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10 Popular Notions That Don’t Really Add Up

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

 

1.      Revenge is sweet – In truth, fantasies of revenge tend to be far sweeter than the realization of it.  I’ve noticed that those who feel as though they have been so wronged that revenge is justified, never quite reach the place of feeling that things are truly even in the end.  Seeking revenge simply keeps the pain of a given situation close to the surface and ultimately compounds the damage for everyone involved.  

2.      New and improved – This concept has become so engrained in Western culture that we often assume that something is an upgrade simply because it is new.  While we undoubtedly live in a time of unprecedented advances in technology, I would suggest that qualities like character, craftsmanship and durability have suffered tremendously.

3.      Mr. or Mrs. Right – While there are undeniably people who seem destined for each other, the myth of finding Mr or Mrs Right is that you can then have a relationship that doesn’t take any real effort.  Regardless of how compatible two people may be, a healthy relationship always involves give and take.  Just as in a garden, you must start with good seed, weeds occasionally have to be pulled, infestations need to be treated and sometimes things need to be watered by hand.

4.      Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me – Anyone, who has been wounded by words that pierced their soul, can attest to the fact that the healing of a broken bone is much less painful and takes significantly less time.

5.      There’s no harm in looking – The eyes are the windows of the soul and as humans we have a tendency to gravitate toward whatever we fix them on.  What we see stirs our mind, while those thoughts evoke emotions; and ultimately those feelings press us to respond.  Every great act of treason begins with just a look.

6.      The more the merrier – While this saying has the potential to be true, I have found that more often than not, it isn’t.  In my own lifetime I have noticed that the company of a few close friends beats being in a crowd; that acquiring more stuff hasn’t made life any better and that starving children in Third World countries seem to smile more than the average kid in middle-class America.

7.      Maintenance and/or Scrub free – Though there seems to be a growing number of products making such claims (i.e. to be scrub free or maintenance free), I’ve yet to find one that truly lives up to either.  This kind of marketing appeals to our desire to get good results without making any real effort, but it tends to fly in the face of reality.

8.      Nice guys finish last – To be sure, nice guys are often under-appreciated and taken advantage of; but time has a way of balancing the scales and in the end, nice guys rarely finish at the back of the pack.  Principles such as “you reap what you sow” or “what goes around comes around” tend to prevent this saying from ringing true.

9.      Men want sex, while women want relationship – While there is an ounce of truth behind this idea, its implications are more misleading than helpful.  The notion that men and women want something totally different often serves as justification for the mythological war, known as “The Battle of the Sexes”.  The truth is that both men and women really want the same thing, which is to feel significant and valued.  The fact that men are generally more prone to physical expression, while women are generally more prone to emotional expression, doesn’t diminish this common goal.  Despite the stereotypes, men are genuinely relational beings, just as women are undoubtedly sexual beings.  The struggle for many is that our contemporary ideas about sex and relationships aren’t really getting us to the place of feeling valued or significant. 

10.  Beauty is only skin deep – Something that is pleasing to the eye, but rotten at its core, is simply attractive and doesn’t really qualify as “beautiful”.  True beauty can only be defined by what is at the heart of a thing. 

Posted in Lists | Leave a Comment »

Election 2008 (What Does It All Mean?)

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

A good friend asked me what I thought the election results (i.e. 2008 Presidential) meant – I attached my response below.

I think your question is the same one that most of us have and there are probably a thousand answers I could give. Obviously the long term impact won’t be understood for a great while. I will say that I don’t think that we’ve gotten a very clear picture of who Barrack Obama really is and so it is difficult to project what his administration may look like. Though he promised all types of “change”, the president doesn’t really have the power to affect significant changes without the support of the congress, and though the Democrat’s have the clear majority, I don’t think that it is a given that they will necessarily support everything that Mr. Obama proposes. While the party didn’t want to break ranks during the election season, the primary’s (between Obama & Clinton) seemed to indicate that not everyone in the party was in agreement about the necessary direction, so it may not be as drastic as many fear. I do think that it is safe to assume that we will see advances in both the homosexual and pro-abortion agendas.

I do think that the two positive things that I can point to from this election are that we elected a man of color as our president and that a lot more people participated in the process. I do believe that breaking the color barrier is worthy of celebration; I think that many of us wanted to believe that we’d progressed in the area of racism, but until a barrier actually comes down, it’s hard to be sure. While I don’t have any illusions about the fact that racism still exists, I feel like this is a clear step of progress. I’ve also been appalled in the past by how many people didn’t vote, so I believe that seeing a good turnout is encouraging.

For me, the most troubling aspect of this election is the hearts of the American people and most especially those who count themselves as “Christians”. In a broad sense I’m discouraged by how little integrity there seems to be in our political process and how little people really seem to be after the truth. For example, the economy was cast as the primary issue in this election and both candidates vowed to fix the economy if they were elected; yet these men, the media and economists everywhere know fully well that the government (including the president) does not have direct control over the economy. To me it is fundamentally dishonest to pretend that it is otherwise. I think that the media has become particularly biased in their reporting of events, to the point of deception at times. I think that this is a very dangerous trend and could eventually become a significant threat to the freedom of the American people. I feel like the level of hostility and negativity associated with this election was outrageous and unnecessary. For a society that touts it’s “tolerance” of diversity, there seemed to be very little tolerance for diverse viewpoints. It seems that the last three elections have had this polarizing effect on the country as a whole. While I can chalk a lot of that up to human nature, I’m absolutely baffled by the group of people who call themselves “Christians” (a.k.a. Evangelicals, Catholics, Born-Again…). Increasingly, the word “Christian” is becoming absolutely meaningless in terms of understanding the worldview of the people who use it as a way of describing themselves. I can’t help but think that the rampant moral decay of our society can be directly linked to the double-mindedness of those who are presumably meant to be salt and light to the world. I have long doubted the concept of the “moral majority” (i.e. that there is some silent group of highly ethical people who comprise the majority of the population) and I believe that the results of this election present the clearest evidence that even if such a group ever did exist, that it is no longer the case.

The good news is that we’re exactly where God always knew that we would be and He stands ready to guide us through the coming days if we’ll “follow” Him. I believe that the overall lack of resistance has made the church in America weak and that though it won’t necessarily be pleasant; the increased resistance will make us stronger (& smaller). There is nothing in the scripture that pushes us toward fixing the government or trying to convince the society to think differently; in fact the biblical recipe is that we’d simply turn from our sin and cry out to God. I do think that it is important to recognize that we are living in a culture that is becoming openly hostile toward Biblical Christianity and that seems to want to take a proactive role in the indoctrination of our children. If we’re not living this stuff out in our homes, our marriages, in our relationships and friendships, our children will have no reason to believe it. Ultimately, we are not Christians by virtue of the fact that we were born in America, or that we were raised in Christian homes, or because we’re moral people or because we go to church or even by the fact that we believe the story of what Jesus did. We are Christians by virtue of the fact that we’ve taken up our cross and are following Him. If He is for us, who can be against us? God bless.

