In A Hard Time--Do Something

photo by Don McCullough / flickr

Everywhere I go these days almost everybody I talk to is singing the same sad song.

 "I don't know what is going to happen to our country." 

"I am pretty scared there days--I don't know where we are going."

"This country is a mess. I am seriously thinking of moving to Australia."

With all the chaos around us it really seems like "everything nailed down is coming loose." People can't take chaos but so long. Then they either break down, go crazy or tune out. 

In the grief group I lead we're talking about "What keep you going?" And: "What are you trying to do to stay healthy?" The answers are varied but almost everyone in that circle is trying something to keep their heads above water. 

One thing we all need is perspective. A good dose of history would help us all--some. I 

used to tell my Counselor: "I'm depressed and I don't know what to do." She said: "Have you ever been depressed before?" Well, you know what my answer was. "Of course," I said. " Did it happen more than once?" And I laughed. She went on: "Well, you lived through it. And I think this will pass and you will live through this dark time, too." She was right. 

History helps me here. Once in a while I think we have never been this messed up. Oh yes we have. Remember slavery and the Civil War with 620,000 dead. The country so divided we never thought it could come together. Remember the Depression which looked liked the bottom had dropped out of everything. Remember the fifties and all those little black kids that were spit on and screamed at just because they were trying to go to this new school. 

Remember the sixties when our cities burned and we lost leader after leader in assassinations? Our nation has had its serious ups and downs since we began. I know we have a short memory in this country. So much around us seems like the end of it all. But pause and think--like my depression in that counseling room. I finally got through it. And from time to time it comes back--especially during the hard days. But guess what? I got through that too. And so will we.

In a hard time years ago someone asked a social worker: How can you get up and go to work and stand it with all that's going on today. The social worker smiled and said: "The only way I can make it is to rejoice in the smallest of victories."

The smallest of victories. Hmm. Teachers getting up day after day and trying their best to help their students. Somebody helping the homeless by making a place for them to stay warm and well-fed.  The church that provides shoes for every single child at Christmas in a Title One school. The nurses and doctors. They wipe the fevered brows and whisper encouragement. That thank-you note you received from somebody that remembered what you did twenty years ago. Registering and voting--sometimes standing at the polling place for hours. 

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. But we all need to remember that all the faces that flow into our lives day after day. Sit down and remember. During that terrible time in Germany there was a Pastor and church in a little tiny French town that saved hundreds of Jews from the gas chambers. They did this at great risk of their lives but they did what they could. 

Make a list of all those that helped you along the way. Teachers and friends and pastors and rabbis and maybe some husband or wife or child. I remember a parent telling me that one day she got a note from her little girl. "Dear Mama, I hate you to your guts. Love, Ruth." Smiling, it kept that Mama going.

Open your eyes and do what you can. It matters terribly. These awful days of shootings and hatred and enormous divisions in this country do not have the last word. We do more than send "our thoughts and prayers" to all those hurting out there. We do something.

Someone asked Mother Teresa why she picked up those little dying children in India and all those starving around her. "It's so hopeless," that journalist said--"why do you do this?" And Mother Teresa replied, "Young man I do what I can where I am with what I have."

Want to help yourself and those around you in a hard time? Do something. And rejoice in the smallest of victories. 

                                            Photo courtesy of Comcast Washington / flickr

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Mr. Trump is Beating the Fear Drum

photo by Roberto Taddeo / flickr

"No one seems to have an unkind word to say about fear these days, unchristian as it surely is..."--Marilynne Robinson

Jim Wallis makes me mad sometimes because he says it so much better than I can. But we are on the same wave length. He has a great article in Sojourner's Magazine which I wish all Americans could read. Especially Christian Americans. As the mid-term election grows closer and closer the President it seems is getting more and more frantic.

