It has not been a good day.  The last few weeks I have been dealing with health concerns that frankly have had me scared at times.  That have me scared now.

It's not the pain.  Pain I can deal with.  And to be honest, there really isn't too much of that.   It's the implications.   It's the unexpectedness of it all.   To be prepared to hear that one thing was happening to me, and to find out it is quite another.  Well, it catches you a bit off guard.

(Let me add,  there is no need to worry on your part.   It is, as I say, serious but not major.  But if you have a spare moment, I appreciate a special thought.  )

It happens all the time.  Life moves in a certain direction, and then the cell phone rings at 2 a.m., and it fundamentally changes.  A boy dies tragically, and towns, cities, states and countries begin a different dialogue.

I have said before that the Joseph is the figure in the nativity story that most fascinates me.   He had to deal with that unexpected call too.  He dreamt an angel came to him and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” The situation was no less problematic when he awoke, but he had a different way of seeing: they would call the child Immanuel: God with us.

Right now, my plate feels pretty full.   There are myriad changes coming my way.  Some good, Some, well, I don't know.  But they are coming.  Nobody gets to go back.  Nobody gets to know what happens next.

What we can trust is that God is with us.

I am not one who sees illness as punishment.   I do not interpret events that occur as divine retribution.  I see it as living.  And I am okay with that.

In a larger perspective, what I am facing is nothing compared to what so many deal with on a regular basis.  Yet part of what matters most about the Incarnation, about Jesus being born in a small stable behind a small inn in an insignificant little village is the larger perspective only makes sense when we let ourselves truly feel the pain and grief and loss that makes up our little lives just like Joseph, for then we can hear the angel say, “Don’t be afraid.”

Immanual!  God with us!

Day 8

It is a ritual in this household.   Every morning's conversation - - "How cold is it outside?"  "Did you see the weather forecast?"  The answer is virtually always the same.  "I never see the weather forecast unless they give it on NPR."

Weather in Central New York can be interesting.   Temperatures can fluctuate wildly.  A simple phrase like Lake Effect can mean anything from a dusting of snow to 18 inches of white powder.  It just depends exactly where you are standing in that snow band at the time.  And literally, the other side of the street might not be getting snow at all.   It's a freaky thing.

The last year or so, temperatures have taken their toll on me.  I blame it on the weight loss.  My internal thermostat no longer functions.  I sleep with a blanket even in the summer.  Previously those windows would be opened when it was 10 degrees out.     Now, forget that.   I now own 6 pairs of long underwear, and I wear them regularly.   (Sorry if that was TMI.)

My perception of cold and warm has changed.   What used to be comfortable, no longer is.  What is comfortable now was previously unbearable.   What is cold to me is not the same as what is cold to you.   It has a new meaning.

The temperature is a major source of conversation.  A safe way to strike up a relationship with a total stranger.   Grocery clerks have to get sick of hearing weather forecast from every person who goes through the check out line.   But it is a way we check in with one another.  A way we start to take the temperature of whether the other person will hear us or not.  A way in which we enter the world of another.

To engage in weather discussion is an indicator of potential in our society.   If we talk of this, perhaps we can go a bit deeper.   And so we talk.. and talk .. and talk.  

It strikes me that once upon a time a child entered our world to check our temperature.  To put on our skin and feel what it is like to be one of us.  To begin to embody the conversation.

As mundane as these questions are,  it is important to have them.  It indicates whether we can ever be heard.   Maybe,  maybe I should listen harder.  

Advent Journal:  Peace?

Yesterday, as I passed a governmental office in the community, a small group of people stood outside holding signs, protesting for peace.  The red light at the intersection caused me to stop and I heard them singing, "Let There Be Peace On Earth."  A good song choice.

