Rethinking Priorities

So my home remodeling project is complete. We have the nice spare bedroom and the hot tub for us. Then I read David Platt’s new book Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream. Talk about builder’s remorse.

Platt shows that perhaps I’ve been caught up in wrong pursuits of looking for comfort. Platt, a megachurch pastor in Alabama, has implemented the strategies outlined in his book in his congregation. Subsequently, churchgoers are selling their homes, taking overseas missions trips and adopting orphans by the dozens.

By using Jesus’ teachings, Platt shows how Christians in this country have replaced biblical faith with the American dream. Is Christianity really about saving a lot of money for retirement, collecting every new technological gadget available and making sure I take a vacation every year? Does the Lord really want me to live the good life and relax instead of abandoning my career and possessions for His sake?

Platt advocates an eternal strategy in discipleship that will make us forsake the temporal comforts of this world. He wraps up the book by directly challenging readers to specific calls to pray daily for others, read the Bible every day, give sacrificially, take a missions trip and go without things we really don’t need.

“We will soon stand before God to give an account for our stewardship of the time, the resources, the gifts and ultimately the gospel he has entrusted to us,” Platt writes. “When that day comes, I am convinced we will not wish we had given more of ourselves to living the American dream. We will not wish we had made more money, acquired more stuff, lived more comfortably, taken more vacations, watched more television, pursued greater retirement or been more successful in the eyes of this world.”

While I may not be ready to quit my job and move to Africa, Platt has made me contemplate how I spend my time and money.

My Day with Tommy

Homeless people attend the same church I attend, but I don’t interact with them much. Part of it is I don’t know what to say. Part of it is cowardice.

A recent Sunday widened my view a bit. After the service as I drove home with my wife I saw Tommy walking down an alley. Tommy has been attending the church off an on for the past couple of years when he isn’t living on the streets of some other city. I had greeted him in church that day, noting that he had just returned to Springfield after living elsewhere for several months.

As I rolled down the car window, I did what any well-off churchgoer would do to someone less fortunate: a perfunctory offer of a ride with the expectation that Tommy would say no. After all it was perfect weather and Tommy probably was headed to some nearby shady spot.

“Sure,” Tommy responded. Turned out he was headed miles away with his heavy backpack and he would appreciate a lift. So we threw his worldly possessions in the trunk and drove off. As we neared his destination — a discount store parking lot — I felt the Lord telling me to invite him to lunch. I checked with my wife, who had been off work all week after surgery five days earlier. Of course she consented.

“Want to come to our house for lunch?” I asked Tommy.

“That would be nice,” he replied.

As we pulled in the driveway, Tommy asked if he might use a garden hose to get clean. My heart ached a bit for a man who I’m sure many people felt doesn’t deserve better treatment than a dog. I insisted he use our shower.

I defrosted some chicken, lamb and fish to grill. My son whipped up some biscuits. We made a fruit salad.

Tommy busted my stereotypes that afternoon. He is a great conversationalist and a social guy. We spent five hours talking about his life’s ups and downs. While I felt embarrassed for not getting to know Tommy better earlier, I kept wondering why he lives like this. Tommy, now almost 50, had served in the military. Where did it go wrong?

Others have tried to set Tommy up with free housing, but he wouldn’t do it. He’s not against working, if it’s for a day or two. He will find food and shelter when necessary, but he doesn’t like to abide by the rules of the ministries dispensing the aid.

I offered to let Tommy spend the night on our living room couch, but he said he needed to be at a charity by 6 on Monday morning that would provide free medication.

So I drove Tommy back to the discount retailer’s parking lot, where he found a tree to camp under. He expressed gratitude for the hospitality and food, and accepted a few bucks for bus fare and whatever else he might need for the next day or two.

I got back into my air-conditioned car, turned on the CD player and headed for my comfy home. While Tommy is a portrait of contradictions, the important thing to remember is that he is created in God’s image. I should never despise him.

