Watch Yourself Go By

Watch Yourself Go By

By: Strickland Gillilan

Just stand aside and watch yourself go by;
Think of yourself as “he” instead of “I.”
Note, closely as in other men you note
The bag-kneed trousers and the seedy coat.
Pick flaws; find fault; forget the man is you,
And strive to make your estimate ring true.
Confront yourself and look you in the eye-
Just stand aside and watch yourself go by.
Interpret all your motives just as though
You looked on one whose aims you did not know.
Let undisguised contempt surge through you when
You see you shirk, O commonest of men!
Despise your cowardice; condemn whate’er
You note of falseness in you anywhere.
Defend not one defect that shames your eye-
Just stand aside and watch yourself go by.
And then, with eyes unveiled to what you loathe,
To sins that with sweet charity you’d clothe,
Back to your self-walled tenement you’ll go
With tolerance for all who dwell below.
The faults of others then will dwarf and shrink,
Love’s chain grows stronger by one mighty link,
When you, with “he” as substituted for “I,”
Have stood aside and watched yourself go by.

Sidewalk Supremacy

Last week my family and I went to Southern California for a vacation. Of course, it included a day at Disneyland and several walks at the beach. As you know, I am a noticer of wierd things. One of the things I notice is sidewalk etiquette. And when it comes to sidewalk etiquette, there is a dearth of it. Whether I am walking at Lake Hefner here in OKC, on the rim of the Grand Canyon, or on the boardwalk at Laguna Beach, it seems that every group that is walking toward me has already decided that I am in their way and therefore I must yield the sidewalk to them. Groups of three or four feel perfectly empowered to walk abreast, sauntering without any realization that anyone else might possibly need some of the sidewalk for their own journey.
I am reminded of a playground game that many of the boys would play at recess. They would assemble 10 or 12 boys, lock arms and march the length of the playground saying, "We won't stop for a bottle of pop!" over and over as they mowed down smaller kids like me, or forced us to run to the end of the relentlessly moving barricade to get around them. All those feelings of powerlessness and resentment come flooding back every time Carole and I find it necessary to go single file or even step off the sidewalk so that the meandering sidewalk bullies are allowed to continue unhindered down the sidewalk they seemingly own.
I have wondered what it would be like to pretend that I am oblivious of the others and play a slow motion game of sidewalk "chicken". Would one of us suddenly lose our nerve and jump off the path, or would we come to a halt, facing one another, waiting for the other one to yield?
I try to spiritualize this mini-drama by remembering the scriptural admonition to "esteem others more highly than yourself", but I still get frustrated that others aren't as spiritual as I. Don't they want blessings in their lives? No, they are just settling for sidewalk supremacy.
I think about monumental things, don't I?

DPS Salvation

Today was the day I had to go to the Department of Public Safety to get my driver's license renewed. Since I have a commercial license, I have to go through this renewal process before I can go to a tag agent and get my new license. The process was very egalitarian. If you want fair, this was fair. It was tough and impersonal for all. When you came in the door, you stopped at a table and stated your business to a lady who didn't care if you stayed or left, as long as you followed the rules. The rules were the same for everyone. Show two forms of ID, fill out the short form, take a number, return the clipboard, and sit down while waiting for your number to come up. My number was 417 and they were calling for 389 as I sat down. After an hour and a half I completed the seven minute renewal procedure and left with a sheet of paper that entitles me to go to the tag office tomorrow and get my new license. There were people from many different ethnic origins, from all age groups, and all over the economic scale. No one was treated any better or worse than anyone else. I came directly after attending a funeral so I still had on a jacket and tie, but I was given no more consideration that the guy with his "pants on the ground." And I hated it. I have to admit that I have grown used to getting some preferential treatment in most areas. In restaraunts, golf courses and doctor's offices, my nice appearance and seeming affluence has helped expedite matters for me on more than one occasion. It was somewhat deflating not to join in "the look" at the slobs who don't know how to conduct themselves in public while being escorted past them to a preferential place.

It came to me as I sat next to a couple of young people with funny colored hair and multiple piercings who were making out in the chairs next to mine that I was being viewed much as God views me (aside from the part where He loves me unconditionally). He is no respecter of persons. The outside means very little to Him. He looks on the heart. I can't see the heart. I can only see externals. The lady at the front table saw only people to be processed. She didn't care what I looked like or if English was my first language or not. She let me know what I had to do to get my license renewed: I had to believe that I was at the place I had to be to get renewed, have my identification ready and the willingness to wait until the process completed. Nothing else was important.