Posted in Opinions, Social / Political | Leave a Comment »

The Most Trusted Man in America

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

Last week saw the passing of yet another cultural icon in America, former news anchorman Walter Cronkite.  While that may not register as high on the pop culture Richter scale as some other recent deaths, I can’t help but feel that, at least in a symbolic way, it may have been even more significant.  There was a time, in the now distant past, when most of America looked to Walter Cronkite for their daily news; earning him the title of “The Most Trusted Man in America”.  That almost sounds funny to our post-millennial sensibilities; after all, why should we need to trust the guy who’s reading the teleprompter (or in Walter’s heyday, the news copy).  But the world was a very different place in the era that Cronkite established his legacy; America was not the undisputed world power that it is today; and the general public was far more aware of the subversive ideologies (e.g. communism) that were competing for world domination.  In that day, one need only look to what was then the “Soviet Union” to see a news media that only reported the things that supported their political agenda and that was used as a tool to control the people.  Thus it was important for American’s to know that they were receiving a clear and unbiased reporting of the details surrounding any particular event.  To succeed in such an era it was essential that a journalist convey some sense of neutrality in their reporting and this was a key to Cronkite’s appeal.  It wasn’t so much who he was as a human being, after all we didn’t really know the man; it was more what he represented to a troubled American psyche.  It’s not so much that he told us the truth; it’s more that we believed he was telling us the truth.  He may not have really been as wise and unflappable as he seemed, but we were convinced that he was and collectively we found that reassuring.

Of course, history has moved on; the cold-war ended, America rose to the top of the world food chain and we’ve changed the way we think these days.  People of my generation grew up with the perception that we are the most powerful country in the world and that there is very little that poses a legitimate threat to our way of life.  We’ve become far less concerned about the possibility of a subversive ideology infiltrating our culture and much more concerned about our right to have a subversive ideology if we want one.  Our news media has definitely changed with the times as well.  Gone is the need to appear to be neutral or even unbiased.  We now have whole networks devoted to reporting the news with their own particular slant and we like to watch the one’s that slant in the same direction that we do.  It may not be the truth, but somehow we find it reassuring to hear things that support our particular point of view.  As I ponder these changes, I wonder at whether Walter Cronkite would have had much of a career in today’s media and I find myself even more sorry to see him go.

Posted in Entertainment/Music/Sports, Opinions, Social / Political | Leave a Comment »

Isabelle

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

As I stood in the cold morning rain, I stared at the charred remains of what had, only hours before, been the home of a precious young family.  My heart broke at the news that their three year old daughter hadn’t made it and there was no way to suppress tears, as friends and neighbors placed little stuffed animals and flowers on the lawn.  I thought of my own children and remembered each of them at three years of age.  I could barely contain the thought of losing any one of them.  They say that it is better to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all; and while I believe that is true, I wondered if I could be grateful with only three years of loving a child.  My arms ached at the thought of never being able to hold them again.  I can’t imagine anything more painful than the loss of a child and I couldn’t conjure any idea of what might bring relief or even comfort to this family.  As I often do when things are bigger than I can understand, I found myself praying that God would somehow bring the comfort that none of us could hope to offer them. 

Sadly, some who’d come to view the devastation began to murmur; they seemed to want to talk about what should have been or what might have been; and I found myself deeply grieved by this.   I guess I couldn’t understand how anyone who wasn’t there could presume to know.  Didn’t they think that everyone involved did what they knew to do?  Even if everything wasn’t handled perfectly, how does such a dialogue help this hurting family go on?  I know that if it were me, I’d be second guessing myself on everything I did and didn’t do.  But in the final analysis, such thoughts only serve as a torment.  I caught myself wondering why people seem to need to speak, when they really have no answers.  I suppose that it is really that we are trying to convince ourselves that something like this would never happen to us; that we are somehow more sensible or more heroic than those who have fallen victim to such a thing.  Indeed, it is a terrifying thought that life could somehow conspire to take what is most precious to us and to turn our world upside down in an instant.  But the reality is that such things do happen everyday and that they happen to people (like us) who never saw them coming.  None of us is promised tomorrow and I find myself praying that this knowledge would somehow change the way I live today.

Yesterday, I heard that her name was Isabelle and somehow that made it more personal for me.  It seems that little Isabelle Jade was like a shooting star; that her light burned brightly as she passed across the horizon of this world, but that she disappeared into the heavens before any of us were ready.  As much as we may grieve at the thought of what she never got a chance to experience in this life, we can also be grateful for that same thing.  She lived a life full of loving arms and smiling faces; and now she will never have to face the many pains, disappointments and hardships that are an integral part of every journey through this world.  Whatever love she experienced on this earth pales in comparison to the love she’s experiencing today, as she has returned to the arms of “Perfect Love”.  Our grief is not so much for little Isabelle, but for all those she left behind.  I pray that when the season of grieving is over, the joyful memories of the years spent with Isabelle would be enough to eclipse the painful thoughts of what might have been.

Posted in Parenting / Family, Tributes | Leave a Comment »

Educator of the Year

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

“Ladies and Gentleman, it is my profound pleasure to introduce to you the man that you’ve named the National Educator of the Year for 2004, Mr. Lester Sherman”. I stood back from the podium, as a thunderous ovation rose from the crowded ballroom floor and I watched in amazement as my old friend made his way to the platform. This was one of those moments in life that you never see coming; a moment too surreal to be imagined. After all, who would think that a powerful group like the National Education Association (NEA) would be acknowledging the work of a man who spent his entire career in education toiling at a secondary school in the ghetto’s of Baltimore. He looked so out of place in this room and with these people, but I knew that if anyone deserved this award it was Mr. Sherman and I also knew that whatever he’d have to say would be memorable. When he reached the platform, he gave me a long and very sincere hug before he turned to address the audience, who were still on their feet and clapping enthusiastically. He seemed a little embarrassed by all the fuss, but not at all nervous, as he began to speak.

“Thank you very much for your kind welcome and thank you professor for your generous introduction. I can tell that you must have taken some “Creative Writing” classes somewhere along the way, as that synopsis of my career in education sounded far more grand than I remember it actually being. I am certainly honored to be here tonight and humbled to have been chosen for this prestigious award. I must admit to you that I am somewhat baffled as to what exactly qualifies me for such an honor; but I’ve learned that if I question an unexpected blessing, it steals the joy of it; so I will set aside my confusion and simply be grateful for this special recognition. One thing that I am pretty sure of is that this award is not the result of any one thing that I’ve done, but the culmination of over forty years in education. As I’ve thought back on those years and recalled the many amazing people that I’ve encountered along the way, there were three very special people who stood above the rest and who I wish to acknowledge tonight. Their influence on me has been most profound; and since this gathering is a celebration of “Educators”, it seems fitting to recognize those whose lives have taught me so much. The first of those special people is my beautiful wife Jeanette. We have been married for over thirty-five years, we’ve raised two beautiful children together and we spent over twenty-five years working together in the school system. She’s taught me just about everything that I know about giving and sharing and patience and love. She has been my fiercest advocate and at times my toughest critic. She is everything that I am not and I’ve come to rely on her strength and wisdom just to make it through the day. I am forever grateful to God for blessing me with this amazing woman to share my life with and I can’t imagine who I would have become without her.”

The attendee’s once again rose up, giving Mrs Sherman an enthusiastic ovation, as the people at her table pushed her to her feet. This clearly pleased Mr. Sherman, who smiled broadly. As the applause subsided, he continued on.

