Oct 17, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
The world seems trapped in perpetual “us and them” warfare. No surprise, I guess, since “tribalism” is one of the oldest human cultures on earth. This point of view has long divided societies into subgroups called tribes who believe they share a sense of identity and kinship. We’ve grown quite accustomed to restricting ourselves into groups and categories.
I was taught to pick sides for relay teams in kindergarten. My life has always been about picking sides and recognizing differences — from the group of friends to have, to the color of our skin; from the religious denomination to join, to the size of our house; from the preference of sports team, to the type of car we drive; from the political party to endorse, and so on. It often seems impossible to see anything but our differences.
But what if the tribal perspective is not the best and most beneficial outlook — or even accurate from a spiritual standpoint? It seems to me that Christ Jesus’ teachings lead us to conclude another vantage point should govern our lives — one that makes any view that would separate and divide not a good or appropriate or right choice. He points out the two greatest commandments. The first is: “Hear, O Israel; The Lord our God is one Lord; And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength.” Then Jesus tells us the second is like unto the first: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” (Mark 12:29-31).
Certainly, recognizing that there is only one God unifies us in the understanding that we all have the same divine Parent. Our viewpoint changes to “we” instead of “us and them.” And loving our neighbor becomes more about what binds us rather than what separates us. Are we not interconnected as a universal community of God’s beloved children? How does this premise change our attitudes, opinions, decisions, choices and behavior toward each other, about each other, for each other?
I’m reminded of a story I heard long ago of a Midwestern farmer who year after year won a blue ribbon for his corn in the state fair. One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and discovered the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors. This surprised the reporter, since the farmer’s neighbors were also entering their corn in the same competition. The farmer explained how wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and carries it from field to field. He said, “If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn.”
I loved this lesson of the connectedness of life. It points to solutions for every community and world problem. Those who choose to be at peace must help their neighbors to be at peace. Those who choose to live well must help others to live well. Those who choose to be happy must help others to find happiness. The welfare of each one is bound up with the welfare of all. So, “if we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn.”
Sept. 11, 2001 taught me I could no longer live in isolation from the rest of the world. I am connected to my brethren around the globe. I can’t ignore opinions and philosophies that differ from mine. And I can’t ignore the suffering, confusion and misunderstandings of my neighbors either. Shortly after 9/11, I wrote and submitted my first guest column to a newspaper. My hope has been that by sharing ideas and experiences that have helped me, I may be of help to others. And I’m listening to, reading and desiring to understand viewpoints of others, too.
A couple of weeks ago a news commentary about the work Heifer International is doing in Tanzanian communities in the battle against hunger and poverty caught my attention. This organization expounds upon a simple idea of giving families a source of food, such as a heifer, rather than short-term relief of food provisions. But even more compelling is the project’s “Passing on the Gift” aspect, in which participants in the program agree to experience the joy of helping others by giving a neighbor the offspring of their animal as well as training support. In Tanzania, Christian and Muslim neighbors are forming bonds and joining together to better their own lives.
In reading a bit about the history of this grassroots-focused organization, I discovered it was founded by a Midwestern farmer, Dan West, who after giving milk to hungry children during the Spanish Civil War, concluded, “These children don’t need a cup; they need a cow.” This conclusion led to his founding of Heifer International in 1944 based upon that philosophy, and since that time helping 7 million families in 128 countries gain self-reliance and hope. Today, Heifer has over 600 projects in 51 countries, including the United States.
Perhaps Dan West knew that Midwestern corn farmer. Maybe they were neighbors. They both understood that what blesses one, blesses all.
I’m going to endeavor to live my life based upon those two great commandments emphasized by the Master, knowing that in God’s eyes there is no “us and them,” for we be brethren. My hope is that the leaders in this and other countries can learn to make judgments and decisions on the same basis. Then, it would never be a question of whether we should help a neighbor, but only how.
Oct 17, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
Watching movies about Christ Jesus has long been one of my traditions at Easter time. These viewings fuel my own passion for examining what Jesus’ sacrifice and triumph meant to humanity, then and now. Recently the season sparked my interest in watching again “The Passion of the Christ.”
I have friends who have never watched Mel Gibson’s movie. Although I was not the first in line, I knew I had to watch this film. The only reason I hesitated initially was my squeamishness when confronted with graphic violence onscreen. But after reading an editorial’s question, “[Can I not watch 126 minutes with him?” — I went.