Throughout our country there are people struggling to find a way to respond to happenings in Ferguson, Staten Island and now Phoenix.  Sadly, I suspect this will not be the end of such events.
I know, as a society we are trying to figure it out.  Who is to blame?  What has happened to our society?  Have the police gotten carried away with their power?  And there are solid reasons on all sides of this discussion.

We once referred to police officers as peace officers.  Now they are law enforcement.  Our Pentagon, rightly or wrongly, has chosen to donate surplus weaponry to local, county and state enforcement agencies.

Significant changes have come to our country by virtue of protesting:  Women's Rights, Civil Rights, LGBT Rights, the end of Viet Nam, among others.  One could even make the argument that our nation was founded due to a protest regarding a Tea Tax in a Boston Harbor.  They are a part of who we are as a people.  I have fond memories of several that I participated in throughout the years.

Society is searching.  There are reasons for it.  Economic disparity, marginalized people, lack of ownership and recognition, whatever.  People are searching for ways to change the status quo.  We always have.

My fear is that our divided nation, our divided culture, divided politics are creating a stronger have/have not society, and that we can expect escalation in the days ahead.

Somehow we have to change the conversation.  We have to remember that protests are not threats to security.  They are cries of frustration and calls for change.   We have to find ways to honor that.    Men and women in riot gear hardly seem like a way to listen to one another.  And rocks thrown at police rarely serve to let dialogue be heard.

In the season of peace we have to find a way.

This carol/song came into my mind as I wrote tonight.

Day 6 (Sorta):  One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

You feel like you're making progress, then POW, you run into a wall and you are back where you started.   In the words of one of my favorite Kid's books, "Some days are like that, even in Australia."
Yesterday certainly was.

I am sure it happens for all of us, but who needs a flat tire when going on a trip?  A stomach virus before a party?   A phone call when you are rushing out the door?   Granted, those tend not to be huge things, but they affect us nonetheless.

I know life is made of those moments.  We all have them.   But I hate them.  So do you.   And that's all I am going to say about that.  

Day #5-  Through The Eyes Of A Child

Talon and I spent some time together Tuesday morning.   It hasn't been just the two of us alone for quite some time.  I've missed him.

Every grandparent thinks his/her grandchild is the cutest thing on the face of the earth.  I don't think that.  I know it.

Some of the Christmas decorating had been done.   The tree was trimmed, simply this year, after all there is a 2 year old running around here from time to time, and his grandfather can occasionally get himself into some trouble as well.     But the tree stands in the living room, next to the fireplace.

At one point in the morning, I was out in the kitchen. Talon was playing in the living room, and I came around the corner, and saw him, simply standing there, looking at the tree.  Just looking, a small smile, eyes wide with wonder.   I stopped, and just watched.   I thought about taking a picture, but as I read in "Brother to a DragonFly" many years ago, some moments are too holy to photograph.

I just watched.  Tree lights reflected in those innocent eyes that long ago captured my heart.  It was the first time my soul thought "Christmas" this year.  I thank Talon for that.

It wasn't an earth-shaking, soul making event.  It was love looking at Christmas.  It was hope mesmerized by sparkling light.  It was innocence believing in magic.  And I felt my heart grow larger.

I don't want this season to come crashing down on me.  I want it to unfold softly, surely.  Maybe, maybe if I look, I can find magic through a child's eyes.

Day 4 - Peace on Earth.

A meme appeared on my Facebook newsfeed today.

It isn't a new thought.  I've considered it before.  But is has affected me.
I read so many comments and posts about the wrongs/rights of Ferguson.  I hear reports of Jewish/Palestinian tensions in the mideast, our long involvement in Afghanistan, the Sudan.  I debate with friends the issues of gun control, and I so look forward to the increasing numbers of reports from various sources about the war on Christmas (he writes sarcastically).

It is no surprise that I struggle with a lot of the politics and what is labeled "traditional Christian values" of the day.  I struggle a lot.  It isn't a newsflash that we live in a divisive culture.  Politics, religion, sexuality, heck, even recipes can cause intense discussion and debate.   But I cannot comprehend how in the season when we so anticipate the coming of the Prince of Peace, we can so easily withhold and deny it to others.

