Ugly Americans

It's always shocking to me how willing white people are to comment on there being eight or nine black players on the court with one or two white players white watching a basketball game. 

Is it our own ignorance that makes us notice and comment on this? Or our jealously that we didn't live out our own dreams of being basketball players and astronauts and doctors? Or our internal struggle, knowing we wanted to be those things because of the joy we imagined those professions would bring - being able to play a game, travel through the stars, or help our friends and neighbors - and not having any idea of the financial benefits? 

You often hear white people say they don't color as a way to say they aren't racist, a way to say they see everyone as equals. The problem with not seeing color is that you ignore the the past struggles of other races. We must learn from our history. We must see the world as children, caring more about joy and the idea of a happy life rather than always trying to have more and be "better." 

I have a feeling those same people commenting on a basketball game don't think twice about the ten people next to them in church all being white. Or nine of the ten people around their board room table being white. Or all of their friends being white.

I write this hypocritically. But I also write this with a great sense of hope that our youngest generations will teach us how to truly be better.

I am not Trayvon Martin. I am not Michael Brown. I am not Charlie Hebdo. But I must stand up for them. I must stand next to them or i'll never be "better." 

Friends, Faith, and Deep Fried Turkey

Last night, my group of friends held our annual Friendsgiving dinner. We all make food separately and come together to share that food. We sit and we talk, we laugh, we tell the same stories we always tell that always make us laugh, and we genuinely enjoy being together.

As we were eating last night, my friend Zach told me he wanted us to go around and say what we were thankful for. I responded with a, "Really?," that probably wasn't as nice as it should have been, but the thought of doing this hadn't even crossed my mind. As someone who doesn't like attention or talking in front of people, I immediately got a little nervous that this might actually happen. I also started thinking about what I might say I was most thankful for.

It didn't take me long to know what I was thankful for. As I looked across the room at 12 friends sharing a meal together, I knew that those 11 people were who I am most thankful for always.

The last couple years of my life have been interesting, to say the least. Two years ago, I was aggressively applying and interviewing for youth director jobs at churches all over the country. I had found a passion for youth ministry and was ready to pursue it full-time. Since then, I've left the church and given up religion and faith almost completely. I still believe that God exists because I know my own faith was real and I see a similar faith in my friends and family, but, at this point in my life, I find I'm better off depending on myself and the people around me rather than my bedtime prayers. 

It's a fascinating thing to lose your religion. Along with the personal change, there's the outside world having a perception of you that no longer exists. It's an awkward thing to tell someone that you don't go to church anymore or that you no longer have the faith you once had. For a long time, the church was my home and that's all changed. I'm not upset about it and I don't think another path that might have maintained my faith would have been the right one for me. 

And because of the friends I have, I was able to stay somewhat sane throughout all of this. Even though they are so invested and involved in their respective churches, they talked with me when I was filled with rage and anger over something they love so dearly. They allowed me to be myself and not judge me for the choices I've made. For that, I am so thankful.

I was literally *this close* to moving hundreds or thousands of miles away two years ago to chase my passion. And the thing that didn't allow me to leave was my friends. It's a rare thing to find friends like this and I'm not giving that up.

So, to Tara, Leslie, Sally, Ashley, Erica, Amy, Lee, Zach, and my brother Jeff, thank you. It's a privilege to call all of you friends.

______________________________

There are hundreds of you that I could thank for being there for me over the years, as well. If you're reading this, you're one of them. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

In the place at the time.

My Wednesday went as planned for most of the day.  I took my brother to work, went to work myself, where I actually got more done than I expected I would, picked Jeff up from work, and headed home to prepare our dishes for our Friendsgiving get-together.  Jeff was making hash-brown casserole and I was going to make a pork roast.  I had to make a last-minute run to the Piggly Wiggly to bum some butcher's twine to tie my roast, but other than that, things were going smoothly. We had a feast fit for kings and queens.  Or at least ten friends who have all found their way to Nashville.  

And then we left to go home.

As we were turning onto the main road that goes from our friend Tara's to our apartment, Jeff noted that it was 9:45.  He is usually in bed by 9:30 at the latest, depending on what symphony or chorale on YouTube performance might have him stuck to his chair, so his note of the time didn't mean much to me other than he was up later than usual on a work night.

And then we came around a bend in the road.

Jeff said, "What's that in the road?" and my eyes immediately tried to find what he was seeing.  I slowed down a little and soon saw a large black lump laying across the far right lane of a four-lane street.  As we got closer, I started to make out the shape of a man's hips, shoulders, and head.  I don't remember which curse word came out, but I know I said one, followed by, "That's a person!"

