In Praise of Boring Consistency

Today’s menu for the family Thanksgiving feast is largely the same as it is each year. Granted, as an ambitious amateur chef, the temptation is to make everything a little more special, add one little surprise dish, or at least find some clever new twist on the tradition of giving thanks around the table. (I’m sure there’s an app for that.) But the point of gathering for Thanksgiving dinner is not to focus attention on the table setting, the turkey recipe (Yes, some people use a recipe.), or the topics of conversation—so long as we avoid the known and obvious points of controversy.

This year, I am seeking to present the usual in as usual a manner as possible. I want to gratify the desire for a familiar family ritual that allows those in attendance to enjoy some excess, to appreciate our abundance, and to remember the security of routine amidst lives often overwhelmed by seemingly random chance.

For the inspiration to attempt this boring consistency, I am indebted to one of the more delightfully demented patients I see regularly. Over the months, she has become more and more aware that she knows me from somewhere. This is especially remarkable because some days she barely knows herself. Sometimes she remembers bits of her history, specific places and vague events, or images that almost give her a grasp on some story…yet not. Still, more and more, whether scheduled to see her, or greeting her on my way to or from other patients in the same facility in which she is a resident, she knows that she knows me.

She doesn’t remember my name—not even from moment to moment in the same visit. She sometimes wonders where she knows me from, because she is sure she’s never been here before (“here” being a facility that has been her home for years). And she does, at times, ask why I am bothering her when all she wants to do is get back to her nap, whether she’d been sleeping or not when I arrived.

But the other day she knew it was me, whoever she thought I was, from across the common area in the facility. She recognized me as someone she knew, even with my back turned, as I was speaking to care staff. Granted, there’s not much I can do with my hair (what little remains). I used to experiment with the length of my beard. And varying my fashion sense to fit popular trends was actually a thing, once upon (too long) a time.

Yet whenever I see patients, I dress the same: button-down collared shirt, sweater vest, and a sport coat. I keep my beard trimmed in the same length and shape. And I try to greet the patient identically at each visit. The familiarity helps, even with patients who have full command of their mental faculties, but especially with those whose shifting perceptions can be disorienting on their best days.

Why is this so important? For the same reasons as I am seeking a boring consistency with Thanksgiving dinner today.

I want the focus to be on the people, the relationships, and the secure sameness we celebrate while living lives that sometimes shift and spiral in directions we cannot anticipate. Whether those lives seem a little random, or get increasingly chaotic, or deteriorate into the dauntingly disappointing, disorienting, and dysfunctional depths to which we all sometimes sink…my prayer for each of us today is that we find some sense of sameness, that we recognize the reality of regular routines, and that we celebrate the security we feel from the familiar, even if only in a fleeting detail or two.

Thankful for the consistent love of God, despite my frequently faltering faithfulness, I pray that my boring consistency helps make me more effective as…

Your servant for Jesus’ sake (II Corinthians 4:5),

Wm. Darius (Bill) Myers

“To Strive, or Not To Strive. That Is the Question.” – Part Two: Do I Dare Face Off against Myself?

Reading the apparent contrasts in the lists of scriptures I quoted in part one, you may already have asked these questions: “Does scripture contradict itself in what it demands of us?” and, “Isn’t this just another example of how the Bible can be made to say whatever we want?” Before considering how to reconcile the two lists, be sure to recognize the importance of considering them together. Otherwise, we easily fall into the trap of selectively listening to God’s word, or simply disregarding it altogether.

To the first question, “Does scripture contradict itself?” I would answer No. God’s word points us consistently in the same direction. But that’s why it is essential that it be taken in its entirety, with each passage carefully examined for its context as well as its content. In fact, as you read the verses I am struggling with, you may already have said to yourself: “that’s not what God means in those verses,” or at least “why isn’t he considering passages that address that topic more fully?”

