"Therefore, we will not fear..." early December 2020

The rain came overnight.

It’s late autumn in Texas so dreary, rainy nights and days are fairly common. 

The thing is, I left the car windows cracked a bit late yesterday to air out the car and then I forgot they were down when we turned in for the night. My youngest realized it this morning when he went out to get in the other car and he rushed back in for towels and my keys. 

A damp, soggy mess.

It’s not the most terrible thing ever; it’s just an unnecessary annoyance due to my forgetfulness.

All that detail leads me to this moment, this evening, sitting in that car, on a towel, to let the heat circulate to try to dry it all out, the seats, carpet and mats. As I’ve been sitting here, I’ve been scrolling through my phone photos and I came across clips I recorded at the Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors show in Dallas in the fall of 2019. I was in the standing-only part of the floor, center stage, second row-ish, 15 feet from Drew himself and about 10 feet from Neighbor Rich, the bass player. That’s all cool enough as it is, but cooler yet is that I was surrounded by, even shoulder to shoulder with, strangers who share a common passion with me. 

We love this band.

We all sing along and chant the words with Drew and the guys. 

Shoulder to shoulder.

Nobody was afraid of anybody else.

In Texas, at this time, unlike in other parts of the U.S., restaurants are open but must give space been patrons. There’s usually an empty table or two and bar stools are blocked off between parties. Wait staff are masked up and everyone does their best to avoid touching each other. 

As if we’re afraid of each other...

Even at church, normally good, faithful, friendly congregants walk widely around each other. Fist bumps and elbow taps are common but so are less eye contact and walking away from where small pockets of fellow believers may be congregating. All of this assuming people even choose to attend in person.

I’ve never been afraid of Don and Winfred and Todd, but lately many seem to be...

I can imagine, even hear the refrain, that we’re just trying to “stay healthy and not hurt each other”. Words like Prudence and Wisdom are rejoined. A few go all the way to the emotional word bank with Kindness and Love. Frankly, I was part of that group early on. But now, I’m seeing IT.

What’s the IT?

Not many seem to admit the obvious reality-word-of-the-moment: Fear.

Actually, I’m giving it a lowercase f: fear.

When we change our habits of loving the people in our lives, beyond the household, for some scary thing unseen...what’s behind that?

When I avoid generosity to the stranger because they might hurt me??, what’s that all about?

And when those who claim a giant faith in an unfailing God choose to hide, avoid and run away...what does a watching world make of that?

Maybe some How-Dare-Yous are rising up. “Joal, you don’t know my story or what I’ve been through or what I’ve lost. How dare you say I’m living in fear.”

These times have been intense for many, no doubt.

I’m going to Pause.

And Breathe.

I have a question. 

The question before us is not what I say or what you say, but especially those who are believers in Jesus, the question is always and only what does HE say in the Scriptures?

Isaiah 41:10 “So do not fear, for I am with you...”

Psalm 46:2 “Therefore, we will not fear though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea...” (talk about a description of 2020 with the virus and all)

I John 4:18: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

Nouns and pronouns are the Who and Whats. The dilemma is not what are we afraid of; rather, it’s what and Who do we love. And then Who loves us. (The Who needs to be read with both with a capital W and a lowercase w.)

And Verbs matter. 

Even if Mrs Walinski’s 10th grade English Grammar wasn’t your favorite class, you should be able to clearly identify the verbs. 

Like “Do Not Fear”. 

That’s not a wish, hope or prayer. 

That’s a direct command. 

Then there’s “We Will Not Fear”. 

That’s a declaration, not an unanswerable question.

These are things you and I CHOOSE and then CAUSE. We’re not waiting for divine intervention to cause us to not fear; we’re told to do it ourselves! Scripture tells us the love of God has been put into us. The choice to reject fear and choose life is then on each one of us to choose. Author John Eldredge calls this the Divinely given “Dignity of Causation”; we, human actors, CAUSE things to happen-God has given us that dignity and responsibility.

There’s a newly released tune by Lydia Laird entitled “Hallelujah Even Here”.  It begins:

“Right now I feel a little overwhelmed,

Right now I could really use some help,

Right now I don’t feel like it is well with my soul...”

She goes on into the chorus to tell us to sing and praise God and declare the Hallelujah IN the trouble, concluding with:

“Over every worry, every fear, Hallelujah Even Here!”

We Cause, we Do, we Fight, we Choose.

Hallelujah Even Here by Lydia Laird

As 2020 winds down, I’m hearing some folks wish for it to be over, as if a new calendar on the fridge is going to stop their fear. 

Friends, it won’t. 

But you can prayerfully Choose for fear to stop.

We Cause, we Do, we Fight, we Choose.

As for me and mine, we will fight fear today, as we did yesterday and as we will tomorrow. 

We will express Gratitude.

