Saying No Thank You to the Cure

Some people have already said, "no" to the pandemic vaccine. "I'll wait."  By that, they have chosen whatever outcome is "not the vaccine." This isn't the first generation do that, but what is different?

We rarely see entire nations of people united in common cause or belief for an extended period of time. Certainly, there's been shared outrage and condemnation of cowardly terrorist attacks in recent decades, on anyone's soil. Heartbreak for school and mall shootings. Generosity and volunteerism for natural disaster recovery from hurricanes, earthquakes and tsunami's.

Much of that is basic human empathy and compassion for someone else's suffering. It doesn't have to happen to you to imagine the hurt. Most of us can at least conceive the implications of loss, death, hunger, illness and emotional suffering. That's what informs how we pray and volunteer and support others who fight their way through grief and recovery.   

But the global pandemic isn't somewhere else, or somebody else. We are all experiencing it in real time. Worry, separation, frustration -  even sickness and death. Billions of people simultaneously yearning for "it" to be over. 

Some simple things were universally adopted. I'm impressed by the enormity of entire continents of people donning masks. Sure there's some drama and disagreement on deployment, but still -- overall, we've seen hundreds of millions of people adopt a single idea to combat a common threat. It's taken unbelievable coordination and cooperation. Unprecedented in our lifetime. 

And now that the vaccines are coming out, we'll soon see everyone inoculated under the same common cause. Or will we? No judgement from me, but some friends and family are choosing to wait and see how well the first round of 2021 vaccines work. Others say they may skip vaccination altogether if the tide turns and the pandemic wanes. Even after stark months of fear and anxiousness, hoping and praying for a cure - the once inevitable and unified response to the common threat is giving way to measured debate and delay.

Isn't that just like sin? We are unified in our human condition. The bible says, "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." Romans 3:23. It is a global pandemic of our fallen nature. A common threat with a commonly available solution. Jesus said, "Repent and believe the Good News." Mark 1:15. The cure. The remedy. The antidote available to all in the comfort of their home. Right here, right now. "Would you like to receive it? There are no age or employment priorities." 

In His widely distributed open invitation, Jesus said, "Whoever hears my word and believes in him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life." John 5:24

No judgement from me either as some friends and family - and hundreds of millions of others - have said no to Jesus, or "I'll wait and see."  They've chosen "whatever is not Jesus." Whatever is not repentance or placing faith in God.  You can see the parallels:  We are in the midst of a devastating global pandemic and yet people are willing - not capriciously, but having weighed their options - to indefinitely delay their decision on the Covid vaccine.  Similarly, we have only to look around the same societies and see the devastation of centuries of untreated sin -- violence, abortion, poverty, selfishness, hate, pride. 

Having desperately asked, "what can we do about our crumbling moral framework?" and with the cure available for distribution, entire nations choose to dismiss and punish open discussion of saving Grace - the healing answer to those super-spreading societal ailments. "We'd rather wait and see if the pandemic wanes..."   While the infrastructure of distribution - the church - stands ready to help, and is largely ignored or ridiculed.

I heard Billy Graham say at each of the stadium gatherings I attended, "You may never have another opportunity like this. Right here in this place is the love and support of these hundreds of volunteers and those you came with. You might walk home tonight and be struck by a car, or be stricken by illness. I hope not, but we don't know. Come now. God loves you. You have but to repent of your sins and receive Him. Come now."     

What do you believe?    

Dad Zim – The Eulogy 12/30/2020

Faith, family, friendship, fidelity and simple pleasures….

In the amazing mosaic of dad’s life, we’ve each seen the portions that were right there in front of us...that we shared with him directly. We three kids, Angela, the grand and great grand kids, our extended family like the Soos’, Father Michael and his fellow members at St. Peter’s church...the many people who came to his visitation...nieces, nephews, cousins, co-workers, friends; Dad has been warmly and wonderfully appreciated here in our midst.

And yet…there are so many scenes in the mosaic that go off in directions that we won’t ever know, or could only see from a distance. For example, how in the world did a photo of Dad at the State Fair end up in the Foreword dedication of a John Deere Tractor History book? And how did WWII photo’s taken by Dad come to be published in a book about British Mosquito combat planes? He was just truly loved by the countless individuals who experienced his personal encounters...even across generations….and we heard many of those stories yesterday. It all helps to affirm for me that our dad was the most interesting person I ever met…

Dad was born in 1928 - the end of the roaring twenties and the lead up to the Great Depression. His mom was the oldest of nine hard working farm kids from Nebraska. Her brother Charlie coaxed his sister Myrtle to visit Wisconsin and introduced her to the handsome young stone mason who was my Grandpa Frank. They settled into the cozy yellow home that Grandpa built just a few blocks up from the Wisconsin State Fair grounds.

It was cozy inside, but the outhouse was...outside. And so was the hand operated water pump. Inside the house they had a coal furnace for heat and an ice box in the basement for the food - which operated on...ice. The “ice-man” would stop and deliver to the house whenever Dad’s mom (my Grandma Myrtle) placed a large card in a front window indicating the pound size of ice wanted. My dad roamed far and wide in the 92 years after his birth in the house that my Grandfather built, but he never shed the lessons of that humble upbringing.

He often repeated a Great Depression line remembered from my Grandpa Frank during the 30’s, "Waste not, want not." Even as a kid I'd see Dad tip our milk cartons and leave them to balance on a sturdy glass so they could drain every last drop.

His childhood memories are happy ones, many spent with his sister Shirley, and no complaints of what the Zimmerman family did not have. Maybe as a result, I noted his special appreciation for every blessing and comfort that came his way, and I never knew him to take anything for granted. 

Dad had scarlet fever at a very young age and Grandma Myrtle feared they might actually lose him to it. He was “quarantined” in their home (sound familiar?).
Dad fondly remembered that Grandpa Frank would stick his head into Dad’s room just long enough to reassure and encourage him. That memory of Grandpa’s comforting presence meant a lot to Dad and he mentioned it many times over the years.

