And for Them, I Give Thanks ...

Doing a little digging on the internet for Maj. Robert H. Merriman, killed in the Spanish Civil War, fighting to defeat Franco and his fascist allies, Hitler and Mussolini.

Of course, it was a lost cause from the get-go. But as I write, and as I dig around, I cross paths with so many good and decent human beings who threw themselves into the fray to make this a better world.

Yes, they lost. They lost everything, but they were women and men of great character, vision, learning, compassion and courage. Mostly all young, lured on by high ideals and the thirst for adventure. Such are the young.

While digging around this morning, I came across some artists of more recent vintage, capturing the ever-changing Lake Michigan landscape. Beautiful work, and regionally noted, but not likely to end up in a national museum.

Fame is accorded to the few ... the rest go about their work and their lives for the goodness of it all ... whether going to Spain to defend the Republic or setting up an easel in a Michigan sand dune, this world is full of good people who can sing the songs of life.

And for them, I give thanks ... they're like flowers in the field; they bloom bright and colorful for a while, and leave behind a legacy of faith ... faith in life, faith in goodness and reason, faith, for some, even in God. And in the brief blooming of their lives, seeds of hope and courage are left behind, and others flowers will bloom in their place; only for awhile, but enough to brighten the world.

The world IS better because of them. Some are remembered like Maj. Robert Merriman, some even gain regional recognition, others, many others, known but to a few, remembered by family, and known, for sure, by God, who is enriched by such humanity, and in turn, gives birth to others who will give themselves to life.

What "Evangelical" Could Mean

Been thinking a bit about the word "evangelical."
And what it could mean.

It could mean hope and welcome and peace.
It could mean "care for the earth."
It could mean "affirmation of science" and knowledge and reason and learning, the life of the mind, the world of our thoughts, the power of the god-given brain.

Yes, it should mean conversion, too.
From self, to selflessness.
From anger to kindness.
From fear to faith.

With the God of Psalm 23.
The God and Father of Jesus.
The kingdom of heaven in the Sermon on the Mount.
And the God of all peoples.
The God of so many guises and cultures.
The God always transcendent and mysterious.
The God so high above, and yet always close at hand.

Conversion, for sure.
Getting saved, you bet.
Not so much to go to heaven.
But to be of this earth.
And to be of one another.
As God intended.
If the Genesis account has any meaning.

Conversion, in so many ways:
From white privilege to the privileges of life for all.
From male dominance to equality.
From the fear of sexuality to it's celebration.

And what that could mean to the nation.
For the common good.
For the ties that bind.
For liberty and justice for all.
A citizenship defined by faith, hope and love.
Tearing down the walls that divide.
The rules that hurt women.
The borders that God despises.
The politics of wealth and poverty.

To build up and make new.
To elect women and men of good conscience.
To understand the importance of taxes.
To remind the rich of their responsibilities.
To provide living wages and ample benefits.
To do God's will on earth ...

It could mean so many positive things.
Gospel things.
Christ things.

It could mean things profound and good.
It could ... it really, really, could.
If only it would ...
If only it would.

I Miss My Books

I miss my books.
Thousands of them I had.
Shelved and double shelved.
Many read entirely.
Some in bits and pieces.
Some again and again.
Some not at all.

But everyone of them a friend.
A comfort and a companion.
A reminder of great things.
Or small things, too.

But in the course of time.
Heading into interim ministry.
And then into retirement.
I had to say fare-thee-well.

Boxed up and given away.
Large sets sold on e-bay.
Some sent to a seminary in the Philippines.
Commentaries given to a young minister.

I miss them now and then.
But I'm glad to be free of them, too.
They served their purpose.
Even as I have.

Time hurries on.
And for the journey, less baggage.
Easier travel, for sure.
But I miss my companions.

Who, I hope, are serving others.
As they served me.
With insights and challenge.
Encouragement and comfort.

Thanks, good friends.
I miss you.
But you don't miss me.
You did your job, and now on to new employers.