That’s also why I would also answer the second question, “No.” My overactive anxieties and depression are tempting me to grasp at disconnected segments of the whole, making the Bible say what I do not want. The underlying temptation in this leads me to consider a disastrous sin: that I would give up on hearing from God and embark impulsively on whatever the path of least resistance seems to be at the moment. (For an example of how the enemy of our souls tries to use scripture to twist us to his plan, consider the third ploy he offers in the wilderness temptation of Christ. Luke 4:9-11.)

All of this contemplation of potential contradictions leads me to welcome the two-fold wisdom found in more direct comparisons like Proverbs 13:4, “The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, But the soul of the diligent is made fat.”

If I crave anything in this season of my life, it is that I crave those few days which require no expenditures. I cannot buy even the most basic groceries without calculating the percentage of their effect on our remaining bank balance. The greater challenge is to remain diligent in those things to which the Lord calls me, despite the fact that none of them provide income. Chaplaincies at Hospice and the Community Food Pantry, counseling for the hospital, substitute instructing for the seminary, and assisting in a classroom at the elementary school all fall under the same heading: organizations to which my services were once generously provided by the church that no longer pays me a salary. Only my work toward establishing a counseling center at the church we are attending hold the potential for someday providing an income.

But despite the sense of obligation without remuneration, there is this blessing in all of those organizations: They provide me with opportunities to remain diligent in the service described in Hebrews 6:10-12.

Hebrews 6:10–12 For God is not unjust so as to forget your work and the love which you have shown toward His name, in having ministered and in still ministering to the saints. 11 And we desire that each one of you show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of hope until the end, 12 so that you will not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

Not sluggish, but diligent. And yet not desperately striving, but accepting of God’s timing, call, promise, and provision. The both of these can be balanced together even as I seek diligently to be and do as God has called me, even as I wait patiently for Him to tie some portion of those activities to a paycheck…perhaps.

“To Strive, or Not To Strive. That Is the Question.” – Part One: Do the Scriptures Face Off against Themselves?

On this Monday morning, I'm contemplating concepts that are a little deeper than my headache would prefer. But there are two sets of scriptures I'm trying to reconcile into my actual action plan for the day, week, and month ahead.

One set of scriptures fuels the motivation to placidly await the revelation of God’s will, and work only at finding, fulfilling, and finding my fulfillment in that which He has called me to be and to do. This set includes verses like Psalm 23:1-3, Psalm 46:10, Isaiah 40:31 and, of course, Matthew 11:28.

Psalm 23:1–3 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. 3 He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

Psalm 46:10 “Cease striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

Isaiah 40:31 Yet those who wait for the Lord Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary.

Matthew 11:28 “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.

Patience is never easy for me in the best of times, but especially when I am being tempted to "stop waiting, start striving, get to work, and make something happen." Given multiple examples in my own life, though,I should have learned long ago not to race on ahead of the Lord’s instruction and timing, as though I somehow could reach His destination by plotting my own course.

In the past, my tendency to define, chart, and manufacture my own circumstances has led me to unfortunate decisions and desperate situations. The passages above do help me to resist the impulse to run from the peace and quiet in which God speaks, to avoid filling my schedule with random appointments, and especially to stop calculating where and how I might best “monetize” my skills and experiences regardless of what God calls me to be and do.

When the urge strikes to blindly plunge ahead, compelling me to at least stew over the many options I can imagine becoming profitable, I selectively recall another set of scriptures. These others provoke my impatience still further with verses like Proverbs 6:6-11, Proverbs 24:30-34, and II Thessalonians 3:10.

Proverbs 6:6–11 Go to the ant, O sluggard, Observe her ways and be wise, 7 Which, having no chief, Officer or ruler, 8 Prepares her food in the summer And gathers her provision in the harvest. 9 How long will you lie down, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep? 10 “A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to rest”— 11 Your poverty will come in like a vagabond And your need like an armed man.

