Shannon S. McKee

musings and moments

An Election Response

by 4 Comments

My husband is a very wise man. In the wake of this volatile election, he has been speaking into the void and helping people process all week long. He shared this email interaction with me and I asked if I could post it. I love the heart behind the initial question because of her heart for her co-workers. Rick’s calm response acknowledges the angst but is a calming, God-honoring response. Here’s a peek into his pastoring…

A woman from my congregation emailed me this week seeking advice about how to respond to non-Christian coworkers who are very upset that Trump is our President-elect. She wrote:

I understand that for me, while I honestly wouldn’t have chosen him to be my president, I am called to respect his authority trusting that God is sovereign over it and is accomplishing His purposes. I can take personal comfort in knowing that I am a foreigner here, and my citizenship is in heaven. This calling and comfort is not true for many of my coworkers as they are not believers. 

My coworkers are a range of devastated to furious about our President-Elect. I want to be an empathetic ear but I have no comfort for them apart from Christ. I’d hate to almost be arrogant by saying something along the lines of ‘I’m a Christian so I have a hope you don’t have’ or dismissive by saying ‘this isn’t all there is.’ Both of those statements are true, but I wouldn’t want to turn a deaf ear towards their feelings of hopelessness, not do I want to join in on their criticism of this authority-even though on the surface I agree with them and wrestle with some of the same anxieties.

Here is what I wrote in reply:

I absolutely love how you are responding in your own heart. Yes, that is spot-on for a believer. I’m proud of you.

And, I love that you aren’t going to flippantly give very “Christian” answers to non-Christians. There’s wisdom and tact in that. On the other hand, don’t miss an opportunity to share from your own story: “Can I tell you why I’m not freaking out? I mean, I’m not thrilled about Trump either. But, as a Christian, my hope is in God, not in a president. I’m sad for those who only have hope in this world, and therefore they live and die with a human election. If you ever want to hear more about my faith in God, I’d love to tell you more. But, I don’t want to be pushy. So, I’ll leave the ball in your court. But, I’m just sad for people who don’t have hope in something bigger and therefore their world is so fragile.”

So, there’s that opportunity to try to represent Jesus. Yet, you could go with a reply that is based simply on common sense. I’d just warn you, be careful not to throw gas on a fire. Use discernment – see if they are open to rational dialogue and input. If so, I offer the points below. If not, then I’d just walk away and let them vent. If discussion seems profitable, here’s what I might point out:

Every four years, we have a presidential election. It’s rarely a landslide. It’s usually fairly close. Roughly, half the people want one person, the other half want the other person. So, when a president gets elected every four years, about half the country is happy, and about half the country is disappointed. That’s the way it is. After the election, the battle shifts from lobbying and voting to character and dignity. It is then that we need gracious winners and gracious losers.

To that you might hear: “Yeah, but Trump is horrible.” To which I would respond, that’s because you are in the half that lost. Realize, you feel about Trump the way the other half feels about Clinton. Or the way many felt about Obama. Did you see rioting in 2008 or 2012? No. Those who lost didn’t riot, or leave the country, or beat up Obama voters. They were dignified losers. I’d want everyone who doesn’t like Trump to do the same.

Otherwise, our democracy doesn’t work. What would you say to a 3rd world country that is coming out of tyranny and strife? They are just now having a democratic election for the first time. One party wins, the other loses. So, the losers reject the result of the election, and they just revert to shooting at each other. The losing half doesn’t accept the results. There are revolts and riots. And the country is plunged back into the darkness of chaos.

The way we avoid that is by being gracious winners and gracious losers. Every four years, about half the country loses. If that half riots and revolts because they lost, then that should happen after every election. In that case, our democracy wouldn’t work.

Of course, there are recourses open to the losing side. Be patient. Bide your time. The pendulum usually swings back the other way within about 8 years. That’s because both republicans and democrats are very flawed humans and make mediocre leaders at best. In addition to that, we are a very fickle people. So, right now we have a democrat for a president. Many thought he’d be great. And he wasn’t. So, now we’ll hope in a republican. And, he’ll be flawed. So, next time we’ll hope in a democrat… Just look at history. It swings back and forth like clockwork. Trump wasn’t elected king, just president. Bide your time. It’ll swing back in 4-8 years.

In the meantime, there is peaceful protest. There are petitions and lobbying. There are political procedures that I’m sure the democrats in the Senate and House will try to slow down the Trump train. Some will work, some won’t – just like the republicans and Obama. But all those things work within our democracy, not against our democracy.

The last thing I might point out is to call them to treat others as they’d like to be treated. Granted, that’s based on Jesus’ teaching. But, most don’t know that. Most accept that axiom. So, if I’m correct and history repeats itself, then in 4-8 years, they’ll get their person elected. They should act now how they want the losing side to act in 4-8 years when your friends and coworkers are on the winning side. Otherwise they are just plain hypocrites.

OK, you tell me, did that help some?

Sweet Nothings… from God

by Leave a Comment

Bible study as delight not dutyBecause of Rick’s sermon yesterday, I thought I’d post this reprint of my original post on why I love God’s Word so much. When I originally wrote this, our little church was still little (ish) and we were meeting in The Block, not at our current address. I cant remember for sure but our women were probably studying Esther or the names of God that semester. How I love what God continues to do in our midst…

This week I’ve been pondering on reasons why I love the Bible so much. Here is today’s revelation: IT’S GOD. TALKING. TO US.