The lies continually pile up. His theme everywhere these days is fear. Fear of Caravans carrying scary, scary people. Mid-Easteners hidden among those thousands making their way toward America. Fear of "Fake News." Fear of everyone that does not agree with him--hence the name-calling which is seemingly endless. He wants us to be afraid not only of Mexicans and Muslims. But some of the foundational institutions of our government: Judges, FBI, CIA, Foreign competition. This list too seems endless. He wants us to think somebody is going to "stamp out Christmas." Huh? That Christians are being terribly persecuted in this country. His conspiracy theories abound. The Democrats are behind the Caravan. George Soros is footing the bill. And then the list of names: some which have received bombs in their mail-boxes and homes.

Where will this end I do not know. But I do know this: Any preacher who builds his messages on fear cripples any church. It works, of course. Hell, Judgment, The Second Coming and you better be ready. You have to pay for your sins. Punishment for your sins. Are you ready for Heaven? If you don't tithe God will get his anyway. Most of my childhood was a spent scared that Jesus would come back and catch me: In the Pastime Theatre on Sunday, smoking a cigarette--well, other things--you can fill in your own blanks.

Jesus spent a lot of time telling folk "do not be afraid." The message of the angels to the Shepherds was: "Do not be afraid." "Fear not..." is the tom-tom beat that runs throughout the Bible.

Yet we know how powerful fear is. Mr. Trump it appears is celebrating Halloween these days every day. These are ghosts everywhere. Especially Democrats. Especially all those folk that did not vote for him--the enemy of the people he calls so many.

His fear-tactics have been pretty successful for the time being. But fear does not unite a people. Fear does not bring health to all--not just to his base. His base is important but they are only part of the country and more voted against him than for him in the last election. He can't get over that.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once preached a sermon on the dangers of fear. "It crouches in people's hearts...it hollows out their insides...and secretly gnaws and eats away at all the ties that bind a person to God and to others."

Paul wrote to his young friend Timothy: "God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power and of love, and of a sound mind." (II Timothy1.7) But on my  better days I remember the great vision of the prophet Micah: "...They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more; for they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid..."(Micah 4. 3b-4a)

Let it be, dear Lord, let it be!

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blgogspot.com

A Benediction For All

photo by k.e mckenzie  / flickr

BENEDICTION. The dictionary tells me this word means: The Dictionary tells me this word means:  1. The act of uttering a blessing;  2. The form of a blessing pronounced by an officiating minister at the close off  divine service. 3. A mercy;  4. A benefit.

I don't know when I began to use the particular blessing: "Now may the peace that passeth all understanding and the love that will not let us go rest and abide with us forevermore. Amen." I think it dates back to the first church I ever had--and from then until now I have intoned these words at the end of almost every service when I preached.

In one church I had a member who had many problems. Every once in a while she would call me up and say: "I need to hear you pray the Benediction--could you pray it right now." I don't know how many times she would call me and make this request. After I moved away--I heard she was having a hard time and might not live very long. And so I calligraphed my Benediction--which you find to the right. And I framed it and sent it to her.

Since that time I don't know how many people have written our called me and said, "You used to say this particular Benediction. I have forgotten exactly how it went" they would stay, " but it had something to do with peace and love that would never us go--I think. Could you send me the words." And again and again I did.

Myron Madden friend and colleague once wrote a book called The Power to Bless. And in that book he said we all have the power to bless someone or curse someone. And the Bible is rife with blessings and curses. He told about how all the old patriarchs would give their oldest a blessing. Remember Jacob and Eau when Jacob disguised himself and stole the blessing that belonged to Esau.

Myron says that we all--every parent--really every person possesses this power. And we all know people crippled most of their lives because somebody--a parent or school teacher or someone used this power to curse and not bless. "You're not smart." You are no good. You'll never amount to anything. You are a sissy." Or what we have heard of late over and over: "You are a loser."

There really is a peace that we all long for. Something deep inside that settles down and whispers, "It's gonna be all right." I remember Alex Haley telling that when he was a little black boy in Henning, Tennessee he was having a hard time . He sat at the kitchen table crying. And his grandmother touched him on the shoulder and said, "Alex, we don't know when Jesus is gonna come but he will always come on time." That's peace knowing somehow even despite the odds--everything is going to be all right. Of course it is beyond understanding. Like grace it comes when we need it.

