A Tribute to Willard Tate

It is time to think about being in Mexico tomorrow, but my mind is on Willard Tate. In fact, as I think about the lectures that I will deliver on the subject of personal ethics for ministers to a group at a seminar in Mexico this week, my mind is drawn back to all those who were role models for me when I was much younger. Internships for ministry students in graduate school were not as common or as structured as they are today 25 years ago. I was just fortunate.

I interned with at a small, country church in the community of Hamby. The only things in Hamby at that time were a mom and pop store, an elementary school, the volunteer fire department and three churches. It was a friendly farming and ranching community. The church that I served eagerly reached out to the college students who would drive out in the country to attend a church that felt like home.

Students from rural backgrounds were especially drawn to Hamby. My friends at school called it “The Church of the Holy Belt Buckle.” Cowboy hats were spread all over the shelves in the church foyer.
I was hired as an intern to teach a Sunday school class comprised of kids ranging from 6th to 12th grade! I was charged with formulating activities for the college students. And I was given the privilege of preaching when the minister was traveling on Sunday. Willard Tate served the Hamby church on a part time basis for many years. After a successful career as a NCAA Division II basketball coach, he taught university level speech communication courses, traveled the country as a motivational speaker, and of course preached for the little congregation at Hamby.

Willard was a great mentor. He was kind and patient. And he had a wonderful sense of humor. In terms of speaking style as a preacher, he was ahead of his time in many ways. I was of course a graduate student, and graduate students know everything. They have all of the answers. I knew more than Willard at the time. And he was so patient…

I was known to do impersonations of Willard as a public speaker. We loved to poke fun of him when he was off doing one of his motivational speaking seminars. And then he got wind of it… He asked me to do my impersonation for the entire church at our going away party in 1987. When the church at Hamby knew that I had officially accepted my first full time ministry role after graduation, they threw us a great party. They were wonderful.

Tomorrow I will travel to Torreon, Mexico to lecture to ministers about ethics.  I am going to be delving into some very sensitive areas. I am not sure that I have earned the right to say the things that really need to be said. I will do the best I know how. I am so thankful that Willard helped to get off on the right foot professionally. Many ministers are not so fortunate.

Willard is on my mind tonight. I was told several days ago that hospice is saying he is most likely in his final week on this earth. He has been battling cancer for quite some time now. I am grateful that I had a long phone conversation with him while I was driving home from Austin last year. I think we both knew that it was going to be our final time to interact in depth. He could not believe I had been in full time ministry for well over 20 years. He told me how proud he was of me. I told him how much I appreciated all he had done for me over the years. He has always given me excellent references to prospective employers. He told me he loved me and I of course reciprocated.

I started to forgo the Torreon Trip this year, because he could very well pass this week while I am gone. But Jan encouraged me to go. She told me that Willard would be so proud to know that I am lecturing to ministers this week. I am not so sure. I think he would shake his head and say: “Those poor ministers in Mexico have no ideal what they are getting themselves into!” May God bless Willard with peace this week… I will be forever indebted to him.  It is time to think about being in Mexico tomorrow, but my mind is on Willard Tate.

Two Little Lost Boys...

 I don’t ever remember getting lost in Sears when I was a little boy. We did not have Walmart back in the day, but my mother did frequent Sears and Woolworths. I was also coerced into shopping for clothes for my sisters several times a year at the mall. I tried my best to be a royal thorn in their flesh, so I would not be invited back. It never worked. My mother continued to load me in our Plymouth station wagon and haul me along. She used to mumble things under her breath about me burning the house down if I was left alone. I think being hauled through Casual Corner and other girly stores as a young boy damaged me permanently.

It never occurred to me that wondering off and getting lost could have been a good strategy for being excluded from their shopping excursions. I was obviously not a very bright kid. I just accepted my sentencing to the “junior’s section” at J.C. Penney’s, and never attempted an escape. All that time I could have easily walked away and become “lost.” I did not enjoy the attention that being lost brings until I was an adult.
In 1999, I participated in my first medical mission to Mexico. It was a memorable trip in many ways. That initial excursion prompted ten more just like it since that time. Albert Garcia and I became good friends that week we were down there. He has assisted me in hosting numerous medical clinics down there since that first campaign. The ultimate memory of that trip was getting lost in downtown Ciuadad Victoria.

One of the volunteers in the medical clinic who will remain unmanned to protect his guilt asked me if I wanted to walk from the hotel back to the church, where the clinics were being held. I asked him if he knew the way. Well of course he did! (If you ask him, he would likely reverse the role of the two characters in this story. In other words, I was the one who initiated our trek from the hotel to the church.) At any rate, we got lost. It was getting dark and we were wondering farther and farther from our original destination.