We will look with Hope to that Day when Jesus returns. And out of those places of Gratitude and Hope, we will NOT fear. I’ll let Drew and the boys anthem us out with a snippet of 

Shine Like Lightning by Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors

Peace, friends.

And Come quickly, Lord.

Whoa. That Ain’t Cool (Learning to Detach From Facebook) December 2020

There are a handful of podcasts I listen to regularly. I am subscribed to Wild At Heart, the Jocko podcast, Hold These Truths and the Minimalists, among others.

It was those keep-it-simple Minimalists who had a light hearted moment prior to the election where Josh and a guest decided they’d see how long they could go without news that would tell them who won the Presidency. No tv, no social media, nothing for as long as they could 😜. They were making the point that the rush and crush of news, social media and the like needed to be pushed back. (Little did they know how honest it would be to definitively not know who won, even a weeks later!)

At about the same time, the Netflix docu-drama “The Social Dilemma” was being highly touted. My wife, Sarah, told me to watch it. 

I did. 

It was unnerving. 

I won’t spoil all the details if you haven’t watched it yet, but I will give a key thought and line from those interviews: “If you’re not paying for the service, YOU are what’s being sold.”

Whoa.

That ain’t cool. 

The film went on to detail how each person, based on their profile and preferences, gets different “news”. Their worldview is being nefariously pushed, prodded, shaped and altered by a hidden hand and an unseen agenda. 

Whoa. 

That ain’t cool. 

I’ve had the seemingly lighter experience of being on my laptop and ads scroll up of things me or the wife would be interested in. Maybe you have, too. It was a bit of a thrill at first as each ad caught my eye; it then turned to dread as I realized someone (or something like an A. I. algorithm) was watching me, stalking me, keeping tabs on all my clicks.

Whoa.

That ain’t cool.

Every cop drama on the tube has that scene where the detectives will back track the perps route by calling up the gps data from the stolen rental car. They always get the bad guy due to the savvy work of the show’s tech geek. Brains over brawn, right?

Well, yes, I guess anyone could track me the same way, as I do have a Texas toll tag, after all. And then there was the threat (or maybe attempt-we don’t fully know, do we?!) by the Kentucky Governor during the spring covid lockdown of 2020 to track residents leaving or returning to his state by warrant-less cell phone tracking. (This ACLU article should make us all pause on that thought.)

Whoa.

That ain’t cool.

The Social Dilemma played out its hour-and-a-half of insight and its scare-the-be-gessus-outta-ya data, and I was suddenly more aware. Again, my laptop ads, the cop dramas, cell tracking Governors and even general intuition have always told me to beware, to be careful, but I hadn’t yet acted. 

After the documentary, I did.

Step one for me: sign out of and delete the social media apps I rarely use, in my case, Twitter and Instagram. Facebook and YouTube have a purpose in my life and family, but they will now be controlled differently. And, by the way, the whole “turn off your notifications” as THE way to control the socials just wasn’t gonna work with me, so...

Step two: I signed out of Facebook and moved the app to the back of my phone. The plan at this point is I will sign in when I feel like I can and should look at it for a bit, then I’ll immediately sign back out.

“Sounds like a solid plan, Joal.”

But wait, there’s more unexpected creepiness to share.

Not but about 3 days after I signed out, I got an email telling me that Sarah, my wife, had posted something on Facebook I should see. I asked her about it and she had no clue what it was referring to. The email was simply baiting me to sign back in.

                          Then 2 days later I received another email

telling me a friend’s wife, Angie, had posted something I had to check out. And over and again these emails came, highlighting posts from my mom, my buddy Kelvin, a missionary friend Beverly, a work colleague Marci and such. I ignored them all, but realizing the pattern, I thought, I should screenshot this so others could see what I was talking about. 

Then the algorithm trio (watch the documentary and you’ll get the reference) amped it up another notch by TEXTING me with my wife and mom and friends Jason and Doug’s names in various text messages.

Whoa.

That ain’t cool.

Needless to say, The Social Dilemma is apparently being proven true in many, many respects. 

A last side note about social media and their delivery of the news, as it were: I’ve ignored the socials for weeks now, it's been nearly 2 months since I last looked at FB. I’ve also skipped newsy podcasts, just deleting them and never listening. I’ve scanned a smidgen of news related emails, but just nowhere near the quantity I would read daily in the past. The funny thing is, life goes on just fine/

The Presidential race worked itself out without me: legal challenges, recounts, threats and recriminations galore. 

I drank my good coffee this morning.

Work continues, school continues, family continues.

The world is still spinning. 

All without “being social-media-connected”.

I get the irony that the way most of you will see this essay is by me posting it on Facebook. Take a minute to snicker, sneer, laugh and guffaw. It’s okay. In a real sense, it’s the world we now find ourselves in. But we can and must make an adjustment on the consumption for our own good and the common good.

Watch the movie, test the theory and see if life isn’t a little bit easier when you unplug from the Matrix.

Peace, my friends.

