Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

It’s not a word we like to use. Most of us think of it in terms of a criminal, giving up to the law. Or an army, vanquished in defeat. According to Dictionary.com (where would we be without the internet?) it means “to give oneself up, as into the power of another; submit or yield.”

I’ve been thinking about that recently. The hymn “I Surrender All” has been going through my head, and I find myself singing it. Mostly when I am alone, so as not to disturb other people.

“All to Thee my precious Savior, I surrender all.”

Surrendering myself to Jesus means accepting whatever comes my way as a gift from him. Whatever comes. It all- the good, the bad, the hard, the easy- is a gift from him.

Phillips Brooks (1835-1890) was an Episcopalian minister, who is most well known for writing the words to “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” He once wrote 

“O, do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men! 

Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks! 

Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle. But you shall be a miracle. 

Every day you shall wonder at yourself, 

   at the richness of life which has come to you by the grace of God.” 

(I have this in calligraphy in my office.)

Brooks wrote the following prayer which deals with surrender. The language is a little hard for us (he prayed using King James English), but it is worth working your way through.

Many people I know (and even more I don’t know) are going through some tough times. I’ve found that those who have “surrendered all” have peace. Peace that passes understanding.

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

In my library at home, there is a section of old books that were formative for me in my younger days. The Hiding Place, by Corrie ten Boom. God’s Smuggler by Brother Andrew. The Cross and the Switchblade by David Wilkerson. The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. And a whole slew of small books of poems and poetry by Ann Kiemel. 

For those of you have never heard of Ann Kiemel, she was a popular author and speaker from the mid-1970s through the early 1980’s. She lived and worked in Boston, working in a college and doing work in the poorer neighborhoods, which is where she chose to live. She was known for her simple (but not simplistic) faith. She knew that God loved her and everyone around her, so she would sing little songs to cabbies and people in grocery stores. She would write notes and leave them in hidden places for people to find. She talked to Jesus all the time, asking him to help her make “her little corner of the world” a little better. Though she was in her late 20s and mid-30s when she was sought after as a public speaker, she sounded like a little girl, almost breathless at the end of each sentence. Her writings were marked by never capitalizing “i” when referring to herself nor capitalizing anyone else’s name. Jesus was the only capitalized name in her books. Every young Christian male in America wanted to find a woman like her, it seemed.

(Ann, it turned out, also had a darker side to her life, a part not revealed for many years, then painstakingly told in her book Seduced by Success. But that is not pertinent to this rambling.)

Last night, after posting my reflections on The Bible, I pulled one of her books off the shelf and read it again before going to sleep. I don’t know why I chose this one, but it was I’m Running To Win, a book about her deciding to enter the Boston Marathon. I honestly did not realize that the marathon was today (April 15). I just picked it up, and read through it, remembering how I was inspired by her desire to do something “just for Jesus.”

I have always wanted to run the Boston Marathon. Unfortunately, I have never wanted to prepare for the Boston Marathon. And you have to have the second desire to complete the first one. I have stood in Copley Square and wondered what it would feel like completing the 26.1 mile run. 

I thought about that today after hearing about the bombing. I thought about those who have run thousands of miles preparing and did not get to finish the race. I thought about those who are grieving because of the death of friends and family, and those who are in the hospitals now recovering from the terrible act of evil.

In her book about running Boston, Kiemel talks about her setbacks. Shin splints, injuries, disappointments, pain, hurt. She talks about obstacles that she never thought about before, but suddenly- there they were. She writes about pouring out everything to Jesus and being honest with those closest to her, while still trying to help everyone she meets. The word is perseverance.

In the midst of all this that has happened, I pray for perseverance. Perseverance for those who have to “walk through the valley of the shadow of death.” Perseverance for those who have to learn to live with injuries that may never heal- physical, mental, and spiritual ones. Perseverance for the doctors, nurses, emergency workers, public safety people as they seek to find ways to prevent this from happening again. Perseverance for those who are working hard to find the responsible parties, so that they can be brought to justice (and maybe even, please dear God for their sake, repentance). Perseverance for those who realize that life can never be the same again, that (in the words of Stephen King) “the world has moved on.” And perseverance for all of us who seek to find ways of living as people of the peace of God in a world increasingly filled with violence.