My walking partner did not know how to say hello in Spanish and my language skills at that time were pretty limited. We asked several people about the location of the church we were searching for, but only got quizzical looks in return. They were actually very kind, but the language barrier created a complete breakdown in communication.

We finally flagged down a taxi. Wow! That was a memorable ride. I think that man took us to every church in that city except the one where we belonged! My genius brains finally kicked in .Why not go back to the hotel and ask the clerk at the front desk for directions? He knew about the clinic we were hosting. Our taxi driver understood enough of our broken Spanish to get us back to the hotel and ultimately to the church. Our entire group was breaking up into a posse to go search for us, as we drove up. He charged us a whopping $8.00 for our tour of the city.

I learned a few things while we were “lost” that night. I learned that there are decent and kind people everywhere. I learned to feel deeper empathy for people in my own county who cannot communicate in English. And I learned that my friends would actually search for me if I became lost.

I missed the boat when I was a little boy. Surely if I had wondered out of Casual Corner and down the corridor of the mall my mother would have never hauled me along on another trip to shop for clothes for my sisters! She would be too fearful that I would get “lost.” Actually it is not that simple. I have been on eleven medical mission trips in Mexico since 1998. They keep inviting me back despite the fact that I wondered off. I think my mother would have done the same thing…

I am heading to Torreon, Mexico today to lecture to a group of Mexican ministers from all over Northern Mexico. Several of them have become wonderful friends. They will be gathering this week in Torreon for an annual seminar. I am going to try really hard on this trip not to get lost, because these guys know me really well now. They might just decide that the posse can be disbanded this time!

He Never Played Basketball...

I have been asked to speak to a group of middle school kids tomorrow at a local church. What does an old man like me say to middle school students? I actually have a 1996 male model of one of those at home, but I am still at a loss. The speaking context is a basketball tournament, so that put me on a sports track... Do I tell them about my friend who played on the National Championship University of Florida football team? I even have a picture of Tate Casey and me to show off. Tate makes me look like an overgrown 3 year old when he standing next to me. He is a big guy. I think I will pass on that one. I decided to venture off in a different direction.

 Late this afternoon I started thinking about people I know who have never participated in sports...
Kids playing basketball automatically think that everyone can play that or any other sport. But that is not true. My friend Mark never played basketball or football or tennis. Mark was confined to a wheelchair for the vast majority of his life.

I met Mark when I was a sophomore in college. We went to church together. He was several years older than me and far more mature! In those days, there was no such thing as the American Disabilities Act. Our university church group met in a second floor room. It took four of us to carry Mark up and down the stairs in his battery operated wheelchair. The combination of the two was quite heavy. However we were always eager to accommodate Mark's needs.

When the spring semester in 1982 was about to come to a close, Mark asked me if my schedule would allow me to drive him to his summer school classes at Texas Tech that year. He had a van that was equipped for a wheelchair, but he was not able to drive himself. I was also going to summer school, so I told Mark to put me down!

Truthfully I agreed to chauffer Mark that summer because I felt sorry for him. He could not come and go at will like I did. I felt badly for him. Little did I know that I was about to learn a major lesson in life.
Mark was not one to seek people’s pity. I enjoyed his company immensely during our school runs that summer session. He was positive and interesting. And he had a great sense of humor. Driving Mark around in his old 1972 orange van was a high point of my college years. I will never forget the events of that summer school session in 1982.

One morning on the way to school Mark inquired about a girl that both of us knew. He asked me if thought she was nice looking. I told him I thought she was very attractive. I was thinking in the back of my head that she must have asked him about me. (How is that for being egocentric?) He informed that he was going to ask her out. What? You are going to ask her out? Yes…he told me. He then proceeded to ask me if I would drive them on their date, if she did not feel comfortable driving the van. What? I quickly got my wits about me and told Mark that I would gladly serve as his driver .He then had the nerve to give me a lesson on proper conduct for chauffeurs on dates. I shook my head, but inside I was amazed at his can do attitude.
I continued to join three other guys in carrying Mark up and down the stairs. And I enjoyed our summer school excursions. I learned so much from him about life and about having a positive attitude. We enjoyed a great friendship.

He graduated with his degree in electrical engineering from Texas Tech and went to work in Dallas. We actually graduated the same year from college even though he was about 6 years old then me. Chronic health problems caused his education to drag out much longer. He would lose entire semesters being in the hospital, but that did stop him. Mark never gave up.

Ironically my brother in law ended up working with him at that company for a period of time in the same field. Mark’s health began to fail not too many years after graduation. He passed away when he was in his early thirties. He never married. He never had children. But he made quite an impression on everyone who knew him. Even the ICU nurses who took care of him in his final days were touched by his faith and his loving spirit.

I am going to speak to some middle school kids tomorrow who will be right in the middle of a basketball tournament. I am going to tell them about someone who never played basketball. I am going to tell them about Mark.