A Rainy Day At the Beach November 2020

A Rainy Day At the Beach (is better than a sunny day anywhere else, right?!)

The weather app let us know that rain was a distinct possibility for many of the days we’d be here. As it turned out, a tropical storm was brewing; Florida would certainly feel it, while SC would get the outer edges and bands.

And unlike the smaltzy, local news weatherman’s predictions, the app was spot on. 

It’s been pouring buckets at the beach. 

It’s glorious.

Rain does something for me; it’s another God-given, slowing-life-down mechanism and, when combined with beach dwelling, it’s soul care at its finest. 

Unlike oppressive heat and even the heaviest of snows, rain showers, short of hurricanes, are mostly short lived. Rain, specifically at the beach in the Autumn, is measured in minutes of burst, even when overcast for hours. And on the subject of overcastness...though the sun rose this morning and daylight arrived, the continual subdued greyness of the day is actually calming and comforting.

There’s a stillness at the beach that only the rain can enforce. The little ones scurry inside while mom and dad lug in all the beach gear. The teenagers who were riding bicycles on the high side of the firm-sanded beach suddenly realize they’re pedaling through quicksand and make a U-ey for the hotel. And surfer dude, while perfectly willing to surf in the rain, can’t surf in the darkness, so he paddles in and calls it a day, brah, as the afternoon fades into evening and the downpour continues. Then all take a moment to watch the majesty of water fall from the sky to meet the other water as it crashes on the shore.

Some might think a rainy day (or days) at the beach feel like a waste. 

Me?

It’s exactly the prescription for much of what ails my soul.

Respite At The Beach November 2020

res·pite

/ˈrespət,rēˈspīt/

Learn to pronounce

noun: a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

Stopping.

No To-Do List.

A blank calendar.

Ignoring calls, emails and texts.

No one banging around in the house or garage.

Stopping.

Just stopping.

That is the real joy of a beach break with my wife. 

We’ve been blessed to make this a nearly annual habit every Fall for a decade. As I type this I hear and see wave after wave resolving less than a quarter mile away from the rented condo’s porch. 

The waves don’t stop. 

Sarah and I do.

Friends are often surprised that we don’t take the boys with us on vacation. Daily life with our children is the main reason we come as a duo, instead of a posse. This duo needs a break. We need to stop once in a while. For anyone who is a caregiver to a family member, whether this has occurred to you yet or not, you need respite. When it’s ALWAYS on you to take care of and for someone else, 

you can knuckle down, 

you can power up, 

you can handle it for a season; 

but you can’t do it indefinitely. 

I’ve known friends and family to have elderly or infirmed parents needing care. I have a friend or two who’s cared for a seriously sick spouse until their vows were fulfilled in death-do-us-part. Then there’s the special needs parenting community, a place that’s usually one of the longest, permanent experiences in the realm of caregiving. And here is where I need to give special recognition to my wife, Sarah, as THE Momma who handles SO much in this realm for our tribe.

Sarah and I have two boys, the oldest, having special needs, is Julian. He’s adult aged, but will forever not be an adult. His younger brother is finishing high school and we’re looking toward the “what’s next” in his life: work, college, etc. But for Julian, there’s a lot of “it’ll always be this way” in the daily grind; so respite, clocking out, taking a break from caring for him is a physical, mental and spiritual health necessity for Sarah and me. Some parents who do not face this kind of parenting challenge are stupifide that a mom or dad wouldn’t want to always be WITH their kids. Many in the special needs parenting community do understand and most have a specific guilt-to-understanding journey that hopefully, then thankfully, ends up recognizing respite.

res·pite

/ˈrespət,rēˈspīt/

Learn to pronounce

noun: a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

No one mentioned this concept to us years ago. We were not taught us about this. 

I can’t remember reading an article or book or hearing a podcast on the topic (especially since podcasts didn’t exist 20+ years ago as we were first wading into these waters).

(Actually we didn’t wade; we were deluged. Not drowned, just relentlessly pushed down, soaked through and exhausted.)

(Yes, that’s a more accurate parenthetical.)

I earned a company sponsored vacation about 15 years ago, a cruise. We got the then little boys to Grandma and Popa’s house and we sailed for 4 or 5 days. And we experienced respite for the first time. At that point, Julian’s challenges were present, though not fully diagnosed or understood. A lot of clarity has come into the world since then in the form of better mental healthcare, behavioral healthcare, medicines and even alternative therapies. But at that point, we just knew he had 24/7 struggles and we were always worn out.

Back to the cruise...it didn’t fully dawn on us what was happening then, but as time went on, we realized, we just needed a few days or a week here and there when WE don’t have to stay on adrenalized high alert. If someone else could look after Julian, we could actually sleep deeply, we could breathe deeply instead of the constant feeling of holding our breath fearing what might present next.