Help all of us to persevere, O God.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”- The Apostle Paul (2 Cor. 4:7-12)

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

What I am about to say may get me in trouble. And this is a little long, so bear with me.

Like about a zillion others of us, I watched The History Channel’s mini-series “The Bible”. I thought it was interesting, but was not overwhelmed with it. It was interesting by what they chose to include and how they chose to represent it. It was even more interesting in what they chose to leave out. Here are a few thoughts.

First, I liked that it did get a few million people to talk about the Bible, and maybe about spiritual and religious things. It may have opened doors for Christians and others to talk about their faith. I don’t know that it did- frankly, where I live most everybody is already talking about their faith. But maybe it did in other places.

Second, I hope that it got people interested in reading the Bible. However, our society seems to be getting less and less literate. The Great Gatsby is coming out in a new movie in a few weeks. It may increase the sale of the book, but I don’t think many people will actually read it. Which is a shame (both for the Bible and Gatsby), because there’s some great writing in there!

And third, I know a lot of families watched this together. I think when we can families to do anything together, we are doing something good. 

There are several problems with trying to bring the Bible to video. The Bible is not a novel. Sure there is a storyline that runs through it of God’s creation, our fall, God’s redemption, and God’s ever-lasting love for us. But this is not a story like even James Michener would write. The Bible has history (which can be made into a video story pretty easily), but it also has poetry, proverbs and saying, letters, genealogies, prophesy, and all kinds of other literature. All of it, ALL OF IT, is important! And when we make a movie of something, people tend to think, “Well, the most important parts were included.” Future video-oriented generations will have this conversation- “Have you read the Bible?” “No, but I saw the movie.” Not the same. Not the same at all. Sorry. It just doesn’t work.

But even the storyline leaves off so much. I know you can’t include everything. None of Pat Conroy’s novels that have been made into movies carry all the story. Prince of Tides, my favorite, has the movie leaving off…oh……about half of the story. It omitted the white porpoise, the grandmother stories, the mansion, all of those things, and more. But it did include Lowenstein wearing 9-inch heels and ordering in French. (Can you tell I was disappointed in the movie?) I know you can’t include all the stories in the Bible. Jepthah’s daughter, the love between Jonathon and David, Paul’s friendship with Priscilla. But to leave out Jacob and Esau? That divided family still is fighting today, and they left off the roots of their rocky relationship!

And a movie leaves off cultural context. In some cases that’s okay. I just saw Lincoln , a great movie. No one had to explain the cultural context to me. I live in the south, where some people still think we are trying to secede from the nation. Over 150 years later that war is still being fought around here. I know the cultural context.

But most people today, even those in our churches, do not know the cultural context of the stories of the Bible. We have an amazingly Biblically illiterate society, even for those who live in the Bible belt. So we see Saul being told to go conquer his enemies and to kill everyone and everything- warriors, women, children, aged, infants, cattle, dogs- everyone and everything- by God, and Saul does not do that, then Saul is punished by God. 

An acquaintance- I really can’t call him a friend- said to me as we went into the war with Iraq, “We need to go in and kill them all. Men, women, children. Everyone. I don’t think we need to nuke them to the ground, because then we wouldn’t be able to get their wealth. But we need to kill them all. After all, that’s what God commands in the Bible.” This is why preachers and teachers and wise elders are needed to teach the Bible. Just to lay the story out there and not put it into context, then to say, “This is the Word of God. Thank be to God.” causes some mighty bad things to happen.

I also know that the point of a television show, any television show- whether it is Fox News, HBO’s Game of Thrones, ABC’s Dancing with the Stars, or the Food Network’s Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives is to get viewership and sell advertising. So things must be presented in a way that will make people watch, watch the ads, then go buy. So we have Biblical characters who sound like they have come from the BBC. And Jesus is a mighty handsome man, though, if we believe what the prophesy from Isaiah says “He had no beauty that we might admire him.” (Probably the most realistic Jesus in the movies was in the old black-and-white Italian film, The Gospel According to Saint Matthew. Jesus was not a particularly handsome guy, just another person on the street, who was overweight. Hey! I can identify with that Jesus!) But I’ll put up with Ninja angels, and people who never seem to get too dirty though they spend most of their time in the wilderness. I can give way for some artistic license there.

