Mothers' Day Reflections

           On August 12, 1911, Margaret Bales was born in Lone Grove, Llano County, Texas. A few weeks later, on September 7, 1911, Muriel Stevenson was born in Monroe, Ouachita Parish, Louisiana. They would not meet until the late nineteen fifties when Margaret’s daughter, Peggy Ratliff, and Muriel’s son, David George met at Howard Payne College in Brownwood, Texas.

            Margaret Bales Ratliff grew up on a small farm in a dry, rocky area of Texas. Like a lot of people in rural American then, they were poor by today’s standards but rich in some important ways. Margaret had a dream of becoming a teacher and went to Mary Hardin Baylor College. She and her sister had two dresses each and they would trade on weekends. She started teaching before she graduated and finished in the summers. Her brother, Albert, was killed in action in the Pacific during World War II. She married, Wortham  Ratliff, whose family operated a dairy farm, and moved to San Antonio when he got a job in aircraft maintenance at Kelly Air Force Base. They had two daughters. Margaret continued to teach in the public schools. The family was active in a Baptist church. She taught Sunday School and was active in the Child Evangelism Fellowship and the Bible Memory Association. In retirement she continued to teach adults, sometimes including men, in Sunday School in Kingsland, Texas. She died on June 24, 20089, at the age of 96, in Lakeway, Texas, near Austin.

            Muriel Stevenson George grew up in a small town in Northeast Louisiana. Her mother died when she was two, and she and her infant brother were boarded with another family until their father remarried. Her relationship with her stepmother was not good and made her childhood difficult. After high school she went to work in the office of the Ouachita Candy Company in Monroe. There she met Evans George who had come from Central Arkansas to work. They had two sons. They tried to start their own business in the late forties, but it failed, and the family started over again in Texas. Muriel went to work in a bank in San Antonio. Evans became sales manager for Gebhart Mexican Foods. They raised their children in church and maintained membership in Baptist Churches wherever they moved. In later years they lived in Denver, Colorado, where she died August 19, 2006, just short of her ninety-fifth birthday.

            Both of these women came of age and married during the Great Depression. They lived through two world wars and the tumultuous years that followed. They established good marriages and good homes. They lived in small, modest houses with few of the modern conveniences we enjoy today. They worked hard and found employment outside the home to help their families. They put all their children through college. They supported their churches. Both have lived their last years as widows, as most wives do, having nursed their husbands through their final illness.

            As we come to Mother’s Day this year, I am keenly aware of the importance of these two women and countless others like them who have been faithful to God and to their families through so many years. We have their DNA, their examples, their teaching, and their love to thank for our lives and those of our children. Mother’s Day is a time to remember and give thanks.

Remembering Cecil Sherman

Cecil Sherman died today. When I heard it, my mind went back almost fifty years. I entered Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in the fall of 1960. One day in chapel, some two years later, the preacher was a young associate from the Texas Baptist Evangelism Department, Cecil Sherman. He was thin, angular, with a sharp mind, and a sharp tongue.

His subject was "Rot." He had three points. First, Wren's Rot, after Christopher Wren who designed the forerunner of the colonial church building. Baptists, he said, were too concerned about buildings. Second, Raikes' Rot, after Robert Raikes, who invented the Sunday School. Baptists were too hung up on their organizations and programs. Third, Carroll's Rot, after B. H. Carroll, the founder of Southwestern Seminary. Baptists were too proud of their institutions and their doctrines. Cecil talked about the kingdom of God, which was not the same as the Southern Baptist Convention. Our seminary administration was not pleased. But I remembered that sermon.

Cecil himself was a graduate of Southwestern Seminary, with a doctor's degree. He was working for a Baptist denominational agency. But that did not keep him from sounding a prophetic criticism of these institutions. For the next half century I watched him do that. He was devoted to the church and to the people called Baptists. But he never hesitated to challenge them with the truth he found in the Bible and in his relationship with God.

