Central View

I am not proud to be an American.  I am grateful.    Please, let me explain.   Recently a man snapped at me, "I am so sick of everyone bashing our president and our country.  I am proud to be an American, and I will not apologize for who we are."  He is a good man, devoted to God, country and family.  Though I respect him, I do not share his pride.  For me, the personal is political.  Individuals cannot progress toward love without owning their mistakes, nor can a nation. The instant I was born, I received an enormous inheritance. I did nothing to earn it, nor did my parents or their parents.  Several generations ago, my ancestors took a wild ride across the Atlantic in search of a better life.  Their spirit of adventure did far more than cross an ocean.  It spanned generations to give every member of my family American citizenship.  For that I am eternally grateful.   Jesus pointedly said, "To whom much is given, much is expected.”  As a grateful citizen I am expec

Hope is hearing the melody of the future; faith is dancing to it today.  ~ Ruben A. Alvez "What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”  It’s just a saying.  And when our son was diagnosed with a congenital birth defect I learned it was a big, fat lie.   I told myself that the tests at the hospital were just a precaution.  Nothing was really wrong.  It wasn’t that bad.  Surprisingly, I believed myself.   I kept calm by staying busy.   Packed the diaper bag, dressed the boy, loaded the car, buckled the car seats.   Took our daughters to the sitter.   It was just precaution.   Early morning breakfast, poured the coffee, ate the toast, sat in   traffic, it was just a precaution.   Everything was fine, really.     My husband dropped us off at the door and went to park the car.  With one hand I completed the medical forms, and found the insurance cards. With the other, I kept my busy toddler entertained.    Crazy, but expected crazy until the nurse called us to an exam room to put an IV into t

"Let the church die," the Rev. Dr. Eugene Peterson insisted. Though it was decades ago, I vividly remember the shocking, rhythmic refrain of his sermon delivered at my seminary graduation. Instead of hiring beauty queens or football stars to attract members, Peterson urged graduates to “let the church die."  At the time, I questioned why he focused on the church's demise before we had our chance to save it. Now I know.   When faced with a pandemic that demanded sudden and dramatic change, the church’s response was nothing short of miraculous.  Congregations that previously had no online presence got one, and got it fast.  Refusal to embrace change and its inevitable growing pains has long been the church’s demise.  Our stubborn adherence to outdated polity and religious traditions is suffocating.  Why don’t Millennials and Gen-Xers make long term commitment to serve on our Sessions or Councils?  How can we operate a church if no one will commit to serving on a lead

“ But I am hungry!” Trying to make sense of what was happening I pleaded with my grandfather to stay. Instead of entering the restaurant, he stormed back to the parking lot.  “Why do we have to go Papa?” I asked as I tugged at his hand to get his attention. I could not have been more than 5 or 6 years old.   Disgusted, he grumbled, “There are too many coloreds in there to enjoy my meal.”   “What are the colored people going to do to your food Papa?”   “Don’t argue with your grandfather,” my mother pulled me toward her. In stony silence, we drove to a Morrison’s Cafeteria on the other side of Columbus, GA. When I later asked my mom why my grandfather refused to eat with colored people, she said dismissively, “It’s just his way.”   As I grew older, I came to the painful realization that “his way” was the wrong way. It was painful because I loved him. My grandfather was not a criminal. He was generous, hard working, and loyal, which made it all the harder to understand his attit