Blog Moving

We have changed the blog site to www.therandallworleyblog.com or www.randallworley.com.

What that means:

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There is some debate over the origin of this quote. Many believe it is derived from the Talmud even though it seems many contemporary figures have taken credit for it. At any rate, the question is ever before us when it comes to the expedient. You may admire achievers who have a resume of impressive accomplishments, but that does not mean they have more aptitude than you. They just had the attitude, “Lets get it done!” We all know people who have massive potential that do nothing with it out of indifference.

Chances are if you can clearly see what should be done or could be done, then you are the one for the task. Whatever “it” is, it has been developing along the same time line as you. Convergence is taking place. Don’t assume that someone more qualified should do it. Don’t play the “someday” card. Pardon the tired old pun but “someday is not a day of the week.” It has been said that “procrastination is hands down our favorite form of self-sabotage and opportunity’s natural assassin.”

-RW

“Blind and Toothless” MLK

One of the most quoted and equally controversial leaders of this past century was Martin Luther King Jr. His initials, MLK are as recognizable as FDR and JFK. The title of the blog is taken from his quote, “If we require an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth we will be a blind and toothless nation.” There are scores of his quotes I could have chosen. I chose this one just to get your attention. There is no question that many have attempted since his untimely death to piggyback on his message and influence who have not been cut from the same cloth. Rivers that flow from pristine headwaters are often polluted by tributaries that flow into downstream.

I’ve read many of his quotes over the years as I have with so many others and found that you can distill his message down to one thing…..a positive and peaceful attitude. You may not agree with his activism, but you would be hard pressed to fault his attitude toward life and the brotherhood of all men. Speaking of attitude, I read a story about him during his college days that embodies the importance of attitude. Dr. King had a job shoveling out stables during the day and went to college in the evening. If you have ever been around a stable you know that the stench of the animals gets in your clothing. Martin always had time to shower before going to class but on one occasion he had to go to class straight from his work. When he entered the class and took his seat a lady sitting next to him said “Martin you smell like a mule.” Without hesitation he responded, “I may smell like a mule but I don’t think like one.” The politics of today has the pungent smell of powermongers. The religious systems reek of relativism and manipulation. The media is constantly belching on us that the whole world stinks. Like Dr. King, the smell may get on us but their attitude doesn’t have to.

-RW

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Running toward Life

Runners are a unique breed and I applaud their tenacity and endurance to lace up everyday to go the distance. I am told that once you start and get beyond your body’s resistance that the euphoria experienced while running and the subsequent rewards are addicting. Maybe you have heard it said that all runners are either running “from”, “for”, or “to” something. I was inspired to write on this topic by a friend of my wife and I. Her name is Connie and we have had the joy of knowing her for over 30 years now. I have asked her permission to share her journey that has involved intense pathos that was turned into surpassing passion.

Connie and her first husband Bennett were my wife and I’s best friends for many years. Thirteen years into her marriage to Bennett on a humid summer night, we received a call from her that devastated us. Bennett was an avid recreational sailor and had gone out on the lake they lived on with their thirteen year old son to ride the wind. To say that sailing was his passion is an understatement. When the winds were strong enough their catamaran would tilt up on one pontoon which added to the exhilaration of the riding the wind. On this particular evening, the conditions were perfect for this type of sailing and the unthinkable happened. Bennett, an experienced sailor and swimmer, was swept off the boat into the churning waters as the catamaran driven by the wind carried his young son toward shore. For hours we waited with Connie to hear that her husband and our friend had swam to shore only to hear the tragic news that he had drowned. The weeks and months that ensued were unlike anything we have ever experienced. Her grief and our feeble attempts to console her and her son are beyond the limits of this short blog to describe.

A few years passed and she found love again in another mutual friend of ours who we affectionately called “Bear”; because he was the epitome of a bear, robust in stature yet tender in demeanor. His name was Duane; we also called him Big D. Duane was a “never met a stranger kind of guy” and the best Italian chef we have ever known. His love for people and to prepare feast was a great joy to us all. Truly a man with a heart as big as his physique. Connie and Duane had another son and thirteen years later almost to the month we received the news that he had had a heart attack. After spending several weeks in ICU unable to respond to his friends and family, Duane passed away. We were all stunned that this man who had so much life left to live had left us.

