The tall, thin man walked into our office suite at the hospital today looking lost.  “May I help you?” I said.  He looked me over and asked if one of our chaplains was available.  “Sure, what can I do for you? I asked.

“Are you a chaplain?” he asked.

“Yep, I am, my name is Malcolm, tell me yours.”  I shook hands with Tom as we walked into the chapel next door and sat down.

He said he needed my prayers because he was struggling with drinking too much, had lost his job, and he didn’t have anyone in his life that cared for him.  He did not try to cover the naked truth about his life.  His honesty was refreshing.

He was well versed in the 12 Steps of Alcoholic Anonymous.  He knew he needed to get involved in AA meetings again, and possibly look at another recovery program.

He said he knew God could help, but he had promised God that he would do better so many times in the last few years, he wondered if God was sick of his empty promises.  He knew all the right answers, and he described what he needed to do, but he still couldn’t quite do it.

I nodded my head. I knew what he meant.

We have all made unkept promises whether it was to God, or to our partner, or to our family, or to ourselves.

If we are honest, we are sick of our own promises.  And we have lost our way.

So what do we do with the promises that are still waiting to bud from the winter times of life?

This time of the year reminds us that spring is coming.  And with it comes the hope of new life and new beginnings.  Like Tom, we all need that hope that this time will be different.

And this hope is just in time for Tom, and for us.

My stepmom is 81 years old and in a hospital as I write this post with pneumonia, but she is still teaching me how to be present with another.

When a nurse walked in the room today, my Mom asked her, “How are you today?”  The nurse responded in a perfunctory way only to hear my Mom offer an honest compliment, “I love the way you fix your hair.”

A smile came across the nurse’s face, and a follow up question was asked, “Do you do it yourself?”  “Oh yes,” the nurse responded, “I do.”  “Remind me of your name,” my Mom says almost as quickly as the young woman can answer.  “My name is Sandra,” she says.  “That’s right, Sandra.”

I was there for less than an hour and the phlebotomist, nursing assistant, and dietary aide who came into the room were all greeted with unique questions and authentic affirmations.

My Mom told me about each one of them out loud as they went about their work, “This lady is in nursing school at the junior college near our home, I’m so proud of her,” she adds.  Or “This fine man has a wife and three kids, all of them under five years old, can you believe that?”

She knows where they go to church (this is the deep South), how long they have worked in the hospital, and something that she loves about each one of them.  Without exception.

Did I say she is 81, has pneumonia, and is in the hospital? She has been my “second Mom” for forty-two years and I am grateful she is still the consummate teacher in life.  She was so good at teaching kindergarten to third graders over a many decade career in different public schools, and her ability to see the child in each person is inspiring.

My Mom refuses to see persons as robots who are only in a role. Instead she sees each person as unique who comes into the room.  And she will not allow others to put her in the role of a patient only.  She shares about her life as a teacher or pastor’s wife.

I wonder how many people I see everyday in a perfunctory manner. What about you?

Do you see the cashier at the convenience store as a money exchanger only?  What about the waitress in the restaurant, the sales person in the store?  The dentist or the parking attendant?  What about people with whom you work?

I know one thing, I want to be more like my Mom who sees everyone as somebody’s son or daughter.

God bless Jimmie Ruth.

And God help me to see everyone I meet as the unique child of God that they are.

P.S.  And by the way, my Mom is improving daily, thank you.

Hello, my name is Malcolm.  I am an addict.

An addiction is a “detrimental habit–where the benefits are not worth the negative financial, physical, mental, or spiritual costs.”

My drug of choice is technology.  There, I said it.  It is my first step.

I have a Blackberry that delivers my email immediately.  I text my family members.  If someone asks me a question that I don’t know, I pull out my smartphone without thinking and look up the answer on the internet in seconds.  Interesting choice of words, “without thinking.”

I love my Macbook Pro with its 8 hour battery life and seamless connectivity to the internet.  I check Facebook and Twitter regularly.

Some people also find it strange that a chaplain also has a moonlighting job as a “Smartphone Specialist” (Blackberry, iPhone, Palm, Windows Mobile, Android) for a telecommunications group.  Of course it makes perfect sense to me because both jobs are all about communication.  I work at the hospital by day and cell phones by night.  My addiction says “it’s not that bad.”

It is time to have an intervention with myself. Constantly checking my email on my phone or computer is an area that distracts me from being more present to people and God.

In my pursuit to live more simply, and discover meaning and purpose in my life:

1. I will fast from using my “Smartphone” and the internet for 24 hours on Sundays.  I take a deep breath as I write this.
2. I will check email twice a day, Monday-Saturday, once in the morning and once in the late afternoon.  I will not check it after I leave work in the evenings.  Will you hold my hand as I walk this journey?

Some of you will laugh and say, that doesn’t sound so hard.  But believe me, for an technology addict, this is a BIG step.

I’ll let you know how it’s going in a week so that I have some accountability here.

And now what about you?

What steals the valuable time in your life that keeps you from living more simply?  What do you need to fast from in order for your life to be more the way you want it?  What is your addiction that gets in the way of quality time with relationships?

It may be time for an intervention.

P.S.  It helps to know that I am not alone.  Peace.

The 12 Steps to Overcoming Addiction

• Step 1 – We admitted we were powerless over our addiction – that our lives had become unmanageable
• Step 2 – Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity
• Step 3 – Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God
• Step 4 – Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves
• Step 5 – Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs
• Step 6 – Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character
• Step 7 – Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings
• Step 8 – Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all
• Step 9 – Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others
• Step 10 – Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it
• Step 11 – Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for us and the power to carry that out
• Step 12 – Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs

If we live long enough, we will have the opportunity to help a friend or a family member during times of grief.

So how can you help?  How can you make a difference in someone’s life during difficult times?

There is one simple principle to remember:

“Help a person feel what they are feeling when they feel it.”

1. If your friend is crying, encourage the tears and become comfortable with them.
2. If your family member is mad, ask them to tell you more and then be quiet.
3. If he retreats and is quiet with his grief, reassure him that everyone grieves in their own way.
4. If she is afraid she will never get over this, encourage her to talk about it more and don’t try to fix it.

Just show up, even when it’s uncomfortable for you.  Your presence is more healing than you know.

Grief is our teacher (for the one going through it and the one helping) in life about what is most important if we are open to it.

Keep showing up when everyone else has returned to their routine.

And if you do this one simple principle my friend, you will make a difference in this world.

We sat in the hospital room uninterrupted in the wee hours of the morning talking about the journey of a love between two persons.

This woman was beginning a new journey into widowhood in the past thirty minutes and was younger than I.  She remembered aloud a collage of stories on how they met, when they married, and the birth of their children.  She talked about how they were made for one another, how their personalities complimented the other, and how their faith matured over the years.  A few regrets were shared, hard times were briefly mentioned.

She pulled out a letter that she had handwritten to her husband a few days earlier.  We sat by her beloved’s  bedside, and though he could no longer hear her, she needed to read it to him line by line, pausing only to set her emotions free.  It was a gratitude-filled letter about the journey.

Simpler living is about how we choose today, step by step.  This experience reminded me so.

It is not about mastering the art of simplicity but rather asking, “Is this necessary?”  “Will this set me free?”  “How will this help others?” And more.

The more we live with less, we are more likely to discover our journey’s meaning.

Step by step, decision by decision–today, not someday.

Let’s walk this simpler journey together.

Sometimes we need to have fun and think outside the box when it comes to how we live.

There is a movement in the United States, and throughout the world, called “Tiny Houses.”  These eco-friendly houses can be for one or two people or more.

As I learn about tiny houses, I am reminded that I can live with a lot less than I have assumed is necessary. It has sent me back to my closet to de-clutter once again.

On CBS News, Jay Shafer of the Tumbleweed Tiny House Company gives us a tour  of his 96-square-foot home.

Additional resources and ideas about tiny houses can be found at:

1. How to Start Living in a Tiny House
2. Small House Society
3. Tiny House Living Weekly Newsletter
4. Tiny House Blog
5. Design Boom Contemporary Tiny Houses

YouTube’s videos on Tiny Houses can entertain you for hours if you are interested.

But seriously, let us think together. What if we didn’t spend most of our income on our houses and cars, how much more of a difference could we make in the world?  I know it’s a crazy way of thinking.

So tell me, what do tiny houses get you thinking about in your life?

When I started this series on living more simply, I did not have a master plan. All I knew was I wanted something to shift within me so that I could be more free to help others, to live with less stress and debt, and to connect more with God or that which is sacred in my life.

But I want to warn you, once you start on a journey of reflecting on living more simply, it can take you on some interesting trips.  When we begin to question what we need rather than what we want, and how we can take what we have and share with others, look out.

So today I want to share something that seems like an impossible dream for me.  And maybe for you too.

I dream of the day when I can live car-lessly.

There, I said it.  Go ahead and laugh.  Even I am grinning as I type these words.  It is hilarious, ridiculous, and a crazy dream.  Oh let me count the reasons why living without a car is crazy for me:

1. We presently live in a beautiful home on the lake in the country one hour from my work.
2. The grocery store, our church, and many of our friends are 35-60 minutes away.
3. We put 50,000 miles on our new car the first year we had it.
4. The city I work in does not have a public transportation (well, ok, a few buses).
5. And the 25 additional reasons I could give you of why it is crazy for me not to own a car.

But think of the money and time and energy we could save if we could live without owning a car? Or at least fewer cars.  This will not happen quickly for me.  It may take five or ten years.  Maybe not.

No car insurance, car payments, gasoline, taxes, etc.  Save maybe $6,000-$8,000 per year?  Think of the people we could help, and the places we could go, if we had that money back.  Riding a bicycle, walking, and other creative transportation solutions to owning a car sounds freeing to me.  It will require us to think differently, for sure.

All I’m saying is I want to be the one to take my own car away from me, before someone else has to do it for me in 20-30 years.

And maybe if we cannot become car-less, we could become car-lite, meaning we rent a car when needed.

I have been inspired by Tammy Strobel’s new e-book called Simply Car-Free and her blog called Rowdy Kittens; minimalist Everett Bogue’s blog — Far Beyond the Stars; and a family of four’s blog called Becoming a Minimalist.  I am finding kindred spirits among many minimalists on the web.

This minister is not ready to be a minimalist, or to live without my car, yet.

But I am ready to start thinking outside the box and living more simply.  How about you?

In my journey to live more simply and meaningfully, I’m trying to learn about practical ways to make a difference in relation to people who have less than I do in the world.

What if you knew an entrepreneur who needed fifty dollars for a business to feed her family for a year?  You loaned her fifty dollars, and she paid it back with interest over time. That same fifty dollars and interest were then loaned to another business person, and then another.  And what if ten of us did this together, a hundred, or a thousand of us did it around the world?  Together.  What if you could follow and see how your entrepreneur was doing in her business?  Well, this is already happening and we can be a part of it.

I am considering being involved in OptINnow, which is a part of a non-profit called Opportunity International?  Have you heard about it?

How does it work?

They pool the generosity of people like us to provide entrepreneurs in the poorest parts of the world with small loans. The loans help these hardworking but impoverished individuals build retail, manufacturing, farming, or other businesses. If you’ve heard of microfinance, that’s what this is: small loans that can have a very big (and lasting) impact in the life of entrepreneurs, their family, and their community.

Do you know anyone who has participated in Opportunity International? I’d love to hear about this or other programs you know about that is making a difference.

You can read more about its history in Wikipedia here.  Several videos on YouTube can be viewed here.

Their Mission and Vision

Our vision is a world in which all people have the opportunity to provide for their families and build a fulfilling life.

Our belief is that small-scale entrepreneurs can be big change agents in overcoming global poverty.

Our mission is to empower people to work their way out of chronic poverty, transforming their lives, their children’s futures and their communities.

Our method is to provide microfinance services, including lending, savings, insurance and transformational training, to people in need. To do this, we build and work through sustainable, local microfinance institutions.

Our motivation is to respond to Jesus Christ’s call to love and serve the poor.

This is just one of the ways you and I can make a difference in being generous to the world.  Our faith calls us to respond to persons in need, regardless what faith tradition we have in our hearts.

What are you doing to be radically generous to those less fortunate? Share with us below.  I want to learn from you and your experience.

Peace along the journey.

In my journey to live more simply is a desire to be radically generous to the poor or to those in need.

I do not believe we can live a simplified life of faith without this foundation.  But man do I struggle with this.

So how do we exercise radical generosity with our resources, money, and everything we own materially?

One barrier that gets in the way for me is I think when I make a little more money, or when I get this month’s bills paid off, then I can be more generous to the poor.

Living with radical generosity seems difficult or impossible because we think of giving out of our abundance.  But this abundance never seems to be there.

Since I was a little boy, my father and mother taught me to tithe, that is, to give ten percent of everything I made away to others in need. This is a practice found in the Hebrew scriptures of the Bible.  I have tried to do this almost all of my life.  Usually, this has been a check written to support whatever church I attended.

I’m starting to doubt the value of “tithe thinking.” Mainly because it doesn’t go far enough. And besides, the tithe was never embraced by Jesus much to the surprise of many Christians.

Richard Foster points out that Jesus and all the writers of the New Testament radically criticized wealth because everything we have is a gift from God, and “everything we have is available to others when it is right and good.  This reality frames the heart of Christian simplicity,” says Foster (Freedom of Simplicity, page 58).

One example of this was when Jesus watched the voluntary offerings by the people as they entered the temple.  He was moved the most by the sacrificial gift of the widow.  He said, “For they all contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put everything she had, her whole living,” (Mark 12:44).

This radical generosity is based on trust that God will take care of our basic needs. This, of course, is foolishness to us and to almost everyone we know.  We will be the laughing stock of our friends.

But it is worth thinking about, meditating on, and taking steps towards this radical trust in God.

Oh my goodness, I have a long way to go in this area.  God help me to be more generous with all of the gifts you have given me.

How do you live in a radically generous way? Tell me your story below.

Who do you know who has has been radically generous to you? To others?  What have they done?  Please share in the comments section.

How can you and I be radically generous today? It begins with trust.  We cannot afford to wait.

We have been taught all of our lives to tell the truth.

Sounds simple enough, right?  Well, not always, sometimes it is the hardest thing to do.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were aware of specific information about someone, and that same  person you were talking to did not know that you knew?  And how did that make you feel?

One time a patient died unexpectedly at the hospital and I was asked as the chaplain to come and be with the family.  But when I got there, I learned they had gone home earlier in the evening, and were called to come back to the hospital because their loved one “had taken a turn for the worse.”

So I waited for them outside the unit, introduced myself, ushered them into the family conference room, and alerted the nurse to page the physician to come to deliver the bad news.  And we waited.

They began to ask reasonable questions, “What is going on?”  “How was their loved one doing?”  “Has anything bad happened?”  “Why couldn’t they go into the room?”

And I found myself dancing around their questions as I stalled for time.  Was I lying by not telling the truth?  I knew what had happened.  I knew the answer to their questions.  But someone else was supposed to deliver the news.

We find ourselves in the “truth dilemma” every day don’t we?

We shade the black-and-white truth with a little gray here and there.  And before we know it, we’ve changed the entire color of the conversation.  We go from living simply to living with complexity.

French philosopher Blaise Paschal said, “We know the truth, not only by the reason, but by the heart.”

If we want to live more simply, we are drawn to the truth, however difficult that may be.

Telling the truth to others, and listening to the truth about ourselves.  Both are steps in the journey to living more simply.

__________

Further Study — What is Truth?  See Wikipedia on Truth.

We are busy people rushing through life. And yet recently, a few people chose a simpler, different pace.

There was a woman in her thirties who was walking early one cold, wintry morning.  You could see her breath in the air as she stopped at the corner a couple of blocks from her work waiting for the light to change.  Cars rushed by in the busy downtown city.

She waited until the light was red and the crosswalk signal was white, and then something happened. No one was sure if she stepped awkwardly off  the curb, or if she became dizzy and just fell.

Regardless, the result was hard to watch. She hit the pavement face first and lay motionless for a moment.  Cars hit their brakes.  A nurse was walking out of a nearby parking deck and saw the woman fall and came running to her aid.  ”Are you ok, ma’am, are you ok?” she yelled.

The injured woman was disoriented, dazed, and struggled to get up. The nurse encouraged her to remain still while she leaned over her.  Another woman came running to the scene with her cell phone in hand and called 911.  The injured woman’s face and mouth were bleeding badly.  Paper napkins from a nearby restaurant were brought by another stranger to help stop the bleeding.  Several cars stopped asking if they could help.

One driver saw the women helping the lady in need and pulled his car across the lane so that she would not be hit by other cars, risking his own safety with his emergency blinkers flashing. Another man came up and took off his long, heavy coat and placed it over the woman to keep her warm.  He cradled her head and reassured her in a calming voice.

Paramedics arrived within a few minutes, evaluated the patient, and gently loaded her into the ambulance, and took her to the hospital a short distance away.

As the siren blared, the strangers who had stopped to help turned to one another and looked into each others’ eyes with concern on their faces. For a moment, they were bonded with one another.  It did not matter that they had different color skin, were different ages, or spoke with various accents.

One of them spoke up and said he would go to the emergency room and make sure she was ok.  And they all walked away into the cold morning air.

About an hour later the man was relieved to see her sitting up when he entered her room at the hospital as the nursing staff tended to her wounds.

He introduced himself and she thanked him for his assistance at the scene.  ”We just wanted to make sure you were ok,” he added with a smile.

“Yes, yes, thank you so much for coming to see me,” she said more than once.  He left his card and asked her to call if he could help further as he slipped out of the room.

Love your neighbor as yourself.  And who is my neighbor?

Live simply and slow enough so that you can see your neighbor in need, because he or she will be in front of you today.

This series is about living more simply.  But how can we make it easier for our loved ones when our days are numbered?

How can we die more simply?

It is not something we want to talk about with our children.  It is not something we want to hear from our father or mother, spouse or partner.

“Now, now, now,” we say in a dismissive way.  ”We’re not going to talk about that, you are not going to die anytime soon.”  We are afraid if we talk about it, somehow it will happen sooner rather than later.

But if you had witnessed what I did recently, all of us would talk and listen more.

I was inspired, amazed, and graced to witness such a conversation.

A daughter listened intently to the physician’s words that her mother would die soon because she could no longer breathe on her own without a respirator. It was a difficult and hard time.

The adult daughter sat up straight in her chair, leaned forward and gazed into the moist eyes of the female physician who had delivered the news, and then said with a clear voice, “My mother and I have talked about this day several times over the last few years.  If you are telling me that my mother cannot get better because of her disease and medical condition, I am here to say that she does not want to live an extended amount of time on a respirator.  She is at peace.  She has said that she is tired, and that she is ready to go and be with God.  I want to honor her wishes.”

This daughter had been granted “power of attorney” by her mother before they got to this point.  The mother had a living will that stated her wishes in writing.  And the daughter’s sisters were all in the room and nodded affirmatively for they knew the truth.

Because a mother talked to the family she loved ahead of time, it was was a sacred time.

Because a daughter listened, her mother’s life would end with dignity.  Her mother would have the kind of care that would not allow her to be in pain or discomfort, and she would be surrounded by those she loved at her bedside.  It would be a “good death.”

I invite you to talk with those you love about your wishes, now and often.  Especially when you are well and healthy.  Share your wishes with all the members of your family, and put it in writing.

I encourage you to talk.  I encourage you to listen.

So that we can live, and die, more simply.

“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover the prisoner was you.” (Lewis Smedes).

When we withhold forgiveness from another, we are the ones who are gravely injured.  When we live in such a self-imposed jail, we shackle our feet and bind our hands, and give ourselves what is equal to life without parole.

What kind of prison are you living in? Resentment, regrets, or getting even.

In order to live more simply, we can choose to forgive.

Sometimes it is best we tell another that s/he is forgiven. At other times it is best to demonstrate the forgiveness, and no words are needed.  Or we can simply write a letter, and then tear it up as a sign we are moving on.

We don’t have to wait for anyone else to say or do anything in order for us to forgive them.  We are free to forgive.

Go ahead forgive.

Forgiving another will simplify your life and will set you free.

I find it ironic that I am writing about simplifying my life in order to live more meaningfully during these 40 days of Lent.

In the last week I have committed to “spending more time with God daily,” “focusing on quality time with my wife,” and writing every day on my blog for forty days.

Some of you also know that I accepted a new job in the last five months that has me busier than I have been since I was in my 20’s.  And if that’s not enough, I accepted more duties within this same timetable in a “moonlighting second job” that I have had been doing for several years.  This doesn’t sound like simplifying my life!

I am over-committed, over-promised, and overwhelmed.  Have you been there?  Do you know what this feels like?

When I asked Mary if I have been like this during our whole marriage, she answered truthfully, “No, you’ve had pretty good boundaries between work and home until you started your new job, and it’s been different since then.”  And she was right.

I am learning that living more simply is not about committing to do more, trying harder, or making more promises to “do better.”  Too many promises makes life complicated, not simpler.

Sometimes to live more simply means to forgive yourself, and to let go of promises that are impossible to keep.

And so I will get out my calendar tomorrow, take a hard look at my commitments in coming weeks, and start saying I’m sorry but I won’t be able to do this or that commitment.

Deep breath.  Maybe it’s time to offer grace to myself.  How about you?

Peace to you along the journey.

For those of us who are of the Christian faith, Matthew 6:19-43 is one of the clearest passages about Christian simplicity in the Bible.  Take a moment and read it through by clicking on it above.

The words of Jesus are radical as he instructs us to vow, “I trust that God will take care of my basic needs and I do not need to be anxious about anything.”  For me, it is an invitation to live radically different than I do.

I am trying to live more simply, and discovering it’s not about simple answers as much as it is about defining my priorities of what is most important.  I want to live more simply so that I can live my life with more purpose.

My problem is I don’t really stop long enough to know what my priorities are for living today.  Do you?  How do you do it?  What is your secret?  What are your priorities? How do you get on track to know if this action, or this purchase, or this way of thinking or living is in alignment with what is most important to you? Please share with me below.

I think it was my Dad who told me one time that you can tell a lot about a person’s priorities by looking at his or her bank statement.  No matter what we say our priorities are, it’s about how we live our lives that is the naked truth.

And this naked truth is, quite frankly, embarrassing to my faith. I have more of almost everything that I need.  I probably have more than 90% of the human families on this earth.  And maybe you do too.

So is living simply about feeling guilty, because I have walked that path before?  If I embrace guilt too tightly, it will surely lead to discouragement and giving this whole idea of simplifying up.  I don’t think the guilt alone is the answer.  We are called to act.  So where do we start?

In order to live more simply, I am going to set two priorities as a first step.

1.  I will spend time daily with God. This will mean sitting in silence and not asking God for things I want, or the way I want things to be, but rather asking how I can give away what I have to offer.  This will be priority number one or I will truly be lost on this journey.

2.  I will spend time with people I love. Relationships are important and foundational to a meaningful life.  I will say yes to time with my loved ones and no to that which takes me away.  I think this means not only saying no to other commitments requested by other people when it conflicts, but even saying no to this computer at times.

I don’t have all the answers for how to live simply today. I do know I want to take a look at my priorities and how I spend my time and resources based on what I say is important to me.  What about you?

This is a journey towards simplicity, one priority at a time.  I haven’t arrived yet, but I’ll keep moving, and I will also sit still.

What are your priorities for living a more simple life?  Can you name one, two, or three?

I hope you will teach me something along the way. I need you.

My wife is sitting down on the dock right now by the lake reading by herself. It is the most beautiful 63 degree sunny day we have had in Alabama since October.  And here I am writing at my computer.  I have to go.  I want to go sit in silence next to my wife near the water, and let the bright light of the sunshine and the gentle breeze melt my anxieties away.

Until Monday, peace (not anxiety) be with you,

Malcolm

___________

Today’s Simple Invitation: Do something today that feeds your soul and doesn’t cost a dime.

Freedom from a fast-paced life: (from Richard Foster)
Change to a less stressful job
Work fewer hours
Slow down at yellow lights and drive the speed limit
Pray or talk to others in line rather than trying to get in the shortest line at the store
Say “no” to activities that take me from my current and central commitments
Eat more slowly – savor tastes
Take time for meals or coffee breaks (not on the go)
Stop to smell the roses or watch birds
Spend a leisurely evening with family or friends not worrying about the time
Take a restful vacation time rather than harried sight seeing

Keeping it Simple:

John the Baptist said, “He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none; and he who has food, let him (or her) do likewise.”  Luke 3:11

Be radically generous.  Give away a coat or anything else you have is a start.  Generosity is a step towards simplicity.

As I sat in the meeting with a group of fellow co-workers (not my chaplain team), I was caught off guard by the comments of one of the group members.  He critiqued a workshop that I had recently led in front of the group, and he told me how disappointed he was that I didn’t talk enough about some things he thought would have been more helpful to the audience.

I felt my face grow warm with embarrassment and I was aware of the tightness in my throat and the defensiveness in my voice.  Finally, I just sat back and listened, though I could feel the sadness in my heart and the pit in my stomach that he (and maybe others) was not impressed.  He did not approve. I was not all that he wanted me to be, I had failed to impress or to be held in high esteem by this individual.  My stress level was on high alert.

Can you remember a time when you were criticized by a co-worker, a family member, or your spouse or partner?  Can you identify with the feeling of wanting to either flee and run away, or stand your ground and verbally justify yourself or actions?  Do you remember the pit in your stomach, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, or the crushed feeling?  Some of us flee, some of us fight, some of us just retreat.

When we buy into the idea that our worth in this world is based on whether or not someone else believes us to be worthy, or tells us how wonderful we are, we have moved away from the simplifying life and closer to the complex one.

We cannot control what others think of us, good or bad, even though our thoughts and actions are constantly planning to do just that.  The things we buy, the things we say, the way we try to live so that others will think of us well, guarantees us that simplicity in our life will be lost. Trying to control others is an energy inefficient way to live to say the least.

