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It’s been a while. But I’m back today; pulled I’ll admit by contrasting articles in today’s newspaper (Yes, I still read print news) that continue to respond to the death of Queen Elizabeth of Great Britain this past Sunday. Juxtaposed on page three of the Dallas Morning News, one headline read, “Mourners in Scotland fill route to pay their respects.” In contrast the other, proclaimed “‘I cannot mourn’: Ex-colonies conflicted over queen’s death.”

The two lenses of the demise of the longest reigning monarch in Britain’s history offer perspectives from the ground so to speak. One’s conception of history and its ruling players is rooted in the interplay between them and those who came before you over the ages.  Her majesty’s rule was not without its dark side. And that dark side has not been forgotten by those whose ancestors lived and died in its midst.

Ironically, it’s not unlike the unrelenting struggle in this country, birthed by British rule, to come to terms with the darkness of our republic’s acceptance of caste-based slavery and displacement of the country’s indigenous people; the lingering side effects of which define us today. In the shadow of what was and what too often is not owned as truth, descendants of the ex-colonies as those of former enslaved and displaced human beings register ambivalence in times like these.

Many are weary of these discussions today. But in an era in which some seek to rewrite history by discounting its evil and its subsequent long-term impacts, I’m afraid that is not going to happen. Truth today struggles to burst forth much like an at – term fetus pushes to pass from darkness to the light of life and become a living human being. Truth demands confession, acknowledgment of wrong, repair, resolution, honesty and fellowship to begin anew – to live as the human beings God created us to be, to embrace the beloved community of humanity. We are all flawed, but in Christ we are forgiven. We have the potential to overcome the past’s evil and live in today’s world with honesty and truth. May it be so.  And may the life she lived in public and private have earned the late queen’s entrance to eternity.

The lead editorial in today’s Dallas Morning News reads, “After Uvalde, Will  Americans Act?” The reference is to yet another school shooting. Yesterday, in the small town of Ulvade, Texas,  an 18 year student who attended the local high school armed himself with two assault rifles and ammunition. He shot and killed his grandmother before walking out the door headed to Uvalde Elementary School. There he took aim and started firing. When he was done, eighteen children and two teachers lay dead. Police arrived and the shooter was himself shot and killed.  As the breaking news spread,  the reactions and comments that have become generic in our culture floated across the various media outlets, and social platforms. Moments of silence were proclaimed. The default expression”Our prayers and thoughts are with the families” was offered by the usual pundits, both secular and sacred. The scenes of the tragedy brought to the nation’s collective memory how often we’ve drunk the bitter wine of senseless shootings; how we’ve staggered in grief and pain watching the images, or fallen in sorrow at the places were the slain were laid and we identified these precious elementary, high school, college, students or teachers.  Columbine HS in 1999 introduced us to the recurrent American “horror show” of school shootings. So stunned were we then by that unimaginable violence, we thought something like that would/could never occur again. Not in the United States! In today’s parlance, we’d say it had to be a “one-off.”  Little did we grasp at that pivotal moment that once the apple had been bitten, the taste for it would not diminish; that to prevent further such tragedies, the tree itself would need to be uprooted and apples banned throughout the land.  But we were unwilling to take such drastic actions; we had a right to grow and eat apples! And here we are, 23 years later, apples flourishing; school shootings so common that by this time next week, the horror of Ulvalde will have become the basis for the  latest  squabble over gun (apple) control legislation, nothing more. If I sound pessimistic, I am. Right now, my answer to the editorial’s question: Will Americans Act? is a resounding “NO.” I will continue to pray for this nation, and for the many underlying reasons for such tragedies which have yet to be owned or addressed. I continue to hope the desire for apples will die.

Peace. Joy. Love.

The front page of the newspaper’s weekly guide to happenings in and around the city read, “ON THE HUNT for EASTER FUN. ” I scringed and sighed. It was Good Friday; the day Jesus was crucified on the cross for humanity’s sins and its salvation. The holiest day in the Christian calendar was once again being co-opted by the secular world.  I’ve mulled since then over this propensity we have of blending our faith with our culture.  Easter finds us proclaiming our faith traditions through observances of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Resurrection Sunday (Easter), even as we embrace the less reflective, less demanding, less self-sacrificing secular ones. I confess it’s still a mystery to me what the latter has to do with the former from a biblical perspective.

