Author: youngmike124

Religious views: Love God Political views: Love neighbor

Image“There must be a time of day when the man who makes plans forgets his plans, and acts as if he had no plans at all. “There must be a time of day when the man who has to speak falls very silent. And his mind forms no more propositions, and he asks himself: Did they have a meaning? “There must be a time when the man of prayer goes to pray as if it were the first time in his life he had ever prayed; when the man of resolutions puts his resolutions aside as if they had all been broken, and he learns a different wisdom: distinguishing the sun from the moon, the stars from the darkness, the sea from dry land, and the night sky from the shoulder of a hill. —Thomas Merton from “No Man is An Island”

It has been sort of a distracted morning, but in a good sort of way. I was down stairs pretty early…4:30ish. I lit the fire, got my coffee and settled on the couch to read. Upon opening my bag I recognized the number of I-want-to-take-time-to-read-but-never-seem-to-get-around-to-it magazines accumulating there were more than a little telling. I was probably never going to get around to reading them.

I pulled out a week-old edition of the New York Times I had purchased at Starbucks to read while waiting on a car to be serviced. Instead of reading that at the dealer, I think I played “FLOW” on my iPad, a challenging little puzzle game but a game nonetheless, and truly a waste of perfectly good waiting room time. I pulled out two issues of the Economist, an issue of Motley Fool Stock Advisor, the December 2012 issue of The Atlantic and finally the Dec. 30th issue of the New York Times Magazine. That was the one that sort of derailed my intensions for the morning.

On the cover was a photograph of Adam Yauch (1/3 of the Beastie Boys) and the words, “The Lives They Lived.” It was a collection of obituaries of notable people who had died in 2012. I’ve never been one who reads obituaries, although [Mr.}Tony Kornheiser says “[the obits] are usually the best writing in the paper.” I think that’s probably true, as a rule. Rather than some words about a forgettable story rushed to the page to meet a deadline, an obit is an attempt to communicate a snap-shot of a life. The fame and/or notoriety of the famous persons in this particular issue of “the magazine” are merely context. The writers are trying to distill meaning from these lives that have ended. Sometimes there is a clear rendering of the protagonist. Other times, the obit seems to be as much a window into the psyche of the writer as it is about the person who died.

I thumbed through the pages of 2012’s obit collection stopping on: Teri Shields (mother of Brooke and quintessential “stage mom”); Maurice Sendak (author of the iconic children’s books “Where the Wild Things Are” and “The Night Kitchen”…Brilliant piece done with 9 illustrations with bubble quotes from an NPR interview with the writer); Nora Ephron (journalist, screenwriter, playwright, best known popularly for “When Harry Met Sally”…a collage recreating “Meg Ryan’s soliloquy [from the diner] using letters cut from Ephron’s obituary in the New York Times.” (…yes…yes…oh God…”); Don Cornelius (creator and host of Soul Train pictured in full 70’s regalia of massive afro and equally massive silver silk tie. Interesting quote: “Long before the Huxtables…Vanessa Williams [1st black Miss America]…the Obamas…middle class white teenagers [were getting] their first glimpse of popular black culture…and…a peek at the future; by the 90s, black music and dance was the culture”); Adam Yauch (interesting take of his growth as an artist…but I could never get over the Beastie’s frat boy smirks and frat boy party/rap anthem from the 80s to take them very seriously).

My morning started with the Merton passage at the beginning of this post. It set the stage for my dip into the obits of 2012. On this morning, the obits provided a moment to put aside the plans, propositions and resolutions and do a little of that distinguishing work…”distinguishing the sun from the moon, the stars from the darkness, the sea from dry land, and the night sky from the shoulder of a hill”…life from death. It was by no means morbid. It was a pause that facilitated some much needed reflection. And while I do not aspire to a mention in the New York Times Magazine, I recognized the legacy that is my faith, my family, and my life’s work will ultimately be my obit. Even more than that, I was able to distinguish between “routine” and “extremely blessed” and give thanks for the blessing.

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the gift of a power outage

ImageSummer’s going fast, nights growing colder
Children growing up, old friends growing older
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Experience slips away
Experience slips away…
The innocence slips away

 —Rush, “Time Stand Still”

The family had gathered around the TV at my parent’s home to watch Brave.  The cousins were all laying in front of the rather old, small, and definitely non-HD screen in the living room.  The adults were mostly watching various screens…cell phones, iPads, Kindles…listening to the movie in the background and smiling at the attempts at Scottish accents coming from sprawl in front of the TV.