Schlinger Avenue was home base to all his early adventures; every street corner and home and field used to remind Dad of days past,

· Like the family who did the local bootlegging during prohibition,

· Or the time Dad did a dry run with his homemade parachute by throwing it off the garage roof…with his cat safely tucked in as the volunteer test subject,

· And the time he and Aunt Shirley started a nearby field on fire (they were playing with matches!) and the fire dept. had to rush in to protect their neighbor’s home.

· As an 11-year-old, sneaking into the State Fair Grounds grandstand to see the Green Bay Packers win the 1939 NFL Championship.

· Working the State Fair Midway as a carney..."3 balls for a dime!"

· And whenever we ate at Johnny V’s diner, he loved to point out the “malt shop” building that was still standing on 84th street. It’s where Dad would stop after delivering newspapers on his neighborhood paper route (which is how he funded his first bicycle!).

· As an adult he could still point out some of the best climbing trees on the Milwaukee Zoo grounds that had been part of the woods he played in and went sledding in, long before there was an interstate 94. That expansive area from 84th to I-894 was all the personal playground of Dad and his friends.

· Further out by our childhood home on 109th street, the corner of Greenfield Avenue and Hwy 100,  Dad could still picture the vast farm field where he pulled weeds for a dollar a day.

Dad's love for travel began with early trips north to Mercer and the Zimmerman relatives. As he grew older he'd hitchhike “up north" to fish and socialize with cousins Gene and Marge, Uncle Bill and Aunt Hazel.

It was there that he met the Capone brothers, who chose Mercer as their getaway when things got "hot" in Chicago. One day in 1943 Dad asked a nicely dressed business man if he might be driving south toward Milwaukee or Chicago, hoping to “hitch" a direct ride back home. The man laughed and said no, he wasn't going back to Chicago for the time being. Cousin Gene quickly hushed dad aside and let him know that it was gangster Al Capone’s brother, Matt Capone, who was still “on the lam” for a Chicago murder rap he eventually outlasted while “up north!” Twenty years later, as a kid in the 1960’s, I remember my dad taking me into the Mercer Legion Bar on Main Street and the elderly bar tender’s greeting, "Good to see you back again, Jerry." It was Al Capone’s other brother, Ralph "Bottles" Capone, the "bookkeeper" who had stayed on to retire in Mercer - and Ralph still recognized Dad from all the years spent visiting in the area.

This is a great example of the "everyman" who was our dad. He was equally at ease in the company of governors, gangsters, grandkids, CEO's, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandkids, film stars, co-workers and friends. You can understand how his kaleidoscope of life experiences progressively built upon his confidence and character…

· As a kid, Dad and Aunt Shirley, Grandma and Grandpa bumped into a kind young cowboy and his friends as they were leaving one of the Milwaukee movie theaters. The cowboy gave both kids a hug as well as a handshake to my Grandpa Frank. It was Roy Rogers on his first tour of the country as a "singing cowboy." He and his singing group, “Sons of the Pioneers.” were on their way out of the theater for a quick lunch between performances.

· A West Milwaukee High School English teacher took her students on a field trip to see Victor Borge perform at a local theater. One of the teacher’s former WeMiHi students, a still unknown pianist named "Liberace" tagged along because he'd met Victor Borge elsewhere on tour. Mr. Borge was dismissive of Liberace and curt with the kids - and my dad never forgot that. It drove home for him the lasting impact that a positive role model can have on impressionable minds. And he often took time to encourage the hard workers who otherwise went unnoticed or unrecognized.

· At the Milwaukee Mile Dad would always walk me over to the track wall when drivers came by for autographs. AJ Foyt, Gary Bettenhausen, Al and Bobby Unser, Gordon Johncock, Dan Gurney, Parnelli Jones, Roger Ward, Roger McCluskey so many more of Dad’s favorites would chat! And one time we saw this short Italian fellow all by himself in a golf cart outside the grandstand. Dad walked right over to him and started chatting like they were lifelong friends. Both of them laughed and seemed to enjoy the comradery. Soon they were patting their pockets like they were looking for something. I stepped closer to get a better look at the affable fellow in the driver’s jump suit until he eventually dug out a scrap of paper and a pen, and so I still have Mario Andretti's autograph from his breakthrough year as the 1969 Indy 500 champion driving for STP in the Hawk III.

Dad first took me to the Canadian Boundary Waters in 1967 and introduced me to “Justine and Janet,” his outfitter friends at the Gunflint Lodge. They’d outfitted his canoe trips since the 1950’s, often with cousin Butch Kastelic or Donny Lautenbach. Half a century later, Angela and I happened into a lovely museum that highlights the lives of these two pioneering legends – Justine Kerfoot and Janet Hanson – still revered as icons in the growth of the BWCA and the Gunflint Trail. Authors. Role models. Just “Justine and Janet” to my dad.

One day before a State Fair opening ceremony, I walked up to my dad as he was having an animated conversation with an elderly gentleman who was chuckling along with him. Somebody else called out for my dad's attention and Dad handed this gentleman his clipboard. "Can you hold onto this for me, Pat? I'll be right back." "Sure, Jerry," he said and cradled the clipboard. Dad hadn't had time to introduce us, so I stuck out my hand and said, "Hi, I’m Tom Zimmerman, Jerry's son," "Ah, Jerry's boy. Nice to meet you, I'm Pat Lucey." “Pat” was Patrick Lucey, the 38th governor of Wisconsin and a former candidate for President of the United States. You just never knew who had befriended or been befriended by my dad.

Dad didn’t see color or race or social or culture barriers, ever. He built lasting friendships one person at a time, often drawing entire families and generations along with them. He did so with no pretension, and decades before the rest of the world caught up.

One of his first friends in the Navy was a Japanese American named Tom Nakamura. Both had enlisted to serve while underage at 17, having to get special approval to start boot camp. Uncle Tom (as I’ve always known him) was eager to serve his country in the Navy even after his family was horribly treated at the war’s onset and forcibly placed in the Nisei camps of Colorado. These two buddies quickly forged a lifelong friendship and I am proudly named after Tom Nakamura. After their honorable WWII discharge, Uncle Tom was a frequent family guest in Wisconsin and even went fishing in Mercer on our family favorite, "Bass Lake." When these two Navy vets last got together in 2019 to meet their great grandchildren, there was no word other than "brother" to describe their forever bond lived across 75 years. Our two families are pledged to carry on their legacy.

