The blog of Greg DeLoach
Roswell Georgia
Name That Tire Cover
A week or so ago many were amused, some outraged, and others mystified at the audacity of a pastor’s efforts to raise $65 million for a private jet. Apparently this pastor just skipped over the part in the Bible where Jesus instructed his disciples to, “Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff…” (Matthew 10:9-10) Come to think of it, maybe this pastor found a loophole, because in fairness Jesus makes no mention of airplanes. Pastors often follow the lead of other “successful” pastors, but I am not so audacious as to ask for $65 million for a jet (besides, I am prone to airsickness). I just need $65 for a tire cover for my Jeep. Truth be told, I can afford the tire cover, but I could use some suggestions on what should go on the cover. Maybe “Follow Me to FBC” or “What Would Johnny Cash Do?” Feel free to Facebook or tweet me your suggestions with #namethatcover. I guess we can roll our eyes at such outlandish actions by people of faith who prey on the vulnerable to enrich their lifestyles and do so “in the name of Jesus.” We can share our disgust with one another as well as bemusement. We can, and probably should, squirm a bit at our own complicity to justify some of our outlandish actions done under the banner of Christianity. Or we can be sad. Sad for this pastor so consumed in self-enrichment and self-entitlement that he no longer sees what is...
A Selfish Blog
Have you ever heard of a “Selfie-Stick?” This past Christmas I was surprised with the gift of one, and a favorite one at that! First, for the uninformed, let me explain the term “selfie.” A selfie is a rather new word that refers to taking a self-portrait, usually with one’s phone. Some take pictures of themselves by standing in front of a mirror, which in my opinion is quite strange since the camera is now part of the portrait. The other method – my preferred technique – is to extend the arm holding the camera and click the picture. Many would agree that the longer the arm, according to the rules of perspective, the better the portrait. With a selfie-stick you can take the camera out another couple of feet and actually take a pretty decent selfie that does not look like a selfie. I guess if Jim Walls was using one it would look like a panoramic shot. Now that every other person on the globe has a phone with a camera, the world is awash in selfies. Perhaps we are a nation of narcissists. Or maybe because of technology we feel the need to document everything – and include a self-portrait in the picture. Or maybe we are just lonely and it is nice to see a familiar face at a ballgame, or at a concert, or eating a Tex-Mex combo platter. Maybe I should take my selfie-stick to church this Sunday. I think it would be kind of cool to snap a selfie with all my “peeps” beneath or near the steeple (Am I...
Ash Wednesday – Marked for God
In baptism and through water we are marked by God as one of God’s own. Baptism is the symbol of being born again. On this day Christians around the world are marked with ashes. To be marked with ashes with the sign of the cross is really the only time Christians look distinctive or set apart from others. No one can see your baptism. Wearing a cross means little nowadays since it is now mostly a decorative symbol. Most Christians do not have hats or caps for the head, or veils to cover the face. This one day of the year, all over the world, Christians gather in places of worship to be smudged, right there in the middle of the forehead. Why? We are marked for penitence: Not a one of us will leave here unscathed by sin. It gets to us all. We mark others with our failures and fears and we too become victims bearing the scars of hurt and pain – some you see but most you do not. We are fooled into thinking that sin is a private matter, between us and God. Sin nearly always affects those around us. We are here together, tonight as a family. This whole business of being marked by ashes got started centuries ago when sinners were singled in the public in order for them to be brought back into the church. The trouble is once you start marking every sinner with ash, not a person is left out, no not one. “Ash Wednesday is the most honest of days.” (Christian Century,...
The Field of Stars – a brief book review
To The Field of Stars: A Pilgrim’s Journey to Santiago De Compostela, by Kevin A. Codd Told from the perspective of a Catholic Priest, this book recounts a thirty-five day pilgrimage across Spain to Santiago de Compostela, the traditional burial place of the apostle James the Greater. Pilgrims, trekkers, cyclists and hikers have traversed this route for hundreds of years. The author allows us to travel with him from village to village as he recounts friendships and insights and discovers changes in his own interior life along the camino (the way). He infuses his pilgrimage with delightful details of some of the places he slept, food he ate, and the scenery along the way. Along the camino he shares his admiration of some of the great architecture of the cathedrals and churches he encounters, confessing, “I gawk at Gothic but I pray in Romanesque.” Elsewhere he reminds us of the gift of authentic welcome that blesses him in surprising ways. “Hospitality counts for everything; appearances for nothing.” His story is breezily told, but there were places that I felt he bogged down in the telling. Nevertheless if you would like to learn more about this historic pilgrimage from the eyes of a modern pilgrim, I commend this to...
