The Narrowing Road

I am acquainted with death more than the average person as an element of my career. It is inglorious for even the most stoic or heroic. It is precious for the saints, in God's eyes, according to the Psalmist (116:15), but only an eternal perspective can make it so. The passing of those closest to me were difficult, to say the least, and not witnessed by me. My sister passed from AIDS in her forties in a nursing home in Baltimore. I got the word just before I boarded a plane to visit, but in time to identify her. My brother died in his sleep, presumably peacefully, but we never know that. It was expected. Cancer. Same for his wife five years after. Their sons died violently, one by homicide, the other by suicide, ages 22 and 19. My mother died at home, as was her wish, but in a difficult final struggle in the presence of my older brother and a hospice worker. But everyone has their own stories, so mine are not any more notable than another.  The one different from those I've not...

Juneteenth probably means very little to the average American, certainly nothing extraordinarily personal. Perhaps this year, America's 250th, it should, if we can collectively discipline ourselves to have some level of gratitude for our nation and its history. I'm envisioning the streets of Galveston, Texas, in 1866 at the first formal celebration, or Jubilee Day, on the anniversary of the announcement delivered by Union General Gordan Granger of General Order #3, that there was no more slavery in Texas. The celebration involved dressing up, feasting, and religious activities of prayer, singing, and storytelling.  What we don't see is any evidence of wide-spread cynicism and grumbling that we might see today. "Why did it take so long to get us the message that slavery was over?", "Lincoln is such a hypocrite, the Emancipation was only for the South, what about those Northerners? Isn't he the one that said we should be shipped back to Africa?" "...

In the sunset and dusk of my older brother's life, he slipped into the role of philosopher. I couldn't have a normal conversation with him without a swift lapse into some deep wisdom like he was unpeeling ancient Chinese secrets from a Tibetan mountain top. It was annoying, but every so often he'd unearth a useful nugget. We were never brotherly close as some are, and there were years with little communication, but when he saw that his life was ending, he made a few major life changes, one of which was to reach out to me, perhaps, in part, to lay down some life principles that, in my three years less life, I may have not fully grasped.  I am beginning to understand his urgency as I watch my impending sunset. Rather than imagining myself as a serene Buddha-like character, I'm thinking more like a benevolent adopted grandfather, thoughtfully rocking gently in a slightly creaky rocking chair. I am surrounded by young people thirsty for wisdom as much as I yearn to dole it ...

I, like most aware folks in the United States, don't see our fellow citizens as united anything. In the mix of arguments comes suppositions about what Jesus would do in light of current culture. As with most classic literature and philosophy, most people leveraging Jesus err in their understanding of Him and many care only to point out supposed hypocrisy of whomever their arguments are aimed.  Some common presuppositions - the foundational framework that guides attitudes, opinion, and perspective - are: 1) I love Jesus therefore He would agree with me 2) Jesus loves me therefore He would agree with me 3) Jesus was all about peace, peace, peace and love, love, love 4) If Christ-followers ran government it would be a righteous government 5) Christianity has no business being interjected into political discourse.  This obviously is not an exhaustive list and with no further comment from me can ignite all the controversy and debate that one could ask for. The reader might be surpr...

My chin stubble had been an insult to my manhood since early adolescence, but it was only the icing, or lack thereof, on the cake of my doubtful masculinity. As if it wasn't insulting enough that my chest hair is singular and my fishing and hunting skills would make my survival in the wild dependent on berries and acorns, that my highest sports achievement was getting to third base in little league, whereupon I peed my pants praying for the end of the world, I couldn't get past the average 8th grader in the beard growing game. Many Facebook friends participate in No Shave November (for what purpose I don't recall), but despite my efforts I ended up looking like No Shave Since Tuesday. During my work life, much of which was spent in uniform, having no facial hair was standard, ostensibly to ensure a proper fit to a gas mask should the occasion arise. What the bearded cops of today do about that I don't know, but perhaps agencies capitulated so that the male officers cou...