Now, less you think I’m being “holier than thou,” and have avoided the duality so commonly practiced, know that’s not the case. Though it’s understandable that nonbelievers are easy prey for the commercialism that underpins this sacred season with its bunnies, colored eggs, jellybeans, chocolate bunnies, egg hunts, Easter baskets, Easter bonnets, new shoes and outfits, we believers have not escaped these secular lures. As most of you, I’ve dyed my share of eggs and purchased Brach’s candies to fill the ubiquitous Easter baskets for children and grandchildren over the years. I’ve shopped for the “too cute” Easter dresses, patent leather Mary Janes, short-legged suits, dress shirts, bowties, knee high socks, and dress shoes.  I’ve donned the church-lady hats and other finery to celebrate the day that marks the end of that awful week millennia ago. Scripture tells us we are to be “in the world, but not of the world.” I’ve understood that to mean that at some point, my lifestyle as a Christ follower ought not mirror the lifestyle of those who don’t profess Jesus as Lord, His teachings are to be the blueprint for the choices we make.

So here I am on yet another Holy Saturday, a day for somber reflection that   represents the day Jesus lay dead in the tomb. The advancing years have taken away the need to make the choice of whether to celebrate Easter sans its secular fixings. It’s easy to immerse myself in the sanctity of the season. But being a Christ follower isn’t supposed to be easy. Following the Savior requires hard choices, sacrifices, self-denial, snubbing cultural norms, being the outcast. These days, I am convicted and reminded how much I am like those disciples of Jesus were before He died on the cross. Oh, had I in earlier years been more willing to defy the world and choose His ways. His grace and mercy. His grace and mercy alone.

This post is long overdue. Since the last one on March 31, I’ve intended to follow up as a strategy for dealing with my sister’s transition. But the intervening days tumbled like the proverbial tumbleweed, and I couldn’t catch myself long enough to stop. Just as well. I’m in better a frame of mind; the distractions are gone; the house is quiet again. Because I believe her spirit reached the entrance to heaven and the Savior Himself opened the door to welcome her home, I can smile at the imagery. Truth be told, it makes me kind of jealous!

An unrelated event occurred yesterday that reminds me of the saying, “As long as God keeps waking you up, he’s not done with you yet.”  As I stepped out of my car and headed into the cleaners for a pick-up, a man who’d parked about the same time as I followed me into the establishment. As I was ahead of him by at least three to four steps, I entered first and announced myself. The proprietor came to the counter, took my receipt, held it in one hand, turned from me and asked the other customer for his phone number to accept the shirts the customer counted out!  I was speechless as I stood there and waited as the owner entered the requisite information, printed the receipt, handed it to the man and bade him good-bye.  On what had begun as a relaxing, peaceful day was suddenly anything but. As he proceeded to retrieve my dress, my mind raced. I had been obviously slighted and ignored. Why? I was dumbfounded. This was my initial foray into this particular cleaner. It was within the circle of the grocery store, pharmacy and gas station that I frequented. I’d decided a few days earlier to give it a try, rather than drive past it to one further down the street. In fact, when I’d left my dress a couple days before, I’d said with a smile, “Impress me.”  The owner had responded, “God bless you.” Smiling to myself, I thought this will work. 

Well, that smile was nowhere close to forming as I pondered what to do or say in that moment. Call him out for the slight I perceived as an inequitable business practice? Tell him off in no uncertain terms that he’d lost an opportunity to gain a new customer. Go online and give his business a blistering negative review? I did and had done nothing but tuck the incident away in my mental folder.  Until today.  This morning one line in a devotional helped me to take it out and bring closure to the experience. “His (God’s) love is so full, and his grace so boundless, that when his Spirit lives in us, even a flat tire can feel like a blessing.” The devotional’s scriptural reference was John 1:16 – “For of His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace.”

As 8-0 and I continue to get acquainted and dance around what this new season means, I remember that God’s work for us ends when He says it’s done. That work is unique for each believer. For me, that work entails among other things telling stories of the time, in my writing here and book form. We three individuals were but characters in the ongoing story of race-gender casteism in this United States of America. An African American senior aged woman customer, an Asian-American small business owner, an Anglo-American male customer. The oft unspoken roles by which we are socialized in the good ole USA played out that day. Perhaps the takeaway for me is simply that NOTHING can steal God’s Spirit that lives in me. Even this incident was a blessing; it gave fodder for my writing. Grace upon grace, in everything. Every morning He wakes me up.

