The Sacred and the Secular--A Presidential View

Yesterday’s Sunday edition of The Seattle Times featured a front page story about a prominent area businessman, accused of masterminding the largest Ponzi scheme in the history of Washington State, bilking investors in his bogus mortgage company out of $100 million. The headline said it all, “Financial empire, luxurious lifestyle were built on a mirage.” The article pictured the architect of the scheme relaxing by the pool of his $10 million mansion, just down the road from Bill Gates’ home, complete with two yachts parked in his dock at the back—not to mention his two jets for personal use.

The Seattle Times author quoted the bankruptcy trustee who compared him to the Wizard of Oz. There was absolutely nothing behind the curtain of legitimacy that lured investors through the promise of big profits on their investments. Sadly, we can become jaded by reading about such scammers, developing a deep sense of distrust and suspicion that easily leads to skepticism or cynicism. When we hear or see something or someone who seems too good to be true, we often wonder what is hiding “behind the curtain.”

So where should we land? We certainly should not believe everyone who says, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.” On the other hand, we miss a great deal of life’s beauty if we do not recognize good character and the accomplishments of those who surprise us with their honesty or unexpected kindness. Sure, there are Bernie Madoffs in this world, just like there are preachers who are charlatans, and politicians who are corrupt. But I believe they are in the minority—those who have given themselves over to wholesale corruption and deceit. I personally know hundreds of pastors, lawyers, politicians, and business leaders who quietly do their jobs with dignity and integrity, working for justice and seeking the truth.

For most of us, the struggle is to maintain our integrity in the face of temptation. And for those of us who believe God cares about such things, our challenge goes beyond the surface, what people see on the outside. Our challenge remains the challenge of character, of staying true to our convictions, of living a life free of duplicity or hypocrisy.

In the Gospels, Jesus viewed the hypocrisy of religious teachers and leaders as reason enough to publicly chastise them for not practicing what they preached. Today, we may not use the word, “hypocrite” very much, yet we know how we feel when we spot one, particularly if it is a person we have trusted. And when a person loses our trust, we lose as well. We become less likely to trust others, more jaded in our perspective, and suspicious of those whose kindness or good works seem too good to be true.

The trouble is, we often separate the sacred from the secular. Believing that what we do in our personal life has nothing to do with our professional or public life is a slippery slope. We all have recollections of a former U.S. President whose private Oval Office sessions with an intern, and subsequent denials of wrongdoing, brought scandal and impeachment proceedings. Along the way, many took the position that a person’s private life should not be open to public scrutiny. The false assumption that there is a sacred side of life and a secular side of life contributes to this skewed perspective.

I am the first to admit that none of us would want absolutely everything about our private lives broadcast for public consumption. Not that there isn’t a market for it—reality shows and webcams provide ample evidence of a ready audience. But watching the failures of others is no excuse for our own shortcomings. There is a price for leadership, and that price is a sacred trust, especially for those of us who labor in the church.

I love old books, and recently ran across two antique volumes I purchased for a couple of bucks on eBay containing the Messages and Papers of President Theodore Roosevelt. In it, I discovered a speech to a gathering of Methodist church leaders. Teddy delivered the address to a receptive audience in Carnegie Hall on February 26, 1903, on the occasion of the 200th birthday of John Wesley. Listen to a bit of what he said (by the way, the copyright information of the book says, “There is no copyright on this work, as President Roosevelt considers that his messages and speeches delivered while President have been dedicated to and are the property of the public.”)

“The instruments with which, and the surroundings in which we work, have changed immeasurably from what they were in the days when the rough backwoods preachers ministered to the moral and spiritual needs of their rough backwoods congregations. But if we are to succeed, the spirit in which we do our work must be the same as the spirit in which they did theirs. These men drove forward, and fought their way to success, because their sense of duty was in their hearts, in the very marrow of their bones. It was not with them something to be considered as a mere adjunct to their theology, standing separate and apart from their daily life. They had it with them week days as well as Sundays. They did not divorce the spiritual from the secular. They did not have one kind of conscience for one side of their lives and another for another. If we are to succeed as a nation, we must have the same spirit in us.”