I did like the fact that the LifeChurch.tv’s Bible app YouVersion was one of the main sponsors. YouVersion is a free Bible app for mobile phones and tablets. As a matter of fact, LifeChurch.tv makes all of their online resources free for the asking. It is not a business plan that most churches or ministries would adopt. I can’t see Cokesbury or LifeWay or Group saying, “Hey! It’s only electrons, and those are free, so download all you want. We’ve already made this stuff. And if you want to donate, thanks. If not, that’s okay.” I sort of like those LifeChurch.tv people. And I highly recommend their YouVersion.

It was to be expected that a week after the series ended the DVDs would be available. What I didn’t see coming was the book that went along with it, a week later. The Story of God and All of Us is the companion novel to the miniseries. So….they make a movie based on the book then make a book based on the movie. Why not just say, “Want to learn more? Stop by your nearest church and they’ll be glad to give you a free Bible, even discuss it with you!” But then, what would people buy? When I was a child we would often get these Gold Key comic books. They were the classics put into a simple comic book form. Don’t want to read Silas Marner? No problem, here’s the comic book. The thing is you miss so much.

And finally, for all it’s wonderful stories and letters and songs and wisdom, the Bible was not written as a book to be read alone. We do, and that’s okay, but it was written to be told to groups of people- families, tribes, friends, churches. It is a communal book. I read it and study it deeply by myself, and urge others to do the same, but it is in sitting with others and talking about what it says, listening to what others say, discovering the meanings of words and the current application of eternal truth together that brings life. And that what’s the Bible is supposed to do, bring us life. John ends his gospel with these words- “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” (John 20:30-31)

The mini-series did not bring life, at least not to me. All it did was entertain.

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

I served a small mill-village church in the 1980’s in Glendale, a dying mill-village just outside of Spartanburg, SC. Worship was at 10, with Sunday school following (I had another church nearby with worship at 11). I would always arrive at the church around 9 a.m., cup of coffee in hand, and sit on the steps to greet the “old guys” who got there about 9:15. These were five older men in the church, the youngest being around 68 and the oldest in his late 80s. They had been life-long friends, and I loved to sit, listen to their stories, and throw in some of my own. For around 30 minutes we would stand or sit outside on the steps and tell tall tales, actual events, parables, and lies. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was which, but it didn’t really matter.

I remember one time talking about things we had in our homes that we remembered for the first time. “I remember getting our first tv set,” one of the guys said. “It was huge, weighed about 500 pounds, and had a tiny black and white screen that took forever to warm up.” “I remember when we got our first radio,” another chimed in. “Used to listen to Arthur Godfrey on that thing.” “I remember when my coffee-maker didn’t automatically grind the beans for me,” I said. “I used to have to grind them myself in my electric grinder the night before and put the grounds into the coffee-maker so it could automatically brew the coffee and have it ready for me in the morning when I woke up. Finally got one that grinds the beans and brews the coffee for me,” I said. “Yep, them was the hard ol’ days.” One of the old guys looked at me and said, “How do you live with yourself?”

One Sunday morning one of my friends pulled out a pocket knife, a single-blade one, and started cleaning and trimming his fingernails the way all of us older guys do it- the point carefully scraping along the underneath side, back by the skin, getting all the dirt and grease out from the previous week, then the blade being dragged up underneath the nail causing little bits of fingernail to splay out from the edge, then carefully cutting all that off.

“Let me see your knife,” I asked my friend, in that telling-yet-asking way we old guys have. He folded the knife closed and handed it to me. I reopened it and looked at it. It was a nice knife- shiny sharp blade, wooden handle with carvings on each side, and the requisite metal cap over each end. On the blade near the handle joint was stamped the name of the manufacturer, and there was the little fingernail indention along the blunt edge of the blade to help you open it. “Nice knife,” I said. “Yep,” he replied. “Actually belonged to my grandfather who bought it in the 1880’s. He gave it to his son, my father, who gave it to me, and one day soon I plan to give it to my son, who will give it to my grandson. It will have been in our family for five generations then. Imagine that. Same knife, five generations.”