Forgiveness is a Journey and Not An Event: Part II

 Am I willing to even entertain the thought, as fleeting as it might be? Am I actually open to even thinking about forgiving someone who has hurt me deeply?  That is the first stage on the forgiveness journey that I identified in the Joseph narrative threaded in the final chapters of Genesis. The second stage involves taking some initiative.

Am I Willing to Initiate Forgiveness and Reconciliation?

Someone has to take the first step. Someone must call a truce or end the silence. Shouldn’t it be the person who is the primary offender who offers apologies and gets things moving in the right direction? I would argue that in many cases there is not a primary offender. In most conflicts, there are plenty of faults to go around. Frequently there are no innocent parties. The Joseph story is a pretty compelling example.
Joseph was severely wronged by his brothers when he was a young man. They sold him into slavery! But there were also actions on his part that ignited the conflict in the first place. Still he is the one who initiates forgiveness and reconciliation. In their particular situation, he held all of the power. But that is the choice he made. He choice to reach out to them in a spirit of reconciliatio
What hinders us from extending the olive branch and offering heartfelt forgiveness? It is tempting to say that anger is the holdup. That is not the answer. Anger is a secondary emotion. Something is driving the anger.
Pride must be the reason! Our hearts are so full of foolish pride that we cannot bring ourselves to forgive. That must be the holdback. I don’t believe that to be true either. It is a factor for sure. But it is not the primary issue impeding forgiveness.

If we are going to push back all of the hindrances to forgiveness and initiate reconciliation, we must dig deeper. Why am I so angry? Why do I feel the need to protect my pride? How did this person’s actions affect me? In other words, we have to identify the emotional wounds. We have to name them.
In the past, I have been wounded because someone made me feel worthless. Believe it or not it took me a long time to figure that out! I just knew I was angry or hurt. It took forever to figure out that I felt that their actions made me feel worthless. Once I reached that conclusion, the journey to forgiveness was easier. Joseph had years to think about the personal impact of his brothers’ infractions.
We will never entertain the idea of forgiving as long as we remain stymied in anger, or caught in a web of foolish pride. We will certainly not have the emotional energy to initiate forgiveness and ultimately reconciliation. Once we can identify what has been taken from us or done to us, we are at least on the road to offering heartfelt forgiveness.

Forgiveness is a Journey and not an Event: Part I

 I know I need to forgive him, but I just can’t… I will never forgive her for the things she has done. How many times have I heard such phases? Or more importantly, how many times have I muttered such things to myself? There are a few topics that I deal with in sermons that always seem to be relevant and near to people’s hearts. Forgiveness falls in that category. Relational brokenness unfortunately appears to be the rule instead of the exception.
I spent two Sunday evening time slots preaching through the life of Joseph in the Old Testament. You know which Joseph I am talking about… The one with the cool, multi-colored coat… Oh, the trouble that coat ultimately caused him! In the second week, I identified 5 stages of forgiveness that are based on Joseph’s experience with his brothers. That family knew brokenness. I will let you read the Genesis narrative yourself, but I will devote some time this week to the 5 stages of forgiveness.

Stage 1 – Am I Willing to Forgive?

 

Emotional injury can cut deeply. Emotional lacerations are not easily stitched. Cuts caused by an emotional injury can cause us to bleed out and crater. I read a story today about a lady who overheard some vicious gossip that focused on her! The gossipers and fellow co-workers were in a public restroom. They had no idea that the focus of their unkind commentary was in a nearby stall. The recipient of the hateful words ended up quitting her job and cutting off all further communication with her co-workers. Those hurtful words did permanent damage. Is there any hope for relationships that have experienced the trauma of a major breakdown.
Someone has to take a bold and scary step. Someone must be vulnerable. Someone has to take the first step and at least entertain the idea of forgiving the offending party. I am not saying that they are ready to kiss and make up. I am simply stating that one of the parties must be willing start thinking about forgiveness. That is stage 1. I am asking myself the question: Am I willing to forgive?
In particularly thorny situations, this first stage could last awhile. Healing emotionally takes time and involves several phases. Somewhere during that journey, such a question can be posed. Can I really forgive this person who has hurt me so deeply? I actually think it is a mistake to forcefully tell someone: You must forgive right now! If the person is not ready, it may shut the door to the healing process permanently.
I was hospitalized in 1988 following an accident with a broken pelvis. The physical therapist came around the second day I was in the hospital and informed me that I was going to get up and walk. I wanted to tell her *&%#@. But I refrained. I just kindly declined. In an equally kind demeanor, she informed me that I would walk that day! She just took me to the nurse’s station and back to the security of my hospital bed. It was probably about a 60-foot walk there and back. She had some kind of belt tied around me, so I would not fall.