Just about the time we had all settled in for the evening, the power went out. Pitch black darkness was met with groans from the kids (all done with new found Scottish drawls.)  My dad quickly lit the “coal oil lamp” and  placed it on the mantel.  As the children began to move around, searching for their own personal screens (iPods, phones, etc.), my sister-in-law gave us all a wonderful gift.  She asked, “Uncle Mike, what was you and Aunt Susie’s first date?”  That question began an evening of story telling around the pale flickering light of an old coal oil lamp.  

We went around the circle telling first date stories which led to engagement stories.  The children joined in by telling “most embarrassing” stories. Then my parents began to tell stories about their childhood and their parents and grand parents.  Laughter came quickly and often.  Questions were asked.  Experiences were shared.  Deep “family” conversation made the time fly by.  Mom talked about how the flickering light of the lamp brought back memories of her and her brothers sitting around the same type of lamp as children listening to her mom and dad and an occasional visitor tell stories.  Memories came rushing back for me as a kid sitting on the screen porch in the evenings listening to my grandfather pick out a tune on his guitar and tell some of those very same stories.  

It was hard to believe that 2 hours had passed so quickly when the lights finally came back on.  “Normal” filled the room as quickly as the lights had and we all moved toward our beds, plugging our electronic devices into their respective chargers so they would be ready to do our bidding (or we their’s) the next morning. I’m restraining the sermon rising in my spirit.  We all know that sermon already. I will say this…in contrast to the many evenings spent on some forgettable TV program or surfing the internet, this was an evening I’ll remember for a long time.   It was truly wonderful and a very fitting end to a wonderful holiday season.

Peace!

 

a little Thomas Merton to chew on…

It’s funny how Thomas Merton always challenges me at election time…

The aggressive and dominative view of reality places, at the center, the individual with its bodily form, its feelings and emotions, its appetites and needs, its loves and hates, its actions and reactions.  All these are seen as forming together a basic and indubitable reality to which everything else must be referred, so that all other things are also estimated in their individuality, their actions and reactions, and all the ways in which they impinge upon the interests of the individual self.  The world is then seen as a multiplicity of conflicting and limited beings, all enclosed in the limits of their own individuality, all therefore complete in a permanent and vulnerable incompleteness, all seeking to find a certain completeness by asserting themselves at the expense of others, dominating and using others.  The world becomes, then, an immense conflict in which the only peace is that which is accorded to the victory of the strong, and in order to taste the joy of this peace, the weak must submit to the strong and join them in their adventures so that they may share in their power.

— Thomas Merton, Choosing to Love the World

Peace!

wandering around the routine in bare feet

Back in my Collegiate Ministry days, one of the first things discussed at the beginning of each year by our student leadership team was our theme for the year.  There was usually a quote or a scripture passage and then logos and t-shirt designs would follow.  One of my very favorite t-shirts emerged from that process during the 1995-96 academic year at Louisiana College.  “Shoeless” was all that was printed on the front of the shirt.  The image  to the right was on the back.  It proved to be very popular.  (Those are Scott’s feet…I didn’t want to know how he stood on the copier)

(True story: A group of students and I attended a Rich Mullins concert in Lafayette, LA that year.  We hung around afterward so people could get some autographs.  One of the students came to me (Lori) and said, “Rich Mullins wants your shirt!”  I walked over to the merchandise table where he was busy signing things and he said, “Can I have your shirt?” My response was, “Uh…sure…uh…I’ll send you one.”   Mullins: “no…that one…I’ll trade you…you can have one of these.”  Simultaneously awkward and cool moment.)

The quote is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem “Aurora Leigh”.  It seems to turn up often in EBB quotes. ( I’ve used it about almost 4 years ago on this blog).

Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries

Your assignment…if you choose to accept it:  Take off your shoes!  This can be figuratively or literally.  Look around for the holy ground we so easily pass right by without ever noticing!  Don’t let this day be chained and defined by a dry and godless routine.  Be aware…God will begin to become evident in surprising places and people. You might even be one of those common bushes for someone else. (share you’re burning bush stories below)

PEACE!