My mind stopped working.  I still had control of my car, but I couldn't think straight.  I know I asked Jeff if we should stop, like it was even really a question.  He forcefully said we should and was already dialing 911 by the time I could come to a stop about ten feet passed the fallen man.  I knew things were serious when Jeff, whose least favorite game is when you let off the brakes a little while he's trying to get in the car, was already opening his door and getting out before I could come to a complete stop.

By this time, my heart was racing and I still couldn't think very clearly.  I struggled to find the button to turn on the flashers in my car and, when I finally did, jumped out to see what I could do to help.  There was a car in the left lane that had stopped when I stopped.  I began to make sure all of the cars behind us were stopped as Jeff attending to the man laying on the pavement.

Thankfully, he was breathing, but very heavily.  I began waving at cars to stop and having them go around us, not wanting to create a traffic jam on an already fairly busy street.  Several people stopped and made sure we were okay, asking if they needed to call anyone.  I told them we had things covered and that they could go around.  Each one of them asked if I had hit them before they drove away.

The 911 operator told Jeff to hold the man's neck and head up and steady, which I soon found out was my new job in our new situation.  Trying to divert traffic around us and hold this man's head was more than I'm used to when asked to multi-task.  My spreadsheets and emails suddenly became fairly trivial.

I don't mean to be gruesome, but I'll never forget how warm the blood was that was seeping from the back of this man's head.  I was hesitant to touch him at first, but only in my mind.

Within a couple minutes, the police and paramedics had arrived.  Several men and women quickly surrounded the man and Jeff and I were pushed back closer to my car.  Without realizing it, we had gone from willing strangers to possible suspects.

And that's as dramatic as I'll get in this post.

The paramedics took the man to the hospital to have him checked.  He never stopped breathing and the doctors think he had a stroke and fell into the street.  Jeff and I were held for about 70 minutes until this news came in so that a hit and run or assault could be ruled out, in which case we would have either be suspects or witnesses.  

It was a long night, especially the parts of it standing out in the chilly evening air, but with my heart racing for the first twenty minutes, it went quite quickly.

While we were sitting in my car waiting to hear an update from the police, Jeff said he thought it was funny that I had told the passing cars that my brother works at a homeless shelter and that he deals with these situations often.  I had realized I had said this, but I had mentioned it to two or three people.  I was initial embarrassed for the ramblings that had come out in my panic and desire to create calm, but after thinking about it overnight, I knew what I was saying.

And then I realized that many people might not.

Before I moved to Nashville to live with my homeless shelter employee brother, my view of the homeless was just like most people's views of them probably are.  I saw the homeless as a group of people who were out of work and spent the money they did have on beer and cheap whiskey.  And I saw the shelters they visited as soup kitchens and a place for some of them to spend the night.  

I didn't see the mental illness and disease and disabilities that are rampant in the homeless population.  I didn't see how society casts these people to the side of the roads where the rest of us want to drive as fast as we can, leaving them all in the distance.  

And I didn't see the efforts put forth by the volunteers and workers at these shelters to help these people, many of whom have now become some of my closest friends.

In his seven years working with some of Nashville's best people, my brother has seen and done some extraordinary things.  He's held men having seizures while waiting for an ambulance, he's broken up violent fights that I wouldn't dream of stepping in the middle of, and he's dealt with drug overdoses and alcoholism beyond what I can imagine.  

And because of these things, the things he's dedicated his life to doing, his work at a homeless shelter might be the reason there's one more man alive in Nashville today.  

It might have sounded crazy at the time, but I knew what I was saying when I told people we were okay because my brother works at a homeless shelter.

__________________________________

Room in the Inn is an amazing place with amazing people, both their employees and their participants.  They offer a variety of services and programs to help the less-fortunate in Nashville.  And they provide a warm place to stay for many, many people each night during the winter months.  I'm privileged to be associated with this organization and the work they do.  I would encourage each of you to get involved in some small or large way; you'll be better for it.

I look at the world and notice it is turning

It's funny how no matter what happens to you or your community, the world keeps turning.

During the first weekend of May in 2010, the flood in Nashville occurred. I can remember tweeting about how I wanted to scream, "MY TOWN IS UNDER WATER," while the world was posting about nonsense. I can remember friends posting things on Facebook about trivial things after the earthquake in Haiti and the tsunami hit Japan.

