God, Churches, and Nash Metropolitans

Many of you are aware of my love affair with a piece of Anglo-American engineering from the

1950s. In our single car garage rests our 1959 Nash Metropolitan, a guaranteed head-turner of

automobile history.
 

The Metropolitan was developed by Nash in the post World War II era as the first compact car

to be marketed as a second car for suburban housewives. While father went to work in the
family Nash Ambassador, mother would be able to pick up small children, groceries, etc. during the
day in a second vehicle that would average 35 mpg, literally pennies per gallon (back when fuelcosts were at most 17¢).

Metropolitans remained part of the line-up after the merger between Nash and Hudson to
form American Motors Company (with George Romney as president), and were designed by an
American, William Flajole, built in Longbridge, England (where Austins and MGs were already
made), and imported for the showroom price of $1495. They were built between 1954-1961, before
Romney eliminated the line for the more popular and profitable Rambler.

There is much to love about owning a Metropolitan. It is a guaranteed car show crowd

pleaser. When I picked up our vehicle from a high ridge in Missouri and my brother was towing it
home, he was amazed at the numbers of car horns, women waving and guys giving thumbs up to a car best described as what happens when a Bel-Air and a bathtub get together. Its z stripe division of paint, continental spare tire on the rear, and sparse interior gives major points to its "cute" appeal.

There is much to hate about owning a Metropolitan. It has a British engine, which
guarantees oil leakage. No power steering, so turning is like docking the Titanic. Wiring was by
Lucas, also known as Prince of Darkness for its odd electrical faults. Original wiring system includes a
generator and a positive-ground system. Its braking system is a single cylinder, drum brakes. Metropolitans hate cold weather to start in, and with Illinois winters can be expected to demand winter quarters for several weeks. Early models (before 1959) did not have access to the rear trunk except through the rear bench "seat," which has limited head room to begin with for accommodating more than three passengers.

I wonder if my Nash Metropolitan is like how people outside the church view God and churches.

They think of God and church as relics of a by-gone era. Some concepts of God seem as quaint as a
1950s car: nice to look at but I would not want to live that way. Some concepts of church may feel
that way, as many congregations strain resources in trying to keep a 1950s General Motors style of
governance running. What current industry leader still divides the work among "functional" committees, with chair persons (only recently updated from chairman in the previously mimeographed copies of constitutions and by-laws).

Some people do seem to even attend church as if it was a vintage car show. Come see the

Christmas service for a flashback to nostalgia! Join Grandma, or Grandpa for the Easter Sunday
service, singing the same hymns as you did when you were a child!

I do not believe that either church or God are relics of a by-gone era. Metropolitans may have
had their time on America’s roadways, but it does not mean that transportation is no longer needed. The same is true with the church. In a world hungry for meaning, and purpose, the gospel of Jesus Christ still leads each of us forward. Maybe door-to-door distribution of salvation materials are like tailfins added to a Toyota Prius, but sharing your faith struggles is still a powerful stimulus to others.

Maybe the church is guilty of “selling” Nash Metropolitans versions of God and church in a

Toyota Prius world. We are answering questions that no one even asks anymore. We are
questioning things that no one even questions now. In this season of Easter, may we be reminded
that God is living with, for, and calling us ahead to be not relics but living examples of God's love for all

The "Adventing" Season

"So who is adventing this Sunday?" asked one of my congregation members.

For a moment, I had to chuckle. Adventing? Like the season of Advent is now a verb? "So, what did you do today?"  "Oh, I did a few errands and some adventing..."

Now before there is some confusion with a denomination, the Seventh Day Adventists, or something involving them, the question referred to who was the assigned readers for this Sunday's Advent Wreath ceremony.  The four candles in the wreath represent four Sundays until Christmas and carry the title of hope, peace, joy, and love. The center candle is the Christ candle. Advent is a liturgical season of waiting, hoping, expecting. Less somber than the season of Lent (the season prior to Easter), but more serious than Common Time (a terrible title for the time between Pentecost Sunday and Christ the King Sunday), Advent is not just a time to remember the coming of Christ as a babe, but more importantly, the coming of Christ now and in the future.