Wow! I wonder what the press would have to say today if the President of the United States delivered such passionate lines to a group of church leaders. I believe it to be a relevant message to twenty-first century citizens hungering for authenticity. However, “Separation of church and state” would no doubt be the cry of those calling for his resignation. That’s too bad, because there would be a lot less headlines in newspapers across this country reporting on another fallen leader if everyone took his advice! (c)2011 Don Detrick

Some Thoughts on the 400th Anniversary of the King James Version

Like many in my generation, I grew up believing that God spoke in Elizabethan English. I heard so many “thee’s” and “thou’s” in the prayers, hymns, sermons, and scripture readings during the course of an excursion to church or Sunday School that it seemed a logical conclusion to a young boy. You can imagine my surprise to later learn that the archaic expressions used in the church of my youth were more a product of the 1611 King James Version of the Bible than a proclivity for speaking in God’s native tongue.

This year we observe the 400th anniversary of the Authorized or King James Version of the Bible. If my brief perusal of the Jan/Feb edition of the History Channel Magazine is any indication, the year will be filled with articles and memorabilia to commemorate the occasion. Marketing strategies will pitch every conceivable edition of the venerable KJV, including those in the original 1611 olde English (hardly decipherable by modern English readers), along with bindings in leather and designer fabrics. Already I’ve noticed a number of media responses to include NPR broadcasts and various special reports.

Although I rarely use the KJV for public speaking or preaching anymore, I must admit to an affinity for this most common of the English translations of the scriptures. Probably because of my youthful exposure to the best-seller of all time, I tend to think biblically in the King James Version. Indeed, most of the hundreds of Bible verses I memorized as a child and teenager were from the pages of the KJV. Those verses have served me well over the years, filling my heart and mind with principles, promises, and ideas that transcend human comprehension.

When faced with temptations to compromise my convictions or do wrong, I immediately think of a verse like Psalm 119:11, “Thy Word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” or 1 Corinthians 10:13, “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man. But God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which ye are able, but will with the temptation make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” (For the purposes of this article I am writing out the verses from memory, so I might not get them exactly right—maybe you should check.)

When weary or troubled, my thoughts go to those red-letter words of Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me. For I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

When discouraged, my mind turns to Hebrews 10:35-36, “Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompence of reward. For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise” or 1 Peter 5:7, “Casting all your care upon him, for he careth for you.”

I could go on, but I think you get the point. Although we never use a word like “recompence” in daily conversation, the word has meaning to me precisely because I was taught at an early age to look up words I do not understand in a dictionary. That may seem quaint and even archaic in the post-modern world of electronic technology, yet it served the purpose of encouraging my love of learning, and desire to investigate and find out something for myself. There was something intrinsically satisfying about going to the library and taking a look at the Oxford English Dictionary to find the precise definition of a word, or using the old oak library catalog and Dewey Decimal System to research just the right book or resource, that I find lacking in the 5 million hits of a one second Google search.

Don’t get me wrong, I would not trade the ability to search the internet for a throwback to the old Dewey Decimal System and its arcane code of numbers and alphabet. Still, there is something to be said for actual printed books and real brick and mortar libraries that I miss when using my iPad. In the same way, there is something to be said about a translation of the Bible that has served us in the English speaking world well for the past 400 years, and you can be sure to hear at least some of it in the coming year.

The King James Version of the Bible has strongly influenced our culture and history. Handel used it as the text for his oratorio, The Messiah in 1741. Verses from its pages can be found engraved in public buildings in Washington, D.C. Martin Luther King quoted from Isaiah 40:4 in his 1963 “I have a dream” speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial: "I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together."

King James authorized this translation of the Bible to, “be read in churches.” When read aloud, the poetry and majesty of the words create a syllabic soliloquy that convey the drama and pathos of the printed word, often in relatively simple terms. The fact is, most of the British citizenry was illiterate in 1611, and having a Bible available to be read in the common language of the people, with verses easily understood and memorized, opened up literacy to the general populace.