Our expectation has a direct effect on results in any situation, including watching a movie. My view of Jesus as Master, Way-shower, Teacher and Exemplar is uppermost in my thought when I watch any movie on his life. So, my expectations for watching “The Passion of the Christ” were from the perspective of a student. Open and eager for learning, I anticipated lessons and expected to be taught — and was.
For me, the part of Jesus’ story known as the Passion is as much a classroom as is the entire life and ministry of Jesus. And, of course, class doesn’t end with the crucifixion. It continues with lessons learned from the resurrection and 40 days later with the ascension. While Gibson’s movie didn’t tell Jesus’ whole life story — I’m not sure any movie does — there was never a moment when Jesus appeared to be a helpless victim. To the contrary, there was never a moment when Jesus wasn’t continuing to teach and heal, even during what must have been the most difficult hours of his life. A life lesson in itself!
The Passion illustrates his most profound lesson to be teachings on love.
A love that could forgive those who falsely accused and tortured him, even as he hung on the cross. How many times have I felt defeated or thought about revenge when a friend or foe did something to deliberately hurt me?
A love that could express compassion toward his grieving mother while he himself was suffering. How many times have I been too self-absorbed to help another in need?
A love that could offer comfort and heal others, not only while suffering himself, but also in the midst of his enemies. How many times has a sense of inadequacy stopped me from sharing a hopeful message or fear kept me from saying what I know is true, because criticism or laughter might follow?
As I watch the various replications of Jesus’ life story, I’m reminded I still have much to learn about what it truly means to “drink of his cup” and “partake of his bread.” But more and more, I’m realizing that these metaphors speak of striving to follow his example and understand the truth he taught and practiced.
And so I continue to ponder his instructions, such as:
“Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you” (Matthew 5:44) … “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1) … “Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein” (Luke 18:17) … “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matthew 7:12) … “He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also” (John 14:12).
I’m beginning to understand divine service to mean following, in earnest measure, the example of our Master. Clearly, Jesus illustrated the meaning of his transforming words with healing and regenerative works. We can do no less in our discipleship.
At this holy season, I’m once again humbled by Christ Jesus’ life example, and I’m rededicating my life to being a better steward of my faith, knowing, as James reminds us, “Faith without works is dead” (James 2:26). It seems the least I can do to show my love and gratitude to the Master is to do my best to be a faithful student of good works as much as good words.
Mary Baker Eddy perfectly expressed what’s in my heart this glorious Easter and always with this statement: “For the body of Christ, for the life that we commemorate and would emulate, for the bread of heaven whereof if a man eat ‘he shall live forever,’ for the cup red with loving restitution, redemption, and inspiration, we give thanks.”
Oct 17, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
We seem size-obsessed in America. Sometimes we say bigger is better, while other times we argue slim is best. We long for big paychecks and houses, but we love slim waistlines and cell phones. When we want new and fresh ideas, we encourage big thinking. But I suspect many women would agree that when it comes to gifts, “Good things come in small packages!”
Perhaps size does indeed matter.
However, when one considers the Scriptural story of the shepherd boy David in his battle against the Philistine warrior Goliath, bodily size was of no consequence to the outcome. In fact, one could say David’s victory over Goliath was in spite of Goliath’s enormous physical proportions (1 Samuel 17:23-50).
Then in another biblical setting, when tax collector Zacchaeus, a “wee little man,” according to the children’s rhyme, was trying to get a glimpse of Jesus, his small stature didn’t stop him. He simply climbed up into a sycamore tree to get a better point of view (Luke 19:2-9).
Both examples teach me valuable lessons about size. In the David and Goliath story, it wasn’t physical size that mattered but rather the size of David’s faith and courage. And Zacchaeus didn’t use his shortness as an excuse when he had trouble seeing over the heads and shoulders of the crowd before him. Although his physical size was small, his determination and creativity were huge. These stories teach me that no matter how big the problem I face, I must not be too quick to give up — that the size of my hope and persistence must be big to win the day.
Yes, these stories assure me that there are no obstacles too great to overcome. The Apostle Paul offers this same assurance. He asks: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” Then he answers: “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, or angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:35-39).