The meaning of Advent is coming, arriving, or appearing. It is a forward leaning season, even as it turns backward towards Christ's earthly birth. It is best practiced as a season of anticipation. I know I have shared before my tradition of the traveling nativity figurines of the Butterick household. None of the pieces arrive at the same time.  Joseph and Mary arrive on Christmas Eve Day. Baby Jesus arrives Christmas Eve evening. The wise men arrive at the nativity on January 6, the day of Epiphany.

Each Sunday is a moment to recognize what is coming, arriving, or appearing. In the darkest of nights, hope still arrives.  In the midst of wars, fights, and troubles, peace still arrives. In the midst of sadness, joy still arrives. In the midst of hatred, love still arrives. Advent helps remind us that we have not arrived but are arriving.  We are journeying along the paths of becoming, arriving, or appearing.

Beyond Advent Sundays, we may recognize other moments and occasions of coming, arriving, or appearing. Two people coming together into a relationship. Arriving at a new place. Appearing in an unexpected role or accomplishment. Life can easily been seen as an extended train of coming, arriving, or appearing.

So perhaps my congregation member was not incorrect in "adventing" this season. Maybe it is good to think of this time not as a moment to be still (although rest is just as important as action) but rather a time of coming, arriving and appearing. I think we all could call it "adventing."

May your "adventing" season be blessed with moments of coming, arriving, and appearing.

Pacing Intervention

It has been a while since I have placed an update on my cardiovascular situation. To be as simple as possible: stable, but unimproved. My doctor stated that it is still "weak," and recommended a visit to the cardiologist. The cardiologist, in turn, recommended further intervention via an ICD, or an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator. With my weakened, post-heart attack heart, I am more likely to develop sudden cardiac arrest or a sudden rapid heart beat or arrhythmia. Either would likely result in death.

Needless to say, faced with additional intervention or death, I chose invention. An ICD was placed on my left side, just next to my arm. Leads were extended via an artery to my left, damaged side of my heart. It does have pacemaking capabilities, but is basically on stand-by until either situation actually develops. Apparently my heart attack's location is really close to the area where the electrical charge is generated, hence the greater risk of an unexpected electrical fault.

I know it is there, and ready to respond, which has brought some peace of mind. But like many survivors, I still have anxious moments whenever "something" feels funny in the chest. I can be thankful that such technology is now available, making life-threatening conditions treatable and manageable. It is truly amazing that my heart, though enlarged as a result of injury, continues to function as best as it can. I am still making the changes necessary for best outcomes, and hope that this "new" normal is part of my life for a long time.

For more information about ICD: http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/health-topics/topics/icd/

Marriage takes more than buying Chicken Sandwiches...

There has been a lot of attention on chicken sandwiches and marriages. More importantly, owners of a large chicken franchise that utilizes its profits to support political causes they desire to support and whose views they endorse. It seems to have come to a shock to some that your money may be used to support causes or views which you may not endorse. Call it the law of unintended consequences, but Dollar Almighty does have a way of going in directions many would like for it not to go.

My question? How many marriages have a chicken sandwich purchase saved?

It is truly ironic in the fullest sense when the leading group with divorces (Evangelical conservative "Christians"), is full of defense and bluster about defending the "sanctity of marriage."  Something Jesus said comes to mind... something about specks and logs... I can't remember...

Another question. If marriage needs to be "protected," why have I not heard a word about a statewide divorce ban?  Many divorces are filed as "no-fault." Should it not be made more difficult to walk out of such a serious commitment?

Please do not misunderstand me. People who are in destructive relationships and are in life-threatening circumstances should not be required to remain with a destructive or dangerous person. Domestic violence is real, and should never tolerated.