Our modern tendency is to explain and over-explain, and use far too many words in the process. As a man who has made his living preaching sermons most of my adult life, I should know. While many verses in the Bible do require explanation, exposition, and commentary using principles of biblical interpretation, many verses easily stand on their own with clear meaning—even when using the 400-year-old KJV.

The late British journalist and host of Masterpiece Theater on PBS, Alistair Cooke, once used hyperbole to offer a modern politician’s wordy rendition of God’s simple command, “Let there be light, and there was light” in Genesis 1:3: "The Supreme Being mandated the illumination of the universe and this directive was enforced forthwith."

Even the detractors of the Bible recognize its importance as a singularly unique and glorious piece of literature. “For three centuries, this book has been woven into the life of all that is best and noblest in English history; it has become the national epic of Britain and is as familiar to noble and simple … as Dante and Tasso once were to the Italians … it is written in the noblest and purest English and abounds in exquisite beauties of pure literary form.” One would not expect such accolades for the Bible from Thomas Huxley, known as the first public figure in Britain to declare himself an “agnostic” while championing Darwin’s theory of evolution.

Such is the power of the Bible to create conversations about the most important topics of life: “Who am I? Where did I come from? Why am I here? Where am I going?” And those who objectively look at the Bible will acknowledge its influence and beauty. For those of us who believe it to be the Word of God, we also acknowledge its inspiration and authority—but primarily its power to change lives for the better.

Don’t get me wrong, I do not worship the Bible, rather I worship the God of the Bible. And I do not think there is any special blessing that comes from reading the KJV as opposed to any other translation. Those who believe so ignore the fact that Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek make up the original languages of the Bible. Nor was King James a saint by any stretch of the imagination!

Yet the translation endures in popularity. And I for one, want to say, “Happy 400th birthday!” to an old friend and faithful companion from my youth. The leather bindings, gilt edges, and India paper will always bring a sense of peaceful nostalgia to my soul, but it is the power of the printed words upon the pages that have been transferred to the flesh of my heart that really make the difference.

Reflections on a Snowy Day

This morning I was reading John Greenleaf Whittier's epic poem, Snowbound. Whittier, a Quaker who gained fame as a celebrated poet and a crusader against slavery, served as a member of the Massachusetts legislature in the 1830's, and was a founding member of the Republican Party in America. Like his contemporaries Longfellow, Thoreau, Hawthorne, Emerson, and Whitman, among others, his was a household name before, after, and during the Civil War era, during one of the most tumultuous times in our nation. Many of his musings seem surprisingly relevant to twenty-first century residents of planet earth, including one of my favorite Whittier quotes, “Of all sad words of tongue or of pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’”

During my morning meditations on this winter day filled with anticipation of the forecaster's prediction of snow, I was drawn to Whittier's lengthy, 769 line treatise, first published nearly 150 years ago, in 1866. Snowbound begins with a detailed description of the effect of a New England blizzard on the landscape, home, and hearth of a farm family of that era. His first-person narration makes it clear early on that this is not a piece of fiction, but Whittier’s own story. His accurate depiction of the humble home filled with a loving family, and barn filled with cattle, horses, sheep, and chickens are bursting with such exquisite detail that only a resident observer, thoroughly familiar with the characters and setting could describe.

Soon the author takes the reader on a nostalgic journey, as he reminisces about winters past, and reflects on the memories of family and loved ones through all the seasons of life. A cold winter day is a perfect time for reflection. Reading Whittier’s personal snowbound echoes through the tunnel of time plucked my own heartstrings, producing several resonating chords on this snowy winter day. I would like to share a few of my observations from his Snowbound notes with you.

1. Faith is stronger than doubt, and life is stronger than death. While reminiscing about the past Whittier observed that out of his immediate family, only his brother and he remained. Yet no matter how old he was or how long he lived, he could not forget the influence of his loved ones. He wrote:

Yet love will dream, and faith will trust,

(Since He who knows our need is just,)

That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.”