I find much comfort and promise in these words of Paul. Whenever I’ve felt challenged to the point of almost giving up, I’ve reminded myself of the expanse of God’s love for me as his beloved child. This fact brings the reassurance that God’s love is vast, immeasurable and without limits. Knowledge of God’s infinite love transforms and heals — removing and destroying fear. I have found it impossible to feel completely and totally loved by God and afraid at the same time. And many times in my life, when fears were no longer consuming my outlook, healing answers came into view and changed the course of my life.
So I venture to say to anyone, that with an understanding of God’s infinite love embracing and shepherding your every thought and action, there is no hill too steep, no ditch too deep, no distance too far, no trail too long, no river too wide, no hurdle too high, no wave too big, no job too tough, and no problem too difficult. As children of God, we are each equal recipients of a treasure trove of spiritual skills and abilities that equip us to meet and master any “Goliath” and enable us to find the “sycamore tree” that lifts our spirits to a new and higher perception.
What matters most about size is where we place our confidence — the material, transient and changeable or the spiritual, eternal and dependable. Although there may be many theological points to explore and understand, I don’t think any is greater than the breadth, depth and scope of God’s love for each one of us. You can believe in it, trust it and count on it. The size of God’s love is what matters most!
Oct 17, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
In the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives, I suspect we all are unaware of many things that we take for granted.
To take something for granted is to not appreciate its full value. This can occur for something that we experience on a day-to-day basis, and so we become accustomed to its availability. For example, we often forget how valuable food, clean water and shelter are to us — or even our many freedoms — until we don’t have them.
To take someone for granted is to not acknowledge the difference they make in our lives. This may mean not showing appreciation to our parents, teachers or siblings for the help they give us throughout our lives. In addition, we probably never think about many other people without whom our world would be very different. People with essential skills and responsibilities such as tradesmen, engineers and factory workers, who in turn make available and accessible the many things we tend to take for granted.
I’m reminded of a story I was recently introduced to — the life story of Charles Plumb, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate who was a jet fighter pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands and spent six years in a communist prison camp. He survived his ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from his experience. It was one of his lessons that a friend shared with me.
Apparently, Plumb and his wife were in a restaurant one evening when a man who had been sitting at another table approached. This man recognized Plumb and knew he had flown jet fighters from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk during the Vietnam War. And, he knew Plumb had been shot down. To Plumb’s surprise, this man served on the same carrier, and Plumb was even more surprised to learn this man had packed his parachute the day he was shot down. With this news they shook hands, and the man exclaimed, “I guess it worked!” Plumb expressed his gratitude, responding, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”
While that was the end of their exchange, the incident kept Plumb from sleeping that night. He tried to imagine the man in his Navy uniform and wondered how many times he could have seen him in passing without any acknowledgment. Fighter pilots had a tendency to not give much attention to those who were “just sailors,” Plumb said. But now, Plumb said he couldn’t stop thinking about the many hours this sailor had spent “weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.”
Since this encounter, Plumb started asking his audiences, “Who’s packing your parachute?”
Plumb, of course, wasn’t referring to a physical parachute like the one this sailor had packed for him. In fact, Plumb says he needed many other kinds of parachutes to survive his six-year experience in the hands of his enemies and also mentions his mental, emotional and spiritual parachutes. He reminds everyone to be sure we recognize all the people who pack our parachutes, which prepare us to weather whatever storms lie ahead in our lives.
And by the same token, perhaps we also should be asking ourselves, “How’s our parachute packing?” Our lives interconnect with many people during our lifetimes, and we knowingly, and sometimes unknowingly, make an impact and difference in the lives of the people who cross our paths. Parachute packing is important work, and the job we do could save a life. Sometimes I think we get so caught up in our everyday lives, we forget that we do make a difference, and that what we say and do matters to someone.
Perhaps, too, we have a tendency to focus too much on what is wrong in our lives. After all, we’re trained quite well by the news media, which generally accentuate the negative aspects of life — deaths, disasters, diseases. We probably all have days when we wonder if anything went right in the world. But an excess of the stressing all that’s bad about life can lead to a tendency to take for granted all that’s good. Sometimes we don’t realize what was good until it’s gone. We must not wait until we lose something to place a high value on what we have. We can begin now to appreciate, treasure and nurture all we’ve been blessed with.
I think one of our country’s greatest blessings is the U.S. soldier, who perhaps is best exemplified by the scripture: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:8).
