Happy Veterans Day; Happy Veteran

I became a veteran by invitation, which is probably a good thing because it is unlikely that I would have become one by choice.  I had a couple of years of college under my belt, attending school part time and working part time, and hoping that the war in Viet Nam would cool down and go away.  It didn't, and I was half a unit shy of qualifying for a student deferment when President Johnson (that's Lyndon, not Andrew) sent me the invitation.  It was, in my view, terrible timing, a fact that I tried in vain to explain to the Almighty, but he was not to be persuaded.  (Fifty years later it is still true that most of my arguments with God have been about timing.  And He is still not persuaded.)

Most of my active duty time was spent as a medic at Fort Sam Houston, Texas.  Though alerted for Asia, we never went.  We weren't in the heat of battle, but we certainly saw the results.  Fort Sam was home to the army's burn center, and the worst of the burn casualties who survived Viet Nam were evacuated and treated there.  Getting acquainted with some of those guys was an honor.  Memories of those times, both good and bad, live on.  The time I spent in the army helped to shape me.  (I'm not talking physically; there are some things you shouldn't blame on the army.)  I'm pretty sure that my military service was better for me than it was for the nation.

Now I have become one of those people whom others thank on Veterans Day, and there is always a little bit of me that wonders why.  It happened again last Sunday at church in Canada when the pastor invited veterans to stand.  I freely confess to serving reluctantly, with all the enthusiasm of the man who, about to be tarred and feathered, said that if it were not for the honor of the occasion, he'd just as soon pass.  For this veteran, I think the thanks need to be expressed in the opposite direction.  What I regarded at the time as an interruption in my life became a tool in the hand of God to bless me.  So this Veterans Day, thank you, America, for the privilege of serving.

Sojourning Citizens

Valerie became a US Citizen last week, two days too late to participate in today's election.  I think I envy her.  Never have I filled out a ballot with less enthusiasm.  

Elections are supposed to be about hope; for many people this one seems to be about depression.  It's not that people worry about the consequences if their candidate doesn't win; that's pretty normal, though usually unnecessary.  This time too many people are worried about the consequences if their candidate DOES win.  Whatever happened to Obama's audacity of hope? 

Valerie and I both retain citizenship in the countries of our birth; Canada for her, and the United Kingdom for me.  We have adopted this country, a land that we love, and it has adopted us; we're glad to be here.  But having dual citizenship helps us to understand that we are sojourning citizens, here only for a while. 

Last Sunday we were in Canada and attended what used to be Valerie's church for the first week of a month-long emphasis on missions.  On one wall was the largest Kenyan flag I have ever seen, a reminder of the two decades that Valerie sojourned there.  She remains attached to Kenya, and it will continue to claim a hold on her heart.  But her roots lie elsewhere; she was a sojourner in Kenya.

And we are sojourners here, as well.  For as long as God gives us, we will seek the good of the land where we are, but we will do so with an awareness that our roots are elsewhere. In spite of that oath of citizenship, our first allegiance is to God's kingdom, and it is in seeking that kingdom that we have hope.  

Though it may surprise this election's winner, only God is sovereign, and it is likely that the United States will survive its next president.  Whoever holds that office is less important than he or she - or we - believe.  So with due respect to this year's candidates, this election day I'm not concerned about making America great again; my priority is to seek God's kingdom.  And I'm not with her; I'm with Him, the One who is my King.  It's a whole lot harder to be depressed when you're a sojourning citizen.

Practicing Hospitality in a Xenophobic World

Garden gnomes.  They can be useful little critters, and I confess to having a bit of a weakness for them.  So when we were wandering through the shops of Leavenworth a couple of weeks ago, I was drawn to an interesting collection of them.  The one that first caught my eye was this frowning gnome holding an axe with a sign behind him that said "GO AWAY!"  I thought it might make a nice addition somewhere near the front door on Halloween, but my wife vetoed the idea, reminding me that in our complex we actually haven't had any candy-seeking visitors on Halloween the last few years.  And the message didn't exactly seem to reflect a Christian attitude to our neighbors.  In fairness, the sign did have a reverse side that said "WELCOME" which would have been nice except for the word NOT written across the corner of it.