I used to think that going to the Department of Public Safety was a glimpse of hell. It might be a glimpse of salvation.

How to bring improvement

Over the years I have been presented with many situations which presented opportunities for improvement. (That is a euphimism for "things we were doing badly") There are several steps involved in every improvement process and they apply regardless if they are conceptual, procedural or just hard work.

1. The problem is identified. It is agreed that something is wrong. It is helpful if everyone can agree on what is wrong. Then it is easier to know who to blame and throw under the bus.

2. The strongest personality immediately knows the perfect solution and how it can be implemented without any effort on his part.

3. Holes are shot immediately in the new plan and as contingencies are addressed, the plan gets incredibly complicated.

4. Those who are actually charged with the task of improvement find out how to improve while looking like they are following the new guidelines.

5. The new guideline developers lose interest and go on to solve other problems.

6. The ones doing the work continue with they improvements they developed and everyone is happy.

Although messy, it seems to work most of the time.

Multi-Generational Church

Each Sunday morning I get up on the platform for my three and a half minutes of fame while I do the announcements. While I'm up there I look out across the crowd and I see faces. Each of those faces represent stories, and I know many of them. I see school students who are struggling to establish their identities while attempting to pass World History. I see young families who are feeling their way through young parenthood; afraid to make a mistake while gradually realizing that you can get away with a lot of mistakes because kids are so very resilient and forgiving. I see parents of high school students who are worried if their kids will make it through without getting pregnant or messed up on drugs even though they are in church each week. I see single moms who constantly stress over the shortness of the day which prohibits them from fulfilling the roles of both mother and provider as well as they would like. I see the middle aged who have finally acheived some financial margin in their lives at the same time they begin to have doubts that they are living a meaningful life. I see couples who have been together for years and although they are not nearly as good-looking as they once were, they are more dear to one another than ever because of a lifetime of shared experiences. Some of those couples are now in a place where one must totally care for the other and it is done without complaining. I see those whose spouse is now gone and yet they go on with the promise that they will be reunited in heaven.

I see all those faces and I thank God that I am part of a multi-generational church. Each generation needs something from the others and each generation has something to offer the others. And when it works that way the bond it forms is stronger than we can imagine.

I wish I felt funny

I'm not feeling funny. In a physical health sort of way, that is good news. But I'm a guy who deals in wholesale wisecracks and lame jokes and I don't have any right now. Yeah, I'm busy, but I've been busy before and still felt funny. It's not that I am sad, angry, depressed, burned out, or anything like that. As a matter of fact, this has been a very productive and energizing last few weeks. But I am usually bursting with random thoughts which find their way to my blog and right now, I got nothin'. So instead I'm wasting your time with introspective claptrap.

Maybe I'll feel funny next week.

In Hot Water?

Take a pot of boiling water. If you put a potato in it, in a few minutes the boiling water will cause the potato to change and become soft; even mushy. If you put an egg in boiling water, in a few minutes the boiling water will cause the egg to change and become hard. But if you put a teabag in boiling water, the teabag doesn't change. Instead, the teabag changes the boiling water and improves its flavor. When you get in hot water, does it make you get mushy and fall apart? Does it make you harden? Or does the difficulty draw out of you an ability to make the situation better? It's the same hot water. What we are made of makes all the difference in how we react.

Facilities- No Fun

I have never relished being the "go to guy" for the facilities at church. Three years I stepped into the role on a "temporary" basis and those of you who know how churches operate know the rest of the story. I am far too reactive and potentially cranky to deal with the issues related to thermostats, toilets and air conditioners and their effect on my friends. Two weeks ago we had ICE STORM 2010 and due to ice damming we had water running down the walls and out of light fixtures in our east and west entries. That was bad. The parking lot was icy. That was bad.

Today I was walking the trail around Lake Hefner. I was at the half-way point, meaning I had walked an hour and a half away from my truck and it was an hour and a half back if I turned around or went forward. I was on the north end of the lake. My phone rang and I was told that we had a severe water leak in the parking lot and the water had to be shut off. It appears that the main water line from the meter to the church is broken and as such, there is no running water for the church tomorrow. We have a plan "B", but it still stinks.

I will be straight up with you I got mad and then I got sorry that I have to be me. It will be a long service tomorrow. Why this kind of stuff has to happen on Saturday afternoon is beyond me. But we will get through it. I could be the guy who has to mobilize hundreds of truckloads of snow to be put on a mountain so the Olympics can have their downhill ski races tomorrow.