Cecil was brilliant, eloquent, and courageous. He was not afraid of controversy. He disturbed many Baptists with his early warnings about the coming fundamentalist takeover. Many refused to believe what was happening, and they accused Cecil and his friends of making it worse. They thought they could get along with the fundamentalists and work out some sort of accommodation. When the seminaries and the mission boards were finally taken over and the presidents and many of the teachers and missionaries terminated, they saw that Cecil was right.

When many of us found ourselves displaced from the SBC and looked around for a new way of being Baptist together, we turned to Cecil to lead the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, which he did faithfully and well.

For most of his ministry he was a pastor. His sermons were biblical (unlike the "Rot" sermon I first heard). In retirement he was a teacher, helping prepare students at the Baptist Theological Seminary of Richmond to be pastors and teachers. He cared for his wife during her long final illness and then battled his own leukemia with courage and grace. He had countless friends. He was a writer. Above all, for me, he was a model pastor and preacher who gave me hope in a time when it was not easy to be a Baptist pastor who cared about truth and justice as well as evangelism and missions.

I am grateful to God for the life and ministry of Cecil Sherman.

People Who Matter

On this Christmas morning I happened to pick up the end-of-year issue of Newsweek (December 28, 2009), which bears this headline on its cover: "People who Matter on What Matters Most." The "people who matter" are leaders in business, government, and entertainment. They talk with interviewers about the issues of the day as they view them.

My thoughts immediately turned to the Christmas story. The people who mattered were a group of shepherds and a young family spending a night away from home. The person who mattered most was a helpless baby resting in a feed trough in a stable. What matters most, in this story, is the coming of God into the world and the resulting life characterized by love, peace, forgiveness, and healing.

Just before picking up the magazine, I read the morning paper. A front-page feature story describes Danny Stone, unemployed and homeless, staying with his wife and their five-year old daughter in a cheap motel in Nashville while he looks for work. ( http://www.tennessean.com/article/20091225/NEWS01/912250343/Family+that+lost+home+finds+hope+in+Nashville+ )

According to the story, the Otter Creek Church of Christ is helping the Stone family to get through this crisis. For this group of Jesus worshippers, the Stones are people who matter. For the Stones, Associate Minister Doug Sanders and his fellow church members are people who matter. And the thing that matters most is that God has come to them all in the person of Jesus to bring love, peace, forgiveness, and healing.

All of us, then, are people who matter. And what matters most is the life-changing presence of God in the person of Jesus Christ.

Since I retired in 2006 I have been culling out my library to reduce 4000 volumes to 1000. It's an arduous task, but enlightening, as I examine each book and decide which is the most valuable. I came across an essay by F. W. Boreham on "The Supremacies of Life," in which he says all our experiences can rise to a point where we see what is most desirable. Reflecting on Paul's request to Timothy to bring him his books, but especially the parchments (Scriptures), here's what he says about books:

"The same is, of course, true of our libraries. Like the apostle, we are all fond of books; but our book-shelves dwindle in intensity as they grow in extensity. As life goes on we accumulate more and more volumes, but we set more and more store on a few selected classics of the soul. The number of those favourites diminishes as the hair bleaches. We have a score; a dozen; and at length three. And if the hair gets very white, we find the three too many by two. 'Especially the parchments'!

"Sir H. M. Stanley set out upon his great African exploration with quite a formidable library. One cannot march eighteen hours a day under an equatorial sun, and he gave a prudent thought to the long encampments, and armed himself with books. But books are often heavy—in a literal as well as in a literary sense. And one by one his native servants deserted him (the pyramid towering towards its apex). And, as a consequence, Stanley was compelled to leave one treasured set of volumes at this African village, and another at that, until at last he had but two books left—Shakespeare and the Bible. And we have no doubt that, had Africa been a still broader continent than it actually is, even Shakespeare would have been abandoned to gratify the curiosity of some astonished Hottentots or pigmies.

"It all comes back to that pathetic entry in Lockhart's diary at Abbotsford: 'He [Sir Walter Scott] then desired to be wheeled through his rooms in the bath-chair. We moved him leisurely for an hour or more up and down the hall and the great library. "I have seen much," he kept saying, "but nothing like my ain hoose—give me one turn more!"