While looking over the marble tombstones of a cemetery, he observes:

Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,

The truth to flesh and sense unknown,

That Life is ever lord of death,

And love can never lose its own!

During the long months of winter it is so easy to forget that spring and summer will return. And during those times of frigid, isolated darkness we cannot allow our immediate circumstances to control our feelings, or thwart our God-given destiny. Despite the current surroundings, we must set our course on the truth: Life ebbs and flows like the seasons. A high point will be followed by a low tide. And both can reveal details and open passageways that are hidden by the other. We do well to “learn in hours of faith” the truths that will sustain us when doubts tug at the fabric of our souls, seeking to create an opening for unbelief and defeat.

2. We have a God-given right to liberty and justice. A staunch abolitionist, Whittier found himself on that snowbound day reflecting on the struggle for justice and liberty, only recently won through the horror of Civil War. No doubt his own conscience was battered by the tension and dilemma between his Quaker pacifism and the battle in which he had long engaged that led to the bloodiest war in American history, literally pitting brother against brother. The cause was just, but the price was high. As if to remind himself of this he recited the “trumpet call” pen and voice of Mercy Warren, once called the most remarkable and influential woman of the American Revolutionary period:

Does not the voice of reason cry,

Claim the first right which nature gave,

From the red scourge of bondage fly,

Nor deign to live a burdened slave.

Slavery takes many forms, with tyranny and terror always the twin results. We can become enslaved to habits, to people, even to institutions or ideologies. The consequences are always the same as we yearn for freedom from the chains that bind our hearts and souls. The human heart beats for freedom. Human lungs long to be filled with the fresh, unpolluted air of freedom. The human voice cannot be silenced by tyranny and terror, as those who enjoy the blessings of liberty must use their voices to speak on behalf of those whose voices are stilled by the tyrant’s whip.

Sadly, nearly a century and a half after the American Civil War, slavery still exists in one form or another in many parts of our world, and wars are still being fought for far less noble purposes. Despite the geography or time, the human heart continually cries out for freedom. The abolitionists of the day used St. Paul’s clarion voice as a banner for their movement, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” (2 Corinthians 3:17) Those words remain faithful and true to this day.

3. A simpler and slower pace of life allows space and time for sorting out the important from the unimportant. There is nothing like an extended time of reflection for determining our core values. The temporary and trivial melt like the snows of winter when exposed to the sunlight of truth, revealing the foundational structure upon which all of a good life is built. Love, mercy, justice, piety, integrity—principles that form godly character, must be joined with friends, family, and community—relationships that sustain and nurture human existence. Reflecting upon simpler times, Whittier was reminded of:

The common unrhymed poetry

Of simple life and country ways,

The story of her early days,

She made us welcome to her home

At another point he wrote of an uncle, lacking perhaps in formal schooling and social graces:

Our uncle, innocent of books,

Was rich in lore of fields and brooks.

Whittier went on to describe persons like his uncle, who were rich in their own character and skills, unseen or unnoticed by the casual observer, but readily viewed and appreciated by those long familiar with golden treasures lying below the wrinkled patina of experienced skin. How often do we pass by or dismiss others because they lack the appeal of youth or beauty in our rush to judgment? I have frequently reflected upon my own life growing up on a farm, how that one can observe things from the seat of a tractor traveling at 8 miles per hour that you would surely miss from the seat of an automobile traveling at 80 miles per hour.

Our trajectory is frequently so rapid that we grow accustomed to the dizzying pace, and feel faint when given a moment of respite. It is too bad that it often takes a crisis to bring a busy life to a temporary halt. We learn so much from those experiences as we mine strength from the depths of our souls and learn to depend upon God and others for our mere existence. It is during such times that we separate the trivial chaff of life from the wheat that produces the bread of life. Those moments can lead to Him who invites us to “Come and dine,” freely offering the Bread of Life to all.