Pearls Before Breakfast (reblog)

This is post from almost 4 years ago…but after my little trip to the symphony this week, I was reminded of this and wanted to revisit it. The Washington Post story by Gene Weingarten is fabulous…well worth your time to read it. There are also video’s in the piece of the performance. Enjoy. Peace!

so here we are in the field...

Pearls Before Breakfast – washingtonpost.com
This is a VERY good article from the Washington Post Magazine.  It won the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for feature writing for Gene Weingarten.  The experiment was to place one of the worlds greatest violinists playing some of the world’s greatest music on one of the world’s finest and most rare violins in the entrance of a train station to play the part of a street musician.  Weingarten’s story and observations are found in this piece.  I would love to read your responses to the story.

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Distracted…joyously so! GEAUX TIGERS!

I’m writing this about 11 hours before the kickoff of this years BCS Championship football game between LSU and alabama. I should be doing lots of other things this morning. I have lots of work related writing to do. I have 3 books that need to be read as research for the previously mentioned writing. It’s almost futile to try to concentrate on that “important” stuff. I mean this is LSU football!

My love of the LSU Tigers came very early. The story goes that my dad jumped up and punched a hole in the ceiling of our family’s small house while cheering for the Tigers as they defeated bear bryant and the alabama crimson tide (its very difficult for me to capitalize those particular “proper” nouns. I’ve never been able to concede the status of “proper” for those particular words in the context of college football.) I honestly don’t know if it was the tide we beat that evening or not. I really don’t even know if I was yet born. But the story is part of my story; part of my heritage. In my mind, we are gathered around the “hi-fi” in the living room of our home on Atomic Lane, Cut Off, Louisiana (now West 59th Street) listening to the voice of John Ferguson broadcast on AM870, WWL, New Orleans. (for a taste, check out Ferguson’s call of the classic 1971 LSU vs. Notre Dame game from Tiger Stadium.)  That’s what happened just about every Saturday night in the fall.

Sometime in the early 1970s, my dad began to occasionally receive tickets to the games and we would make the pilgrimage to Tiger Stadium, Baton Rouge, LA. It was there we would hear stories of dad living in the North Stadium dormitory…of my mom and my aunt and their buddies cruising around downtown Baton Rouge back in the 1950s. Walking across the campus toward the glow of the stadium lights is still magical in my memory. Somewhere in a closet at mom and dad’s house is a cheap purple felt cowboy hat purchased on such a night from one of the venders outside the stadium. Tucked into the gaudy “Urban Cowboy” feather hat band are dozens of ticket stubs I kept as scalps from the games I witnessed in person at that sacred stadium.

One of the ticket stubs will be from the September 29, 1979 game vs. Southern Cal (USC is University of South Carolina…everybody in the south knows that.) That Trojan team was absolutely loaded: 12 future NFL first round draft picks including future Hall-of-Famers Anthony Munoz, Ronnie Lott and Marcus Allen. Their tailback, Charles White would go on to win the 1979 Heisman Trophy. LSU was an average team finishing that year at 7-5. John Ed Bradley, was the captain of that team. (I recommend very highly his book, It Never Rains in Tiger Stadium.) But on this night, Tiger Stadium truly unleashed it’s magic.

I believe my dad was in South Africa during that game. My mom (God bless her!) packed us boys up and drove us up to Baton Rouge. My older brother was finishing up his Engineering degree at LSU. We all piled into he and his wife’s small upstairs apartment in a home on Glendale Street, across the University Lakes near the campus.

We had fantastic seats…40 yard line, halfway up the west side stands in the shadows of the press box. I screamed until I was hoarse. I remember turning around and raising my arms urging the Tiger faithful to their feet. It was the loudest and most incredible atmosphere I’ve ever been privileged to be a part of. LSU lost that game 17-12 but it remains a vivid and cherished memory.

Another stub that would be found in that hat would be from November 10 of that year, the ‘bama crimson tide came to Baton Rouge. My dad had acquired 2 tickets in the “Purple Section” which was located under the west side upper deck just to the left side of the press box overlooking the student section. Somehow, my older brother and I ended up with those 2 seats while the rest of our party sat in the lower bowl. That’s significant because it rained that night. More accurately…it was a monsoon…sheets of rain falling constantly…an old fashioned “gulley washer” as they say. My brother and I felt a twinge of guilt knowing my mom and dad were sitting out in the weather…but we would walk back to the buffet line to grab some food to ease our pain and return to our dry, very comfortable seats. It was a miserable game. LSU lost 3-0 that night.

