Writers In The Storm

“Let’s go Riders! D, D, D!” Bethany knows basketball. Over the years, she’s cheered through more games than I can count with Caleb and Grace both playing. She’s known by the THESA (Texas Home Educators Sports Association) families as the number-one-Rider-fan.

A few years ago at the national basketball tournament, the top-ranked girls’ team surprised Bethany with a specially decorated Rider t-shirt before the big game. They wanted to show appreciation for their most enthusiastic fan. She still wears the black and red treasure to most games.

Yesterday, we walked into another basketball gym. This day was different, though. The players struggled to dribble, pass, and shoot. A few times they seemed confused about which basket to dribble toward. But they smiled. Players celebrated plays with high fives. They cheered for each other and themselves.

Bethany was on the court playing in the state Special Olympics basketball game.

And sitting in the stands were Rider players and their families. They got up early on a Saturday morning to cheer for their number-one Special Olympics player.

The Roman Centurion, of New Testament fame, surprised everyone with his faith.  His culture encouraged obeisance to multiple gods.  Nothing in his experience as a Roman citizen, military leader, or occupier of Capernaum suggested that he might humble himself to request the healing services of a sandal-footed Nazarene.  A Jew.

Another knew Jesus from the womb.  His birth foretold in the book of Isaiah, John the Baptist cried out a message of repentance in the wilderness.  He lived in preparation for the One who was to come and save.  The Messiah.

John baptized his followers in the Jordan with water.  He spoke of a day when another would come to baptize with the Spirit.  There, in the middle of the river, among his followers, with the heavens opening and the voice of God proclaiming love for his Son, Jesus, John had absolute clarity of purpose.

But the heavens eventually closed, the reverberation of God’s voice faded from his ears, and Herod, tired of his haranguing rebuke, arrested John.  He lay in a dark cell somewhere in the palace, contemplating the severity of his situation.  He heard news of Jesus’ ministry.  He bid his friends to go to Jesus and ask Him, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” *

Born to make straight the way for our Savior, yet in his bleak hours, John doubted.  Wasn’t someone supposed to rescue him?    Was he right back in the desert, that God had anointed Jesus?  Didn’t these prison chains belong on Herod?

I know God has a special plan for me, but with the earthly measure I take, it will never compare to John’s.  And I doubt.  Not fundamentally, but in situations, in moments, in shadows, the fear I lived with before I came to understand, stalks briefly through my veins. 

I thank God for His inclusion of this particular testimony.  Even John the Baptist sometimes felt utterly, wearily, hopelessly, human. So it’s not just me, and I’m in excellent company.

* Matthew 11:3

I drew a picture of my father once, a three-quarter profile, and it looked remarkably like Ernest Borgnine.  I might have been disappointed had my father not resembled Ernie to begin with, though more handsome.  About the same age, both were second gen Italians, former boxers, and served in the U.S. Navy.  The real navy, not just on the PT 73. 

I watched McHale’s navy as a kid.  Whenever I must admit to watching something lame during that era, which McHale’s navy was not, my husband is kind enough to remind we only had three channels.  That explains my knowledge of Flipper.

Ernie’s always held a special place in my heart, as much as any celebrity can.  In Franco Zeffirelli’s production of Jesus of Nazareth, Ernie played one of my personal bible heroes.  The Roman Centurion. 

Our pastor talked about him this week, the centurion, not Ernie.  Catholics feel his echo through the ages.  One of the rituals in a Catholic mass, after communion, is to say, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.”  It’s not a direct quote from the bible, as the Centurion wanted healing for his servant, but an echo all the same.

Growing up, I loved that part of the mass.  It rather said it all, in my opinion.  The Roman Centurion was an educated, well-connected, battle hardened soldier. 

In the bible, he told Jesus, “I am not worthy that you should come to my house. But only say the word, and my servant will be healed.”  For someone in the position of a Roman Centurion to humble himself publically before Jesus, bespoke a spiritual understanding of Jesus’ true nature.  It also revealed a tenderness for another human being.

Christ declared, “I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.”

The Pharisees undoubtedly made another note in His file.

And I can’t imagine a Roman Centurion without picturing Ernest Borgnine in costume.  Inspired casting. But the simple testament he made, as the dreaded enemy of Israel, is still with me. 

Years later, when I needed to reconnect with my God, I stated something similar in my heart.  All is right between me and my God. 

I said it.  I believed it.  I knew that He would make it so.

Another hero was in the newspaper today, if you’re a fan of the Kennedy family. For those alive during his brother’s presidency, Ted Kennedy promised another knight seated ’round the table at Camelot.

