The Bosque Boys

Tonight after church I took my dogs down to the creek about 3/4 of a mile below our house. (Public land, part of a wetland reclamation project, though in August in SW Oklahoma not very wet). As we entered the oaks, cottonwoods, and elms along the creek we heard the sadly-sweet song of cicadas; the tops of the cottonwoods applauded the southerly breeze although it was still at ground level; and the drought had caused some of the trees to begin dropping leaves creating a fall-smelling path through the woods. About 40 yards into the woods a squirrel crossed the path about 30 feet up, heading south. About two hundred yards in an owl flew up from a tree and headed north toward the creek (kind of early for it, but the sun was nearly setting). A bit farther in my dogs scared up an armadillo on the north side of the trail, leaving him to return to me when I called them. The oak leaf litter showed the unmistakable pattern of armadillo browsing on both sides of the path. A ways on down the trail I saw a mother raccoon leading three teenage-scrawny juveniles toward the creek. We've been so hot and dry lately that I suppose she could not wait till dark to go for water. The creek would be dry, as most are near here, except that it is backed up by a lake a couple of miles downsteam. Still, the level drops every day and more and more sand and mud is exposed. The dogs, noses to the earth, had not seen the raccoons so I called them to me and scratched their ears till the coons were safely across. Then, banging my walking stick on a couple of trees to alert mama coon, we proceeded on. In another 70 yards or so the dogs scared up another armadillo which quickly burrowed itself under a dead log. The rest of the walk was uneventful, except for the flies and the heat and the smells of late-summer woods and stagnant water.

Our culture encourages us to travel on wheels. Ride ATV's four-wheeling through the mud and streams and rocks of creation; exhilarate ourselves with motion and noise and mastery of terrain, lords of nature before whom all must flee in terror. Why not instead, enter creation (I am weaning myself away from saying nature, which sounds too distant from God) as a fellow creature, on foot. Watching and smelling and listening to all around us. Maybe that will save us from the mistaken belief that armadillos are born dead beside the interstate. Maybe living as a creature, on foot, can help restore us in ways that the internal-combustion engine cannot.

Watching the President and British Prime Minister Tony Blair meet the press in the East Room today, I am reminded of the Okie Gardener's comment years ago: Tony Blair may prove to be Aaron to George Bush's Moses (Exodus 4:10-14).

It is perhaps difficult to remember how surprising it was to some of us when Blair proved so stalwart in his conviction that remaking the Middle East was the crucial task of our generation. Where would we have been without Blair?

Like Joe Lieberman, the opponents of the war rightly hate Blair, without whom the President would have been hard-pressed to move forward. Blair's integrity, credibility, resolve and eloquence steadied the President and the policy in indispensable ways over the past five years. In the ultimate statesman-like fashion, Blair has sacrificed his popularity and his short-term legacy to support the President in what he (Blair) sees as the right thing to do.

If anything, the administration has made too little use of Blair's vast talent. Nevertheless, Americans owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to this valiant friend.

News coverage of the press conference from the AP. Press Conference video from C-SPAN.

One of the treasures in my denomination (Reformed Church in America) is Lou Lotz, a pastor who writes a monthly column for our church magazine. Here is his latest essay. I encourage you to read it, and all his columns. He writes with insight and creativity, bringing faith and life together.

For those of you who are not regular readers of Cardinal Pell's writing, I would encourage you to read his regular columns for the Sunday Telegraph. Brief, lucid, insightful. The most recent column covered sexual addiction and the scourge of pornography. The link is here.

A few kind words about the President and “compassionate conservatism” on his birthday.

Happy 60th, Mr. President.

A few months ago, explaining my support for George W. Bush in 2000, I wrote:

"I reluctantly settled on George Bush because he looked like he could win and I liked his family. He also struck me as an unpolished but authentic and sincere man.... On the whole, he has not disappointed me."

I am not unmoved today by my conservative brethren who castigate the President for his big-government conservatism, his Wilsonian idealism, his evangelicalism and his bent toward “tolerance” in regard to social issues.

For me, the most damning of those accusations is the first, which plays to my fear of out-sized budget deficits and an ever-increasing federal leviathan. I am nothing if not a Reagan conservative. Reagan would shudder at “No Child Left Behind” and the prescription drug program.