Peace. Joy. Love.

 

The sister who followed me in the female birth order in our family died a week ago today. She was seventy-three; her birthday is next month.  I was hoping to celebrate it with her in Georgia but knew that might not happen as her health was spiraling downward day by day. A life-long sickle cell disease patient who had stared death down on countless occasions during the years, we had hoped she’d continue her track record of defying the medical prognoses. These last several weeks however, we began to suspect that might not be case this time. Too many issues kept cropping up; and the doctors seemed to be running out of successful solutions. When her liver failed, we knew the time was upon us. With her daughter at her side in the hospital or at her new residence in a long-term care facility, I received daily updates. Sometimes we were able to talk briefly, but she wasn’t the strong, independent, fighter I’d come to know and expect. This was different. She was different. My prayers shifted from asking God to heal and restore her to asking that He not allow her to suffer. And suffering she was. When the phone rang at 1:00 o’clock in the morning a few weeks back, I knew. An ER transport to the hospital began the final leg of her journey. This time, there would be no miraculous “come back” for my warrior sister.  As my niece described her appearance, the numerous tubes, and lines connected to her body, the move into ICU and finally the “conversation” the medical staff began to have, I felt my prayers would soon be answered. Her suffering would end; and she would pass from this earthly adventure to the eternal one that awaits those of us who believe in God and our Savior Jesus, His only Son. The closing of this chapter in her life is a reason for praise, joy and peace. Without a doubt, I know the Lord welcomed her with the words we all long to hear from Him, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” Through it all, she kept the faith. May that be the story for us all.  I love you Christa Royce and miss you even more. Always, your big sister Bev.

Love. Joy. Peace.

And so, it begins again. This annual observance of the holiest of Christian events on the church’s calendar, the forty- day countdown to Easter. Our usual custom is to gather for worship service where we receive the ashes on our foreheads in the shape of the cross.  But as it has with everything else, the pandemic disrupted that in many churches; mine being one of them. Instead, I applied holy oil to my forehead as a pastor who led the brief service on our Prayer line recited the familiar words, “You are dust, and to dust you will return.” We are reminded in this Christian ritual of the cost of our salvation – Jesus’ crucifixion on a cross for our sins – and invited during the forty days to the renewal of our commitment to Him and our faith. What an appropriate time for reflection, rededication, repentance, letting go of things that stunt our efforts to be who we were created to be; and taking on new behaviors, and embracing new attitudes that release the positive potentials God embedded at our creation.

It’s easy to be kind and loving, forbearing and forgiving when everything is “rosy posy,” Not so much when the times are as they are currently.  No one “turns the other cheek.”  Perhaps this Lenten season can be more than just giving up sweets, cutting back on the sitcom binges, foregoing shoe shopping. Perhaps Lent 2022 will be an opportunity to practice intentionality. To take on one characteristic of Christ for 40 days (your decision which one). To pare down your possessions and give your excesses to a church program that ministers to the least among us. To begin and end your day in deliberate engagement in God’s word via a devotional or the Bible itself.  May we all celebrate Easter 2022 with a heightened awareness of the Savior’s love for us, and a renewed desire to love others the same.

Though the pandemic hovers still, in some places of vaccine hesitancy or refusal more than others, we are perhaps encouraged to the same degree this March 2022 as we were discouraged in March 2020. Daily we read or see the case numbers declining. In some states, mask mandates have been lifted or modified. As Spring approaches, with its hallmarks of renewal and rebirth, our spirits are lifting, our hope soaring that even if the virus doesn’t disappear altogether, it will morph into something we can live with. Like the flu, or allergy season.

We need a break from this villain of nature to better concentrate upon and fight the villains in human form. At this posting, Russia forces continue their evil assault upon Ukraine, ultra conservative voices spew discord and division within our communities, voting rights are under attack, and the nation lives in a surreal world, unable to own the truth of its history and intentionally turn away from it to become the people God created us to be.