I looked again at the knife. “This knife is over a hundred years old,” I said. “It’s in great shape!” “Yep,” he said. “I keep it oiled and sharpened so that it will last. Of course, over the years it’s had a few new handles and a few new blades, but it’s still the same knife.”

A few new handles, a few new blades. I wondered if his grandfather would recognize the knife his grandson held. 

I told this story to a friend of mine, and he said, “It’s the spirit of the knife that counts, I guess.” I said that I thought it was because the knife still did the same things.

I thought about this early this morning as I thought about the Church. It has been handed down for 200 generations now, and we do not look like the church that met in the home of Philemon (Philemon 1:2….well, since it only has one chapter, I guess I could say Philemon 2),  but yet it is the same church. Like that knife, we still do the same things- worship and praise God, pass the faith on to others and teach the next generation, serve those in need, care for each other, stand for justice and mercy (always two things hard to combine). But we do it differently than the previous generations, and the next ones will do it differently from us.

Like my friend’s knife probably did not start out with a stainless steel blade with the thumbnail indention, or the handle with a stamped wood carving on it, it still cut string and rope and cleaned fingernails for generations.

I think about that as I think about how the church is changing today. It is not the church I grew up in as a child, teen, and young adult. And it is not the church I started serving almost 34 years ago. I don’t recognize a lot of the music, I struggle to master the technology, and I have a harder time texting when I really like to talk face-to-face. And the world around has changed, too. Growing up for me, summer was the slowest time of the year for families, and the busiest time of the year for churches. Churches used to hire “summer youth workers” to do nothing but lead the youth in the summertime because the kids had nothing to do. Now most churches shut down their youth ministry in the summer because kids are so busy. But people, much more creative than me, are constantly finding new handles and new blades, so that we worship and praise and care and teach and invite and love and serve and proclaim.

I just pray to the Lord above all time that, like my friend’s knife, he will keep me sharp.

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

Cathy and I have several sets of hanging chimes outside our house, most in the back. We have some of the very cheap “tinkle-tinkle-ding-dong” kind, some that are works of art tuned to various kinds of music scales, and some that are the large kind that remind you of church bells in ancient cathedrals. We have been collecting them for some time, and a few of them are gifts from friends. We love the way they sound.

Last night (Thursday, April 11 – Friday April 12) I could not sleep so I went into the study to read. In the early morning hours a large storm came through, and the wind blew tremendously. I sat in my study and listened to the chimes ringing.

I could hear all of them, sounding in the night. (I hope they do not bother my good neighbors- they have not yet complained!) It occurred to me that I do not often hear those large “church bell” chimes. It takes a lot of wind to make the clapper hit the tubes. Sometimes I relax by lying in the hammock and when a gentle breeze blows, I hear the cheaper lighter “tinkle” chimes. When the wind blows more, I hear the heavier ones. And during the storm I hear the heaviest of all.

I think our faith is like that. We are all a combination of the various kinds of chimes. When things are going well, people hear us “tinkle” about how good God is. When harder winds blow, people hear the more tuneful parts of our faith (“Yes, things are hard, but God is with us”). And when the storms are raging in our life, they hear from us the deep, resounding sounds of faith (“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him”- Job 13:15).

Into everyone’s life storms will come and winds will blow. And we are God’s chimes for others to hear in the midst of storms. It is important that we are anchored. All our chimes are securely anchored to the carport, to trellises, to trees. The wind is not going to detach them. Blow though it might, all it will do is make them make more noise, more music.

And when we are anchored to Christ, securely anchored there, the storms will come, but they just cause us to sound out beautiful music. Even in the night.

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

“The good thing about being sick,” Cathy told me on Monday when I was begging her to find a shotgun and kill me, “is that when you start feeling better, you feel SO MUCH better!” As always, she’s right.