A larger issue than marriage is here. I would call it "bumper sticker" causes. "We Support Our Troops." "I love my country, but do not trust my government." And the list could continue. You encounter them literally on the road, in windows. It is usually a pointed one-liner that puts in stark terms a complex issue into a simple punch line.

It is easy to put a sticker espousing patriotism on a personal car. It is more difficult to visit a Veterans Administration Hospital to see the actual victims of foreign policy and international war. And unfortunately there is a pattern of overwhelmed, understaffed, and underfunded treatment of returning "heroes" throughout the VA system.

It is easy to show up at a popular fast food place to stand for "marriage." It is more difficult to sustain a long term relationship with someone who is unwilling to keep it.

Our society and culture loves a quick and easy fix. Our world thrives on get it now, get it quick, get it done solutions. The problem with this get-it-quick solutions is that they rarely satisfy in the long term. Besides, if the problem was truly simple, it would be simply solved. My experience with relationships between human beings is that things are always more complicated than they seem. It is easier to forward an e-mail that says you love Jesus, God, country, candidate, but it is more difficult to actually live it.

And that is where I always try to live my beliefs and values. Not on the back of my car. Nor on a shirt sleeve or through my wallet. But from within my heart, informing my life and its work.

There will always be things to get angry about. And anger is not wrong, it's an emotion. But emotions tend to go somewhere. Too many people are angry about the wrong things. A bad referee call, slow restaurant service, long lines. I have noticed in life that those who rarely get bothered by such fleeting events are those fully alive and involved in fighting true injustices in our society and world: hunger, homelessness, addictions.

I hope whatever meaningful relationship you are in, it takes more than buying a chicken sandwich to defend.

After Heart Attack: One Year Later

Today is an odd sort of "anniversary" for me. It is one year since my heart attack. I've written about it before on this blog, so the details can be revisited, if needed. The basics of the story is that I was then a 35 year old who woke up that Friday morning not feeling "right," and ended up having one stent placed in the left side of my heart before sundown on July 15, 2011. I was also told that my quick action and response saved my life.

The last 365 days have been transformative. From no medications to four. From invincibility to mortality. From calm to panic. From shock to acceptance. My family history is riddled with stories of those who have died from heart attack and/or heart disease. These last 365 days have created a strange and new chapter in the family tree: a heart attack survivor.

Let's not go into the odd version of hell that is the US health care insurance industry that seems to willfully punish illness and is unwilling to pay for unexpected or unplanned treatment (like I could plan a heart attack?!). Thankfully, that chapter is also fading away.

As life moves on at its seemingly unstoppable one-day-at-a-time pace, I find myself seeing temptation of running once again fast and hard and as much as possible calling to me. Our "get it quick" and "get it now" society seems hell-bent on its own self destruction, leaving victims in its wake. Thankfully, I at least notice the warning signals of "too much" and find myself stopping before I'm once again do-it-all, be-it-all and on a fast track to another heart issue.

My healthy habits are improving once again, and I am willing to focus on that at the cost of other important (but not life-giving) matters or issues. Medications seem to be keeping things under control, although more healthy lifestyle changes cannot hurt (and perhaps can eliminate some medications altogether at some point).

One year later, it is an odd fraternity to be in as a heart attack survivor. I know many more survivors that I ever expected. I can truly say from experience that every little pain or odd sensation can send a terrifying panic into the mind. Many have said to me that you will never get completely rid of that from your psyche. I also know that much of life is how you embrace living, and if you have reason (or reasons) to live, will power is a powerful counter.

Sure, 2011 was a bit of a setback in my health and life. But it did not take either health or life fully away from me. I live with its consequences now and for the rest of my life. But there is life after life-threatening conditions. It can take one's life, and this past year is also filled with stories in which many loved ones have had that most precious gift taken from their lives and families.

In the midst of death, there is also life. In the midst of darkness, there is also light. Broken, yet whole. Hurt, yet healed.

Happy anniversary to Jason's heart. Let's keep moving together.

Home Again?

