You are all Children of God

–Galatians 3:26

And so it is Christmas Eve, a time when everyone is waiting. Waiting for Santa. Waiting for presents. Waiting to see the looks on the kids’ faces to make sure they’re happy with the toys they get. We’re waiting, always waiting

But that’s the problem with Christmas Eve and Advent; they suggest that we should be waiting for something, some miracle from above, some thing to happen to us.

But there just isn’t time.

There isn’t time to wait when children are being abused.

There isn’t time to wait when women are being dismissed as second-class (or even third-class if they’re pregnant) citizens.

There isn’t time to wait while hatred because of skin color grows.

There isn’t time to wait while whole nationalities are being kicked around for not being rich enough to buy their way into the country.

There isn’t time to wait while our city becomes convinced that only those who can count do count.

There isn’t time to wait while homosexual teens are being beaten, mocked and spat upon for being born different. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all born different.

We’re all freaks and weirdos. We’re all illegals, second, third and last-class citizens.

We’re all the 99%. And we’re the 1% too–when we open our eyes enough to see the suffering that our getting is causing.

We’re all special-needs. We’re all black, white, women, men and children.

We’re all Children of God.

The miracle of Christmas eve isn’t that God came once. The miracle isn’t something we have to wait fro from the heavens. The miracle is that faith calls us all God’s sons and daughters. The miracle has already happened. So what exactly are we waiting for?

As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

–Galatians 3:27-28

Advent and Christmas Eve aren’t about waiting for miracles. They’re about creating them. Our friends, our enemies, our sisters, our brothers, our parents, our neighbors, our strangers, and especially our Children, bless them every one, our Children can’t wait any longer.

It’s time for us to be the miracle that our would needs. Just in time for Christmas.

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Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms in my life. I wouldn’t be the man that I am today without you. But as much as I love each of you, this one goes out to my mom, Evelyn.

Mom and the baby girl feeding fish.

Narrowing down all that you have taught me in our short time together is nearly impossible, mom. You taught me to climb trees. You taught me to make homemade biscuits (but mine were never very good). You taught me to pick up after myself (which, I still only do when you’re coming to town, by the way). You taught me to say thank you to everyone who does anything for me. Ever.

So coming up with just one thing, one best thing, that I learned from you mom is hard, but I think I’ve managed to narrow it down to at least two.

It’s funny that most of what we learn from our parents, we learn when they’re not trying to teach us anything at all. We learn it when we’re all just going about our business, dealing with our feeble attempts to just make it to the end of the day. (This is something that I try to remember with my own kids, but I usually screw it up.)

But since this is true, then the best thing I ever learned from my mom, I think I learned when we were all working together in The Sandwich Shop in the Mall.

For about six years or so (I can’t remember exactly; it was many miles ago) while I was in high school and college, mom and dad owned The Sandwich Shop in the Statesboro Mall. It was here that I think I learned my most important lessons from her during the times when she was too busy to actually try and teach me anything at all.

If you’ve ever owned a family business, you know that the vacations, holidays, and even just days off are far too rare. So you adjust to schedule, and push through. This was how we operated at the Sandwich Shop. Working until we could pull the gate closed at 9 when the mall closed, rushing home to make the chess squares for the next day, dragging in before opening the next morning to make the salads.

Food service, in other words. It was hard, but somehow, Mom, you always found a way to uncover the joy in making sandwiches, chili, salads, and of course, sweet tea.

And so the best thing I ever learned from you mom was two fold. First, you should always find a way to love the work you have to do. This, maybe more than anything else, has served me well as I also worked in jobs that weren’t always my first choice. Because of your leadership, I still found a way to love doing sleeve jobs on tuxes before prom, calling doctors about jobs in a telemarketing firm, selling software, staying up all night at children and youth lock-ins, struggling to meet a deadline for a grant, and grading endless stacks of 101 portfolios. If you could find joy in slicing tomatoes every morning, I can find it in a well-written sentence.

But the second thing that you taught me as we served food together was that a life of service to others is a life worth living. And that, Mommy, is the best thing you ever taught me. (So far.)

Happy Mother’s Day. I love you.

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Dr. Molly Marshall, formerly of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary–now, happily, the President of Central Baptist Theological Seminary in Kansas, taught theology at Southern Seminary while I was there in the early 90s. She was the first female Associate Professor of Theology at Southern. I am still saddened to say that she is also, likely, the last. (If you’d like to read more about these events, take a look at Michael Westmoreland-White’s excellent posting. Michael was a grader for Molly at Southern. His tribute is well worth your time.)

Rather than rehash the evil that has commandeered the only Seminary that I ever thought I would attend, I would rather deal with a question that Dr. Marshall asked us once in her Intro to Christian Theology class. (Full disclosure: I still review my notes from those classes from time to time, and I’m still struggling to understand many of them. I’ve never worked harder in a class. For example, if someone on this Earth can explain for me what the phrase “the economy of God” means, I will be forever grateful.)

Near the end of a class one day, Dr. Marshall was talking about her experiences defending her Doctoral dissertation. As with any defense, she was nervous and frighten by what questions she might be asked. Those questions, I’m sure, covered in great detail the breath and depth of the study of God, but there was one, and frankly only one, that stuck with me. She said that she thought that she was handling the questions well until she came around to Dr. Dale Moody.

Dr. Moody was notorious for his ability to cut through bull shit, and he was old and wise enough that he was allowed to do so as he saw fit. When Dr. Moody’s opportunity came to speak, Dr. Marshall said that he looked at her and asked her one very simple question. “Ms. Marshall. Please tell me, what are people for?”

The power of a question shows up once again. Thanks Moishe. I can’t remember her answer. Somehow, I doubt that I even heard it as at the very moment that she repeated that question, I was off chasing after my own answer. (Which I’m certain was Dr. Marshall’s point.)

That’s the beauty of going to Seminary right after college. It takes a young 22 year old who just graduated from college many years to realize that he doesn’t know jack. Going to seminary hastens that realization along considerably.

So, what are people for? My first thought, as I was deep in existentialism at the time, was that people aren’t for anything at all. People exist. What we do with that existence is entirely, despairingly, our own choice. Our purpose, in short, is what we choose it to be. The crucial question then is how will I choose to live with those surrounding me?

I recall sharing with my best man and friend from seminary once that I needed to find a way of combining Existentialism and Liberation Theology. That’s my Holy Grail. It’s my Unifying theory. It’s the other question that keeps me awake at night. I think that maybe the question that Dr. Moody asked a nervous doctoral candidate is the beginning of understanding. (Questions are never endings.)

Funny that I didn’t begin to understand this until I became a parent.

I’ve never had anyone who needed me as much as Emma on the day that she came into this world. The only day that came close was when Matthew was born.

Today when I came home, they were on the trampoline together. Matthew bounces up to Emma and takes her hands. Round and round they go, until they fall down laughing in a heap. Together.

So, like the kids, we come round and round to the question, what are people for?

And like the kids, who despite all the barriers that autism throws up to separate them still find a way to laugh, to play, to dance, bounce and love, people are for each other.

When we choose to lay aside our isolation, when we choose to leap across the abyss that separates us from each other, when we choose to look out for more than our own self interests and grab the hand of our sister to go bounce, we simply know what people are for. People are for each other.

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