But John was assassinated, then Bobby. We watched both events on TV. The nation held a collective breath for Ted’s safety.

In spite of his subsequent run for the Democratic nomination, he ended his own bid for the presidency in 1969, the night he ran his mother’s Olds Delmont 88 off a bridge into Poucha Pond near Chappaquiddick Island. The car overturned and Mary Jo Kopechne drowned.

Many speculate as to whether or not Ted Kennedy could have saved her. Many wonder why he didn’t report the accident, allowing the dead young woman’s body to remain trapped underwater until others found her the next day. Many wonder why the married senator and his buddies were out partying with Mary Jo and her girl friends. Many felt the two-month jail sentence for leaving the scene of an accident — which was suspended — was an inadequate penalty.

But he was a U.S. senator. He was a Kennedy.

I often wonder what life was really like for him in 1969.

At the age of nine, his 23 year old sister Rosemary, considered somewhat mentally deficient and too unruly for the nuns to handle at the convent, underwent a lobotomy at their father’s request. The procedure rendered her personality-neutral and completely incapable of caring for herself.

When Ted was 12, the oldest brother, Joe, died in a plane explosion in England during WWII.

And at 16, big sister Kathleen died in a plane crash. By 1969, of nine siblings, only Ted and four of his sisters, including Rosemary, remained.

I wonder what events he would say have shaped him. Since 1969, there have been many more incidents and tragedies that etched his spirit. Tragedies bear their mark in a person’s character. You carry them in your soul. No doubt he’s lost a few of his own heroes.

Fast forward to today: Ted Kennedy suffered a seizure due to a malignant tumor on his brain. He has brain cancer.

Ted Kennedy is not a man with whom I have much in common. We are both the youngest child of a large rowdy family. I’m still blessed by the love, companionship, and occasional menace of all my siblings. Throughout his life Ted Kennedy enjoyed the privileges of few. Yet, even without this final chapter, I wouldn’t trade my life for his.

A letter written by Albert Einstein * to philosopher Eric Gutkind in 1954 is currently for sale in London. Einstein witnessed the re-birth of the nation of Israel 60 years ago on 15 May 1948, as predicted in the book of Amos 9:14-15, and others. As a prominent Jew in the world, he declined an opportunity to serve as the second President of Israel.

The letter, now widely quoted, reveals Einstein’s thoughts on God, the Hebrews, and religion in general. In his own words:

       “The word God is for me nothing more than the expression and product of human weaknesses, the Bible a collection of honourable, but still primitive legends which are nevertheless pretty childish.”

       “And the Jewish people to whom I gladly belong and with whose mentality I have a deep affinity have no different quality for me than all other people.”

       “As far as my experience goes, they are no better than other human groups, although they are protected from the worst cancers by a lack of power. Otherwise I cannot see anything ‘chosen’ about them.”

His words illustrate the crucial dilemma of religious belief: God is not a verifiable fact. Those of us who have experienced God, through no personal merit, know that He is. But without that tangible touch from Him, any serious consideration remains skeptical.

My husband had no belief in God when we met. He liked me and wanted me to get my thinking right. So he went to Christian bookstores to gather evidence of my foolishness. But God met him in the bookstore. Took him to Josh McDowell’s book: Evidence That Demands a Verdict. My oh-so-better half made a verdict to lay down his heart before our Creator. Go figure.

As for Al, and the Jews not being “better”, well, that is the point. They didn’t earn a place in God’s honor. Certainly their history make you wonder why God bothered. Gratitude didn’t always come readily. They weren’t better, they were “chosen”. They were to serve as a model to the rest of us. When they rejected their Creator, He gave us Gentiles a shot at eternity with Him.

Thanks.

       1 Corinthians 1:23 –. . . but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles . . .

       1 Corinthians 3:19 — For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight. As it is written: “He catches the wise in their craftiness”

       1 Corinthians 2:1 — The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned.

I guess Al wanted a God he can understand. If I had come up with the Theory of Relativity and the Special Theory of Relativity, I might think God more of an intellectual neighbor.

But I didn’t, so I don’t. Nor do I want Him to be. If I can discern Him, then He is not nearly enough.

Maybe Al was too smart for his own good.

* Affectionately known as Albert One-Mug,

What makes a person heroic?

In today’s world, Americans idolize actors, athletes and industry moguls. Anyone with brains, brawn or bucks can rise to superhero status.