I have often said that if I make mistakes in living my life, I hope that I will always err on the side of grace.  That includes getting my spirit ready for the Advent of God once again.

Several hours ago the following clip went through my mind.  It may be, perhaps, one of my favorite Christmas moments/songs.   I recall the first time it aired.  It had an impact.   I post it now, hoping it has an impact again.

At least on me.

A Day Late ....   But that is normal for me.

Yesterday was World AIDS day, and this would certainly be more appropriate for that occasion, but heck, that is entirely too predictable, and I would never settle for that.

Long ago, and just yesterday it seems, at Bethlehem's St. Luke's Hospital, I was doing a C.P.E. unit (Clinical Pastoral Education).  It was a demanding and energizing experience, and one that shaped me in many ways.

A patient, David, on one of my assigned floors had become the target of a lot of conversation.  A young man, 26 years old, he was in isolation due to what was the new scourge in our society.  He was dying of AIDS complications.   A gay man, rejected by his family, whose partner fled due to fear when he was initially diagnosed.  David was alone.   AIDS was new in that community.  Unknown.  Scary.  Nurses avoided taking care of him.  Doctors stayed away.  He lay alone.  His calls for help were often ignored until they could no longer be so.  Some staff refused to enter his room.  He was, in my recollection, all anyone talked about.

I remember thinking, I should go see him.  But I will admit, I knew so little, and I was scared.  I put it off,  but there he was, behind that door right across from the nurses station, alone and closed off.  So finally, I wrapped myself in whatever courage I could muster, and knocked on the door.

I entered, and this young man with sunken cheeks, was laying in the bed.   He had sores on his face and arms.  He shivered from the cold.  All he wanted was the bedpan.

Putting a patient on the bedpan was not part of my job, but no one answered his call.   I knew enough to know that bodily fluids transmitted the disease, but this guy needed my help.  So I grabbed the bedpan and helped him.   When he was settled, I sat down to talk.

He was charming.   He was lonely.  He was funny.  He was scared.  He was gay.  He was human.  He was alone.  He was David.   For six days we visited.  We talked.  I watched as he became a shadow of what he once was.  And on one of my overnights on duty, I held his hand as he died.

The fear of the disease he had, the prejudice against who he was profoundly affects me.   I assert that no one is outside the love of God, and should therefore, be beyond my caring, our caring. But so many are.   So many men and women have died isolated and alone because of who they are.  It cannot be so.   It must not be so.

Yesterday, I remembered David, and others who I have lost, who we have lost. Today,  I remember too.  I am grateful for them.  I honor them.   I grieve them.  Let this never be again.  Good God, let me never be callous to this again.

As the Advent season begins, I looked at my motivation for writing again.  I suppose for me it is part of my (for lack of a better term) spiritual practice.  I want to focus my mind and my heart, to find light in the growing darkness.

The idea of a spiritual practice seems strange to me.  Practice - as though there was something to prepare for, something new.  This is different then preparing a role in a play, or a song for performance.  There isn't a moment when the curtain goes up.  But the practice still counts.  Every time we have to go back and do it again, every time we have to say "I'm sorry," every time we  pick ourselves up from failure, it's for real.  Life counts.  It has consequences.  The point , of practice is, in the best sense, is growth.  I am a better cook when I practice to learn new things.  I am a better writer when I practice reading and writing.  I am a better person when I see every day as an opportunity to practice being human.

This is a practice life.   The yearly story of Advent through Christmas, Lent to Easter, is practice to go nowhere but to God, to ourselves.    We do not practice for success or perfection.  We have room to try and try again,  to keep growing, to keep changing.