I am sure you are wondering what these unimaginable losses have to do with running toward life. Connie has always been a very strong woman, but after being widowed twice and left with sons by both men was understandably hopeless. The irony of being married to both men for thirteen years and having sons with both of them left us all with more questions than answers. Not long after Duane’s death, Connie begin to experience heart palpations and went to a cardiologist. After interviewing her and conducting a series of tests, the doctor told her that her tests indicated there was no biological reason for her palpations. Knowing that she had been widowed twice, he told her his diagnosis was “broken heart syndrome.” He went on to explain that this syndrome is real and experienced by many that suffer such devastating loss and that if not treated was as life threatening as a heart attack.

Unwilling to use medication, Connie begin to search for alternate means to deal with her pain. Through divine connections she received regular doses of hope, but then she found running to be her new refuge. At first it was very difficult not having ever been involved in this kind of regimen. Over the last few months she has come to realize that she is not just running from the deaths of her two husbands, or running for her health. She is running toward life. Isaiah said that we would “run and not be weary” and Paul said to “run your race with patience.” She is doing just that. Her first marathon was the annual Cooper River Bridge Run in Charleston S.C. The last time Connie had crossed this well known landmark of the south was in the wake of Duane’s death. Her mother-in-law was riding with her and she told her that she would never cross that bridge again due to painful weeks that had proceeded with her spending endless hours in the ICU. However, on April 2, 2011 she joined over 40,000 runners in the annual Cooper River Bridge 10K. My wife, her best friend of 35 years, joined her. On a cool and crisp Spring morning they rose well before dawn. Connie and my wife dressed in running attire and armed with their Mp3 players set out to experience a defining moment. When they crossed the finish line they discovered they were both listening to the same song. The bridge she had vowed to never cross again had become the bridge to a rhythm and reality. To date, she has run in several marathons and what lies before her is no longer overshadowed by her painful memories. Now it’s not about what she has lost, but what she has to gain. Jesus said He came to heal the broken hearted; not just those whose hearts have experienced arterial damage that is measured by an EKG, but by the immeasurable effects of loss. Run toward life

-RW

2012 Roller Coaster

Chances are everyone reading this has had the exhilarating and petrifying experience of riding a roller coaster. You stand in a long zigzag line then take your seat in a cramped car followed by the click of the safety bar snuggly pinning you in. You hear the instructions to secure loose items and keep your hands inside the car. Then there is the rhythmic clacking sound of the coaster wheels as you slowly accelerate down the track and you realize that the ride is not over till its over. What follows are speeds that go from creeping to turbocharged in seconds, hairpin turns, inverted positions, g forces contorting the skin on your face, shrill screaming and gagging up your cotton candy and hotdog. Somewhere in the world right now there is some fiendish amusement park engineer who is pushing the envelope of design to erect another tubular of terror. By the way, the worlds’ tallest is 456 ft. high and the fastest is 149 miles an hour.

Why do we subject ourselves to these steel behemoths of speed? Maybe it’s because they replicate life in so many ways. I’m not seeking to sensationalize the year before us by using the roller coaster metaphor, but we’ve already taken our seats for the 2012 roller coaster and soon things will ramp up. Be assured this one has the potential of being faster and more tumultuous than previous years. The twist and turns of the past years will pale in comparison to the ones that await us. Expecting the unexpected is the order of the day. The extreme changes in ideology, technology, climatology and sociology will test our theology like never before.

Without question we are in a season of extremes. You can try and “do the math” in a climate where the rules have become arbitrary or you can expect miracles. Adversity elicits trust in God, which in prosperous times would have remained dormant. Ironically it is the combination of faith and doubt that takes us around the unknown curves in life. What you know about Him must become greater than any unknown. It is when I am reeling from life, taking a sudden plummet, that I realize that like the safety bar He is holding me rather than me holding on to Him. Truth is held in the tension of knowing that God is never surprised by what surprises us. The politically obsessed are waiting on elections, the escapist are waiting on an evacuation via the rapture and both have forgotten the Controller of this roller coaster. A friend of mine puts it this way, “God held an election in eternity past and HE voted.” My mantra in the malaise of our times is that of the psalmist, “My expectation is from Him. He only is my rock and salvation: He is my defense; I shall not be moved.” Where have you placed your expectation? You can live in the forebode of the times or make Him your abode and enjoy the ride.

-RW

Shocking Sleepy Shepherds

Ever wondered why the debut of the Christ child was to borrow a line from a carol to “certain poor shepherds?” Of all the demographics to chose from why shepherds? Why not the religious scholars who were supposedly up to speed on this epoch moment in history? Or possibly the governmental aristocracy? Why poor, uneducated, disdained sleepy shepherds in a field? Shepherding is probably the oldest occupation in the world dating back 6,000 years. The first shepherd in scripture was Abel the son of Adam. This primeval vocation, though prevalent throughout scripture, was considered to be menial work. In the time of Jesus they were culturally ostracized to the point they were not even allowed to testify in court. The narrative of this seminal moment in history is too involved to be adequately addressed in this short blog. I want to consider a few threads of relevancy in this story that have been worn smooth with familiarity in the wake of 2011 Christmases.