God. Bending down from His throne exalted above the heavens where He is worshipped in a never-ending chorus of praise and worship by magnificent creatures in a place that has no gross blemish or corrupt stain.

Why?

Because He wants to talk with us. God does. You know, the One who spoke the galaxies into existence? Yes, Him.

He wants to talk to us. Wants to whisper sweet nothings in our ears and remind us that we are more deeply loved than we could ever imagine – despite our many flaws. Longs to tell us the most ancient stories and unfold some of the great mysteries for us.

To recount the time He told the proud waves to stop and scrunched the land up into little piles that we call mountains. Or the time He became as small as a spec and lived in a womb for nine months. Or how He was thinking about me…and you…and the joy set before Him. Back when the weight of the world bore down on His shoulders in the darkest-of-dark moments 2,000 years ago.

Or how He’s going to give me a new name one day. On that one day when He comes on the clouds to catch me up and take me home where I belong. To that one place that doesn’t even need a sun because He’s there.

Yes, He’d like to chat with me about those things.

And, I’d rather read the comics or watch Gilmore Girls or check Facebook? Something is seriously wrong with this picture.

Do I really need to say more?

Bible Time

Lessons from The Black-Eyed Susan

by Leave a Comment

The Black-Eyed Susans are dying. They’ve spent themselves.

They are in preparation for a new season. One where they’ll lie still and quiet under the heavy blanket of snow this winter. But they’ll be back next Spring, inching back out of the ground when it’s safe – they’ll come forth in greater number and strength.

Come summer they’re sure to burst forth again, filling the long side of our house with life. This is the way of things. Sure as sure.

I always take a picture of them in their glory. Right about July. They make me smile there – tall and proud with their vibrant yellow petals and their big black center.

But, in this season of my own soul-tending, I have been struck afresh by their beauty in a different way. I am marveling at them right now, as they lay dying. There is another kind of beauty in them at this stage. It’s a stark kind of beauty. One that comes after the glory.

Because they have spent themselves for something wonderful.

They are depleted and exhausted by their summer effort. Their proud stems are bending over and most of their petals have dropped. A few hang on… reminders of the glory.

There is something profoundly beautiful about that dying. Something that stirs in my soul as I contemplate the shriveled leaves and the scattered petals.

So strong is our longing for the glory, that sometimes I think we miss the beauty of this. Jesus didn’t. He knew that the dying had its own kind of splendor. In speaking of His own pending death, He said this: “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” 

If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that we’re actually not so sure about this. In his short piece on repentance, William Willimon said it this way: “Whatever the Gospel means, we tell ourselves, it could not mean death. Love, divine or human, could never exact something so costly.”

Could it really mean that Jesus bids me come and die? And that there is really some beauty in that? A glory of its own?

In the agony of having my petals stripped clean by a strong-willed child or a selfish friend, there is beauty? When I pour myself out for my kids and I have nothing left but shriveled leaves and a blackened nub? When I am bent low by the harsh winds of this world and insensitive demands of others? When no one even notices me? Beauty? There?

Jesus says yes. There is. Will we believe Him? Will we come and die,  laying our own desires aside? Spending our days serving others? Giving instead of buying? Going instead of relaxing? Sacrificing instead of indulging? Submitting instead of demanding?

And after we have been spent, what then? Will we yield to Winter and wait for Spring to call forth new life from the very ground where the spent petals lay?

Nature echoes it. The Black-Eyed Susans attest to this truth. Spend yourself and see, they say.

Will you?

Amidst the Mess of Twisted Coathangers and Disconnected Doorknobs

by Leave a Comment

FJournalor the last month or so, I have been steeped in the book of Judges as I prepare to teach it to 200 or so God-hungry women at our church this Fall. It is not exactly what you would call a happy read. Definitely not happy.

In fact, it is raw and jarring. Like rated-R kind of jarring. At points, I’ve even found it to be a bit disconcerting as I seek to wrap my head and heart around some of what goes on. In a nutshell, it is the recording of what happened when “everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” In fact, the text tells us that “the sons of Israel did what was evil in the sight of I AM and forgot the I AM, their God.”

As I’ve wrestled through it, I’ve been struck by the reality that it’s not just a recording of Israel’s story back then. It’s our story today. Certainly it’s our culture’s story – we live in a world that has collectively forgotten God.

But, it’s not just the culture out there. It’s right here in me at times. It’s my story. I forget God. Or, at least I sure act like I have.

In the midst of that realization, I took great comfort in this passage from Dale Davis’ commentary on Judges:

Here we are – some in family situations we have messed up; some in emotional trauma; some in grief and sorrow or in the clutches of temptation. Life seems to be a mass of twisted coathangers and disconnected doorknobs. And the glory of this text is that Yahweh is not a white-gloved, standoffish God out somewhere in the remote left field of the universe who hesitates to get his strong right arm dirty in the yuck of our lives.

The God of the Bible does not hold back in the wild blue yonder somewhere waiting for you to pour Clorox and spray Lysol over the affairs of your life before he will touch it.

Whether you can comfortably put it together or not, he is the God who delights to deliver his people even in their messes and likes to make them laugh again; he is the God who allows weeping to endure for a night but sees that joy comes in the morning.”

Amen and praise God for getting into the yuck with us. I hope that encourages you as much as it does this soul-tending girl.

p.s. – if you are a woman who goes to our church and haven’t registered for Judges yet, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. {wink} Our Monday evening women’s Bible studies are transformational and refreshing. Here’s a link just in case.