Retirement has offered time for reading and reflection that long weeks and days and middle-of-the-night phone calls do not afford. For some reason - and who knows what prompts a random thought or memory - but perhaps the recent Father's Day, I thought of my Grampa Earl. Even now, as I think about it, I don't think I ever called him Grampa, which would be a title of endearment he had not earned. Maybe just Earl. I'm not sure my Mom ever called him Dad, either for that matter, but I'm not sure. Again, unearned endearment.  My memories of him are from just a few visits and the few times my Mother spoke of him. She never had stories, just statements and not even full statements sometimes when she caught herself in memories she did not want to resurrect or share. I do know that he was an alcoholic. I have compassion for addicts, but sometimes their trail of destruction is simply too worn to find it. Mom just said he was an old drunk, the type that made them scramble to hide ...

Can We Re-Christianize America? God forbid. Recent presumably well-intentioned mandates proposed by government officials in Texas, Louisianna, and Oklahoma do not portend well for religious liberty or for the restoration of Biblical literacy in the U.S. A knowledge of the Bible was not lost due to the government, nor can it or should it be restored by government. It is the American church that has failed to maintain the eminence of the Bible. Since labels seem to be a prerequisite for getting an audience I guess I'll cave and say I am a boomer steeped in postwar patriotism and anti-communism, politically and religiously conservative, leaning Libertarian in thought but void of rightist extremism or Christian Nationalism. I hesitate to call myself an intellectual but I have spent half of my career in a college classroom and have earned a Doctorate in Education. My conservatism was forged in the "roots of my raisin'" in the Midwest (the Ozarks, more specifically) Bible B...

So Abraham gets a promise from God to be the father of a great nation. So he and his wife (who is also his half-sister) wait around to get pregnant and get this thing started. Years go by. Abraham isn’t so studly anymore and Sarah, although cute for her age, has no hope of childbearing.  So here they sit around the breakfast table wondering how to help God out. Sarah says Abraham should just go have a baby with Hagar, a servant woman. Abraham drums his fingers on the table, trying not to look too interested, but gets up shrugging his shoulders and says “If you say so, dear” and wastes no time getting Hagar pregnant. Which, to no one’s surprise, really bothers Sarah. She’s disgusted with herself, describing herself as “worn-out” (Gen 18:11) with a guffaw when angelic visitors tell her that when they visit her next year she’ll have son. “Yeah, right”.  But she does! Little Isaac. One boy to fulfill the promise of descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven.  Isaac and Re...

 The Cancer Starter Pack By Joel Shults F*#% Cancer T shirt. Check GoFundMe site. Check Light Blue prostate cancer support ribbon frame for Facebook profile. Check Start My Cancer Journey blog. Check Actually, I'm doing none of those (with the slight deviation on the blog thing, since this is one). But I don't intend to do a play by play as some do. And I'm not criticizing those who do that because I often read them and they have a lot of value. Mostly, I'm writing this for me to look back on in a year or two and to help myself navigate an uncomfortable new territory. The discomfort is not that I have cancer, but what kind of person I should be now that the Big C is trying to define who I am.  I resent the invasion. I have submitted myself to other forces before as a  soldier, police officer, and follower of Jesus but to be forced to submit to a cancer-fighting lifestyle is insulting to my existential integrity. The first issue, in my mind, is disclosure. Really, how ma...

I, and many like me, had the great Providential privilege of growing up with a wonderful church family. My parents began attending a small mission church in my hometown of Rolla, Missouri that has now grown to be a large congregation with a lot of square footage on its campus. I had wonderful teachers and leaders whom I knew cared about me and led me as I grew to become more involved in ministry and leadership. As a member of the baby-boom generation, I was part of the tide of growth in evangelical Christianity spurred by population growth, post WW2 patriotism linked with Protestantism, and media reach of Billy Graham and others. It's tempting to make this a rail against the shortsightedness and self-righteousness of contemporary church growth experts who scoff at that model (and who are now replicating the suburban storefront praise band cookie cutter non-denom monosyllabic named church plants that were once so revolutionary and counter-Baptist-cultural). But I won't. What...