· Then, in the 1960's, at the height of racial tensions, my sister Judy was enjoying success as a ground-breaking women's middle distance runner. My dad saw that an all-black "Wilma Rudolph" track club was having some success in Milwaukee, led by coach Gary Dobbs. Dad realized that Judy and other girls in the Milwaukee suburbs did not have the depth to field winning relay teams at meets where both teams were competing, and the vice versa was true of Gary’s club. So, Dad approached Gary to consider a “merger” of sorts and together they created the Milwaukee Track Club. The brilliance of their collaboration was evident when, in 1968, their combined relay team (with sister Judy as the anchor) took a gold medal at the prestigious Iowa Drake Relays. It's hard to imagine now, but their easy friendship and collaborative co-leadership was extremely rare for that time. And the whole team had a lot of fun winning together.

· In 1996 Dad and I attended a 2-day Christian men’s conference together at Soldiers Field, Chicago, with 69,000 other guys. One of my buddies from Cincinnati met us there and we grabbed some seats together in an upper deck. I went to get some water and when I got back to our seats, my dad was gone. I looked at my friend Mark and asked him, only half-kidding, “really, you lost my dad in this crowd?” Mark just smiled and pointed over to a boisterous group of guys a few rows down. They were rousing everyone around them – my 68 year old father in their midst - in a joyous cheer that soon echoed and boomed back and forth across Soldiers Field…”We love Jesus, yes we do! We love Jesus, how ‘bout you?” And there was my dad looking back up at me, a big grin on his face, waving at me….c’mon, join in. You bet I did. And midway through the conference - in a brimming Soldier’s Field stadium - dad’s put their hands on son’s shoulder’s, looked into each other’s eyes and said together, “Jesus loves you, and so do I.”

Their song was “Always.”

Dad was smitten from the onset with the cute brunette in his homeroom at West Milwaukee High School. It was the alphabet, Warzon and Zimmerman, that brought them together, but it was a classic love story that played through their next 65 years together. There were countless street car and bike rides required for my dad to pursue Mom from Schlinger all the way down to 43rd and Burnham.

Then there were letters across the Atlantic while he was stationed in Morocco, North Africa. And the American dream followed, as they converted his 75 cents an hour apprenticeship into a loving, fiercely devoted family. He literally built our home from the ground up (with Grandpa Frank), and then fashioned a wonderfully creative combination of custom made closets, shelves, desks and alcoves. Long before Bose, Dad made built-in speaker cabinets with ported bass and reflecting tweeters. Stereo Headphones? Dad owned the first generation made by Koss and the earliest stereo component system that could play LP's....long playing records at 33 and a third. Just in time for Peter, Paul and Mary, Dylan and the British Invasion - what a cool dad!

As kids we helped write the next chapter of Mom and Dad's travels, camping our way from one coast to the next, thriving on their wanderlust and learning to find the true riches in life, even on a blue collar budget. The 50's, 60's and 70's were a marvelous blur of church, school, travel, extra-curriculars and family. So much laughter and joy - not without challenges and heartaches - but always landing on our feet and always looking ahead with the infectious, unstoppable optimism that was my dad's hallmark.


Through it all, Dad worked-his-butt-off. His employer, Mandel Company was willing to pay overtime, and Dad was willing to put in a lot of 12 hour days. Sixty hour weeks weren’t uncommon. But somehow he kept the balance. When we kids had events – athletics, band concerts, academics, theater, church activities, you name it – that time was sacrosanct, and you knew Dad would be out there clapping, cheering, participating or encouraging.

Then, as we three went off to college, there was a never ending stream of new friends coming back home with us to meet the folks, play cards, break out the guitars and make new memories. Many friends still checked in to keep Dad updated via cards, email and then Facebook over the years. It was not unusual to read a post or hand written letter from a former athlete or church member who looked up to him as a mentor and encourager – “just writing to say thank you, Mr. Z!” He loved them all.

Dad never slowed down after retirement. He and Mom traveled, kept up with the grandkids, tried new hobbies and relaxed at "Lazy Acres" with their best friends, the Lautenbachs. He was an “original” as the beloved icon of the Wisconsin State Fair -- their volunteer Historian. They published his photo book of memories, dating back to those years lived on Schlinger Avenue. And he collected on their behalf hundreds of Wisconsin State Fair memorabilia items which might otherwise have been lost to time and neglect. He was frequently acknowledged and recognized for his work by the very kind and protective State Fair team led by Kathleen O’Leary.

From co-workers and marketing interns to the State Fair CEO, Wisconsin Secretary of Agriculture, Chairman of the State Fair Board, Mayor of West Allis and yes, the Wisconsin Governor, they all took time to generously and kindly recognize and appreciate Dad Zim. I don’t think he ever had so much fun in his entire life as he did with the Wisconsin State Fair Family.

It’s a beautiful mosaic, isn’t it?

Faith, Family, Friendship, Fidelity and Simple Pleasures. Those are basics I learned from my dad about what’s most important. You’re all a part of it. He was the most interesting person I ever met, and the best dad a kid could have ever hoped for.

Jesus loves you, Dad, and so do we all.

Tom Z 12/30/2020

Earth Day - Thank You Email to God

I enjoy the outdoors. One of my favorite Wisconsin stores specializes in canoes, kayaks and all the related gear. They send regular emails about new products and special offers that I find to be very helpful.

This week the store's email focused on Earth Day. Here' what they had to say,

"On the 50th anniversary of Earth Day, we wanted to send out a big THANK YOU to our one and only planet. We are so grateful for her not only today, but every day. For the air we breathe, for the ground we walk on, for the water that connects us and is our life blood, for all the plants, animals, fungi, bacteria, and protozoa that make up life as we know it."