Recently, I returned to Christian Theological Seminary for a public seminar. While a majority of my wife's family reside in the Indianapolis metropolitan area, it had been more than a year or two since I had walked down the grey stone hallways decorated with modern art and sculpture, peered up to the bells in Sweeney Chapel, admired the looming pipes of the Holtkamp organ, or gathered in the Shelton auditorium.  In many ways, it appeared unchanged. In other ways, everything had changed.

I suppose it is what to be expected. Time is a relentless scorekeeper. For four years, this spiritual center had been a weekly experience of challenge, comfort, and community. Those years have long been sealed by time. Each experience is now some form of memory. With the years between, unexpected changes have intervened in my life, and I am not exactly the same person I was when I was last striding across the stage of Shelton Auditorium to receive my MDiv degree.

The same is true when it comes to my first college experiences at Millikin University. Construction has certainly intervened to physically change the appearance of campus and even department locations. Where my car nearly always parked is now where the Leighty-Tabor Science Center now stands. With the current capital campaign, the Richards-Treat University Center, like Mueller Hall and the homes on West William Street, will be just a memory in my Millikin memories.  I can stand in Staley Library, sit at my favorite study table, and yet marvel at the road my first alma mater and one of her son's has traveled since we met in the recent past.

Perhaps your childhood home is no longer where your parents live. Driving by it today, it seems like a distant part of your story. Or a favorite park, or store, or a popular festival or event. Traveling home again, you realize that home is not exactly what it used to be. Like a stage play, the scenery is changed for the next chapter, the next scene. Each moment is never fully captured, but slips often too quickly from our grasp and control. No amount of money or education can make time stop. It moves, irregardless of wealth or poverty, doctorates or drop-outs. While it is easy to form judgments, whether some place was "good" or some event "bad", time seems to allow each to happen in its own time and its own place.

I used to chuckle when I heard the phrase, "You can't go home again." Naively I believed time is a bit slower in the midwest. Now I believe it runs the same speed, but its consequences may be slower to comprehend fully.  On some level, yes I can go back to 248 E Franklin. The physical location has not changed. But my relationship between my childhood room and my adult life has changed.

The same is true about high school, college, and graduate school. Each is still physically in the same location as they were when my life traveled with them. But each now has a different relationship to my life now than then. Some educators, some instructors, some professors have moved away. Some still remain, a spot of familiarity in a place that has become less familiar.

These places in our lives, our career paths, our experiences, remain with us. Each is in some way a loving parent, each has given us some part of our current life.  But like our parents, they also change, and our relationship to them evolves. We will always be children of the institutions who were formative in who we have become. Yet we cannot remain children forever. Home again? Yes and no. As a stepping stone, yes. As an unchanging shelter, probably not.

Nearing A Crossroads in Clokey Park

On July 31, 2007 nearly thirty neighbors gathered in the grassy expanse of Clokey Park to discuss forming a neighborhood organization. A mix of hope and despair mingled in the breeze as some remembered earlier times, others discussing recent incidents of crime, vandalism, and more impatiently the apathy expressed among most of the neighborhood to become involved in activities that might help the Clokey Park neighborhood become a better neighborhood.

This July, I approach my five year anniversary as "organizing" president of the Clokey Park Neighborhood Association. At times it seems only yesterday I was contacting University of Illinois Extension to place the organization on the Adopt-A-Street program. Other times seem more like I have "organizing" for many, many years.

Yet in five years time, Clokey Park neighborhood and its still-young neighborhood organization has witnessed both the positive and the challenging (I refuse to say negative, since that would imply defeat) events and activities that many historic inner-city neighborhoods across the Midwest have experienced. Some events and activities experienced by Clokey Park have been fully out of its control; economic times, employment conditions, education issues.

Nearby redevelopment is happening. The most visible changes are the Pines Shopping Center redevelopment and street scape work on East Eldorado Street. Less visible to the neighborhood, but will indirectly impact it is the redevelopment of downtown Decatur and Nelson Park. Development money, whether public or private, chases development money. With a new shopping center, other developers will want a piece of redevelopment nearby. With a redeveloped regional park, people interested in being close to park amenities will take a second look at property near a dog park, beach, and recreational trails and facilities.