When I think about things I take for granted — my air-conditioned home or clean running water, along with all the other comforts and luxuries my home includes — I can’t help but think about our soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan and other parts of the world. Perhaps we could all give pause every day, not just on days like Memorial Day, and consider what yesterday was like for our soldiers — were they able to sleep; take a shower; have a hot, cooked meal; drink some cold water? We can make certain we don’t take for granted the sacrifices of America’s soldiers and make sure we’re thankful they are willing to be there for us and do whatever is asked of them. And, we can make sure we express our thanks when given the opportunity.
The peopling of the world is surely part of the divine design of Love. We are people who need people, and God has tenderly provided for the meeting of our needs with the gift of one another. May we someday let ourselves love one another; then not only will we never take anyone or anything for granted, but also we will have no basis for hatred or war.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
Christmas 1968. We were on a westbound journey. I don’t think we knew what or where our final destination was. Or at least I didn’t. I was ten years old. All I knew was we had left Georgia suddenly, late one evening, to escape my dad, who, I felt was rarely happy and was almost always angry about something.
My parents had divorced after 25 years of marriage, and my dad just couldn’t seem to let go of my mom. She was like a possession that he’d had a long time and didn’t want to loose.
Now he’d begun a “cat-and-mouse” chase that lasted several months. We left everything behind us –most of our clothes, my toys, my dog. All I remember taking along were our ice cream freezer, Bible, and a blue and white paperback book a friend had recently given to my mom, Science and Health.
As we passed through Mobile, Alabama, my dad found us, and we were literally in a car chase, with Mom and me driving very fast and making lots of turns to try to shake him off. We did . . . for a while.
That Christmas found us in a mobile home in Beaumont, Texas. We stayed in mobile-home parks instead of hotels as we traveled west, so as to be more elusive as the chase continued.
There was little to no money to be spent on gifts. But my mom and I were safe – and in several ways we were happy.
Christmas in Beaumont had no glitz or glimmer. There was no family gathering, no holiday feast. We got ourselves a tiny Christmas tree. It was so small I suspect it was like the tree in the cartoon classic “A Charlie Brown Christmas” – the tree nobody wanted. We didn’t have any decorations. Not even a tree stand. So, we found a way to hang the tree from the ceiling. I remember thinking how cool that was. We strung popcorn and made paper strings. This too, I remember, was fun.
What is perhaps most remarkable as I look back on it now, is that my memory of that Christmas is not one of fear and uncertainty, but of peace. It’s almost hard for me to understand how, in the midst of such a violent and unstable time in my life, my memories could be so dear, so special. In fact, I’ve often said that was the best Christmas ever. How could that be true?
Since childhood I had been taught that God loved me. That God is good. That God is everywhere. I had learned the Bible stories of Daniel in the lions’ den and of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being thrown into the fiery furnace. I think I was confident of God’s care, even though my life was apparently in danger and my future most uncertain and at risk.
My Bible study had begun to involve the Science and Health my mom had been given. It never ceased to amaze me by explaining and putting into words what was somehow already written in my heart. It was filled with powerful affirmations of God’s saving power and helpful explanations of the mission of Jesus. The book assured me that all things were possible to God and that I could never be separated from Him.
Certainly, the Bible teaches these things, but my study of Science and Health clarified many Bible passages for me and convinced me that what I was learning in the Bible was true. If I was ever in doubt, this book would defend the Bible’s claim and strengthen my trust.
I was not a member of a Church of Christ, Scientist. In fact, I had recently been baptized in another denomination. But it was very natural to include Science and Health with my Bible study. It provided extra assurance that I, too, could be as safe as those Bible characters.
“Love is much stronger than hate and
can dispel fear, uncertainty, and doubt”
Two years later, I did join a Church of Christ, Scientist, and have been blessed in more ways that I could ever have imagined during my childhood.
We made our way up to Dallas after that Christmas, where my mom found a job. I found myself in a new school making new friends. We established a new home, and my mom married the friend who had given her that paperback Science and Health. I even got my dog back. My grandmother had rescued him and cared for him.
And what happened to my dad? He ended his chase, went back to Georgia, and began a new life of his own. I never had the opportunity to see him again, as he passed on several months later. But I like to think that, before he passed on, he was as happy as we were in our new life.
Now, I try to take a few moments every holiday season to remember the Christmas of 1968. Our modest celebration taught me that peace and hope can be felt in the midst of threats of violence; that joy is not dependent on money and circumstances; that love is much stronger than hate and can dispel fear, uncertainty, and doubt.