Finally, I am learning that my deepest lessons are learned when I look at what someone has said or done to me that was hurtful and ask the question, “How have I done this to others in my thoughts or actions?”

Now we are getting to the heart of it if we can be so brave to examine it closely.  To meditate on it.  To pray about it.  ”When or where have I done this to others in my thoughts or actions?”

Richard Foster says, “Simplicity is not merely a matter of having less stress and more leisure. It is rather an essential spiritual discipline that we must practice for the health of the soul.”

Maybe it is time to gently let go of always needing to win, to be right, or to impress others so that we can be reassured of our worth.  Richard Rohr recently said in one of his daily meditations, “What if we gave up needing to be right for Lent?”  Wow, now THAT would be a sacrifice!

Know this truth, you are enough, you are blessed, and you are loved.  The Creator, the Sacred One, Yahweh, Allah, God have said so.

And that my brothers and sisters makes all the difference.  Thanks be to God.

______________

Today’s simple invitation: Ask the question over and over again in a 5 minute prayer, “When have I looked to others for approval?”  And then thank God for the blessing of being enough.

Choose One Action Item for Freedom from Mental Clutter: (from Richard Foster)

A few months ago I wrote the following words to Mary in an email:

“When we move from the lake, my hope and prayer will be that whatever and wherever it is, it will be a step toward radical simplicity.  A step towards making time for relationships, yours and mine, as well as with others, and a lifestyle that is enriched by doing what we love, and not what we feel like we have to do.  I don’t know what all of that means, but I like to dream of it.”

And so my simplicity journey began. It was a step, a beginning, a stirring, a calling to walk a new pace.

In Richard Foster’s book, Freedom of Simplicity, he states that simplicity is rooted in the spiritual.  Simplicity is not about becoming an ascetic and hating material possessions.  It is about understanding that happiness through owning stuff is limited, and our peace, joy, and inherent value comes from God.

Last evening I worked the night shift in the hospital from 4pm-8am. The night shift has its own pace and intensity.  When I’m the only chaplain in the hospital, my beeper is a constant invitation for me to be present with persons who are going through incredible, life changing events.  As I walked the steps from room to room, person to person, I tried to listen to that still, small voice that whispers deep inside all of us.

Today is a rest day after a sixteen hour shift, a Sabbath, a reminder to get all the sleep I need, and to be quiet. I went down to our dock on the lake and read some of Foster’s book in the warm sunshine that hinted that Spring is coming. Thank God.  It is the first time I have done so in months.  I was reminded of the beauty surrounding me.  I went for a walk down our quiet country road with Daisy, our yellow lab.

I need an internal beeper to invite me home more often.

The truth is, all of us do have an internal beeper that calls us to be present where we are. It’s the beep, beep, beep of our heartbeat.  It’s the beep, beep, beep of our breath moving in and out of our lungs.  It is the beep, beep, beep of our mind dreaming dreams.  It calls us home and reminds us that life is good, and that we need to be still and quiet.

Maybe it is time for us to listen to our internal beeper more closely? Maybe it is time for us to be quiet long enough so that we will  remember that we are alive?  Maybe it is time for us to know that life is a gift from God?

Taking time to be still and quiet is a step on the journey toward simplicity.

Can you hear it?  Beep, beep, beep.

_____________

Today’s simple invitation: Spend 5 minutes (or more) being quiet.  Listen to each breath you take.  End with the words, “Thank you God.”

Choose One Action Item for Freedom from Physical Clutter: (from Richard Foster)

• Give away what I don’t use or value
• Stick to a shopping list avoiding impulse buying
• Give time or handmade gifts for Christmas and birthdays
• Give away something that I love as a gift to someone
• Have a joint garage sale with friends and donate proceeds to a nonprofit

Keeping it Simple: Matthew 22:36-40

³⁶“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” ³⁷He said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ ³⁸This is the greatest and first commandment. ³⁹And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ ⁴⁰On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

I want to invite you on a journey, a Simplicity Journey, for the next 40 days. I am going to write every day except Sundays.

I plan to focus on living more simply in my life and would love to hear your thoughts, ideas, and encouragement along the way of what this means to you.

I have felt a yearning, an urging if you will, deep within myself for some time now about wanting to “live more simply.” To be honest, I don’t really know what this means for me yet.  It is time for me to go more deeply.

This isn’t just about saving money, though that certainly couldn’t hurt anything.  Instead, this is a spiritual journey that I want to apply in practical ways in my life.  My goal is to be intentional about “de-cluttering” my life so that I can live a more meaningful life, to be connected to the Sacred, to the Creator, to God.

I am reading Richard Foster’s book, Freedom of Simplicity: Finding Harmony in a Complex World.”  A friend of mine, Drew Toler, reminded me about this book recently.  You do not have to read it along with me, but I just wanted you to know about it.  You can read more about Richard Foster here.

Finally, I plan to share other resources along the way. If you know of others, please share them with me in the Comments section below.  If you would like to receive a daily email reminder about this journey, you can sign up in the upper right hand corner of this page.

Here, take my hand, will you walk with me as best you can?  I’d love the company on the Simplicity Journey.

Resources:

Book — Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster

Web Article — Inward Simplicity:  The Divine Center, Part I by Richard Foster

Web List — Guidelines for Living Simply in the City by Richard Foster

I grew up in a conservative Christian community. And I am thankful for that upbringing.

I was taught that it was important to “believe the right things.”  I could easily give you a top ten list today of these “right beliefs.”  The tenets of the faith were handed down to me and I held them close to my heart.

And yet it cost me very little to “say” what I believed. It was the same belief system of my family, my church, and most of the society I grew up in.  It was the faith of the majority.

I was comfortable and confident with it.

As I grow older, one of my challenges is to decide what I still believe from those early years, and what are the beliefs I need to let go of.  It is not an all or nothing proposition.

I still believe that God is love.

And anything said or done in the name of religion that is not loving, is not of God.

I have let go of the belief there is only one way to God.

If I had grown up in Afghanistan, I have no doubt I would be Muslim.  If I had grown up in Israel, I would be a Jew.  And so on.  My family roots are deeply Christian.  I am arrogant when I assume that my understanding of God is the only way.  It is the way that seems right for me.  Of course, my beliefs are empty words unless my life backs them up.

What do you believe about God?  What do you need to let go of?

As for me, I pray that I will no longer value comfort as the goal of my faith, and that I will look for ways to support the minority rather than the majority.

Jesus said the following about homosexuality,  “  .” That’s it, period.

Now Jesus did talk about heterosexuality, marriage, and divorce.  But that is another post.

If it were not for grace, we would ALL be in trouble.

Thanks be to God.

I’ve been wanting to write this letter for a while. I have heard that some of your pastors, priests, rabbis, or imams have unfortunately misled you regarding your son or daughter’s sexual orientation.  We have made your burden heavier, not lighter.

As a clergy person, I want to apologize to you. I am very sorry.  We were wrong.

This issue reminds us of the Civil Rights movement in the 1950s and 1960s when we thought we were right to preach against integration.  We thought since our sacred text allowed slaves thousands of years ago, then we could ignore the rights of persons of color in our lifetime.  So we supported the laws that restricted where African Americans could eat or sleep or live, or whether or not they could be educated alongside our children or marry whom they loved.  We quoted the scripture out of context to support our views.  And even worse, many of us were silent, and we allowed others to speak for us.

And now we are doing it again. We have not listened carefully to the struggle or pain of your son or daughter.  We have only tried to change them.  We have ignored the grief in your heart.

We have used the Bible to exclude rather than to include, to incur guilt instead of grace.

We are afraid. We are afraid we will lose our jobs if we preach the truth.  We are afraid that some of our own family members, or even ourselves, are struggling with this issue.  We have not found the words in our vocabulary to speak of this issue with love and  grace.

So I ask you to remember these three things until we talk again:

1.  You did not cause your child to be gay.

2.  Your child is not choosing to be gay, it is who s/he was created to be.

3.  Your child has so many gifts that our world needs.  Love them for who they are, and teach them the same principles you would teach them if they were straight.  Be honest with your struggle and be vulnerable with them.  It will give you an opportunity to grow closer to one another.

God loves you and your child. Gay or straight, black or white, we are all in need of God’s grace.

I will write more in coming days when I have time.  I look forward to hearing from you.

Please pray for us, we need it too,

Malcolm

I was recently asked to visit a sweet, humble angel who was 96 years old. She knew she was dying, and her family was around her bedside.  After talking with the family for awhile, I turned toward the patient and introduced myself.  She smiled when I told her I was a chaplain and she whispered softly, “Thank you for coming,”  We talked for a few minutes and then I had a prayer.  The whole time she was just thanking God quietly.

I happened to be working a few nights later when the call came into our office that this same woman had died. I went to the room to be with her family and found her daughter, being consoled by another woman whom I did not know.  The daughter was understandably tearful and openly grieving.

Before I had a chance to re-introduce myself, the stranger hugged her close and began praying out loud.  It was an appropriate, beautiful prayer thanking God for this womans’ mother’s full, fruitful life.  When she said “Amen,” the daughter began sobbing again and I just put my hands on both women’s shoulders.  I still had not said a word.

The stranger began singing softly, “Amazing Grace,” with a beautiful clear voice.  Much to my surprise, the daughter began singing with her through her tears.  I decided to join the duo and our trio sang through three full verses.  The daughter was visibly encouraged and helped by the stranger.  I wondered, “Who is this stranger?”  A nurse, a volunteer, a minister?

Then she held the daughter’s face in her hands and said, “I know what you are going through dear woman. My mother is down the hall in one of the rooms, and her breath is getting more shallow by the hour.  Any day now she will die and I will miss my Mama so much too.”  Before I knew it, the daughter was hugging the stranger saying, “I’m so sorry your Mama is dying, I am so, so sorry.  It will be ok, I promise, it will be ok.”  It was a sacred moment.

Daughter to daughter, they comforted each other. One had just lost her mother.  And the other one was not far behind.  Both daughters became grief sisters.

I thanked both of them for letting me be a witness to the love and care expressed.

Sometimes, I just need to get out of the way.  This time I’m glad I did.

In the Christian Church, the role of professional clergy (pastor, priest, etc.) is antiquated, cumbersome, and ineffective in the world in which we live. The concept of professional clergy setting certain people “apart”to do ministry, or as the ones who know more about connecting with God, or that which is sacred in the world is misguided.

And over hundreds of years (it hasn’t always been this way in the Christian church since Jesus lived), we have looked to the clergy as the one who “ministers,” the one who can pray for us, or visit us when we are sick emotionally or physically, and the only one who can baptize, offer the bread and wine in communion, marry us, bury us, and lead our worship services.  We have been terribly wrong.

The clergy person has almost always been male and heterosexual. A group of men got in a room and decided that might be best.  We have said that others are not eligible.  What a shame, what a loss, and what a mistake of interpretation of Scripture on our part.

And depending on the religious tradition, the clergy person has had someone with authority lay hands on the person’s head and say that he can now do certain things from this point forward that other people in the church cannot do.  We have missed the mark.

Sadly, this has caused us to lose our way in the world, to have so many needs go unmet because we were looking to the clergy as the ones to “do the ministry.” And so we are disappointed when the clergy person doesn’t come see our family member in the hospital, or our loved one in the nursing home.   Our expectation has been flawed from the beginning.

This may seem odd for me to say since I am a third generation clergy.   I have been a minister on church staffs in three different “denominations” of Christian churches and  I am now a member of a fourth.  And when I include being a chaplain in a healthcare system with my church experience it spans over thirty years as an ordained clergy.

But I am here to tell you, we are all the same, “lay persons” and “clergy.” We are called to care for the widow, the orphans, the sick, and the poor.  We are called to care for our neighbor.  And who is our neighbor?  Anyone who is in need–emotionally, spiritually, or physically.

Every one of us is called to be God’s Presence to others.  Every one of us.

Wayne Oates, my mentor in seminary, used to tell a story about when he was training in a hospital in a large, open ward where dozens of patients were crammed in next to one another.  One of the patients started screaming at the top of his lungs, “Where’s God? Where’s God?  I need God!  Can someone tell me where’s God?” Wayne, a young humble student at the time walked over to him and stood by his bed and said, “Sir, I am sorry but I am the closest thing to God you’re gonna find around here today.  How can I help you?”

People often wonder “Where’s God?” in the midst of the storms of life.  And the truth is, we are the closest thing to God that many people will ever experience in life.

We will never meet the needs of all the hurting people with professional clergy. All hands are needed on deck.

Open your hands, they will be needed today.  You are the closest thing to God others will find.

I park about 6-7 blocks from my work each day so that I get a little extra exercise.

Yesterday I was walking from my office to the car and I came upon a young woman in her 20’s who was singing at the top of her lungs. It was a happy song she sang with her head tilted back not caring who could hear her.  It was a gift she was freely sharing.  I admired her confidence as she sang a Capella.  I could hear her a half block away and I watched her free spirited body language as she walked with bold, long purposeful strides.

When she saw me about 10 feet from her, she did not skip a beat in her song.  I smiled and interrupted her and said, “Whatever you do in your life, don’t stop singing.  Thank you for sharing your song with the world.”  She smiled and stopped for a moment.  “I’m singing about California, I love California.  Have you ever been?” she asked.

“Well, yes, I have,” I responded.  “What part?” she said quickly as she cocked her head to one side.  “San Francisco,” I added.  “That’s where I am from,” as she walked away starting her song once again for the world to hear.

As I walked I heard myself singing.  For me, it was old gospel hymns that I sung as a child.  All of these songs were learned in my early years growing up in the church as a preacher’s kid.  It was good medicine for my heart to sing several verses of each.   I was surprised I could remember the words to multiple verses.

When I sing, I often wander off key and lose my way.  Kind of like life.  Sometimes I start over, other times I just keep on going.  There are no “American Idol” judges to stop me anyway.

And so this morning as I walked the several blocks to work, I chose to sing out loud.

Whether you sing in the shower, in the car, or wherever, I hope you’ll sing.

If you are not a “singer,” that’s ok.  Singing is simply a metaphor for expressing what is in your heart to others.  What makes your heart sing?

Can you find a way to touch the deep well that is within you where fresh, clean water flows to the surface and out into the world?

The world is thirsty for such water.  Thirsty for love, for joy, for hope.

Sing your song.  The world needs your song.

Whatever you do, don’t stop singing.

My daily work is teaching me that change is the only constant in my life.

Things do not go according to my calendar on many days, and today was one of them. I’m learning that change gives me an opportunity to think, to pray, to be creative, and to listen.  If I’m open to learning these needed lessons, that is.

I thought I was going to start today with a staff meeting, send applications to potential students for our summer Clinical Pastoral Education Program, attend a committee meeting on Patient Satisfaction, and supervise one of my volunteers in her work in one of our ICU waiting rooms.

I’m learning that some days, one out of four is not so bad.

A call came into our office about an employee who died suddenly during the night, and the co-workers needed support.  I spent a few hours with caring, medical professionals who were in shock and grieving.

And yet they had to continue taking care of their patients and families as if today was the same as yesterday. But it was not the same.  A person they loved for decades was not at their side according to the schedule posted on the door.  Just yesterday, this co-worker was doing her job with expertise and compassion, teasing her colleagues, and going home to her husband and children.  But today was different.  Very different.

When you are a patient or family member, it is easy to forget that the medical staff standing in front of you are people with lives, issues, and feelings too.  We are all the same.  Some days we are patients, some days we are medical professionals.

But every day, we are part of the human family.  We love, we die, we grieve, too.

And so today, I reflect on what this change can teach me.

How does this change the way I think or live?  How do I pray for my colleagues?  How can I be creative in my compassion and care of them?  And how can I listen to what they can teach me?

God help our patients, families, and today, especially our employees.

God’s peace, comfort, and strength to all of you.

Do you ever envy other people’s talents?

Dr. Michael Saag is a friend and a world-class HIV researcher and physician.  But it is his ability to quote entire dialogues from movies he has seen that makes me laugh hysterically.  Especially comedies.  He can have an entire room rolling on the floor by quoting a scene word for word.  I just shake my head in disbelief at his photographic memory.  Sometimes, I can’t even remember a movie’s title I watched last night!  Woe is me.

What talents do you envy in others? Maybe it is someone who can sing, or play an instrument, or some other gift you wish you had?

The more we envy the talents of others, the more likely we will miss and devalue our own.  Envy is a marvelous distraction from self-discovery.

I Corinthians 12: 12-26 says that all persons who claim to be a child of God are all connected to one another like the human body, and all parts of the body are equally important.  The hand doesn’t say to the foot we don’t need you, or the ears have no right to envy what the eyes can do.  And so it is with our talents and gifts.

So how do I know what my gifts are? How do I identify my gifts so that I can use them to further the work of the Creator?

For me, a starting place in discovering my own gifts is the answer to this question:  “What do I love to do in helping others?”

There is a reason why you love to do a certain thing for others.  It is a holy whisper in your ear to say, “That’s one of your gifts.”

I have discovered that I love to be with people when they are in a crisis. This sounds really strange to some of my friends.  It is the last place they would love to be.  But that’s what is so cool and diverse about gifts.

Gifts are not given to be compared, they are given to be shared.

So what do you love to do when helping another person?

Write a note?  Make a phone call?  Give a ride? Cook a meal?  Take care of someone’s child or parent for a day?  Teach a class?  Cut the grass of a neighbor ’s yard?  Offer a listening ear?  A helping hand?  An encouraging word?

Name it.  Claim it.  Share it.

But don’t compare it.

As I watch the evening news tonight, I see stories about the people of Haiti and what they are going through following the devastating earthquake.

One story is about a five year old child (see above) being told that she will have to have her leg amputated in order to live.  She screams in fear at the news echoing the shrill sound of her mother’s voice at her side who grieves her daughter’s fate.

I just start sobbing, real tears, sitting on the couch, surprised by the deep emotion I feel for the parent and little girl.

Another woman is pulled out of the rubble alive (see below) after several days without food or water following the earthquake.  I feel hope.  She probably would not have been found if her husband had not been persistent with the rescuers asking them to please keep looking, “I know she is alive,” he pleaded.  And he was right. What struck me about this woman is when they pull her out of the hole on a stretcher, she breaks out into song thanking God that she is alive.

She is singing.  Thousands of others are not so fortunate.

When natural disasters happen like this, I want to help. I just don’t know how.

I feel guilty. I am the rich of the world watching on tv.  I have a beautiful home, a great job, a loving wife and children.  I can walk a few steps and get all of the water I want to drink.  I can take a long hot shower like I did last night.  I never miss a meal.  I have electricity, cars, and so much more.

We will send money over the coming weeks and months.  But it seems like so little for those who are suffering and grieving so much in Haiti.  My heart breaks.  I pray for them.

I must face this truth and take action. I own more than I need.  I give away too little.

I want to change the way I live.

Feeling guilty is not enough.

I want to live more simply.  So that I can give more.

Otherwise, my faith, my life, is without authenticity and integrity.  God help me.

God help the people of Haiti.

I want to say “yes” to people. I want to be liked.  I want to be the person others come to when he or she needs my time, my skills, or my resources.

And yet if my compass is simply to be liked by others and say “Yes” to them, I am in big trouble.

I will lose my way. I will look up one day and say, “Who am I?  What do I love to do?  Where is my passion?”

Each “Yes” I choose means that I have to say “No” to something or someone else.  I can only do a finite number of things.  Each “No” I say makes room for the possibility for a new “Yes.”

I am trying to live more simply in 2010.

I am learning that living simply requires me to make one of two choices:  “Yes” or “No,” over and over again, every day.

My prayer is that I will choose wisely.

Amen.

As I begin the new year of 2010, I’m thinking about simplifying my life.

Basically I mean owning less stuff. The time I spend in maintaining cars, fixing things around the house, and keeping up the yard makes me wonder who really owns what?  It wasn’t always like this in my life.  I used to want to “own more.”  But no more.

I’m also watching and learning from the finches and grossbeaks on our deck flutter as they enjoy our bird feeders this morning.  And I am reminded of what Jesus said in Matthew 6,

25 ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink,^* or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

²⁶Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? ²⁷And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?^*

34 ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.’”

As Mary and I consider this next step of living our lives in an empty nest, all I know is that I want our nest to be smaller, simpler, less cluttered.

How about you?  Do your things own you?  Or do you own them?

I’m ready to simplify my life so that I can fly.

Want to join me?

Faithful:  Adhering firmly and devotedly, as to a person, cause, or idea.  Steadfast in affection or allegiance.

I have learned the most about what faithfulness means from people I’ve known.

My father showed up at hundreds of athletic events I played in from the time I was in the first grade through college graduation.  And more importantly he showed up as a father, mentor, and friend during dark times in my life as well.  Bottom line is he was there when I needed him.

Others who have been on the sidelines of my life have also taught me about faithfulness without knowing it.  Like Girdie and Mr. Pepper.

Girdie was an African American waitress at a BBQ restaurant in Birmingham, AL for over 25 years called “Ollie’s Barbeque.” I went there as a boy with my Dad, and then in high school when I could drive myself.  I always sat at Girdie’s counter.  I ate there when I came back home for over a decade when I lived out of state.  Girdie was always there.  She  greeted me personally, asked me how my Daddy was doing, and if I wanted my “usual.”  She met me with a smile, a warm gaze into my eyes, and she always had an encouraging word.  Girdie was faithful to thousands of customers like me.

And most recently, Howard Pepper  taught me what it means to be faithful.

Mr. Pepper has sold Christmas trees for decades.  I have bought our family Christmas tree for the last four or five years from him.  We always seem to talk about our lives while I look at his trees.  Howard is 80 years old and he will tell you he “doesn’t take any medicine.”  “I work every day,” he adds proudly. His warm smile and slow Southern accent are engaging.

I remember the year when he told Mary and me about his daughter-in-law and grandson being killed in a car accident that year.  “It has been a hard year,” he said with tears in his eyes.  “But we will get through it with God’s help,” he added as he wiped his eyes with his rough hands.

This year he hugged me when I got out of my car.  “Welcome back,” he said smiling broadly.  And so we caught up on what was happening in each others’ lives once again, and we listened and laughed for a few minutes together.

Thank you Mr. Pepper, Girdie, and  Dad for teaching me what it means to be steadfast in affection for others.

Amen.

After going through a family health crisis recently, I’ve been struggling about prayer and its purpose in my life.

Anne Lamott said in Traveling Mercies that there are two basic prayers, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” and “Help me, help me, help me!” It’s this second prayer about asking for God’s help that has stumped me the most lately.  Don’t get me wrong, like many people when I need God’s help, I don’t hesitate asking.  But it is still a mystery to me how it works.

When I was growing up I was taught that prayer changed God’s mind about stuff, and if we really meant it when we prayed, and had enough faith, we would get what we prayed for.  And if you got lots of people to pray for the same outcome, all the better.  It was as if God tallied the number of prayers being said, and when the magic number was reached (and none of us knew what that number was) it was like “Jackpot!” you got it.

In the last 10 days since our son’s accident, I have been praying the “THANK YOU!” and “HELP ME!” prayers a lot.  I have been very thankful when friends called to tell me they were praying for our son and for our family.  There was something about being thought of by others that has given me encouragement and hope. It’s a reminder to me that others love me and that makes a huge difference when you are feeling alone and vulnerable.

But I’ve also been thinking about the other people in the Emergency Room who possibly didn’t have anyone praying for them. Or those persons who did not know how to pray.  Those who felt alone, isolated, or cut off from any higher power or love from others for that matter.  And if that really matters to God in terms of God being with them. Personally, I believe God is with us whether we ask God to be present or not, whether we are aware of it or not.  I believe God is present whether we are going through the “getting better” stage or the “getting worse” stage.

So I don’t have any final answers about what prayer means to me today. I seem to be more sure about what I believe prayer is not.

I do not believe that prayer is a gamble. I do not believe prayer is a slot machine where if you put in enough prayers you finally hit the jackpot.  Some people play that game all of their lives and become bitter and spiritually bankrupt when their number never comes up.

I do believe that I feel love and hope from others when they tell me they are praying for me. I don’t know if prayer changes God or not, but it does change me. Maybe that is the real purpose of prayer?  When I pray, or when others pray for me, my perspective on life shifts.

I don’t have this one figured out, it is a mystery to me.  I have no tidy answer.

Pray for me.  I will pray for you.

And let us both pray for those who have no one to pray for them. Pray they will know they are not alone.

Routine:  ”an unvarying or habitual method or procedure.”

Even though I work at hospital, my work can still be routine at times. In the Pastoral Care department, we are usually called during critical times with patients and families, as well as making routine visits on various units.  This happens every day.  It is all part of what we do as healthcare workers.

But when you are on the receiving side of the caregiving equation in the hospital, I had a reminder recently that it is anything but routine.

“Malcolm, I’ve had an accident,” he said.  ”Are you hurt?” I quickly asked while thanking God it was his voice calling me from his cell phone and not a state trooper.  ”I’m hurt a little, but the car is bad,” he offered apologetically.  At this point you realize just how insignificant a ton of steel and leather really is. You can find another car.

“Where are you?  I will be right there,” I said as I quickly hung up the phone.

My emotions bounced like a float bobbing on the ocean with a hurricane on the horizon.

After what seemed like an eternity, medical professionals made the decision to put him on a helicopter to get him the help he needed as quickly as possible.  He was flown to the hospital where I work.  It is hard to describe how we felt when we got into our car to drive to the hospital while seeing that life-saver helicopter loading our son as its passenger.

When we got to the hospital, we listened for any encouraging, hope-filled words, and we clung to them by repeating them over and over to one another, “It could have been so much worse.”  We all knew what that meant.  “He will eventually be ok,” we said.

The Emergency Department sprung into action with its own finely-tuned routine with different specialists coming in and out of the room, examining him, asking questions how this happened, and explaining diagnoses and treatments.  MRI’s, X-rays, and other tests were  repeated over and over again.  Wounds were cleaned, stitches carefully given.  After awhile, we felt numb, our heads were swimming, and we had some confusion between the two of us if our son would have “just a back brace” or “surgery” or both.

