Don't Believe or Don't Care?

For some reason, I've been wanting to write about this for a while. There is an overwhelming sense in our world that the need for organized religion is overrated and that a relationship with God isn't important. Enough for the atheist community to be exploding. That last sentence is not based on research but on perception, I will say that. I do, however, believe there is a difference in the atheist that believes that there is no God whatsoever and the person that just doesn't want a relationship with him. 

An atheist, by definition, is someone who disbelieves the presence of a supreme being or beings. I think the 21st century atheist is becoming more of the mold that they believe there is a God but just chooses not to recognize Him. In fact, is it possible that the 21st century atheist doesn't know that they're an atheist yet? I think there's two categories and I'm sure someone like Bill Maher could better describe this in his own "eloquent" way but....there are those that are the true atheists and can't understand faith or a higher being and will have a scientific explanation for everything that is around us.

The other category is, I believe, more common. People who have just turned off God. They know he's there but really don't care or something happened in their past to turn them away from organized religion and the church to turn them away from God's people. I don't know what the word is for someone who has stopped believing in God's people but, whatever that term is, that's the word I would categorize them as.

My dad and other ministers have always said that the worst part of God's church is the people. We get in the way of wanting religion and God's plan to be our way. There are so many people who have given up hope that church and "THE Church" can help our world and the people hurting in it. Besides, how can we save the lost when we're too busy fighting about the petty things. 

Today's Detroit Free Press has an article titled, "I'm an atheist, so what?" The basic premise of the article is that people can be good and love without having to belong to organized religion. The writer talks about going to a strict Catholic school where people ran away from answering questions and that he was able to find everything himself. The point that hurts, to a Christian, is the point that his belief of no God has opened him up to a free mind where barriers of racism and sexism do not exist. The invitation to heaven is not as important as the feelings and care he has for others. The idea that those two previous things are seperate don't make sense to me. Because of our love and care for others and acceptance to be Christ-like to others is what will help us get to heaven. God is love and all of the things in our New Testament Christianity that we should know is that the sacrifice of sending your only son isn't an example of that love for others. 

It's not the atheist that I worry about so much. I care for them and wonder what they are missing or, at some point, will they cry out to God in their most low moment? I worry more about the ones that know what God's love is and may have had that relationship before and have decided to walk away from it because, in some way, I know that as a part of "THE Church", it very well may be our fault.

Gone Too Soon

I think over the last week God has shown us that no one is immune to completing the circle of life. It's the time that the circle gets completed that shocks us the most. We knew Farrah Fawcett's death from cancer was coming, Ed McMahon was close to 90....those we expected. It's the Michael Jacksons, Billy Mays and Steve McNair's that we may have a hard time wrapping our minds around. Jackson and Mays were both 50, both may have been accidental deaths (Jackson due to bad physician consulting on pain-killers and Mays from trauma to the head on a plane ride) and everyone can agree that it was way before their time. It's McNair's that I'm having a hard time understanding.

We're the same age. He's a bit more athletic than I, that's unmistakable. He was an established legend in Nashville and had his place in NFL history among some of the great african-american athletes and pioneers. He not only is one of the few first black NFL quarterbacks but, repeatedly over the last 24 hours, has been given credit for helping an NFL franchise get settled in Nashville after leaving a legacy in Houston, Texas. The Oilers became the Titans under his watch, the Music City Miracle occured under his watch, a respected team in the mid-South among a city that was only known for putting out country music came together under his watch. Today, a city mourns and also has questions.

The respected pioneer in a condo with a 20-year-old woman away from his wife and 4 children on a holiday weekend in another state? Granted, Nashville is partly McNair's home but, the more information we get over what happened between Thursday and Saturday, is beginning to leave a dent in that legacy. We all are guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Steve McNair should have been with his family. He should have been sharing burgers and stories and fireworks with his family. There's obviously more to the story than what we know now or may ever know. The sad part is that it may have been averted.

It's sad that, once somebody passes away, it's at that time where we really know what a person is about or what they have done. Similar to Michael Jackson, we will choose to remember the great moments, stories, pictures and memories that we have of these celebrities. They could have still been so great but, unfortunately, have gone too soon.

