The phrase “The Lost Boys of Sudan” applies to youthful refugees from the long ongoing religious and ethnic war in their home country.  Many of the Lost Boys attempted to flee the violence, and those who survived grew up in refugee camps in Kenya.  If you happen to watch today’s opening ceremony of the Olympics in Beijing, you will see one of the Lost Boys.  He will carry the flag for the U.S. Olympic team.  His name is Lopez Lomong, and his is a story of the triumph of the human spirit.

Lomong, a 1500 meter runner, was kidnapped at age 6, taken to a windowless cell holding other abducted boys, and fed a diet intended to slowly kill him and the others (millet mixed with sand).  A couple of the older boys had figured out what was going on and helped young Lopez eat just enough to survive, subverting the intended effects of their “meals.”

One night, the boys slipped through a small opening and crawled until they were far enough away to stand up and run.  They ran virtually around the clock for three days until they reached the Kenyan border, where they were arrested and put in a refugee camp.  Lopez Lomong remained the refugee camp for ten years.  But, with the help of the United Nations, the boys were able to receive one meal each day.  The only meat they were given during a whole year was a chicken at both Easter and Christmas.  They learned to ration for themselves the meat and to make a thin soup.  Every last fragment of the chicken was protected and savored.

He once earned a small amount of money in Kenya for watering cows.  Rather than spending the five shillings, he held onto it for a long time.  Subsequently, he and some of the other youths at the camp heard about the 2000 Olympics occurring in Sydney, and that there was a television in someone’s home several miles away on which they could watch the competition. 

When they arrived to gather around the small black-and-white TV, they were told that the cost of watching each event was five shillings.  Lopez paid to watch Michael Johnson sprint to a gold medal, and was inspired by watching Johnson display emotion at the medal ceremony flag-raising.  A seed for a dream was planted.

In 2001, the United States arranged to bring to this country 3,500 of the Lost Boys and facilitated their placement in foster homes.  Lopez joined the Rogers family in New York State, and a whole new life and world opened up to him.  His first meal on American soil was at a McDonalds, where he ordered chicken.  When he didn’t finish eating it, he carefully wrapped up the leftovers to save for later.

Life was strange and wonderful in his new home, and Lopez, 16 years old at the time, discovered, for example, that students actually wrote their school lessons on paper, rather than learning to write in the dirt on the ground.   It was all new, and he eventually became a U.S. citizen in 2007.  Exactly one year later, Lopez Lomong made the U.S. Olympic team.

There is so much more to the story of this young man and his remarkable journey, but he has shown courage, persistence, and inner strength under extreme and difficult circumstances.

Today, the world will get to know him, and will learn what he stands for.  He has never forgotten where he came from, or the political and economic realities that have led to innumerable deaths and exceeding suffering among his people.  His choice as the flag-bearer for the U. S. Olympic team is a statement by him and his teammates, directed at China’s complicity in his home country’s horrors.

I recently joined Facebook, the online “social network,” and set up a personal page.  On Facebook, only those you allow to be your “friend” are able to see your profile.  I have enjoyed playing with this new toy, looking for people I have known and never or rarely see, or with whom I have limited opportunities to communicate.  I already have connected with several, including a high school buddy I lost track of when we graduated and went separate ways 36 years ago!

Behind sites like Facebook, I think, is the reality that many people are lacking a sense of positive relationship with others, individually and in community, and there is a genuine need for that.  

Dick Meyer, author of Why We Hate Us:  American Discontent in the New Millenium, observes, “The social scientists who study human happiness have found quite clearly that as Americans have grown more prosperous, well-fed and sheltered, healthier and long-lived, they have not grown happier.  That, to me, is the great puzzle of our times.  But one part of the puzzle is also clear:  the greatest variable in happiness is the quantity of human relationships.  Here, more is better.”

Meyer suggests that as we make the many choices available to us:  where to go to school, where to live, how to pursue our vocations,  even what our bodies will look like (cosmetic surgery is very popular), we end up losing connection to a community in which to be grounded and in which to build meaningful relationships with others.

Meyer is one of those non-religious folks who seem obsessed with religion, and he maintains that our society’s easy mobility, and our narcissistic approach to most aspects of our lives, including faith, contributes to the decline of organized religion and its institutions:  The communal benefits of churches, synagogues, mosques, etc. have eroded significantly, and people are feeling the effects in terms of happiness and emotional well-being.