"Next morning he desired to be drawn into the library and placed by the central window, that he might look down upon the Tweed. Here he expressed a wish that I should read to him. I asked, from what book. He said, "Need you ask? There is but one!" I chose the fourteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel.' He listened with mild devotion, and, when Lockhart had finished reading of the Father's house and the many mansions, he said, 'That is a great comfort!' The juxtaposition of phrases is arresting: `In the great library'—'there is but one book!' The pyramid stood squarely upon its solid foundation, but it towered grandly and tapered finely towards its narrow but majestic summit."

Billy Graham and Politics

My summer reading has included a new book about Billy Graham. I discovered it is also about my life and the life of all us Christians in the South.

Billy Graham And The Rise Of The Republican South
By Steven P. Miller
Illustrated. 304 pp. University of Pennsylvania Press. $29.95

Steven P. Miller has given us a political biography of Billy Graham that will help us remember the last half of the twentieth century in America and will open our eyes to the interplay of religion and politics that has shaped us, especially in the South.

As a Baptist who came of age in the fifties and lived to see a new century, I have always been keenly aware of Billy Graham. He put our people on the map and in the media. He preached the simple Gospel and conducted himself with integrity when many television preachers did not.

As a southerner living through the end of segregation, I found encouragement in Graham’s stand for accepting all people in his crusades. I had some second thoughts after Watergate because of his close association with President Nixon. These increased in recent years when the Nixon tapes revealed the two men engaged in anti-Semitic conversation. Still, Graham stood tall, apologizing when he was wrong and continuing his mission to preach to the world.

Now the Billy Graham era is at an end, and we can look back and evaluate. Steven Miller has done this. Based on extensive research and documented with copious end notes, the book portrays Graham not only as a major religious leader of the twentieth century but also as a major player in American politics, especially the Southern Strategy begun by Nixon that ended Democratic control of the South and delivered Dixie into the ranks of the Republicans.

Miller is a historian, teacher, and writer with a Ph. D. from Vanderbilt University. He writes from a Christian (Mennonite) background and understands Graham’s religious basis. He affirms Graham’s accomplishments but gives a multi-layered analysis of his involvement in politics and culture, sometimes explaining the evangelist’s actions as motivated by ambition and sometimes questioning the accuracy of his memory of events.

Graham came to national attention with his 1949 Los Angeles crusade. He was always primarily a preacher, but he welcomed the attention of the media and the politicians. He wanted to present the Christian message to the whole world. Presidents welcomed him to the White House, beginning with Dwight Eisenhower, and he was friend and counselor to every president up to and including George W. Bush, though he was not close to Jimmy Carter, a fellow Baptist. He was closest of all, too close he later realized, to Nixon. Graham has been a registered Democrat, but he actively supported Nixon and other Republicans to a degree most people won’t be aware of until they read Miller’s book.

Graham’s theology and his global strategy led him early on to distance himself from the racial segregation of his native South and insist that crusade attendance be open to all. He knew he could not be tied to the segregated institutions of the South if he was to preach to the whole world. But his belief in divine sanction for the authority of government caused him to resist the demonstrations and civil disobedience of the desegregation movement. Southern segregationists found comfort in his insistence that the only a change of heart, not law, could bring about change in race relations. Instead of supporting Martin Luther King, Jr., Graham counseled patience and caution and continued to keep friendly relations with segregationist politicians.

The reader will sympathize with Graham as she or he learns of the pressures that were put on him by the politicians, and many of us Baptists in the South will have to confess that we did not do enough either to end segregation sooner. But Miller leaves room to conclude that Graham sometimes helped to calm the conflict that raged during the sixties and to keep the country together while slow progress was being made.

This is a book that will help all of us understand what has happened to us these last sixty years. It will especially help us keep our balance between religion and politics, church and state. It is an academic book, published by University of Pennsylvania Press, and therefore will not gain wide readership. But for those of us who lived through these events and tried to maintain integrity in Christian ministry it can be a page-turner.