“The second person whose life so profoundly impacted mine was that of my mother [Mrs. Mary (Wilson) Sherman]. Though she went on to be with the Lord a couple of years ago, there is not a day that goes by that I am not touched by her influence. Though she was born into a difficult circumstance and endured many painful things, she refused to feel sorry for herself or to use that as an excuse; and as my sister and I grew up, she refused to allow us to do that either. My mother understood that the cost of blaming someone else for the condition of your life was the power for you to change it. As a young person I didn’t appreciate her view of this; I felt like I had a right to feel sorry for myself; but with the benefit of forty years experience at an inner city school, I can now see that it is a trap that few kids from the ghetto avoid and that even fewer emerge from. Though my father abandoned us before I was old enough to know him, my mother was unwilling to accept what people assumed was her fate. She often worked more than one job, while attending nursing school and raising two kids by herself. If she ever complained, she never let me hear it; and though it took some years, she eventually did become a nurse. When she got a job at the hospital, we were able to move out of the projects and into a little apartment near where she worked. It wasn’t a whole lot bigger or nicer than the place we’d moved out of, but it was the beginning of a new and better life for us. A few years later she married the associate Pastor from our church and we were finally able to move into a house of our own. As I look back I realize that my mother’s life taught me that no one can respect you, if you don’t respect yourself; that your circumstances won’t change until you are willing to be changed within your circumstances and that anything of lasting value can only be attained through perseverance. Her unwavering faith in the goodness of God and her confidence in His destiny for me, have been beacons of hope throughout my journey; and her legacy is one that I pray will be passed down through my children’s children.”

 The attendee’s once again broke into a loud, sustained applause, as Mr. Sherman seemed overwhelmed with emotion at the memory of his late mother. He pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket pocket, dabbing his face and clearing his throat before continuing.

“Last, but certainly not least, is a lady who more than any other person shaped the way I think about education and maybe more rightly, about life itself. Her name was Thelma Watson and she was the first Principal that I taught under when I arrived at PS 236, some forty odd years ago. To my shame, I will admit that I didn’t really want to be there. I felt as though I had escaped life in the ghetto and I had no desire to go back. Though I liked to brag of my beginnings on the ‘mean streets’, I also wanted people to know that I was an educated black man, who had risen above his past. In truth, I perceived this assignment to my old neighborhood school as just another example of how the white school administration wanted to keep a young black teacher from ever really succeeding. And though I never spoke any of that out at the time, Thelma Watson had no trouble in reading me like a book. Anytime she sensed my bitterness or frustration rising up, she’d say, ‘Lets check our attitude Mr. Sherman’, which always managed to make me feel self-conscious. I remember thinking that she couldn’t possibly understand, because PS 236 was exactly where she wanted to be. In my cynical young mind, she was one of those idealists’s, who was trying to save the world; while I counted myself a realist, who understood that some things would never change. I saw this ghetto school as little more than a stepping stone to bigger and better things, while she viewed it as her destiny. I had hoped to just bide my time until I got a better offer, but about half way through my first year, Mrs Watson made it her mission to change my mind. I wish I had the time to share with you all of the wisdom that she imparted to me in those years and to tell you of the many unorthodox ways she used to make her points, but for the sake of time I will share just one story, which I hope will give you a sense of this amazing women.”

The audience seemed captivated by Mr. Sherman’s words, as they sat quietly while he took a sip of water and continued on.

“One day, late in my first year, Mrs Watson stopped me in the hall and told me to come to her office during my off period, which was always right after lunch. Though I was mildly annoyed by this intrusion on what I considered to be ‘my time’, I told her that I’d be there. When I arrived, I was surprised to find that she had a young student in her office and that she wanted me to come in anyway. I knew the boy’s name was Marcus, but he was too young to be in one of my classes, so I didn’t know anything else about him. Mrs Watson asked Marcus to find something in her office that made him think of when he was ‘little’. I remember chuckling at the absurdity of the inference that Marcus wasn’t ‘little’ any more, but Mrs Watson better understood the mind of a child and so Marcus immediately popped up and headed for the toy box in the corner. He quickly emerged with a plastic locomotive, which he set on the Principal’s desk. When she asked him why he’d picked that, he said that his momma always read him the story, ‘The Little Engine That Could’ when ‘he was a baby’. She then asked him to pick something from the office that made him think of where he lives now and to my surprise, he went over and picked up the vase of flowers from Mrs Watson’s windowsill. When she asked about it, he told her that he picked them because they smelled good and that they reminded him of his momma and sisters, who always smelled good too. Finally, Mrs Watson asked him to pick something that showed what he wanted to be when he grew up. Again Marcus rummaged through the toy box, eventually producing a medieval knight on a horse. When asked, he explained that he wanted to grow up to be the bravest knight in all the land. After sending Marcus back to class, another child, who looked about the same age, was brought in. I didn’t recognize him, but Mrs Watson introduced him as Cory. She then repeated the same process with him that she had with Marcus. Cory picked a toy mouse as the object that reminded him of being ‘little’ and he proceeded to tell us of the time his hand had accidentally gotten caught in a mouse trap. He picked a toy gun as the item that reminded him of where he lived, because he said he would often hear guns go off at night; and finally he picked a little Indian figure, shooting a bow and arrow, saying that it reminded him of his hero Robin Hood, who stole from the rich to give to the poor. After some pleasantries, she sent Cory back to class and then turned the conversation toward me by asking what I’d derived from all that. I tried to come up with something intelligible, but honestly I was completely stumped, so I simply shrugged. She went on to explain that these two boys were actually cousins, whose mothers were twin sisters and that they were both being raised in the same tenement building. She also said that these questions were meant to demonstrate how the children viewed their past, present and future; adding that she’d felt that they had done just that. I remember thinking that it was crazy to believe that you could derive all that from kids randomly pulling toys out of a toy box and as usual Mrs Watson didn’t seem to need for me to say it to know how I felt. She went on to argue, ‘If it is truly the environment that these kids are growing up in that is destroying their future, then why do these two boys, who are the same age and live on the same street and come from the same DNA, view their worlds so differently? Why does Marcus remember being encouraged and loved, while Cory remembers being hurt; why does Marcus think of the sweet smell of home, while Cory senses the danger all around him; why does Marcus still believe that he can be a Prince, while Cory believes that the best he can do is to steal from the Prince?’ The normally composed Mrs Watson had turned into a wild-eyed preacher on me and to be honest, I was having a hard time swallowing her message. Again, she read my reaction and added, ‘this is just like you and me Mr. Sherman, we both come to this same school everyday, we deal with many of the same people and we have many of the same challenges; but the way I choose to view it gives me a sense of purpose and fulfillment, while the way you choose to view it causes you to be frustrated and bitter.’ I found her pointed assessment of me to be highly offensive, though even then I recognized the truth of what she was saying. It was all more than I could take in at that moment and she seemed to understand that too. Through gritted teeth, I managed to ask to go back to my classroom and as I walked down the hall, I promised myself that I was going to quit. Somehow, by the grace of God, I made it through the rest of that day and as I left the parking lot that evening, I once again vowed to myself not to come back; but Mrs Watson had succeeded in sowing the seeds of change within me and probably for the first time in my life, I was forced to take a good hard look at myself. All that night, I couldn’t shake the image of those two little boys and I had to admit that I had a lot more in common with Cory than I did with Marcus. I didn’t like that and I found myself wanting it to change. I still wasn’t sure that I could accept that her little test was even valid, but something about it was absolutely compelling to me. I dragged myself to the school that next day, not because I wanted to be there, but because for the first time, I felt like there was something for me to learn there. Mrs Watson wisely gave me a lot of time and space, allowing the wheels of my own mind to turn; and I began to listen, to watch, and ultimately to learn. And the more I did this, the more I grasped the wisdom of what she was teaching me.”

Mr. Sherman once again dabbed his face and sipped his water before continuing.