Proverbs 24:30–34 I passed by the field of the sluggard And by the vineyard of the man lacking sense, 31 And behold, it was completely overgrown with thistles; Its surface was covered with nettles, And its stone wall was broken down. 32 When I saw, I reflected upon it; I looked, and received instruction. 33 “A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to rest,” 34 Then your poverty will come as a robber And your want like an armed man.

2 Thessalonians 3:10 For even when we were with you, we used to give you this order: if anyone is not willing to work, then he is not to eat, either.

Part Two will appear here soon. For now, consider which set of scriptures draws your attention most often. Are you more likely to lie down, to cease striving, to wait, and to rest? Or are you found more regularly gathering and preparing, clearing and cleaning, and working so as to ensure your food supply? And, if you can identify which list most describes you, then which aspects of the opposite list might be needed in order to bring greater balance to your life?

192 Months, to the Very Day: I Quit

To my beloved brothers and sisters, and friends of The Glenburn Community Church:

Still a light.

There is so much that I would like to say about the past sixteen years since I began serving as the pastor of The Glenburn Community Church. But many of those blessings are still obscured by the pain of these past five months. The blessings have not disappeared, however. The joy and privilege of having served at Glenburn will remain a part of me forever. And those blessings will again become clearer, I believe, as I bring my role in prolonging this pain to an end.

Since August 15, I have tried to serve in as pastorally a fashion as possible, while still adhering to the restrictions placed on me by our board of trustees. I have (more often than not—but I have had some dark moments) sought to answer, “What would Jesus have me do?” and bring as redemptive an outcome as possible for all concerned. In doing so, I have had two major motivations.

"Good fences make good neighbors"?
Robert Frost didn't think so.

First, I had hoped to communicate my own repentance, whether there could be any forgiveness or not. Especially with the addition of false accusations, I longed to offer clarification as well as confession. But I remained bound by having been placed on “administrative leave” and instructed not to initiate contact with any members of the Glenburn congregation. My subsequent request to address the congregation more formally was denied. And so, I have complied with this limitation until today. (Let me add here that I have been very grateful for those who have chosen to initiate contact with Shelly and me. We have greatly needed and appreciated your support.)

My second motivation is more difficult to describe without unfairly and unnecessarily disparaging the board of trustees. I cannot imagine the difficulty they faced in responding to the reports they received. It is perhaps my own ego that suggests that communicating with me might have helped them to avoid the missteps that unfortunately complicated the legalities of the situation. But those entanglements occurred, nonetheless. I take solace in the hope that the contradictory claims and accusations made were the result of miscommunication between the board and their lawyer, rather than originating in intentional misrepresentations of the facts. Still, I have been motivated as your pastor to hold our board accountable for the unscriptural, unethical, and illegal actions taken. But those efforts end today.

Resignation: when the remaining moves
merely postpone the inevitable.

Attempts to have The Glenburn Community Church legally terminate my employment have been ineffective. Therefore, I am resigning from my role as your pastor. I do so, not because I am weary of the horrific process of communicating through multiple lawyers with my brothers and sisters in Christ. Nor am I motivated by impatience in wanting to resume communication and perhaps restore our relationships. (That may be, in fact, impossible.) I would like to believe, however, that I would persevere in my responsibilities toward you, even if the mental and emotional stress of responding to conflicting claims and accusations were redoubled. Finally, I have delayed this decision because, as all of you know, I simply am a pastor to anyone I have opportunity to serve. Excluding you from my love and care is, indeed, impossible.

I will continue to pray for God’s best blessings to abound to you and yours. But I remain convinced that doing what is right and good must first be grounded in what is true. And so, given the complicated structure of our state’s legal system, I face a scriptural quandary that prevents me from serving you further. I have condensed the theology of it as best I can in the paragraph below.

Stalemate: when there are
no further moves possible.