He may have a point.  Many people have no denominational identity or loyalty, and look for a church that reinforces their personal opinions; some congregations claim to want to attract new people – new “members” – but when it comes to inclusion of these folks, they do very poorly, recycling longer-term members in leadership roles; a consumer-oriented mindset regarding churches is becoming the norm.  Community is difficult to build under these conditions.

So, failing that, and other efforts at community, people look elsewhere.  The need for human connection and relationship is deeply-felt, but sometimes it seems more and more remote.

Recently, I watched the new movie Swing Vote, starring Kevin Costner as Bud Johnson, a small-town loser whose elementary school-aged daughter tries to get him to vote in the presidential election.  When a snafu occurs (I won’t go into detail, in case you plan to see the film), the entire election result comes down to Bud’s vote, which must be re-cast ten days later.  The campaigns of the two candidates focus attention, advertising, speeches, policy statements, and events entirely on trying to convince Bud to select their man.  Hilarity, conflict, etc. ensue.

A noticeable aspect of Costner’s character is the liberal use of language normally considered inappropriate in polite society.  He swears a lot.  I suppose some of it is designed to show the frustration of a person like Bud, his anger over many matters in his life, and his inarticulate ways of expressing himself.  Some of it, of course, is funny, but it was a little extreme in the movie, I thought.

One of the legendary cursers of all time was the late baseball icon Ted Williams, who apparently could string together whole sentences of colorful images to include noun, verb, adjective, adverbs, and whatever else could be diagrammed on a chalkboard.  At least one person who reads this blog had first-hand experience hearing Teddy Ballgame let it fly when points needed to be made.  I never had the opportunity, but admit I’ve been curious about it over the years.

Occasionally, I’ve overheard one of the geniuses that lives on my block conduct his cell phone conversations while he stood in the middle of the street.  If a certain word, in its varieties of forms, were eliminated from his end of the call, his usage of his allotted minutes of air time would be cut in half.  Money would be saved.                                   

I recall with great amusement an incident involving one of my professors at seminary and his use of language.  He was a kindly old gentleman, extremely hard of hearing, but committed to the faith and to teaching.  One day during a class discussion of some issue that now eludes my memory, he became absolutely infuriated by the thought of whatever it was we were talking about.  He sputtered and turned a shade or two redder as he searched for words strong enough to express his total disapproval and disdain. “That’s…just...(quivering anger rising along with blood pressure)…for the BIRDS!”  I think he felt better after getting that off his chest. 

I could be wrong, but I suspect Simon Peter and some of his first-century fishing colleagues were not unfamiliar with forceful forms of verbal expression.  As we will see in a Sunday scripture text coming up soon, he also was inspired to say something earth-shaking because of his association with Jesus. (See Matthew 16:16) 

Words have power attached to them.  Choose your words carefully, because they always have the potential of instantly changing everything.

Chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews begins with these words, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.”  But still, we’d like to see the “things that are not visible,” wouldn’t we?  You know, just to be sure.  Faith can get a little shaky sometimes.

Maybe that’s why people become so wound up over images of holy figures they think they see in strange places.

Recently, I stumbled upon a series of “news” videos covering stories of such discoveries.  For instance, there is the image of an angel in the plate-glass window on the front of a carpet shop.  Of course, it is seen only at night when certain lights are on outside a convenience store across the street.

Jesus recently was spotted in the fur pattern of a cat; in the way a Cheeto was shaped (you know, those empty-calorie crunchy snacks having the consistency of ancient, hardened Styrofoam, and dusted with orange powder – don’t get me wrong, I love them!); in a sonogram image; in a rock, co-existing with George Washington; and on the bark of a tree.  The Virgin Mary was discerned by a plumber in a rust stain in an industrial sink somewhere.  A prior sighting of her occurred in a partially-eaten cheese sandwich, while Mother Teresa was observed in a cinnamon roll.

I guess you can tell I don’t share the enthusiasm some folks have for such things.

If someone wants to see “proof” of God’s existence, or of the validity of faith, I would suggest paying attention to the beauty and complexity of the eco-system, thinking about how provision is evident for the sustaining of human life (as long as we don’t totally foul it up), or observing how people can experience positive personal transformation as they deal with the realities of life, and even find grace and healing in the midst of tragedy and pain.