But the gnome got me thinking about biblical hospitality.  It's a topic that has scratched at my mind a number of times over the years.  One of the blessings of moving to the Northwest over thirty years ago was getting to know Vic Walter, who was my District Superintendent and mentor.  Vic regularly encouraged us pastors (and wives) to practice hospitality, to creatively find ways to invite people into our home whether we thought we could afford it or not.  And it was a value that he practiced.  I remember, for example, an invitation to enjoy the pool at his Olympia apartment one hot day.  Never mind that I didn't have a swim suit with me; I could borrow one of his.  (For those who knew Vic, please do not ask me if those swim trunks actually fit me; let's just say we made it work.)  I was welcomed.

It's an interesting word that scripture uses when it tells us (Romans 12, Hebrews 13) to practice hospitality, a word that continues to scratch at my mind.  The word translated hospitality literally means to love the stranger.  Unfortunately in the current political climate, loving the stranger is a difficult topic for conversation, even among Christians.  We live in a world that has become xenophobic, where fear of people who are different from us has become the norm, and love has become the exception.  Before you disagree too sharply with that observation, try tossing the word "immigration" into a conversation, and then listen to the results.  Frequently it is not a pretty picture, and politics poisons the discussion.  It's a difficult thing to love the stranger while you fear the stranger.

Not that there aren't plenty of seemingly good reasons for becoming a xenophobe.  The world has become a dangerous place, and there is no lack of haters who would prefer eliminating those they regard as the enemy to tolerating them.  Am I really supposed to love that kind of stranger?  (Which somehow reminds me of an overheard comment about cross-cultural church outreach:  Look what they're doing to our church.)  The trouble with scripture is that it doesn't include a convenient list of exceptions.  It doesn't encourage practicing hospitality only when it is convenient.  Or safe.  Or inexpensive.  It doesn't tell me to love the stranger unless the world gets too dangerous.  And it doesn't let me display with a clear conscience that garden gnome either at the front door or at the border.

So we chose to leave the unwelcoming axe-wielding gnome behind in favor of a gnome with a different message.  It sits just outside our door with a message that we mean: "WELCOME FRIENDS."  It reminds us of our desire and commitment to have a home and hearts that are open to others, even others who are - dare I say it - different.  It's not that I'm totally over my fear of strangers; I'm not.  There is, I suppose, a bit of the xenophobe in all of us.  But I'm pretty sure that loving the stranger is a more certain road to joy than avoiding him, so we're going to choose to practice hospitality as best we can, even in a xenophobic world. Tea and scones anyone?

It's Autumn Again

It's autumn again, and it's a great time in the journey.  Living in the Northwest has given me an appreciation of this season that I didn't have growing up in Southern California.  The air is crisper, and the world is changing colors with more drama than I was used to as a kid.  And of course, if that road were in Southern California, there would be a whole lot more cars, and the trees would have been replaced by three or four additional lanes of asphalt.  I like fall in the Northwest.

The season does admittedly have its down side.  The mail is filled with propaganda and political pitches from hopeful candidates and optimistic fundraisers, but I guess that's okay.  It does, after all, create jobs for the folks who sort the recycling.  

I sense, though, that some of my friends are not enjoying the season.  It has something to do with the coming election, which is admittedly a strange one.  The good news is that soon it will all be over.  In four short weeks we will wake up, and the election will be history.  There are quite civilized nations in this world that, were they holding an election in four weeks, would only now be launching the campaigns, and it would be incomprehensible to think of who might run four years later.  Here it seems we launch our campaigns early enough to be able to land settlers on Saturn before the election takes place.  And in this particular election season, there is no shortage of folks who would just as soon settle for Saturn as for either of the two major candidates.

Yesterday Valerie and I meandered through the Cascades to Leavenworth and back.  We didn't talk about the election and generally ignored the occasional political poster.  It was a good day.  Mind you, we didn't escape completely.  There was, after all, that window display of both Donald and Hillary with a sign that said "I already hate our next President."

Strangely, it seems to me, many of my fellow-evangelical friends have embraced this season with a gusto that has them burdened by the fear that one or the other (or both) of the major candidates will create irreversible chaos for the nation in general and Christians in particular.  Some have confused the concepts of spiritual and political loyalty, or perhaps see no difference between them, and they have invested Donald and/or Hillary with greater power to shape the future than God himself.  It is inevitable that four weeks from today, some of them will be severely disappointed, and the burden will be heavier.  To paraphrase that famous poem about Casey, there will be no joy in Mudville, for mighty (fill in the name of your candidate) has struck out.