The rain had stopped as we walked dejectedly back to our cars. As always, I wore my purple cowboy hat proudly. I was glad it had been spared the rain as I compared it to the soggy and drooping counterparts all around me. At some point on this walk, I noticed a rain drenched ‘bammer fan staring at my brother and me. ‘bammer finally couldn’t stand it any longer…he came over and asked, “How in the world did you come out of that game completely dry after all that rain?!”

I replied as any true Tiger fan would: “It never rains on Tiger fans in Tiger stadium.” And we walked on…with grins on our faces…content and happy we were Tiger fans. The score really didn’t matter anymore. Sure we were disappointed in the loss. But more than anything else we were so happy to be LSU Tigers.

I could go on. There are so many stories…mom’s cold fried chicken on the parade grounds…my Uncle Hart dressed in purple with a big grin anticipating watching his beloved Tigers…waking up early on game day in my Hatcher Hall dorm room to move my car before it was towed away…attending games dressed in togas…post game parties at Plantation Trace apartments…meeting my wife for the first time in those Plantation Trace apartments…

Regardless of the outcome tonight, I bleed purple and gold. I’m proud of Louisiana State University on so many levels beyond it’s accomplishments in athletics. I’m proud of my daughter as she makes her own memories in Baton Rouge as she pursues her degree in coastal biology. I love the family of Tiger fans I’ve had the opportunity to be a part of through the ministry of Frank Horton and the LSU BSU. It’s a part of who I am. Always will be.

Ok…enough! I’ve got important work to do and this distraction has taken too much time!

First…you make a roux! (you didn’t think I was going to work on a day like this did you?!…its game day! There is gumbo to make!)

Go to Hell alabama! Go to Hell!!

Roll tide roll…around the bowl and down the hole! Roll tide roll!

‘bama…bama…bama won’t you bite my…uh…well…I’ll not complete that (those of you that know it can sing it amongst yourselves)

GEAUX TIGERS!!!

living in exile…a voice in the desert!

It was the title that caught my eye…”What do low-income communities need?” Intriguing. Definitive. Hopeful? Maybe…I clicked the link and read the article in hopes of finding the answer.

After reading it, I’m not sure I necessarily “liked” what I read. But, I still felt compelled to post the link on both Facebook and Twitter. Megan McArdle’s perspective was frankly pretty dark and cynical in some respects. As I read it I found myself torn. There are ideas here that rub my liberal sensibilities the wrong way and others initiate a loud AMEN from those same sensibilities. I also found my more conservative impulses reacting almost exactly opposite my liberal side in precisely those same places.

Ultimately, the writer didn’t answer the question posed in the title. And that was sort of a let down after all of the opposing visceral reactions I experienced while reading the piece. Don’t get me wrong. McArdle’s point is well taken, specifically as she stated it in her last paragraph:

“Public policy can modestly improve the incentives and choice sets that poor people face–and it should do those things. But it cannot remake people into something more to the liking of bourgeois taxpayers.”

And there’s the rub. Just like so many other things in our culture, we want to apply some kind of pharmaceutical remedy to all our problems and make them disappear. We don’t necessarily care how the drug works, just so it takes the pain away. It is in that spirit that we attempt to apply social policies to issues at the whims of elected officials whose main goal is not to solve the issue at hand but to be re-elected. Lets just say the “results” of these politically motivated prescriptions pretty much read like the foul side affects that are hurriedly read following the utopian myth offered by the drug ads we are constantly barraged with on TV (would anyone like to recall the first time you heard “please call your Doctor immediately if you experience an erection lasting for more than 4 hours” with your kids in the room? For a funny digression, check this out.)  All of the efforts from “both sides of the aisle” to solve these problems seem to be more effective at inducing cynicism and resignation that any sort of hope for real solutions.

However the false promise of the article led me to another thought. I was reminded of a passage of scripture we read in our Corner Bible Study at King’s Cross Church a couple of Sundays ago:

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
—Isaiah 61:1

It was a prophetic word to a people who had lost everything: their homeland, their culture, their religion. They were returning from exile in a foreign land to rebuild their lives from the ruins of Babylonian conquest. And it was very good news.

