I once worked with a man, we’ll call him Dave because that was his name, who rarely took responsibility for missed deadlines or miscommunication. He always had a reason why he struggled in his work and personal life. His “misses” were inevitably the fault of someone else: “They didn’t give me the right information.” “They made it impossible for me to do my job.” “They are terrible to work with.” “They are the reason why I’m late on this assignment.”
Oddly enough, if something did go his way, no one else seemed to have a hand in it. He was a Lone Ranger who didn’t even need a Tonto.
Do you remember as a young child, the safety of an embrace from someone you loved and trusted? There is power in that physical act. It brings reassurance to the relationship. It is a sign of security and trust.
It appears that a hug is a nearly universal act. Primates and Humans, from the earliest age, hold on to their protectors and snuggle into their waiting arms. Throughout history, parents have cradled their children. For all time, children have needed the embrace of their parents. Research has proven that skin-to-skin contact provides a reassurance and warmth that we can achieve in no other way. But there are lots of reasons we hug.
I like to play chess. Unfortunately for me, I lose more often than I win.
In an effort to improve my win:loss ratio, I’ve tried to analyze my lack of success, and I’ve come to the conclusion that my losing streak is not due to a lack of awareness of the names of the chess pieces; I know a rook from a bishop, a pawn from a King. I understand their movement; up / down, back / forth, and that L-shaped thingy the horsey does. I even have a rudimentary knowledge of strategy; for instance, you should always try to win if possible.
However, as I’ve read and studied my technique (or lack thereof), I’ve come to understand that I’m missing a few key ingredients to becoming a successful chess champion. They were revelations to me but might come as no shock to you.
Those who shut their ears to the cries of the poor will be ignored in their own time of need. – Prov. 21:13 (NLT)
In his recent article in The Telegraph, writer Stephen King notes, “The Syrian refugee crisis may prove to be no more than a dress rehearsal for what may happen in coming decades.”
The article goes on to predict a major shift in the world demographics as the population of Continental Africa explodes and ongoing civil war and a desire for a better life drives the human migratory patterns of the earth.
For a majority of people around this globe, a belief in a “Higher Power” is a shared experience. Whether Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Shinto, Bahia or any other number of belief systems, a God of some making is at the core of their belief system.
I grew up in the Methodist church. I went to church camp. I attended Sunday School. Sunday night youth group played a key part of my spiritual and social development throughout my school years. While in college, I worked as a youth pastor at a local Methodist church and after college, I attended Seminary and then entered pastoral ministry for a number of years. While no longer affiliated with the Methodist church, I still believe in one God who is my “Higher Power” and Jesus, as God’s son, is who I follow by the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
For those who don’t adhere to this, it might sound a lot like magical mumbo-jumbo. But I’m okay with that. I accept that I don’t know all. And I understand that I might never fully understand. A central tenant of faith is…well…Faith: Believing in things I cannot see.
Perhaps I’m naive. I will even concede that my perspective may be limited. But I believe, all things being equal, we are a Global Family. We are from one heart. We are from one mind. If you want to be technical and scientific, we come from one very small gene pool. Under our skin, we are all sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles, cousins and parents.
We were refugees once, not so very long ago. We immigrated to this land in the 1600’s, as refugees of religious persecution, seeking the right to freely pursue our beliefs: A noble goal, for sure, but this refugee story is less than noble.
We sought freedom. We sought safety. We longed for a place to call our own. And soon we were no longer visitors. Soon we owned the clubhouse and we now could made the rules.
We expanded our reach and made our way across the land, driving the Native Americans ahead of us; either killing them systematically or forcing them to inhabit desolate wilderness and forsake their way of life.
It’s who we are. It’s a part of our DNA, our story, our very nature. Rather than finding peace, we go to war. Instead of seeking resolution, we raise objection. We choose conflict. We gravitate to the powerful. We are attracted to the brave and valiant rather over the diplomatic and level-headed.
War is as old as recorded history. Murder, even before that.