So now, blessed by some family move decisions, blessed by a good work situation and blessed by an ever widening community of people who “get-it”, Sarah and I regularly find ways for short weekend-type of respites and longer, planned vacation kind of respites. Some would consider the trouble and expense of these trips and getaways to be too much; to us they’re a lifeline of sanity worth any sacrifice to achieve.

“Obviously, God made a mistake!” (A thought for Christian Believers who are Never-Trumpers) September 2020

That exact phrase was once said to me. 

Incredible, right?! 

Even the most religiously disinterested person I know would likely feel uncomfortable being in the room with a person making that statement. 

“God—mistake—what?!”

Just incredible. 

Doing the work I do, business to business sales near the political realm, I’ve met untold thousands of people over my years. I can clearly recall this one and only, particular client who uttered that outrageous phrase. I called on him about 11 years ago. 

An Amish man. 

I know the Amish to generally be a quiet natured, faithful people. Mostly they have a rigid, literal, expression of faith, yet it’s a deep, sincere faith in the God of the Bible. When I visited with this particular middle America man, President Obama had been newly elected and the Amish man was devastated. We talked about the direction of the country, which seemed hopeless to him, and in his ranting he said “Obviously, God made a mistake!”

The image of that man proclaiming that to me surfaced in my memory recently as I’ve heard friends express the same sentiment, just without saying those exact words, as it relates to the current political climate in the U.S. Elections have a way of stirring folks up. Lately, and repeatedly, I've heard the ring of these “fallible God” comments specifically in reference to President Trump. The thing is, it’s usually not my left leaning, liberal friends who are making the comments. Rather, it’s flowing from people I would consider to be generally conservative, though piously self-described as “never-Trumpers”; they honestly believe that God must’ve made a mistake letting Donald Trump win the presidency. Of course, they’ll never admit it to being that plain. Instead, they dress it up in political double talk and social media pontificating.

In life, we all face pain and suffering, confusions and curiosities. Regardless of your belief structure, pain and such are universal.

Also, though many may choose not to admit to it, there is the unseen hand of Sovereignty and Eternity, simply the hand of God.

But then, inevitably, comes the whole “mankind’s free-will” discussion and that’s where the mental wheels fall off for many folks. The dialogue from a scene in "The Matrix" comes to mind where Neo knocks over a vase that the Oracle preemptively told Neo not to worry about. Neo still apologizes, the Oracle again says not to worry about it and adds “what’s really going to bake your noodle later on is ‘would you still have broken it if I hadn’t said anything?’”

To say you believe in God naturally leads to this next core belief question: Is God sovereign?

Meaning, is He in full control of the Universe or not?

I believe He is, as both Creator and Sustainer.

He was before Time, is now and will yet always be. Eternal.

“Yeah, but Joal, I can’t go with you on all that. I’m good with God-is-love-and-all, I just don’t see how it’s possible to say that God is in control. Can’t you see what’s going on in the world, especially in politics?”

Yes, of course, I can.

Can you understand there are things you can’t see (and be okay with that)?

Back to Sovereignty...To believe that God is Sovereign allows you to believe that men and women can make choices. They’re mutually verifying, not mutually exclusive. God is not insecure. He does not need you or me to believe in Him or choose His way to justify His existence. He exists and moves whether you and I acknowledge Him or not. 

He’s God; I’m not; you’re not.

Instead, it is His kindness, grace, and, yes, love that are drawing men and women, you in fact, to Him. But once you reckon with that fact, the fact that He is who He says He is, then His sovereignty and control over the affairs of men become a reality in your life. You don’t truly believe IN God unless you believe that He IS God. All the way, all the time.

Now we arrive at the point of this piece: the Donald J Trump era of human history and the “never-Trumpers” who are aghast at his presidency. Needless to say, there’s definite, overt, vitriolic hatred for him from his opponents. The Left, especially the most progressive elements, are spending every moment looking to remove him by any means necessary. It’s turned almost farcical.

Yet again, I’m not confounded by the liberal position; they’re sworn, political enemies. It’s the conservative “never-Trumpers” who claim an undefinable, higher, moral ground saying  “there’s no way Trump should be President because (fill in the blank).” As soon as that impulse is voiced (or, more accurately, typed, since they mostly only rant on social media, never in real face-to-face conversations) the air is fogged with the odor of “obviously, God made a mistake”.

There was no mistake. 

Trump won. 

Now, back to baking your noodle: did God CAUSE that?

Did God ALLOW that?

Yes.

Back to THE God question.

Is God sovereign or not?

That’s the wrestle.

But it’s not new or unique. For many on the political Right, the same wrestle twisted them with the last occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Did God CAUSE President Obama to win?

Did God ALLOW him to win?

Yes.

It’s the same sovereignty of God-reckoning.

The Left will exhaust themselves trying to defeat President Trump, which is expected. 