While it was hard to remember some things, one thing we did remember was the young nurse in the ER who stood just outside the room in the Emergency Department with my wife as she took the time to listen to fears, questions, and anxieties that came pouring out.  Compassion and kindness go a long way when you are scared and tired.  I remember my former supervisor and close friend, Dr. Jim Raper, showing up in the ER and being present with us until midnight on Thanksgiving Eve to interpret what the medical team was saying and doing.  That meant more to me than he will ever know.

Finally, a plan was announced and surgery was scheduled for the next day.  It was the first of many nights where we would be sleep deprived.  Simple, routine tasks like deciding which clothes to throw into a bag for the next day were amazingly challenging.  At times we stared at one another with fear and tears, and other times with thanksgiving and gratitude.

The experience was surreal.  We hoped that it was all a dream.  But we knew better.

This time, thank God, our son would be ok after many weeks of convalescence at home.

And we could not stop saying under our breath, “Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God.”

At the same time, I am aware that many other patients and families are not as fortunate.  I don’t know why.  Perhaps there is no “reason” as some well meaning friends tried to explain why this all happened as they tried to comfort us.  Some of the patients who come into the ER go home paralyzed.  Some die.  I especially remember feeling guilty on that first long night when I looked across the hall in the ER and saw a family with their faces in their hands as they tried to absorb the worst news that all of us in that place feared the most.

After being at the hospital and sleeping in shifts for an hour or two at a time on a fold-out couch, we said thank you to the hospital nurses, nursing assistants, doctors, and chaplains.  But no matter what we said, it never seemed like enough.

And then the day came when I was one of the healthcare workers again, instead of a family member of a patient.

But I noticed a difference this time.

The first family I met on my first day back was one who had experienced an even more serious automobile accident than my son had experienced a few days earlier, but with a grave outcome.

And I remembered this time that nothing is routine.  For them, or for me. And so I cared for them as if they were my own family.

Because now I know the truth.  There is a thin veil between “them” and “us.”

The call came into our Pastoral Care office and a young nurse was on the phone.

“Hi, my name is “Jill,” she said, “we have a critically-ill patient on our floor and the family has decided to withdraw life support at this time. Could you send a Chaplain to be with them, to maybe say a prayer with them?”  I assured her “someone” would be up soon.

Our on-call chaplain was detained, and so I decided to go directly to the room.  I walked in to find the adult daughter and her husband by her father’s side.  I introduced myself and told her I was very sorry to hear about her father.   “Tell me about your Dad?” I asked.  And she did.

The warmth of their relationship was evident in her story as she stroked his hand and spoke softly and lovingly about him. I asked her if she would like for me to have a brief prayer with her and her husband.  They nodded yes.  We prayed.  We thanked God for who he was and what he had meant to so many.  And just a few words more.

I have probably visited over a thousand people in the hospital over the last 30 years of my career.  I haven’t counted.  But until this particular day, the only person I had actually been in the room with when the patient took his last breath was my own father, and that was over a decade ago at home.

But this day was to be different. To be with a person in the moment that he or she breathes the last breath, when the heart beats its last, is a gift. A holy gift.

I decided to stay after my prayer and just be quiet.  We could tell by the changing numbers on the monitors that it would not be long.  Jill stood by in the doorway, one foot in the room and one foot out.  She answered the family’s questions while reassuring them that he was receiving the comfort medication he needed to make sure he was not in pain.  She gave them privacy and presence whenever needed.

And so today, I was there again when one took his last breath and his heart beat for the last time.

Experiences like this are a reminder to me.

There will come a day when I will die  too. There will come a day when I will take my last breath, and my heart will not beat again.  Some people call it passing, or passing away, gone, and others call it dying.

Whatever name we call it, it is a humbling experience to say the least to consider our own death even for a few moments.

So much worry over things that did not matter.  So much inattention to the things that did.

Life is short.  Each breath and each heartbeat is a gift.

Love God with each breath.  Love your neighbor with each beat of your heart.

This is all that matters.

This past Sunday our pastor did something you rarely see in church just before the offering plate was passed.

Bob said, “I want a representative from each family to take $5 OUT of the offering plate and be open to giving it away this week to someone who needs it. No strings attached.  Just see what happens in your life.  You’ll know the right time to give it away.  Become a hilarious giver.  See what that feels like.”

When the offering plate came by, I took the $5 out of the offering plate and put it in my wallet.  I was tempted to buy lunch with it one day but thankfully I resisted!

And so I was in my office recently in the Pastoral Care department when Cynthia said two persons had just come in and they wanted to talk with a Chaplain.

I came out of my office to find a young man, not yet 21, with his mother.  They told me their story about having a family member in the hospital and that it didn’t look like the patient would live.  They had been here for a few weeks and were from out of town.

“We would like someone to pray with us and for our family member,” they said.  “We also want to know when your worship service is in your chapel so we can come.”  The young man added, “I want to give my life over to God.  I haven’t really lived the way I should, I’ve done some stupid things in my life.  I have taken a lot of things for granted.  I know this isn’t the way to get God to do what I want, but I just need to do this for my own sake, no matter what.”

We talked for awhile longer and I had held both of their hands and prayed with them. I asked God to help “Mark” know there was nothing he had ever done, nor anything he would ever do, that would keep God from loving him.  I thanked God for Mark’s openness to welcoming God into his life.  I prayed for strength and peace and healing in their lives and for their loved one.

Before they left, I remembered and pulled the $5 bill out of my wallet.

I said, “This isn’t much but one of you can get a Subway sandwich with it.”  They said together, “No, no, no, we didn’t come in here looking for a handout!  In fact, we wanted to give you a tithe of our money.  Can we give you this $20?”

“Thank you, but I can’t,” I added.  ”But let me tell you the story of this $5 bill.”

I told them what my pastor said on Sunday and added, “I’ve been waiting all week to know who I was supposed to give this to, and now I know you are the ones. This is a small gift that has been waiting for you.”  With tears in all of our eyes, and a lump in my throat, I got tight hugs from both while they thanked me as if I had given them $100 bills.  I wondered if it was for the money, or the prayer, or both?  It doesn’t matter.

I want to be a hilarious giver in my life. But sometimes, I hold on to money too tight.  I dole out my time in small increments.  Too often I worry too much about running out.  Do you do that too?  Or am I the only one?

Next week, I want to use my own money, and my time, and I will give it away when it is needed.  No strings attached.  I don’t want to hold back.  It’s so crazy, it’s hilarious.

Will you join me?

I decided to take a different path into the hospital where I work in Birmingham, AL recently.  I walked through one of the newest sections of the hospital and was still amazed at the gorgeous architecture.

On this day, I prayed silently with each step I took, “God, help the patients in the hospital today to find a healing and caring place.  Thank you. Amen.”

As I walked down the wide corridor where our “Sanctuary” room is located, a quiet room where staff and families can prayer and reflect, I decided to stop in to say a few more prayers of my own.

As I walked up to the door, I could hear someone preaching with great energy and enthusiasm.   “I didn’t know we had a worship service in here,” I thought to myself, so I decided to go in and listen.

The preaching stopped when I opened the door and a bright, articulate, young man named LaDarrius said, “Come on in, I’m just practicing my sermon.”  I looked around and noticed we were the only two people in the room.  “What are you preaching about?” I asked and encouraged him to keep going.

“I’m preaching about grace.  It’s all about grace.  I want people to know that we don’t live by the law anymore and that we are forgiven because of what Jesus did for us on the cross.”  I asked him to tell me more, and we sat down together and began a 15 minute conversation on grace and what we both believed it meant in our lives.

I learned that LaDarrius was preparing for his first sermon that he will preach in his church in a couple of months.  His pastor has been shepherding and guiding him.  I was impressed with his preparation for his sermon so far in advance.

I encouraged him and told him that many preachers preach all of their lives and miss this important truth that he is preaching.  I asked him if I could pray for him and I said a short prayer as we grasped hands sitting next to one another.

“God give LaDarrius the confidence and boldness to keep on preaching about grace all the days of his life.  Help him to remember that without grace (undeserved love and forgiveness) every single one of us would be in trouble.  Amen.”

As we left LaDarrius told me he is a Patient Care Tech at the hospital and that he transports patients to and from surgery in order to get them where they need to be.

As I walked away, I thanked God for LaDarrius and many other staff at the hospital, who by their presence, will make this a healing and caring place.

LaDarrius, you are right, it’s all about grace.   Preach on, my brother, preach on.

Amen.

One of the persons who has made each day enjoyable for me in my new job in the hospital has been Minnie.

Minnie is a loving, outgoing soul who stands in one of the busiest intersections of our hospital corridors where hundreds of people walk daily. I met her on the first day of my job because her purpose is to “read people’s faces and look for that lost expression” as she describes it, and then ask the question, “May I help you?”

I obviously had question marks on my face that day.

In her gentle, loving style, she smiled and said, “Oh, I can help you find that!” with great enthusiasm and wamth. Not only did she give directions, but she looked at my nametag and exclaimed, “Oh my, you must be our new Director of Pastoral Care!  We are so glad you are here!” I could feel any anxiety slowly drain away. Before long she was encouraging me and said that I would find my way around in no time. And I believed her.

Since that first day I have stood and talked with Minnie and discovered she has worked for the hospital for several decades, and is now with Guest Services. She has the ideal experience, knowledge, and personality for her job. She has the gift of hospitality. I have watched her give directions to families who are trying to find their loved ones in the hospital, and ask others how their family member is doing when she sees them later in the day.  And they stop and tell her.

Minnie is a human GPS with a heart.

On this All Saints Day in the Christian church, I am reminded of persons who have shown me the way when I needed someone to give me guidance or directions at critical times in my life.

School teachers like Mrs. Rushton in the fifth grade who gave me special attention the month after my mother died suddenly and encouraged me daily. Or Tom Jennings, my math teacher, who took the time to design a workout and rehabilitation program for me in the 11th grade following my shoulder surgery during football season, and met me after school for months to make sure I got back into shape. Tom is one of the reasons I got a football scholarship to college.  He showed me the way.

I could name dozens of others like my Dad who listened carefully to me on the phone during my junior year of college when I asked him, “Dad, how do I know if God is calling me into ministry?” And his answer was reassuring when he said, “you’ll just know, Malcolm, you’ll just know. Trust.  I will pray for you to know what God wants you to do.”

And so as I begin a new chapter in my life, I want to be like Minnie, Mrs. Rushton, Tom Jennings, and my Dad for others who have questions on their faces. I want to give them encouragement during difficult times and be willing to walk beside them on their journey.

And what about for you? Who has shown you the way during difficult times? Who has given you directions when you needed it most? Who has welcomed you when you were a stranger and given you the gift of hospitality?

I want to be that person for others.  I invite you to do the same.  Will you join me in looking for question marks on people’s faces?  They are in front of us every single day.

As for me, I make sure I go by Minnie’s post to get a hug, to share a smile, and just to learn from her as she helps others on their way.  Sometimes I just playfully bow towards her as I walk by to honor her gift.

Thank God for the Minnie’s in this world, and for all the saints who show us the way.

ON YOUR MARK . . .

Sometimes, everything (note the exaggeration) seems hard.

I have felt like nothing (almost) has been easy this week as I transition from a job I have loved as a chaplain in a clinic, to a job I am very excited about as Director of Pastoral Care at a hospital within the same health care system. I thought I could make the move without grieving or going through that much change, as I’m only moving 3 -4 blocks away for goodness sake.

I should have known better.

Oh sure, there were some tears before I left and I shared them openly with individuals and groups. I took time to say thank you and goodbye to my colleagues and patients, gave out hugs, handed off responsibilities to make it a smooth, seamless, painless transition.  And I knew change was coming.

GET SET . . .

Then, this week I began getting ready for my new job . . . by taking a week off.

Does that sound like a paradox to you? How does one get ready for a new job by planning and setting goals, and getting rest and renewal at the same time?

Mary offered gentle, patient encouragement for me to rest and renew my spirit. But as usual, it took me awhile to come around. The first couple of days I pressed hard trying to make everything be just like I wanted it to be. I created an expectation in my head that I could get everything lined up ahead of time so that I could walk into my new job on Monday and fit nicely into an immediate routine. Not so fast.

I had planned to have all of my books in my bookcases, and my pictures hung in my new office by now. But it took a lot longer to clear out my old office than I expected. The boxes and pictures will be sitting on the floor when I walk into my office on Monday. Each box reminds me, “you are going through change.”

My work phone number, mailing address, and email address changed. Keys, ID Badges, business card, and a pager are different. Bookcases, a chair, and a computer are yet to be ordered. New software to learn and new ways of doing things await.

When our world is unfamiliar, or out-of-sync, and change is in our face, we are reminded we are not in charge. We cannot control everything, or much at all when you think about it.

Grief, or the loss of what is routine and familiar in our lives, is expressed in many forms . . . tears and sadness for sure, but also frustration, impatience, grumpiness, and more. I know this from personal experience. Grief and adjustment to change has its own pace and cannot be hurried along.

SLOW DOWN . . .

So, I think I’ll take long walks with my wife, Mary, and our lab, Daisy, this weekend, have dinner with friends, get a little exercise, go shopping, and take some time to be still and quiet.

Change is coming, but I don’t have to fight it anymore.

Thank God.

How do you describe yourself to a new friend during your first extended, getting-to-know-you conversation?

If we are working in a particular field or place at the time, we may start there. If we have family or significant relationships in our lives, we may choose that as our starting point.  If we have just moved to a new area, we may describe where we live now or where we grew up.

Like a lot of people, I have often used my work place or my title at work as my starting point in conversation with a new friend, after I told him or her my name of course.

For the last decade and a half of my life, I would have labeled myself as a “Chaplain in an HIV clinic.” I walked side by side with persons who were newly diagnosed with HIV disease, and others who had lived with HIV for more than 20 years.  I developed programs, projects, and groups to teach patients and staff, and other people in communities how to create connection with one another during crisis-filled times.

Before I was a “HIV Chaplain,” I would have introduced myself as a “Minister of Pastoral Care” at one church and a “Minister with Singles and Families” at another.  I have also been a “Pastor,” a “Pastoral Counselor,” as well as a “Youth Minister.”

I woke up today and realized in relation to work, all my verbs have changed to the past tense. At least for a week anyway, before I take on a new one as “Director of Pastoral Care at a hospital.”

But today I am “title-less.” And this is a good thing to remember, even when I have one.

Because I am not a title, my name is “Malcolm.”  No other titles are needed to know who I am.

And there is freedom in living when we remember who we are.

We are enough when we are ourselves.

Who are you?

Nice to meet you.

The boxes are packed, the office is almost empty. It is amazing how much stuff one can gather after a decade and a half in one office.

Other small tasks are to be completed in the next few hours. I am thankful for a reception this afternoon for us to say goodbye to one another one more time.

Barbara Crafton is an Episcopal priest who recently wrote the words below about what it is like to leave a place you love. Her words fit what I am feeling today about leaving the staff I love at The 1917 Clinic after 15 and 1/2 years as chaplain.

“We had felt so secure with one another, so anchored in this small world, small enough to be manageable, yet productive of more than enough drama to keep us occupied. There was always some new outrage at which to gasp, some funny human frailty exposed. My weaning from it all took a little while.

You love the place where you are, and you don’t want to leave. You don’t ever want to leave. But you do leave, and peeling yourself away from familiar people and things hurts. It hurts every time you do it, no matter how many times there are. “

One of the things I have learned in this place is to lean into change, rather than to fight it.

Leaning into change means to trust even when you don’t know how it is all going to work out.  It is a trust that all will be well.

And so today, I trust to take all that my colleagues and patients have taught me to a new playing field at the hospital as Director of Pastoral Care. And I will lean into this change, even though I don’t know the answers of how my new path will go.

When I first began at the clinic in 1994, we had patients dying every single day of the year. It was a very difficult time. The AIDS quilt became a symbol of the lives lost and has become the largest ongoing community arts project in the world. Each panel is roughly the size of a coffin symbolizing a life lost with a personal message inscribed.

And the quilt metaphor continues to mean something to me today as well.

My threads of my experience in the clinic are symbolized in a quilt panel, if you will, and this panel can be used in a larger quilt that represents my life as I go to a new place. Nothing is wasted.

In fact, I believe that this is true for all of us if we are open to it.  God is like a Master Quilter weaving the threads and panels of our life experience, and stitching them together to form a beautiful quilt of various colors and textures.

My most recent quilt panel took over 15 years to stitch together and now represents the personalities, color, languages, diversity and love that I have experienced in this place.  It is a beautiful mosaic.

This HIV/AIDS clinic has shown me what community and connection to the human family, and God, is all about.  If we can meet one another as we are, we can learn the lessons we so desperately need.

I want to say to each person I have spoken with, listened to, touched and hugged, thank you for sharing yourself with me and teaching me that every human being is a member of the same family.

Hello to you my brother, and hello to you my sister.

It helps me to remember my purpose for being in this world as I understand it:

“My purpose is to create community and connection for persons with one another and with God, especially during critical, crisis-filled times.” For it is within these times we are most open to God’s presence in our lives and learning what is most important.

I have learned firsthand here that we are all children of God–every single one of us including Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, and every other ethnic group. Every straight, gay, bi-sexual, transgendered person is a child of God. Every Protestant, Catholic, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, and every other person of faith and persons of no faith, is a child of God.

And so I close with the words that I have said to our staff at the close of our weekly meeting together:  “Thank you for who you are, and for what you do, to make this place such a healing and caring place for so many.”

Peace be with you, and don’t forget to lean into the change when it comes in your life.  Be not afraid. God is with you. You are not alone.

Amen,

Malcolm

Note: The AIDS Quilt panel shown above has the names of three persons I knew who died in my first year at the clinic: Adrian Daniels, Billy Cox, and Bob Axelton.  Adrian’s funeral was the first of many funerals I had a month after I began, and Billy Cox’s life continues to impact me to this day.

The following blog was written by Kelly Ross-Davis, Director of Education at The 1917 Clinic.   Kelly and Malcolm have worked together for 14 of his 15 years at The 1917 Clinic.

The last week of your 15+ years at The 1917 Clinic is here. Of course, everyone at the 1917 Clinic wishes you the very best on your next journey down the street at the Hospital. We know that those who will have the opportunity to work with you in the future are fortunate more than they can know now. We know that hospital patients and community members will benefit from your compassionate approach and innovative solutions.  We know all this because we have already received the gifts from you at the 1917 Clinic.

As the first AIDS Chaplain at a university hospital, you offered emotional support initially to people who were dying and then to people who were living. To widen the reach, you taught members of the faith community how to respond with love and compassion to people with HIV disease.  During the 12 year history of volunteer Care/Support Teams, you probably taught (or trained others to teach) over 100,000 people how to deal with grief and loss.  One method you used was to cut up little pieces of paper (16 to be exact) and to experience a very personal exercise of understanding loss.

You emphasized three main points.

1. “Help a person feel what they are feeling as they feel it. Ask an extra question for clarification of that feeling. Be quiet. Listen. Don’t try to fix.” How many times have you demonstrated this to me personally as I went through marriage, childbirth, divorce, parenting and professional challenges – you have been there through the joys and the hardships, nurturing without judging.

2. “Walk at the same pace emotionally as the person you are supporting. Resist the temptation to fix or speed up the process of change. Remember to walk beside not drag a person to a different place.” Malcolm, I can remember you having to live up to this test when your father was ill. He wanted to go out to eat and took forever to get from the car to the front door of the restaurant. Your father still had much to offer and stopped to talk with everyone and needed to move slowly on his path. Getting to the dinner table was not his only objective. Learning to see life from his perspective made you an even more caring son.

3. “Take on the role of student, and allow someone else to teach you.” We work with amazingly intelligent and insightful people at the 1917 Clinic, but the lessons learned from our Care Team Friends, Heartsong participants, and all the other patients of the clinic are deep. Lessons of struggle, endurance, acceptance, hope and love.

Malcolm, I remember the day I met you at an AIDS Volunteer Training event at Cathedral Church of the Advent.  Within ten minutes, I said to myself, “I want to work with this man.” The first day I came to work as an AmeriCorps member you played a song (not on youtube but on a cassette tape) that Harry had written and performed. I cried that first day and am so thankful for all the tears and the laughter we have shared over the past 14 years.

Many training events later (and after some deep soul searching), you met and married the wonderful Mary Sullivan and gained two delightful stepchildren, Kiki and Brendan. Thankfully, you all opted to relocate from North Carolina to Alabama, and the clinic got to keep you too. More patients than ever before got connected to holistic medial care through you.

We all wish you the best. I encourage everyone to share any lessons Malcolm has taught you personally, other meaningful stories, or positive wishes for the future.  We want his blog to be full and rich, along with his future.

Kelly Ross-Davis,

1917 Clinic Colleague, Friend

I had forgotten how stressful “positive transitions” or changes can be in our lives. Even when a change is good, the journey from the familiar to the unknown is unsettling to say the least.  My present job has lasted fifteen and a half years and it has been half of my thirty year career.  And yet I hesitate even to say that this is transition is difficult.

If only everyone could be as fortunate.  People like John and Bill and Laura are just a few of my friends or acquaintances who are looking for jobs right now because they don’t have one.  Others are unhappy with the job they do have, or others have been laid off from a job,  or still others have just graduated from school and are looking for a job.

Any one of them would LOVE to have this problem of a “job transition.”

So on the Richter Scale of life transitions from 1-10, getting a job that you wanted when you already have a great job shouldn’t be that hard, right?  Not exactly.

Whether I “should” feel this way or not, I feel a wide range of feelings.  They are all good, even the sad feelings.

Yesterday I was aware of the lump in my throat that just stayed there as I met with a patient who was on death’s door two years ago but today is a picture of health and is getting married next month.  His mother brought a camera to the clinic to take our picture together.  Hope abounds.

A few minutes later excitement swirled in my head with new ideas for my future job as I talked with a friend who is a Director of Pastoral Care in another state, and I could feel the energy of anticipation flowing through my body again.

Later in the same day, a deep insecurity whispered deep in my soul and said, “What in the heck are you doing taking this new job?  You don’t know anything.”  And seeds of self-doubt tried to find fertile soil.  Mary listened to my confusion after dinner and reassured me that I would be fine in my new work.  “I believe in you,” she said.  And I believed her when she said I would be ok.

The main reason for observing this metamorphosis that is happening within me is because I believe it is one of the keys to getting through it healthily.

If I ignore the feelings of grief in leaving my colleague Kelly Ross-Davis, who has worked with me the last 14 years and is now Director of Education at the clinic, I will not honor how much we have been through together.

Kelly was there when I was going through my divorce and listened to my struggle over many months and never complained of my self-absorption.  And when her daughter Rachel was born, I was one of the first to get to hold her in the hospital and later developed a Support Team for Kelly’s family when complications developed for a few months.  She attended my father’s out-of-town funeral with several other colleagues.  I appreciated her planning and leading  over a dozen annual Heartsong Retreats with me, and hundreds of hours in meetings planning Support Team trainings.

When you share your life and work with others so closely for so long, it is a good thing to feel this sadness.  Kelly’s presence has made an enormous difference in my life. Thank you Kelly.

Today, instead of gulping down my lunch, I sat and reminisced and laughed with three of our social workers, Crystal, Wes, and Kathy.  I have known Wes and Kathy since 1994.  Over the years it was sometimes hard to know who among us were the social workers and who was the chaplain as our work intertwined in so many intricate ways.  I remember the day when Wes adopted his son, Sam, and brought him to the clinic for all of us to hold when he was only a few days old.  And now Sam is one of the most talented dancers for his age group in the nation.

What I am trying to say is working at The 1917 Clinic has not been only about caring for persons who are HIV positive, but also how the staff has shared our lives with one another.  The baptisms and weddings and bar mitzvahs and funerals that I have attended or led related to the staff are too numerous to count.

I will miss being at the clinic. But I wouldn’t change the decision I made to leave the church I loved in Connecticut to come here for anything in the world.

And so now, a new chapter is being written in my life.  And I am thankful to have this new opportunity to be The Director of Pastoral Care at the hospital.  I will be leaving the clinic in a couple of weeks with a thankful heart.

I wonder what new adventures are ahead?

With a grateful heart for what has been, and what will be.

Since I announced the beginning of my transition from my job as Chaplain at The 1917 (HIV) Clinic to become the Director of Pastoral Care at the hospital beginning October 5th, I am keenly aware of living in two worlds.

On one hand, I am saying goodbye to as many patients as possible whom I have come to know and love over the years.

I am calling or emailing almost 25 patients per day to make sure they hear the news directly from me.  I want them to know that the valuable lessons they taught me will be shared with many others in my new ministry.  I want them to know that I love them and am grateful for them.  And finally, I want them to know that there will continue to be staff at The 1917 Clinic who will love them and care for them after I am gone.

I am spending time with staff, leaning in office doorways and talking about how much I appreciate the work each one does on a daily basis.  There are meetings as I hand off some of my duties to my colleagues who are eager and willing to pick up my responsibilities in the meantime.

I am also keenly aware that ALL that I wanted to get done before I leave in two weeks won’t be finished. I am trying to prioritize these tasks but this place will go on regardless what I do in the meantime.  And I am deeply thankful for that.

And on the other hand, I am developing goals and priorities for my new challenges at the hospital.  Even though the hospital is only 4 blocks away, it is another world.

So in the meantime, what are my priorities as I live in this world of “in-between?”

1. Take care of myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
2. Let go of the idea I will ever get “finished” and that is ok.
3. Breathe deeply and trust that there is a bigger purpose in all of this that I cannot see.

And the truth is that all of us live in the world of in-between.

We live between the world of  “what has been” and the world of  “what will be.”  This land of in-between is called the “what is.”

And the only way to live in the “what is” is to pay attention, and to be present to what is going on today, right in front of us.

For that is all we have.  And it is enough.

Amen.

