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I love
looking at those big picture books that are sold to those
of us who need something to put on our coffee tables. You
know the ones I am talking about. Some contain pictures of
animals. Others, pictures of Australia. There are books depicting
gardens by day and cities by night. Most come in full color.
Some, black and white. You pay forty or fifty dollars per
book, thumb through them once or twice, and then never crack
the cover again. But seven years later, they are still on
your coffee table.
Years
ago ... maybe even decades ago ... there was a coffee table
picture book entitled The Family of Man. The title,
by itself, tells you that the book wasn't put together yesterday.
But it was good in its time ... chock full of people doing
common things in uncommon places.
Obviously,
the people who put the book together had a bias. They were
trying to tell us (by showing us) that we were kin ... if
not by blood, then by dint of common dreams and desires, loves
and labors. There were pictures of people sweating, as if
to say: "Look, everybody works." There were pictures
of lovers kissing, as if to say: "Look, everybody embraces."
There were pictures of people dancing, as if to say: "Look,
everybody plays." And there were pictures of people eating,
as if to say: "Look, everybody eventually sits down to
break the bread of life." The implication being: "All
these people are so much like us, they might just as well
be related to us. And wouldn't the world work a whole lot
better if we looked upon them as brothers and sisters, aunts
or uncles, or (at the very least) second cousins, once removed."
Years
ago, Chevy Chase starred in a series of very bad movies about
the world's most inept family. In the first one, they headed
for Wally World ... an amusement park in California that just
happened to be closed when they got there. In the second one,
they headed for Europe, only to become the most pathetic vacationers
the continent had ever seen. But there was one moment ...
in Germany as I remember it ... .that justified the buck or
two I paid to rent the film from Blockbuster. Late one afternoon,
Chevy and his family descended upon the home of some German
relatives, whose names they carried on a piece of paper, but
whose faces they had never seen. Well, you guessed it. In
their usual bumbling fashion, they either got the right address
on the wrong street (or the wrong address on the right street)
and barged in on an elderly couple to whom they had no genetic
connection whatsoever.
But the
amazing thing was, they never figured it out. The German couple
knew no English. Chevy Chase and his family spoke no German.
So they just showed lots of pictures....ate lots of food ...
made lots of hand motions ... laughed uproariously ... and
then departed the next day, talking about having fulfilled
a life-long dream by touching base with the German side of
the family.
Well,
in one sense, I suppose they did. The sense, that is, in which
we all are family. Our futures and fortunes are becoming incredibly
linked. Tickle us here and (sooner or later) we will laugh
over there. Puncture us there and (sooner or later) we will
bleed over here. Walt Disney was right (even if his song was
tedious), "It's a small world after all." And no
man (or woman, for that matter) is an island.
But individual
families have ways of becoming islands. The Flanigans are
distinct from the Schultzes. And the Schultzes are never to
be confused with the Charbonneaus, the D'Agostinis or the
Jeffersons. Picture of group of row houses on a street. Every
one built the same. Every one appearing the same. And the
drama in each of them ... I mean, the human drama ... is being
played out the same. Separated by the thinnest of walls, each
family is on a similar journey from birth to death, while
trying to make ends meet and lives mesh. And, if in one of
those homes the baby dies ... or maybe doesn't die, but grows
up to be married by the rambler roses in the back yard ...
all of the other families show up with a ham and potato casserole
or a wedding present. Which means they share in it. But they
haven't really experienced it.
Only I
know what goes on within my walls. Only you know what goes
on within yours. Sometimes, as a preacher, I tell a story
or turn a phrase that leads you to say: "You must have
been eavesdropping in our bedroom last night, or listening
to our argument on the way to church this morning." But
I wasn't in your bedroom. And I didn't hear you arguing on
the way to church. If there was a connection, I can't explain
it. Because I didn't intend it. Sometimes you tell me: "Bill,
you're hitting too close to home." But the only house
to which I have a key is mine, don't you see.