In order to understand God’s measuring stick for determining who’s worthy of admiration, I turned to the Bible.

One story stood out from the rest. I found my attention captured by a man “highly esteemed by God.”

The word esteemed comes from the Latin for “one who cuts copper.” The concept refers to a person who mints money. The individual creating the coin assigns its value. So, esteem involves estimating value or appraising worth.

In so many words, God told this man, “I assign great value to your life. You’re gold bouillon, a signed-blank check from the IRS, ground floor stock in Microsoft.”

Quick, before I tell you the name of the man God admires, jot down characteristics you think God values.

What wins God’s esteem?

Visit www.sonjiabradshaw.com tomorrow to learn the name of the man God esteemed. Meanwhile, consider characteristics you expect to find in his life story.

Heroes constantly risk our disappointment.

Society has a way of ratcheting their pedestals skyward. Some started as evil phonies; others fell from the precarious height by believing their own press. Names that once bore the mark of sterling now cause our tongues to stick.

Personally, I want only the fortune. Fame you can keep. I enjoy going to the grocery store in tattered sweats and a ratty shirt long before my daily ablutions. No one careens after my van in pursuit of a valuable snap. Any photos I grace will be at my sole discretion and with the full armor of my cosmetics bag.

But I have my heroes. My husband merits the title. I tell him so often, I hope. It’s important that he know.

The bible is rife with heroes. But my personal hero rarely has his story heralded in Sunday school:

The thief on the cross.

He squandered his life on evil. At his miserable end he was spared by the mercy and grace of Jesus. The thief knew he deserved his punishment, and he knew that Jesus did not. He asked Jesus to remember him, and Jesus told him that on that very day, they would be together in paradise.

Years ago a bible study group I was in studied these very verses. Two of the women had been Christians all their lives and resented the thief. They felt they had given up much throughout their lives and didn’t think it fair he could sneak through before the heavenly gate slammed.

Given up what? Years of sin and pain and regret? Had they no idea what they’d been spared?

They were the embodiment of my constant prayer for my son: that he would never remember a day without Christ in his life. But they owned no empathy for the drowning. I had swirled in an eddy admittedly of my own making. Desperate hands reached out for years to pull me into the boat. I think my next comments scared them.

At what age are we no longer viable recruits?

After how many acts of evil?

After what particular sins?

I tried to say it in love, I pleaded, actually, because the thief was my God given proof that it is never too late. By denying the thief entry, they were trying to deny me. People prayed for me many years before I answered the godly knock at my door. May He bless them forever for their loving gift to me.

I hear stories that the infamous Pol Pot of Cambodia renounced his sin on his deathbed and claimed Jesus as his savior. Pol Pot is directly responsible for the death of millions. I don’t know if it’s true. That question remains between him and God.

But, I know for a fact that it is possible, thanks to my other hero on the cross.

Hiro’s cell phone rings…

Ando: Who is it?

Hiro: Destiny!

Ando: I wish Destiny would lose our number.

From the TV series, Heroes.

Today, I wandered through cyberspace researching various ideas about heroes. I came across three distinct perspectives:

· Heroes are famous, wealthy or notorious people including: actors, athletes, and debutantes.

· Heroes are everyday people doing everyday things: opening a door for an elderly woman, helping a stranded motorist, or teaching children with special needs.

· Heroes are people who accomplish extraordinary acts of service in extraordinary situations: Soldiers on the battlefield, firemen in a blaze, or a policeman in a shootout.

A famous person may be a hero. I have always admired Tom Landry, head coach of the Dallas Cowboys from 1960 through 1988, because of his integrity. However, fame alone doesn’t equate heroism…

An everyday person may be a hero. Mrs. Terry Billups (my fourth grade math teacher) believed in me, inspired me and exemplified godly character for me. However, everydayness typified by mediocrity does not equate heroism…

A person caught in extraordinary circumstances may be a hero. This person answers the call when it comes just like Hiro in the television show. When Brian Clark heard cries for help on the eighty-first floor of the World Trade Center South Tower, he followed the sound until he found Stanley Praimnath trapped by debris. Clark spent several crucial minutes freeing Praimnath from his prison and together, the two men escaped only moments before the tower imploded. However, extraordinary circumstances alone doesn’t equate heroism…

A hero may perform in obscurity or on the five o’clock news. But either way, he lives above neutral.

As we celebrate Cinco de Mayo when a tiny band of Mexican soldiers defended their homeland against an overwhelming French army, let me ask:

Who are your heroes? Why do you admire them? Please take a moment to reply in the comments section.