Poor Winners

There is something I can't understand. It really bugs me at a base level. But the teams that I am not pulling for don't know how to win. On the rare occasions that my team wins, they celebrate with unbridled joy and exuberance. But when the other team wins they just showboat without regard to the feelings of the noble foe they were lucky enough to outlast. They give no recognition that they were lucky to win or that had my team been at their best that they would not have had a chance. They are poor winners, all. Former tennis great, John MacEnroe said it well when he said that the worst part of losing was seeing the look of joy on the face of the guy on the other side of the net.

Deo Volente

I got an e-mail this morning that has me all revved up. It is some further information about a Peruvian adventure my son-in-law and I are taking this June. We will be hiking the Inca Trail from Cusco to Macchu Pichu. It will involve three full days of hiking and trail camping, a day of white water rafting and the opportunity to go hang-gliding, all at high altitude. And it will be an opportunity to get to know Mark Batterson, lead pastor of the National Community Church in Washington DC. We will also be hanging out in Cusco with a friend who is originally from there, but is now a missionary in Bolivia. I'm looking forward to eating anticucho and lomo saltada while drinking Inca Kola. A few days ago I booked our plane tickets. We are good to go, Deo volente.

Deo volente is Latin for "God willing". James 4:13-15 says, Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that.

So, I have reserved my spot on the trip. I have arranged for hotel accomodations for the days we are not on the trail. I have purchased plane tickets. I am doing cardio excercises to prepare for the altitude. And we will go and we will enjoy the hospitality of Peru in the majesty of the Andes and the mystery of Macchu Pichu, Deo volente.

Funeral Processions

In know that this makes two consecutive posts with "funeral" in the title. Don't ask me why. I've just been involved in a number of funerals during the past two weeks. Today I officiated at a funeral. At the previous two services I didn't attend the graveside service, but today, of course, I did. I had forgotten about the police escort. I love that part! I imagine my chances of ever being in a presidential motorcade are pretty slim, so a funeral procession with a police escort is about as close as I will come.
We all got in line with our headlights on "bright" and followed a motorcycle policeman and one in a patrol car. The motorcycle would zoom ahead and stop traffic at the next busy intersection and the patrol car, with its lights flashing, would lead us through the intersection. I loved going through the red lights, especially. I felt a little cheated if the light was green, because, well, anyone can drive through a green light. I do that all the time. As soon as we were all clear of the intersection, the motorcycle policeman would zoom around us so he could beat us to the next intersection, where we would repeat the drill. We went through traffic lights and through stop signs. We made left hand turns across traffic. We made it all the way to the cemetary without stopping.
I like having a police escort. People pulled over and waited for me to go by. I was Reverend Whitlow, the funeral officiant. After the graveside service, I looked for the policemen, but they weren't there. I had to wait in line to get on Northwest Expressway. Once on the road, I wasn't a special member of an entourage with a police escort. I was just a preacher who doesn't get to preach often wearing a suit I bought on a half-price sale driving my dirty ten year old pickup. I got stuck behind a traffic accident that took me twenty minutes to get around.
Fame is fleeting.

Funeral Dinners

The last two weeks we have had funeral dinners at Highpointe. That in itself is not remarkable. Any time you are part of a sizable community of believers, there will times when there are funerals. What has happened, however, is that I am looking at funeral dinners in a different light. I believe funeral dinners are a vital part of living in community with other believers. I believe this for several reasons:
1. The dinners allow members of the congregation to follow through on their "if there's anything I can do" promise. Making something and bringing it to the dinner sends a simple but powerful message saying "I care". Most of us are not gifted with the perfect phrase to express our sympathy or condolence, but can bring some food. That tangible act of service shows the grieving family that they are not in this struggle alone.
2. Food is a significant gift for the following reason; eating establishes a new beginning. The act of eating shows tangible evidence of the desire to continue in life. Eating is fundamental for life to continue, and the funeral dinner is a powerful recognition that even though the pain and sorrow are unbearable at the moment, life will continue, and the food brought by friends gives opportunity to fuel this continuing life. It symbolizes hope for a better day ahead.
3. Every funeral dinner I have attended has been accompanied with laughter and stories and this is healthy and good. It is a recognition that there will be laughter in the future, and no one need feel guilty at a future moment when the grieving person has a moment of enjoyment. Although the pain and the loss will be permanent, life can be embraced and enjoyed again at some point without being disloyal to the memory of the deceased.
So if you are called upon in the coming weeks to prepare something for a funeral dinner, see it as an opportunity to perform a powerful restoring ministry in the life of the bereaved. It is pure ministry.