For those who know me,  this isn't anything new.  It is a reoccurring theme.  I am weeks away from celebrating my sixtieth Christmas, and I have to remind myself that I am wonderfully and uniquely created in the image of God, and worthy to be loved.  I am more practiced at sharing that truth, then at realizing it myself.  And so I practice, speaking it, writing it, singing it, that I might hear in ways I have not before.  And I am, I am.

Or at least I am practicing.  

An Advent Journal:  On the road to ....?

I am not ready for this  Advent, I mean....   I don't want it to come.  I would just rather forget about this season, about Christmas, this year.  There are lots of reasons why.  It isn't uncommon.  People have felt that way before, I guess it is just my turn.

There are expectations to the season, and I will do my best to meet them.  (There is, after all, a little boy I am deeply in love with.)  But for now at least, this season feels heavy, cumbersome,  dark.

Advent is a season of growing darkness.  Except for perhaps the last few, the days grow shorter, and darkness seems to descend in mid-afternoon.  Nights grow longer.  When dealing with situations which feel beyond control, with questions swirling in my mind, plans, decisions difficult to make, darkness doesn't always help.   There is enough to be bleak about.

A hymn of this season, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," is a favorite of mine.  I think it is because of its minor key.  Tonight it just feels right.

I thought about that name, Emmanuel.  Remember where it appears in the Nativity story?  An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and reminded him of the prophecy:  "Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel."  Joseph is trying to come to terms with Mary's pregnancy.  And an angel appears.  

The thing is, the angel doesn't give him a solution to his struggle.  He simply gives him a name, a presence.  God with us.

Perhaps for now that is enough.    O come, O come and find us in the dark.  

Starting Over - A Season of Love and Changes

It's been a long time, and fresh starts are ripe with opportunity.  So let's start again!   Welcome to Dangling Toes... Important thoughts written at leisure.   Many things have occurred in my life, as I am sure, they have for you...  There has been growth, joy, tears, and laughter.  I have changed, whether that is good or bad, I make no judgement.  After all, it is what I do with those changes that counts.

My mind is singing a song that I value, a mantra I would seek to live....  five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes....

It is a season of love, and I promise to try to communicate better, at least on here....    I want to talk about some of those changes, and for me, that is somewhat scary and joyful... But stay tuned.   It will at least provide a smile, if not a tear.   There is more to come....        Shalom always  -   KDT

I have been feeling uneasy all day. Last night I closed down the computer early, and crawled into bed to read so I didn't know anything about the President's announcement about the killing of Osama bin Laden until early this morning. Today, I haven't been able to get the thought out of my mind, and believe me, I so want too. I suspect that it is an occupational hazard for me (and others like me) that we have to add or comment on significant happenings. yet, I am not at all sure that I have anything constructive to say. ( I have after all, read the Huffington Post today). I guess I am just writing out of the hope that it may help me get my jumbled thoughts out...

I can't figure out what it is we are celebrating today. Yes, I know that Osama bin Laden is dead. I know that he has been the face of evil personified since Sept. 11, 2001. I know that "we" are viewing this as a victory in the 'war on terror.' But really, what have we won? Is the world any safer because he is gone? If so, why the warnings about possible retaliation attacks? We tend to think that Sept. 11 marked the beginning of terror attacks, but that certainly is not the case. Let's not forget Northern Ireland, Oklahoma City, and far too many other places and occasions to list.

I think Sept. 11 was a nightmarish wake-up call to face the cruel realities of our changing world. Terror isn't going anywhere quickly. We are not one bit safer because our Navy Seals killed him. We will still endure security checkpoints, and invasive body scans. I don't see our National Security priorities changing in the near future. I suspect in the upcoming political season we are still going to hear charges and debates about soft on security, etc..., and see the whipping up of our sentiments of fear.

I heard talk today about this bringing a "sense of closure," to the nation and particularly to those who lost loved ones in the 9-11 attacks. It might end a chapter, but it will certainly not be "closure." Their grief did not end with bin Laden's death. What happened a day or so ago was revenge not justice.