4. There is more to life than the here and now. Within the heart of man lies a tendency to ponder the imponderable, to ask the question, “Is this all there is?” Unlike his transcendentalist friends, Whittier possessed a foundational belief in the Bible and saw God as more than an impersonal force of nature or voice of reason. Reflecting upon a loved one lost in death he wrote:

But still I wait with ear and eye

For something gone which should be nigh,

A loss in all familiar things,

In flower that blooms, and bird that sings.

And yet, dear heart! Remembering thee,

Am I not richer than of old?

Safe in thy immortality,

What change can reach the wealth I hold?

I cannot feel that thou art far,

Since near at need the angels are;

And when the sunset gates unbar,

Shall I not see thy waiting stand,

And, white against the evening star,

The welcome of thy beckoning hand?

The Bible speaks of three eternal virtues: faith, hope and love. This trio plays a passionate song that cannot be extinguished by the desperate circumstances of life or the traumatic sorrows of death. When its music plays, the heart can soar above the winter landscape; over the regrets of the past, and the perils of the present to see the mystery and glory of a future known only to God but bright with the promise of spring.

I am still awaiting today’s predicted snow, although the temperature is hovering near freezing, and the clouds are foreboding. But the meditations on Whittier’s Snowbound have fueled my spirit on this cold winter day, and once again reminded me of the importance of reflection and sorting out the trivial from the treasure, regardless of the weather. Whittier is listed among the group known as “Fireside Poets” and I’ve enjoyed sitting by the hearth of his warming words.

If you are interested in reading Snowbound, and have a Kindle, iPad or other electronic reading device, you can find a copy of it on Amazon.com for the low price of $00.00—a good price for a good read on a snowy day.

To Jana and Chris on Their Wedding Day

Like Gilbert Blythe

And Anne with an “E,”

Your love developed

But it did so slowly.

As children you played,

You sang and you made

Beautiful music

Then went separate ways.

As friends and composers

You did collaborate.

Writing songs for other weddings,

For other friends

Who’d found their mates.

Watching your collaboration

Others made the observation

That your best consideration

Would be a firm foundation

Built on each other’s love.

But like Gilbert Blythe

And Anne with an “E”

You could not see

The forest for the tree.

All the while you were praying

With this hope in view,

That the wedding songs you’d written

Would one day be sung for you.

Then out of the blue

You knew it was true,

That Gilbert Blythe

And Anne with an “E”

Actually were a portrait

Of you and of me.

This sudden realization

Caused a growing new sensation.

That the answer to your prayer

Was not way off somewhere.

But in the friendship that you’d nurtured.

And in the hopes and dreams you share.

Some people say that love is blind.

Others say true love is hard to find.

While scoffers claim it’s only in fables.

But like Gilbert Blythe

And Anne of Green Gables,

You finally found the love of your life.

Not far away, at Green Gable’s farms

But close to home,

In each other’s arms.

June 5, 2010

©2010 Don Detrick

Memorial Day: Remembering and Reflecting

A few years ago Jodi and I sat next to an Israeli cardiologist on a flight from Tel Aviv. He was returning to his residency at Cedars Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Our conversation flowed to the topic of differences in our culture and his perspective on American life. “Holidays,” he said, “are celebrated differently. Take Memorial Day as an example. In Israel, we pay our respects to the dead on Memorial Day. It is a solemn day, like the Sabbath. In America, Memorial Day is a sale at the shopping mall.”

Our cardiologist friend proved not only to be able to diagnose ailments of the heart, but also showed keen insight into the heart of our American culture. Memorial Day should represent more than just a sale at the mall, a camping trip in the great outdoors, or a chance to work on household projects that accrued over the winter’s dormancy. Memorial Day is about remembering and taking the time to reflect on things that are truly important—of eternal significance. Themes like freedom, justice, and compassion find their best and fullest expression when considered in light of those who sacrificed their life’s blood so others might experience life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

On Memorial Day, as at a memorial service, we should at least pause a few moments to remember and reflect. As a child, I recall Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day parades and watched the old men—veterans of World War I and even the Spanish-American War, slowly salute as they marched or rode through our small town. Today, the old-timers are the World War II Veterans, and the ranks of those members of the greatest generation are shrinking at the rate of 1,000 per day. I hope we will think about the ways those we are remembering on this Memorial Day influenced others through their lives and fulfilled their purpose and mission. For those we knew personally, it goes without saying that we do miss them, even though through faith in Jesus Christ, we do not sorrow as others who have no hope.