What struck me about their message was how specifically they thanked the Earth. Right down to the bacteria and protozoa that "make up life as we know it."

My first thought was the obvious one, "How about sending out a big THANK YOU to God, who made the Earth?"

Those bacteria and protozoan didn't appear out of nowhere. Science has proven just how complex those tiny factories are. Once you start delving into cellular structure, proteins and amino acids, it's become clear that Mother Earth had some help that goes way beyond the limited reach of macroevolution.

Depending on your spiritual side, that help most likely came from the Father Intelligent Designer.


Here's what I wrote back,


"Thank you for today's email!

And in turn, our family is grateful for the Creator, the Lord God who is the author of the intelligent design that enables our shared joy of the earth...for the air we breathe, for the ground we walk on, for the water that connects us and is our life blood, for all the plants, animals, fungi, bacteria, and protozoa that make up life as we know it.

Thanks be to God."

----

And to his credit, the store owner replied back that same day:

"Ingratitude is the worst thing we can show to the Creator. Thanks for being grateful."

Owner and chief paddling evangelist

----

Fair enough. I'll be interested to see next year's Earth Day email. Perhaps a reference to the Creator? We'll see.

Colossians Chapter 1: 15-17

"The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together."

What do you believe?

Margo and the COVID Bully

It was the spring of 1967.  There was a brief knock at the classroom door and Miss Wilson, the principal's secretary, ushered in a shy looking girl name Margo. Our 5th grade teacher, Miss Daley, led Margo over to the empty desk in front of me and introduced her to our class with a friendly smile. "Meet Margo Smith."    [I've changed Margo's name]

From one foot away, I couldn't help examining Margo's appearance.  The poor dear's mousy brown hair raced round in a rollicking tangle of disorder. Her flimsy glasses looked two sizes two small, like she'd borrowed them from a department store doll. There were holes in Margo's frayed canvas shoes, barely covered by a scratchy looking wool jumper with a too-large belt and a shabby, thin sweater that she clutched closer as Miss Daley left her at the desk. Mind you, none of Margo's classmates were from wealthy families, including me. We hailed from modest, blue collar neighborhoods. But we usually had enough sets and combinations of "good" school clothes to be kept separate from rough and tumble "play" clothes. I wondered what the new girl's play clothes might look like.

"Can I borrow a brush?" Margo stage whispered across the aisle to Annette, my classmate. I was shocked at her boldness, having only just sat down and Miss Daley right there at the front of the classroom within earshot. But Annette, bless her heart, perhaps discomforted by Margo's wild tangles, reached into her desk and wordlessly handed over a brush. That set the whirlwind tone of what came to be a very brief, and most unlikely friendship.

For the moment, all was forgotten when I arrived home to find a small brown package left by the postman. For me! This was decades before Amazon would rob of us this unexpected thrill and simple pleasure. I had scrupulously saved six cereal box labels and sent away for a very nifty spy belt with pretend plastic camera and an extendable mirror to peek around corners. I was just hooking on the camera when our front door bell rang. This meant the visitor was not among our friends and family. They would naturally come to the "back" door of our home. You just didn't track wet or muddy shoes through someone's "front room."  Salesman? Political candidate?

I flipped on the porch light, wrestled the rarely used door across our carpeted threshold and there stood Margo. The new girl.  Her eyes darted toward me and I saw the flicker of recognition. By then my mother had walked in from the kitchen and seen me awkwardly holding the door. "Are you the mother?"  Margo quickly asked.  She had a furtive sense of purpose. I suddenly felt silly, standing there with a pretend spy camera mounted on my belt. My mom gave me a nudge and said, "Open the door, let her come in!" It was a cold breezy night and I did as I was told, still quite confused as to why my new classmate was suddenly standing in our living room.

"We just moved here," Margo continued, her words sounding practiced. "Do you have any pie tins? And maybe some wax paper?" She looked my mom dead in the eye. No quaver in her voice, like she'd done this a hundred times. Like she had a schedule to keep. "Of course," my mother answered kindly. I could tell she was bemused by this young girl's pluck. And my mom was street wise enough from her own upbringing to appreciate the implications of worn canvas shoes and nothing but a shabby thin sweater on a chilly evening. "Let's see what else we can find for you in the kitchen. What are you planning to make?"

Margo followed her in and I quickly shed the new spy belt. When Margo returned with her bag of supplies I caught her glancing down to see if I still had it on. She bit back a smile and headed back out into the chilly night. There was nothing the least bit awkward in her demeanor.  "You know her?" my mom asked as she peeked out the window to watch Margo cross our lawn. I explained her arrival in Miss Daley's class. "Smith is her last name? Well, keep an eye out for her. She's going to need a friend or two. It's not easy being the new girl."

The next morning our class spilled onto the playground for recess with all the other kids.  I spotted one of the bigger boys (a sixth grader!) fiercely towering over Margo, who seemed to be shielding a smaller boy huddled on the ground behind her. Margo, fists planted defiantly on her hips, stared up at the troublemaker with a little less surety than she'd shown my mother. "He didn't know this was the sixth grader's area. We're new here, just leave him alone." Suddenly I found myself standing beside Margo, unsure how I'd been transported there. And on her other side stood Annette, who'd also wordlessly appeared. Quiet, unassuming Annette whom I'd never even talked to outside of class. An unplanned alliance of unspoken means. 

The confrontation evaporated, the older boy went looking for others to torment and Margo turned to lift her little brother off the damp playground. Jimmy was in the second grade, his clothing every bit as drab and worn as Margo's. The four of us drifted over to the "younger" end of the playground and that was that. Over the course of the next few weeks we spent each recess and lunch hour together. Playing on the swings, tossing a ball. I can remember how it pleased me to see Margo laugh or smile as we played. They were glimpses of an 11 year old girl hidden behind the much older and troubled eyes of her circumstance. 