Perhaps I should slow down on the Cheetos and at least look them over before I pop them into my mouth, but I’m not interested in whose face or form they might resemble.  In my view, our faith is fed in more substantial and eminently more satisfying ways.

I drove past a church that had a message on its sign at the driveway entrance:  “The Ten Commandments Are Not Multiple Choice.”  To me, that is akin to another one commonly seen, “What Part Of Thou Shall Not Don’t You Understand?” signed, “God.”

One only can imagine the crowds of people attracted to such churches. (That’s because they only exist in the realm of imagination.)  How the Christian faith can be expressed with belligerence and the edge of anger is a mystery to me.

At my seminary there were a number of pretty conservative students who were there only because their bishops or district superintendants or someone in their church’s hierarchy required them to earn the Master of Divinity degree.  These guys already understood God, Jesus, and the Bible with a clarity that eludes most others, and were deeply suspicious of professors who challenged them to think beyond their accepted conventions.  Sometimes they remarked how they would “pray” for the professors to be “saved.”  Uh huh, I’m sure.

A little story that seems applicable appears in the current Christian Century, describing the experience of a Sri Lankan Buddhist during his days at Garrett-Evangelical Seminary.  One of the other students, a Christian, declared publically that the Buddhist was “going to hell,” presumably for not sharing the Christian’s outlook and faith.  The Buddhist responded that the Christian likely would end up in heaven, but his “noisy theological disputes” would be so loud and disruptive that he, the Buddhist, would “voluntarily choose hell, where he might compassionately serve suffering souls.”

What part of “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and your neighbor as yourself” (a teaching attributed to Jesus) don’t Christians understand?

If television evangelist Kenneth Copeland wants to raise money so his broadcasts can be viewed in high-definition, that’s his business, and that of those who choose to send him money for such a purpose.  If Copeland wants to live in a $6 million home, that’s up to him and the board of his church, over whose decisions he holds veto power.  If he desires to have numerous relatives on the payroll, benefitting financially by their involvement in various church-owned businesses, so be it.

Sen. Charles Grassley (R-IA), member of the Senate Finance Committee, has been looking into the financial matters pertaining to some high-profile, and extremely wealthy, ministers, including Kenneth Copeland, in order to determine whether current tax laws governing churches are “adequate.”  I assume that means, “Are they appropriate vis-a-vis church-state separation and sufficient in maximizing revenues for the federal government?”

Of course, for many, the temptation is to look at Copeland’s empire (1,500 acre gated compound, mansion, private jet, hefty bank accounts, etc.) and suppose there is something fishy going on.  I’ll let Sen. Grassley worry about that, although that is not his stated purpose.  After all, Copeland is a “prosperity gospel” advocate, so it makes sense he merely would not “talk the talk.”  Talking, however, is not something he is doing with the senator from Iowa.  Subpoenas may be on the horizon.

It appears I need to go back and consult lecture notes from my seminary days (as if I even could find them!), for I don’t recall that the words “prosperity” and “gospel” ever were linked together.  I know I have missed it in my reading of the New Testament.  In fact, sometimes I wonder whether the North American church, with all of its troubles, has endeavored to make the connection anyway, only to find it detracts from the reason for the church’s existence.

In other words, with organizational structures to maintain, intense focus on budgets and income, and strategies for “getting more members,” do the worship of God, and ministry in the name of Jesus become lower priorities for churches?  It sure looks that way a lot of the time.

Ah, but we need to have all of that so worship and ministry can occur.  Right?  I guess so, if we are placing more faith in out-dated business models and comfort food levels of church membership (how many people are needed before valid ministry can occur, anyway?) than we place in the Holy Spirit’s guidance and God’s provision. 

As I recall from reading the New Testament, Jesus rounded up a dozen average folks, taught them and showed them what God’s love was about, sent them out to tell and show others, and they became known as people who “turned the world upside down.”  Not everyone welcomed them.  Not everyone chose to join the parade.  We know very little about their individual lives.  They left no financial legacy, for there is no evidence they prospered in a material sense.  In fact, many suffered as a result of their convictions and commitments. 