To the more Right leaning folks bent on declaring their moral superiority to all the Trump supporters (or, at least, the anti-Biden-ers), it might be time to check in with your pastor or priest and the Holy Scriptures to figure out if God is truly in control or not.

Is God God?

Again, whether you want to believe it or not, does not change God. He’s not dependent on your okay-ness with His handling of human history, including the uber-microcosm that is American politics of the 21st century. God was clearly on the throne of Heaven during President Obama’s term and He’s still on His throne during Donald Trump's season. 

6:25pm Mountain Time, Labor Day 2020

After a long planned, incredible sightseeing, gun shooting, long, holiday weekend with Montana dwelling friends, my youngest and I arrived at the airport earlier today for our 1:05pm direct flight home. We’ve had 4 days of full-on-experiences. I’m thankful we had the opportunity to come. It’s been a life-memory kind of time.

If all had been on time today (spoiler alert, it has not yet happened) we would have arrived home about 30 minutes ago at 7pm Central Time. Instead, we’re still in Montana enjoying the extended hospitality of the B Terminal at the Billings airport.

The issue?

A maintenance issue that, as with probably many mechanical problems, starts as one “quick” thing that leads to another that then necessitates a part that must come from another city.

The 1:05pm flight became the 2pm, then the 3pm and so on. Six delays later we’re supposedly set for a 9:45pm departure on another plane, flight number, tail number, the whole bit. 

In my work life, flight delays are a not abnormal annoyance. It’s all part of the modern gig. Ironically, my youngest’s last flight experience was a work trip with me and momma last year that also had a wicked delay. It was the kind of delay where you arrive at the airport at 3am, decide to trudge on through the wee hours and pull into your driveway as the sunrises. He wasn’t freaked out by that one; he’s not losing it over this one. But other American Airlines patrons are quite obviously losing it.

My message to him at about 5:45pm: Why worry about this? “Who can add a minute to their life?” is a Scriptural directive that definitely applies to all of life, including tonight. 

There is no worry, but there could a potential life reality slap coming. That’s because tomorrow could be a bigger lesson in adulthood disappointments if we don’t get outta here tonight. 

Due to all the shutdown craziness of recent times, the Department of Public Safety (Drivers License) in Texas is on a limited, appointment-only schedule. You can probably guess what we have tomorrow afternoon for my youngest. The appointment we made, the earliest one we could get when booking it 3 months ago, for his permit is tomorrow at 2pm. In trying to secure an earlier slot weeks ago, I literally wrote the Governor, my state Representative and Senator. Be encouraged: writing gets results. My state Rep came through by actually having the manager of our area DPS offices call me. 

Incredible, right?! 

Well, not really. 

DPS dude, Jerry, was gracious and as apologetic as he could be when he called to tell me there’s nothing he could do. He went on to explain he’s operating at 25% employee and space capacity by order of the Governor. Layer on to those limitations the fact that other residents of Texas, as far away as Dallas and Houston, have been scheduling ALL the appointments in our town and willingly driving 2-5 hours to get their permits and licenses. DPS Jerry (as he’s now affectionately titled in my phone) counseled me to keep our September 8th appointment. 

So, I did.

Or, at least I will, Lord-willing-and-the-creek-don’t-rise and AA gets a bird here to get us outta here!

Let’s see what 9:45pm tonight brings toward 2pm tomorrow, eh?

_______

Update:

It’s now 9:53pm MT and we are securely sitting in 13a and 13c. Finally headed homeward!!

“Let’s Go to Church, America!’ August 2020

As a free man, endowed by my Creator with certain inalienable rights, I’m past unsettled watching other free people willingly forfeit their rights, their standing and even their sanity, specifically as it relates to church attendance in these times.

“Geez, Joal, it seems like you’re about to get all political on us.”

Rest assured, I am not. Instead, I will get Constitutional. Politics, as we know it in these modern, rancor-filled moments, will not appear here. I’m not going to refer to platforms and ideologies of what the latest liberal, newly elected, talking head spouts and demands that I believe.I refuse to bow and kiss the ring. 

I’m also not going to concern myself here with the stodgy, head-in-the-sand, more conservative politician who wants to guffaw and act like what we’re facing will take care itself. There’s a foolishness to being a stick in the mud. I refuse to embrace that stance, as well.

Let me quote two Governors to make a point and, please understand, in making this point, I’m speaking to true, patriotic Americans from both sides of the aisle who believe wholeheartedly in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, especially those who are church-goers. And this actually applies to all organized worship, whether your book is the Tanakh, the Qaran or my life-defining choice, the Holy Bible. This is specific to all of them because, lately, out of fear...or apathy...or ignorance many have willingly ceded their rights to free worship and free speech and free assembly.  

“Gosh, Joal, in uncertain times like these it’s just prudent to stay home to not get sick or hurt others, it’s just the loving, humane thing to do. We’ll come back to church, temple or mosque when it’s safe.” 