I’ve been laid up with the flu this past week, it suddenly coming on me last Sunday afternoon. Thanks to the medical ministrations of Dr. Don, the praying ministrations of the people at the church (especially the Tuesday morning prayer group), the caring ministrations of so many folks in our church family and in the staff and friends around the world, and the constant ministrations to soul and body of my wife Cathy (I have felt like one of her cats this week- all I have done is find places to sleep around the house and wait for her to come home to feed me!), I am much better. God uses all kinds of ways to heal us. As a matter of fact, I started feeling better about an hour ago (it is now 1:40 a.m. on Friday, March 22), when my headache that I have had since Sunday afternoon went away. I woke up from a fitful sleep because my head stopped hurting. Then I noticed the aches in the rest of my body were gone. I still have a terrible cough, but that will go away. Soon, I hope.

The point is, I woke up feeling how good it is to feel normal again.

Which is odd. Most of us don’t want normal days. We think of them as boring, uninspiring, dull. Sometimes even lifeless. We are so used to being entertained and excited, that everyday life seems almost pointless unless we can say “Wow!” all the time.

I read an article recently in which a respected teacher talked about the difference between fireworks and a candle. Fireworks, he said, make us look at the dark and say “Wow!” but only for a little while. On the other hand, even a small candle on a dark night can draw a family together or lead a ship in from stormy seas. 

We need the fireworks occasionally, but it is the candle that keeps us together. The joy of ordinary, normal, days. Maybe that’s what days of hardship and pain do for us; remind us of how nice it is to have normal days.

I do not wish for any of you days of pain or grief (though they will come to each of us). But I do wish for you to see the joy of normal, ordinary days.

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

I finally finished reading Joyce Meyer’s Battlefield of the Mind (which I highly recommend) and have started reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together as part of my morning devotions and prayer time. I read this little book years ago, but had forgotten how powerful it was. Below is something that just jumped out at me….no, rather it screamed at me…..and I want to share it here in hopes of getting some feedback and reaction. The section is a little long, but worth reading. Especially reading it slowly, so that what this saint is telling us can sink in.

Bonhoeffer said earlier in his book that some love their idea of Christian community more than the community itself, and that when this happens, that person begins to destroy the community. It reminds me of the old Peanuts cartoon where Linus says “I love mankind. It’s people I cannot stand!” Until we learn to love people first, as Christ loves us, then we will always be complaining. Whether we are preachers, congregation members, or folks who have given up on the church.

Here’s my prayer today- O God, let me love the people, not my idea of what they should be. And thank you for loving me so much, that while I was yet a sinner, you sent Christ for me. Amen.”

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. To get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

For several years Joel, a friend of mine, and I met each other at 5:30 each morning in downtown Columbia. We would walk for an hour and a half, talking as we walked. The first hour we would settle all the problems of the world, which, like the mercies of God, are new every morning. The last half hour we would figure out where to eat breakfast.

We would usually stop by one of two coffee shops in the Five Points area- Drip, a locally owned one, and Starbucks. We got to know the baristas at both places really well. One of the ones at Starbucks, a muscular, jolly man with dreadlocks was our favorite. Since we were there before many of the early birds, knew us fairly well. One morning he offered us his favorite drink- a large iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso, sugar-free vanilla, and cream. Not half-and-half, not milk, but cream. It was great, and quickly became one of my favorites.

The problem is, when I go to any other Starbucks and ask for that, they cannot hear me. For example, this week I stopped by the local store and the woman behind the counter asked what I wanted. “Large iced coffee, extra shot of espresso, sugar-free vanilla, real cream,” I said. She said back to me, “Large iced coffee with half-and-half.” “No, ma’am,” I said, then repeated my order. “Oh,” she said, “large iced coffee, extra shot, sugar-free vanilla, and milk.” “No, ma’am,” I said again, then repeated my order. She looked at me as if I had spoken Vulcan or some unknown language. “I don’t understand,” she said. “You want a large iced coffee, an extra shot, sugar-free vanilla, and milk.” “Almost,” I said. “Instead of milk, this is what I want,” and I walked over to the prep area, leaned across the counter, pointed my finger at a container that had the word “CREAM” in big black letters on it. I wasn’t getting mad, and I didn’t raise my voice, and I certainly did not want to be rude. But I did not know how else to put it. She punched something into the register, a slip came out, stuck it to a cup, and handed it to the woman preparing the coffee. She looked at it, started preparing the drink, and said, “2% milk, right?” “Nope,” I said and told her my order. She mixed a lot of things in the cup, handed it to me, and said, “Is this right?” “Close, but no cigar.” I did not ask her to redo the drink. This has happened to me several times, and each time I ask them to “make it right” (as their sign says) it still doesn’t come out right. 