What am
I saying? I am saying that as a part of the human family,
we are very much alike. But as a part of the Smith family
(the Jones family or the Johnson family), we are one of a
kind. And we have to live in both, don't you see. Yes, we
have to live in both.
For years,
preachers railed against over-idolizing the family ... against
raising "family" to the level of deity ... against
making the home the ultimate object of worship. Too idolatrous,
we said. Too focused in upon the self, we said. Then we recalled
the guy who wrote:
That's
wrong, we said.
And we
had good biblical support. We quoted Jesus (in Matthew) where
he talks about setting family members on edge against each
other (son versus father ... daughter versus mother ... daughter-in-law
versus mother-in-law) ... before adding: "Those who love
family more than me are not worthy of me." And then we
recalled the day Jesus was teaching in the Temple, only to
be approached by messengers, saying: "Teacher, your mother
and brothers are outside." And what is interesting is
what Jesus didn't say. One expects he would say: "Oh,
bring them down front so that I can introduce them to everybody,"
or "Let's take a 30 minute break so I can go outside
and greet them." No, he said: "Who are my mother
and my brothers?" But it was a rhetorical question. He
wasn't looking for an answer. Instead, he provided one. "I'll
tell you who my mother and brothers are. Those who do the
will of my Father, that's who they are." And he didn't
go outside. Which leaves us to surmise that they went home
without seeing him.
I have
preached that text. But it has always bothered me. If I could
have preached to Jesus that day (how's that for arrogance?),
I might have said: "Okay, make your point. Then go out
and talk with your mama." But nobody asked me.
I know
what Jesus is saying. He is saying: "Get your relationships
in proper order." Which I have tried to do. I am Kris'
husband, Lillian's son, Harold's stepson and Julie's dad.
I am also an uncle to Trevor and Tracy and a brother-in-law
to Karen, Zaide and Greg. Several others have reason to call
me "uncle" by marriage ... even "great uncle"
by marriage. But none of these relationships explains or contains
me. First and foremost, I am Bill ... child of God ... baptized
into the body of Christ. That's my true identity and all others
flow from it.
I have
preached that pecking order. But this is not the year to preach
it again. Because if there is one trend that is rampant and
out of control in our society, it is not that we think too
much of the family, but too little ... not that we deify our
deepest relationships, but that we vilify them ... and not
that we place all our eggs in our home basket, but rather
perceive most of them as cracked (and not even salvageable
for a decent omelet).
Families
are being roasted rather than toasted, both by analysts without
and participants within. Far too many are taking the pulse
of family life ... their own family life ... and finding it
weak and wanting. I have never heard the word "dysfunctional"
used so personally, by so many, so frequently, as in the last
few years. And even though I have tried to empathize, I confess
I do not always understand. Because I do not really know what
"dysfunctional" means. Does it mean something that
doesn't work? Or does it mean something that doesn't work
perfectly ... when measured against my standards of perfection?
The word
"function" fits best in a discussion of machinery.
And families make poor machines. They do not run smoothly.
They do not run quietly. They do not run effortlessly. And
they certainly do not run perfectly. From time to time, every
one of us will become (in the family) the part that goes bad.
And you can never get replacement parts that fit.
Which
means that what you see is what you get. Whatever is, has
to function. You work with what you have. But the amazing
thing is that it works as often as it does ... and as well
as it does.
Six years
ago, I preached a sermon on marriage entitled "Taking
the Matrimonial Plunge." I talked about how I used to
preach somber wedding homilies, wherein I detailed the difficulty
of marriage ... the discipline required within marriage ...
and the dedication needed to survive a marriage. I was operating
under an assumption that if I didn't talk "tough turkey"
at the wedding, the bride and groom would blow it off. So
I warned them that marriage would ask more of them than had
ever been asked before, and would require them to go further
(for another human being) than they had ever gone before.
Then I told them that it wasn't going to be a bed of roses
... moonlight and roses ... wine and roses ... or even beer
and Skittles. In short, I used my five or six minutes to take
their eyes out of the stars, so that I could rivet their feet
to the floor.