I'm guilty of it myself. I worry more about whether or not Jersey Shore and Worst Cooks in America was set to record on my DVR than the issues that truly matter. I'm concerned with how clean my shoes are when I walk out the door instead of the millions of people in this country who have no shoes, no home, or both.

But there are moments in this world when we stop caring about those things that don't matter and truly focus on what does matter. Those times are special. Those are the times we should hold close, for they are what we're made of.

A few days ago, a friend of my youth group, Sophie, had a massive stroke and was hospitalized. Sophie is only 19. I've met her a few times at various youth events and at her schools musicals that both her and many of my youth performed in. She has a voice that gives you chills. I'll never forget her as Belle in the production of Beauty & the Beast from two or three years ago.

I didn't hear first hand about Sophie's stroke, but I began to notice my current and former youth posting things on Facebook about her. I began to snoop around a little to see if I could find out what was going on and through her Facebook page and my youth's pages, I was quickly caught up on the situation.

In this time of trial for their friend, my youth have shown what they are made of. Countless posts letting Sophie know she's loved; pictures and videos and quotes from books and song lyrics and memories posted to show her how much they care. She won't see all of this love until she wakes, but God knows she can feel it.

My youth make me overwhelmingly proud when they act like teenagers, but when they act like children of God, they humble me. They make me want to be better: better as as youth advisor, better as a friend, better as a man.

If you pray, I'd ask you to pray for Sophie and her family. I'd ask you to pray for my youth and all of Sophie's friends as they deal with her situation scattered across the country at various colleges. And if you don't pray, good thoughts will mean just as much.

"And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned..."

My Perfect Sunday.

This past Sunday, I saw the face of God a thousand times.

I saw it when Emily, a senior in my youth group, let down her guard for two minutes and was able to put her appreciation for the church she was raised in into words.

I saw it in Isaac, an intelligent and clever junior, as he took charge of preparing and serving the Lord's Supper for his congregation, making sure that everything was as it was supposed to be.

I saw the face of God in Merritt, a senior who can't wait to go to college and realize her potential, as she conquered her stage fright and spoke the most wonderful sermon from her heart.

I saw it in Lyndon, a seventh grader with the energy of a seventh grader, who spilled water from the baptismal fount with such abundance that her gasp was followed quickly by laughter. And shortly after the laughter came prayer, just as God would have wanted.

I watched Henry, a senior with wisdom beyond his years, speak from his heart. With nothing more than an outline set before him on the pulpit, he spoke the words that preachers want to preach, professing his faith and admitting his questions and doubts.

I saw John Franklin and Max and Catherine and Avery and Jesse and Mattie and Web and Lucy and India and Ben and Emery and Margaret and Anwen and Canon and Rebecca and Rachel and David and Caroline and John laugh and pray and laugh some more. These are the faces of God.

And I saw Nate.

Nate is a seventh grader with autism. He loves iPhones, movies, television, and doodling. He wears sweatpants and red Keds. When he laughs, he laughs; his head falls back and his mouth is wide open. Nate is shy in new situations and around new people. He calls me Mr. Brian and makes me laugh.

On most Sunday mornings, Nate attends church with his parents. They sit in the balcony of the sanctuary and Nate draws pictures and listens to the children's moment. Usually about two-thirds of the way through the service, Nate grows tired and restless and the family has to leave.

This past Sunday, this most perfect Youth Sunday at Second Presbyterian in Nashville, Nate sat in the front row of the church between two of his fellow youth group members. His parents were nervous, I was nervous, but the youth never worried. To them, Nate is Nate; he comes and goes once in awhile, but they're never nervous around him. He sat so quietly through the service that I forgot to keep my eye on him from my chair next to the door of the sanctuary. And then came time for the offering.

One of the youth sitting next to Nate, Web, was supposed to help carry the communion elements from the back of the sanctuary to the communion table during the doxology after the offering had been collected. Nate often follows Web since they've grown up going to Sunday School together, so naturally, when Web got up to help with communion, Nate was right by his side.

As I was sorting out who would take what chalice and which plate of bread to the front of the church, I suddenly had Nate asking to hold a chalice. Not knowing how this situation might play out, I handed him the one empty chalice in hopes that this would reduce the risk for a grape juice catastrophe. He held it for a few seconds and then changed his mind, he wanted to carry a plate of bread. I exchanged anxious glances with a few of my youth and we all quickly and silently agreed to allow Nate to carry a plate with a large loaf of bread, cut into two halves, to the front of the church.