So I took the drink and walked back down the road to home.

I thought about this as I walked. The folks at Starbucks don’t want to give me something other than what I ask for, they don’t intentionally screw up my order. They are nice people. But they are used to hearing certain things and answering questions in certain ways. They already know what the answer from me should be.

And I wonder, how often is that true for me? How often does God speak to me, and I hear something different? How often do I read the Bible, already knowing what it’s going to say (at least in my mind), and don’t hear what it really says? How often do people tell me something, or ask me a question, and I just don’t hear? Does God ever (figuratively) lean over the counter and point to someone, something, some Scripture,  and say “There. That one. That’s what I’m talking about.” And I wonder if I do something and God says “Close, but no cigar.”

Jesus often ended his parables with these words, “Let those with ears to hear, hear.” God, let that be true with me.

Note: In looking back over my writings and blogs over the years, I realize I have had several different blogs. In order to get all my writing in one place, I am porting them over to this one. The date in the title is the original date of publication.

Dylann Roof has been convicted of all 33 counts against him, including the murder of the nine people in the Bible study group at Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston. This is not surprising since he pretty much said, “Yep, I did it.” He hoped to start a race war. So far, he has been unsuccessful. Now it moves to the sentencing phase. He plans to represent himself there. He did that for a while in the first part of his trial. I suspect he will once again call for the lawyers. The big question is, will he receive the death penalty for his heinous crimes?

Many of my friends who will read this will immediately say that he deserves to be put to death. I agree. He does. But I am not so sure it is the best thing. I usually oppose the death penalty. I say “usually” because there have been some instances where I have thought otherwise.

In Roof’s case, I think it would be a less wise decision for many reasons. But I must say from the start, I have no feeling of pity for him. Nor do I harbor hatred, as strange as it may seem. To hate another person gives them power over your life, and he will have none over mine. I read of a Jewish rabbi who survived the concentration camps of Germany. After he was freed, he immigrated to the US. He said in an interview years later that before he left Germany, he had to forgive Adolph Hitler. He said he wanted nothing of that man coming with him to this new country. So he had to let it go. I want none of Roof in me.

Here’s what I think the death penalty would and would not do.

First, it would make Roof into a martyr for the white-supremacy cause he espoused. We have had these race based hate groups with us since….well, forever. They were very evident up through the 1970’s, then went into hiding for a while. They are coming out from hiding now. Some have had victory marches since the election. (This is not a statement about our president-elect, but it is about some of the groups who support him.) Roof’s death by the state would elevate him in their hearts and minds. It would give a face to their cause that they could rally around. I do not want him to become a martyr. I know some will say that by putting him in prison for life, with no chance of parole, would do the same. And while it is possible that it would elevate him in their minds, it would not be as great.

Roof’s death would not ease the pain of those who lost loved ones, or the three survivors who were terrorized by it. In cases of the death penalty before, family members of victims rarely, if ever, feel good about the death of the perpetrator. Some have expressed relief when interviewed immediately following the execution, but years later still find their lives haunted by grief. As one said, “It wasn’t enough.” It never will be.

Nor would it ease the pain and anguish of the African-American community, though if he is not executed we can expect to hear a lot of “if he had been black, he would have been dead by now….” kind of argument. There is much to do in our continuing journey towards unity and reconciliation. Another death will not move us forward.

His execution, while satisfying “the state”, would not deter further acts of this kind. When averaged together, states without the death penalty have had a lower amount of murder than those with the death penalty for the past twenty-five years. And the difference is increasing. The difference in the murder rate between states with the death penalty and those without in 1990 was 4%. In 2016 the difference was 25%. If the death penalty had any effect on murder rates, we would see that. It does not. Years ago I heard one very popular radio preacher, in speaking about this subject and of the impending execution of a convicted murderer, say “Well, it will stop him from ever doing it again.” True. But the chances of him murdering someone in prison are extremely low. Almost nil.

