I Am Not a Republican (and neither is Jesus)

Wow!  That one made you stop and think for a moment.  Don't worry, I am not a Democrat either.  Oh, wait, you weren't worried about me.  What am I saying about Jesus?

So many people in the evangelical church these days equate Christianity with being a Republican.  The two do not always go hand in hand.  Many of the politicians, once they get into office, are willing to compromise their ethics and their beliefs in order to make a deal.  I recently read a blog by someone trying to discredit a video poem that also said that Jesus is not a Republican.  The writer of the blog assumes that the writer of the poem was trying to lash out at the Republican party because he was from Seattle (and I suppose therefore a liberal).  Well, I am from the East Coast and from a conservative background and I say the same thing.  Along that same line, being a Republican does not make someone a Christian - check out the theology of the candidates.

When Ronald Reagan became president, a group of pastors met for a prayer breakfast in Washington D. C.  They were so excited and so thankful that a Christian  was in the White House - now change would come!  It didn't work.  Why?  Because the hearts of the nation must change before the laws of the nation will change.  People have it all turned around.  When you see true revival in this country, then you will see the morals of its people change.  You want to see abortion clinics close?  Work for Christ to change the hearts of the young people in this nation.  You want to see certain  movies gone? If the hearts of the people change, no one will buy the tickets to those movies.

God doesn't call us to vote on the right politician.  I  don't see that command, suggestion, or even hint anywhere in the Bible.  I do vote in every election.  I am so thankful for the grace of God that allows me to live in this country and in this time so that a woman can choose her representatives.  I do take that seriously.  I do not, however, believe that it is the sole responsibility of the person that I put into office to make this country whole again.  I do not even believe that it is the sole responsibility of our pastors.  We are living in the time of the New Covenant - we are called to get it done!

Going even further, I do not believe that we will be able to cut government spending significantly without the people in the church stepping up to take their responsibility.  Jesus tells us that it is  our responsibility to provide social welfare to those in need.  


Matthew 25: 35-36 (NIV) For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

I hear so many of the Republican supporters call for stopping government programs and letting "those people" take care of themselves (actually heard behind closed doors of a mayor several years ago).  It is not God's plan for them to take care of themselves.  God knows that they are needy.  He does not call on us to judge them for the reason they are needy and without clothes and in prison.

I do believe that churches could spend less money on fountains and silk curtains (and matching Lexus for the pastor and his wife) and provide so much help in this area.  I also believe that we are individually responsible to give something to eat, give something to drink,  welcome the stranger (hmmm), provide clothes, take care of  the sick, and visit the prisoners (not just pay money to someone else to do it). 

So, no, I do not believe that the Republicans (or Democrats) can save us.  We need to rise up and do what we are called to do - share the gospel, change hearts, and provide for the social welfare needs of those who cannot take care of themselves.  

.... and one more thing..... Jesus is not an American either.... just saying.....
 

The Warrior

Born in Decatur, Alabama, on October 17, 1969, Stacy Allen Parker was never to know an easy life.  His father left long before his earliest memories, and he moved from place to place with his mother, never knowing one home.  While his mother lived her own life, and his brother and sister fought through theirs, Stacy struggled to raise himself in a lonely world.  His best times were those when he went out on the road with his uncle in his eighteen wheeler or lived with his aunts and uncles back in North Carolina.

Stacy started playing football at a young age, and he was good at it.  He loved the hard work, sweating until he was soaked, working out until he was sick, and building a relationship with his teammates.  His favorite part of football was the hard hits he could give.  He wanted to be the "quarterback killer".  He was the star of whatever team he played on, making it into a newspaper story on his team in Wytheville, Virginia.  He moved from team to team, as his mother moved from place to place.  They finally settled in Loganville, Georgia, where he played high school football and went to school with his closest cousin, Tammy.  He loved being a Football Warrior.

His plans for a football career were not to be, and at the age of 16 he dropped out of school to work full time and help support his mother.  After a couple of years, though, he realized that he wanted more out of life and worked with his cousin, Del, to study and pass his GED and score very high on the entrance exam for the United States Navy.  In August of 1989, just before his 20th birthday, Stacy headed off to boot camp in the Great Lakes training facility.  Twenty years later he retired in August of 2009, a proud Navy Chief.

Never one to do things halfway, Stacy came out of boot camp and immediately volunteered to go overseas for Operation Desert Storm.  He was on shore duty.  He did two cruises with his helicopter squadron during that first "shore duty" assignment, determined to be a part of whatever action was going on.  Stacy learned how to be a top mechanic on the "birds" that he loved and he learned to supervise others.  During his twenty years in the Navy, he did ten long cruises, one of those almost a year during Operation Enduring Freedom.  He only did three years of real shore duty.  His proudest moments, though, were in the last years of his career, as he saw so many of those who he mentored and served with becoming successful in their Navy careers.  This man who had no mentor himself growing up, learned to teach others.  He loved being a Military Warrior.