“I began to realize that I’d gotten into teaching for the wrong reasons; that I really just wanted people to recognize me as an educated black man and not to see me as some Negro from the ghetto. Unwittingly, I had passed judgment on my old neighborhood and on the people who lived there, including the very children I was supposed to be helping. To be quite honest, I didn’t believe that a kid like Marcus stood any real chance of becoming a Prince and there was a part of me that wanted to warn him against having such lofty aspirations. But Thelma Watson believed; she truly felt that there was nothing that these kids couldn’t accomplish and I realized that if I couldn’t come around to that way of thinking, I had no business staying at the school. The last thing that these kids needed was yet another voice telling them that they had no future or encouraging them to view themselves of helpless victims of a corrupt system. As I watched Thelma deal with these children, I could see that she had become a source of inspiration and hope for them and I found myself wanting to be like that too. She not only believed that these kids could do it, she expected that they would do it and she had no problem in letting them know when they were falling short of their potential. She wasn’t willing to make excuses for them and she wouldn’t accept excuses from them or anyone else. It took some time to sink in with me, but slowly my mind was changed. As the years went by, I began to see that what people said and believed about these kids wasn’t nearly as important as what they said and believed about themselves. As I reflected on my own life, I realized that it had been my mother’s faith that a better life was attainable for us and her willingness to pay the price, which had actually changed the course of our lives; and I began to yearn for that in the lives of these kids. I stopped being focused on the rampant racism that was especially prevalent in that day and I quit ranting about the blatant corruption of the system, because constantly pointing those things out made them seem insurmountable. I came to believe that hope was such a powerful thing that racism and corruption couldn’t withstand it; and I soon found that such a belief was contagious. Now don’t misunderstand, that didn’t mean that everyone suddenly grabbed a hold of this idea or that every kid magically succeeded. To be honest, for every one success story, there have probably been thirty who never made it; but because of the profound influence of Mrs Thelma Watson, I came to believe that it was worth whatever that one might cost.”

The audience once again rose to their feet in thunderous applause, which seemed to linger for even longer than before. I knew Mr Sherman well enough to know that he’d want to wrap things up quickly, so I wasn’t surprised that as soon as the ovation started to wane, he quickly resumed speaking.

“My dear colleagues, I will confess to you that I never once tried to duplicate Mrs Watson’s little demonstration with Marcus and Cory; and I’d be the first to admit that this methodology was something less than definitive; but I would also have to testify to the fact that there was something to all that. You see, I got to watch these two young men grow up and I got to see their lives bear out what Mrs Watson had said that day. As a matter of fact, it was Thelma that I stood with at Cory’s funeral; just weeks after his nineteenth birthday and within a few days of him being shot to death during a Liquor Store robbery. On Thursday afternoon we wept bitter tears at our inability to reach Cory, but on Friday morning we returned to work at PS 236, with an even greater sense of urgency to press on. I wish that I could tell you that Cory was the only one we lost, but I couldn’t begin to number the one’s who didn’t make it. I have cried many tears in the last forty years, but not all of them have been in sorrow. You see, every once in a while, a little one grabs a hold of hope and runs with it. It’s a beautiful thing to watch and it renews your spirit to keep up the fight. Marcus was one of those children. Despite all of the obstacles and all of his supposed disadvantages, he just kept getting stronger and stronger. Just a few short years removed from Cory’s funeral, I once again stood with Thelma, as Marcus received the first of his college degrees. On that day, our tears were filled with joy, as we marveled at the power of hope. It wasn’t long after that wonderful experience that my dear friend and mentor, Thelma Watson retired; handing the reins of PS 236 over to me. Though she’d had many opportunities to go elsewhere during her career, she chose to end it where it began; just as I will do at the end of this school year. Some might view that as tragic, but I’d submit that there is no better place to be than in the place you feel called to. Thelma knew that she was created with a purpose and with all that was within her she tried to fulfill that purpose. I will tell you that there is no more meaningful life than that. Thanks to her influence, and that of my wonderful family and friends, I will depart your ranks with that same fulfillment. I again want to thank you for this wonderful recognition and as a fellow educator, I want to challenge you to truly invest yourselves in the opportunities that you’re given. Never forget that educating means far more than simply passing on information and that without hope, there is no bright future for the emerging generations. Finally, I want to thank my dear friend and colleague, Professor Lindsey for coming all the way from Virginia, just to introduce me tonight.” With this, Mr Sherman motioned for me to come to him.

As I quickly made my way to his side, he put his arm around my shoulder and said, “If you read your program, you probably already know that Dr. Lindsey is a professor at Hampton University and the head of their History department; but in my heart he will always just be a little bright-eyed boy named Marcus.

” With loud cheers and whistles, the attendees again rose to their feet and the room seemed to shake with their applause. As Mr. Sherman and I stood together, looking out over this unlikely scene, I too found myself amazed by the power of hope.

Posted in Social / Political, Stories | Leave a Comment »

Beauty, Talent, Fame & Fortune

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

There are probably few people in the Western Hemisphere this morning who haven’t heard of yesterday’s passing of Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett; and while neither one had been at the forefront of the cultural consciousness for awhile, both left an indelible mark on pop culture history. 

At the peak of her popularity, Farah Fawcett was largely viewed as the standard by which physical beauty was judged.  Though her resume of achievements was relatively minor, her image was world renown and in many ways her popularity was similar to that of Marilyn Monroe’s.  Throughout her career Farah seemed to struggle to be viewed as more than just a pretty face and to some degree she achieved that with a couple of TV movies that revealed a greater depth to her acting ability; but in the end, it was her iconic beauty that created a lasting legacy.

By contrast, Michael Jackson’s resume of achievements was extensive and his talent was undeniable.  At his peak, he was arguably the best known human being on the planet and the devotion of his fans bordered on religious.  A tremendously gifted entertainer and a famously generous ambassador of goodwill, it seemed that everything he touched turned to gold.  That was until he allegedly touched a little boy inappropriately.  Even those allegations didn’t seem to dampen his popularity initially, but looking back, it was the beginning of the end for Michael’s unprecedented string of success.  As his personal life came under greater scrutiny, he began to seem less magical and more bizarre.

As a man who grew up in the midst of their popularity, I will confess that at times I envied them and wished that my own life was more like theirs.  I had always wanted to be one of the beautiful people, to be talented and popular and rich!  I once believed that would be the ultimate life and that people like them had it made.  They were the epitome of beauty, talent, fame & fortune; and what could be better than that?  But today, it’s hard for me to view them that way.  Despite all that they had and experienced, both of them appeared to be tormented souls, who seemed to be searching for something that they never quite grasped.  Neither one ever seemed to reach the place of being comfortable in their own skin.  At this point in my life I wouldn’t dream of trading the life that I’ve known for the life that they lived.  Yesterday, as these to cultural icon’s passed away; I doubt that their enduring legacy was particularly meaningful to them.  I wonder if either of them wrestled with the notion of whether anyone had truly loved them for who they were, apart from their accomplishments and image.  Though I am not immune to the sense of sadness that accompanies the passing of every human being, I wonder if the greater tragedy isn’t the life they never got a chance to live.  I pray that they can now rest in peace.