Age Discretion Is Advised

Routinely when I’m writing feature-length articles I include the ages of subjects mentioned in the stories. An age helps better identify people, showing, for example, how long they may have been engaged in a career. And like a middle initial, it helps distinguish them from other people with the same name, especially if it’s a common name such as Jeff Smith or Ben Jones.

But lately I’ve had three sources, all of them involved in Christian ministry, ask me not to print their ages. They all seemed embarrassed at the number of years they had been around.

A woman in her 50s who heads a mission agency begged me not to list her age. She indicated that somehow it would hurt her donor base if people found out.

A pastor in his 50s likewise told me that including his age in an article could hinder his outreach to young people who might not think he is as relevant as he tries to be.

And a filmmaker in his 40s insisted I excise his age from the article. If anyone in the movie business found out how old he really is it would be curtains for his career.

These excuses all seemed a bit over the top, a strange mixture of vanity and fear. I suspect this apprehension of telling our age comes from a culture that glorifies youth. We’re told if we’re not youthful enough we’re not useful.

I don’t think the Lord wants us to be ashamed of our age — or the natural aging process. No hair dye for me, thanks.

Let’s Hear It for Unusual Names

I have a friend who gave birth to a baby boy last week and named him Silas. Another friend gave birth to a boy six weeks ago and named him Titus. Although these are both New Testament names, I had never met anyone with those names in my lifetime. Turns out they are still unusual, but are gaining popularity.

According to the Social Security Administration (http://www.ssa.gov/OACT/babynames/), Silas was the 254th most popular name for a boy born in the United States in 2009, its highest ranking in the past century. Titus moved up to the 439th most popular name for a boy, after not registering in the top 1,000 boy names before 1960.

It turns out a lot of biblical names are trendy these days. Jacob, Ethan, Joshua and Noah are all in the top 10, but you would have a tough time finding somebody my age with those names.

Some names — mine for instance — are perpetually fashionable. John and William ranked first and second from 1911-1920. They have both been in the top 20 ever since, until John dropped to 26th last year.

I like unusual names. Whenever my wife and I have nursery at church it’s a fun collection: Lael, Diesel, Elliott, Radley, Abner, Malloch.

Some once-popular names fall into oblivion. My sister-in-law Betty had plenty of company when born in the 1940s, but Betty dropped out of the 1,000 most popular girls names in 1996. My wife Patricia grew up with a lot of people with the same name, but there are few Patricias in the maternity ward cribs anymore.

Some names are cyclical. Emma and Grace were popular in the early 20th century, then waned, and now have made a roaring comeback.

I’m all for the uncommon names, baby or not. And I have adult friends with the monikers of Kendi, Sesha, Renelle, Samson, Hally, Nisha and Samson.

While Bible names are increasingly popular, I doubt if we’ll see a spate of babies named Dorcas, Festus, Methuselah or Eutychus any time soon. But watch out for Silas and Titus. They’re on the march to the top.

Limits of Facebook

I like Facebook. It’s a great way to connect with relatives and people from church. It’s also a good place to track down sources for a story and network for business.

But this whole “friend” concept is a bit of a misnomer. Some of the people I’ve found for a story and requested friendship status obliged, but I’ve never interacted with them again. And I’ve granted approval to several people from my past who wanted to reconnect; yet they have never bothered to send a personal greeting.

Some of my 192 “friends” I’ve never met in person, or even talked to on the phone. We have just exchanged words via computers. I wouldn’t know them if I bumped into them on the street. I’m sorry to say I have one friend whom I have no idea who she is or how our paths crossed.

Which makes me chuckle whenever I see the announcements that one of my friends has befriended 23 other people at the same time. Can you really keep track of 4,792 friends? Can you really have 4,792 friends?

I’m not the type of person who accepts friendship requests from everybody. I know that violates some people’s idea of etiquette. But maybe there is a reason we haven’t talked for 13 years: we really don’t have anything in common anymore.

I also am guarded about who I accept as a friend from the building where I work. I don’t want everybody to know all about my personal life. I have a rule of not befriending people in my immediate office. I figure we can be face-to-face friends. No book required.