In August of 1993, the week of his first re-enlistment, Stacy met his future wife, Alethea.  They were married a couple of years later, and he instantly became a father to Alethea's son, Jeffrey.  They were joined in 1996 by Stacie Marie, and again in 2000 by Nicholas.  His nephew, Billy, also lived with the family for several years, adding to the commotion and activity at home.  Stacy enjoyed family time and made so many memories for the children over the years.  They were each special to him, as he worked to be the father that he never knew.

Having the responsibility of the family, though, soon brought Stacy back to his faith.  He lost the swagger of the young kid out of boot camp who could take care of it all himself.  He realized that his family needed a foundation, and that he needed to lead them as well.  He began attending church and studying the Bible.  During the long cruise in 2002 to 2003, he began studying the Bible on his own and teaching others on the ship what he was studying.  He also came to realize that there was nothing that he could do to take care of his family at home.... except to pray.  So he prayed.  He spent hours in study and prayer, and came home with many miraculous stories.

One night he woke from a deep sleep to feel the urge to pray for the helicopter.  He got out of his rack (bed to us civilians) and hit the floor on his knees, praying for something that was unknown to him.  As he started to climb back in bed, his teammates from the detachment came to wake him.  One of the helicopters had malfunctioned.  The part that was needed to land was broken or missing.  Yet somehow that helicopter made it all the way back to the boat and landed.  It was an answer to prayer.

That practice of prayer became a part of his life, closing out every day and becoming a part of who Stacy was.  At Jeffrey's high school graduation party Alethea's Aunt Joyce suffered a stroke.  By the time the ambulance arrived she was unable to speak or move at all.  The ambulance left for the hospital, fifteen minutes away, and everyone knew that this could be trouble.  A stroke victim needs immediate attention, and the distance of the country home caused the ambulance to arrive late, with a long trip back.  As everyone stood looking at each other, Stacy felt led to pray.  He got everyone in a circle, holding hands, and he prayed.  At about that time, Aunt Joyce sat up in the ambulance and asked the attendants if she was going to be okay.  They were very startled.  She went on to the hospital and went through a couple of days of tests to find out that she was okay.  Stacy was a Prayer Warrior.

Stacy got a motorcycle when he was a teenager.  He loved that bike and rode everywhere on it.  However, on the day of his first official date with Alethea, he traded his bike in for a car.  Only the helmet on the back seat indicated that he had ever had a bike.  Ten years later he bought his first Harley, a Heritage Classic.  He not only took the safety class, but he became an instructor.  He began to ride again, enjoying the byways of Virginia and traveling with groups of friends and family.  Every year he rode to Rolling Thunder, to remember the Prisoners of War and those Missing in Action.  In 2010 he rode his new Road Glide all the way to Sturgis, South Dakota, stopping in museums and towns along the way, and visiting family on the way back.  He became a Road Warrior.

We will miss this man who faced life with so much courage and strength.  He rose above the odds of a poor life and made something of himself.  Along the way, he became a Warrior - no matter what he chose to do.  Whether it be the Football Warrior, the Military Warrior, the Prayer Warrior, or the Road Warrior, he did it all to the best of his ability.  Now he is Heaven's Warrior, living every day in the presence of his King, the final destination for his life. 

A Grief Observed

In his book, A Grief Observed, C. S. Lewis is not observing grief in general.  Rather, he is examining his own personal grief and the very  raw feelings that accompany it.  I recognize the sincerity of his writing, as I have now seen grief from a personal standpoint.  It is not something that anyone can truly understand without experiencing it, and each of us observe a grief that is different than any other.

In some ways, my grief is very different than Lewis' in that I did not feel the anger and questioning of God that Lewis did.  In fact, it amazes me that someone who taught us Aslan's character so well really thought that God was just plain mean.  Then again, just like King David, C.S. Lewis was able to fully express an understanding of God that many of us never have.  He was surprised by joy, just as he was saddened by grief; and he was able to talk to God openly about his feelings because he had that kind of relationship with God.  They understood each other. 

There are a couple of things that really stand out in Lewis' grief as being just like my own.  The first of these is the physical and mental feeling.  C. S. Lewis starts his observation, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.  I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid.  The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning.  I keep on swallowing."  I have felt that.  I know that feeling! 

Counselors say this is normal, but I find that I still do not understand it. Lewis suggests that it is caused by the loss of a point of reference. Even our subconscious mind travels to the thoughts, memories, and patterns that we have established in such a close relationship.   With the loss of our soulmate, we have lost a point of reference.  Our thoughts travel down a familiar road, only to be met with a road block.  It takes a moment to take a detour and learn a new road. 