Harry Wingfield

Many of us are uncomfortable with goodbyes.  A goodbye can be temporary or final.   It can mean “I’ll see you again soon,” or “hope we will see one another in this lifetime.”  Sometimes, it means goodbye forever.

This month it seems like everywhere I turn I am saying goodbye–to our two children who are both freshman in college, to my colleagues and patients at The 1917 Clinic as I get ready to transition from my work for the past 15 and 1/2 years to a new position as Director of Pastoral Care at the hospital, and to friends who have moved away, and to one who has died.

Learning to say goodbye is a way to honor and appreciate a relationship and is an important part of our lives.  It is a way for me to say to you that you matter to me.  It is important for me to say goodbye.

In Alla Bozrath Campbell’s book, “Life is Goodbye, Life is Hello:  Grieving Well Through All Kinds of Loss,”  she talks about grieving as a positive process that can actually bring healing and wholeness in our lives.  Without saying goodbye, I don’t invest in future relationships as deeply because I won’t want it to hurt when we part in the future.

So recently I took time to say goodbye to Harry Wingfield this month before he moved to San Antonio, TX.

If we had a “poster patient” at The 1917 Clinic, Harry would be high on the list.   He certainly isn’t the only one, but he is one of the ones I have known.

When I met him 16 years ago he was on the interview committee for my job as chaplain at the clinic.  A few months later he was so sick in the hospital from HIV/AIDS that twice I prayed with him, said goodbye and walked out of the room expecting him to die soon.

He lived and new medicines became available in 1996.  In 2002, he was hired by our clinic to work with data in our research program, first temporarily then permanently.  I helped him say goodbye to his Support Team we had developed for him with volunteers from Vestavia Hills United Methodist Church because he was doing so well and didn’t need their assistance anymore.

Harry said goodbye to his disability check (imagine that), and went to work full-time.  He said it took multiple times at the Social Security office to get them to stop sending his check.  They just weren’t used to that request.

Eventually he was offered a job promotion.   And now he has made a recent career move to accept a new job in San Antonio and is off for a new adventure.  I will miss him but he is doing what we hope many of our patients will do in living with HIV–have a life!

We went to lunch and told one another how much we appreciated one another, remembered fun and difficult times together, laughed and became misty eyed when we said our goodbye.  I am so proud of Harry Wingfield.  We may see one another again in this lifetime, maybe not.   None of us really know that.  But I am at peace with that, either way.  It will be ok.  Harry’s influence will be with me as he taught me about goodbyes.

We have closure, and it is ok, no matter what.  That is what goodbyes are all about.  It is well between us.

In the meantime, Harry Wingfield and hundreds of other persons living with HIV have taught me to say goodbye to old ways of living and to live life fully.

And for this valuable lesson, I thank you Harry, Jeff,  Alan, Cynthia, Eric, Greg, Ruth, Billy, Mary, and hundreds more who are living life fully.

Godspeed to you all.

I love you, goodbye.  It will be ok.

Malcolm

Just yesterday, I wrote the following message to my colleagues at The 1917 Clinic after 15 and 1/2 years:

Please forgive my mass email but it seems to be the best way to get the news out to everyone at the same time. This will allow me time to talk with many of you over the next month individually.

I want you to know that I have accepted a new position as Director of Pastoral Care at the hospital. My last work day at the clinic will be Friday, September 25th. I will take a week of vacation and then start on Monday, October 5th at the hospital.

This position is an exciting and challenging opportunity for me to explore how we can integrate spirituality and health through one-on-one care, education, and community outreach throughout the Health System for staff and patients. I hope you will be able to celebrate this new opportunity with me.

On the other hand, there is of course grief on my part as leaving the clinic becomes a reality. I want to say to each of you that The 1917 Clinic has been my family over the last 15 and 1/2 years. Our clinic is a unique, remarkable, healing and compassionate community (physically, emotionally, and spiritually) for our patients.

I am especially indebted to Mike Saag for having the vision to create a position for a Chaplain in an HIV Clinic in 1994. He was the first in the United States to do so. Jim Raper has also been the finest supervisor and director a person could ask for in the last few years. I could go on and on but I will stop for now.

I look forward to saying thank you to you individually as much as possible in the weeks ahead. While change is hard, it is also filled with opportunity. I hope to embrace the sadness of leaving and the excitement of beginning as fully as possible.

And the good news is I will just be four blocks away.

Thank you and peace to you all,

Malcolm

I learned early in my Clinical Pastoral Education training that there are only four basic feelings we have in life–Mad, Sad, Glad, and Afraid.

The advantage of knowing this is the sooner I can name the feeling I am having, the easier it is for me to talk about it.   I don’t have to understand why I am having the feeling, or if I “should” be having the feeling, or whether I  “ought” to be having it.  I don’t have to worry if it is justified?  It doesnt’ matter.  Is it rational?  Makes no difference.

And of course, sometimes I forget what I already know about feelings entirely.  Just ask Mary, and she will nod her head.

We use a lot of words to describe the way we feel, but ultimately, whatever the feelings are, they are siblings of the above four.

Whatever I feel, I know now that I am not alone. I am convinced there is a Presence  that understands exactly what I am feeling, better than I do.  Some people call this Presence the Creator, the Sacred, the Great or Holy Spirit, Higher Power, Jehovah, Lord, Jesus, or God.  So when I wonder if anyone in the universe understands what I am feeling, I know there is One who already does.  We are not alone, though we feel it often.  This companionship, grace, or love is a great mystery to me.  The only response I know to give is  “thank you” and receive it.

And so, I am trying more and more to just “feel what I am feeling when I feel it.”  This is my new mantra.  I am trying to learn how to name the feeling I am having before I explain it away in my head.  Once I name it, I can add other adjectives, stories, and life experiences to help me understand it better.

On August 5th, 2009, I feel GLAD. I am thankful that I am loved by this Great Mysterious One, and that I am not alone.  I cannot say all of the reasons I feel glad today, because I don’t know all of the reasons I’m feeling glad.  That’s ok, I will just feel it.  I don’t have to explain or rationalize what I am feeling.  Feelings just are what they are and what I do with them and how I communicate with others about them, are my choice.  Feelings are also my teacher about myself and others, if I will be the student and let my feelings teach me about me.

So today, I am at peace even while the waters are being stirred all around me.

And for that, I am profoundly thankful, which of course is a direct descendant of glad.

Today, I am remembering what it felt like just before kickoff when I played football many years ago for Clemson University.  This metaphor describes what I feel like today on July 24, 2009.

This post is not ultimately about football, it is about my life right now at 54 years old and how I physically feel today.  Let me describe the feeling first.

Just before kickoff, there were butterflies in my stomach. Do you know what I mean?  Not a feeling of fear, but rather anticipation, nervousness, and excitement simultaneously.   My heart would beat about 90 seconds per minute compared to my normal 60.  It was anticipation of a game that I loved to play.  I had dreamed of, and longed for, and prepared for this moment.  I knew who I was and what my mission was.  The time for thinking had past.  It was time to trust all of the practice, all of the coaching, all of my teammates, and all of my deepest instincts.  It was time to let go and react and respond to each and every moment.

I loved being on the defensive kick-off team.  Because when the whistle blew for the game to begin, and the ball was kicked,  I could run like the wind, find the ball carrier, and do my job.

And today, thankfully I have butterflies again in my stomach.  I had almost forgotten what it felt like.  Today I am feeling the anticipation of the last third of my career.  The ball is set on the tee, I am lined up with my teammates, waiting for the whistle to blow.

I have trained all my life for this moment.  No more waiting.  It is time to trust all of the practice, all of the coaching, and all of my teammates once again.  I know who I am and I know my purpose for being on this earth.  What a gift that is!

My life purpose is to create community and connection for the human family when they are going through difficult times.

When people feel like their whole world has fallen apart, that’s where I want to be.  When grief rips a person’s heart wide open, that’s where I want to be.  When someone feels like God or another doesn’t love them or even hates them, that’s where I want to be.  I don’t want to be there so that I can fix it for them.  My playing experience has taught me that I cannot.

Thankfully, I have had other people walk  alongside me in my life when I have felt like that.  And my purpose is to keep that going as best I can.

I have known this purpose deep within my soul since I was called into ministry over thirty years ago.  I have tried my best to do it and sometimes I have not done it so well.  I have lived out this purpose when I was working within the church, and in an AIDS clinic.  There is no difference between the two.  None.  We are all the same.

And so where will I play the last 1/3 of my vocation? What role will I play?  What team will I be on?

The honest answer is I don’t know.   I do not know if it will be where I am now, or where I will be going, in my life.

What I do know is I am ready to play.  Each and every down.  I cannot do it alone.  Thankfully, I don’t have to.

And thankfully, this is not about winning and losing.  It is about fully living.

So, I take that same deep breath I used to take, and with a wide-open heart I say thank you God for the opportunity to play, and thank you to those of you who have been, and will be my teammates.

This is a faith adventure that flutters like butterflies in my stomach.  Something new and exciting is about to happen.  I can feel it.

The butterflies have told me so.

As I turn 54 on July 9, 2009, I am aware I have more questions than I have answers.

When I was younger, I had more answers.

However, now that I’m older I can remember other times of questions and transitions in my life and how God has helped me to survive and thrive through them all.

I remember when I was 10 when I sat in our den as my Dad told my sister and me that my mother had died suddenly during the night.

Thankfully, a dozen “mothers” promptly stepped forward from our church over the next few weeks, months, and years for me.  And then I was blessed to have Jimmie Ruth Hudson to become my stepmother three years later and she is still in my life 41 years later.

I remember when I was 15 sitting in an empty high school football stadium with my Dad as he contemplated whether to accept becoming the pastor of a church moving us from the only home I had known to an unfamiliar one for my high school years.  I only knew that I wanted to play football at the local high school I knew because they had been the state champion for recently.   My Dad eventually accepted the position in the new town, and I ended up having a wonderful high school experience there.

I remember when Alabama and Coach Bear Bryant didn’t call and offer me a football scholarship my senior year (hint — I was 5′ 8″, 160 lbs), and I thought it was the end of the world.  But then my former childhood buddy in Montgomery, Billy Eley, mentioned to his neighbor’s brother (who happened to be the head recruiter at Clemson and a former All-American) that they should look at me; and a few weeks later I was offered a full, four-year scholarship to attend Clemson.   I was starting at defensive back at Clemson during my Freshman year living the dream to play college football at a major university.

I remember trying to figure out if I was going to live in Connecticut for the rest of my life in 1994.  I loved the church I was serving and my friends in New England as well.  I weighed if I would try to save my wounded marriage and follow my former wife back to Alabama.   My father was also ill and I moved back home and tried to repair my marriage.  My Dad died a few years later and I eventually divorced.  But I am so thankful I made the move that allowed me to be a chaplain at The 1917 Clinic (HIV/AIDS Clinic) for the past 15 years.  It has been an amazing experience.

I remember when I gave up on the idea that I would ever find a life partner after looking for 8 years after my divorce.  So I let go and decided to build a house on the lake to live the rest of my life alone.  And then what a surprise it was when I fell in love with Mary Sullivan six months later.  I was even more shocked when my new family wanted to come to live with me on the lake in the middle of nowhere.  It has turned out better than I could have imagined.

Life goes by quickly doesn’t it?  And now I am at another crossroads with plenty of questions.

What do I want to do for my vocation during my last 10-15 years of full-time work?  Where do we want to live?  The questions grow.

Do I want to continue as the chaplain at The 1917 Clinic as I have for the past 15 years?

Do I want to return to work in the church as a priest in my new faith home in the Episcopal Church?  Could both Mary and I both serve as Episcopal priests together someday?

Or do I want to do something entirely different? And what would that look like?  Maybe direct a Pastoral Care Program in a hospital, return to pastoral counseling, or go on the road to train congregations and other organizations how to care for persons?

Do Mary and I want to sell our home on Smith Lake and live more simply as we experience an empty nest in August?

Or will Mary and I move to a foreign country for a year and see what we can learn from our human family there?

I have so many more questions than I do answers as I turn fifty-four.  I am thankful to have a life partner whom I love with my whole heart.

But most of all, I am thankful I can remember that I have faith in God who has met my needs in my life through all of my previous questions and transitions.  God has not only met my needs, but has woven all of the threads of my life into a new quilt that is more diverse and colorful than I could have imagined.  Nothing has been wasted.

So, today, I think I’ll just make friends with the questions for awhile, and trust.  The answers can wait.

My mind and thoughts are rambling today.

Seven years ago, 2002,  I was single and wondering if I would ever get married again following my divorce in 1996.   I couldn’t find what I was looking for in a life partner.  So, I asked myself the question, “Where do I want to live, what do I want to do with my life?”

I knew I loved my work and and decided to stay at the clinic, but I wanted to go for a dream in terms of where I would live.  I had always wanted to live on the water, and since the closest beach was 4-5 hours away, a lake sounded good.

Friends helped me find a vacant lot on Smith Lake in north Alabama, one of the deepest, cleanest lakes in the southeast that is over 35 miles long and covers three counties.  I set out to have a house built in the middle of nowhere.  It was an hour commute to work, but to me it was worth it.  I had never done anything like this and I was scared to death.  I borrowed as much as the bank would allow, found a builder, and off I went.   I ate peanut and jelly sandwiches for weeks after I moved in because of my tight budget.

I have come to love this house on a bluff overlooking the lake. Its like a tree house in the summertime and each season is unique and amazing.  I’ve seen owls, hawks, eagles, red fox, rabbits, deer, and wolves to name just a few of the native wild animals.  I smile at the baby calves and foals in the pastures on my way to work.  On a clear night on our deck, I see billions of stars that are invisible in the city, and hear tree frogs and whippoorwills instead of car horns.

But even with all of the above, I was still lonely living by myself.

Six months after I moved in my new home, I fell in love with Mary Sullivan.  Mary is the best thing that ever happened to me in my life.  We eloped 18 months later with Brendan and Kiki, and I lived in NC for three weeks each month and returned to the lake and clinic one week out of the month for a full year until we could figure out the best place for all of us to live together.

After a year, I found myself in the Emergency Room in Chapel Hill believing I was having a heart attack.   The stress of two mortgages and living in two states caught up with me.  Decision time had come.  “Where are you going to live?  What are you going to do?”

I assumed we would sell the lake house and I would move to Chapel Hill and find a job.  Much to our surprise, Brendan and Kiki convinced us they wanted to move and live on the lake in Alabama.  It has been a great place to be family together.  “My house” turned into “our home” with Mary’s help and presence.

Yesterday I was slalom skiing behind our boat on the glass surface that barely has a ripple in it during the week.  I love to ski, along with long boat rides that allow me to see thousands of acres of trees and cliffs without a structure on it.

And now four years later, both kids will be going off to college at the same time and the empty nest brings former questions for both Mary and me.  “Where do we want to live, what do we want to do in the next chapter of our lives?”

All of this rambling is to say it is time to simplify our lives.   I am aware of a grief deep within my soul as we ponder selling our home on the lake and moving.

The difference this time is the scenario is about “us” and not just about “me.”

And that makes all the difference.

Recently I was out for an early morning hour walk for exercise in downtown Birmingham, walking from the Southside to the Northside and back again.

As I walked on 18th ST and 6th AVE N, I came upon a man in his 30’s about a half a block ahead of me.  We made eye contact and he shouted out “Good morning!” before I had the chance.  I responded with a “Good morning!” back.  I crossed to the other side of the street as I made my turn and we were walking in the same direction, on opposite sides of the street.  Before I knew it he had crossed over to my side.

I was a little startled when he said from behind my right shoulder, “Are you getting your exercise early this morning?”  I figured he was wanting money.  He didn’t have anything in his hands and had only the clothes on his back.

“Yes, I am, how are you today?” as I tried not to act nervous.   “I’m doing pretty well,” he said, “just heading to the bus station where I’m catching a bus this morning.  I have a brother and sister in West Virginia.  “May I walk with you for awhile?” he asked.  “Sure, I said,” feeling more comfortable.

“I’m from N’awlins,” he began with his thick Cajun accent .  “My girlfriend just told me she wanted to be with somebody else.  It was hard.  The only thing I knew to do was pick up the phone and call my brother in West Virginia.  I asked my baby brother if he could help me out and send me a bus ticket to come his way.  He told me the ticket was on the way and he and his wife would make room for me in their home.”

“You have a generous brother,” I chimed in.  “Yes sir, I do.  And a good sister too.  She wired me a little money so that I could eat on the way.  They will take care of me until I get back on my feet.  I’m an alcoholic and I have bi-polar disorder, ” he said matter-of-factly.

“That must make everything hard,” I added as we turned another corner and picked up the pace.

He shrugged, “Yes sir, it does.  But it is going to get better, God is gonna help me.  I’m ready this time and God is gonna help me,” he said confidently.  I was struck by his optimism and hope.  He turned to me and asked “What do you do?”

“I’m a chaplain at an HIV Clinic here,” I replied.  “I take care of people who are HIV positive.”

He stopped and looked at me wide-eyed, “Wow, that must be a great job!  Helping all those people and all!”

I smiled and said, “You know what, you are right, I love my job.”  I heard him add with a lowered voice, “I can’t imagine having a job that I loved.”

He stuck out his hand and introduced himself, “My name is Wylie, just like “Wylie Coyote” the cartoon character.   See?”  as he showed me a tattoo on the inside of his forearm that was indeed a drawing of the one and only Wylie Coyote pictured for all to see from his wrist to his elbow.  I shook his hand firmly, “My name is Malcolm.  Nice to meet you Wylie” as I realized I was beginning to enjoy our 20 minute walk and conversation together.  We talked about his hopes and dreams, and some of his fears too as we walked together.

“Wylie,” I said, “it’s going to be ok.  Things are going to get better for you.  You are on the right track.  You have family who loves you, and do you know that you are a child of God?”  I asked.  “Yep, I sure do,” he quickly added.

“Well, here is the bus station and my bus leaves in 10 minutes,” he said as we rounded the corner to the Greyhound Bus Station.  “Thanks so much for talking to me and encouraging me.  I was just asking God to help me a few minutes before I met you.  Isn’t it amazing how God works in mysterious ways?  Wow!”  “Yes it is, it is,” I nodded.

He turned towards me and said, “Before you leave, will you say a prayer for me right here on the street? “Sure, I will be glad to Wylie.”

He grabbed both of my hands as we closed our eyes and I said, “God, help Wylie to know there is nothing in all of this world that he could ever do or ever say that would keep you from loving him.  Help him to know he is not alone and that you are looking after him.  Thank you for his brother and sister who love him and give him safe travels as he continues his journey.  In your loving name we pray, Amen.”

Before I knew it, Wylie had me in a bear hug saying “Thank you so much Chaplain, thank you so much,” as he wiped his misty eyes with his rough hands.  “God bless you Chaplain, God bless you.”

As I walked away I thought, “God just did.”

Walking with Wylie, my gift for the day.

I was recently leading a group discussion at The 1917 Clinic around the theme of love with the following two questions:

“What does it mean to love with your whole heart?  How does this kind of love change you, others?”

I asked the same questions of my “Facebook Friends” and I wanted to share some of their responses with you.

Sharon Ryder, a Christian Conservative Mom/Wife who is a Republican wrote:

“That’s unconditional love.  It’s a love without boundaries, giving, not self motivated, not dependent on reward or recognition.  To love no matter what the consequence, a love that endures all.  And that kind of love overflows into every part of your life, into every part of your being.”

Harry Wingfield, a friend who is gay, HIV positive, and in a 21-year relationship with his partner stated:

“For me, it isn’t about emotion.  It’s about a deep inner knowing, and acceptance of what is and can not change.  It’s the love I feel for family—the family of my birth and the family that life has given me.  It’s being a part of a connection that is beyond questioning.  It brings safety, and security, and hope.”

Rebecca England, a single woman who is in a relationship and describes herself as a Liberal Democrat commented:

“To love with your whole heart means you don’t make a little compartment in yourself for your loved one and keep them out of the rest of your life.  You just take the Nestea plunge and get wet—let them know all of you, and accept knowing all of them.  It changes you and others in the same way that blue and yellow make green.  Also, this is my thought right now—when you choose something, you take everyone who loves you into that experience.  Like addiction, breaking the law, finding serenity through prayer—your loved ones all get a little piece of those choices.”

Steve Shanks, a married man who describes himself as a “Progressive, Episcopalian, and then some” added from “The More You Tear Off, The More You Keep” by Andrei Voznesensky and translated by William Jay Smith and Vera Dunham:

Give all at once,

Make gifts of yourself and forgiving;

Having but one ruble,

Give someone a thousand!

The water in living wells

Does not stagnate;

The more you tear from your heart

The more of it you keep.

A mother with many children

Takes in an orphan;

The more you tear from your heart

The more you keep.

You who worry so about people,

Give away your earnings;

You will become younger

And your burden will lighten.

Immortality, dear Faustus,

Is idiotically simple—

The more you tear from your heart,

The longer you will live.

But a beggar’s house cannot burn;

Trouble and triumph are brothers;

The more you tear from your hear,

The more that heart will hurt.

There is one lesson we are to learn in life, and only one:  It is all about love.  Loving our Creator and loving our human family. If we can learn this truth, we have discovered our purpose on this earth.

Thank you Facebook Friends.

What are your thoughts?  Please comment below.

This may be one of the most boring posts I have written on my blog.  Why?

I prefer to tell stories because I think we learn best from the experience of others, and God speaks to me clearest through interaction with others.  But, for years I have heard some of my Christian friends talk about what the Bible has to say about homosexuality.  This issue is ripping our churches apart in most Christian denominations.  It does not have to be so if we would be open to more light and less heat on the subject.

You have heard the words if you’ve grown up in a Christian church.  “Homosexuality is an abomination before God.”  Proof texting (a passage of Scripture used to prove a doctrine) all by itself is as dry as dust and holds no life-giving water for me.

So how do we take the Bible seriously without trying to make every word and each letter to be understood literally?  For me, there are three guidelines to interpreting and understanding what the Bible means to me:

1)  What does the scripture actually say in its full context (audience), and how is it consistent or inconsistent with how Jesus lived and what he taught?

2)  What have Christians said about the meaning of this passage through the ages (tradition) as I do not live my faith in isolation, and I do not have all the truth.

3) Based on my personal experience in the world, with the Spirit’s help, how can I spiritually discern or grow from this truth? In my Baptist upbringing, we called this way of thinking  “the priesthood of every believer.”  In other words, how do I use the brain God gave me to understand a spiritual truth?

I believe many of the people who say “what the Bible says about homosexuality” have never really studied the context of what is written. I have to admit I was one of them.  I did not read and study it myself for many years. I just chose the Bible verses that supported what I already believed, and repeated what I heard others say.  As I have grown older and have known hundreds of persons who are gay through my ministry, and have been exposed to a new way of understanding as a result, my beliefs have changed.

So, let me try to explain what I believe about the Leviticus 18 passage used by many Christians against gay folks.

What does this passage actually say? You can read the entire chapter for yourself here.

The “abomination” word is used in verse 22, “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.”  It also adds a penalty at Leviticus 20:13, “If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death; their blood is upon them.”  Few today would advocate the death penalty for all homosexuals, though there are a few.  So why have this sexual rule or ethic?  (Leviticus also says it is an abomination to eat shrimp or shellfish, all kinds of birds are forbidden, and the list goes on).   The context is important to understand.  In other words, I don’t know one Christian who lives by what Leviticus says, except when it supports the point they want to make.

It was the Jewish belief 3,000 years ago that everything to do about human life came from semen (women were not valued in the circle of life since there was no understanding of ovulation and eggs), in other words it all came from the guys only.  So to masturbate or have sex with another male (spilling semen without creating children) was considered murder because no child could be reproduced.  The future of the Jewish people depended on procreation, as it does for every ethnic group.

But there is no understanding here of mutual loving relationships between two males or two females.  It was all about procreation.  But to make the leap that couples who cannot or do not create children as a result of their sexual union disqualifies all of us heterosexual couples who have not been able to, or have chosen not to, have children in their relationships.  I would be in that list.

As a preacher’s kid growing up in Alabama, I remember some members of my father’s church quoting scripture to justify not allowing African Americans to worship in our church (as if they wanted to worship with us), or not allowing African Americans and white people to date, or God forbid, to marry whom they loved regardless of race.  The whole right to marry whom you love, regardless of race or gender, to me seems to be at least a civil (equal) right of every American in the same way that voting is.  They did the same in my seminary years when they wanted to forbid women to be pastors or priests.  But I get ahead of myself.

A minister friend of mine read my blog recently and wrote to me and said, “Malcolm, I appreciate the way you care for people who are homosexual showing them God’s love, but the overwhelming evidence of Scripture is so clear about how wrong that behavior is, when do you help them to see how wrong their lifestyle is?”

“I don’t,” I said without any inflection in my voice.  “I just love them the way I believe God does, and in the way that I want to be loved,” I added.  “I checked my job description when I came to work here in 1994 and I couldn’t find where it said I was supposed to straighten everyone out, so I try to avoid doing that,” I said with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek.

I am a third generation ordained Baptist minister.  I have been a minister on the staffs of Presbyterian, Southern Baptist, and United Church of Christ Congregational churches.  And now at this time in my life, I am a member of the Episcopal church.  Some people would see the last two sentences as evidence that I am confused about what I believe.  To me, hopefully it means I’m willing to be open to growing and learning from others.  I don’t have the last word about truth.

For me, this scripture is not about mutual loving, respectful, committed relationships between two adults.  It is about making sure there are enough children for the tribe to survive.

My experience in walking with hundreds of people who are gay is that I’ve never known one to say “I chose this way of being.” Rather it is the way they have always been.  The way they were created.  This is my experience in listening to them, maybe yours has been different.

The most loving thing I know to do is to encourage respectful, committed, loving relationships towards whomever he or she is attracted regardless of gender.

This blog is getting too long so I will stop for the day, and maybe add more later.