Time to just let it go

Sara and I went to Michigan a couple of weeks ago and caught up with family. It had been over a year since we were there for the funeral of my step-dad, Ralph. My mom has a new place, new basement (which is bigger than the one at her old house which proves my theory that Michigan really knows how to do basements and underground shelters) and is making new memories. She still has alot of her old furniture and things that are important and sentimental to her. They are the things that yard sales and e-bay can't replace. Tables with marks on them made from my sister and I when we were kids, chairs that have been reupholstered and stood the test of time from before I was born.

It was good seeing those things and making new memories as well. Michigan has always had a soft place in my heart but it is rough and getting rougher. My recollection of how great of an area Rochester is wasn't the same last week. You can tell where funding to keep things clean and repaired just isn't there. However, if there's one thing they know to do in the north, it's to survive and to make do. Some places look better than others and other things just need to be let go.

Tiger Stadium is one of those places. It is one of those childhood places that we all have and will remember forever. The younger you were, the larger in life it was. The older you got, the larger the story or the tale. This is how I remember my trips to Detroit. We really didn't have a reason to go anywhere else downtown. Detroit is not one of those cities that you go, hang out and spend a day. You go purposefully, lock your car, go to where you need to go and enjoy being there. That's why the old stadium was double-decked all the way around. You didn't have to see Detroit. What was outside was outside. Baseball, your family and friends, memories and stories....those were all inside. The blue and orange seats, the tall light towers, the dark concourses that, when you walked onto that blue steel ramp toward the field, let in the sunlight and the bright green grass of the field. For a baseball fan, it's heaven. Driving on I-75 toward the stadium, it was a large white castle with flags on top and gates all around. It was a protected fortress from the crime and racial hate of the city outside of its walls. I will live with those sounds, sights and smells forever and always hated the fact that it would never be there....

until two weeks ago. My wife, Sara, had never seen this place that I always had high praise for. Driving north on the interstate, you couldn't see it. The city was doing construction right at that spot where you would pass the stadium almost making you have to go out of your way to see what's left. What we found wasn't a ballpark at all. Only one of the light-towers was still standing and the outside of the stadium looked like it had been stripped. You could see where the crane had stopped working because there was a big gash in the side of the stadium right behind where home plate was. If you remember spending that time in that ballpark, it takes your breath away. All of the visible memories that you can point to and show were going, going and, as of that Tuesday night, were almost gone. Four days later, my uncle, his wife and little girl went with Sara and I to go see it. My uncle, being older, obviously had more memories than do and his response was the same. We were on our way to the new ballpark just down the road and realized that I was getting to that age where I like hanging onto the past and it's hard to accept the new. To see your past being tangibally removed is a tough pill to swallow.

My trips to Michigan somehow always include some kind of trip down memory lane. It's either our old house in Woodhaven or a run by Rochester College to see my first dorm or a visit to see old friends at church. Michigan is an important part of my past but I just can't see it being an important part of my future. My mom has made the changes she's needed to made and is holding onto the memories that she needs to hang onto. I hope she continues to move forward in that direction.

The Monday after Sara and I got back from Detroit, Tiger Stadium's last main piece fell to the ground. To the right, is what remains of the building that sat at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull. It is completely open now to the city and hopefully, very soon, something else productive will replace its space. The Bible tells us that the things on this earth are not meant to last forever. Memories and moments, however, always stick with us. I'm thankful for the times I had at that place but it's time to let it go. New memories can be made now when we make our trips to Michigan and I can only hope that I will hang onto those and make them as precious as my old memories are.

A day not to memorialize?

Today was tough. I never really knew how my Dad felt about Memorial Day. When I was in middle school and played with the band at the parade, my Dad was a member of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) in northern Michigan where we lived. He always seemed to march proudly even though I do remember it raining alot on Memorial Day. I also remember the hot dogs and baseball. :)

I asked my Dad if he went to any parades today and the answer gave me an idea of what my Dad really felt about past Memorial Days....and the future ones. He said he never really liked today since he got home from Vietnam. My Dad fought in the Vietnam War, his Dad in the Korean War and I'm sure I'm the only male in the Burtch family tree that hasn't fought in some form of war or battle. My disconnect to fighting for my country may be similar to my Dad's disconnect to wanting to remember that he did fight for his country. The 1960's were not kind to veterans. They may be the only generation that were truly not appreciated for sacrificing their lives for the red, white and blue. The veterans who fought in World War II are known as, "The Greatest Generation" because of what their difference did for our country. The Vietnam War only set us back and caused hate, rioting, protests, uncertainty and a mistrust for a government that thought they were doing what was right. Sound familiar?