The United States is a flawed nation; but I would not want to live anywhere else. There is within it still an opportunity for renewal, for rebirth, for redesign that is respectful of all citizens and others who reside here. I am not naive; I know there are those amongst us who would love nothing more than to see us fail as a democracy. And yes, I acknowledge that democracy has not been, and in too many instances continues to be nonexistent for too many. But my hope springs eternal because I believe in God and His ultimate authority. I quote a phrase from Max Lucado, “I hereby resign from being ruler of the universe.” He wrote it to remind us that God’s plans are often beyond our comprehension. I think this holds true in every aspect of human life, especially in times like today and in situations noted above.

As we shake off the stupor-induced residuals of the pandemic, let us move anew to right wrongs, to speak truth to power, to rebut falsehoods, to “shame the devil” as the old folks used to say. Let us be in this nation, a people dedicated to the faith we profess as Christians, living by doing unto others what we would want them to do unto us. And may God guide us with wisdom and grace as we do so.

Peace. Joy. Love.

Yesterday, when I awaken to the CNN banner scrolling with the news of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, I felt the world continued its determined state of “going to hell in a handbasket.” (That phrase by the way according to Wikipedia is associated with the practice during the American gold rush days of lowering miners by hand in baskets down the mining shafts to set explosives which had the potential for deadly consequences.) But what a difference a day can make! No, the crisis in Europe has not abated; in fact, as I understand what the analysts and cable “experts” are reporting, the aggression is spreading. To counter that awful state of affairs is the announcement today that President Biden has nominated the first African American woman to the United States Supreme Court. In so doing he kept a campaign promise. Now in the words of the old gospel hymn, that’s some “Good News!” Those of us across all walks of life and ethnic or racial identifications who are pandemic weary and social justice worn need a lift out of the quagmire of the times. This is our opportunity. Only a person whose head stays buried in the sand would refute the argument that the highest court in the land lacks judicial balance. Not that this one appointment will achieve that, but at least it brings us a little closer. I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way to keep politics off the Supreme Court is to appoint justices without political affiliations.  To be the unbiased body it ought to be, potential nominees’ records should be crystal clear that they make and have made judgments without regard to partisan associations. Perhaps they need to be Independents. I don’t know. What I do know is that something has to change if this country is ever to come to terms with its past and live out the potential of its present. The highest court in the land is a good place to being that transformation. Think about. That’s all I’ve got today.

Peace. Joy. Love.

How long ago it seems since my last post. June 25, 2020. I need not belabor what these intervening years have wrought. During them I lost my appetite for blogging. Perhaps it was what I term “pandemic fatigue” that blocked my desire to weigh in on issues, to offer a word of encouragement, a prayer. Whatever, let me proclaim on this fourth day of 8-0, the start of my eighth decade, I am back!  Officially an octogenarian, I realized this morning that my thoughts matter more than ever. I have the privilege of chronicling a new era. How awesome is that!  With more well wishes, gifts and accolades these past four days than any one person deserves, I am thankful for God’s grace of longevity. It has its rewards; but it also comes with responsibilities. As a believer, I sense God leading me to do more, to sacrifice more, to lead by example more, to be not just a reader and hearer of His word, but more importantly, a doer. To worship Him in spirit and in truth by speaking power to truth as the Holy Spirit so leads.

Is there significance in my return to Peace in His Presence on the very day the headlines and cable stations shout of the invasion of Ukraine by Russia? President Biden has addressed the nation. Sanctions are in place against Russia for what is termed their unwarranted actions against a sovereign nation. Russian citizens are protesting the start of war against a neighboring country; and being immediately arrested for so doing.  The Ukrainian people are bewildered and afraid as Russian troops march into their cities. Europe once again is poised for conflict that has the potential to create chaos and havoc far beyond its borders.

With our own demons dancing on our backs, what are we called to do in times such as these? As a nation? As individuals? As a community of Christian believers?  On a recent birthday month outing of my choosing, I visited with family members the Museum of Biblical Art in Dallas. An enlightening, sobering, thoughtful place that speaks to the experience of being both Jewish and Christian. Covering our biblical past and present the exhibit forces introspection of who one is, what one stands for, what one is willing to do to make a difference. Two quotes in the Holocaust section made me linger for more than a moment. “To be indifferent is to lose our humanity.” and “Take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.”  We have no way of knowing yet if this moment in Europe is on the cusp of repeating a period in human history that haunts us still. As people of faith, let us employ our most powerful weapon, – Prayer. And follow it up with voices and actions that say, “NO!” We will not be indifferent. We will not enable the oppressor with neutrality. We will trust God to show us His way in this season of open aggression and war.