Prairie Pastoral

May 28, 2020 | Leave a Comment

Talking to teens about racism: one small town perspective

Racism between and within racial ethnic groups exists everywhere. It exists in our small town of 7,000 on the plains of eastern Colorado.

What we do not experience, however, is racism in its most extreme expressions. The redlining, brutality, and systematic dehumanization we witness in some cities simply hasn’t happened here in anyone’s memory. Our Anglo and Hispanic kids grow up together. There’s some social segregation as they grow older, but friends remain friends for lifetimes. We have a very small African American community whom we know personally and love dearly.

I’m not trying to paint our community as perfect. It is not. Skin color gives advantages to some over others. Racial insult is real, and the achievement gap persists. We have work to do. Nevertheless, I lived in St. Louis for eleven years and owned a home in Ferguson–yes, THE Ferguson where Michael Brown was shot by Darren Wilson. I feel qualified to say that the reality here in our small town is simply not the same. In fact, an African American man who moved to our community several years ago told me plainly how much he appreciates living here where he can just be known for himself and not only as a stereotyped black man. [Read more…]

May 19, 2020 | 1 Comment

Fires, Locusts, and COVID-19: A Closer Look at 2 Chronicles 7

This is the transcript from a weekly v-blog posted to the Facebook page of the First Presbyterian Church of La Junta, Colorado.

“You get what you get”

My daughter was not an easy toddler. Or preschooler. Or youngster, for that matter. But let’s start at the beginning.

At her first preschool, at the age of 2, she staged what her teachers called “the great candy raid,” involving several children in the scaling of a half-wall, into a storage area of their classroom, during naptime. The teachers complimented her on her leadership and organizational skills before calling the school psychologist, whose advice to us amounted to, “Good luck with her.”

At her next preschool, she exhibited a similar lack of remorse for wrongdoing. Sent to the director’s office for some wrongdoing and told to sit against the wall, she managed to find a spare thread and began unravelling the carpet, row by row. By the time the director returned, a decent sized square of her office was down to the padding. It wasn’t pretty.

At her third and final preschool before beginning kindergarten, we registered her and then waited for the phone call. And waited. And waited. Finally, after about a month, I approached the new director. “Any problems?” She looked at her curiously. No. “Really?” No. “You haven’t had any problems with her?” No. I explained some of the problems she’d had at the other preschools. The director looked at her surprised. “No, no. She’s fine. We just tell her, ‘You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.’” The director shrugged. “That’s all it takes.”

You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. If she behaved, she was rewarded. If she misbehaved, she was punished. Period.

It worked on my daughter, because it was clear and predictable. No negotiation. No room for response. No so-called love and logic. An eye for an eye. A tit for a tat. Period.

This is human reason at its simplest: cause and effect. But, as David Hume was quick to point out long ago, the effect we predict is not necessarily, well, necessary. Our ideas of cause and effect are formed by habit, largely, rather than real observation or experience.

I’m digressing a little bit, and you’re wondering where this is going, so let me just cut to the chase and show you what I’ve been ruminating on, several times, during this coronavirus quarantine.

Here it is, in the form of a meme I found on social media this morning, though it’s been forwarded to me several times in different media.

It’s simple cause and effect: We’ve been wicked, so God is punishing us. If we humble ourselves and pray, God will bless us. It’s “you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit” taken to a cosmic level, right? But does it hold up?

Let’s dig deeper.

[Read more…]

April 8, 2020 | Leave a Comment

Contagious prayer

I’ve come to dread the afternoons. It’s in the afternoons and evenings when bad news seems to land in my news feed: New cases of COVID-19 nearby. The stay-at-home order extended. The restaurant recently closed. John Prine died.

I try to stop each time to pray for those affected. If only for a moment, long enough to inhale, and say, “Please, God…” once again.

Prayer is our basic response to trust in God. In prayer, we acknowledge our limitations in the light of God’s limitless power, goodness, and love. On our knees (or wherever we’re praying), we confess, “I can’t do this, God, but You can. Please, please, please.”

Bodies fail us, relationships come to an end, bank accounts run negative, anxiety overwhelms, and yet still God’s promise stands. He sees us, He knows us, He cares for us.

Amedeo Capetti is a physician in Milan, Italy. Milan has been the epicenter of the coronavirus crisis in Italy for months. In a letter to the editor of his local newspaper on April 1, he described that challenge and necessity of faith in such a time and place. Along with the virus, he writes, prayer is contagious, too.

“Yesterday a woman from Crema phoned me to get news about her grandmother who is hospitalized and in serious condition at the Sacco. She told me of her other grandmother, who died of COVID, and of her mother, who is in intensive care in Crema, and then she said, ‘You see, doctor, at the beginning I was praying, but now I’ve stopped.’ I answered, ‘I understand, ma’am. Do not worry. I will be the one praying for her.’ When she heard this, she was moved and said, ‘No, doctor, if you are going to pray, I’ll do it as well. Let’s pray together for my mother.’” https://www.plough.com/en/topics/faith/prayer/grateful-for-each-breath

Physicians know better than any of us the limitations of human power. It’s only fitting that Dr. Capetti should be a teacher of prayer.

It was another teacher of prayer, Meister Eckhart, all the way back in the 13th century, who wrote, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”

He’s right. You see, on the other side of prayers beginning, “Please, please, please,” are prayers beginning, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

For all the bad news, there’s been good news too: The grandfather breathing again on his own without a ventilator. The unexpected kindness of a neighbor. (A package of toilet paper on the shelf when we need it!) The resilience of us all, moving forward, loving still, and carrying one another through the hard days.

And behind all the news–good and bad–is the great good news of God’s love in Jesus Christ who promises to save and restore us in faith.

Maybe, we can all stop when we hear the good news and exhale, just long enough to say, “Thank You, God”? I hope so. I pray so. “Please God…thank You, God.”

And the day goes on.

Bible Verse of the Day