Notwithstanding, I admire the President. I appreciate his toughness following 9/11. For good or ill, I cannot imagine another American president who would have followed the course he charted in respect to the “War on Terror.”

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Recently I had the privilege of hearing an address by the Rev. Israel Batista Guerra, the General Secretary of the Latin American Council of Churches. Afterward I asked him for, and was granted, permission to share some of his comments in this blog. He cited the Christians Church in Cuba as an example of bringing theology and life together.

“Many ask why it is that the Cuban church is growing so much. It has not been because of evangelistic methods, or the use of television (to which we have no access), nor massive evangelistic campaigns. Its growth is based on the value of its Christian witness, on the commitment to the values of faith, on lives of holiness and on the faithful commitment to Jesus Christ. The Cuban churches are communities that, in the name of the Lord, save and heal.”

No gimmicks. No slick ads. Just communities living their faith in difficult circumstances. Amen. So may it be here. To read the full address link here. The pdf file link is at the bottom of the page.

During the rise of Islam several Christian leaders, such as John of Damascus, regarded it as a Christian heresy. That is, instead of seeing it as an independent religion, these leaders regarded it as a perversion of true Christianity. Perhaps this is because Islam has a place for Jesus as a prophet leading up to the ultimate prophet Mohammad, though not recognizing Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God. Also, Mohammad and early Islam did have contact with Arabian Christians, and rejected Christianity as the one true religion.

Do I “respect” Islam? In a way, but not in the same sense I respect Buddhism or animistic religions. And certainly not in the way I respect Judaism, which I believe to be a God-revealed religion (though I pray that Jews will acknowledge Jesus of Nazareth to be the Messiah). cont.

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Sometimes Jesus keeps me awake nights. Yesterday morning at General Synod* a person leading prayer prayed for our troops in harm's way, and then added "and we pray for our enemies." Boom. Right between the eyes with a 2x4, which is the way the Lord sometimes must get my attention. Jesus did tell us Christians to pray for our enemies. So, I don't have a choice. If I want to be faithful, I must pray for Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, and the whole miserable rabble of terrorists. I don't remember a word of the rest of the prayer that morning, I was trying to recover from the bomb that had just gone off in my head. (cont.)

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I just came from the opening convocation of the General Synod of the Reformed Church in America. Our worship this evening begin when a small boy carried a lit candle to the front of First Reformed Church, Pella, Iowa, a congregation founded by Dutch immigrants 150 years ago. The candle is a gift to my denomination from the Uniting Refomed Church in South Africa. As the candle, a small flame in a large building, was carried to the front, a little girl sang "This Little Light of Mine." In the telling this story can sound hokey, overly sentimental. I don't think any of us in the crowded sanctuary felt that way. We have had an eventful relationship with our sister Reformed Churches in South Africa; finally, several years ago we confronted as erring brethren those which affirmed apartheid in the name of Christ. Along the way there were those in the Reformed Churches in South Africa who rejected apartheid. Now, the churches in that land are working toward healing themselves and their land, a long and difficult process. The name "Uniting" was chosen intentionally. God is good. While South Africa has experienced turmoil and bloodshed, and continues to have difficulties including criminal violence, apartheid did not come to the end I had assumed that it would--bloody massacre. Instead, the people are moving forward, gradually, coming together. God is good. The light shines.

I love my homeland, the United States of America. I am a patriot. But tonight was a blessed reminder to me that I have higher loyalties--to God and to Christ's Church. My fellow Christians in South Africa and around the world, of whatever race or language, are family. I am closer to them than I am to my non-Christian American neighbors. God is good. The light shines.

I am giving this letter to this year's high school graduates of the church I pastor.

Dear Graduate,

Congratulations on this milestone in your life. You now are among the best educated, most privileged people on the planet, with opportunities before you that most of the human race could not even dream of. “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.” (Luke 12:48b) Live your life wisely, in a godly way, and be a blessing in this world. Whether God takes you around the world, or keeps you in Apache, remember who you are—a Christian, blessed by God to be a blessing—and be careful who you become.

(cont. below)

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