Recognizing Those Who Defend Us

As Memorial Day approaches I want to share a recent experience. On Monday, May 4, Peggy and I went to Clarksville, Tennessee, about fifty miles northwest of Nashville to meet Stephanie Butler Shorey and her family. Stephanie grew up in our church and is a friend of our daughter, Jennifer. Stephanie is married to Lt. Col. Alan Shorey of the U. S. Army, 101st Airborne Division, stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, on the edge of Clarksville.

I performed the marriage ceremony for Al and Stephanie thirteen years ago, when he was a young officer recently graduated from West Point. Stephanie graduated from Middle Tennessee State University with a degree in landscaping. He grew up in Maine. They have two boys, Charlie, eleven, and Alan Patrick, a few years younger. They have lived in five places, including Japan, in thirteen years. Al has served three tours of duty in Iraq and has three times been in vehicles struck by roadside bombs. When he returned last fall he was promoted to Lt. Col., and on May 4, he became commanding officer of the 326th Engineer Battalion, the unit in which he began at Fort Campbell.

The 326th has two of its companies, about 200 troops, in Iraq at present and another company preparing to go back soon. It is also likely that Al and his battalion will be deployed to Afghanistan at some point. As engineers they build roads, bridges, airfields, buildings, and whatever else is needed. They also clear the roads of IEDs (improvised explosive devices).

The occasion for our trip was the change of command ceremony at which Al took command of the battalion. Stephanie led us, along with Al’s parents and his brothers, onto the post, and we gathered at ten in the morning on the Division Parade Ground. The invocation was led by the battalion chaplain, a Baptist, who attended Golden Gate Seminary. The troops stood in formation, an army band played, the parade passed in review, and the colors were passed from the outgoing commander to the incoming one. The history of the battalion was read, including D-day at Normandy and the years in Vietnam, and a colonel from Fort Bragg, who is over the engineers, made a speech as did the outgoing battalion commander. Al spoke briefly to point the way forward.

It was an impressive ceremony, especially when the American flag was saluted. At that point I realized that most of these troops had served in Iraq, many more than once, and would do so again. Some of their comrades died there, or came home wounded. The two absent companies were represented by small contingents that stayed behind at the home headquarters. Instead of company colors, their flag bearers carried bare staffs topped with simple camouflage sheaths. Their banners are on the battlefield. Al told me before the ceremony that it is hard to rest easy when two hundred of your people are in harms way and you may get a call at any time saying someone has been killed.

Stephanie was introduced at the ceremony as part of the leadership team. The army expects the commander’s wife to work for the good of the battalion by helping to support and counsel the families. They sent her to Fort Leonard Wood for a week of training to prepare for her new duties. She received a bouquet of roses at the ceremony and Charlie and Alan Patrick were given 101st Airborne coins with their names engraved on the back.

As a civilian, I have never been much exposed to the military. I was impressed. The officers I met were sharp, polite, well-educated, and highly-trained. I had a new understanding of where our defense dollars go. I was glad to know these people are there when we need them. As a Christian, I wish we did not have to go to war, and I don’t always agree with the military actions of our politicians. But I have great respect for the soldiers, sailors, and airmen who defend us. I will pray for them with renewed insight and intent. Two young men who grew up in our church and have parents there aree going to Afghanistan with the Army and the Marine Corps. May God keep them safe and return them to us. And may all of us seek peace, work for peace, and pray for peace.

An Eye-Opening Experience

Tuesday morning, April 7, at two-thirty in the morning, I got up to go to the bathroom. I made my way in the dark with the aid of the dim light coming through the windows. I immediately noticed that something was wrong with my vision. There was a dark area in the visual field of my right eye. When I turned on the bathroom light, it looked like a dark curtain was hanging across the upper left corner of my personal window. I had talked to enough people suffering eye problems to realize that something must be wrong with my retina, the little screen on the back wall of the eye that receives images.

I first thought I should go to the emergency room. Then I decided to call my internist for advice. He suggested I see an ophthalmologist first thing in the morning, since the ER would have to call one and it would probably be several hours before I would be seen.