Posted in Entertainment/Music/Sports, Opinions, Social / Political | 3 Comments »

Setting Sail

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

The sky is a deep blue and cloudless; the wind is warm and steady; the rocky shore is barely visible on the horizon and the only sound is the water being channeled by the bow. The whiteness of the sail is blinding as the sun reflects off of it and there is not a wrinkle visible within it, as it stretches to contain every bit of wind. The faces of those on deck are filled with elation, as the gusts pull tears from the corners of their eyes. The boat skates effortlessly across the water, disappearing on the horizon.  

A second picture emerges; a stark contrast to the first; the colors are all muted shades of gray, blue and black.  A lone sailor stands at the helm of a sail boat, as it is presses steadily against the swells.  The rain is coming straight down and the horizon has disappeared into a smear of mist from the sky and the sea.  The sail is down and tightly lashed to the boom.  The boat plods through the waves, leaving a barely discernable wake; a testament to its’ scarce progress.

I sense a question, “Pleasure Cruise or Journey?” and I begin to understand these scenes.  As someone who has sailed for pleasure, I understand the exhilaration of catching the wind and skimming across the water.  A skillful sailor will position the boat to make full use of the breeze, keeping the sail full and the keel trimmed.  The second picture is much less familiar, because one who sails for pleasure has no incentive to go through a storm; when clouds appear on the horizon, we simply head back to the pier.  Only someone on a journey would venture to take a sail boat through a storm and within that, I could see a deeper truth.

 These pictures represent the way that we often choose to live.  If we live a life seeking our own fulfillment and happiness, we are like those who sail for pleasure; always looking for something to fill our senses and to exhilarate us.  One who sails for pleasure doesn’t concern themselves with what direction the wind is blowing or where the rudder is pointed, as long as their sail is full; they rarely stray far from the shore and will avoid a storm at all costs.  At the end of the day, success is judged by the strength of the wind and the smoothness of the seas.

For those who are on a journey, it is much different.  It is not so much the sail as it is the rudder and the compass.  Though such a sailor revels in those times when the sail is up and filled with wind, they understand that they must discern the wind and pull the sail down when an unfavorable wind blows.  They also understand that if they hope to reach their destination that they will have to pass through some storms.  In these times they just hold fast to the rudder and keep the ship pointed toward their ultimate goal.  For such a traveler, success is measured by the distance from their final destination.

In these pictures, the wind and the current beneath the sea represent the unseen forces of the spiritual realm; though we can’t see these forces, they powerfully affect us and they work together to create circumstances in our lives.  The waves and the weather are representative of what is seen and its affect on us.  The sail is representative of our thoughts and emotions, while the rudder is representative of our will.  Those who seek to be edified in their mind and emotions will bend their will toward which ever way the wind seems to favor these senses.   The enemy loves this type of sailor, as they are constantly distracted from the issue of destination and as they often will bring others along on their ride.  For those who see this life as a journey, the sail is only useful when the winds are moving the boat toward its destination; when the winds threaten to take the boat off course, the sail is withdrawn and tightly bound, so as not to catch a foul wind.  Even though the ride is not as enjoyable or expedient, maintaining the course is all that is of value.  Such a sailor often finds themselves alone, because it is a rare breed who is willing to embark on such a journey.  So the question for all of us remains, “Pleasure Cruise or Journey?”

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In the Still of the Night

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

I made one last check through the building before I set the alarm and pulled the back door closed, locking the deadbolt. It seemed much colder than it had just a couple of hours earlier, when I had decided to walk the few short blocks to the Church Board meeting. Of course, maybe it wasn’t the external temperature that had changed as much as how I was feeling internally. On my way to the church, I was still sensing the warm glow of dinner with my beautiful family; but now as I headed home, I was faced with the reality of an increasingly dysfunctional church family and the knowledge that as the Pastor, I would be expected to do something about it.

To be honest, it had been a fairly typical Church Board meeting, which for me was a lot like throwing myself against a brick wall; but somehow my sense of discouragement was even more profound than usual. I understood that there would be a time of transition after I accepted this position, but just eighteen months later, I was beginning to believe that our differences might be irreconcilable. The same members of the Church Board that had assured the congregation that my relative youth (28 yrs old at that time) and inexperience as a Senior Pastor weren’t a problem, were also the one’s who had managed to vote down every substantive change that I suggested. This situation had really drained the joy out of my calling and instead of feeling like I was serving the Lord, I felt like I worked for the Church Board. It wasn’t clear what they’d seen in me during the interview process, but whatever it was, they were clearly disappointed with what they’d gotten in the deal. The weight of that disappointment settled in on me, as I pressed my way through the cold night air toward home. Still months short of my thirtieth birthday, I felt suddenly old and very tired.

As I reached the house, I tried to put on a brave face for my wife Emily, who was always concerned about how I was doing; but thankfully I found that she’d fallen asleep with the kids in our bed. They looked like three little angels, as our little boy Scott (4 yrs) was curled under one arm and our daughter Emma (6 yrs) was snuggled along her other side. This scene managed to warm me for a moment, but that warmth was quickly dispelled by the thought that I was probably disappointing them as well. After all, Emily and I had really prayed before accepting this position and it seemed to be such a great opportunity for our whole family; but now it felt as though I was somehow blowing it for all of us. The more I let that thought hang around, the more out of breath I felt. I quietly hung my coat on the door and shuffled down the hall, to the room I used as an office. There was enough light coming through the window that I didn’t need to turn on the lamp as I made my way over to the chair and collapsed in it. As I sat in that quiet, dark room, my head began to swim in a flood of thoughts and emotions. I could feel despair rising up from within me and as it stuck in my throat, tears began to stream down my face. It all seemed so overwhelming and I felt helpless to turn this tide of emotion. Through my tears, I began to pray, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus; Help me Lord Jesus! When I am weak, You are strong. Oh Lord, I am so weak right now. Please Lord! Come quickly! Apart from You, I can do nothing; please Lord come!” The weight of my head seemed to pull it back against the chair and with my eyes closed I whispered “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”, over and over again, until I felt myself slipping into the space that lies between waking and dreaming. As I allowed myself to drift further into that state, I felt the tension begin to evaporate within me, as a profound sense of stillness overtook me. This sudden revelation of peace resonated deeply within me for only a few precious moments, before what seemed to be an audible voice jerked me back. Though I wasn’t quite sure what the voice had said, my eyes shuttered open to identify its source; and to my surprise, the room was now filled with warm light, which I had to squint against. As my vision came into focus, I was startled to find a man sitting in the chair on the opposite side of my desk and as my eyes finally adjusted, I could see that man was Jesus.

“Oh Lord” I gasped, as a sort of panic swept through me, wondering whether I should be standing or maybe bowing down. But in spite of my overwhelming urge to move, I couldn’t seem to get any part of my body to cooperate, as I remained in a dumbfounded heap. He smiled warmly, seemingly understanding my inner turmoil and said, “Peace”, “be still”. At His words I once again felt the tension melt away from within me, though I continued to stare at him in a kind of stunned silence. I began to wonder if this was just my imagination or a dream or maybe even a vision of some sort; and He once again seemed to discern my thoughts.

“What difference does it make?” He asked.

“I guess I just want to know that this is real”, I stammered.

“I am really speaking to you, if that’s what you mean”, He replied.

I wondered for a moment if that was what I meant, and then quickly realized that if He was speaking directly to me, it didn’t really matter what my state of consciousness might be. As quickly as that was resolved in my mind, I found myself wondering why He was coming to me in this very tangible way.

Again, He smiled at me and said, “Our conversation might be more comfortable for you if you’d ask these questions out loud.”