Then one night I came to the dinner table to find my mom and dad looking intently at the daily newspaper. My dad expected it delivered to our back porch by 4:30 each day and he alone was allowed to have reading material at the evening meal. There on the front page of the Journal was the grainy photo of a man in a silly pointed hat and hood that cascaded down over his shoulders. The caption read,  Daniel Smith, Grand Dragon of the national Klu Klux Klan. It was the 60's and I knew our family had nothing but disdain for the KKK and its beliefs. Still, for the times, this wasn't an unusual article.

My mom gave me a curious look. "Do you know who that is?" she asked. Of course I didn't, but I could tell that she did. "It's your little friend Margo's father," she said with what could have been disappointment or sadness. Or both. "He's been arrested."  In the 1960's, newspapers would include the home address in news stories of anyone local to the area.  To our shared surprise, Margo's family lived only a block away, in the unpainted and dilapidated old farmhouse that sat right next to the neighborhood tavern. "I thought it was abandoned," my dad said. So did I.

After supper I hopped on my bike and slowly rode along the litter strewn sidewalk past Margo's soon to be vacated home. There were already a few packing boxes stacked on the sagging front porch. I saw little Jimmy Smith peek into a box and then run back in through the swinging screen door, shouting something I couldn't quite make out. Maybe he'd forgotten something. There was a lot of commotion behind the windows, people in a hurry to leave. I took one last look over my shoulder, hoping to see Margo. Then I rode away.

Margo didn't return to school. Our teacher Miss Daley acknowledged that their family had indeed moved. She was about to get on with class but she hesitated. Her voice was a little choked up, which bewildered me. "You know," she said quietly, "there were only two people in our class who showed Margo any kindness this whole time she was here. And that's Annette and Tom." She looked like she was going to say more, but either thought better of it or couldn't. It had never occurred to me that we had showed Margo any particular kindness. I could see across the aisle that Annette didn't have any more of an idea than I.  Sometimes you just discover yourself standing next to someone because they're facing a bully. To other people that looks like kindness.  That was the last anyone spoke of Margo Smith. 

It's funny what you remember and how your mind connects the dots. I wasn't drawn to this memory last week because of Margo. It was because of the way little Jimmy had huddled on the ground behind his big sister. It's how I've felt many times in the presence of a bully over the years. "I hope they just leave me alone." or in my lesser moments, "I hope they don't see me and just bother somebody else."   That's how I've wrestled and vacillated with my inner thoughts during the recent COVID crisis. This unseen, unreasoning, fiercely towering bully that relentlessly shows up every day. I hope it doesn't see me or my family and friends as we hunker down under cover of our faith and hope. And as we pray the same for anyone staring it down with fists on hips. 

A few months after Margo and her family left, Milwaukee unleashed a rampage of bullies in all colors, shapes, sizes, metaphors, analogies and political persuasions. The Summer of 1967 riots. I'll never know just how sharp that irony was. Annette and I deflecting a playground bully from the children of a KKK bully who heartlessly and relentlessly tormented countless innocent children of God. 



We came out on the other side of that summer. Many things changed. Not perfect. Not unscarred. Not without some bad memories. But still with the faith and hope and Grace that God provides.



Deuteronomy 31:6

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. He has promised, no matter the situation, he will never leave us"

What do you believe?

Driving Headlong into the Side of That Building!

I was driving home after a healthcare conference in downtown Chicago last week.

Chicago street names aren't that familiar to me, but I can usually tell if I'm heading away from the Lake, towards the convention center, near the theater district, etc.
Google maps voice told me to turn left off State Street onto Ida B. Wells Drive and head due West, straight for the Interstate 94 on ramp.

The only problem was this building that seemed to be planted into the middle of Ida B. Wells Drive. I couldn't tell how many blocks ahead it was, but sure enough, Wells Drive looked like it would end at a cross street in front of this attractive structure.

This didn't make topographical sense to me.

I could see an I-94 sign at the corner, with its arrow pointing straight ahead. Nothing indicated turns, either left or right.  Not a peep from Google map voice.

I craned my head, but I just couldn't see past all the traffic to figure out if Wells Drive stopped, veered to the right, or....what?

My sense of direction assured me that the Lake was directly behind me (to the East). Any kid born in Southeastern Wisconsin can tell which way the Lake is, day or night (that's Lake Michigan to any non-midwesterner's reading this).  If the Lake is behind me, the interstate is directly in front of me and I'm on a major east-west street in downtown Chicago, then....oh wait.

It's the Chicago Stock Exchange building. I could see the big gold letters as I got closer. And, as traffic finally crept over a rise in the uneven asphalt, I could make out what every kid born in Chicago probably knows. You drive under the Chicago Stock Exchange building on Ida B. Wells Drive, also known as Congress Parkway.  Sheesh. Never mind!

Isn't that our thought process sometimes as we drive down the paths God has provided?

"But there's this big building standing right in the middle of the road!  I thought I was supposed to head this way, now what?  I don't have a plan for going left or right -- and I'm sure you meant directly ahead, no turns?!"

At least that's how my conversations with God sometime's go.

And then I come over a slight rise, look a little closer.  Oh. Sheesh. I'm going to drive right through this giant immovable object in my life. Right through it.    That is what God will do.

Sure, there are times when we do need to veer left or right. Straight ahead may have been our plan and not God's plan.  But there are ways to check the map.  Stay in daily prayer. Look for affirmation of decision making principles in the Bible.  Truth, humility, unselfishness...these should accompany the direction you take.  Then, if there's a building planted in the middle of that road, it may be one you're intended to drive through, with God's help.

Proverbs 4:26-27

"Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you.
Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways.
Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil."

What do you believe?

My raincoat and the deluge that is sin

People often question the goodness and mercy of God, basing their measure on world events or the misfortune and hurt of people around us. "If He's so great (loving, kind, merciful, all-powerful), why do bad things happen to good people?"   There are 100's of scholarly books, podcasts and theology courses to tackle this subject.

My workaday, unscholarly, blog-length understanding of bad things happening to good people (our friends and family as well as people in other corners of the world) has unfolded like this,

"We're not pets or puppets for God." That's what my Sunday school teacher said.

God has given us - all of us - free will as proof of that. A supernatural freedom of choice.