In the meantime, you can read ALL of the scriptures related to homosexuality in the Bible that most Christians reference:

1. Leviticus 18 (today’s reading)
2. Leviticus 20
3. Genesis 19
4. Judges 19
5. Romans 1
6. I Corinthians 6
7. I Timothy 1

Want to read more?  I recommend a book called “Those Seven References: A Study of 7 References to Homosexuality in the Bible” by The Rev. John F. Dwyer.  There is also an excellent short booklet written by Mel White, “What the Bible Says – And Doesn’t Say, about Homosexuality.”

Thanks for any comments that you have.

We had our first “Heartsong @ 1917” gathering yesterday to create community and connection with one another and God.  We didn’t know if anyone would show up.  Thankfully they did.

But it didn’t go as planned.

Just before we began,  “John” who was in his early 20’s stopped by the room, stuck his head in the door and asked for prayers for his grandmother.  “I can’t stay,” he said, “but I saw your signs about this group having  a connection with God so I thought I’d ask you to pray for her.”  We promised we would.  He left as quickly as he had come.

We began by sitting in a circle, introduced ourselves, and remembered for a moment what was special about past Heartsong Retreats.

“Heartsong reminds me that I am not alone in living with HIV,” Jeff began.  “I was diagnosed with HIV 19 years ago and Heartsong helped me to remember that I have a lot to be thankful for in my life,” as he listed a dozen gratitudes off the top of his head.

Greg added, “I made new friends at Heartsong and I need all of those I can get right now, ” as he mentioned he was diagnosed with HIV just three months ago.

I added, “Heartsong always surprises me, because the least likely person or event always teaches me something I need to learn.” Others mentioned they loved being in a safe community where they can “just be who they are and be honest with God and one another, and not worry about labels or stereotypes.”

I talked about our vision for Heartsong @ 1917 to be a place and time where we could listen to one another, learn from one another, and love one another on a weekly basis.  Our theme for the day was “Meeting God in the Present.”

And then, just as we were discussing meeting God in the here and now, the electrical power went out in our whole building.   I mean it was the “pitch-black-kind-of-dark” except for a thin beam of sunlight peeking in the door that we had left slightly ajar.   We sat for about a minute in the dark before the lights came back on.

I could feel my frustration growing over the power outage as we waited for the very loud overhead speaker system to stop beeping as we could barely hear one another over it.  Finally, silence.

We were about to begin our “Centering Prayer” to help us focus on the present and how God is experienced in the present tense, the right here, the right now, and especially in each other.

There was a quick knock on the door and two maintenance men came walking into the room and said, “We need to get to that closet door on the other side of the room to check out the electrical system,” as they walked through the center of the circle.

“Now?” I asked, trying to get them to see they were interrupting our meeting.

“I’m sorry, we really need to get in here,” they insisted.

I got up and moved a table and other furniture so they could get into the electrical closet.  I asked the group if they wanted to wait for the workers to do their job, before we started our centering prayer exercise.

Jeff just laughed it off and said, “This is cool, just like real life interruptions!  Let’s go ahead and start the centering prayer.”

So we began.  And you guessed it.

As we were sitting with our eyes closed, focusing on our own “sacred word” to help us let go of thoughts and distractions of the outside world, the men came out of the closet (no pun intended) and said, “Sorry for the interruption.  We’re done.  Have a nice day.”  I opened one eye and said, “Take care,” trying to refocus unsuccessfully.

After a few minutes, I asked the group to open their eyes and we debriefed the experience.

Joe discussed that “life is our prayer, in fact, everything we do is a prayer.  The line between prayer and living our lives doesn’t really exist,” he said as he led us to think about prayer in a different way.  He might have said that “God is even in the interruptions,” but I was too distracted to hear him if he did.

We had fifteen minutes to go so I pressed on.

I shared a reading about God being in the present, and then led the participants in a “Wisdom Circle” from the Native American tradition that my wife had taught me.  Everyone had a chance to respond to the reading.

We watched a powerful five-minute “YouTube” video and talked about how music is another way to experience community and connection with others and God (see what we watched below).

We concluded the group by going around the circle  one person at a time saying to the person on our left, “You are a child of God,” followed by silence.  Then the one being spoken to responded with, “I receive your blessing.”  My colleague of thirteen years, Kelly, was near the end and turned and said, “Joe, you are a child of God.”  “Kelly, I receive your blessing.”

Joe and I worked at the clinic together as chaplains between 1994-2006.  He is like a second father to me, a mentor, and a very close friend.  We’ve been through a lot together including my divorce in 1996 and eventual remarriage in 2004, as well as the recent death of Joe’s wife of 56 years.  Joe looked at me and said, “Malcolm, you are a child of God.”

I was surprised and couldn’t speak.  I needed the silence.  I squeaked out the words, “Joe, I receive your blessing,” and wiped the tears from my face a bit embarrassed.

I looked at everyone and said, “Amen.”  I couldn’t say anything more.

And today, as I reflect on our first gathering . . .

I am learning  a new song from my heart.  A heart-song that says God is right here, right in front of us, especially in the interruptions.

Note to Self:  Pay attention, Malcolm.

__________________

From the award-winning documentary, “Playing For Change: Peace Through Music”, comes the first of many “songs around the world” being released independently. Featured is a cover of the Ben E. King classic by musicians around the world adding their part to the song as it traveled the globe. (Also see http://www.playingforchange.com.  We used this video in “Heartsong @ 1917″ yesterday.

For some time now, I have wanted to start “something” that would bring our patients together to discuss how a connection with the Sacred makes a difference in our lives.

A time that would help us connect with something larger than ourselves in order to give purpose and meaning in life.

A place that would not be confined to a specific denomination or religion, and a place where questions would be valued even more than the answers.

I’ve wanted it to be especially for persons who have been told that they are not part of God’s family because they are HIV positive, or for any other reason for that matter.

And now is the time.

Heartsong @ 1917 began on Wednesday, May 13, 2009 from 10:45-12 noon at The 1917 Clinic.   This will be a unique gathering of persons who are HIV positive (and friends and family) in Alabama from every walk of life.  Heartsong @ 1917 will meet every Wednesday at the clinic.  Participants are welcome to come whenever they can.

We will create community with one another, and discuss how a connection with God empowers us to find meaning and purpose in our lives. The group will be open to persons of all faiths and those with no faith.  We will draw from Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Native American, and many other ways to connect with our Creator.

Since 1993, The 1917 Clinic has sponsored an annual spiritual retreat called the Alabama Heartsong Retreat.  “Heartsong @ 1917” will take many of the lessons we have learned from Heartsong and integrate it into a weekly gathering while creating something new.

Music, meditation, prayers, video, readings, blessings, and discussion are part of this wonderful gathering.

We meet downstairs in Room 151 on the first floor of the clinic.  Signs make it easy to find the room.  I will lead Heartsong @ 1917 along with my long-time colleague, Joe Elmore.  We will invite other clinic staff to assist us from time to time.

Come as you are.  And spread the good news.  Something new is starting at 1917.

____________________

For more information, contact Malcolm Marler at 205-975-8923 or mmarler@uab.edu.

Music and dance are a powerful expression of hope in the world.

If you need a little hope today, watch this 4 minute video.

More than 200 dancers were performing their version of “Do Re Mi”, in the Central Station of Antwerp.  With just 2 rehearsals they created this amazing stunt.

Pay attention to the faces of those watching, it is inspiring.

Got hope now?

I hope so.

I love to go hiking.   The only problem is I get lost almost every time I go.

I get distracted by the trees, the flowers, the birds and the butterflies.  I love to smell the pine and feel the breeze by streams of water.  But I forget about the little painted marks on the side of trees showing the way.  Hiking maps are a mystery to me.

And so last week at Heartsong, it happened again.

Heartsong staff members—Wes, Gina, Jeff, and I had free time on Tuesday afternoon and decided to explore some of the 1100 acres of the beautiful and secluded woods, streams, and canyons on Camp McDowell’s land.  As we walked, two of our Heartsong participants, Cleveland and Robert, saw us walking and asked if they could come along.

I was concerned about Cleveland’s overall health and wondered if he could keep up.  I tried to discourage him by saying, “Now Cleveland, we’re probably going to be walking for a couple of hours or so.  Are you sure you can make it?”  “No problem,” he responded with his childlike voice.  I secretly shook my head, and off we went.

Before long, we found the swinging bridge and needed to cross to the other side over the creek. It’s a little scary to walk over water when the bridge is moving up and down, side to side, every time you take a step.  Add 5 or 6 people walking on it at the same time, and you get the picture.

Robert wasn’t so sure about crossing on the swinging bridge as he watched all of us go to the other side.  “Come on Robert, you can do it!” we encouraged.  He was obviously nervous and uncomfortable, but he trusted his friends and slowly made his way across one step at a time.  We clapped and yelled encouragement.

We continued on the trail and stopped by a cavern with a waterfall that was cool and refreshing.  We talked with an experienced Camp McDowell staff member we ran into on the trail, and he explained all of the options we had for various trails ahead of us.

He gave us so many options that as we walked away, I was hoping someone else listened better than I. They didn’t.

We expected the trail to loop around to our original starting point and after walking for an hour and a half, Jeff and I began to wonder out loud, “Is this the right trail?  Where are we on the map?  We should be closer by now.”

And then Cleveland spoke up, who by the way was keeping up with the group better than anyone expected.  He said innocently,  “Do you think we ought to go back the way we know?”

I responded, “Maybe it’s just a little further down this trail, come on Cleveland you can do it.”  We kept walking, and walking, and walking.  Nothing on the map matched the trail we were on.

Time was getting short and I was nervous.  Two of the four workshop leaders for the afternoon were with us and if we didn’t make it back soon, the whole retreat would be off schedule.

Another fifteen minutes went by and it wasn’t getting any better.  Cleveland repeated his question, “Do you think we ought to go back the way we know?“   I was out of ideas.

Jeff (a Cub Scout leader, but not an Eagle Scout he kept reminding us) and I looked at one another, nodded and said, “Cleveland, we think you are right.  Let’s go back the way we know.”  He grinned from ear to ear.

I was aware of the time the whole way back, beating myself up for being so stubborn earlier.

After pushing ourselves a little,  we made it back with 5 minutes to spare.  Gina and Wes walked into their workshops and began without missing a beat.

And me?  I learned a few things about life.

1. Trust your friends when your steps are unsteady.
2. Be open to learning from everyone, you may be surprised.
3. Enjoy the beauty of the journey, while looking for signs along the way.
4. When lost,  retrace familiar steps to get back home.
5. Keep exploring, getting lost is worth it.

Thanks Cleveland, I’m glad you came along for the journey.

I experienced Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” (Matthew 5:1-12) in a new way at the Alabama Heartsong Retreat last week.  I realize now I had been blind, but now I see in a new way.  Let me explain.

I moved around the circle of 50 placing my hand on a different head in random order as I read a verse or blessing.

5:1 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him.

I saw Arreba and Keyona who rode a Greyhound bus from South Alabama to Birmingham, and waited half a day before they got in the van from the clinic without complaint in order to attend Heartsong.

²Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

I looked into Janet’s eyes who had been given a 72 hour pass from her nursing home so that she could could be here one more time.

3 ’Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I placed my hand on Jessica’s head who said she had not felt a sense of peace in her life since she was 8 years old, 24 years ago.

4 ’Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

I looked at Joe with misty eyes whose wife, Carolyn, of 57 years had died the previous month.

5 ’Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

I made eye contact with Eric who had taken it on himself to acquire fifty devotional books from a publisher so that all participants could have a free book to draw them closer to God.

6 ’Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

I saw Wayne who announced this would probably his last Heartsong because he was going back to work full-time, and had realized the dream of seeing his daughter graduate from high school when he didn’t think he would live this long.

7 ’Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

I could see Cleveland smiling who has overcome mental health challenges that would hold most people back.

8 ’Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

I looked at Jackie and remembered the Support Team of volunteers we had created for her thirteen years earlier, which she no longer needs.

9 ’Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

I smiled at Greg, nicknamed Hillary (that’s another story), who walks with a cane and has a sweet spirit, and is always making others laugh.

10 ’Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I could see Shannon who has had a rough year in relationships but did not let that stop her from showing up.

11 ’Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.

I could see Wendell who finally got the courage to tell his pastor that he is HIV positive and thankfully, also received support from his church.

¹²Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

I also thanked God for Mary, Joyce, Gregory, Michael, Daniel, Misty, Greg, Tony, Darryl, Robert, Michael, Clarence, Gregg, Steve, James, Brett, Jimmy, Paul,  Tony, Robert, Jeff, Wes, Gina, Kelly, Barbara, Charles, Tommie, Brandon, Guy, Clarisa, Sharon, Tory, Ceonte, Joe, Richard, and Alan.  Each one of them have remarkable stories to tell.  Each one is blessed, and is a blessing to others.

I was blind.  But now I see.

It has been less than 12 hours since I left the Alabama Heartsong Retreat 2009, but I feel like I

have to write about a scandal that happened at this year’s retreat.  It happened on the second night of the retreat, but one needs to know the setting first.

Fifty or so people gathered at this year’s spiritual retreat at Camp McDowell, an Episcopal camp in Northwest AL. There were heterosexuals, homosexuals (gay and lesbian), bi-sexuals, black people, white people, and even a person with a Cherokee Indian background among the participants.  They were young and old.  Some were Pentecostal, Baptist, Methodist, Episcopalian, Presbyterians, Catholic, AME, CME, and more.

One was a fugitive running from the law in another state.  Others had been in prison for drug abuse, and some were still fighting the drug demons.  Several were alcoholics.  A few had been abused, while others were, or had been, in an abusive relationship.  I think a few people there had never said the sacred traditional word, “IacceptJesusChristasmypersonalLordandSavior,”  that I had been taught as a child.

Let’s be honest, everybody there was plain and simple “a sinner,” to use religious language.  I’m talking about the kinds of sinners whose sins are high on the “sin grading scale” that most religious people use, as if there was such a scale.  The ragtag group embodied the “disenfranchised or outsiders” that you read about in the Bible.  I read the story aloud of the woman who was a sinner and washed Jesus’ feet with her tears.

Our retreat theme, “Getting in the Game of Life,” was at the center of the spiritual discussion in the large group as we sat in one unbroken circle.  We talked about what it meant to be “blessed” by other people.  Not a blessing prior to a meal or someone saying, “God bless you.”  Rather, the kind of blessedness or blessing that happens when one is emotionally and spiritually dying to hear a word of encouragement, or affirmation, or love, or hope in one’s life.  We named some of those people by name, both the living and dead.  These were the people who had been there for us.  I heard myself call out my father’’s name, “Lewis Marler,” as his name lodged in my throat.  We lit a candle in the circle’s center as a reminder.  Some people didn’t name anybody.

And then the scandal happened.

“Choose a partner and sit knee to knee,” I began.  “Study the features of your partner’s face, and look into his or her eyes.  I mean really look until it is a bit uncomfortable,” I directed, and people giggled.

And then I asked one of the partners to say to the other very slowly, “You are a child of God.”  I asked for silence to let it sink in.  Then the receiver of the blessing responded with, “I receive your blessing.”   We changed it around.  “You are a child of God,” they said, with silence allowed to soak up the words like a sponge . . .  then together the blessed ones said, “I receive your blessing.”

I  suggested that each one of us in that room were called in life to be that blessing–that thread of hope to others on a daily basis.  We were to give this blessing, especially to the people we didn’t like.  The ones who irritate us, the ones who are the opposite of the kind of folks we like to hang around.  This is what it means to “get in the game of life,” to pay attention to the person in front of you.  He or she are no longer sidelined, no longer benched.  To look into the face of every person and know that he or she is a child of God.

Grace was scattered to everyone there without discrimination.  Actually, the grace was already there, we just acknowledged its presence.  From drag queens to the ordained.  Grace poured.  Tears flowed.  Others were trying to figure out what just happened.  We all knew something happened.  Powerfully so.

Whatever you want to call it, it was scandalous for sure. Sinners being called children of God.  And the kingdom of heaven, for just a moment, was not in the distant future of a life in the hereafter.  It was and is a life of the here and the now.

_____________

NOTE: Much of this entire scandalous exercise was my colleague’s, Joe Elmore, idea.  It seems like all he talks about as a retired Methodist minister is grace these days. Thank you Joe.

As I go down my final checklist to attend the 16th Heartsong Retreat, I am thinking about Janet.

Janet went to Heartsong last year.  I remember her love of singing, her quick sense of humor, her self-awareness, and her love of dancing.  She was a 50 something year old African American woman who made friends quickly with other participants.

I noticed how Janet looked for persons who were holding back.  She used her slow Southern drawl and warm personality to make them feel at ease and to reassure them there is nothing to fear here.

One of those persons who came for the first time last year was “Jerry.” He was a quiet young man in his early 20’s who wasn’t so sure on the first night if he had made a good decision to come to Heartsong with all the laughter surrounding him.  I watched Janet introduce him to others, sit beside him in large group time so that he wouldn’t be alone, and even encouraged  him to dance with her in the talent show on Wednesday night.  Together, they brought the house down with their dancing and had everyone on their feet shouting encouragement and clapping their hands by the time the music stopped.

A few weeks after Heartsong ended last year, we got the shocking news that Jerry was shot and killed on the streets of Birmingham.  We were all numbed and grieved by the news.

In the last year, Janet hasn’t been doing so well. She has had a very difficult life since being diagnosed with HIV 21 years ago.  She has been in the hospital a half dozen times in the past year.  Her health has declined significantly.  And her attendance at this year’s Heartsong was in doubt as late as Friday, before we leave on this Monday.

I sat with Janet in Kathy Gaddis’ office, her social worker at the clinic.   “Janet,” I began, “I don’t know if you are healthy enough to attend this year’s retreat.  What do you think?”

She sat up straight in the chair, smiled and said resolutely,  “Malcolm, I am well enough to go to Heartsong.  I can do it.”   I looked at Kathy, and she nodded in agreement.

And so this year, if Janet can get to the clinic to catch the van tomorrow afternoon, she will attend another Heartsong.

Except this year, I hope some of the other participants will look out for Janet, like she has done for others before.

The tender grace will be passed along once again.  This is what Heartsong is all about.

Note:  You can see and hear Janet on The 1917 Clinic video called “Positive” by clicking here.

Update: Janet made it to Heartsong 2009, and she got stronger each day she was there.  Many participants stepped up to make sure she had what she needed.  On August 29th, 2009, Janet died.  I will miss you Janet.  Peace to you.

This post fits in both series:  “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality,” and “The Alabama Heartsong Retreat.”

Friendships change us. Alan Woellhart is one of those friends in my life.  Let me explain.

I met Alan in 1993 when I was interviewing for my present job.  He was on the Chaplain search committee and a patient at the clinic.  Alan was also one of the instrumental figures in starting the Alabama Heartsong Retreat, and he is the only person in Heartsong’s history who has helped coordinate and attend all sixteen retreats.  An amazing accomplishment by itself.

Alan met Manny on July 4th weekend in 1993 and like many love stories, the two of them were a perfect fit for one another.  I observed the tenderness in the way they talked and listened to one another, and how thoughtful they were in their actions towards one another.  They were best friends, as well as partners in life.  Their personalities complimented one another.  They were quick to smile and laugh when in each other’s presence.

After dating for about a year, Alan asked, “Malcolm, I want to talk with you about something.  Manny and I want to get married and we were wondering if you would do the ceremony?”  It was the first time I had been asked by a gay couple to officiate at their wedding. In Alabama of course, this really meant a union “blessing” since they would not even receive civil rights of a married couple by the state.

I told Alan that I would be honored to participate in their wedding if the two of them would be open to pre-marital counseling.  After all, I had performed many weddings as a minister and had done pre-marital counseling with the heterosexual couples.  (Alan secretly told me later that he thought I was trying to find something in their relationship so that I could respectfully decline.)

I met four or five times with the happy couple who always held hands in my presence and we talked about finances, issues related to their biological families, faith, communication skills, and more.  They were clear that they wanted to make a life long commitment to one another in front of family and friends.

The wedding was at Alan’s home in Jasper, AL. Most of the staff of The 1917 Clinic were present along with Alan’s family.  Some of the Catholic nuns who were friends from our previous Heartsong Retreats were also present to celebrate the day.  We all stood in the living room, shoulder to shoulder, face to face, for Alan and Manny to declare their vows before God, friends, and family.

I used the same service I had used for most weddings I had conducted with a few changes like using “Life Partners” instead of husband or wife for vows.  The language changes were minor.  The reception afterwards was joyous and the food was delicious with smiles, hugs, music, and lots of laughter.

Alan even won his mother-in-law over in subsequent years and he became like another son to her.  He said, “after I painted her house and hung ceiling fans, she came around!”

And then one day Manny noticed blood in his urine and Alan took him to the doctor. After some tests, the diagnosis and prognosis were grim–renal cell carcinoma.  Treatment was scheduled but Manny’s health declined over the next year.

In 1996, Alan convinced Manny into coming to Heartsong with him.  The rest of the participants loved Manny and I will never forget Alan singing to Manny in the Wednesday night talent show.  They were inseparable.  Ironically, it was the year after I had been divorced and I wondered if I would ever have a love like they had.  They gave me hope.

Over the next year, Manny was hospitalized and there were times when Alan couldn’t see Manny in ICU when he was critical because medical staff stated that only his “family could see him.”  That just wasn’t right.

Both decided that Manny would be cared for at home in his last few months.  The extraordinary hours and tender loving care given to Manny by Alan were like couples I had visited in similar circumstances over the years.

And on September 19th, 1997, Manny died at home with Alan at his side.

I had the privilege and honor of conducting Manny’s funeral.  It was the first time I had conducted the wedding and funeral for the same person within a four year period of time.

Understandably, it took Alan several years to work through his grief.  I remember that he came to Heartsong for the next couple of years and he hardly said a word the whole week.  His grief was almost too much to bear.  For all of us.

Finally, Alan became the sassy, no-nonsense guy so many of us knew him to be previously.  He began living again.  His faith was one of the things that made a difference.

Today, Alan has been HIV positive since 1989.  A twenty year journey.

Maybe now you can understand why I felt a lump in my throat this week when I was sitting across the table from Alan as we put together the 16th annual Heartsong Retreat starting on Monday .

I thank God for giving me friends like Alan Woellhart.

Friendships make a difference.  Alan sure has.

This is the ninth in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

I have been wanting to say this publicly for most of my adult life, but I have been afraid to admit this to myself, to my loved ones and to my friends.  I was afraid what my family would think or say or do.  I did not want to hurt them.  I’ve always wanted them to be proud of me.  I’ve tried hard to be who they wanted me to be.   But, I have to be who I am, who I believe God created me to be.

I know that some of you who have known me for many years have been wondering about my sexual orientation.  I have wanted to be truthful about my feelings from the time I went to seminary, became a pastor in rural Kentucky, and worked on the church staff of two churches full-time in a Southern Baptist church and a United Church of Christ Congregational church.  What I am trying to say is I know that at least a few of you have wondered if I am straight (heterosexual) or gay (homosexual) for all of these years.

So today, on April 16, 2009, on the 31st anniversary of my ordination to ministry, I have decided to come out of the closet.

Here goes.  Deep breath.

I AM STRAIGHT.  There, I said it.  It is true, I am a heterosexual. While I prefer you refer to me as “straight,” I know others are more comfortable with the term “heterosexual” or “hetero.”  Either are better than some names I have heard.  Some of you are probably saying you knew it all along and it does not come as a surprise to you.  For others of you, I realize this may come as a shock and I hope and pray you will still love me regardless.  I am the same person you have known for all these years.  But from this day forward, I’m not looking back. I’m choosing to move forward and hold my head high as a child of God.

Maybe one of the easiest ways I can answer many of your questions is to just answer the TOP TEN questions I have been asked over the years.

1.  When did you first decide to become a heterosexual? I knew I was different when I was in the first grade and loved sitting by Andrea in our reading group at Davis Elementary in Montgomery.  We even secretly told one another we were boyfriend and girlfriend, but neither of us really knew what that meant so nothing happened.  I have felt this attraction towards girls for as long as I can remember.

2.  What do you think caused you to be a heterosexual? Now that I am 53, I see life differently than I when I was younger.  I look back and believe God created me to be a “hetero.”   It is true that I always had a very close relationship with my mother.  In fact, it seems like I have adopted mothers throughout my life.  But my Mamma was the center of my universe.  Tragically she died when I was ten and I used to think I was maybe straight because I’ve always wanted to love a woman the way I loved her.  But now I know that her death was not the cause of me being a heterosexual.  I have been this way all my life.

3.  Is it possible your heterosexuality is just a phase you may grow out of? No, it is not a phase.  I can’t imagine what it is like being with a man sexually. It just seems very natural for me to be attracted to a woman.

4.  If you’ve never slept with a person of the same sex, how do you know you wouldn’t prefer that? Well, that’s pretty personal.  But let me put it this way, I just don’t have the sexual attraction and desire for a person of the same sex, though I have many close friends who are male.  Does that make sense?

5.  Why do you heterosexuals insist on being so obvious with public displays of affection with a partner?  Can’t you just be who you are and not flaunt it? I agree it is a little uncomfortable for me to see people hanging all over one another in public, or giving each other deep kisses when other people are around.  That doesn’t seem appropriate to me.  But I do like to hold my partner’s hand when we walk together, or give her a little kiss on the lips when I am leaving or when I see her in public.  I do not mean to be offensive to others.

6.  Why are heterosexuals so promiscuous? I have to admit that many heterosexuals are promiscuous and they get all of the media attention. Politicians,  sports figures, movie stars, and even clergy do not always help the reputation of straight folks.  Of course, I can’t speak for them, only for me.  I have been faithful to my life partner.

7.  What do you believe the Bible and God thinks about heterosexuals? I believe that God loves all of God’s human family.  As a Christian, I believe God loved us so much that God sent God’s son, Jesus, to show us the way to God.  I think God must be disappointed at times with heterosexuals.  We all fall short and make mistakes.  Not one of us is perfect.   I am so thankful for grace.