We all need to be reminded that there really is a love that will not let us go--ever. So much of love is conditional. "I will love you if..." We know that this is not real love. I wrote days ago about Mr. Rogers and how he blessed multitudes of children and adults too. He spoke to the seniors at Chatham College in Pittsburgh one day.  He told them he wanted to give them the words to one of his "neighborhood songs." Suddenly someone there wrote it was as if those seniors were suddenly four year old again and sitting in front of their TV sets. He said, "Hopefully my song says what those who really love you are feeling about you."And then he gave them his Benediction:

"It's you I like. 
It's not the things you wear.
It's not the way you do your hair 
But it's you I like.

The way you are right now. 
The way down deep inside you.
Not the things that hide you.
Not your caps and gowns--they're just 
   beside you,
But it's you I like."

Maybe our job in this crazy mixed-up time is to pass on these incredible words: a peace that passes all understanding and a love that will never let us go. Any of us. All of us. And maybe lying there in the darkness before sleep comes we all need to be reminded that there this blessing is our blessing. Peace and love. Let's hang on to them life a life raft. And let's give them out to everyone we touch. Reckon that's what Myron Madden meant in his The Power to Bless?

courtesy of flickr


--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Happy Birthday to Me!

My wife punched me last night. It was a 12:01 AM! “Happy Birthday,” she said. I said, “Big deal.” Well, I guess 83 years old is some kind of a big deal. Whew! Looking back I do not know where it has gone. Seems like just yesterday I was nine years old…fifteen…twenty-five…Fifty. And here I am looking back on the terrain with all it’s ups and downs and rocks and hills and rivers and tears and laughter and wonder.

All I can really say to God and to many, many out there is: Thanks for the memories. Funny—but looking back I don’t remember much of the misery and the depression—which has plagued me all my life—or those mean ones along the way that made it hard and difficult. I don’t remember many of their faces or the times when I did not want to get out of bed and face the sad music of that particular day. Thank God—most of that has disappeared. 

But what I do remember are the faces and the names and the occasions and the fun and laughter and the sheer joy of being part of it all. Of course, I don’t think of this every day—but on my birthday I do have to stop and remember and burn a candle before the altar to the Lord God and I don’t know how many of you out there, too.

That little shy boy growing up in that little four-room house across from the mill—I sometimes wondered where I would go and what I would do. There were plenty of rocks in my road as there were in everybody’s. 

Yet “through many dangers, toils and snares” I have already come—the old song reminds me that the grace really has led me this far and hopefully this grace will lead me home. 

When Dag Hammarskjold was the first Secretary of the United Nations he kept a diary and wrote his musings every birthday. And one year he wrote: “For all that has been —thanks. For all that shall be—yes.”

Maybe I ought to concentrate on the “has been” for I am not yet sure what the “yet to be” will bring. I do hope when it comes day after day I can mostly say yes. I was the first one in my family to go off to college. And I still remember with great fondness those moments when everything around me dazzled. And then there was Seminary and marriage and church after church. Six in a row. And nine Interims after that I think. 

When I sorta retired in 2000 my church in Birmingham gave me quite a send-off. They invited people that I had known to be come be part of that wonderful evening. And family came. And friends came. And people came from every church I had served. The next morning of my last Sunday there I told those that came it was the best funeral I had ever been to. And I entitled the sermon “Gravy” which came from a poem by Raymond Carver. And these are his words:

“No other word will do. For that’s what it was. Gravy.

Gravy, these past ten years.

Alive, sober, working, loving and

being loved by a good woman. Eleven years 

ago he was told he had six months to live

at the rate he was going. And he was going 

nowhere but down. So he changed his ways

somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?

After that is it was all gravy, every minute

of it, up to and including when  he was told about, 

well, some things were breaking down and

building up inside his head. ‘Don’t weep for me,’

he said to his friends,. ‘I’m a lucky man.

I’ve had ten years longer than or anyone 

expected. Pure gravy. And don’t forget it.’”

I did not travel his circuitous journey—but I identify with this poem. Folks, it really has been, despite it all: gravy.

