I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine,
There's gotta be a little rain sometimes.
When you take, you gotta give, so live and let live,
Or let go.
I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.
-from “(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden”*
I sang a lot as a kid. I know that’s hard to believe. I sang when I played in the backyard, sang when I rode my bike, sang to irritate my sister. Well, one of the songs I remember singing way back when was “(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden” by Lynn Anderson.
I had no idea what it was about. I just knew I’d heard it on the radio and I liked it. Fact is, the song was a huge hit. It had a feel-good defiance and an easy lilt that took the post-Vietnam radio waves by storm. It preached looking life in the face and smiling real big, regardless of what it offered in return. Its (ahem) rosiness made us all feel a little better as the war wound down. The song was also willing to dismiss those who couldn’t let bygones be bygones.
What is your rose garden?
Is it kids who never misbehave, get impeccable grades and do everything you tell them to the moment you tell them to? That sounds pretty good to me. Is it a spouse or a significant other that expresses his/her love for you every time you need to be reminded, even if it’s several times a day, in that special way that makes your heart all ooey-gooey every time? That sounds nice too. Maybe your rose garden involves winning the lottery, looking like a movie star, having a dream home in the country, being a pop idol or taking over the world. All, except maybe that last one, are understandable and okay.
But sadly for some, their rose garden is a society where everybody looks like them, sounds like them, thinks like them and acts like them. And tragically, some of these people will go to unthinkable lengths to have their rose garden. Burning a cross in someone’s lawn. Spray-painting hate language on someone’s home. Setting fire to a church. Tying someone to a split rail fence and beating them to death.
Today, we recognize that bullying is an ever-present problem in America. Lately our attention has been directed to a spate of teen suicides that were the apparent result of bullying. Celebrities and public figures have been offering words of encouragement and hope to those who live with bullying while others have publicly supported the positions of the bullies. I have never experienced the kind of bullying that would make me want to end my life. I also don’t videotape someone’s private moments and broadcast them on the internet for my entertainment. This is more than just letting bygones be bygones.
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
-Jesus speaking in John 16:33
My rose garden probably doesn’t look just like yours. We all love who we love, think how we think, feel how we feel. We also all have the same freedom to approach God with our brokenness, whether we are the bully or the bullied. There is hope for a world full of people with differences. As this important dialogue continues around water coolers and dinner tables, I hope we’ll remember that God’s grace reaches farther than any of us really understands.
And I hope I’ll always consider the troubling ramifications of a world that only looks like me.
*Words & music by Joe South/Sony ATV Music Publishing.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Patience on steroids
I know patience is a virtue. I’m trying to develop an attitude that is patient, that is satisfied to work for and wait for the good stuff in life. Like paying off my debts, booking lots of concerts, saving up to buy a train pass to backpack through Europe, and on and on. I admit I’m not very patient with myself or with God sometimes.
I know the Bible talks a lot about patience. The King James version also mentions longsuffering, which I like to think of as patience on steroids (see Col. 10-12 or Eph. 4:1-3). I believe longsuffering must be what you earn after fighting something for so long you don’t know what it’s like not to fight anymore. Like years of illness or grief or war. There are not enough bad drivers or annoying cafe patrons in my world to earn me longsuffering.
My great-grandmother, however, did have a longsuffering heart. Her husband, my Papa Fields, was an alcoholic and sixteen years her senior. Mama Fields ran their roadside grocery and did the lion’s share of the child rearing. There were five kids she raised to adulthood, including my grandmother. Then midway through my Mama Fields’ life, as her children were having children of their own, a sixth child, my great-aunt Sharon, was born. She suffered from severe Down’s syndrome and required constant care, which my great-grandmother provided graciously.
Sharon always had a sweet, impish spirit. She loved to laugh with us great-grandkids while sitting in the floor, folding and refolding laundry. She would sit and swing real big on a porch swing while listening to rock n’ roll and rhythm and blues from a radio she held to her ear. She loved music as much as anyone I’ve ever known. She knew that ‘Soul Train’ came on every Saturday night at 10 and she was always inches from the TV when it did. For nearly twenty years after my great-grandfather passed away, and until the day she died, Mama Fields cared for Sharon without complaining. She’d tell you that Sharon was a gift from God, a constant, loving companion.
“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us...” -Romans 5:3-5.
I think longsuffering must be like a superpower. If I ever earn longsuffering, I think I’ll wear an L on my chest. But then again, if I endure the trials, gain the character and still have a song in my heart, as my Mama Fields did, I probably won’t care about the cape and the tights.
I know the Bible talks a lot about patience. The King James version also mentions longsuffering, which I like to think of as patience on steroids (see Col. 10-12 or Eph. 4:1-3). I believe longsuffering must be what you earn after fighting something for so long you don’t know what it’s like not to fight anymore. Like years of illness or grief or war. There are not enough bad drivers or annoying cafe patrons in my world to earn me longsuffering.
