure of good old-fashioned luck.
3) On the other hand, you can't say he was the luckiest quarterback in the NFL. The man had some bad things happen to him during his career. His father died. He fought an addiction to painkillers. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer (she beat it, but still!).
4) He holds a bunch of passing records, but those are somewhat related to his longevity, so they might not be the appropriate legacy either.
5) Even with all those consecutive starts, you can't really label him as consistent. As Lopresti points out, Favre last career pass was intercepted by the New York Giants on their way to the Super Bowl. In 275 starts, it was not exactly his first interception. Or his first one that lost the game for his team.
Now, you may think I'm ragging on Brett. Far from it. I was seriously considering wearing a black armband to work on Wednesday because I was that broken up by the news of his retirement, and I'm a Detroit Lions fan! It's just that his career kind of defies description in traditional terms.
So I'm going to take a non-traditional approach: Brett Favre was the best Brett Favre to ever play in the NFL. There has never been another quarterback like him and probably never will be. The combination of "yay, yay, yay," and "omigod, omigod, omigod" in every game he played. The passes he threw that should have never been caught (but were). The passes he should have never thrown (but did). The goofy "I can't believe they pay me money to play this game" grin. And with all that, yes, the probably unbeatable number of consecutive starts. The off-the-field challenges. The whole Brett Favre experience that many of us feel like we lived through with him.
In the final analysis, isn't that the best tribute to be worthy of? He took the strengths and weaknesses God gave him and crafted an unforgettably unique career out of them. That's something we can all aspire to. Maybe for even longer than 275 consecutive Sundays.
What did you see today?
Brett Favre, the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers for over 15 years, retired on Tuesday. Mike Lopresti wrote an editorial column on this event on Wednesday, but I only got around to reading it this morning.
Commentary
It must be hard to write a summing up column on Brett Favre's career. I think Lopresti did a good job, but it seems like a path fraught with possible missteps. I mean, you want to give appropriate tribute, but there's some things you just can't say.
1) You can't say Favre was the best quarterback in the NFL. At least, I don't think you can because there are guys like Peyton Manning who are both more technically proficient and strategize better.
2) You could say he started 275 consecutive games, but that seems like damning with faint praise. In the NFL, starting that many games takes some determination, sure, but it also takes a measure of good old-fashioned luck.
3) On the other hand, you can't say he was the luckiest quarterback in the NFL. The man had some bad things happen to him during his career. His father died. He fought an addiction to painkillers. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer (she beat it, but still!).
4) He holds a bunch of passing records, but those are somewhat related to his longevity, so they might not be the appropriate legacy either.
5) Even with all those consecutive starts, you can't really label him as consistent. As Lopresti points out, Favre last career pass was intercepted by the New York Giants on their way to the Super Bowl. In 275 starts, it was not exactly his first interception. Or his first one that lost the game for his team.
Now, you may think I'm ragging on Brett. Far from it. I was seriously considering wearing a black armband to work on Wednesday because I was that broken up by the news of his retirement, and I'm a Detroit Lions fan! It's just that his career kind of defies description in traditional terms.
So I'm going to take a non-traditional approach: Brett Favre was the best Brett Favre to ever play in the NFL. There has never been another quarterback like him and probably never will be. The combination of "yay, yay, yay," and "omigod, omigod, omigod" in every game he played. The passes he threw that should have never been caught (but were). The passes he should have never thrown (but did). The goofy "I can't believe they pay me money to play this game" grin. And with all that, yes, the probably unbeatable number of consecutive starts. The off-the-field challenges. The whole Brett Favre experience that many of us feel like we lived through with him.
In the final analysis, isn't that the best tribute to be worthy of? He took the strengths and weaknesses God gave him and crafted an unforgettably unique career out of them. That's something we can all aspire to. Maybe for even longer than 275 consecutive Sundays.
What did you see today?
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