Rather murky is the situation involving the former Roach School property. Our shuttered elementary school had become an eyesore by 1999, and the topic of continuous conversation during the first four years of our group. Such a large piece of property cleared within a neighborhood is rare, but challenging redevelopment issues are part of its future.

Since being first platted into streets, alleys, and utilities in the 1870s, Clokey Park neighborhood has benefited from wide sidewalks for people to literally walk to the factories located near the railroads, the brick streets to keep the neighborhood accessible and clean, and utilities to bring clean water, eliminate wastes, heating fuel and electricity. But such services require maintenance and upkeep at all times and much of our infrastructure requires repair and replacement. Much of our infrastructure is still basically sound, making Clokey Park a basically livable and sustainable community. Its fragility is more and more apparent, and a basically livable and sustainable community is not a fully attractive community for citizens to live and thrive. Our reputation is based on the infrastructure we keep. History has its charms, but it also has limitations.

Our historic character has another challenge; desirability. I find it amusing to watch Househunters on HGTV with young couples seeking historic homes of 1500 (or more)square feet with many closets, master bath, a suburban sized lot, but within walking distance of stores and businesses. Hopefully, you recognize the physical impossibilities in such convoluted desires. Most homes in Clokey Park are 1,000 feet or less, have small closets, and small lots. And stairs, lots of them, whether to the front porch/entryway or down to the unfinished basements. A recent positive change is the desire to live closer to one's work. A challenge is suburban lifestyle desires for neighborhoods that have structures built for earlier suburban lifestyles; small, easy to maintain, basic necessities met. The good life can be found in living under 1000 square feet of space, but our oversized, bigger-is-better mentality of living is rarely overcome.

One challenge is finding re-investors to our historic neighborhood. As stated, most of our property, by historic design, is not appealing to current housing trends and desires. Most of the neighborhood was divested by homeowners desiring larger properties in the newer suburbs constructed in the post World War II, automobile as king era. Clokey Park has a nearly 70% rental rate, with most "residents" residing less than 3 years in a given home. The recent economic downturn has forced some to remain in their current locations, but it is not an uncommon sight to see a moving truck in front of a home four times in a year, as renters find other property. Roach school closed in 1983, and with it began the neighborhood disinvestment of its children by being bused to newer school buildings separated from their own neighborhoods. Without a local school as a community center, the neighborhood tends to drift to anonymity. Neighborhood pride declines as neighborhood infrastructure is divested. Why stay when you can move away? Those who could, did.

A positive re-investment project for Clokey Park Neighborhood has been its participation in the annual Miracle Day program. The Miracle Day program, initiated by the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) of Illinois and Wisconsin and organized by Prairie Avenue Christian Church, is a one day service program targeting the remaining homeowners, many whom are limited in income to maintain historic homes and their aging infrastructure of porches, gutters, etc. Over thirty homeowners have benefited from new paint, repairs, and maintenance projects done on the last Saturday of August. These small beautification efforts tend to ignite interest among neighbors to complete other projects long delayed to enhance their own properties.

Revitalizing pride within the neighborhood is key. Pride takes ownership in community. Rather than focusing on what has been lost, one should honestly see what is yet to be and take pride in being part of the community. Clokey

In five years, much has happened in Clokey Park. City officials and officers are a phone call away, and actively inquiring about possible projects and programs to help the neighborhood. Park district officials have interviewed us about needs and issues involving their property within our boundaries. In many ways, we have gained ourselves a place at the table of many groups who are seeking to assist and help this neighborhood change from surviving to thriving. But thriving will take time.

At this crossroads moment, I firmly believe the possibilities outweigh our liabilities. Challenges many. Opportunities, many more. The seeds are being planted around us. What seeds will we plant within us?