8.  How can you enjoy a fully satisfying sexual experience with a person of the opposite sex when the physical, biological, and psychological differences between you are so great?  How can a man possibly understand what pleases a woman sexually or vice versa? No comment.  Next question.

9.  Why do you think there are so many unhappy heterosexuals? There are lots of reasons straight people are unhappy.  Sometimes we try to find happiness in what we can buy, or who we can be sexually intimate with, or by what kind of drugs we can take, or how much alcohol we can drink.  Sometimes we are unhappy because we are not connected to God, our Creator.  I can think of hundreds of reasons why heterosexuals are unhappy, just like a few homosexuals I know.

10.  Why are heterosexuals always trying to seduce others into their sexual orientation? I have never tried to seduce another person to change them into being a heterosexual.

So there it is for all the world to see.

Malcolm Lewis Marler is a heterosexual.

I hope you will still love me, because this is who I am.  We all want to love someone, and want to be loved by our beloved.

Thanks for listening.

This is the eighth in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

When I started dating my wife, Mary Sullivan, on January 29, 2003, I was swept off my feet.   I told the world about it.

I remember calling my “surrogate mother” from my college years, Ina Durham, from the airport as I was leaving Mary in Chapel Hill in 2003.

“Ina,” I said with unbridled clarity like I had never expressed, “I have fallen in love, I’ve been swept off my feet, and it has finally happened!”  She giggled with me and asked for more details.  Ina and Harry had been second parents to me for almost 30 years.  They always held on to the hope that I would find a life partner with whom I could celebrate life fully.  Over the next few days, I called dozens of people to share my joy.  I told Kelly, Chris, Joe, Mike, and many others at work about this new love I had found.

But I simply cannot imagine having to keep that relationship a secret from others.   And yet, that’s what some of my friends do on a daily basis who are gay.   If they are not ready to risk rejection from friends, or love that is withheld from family members, they keep quiet.  They tell no one, and their joy is silenced.

Many of my friends who are gay or lesbian have to mute their excitement daily, use “neutral pronouns” when they are asked by work colleagues what their weekend plans are, or shake their heads “No” when a stranger asks them if  they are married or have children when making small talk.  They are asked, but they don’t tell.  Except maybe in the smallest of circles.

I called Rick Meyer, my close friend from Glastonbury, CT who had stood by me for years when I struggled through my divorce, and had been there for me through several relationships that didn’t work out.  He shared my joy when I told him I was getting married.  I had found my life partner and I wanted the world to know.

Mary and I went to the court house and bought our marriage license.  We called my pastor and asked her if she would perform our wedding ceremony in a few days.  Sarah had come to know Mary and her children because we worshiped together regularly and she was almost as excited as we were.  We eloped a few days later with only Sarah, Judy Bridgers (close friend), and Brendan and Kiki present.  Instantly Mary and I had all of the rights and responsibilities that all spouses enjoy.  But not so if you are gay.  And that’s just not right.

Not only can you not buy a marriage license for your life partner in Alabama if you are gay, but you better not ask your clergy person about blessing your relationship either.  They are more likely to see your joyful love as illegitimate and shameful.

Even the most caring and enlightened clergy I know believe they have to turn down the opportunity to do a “Union Ceremony” for a gay couple because his or her job depends on it.  Who can blame them?  How many of us make decisions that risks our present and future job opportunities?  And yet no hospital visitation, or property rights, or inheritance come with a clergy blessing.

I used to think that “domestic partnerships” sanctioned by the state would be enough if it gave equal rights to couples. I should know better growing up in the South during the Civil Rights movement and hearing “equal but separate” education for persons who were black and white.  Those of us who were white believed it was very equal and were thankful it was separate.  It didn’t affect the majority of white folks anyway.  When you are in the minority though, being equal is more important.

While domestic partnerships might be an interim step, a domestic partnership is not enough.   For gay couples whose faith is central in their lives, anything short of a wedding denies a gay couple the joy and blessing of their church.

I believe that God is love, so how can I oppose two persons who want to make a life commitment to one another in love?  How can I deny a couple all of the rights that I take for granted? How can I deny a couple the social support that I value in my own marriage?  How can I deny a couple the blessing all straight couples get in a church whether their faith is central or not in their lives?

I cannot.

But I can continue to offer my services to gay couples who ask for a blessing in a Union Ceremony as I have done in the past in Alabama.  I can advocate for gay couples to have rights that are equal to straight couples.  And I can work towards the day when gay marriage is legal in Alabama.  Don’t laugh.  Many of my brothers and sisters in my home state could not have imagined the day when an African American man would be President of the United States.  And we will have an African American governor in the state of Alabama, maybe sooner rather than later.

My silence in the past as been my downfall.  I simply can’t do it anymore.  It’s just not right.

___________________________

NOTE:  There are signs of hope.  Connecticut, Massachusetts, Iowa (April 27, 2009), Vermont (September 1, 2009), and Maine (May 6, 2009) have legalized same gender marriages.  California approved same sex marriages, then had it taken away, and is still being pursued.  Bills to allow same-sex marriage are currently before lawmakers in New Hampshire, Maine, New York and New Jersey.  Legal unions or domestic partnerships are approved in New Jersey, New Hampshire and Washington (April 15, 2009).  Maine, Hawaii, District of Columbia, Oregon, and Maryland  have created legal unions with certain rights.  Read more here.

Harry C.S. Wingfield

As our annual Heartsong Retreat is coming up in a couple of weeks,  I am thinking about Harry Wingfield.

Soon after I began at the clinic in ‘94, Harry came to my office and said enthusiastically, “I want you to know about a spiritual retreat I went to in Louisiana for persons living with HIV. We had the first one in Alabama last year.  Would you like to coordinate the next one and get the clinic to be its sponsor?”

I was still trying to find my way around the clinic and I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights. I said, “That’s great Harry, but I need a few months to get my feet on the ground,”  hoping that I could put him off so that he would forget about it.  I didn’t know about Harry’s persistance.

A few months later he was back in my office and I knew then that I better learn about this spiritual retreat.  He and another patient, Alan, met with me to talk about their ideas, where we could have it, what the retreat should be like, and how our retreat could be “even better.”  They worked out most of the details and invited friends and patients from Alabama and Georgia to attend.  Harry added, “I play the guitar and sing some.  I’ll bring my guitar if you want.”

I learned that Harry was a gifted songwriter and musician who had sung all over the United States. He had written and performed an album called “But I Have Promises to Keep” about what it was like to live with HIV.   Some songs were hilarious, others were sad about the friends he had lost, while others connected one’s heart to the Creator.  All of them were “heart songs.”   When Harry sang, I knew I made the right choice to come home from New England to work in an HIV clinic.

Joe Elmore and I led discussions in the large group during the four-day, three-night Heartsong Retreat at The Bendictine Sisters Retreat Center in Cullman, AL.  The Sisters welcomed us and showered us with love and hospitality.  We asked Harry to sing, a lot.  We also had a talent show, a memorial service to remember those who had died, art activities to express ourselves, and even a bonfire to let go of the grief we were carrying.  I discovered that Heartsong was all about hope.  Heartsong was and is a safe place for persons living with HIV to just be.

Harry’s health changed for the worse the next year. His T-Cell count dropped to 4.  He didn’t lose his sense of humor when he said that he had named all “four of his T-Cells, John, Paul, George, and Ringo.”  He lost weight and became weaker and short of breath.  We developed a “Support Team” from a local church to give him extra support for meals, transportation, tending his flower garden, and friendship.  I wondered if this would be his last Heartsong.

During the next annual retreat, a frail woman introduced herself to Harry.  The two of them had gone to high school together, dated, and had been close friends.  Harry had not recognized her until she spoke because HIV had devastated her body.  They embraced and held one another.  When it came time for the talent show, Harry asked “Holly” if she would come forward with him so that he could sing a song to her he had written about their relationship years before.  Tears flowed.  It was a tender, sacred moment.  Holly died a few months later.

Listen to the song, “Hollywood” that Harry sang to “Holly” at The Heartsong Retreat here.

Another year during one of our retreats, Harry participated in a “journaling workshop” at Heartsong.  He decided to write a letter, “just as an exercise,” to a former employer who had let him go not long after disclosing he was HIV positive.  The letter expressed his forgiveness of his boss, even though it had not been requested.   He decided to mail that letter.  It was a significant turning point in his life.

Over the next few years, Harry got better rather than worse.  He discontinued his disability benefits and got a job full-time at our clinic in the research department, and later moved to another job at UAB where he still works.  We held a “graduation party” for his Support Team at his house because he didn’t need their help in the same way anymore.  He is still friends with many of them a decade later.

Harry still lives in Birmingham, AL with his partner, Vern, of 21 years. He recently said the following about Vern,

“He took care of me when I was sick with AIDS, and I’ve taken care of him when he broke his foot and when he broke his wrist.  We are both ready for less of the “in sickness,” and more of the “and in health!’”

The Alabama Heartsong Retreat has flourished as the 16th annual retreat will be held April 27-30, 2009.   How could Harry have known that more than 750 persons living with HIV would experience Heartsong? When asked why he wanted to start Heartsong so many years ago, he said recently,

“My hopes were that it would help me and others with HIV, and that we could use each others’ strength to find a spiritual connection once again with God.  A lot of people weren’t finding what they needed in organized religion.   Many of us had been wounded by the church.  Since so much of HIV is lonely, a spiritual emphasis is needed to remind us we are not alone.   A neutral spiritual setting is what I hoped for, a safe place where we could discover that “where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Indeed.

Amen.

I am thinking about the Alabama Heartsong Retreat  in a few weeks and remembering people who have attended in the past, like “Andy.”

Andy was a handsome Italian man in his 20’s in 1998.  He was a loving father, a devoted son, a caring brother, and a committed life partner.  I remember his health had deteriorated quite a bit and he came to the clinic in a wheelchair.  He was always an optimist and he still cared about whomever he met.  He never sat silently by anyone in the waiting room and before they knew it, he had coached them to keep on living life to its fullest.

Andy looked at me at the clinic that day and said “I’m going to Heartsong in a couple of weeks.” I didn’t see how it would be physically possible for him.  But I told him if he wanted to go, we would help him.  His mother later said he couldn’t go to Heartsong unless Carol Linn, one of our clinic nurses, went with him to give him the daily infusions he needed.  So Carol said she would go if Andy wanted to be there.

When Andy arrived at Heartsong, it was incredible to see participants take the time to help him with various activities. At mealtimes different people carried his tray or pushed his wheelchair.  Everyone wanted to sit by him.  During workshop activities, many were inspired by his willingness to try to participate though his frail body made it difficult.  He had to nap in his room during some sessions so that he would have the strength to come to the large group gatherings.  When Andy spoke in large group, everyone listened.

Kelly Ross-Davis, our Director of Education at the clinic wrote about that experience:

Andy received his care at our clinic.   No, I think Andy taught our clinic about care. While I didn’t often work directly with Andy, I heard the stories of his remarkable courage and uplifting spirit despite the incredible pain in much of his body.

I was privileged to experience Andy’s amazing heart up close.  In our small group, we were tracing the outline of our bodies on a large white paper in an exercise as we defined ourselves from our head to our feet.  Carol and some dear friends patiently and lovingly assisted him as he got out of his wheelchair and laid on his back as we traced his body.  While other participants laughed and relaxed as they worked on their projects, Andy was intently focused on his.  I wondered if it was his way of finding some closure – saying goodbye to his physical body and embracing his eternal soul.

Harry Wingfield, another Heartsong Retreat participant that year, said that when it came time for the “nature walk,” Andy couldn’t go outside, so he stayed behind with him.  Harry added,

We talked about a lot of things related to living with this illness.  But Andy looked up at me and said that he thought he was ready to let go (die), but there were so many people to take care of in his own family, he didn’t know what to do.  He was so tired, but he also didn’t want to let them down.  I suggested to him that maybe it was time to take care of himself and that it would be ok for him to talk to them about it, and to let go if that is what he wanted to do.

One night when Carol was giving Andy his treatment in his room he said he wanted to call his son at home.  This was before cell phones were common and so Carol pushed his wheelchair into the hallway where the one wall phone was located. Carol said,

I sat with him as he called home and asked his partner if his son was already asleep.  I could tell he said yes by the disappointment on his face.  He was already asleep and he would miss talking with him.  And then, Andy asked him if he would put the phone by his son’s face and let him just listen to him breathe for a short time.  After a couple of minutes he hung up and said to me ‘Carol, that is the most beautiful sound in the world to listen to your own son breathe peacefully in his sleep.’  I knew then he was one of the best dads I had ever known.

At the end of the retreat, Andy said to me as he was leaving, “I am at peace now, Malcolm.  I finally have peace.”  His face was beaming.  He really was at peace and he had shared it with all of us.

Just six weeks later, Andy died a couple of days after Easter.

Andy is one of the reasons I go to the Heartsong Retreat every year. And Carol, and Kelly, and Harry also give me hope to return to Heartsong.

You just never know who might give you peace and hope this year.

(More information about how you can help sponsor a retreat participant.)

The Alabama Heartsong Retreat is the most meaningful event that I have ever been involved in on an annual basis.  This will be my 15th year in a row to participate.  In fact, I can’t think of anything I’ve attended for 15 years in a row.

Heartsong is an annual spiritual retreat for persons living with HIV as well as those affected by HIV.   People come from every corner of Alabama and surrounding states of GA, FL, and MS.   This year’s retreat will be our 16th annual retreat on April 27-30, 2009.

Heartsong is a safe place for persons to gather, share, and learn from one another.  For some, it is the first time they have ever said out loud to another, “I am HIV positive.”   They discover they are not alone.   Some persons have been diagnosed for over 20 years, while others found out only in the last month.  Black and white, gay and straight, young and old.  They all show up.   Some come running, others move slowly on their walkers.  All are welcomed with open arms.

Heartsong is an opportunity to listen to one’s own “heart song,” to connect to the Creator and to a community.  The healing power of Heartsong is balm for one’s soul.   It is open to persons of all faiths, those who have lost their faith, and those who have never discovered a faith.

The four day, three night retreat costs $150 per person and includes nine nutritious meals.  Most participants cannot pay anything.  No one is turned away due to inability to pay.  All workshop leaders donate their time.

And that’s where you and I come in. Can you help sponsor a scholarship for one participant?  Whether it is $25, $50, $75, or $150, everything is appreciated.

This is an opportunity to make a difference for someone who is HIV positive in Alabama.

Will you join me by making a donation from you, your family, friends, congregation, or organization?

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of our Heartsong participants.

See brochure here.

This is the seventh in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

Mary Bea Sullivan

I was talking with my Mary last night about how discouraged I was about this series on homosexuality on my blog. When she asked why I said, “I don’t know, I think my friends who are straight are probably annoyed with a straight, white, bald guy writing about this issue. And I’m not sure this is really encouraging or helping persons who are gay. I just don’t know,” as I shook my head.

She reminded me about two blogs that I read on a regular basis and how I had just read two posts from those blogs aloud to her recently.  We were both moved by the truth, clarity, and humor of each.

Mary said, “Drexel and Rami are not even aware that you read their blogs and you are moved by their words.  I bet there are people who are reading your blog and you just don’t know about it.”

She saw my faithless face and added, “Besides, I’m not sure that is the reason you are writing anyway,” alluding to the fact that I write because it is important for me to put my thoughts, beliefs, and reflections down for my own sake.

And, she is right.  I write here so that I can be clearer about my life’s purpose.

The reason I am on this planet is to create community and connection for persons who need it most, wherever I encounter them in my daily life. I know what it is like to be alone and wonder if God is present.

When I got up at my regular 4:30 a.m. time this morning, one of the first things I read was an email I received overnight from an anonymous reader on my blog.  Here is what this person said:

Thank you for giving a damn about me. Thank you for giving your heart and soul to those of us in the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transgendered, questioning) community.  Thank you for serving God and embracing the diversity that IS God.

I am reading your series and have wept through nearly every post. It reminds me of my own struggle with sexuality vs. my Evangelical upbringing. I prayed for nearly 30 years, endured exorcisms (yes, exorcisms), counseling, ex-gay camps, condemning, damning sermons, flaming accusations, etc. from the church.

I was and still am Gay. God didn’t change that part of my life. I had come to a point where I plea bargained with God that if He didn’t change me, I’d just be gay, leave Him behind and go to hell, like I had been taught–because I couldn’t fight anymore. I surely couldn’t be gay AND Christian.  So, if God didn’t change me, it meant He didn’t love me. My whole world changed in 2006. I visited a gay-affirming church and Pastor J.R. Finney II, from Covenant Community Church taught me to forget all that I had learned and to discover God again; this time, without the guilt of religion.

While I am thankful for my previous religious upbringing, as a foundation for God’s word, I am more thankful that I got a chance to re-learn what God really says about me in His Word. God thinks I am OK and I’d rather have God’s approval. I have since forgiven those Christians who ignorantly shunned, hated and damned me.

I have even forgiven the Pastor who “outed” me 17 years ago during one of his famous fire and brimstone sermons on a Sunday morning when I was absent.  He is no longer there.  I have visited the church of my childhood several times since then–and you know what, I am loved by them.

The members, many who have been my Sunday school teachers, school teachers, either don’t remember or don’t care that I am gay. And you know what? They accept me unconditionally and often invite me to do the Lectionary readings on Sunday morning when I visit.  That is an honor that I cherish. I am what I am; I am how God made me, and I embrace that now.

My life has been hard, but I grew and I learned, and I thrived. I think that, things had been really easy, would I appreciate my life this much? Furthermore, the struggles remind me that “the negative experience helps us appreciate the positive that much more.”

I want to say thank you to this anonymous writer for creating community for me when I needed it most.  Surprise, surprise.

And thank you to my wife, Mary Bea Sullivan , for your encouragement in my life.  You create connection for me like I have never experienced before.

I think I’ll keep writing.

This is the sixth in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

When I have the privilege to listen to a person’s story as he or she shares a personal journey about sexual orientation, you begin to hear common themes over and over again. Matt wrote part of his story and sent it to me when he discovered I was writing this series.

The themes in Matt’s story below are familiar: Early awareness of being different; recognizing secret feelings towards the same gender in middle and high school but still trying to fit in with the norm; finding persons to talk to openly about feelings in young adulthood; and finally finding peace about one’s orientation. For many of the persons I listen to, like Matt, he or she finds that a spiritual journey is at the heart of it all.

When I was little, I knew there was something different. In 5 year old kindergarten, I remember playing with the girls over in the toy kitchen, more than with the boys over with the rubber balls and such. The teacher would always come over, and with her hands on my shoulders would push me over to where the boys were. She would tell me that I should play with the boys…so without hesitation I looked at one of the boys and said “Hi, my name is Matthew and I’ll be your server this evening, can I start you out with some drinks?” I would take everyone’s order then head back to the kitchen. The girls loved the idea of playing “restaurant”, and the boys could care less….the teacher eventually gave up.

I went through local public schools for elementary grades, then transferred to a private Christian school for middle and high school. As I grew older, I still knew I was different and towards the later years of high school had an idea of what was going on. When I tended to have crushes on the boys and not the girls…I knew. However, I was programmed to believe that it was wrong. My school taught that it was an affect of a poor relationship with one’s father. At the time, I bought that idea as my father and I hardly said two words to each other through high school. It wasn’t until my arrival in college that I began to really deal with me being gay, and how it affected my spiritual walk.

Fortunately, my best friend from high school (also my roommate) and I began attending First Baptist in my college town in my freshman year. We both began to get really involved with the Baptist Student Union and our church’s college group. Everything was going well…I had met a cute girl and we had begun dating, school was going great. I was having the time of my life.

I walked into my freshman political science class along with around 400 other freshmen. The professor had a seating chart in order to maintain attendance records, so I found my spot and sat down. I started talking to a guy next to me in class and before long he let me know he was gay. Through his friendship I was able to talk to someone about everything that was going on and he understood exactly. The weight that was lifted off of me was incredible. I immediately thought that if I am questioning myself, the last thing I need to do is cause someone else pain. I talked with my girlfriend and told her what was going on. She was angry and decided to tell all her friends and my friends what was going on.

I kept attending the First Baptist Church. The minister of college students eventually pulled me aside and flat out asked me what was going on related to my breakup. We ended up going to lunch one afternoon and I dreaded the conversation. He asked…I told….but his reply was not what I expected. He sat there and told me that not all Christians believed the way I was taught…that there are some out there who actually believe being gay is perfectly fine…and that many of those Christians were in attendance at First Baptist.

That following summer, I scheduled a meeting with another pastor in my hometown and we talked. His first response was to laugh. I looked puzzled at him. He apologized and then said he had known I was gay ever since I was a little guy. I continued to look puzzled…he affirmed that not all Christians believe it is wrong. He continued to reassure me that everything is fine with me, and that I need to find my own spirituality…his words were “To own my spirituality”. He wanted me to drop everything I had learned…and to re-read the Bible again for the first time. Clear out everything I had been taught…all pre-conceived ideas and to develop my own faith based on my own relationship with God.

So I did. I began reading everything over again. I took theology courses, studied different viewpoints and arguments on interpretations. Through the years at college, I began to open up to different ideas and beliefs. I questioned everything.

I finally understood that I am created by God as a gay man…this is who I am..who I am supposed to be.

Matt is now an active member in his church in Birmingham, AL.   I appreciate his friendship and for sharing his story so that others could hear it.

Stereotypes.  Sometimes we think all Baptists and Baptist churches are the same when it comes to their view of homosexuality.  But Oakhurst Baptist in Decatur, GA is an exception.   JoEllen Holmes recently wrote about her own journey in changing her thinking over the years about persons who are gay and their role in the church.

JoEllen Holmes

When I was a Senior at Jacksonville State University (Alabama), my Sociology teacher wanted to take our class for a multi-cultural field trip which included a visit to the premier gay bar in Atlanta.  I wanted to go, but somehow, my conservative Baptist roots held me back after my Pastor warned me that going to such a place would be like visiting hell.

During my years at a Baptist Seminary, I know that I had many friends that were gay.  As a student there, I am certain that they were not out of the closet, but retrospectively, I am aware that many were struggling with the issue and were not able to talk about it openly.  Yet, I knew, and I didn’t know how to process it.  Because even then, in what was then a progressive place of education, such discussion was not welcome.

Finally, after completing seminary, I was working on my Master of Social Work.  One class, Cultural Diversity, gave us an assignment to visit a place that was not within our cultural comfort zone.  I decided then, that my visit to the gay bar was long overdue.

My pastor’s warning did not seem to be based in reality.  Instead of finding hell, I found a place where human beings existed. In fact, my escort for the evening were two gay friends from the local Baptist church that I began attending.  From that experience, I learned that it really did not matter whether or not homosexuality was a sin or evil, but what mattered was that if God dwells among us now in human form, then God is a part of the lives all human beings, including gays and lesbians.

Today, I am a member of Oakhurst Baptist Church in Decatur, GA.  Every year, our church is only one of few churches that march in the Atlanta Gay Pride Parade.  We are in fact, the only Baptist Church. Our church gathers every year on the weekend, putting together a float on the back of a flat bed truck.  Some 30 – 40 members of Oakhurst walk together, children, adults, parents of LGBT friends, straight, black, and conservative lookin white people get together to celebrate the goodness of our diversity.  We receive jeers from some who have been scarred by the abuses of the church.  We see weeping from others who long for a church that they can call home.  We hear jeers from the conservative churches in the crowd cursing and damning us into hell for our beliefs.  We also hear applause and cheers from those who are thankful that we are there.

I am very thankful for my brothers and sisters who are gay and lesbian.  They have enriched my life, and have become a part of the fabric of my world.  Thanks be to God.

This is the fourth in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

I still remember my first lesson about being judgmental of another from my mother. I was about five years old and my sister and I were arguing as five and seven year olds tend to do.  I could tell I was losing the fight, so I pulled out what I thought would be my verbal ace.  I blurted out, “You’re not really a Marler!” Ouch.

It was the meanest thing I could have said to my sister who was adopted.

Marcy’s adoption brought my parents indescribable joy especially after the grief of losing their first child at childbirth and being told they could not have more children.

My hurtful words had no longer than just left my mouth when I felt my mother’s strong hand grab the upper portion of my arm and escort me into the bedroom.  She sat me down on the bed, looked into my eyes with her misting eyes, and said with a quivering but stern voice,

Let me tell you one thing Malcolm Lewis Marler.  First, that was a very mean thing to say to your sister.  Second, I want you to know that Marcy has been a Marler longer than you have!  Third, I want you to apologize to her.

She was exactly right, of course.  What I said was mean and hurtful.

“Yes ma’am,” as I tried to hold back the tears.  I walked into the room and told my sister I was very sorry for what I said.  I told her I was glad she was a Marler.  I think I even hugged her.

This reminds me of what we do in the church sometimes.  We can be mean and hurtful when we feel like we are losing an argument, or its not going our way, especially on the topic of homosexuality.

Jesus was very stern with one group of people in his ministry– the religious people who were in judgment of others. See just a few of the stories in Matthew 7:1-5;  Matthew 23:1-28; Luke 6:32-42; John 8:1-11, etc.

I have come to believe as followers of Jesus, we get the most lost in our spiritual journey when we try to determine who is in the family of God, and who is not.  It’s simply not our call.  It is God’s business.  It is a fatal distraction.

Let us re-read our our job description as people of faith. Love God and love our neighbor as ourselves.  That’s it.  And this love includes loving persons who are gay, or anyone else we see as different from us.

Hundreds of people have said to me,  “I knew from the time I was a little boy (or girl) that I was different.  I knew that I was gay.” And yet, many of us in the church use the name of God to say to persons who are gay, “You are not really one of us.  You are not really part of this family.  You are not really a Christian.”  Ouch.

And so we refuse to acknowledge their relationships (which makes their relationships harder to sustain without social support), or to welcome them, or marry them, or ordain them.  Ouch.  It is the most painful thing we can say to our adopted brothers and sisters.