That, friends, is what we call a Straw Man Argument and it’s laced with imputed shaming. If history is our guide, you may not have the option of returning to your house of worship as you’ve known it. If, and when, you give any level of government permission to “let” you do or not do, you may not be able to retain that freedom “when it’s all clear”.

Here’s what our country’s Founders wrote as the FIRST Amendment, the first one, meaning of prime importance: 

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Hey, conservative voter, don’t just let your eyes breeze past that run-on sentence. It has critical pieces and parts embedded in there. Also, to my more left-leaning-than-me friends, keep your eye-rolling in check; the founders realized those who would constrain and even deny freedom to ANY citizen were a threat to ALL Americans; they clearly knew this even 240 years ago.

It is true I lean to the right on nearly every major issue. I want the government to fundamentally leave me alone and simply provide for the common defense, defeating enemies that seek our undoing and extinction. Then we come to this unprecedented moment in modern history where the virus, as the named enemy, has sickened and even killed. I absolutely believe the virus is real. It’s also proving to be astoundingly clear that more than 99% recover from the virus. It’s the recovering of other lost pieces that may not be so easy as citizens willingly forfeit their rights.

The virus didn’t close schools, businesses and churches. State Governors and local governments did that. They have disrupted all of civic life, business, schools and now even churches. They’ve attempted to stop Constitutionally protected worship in an effort “to protect us”. Yet, unlike a warring army or terrorist attack, our politicians can’t see this virus threat, they don’t know how to stop it and they’re not sure it can be stopped; yet Governors, especially in places like Pennsylvania and California, seem enthralled with the idea that they can dictate how we, free people, live our lives. They close businesses, government services and yes, churches, with seemingly no thought for the “how and when”. 

It’s not the Federal government in the form of the Congress and President, but rather State governments and Governors who are exceeding their reach. As a clear example, the Los Angeles Times reported on July 13, 2020: “Gov. Gavin Newsom announced statewide restrictions Monday to again halt all indoor dining and close bars, zoos and museums. At the same time, most counties, including Los Angeles, San Bernardino, Orange and Riverside, will be forced to shutter gyms, houses of worship, hair salons, malls and other businesses under the new order, which is effective immediately and remains in effect indefinitely.”

Do you see it? 

Two key words: Immediately and Indefinitely. 

Even before Newsom, there was Governor Tom Wolf of Pennsylvania. When this whole row started, it was back on April 3, 2020 that Wolf said "Religious leaders are encouraged to find alternatives to in-person gatherings and to avoid endangering their congregants. Individuals should not gather in religious buildings or homes for services or celebrations until the stay-at-home order is lifted."

So, he’s ordering the closure of houses of worship until he deems it’s safe?! 

By some misapplied understanding of authority, with the stroke of a pen, free people are being told what, when and how they will be required to live. Apparently, Governors Newsom and Wolf failed to read the First Amendment where it clearly says they can’t prohibit free people, especially in the free exercise of religion. 

“But, Joal, they’re just doing that to protect us. We don’t want to make anyone sick. They’re doing that for our good.”

Catch yourself, friends.You and I do not need anyone to keep us “safe” according to their dictates. We are free people. You and I take risks every day. Somehow, I’ve managed nearly 5 decades on the planet without the government dictating my lifestyle and seeking to protect me more than just “providing for the common defense” in times of war. The very first moment you hand any of your freedoms and God-given, inalienable rights to any level of government, you begin the dissolution of liberty. 

Back to both my eye-rolling friends and my head-in-the-sand friends: Liberty must be defended. Patrick Henry was right: “Give me liberty or give me death.” Go back and read his now infamous speech from March 23, 1775. The parallels are striking; so many in his day were content to shrink back and he was calling them to a greater, truer experience of life as God intended: liberty!

But HOW, you ask?

How do we properly respond to our officials infringing our rights, especially as it relates to worship and church and matters of conscience?

By doing things free people do. Run your business. Open your school. Move about freely. And for the love of Pete, go to church every week, keep them open and operating! That’s a spiritual health decision, as well as a tell-the-government-to-step-aside-as-they-have-no-jurisdiction-here approach. 

We can disagree in America and still all be free. Some want to quash my rights and your rights at various times and in endless ways; but that’s simply not who we are as Americans. We ALL have freedom of speech, press, and peaceable assembly but BEFORE all of that, we ALL have the freedom to not have worship infringed upon, in any way, by any portion or level of government. 

I truly believe we are all able to navigate life wisely. I trust you to act wisely; you can trust me to be smart in the way I live near you. We can run our businesses, our schools and our houses of worship in risk-mitigating ways. At the church my family attends (which has re-opened!), we operate now with socially distanced rows, wearing masks, not shaking hands and moving around each other carefully. It can be done. No, strike that; it must be done! It comes down to the question of “what are you willing to forfeit to be (supposedly) safe?” As for me and mine, we will choose to worship with the people of God weekly. 