Which
was about the time I realized that many of my brides and grooms
not only knew that but, in point of fact, were scared to death
of that. They knew marriage was a tough business ... and a
risky business. Having seen what they had seen (and heard
what they had heard), they came to the idea of a wedding with
no small amount of anxiety, and not entirely certain they
had what it would take to pull it off.
So I began
lightening up, saying: "Sure, it's gonna be hard. But
it's also gonna be good. So, in the name of Jesus Christ,
go for it. There really isn't a better way to live. I know
you can do it. You know you can do it. God is urging you on.
These people (all dressed up in their Sunday-go-to-meeting
clothes) are cheering you on. Not because misery loves company.
But because the world will always welcome lovers as time goes
by."
Today
... six years later ... I need to say the same things to those
of you who are stressing out over families ... about committing
to one ... starting one ... adding to one ... or giving a
second chance to the one you washed your hands of six weeks
ago (six months ago or six years ago).
Sure,
there are people in your family who are going to hurt you
... disappoint you ... fail you. And, at some time in your
life, you are going to do the same to them. But on their best
days, families are wonderful. On average days, families are
helpful. And on their worst days, they are instructional.
Even though the lessons sometimes can be painful to bear.
Are there
horror stories out there? Of course there are horror stories
out there. But there are other stories, too. Every day, in
this place, I see people who are working hard at the "family
thing" ... and enjoying it. I see people coming together
at weddings, baptisms, anniversaries, even funerals ... holding
each other close ... holding each other up ... laughing ...
crying ... telling stories ... making memories. I see families
that have come through a hard patch (a dark patch, a wilderness
patch) where they lost sight of each other ... lost touch
with each other ... lost faith in each other ... and lost
hope they would ever become one with each other. But then
they found a little light. Or made a little light. And that
sliver of light was enough to come together by.
I see
simpler things, too. I see church families pulling up in my
driveway (at holiday time) to bestow upon the preacher a treat
that they have cooked together, a picture they have painted
together, or a Christmas candle they have crafted together.
I see
a daughter in her late twenties who, following a need to separate
a little, said to her mother: "Of course I want to be
in the pictorial directory with the rest of you guys. Don't
get your picture taken without me. Schedule an appointment
when I can be home. Please."
I hear
a mother in my living room saying: "You want to know
why I'm bringing my family back to church? It's because my
kids are getting to the age where they have questions I can't
answer. And if I'm going to be there for them, I need the
church to be there for me."
And I
hear a family who said: "We found a way to solve the
senior trip issue that satisfied everybody. The four of us
took off for England, and even worshiped together in Wesley's
Chapel on Easter Sunday."
Not every
family is traditional. Not every family is conventional. But
people are making it happen. And thriving as a result. It
can be done. Because it is being done ... more often than
you think ... in more places than you think ... .by more people
than you think.
Neil Wester
recently quoted me in a eulogy he delivered for his dad, Henry
... married 65 years to Viola ... father to nine ... grandfather
to 16 ... great-grandfather to 12 more. Said Neil (in his
eulogy):
Our
pastor in Birmingham, Michigan, remarked once that society
should be learning from long marriages. We should be asking
couples like Mom and Dad what it takes to have a long and
successful union. How do they do it? What can we learn?
If Mom and Dad were asked that question, I know what they
would say. Especially Mom. She would say: "Neil, it's
what you make it ... it's what you make it."
Well,
to hear Neil tell it, she made it all. What did she make?
She made:
Hay
... whoopee ... babies ... brownies
Easter eggs ... Halloween costumes
Mistakes ... examples
Peace ... .promises ... prayers
Not that
Neil worships her. Or worshiped Henry, either. I mean, Neil
has heard me preach. He's got his priorities straight. Besides,
if Neil had ever confused his mom or dad for God Almighty,
she'd have set him straight. You can bet your bottom dollar
she'd have set him straight.
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