Bear with me as I connect the history with the contemporaneous. It is safe to say that the flocks they were tending were not common livestock kept for fleece or mutton. There is good evidence they were sheep earmarked for sacrifice. They wouldn’t be consumed, but were consecrated to be offered in the temple which is quite telling in and of itself. These blue collar laborers were “keeping watch over their flocks by night.” Their vigilance was for at least two reasons. One, predators typically are on the prowl in the darkness giving them an edge on their prey. Secondly, the ewes often birthed their lambs during the night hours. Newborn lambs still covered in afterbirth with spindly legs struggling to stand up in the minutes after delivery were an easy meal for carnivores crouching in the darkness. The scent of life and death was in the air. Mary’s water has broken, she is in the last stage of labor and at the same time bleating little lambs are being birthed. The parallels are stunning.

The shepherds were not prepared for what happened on that faithful night. The momentous was about to collide with the monotonous. Angels appearing in brilliant light ambushed them. A silent night was disrupted with their thunderous proclamation of His birth. The KJV translation says they were “sore afraid”, meaning they were in shock. Surprised, speechless, dumfounded doesn’t even begin to describe their condition. We, too, like the shepherds of old are struggling to stay awake in the spiritual sleepiness of our times. However, as it was then, an awakening is coming. The irony of this encounter is that it happens in the shadow of the temple where organized religion is oblivious to the meteor of glory that had just made sudden impact. The common man could hear and see, but the clergymen were both deaf and blind to the shock and awe emanating from heaven. There are a number of sudden happenings in scripture and each of them brought a revelation of God’s nature and purposes that resulted in dramatic change. I think we are due for a repeat performance. This suddenly happened in a field which is a scriptural synonym for the world. In the days ahead the world may get it before we do. The shepherds made haste abandoning their flocks to find the place where He laid. These common men possessed an uncommon discernment that enabled them to behold both the Lamb and the Shepherd in a mere infant. Maybe we have been looking in all the likely places without realizing He is often found in unsterile and unholy venues rather than in the hallowed halls of religion. Priests will awake the next morning to practice their tired religious rituals in the dim light of a fading temple. Herod the corrupt governmental tyrant will shuffle to his plush throne as he had every morning before to oppress the people. However, during the night the Priest and King had taken His place in a crude feeding trough. Be assured, we are 2011 years removed from these events we are about to get the shock of our life. We will be ambushed from heaven with an announcement in these days when religious and political corruption abounds. The truth that permeated the atmosphere that night, “GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOODWILL TOWARD MEN” will once again lighten the night sky.

-RW

Great with Child

The language used to describe Mary’s condition in the days and hours leading up to His birth was she was “great with child.” Obviously this meant she was full term or she had carried Him for about 38 weeks from the time of conception. The scriptures do not elucidate the emotions she might have experienced as she reached the time of her delivery. There were a lot of unknowns. The quintessential expectant mother really didn’t know what to expect. Had this young and tender virgin ever witnessed a birth? It was usually a midwife or someone who had gone through the birthing experience that assisted in a delivery, so that would exclude her. Did she have morning sickness early in the pregnancy? In this last trimester was she having lower back pains? Were her feet swollen because she was retaining water? Was she having difficulty sleeping because the infant was pressing on the walls of her uterus in an effort to descend into her birth canal? Is it irreverent to ask was she irritable, exhausted and frustrated with the “gotta go, gotta go” syndrome? We assume she was immune to these prenatal discomforts since she was the mother of the Immaculate One. I don’t think her unprecedented conception exempted her from the legacy of Eve. The first mention of pain in scripture is associated with childbirth. “I will multiply your pain in childbirth and you will give birth in pain.” It would seem logical since she is giving birth to the Savior that will relieve the pain of all who suffer, that she would be spared. Logical yes but not likely.