As a minister, I recognize that while a memorial service honors the departed, it is really meant to bring comfort to the living. Thus, we recognize the opportunity to speak to those alive and present, to hopefully influence them toward Christ and eternity. Influence is an important word and concept. In my mind it qualifies as the best single-word description for leadership. So let’s think about influence in the context of remembering and reflecting.

The biblical writer of Hebrews uses the word “remember” five or six times, depending on the translation, and asks us to remember the faithfulness of many of the Old Testament saints. We should remember those who have gone before us because they serve as an example of faithfulness to us. They remind us that as followers of Jesus we exist in more than just the present here and now—we are connected with those who have gone on before and with all of the people of God who make up the church for eternity—the body of Christ.

So it is fitting for us to appropriate recall the lives of those who served our nation during their lifetime. And it seems particularly that we honor the memory of those who paid the ultimate sacrifice in so doing. As we do, it is natural to remember those in our families who are no longer with us.

My mind goes back to the days of my childhood when my father called Memorial Day, “Decoration Day,” as it was commonly known to past generations of Americans. It was the day for decorating the graves of all departed family members. Rising early in the morning, my parents would go to the garden and pick the flowering blossoms of the snowball tree, iris, peonies, day lilies, rhododendron, or azalea blooms—anything that happened to be colorful and fragrant. Depending upon the weather patterns of spring in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, we might have an abundant or meager floral supply—but there was always something. These cut flowers were placed in mason jars and taken to the cemetery where they were lovingly placed on the graves of those we were remembering.

I must admit, I failed to recognize the significance of this ritual and tradition at the time. The noise of the nearby boat races on the Willamette River sounded much more exciting than the dead silence of a graveyard to my way of thinking. Over time however, I discovered my parent’s traditional genes also flowed through my blood. These days I consider it a privilege, if not a responsibility, to follow their ancient rituals in remembering loved ones from the past on Memorial Day.

In chapter 12, the writer of Hebrews encourages us to remember the great cloud of Old Testament witnesses, and to look to Jesus. In verse 3 he says, “For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls.” He is calling us to reflection—to “consider” and think about what Jesus did for us means to us, and how we should then live.

As human beings, we are prone to action more than reflection. We are human beings, not human doings, but we seem to love doing more than being. While remembering, it is good to pause and reflect on our own lives—to examine ourselves. I've never seen a group of people applaud a snowcapped mountain range or an exquisite, priceless painting, or a breathtaking sunset. Silence befits the profound, the awesome. Being in the presence of God invites adoration, praise, and worship. But it also invites silent reflection.

Reflection requires us to slow down, to wait, to think, to meditate. Growing up on a farm, I particularly enjoyed tasks that involved driving the tractor. It is a job that does not require great amounts of concentration, and provides you time to reflect. One thing I learned is that you can observe things at the speed of 7 miles per hour that you miss at the speed of 70 miles per hour. You notice the little things that have fallen by the wayside, and have time to think and reflect.

Speaking of reflection, memorial services and funerals always lead me to introspection and to reflect upon my own life. Who am I influencing? Am I making a difference? How will people remember me? What do I need to change today so people at some future point will have the memory of me I hope they will have?

What about your legacy? Do you have aspirations about the image you leave behind? How do you want people to remember you? Wouldn’t it be interesting to know what people will say about you following your demise? Morbid thoughts scare or offend some people, yet follow along with me for a moment. I promise not to intentionally frighten you. What if you could catch a glimpse of that far off day way down yonder in the future, look in the newspaper, and read your own obituary? Would that insight about some distant tomorrow motivate you to change your behaviors today?