With free will for humans comes an infinite combination of decisions and behaviors made every day - across centuries - millenniums! Every person's decisions has consequences that influence future decisions and behaviors.  If you have a moral code of any kind, you see some of these as good or bad, sinister or saintly, helping or hurting. Neutral and meaningless.

For Christians, the Bible is a moral reference point. Things that would displease God (sin) almost always displease us as a matter of course - or the consequences of someone else's sin may do so. Even today's heartbreaking disease and inherited deterioration go back to Eden and the beginning of sinful (detrimental) choices that veered from God's perfection. 

It's not a punishment or shortcoming of God. God did not build-in disease (but he has provided wisdom and technology to combat it). He does not start wars or create gangs (but He architected the elements of peace - forgiveness, mercy, love, humility, unselfishness). Our human bodies are frail vessels that only last a century at best, but God has provided an eternal life to far exceed that time.  Without tears or pain or suffering. 

God can be good and there can be a broken world, both. 

Sin is a rainstorm that you and I walk through every day. We get splashed and sprayed.

If you live in Florida, you're going to see a few hurricanes. If you live in this world, you're going to bump into sin or its conseqences.

We're going to get wet. And let's be honest - sometimes we contribute to the puddles that others must walk through!

We can stay inside. We can hunker down in our homes and wait for a sinless, sunny day. Unfortunately, the cloud of sin is persistent and pervasive. Anyway, why give in or give up? We should be more, not less empowered by the freedom God grants us. By God's love. By the Light that does pierce through.

I try to put on a raincoat of faith and forgiveness in Jesus. Try to distribute umbrellas of hope and encouragement. Be ready with fresh, dry clothing for those who are shivering and cold from the deluge. We can't stop the rain - we're humans who get sick and live in dangerous times - but we can help each other through the worst of the storms with God's Grace. God's assurance.

Colossians 3:12-14
"Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity."

"What do you believe?

Is There a Prayer of Salvation?

Thousands of people respond and inquire to the Billy Graham web site each week (peacewithGod.net). I volunteer and help people with their questions on spiritual matters. 

The inquirers have diverse spiritual (or non-spiritual) and cultural backgrounds. Some people have basic moral questions about sin. Others are curious about Jesus. Their questions range from "Is there a God?" to "How can I have a personal relationship with God?"

For many people who have given sincere thought and consideration, they choose to place their personal faith in Jesus. In years past, I've assisted new believers with this while standing on a mega-football stadium field - while Billy Graham gently led them in prayer from the stage podium. Then Franklin Graham began the internet outreach ministry in 2012, and now these digital inquiries are the "virtual" stadium field, 24x7. 

One recurring inquiry has been..."where is this prayer in the Bible?" Or, how can the "right" words make any supernatural change in a person's life?  The answers are easy - it's not written in the Bible and words don't change a person's spiritual condition. 

Here is how I explain in more depth to these inquirers - the background of what leads to a simple prayer, offered to God with a sincere faith....

There are Bible verses you can find online or in your personal Bible,

In the Gospel of Mark 1:15 Jesus said,   "Repent, and believe the Good News”    And James 5:16, to confess our sins as well.  1John1:9 explains God's mercy and response.

A personal prayer based on these Bible concepts would include repentance, saying "I'm sorry for my sins."   And John 3:16 - 3:17 explains what Jesus did for us on the cross and why; "God sent his Son so that all who believe on Him might not perish but have everlasting life."

A personal prayer could acknowledge that as true, as understanding that Jesus’ death on the cross is redemptive - He died for our sins.

And Ephesians 2:8-9 explains that we are saved by Grace through faith (not "earned" by works as some believe), and John 1:12 that in receiving Christ we become children of God;  

We are then new creations in Christ as stated in 2Corinthians 5:17

With that, a personal prayer could affirm biblical faith in Jesus,  and acknowledge receiving God into their life.

And Romans 10:9-13 says that we should do this publicly at some point, "with the heart man believes and with the mouth confesses."  Public declaration.

All this can be said in a person's own words...the specific prayer is not "written" down, but the words offered in the printed example to new believers helps them understand. And then discipleship will continue at their local church, including baptism - Christian growth doesn't stop with a prayer. Otherwise it's not a relationship with God, it's a one-time event.

“Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner, and I ask for your forgiveness. I believe you died on the cross for my sins and rose from the dead. I trust and follow you as my Lord and Savior. Please guide my life and help me to do your will. I ask this in Jesus name, amen." Or use your own words as you express your faith in Jesus.

Hopefully, you can see how these Biblical threads connect in this sample starter prayer we provide, or variations of it. I've stood on the stadium field with new believers, and exchanged digital messages immediately after they profess this in their own words....a change here, a stumble there. 

But as they respond with the peace of God and the Light of the Holy Spirit afterwards, it's made clear that there's more going on besides the wording of a prayer. Eternal life in Jesus.   Ephesians 1:13 is comforting in this regard. And I close my message to an inquirer with,

Please do write again if you have questions about the ministry or spiritual matters. God loves you!

www.peacewithGod.net

What do you believe?

Crete and Titus - Complete the Work

Sometime after his third missionary journey,  c. 67 the Apostle Paul wrote to give Titus a missionary task.

"The reason I left you in Crete was that you might put in order what was left unfinished and appoint elders in every town, as I directed you." Titus 1:5

I don't know about you, but when I get instructions from my boss at work, I don't honestly think in terms of 10 years, let alone 2,000. And yet, when we visited the island of Crete this summer, there was lasting evidence that Titus followed through with diligence.

In the port of city of Heraklion, this beautiful church is a few blocks up from the shore of the Aegean Sea. We arrived just after Sunday services and this father lingered with his young son, echoing Titus 2:6-8

"Similarly, encourage the young men to be self-controlled. In everything set them an example by doing what is good. In your teaching show integrity, seriousness8 and soundness of speech that cannot be condemned, so that those who oppose you may be ashamed because they have nothing bad to say about us."

So strong was the imprint of Titus' leadership that the Christian community on Crete survived not only time, but centuries of occupation and disruption by the Venetians and Turks before again joining Greece. 