 

Julian and the Drill Bit June 2020

(More for documentation than instruction)

Every time I see a friend’s post of photos of their cuts, scrapes, wounds and scars, I shake my head and quickly swipe past. Sorry you got hurt, I’ll definitely pray for a speedy recovery, but, Lord help us, I just don’t want to see that and have it burned on my retina. Breathe easy; no such gory pictures will attend this post; just a story of caring for Julian. 

When I started blogging, exercising the writing muscles, I wanted to include bits on our special needs family life; stories that, along with all that interests me, from music to America, to good guacamole and exceptional coffee, would help those peeking in from the outside see truth and reality, hope and grace. Some of the truth we live with caring for Julian involves injuries, blood and seizures.

Last week I saw a captioned photo of a skateboarding, brave little boy and showed it to Sarah. We both chucked knowingly. Being an all boy family, extended family on her side too (only nephews), we get the whole guy-thing. There is nothing frilly, delicate, pretty, cute or soft in our child rearing experience. It is all gutsy, dirty, grimy, smelly and sticky. Always and only. That’s the gig when raising boys. 

And we love it! 

LEGO’s scattered everywhere, marker stains on the walls, perpetual stickiness on nearly every surface and a certain odiferous-ness that hangs in each bedroom are all par for our course. So are cuts, scrapes, wounds and scars.

Julian loves Ask This Old House and all things building projects. Our garage is really a

constantly reconfigured workshop of woodworking, wiring and plumbing projects. Usually, by days end it turns into a rock n roll show as he practices his drumming, but then it reverts to a Lowe’s and Home Depot tool repository before lights out. He’s created some amazing projects that he first learned about from the ATOH guys. “Working in the garage” is a big part of his everyday.

While working on a wood and drill project late into the evening Thursday, the drill slipped and Julian managed to ram a drill bit into his palm. We heard the scream of pain and moments later he came in clutching his forearm with blood dripping from his palm. We set him down, flipped on more lights, examined his hand and immediately realized this was an ER visit moment. But we also knew what was coming. Often, when Julian sees his own blood, beyond a small scrape, a seizure is coming. He can even feel it approaching. A seizure can be a problem at this point in his life because he’s a big dude now. Fortunately, we had him seated on the couch, had his hand wrapped, as we started to grab shoes, keys, IDs and phones (with guardianship document pics on them) when the seizure took hold of him. 

If you’ve never seen a loved one have a seizure, you should understand there are varying degrees, rated from petit mal to grand mal. Julian landed somewhere in between with this one. There’s nothing to do for him at that point but to keep him as safe as possible from falling and from further injury; you let it happen and hope it’s brief.  For the severity of his pain and the blood he saw, fortunately, it was brief enough. He came back around and we managed to get him in the car. Julian’s normal postictal response is to sleep, but we managed to move quick enough that he walked himself to the car and then a bit later into the ER.

Gentle nurses and x-ray techs got him cleaned up, looked over and let the doctor know no bones were broken and the wound had been cleaned out and could be stitched up. Sarah has said for a while that a normal part of caring for Julian in these kinds of situations is to “tell the providers what they need to know” meaning, his limitations and conditions. Obviously, he has a bloodied hand; what’s not so obvious is his limited capacities and understandings and even possible seizures that could descend. We have to do this because if you ask him “how are you?”

he always answers “good”. If a healthcare provider were to ask him to rate his pain from 1 to 10, Julian honestly couldn’t answer, as numbers and math and values elude him. My wife is brilliant and concise with conveying all that is Julian in a couple of short sentences. We explained him repeatedly that early morning, including to the doctor once he entered the process to stitch up Julian’s hand. The doc seemed to “get it” and talked with us all about his own home remodeling projects and some of his favorite power tools. 

The Julian-explanation is a regular part of our special needs life. I imagine every parent in this realm has their own similar talking points on speed repeat. We regularly have to be the ones to interpret to and for Julian.  A stranger just wouldn’t know the situation by looking at him. That one not so little detail may be the one that most non-special needs parents just don’t “get”. We’ve acted as Julian’s bubble and still must in many ways, especially when he’s hurt and needing care. 

Back to early Friday morning’s care... they numbed his hand and then it was five good stitches from Dr David. The nurse bandaged everything up with colorful wrap and we headed home for 10 days of healing, rest, hand wraps and gentle living. The adventure ended by about 4:30am with everyone sleeping hard. My wake up call for work responsibilities sounded at 6:15am. 

He’s healing well now 2 days later. 

He is already shopping online (which means looking at Lowe’s ads on his iphone) for new tools, drill bits and project materials. 

He’s also trying to figure out how he could hold a drum stick in his injured and bandaged hand.  

He’s such a hoot! 

Gutsy, I tell ya!!