Jesus called for sacrifice, and he took it to extremes, himself.  Was he merely a fanatic?  Was his approach unreasonable?  Is there a connection between his teaching and example, and the Rolex (when you can refer to an inanimate object by a brand name only, you know you’ve moved to a loftier dimension) on some televangelist’s wrist? 

How is success among Christians and the church to be measured?

What are the implications of faithfulness?

Legal, legitimate, honest, on the up and up, or not, it’s difficult for me, given the evidence of scripture and the experience of most Christians in the world, to embrace prosperity as the standard or result or promise of following Jesus.

I'll be taking a break from the blog for a week or so.

Here are some videos to tide you over:

My sons and me.

George Carlin on the difference between football and baseball

I don't drink beer, but I love the Miller High Life commercials

Cab Calloway sings, "Minnie The Moocher"

Enjoy!

One of the most crucial aspects of responding to Jesus’ Great Commission, to “go and make disciples,” is the sharing of personal experiences.  Sometimes these are referred to as “resurrection stories” or “Easter stories,” and the idea is they illustrate how God is present to people, and how life changes when that relationship is embraced. 

A resurrection story currently “out there” is the one told by baseball player Josh Hamilton.  Several years ago, Josh was considered the best amateur baseball player in the country, and was signed to a contract by the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, as the team was then known.  (They now are simply the Rays, having dropped “Devil” from their name prior to the current season.)  The team committed $3.5 million to Josh in order to get him into their organization.

Unfortunately, most of the money went up his nose and into his veins. 

Josh was a hopeless addict of cocaine, heroin, and alcohol.  It disrupted his baseball playing to the point he appeared only in 15 minor league games for the Rays before he was kicked out of baseball for violating rules related to substance abuse.  Meanwhile, his family struggled mightily as his addictions ruled Josh’s life.  His wife feared for her safety and that of the couple’s young daughter.

It took an admonition from his grandmother, who was repeating everything Josh heard from others through those years, before he finally accepted the challenge of sobriety.  As Josh explains in his resurrection story, “For some reason God allowed my heart to open up that night and see my grandmother’s eyes cry and see that in her face.  That’s what it took.”

Josh soon will mark three years of being sober, and as people familiar with baseball can attest, his comeback as a player is remarkable.  Anyone who watched the Home Run Hitting Contest prior to this year’s Major League All-Star Game saw quite a display by Josh, including a record 28 home runs in the first round of the competition.

Now, Josh takes advantage of opportunities to share his story and tell how God’s presence in his life gives him a new beginning.  He observes, “Obviously, the better you are, the more people are going to listen.  That’s the way the world is.  At the same time, if I wasn’t doing well, I’d still be talking about what God has done in my life.”

Further, Josh states, “Where I’m coming from is no different than a lot of people that have gone through the same struggles.  It’s just that I’ve got the platform to be able to share what I’ve gone through and how God brought me through it to hopefully inspire people that are going through the same things.”

Keep it up Josh.  I would add that we don’t have to be athletes or otherwise prominent people to share our resurrection stories.  Anyone with faith in God has a story to share.

What’s yours?  And who have you told?

There are more victims of war – the children of our soldiers.  This is a growing reality as more women are serving in the active duty military, and as National Guard units are relied upon more heavily in this war than in prior conflicts.  Stress, depression, school absenteeism, physical symptoms go along with the fear, confusion, sleep disorders, and anger of children whose parent or parents are deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan not only once, but twice, or even more.

According to the Washington Post, “Of approximately 263,000 people deployed overseas, mostly in Iraq and Afghanistan, about 43 percent are parents.”  Even when the parents return home, things can be very difficult, especially if the parent is traumatized by the experience of war (are any of them not traumatized?), and/or if they suffered wounds or even the loss of body parts.  The Post states that “Of 808,000 parents deployed since September 11, 2001, according to Pentagon data, more than 212,000 have been away twice.  About 103,000 have gone three or more times.”

Johns Hopkins University, Sesame Street, and others have developed resources in an effort to provide necessary help to children and families directly affected by troop deployment.  Counselors and teachers are struggling to keep up with the needs.  Finding ways to maintain contact with their children, even while in the war zones, have helped some parents provide a semblance of assurance to their children.  At least, today’s technology provides some opportunities in this regard.

But still, the burden is heavy for young developing minds and bodies.   I can’t even begin to imagine what “life” is like for the children actually caught in the crossfire.

I guess we’ll never learn.