I received a phone call this afternoon from a pastor who was thinking about hosting a service of thanksgiving over this event. I was incredulous (and speechless, if you can believe that). I refused incidentally. This is not a victory for Christianity, and I am grateful for a President who made a point of reminding us, that we are not at war with Muslims. A friend of mine wrote "Bin Laden didn't represent Muslims any more than Fred Phelps or Terry Jones speak for all of Christianity." (I like that). I can't figure out how Christians can celebrate this death as if it were some sort of victory... The One that I follow said "Love your enemies." I pretty sure he didn't mean love them with a machine gun.

I know, I know, that I am often accused, or labeled, as 'unpatriotic'. And I probably am. I myself say "I am a lousy patriot, but I am a damn, fine citizen." And in my view, citizenship is far more important then flag waving. But we didn't win anything here. We are reduced to living in fear, and getting even. So I don't see this as any sort of victory. Yes, an evil man has died, and he died via evil means. We reduced our ideals to his level to fight terrorism. This wasn't justice. This was revenge. Maybe it has a place. Maybe it was the only way. I don't know. But while I acknowledge the valor and bravery, the ingenuity of our intelligence officials and military in carrying out their orders, I grieve at our sell out of "justice for all." This wasn't the rule of law. This was revenge. And it makes us less then the people I hope we can always be.

People will call me naive, or idealistic perhaps. I want always to be so...

The turkey is ready, but am I?

I have been pretty quiet on here the last couple of weeks, I know.

This week I've been getting ready for "Turkey Day". Here is the menu for tomorrow.

Roasted Turkey w/ cornbread sage stuffing
Mashed Potatoes w/ cheese and bacon
Roasted Brussel Sprouts w/ honey and dried cranberries
Balsamic Onions in a light cream sauce
Candied Apple Cider braised carrots
Refrigerator Rolls
New York Cheesecake w/ blueberry lime sauce
Pumpkin Pie
plus a few other sundries...

Yes, I agree, it sounds as if I am going to be a thankful boy.

It's easy to get the meal ready for Thanksgiving. I know what I am doing, and who I am doing it for.

I just don't always know how to get my life ready. This year, that's where I am having a struggle; mid-life crisis; parental deaths; not losing weight as quickly as I want; I don't know why, and I struggling to find my way through this "morose". Oh, I know that this isn't unusual. I know that this will pass. But for right now, it sucks.

Today, there have been words rattling around in my brain. They are familiar to many of us.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come
'tis grace that brought me safe this far
and grace will lead me home

A couple of hundred years ago, men and women sat down at a table to give thanks. I know that their table will not in any way resemble the table I will sit down to tomorrow. I know that in some ways what they were doing those many years ago was simply saying thanks for the fact that they were not dead, given all that they had experienced. I know I am not facing anything like that, and I have much more for which to give thanks than did our ancestors. But I can't see any farther around the bend than they could, so maybe I should follow their path. They were simply saying thank you for what they knew and believed. Maybe that is enough.

May your thanksgiving last longer than a day... may it last a lifetime.

Making Sense of it . . .

My father is dead.

It has been just over a week since dad died, and I am struggling to put his life, our relationship, and his role in my life into some kind of perspective. To be honest, I am not sure that I am having any success. Every time I try to put words on paper or screen my mind goes blank, despite my heart being full. My father is dead. My mother is gone too. Those who rooted and shaped me, anchored and held me from a time before birth are gone.

They are not here, and I am.

I now live a long way from my childhood home, both literally and figuratively. And there are moments that I feel like a lost, little boy. Right now, I do.

This afternoon I took a drive for a few moments. I found myself in one of this area's cemeteries. I've done a lot of committal services there. I remember some of these residents. I think about dad's new home, the place he has wanted to be for the last several years, with Mom. And though part of me is glad for him, and part of me is relieved for myself and for my brothers, I am alone.