Now, what do I hope in this case?

The dark, evil, vengeful side of me hopes that he’ll be put into prison for life, with no chance of parole, never seeing any more of the outside world than he can see through the bars in his window. The reason is this- (unfortunately, but it is true) most of the people in the prisons in South Carolina are African-American. The very ones he wanted to start a war with, and the ones who he killed. I can’t imagine the terror he would have to live with day and night forever. I lick my lips with vengeance on my mind, and laugh evilly with the thought of it. Which, in some strange way, makes me just like him as he held his gun in front of those people studying the Bible. I have to admit it in order to get it out of my system. I do not want him or anyone making me into a person I abhor.

I know there are some people who say the Bible supports the death penalty, and argue forcefully for it. They are right. The Old Testament has the death penalty for the following (there are more, these just stand out):

• ·         Murder (Exodus 21:12-14; Leviticus 24:17,21) (that seems obvious)
• ·         Attacking or cursing a parent (Exodus 21:15,17) (our teenage population would go down dramatically)
• ·         Disobedience to parents (Deuteronomy 21:18-21) (there go the younger children, too!)
• ·         Kidnapping (Exodus 21:16)
• ·         Failure to confine a dangerous animal, resulting in death (Exodus 21:28-29)
• ·         Witchcraft and sorcery (Exodus 22:18, Leviticus 20:27, Deuteronomy 13:5, 1 Samuel 28:9) (own a Ouija Board? Sorry, got to kill you.)
• ·         Human sacrifice (Leviticus 20:2-5)
• ·         Sex with an animal (Exodus 22:19, Leviticus 20:16)
• ·         Doing work on the Sabbath (Exodus 31:14, 35:2, Numbers 15:32-36) (there goes all of the people working in the restaurant business, along with about a zillion others)
• ·         Incest (Leviticus 18:6-18, 20:11-12,14,17,19-21) (does that include cousins?)
• ·         Adultery (Leviticus 20:10; Deuteronomy 22:22) (Donald Trump, you’re outta here)
• ·         Homosexual acts (Leviticus 20:13)
• ·         Prostitution by a priest’s daughter (Leviticus 21:9) (it’s tough being a pk!)
• ·         Blasphemy (Leviticus 24:14,16, 23)
• ·         False prophecy (Deuteronomy 18:20) (bye-bye all you forecasters of political events!)
• ·         Perjury in capital cases (Deuteronomy 19:16-19)
• ·         Refusing to obey a decision of a judge or priest (Deuteronomy 17:12) (you better listen to the preacher!)
• ·         False claim of a woman’s virginity at time of marriage (Deuteronomy 22:13-21)
• ·         Sex between a woman pledged to be married and a man other than her betrothed (Deuteronomy 22:23-24)

Here’s a list of where the New Testament specifically endorses the death penalty:

·         

Some will contort New Testament writings, and even the teachings of Jesus, for the death penalty. But that’s what it is. A contortion.

The better angels in me, though, have another hope. What would it be like if he was converted, became a Christian? I’m not talking about “jailhouse religion.” I’ve seen enough “conversions” there to question most. (But, who other than God, knows the human heart? Sometimes conversions among those not in prison make me question.) But, what if he truly was converted, saw the damage that he had done, the hurt and the pain not only to the families and victims, but to our society as well? What if he began, from his own cell, to do the things for bringing people together? What if Jesus actually changed his life, and he began to live it out? There have been other folks who deserved the death penalty whom God used. The apostle Paul comes to mind.  Perhaps God would use him from the chains of prison to speak to others, and lead them into new life. This may or may not happen, but if he is executed, it definitely will not.

During all these months since the massacre I have prayed for the families, prayed for the survivors, prayed for our state and country, and prayed for Dylann Roof. Like me, they are all part of this world whom God loves, and for whom Jesus bore the death penalty on our behalf.

If February 3, 1959, was the day the music died, then February 9, 1964, is the day it was reborn.