Romans 13 requires our submission to legal authorities. The authority governing employment law is the Labor Commissioner. But the focus of the Labor Commissioner does not differentiate between the board of trustees and the rest of the church as part of a California not-for-profit religious corporation. Therefore, the substantial financial penalties would be enforced against the church, with no recourse to the errors-and-omissions insurance that would otherwise cover the board’s actions. This is where the quandary arises. In order to rectify the board’s violations of our bylaws and my contract, without harming the church financially, it would be necessary to file a lawsuit against the board. Not all would agree, but I believe that I Corinthians 6 prohibits me from doing so. (For those familiar with the passage and organizations like Peacemakers: the board declined the offers of two Christian mediators toward reconciling these issues.)

As concerned as I am for the future of our congregation, and for the impact of my own sin and these subsequent events on the testimony of the body of Christ, I am at an impasse. In seeking what is true, and right, and good, I entrust you to the care of our Lord and Savior, and whomever else He may call to serve His purposes at Glenburn in the future. May His grace and mercy reign.

Still your servant for Jesus’ sake (II Corinthians 4:5),

Bill

Rev. Wm. Darius Myers, DMin, CT

Read Across America at Burney Elementary School: A Seussian Story

First grade teacher Ginny Casaurang leads her students
in an exercise to sort real and imaginary words
into two lists as they await their readers
from Burney High School’s Leadership Class.

On one recent Friday, our Miss Casaurang,

to her first-grade students so many words brang.

Now, some were quite “real” and some were quite “wacky,”

to stick to two lists with glue very tacky.

But why would her kids wacky words need to know?

Some Burney High students would very soon show!

Reading to Miss Casaurang’s first-graders:
Bailey Turner and Levi Perkins.

They came at ten-thirty with books in their hand,

in Burney, Fall River, and throughout the land.

An annual joy, since two decades ago,

on Dr. Seuss’ birthday his stories would go

to all of our classrooms, each boy and each girl,

to brighten kids’ minds, to broaden their world.

In Mrs. Spainhower’s room, Fabiola Perez and Noah Bishop
share their experiences with the third-grade class.

The older ones did more than read them a book,

they asked for some questions, they gave kids a look

at fun facts to know about good Dr. Seuss,

and where they would go when their school turned them loose.

From High School, the Leadership students had come,

saying: “Here’s where you’ll go when elementary’s done.”

Here, Hannah Pearson has just finished reading
to Mrs. Noack’s fourth-graders
as Favian Jimenez prepares to field questions.

No child appeared sad to hear “Six. Years. More!”

This “high school” described was surely no bore!

Their elders spoke clear: “Core classes galore,”

yet promised “electives, clubs, sports-teams, and more!”

So ‘twasn’t just books celebrated from yore,

‘twas examples of hope that their lives hold in store.

Pulling double-duty, Fabiola Perez and Noah Bishop
found Mrs. Bower’s fifth-graders eager to ask very specifically
about the high school experience they would enter
within the next eighteen months.

It may seem too brief, or too little, this day.

Will it change children’s lives? It seems hard to say.

But on this day in March, the second, each year,

from children to children a message rings clear:

That “We care enough to take time, to come read.

And we hope you’ll see, sometimes, that’s all that you need.”

-Wm. Darius Myers

Embryos Are Human Lives—And So Are Five-Year-Olds

Hypothetically weighing the same as
a five-year-old child. 

My attempts to maintain my Christian integrity include regularly asking myself two questions. “What do I believe?” and “Do I do it?” These apply to a wide range subjects and are important applications of the overall question, “What would Jesus have me do?”

Why This Came Up Recently

Those two questions are at the heart of an exercise in ethics put forth on October 18 by “author” and “comic” Patrick S. Tomlinson in a series of tweets. (For other middle-aged white guys and our elders, that means short, 140-word-or-fewer posts to the social media platform called Twitter.)

Why bother with Tomlinson’s hypothetical? Two reasons. First, the question he asks has value in forcing me to consider those two questions again, this time with regard to my belief in the sanctity of life from conception through natural death. The second reason is that, with over twenty-five thousand followers, and friends of mine reposting commentaries on the discussions he has sparked, it seemed appropriate to answer his question, even for my significantly fewer friends and followers.