The offertory was nearing a close and I was trying to sort out 11 youth who between them held two large pots of non-perishable food we had collected, an offering plate, a pitcher of grape juice, one empty chalice, three chalices full of juice, two loaves of bread on plates, a plate of gluten-free communion bread, and an in-home communion set.

And I was trying to make sure Nate was okay. After I quietly told him that he was going to take the bread, walk down the aisle next to Isaac, and put it on the communion table, he started to panic slightly. Knowing this was natural for Nate and having worked with him for seven months now, I knew to ask him if he was okay. He said he was, calmed himself down, and told me he had a sniffly nose.

The images going through my mind at that moment were hilarious. I had gone from worrying about the possibility of a spilled cup of grape juice to a loaf of communion bread covered by the sneeze of one of my seventh graders. Thankfully, Nate's father, Mike, had come to save the day. He blew his sons nose and double-checked with me to make sure I was okay with the situation and returned to his pew.

Literally seconds after Nate had blown his nose, Isaac looked at me and then looked at Nate. Isaac calmly, but firmly, said, "You can walk right next to me." Nate didn't have time to respond as they were already walking down the aisle. He walked next to Isaac, who carried the chalice and empty cup, making sure to keep them together so they wouldn't be placed too far apart on the communion table. Nate placed his bread down on the table, made sure it was okay with Jeannie, our associate pastor and head of the youth program, and returned to his seat in the front row.

After Jeannie had led us in the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving and invited us to the table, she called the communion servers to the table. The church Session had approved our request to let the youth serve communion since it was Youth Sunday, so we had selected seven of our youth to help Jeannie serve communion. The seven youth stood up and gathered around the communion table. And before I knew it, Nate was back at the table.

Jeannie and the other seven never questioned Nate joining them. Jeannie gave him a half-loaf of bread wrapped in napkin and told him to say, "The bread of heaven," as each person took a small piece to dip in the cup of juice. I saw Nate mouth the words, "The bread of heaven," and I'm sure my mouth was wide open.

Nate stood by Jeannie and served communion to the congregation. He served his parents. He served one of his fellow youth group members who has severe physical and mental disabilities. Nate served communion. And I saw the true face of God.

My youth astound me. They are smart and funny and loving and wise and intelligent and reverent and perfect. They are children of God. They love the people Jesus loved. The speak their minds. They stand up for those who need a voice. They help without being asked. They are children of God.

And this is why I work with the youth of the church. I couldn't wait to get up at 6:30am on Sunday morning to witness their miracles. I couldn't wait to let the rest of the church witness their imperfect perfection. I couldn't wait to see Lyndon overflow the baptismal fount. I couldn't wait to see Emily, Merritt, and Henry overcome their fears and share their wisdom with the world. And I didn't know it, but I couldn't wait to see a young autistic man serve the Lord's supper to the Lord's people.

This past Sunday, I saw the face of God a thousand times...

Belief can.

To live in a world where guns and the designated hitter are banned, a world where we apologize and mean it, where I'm not scared of what might happen and am instead excited about what could happen, where I can close my eyes and go to sleep at night without having to think about what worlds I could have changed and haven't yet, where we aren't afraid to be ourselves because we might get picked on or made fun of, where we trust one another, where love reigns with no room for hate or fear, where I know that my children will have a better life than mine, where I'm inspired by music and art and other people.

A world that doesn't put labels on people, where gay and straight and black and white and Christian and Muslim are afterthoughts, not first impressions, where I'm not afraid to fall in love, where no one gets left behind, no one, and everyone is cared for, where AIDS and SARS and cancer are things we read about in history books instead of the morning paper, where we're free to express ourselves and our opinions and still be respected.

A world that doesn't tell us who we're supposed to be from the time we come home from the hospital, world that lets children grow into their own skin and become who they want to be instead of who we decided they should be all while telling them to reach for their dreams, where failure isn't scary and success isn't either, where we're not afraid of ourselves but instead afraid of what might happen if we aren't ourselves.

A world I can write too much and erase it too many times, where a passionate personality isn't scary, where the things we have don't mean as much to us as they do, where we aren't afraid to speak up for someone who is scared to speak, a world that praises educators and coaches and mentors more than we do athletes and movie stars, where our motivation isn't money, where all are open to the same opportunities, where we support one another in times of need, where our enemies no longer exist, where we can wait to grow up and then keep waiting some more.

These are the things I want. These are the things I hope for. These are the things I need.

Let us all be leaders.