I think we often forget that we (all of us) live in exile as well. As I listen to the noise of partisan politics and recognize it’s absolute inability to deliver the good news proclaimed by the ancient prophet, I begin to long for the realm promised by God.  As I become inundated with the call to consumption and materialism to which this season has devolved and recognize the fleeting nature of the “highs” provided by the giving and receiving of stuff, I long for a voice calling out in this wilderness. (With all due respect to my friends who work for Nissan, this particular ad was the last straw for me.  Seriously?…”most wonderful sale of the year“…seriously?)

This Advent season has been a reminder for me to rediscover the true source of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love.

10And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for allthe people. 11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  — Luke 2:10-11

This is what poor communities really need.  Frankly, it’s what all of us need. Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love…generously applied in our day to day lives.  Generously applied to the problems of our day.  The empty words of politicians and the fleeting pleasure of the accumulation of stuff pale in comparison.  It is my prayer for my family and for all of you this season that we all absolutely enjoy our Christmas celebration.  All of it…the giving and receiving of gifts, time with family, the lights, the food, the TV shoes, even the shopping (but that was a bit hard to write).   But I also pray that in all of this busyness and activity that you will “make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”  Peace!

100

100 posts

That’s a nice round number.

32,027 words

WOW!  that’s a surprising number!

Clicking the “publish” button on post #99 the other day made me aware that the next time I clicked that button would be for post #100…a good time to reflect on this little 3 year old experiment I’ve called “…so…here we are in the field.”

I’ve been far from disciplined in my writing. A quick scan of some of my past posts shows that.  “Lots of bases covered” is probably a little overstated, particularly in the “covered” area.  I’ve posted on faith, theology, politics, sports, Facebook, etc. Some of my favorite posts got very little notice (like THIS ONE, or THIS ONE, and THIS ONE.  (What the heck…one more.  This one is not anything that I wrote.  Just a link to an interesting article about what makes people happy.)  I even sniffed the “blogging big-time” once with a post about being unfriended on Facebook which made the WordPress “Fresh Pressed” list for the day. I didn’t know what that meant until my page hits went from a handful a week to well over a thousand that day. Of course that “fame” was short lived and reality struck again.

I had no real expectations when I started this blog. My first post alluded to that. I had been hanging out with a lot of “emergent” types at conferences, etc. around that time and it seemed as though one had to have a blog to fit in. It seemed a little ego-centric and self indulgent.  But I finally caved and joined the blogosphere.  It’s good to look back. Sometimes I’m pretty proud of what I wrote. Other times I resist the urge to delete a post altogether. But I guess that’s sort of the point of this little blog.  It’s putting myself and something I’ve created “out there” for someone to see.  What I’ve come to realize is that this blog is not really about ego…it’s about being vulnerable.  I’m not talking about being an exhibitionist with my emotions or intimate thoughts.  It’s about opening up the conversation. It’s about putting something on my mind into words and setting it loose for people to see.  So often, we keep some of these thoughts inside and miss out on opportunities for connection, for deeper relationships and conversations.

So…post 100…it wasn’t really that sexy or provocative.  I really don’t anticipate it getting the “fresh pressed” treatment.  One thing it has been for me is a time to stop and look back.  I’m grateful for the peer pressure unknowingly applied by my hipster emergent friends pushing me to take the plunge into the blogosphere.  I hope if you’ve read this far and you aren’t blogging yet, go for it! (If you do, post your blog address below.)  I’ll bet you’ll enjoy you’re 100th post as much as I have…even if it’s just for yourself!  Peace!

(For a really inspiring talk about “The Power of Vulnerability”, check out Brene’ Brown’s talk on TED.com and also her book, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to be and Embrace Who You Are)

WIFI Prayers and Hugs Withheld

My last post focused on the hopeful tone evident at this year’s US Conference on AIDS in Chicago.  While there is still much work to be done in the fight against HIV/AIDS, the end of the epidemic is actually a realistic possibility.  However, with these consecutive posts, I want to be careful and not overstate my own role in this battle against the epidemic.  I’ve merely attended a conference and worked a booth a couple of times.  I’m NOT a hero here.  But I was fortunate to be in the company of several hundred people who are…people who have dedicated their lives and invested their own love and compassion toward eradicating this devastating disease.