Many years ago, Al, a prominent chemist, engineer, and international business executive, received that very opportunity by way of a mistake in identity. Al’s brother Ludvig died, and a prominent French newspaper erroneously printed Al’s obituary by mistake. Further contributing to the faux pas, the obituary was very unflattering. In fact, it was a complete condemnation of Al’s life and work. “The merchant of death is dead,” the obituary said. “Al, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday.”

Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite, read his own obituary, and was so upset that he determined to change his legacy and the public’s perception about him. He re-wrote his will about a year before he died, and intentionally made a statement by signing it at the Swedish-Norwegian Club in Paris. He left 94% of his assets to endow five Nobel prizes, in physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace. Rather than leaving a lasting legacy of war, suffering, and pain, he chose to honor and celebrate humanity’s greatest accomplishments and achievements.^[1]

Reading his own obituary before he actually died and reflecting painfully upon what it said motivated Al to change his life, and his legacy forever. More than 110 years following his death, we do not remember Alfred Nobel for inventing dynamite, we remember him as a philanthropist. Even more to the point, had he not established the Nobel Prizes, we probably would not remember him at all.

Today’s Seattle Times contains a story about a Long Beach, Washington woman who passed away this month at the age of 98. By all accounts, Verna Oller lived an austere life, refusing to spend money for anything but absolute necessities. Childless, she spent her final years in the Circle of Life Retirement home, and never spent anything extra on herself. When friends told her that her coat was threadbare and she should buy a new one, she walked to the thrift store and purchased one for $2. She then removed the zipper from the missing lining and used it for shoelaces. Among her effects was found a package of shoe laces, unopened.

In her last will and testament, Verna left more than $4.5 million to the local school district, including $3.5 million to the city of Long Beach to build a public indoor swimming pool. Her fortune was made by frugal living, and careful investment. Verna’s bequest will hopefully leave a lasting legacy, but there is a caveat she did not consider. The city must decide if they can accept the gift because while they appreciate the gesture, they do not know the cost of finding a suitable building site, construction, and eventually maintenance of a swimming pool for which no tax dollars are available.

No doubt Verna’s motives were good, but perhaps she could have enjoyed life more herself—who really wants to use an old zipper for shoelaces if you have $4.5 million dollars sitting around? The paper reports she feared others would take advantage of her if they knew how much she was really worth. Maybe by collaborating with someone other than her attorney, the only living person who knew of her true financial circumstances, she could have together with others provided a workable solution to benefit the residents of Long Beach that she obviously cared about.

In contrast to Alfred Nobel’s desire for fame and Verna’s well-intentioned but not well implemented benevolence, is another story about influencing others, taking place in May of last year. Just before the commencement ceremony at Azuza Pacific University, three graduating students were called to a special reception. At the reception were John and Nancy Ortberg, 50-year alumni from the school, and the president along with a few faculty and distinguished guests. These students thought they were there to be commissioned and sent off with a blessing because each were leaving to spend the next two years ministering to the poorest of the poor in India.

But then something happened that they did not know was coming. President John Wallace turned to them and said, "I have a piece of news for you. There's somebody you do not know—an anonymous donor—who is so moved by what you're doing that he has given a gift to this university in your name, on your behalf."

John turned to the first student and said, "You are forgiven your debt of $105,000." The student immediately started to cry. John turned to the next student: "You're forgiven your debt of $70,000." He then turned to the third student: "You are forgiven your debt of $130,000." All three students had no idea this was coming. They were just ambushed by grace—blown away that somebody they didn’t even know would pay their debt. The whole room was in tears. An unknown donor chose to provide an anonymous act of kindness. Who knows how many people will be influenced by his decision to give?

So as we think about those gone before us on this Memorial Day, their stories leads us to the story of the greatest giver and influencer that ever lived. The influence of Jesus is still felt today, 2,000 years after his ascension to heaven. We remember his overwhelming generosity and amazing grace as he paid a debt he did not owe, so that we might experience eternal life. His followers recognize the hope of heaven, provided by his sacrifice. As you remember and reflect, remember the one who said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” And remember to express your appreciation to the living, especially our veterans and aged loved ones. And treasure the moments that remain while never forgetting what we already know: freedom isn't really free--others paid the price for the freedom we enjoy.