11 For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Some of Titus' remains are still kept in this small chapel of the church in Heraklion. It is a rather humble room compared to Europe's grand basilicas and even his mentor Paul's tomb in Rome. I enjoyed this moment and took my photo, pausing for church goers who came in to touch the reliquary and icon with respect for the hometown ancestor of Crete's Christian community. Paul himself had fondly prefaced his instructions to Titus:  

"To Titus, my true son in our common faith: Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior. "

As our ship departed Crete, I watched until I could no longer see it on the horizon. So amazing to me how these early pioneers of our faith navigated nations, seas and souls.

Titus 3:4
"But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy."

What do you believe?

Athens - Acropolis - The Apostle Paul - History

My view of Mars Hill from the Acropolis - Athens 

I was racing the clock a little bit in Athens this past June.

Our tour group had gamely trudged their way  up to the top of Acropolis hill.  There, in the blazing 100 degree heat, we wandered ancient ruins alongside glimmering shadows of the Parthenon's magnificent columns. Our cameras took in the city of Athens below, and on out to the Aegean Sea.

I had my heart set on something a little further down the steep slope - Mars Hill of the ancient Areopagus (Marketplace). But our tour guide cautioned me in her thick Greek accent, "I don't think we'll have time for Mars Hill today, it is so hot. And besides, we walk down a different way."   That didn't sound like a firm "no" to me!

It's well documented that the Apostle Paul visited and preached from Mars Hill of the Areopagus   around 51 A.D.  That the massive granite and surrounding ruins of the marketplace exist has never been questioned. The secular government has even posted one of those "historical markers" next to it, acknowledging Paul's visit to their locality in the first century.  

In the Book of Acts from the Bible, Luke recalls the scene, Chapter 17

"21 While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols.  22 Paul then stood up in the meeting of the Areopagus and said: “People of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious. 23 For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: to an unknown god."

It's remarkable how far Paul and his group had traveled to reach Athens. Just look on a map and trace the eastern edge of the Mediterranean and Aegean seas. From Israel through modern day Lebanon, Syria, Turkey and back down from northern Greece. Antioch, Tarsus, Philipi, Thessalonica...

He didn't just rush through as we did on our  week-long jaunt across Greece. Paul would stay for months at a time, getting to know the people - and fairly earning the right to speak in such a prominent place.

"So he reasoned in the synagogue with both Jews and God-fearing Greeks, as well as in the marketplace day by day with those who happened to be there. " Acts 17:17

When the time came to descend the Acropolis' steep embankment our hired guide gave me a bemused look and said, "Come, follow me. We will go this way."  That is the photo you see up above. Mars Hill as we threaded our way down.  "Now listen to me," she said quietly, with a hand covering the wireless tour guide microphone. "When we get to the bottom, everyone will turn left to go back to the buses, do you understand? Because once you get to the bus, you will no longer be able to walk back to see the Aeropagus. Left to the bus, do you understand?"     I did. She turned left and I turned right when we got to the bottom of the hill. Then I jogged along the path until I got to the base of Mars Hill.  

Two minutes later I had scrambled up the path and was catching my breath on the slippery granite, handsomely polished by the Apostle Paul's sandals and 2,000 years of wind and rain. As I slowly took in the panorama, tears welled up and I had one of those rare travel moments when you realize it's more than you could have ever imagined. Because up there on the hill, exactly where Paul would have gazed with his audience, was the Acropolis, perhaps one of the most famously celebrated views of ancient history. And now his words made so much more sense. And the Bible rings even more true for me. I quietly recited the verse and swiped at my eyes so I could take the photo below,

24 “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. 25 And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else." Acts 17

Paul had spent time getting to know his host city, they'd asked him to share his ideas, and he spoke to them in words and imagery they would understand. I can't help but be inspired to do the same.

What do you believe?

The Spiritual Hypoxia of Airline Oxygen Masks

We logged a lot of airline miles this year. Seattle, New York, Frankfurt, Rome, Athens, Zurich...

Every airline gave us the same pre-flight instructions about the little yellow oxygen masks:If the airplane cabin depressurizes at high altitude, the oxygen masks will automatically drop down.What do you do first?

"Put your own oxygen mask on before helping your children or those around you."

This has always sounded counter-intuitive to me, because as a dad, I would naturally worry about my daughter or wife first. Other people with kind hearts would think to help the stranger next to them before helping themselves.

"Put your own oxygen mask on before helping your children or those around you."

There's a reason for this. Oxygen deprivation to your brain - hypoxia - leads to confusion. It happens so fast that you can quickly lose your ability to think clearly, to use your fine motor skills. You might actually cause more harm than good as you fumble to adjust someone else's oxygen mask in your depleted state. 

I gave this more thought than usual when we flew with our grandson this summer.

If the cabin lost pressure and I floundered trying to help the grandson, I'd be relying on other passengers to make sure he got his oxygen. I trusted my wife and my daughter as immediate backup in our row, but there were some pretty sketchy characters occupying the seats in front of, and behind us. I didn't want to rely on them helping my grandson if we lost pressure.  My plan of action was simple. Be prepared (alert to danger), be in a position to help (stay oxygenated), make sure he's safe (eyes on the kid). See who else we can help.

Consider our current society and culture - the cabin has rapidly depressurized and spiritual levels are plummeting. There's a readily accessible source of eternal life support within reach of every person - all are able to breath in the truth of the Gospel.

But a spiritual hypoxia has already settled over us. It's like watching the slow motion scene of an airplane disaster movie unfold. All through the plane, people are hesitating in the seconds that matter. There are parents with children next to them who are not reaching for the truth themselves and they aren't turning to help their kids, either. "They'll figure it out for themselves, I don't want to force them."

As chaos escalates in the cabin, kids - young adults - adults - grow more worried and disoriented. They sense disorder and look expectantly for someone with perspective and direction. Passengers from the next row step right over the hesitant parents to provide calming reassurance. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine. You don't need that oxygen mask, that's just for the weak minded people. You'll be stronger and more independent without it."