I know this will pass. It has before. It has for others. But for now, my dad isn't here, and I am.

I just finished reading "A Circle of Quiet" by Madeleine L'Engle. Her closing paragraphs:

"Gregory of Nyssa points out that Moses's vision of God began with the light, with the visible burning bush, the bush which was bright with fire and was not consumed; but after-wards, God spoke to him in a cloud. after the glory which could be seen with human eyes, he began to see the glory which is beyond and after light.

The shadows are deepening all around us. Now is the time when we must begin to see our world and ourselves in a different way."

I want eyes to see what lies beyond and after, not for him, but for me.

Seeking Grace - Kent Douglas

As far as I am concerned . . .

This past week, or week and a half, my mind has been drawn to the stories of teenagers killing themselves because of their sexuality. I know I am not alone in my concern, but I have, for too long, been too quiet in my views on this subject. This, from Ellen Degeneres (of whom, I am not a fan, although I do not dislike her. I simply don't watch her) served as a wake-up call to me.



One of my greatest regrets is that the faith that I have chosen to be a part of is often, and largely cited, as being an important factor in the attitudes we have toward homosexuality.

I will admit that my entire view of sexuality is changing. But I know that the way we are choosing to judge people on this issue has been incredibly damaging. So, I am writing this post, aware that my saying what I will say, will bring repercussions. But folks, I think the conservative church has it wrong. And here's why...

Conservative Christianity claims to "believe the Bible." The longer I am in ministry, the less sure I am of what that means. I know most of us are well meaning in trying to follow what we understand to be the dictates of God, and that leads some to seek to follow Scripture literally, at least the parts that they agree with literally. But we somehow turn a blind eye to the other parts with which we don't agree, or which don't support or speak to our concerns. I am constantly amazed that we often misuse the principles of grace, mercy and love, in our efforts to be vigilant about faith. We look at life through a narrow lens, quoting chapter and verse that espouse our views, without thinking through how it applies to the whole.

I find it easy to apply the bible to everyone else, but it isn't so easy when it challenges my beliefs and decisions. When it's about 'you' I can be a literalist.
That applies big time to our contemporary discussion of Homosexuality. So I am about to do what I am loathe to do... Point out my understanding of what the Bible has to say about the subject. I know this will get me in trouble.

The Bible never addresses the subject of Homosexuality as a sexual identity. Sexual identity was not a part of our understanding of human existence until recent years. The Bible contains references to specific acts of homosexuality, in specific contexts. The idea of two people in an intimate, loving homosexual relationship was unknown in the Biblical world, and it is not addressed in the Scriptures. Specific acts are addressed. And there are six, count them, six of them.

Genesis 19: 1 - 29- The Story of the destruction of Sodom. This story is about the men of the city wanting to commit a homosexual rape. We cannot condemn a sexual orientation because of a rape.

Judges 19: 1 - 30 is basically a retelling of the Sodom story in a different context. This time, however, the men actually do rape someone- a woman. And the passage speaks to the need of God's love in a brutal world. Both this passage and the Genesis passage are condemnations of ignorance and sexual brutality- not homosexuality.

Texts 3 and 4 are both in Leviticus and make up a part of the Old Testament Levitical code.

Leviticus 18:22 – “Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable.”

Leviticus 20:13 – “If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.”

These codes no longer apply to the Christian community. The book of Acts, specifically chapter 15 make it clear that the Gentile community cannot be held to the Mosiac standards. Christianity does not demand compliance with this ancient code of behaviour. If it did, we would have to comply with it all, meaning we would have to keep kosher (which may actually not be a bad thing, but that is another subject), we would have to make room for polygamy, which is lawful in Leviticus(talk about a redefinition of marriage) And all of us would be stoning our children for disobedience. Unless you are prepared to obey all the laws in Leviticus, you cannot blame the homosexual for not feeling bound to obey all of them. To point to these two verses and demand selective compliance is ludicrous.