One of my favorite gospel songs is Sweet Beulah Land in which we sing “ I'm kind of homesick for a country to which I've never been before” referring, of course, to our heavenly home.  Many Christians are longing now for the America that was founded by people longing for religious freedom and formed in a revolution promoted by people of faith. It is a country that no one has ever seen and has never existed.  The America of 1776 was a mess of slave holders, British loyalists, unskilled soldiers, and determined patriots longing for independence from England but necessarily encumbered by France to make independence happen. The names we rightly salute as founding fathers who pledged their lives and honor for the infant United States of America spent the productive years of their lives in debate, argument, intrigue, and scandal. Their product, the U.S.A. in 2018, is an amazing and certainly Providentially ordained land, still one of opportunity and liberty, both o...

Among the top ten things a lot of folks think are in the Bible but are not, such as “God won’t give us more than we can handle” and “God helps those who help themselves,” is this nugget: Forgive and Forget. The Bible does say “ He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west ” Psalm 103:12 (NLT), but that’s God, not us. We have plenty of instruction from scripture about anger, forgiveness, and vengeance. Our anger should be brief, vengeance left to God, and forgiveness reflective of how God has offered to forgive us. If we wish to reflect God’s forgiveness in how we express forgiveness there are some things we should remember about His way. First, all transgressions are sins against God, regardless of who else is hurt or offended along the way. The reason that sin is sin is that, by definition, it separates us from a completely holy and righteous God. Secondly, God withholds final judgement for the ultimate offense of rejecting Him, so every moment that ...

My granddaughter went away to church camp this week. I am certain she will have a great time, make great new lasting friendships, have a basketful of wonderful memories, and look forward to going to again next summer. That’s the way it should be. Assuming she doesn’t get poison ivy like I did. Anybody that knows anything about my childhood knows that I was not an easy living suburban kid. I grew up in the country. Although it wasn’t farm life, it was rural, and there were animals. Some of our animals were kept for food,  like our rabbits and our beagles and our chickens and our pigs. The beagles weren’t edible, of course, but they did chase squirrels and rabbits for my dad to shoot and skin and fry up for supper. For a brief time in my early years, we drew water from a well, cut wood for heat, and took baths in a galvanized silvery colored tub. We got a phone when I was in first grade. It was the heavy black kind with a metal dial that buzzed on the way around an...

I can’t be too cynical about the activism of the loudest and most media magnetized of the Parkland protestors. I can only vaguely imagine their experience, and realize that I, too, center my advocacy on matters that have personally affected me. We choose the color of our ribbon by what malady has touched us. So no one can blame those who were previously untouched by violence and, therefore, unconcerned about violence until they faced it. We are instinctive in our desire to fight or flee, or be frozen in silent immobility by, those things that we perceive to be an attack on our corpus, security, or sense of self. Having violent and sudden death stalk your hallways can do that. I also am wary of blaming activists for concentrating on things that are disproportionate to other important issues. Yes, I agree that drunk driving, texting while driving, abortions, and swimming pool accidents each kill more people every year than die in mass shootings or school shootings, but these d...

I loved growing up in a Southern Baptist church. I loved my youth group. I loved the men and women who loved me just for being a kid. I loved working at a Baptist college. I loved the era of homogeneity and respect, where being a Christian was a fine thing in society. Those days are history. Now, being a Christian is foolishness to the world, as in the Apostle Paul’s day - except in some places, the hedges are high, and the livin’ is easy - like most Christian schools and church youth groups. Here are some things you should know if you’ve been behind that hedge: 1.       Y our youth pastor probably didn’t prepare you for real life very well. I could be wrong, I hope I am, but the pressure on youth leaders to make everything fun and inclusive makes it hard for them to develop biblically literate disciples. Coke and pizza and rallies are fine, but this is a life of Jesus obedience we’re preparing for, not how to be good members of the Kiwanis club. If you can’t ar...