Who am I then? I am a person who claims to be a follower of Jesus.  Vocationally, I am an ordained Christian minister tasked to help others along the path of following God, offering God’s peace (shalom) as I go.  Probably the most formative thing for me personally coming out of my visit to the USCA was how institutional religion has come to be perceived among the HIV/AIDS community.  I was made painfully aware of how badly the community of people who claim to “follow Jesus” have behaved in response to this epidemic and to those who are HIV positive.  I’ll grant on the front end that many of the attacks directed toward institutional religion are based on generalizations and are often unfair.  I’ll also grant that there are MANY religious institutions who are doing GREAT work among this community (My two personal favorites are Samaritan Ministry & The Center For Church and Global AIDS).  So, before we go any further with this post, if you count yourself as part of this group of people called “Christians”, I would like for you to leave your defensiveness at the door.  Go ahead…lay it down…I’ll wait…leave that whole “hate-the-sin-love-the-sinner” thing there too…  Ready?

Samaritan Ministry is always one of the exhibitors at the US Conference on AIDS…the largest conference of its type held in the United States. Until this year, Samaritan Ministry was the ONLY faith based organization who exhibited at this conference.  This year, it was great to have Rev. Donald Messer and the Center for Church and Global AIDS at the conference as well.  (from the CCGA website: “Donald Messer is a 70-year-old writer, United Methodist theologian, and retired college (and seminary) president who tells us here that he believes his career may have begun in earnest only after he retired and began to work full time for the organization he founded, the Center for the Church and Global AIDS.”  His book, Breaking the Conspiracy of Silence: Christian Churches and the Global AIDS Crisis was a profound inspiration to Wayne Smith.  He’s also a great guy to hang out with over Chicago style pizza!)

Being a faith based organization attending this meeting always makes for an interesting stream of conversations. Two particular conversations hit me very hard this time.  A young woman came by our booth this year and took our “unofficial USCA IQ test.” This is a simple four-question card that opens easy conversation as well as serving as an entry to our door prize drawing.  After completing the test, Nicole asked what Samaritan ministry was all about. She began to tell us her story. She was HIV positive and worked for an HIV/AIDS service organization (or maybe a department of health…hmmm…can’t remember). One moment she was telling us her story and how her pastor wouldn’t touch her when he found out she was HIV positive.

The next moment Nicole was weeping.

Wayne immediately reached out and hugged her. The conversation continued.  It was deep and moving.  I was honored to have her trust and the opportunity to hear her story.  But I was also struck by the amount of hurt that can me administered by a hug withheld in the name of Jesus.  It was a deep and faith scarring hurt.  I’ll never forget that moment.

About 30 minutes later, an African American man approached our booth. He also took our IQ test.  As we listened to his story, we found out he was a minister who was also HIV positive. He told us about attending a “healing service” at a church. At the front of the church, there was a woman who had cancer and who had gone forward for prayer. The minister and a group of deacons were “laying their hands on her, anointing her with oil, and praying for her” (see James 5:14).

He said, “I wanted me some of THAT!” He went forward, informed the pastor that he was HIV positive and wanted to be anointed with oil and prayed for.  The pastor’s response?

“He looked at me…backed AWAY a step or two…raised his hand in the air in my direction…and began to pray. They laid hands on the woman with cancer…I got the WIFI prayer!“, our friend said with an inviting and friendly laugh.

And we all laughed…except it really wasn’t funny. This pastor’s sanctimonious prayer was an unloving action based on ignorance and poor theology. It was the same action that made one young woman weep in her abandonment and a young man laugh at the unfortunate irony.

I’m going to resist the rant that is poised on the tip of my tongue.  I would hope those stories might speak for themselves.  I’ll say this however in closing: I want to be a part of a group of people who reach out and give Nicole a hug and then walk with her on her journey.  I want to be a part of a people who will never be accused of WIFI prayers.  I saw God very clearly at the USCA this year (and each of the other times I’ve been fortunate enough to attend.) Frankly, I saw “the Church” there as well…very active and engaged. To bad “organized religion” is missing it.

Peace!