The Old Testament has nothing specific to say about homosexuality. Jesus has nothing to say about the issue. Absolutely nothing. It simply was not an issue for him.

Paul discusses it twice. TWICE. These are the only two mentions of homosexuality in the whole of the New Testament.

I Corinthians 6:9 – “Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders”

"Male prostitutes" and "homosexual offenders." Can someone explain to me why we would condemn an entire orientation because of the prohibition of these very specific behaviors?

The Greek words Paul used in this passage mean a young, effeminate male prostitute and the word for the older man who paid to have sex with him. There are some problems with translation here, I will admit that. English does not have an adequate word for the Greek term.

Yes, The New Testament condemns prostitution and a system where a younger man makes his living committing sex acts for money with older men. But we cannot condemn homosexuality in general because homosexual prostitution was condemned. Paul condemns many heterosexual acts in his writings, even in this very verse, yet we do not condemn heterosexuality.

Romans 1:18-29 is the last passage we shall look at. It is the one most often quoted, and it is clearly the closest thing we find to condemnation in the New Testament. Verse 27 is the most specific verse.

I simply ask you to read this entire passage with an open mind. In it, Paul says that those who reject God will be given over to "shameful lusts”. They will engage in many acts that are not pleasing to God. Men will “burn with lust for one another.”

In Paul's experience, the only homosexuality he knew was that practiced in the non-Jewish world and probably tied to pagan temple worship. He claims that homosexuality is one of the punishments for those who reject God. But what are we to do with gentle and committed Christians who love God and worship God, but who tell us that they have a homosexual orientation?

Many homosexuals are not haters of God. Many of them are Christians. They have not rejected the Creator. Nor do not burn in lust for each other and run around committing scandalous acts. They are quietly committed to their partners in love. The dilemma here is that the homosexual Christians I know just do not fit the picture Paul gives us in Romans.

I'll be honest- I don’t know exactly what Paul meant by this passage. I know he was describing people who chose not to worship God and then "burned with lust for other men." I don't know exactly what he meant, but I know this DOES NOT describe the homosexual Christians I know, who love God with great passion.

Because of my inability to make clear sense of these passages, I am willing to allow a person's sexual orientation to be between him or her and God. I am willing to take a chance and err on the side of compassion and inclusion.

There are 6 passages that are thought to address the subject of homosexuality. The Old Testament passages are easily dismissed. And the two New Testament passages are ambiguous at best and easily open to interpretation.

I do not believe that the Bible teaches that homosexuality is sinful. I simply do not. And even if you do not agree with me, would you at least agree that the Scriptural witness is ambiguous? And if so, shouldn't gay men and lesbian women be treated with the same mercy, grace and support that you feel should be shown to you?

I think it is time to move on, to recognize that all committed relationship, heterosexual and homosexual move us closer to understanding the call to the wholeness of God. Maybe if we stopped condemning, maybe young men and women would stop dying. Please, God, let it be so......

Putting Things In Perspective

There are times that what goes on inside of an individual is not at all apparent to those outside. We all know that, the thoughts, the secrets, the ideas simmering at a level just below articulation, sometimes no one else can even begin to know.

For me, it has been that kind of a week. Thoughts that push the envelope of my comfort, contemplating decisions that affect those I care about as well as myself, getting my mind, heart and spirit all on the same page. We all live there. And it is so easy to get so caught up in those interior musings, that we go robotic through our daily lives.

I think life is pretty simple. I think faith is pretty simple. And when I choose to make my life complex, I need to remind myself of the elegantly simple messages occasionally to pull myself back on track.