The other thought that C. S. Lewis shares that is profound to me is the idea that the death of a spouse is just another step in the relationship.  Just like courtship, the honeymoon, and various phases over the years, at some point the relationship will be changed again when one spouse dies before the other.  It is unavoidable, and every relationship goes through this (unless both die at the same moment).  This is not something that God has done to me - it happens to everyone.  This is not unique - every relationship goes through it. 

I am grateful to Lewis for sharing his observation of his own grief so openly with us.  Now I too have "a grief" and understand this process much more intimately.  While we all go through grief differently, now I am also able to share openly with others that may need it in their time.  

The Ride to the Wall

Six years ago we headed for Washington D.C. on our new motorcycle to check out the Rolling Thunder demonstration held at the Vietnam Memorial over Memorial Day weekend. Rolling Thunder started as a demonstration to bring awareness of those Prisoners of War and Missing in Action who have been forgotten. It has evolved into an event that not only reminds us of the POW and MIA, but also honors all of our veterans and their families.

We were not sure what it was all about; and unsure of what time it started, we drove past the Pentagon at six o'clock in the morning. We found ourselves directed into a line of other motorcycles being parked in the north Pentagon parking lot. There, we waited six hours for the ride to start, with no money, no water, and no sunscreen. We wondered what we had gotten into. We were thankful for the Christian Motorcycle Association for handing out water and peanut butter crackers.

The presidential helicopter flew over the parking lot at noon, everyone cheered, and the bikes started up. We hopped on our bike, ready to get this over with. An hour later, we pulled out of the parking lot, behind thousands of bikes that had already gone, and with thousands more waiting. As we went over the bridge into the city, we saw the lone Marine saluting the rifle and boots representing those who had fallen. Scores of families and veterans lined the streets of the city as we roared past. They held flags and signs thanking us for our service.

We have been back every year, with several others added to our ride. We now leave from our home in New Kent on Friday and follow the byways of Virginia to our nation's capital. We enjoy the historical sites and the smells of the road - sweet hay, musty swamps, fragrant honeysuckle, and even an occasional skunk. Our group consists of a Vietnam veteran, family, and many of those who have served our country. It changes from year to year, but we have always ridden with a great group of people.

We have decided that this Ride to the Wall has become a part of our family tradition, and will be continued each year, someday bringing our grandchildren along. Each year we think of better ways to do this, remembering water, sunscreen, and thinking of creative ways to bring food. We visit many of the events occurring over the weekend, and plan to make time for Arlington next year.

Rolling Thunder 2012 - we will see you at the Wall!

My Grandma

My earliest memories of my Grandma include poufy square dance skirts and Christmas lights… oh, and books, lots of books. She loved family game time, and she loved her coffee. Did I mention that she liked books? She enjoyed working on craft projects and making little knick knacks for everyone…. And she loved books. I remember her reading “The Little Engine that Could” and “Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.” She was so thrilled when I learned to read at a young age, and she shared her books with me as I grew older. During the summers that I spent with my grandparents, I read every book in her library. Did I mention that I like books?

Over the years, my Grandma shared many things with me. We were both the oldest daughter, and both older than our husbands. We both enjoy dancing and making family memories. We enjoy a good game of Sequence! We enjoy eating ice cream and apple pie. We shared fun times at Disney World and swimming in the pool. We enjoyed good friends and a good laugh. We love Jesus and have been so blessed to see my Dad, her son, sharing that love with so many of you…. And did you know that we like books?

Thank you, Grandma, for sharing so much of your life (and your books) with me.

My Name

This is another one from the 1984 archives...

My name -
It means truth;
Yet, is that actually me?
I seem to be a facade,
A false front.
I am different on the outside
Than I feel on the inside.
The funny thing is
that I am two persons outside.
To some I am one way,
To others another,
And neither is the real me.
Help me, Oh God,
To be the truth-
To show others what lies within;
To always be honest
No matter who I am with.
That everyone can see -
Jesus in me!

Gram

I wrote this poem when my Great Grandmother, Julia Hamilton Carpenter passed away in 1984. This can also be said for her daughter, my Grandmother, Margaret Carpenter Roberts.

She has gone.
She will never return again
- as a living soul.
Yet a part of her
lives on...
In her poetry,
In the results of her love,
In the memories
of laughter,
of a smile,
of a long lifetime.

She has gone.
She is home for eternity
-an immortal being.
Yes, she lives beside
her Jesus...
She has found rest,
In the joy of true love,
She has found in heaven
a family,
a Savior,
a painless future.