My Dad still feels resentment toward the government because of how him and his friends were treated....the ones that came back alive. It's not exactly a feeling that makes him want to take a day off and receive thanks since the government, in Dad's words, still hasn't properly thanked them yet. Memorial Day is a day of remembrance and celebration for the freedoms that we have and I'm thankful for what I have. I do wish that we could go back in time and right that wrong....no one should be spat upon for going and doing what they are told is right.

My friend, Josh Shelton and his wife Sara, will probably not remember Memorial Day in the same way either. My thoughts and prayers are with them as they struggle to find the answer to the worst open-ended question in history. "Why?" Today, tears are shed for memories that occured recently and in the past but the hurt is the same. God comforts us with his open arms and the strength of good friends but the pain, I imagine, is sometimes too much to bear. I ask, whoever may read this and I don't know who does, that you pray for the Shelton's and all of those that are asking the question, "Why?"

A ministry of stories

Recruiting for a Christian college has always had its ups and downs but, one thing that has always been consistent, is the heart-to-heart conversations I get to have with people whose stories apparently need to be told. Earlier this week, I had two conversations that just caused me to stop and realize that my job in sales is not necessarily the product I'm selling but it's becoming a part of the life of the consumer who is making a huge step in their life.

The first conversation was with a young lady that I recruited to come to Abilene Christian out of high school back in 2002. Melinda just graduated with her master's degree earlier this month and had been in a long relationship with a guy she had dated and had let herself get really close to. The joy of completing a graduate degree was overshadowed by the heartbreak of a guy that has decided not to commit to a serious relationship with her. I've had many conversations with Melinda over the last seven years and really enjoy her heart and spirit as she's shared part of her life with my wife and I. Listening to the tears over the phone as she figured out what to do next was the hard part. Years of hard work and academic success were put to the side as I let her know that God was looking over her and taking care of her now and for the long run. I felt honored to know that I was on her list of people to confide in at such a pivotal time in her life.

The second conversation was with a lady who was wanting to take a second chance at Lipscomb. She had started school there in the mid-90's and left due to family circumstances. Her father was a Church of Christ minister on the east coast and had passed away. Felicia, the lady that I met with, never came back to Lipscomb. The opportunity to pick back up and get back on her feet academically didn't really show itself to her until recently when she moved back to Tennessee and attended a community college. Sitting in our conference room, she told me of a professor at Lipscomb that sat and prayed with her when she learned of her father's passing and how angry she was that this had to happen just as she was getting things started. Her father though had abused her physically and mentally so, when he passed away, she stepped away from her family, the church and God. She never formally thanked that professor for spending that time with her and now, after almost 12 years, she hopes to get that chance this fall and return to Lipscomb.

I've battled internally recently about where God needs me to be and where I can do the most work. Most of my day consists of academic records and keeping my two student workers, Brittany and Rebecca, busy. I get to share their lives as well as the others in my office. I get to listen to peoples history almost every day and help them decide their futures whether they are 17 or 47. I talk to people who have served in Iraq and are ready to capitalize on a free education, to parents who are excited about their children get a second chance at college even if the first one didn't work out so well and people who may have lost their jobs who are now taking advantage of something they haven't had in years....time.

I'm thankful for conversations even if I'm not the one doing most of the talking. I'm just thankful for God putting me at a place where I can see lives changing every day.

It's Like Pulling Teeth

I've had this annoying feeling lately that finally subsided on Tuesday. That "it's gonna have to happen, you might as well do it and get it over with" feeling. Hello, my name is Aaron and I had a bad molar. The thing was horrible; dying in fact. It was riddled with decay and needed to be taken out. Small pieces were slowly leaving the area and all that was left was part of a tooth trying to hang on to an infected root. It's all dental jargon, really. I'm just saying how it felt and looked.