Someone sent me this link earlier this week. It helped. And I am grateful. I apologize for not being able to put this into a link form. I am technologically challenged. But copy and paste it. It might remind you.

http://www.andiesisle.com/creation/magnificent.html

With Fear And Trepidation

So I started this blog, and in some ways I am sorry that I did. I was talking with a valued friend today about it, and remarked that what weighed on me was that now I feel like I am supposed to produce something, that I need to have something to say. The reality is, I am really a pretty simple guy, and I usually feel that I don't have that much to offer. She kindly remarked that it was my mind that was intriguing, and I told her that I feared for her sanity, if such is the case.

I don't follow things like blogs very religiously. Some of you know that I don't do anything religiously. But there is one blog that I always read- Don't Eat Alone, by Milton Brasher Cunningham. I never met the man, but I relate. Tonight I read his latest column and he mentioned an article that I subsequently read, by Parker Palmer, "Taking Pen In Hand."

The author was recounting how he started writing, and how what he wrote eventually became a book. He writes.

So here's my own Zen koan: we can do things we don't think we can do if we don't think about doing them. I also learned that if you can't write a book, write a lot of essays. If you can't write an essay, write a lot of paragraphs. If you can't write a paragraph, write a line or a word. And if you can't do that on the page, write your truth with your life, which is far more important than any book.

He is definitely on to something. My whole motivation for doing this is to share that part of me that is bigger then I am - Faith in the God of change. I sure don't claim to know God, or even begin to comprehend God, at times I am not even sure what/who God is. But I want to believe (and I do believe it) that there is something big and wonderful at work in the world and in my spirit and I know that as God. And that excites me to think about, and write about, and live within.

Mr. Palmer says it well. And why believe in God if the God we believe in is so small as to be contained and controlled within our finite words and forms? The aim of our writing about faith, and of our living in faith, is to let God be God: original, wild and free, a creative impulse that drives our living and our writing but can never be contained within the limits of who we are or what we think and say and do

Maybe keeping that thought in mind will make my keeping up with this thing easier. I sure hope so.

Prone To Wonder (Wander)

Friends have encouraged me for quite some time to do this. I am not at sure that they know what they are asking. I've threatened it myself occasionally. So I guess I am welcoming you to the first post of Dangling Toes. Anyone who knows me knows the name is appropriate.


Much of my time is spent reading, stories of faith, stories of life, stories of struggles (and let me add, reading is something I encourage everyone to do often). Words have shaped my life, influenced my thinking and aided me in painting pictures of my thoughts. I want the words I share here to encourage your thinking too.


Originally, I had hoped to have something grand and glorious to say, but I don't. In many ways, it is a lot like my life. It's not at all what I expected, but I am liking where it is. I had always thought that by the time I was 5___ something years old that I would have a well established career, a lasting effect on people's lives, or at least have my act together. Instead, I mostly have questions, lots of doubts, and blisters on my feet from a journey on uneven terrain. I thought becoming older meant that I had answers, instead I have learned it means I know how to articulate my questions better. I thought that it meant that I was well on the way to my destination, instead I am often lost in the woods.


But in the woods I am, and the nice thing about being here is you discover a new vista around every curve, and I am learning to take the time to dangle my toes in the streams and reflect.


I was doing that today. Thinking, about this journey, and it struck me that I am actually glad that life isn't turning out the way I had planned. It is so much more exciting this way. Even my thoughts about God are changing. I shudder when I think about sermons that I preached 25 years ago. The words might have been true, but the arrogance behind them was appalling. If I have learned anything it is that we all take our own paths. And mine, mine zig-zags all over the place. What I know today, I question tomorrow. Almost everything, I question tomorrow.


I am into my second half century, and there is only one thing that I am sure of now. I am not on this journey alone. I have you, and I have my understanding of God. And for tonight that's all I need.


This afternoon an old hymn lodged itself in my spirit. I think it has always been among my favorites. It is what inspired these thoughts(for whatever they are worth). Written by Robert Robinson, it is the third verse that gets me.

O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!
Let they goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.


Tune my heart to hope and healing, to grace and gratitude. And help me, help us, find our way home. Please.

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