To the distress of some of my friends, I have chosen not to be burdened with care about who is elected President.  Neither major candidate comes close to reflecting my values.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I have chosen not to care.  Let me explain because I think my choice is a thoroughly biblical one.  I am certainly concerned about this country that my parents adopted when I was a child.  I'm concerned enough to pray, concerned enough to weep, and concerned enough to trust God for its future and mine instead of being burdened with care.  And I'm concerned enough to wonder why so many Christians have opted to invest more in political polarization for a candidate that doesn't reflect their values than they invest in prayer.  It strikes me as a strange choice.

I accept my responsibility to a nation that is mine by choice to seek its good no matter who leads it, but I will seek God's kingdom first.  I think that means I need to pray for whoever leads this nation.  But I'm not going to care; God can handle that, and he has said that he will.  It is more important that I seek first His kingdom, which, everybody else's Facebook posts aside, is different from seeking Trump's or Clinton's or any other candidate's.

Whatever I awaken to on November 9, some things won't change. I expect the mountains will still be there.  The leaves will still change color in the fall.  And God will still be God.  He will still continue to build his kingdom, an endeavor He can accomplish purely apart from politics and to which he invites our involvement.

It will still be a great time for my journey, and the destination won't have changed. 

The Fulness of Time

Sometimes I like to describe myself as a lifetime learner.  It sounds so much better than saying that I haven't quite mastered this lesson yet.  One of the lessons that I seem to be taking a lifetime to learn is that God's timing and mine aren't always the same.  Over the course of my 71 years, most of the arguments I have had with God have been about timing.  (And just in case you are wondering, I have lost them all.)

A year ago Valerie and I returned from a trip to be presented with a gift from my daughter and son-in-law.  It was a book with the title The Gifts of being Grand, and was their creative way of telling me that there was a baby on the way.  It was good news!  A few days later excitement turned to sadness with a miscarriage.  The time was not full, even though I thought it should be.

Fast forward a year.  Last week Suzanne gave birth to a heathy bundle of joy named Mateo.  He arrived right on time.  Well, actually he arrived a week after the due date, but it still turned out to be the fulness of time.  Example:  Suzanne's friend Tricia (who happens to be a labor and delivery nurse) had planned to visit for a few days.  As it turned out, her planned arrival date coincided with Mateo's, and she went from the airport directly to the birth center.  Only God could have pulled off that kind of timing.


So for the last week, this very thankful dad has started to learn about the gifts of being grand.  They are good gifts. And in the fulness of time it's something I plan to take a lifetime to learn. 

The Trouble with Giraffes

In a nutshell the trouble with giraffes is that they are in Africa, and I am not.

A few days ago I ran across a collection of stunning pictures of giraffes silhouetted against the sunset on the Maasai Mara Reserve in Kenya (link here).  The pictures were well worth sharing, so I did, posting a link to them on Facebook under a comment to the effect that maybe I should let Valerie introduce me to Africa.  

It didn't take long for several friends to suggest that a trip to Africa should be in my immediate future.  Hopefully what they had in mind was a round trip, though none of them were that specific.  

In fairness, introducing me to Africa has been on Valerie's list.  And the idea of a safari -- a reasonably comfortable one, that is, if there is such a thing -- appeals to me, though I do wonder if it wouldn't have been a better idea earlier in my life when I moved more easily but couldn't afford it.  Not that I can actually afford it now....

But I suspect that it could happen.  The trouble, of course, is that those giraffes are in Africa and I am not.  And getting there takes a considerable amount of planning.  However, I discovered yesterday that my wife has started to research safaris.  I have a feeling she's going to hold me to that Facebook comment.  Valerie has a couple of decades of her life invested in Africa, and one more return visit would be a welcome opportunity.  

It's not the Falkland Islands (the other place on Valerie's mysterious bucket list) and they're not long-necked penguins.  But then the Falklands have no wildebeest migration.  And the gentle tug of Africa is real.  So who knows?  Safari anyone??