That first date is the day when rising rock stars Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J.P. Richardson (The Big Bopper), along with their pilot, were killed in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa. Buddy Holly was the most well-known, having written many hits and covered songs by others. Every Day, Maybe Baby, and It’s So Easy are three that get covered today by popular singers. Valens, known for La Bamba and Donna, was considered the founder of Chicano rock. The Big Bopper is most remembered for Chantilly Lace, but wrote songs that became hits for others (White Lightning and Treasure of Love were two for George Jones.)

I was not quite six when their small plane went down, and do not remember it. The most I learned about it was from Don McClean’s American Pie, which came out in 1971. But I did learn some of the music when I was a young teen in Milledgeville, Georgia. WMVG is an AM station located in that central Georgia town. Back in the mid 1960’s they had an hour of rock music, from 4 until 5 in the afternoon, called Teen Time, and they would allow young teens to come in and cue up and introduce the 45 rpm records in their library. It was mostly whatever was the latest hits that could be heard (or seen) on American Bandstand, but they also had some of the classics of Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, Richie Valens, Bill Haley and the Comets, and others. My best friend from those days, Ray James, and I would occasionally get to be in that booth and introduce the songs. The music may have died in 1959, but it had since been reborn and was growing up fast.

I got to watch it being born (at least in the USA) and grow up as I grew up.

February 9, 1964, was a Sunday. I was living in Tallahassee, FL, where my father was a graduate student at FSU (Go Seminoles!). I was in the fifth grade at Carolyn Brevard Elementary School. Television had become the nation’s medium for just about everything. I remember sitting in silence in my classroom just a few months earlier when the television was rolled in, and we watched the shocking reports of the assassination of President Kennedy. It seems odd now to bring that kind of news before fifth graders, but our teachers knew this would be a defining moment in our lives. As we watched the news on TV, we also watched the tears coming from our teacher’s eyes.

Entertainment and story-telling was also shown by this electronic box in our living rooms. Bonanza, I Love Lucy, The Twilight Zone, and Gunsmoke kept us glued to our seats.

The crowning show, though, was the variety show The Ed Sullivan Show. Ed was the host of a show that featured famous opera singers, plate spinners, ballets, comedians, and a mouse called Topo Gigio. We always hurried home from the evening church service to catch Ed Sullivan.

And on February 9, 1964, five years and six days after it died, the music was reborn with these words- “And now, ladies and gentlemen The Beatles!” Most news reports the next day were about the crowds. There was constant screaming from the teenagers in the audience. And there were some comments about their “puddin’ basin” haircuts, later called a Beatle haircut. (I always thought it looked a little more stylish Moe of the Three Stooges hair style.) What I remember most was the music.

They started with All My Loving, then Til There Was You, and ended the short set with She Loves You (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah). They returned in the second half of the show and played I Saw Her Standing There and I Want to Hold Your Hand.

The British Invasion began and the American response to it. I got to see a lot of it live. The Rolling Stones, Gerry and the Pacemakers, The Kinks, Led Zeppelin from across the pond. The Beach Boys, The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, Credence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane, and The Grateful Dead from our side.

We cannot forget Elvis, who preceded the Beatles in fame and notoriety, but he never really pushed the boundaries. The Beatles did.

I read an article that said the music that was popular when we were fourteen is the music that defined us. Mine began a few years earlier.

Recently I was riding down the road listening to Sirius XM radio and realized I hardly ever listened to anything but music from that era in my life. So, I asked two younger friends to make me a list of twenty-five albums they thought were essential for someone to hear if they wanted to know about their generation’s music. One friend is 45, 25 years younger than me. The other is 20 years younger than him. I am working my way through my 45-year-old’s music, and it is amazing how good it is. I cannot wait to start on 25-year-old’s list.

In 1697 William Cosgrove, a playwright, wrote “Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.” It also has the power to ignite the imagination, make the feet dance, the eyes cry, and hands reach out in compassion.

To quote The Doobie Brothers:

Don’t you feel it growing, day by day
People getting ready for the news
Some are happy, some are sad
Whoa, gotta let the music play

What the people need is a way to make ’em smile
It ain’t so hard to do if you know how
Gotta get a message, get it on through
Oh, now momma don’t you ask me why

Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
All the time.

All the time.