This caused me to smile, because the idea that He was discerning my thoughts was more than a little uncomfortable; though I also understood that just because I verbalized my questions didn’t mean that His ability to know my thoughts would be in any way diminished. Nevertheless, I asked, “Why have you come like this Lord?”

“Because you called on me my son”, He replied.

“But I’ve called on You before and I’ve never encountered You like this Lord”, I said.

His face seemed to grow serious as He said, “Trust me when I tell you that you’ve never called on me like you did tonight. I have never known your heart to be as troubled as it is right now and so I’ve come to you in this special way. Tell me son, what is it that has so vexed your soul?”

I had to think for a moment, as the Lord’s sudden appearance had seemingly chased away the anguish that I’d been in only moments before; but as I shifted my thoughts back toward the situation at the church, those familiar feelings of discouragement once again rose to the surface. I wasn’t really sure where to begin, so I simply said, “I feel as though I’m failing Lord.”

“Failing at what son?” He asked.

“Everything Lord”, I exclaimed. “When we arrived here, I felt sure this is where You were calling us to be and I could clearly see how You might use me in this church and this community; but now I’m not only wondering whether this is the right place, I’m wondering if I was really even supposed to be a Pastor at all. I don’t seem to have any aptitude for it.”

His eyes were filled with compassion and they seemed to look right through me as He said, “Let us begin with this matter of your calling”.

“What do you perceive it to mean when someone has a calling?”

“That You have called them to do something”, I replied.

“And so do you feel that I have called you to do something?” He asked.

“Yes Lord, I do”, I answered.

“Do you remember when you first sensed that I was calling you to be a Pastor?” He went on.

My mind instantly flicked back to that moment, when at 15 years of age, I felt certain that the Lord was calling me to be a Pastor. The memory of it brought tears of joy to my eyes.

“Yes Lord, I remember it clearly.”

“Do you remember me sending others to you, who confirmed this calling?”

Again, my mind was flooded with images of the many people He’d used to confirm this to me. “Yes Lord” I replied.

“So how have you come to doubt that you’ve been called?” He asked.

“It’s the people Lord, they just don’t seem to respond to me”, I said in exasperation.

“But son, calling doesn’t have anything to do with ‘the people’; calling is between you and Me. I call and you respond. Is there any doubt in your mind that this has transpired between us?” He asked firmly.

“No Lord, there is no doubt”, I admitted sheepishly. “But if You’ve called me here, to these people, then why can’t I seem to reach them? Surely You wouldn’t call me to a people who You knew would reject Your message”, I added.

“Son, no servant is greater than their Master. When I came to this earth, the Father sent me to a people who He knew would reject not only the message, but the Messenger. Indeed, narrow is the way and few ever truly find it; yet it is my heart that all would be saved and none would be lost. So the branch is extended to all, even those who will never accept it.”

I felt embarrassed by how obvious His point was and by the fact that I’d somehow lost sight of all that. But even if I now had to admit that I was “called”, I could not shake the sense of frustration at my lack of genuine progress. Before I could say anything, Jesus went on.

“So you mentioned that when you arrived here, you could see how I might use you in this church and in this community. What did you envision that looking like?”

“I guess I saw a growing and vital church; where we would be soul winners, turning the hearts of the people in this community back to You and defending the faith to a culture that is growing increasingly hostile toward your message”, I replied.

Jesus seemed to nod His head as He said, “It is no wonder that you are tired and frustrated, you are trying to do things that I never called you to do. You have no ability to ‘win souls’ or to ‘change hearts’, these are things that only I can accomplish through my Spirit. Where did you get the idea that this was what I was calling you to do?”

Again, feeling somewhat embarrassed and even a little confused, I mumbled, “The Great Commission?”

“The Great Commission, as men have come to call it, doesn’t say anything about winning souls or changing hearts. It speaks of making disciples, which is something entirely different. The best way to make disciples is to be a disciple yourself. If those who claim my name would simply live as they profess to believe, this process would go on with little conscious effort. If ‘Believers’ could be identified by the fruit of my Spirit and by the way that they loved each other, I could add to their number daily, just as I did in the early days of the church. And where did this idea of being a ‘Defender of the Faith’ come from?”

“I guess it is rooted in the idea of apologetics. In seminary we studied numerous classic books by people who’ve come to be known as ‘Defenders of the Faith’. Even Your word says that we always ought to be prepared to give a defense of our faith”, I offered sheepishly.

“The nature of faith is that it cannot be defended; and while I won’t speak of the books that I didn’t write, the scripture says that you should be prepared to give a reason for the ‘hope that you have’. This of course presumes that my children would live in a way which might cause someone to ask such a question. Unless hope becomes visibly manifest in their lives, the source of that supposed hope becomes of little consequence. I would suggest to you that the culture isn’t growing more hostile toward my message of hope and love; they are instead growing more hostile toward a religious system which doesn’t seem to offer them either one. I have called my people to live by faith, not to be defenders of it.”

While I had no trouble understanding or accepting the truth of what the Lord had said, I immediately began to struggle with the implications of it. I found myself wondering if I really knew what it meant to be a Pastor; and though I could tell that He’d discerned my confusion, He waited for me to speak “Lord, since so many of the things I’ve been taught about serving You seem flawed; I’m wondering if I really understand how to answer this calling that You’ve made on my life.”

The Lord again smiled at me compassionately as He began to speak, “When your daughter Emma was born, did you really understand what it meant to be a father?”

“No Lord, I definitely did not”, I replied.

“Yet, on that day you became a father nonetheless. How have you handled fatherhood in the days since then?” He asked.

“You know that answer better than anyone Lord. I have tried to be faithful to the things I know to do and I have prayed fervently for Your guidance, protection and intervention in the areas in which I’m unsure”, I said.

Smiling, the Lord said, “Indeed you have; and do you feel as though your prayers have been answered?”

“Yes Lord I do; I’ve seen your hand move on behalf of my family over and over again.”

“And so you would agree that you have learned about being a good father, by being a father and by asking me to guide you from day to day.”

“Yes Lord, I would agree with that”, I replied.

“And so it is the same with being a Pastor. On the day you recognized your calling you could not have expected to know how to be a Pastor; you simply knew that you’d been called to it. But by taking the days that followed, one at a time, and seeking my guidance, I will teach you all that you need to know. The danger of the training that you received in seminary is that you might emerge believing that you had been fully equipped and that you no longer need to seek my specific guidance. Just as a few parenting classes wouldn’t have been sufficient to transform you into a good father; neither can your pastoral training really provide what you need to be a fruitful pastor. You need only do what you’ve done in raising your family, be faithful to the things you know to do and diligently seek my guidance for everything else. You are my sheep and my sheep know my voice, even if they don’t fully grasp how that works. Trust that I know how to speak in a way that you can receive and that I am working all things to the good. You are not failing, you are learning, and believe it or not, you are growing. If you will come to me when you feel overloaded, I will show you the things that you are carrying that I haven’t put in your hands and I will give you rest. Remember that the ‘work of God’ is simply to ‘believe in the One whom He has sent’ and that all you can do is plant and water the seeds. Leave the matter of ‘increase’ in my hands.”

Listening to His words brought such a sense of peace and an understanding that I’d really lost my perspective about my part in all of this. In truth, I’d just taken my eyes off the one thing I needed to stay focused on and things just spiraled from there. Knowing that I was where I was supposed to be and that the Lord was not disappointed in me, made all the difference. The only lingering doubt was my fear that I might still manage to let Him down somehow. This time, He didn’t wait for me to express it.