I admit. I would save the five-year-old.
And not just because I hope
he'll be mowing my lawn before long.

His hypothetical (You can find it here: https://twitter.com/stealthygeek/status/920085535984668672) pits the life of a five-year-old child against “a frozen container labeled ‘1000 Viable Human Embryos’” in the midst of a choking cloud of smoke in a burning fertility clinic. The question is, “Which do you save?”

Tomlinson claims that he has never received an honest answer to his question. He supposes that my choice of the one child over the other 1000 human lives in the container either makes me a monster, or proves that I do not really consider the embryos to be human lives. I disagree with his conclusion for several reasons—some of which I am going to subject you to here.

The Shifting Scenario

If you read even the comments Tomlinson allows to be posted, every time he does get someone’s honest answer, he adds another qualifier to the question. And it's a hypothetical question to begin with, which has no basis in objective reality. Still, be that as it may, it's a provocative-enough exercise to have value for examining one's integrity. But the examination should consider the integrity in his logic, at least as much as a Christian’s ethics or morality.

Logically speaking, his question can be compared to asking whether you would risk your own life to rush into a burning building to save your worst enemy. Most followers of Christ's teachings would know what the answer is supposed to be and say, "Yes." Whether they would actually do it...well, that's why we like that it's a hypothetical.

But if you deny those believers' ethical and moral claims by changing the logic of the situation you present, that's disingenuous. It's like asking whether you would rush in to save your enemy, getting the "right" answer, and then adding "but that means you'd have to stop doing CPR on his child that you just rescued from that same burning building."

"Who would burn down
a fertility clinic?"

Answering the Question as the Monster I Am

Tomlinson says he has never once received an honest answer to his initial question. He later redefines “honest” to include a willingness “to accept responsibility for their answer,” but I hope I do both. Still, my honest answer is based on several important distinctions, some of which have to do with the “facts” presented in the hypothetical scenario he presents.

The environment in which an embryo is "viable" and may potentially survive beyond the fire, and beyond the misfortune of having been conceived artificially in a laboratory, is to be implanted inside a uterus. To my knowledge, suggesting otherwise, even hypothetically, currently works only in science fiction stories (author Tomlinson’s chosen genre). Therefore, on the basis of correcting the “viable” terminology of the hypothetical, the five-year-old will always get the nod. Tomlinson counters this argument, already made by others in comments tweeted back to him, by claiming the right to create whatever reality he chooses in his hypothetical. Even granting him that right, accepting that “viable” applies with the standard definition, “capable of surviving or living successfully, especially under particular environmental conditions,” I will still save the five-year-old.

Why?

My decision to save the five-year-old does not negate the fact that each embryo is still a human life, even as frozen in a stainless-steel container. So, why save one life and leave 1000 to die? Am I a monster?

During my stint in law-enforcement chaplaincy I was trained for first-responder rescues. In Professional-Rescuer CPR/Basic Life-Support—nothing really fancy—I was taught to apply a severe and arguably “monstrous” logic to situations such as what Tomlinson describes. (When I had opportunity to apply that logic, and made what I am convinced was “the right choice,” I did ask myself, “How did I end up here?” But that’s another story for another time. I survived, and so did the victim.)

You might want to ask the man holding the flame.
(Yes, that's really Patrick S. Tomlinson's
current profile picture.)

The key concept that applies even in Tomlinson’s fanciful hypothetical is called "triage." You save the save-able, even over the more severely injured; you choose those whose survival is most assured, even over larger numbers whose survival is questionable. The same equation applies to the embryos and the five-year-old. The child who has survived to age five also has greater odds (1:1) than the thousands of embryos that were already destined (with only a handful of potential exceptions) to be disposed of by the fertility clinic in which this is supposed to be occurring, and to which, presumably, they would be returned once the fire is extinguished.

(I will add here that believing in the sanctity of life from conception through natural death means that I also oppose the creation of so many lives that are destined for destruction in the process of this particular means of treating infertility. Again, though, another discussion for another time.)