We must be careful my fellow brothers and sisters with this judgment thing.

We are all adopted into God’s family, by grace.  None of us were born into it.

And there is plenty of room for all of us in this human family.

For which, I am profoundly thankful.  Aren’t you?

The email pops up in the lower right corner of my computer screen at the clinic with two words in the subject line, “Angel Wings.” I know what’s coming. Since 1994, those two words have stopped me in my tracks every single time they appear. I take a deep breath, and click “open” to read its contents.

Sometimes, the message is brief. “Joe Black died at home on January 3, 2009 due to Pulmonary HTN. He was a fine man who struggled with renal failure and HIV. He will be missed.”

Sometimes more detail is provided. “Jane White died January 4, 2009 in the hospital from complications of right hip hemiarthroplasty. She developed hypotension, falling hematocrit, and multisystem organ failure, and hepatic encephalopathy according to autopsy report. She was a professor of journalism at the University. Her disability never stopped her (hemophilia, hepatitis C, HIV, chronic kidney disease, past septic arthritis, ect). She had an upbeat, positive attitude, and often minimized her complaints. I truly will miss seeing her.”

The email is a death notice about our patients sent by one of our nurses, doctors, chaplains, social workers, medical records staff or whoever hears the word first.

No matter how it is written, or who its author is, it is always significant.

Josie Grable, who worked in Medical Records in 1994, started the “Angel Wings” tradition as a way to notify all staff about the deaths of our patients.  We had less than 500 active patients at the time but still had at least one death every single day. It was like hearing about the death of a distant or close relative every day you came to work.

Today, we have more than 1600 active patients, with just a handful more staff.  We have approximately one death per week rather than per day. The death ratio is better, but it is still too many.

Every Friday at noon our clinic staff of 60-70 persons crowd into our conference room to break bread together, receive updates, and connect with one another.

One of the things we do is say the name of the person out loud who died this past week.  We have a moment of silence to remember the impact this person had on us, his or her loved ones, and the world. It is a silent, sacred moment. We take a deep breath and then move ahead with the duties we have been called to do.

If there is one thing I have learned these past 15 years is that each life matters.   We remember.
__________________________________________________

FOLLOW-UP NOTE: On October 30, 2008, an “Angel Wings” email arrived from Wes Akins, one of our social workers that said:

“Some of you may know Josie Grable who was a part of the 1917 clinic family for years.   She died this week after a long illness and was surrounded with the love of family and friends.

Josie was an artist, a musician, a free spirit and a lover of all people. She cared deeply for the patients that we served at 1917. Karen Head, a long time friend, represented the 1917 clinic at Josie’s celebration of life this morning. Please keep Karen in your prayers.

Josie continued touching lives at the assisted living facility where she lived and served as a musician and grounds keeper.  She was a breath of fresh air to the residents there.

Thank-you Josie… you will be missed.”

This is the third in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

One of the reasons Mike Saag (MD, Founder of The 1917 Clinic, and now head of Infectious Diseases at UAB) wanted to hire a chaplain for his clinic in 1994 was to do outreach to churches and the faith community.

He said, “Malcolm, we need help with the churches. They are hurting our patients more than helping them.” He was of course, referring to the stigma, judgment, and just plain meanness that some churches were exhibiting towards their own members and our patients when they found out they were HIV positive, and gay. The two went hand in hand in those years. (Click on picture.)

It was ironic to me that a physician who happened to be Jewish, and a businessman who happened to be Methodist, convinced a state university hospital system to hire a Chaplain who happened to be Baptist, to reach out to churches so that they could help rather than hurt its patients at the AIDS clinic. An innovative outreach program to say the least.

But there were also many churches and synagogues, and clergy persons, who wanted to help our patients, partners, and families in those early years. One of them was The Reverend Timothy Holder from Grace Episcopal in Birmingham.

“Hi Malcolm, this is Tim Holder from Grace Church,” he said in an unassuming manner on the phone. “I read about your work in the newspaper the other day and wanted to see if I could come and visit you to see how we could help.” We became friends. I learned later he was gay.

Today, he is the rector of the Church of the Ascension in Atlantic City, NJ. He is innovative, creative, and open to the Spirit as evidenced by a book he edited called The Hip Hop Prayer Book. He has been sensitive to the neighborhood he serves and has found ways to reach out to young people and bring them into the church with a hip hop worship style in the church.

Better yet, hear Tim in his own words.

I love my life and work as a priest in the Episcopal Church. Ordained the first openly gay priest in Alabama in 1997, I have experienced ‘complete joy’ that God wishes for all his children. I know pain and defeat, from which we learn, but joy and love conquer all fear and darkness (1 John 4:18). I celebrate joy and love because I am so happy that God created me who I am, a gay man. I am not sure I would be a priest in the Church if I were not gay. I am not sure if I would have been able to stand with Latino/a refugees and immigrants in Alabama and create a brand new congregation – also a first – as anything but a gay man.

Moving to the South Bronx of New York in 2002, resisting the Church’s call for celibacy and silence in my good home of Alabama, I became priest to an all-African American and Caribbean American congregation. Celebrating ‘Street and Altar’ with all my gay heart, I became a hip hop priest! And let me tell you, hip hop – children and young people – know the real deal. Gay is the real deal, sisters and brothers. I learned that early in life, thank God.

If we can stand up and celebrate – really celebrate – the humanity God gives each and every human being – g-a-y – then we can stand up and celebrate the abundance of humanity revealed to us in the unending color, awesomeness and beauty of God’s greater creation. This is just my story, but isn’t it wonderful?

Why all these things, so unexpected, so unlikely? ‘Gay’ is who I am and knowing this I can love myself as God loves me. ‘Gay’ like the priesthood, like Anglo-Catholic, like Latino/a, like African American, like hip hop is who I am and anything else would be just a lie. How boring is that?

Tim Holder is one of the reasons I believe that God can work through any of us, gay or straight, if we are open to reaching out to others.

Sometimes when we reach out, we are the ones who are changed.

Note: See Hip Hop in Action in Worship

This is the second in a series on “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

Just a little over 15 years ago, I sat in a conference room with a half dozen persons as they asked me questions to determine if I would be their choice to be the first full-time chaplain at The 1917 Clinic at UAB (HIV Outpatient Clinic). They represented the community I would be relating to in my ministry including a couple of patients at the clinic, a staff member, the medical director and founder of the clinic, a local businessman, a local pastor, and a couple of other persons.

I don’t remember all of their questions, though some were expected. I tried to answer them directly and truthfully. But there was one question that stood out. The local pastor in the group leaned forward and asked the last question of the day, “Malcolm, I have been listening to your answers carefully today, and I still have one question for you.” “Sure, what is it?” I asked.

He caught my eye and said, “What I want to know is do you believe homosexuality is a sin?”

It was a clear, unambiguous, critical question for the grandson and son of Southern Baptist ministers. It was a fair question for this ordained Southern Baptist minister, and a minister who also had dual standing in the United Church of Christ (UCC) and Baptist denominations to answer. After all, if I was going to be the clergyman to persons who were gay or homosexual as the majority members of my parish at the time, I needed to know the answer to this question.

I leaned forward and said, “Well Joe, that depends. Let me ask you a question. Is heterosexuality a sin?” I asked rhetorically.

I continued with my answer. “I believe that our sexuality is a gift from God. I have to apply the same standards to persons who are homosexual to persons like myself who are heterosexual. If we are talking about a mutual, caring, respectful, loving, committed relationship, I would answer your question, ‘No,’ I do not believe homosexuality is a sin any more than heterosexuality is. If you are referring to a promiscuous, non-committed relationship, I would answer the same for both a same sex or opposite sex relationship, ‘Yes,’ it can be sinful. I also believe in God’s grace and forgiveness because we all fall short in this area.”

This was not a question I answered hastily. The answer for me had been years in development after studying the Bible as part of my former church’s journey to become a welcoming congregation in CT to all persons regardless of sexual orientation (see more about the UCC process of Open and Affirming here); walking with and listening to the struggles and stories of persons who were trying to do the right thing as they understood God in their lives. (I will deal with “the scriptures” in another post on this blog.)

And since that interview in 1994, I have walked with hundreds of individuals, parents, partners, and families down this road and have confirmed this belief in my heart. Gay and straight, we all struggle in this area. We all sin, or fall short. There are no exceptions.

Since that interview, I have also been humbled by my own divorce of a 16 year marriage, and had eight years of being single again and dating before I remarried in 2004. Believe me, I made lots of mistakes as a single heterosexual man during that time as I tried to find love in my life.

One thing I know is that many of the clergy who have been the most critical of persons who are gay have not had the gift of the hundreds of friendships I have had with persons in this setting. I understand, and I don’t blame them because I was just like them 20 years ago.

I was the minister in a large suburban church where I was not comfortable talking about sex openly, whether it was lesbian or gay or straight or bi-sexual, or anything else so intimate except in generalities, platitudes, or one way conversations.

My parishioners at the clinic have taught me how to have open discussion around this subject for which I am grateful. I have held the hands, heard the stories, married and performed the unions and funerals, dried their tears and visited them when they were sick and dying. And I have been changed because of my relationship with them. Still am.

And for this I am forever grateful and thankful.

The answer to this question from my 30 years of ministry is, it depends on how we use this gift we have been given.

This is the first in a series of “One Christian Minister’s Response to Homosexuality.”

I haven’t always felt comfortable when talking with persons who are gay–homosexual, lesbian, or transgendered. It seemed like a foreign language to me. I am still learning. Early on though it was more than language, it was an emotional, visceral response to homosexuality. I was homophobic.

I grew up as a Southern Baptist preacher’s kid in Montgomery, AL and had never heard my father or mother address the topic of homosexuality. They lived a faith that was kind and tender-hearted, and always loved people first no matter what. I took that faith into my own heart.

But I was also a product of my culture regarding homosexuality.

When I was in seminary in my early twenties, 1977-80, my wife pointed out to me how uncomfortable I was when she talked about a classmate who was/is gay. The more I protested that “I WAS NOT UNCOMFORTABLE!” the intensity in my voice said otherwise. I protested too much! I protested because it wasn’t my experience to be attracted to a same gender partner. I couldn’t imagine it. But the more I listened to friends over the next few years, the more I learned to reverse pronouns in my mind as they talked so that I could compare their experiences to my own as an heterosexual. I began to hear their pain.

As a minister in a church, a close friend of mine who was also a minister, walked into my church office one day and asked, “Can I talk with you for a moment?” I said, “Sure, close the door behind you.”

He said, “I see you as a good friend and I want you to know something about me. I am gay, and I want to tell you about my struggle and journey.” It was the first time anyone had said those words to me directly. I had intuitively known friends from childhood through young adulthood who were gay, but we had never talked about it.

But this time, sitting in front of me was someone who was a good friend and one of the finest Christians I knew. I was not surprised by his words and told him so. But I admitted that I needed an education. I trusted this friend with my questions. “Have you always felt this way? Did you choose to be a homosexual?” He was patient and kind with me.

He told me about being aware he was “different” as a young boy. He pushed the feelings away and played the game. As he went through puberty, his internal attraction to other boys was stronger, as mine was for girls. When he told his parents, they sent him to several religious camps, programs, groups, and therapists to help him “change.” He prayed daily for years for God to heal him, to change him. God did not.

“Finally,” he said, “after years of pleading with God to change me I said to God, ‘I am either going to end my life or I am going to be the best Christian I can be as a person who is gay.’ I chose the latter.” I am glad he did.

I have learned that my friend’s journey is not uncommon. Just yesterday on March 3rd, 2009, an anonymous reader told a similar story on my blog:

The issue crystallized and reached a turning point for me when a passing motorist rescued one of our students, a 15 year old boy, “Jimmy”, dangling over the edge of Gold Star Bridge, the span across the Thames River in Connecticut between New London and Groton. This was about 10 years ago… (read more in “Comments” at the bottom of the page for March 3, 2009.)

Parents have come to me over the years and asked “What do we do?” when they discovered their child was gay.

I listened and encouraged them to love their child no matter what. To be kind and tender-hearted with them. How could that be possibly wrong?

Many gifted men and women have come to me and said, “I am gay.” I have told them that they are a child of God no matter what anyone else has told them. Each one is a child of God. No exceptions. God has given them gifts they are to use to make this a better world. Just as God has given to us all.

My gay friends have been my teachers. They have taught me to be myself, nothing more nothing less. They have learned this lesson better than I. Sometimes I wish I could preach like one friend of mine or be as wise as another pastoral counselor I know. The have reminded me I just need to be Malcolm. They have also taught me to laugh more often, hug more frequently, and listen more intently. I cannot imagine my life without these friends in my life now. I am a better person as a result.

I have never heard a person say in 30 years of ministry, “I think I will be gay” as a choice. Or, “I think I’ll try being gay, or I think I’ll rebel against my parents and be gay.” Not one, ever. It has always been the way they have been for as long as they can remember. Some recognize it early in life, some later.

I am still thankful to my friend who I believe God sent to me as one of my first teachers many years ago. I still see his face and hear his voice in each new person I meet. And now, I see God’s face and hear God’s voice in each person.

My prayer is that there will be more persons who will share with trusted friends about his or her sexual orientation. I plead with you to do so. I know it takes great courage. But we who are heterosexual need you desperately to tell your story to us. Otherwise this is a dry as dust, hypothetical, theological monologue.

And I also pray there will be more and more persons who will be willing to listen, learn, and be supportive of you.

This issue is ultimately about relationships, and it is through friendships and relationships that we will be changed around this issue. Amen.

Dear Friends,

In the coming days and weeks I am going to write an ongoing series on my blog about my journey in my 30 years of ministry on why I believe all persons (more specifically persons who are gay–GLBT) are children of God and should also have the same rights and responsibilities as everyone in our society including marriage, healthcare insurance, role in the church, etc.

I’ve been wanting to do this for quite some time, and for whatever reason I feel led to do so now.

Of course, I can only speak from my personal life experience including:

1. Being a former Baptist and UCC minister, and now a lay person in the Episcopal Church
2. Being a Chaplain at The 1917 Clinic since 1994 and hearing the thousands of stories from patients, colleagues, and parents
3. My understanding of a Biblical response that is often left out of the traditional church argument
4. Being a straight, married, bald, white guy

I understand that trust is critical in this request. I also know that the primary way true change comes about in our lives is through personal story and relationships, not through a proof-text of the Bible or an hypothetical argument. I see this as part of my responsibility as a Chaplain in an HIV clinic and as a minister being faithful to the Christian faith as I understand it.

I do not take this issue lightly as it impacts persons I see everyday in my life.

My request is twofold (one, both, or neither):

1. Write a sentence, paragraph, or more of your own personal story, perspective, or experience in being gay or having friends or family members who are gay. It can be an experience with the church or not, with God or not, or an experience with discrimination or issues you believe to be important in this discussion. Email it to me.
2. Please tell other persons you know who may want to share the above with me.

I give you my word that I will:

1. Protect all written responses with utmost confidentiality.
2. If I use any part of your story on my blog, I will protect your identity unless you tell me otherwise.

What do I hope will happen as a result of this writing?

I do not have any expectations of grandiose change. I simply want to add my view and the stories of others to the discussion. I am open to hearing from others from both sides of the issue.

If you have any questions, please email me at mmarler@uab.edu or call me at 205-975-8923.

Thank you for being my teacher,
Malcolm

On March 1, 2009, we had light snow in North Alabama (see my wife and daughter to the right). I am well aware that snow is unremarkable to my New England friends.

But in Alabama, we only have snow about once in every five years or so. It is an invitation to be a child again. Mary, Kiki, and I chose to respond to that invitation and play. It was a good choice.

I grabbed my camera and outside we went. The lake where we live had seemingly “changed clothes” and was stunning with snow on the tree trunks and in the branches. The birds fluffed their feathers to shake the snow off and ate from our birdfeeders at a ravenous pace.

We walked down our country road to a nearby untrodden pasture that was snowy smooth and silent. We threw snowballs at one another. We laughed and remembered winter stories from the past. We played with Daisy, our yellow lab who caught snowballs in her mouth.

Mary and I got in the car and drove for an hour on country roads around the lake to take in more scenery and tried to get lost. We stopped the car to watch newborn calves in one pasture, while laughing at minature goats butting heads in another. We noticed horses and new houses that we have not noticed before. We admired the beautiful sunset as we drove back to the house. We thanked God at dinner for the wonder of the day.

God, help me to be more childlike and in awe of your world every day. Amen.

I want to continue my thoughts from my last post when a patient asked me where my church is when he heard that I’m a minister. I responded with “It is here, you are sitting in it.” I wasn’t kidding.

This clinic really is my congregation, and I love its members and staff. If I’m honest there are a few members I don’t particularly like, but I try to love ‘em anyway. I’ve been a pastor here for 15 years. Its a pretty tight community.

How is our HIV Clinic like a congregation, and how is it different from most congregations?

Like many congregations:

1. We are a growing congregation with about 7-10 new members every week.
2. Our goal is to keep new and existing members coming back on a regular basis so that they can have a meaningful and full life.
3. We have a new members’ orientation process so that we can take time upfront to get to know one another and know what to expect.
4. We are between 18 and 80. Many of our members bring their children with them.
5. Some of our members are hospitalized each week, and our staff visit them and let the rest of the staff know how they are doing.
6. We have a weekly staff meeting and work hard trying to figure out how we can care for our members more effectively.
7. We pray for our members.
8. We have yet to find one of us who is perfect.
9. If you are sad or depressed or afraid, this is a good place for you.
10. We always have more needs than we have the budget to meet those needs.
11. We call every member during the week of his/her birthday to wish ‘em a Happy Birthday.
12. Many of us are HIV Positive, some of us are not.
13. Many of us are unemployed or under employed, while others teach in respected institutions, are attorneys and physicians, serve as restaurant managers or as school teachers. Some of us have no income while a few of us make six figures.
14. We are gay and straight and bi-sexual.
15. A few of us have no faith and some of us have lost faith.

Different from many congregations:

1. We have people drive from all over Alabama and neighboring states to see us.
2. We have almost an equal number of black and white members with a growing Hispanic population.
3. We are interfaith including Christians, Buddhists, Muslims andJews.
4. Judgment is not in our job description.
5. Our staff members call more than 20 countries home.

We are parents, spouses, partners, brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, uncles, and aunts.

My main point is our congregation is a community of people who are like most congregations.

Most of all, all of us are children of God.

My hunch is your “congregation” is right in front of you too, open your eyes and see.

Recently one our patients at the clinic where I work looked at my name badge and saw the word “Chaplain.”

“What the heck is a Chaplain?” he asked in good faith with a wrinkled brow. “Good question,” I said.

He was not interested in knowing how many degrees I had from a theological graduate school called a seminary (although I have been asked “What cemetery did you go to?”). He was not interested in a sermon.

I tried to find a word that might connect with his faith experience. I said, “You know, like a pastor, priest, rabbi, or imam?”

“Uh huh,” as he squinted his eyes and looked at me skeptically. “What do you do here?”

I took a deep breath and said “I listen to people and try to meet them where they are, and make sure they know we care about them.”

“So where is your church?” he asked. “You are sitting in it,” I said smiling. “This is my church. We use chairs and exam tables instead of pews.”

He looked at me like I didn’t understand his question. I looked at him like he didn’t understand my answer. We both smiled.

There was a knock on the door in the middle of our sentence as the doctor walked into the room to begin his medical exam. I shook the patient’s hand, gave him my card, and told him I looked forward to talking more when he had a chance.

“See ya Rev,” he said smiling. Maybe he understood more than I knew.

I wanted to tell him more.

I wanted to tell him what a special place The 1917 Clinic is and that I think we are the only HIV Clinic in the United States who employs not just one, but two full time chaplains because of people like Dr. Michael Saag (founder of the clinic in 1988) who cares for the whole person, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

I wanted to tell him that I love finding a need in the clinic and figuring out how to fill it, whether it appears “spiritual” or not.

I wanted to tell him that he was loved, that he is a child of God, and that we care about him. I will next time.

But today, on Ash Wednesday I will pray for all of my congregation called The 1917 Clinic at UAB where all God’s children are welcome. This is a place where we all fall short of the mark, and if it weren’t for God’s grace or forgiveness we would all be in trouble.

This week I have been reminded what it is like to have a family member who is ill. I am usually on the other side of this equation being a member of the medical team who cares for persons who are sick and their family members. The shoe is now on the other foot.

My frail 80 year old Mom was admitted to the ICU in a rural county hospital, again, and then transferred to a nearby nursing home for rehabilitation. We believe the move is temporary in order for her to gain strength, but who knows if this will be the case or not?

The “not knowing” is harder than dealing with the reality.

I know deep in my heart what is coming, and realize there are some things I wish I had talked about with her in greater detail. Legal matters, matters of the heart, family matters, and some things that don’t matter.

I am reminded of the feeling of powerlessness of seeing someone you love deeply who is in pain, or who feels sick and weak, and I am aware I cannot fix it. I can be physically present as much as possible, and work on the details of her care between responsibilities at work. My wife is an amazing support, my Mom’s niece took off work for a week, and my sister made phone calls. The communication with all involved is still exhausting.

While I am concerned for her health, I am reminded that this is what it feels like for family members of our patients (and much worse). Sadness, anger, fear, frustration, fatigue, love, compassion, gratefulness, and more are all wrapped together in a tight package.

I am trying to remember to take advantage of the moments when we were alone for a couple of hours like a couple of nights ago.

I sat with her in the hospital room as she drifted between sleep and alertness. When she slept, I used that time to be quiet, to pray prayers of thanksgiving, and prayers of guidance, and prayers of trust and letting go.

When she was awake we used the time to tell each other how much we loved one another. We reminisced and told short stories, some funny, some sad. We talked about my Dad who died over a decade ago and both agreed what a fine man he was. We both apologized for things that were quickly forgiven and dismissed.

And so the next time I see a family member with a fatigued or worried look on his or her face, I’m going to slow down a little, listen more deeply, and hug a little harder.

I am reminded of the view from the other side.

I have worked closely with my colleague, Dr. Jim Raper (pictured right), for almost 15 years in the clinic. I am amazed at his work ethic and compassion for the human family.

Recently, I was struck by his patience with a woman at the clinic whom he refers to as “one who is lost.” Of course, Jim is not referring about whether she is going to heaven or hell as some of my faith community colleagues might be thinking.

Instead, when he says she is a “lost soul,” he is simply stating a fact that she is dealing with multiple issues (in addition to HIV) that make it almost impossible for her to do well physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Too many things are going on at the same time.

Her life is in transition, she moves often, and is addicted to pain medicine. The first thing she looks for when moving into a new town is a doctor who will write pain med prescriptions for her. Her pain is the kind of pain that is like a thin fishing line that has become entangled so tight that it is impossible to tell where it begins or ends. All she knows is she is hurting.

At the same time, she ignores her HIV care for long periods of time. It has been a few years since she has taken her medicine or seen anyone for her care. Like many of our patients, she starts and stops taking her HIV meds which gives the virus an opportunity to build resistance and those meds are no longer effective. Plan B has been tried. She must be at Plan “D” or “E” by now.

She wrestles with other untreated demons including clinical depression, a long string of marriages that ended in divorce, overwhelming poverty, few connections to family, and more.

She has truly lost her way. Jim is right. She IS lost.

And now the question is, “Can she find herself? Can she find her way? Can she be found?”

And so she returns to the clinic after 3 years this time and says, “I’m ready again for your care.” We open our arms, give her a hug, and welcome her back.

Maybe this time, one who is lost will be found.

Jim rolls up his sleeves and goes back to work.

Thank God for people like Jim Raper and places like The 1917 Clinic at UAB where the lost have an opportunity to be found.

I had lunch with 20 of our patients this week and asked them to teach me about “Barriers to HIV Care.” I asked,

“Are you aware of reasons that might get in the way of you coming to your doctor’s appointment?”

The lunch group listed the following reasons:

1. Transportation – “distance, having a dependable car, public transportation, etc.”
2. Depression – “If depression is severe enough, nothing else matters.”
3. Stigma – “What will others think of me?”
4. Relationship with Medical Team — “Does my Provider listen to me, does he/she care about me?”
5. Fear – “I might hear bad news.”
6. Denial – “I don’t want to admit to myself that I am HIV positive.”
7. Shame – “I feel so embarrassed about having HIV.”
8. Frustration – “Sometimes I have to wait so long to see my doctor.”
9. Drugs and Alcohol — “This can destroy the best of our intentions.”

Next, we talked about the above list compared to the response of 267 New patients who responded to the same question as above when they came to our clinic between May, 2008 and February , 2009 for Orientation. (These patients could mark more than one reason from a list given, so the percentages do not add up to 100%.)

1. Transportation – “I do not have reliable transportation.” (31%)
2. Depression – “Sometimes I get depressed and lose hope.” (10%)
3. Stigma – I am concerned about others seeing me come to the clinic.” (10%)
4. Relationship with Medical Team–”It depends on if I have a good relationship with my doctor.” (10%)
5. Distance/Time — “I live a long way from the clinic and the distance or time is a problem.” (10%)
6. Memory–”I have a hard time remembering appointments.” (7%)
7. Phone–”I do not have a phone where I can be reached by the clinic.” (5%)
8. Good Health–”If I am feeling well, I’m not sure I need to come to the doctor.” (4%)
9. None—“Nothing will keep me from coming to my appointment.” (45%)

Transportation, Depression, Stigma, and Relationship with Provider are consistent in both groups and may give us some starting places as we develop a new project to help break down some of these barriers to care.The group’s advice to me was to start with getting people into mental health care immediately if depression is identified in Orientation, and spend just a little time reminding our Providers how they can continue to make a difference.

But what struck me most was the profound gratitude of the lunch group who said, “thank you for listening to us!” I have learned they are the teachers, I am the student.

They are also grateful for what this clinic is already doing to make their lives richer and more meaningful. Several of them have offered to see how they can help their peers break down the barriers to care as well.

I dream of a day when the barriers to HIV care will come tumbling down.