…nobody will read this…

(That is an awkward title to this post but I know if I use “HIV” or “AIDS” in the title people will probably not read it…hope you forgive me and continue…)  I was privileged to attended the 15th annual US Conference on AIDS hosted by the National Minority AIDS Council. I attended as a volunteer for Samaritan Ministry which is a faith based ministry to people affected by HIV/AIDS operating out of Central Baptist Church of Bearden (Knoxville, TN). Wayne Smith is the director and has been actively engaged in the fight against HIV/AIDS for many years. He’s also a close friend and my personal guru when it comes to this issue. It was my third time to attend the USCA…first time was in New Orleans 3 or 4 years ago, last year in Orlando and then Chicago this year. (I’m hoping for an invite to Vegas next year!) Each of these gatherings have been formative for me as a person but more specifically as a vocational minister and as a practical theologian.  (“Practical theologian” is not meant to be as pretentious as it sounds.  I think one of the biggest problems of contemporary Christianity is the fact that we have solidified theology into a set of propositions to be debated rather than as lenses through which we understand God in the world. Rather than a minister who knows all the correct theological answers, I aspire to be a practical theologian continually developing my theological vision in everyday life situations.  God is present and active in our world.  God’s followers often fail to see this because we’re too busy debating politics and points of doctrine.  But, I digress…)

This year, two particular things stood out to me at the USCA. First…this was a very hopeful event. (A disclaimer…I’m NOT an expert at what I’m about to write.  This is a layman’s attempt to articulate some of the things I’ve learned.) (please check out the second thing I learned here…)

There have been a lot of advancements in our ability to control the HIV virus once it has been contracted. If we can get an HIV positive person aware of their status (more testing is needed) and then into treatment, their viral load (amount of the virus in their body) can be pushed down and their opportunity to live a healthy life increases greatly.  This is wonderful news for individuals who are HIV positive.

The effectiveness of these drugs on the whole greatly reduces the spread of the virus.  Studies are showing that with the proper use of anti-retroviral drugs, chances of transmitting the disease are reduced as much as 90+%…that is very exciting news.  The effectiveness of these drugs shines a light on how important it is for people to know their HIV status and to get treatment if they are positive.  However, this news is tempered by the sobering fact that nearly 56,000 new people contract HIV in the US each year…a number that has remained fairly constant for the last 10 years.  Another sobering statistic was passed along to me today by another friend of mine working in this field.  20% (1 out of every 5!) of the people who are HIV positive in the United States don’t even know they have the virus.  Simply knowing ones status and getting in treatment not only saves that person’s life but keeps the virus from spreading further.  That is why testing programs are imperative.

One very disturbing bit of irony in all of this is the fact that the “Bible Belt” and the “HIV belt” are one and the same.  40% of the HIV population resides here in the southeastern US and yet funding for prevention is lower in this area. Some think our prudishness in talking about sex is a major contributor to the spread of HIV here in the Bible belt.  With the church’s fear of saying words like “condom” or talking about “sex”, I would tend to agree with that conclusion.  I’m all for abstinence…100%.  But the church is being dangerously irresponsible by not talking more openly about sex.

However, another major factor in the southeast is poverty and access to proper care.  If a person has insurance, most companies cover these meds.  However, for those without adequate medical insurance, the cost of treatment is exorbitant.  For the treatments to effectively manage the virus, these expensive drugs must be taken daily.  I do not know enough to get into the debate for or against the drug companies about these costs (pharmaceutical companies are large, easy targets for stones to be thrown).  One side will say that the drugs are saving lives and new and better drugs require expensive research, hence the cost.  Others will say it’s unacceptable for people to be dying when life saving drugs are available but unaffordable.  Taken together, those two positions represent the truth and we’re going to have to finish this fight together.  We also can’t sit comfortably back and label this disease with our ignorance and our stereotypes.  This is a public health issue. We’ve got to quit fighting each other and figure this out.  We can’t solve the problem via political steel cage death matches.  It’s about access to proper care.  Let’s solve that problem together.

At the very least, it’s vital to keep funding stable for HIV testing, prevention, awareness, and research. Testing can now be done accurately with a simple oral swab…no blood needs to be taken.  Once a person’s status is identified, life saving treatment is available.  Once treated effectively, the chance of transmission is reduced drastically.  Taken as a whole, the amount of virus in our community begins to go toward zero.  The disease is on the run.  We can’t afford to cut funding to these critical areas.  They all work hand in hand in the fight to end this epidemic.  It’s an over-simplification of a very complex problem but if the community viral load is reduced to near zero, the chances of transmission go to near zero and then the end is in sight.

There was a very hopeful thread running through some of the talks and conversations I heard at the conference.  I believe, if we keep our eye on the ball, HIV will be could be history in the next 10 years.  But we all have to work together.  (I’ll write about the second thing I learned tomorrow.  That lesson is something about which I have more expertise.  And it’s VERY troubling for all of us who claim the name of Jesus.)