Jeans, Jesus and the First Amendment 5/24/20

Jeans, Jesus and the First Amendment 5/24/20

My one, good pair of jeans came off the hangar this morning. I had to get dressed today, Sunday, as the thoroughly disinfected, completely re-floor planned, socially distanced church sanctuary was being re-opened for worship services, the first time in over two months. 

I don’t wear jeans to work, as mine is a suit and tie kind of gig. My home-bound comfort wear, even in winter, is shorts. That’s why I have only a single pair of jeans. (Friendly commercial: the jeans I own are from Origin Maine, 100% American made;

they are the most comfortable, perfectly fitted pair of jeans I have ever owned. The company does more than jeans, so check them out; you will thank me.)

It felt right on a Sunday to dress in my normal church-garb and drive the 3 miles to the campus. The new-normal changes were obvious all around. Greeters no longer reach to shake hands; instead, they hold the doors open for you with a smile and offer a “Good Morning”. The deacons and volunteers have their cleaning paraphernalia ready outside the sanctuary back doors for the state-encouraged disinfecting of the room between services. The rows of chairs are now further apart and everyone’s encouraged to leave 2-3 empty chairs on the same row between family units. The service was purposefully shorter overall, with one less song, easily 10 less minutes of sermon time and minimal announcements.

Why?

To accommodate an easy flow of first service congregants out of the building to leave cleaning time between services and then allow second service congregants ease of entry.

And it all worked. 

We, the church, successfully managed and mitigated. The service was simple, shorter than normal and authentically beautiful. Free people worshipped together, respected wise health protocols and stayed mindful of our neighbors. Some had masks, some did not. I observed a single elbow bump between two friends; other

than that, no one touched someone unrelated to them. In other words, we managed to risk-mitigate and still have our worship service. We were strengthened spiritually together during what has been a hard season. We were free to do what Americans have done for 240 years: worship without government interference.

The experience we had this morning in my small East Texas city was so dramatically different from that of congregants in other places, most notably Chicago. The Windy City’s mayor reportedly sent police to a church to stop the worship service already in progress. That particular church regularly locks their doors once the service begins to prevent gang violence from intruding. The police beat on the doors while the service continued. That is simply incredible, hard to fathom. There are other reports of “faith” leaders in Chicago saying “No” to re-opening their churches until science and the local government say that it’s permissible. That’s even more incredible to me.

The troubling dilemma in this is two-fold. First, as we continue to hear from said science leaders, they’re continuously explaining there will be no quick fix, immediately available vaccine. The virus is real and it won’t just go away; we will have to live-with-it being here, as we do with so many other illnesses. Do the never-leave-your-housers then expect everyone to stay quarantined unendingly? Does the mayor of Chicago believe she’s able to fully direct and dictate the lives of the residents of the city as she whims?

That then leads into the second aspect: for the souls, like me, willing to take wise steps, risk-mitigate and move back into living our lives, who has the right to tell free people they cannot do something? The US Constitution hasn’t been revoked. And here’s an odd twist exemplifying the absurdity of this whole situation: the mayor of Chicago, as our example, would let the entire Cornerstone Baptist Church shop for groceries today, even simultaneously, in a single store, but she doesn’t want them to pray, nourish their souls, fight fear and move back into living, truly living, together by worshipping with smart protocols. 

Americans, this kind of governance is dangerous!

American made.

These Origin jeans are so comfortable, but I already said that. And get this-they even have triple stitched seams and deeper pockets all around. The keys and wallet sit better on the body the way the pockets are stitched. Seriously, you have to get yourself a pair. Here’s something else that is  American made: The First Amendment.

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, OR PROHIBITING THE FREE EXERCISE THEREOF; or abridging the freedom speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” (emphasis added by capitalization)

As I’m helping my youngest better grasp grammar and punctuation, I’ll remind all English speakers: the order, the commas and the semi-colons all matter. 

The government shall not prohibit the free exercise of religion. 

Ever. 

As many on the far left demand free speech everything, mostly for themselves, they need to be keenly aware that preceding free speech is the free, unfettered exercise of religion. This was intentional by the framers. Like it or not, agree with it or not, wish it to be different or not, that is who we are as Americans. We have Freedom of worship, freedom of speech, freedom of peaceable assembly, with all the risks included and understood.

Lest anyone think I’m some talk-radio junkie, I’ll be quick to say there is, in fact, a lot to consider in this season. Public health is one thing to navigate, but so is spiritual well being. Again, I’m no politic-spewing nutjob. Instead, those who know me, know I worship regularly and faithfully. Yes, FAITH-fully, believing, in faith, that the God of all creation knows what is happening, and is specially edifying His people when they choose to worship together, being physically present.

There is something distinctly American about the freedom to worship, to gather, even socially distanced, and there is definitely something righteously American about wearing whatever jeans we want. My encouragement: be clear and wise on what you desire the government to “allow” you to do. Benjamin Franklin said “Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase  a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”

It’s time to hang the jeans back up until next Sunday and change into my shorts.