My great-grandmother, however, did have a longsuffering heart. Her husband, my Papa Fields, was an alcoholic and sixteen years her senior. Mama Fields ran their roadside grocery and did the lion’s share of the child rearing. There were five kids she raised to adulthood, including my grandmother. Then midway through my Mama Fields’ life, as her children were having children of their own, a sixth child, my great-aunt Sharon, was born. She suffered from severe Down’s syndrome and required constant care, which my great-grandmother provided graciously.
Sharon always had a sweet, impish spirit. She loved to laugh with us great-grandkids while sitting in the floor, folding and refolding laundry. She would sit and swing real big on a porch swing while listening to rock n’ roll and rhythm and blues from a radio she held to her ear. She loved music as much as anyone I’ve ever known. She knew that ‘Soul Train’ came on every Saturday night at 10 and she was always inches from the TV when it did. For nearly twenty years after my great-grandfather passed away, and until the day she died, Mama Fields cared for Sharon without complaining. She’d tell you that Sharon was a gift from God, a constant, loving companion.
“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us...” -Romans 5:3-5.
I think longsuffering must be like a superpower. If I ever earn longsuffering, I think I’ll wear an L on my chest. But then again, if I endure the trials, gain the character and still have a song in my heart, as my Mama Fields did, I probably won’t care about the cape and the tights.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Boo!
Do you ever feel like you’re outgrowing your place in life and would like to move on, but you don’t go anywhere because of _____? You can keep the word you would use to finish that sentence to yourself. But you know what it is. I think for me, fear completes the thought. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of heartbreak. Just garden variety fear.
You know it’s October at Walmart because Halloween throws up all over everything. There are skeletons that sing ‘Monster Mash.’ There are candy bowls with hands that grab yours when you reach in for a treat. There’s a barrage of must-haves ranging from ridiculously gross (a giant rat) to the ridiculously stupid (a beer mug costume?). People around here decorate their front lawns with fake headstones, hands coming out of the ground, inflatable one-eyed goblins and other oddities that makes the homeowners association cringe. It’s a windfall for the movie studios who crank out mindless horror movies (whose trailers incidentally attack my television when my kids are watching...not cool). Halloween is big bucks.
But my question is how did a day that capitalizes on scaring us become so popular? Do you like being spooked? I definitely do not. But it isn’t just ghosts and demons and such that are capable of causing me to shake in my Adidases.
I run in fright from things that I pray for when they actually show up.
Like opportunities to grow in my career. I prayed for concerts and four fell in my lap. In October alone. I’ve been praying for a deeper faith, so of course, I’m faced with situations where I have the chance to exercise the faith I have. Financial hurdles, relationship challenges and personal growth opportunities. I guess the adage about being careful what you pray for applies.
So now I’m trying to gather my nerve, preparing to succeed at something I’ve dreamed of for a really long time. Why is that so scary? It’s what I prayed for after all. Can’t say for sure, but I’m gonna try conquering my hesitations one at a time until I’ve become the person I’ve prayed to become. Confident, self-aware and free of these nagging fears.
So if you’re like me, I’m challenging you to fight the urge to pull those covers over your head. Open the curtains and open your heart. Step around that thing that stands in your way and get on with it. Trust God, collect your courage and shed the fear.
And as for Halloween, the only thing that might get you is someone else’s bad taste.
You know it’s October at Walmart because Halloween throws up all over everything. There are skeletons that sing ‘Monster Mash.’ There are candy bowls with hands that grab yours when you reach in for a treat. There’s a barrage of must-haves ranging from ridiculously gross (a giant rat) to the ridiculously stupid (a beer mug costume?). People around here decorate their front lawns with fake headstones, hands coming out of the ground, inflatable one-eyed goblins and other oddities that makes the homeowners association cringe. It’s a windfall for the movie studios who crank out mindless horror movies (whose trailers incidentally attack my television when my kids are watching...not cool). Halloween is big bucks.
But my question is how did a day that capitalizes on scaring us become so popular? Do you like being spooked? I definitely do not. But it isn’t just ghosts and demons and such that are capable of causing me to shake in my Adidases.
I run in fright from things that I pray for when they actually show up.
Like opportunities to grow in my career. I prayed for concerts and four fell in my lap. In October alone. I’ve been praying for a deeper faith, so of course, I’m faced with situations where I have the chance to exercise the faith I have. Financial hurdles, relationship challenges and personal growth opportunities. I guess the adage about being careful what you pray for applies.
So now I’m trying to gather my nerve, preparing to succeed at something I’ve dreamed of for a really long time. Why is that so scary? It’s what I prayed for after all. Can’t say for sure, but I’m gonna try conquering my hesitations one at a time until I’ve become the person I’ve prayed to become. Confident, self-aware and free of these nagging fears.
So if you’re like me, I’m challenging you to fight the urge to pull those covers over your head. Open the curtains and open your heart. Step around that thing that stands in your way and get on with it. Trust God, collect your courage and shed the fear.
And as for Halloween, the only thing that might get you is someone else’s bad taste.
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