“Great with child” not only describes the largeness of her belly, but that she was carrying the greatest promise ever personified. His birth weight cannot be measured in ounces since He was “the fullness of the godhead bodily; the eternal weight of glory.” Let’s turn this diamond of truth and see another facet. A peasant girl was pregnant with preeminence which gives the term “great with child” broader meaning. There are similarities between Mary’s conception, gestation and delivery and His birth in us. I am sure to suggest that seems reprehensible since she was a virgin. We were void of any virtue when He was conceived in our spiritual womb. Nevertheless, when you were overshadowed from above, the Holy One was conceived within you. You, too, may have dealt with unknowns for months as you awaited His appearing in your life. As He is growing within you, the aforementioned discomforts you experienced are bringing a delivery that will deliver you. Do you awaken some days with emotional nausea? Is the weight of what you are carrying back breaking? Experiencing periods of insomnia and irritability? Feeling intense internal pressure? He is taking form in you in the same way He was formed in her. The pain of the pregnancy is proof that His eminence is imminent. He is pressing through you to reveal Himself through you. You are great with child.

-RW

Bah Humbug

The catchphrase Bah Humbug originated with the notorious Charles Dickens character Ebenezer Scrooge. It is associated with a disgust for modern Christmas traditions. The name Scrooge has become a word that means miserliness and misanthropy or a strong dislike of humankind. There are many sincere Christians who refuse to participate at Christmas because its commercial and compromises the teachings of scripture. They adamantly cite that you can’t prove Jesus was born in December, Christmas trees have a pagan origin, giving presents promotes greed and materialism, Santa Claus usurps the preeminence of the Savior etc. etc. I certainly respect the convictions of Christians who hold these beliefs. However, I would caution them not to succumb to the Scrooge spirit that tends toward denigrating fellow believers who see these traditions differently.

What if we looked at it this way? December 25th coming at the end of the year is just one week away from a new year. Even if He was not born in December, His birth brought to all of us the possibility of a new birth and a new beginning. The tree we gather around adorned with lights and ornaments is a reminder of His death on a tree that brought light to a dark world and beauty to the ugliness of our time. The presents positioned at the foot of the tree wrapped in festive wrapping creates anticipation that what has been concealed will soon be revealed. In His presence the daily presents of His grace and mercy will take an eternity to unwrap. Santa Claus is the epitome of joy and generosity given the one caveat that he is keeping a list of who’s naughty and nice. Therefore, we can take narrative license and make him nice even when we are naughty.

One of my fondest memories of Christmas past was the excitement in the eyes of my children on Christmas morning and now I relive it in my grandchildren. I think it’s a reminder that it is so easy to lose your childlikeness as a believer. At the end of the day we need to focus on what is redeemable and make the holidays His holy days. I think He must look past the commercialism and on to the hearts of parents and loved ones who give gifts because they love one another. Bah Humbug? I don’t think so. Whether people are aware of it or not He is the Spirit of Christmas.

-RW

Bethlehem or Bedlam

In the days leading up to Christmas I will be blogging on topics relative to the season. The mere mention of the word Bethlehem summons the idea of where He was born. Obviously the Who is more important than the where, but we would be remiss if we did not make note of the location of the incarnation. Bethlehem was a suburb of Jerusalem and means house of bread. It is certainly appropriate that the place of His birth bears that name since He is the very staple of life that satisfies the gnawing hunger of humanity. The lyrics of carols describe it as the “little town that lies in stillness.” and the place where “the little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head.”
Consider the irony of another place with the same name taken from Wikipedia. The Bethlehem Royal Hospital is a psychiatric hospital located in London, also known as the Hospital of Bedlam. No longer based at its original location, it is recognized as the worlds’ finest and oldest institution to specialize in mental illness. The word bedlam, meaning uproar and confusion, is derived from the hospitals’ prior name. Although the hospital is now at the forefront of humane psychiatric treatment, for much of its history it was notorious for cruel and inhumane treatment. It was the epitome of a madhouse or insane asylum.

Relatively speaking, the word insanity not only describes those confined to asylums, but also to those all around us who have the appearance of being insane. The diagnosis for psychosis ranges from genetics to trauma, but a more shocking discovery is that many suffer from mental illness due to their perceived thoughts of Gods’ thoughts of them. Bedlam has so besieged their imagination that they are convinced their iniquity has eclipsed His innocence. Their mind is no longer a manger where He lays down His sweet head. There is no greater example of innocence than an infant, but every infant has been born in bedlam or in a state of confusion about who they are and who their father really is. He was the only infant born in Bethlehem in innocence. He took his first breath in a stable that reeked with the dung of animals. Born among the beast, the incorrigible are introduced to the incorruptible One. The invitation to shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night is still extended to us who were born in bedlam. We don’t have to live in the benighted world of iniquity and insanity. Come to Bethlehem and have an encounter with His innocence.

-RW