Don’t Take Baby Jesus
Every town and city has something that caters to the tourist. In my little hometown of Eatonton, GA, you can take a brief (and I mean brief) tour of the Uncle Remus Museum and purchase some sweet, Brer Rabbit swag. Right here in Augusta for one special week thousands upon thousands gobble up anything marked by “The Masters Tournament.” Recently I was in the city of San Antonio for a small conference. During a break I walked down to the Alamo to do some site seeing as well as look for trinkets to bring back home. In one shop filled with gaudy and goofy souvenirs there was a display of nativity sets, with the following sign: Don’t take baby Jesus Please, it is a set. Thank You Apparently pilfering baby Jesus is a problem near the Alamo. Thinking about this some more, there is a deeper truth than just defending a shopkeeper’s merchandise. If you take Jesus, you have to take everyone that comes with Jesus. In a culture we are used to customizing nearly all things towards our personal taste and nearly everything can be reduced to a commodity. Jesus, however, comes as is and along with Jesus comes a family of people that many would rather leave out. Reading the Gospels Jesus brought along Samaritans and Canaanites who were ethnically and religiously on the “wrong side of the tracks.” He associated with despised tax collectors, prostitutes, and other unsavory characters. Jesus reached across the cultural divide and gave women hope, the diseased healing, and the neglected life. Because of this Jesus offended those who wanted...
This Wandering Life
One fall morning, when I was a little boy of eight years old, I took it upon myself to leave the house and explore the vast pastures and woods of our farm. In the past my daddy and granddaddy walked every acre with me, but this was the first time I struck out on my own and by myself – and without the consent or knowledge of anyone else! I traipsed directly to the creek that dissected our land, found a narrow pass and jumped over to the other side. I figured that soon I should be climbing a familiar hill that would overlook the pastures with the dairy cows grazing on one side and the creek bottoms on the other. Instead I came to another creek – this was a surprise – and it seemed to me it was on the wrong side. Then and there it slowly occurred to me that I was not exactly lost, but rather confused. I had walked in a circle. For the last century researchers have puzzled over why when we walk we generally do not travel in a straight line, especially without a fixed point. This is also true for swimming and driving a car. Without a fixed point we tend to travel in circles. Scientists and engineers can put a man on the moon, but there is still not a good answer as to why we travel in circles, even when we think we are going straight ahead. By the way, I do not recommend you drive a car blindfolded to test this theory out, but I am told...
A Generous Stack of Wood
“Every man looks upon his wood pile with a sort of affection.” Henry David Thoreau All of my life I have enjoyed the blessings of the generosity of others. This includes procuring firewood. I have friends in the church that have allowed me to cut wood, gather wood, and at times some have delivered wood practically to my doorstep. Few things in housekeeping are more satisfying than a generous stack of firewood. Thoreau continued his soliloquy on firewood writing, “I love to have mine before my window, and the more chips the better to remind me of my pleasing work.” Yet no matter how grand the stack, as winter’s chill sets in so goes the wood. Firewood was meant to burn to warm both home and heart. The cycle of generosity repeats itself: find, cut, split and deliver more wood year in and year out. We spend our days accumulating and then in time we begin giving it all away. I have been reminded of this lesson of late as I know of several in our church family who are “downsizing” from larger homes to smaller ones. There is the sentimental and at times painful sorting through a lifetime of artifacts trying to determine what to keep, what to give away and what to throw out. Meanwhile the concentric circles of life grow smaller and smaller. Such is life. It is at this liminal and sacred place that grants us space to reflect on what it is in this world that is most valuable and what it is that we will take with us...
Christmas Eve 2014
As I write this I am in between Christmas Eve services. Our family service has concluded and hundreds of “children of all ages” are happily making their way to home and celebration. In less than an hour our sanctuary will fill to capacity. If we are honest (and of course we should be) we envy the full and busy. To want and to languish is hardly sought out or admirable. A few of us even brag about such fullness by working hard and never having enough time, feigning remorse saying “Maybe we can find some time next week.” Tonight in churches throughout this land the weary worshippers will ease into their pews only to nervously wonder if they have shopped enough, cooked enough, planned enough. “Maybe there is something more I can do…just one more thing.” We fill our time and our bellies with so much that there is not really room for much else. Please know I like the fullness of it all, especially this time of year. There is joy in the over-indulgence of celebrating and singing and eating. The kingdom of God is often compared to a feast and what better time to feast and over-indulge than Christmas, the very celebration of more. I wonder though if we also stuff and stow and fill our lives because we fear the emptiness. That is, we fear the silence, the unknowing, the stillness. Look at what centers us this night – a manger that at this moment is empty. I wonder about what or who was in that stable where the empty manager stood....
Book review: “Essays After Eighty” by Donald Hall
For the last 15 or so years I have made it a point to read everything this former Poet Laureate has written – and he has written much as a poet and essayist. When I came across his most recent published manuscript in a compact little bookstore in lower Manhattan there was no question in my mind that this little tome was going home with me. It may sound grim, but occasionally I will search on Google to see if Donald Hall is still alive. To date he is 86 and according to these essays his physical health is sinking irreversibly into gravity’s destination. Though his body is failing, his mind and his writing are as penetrating as ever. He remarks that as he has aged “poetry abandoned me” but prose has not. His prose, however, is poetic and beautiful in its simplicity and clarity. “Prose endures” he writes and then leans into what could be best described as the arch narrative of the collection as well as life itself, “I feel the circles grow smaller, and old age is a ceremony of losses.” It seems condescending to suggest any surprise that this book is as good as his earlier writings, as if such a feat is remarkable if not miraculous for such an “old man.” He writes of many such indignities suffered by the old, but not in anger or even pity. Most often it is with wry amusement. He describes a family dinner where a grandchild’s roommate carelessly pulls a chair to sit with her back, “directly in front of me, cutting me off...
Recent Comments