However, next to the molar, was a wisdom tooth that really wasn't all that smart. It fit the perfect description of something that knew no direction. It wasn't growing up or down, it wasn't trying to expose itself through the gum....it was growing sideways. Directly sideways. It had the bad molar up against a wall pushing it until I had to finally make the decision that it needed to go. The sideways behavior of a tooth finally helped me overcome my sideways behavior of getting rid of it. I didn't want to make a decision about it because I knew it would be painful and who wants missing teeth anyway? It's not like it's Biblical and causing me to sin, THEREFORE, I should rid myself of it. Or is it? I'm holding on to something just to hold onto it? IT'S A TOOTH!! for crying out loud.

Today, Friday, both teeth are missing and I think, healing. To get to the comfort of being able to chew on both sides of your mouth means having to deal with temporary pain. I just finished reading Rob Bell's book, "Jesus Wants To Save Christians", and reading the book wasn't exactly like pulling teeth but it had a few throbs and pains along the way. Living sideways is a normal habit because if we commit to a direction, we have to stick to it. It feels easier to lay low. There's that feeling that I want to grow, I want to burst out and move up and be seen and then there are those times where life puts us back in our place and we're growing sideways. Bell talks about exile and freedom, mainly referring to our Old Testament heritage, and how eventually the oppressed became free and became the oppressors and finally Jesus, after we couldn't seem to do the job, had to become the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom......there is pain for the cost of being able to chew on both sides of your mouth, to be able to do the things we want and wish to do and have the opportunity to decide if we want to be FREE or do we just want to grow sideways.

Maybe, there is wisdom in the wisdom tooth after all!? There is hope for the lost...and the sideways.

What's YOUR tag say?

If you were old enough in the late 80's to know how to ankle-roll your jeans and know the difference between Debbie Gibson and Tiffany and went to a Church of Christ, then you probably just rolled your eyes and put a little smile on your face reading the title. Acappella Vocal Band's single, "What's Your Tag Say?", was a bash on all of the brand-name hype when it came to our exterior look. A certain type of jeans, shirt and shoes could literally place you in a whole different class of people. We were/are that shallow back then. Who am I kidding? We still are, but that's not why I titled this blog what I did.

My new job puts me on the road to completely new territory for me. I've literally been from one corner of Tennessee to the other and, as of next Tuesday, I will have been to all four corners. Most of the scenery is beautiful and I'm continually amazed at God's creation and how beautiful it looks here. On my way up to Northeast Tennessee, I had to take Interstate 81 north of Knoxville. On the side of the road, during the day in the middle of the week, were a group of prisoners who were cleaning up the highway. Normally, you can identify a prison worker by someone who is wearing orange gear so that they stand out and don't mix in with the grass and trees. For the first time though, I saw something besides just the orange jumpsuit.

The first prisoner was kind of seperated from the rest of the group but had a deputy or some kind of official keeping an eye on him. On the back of his shirt was a black glob of something that you couldn't make out from a distance. As you got closer, the glob became words and quickly became readable:  "I Am A Drunk Driver". There wasn't the "Hello, my name is Bob and I'm a drunk driver" or "I'm sorry for my mistake but I'm a drunk driver." Just five words...the identifier (I) followed by the adjective (drunk) and then the noun (driver). I'm not sure which word has the bigger impact. Drunk? Driver? I?

Every person that drove by I-81 on that day saw this man and his other orange jumpsuit mates. They all had the same shirts with the same labels and they were all drunk drivers. It was fitting that they were there to clean up garbage on the side of the road. Perhaps, there may have been some empty beer cans or bottles. The irony is that the bottles would have been their own. It's easy to judge these men and their unwillingness to use common sense and listen to the message that we've been hearing for years to not drink and drive. The moment you pass judgement, though, God immediately decides to bring some irony of his own and ask what YOUR orange jumpsuit says. They've been tagged as drunk drivers and there's no need to know their names or why they did it or maybe they were coming back from a wedding and, for the first time in their life, they had one too many. They've just been tagged...drunk driver.

My tag is Aaron. I'm a sinner. I've made poor decisions. I'm sure I've done more things to hurt God than help and I try to pray for his forgiveness and mercy every day. I don't have to wear my tag for everyone to see like those prisoners did but God knows what our tag says. He also has the power to take our orange jumpsuits, put some cleansing bleach on them and make them white as snow. The hard part is remembering that God forgives those who love him. The easy part is wondering what people see when they look at me. Are people able to read my tag? Do they see "child of God" or do they just see the latest mistake I've made? Forgiveness and mercy are awesome and make all of our tags pleasant and readable. So....what's YOUR tag say?