Over in the next row, a like-minded group has convinced several passengers who'd already donned a the yellow mask and are breathing easily...to take it off. "You don't want to appear as though you're judging the other passengers, do you?"  

In the context of all human history, it seems like this entire, disturbing scene has taken place in a manner of seconds.  But it's been many decades in the making. And the hypoxic confusion of our generation is, quite literally, breathtaking.

Each person yearns to find answers to questions they have about God.  About spiritual love, about eternal souls.  We need to be better informed and ready with confident answers. If we aren't effectively helping this generation draw near the Gospel, nor resolving our own confused theology - then it will be people from other rows of spirituality or philosophy that influence and direct those who remain.

Job 33:4"The Spirit of God has made me, And the breath of the Almighty gives me life."

What do you believe?

Peace and Love, Ringo, Peace and Love!

Ladies and gentleman....Ringo Starr!

"What would you do if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?"

Not a chance. We stood and cheered and sang along with Ringo for the better part of two hours at a recent concert.  Admittedly, it was a huge thrill for me. Ringo and the Beatles were a major part of my musical upbringing in the 60's. I still tell people at church that I'm most comfortable singing "Beatle harmonies" (the least complicated thirds and fifths).

Besides the great music, there was one thing in full and constant display with Ringo. The two finger, V-shaped "peace sign!"  One hand, both hands. During songs, after songs. Stage left, stage right.

"Peace and love, everybody, peace and love!"  Ringo waved and mugged for photos and we all cheered.  Even song lyrics written since his days with the Beatles featured encouragement to "choose love!"

Ringo's message is crystal clear. For anyone not keeping up with me:
"Peace and love, everybody, peace and love!"

And it seems to agree with the 79 year old from Liverpool. He's trim, fit, charismatic, effervescent, in good humor. Obviously enjoys his bandmates and the audience. The guy seems to emanate peace and love. He seems to thrive on peace and love. And echoing in my head ever since the concert, whenever I see a photo of Ringo in the news or play one of his albums - I can clearly hear him saying...you guessed it, "Peace and love, everybody, peace and love!"

That is how I would like to share the Good News of Jesus. God loves you! Jesus loves you!

It's how I wish people would see me - and you - emanating God's love. Thriving on God's love. Living the light of Jesus. Enjoying our audience of spiritual inquirers.  Charismatic, effervescent in the Holy Spirit.  God loves you! The peace of Christ that is beyond understanding -- not just as Ringo (the world) gives it, but as only God can.    Peace and love!  We could even write songs about it.

What is Ringo doing that is so right?  He's winsome, happy and sincere.  His message is simple, memorable and endlessly repeated. And it accompanies a delightful shared experience of his signature music and personality - repeated over 50+ years.  Has he transformed the world? In some musical and cultural ways perhaps.  Can he reconcile people supernaturally to God?  Of course not - but he doesn't claim to.

Maybe that's where we need to step in. "Jesus loves you, everybody, Jesus loves you!"  Start telling people now, share your sincere joy and peace. Keep it simple, memorable and I do believe you can make a difference over the next 50 years. - with a little help from your friends (in high places).

What do you believe?

The Wrong Rental Car

Not long ago,  I had a business meeting in Minneapolis, which is about a 6 hour, very picturesque drive from our town. Airfare was more expensive and it would have taken 5 - 6 hours of my time to get to the airport, park, go through airport security, fly and then arrange transport to the meeting location once I landed in Minneapolis. So instead, I rented a car.

The rental car agency has a remote office at a local hotel, not far from where I live. I called ahead and the agency let me know I could pick up the keys in their office at the hotel. My wife dropped me off at the entrance and I rolled my small suitcase along two carpeted corridors before finding the tiny rental office. The cheerful agent handed me an envelope with the keys and said, "It's the blue mid-size in our parking lot right outside, you can't miss it," and she jerked the thumb of her hand in a left-ish pointing motion.

Less than a minute later I shouldered my way out the side door and onto the sidewalk facing the parking lot.  Spotting the blue mid-size just a few feet away, I eased my suitcase into the back seat. Slide my backpack over to the front passenger side and set my phone in the cup holder in one fluid motion. Seasoned traveler, ready to roll!  I put one foot on the brake pedal and pressed the car's "start" button. Nothing.

Try again?  Nothing.
Car is in park? Check.  Gas tank full, check. What's the problem?

That's when I looked out the front window at the other blue mid-size car just across the lot. Any chance that....yup. The license plate on that car matched the license number written on my key. I'm in the wrong car!

Not only the wrong car, but this wasn't even a rental car! I was sitting in somebody's personal ride. Very embarrassed, I yanked my backpack and suitcase and strode over to the "correct" sedan, repeated the process and drove off. Smiling once again as I sped toward the freeway on ramp, I decided to call my wife and tell her my story, except...no phone. It was still in the cup holder of the other car!  Fortunately, it was still there a few tense minutes later as I hoped against hope the owner would not come out and accuse me of stealing something!

So many lessons learned and so many life applications came to mind as I drove away. Again.

1. Make sure you match the key to the license plate and don't just slide into a similar looking sedan.   Our culture is offering up a lot of alternate forms of spirituality and worship these days.  They may "look" the same and seem ready to drive - but the spiritual "engine" is a non-starter.  Check for Biblical truth, core belief in Jesus as Savior, Son of God and Him crucified. The one name under heaven by which we can be saved, Acts 4:12.  To whom every knee will bend and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord, Philippians 2:9-11
2. You may just have to get out of the wrong car, pick up your stuff (your family, your friendships) and walk across the parking lot - in full view of everyone - acknowledging your mistake. It's ok. I've done the same thing!   
3. You could reach out and help someone else who might be confused - call back the people who sent you out with weak instructions in the first place. Help them to see that there are other cars out there - maybe counsel them to tell others..."be sure you match the keys to the license plate!"  Doesn't everybody?  No, they don't, and we're partly to blame for not making it clear - with love, patience and respect, who Jesus is, and who He is not.  Don't jump into the first blue sedan you see!   Believe me, I've learned my lesson!

What do you believe?