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[1] Garrison Keillor, The Writer’s Almanac, October 21, 2009. American Public Media, accessed online 10/21/2009 at http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/.

The Gorgeous Girl

When I first met the gorgeous girl
She was only fifteen.
Her waist length enchanting brown hair
Falling straight down her back with no curl.

I thought it was quite sensational
That a pretty, intelligent girl
Who was very conversational
Would want to talk to me.
But she did.

If she had said,
“Marry me and your wildest dreams
Will all come true”
I would have believed her.

She didn’t say it,
But I did, and they did.

Life has brought some wild moments,
But the calm within life’s fort
Is the gorgeous girl I married
Her lovely hair now colored and short.

And together through the years
With laughter’s joy and sorrow’s tears
Our dreams have evolved
Over time more defined
They became less wild
And more refined

She made my dreams come true
This gracious woman who said “I do”
The proof is in our children
Three lives, distinctly set apart
But each a true reflection
Of their mother’s loving heart.

Happy Mother’s Day, Dear Jodi!

© Don Detrick May 9, 2010

God is now Following You on Twitter

You can imagine my surprise this week when I received an e-mail from Twitter saying, "God is now following you on Twitter." I have always believed that God is omnipresent--certainly always near wherever I am. But this was something new. Jodi wrote about it for her Easter 2010 Seattle Times column. Here is what she said:

I turned to see what had caused my husband's outburst of laughter. "Now that's a new one!" he chuckled, pointing to the subject line of an e-mail notification he'd just received. "It says, 'God is now following you on Twitter.'"

Sure enough, someone who'd claimed "God" as their Twitter account name had started following my husband's tweets. It got even funnier as we read on:

"You may follow God as well by clicking on the 'follow' button on their profile. If you believe God is engaging in abusive behavior on Twitter, you may report God for spam.”

"God may not appear in your follower list. God may have decided to stop following you, or the account may have been suspended for a Terms of Service violation."
I know my husband is an amazing man with many admirers, but this takes it to a whole new level. He'd better be careful what he tweets these days!

We live in an interesting time. There are so many ways to stay connected, even with people we don't know and will likely never meet. Yet for all our social networking and technology-enabled associations, I'm not sure we've made much of a dent in the world's loneliness equation. There's just something about looking someone in the eye and having face-to-face conversations that can't be replaced by pithy quips on a computer screen.

When I first began to write this column, I had a photo shoot so that I could be properly introduced to Seattle Times readers. The photographer was a delightful person, a true pro who put me at ease as she did her work. For one shot, she had me sitting outside under a large tree. "Look up like you're looking at God," she instructed. I looked up. "Now bring God just a little lower," she added.

I lowered my gaze and smiled. We'd been chatting about this column and what I might write about. "You just gave me an idea for a column!" I replied. "I think that's what Jesus did. As a Christian, I believe He brought the essence of God, His truth, character, and love down to eye level, so we could see and know Him."

One biblical writer calls Jesus "the Word" the understandable human expression of the divine God:

So the Word became human and lived here on earth among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the only Son of the Father. No one has ever seen God. But his only Son, who is himself God, is near to the Father's heart; he has told us about him.

John 1:14, 18 New Living Translation NLT

Jesus is God at eye level. His death on the cross means that God came down to us — to look us in the eye, to bear our sin and pain. But Easter, which I will celebrate with millions of Christians around the globe on Sunday, means also that He intends to raise us up to His level. When we proclaim He is risen!, we're acknowledging that Jesus faced down humanity's greatest enemy, death, and won.

The biblical writer Peter says it so well:

Now we live with a wonderful expectation because Jesus Christ rose again from the dead. For God has reserved a priceless inheritance for his children. It is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And God, in his mighty power, will protect you until you receive this salvation, because you are trusting him. It will be revealed on the last day for all to see.

1 Peter 1:3-5 (NLT)

Now that is a God worth following and I don't mean on Twitter.

You can also read the article online here:

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2011493425_detrick03m.html