And out there, living and dead, are so, so many that have been part of it all. Not to speak of my wife and two kids and my larger family. I could not have made it without them. But more. Dogs and books and food like macaroni cheese and banana puddings and hot dogs covered in chili. Cats, too. Flowers...flowers...flowers. And churches with little tiny steeples and one or two with high tall steeples. And Princeton surrounded by all my buddies and vacations at the beach and New York City and “far away places with strange sounding names.” On our first trip to Paris I asked my wife, “Did you 

think we would be here?” And she said, “Sure.” She always believed—even when I did not. Raymond Carver entitled the dedication of that books of poems I just quoted from in this wonderful way: Tess. Tess. Tess. Tess. And so across the whole of it all I would write my dedication this way: Gayle. Gayle. Gayle. Gayle.

I could go on and on, but as my friend John Claypool used to say: “Life is gift.” And he was right. Gift…gravy…gift…gravy…over and over and again and again. So here I am feeling some days as old as Moses. He looked out on a land he could never enter and misty-eyed he must have wiped the tears. Looking back, I really think I crossed the river and found it was better, much better than I ever, ever realized. Yes. Yes. Yes.

—Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Where is Mr. Rogers When We Need Him?

photo by Rogelio A. Gazloviz / flickr

Coming back from Amsterdam last week—please, please I am not just name-dropping. Anyway—it was a nine and a half hour flight. To find something to do I punched on the movies and there it was: A film about Mr. Rogers. I Hope you get to see it. I was mesmerized as his story unfolded. He was a Presbyterian minister but wanted to tell the story that we Christians are supposed to believe in a fresh way, Somehow the power of television was just beginning and so he began this program called “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”. Our kids loved it. But so did children all over. 

His central focus was on children—talking to them. Not talking down to them and certainly not sermonizing. Just talking to them as real people and letting them know that they mattered.  He wanted them to know that they were important and that who they were was a special gift from God. Nobody, nobody should take that away, he said. Like Jesus years before—he gathered them all up in all his programs and let them know how very special they were.

He wrote many  songs about his deep-held philosophy. This was one of those songs. 

"You are my friend
You are special
You are my friend
You're special to me.
You are the only one like you. 
Like you, may friend, I like you.

In the daytime
In the nighttime
Any time that you feel's the right time
For a friendship with me, you see
F-R-I-E-N-D special
You are my friend
You're special to me.
There's only one in this wonderful world
You are special."


He helped so many of us.. He got the point that so many Christians forget today: that the task of religion is to remind us who we are.  And all of us are children of God. I knows that's quite a stretch and sometimes I wish he hadn't said it but it is true.

The eleven days we spent away from home was such a respite from all the chaos that we

photo by Blink O'fanaye

are inundated with in this country. But we did watch bits and pieces of the Kavanaugh saga. I watched a little as that courageous Dr. Ford stood before the whole world and poured her story out. I saw where so many turned their backs on her and said she was making this up or somebody else besides Justice Kavanaugh had sexually abused her. The President, of course got in on that act and led the sneers and the public abuse that keep so many women quiet.  She was not taken seriously by many people. After all Justice Kavanaugh squeaked through and is now on the Supreme Court. 

But if there is any point to my meanderings it is this. Mr. Rogers was right. We are all special. We all count. Nobody should be left out of the circle. To say that the Democrats has choreographed this whole sad sage was utterly ridiculous. As usual our President did not know his facts. The surly Republicans want to keep the power. Even nasty Democrats that can sometimes get too ta-ta with their enemies. We are all human beings. Immigrants trying to slip into this country. Those 500 caged children. The guards that incarcerate them. And the people that write the rules. Reckon that includes Fox News? I am afraid so.

Civility and just remembering we are all children of God has been lost in the shuffle. The President with all his braggadocio did not cause this. But he does fan the flames. If we do not begin to return to some kind of gentleness and kindness as a people we are headed over the cliff. 

Sitting on that plane as Mr. Rogers reminded me of how very valuable we all are—there was a lump in my throat. We are a long way from treating one another as if we all count. But it is our task to make this world a better place. And we cannot do it without remembering that the greatest of these really is love. And that’s a hard challenge in any age—especially ours. 

photos by throgers / flicker

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com