I woke up this morning and, as I do almost every morning, looked at the previous few hours worth of tweets from the long list of people I follow on Twitter. I scroll them fairly quickly on my phone, knowing that I have to be at my desk sooner rather than later, often scanning through them so quickly I miss the text of many of them.

But this morning, one tweet caught my eye that normally wouldn't have. It was retweeted by someone, someone I didn't even think to check who it was, about the United States Congress proving themselves inept once again. In my opinion, I don't think Congress is inept or incapable, I think they're misguided and using their emotions instead of their minds to play the political game.

The tweet caught my eye because it was almost too ridiculous to be true. It said that the United States Congress, one of our three governing branches, had declared pizza to be a vegetable. Upon reading further into the linked article, I came to find out that this was not a ridiculous article by The Onion, but something that had actually happened yesterday. Congress, in reviewing a school lunch bill put forth by President Obama, declared that the sauce on frozen pizza that is served to students would count as a serving of vegetables.

I've had my fair share of school pizza in my day, having eaten lunch in the cafeteria almost every day from 6th grade to 12th grade, and certainly throughout elementary school on pizza day and other select days. A normal school lunch for me during high school would consist of a slice of pizza, french fries, perhaps a bowl of pineapple that had been canned in a surgery syrup, some kind of dessert, and a glass of Dr. Pepper or Coke.

At the time, eating healthy wasn't too close to the front of my mind and I thought nothing of it (while I still eat pretty terribly, I at least know that things I'm filling myself with are bad, so give me a little credit here...). I had no idea that school lunches were government mandating on the amount of certain things that had to be served each day. But I think I would have known that the sauce on my flimsy piece of pizza was not and should not be considered a serving of vegetables.

While this measure passed through Congress after much urging by frozen pizza companies, potato growers, and the salt industry (three organizations that exude the thoughts of healthy eating...), President Obama's jobs billed remains on the table. A bill that would put hundreds of thousands of people back to work and help our country dramatically.

While the jobs bill is held up, Congress also took the time to reaffirm that "In God We Trust" is still our national motto after President Obama mistakenly said it was "E Pluribus Unum" several weeks ago. So, not only are they taking the time to pass measures that will, in the long term, harm our youth, they're also taking the time to be jerks by making sure our President, our leader, is set straight on something that most people probably don't know.

Its only been in the last three or four years that I've come to enjoy politics and really become interested in who I was represented by and what their opinions were. In that time, I've also come to absolutely adore The West Wing and the idealist view of the federal government it often projects.

In the last four years, my political views have shifted dramatically. My learning about the political system and the hot-button issues, along with growing in my own faith and love, have helped me come to my current views and opinions on the world. While those views most-times side with the Democratic party, the two-party political system in this country infuriates me.

Along with our elected Republicans and Democrats not being willing to compromise on most issues, we have also allowed corporations to control legislation with way too much power. Money has always, always been where power stems from in the political arena, but now we're too the point where a group of frozen pizza companies and potato farmers can get processed tomato paste to be declared a serving of vegetables.

"Government, no matter what its failures in the past and in times to come, for that matter, government can be a place where people come together and where no one gets left behind. No one...gets left behind. An instrument of good."

The Occupy Wall Street movement started for this very reason. A group of people got fed up with corporations securing legislation and finding loop holes to continue to do business the way they wanted to instead of the way that was best for all people and the legal way to proceed in a fair market economy. As the protests have grown and more Occupy movements have begun around the country, their message has become scattered and misconstrued, but the fact that dollars can not be votes is the core of their message.

"If our job teaches us anything, it's that we don't know what the next President's going to face. If we choose someone to inspire us, then we'll be able to face what comes our way. Instead of telling people who's the most qualified, instead of telling people who's got the better ideas, let's make it obvious."

In determining who our next President will be, who our next Governor will be, our Mayor, City Council, and who every elected official we'll vote for will be, we have to look at who is best for us, the people that will be represented. We have to find the representative who inspires us and who has the better ideas so that she or he can lead our cities and counties and states and nations into the years to come. We have to leave our emotions and our party affiliations at the door, and vote for who is better for we the people.

My favorite teacher from all my years in school is beginning his political career next week by announcing his run for the Indiana House of Representatives. I was so excited to vote for President Obama in 2008, so excited and so proud, but being able to vote for Mr. Mann would make me just as proud.

These are the kinds of leaders we need; the kind that make us excited to get to the polls and cast our votes so that they can represent us and lead us; the kind that inspire us and have the better ideas.

We can do better, we must do better, and we will do better...

(that's from The West Wing, too!)