Today felt like another step in that direction.

The frantic female voice on my voicemail yesterday said,

“I feel really stupid asking this, but I just have to ask! I am a nurse, I know I should know better, but I was in a couple’s home yesterday and at the end of our conversation I asked them how their health is and they said they were HIV positive! I didn’t flinch, told them I would pray for them, and left soon after that. I am scared to death! Please call me back. I have small children, could I have gotten IT when I was at their house? Oh my gosh, please call me back!”

The above paragraph was almost like a single sentence without a period. She kept apologizing over and over again on the message. She was so embarrassed.

I love these kinds of calls! It’s an opportunity to have a discussion with someone highly motivated, and I’ve learned over the years that it’s like talking to dozens of people. Because if this one person gets the message, then she will tell her story to dozens of others over the coming weeks and months.

I dialed her number and she answered on the first ring.

“Thank you SO much for calling! I know I should know better, but I don’t! It was my first experience being around someone that I KNEW was HIV positive.”

I told her she was going to be fine and started my HIV 101 spiel:

“Thank God we can’t get HIV in a casual way!” I started. “So let me tell you how you can’t get it,” I said.

YOU CANNOT GET HIV FROM:

1. Mosquitos
2. Drinking out of the same glass or communion cup, or using the same fork.
3. Using the same restrooms.
4. Breathing the same air.
5. Swimming in the same water, or being baptized in/with the same water.
6. Hugging
7. Kissing
8. Holding hands
9. Tears, Saliva, Sweat, or Mucous if someone has a running nose or sneezes on you
10. Sitting on the same pew, chair, or couch

“I could go on,” I added, “but I won’t. Let me tell you how a person CAN get HIV, or the ways people usually get this virus in the U.S.”

I was walking by one of our exam rooms in our outpatient HIV clinic today when a clear voice said to me, “Hey, how you doin?” with a unique New Jersey accent.

A Jersey accent gets my attention because I’m in Birmingham for one, and two, my wife lived in New Jersey for awhile growing up and I love the accent that drops the “g” from “doing.”

I stopped, turned around and went through the open door to see a beautiful, healthy, 48 year old woman sitting there in the corner by the window with the sunlight reflecting on her hair as she waited for her doctor. Her smile was infectious, radiating from a bubbling, clear, deep well within her soul.

I sat down and asked her the same question. She said, “I am alive, I am living, and I’m expecting two more grand babies in the next few months, what could be better than that?”

“Can you tell me more about this smile I see on your face?” curious about her secret.

She said, “Well, I came down here from New Jersey in 1996 to die. I told all my children goodbye before I left because I was sure my days were numbered and I would never see them again. That was hard. I was coming home so that my Mamma could take care of me until I took my last breath. My Mamma called Hospice and they said even though she has only 4 T-Cells and weighs 100 lbs. she needs to go to The 1917 Clinic at UAB.”

“I rolled in here in my wheelchair and met with Dr. Michael Saag (founder of the clinic and now head of Infectious Diseases at UAB, pictured above) on that day and his sense of humor made me start laughing. He gave me hope. It was just his natural way of being. Today, I have over 700 T-Cells and I have my life back.” Those of us who know Mike Saag are not surprised by the comments.

She added, “I went home from that visit and I kept laughing, I kept smiling. I don’t know what it was or what he said, but I caught it.”

She went on to tell me several stories of how thankful she was to God for all that God has given her. Her faith was certainly a central part of her life. I asked her if she was connected to a church, and she said gently, “Nope, just God.”

And then I did something I don’t think I have ever done with a patient. I, the Chaplain, asked her if she would pray FOR ME. Now. Right here. I wanted some of what she had.

She didn’t hesitate as she reached out and grabbed my hands and started praying. When I walked out of the room, I was smiling. I had hope. I was infected in an HIV Clinic.

Of course Dr. Saag gave her medicine in 1996, but maybe more importantly he gave her hope and joy. And now, I have been infected. I got it bad. Which is good.

So I called Dr. Saag on his cell phone today to tell him this story. “Wow, I guess this is why we do what we do isn’t it?” he said. “Yep, it sure is,” I responded, smiling.

I wonder who will catch it next?

It sounded like a strange request on the phone.

“This is Jane. Can my husband and I meet with you?” the gentle voice asked on the phone. “We are having a hard time with our son’s diagnosis.”

It was the mother of one of our newly diagnosed 40-something year old patients. I had met the son and his parents a week earlier during a new patient orientation interview.

The couple sat down and thanked me for meeting with them. “I need to learn more about HIV,” she said. “I don’t want my son to die,” she said as she reached for the kleenex box. “Jim” quickly added, “And I’m struggling with accepting that my son is a homosexual or gay or whatever you call it! Is this something I did to him? I feel like such a failure!” His 6′4″ body sobbed.

I was actually encouraged with our start.
1. They showed up.
2. She was afraid and wanted to know how to help.
3. He was confused, angry, and guilty, but wanted to understand.
4. Most of all, both expressed love for their son.

They are active in a large church in Birmingham and faith is central in their lives. She wanted to know if prayer would help her son’s health. I assured her it would help him and her.

The Dad wanted to know how his son could be “doing this to him.” He felt shame, though he said over and over he still loved him. I encouraged him that “this” wasn’t something his son had chosen, or that he had inflicted on his son, or that his son was doing to him. He relaxed a little, but not much.

It is not the first time I have talked with parents about learning about “both issues” at the same time in what I call “double disclosure.” They were not in agreement about which disclosure to grieve the most.

“What can we do?” they seemed to sincerely want to know.

“Love your son unconditionally. You don’t have to know all the answers or even all of the questions to ask. Just love him. It’s the greatest gift you can give him. The rest of it can be worked out.” They nodded.

I answered as many questions as they asked over the next hour. They asked me to pray with them and I did.

Love is the rock that gives us the footing to deal with anything in life.

Unfortunately, not all parents are able to see the bottom line. Thank God these two did.

“Jan” arrived in our waiting room, I introduced myself and we found a nearby available office. She was an attractive, petite, and educated young woman who was fashionably dressed in her mid 20’s and a worried look on her face.

“I’ve had this HIV OraQuick test before, in fact I was here a couple of months ago,” she explained as she responded to my questions. She knew the drill and swabbed her mouth, handed it back to me to insert in the tube in the liquid that would tell us the news in 20 minutes.

“So tell me why you’ve come back so soon?” I wondered out loud.

“The person who did my test a couple of months ago suggested I come back in order to be sure. I was in the ‘window period’ previously,” she said.

The “Window Period” refers to the time between a potential infection with HIV and when its antibodies can be detected with the test (6-12 weeks).

I asked our usual questions as an opportunity to educate her about how HIV is transmitted and then tears rolled down her face as her voice quivered. “I am so scared I am going to be positive! I did a stupid thing, I knew better. I just couldn’t say no.” That last phrase caught my attention.

“I just couldn’t say no.”

Somewhere in this young woman’s life, she has learned that “No” is not “OK” for her to say.

Somewhere in this young woman’s life, someone has told her that she is not a whole person without a man in her life.

Somewhere in this young woman’s life, someone has shown her by example that a woman does not have the right to be in charge of her own body.

She believes it. And she is not alone. We had a more extensive conversation about forgiveness and learning from our mistakes that is too personal to share here.

The good news in this story is she was HIV Negative.

The harder lesson for all of us to teach is the positive lesson of how to help young women find their voices and how to help young men to find their ears.

This kind of response takes a love of self.
This kind of response takes a willingness to stand alone if need be.
This kind of response takes a belief that my body and your body is sacred.

Let your “Yes” mean “Yes” and your “No” mean “No.”

We could all stand to learn this lesson about sex, and in many other areas of our lives.

Six years ago today, January 29, 2003, I was swept off my feet by Mary Beatrice Sullivan in the afternoon just outside the Southwest Airline terminal at the Raleigh-Durham, NC airport.

It happened the moment Mary got out of her car and walked to open the trunk for me to put my luggage in the the back. She gave me a welcome hug and I couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. “Wow, you look great!” I blurted out.

I had traveled to Chapel Hill, NC to lead a two-day Care Team Leadership Training that I had taught dozens of times in dozens of states.

Our “story” is told well by Mary in her book, “Dancing Naked Under the Moon, Discovering the Wisdom Within” so I won’t go into detail here.

We were married on July 4th, 2004, after we planned a wedding in a couple of days and eloped with Brendan and Kiki. We didn’t know the answers to where we would work, or where we would live, or how everything would work out.

All we did know is that we wanted to be married to one another, and to be a family. We would figure out the rest as we went.

I did not look for this relationship, it was pure grace, an amazing gift.

And now, 6 years later to the day when I fell in love with Mary Bea Sullivan, I cannot imagine a soul partner better fit for me physically, emotionally, and spiritually in this world. As a huge bonus, I have two open-hearted stepchildren who are willing to make room for another adult in their life.

I shake my head, close my eyes, and say, “Thank you God.”

And to Mary Bea I renew my vow,

““I promise to love you with an open heart, to listen deeply to your innermost thoughts, and to be considerate and tender in my care of you. With God’s help, I vow to continue to be your best friend, to encourage your spiritual growth, and to walk with you in times of joy and sorrow as long as we both shall live, AMEN.”

Usually, I’m a pretty good listener, or at least I think I am. I get lots of opportunities to listen to hard stories at the clinic. Frustration, anger, and fear are just a few of the themes I hear.

Yesterday, one of our new patients called me and said in a self righteous and loud tone, “Things aren’t going so well for me there!” “Oh really?” I asked, “tell me more,” feeling somewhat responsible because I want everyone to love us here.

Wayne Oates, one of my seminary mentors, once told me “the louder someone yells, the harder I listen.”

Sometimes the louder people yell, the more defensive I become.

But what Wayne was saying was that everyone carries emotional baggage with them, and sometimes the person standing in front of you, or the person on the other end of the phone, has decided to unload the whole load on you. And it ain’t about you.

Sometimes I remember Wayne’s counsel, other days I forget.

You’ve heard of Easy Listening music? Well, Hard Listening ain’t easy. Careful listening to what’s going on behind the scene is a challenge.

But if I can remember that everything the person is saying and feeling is not all about me, I have a chance to be helpful.

Of course, sometimes the frustration, anger, or fear is about me. But that’s another story.

This is an inspiring 8 minute documentary on The 1917 Clinic at UAB where I work. It was created by a couple of UAB students for a cinematography class project.

In this video, you will meet some of my extended family and friends at the clinic. It will give you a glimpse of the spirit of The 1917 Clinic at UAB.

I hope you enjoy it!

Click here to view the video.

P.S. Where does the name of the clinic come from? The 1917 Clinic at UAB gets its name from its original address, 1917 5th AVE South in Birmingham. It was originally called “The 1917 Clinic” because confidentiality was critical for a person’s safety in the late 80’s. When we moved to a new location in 1994, we kept the name. Thousands of persons have found it to be a safe and healing place over the years. You can read more on our website, www.1917clinic.org.

Robin taught me some important lessons soon after I came to The 1917 Clinic at UAB, and I still use them on a regular basis.

One day I was asked by one of our nurses if I would talk with a single mom in her 30’s in one of our exam rooms who was recently diagnosed with advanced HIV disease and “was crying a lot.” I seemed to get called for a lot of these situations.

I walked in, introduced myself, and sat down.

She could hardly talk through her tears. After a few minutes she stopped her tears and blurted out, “I just want to know the answer to three questions:

1. Does God still love me?

2. Will anybody ever love me again?

3. Will I ever get another hug?”

I sat quietly for a moment. It felt like a pop test but in real life. I hoped the answers would come.

“Stand up Robin,” I asked her. I walked over and offered a bear hug that soon turned into a hold.

“That’s the answer to your last question,” I said as she leaned into the hug and wept.

After a few more minutes, I said, “I will introduce you to persons who will love you,” as I began to explain the volunteer Support Team approach model that we had developed for our patients who were all alone.

As we talked, I learned the two of us grew up with similar faith backgrounds. Before I left the room I added, “Robin, I believe there is nothing in all of this world that you or I can do to cause God to stop loving us. It’s a gift, some call it grace. Isn’t it amazing? God will always love you no matter what.”

When people are hurting, they need “Yes” more than they need “No.”

Robin taught me about some of the emotional and spiritual needs of a person living with HIV through her three questions that day. And to tell the truth, we all want to know the answer to these questions.

1. Does God still love me?

2. Will anybody ever love me again?

3. Will I ever get another hug?”

Sometimes the best medicine we give out at The 1917 Clinic is a well timed hug, and a response that says, yes, yes, and yes.

There were two water fountains at the park near where I grew up in Montgomery, AL.

One was cold, clean, and refreshing. The sign above it said “White.”

The other fountain looked as though it had never been cleaned, and it dispersed warm water on sweltering summer days. The sign above it said “Colored.”

One day, when no one was looking, I drank from the Colored Water Fountain to see what it was like. I quickly spat out the water that was almost hot.

And even though I was a little boy, I knew deep within my soul, “Everyone deserves a cold drink of water.”

I was born in Selma, raised in Montgomery, and attended high school in Birmingham, 1955-1973. This was in the heart of the Civil Rights movement in the U.S.

During those tumultous years, I learned a song as a child in Sunday School in the South:

“Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

Today, unfortunately the signs of color, discrimination, or injustice have been exchanged for new signs that declare that it is ok to act unjustly to persons who are gay, or to women who want to be clergy, or persons living with HIV/AIDS, or to persons living in countries like Sudan.

Giving a cold, refreshing drink of water to a thirsty soul is the right thing to do. There are dry, parched lips all around us.

I still believe everyone deserves a cold drink of water.

Normally, you will read my words on this blog. Today is an exception. The following opening prayer of the Presidential inauguration for Barack Obama was given but not heard live on TV or radio. I wanted to share it with others.

Today is the celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday and his dreams, and I find myself wanting to have dreams of my own.

Dr. King continues to inspire my life which may seem odd for a white boy to say in the heart of Dixie. But it’s true. As a Baptist preacher’s kid in Alabama, I heard Dr. King speak a familiar language of faith, justice, and hope for all God’s people.

As inspired as I was, I want to confess that I have often wanted to make a difference in the world like Dr. King, but when I compared my efforts to his accomplishments, I became discouraged, disillusioned, and disheartened.  Just the opposite of his intention. But I ask myself, “What could I do in comparison with his life?”

I know there is only one Martin Luther King, Jr. and I am not him.  I am Malcolm Lewis Marler and that is enough.  It is all I am.

When I compare my gifts with anyone (usually to someone who does things better than I), my effectiveness is diminished. Do you know what I mean?

So today, in honor of Dr. King, I will dream my own dream and see what gifts I have to offer my community in my own unique way. 

He walked towards me in the waiting room at the clinic and stuck out his hand with a big smile and said, “Do you know who I am?”

We have over 1600 active patients at the clinic, and my brain was trying to quickly match this familiar face with a name. No luck. It’s like having a big church and everyone knows your name because you are the pastor, and everyone expects you to know their name.

I smiled and said, “How are you?” hoping he would give me more clues. And then I looked over his shoulder and there sat his mother and father whom I had gotten to know well over the last year.

Before me stood a healthy, 6′0, 215 lb muscular man in his 30’s. He obviously lifts weights as I could feel his powerful arms and shoulders when I hugged him.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, “Is that you “Lazarus?” He said grinning, “Yep. You didn’t recognize me, did you?” I hugged him again, I couldn’t believe it was him.

You see, Lazarus was in the hospital almost exactly one year ago this month. He weighed 95 lbs on a 6 ft. frame. He had many complications related to his HIV. Most of our doctors couldn’t figure out what his new infections were all about.

I could see it in their eyes, they didn’t think he would live long after going home.

Except for one doc. James is relatively young and was finishing up his “Fellowship” in Infectious Disease at UAB. Now, he is an Attending, supervising other younger Fellows.

James spent hours reading journals, cases, and talking about this gentleman’s symptoms, lab results, and tests. He looked up complicated calculations for Lazarus’ medicines to make sure his dosing was accurate. He took time to talk to this man’s mother when she thought her “baby” was gonna die. He and I talked regularly about Lazarus. James believed he would get better.

I have seen Lazarus 2 times since last January, and each time I have marveled at his progress. The new medicines worked, the patient did his part in taking care of himself–physically, emotionally, spiritually. And so we sat down and I asked him to tell me his story.

Lazarus was full of gratitude, love, and said he has so much to live for in his life. He always thanks us, over and over again.

And so I shook hands with Lazarus, thanked James in our clinic who believed Lazarus could live even when he was dying, and I said a thankful prayer to God for reminding me that the hope of Lazarus in us all, lives again.

The soft voice on the other end of the phone belonged to a 40 something year old African American woman who lives in rural north AL approximately 2 and 1/2 hours from our clinic. She had just found out that she was HIV Positive this week. I called at her physician’s request.

“I don’t have a way to get there,” she said early in our conversation.

“Do you have a family member or a friend who has a car who could bring you to see us?” I added, “Our social workers have gas vouchers that can help with the cost of gas.”

“I live with my mother and daughter, and we don’t have a car. I don’t have any friends,” she said matter of factly. We walk to where we need to go in town.”

I encouraged her to think of people she knew, or people that her mother or daughter knew who could possibly bring her. I told her about the realistic hope of new treatments for HIV and how we wanted to take good care of her and that it would be ok.

She reluctantly agreed to ask around and would call me back if she found anyone. I felt myself losing hope.

I told her I would call her in a week or so if I didn’t hear from her. “Thank you” she said a little more softly this time, “I’ll try.”

I hung up the phone and just sat there. Dang it, there ought to be a way when it’s too far to walk.

When I sit down for Orientation with a newly diagnosed patient, at some point, I lean forward and say,

“We’ve come a long way in treating persons with HIV since I started here in 1994. If you can come to the doctor 2-4 times per year, and if you will take your medicine the way you are supposed to, you can live a full life. If you don’t hear anything else I say today, I want you to remember that.”

Sounds simple enough doesn’t it? Two big “ifs.” If you can come to the doctor, if you can take your medicine . . .

But if you live 1, 2, 3 or more hours from the clinic like 50% of our patients, getting to the doctor can be difficult to say the least. If you don’t have a car you have to depend on a family member or friend to drive you. If you don’t have any money, you can’t afford the gas. You know public transportation is awful.

If you struggle with clinical depression, or some other mental illness, or you don’t have a routine in your daily life, remembering appointments or taking meds can be difficult.

If you use illegal drugs (cocaine, meth), taking your medicine correctly is almost impossible.

If you miss a few doses of HIV meds here and there, the virus becomes resistant to those meds. Keep that up and your options run out.

Friends and family can make a difference. Give a ride to the doctor. Ask your loved one if they have taken their medicine today. Encourage, love, and listen to them. Make sure they know they know they are not alone.

Two big ifs. If you can come to the doctor, and if you can take your medicine correctly, you can live.

And if you want to help a friend or family member, you can.

I returned to work today after a wonderful 2 week break during the holidays. I spent time with family, we made time for friends in three states, and I know I have lots to be thankful for. I was ready to come back to work.

However, the first day back after a significant break is well. . . wobbly, off balance, at best. I find myself forgetting passwords on my computer that I used daily before the holidays. Phone calls and emails seem to fly faster towards me than I remember. I’m overwhelmed.

Deep breaths help. A sense of humor never hurts. And a recognition that it will all be here for me tomorrow gives me a perspective that it’s ok when I realize I can’t get it all done today. The world and my work went on without me when I was away and it will when I’m here.

Do the best I can, trust that it’s going to be ok. Welcome back to a world that I truly love, but I do need a few days to get back into shape.

I find myself surprisingly emotional on this Presidential election day, November 4th, 2008.

I am a white, Southern Baptist pastor’s son who grew up in Alabama and returned home to work in Birmingham about 15 years ago. I will vote this afternoon following work in my rural Brushy Pond Community Center in Cullman County, AL where we usually have 60 total people vote in a national election. My wife just called me in tears of joy after she became voter number 100 in the community center this morning at 8:00 a.m.

As many of you know, I was born in Selma, AL in 1955, grew up in Montgomery from 1960-1970, and went to high school in a Birmingham suburb from 1970-1973.

I was a five month old toddler learning how to crawl in Selma on December 1, 1955, when Rosa Parks sat down in a city bus in Montgomery and refused to move to the back of the bus. Change began with her resolute stillness.

I was 9 years old living in Montgomery on March 7, 1965 on Bloody Sunday as police attacked 600 people with billy clubs, tear gas, and bull whips as they marched for the right to vote from Selma to the capitol of Montgomery.

I still remember not long after the Civil Rights March some of our church’s deacons smoking under the big oak tree between Sunday School and Worship talking about “that trouble maker King.” It took two more tries before they made it to Montgomery and eventually were granted the right to vote. It still is hard for me to believe that this has happened only in my lifetime.

Finally I was 12 years old when I heard that Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot and killed in Memphis. It was not long after that in the summer of 1968 that I drank from the “colored water fountain” when no one was around out of curosity to see how “colored people’s water” tasted. It was warm and the fountatin had not been cleaned. An internal shift happened in me that day. My internal resolution said all God’s children deserve a cold drink of water.

So now I am 53 years old, working with persons living with HIV/AIDS in Birmingham, AL who experience some of this same discrimination on a daily basis. Many of them have darker skin than me, though just as many are white. And I still believe, “All God’s children deserve a cold drink of water.”

And today, I will vote in a Presidential election with a black man on the ballot as the nominee of his party.

No matter what, I am thankful.
Malcolm

It was Ryan on the phone calling from the front desk at the clinic where I work, “There is a gentleman up here who would like to see you,” he said. I was in the middle of a counseling session and promised I would be up to see him in a little while.

He was the third 20 year old in as many weeks to sit in my office and share his story of how he tested HIV positive recently.

We talked about a lot of things during the hour, but when I asked about his family I noticed his eyes went to floor. Tell me about your father. “I’ve never known him, never even met him. He lives somewhere in Georgia.”

His eyes were misty as I asked him what that was like for him.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, I don’t anything different,” he mumbled.

We talked about a lot of things and then he just stopped and said clearly, “I’m really depressed. I’m having a hard time. I need help.” He showed me where he had cut his wrists in the past.

I introduced him to resources we have in the clinic to help with depression. We made appointments with a mental health counselor, a psychiatrist, and a weekly group for persons with substance use problems. And of course, an appointment was made with his medical team for his HIV care.

But tonight, I still think about his eyes.

Being a chaplain and a wireless consultant have more in common than one may think.

What does offering emotional and spiritual support to persons with a life threatening illness have in common with providing technical support for cell phone/data device problems?

Asking the right questions are more important than providing the right answers.

As a chaplain, people sometimes expect me to have answers to difficult questions. I’m slowly learning that I can usually be of help more if I ask questions rather than try to have answers.

For instance, I was in a family conference in the ICU unit of the hospital earlier this week with a family member who was faced with making the difficult decision to remove life support from their loved one. I listened as the doctor said to the family member, “I’m sorry, there is nothing else that we can do. Your loved one is not going to make it. He is going to die very soon.”

I asked the family member if he had talked with his loved one about this scenario before this hospitalization. “What would your loved one want if he could speak to you now? What would his answer be?”

There was no hesitation in his voice because they had talked about it in great detail before this hospitalization and ensuing coma. “If he can’t get any better, he said it’s ok to let go. He is at peace with it. He has fought the good fight.”

He had his own answer in what he would do, and later that evening, it was so.

On a lighter side, I was told today about a UAB employee “that was ready to throw her Palm Pilot Phone out the window.” My UAB Communications colleague said that this woman has spent more than ten hours on the phone with all types of technical support, but her problem prevailed.

So, I volunteered to go to her office and sit down with her as a tech support guy. “I’m going out of town tomorrow, I’ve got to have this thing working!” she said in frustration.

“Tell me the story of what you’ve already tried,” I said. And she began telling me with great detail all of the things she had done. And there, in the midst of her story, the answer jumped out at me. “May I see your phone?” I asked. Fortunately, it was an easy fix. She cheered and thought I must be so smart. The truth was she gave me the answer.

It was in listening to her story that the answer was revealed.

Asking questions and listening. It sounds so simple.

I walked into the hospital room to find my friend in the bed too tired and weak to respond with words. All of her life energy was focused on providing each breath and heartbeat for her body. Her mother was weary from sitting next to her daughter’s hospital bed for too long and from grieving the last ten years knowing her only daughter would someday die from AIDS. That time is now very near.

The friend’s Mom said, “Hi Malcolm, please sit here beside the bed. I’ll move into the lounge chair.” Within a couple of minutes, she was asleep.

I spoke softly to my friend, “Are you tired?” I think she nodded yes. It wasn’t time for conversations like we had in the past as one clergy colleague to another. It wasn’t time to talk about the similarities and differences of our faith backgrounds that were always so rich and instructive for me.

Instead, it was time to be present. Time to just be. I sat down and leaned over the bedrail to hold her right hand that rested on her chest. She put her left hand on top of mine. I closed my eyes and silently thanked God for a person who has made such a difference in so many persons’ lives. I thanked God for the difference she has made in my life in particular.

Dr. Saag first introduced us in the clinic in 1995. She asked me to read the sermon she was going to give soon to her congregation. It included telling her congregation that she was HIV positive and that she would humbly appreciate their prayers and support. She would teach them that it is ok to be cared for by others.

She was understandably frightened and yet also resolute in this sermon that this was the right thing to do. “It’s my duty to educate them about this disease,” knowing that it could also mean the end of her employment. She gained strength from the experience and became a powerful spokesperson in so many ways.

Thankfully, in the days following most of the congregation gave her the support she (and they) needed.

As I sat beside her bedside, her portable CD player was close to her ear as songs from her faith played softly. It was such a sacred time.

I stayed for 30 minutes or so, listening to the music, reminiscing, and stroking my friend’s hand.
There were no words to make it all better. Her life lived has already spoken volumes.

It was time to just be . . . present.