Who Will You Save?

In either case, the surviving child gets prioritized over the already-condemned embryos, the successfully developing child gets prioritized above even the potentially developing embryos, and certainly reality gets prioritized above the hypothetical (especially when the hypothetical has no corollary in the real world).

So, who wants to apply these arguments to the life of the mother who will die without an abortion? Because while those cases occur far more rarely than most would imagine, that circumstance actually exists.

Minding Your Own Business: Why Our Opposition to Others Says So Much about Us

So many. So angry. So often.

The people who need this most are least likely to read it. I accept that. Sadly. But it may be that you have some influence with them. If so, then that makes two (or more) of us trying to replace diatribe with dialogue. In fact, though, “diatribe” is too kind a word. Defined by Oxford Living Dictionaries, a diatribe is “a forceful and bitter verbal attack against someone or something.”

Enmity’s litany has become liturgy on social media. It is not just that hateful name-calling is so endlessly repeated. There is a predictable order of claims and counterclaims following every new development. And periodically, just as with liturgical churches’ adherence to the three-year rotation of the lectionary, we complete a cycle of all the cardinal doctrines on each side, only to begin again.

The attacks are forceful and bitter. But are these forceful and bitter verbal attacks truly against someone or something? This is where I think the Oxford definition fails us. Because the attacks are against hollow shells, mere emblems of underlying hatred. In logic class they call it “the straw-man argument” when we misrepresent another’s position in order to more easily defeat it. The “ad-hominem” argument goes a step further and misrepresents other human persons as being so inherently wrong that any statement they present must be impossible to support.

As in the two prior posts in this series, I advise us to engage one another in dialogue, and determine to overcome the misunderstandings, and certain the misrepresentations. Before I tell you why I choose to pursue these dialogues, let me offer the hope I see for a remedy.

Though the Oxford definition is inadequate to describe the full extent of these hateful exchanges, it is also where I believe we may find the remedy. We readily offer diatribe against either persons for holding impossible positions on the issues (at least the way our “straw-man” misrepresents them), or against issues as being impossible to support because of those affiliated with them (at least the way our “ad-hominem” attacks choose to willfully misunderstand them).  The remedy I recommend is a renewed pursuit of relationships, indeed fellowship. Not just within the limitations of Church fellowship, but on the basis of solidarity among all human persons as created to bear the image and likeness of one God eternally existing in three Persons. (See previous posts in this series for some context.)

What the Bible teaches about fellowship is helpful to acknowledge here. True fellowship cannot help but be authentic, transparent, and vulnerable. To be authentic, I believe, means that if I say it, it should be true. To be transparent means that if it is true, I should say it. And that clearly leaves me vulnerable, since many will disparage me for the positions I hold, and attack the positions themselves merely because I am the one holding them.

Why do it, then? I choose to pursue these dialogues, primarily because of the role to which Christians are called as ambassadors. We are supposed to be representing the nature and character of Jesus Christ in a culture where He is often both misunderstood and misrepresented. I am deeply troubled by both those misunderstandings and the misrepresentations. I am even more troubled by the fact that I recognize both those misunderstandings and misrepresentations in both groups: those who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ, and those who do not. Worse, I see those who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ willfully misrepresenting others’ positions, which suggests strongly that these “Christians” patently misunderstand the Lord they claim to serve.

And so, a secondary reason I pursue these dialogues so vigorously is this: so many others who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ are so deeply engaged in such vehement diatribe as to discourage mere contact with Christians. This means that those who may actually seek understanding and a representation of Jesus Christ are less likely to attend where such “followers” are more likely to gather (a lot of churches, mostly). As a result, all of us are effectively being excluded from environments in which the kind of fellowship I have described is most likely to occur.

So, in case I have not been clear, I will continue to pursue dialogue, even with those who continue to propagate diatribe. And when you ask, as you likely will, “Why are you sticking your nose into my business?” I will direct you to these three posts.