Maybe we can offer a similar service to those who are emotionally broken. We can gently encourage them to begin the process of forgiveness. We can offer to walk with them, as they take those first tentative steps. I eventually walked down the entire hallway with assistance, but it just took some time. Forgiveness takes time, too. It too comes in stages…

An Uncultured Movie Critique

  I confess. I am uncultured. It is true. I just watched Gone with the Wind for the first time last week. That reveals the truth. I am just uncultured.

I am in change mode this year in that regard. We are going to watch as many of the movies that were awarded with the Best Picture Oscar as we can this year. Gone with the Wind won the Best Picture award in 1939.  I was so impressed with the characterizations in the movie. Wow! The characters are so distinct. There were distinct protagonists, and there are antagonists as well. Scarlett’s character is the one that stands out to me.

Scarlett is portrayed as a narcissistic, spoiled manipulator. Even Rhett Butler gives her credit for being conniving and self-serving. Scarlett is always looking out for herself. I must admit that I admire the tenacity that helped her and members of her family survive in the aftermath of the Civil War. But Scarlett’s life is a tragic one in many ways.

She is a chronic manipulator. Always scheming, always working something for her personal advantage… She seems to have no regard for the impact her behavior could have on others. She uses her charm and natural charisma to get people to do what she wants. Her manipulative activities finally catch up with her.  Death and tragedy seem to have a genuine impact on Scarlett toward the end of the movie. She seems to soften. But it is too late. Her husband will no longer tolerate her. She appears to have a real change of heart, but he still leaves her. Her credibility bank has been emptied.

The movie is a tragedy in that sense. The change in attitude was too late to save her marriage. You leave the movie feeling some degree of hope for Scarlett, however. The final lines indicate that she is ready for another beginning. You hope that a new beginning for her will be one shaped by humility and unselfishness. I learned a few things from watching Scarlett.

I was reminded of the importance of using things and loving people. Scarlett told several people during the course of the movie that she loved them, but it appears she only knew how to use people.

I was convicted of the need to change before it is too late. All of us have a lot at stake…

And finally I was touched by the harshness of that time period and the universality of human nature. We think our society is decadent. Think again. Watch Gone with the Wind again.

Perhaps by the end of the year I will not be so uncultured.. The Sting is up next in our random watching process. It won Best Picture in 1973.

I HATE Playing by the Rules!

Good intentions are not sufficient. We can have the best of intentions, but if we choose not to play by the rules, it will get us in trouble. I have been following the story of the church group who attempted to transport a number of young earthquake refugees from Haiti across the border into the Dominican Republic.
News reports indicate that the group could be charged with human trafficking. I am not there, so I don’t have all of the facts. The church group appears to be comprised of well-intentioned individuals who were attempting to do what they felt was the right thing under the circumstances.

Good intentions can get us into trouble. I am writing from the perspective of having served in ministry in a law enforcement context for over 20 years. My conclusions about this matter are also shaped by having a relationship with a children’s home in Mexico for several years. I am not inclined to sit in judgment on the folks trying to reach out to the Haitian refugees, but my experiences in the above-mentioned areas have taught me some difficult lessons over the years.
Here are three:
1. As Americans, we do not have the right to enter other countries and disregard their laws.
I would love to bring several kids from the children’s home we serve in Northern Mexico home with me. I know several families that would gladly take one of those children as their own. I think they could provide a wonderful home for a child. If I brought a child home, I think Mrs. Knox would forgive me. Who would not want a precious addition to the family? But the Mexican and U.S. governments would not be so forgiving. Adopting a native Mexican child is a tedious and often expensive process. There are laws. There are rules. Church groups are not above those laws. I don’t care how good our intentions happen to be…

2. We create problems for all humanitarian groups when we show disregard for the rules.
I want to be perceived as being credible by the Mexican government when I travel to the children’s home to conduct medical and dental clinics. The only way to maintain credibility is to play by their rules. Some of their rules are silly. It is unwise and hurtful to all people-helping groups when I show blatant disregard for the laws and regulations.

3. Even during a time of crisis, advance planning is still a good idea.
Law enforcement chaplains are trained to eliminate as many unknown or unpredictable factors as possible during a crisis. The crisis itself has already created enough unpredictable issues that cannot be controlled! Good planning, thoughtful actions, and a general non-anxious presence are important elements to consider when serving in an environment that is in an uproar.

I am reminded today that good intentions will get us in trouble if we fail to take other things into consideration. Again, my intent is not to judge the church group in Haiti. I appreciate their desire to serve those in desperate need. And I know that I have a lot to learn when it comes to working outside of the country. Their recent arrest reminded me of the importance of good planning, knowledge of local laws, and cautious leadership. I hope the whole situation has a positive outcome. There is a lot of work to be done in Haiti. But church groups must serve in a credible manner. I hate playing by the rules, but it is a necessity if our intention is to accomplish good things over the long haul.