My next step was to boot up the computer and consult the internet. I confirmed my initial diagnosis of a detached retina. The indications were pretty clear, including the fact that I had done a lot of heavy lifting, moving boxes of books during the previous day. I also realized I had had two symptoms of retina trouble I had not recognized. For a couple of weeks I had noticed a prominent speck floating in my eye. I thought floaters were harmless distractions and ignored it. In fact, a new, dark floater can be an early sign of detachment. I had also had a little blurring of vision in my right eye for two days, but thought it was watering of the eye due to some irritation or allergy and did not consider it serious. It was actually another sign of a retina problem. The heavy lifting just brought the problem to a head.

Retinal detachment occurs when the vitreous substance that fills the eye shrinks and pulls away from the retina. This is normal with aging, but in some cases the vitreous adheres to the retina, pulling it loose. The retina then tears, and the vitreous fluid seeps behind and pulls the retina loose. Unless this is repaired quickly, it will cause permanent loss of sight.

I did not have an ophthalmologist, having relied on an optometrist for my glasses. I did, however, know a church member, Dale Pilkinton, who is one of the leading eye surgeons in Nashville. I called Dale at seven-thirty and was lucky enough to catch him just leaving the house. He said it sounded like a detached retina and told me to come to his office at eight-thirty. He examined my eyes and said I had a very large tear and detachment that would require surgery. He specializes in the front of the eye, cornea and lens, so he called a friend in the building who specializes in the back of the eye, retina and vitreous. Dr. Trent Wallace saw me immediately and scheduled surgery for Thursday, two days away. He also said the tear was large, unusually placed, and would require a pretty serious operation to repair.

I went home to wait and get ready. I applied for an extension for the tax return I was working on, paid my bills, and showed up at Baptist Hospital on Thursday afternoon. I was prepped and anesthetized and didn’t know a thing for several hours. They started with local anesthetic and light sleep but had to resort to a general anesthetic before it was over.

Dr. Wallace made two small incisions in my eye, inserted his instruments, and removed the vitreous. He used a laser to tack down the retina and injected silicone oil to press against it, keep it dry, and hold it in place. We had thought he would use a gas bubble, but the location of the tear called for a different approach. With the oil I did not have to maintain a prolonged face down position, but I did have to do that for periods during the first four days. A gas bubble would have dissipated in a few weeks, but the oil stays in for two months and will have to be surgically removed in June. Until then, my vision in that eye will be blurry. Dr. Wallace also placed a scleral buckle on the outside of the eye. This is a strip of silicone that is attached to the eyeball with stitches. It will be permanent providing a firm surface to hold the retina.

I went home that evening with four kinds of drops for my eye and pills for pain. Dr. Wallace said the procedure went very well, and follow-up exams confirmed that we have a good result. He does not guarantee perfect vision, but thinks it will be good. I will have to get new glasses to compensate for changes in the eye. I had some dull pain for about three weeks, and took a little Percoset and a lot of Tylenol, but it wasn’t too bad, and I now have no pain except for occasional headaches from the blurred vision. The doctor limited my physical activity for a couple of weeks but then released me to do whatever I need to do. There is some chance of detachment in the future, but we will keep a close watch on both eyes. I also have a slight cataract that will be made worse by the silicone. The doctor says that operation will be easy compared to the first one.

Any significant health problem is a crisis that produces many results. You suddenly appreciate the good health, in my case, the good vision, you had taken for granted. You re-evaluate the normal activities that have been interrupted. You realize how much you depend on other people: professional health care providers, family, friends, ministers, fellow church members. You experience your adult children as people who help you rather than people you help. You are forced to take a Sabbath break from regular activities and you have a lot of time to rest, think, and pray. You become frustrated by your limits and by the interruption of normal life. You deal with pain and learn some of its many lessons. You contemplate your future as an aging person, and ultimately as a dying person. You look to God for strength, for healing, and for hope. For all these things, I am grateful. It has been an eye-opening experience.