He asked, “What do you expect from your little boy (Scott)?”

I pondered this for a moment, but really couldn’t think of anything. “He’s only a little boy Lord, I don’t really expect anything from him”, I finally replied.

“That’s all you are to me. I’m not going to expect anything from you that you’re not capable of; and even if you’d happen to fall, it won’t catch Me off guard. I don’t expect perfection, I’m only asking for sincerity”, He said.

As His words continued to resonate within me, I began to feel like a little boy; one who was under the watchful eye of his loving father. In that moment, my ability to conjure an anxious thought almost seemed to be suspended and I felt somehow renewed and revitalized. As I closed my eyes, I could see my little Scotty, curled up on my lap, with his head against my chest; and I realized that this was actually a representation of me with the Lord. Just as Scotty had done with me so many times before, I could feel myself melting into His loving embrace. The feeling was so tangible that I could almost sense His chest rising and falling against the side of my face and His breath upon the top of my head. Like a spoonful of sugar poured into a hot cup of coffee, I felt as though I would simply dissolve into Him, never again to be separated. I felt weightless and in an atmosphere without friction, as I drifted into the most profound state of rest that I’d ever known.

Hours later, my eyes blinked open long enough to see that the illuminated numbers on the clock in my office read 3:15 a.m. It occurred to me that I should go to bed and normally sleeping in my desk chair would have been too uncomfortable to endure. But my body was so relaxed that I decided not to move. Though I could still sense the profound presence of the Lord, I was a little disappointed to realize that this whole encounter had most likely been a dream. It had all seemed so real to me and I guess I wanted it to be something more than just a dream. But I remembered what the Lord said about “really speaking to me” and so I pushed those feelings of disappointment away and abided in His still discernable embrace. After more hours of profound slumber, I awoke to a room filled with sunlight, the smell of fresh coffee and the pleasant sound of my wife’s voice.

“You must have been really exhausted to have slept in that chair all night’, she said before adding, “I’m guessing that means the Board meeting didn’t go well.”

I sort of bobbed my head in agreement, as I took the cup of coffee from her; though I was still too groggy to really speak. I knew that Emily would want to hear the details of the meeting and I really wanted to tell her about my dream, but before we got a chance to say anything else, a little voice from down the hall called out “momma”. As Emily went to check on that, I looked at the chair on the opposite side of my desk and a sort of dull ache rose in me to see Jesus sitting there again. I knew that He was still with me, but I had so loved seeing Him right there. Again, disappointment tried to creep in and again, I pushed it away.

Just then, my little boy slowly made his way into my office, carrying his stuffed rabbit (Roger) by one ear. His eyes squinted against the sunlight, which was pouring through the windows and he didn’t look as though he was quite ready to be awake. He made his way around my desk and without even really looking at me, he crawled into my lap and laid his head on my chest. I couldn’t help but feel that God was once again speaking to me and as my arms wrapped around little Scotty, I could feel the arms of the Lord wrap around me. I could feel an ocean of love pouring from the Lord to me and from me to my precious little son. It was overwhelming, as tears of joy and gratitude streamed down my face. I was lost in the moment when a voice from the doorway pulled me back.

It was my little girl Emma and she asked, “Why are you crying daddy?”

“Because I’m very happy sweetheart”, I replied, as Emily came back into the room.

“Oh, good” she said, as she bounded back down the hall.

Emily seemed to be studying my face to see whether I was telling Emma the truth, or if I was just saying that for effect. She must have been satisfied that I was being honest, as she said, “I’m glad to hear that honey; I was pretty worried about you last night.”

“Really, what got you so worried?” I asked.

“Well, I woke up a little before midnight and I saw that you weren’t in bed yet. So I decided I’d better check on you. In the hallway I saw that the light was on in your office and I started to come in; but then I heard that you were talking to someone. At first I thought you may be on the phone, but then I heard the other person speaking to you, so I decided not to intrude. I was surprised that you’d have someone over to the house at that hour, but I had a sense that everything was alright; so I figured you’d tell me about it later.”

I felt electricity spiral through my body, as I realized that the Lord was once again confirming the reality of everything that had happened between us last night. I was humbled and amazed by His grace and mercy toward me; and overflowing with gratitude at His great love. As my emotions broke open and I began to openly weep, Emily looked concerned.

“What is it honey; I’ve never seen you like this before”, she said.

“That’s because I’ve never been like this before honey”, I replied. “Sit down in that chair and let me tell you about it.”

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The Casting Call

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

There was a young man, who loved the theatre and who aspired to make a name for himself on the world stage. He had toiled in the relative anonymity of the local and regional theatre for several years, where he had distinguished himself as a highly valuable member of the troupe. Beyond his genuine stage presence, he had demonstrated a talent for directing, designing and building sets, and even a knack for promotion. Though he had enjoyed these formative years, he felt ready to take the next step and so he arranged for an interview with the head of a prestigious, international theatre company. Because of this troupe’s prominence within theatre circles, the young man assumed that it would be difficult to obtain permission for such a meeting, but instead he found that his request was granted immediately and without condition. On his way to the interview, as he walked through the hallowed halls of the companies main offices, he pictured his name on the placards that hung immediately adjacent to each office door; and he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d finally arrived. When the receptionist led him into the office of the theatre company’s head man, he was duly impressed by both the office and the distinguished looking older gentleman who arose from behind a massive desk. After some brief introductions and pleasantries, they both sat down to talk.

“Well you certainly have a varied and impressive resume; I’m very interested to hear what has brought you here today.”

“I guess I’d like to begin by telling you what an honor it is to have this opportunity to speak to you. I have always admired your work and you have really been the inspiration for my love of the theatre. I would certainly consider any opportunity to work with you as a dream come true.”

“And is this why you’ve come today; for an opportunity to work with me?”

“Yes Sir, it is. As you can see from my extensive resume, I’ve been involved in many different aspects of the theatre and I’m sure that I could be an asset to your company as well.”

“I have no doubt that such a gifted man could indeed be an asset; but in what capacity is it that you envisioned providing such benefit?”

“Well, I guess if I’m honest, I’ve pictured myself as a sort of leading man; though I understand that I’d have to work my way into that spot.”

“I must commend you for your honesty, but as you probably already know, we have an established leading man, who I would consider to be irreplaceable.”

“I do understand that Sir, but maybe I could be his understudy. You know, just in case he can’t go on for some reason.”

“Well, in all my years, there’s never been a time that he couldn’t ‘go on’ as you put it. Maybe it would be more fruitful for us to consider something else.”

“I thought that might be the case, so as you can see from my resume, I also have a lot of experience as a director.”

“Indeed you do; but I’m sure that as someone who has followed my career, you’re aware of the fact that I personally direct all of our productions.”

“Yes sir, I did know that; but I thought that maybe we might work together; and who knows, one day you may want to hang up your director’s hat and I’d be ready to step right in for you.”

“To be honest with you, I can’t really picture myself ‘hanging up my director’s hat’, so maybe we should consider some other alternative.”

“I certainly understand sir, so maybe I could just start out with some set design. I’ve got a lot of valuable experience as a designer and a builder.”

“I’m sure that in the regional theatre there is much demand for such things, but this company has been established for such a long time that I can truly say that everything has already been designed and built. We simply rely on our stage hands to put things in their proper place. Thus, it seems doubtful that this would be the place for your diverse set of talents.”

Clearly disappointed, the young man continued, “Well, it’s not really my favorite job, but I have had a lot of success in promotions. I really knew how to pack them in back home.”

“I’ve no doubt that is true, but our productions are by special invitation only. Unless someone receives a personal invitation from me, they won’t know to come.”

Exasperated the young man whined, “Is there no place for me here?”

To which the older man brightly replied, “Of course there is a place for you.”

“We are always in need of extras for the stage or help with the lighting or you might even be used as an usher.”

An incredulous look swept over the young mans face as he exclaimed, “An extra!” “Lighting!” “An Usher?” “That is all you would offer a man of my experience?”

While the older man’s eyes remained full of compassion, his voice took on a deeper timber, as he explained, “As a man of the theatre, you should know the importance of how extras flavor a scene and bring it to life. Like salt in food, we may not always notice its presence, but we absolutely miss it when it’s not there. It is much the same with lighting, which is certainly an integral part of creating the tone and context for every scene. These elements are an essential part of pulling people into the story. And as for being an Usher; even when someone chooses to accept my invitation, there still needs to be someone to help them find their seat. While none of these may have been the role you picked for yourself, they are all a vital part of what we’re doing here.”

The young man hung his head in silence for a few moments before quietly saying, “I’m sorry sir, this just isn’t how I envisioned it.”

As he rose to leave, the older man stood to his feet as well, and extended his hand. As they shook hands, their eyes met and the older man said, “That’s a shame, because I was really looking forward to working with you.”

The young man left the building, greatly saddened by all that he had heard.

I felt like the Lord gave me this little story as a parable; where “the theatre” (in the broad context of the word) represents the knowledge of God, while the prestigious, international theatre company (specifically) represents the Kingdom of God and where the young man represents those who the Lord has gifted and called to His service. I sensed Him saying that while all have been given good gifts, and many have been called, few are willing to play the role that He’s cast them in.

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The Formula

February 12, 2010 by bjcorbin

Once upon a time, there was a man named Gideon, who God used to win a great battle.  This experience not only changed Gideon’s life, it helped to change the course of his nation.  Had there been Christian Bookstores in Gideon’s time, he would have undoubtedly written a book about this episode, and he might have called it something like “5 Steps to Victory with God”.  Based on his story, those steps could’ve been something like:

 

  1. Never take an angels word for it, always test God for yourself.
  2. Too many people being involved will rob God of the glory.
  3. God won’t use people who lap up water like a dog.
  4. You don’t need a sword, but always remember to bring an empty jar.
  5. The sound of trumpets & breaking glass will bring down the enemy.

 

Within the context of Gideon’s experience, these steps would seem pretty valid; but just because God worked within that framework, can it then be applied as the model for how God works?  While we may be able to derive some principles from Gideon’s story, it seems unlikely that God intended for this to become the model for seeing His hand move; and while that may be obvious in this example, I’d suggest that our Christian Bookstores are filled with books (& other media) that have been built on much the same premise (i.e. My Experience + God Moved = This is How God Works).

 

While I’m not saying that we shouldn’t study the ways in which God has worked in the past, I am suggesting that there is an element of our nature that wishes to find “the formula” for moving God’s hand, and that it is not necessarily a virtuous thing.  I believe this impulse is rooted in our desire to be “self-sufficient”, as opposed to being dependent on someone else (even a benevolent God).  It is much easier to memorize the formula and to insert our values into the equation, than it is to have an ongoing, dynamic relationship with a God who largely resides in another realm.  Like the children of Israel, we don’t want just a days’ worth of manna, and yet the Lord knows that if He gives us provisions for a full year, He’s not likely to see us again before that provision is gone.

 

As we develop our doctrine for how we think God works, we begin to contrive ideas about what that might look like and these “preconceived notions” often become the stumbling block that keeps us from experiencing the genuine move of God.  Just like the Pharisee’s, who’d spent their entire lives studying the scripture, we search for the true manifestation of God on the earth, only to fail to recognize it when it stands before us, simply because it doesn’t come in the way we’d imagined that it would (i.e. it doesn’t fit into our formula).  Generally these preconceived notions will lead us to disillusionment and eventually to discouragement.

 

It seems as though God delights in sending His blessings in packages that challenge our way of thinking.  Gideon was the least of his family, which was the least of his tribe, which was the least of the tribes of Israel.  Jesse didn’t even bother sending for David when the Prophet came looking for the next King nor did he bother to send him when Israel went up against the Philistines.  What self-respecting Jew would have picked Rehab or Ruth to be in the Messiah’s lineage?  The Gospel’s are littered with stories of Jesus touching “unclean” people, of healing on the Sabbath and in which He used pagans as examples of both great faith (e.g. the Canaanite woman, the Roman Centurion…) and of being a good neighbor (e.g. the Samaritan).  If God were insecure, I’m sure He’d package his blessings in a more marketable format, but considering that it is faith that pleases Him, I suspect that it’s never going to be exactly the way that we’d expect.  Though the Jews recognized that Jesus had unusual power, authority & knowledge, it was ultimately the form in which He chose to come that they could not accept.

 

Within the “Post-Modern” church, I believe that at least part of our problem is rooted in the concept of “Systematic Theology”; which I would characterize as man’s attempt to put God in a context that he can understand.  The problem with that idea is that God is under no obligation to remain within that context.  While it is not wrong to have a systematic approach to teaching God’s truth (as He has revealed it to us), I believe that we veer into presumption when we attempt to apply that approach in defining who He is and how He works.  The “system” itself is comprised of the things that we as men can conceive (i.e. finite) and yet God is beyond what we can conceive (i.e. infinite).  This system generally becomes the proverbial box and despite the popular saying, God refuses to abide in it.  Ultimately it becomes the confines for those who insist on this approach to understanding God.  The scripture clearly states that our knowledge and understanding of God is partial (e.g. that we see through a glass dimly); and I’d submit that no amount of effort on our part will ever be enough to render those words untrue.  I believe that this is why Jesus said that unless we become as little children we will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven (Mat 18:3).  Ultimately God hasn’t called us to understand Him, but to know Him, to love Him and to trust Him.

 

Throughout the Old Testament we see God orchestrate victory for His people through many different means.  We see Him bring Joshua victory through Moses upheld arms; we see the walls of Jericho fall to the shouts of His wandering tribes (Joshua 6); we see the angel of death wipe out 185,000 enemy soldiers in their sleep because of Hezekiah’s prayer (2Kings 18 & 19) and we see the enemy turn on each other as Jehoshaphat leads the people onto the battlefield while praising the Lord (2Chronicles 20).  While these and many other stories may cause us to conclude that there is no formula, it occurs to me that there is a common thread, which is that in each case they trusted and obeyed.  While that sounds simple enough, we must understand that before we can trust, we must first believe and that before we can obey, we must first receive direction from the Lord.  Whenever we see God’s people seek direction from the Lord and then act in obedience to that direction, we see victory.  When we see people who are unwilling to wait for direction & acting based on their previous experience (e.g. Israel marching against the Philistines & losing the Ark of Covenant – 1Samuel 4) we see defeat.

 

Though from God’s perspective I would suspect that “trust and obey” could work as a formula, I doubt that it would be very satisfying to our human nature, as it places us in a position of utter dependence on God.  Certainly Jesus Himself gave us the most explicitly stated formula in all of scripture when He said that He didn’t do “anything” until He saw His Father in heaven do it first.  If we would adopt that kind of relationship with His Holy Spirit, trusting and obeying would be the only formula we’d ever need.

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