A Fool's Errand

In the Syrian city of Aleppo, a 14 year old boy named Mohammad Qatta was working as a waiter in a coffee shop. A customer asked him to bring him some coffee to which Qatta replied in that overly dramatic, put-upon way so common with 14 year olds the world over, “Even if the Prophet Mohammad comes back to life I won’t!” In America this type of thing would result in Qatta most likely forfeiting his tip. In today’s Syria, it cost him his life.

A group of Syrian rebels happened to be driving by in a black car, somehow heard the remark, went inside the coffee shop, grabbed the kid, stuffed him in the back seat and disappeared. An hour later they returned, having whipped Qatta severely, covering his head with his shirt. After waiting for a crowd to gather, a crowd that included Qatta’s parents, the rebels announced that because the rude waiter had insulted the Prophet Mohammad, he would pay the ultimate price as would anyone else guilty of blasphemy. Then they executed him on the sidewalk in front of the café by shooting him point blank in the mouth and neck.

Yesterday, the Obama administration announced that the United States would begin immediately offering military support and assistance to….the Syrian rebels, murderer of 14 year old waiters. In addition, the Administration has graciously offered to accept thousands of Syrian refugees for relocation here in the United States. I hope they all end up in my neighborhood, don’t you?

Just over a month ago in this very space, I praised the Obama Administration for standing up to the “Let’s get involved in another middle eastern war” crowd, by being prudently cautious towards Syria and maintaining our neutrality. Now, it seems they have changed their minds, having been convinced that the Syrian government of Bashar al-Assad used chemical weapons on his own people. Sound familiar?

So, now we have embarked upon another fool’s errand in the Middle East. We have pushed our chips to the middle of the table in support of a hodgepodge of ruthless rebels who administer justice by murdering 14 year olds in front of their parents. Billions of dollars will be spent, dollars that we do not have. Eventually, American men and women will be asked to risk their lives in a war where there are no good guys, only evil and expedient ones. And as a bonus, we get a batch of new immigrants.

Once again, I have no idea what my government is thinking. What a hot mess!

An Open Letter to the Southern Baptist Convention

An Open Letter to the Southern Baptist Convention,

 

I have been a member of a Southern Baptist church for most of my adult life. I came to faith in Christ in no small part through the teachings and ministry of one such church. My Father is a retired Southern Baptist pastor, having said all of that, whenever anyone asks me about my religion, I never answer, “I’m a Southern Baptist.” Instead, I usually say that I’m a Christian. The reason for that is the subject of this letter.

There are many amazing things about the Southern Baptist church, things of which I am very proud. Through the Cooperative Program, Southern Baptists have found a way to leverage the giving power of 45,000 churches and turn it into an amazing missions organization that supports over 5000 missionaries who serve over 950 different people groups around the world. In the United States, whenever there is a disaster, a tornado, flood or hurricane, groups from local Southern Baptist churches are some of the first relief organizations on the scene and usually the last to leave. As a denomination, Southern Baptists have done more to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ than any other organization I know of. This has been the single focus of our existence and is worthy of great praise accordingly.

But then, once a year we have a convention. Each church elects “messengers” to attend. Speeches are made, songs are sung, and then like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, we do something stupid. This year it involved the Boy Scouts of America.

Recently the BSA changed its rules and decided not to prohibit openly gay boys from joining. Actually, the wording stated that being gay could no longer be the sole reason for an applicants’ disqualification. For reasons that escape me, the Southern Baptist Convention decided that it needed to get involved in the membership controversy of an organization that has nothing to do with the Southern Baptist church. Well, that’s not exactly true. In the United States, over 100,000 scouts do hold their weekly meetings in some 4,000 local Baptist churches. But the Convention has no power to force a local congregation to prohibit such meetings, so, why make a statement about it, which you had to know would be the one single headline to come out of your entire meeting, “SOUTHERN BAPTISTS SLAM SCOUTS”

I understand that homosexuality is a sin in both the Old Testament and the New. But, it has a lot of company, and gets nowhere near as much attention as good old fashioned adultery, dishonesty, pride and greed. Why no statement about the rampant adultery and divorce among the faithful? How about a statement coming out against the pornography business which has destroyed more traditional marriages than homosexuality ever thought about destroying?

I guess my problem with you guys is one of emphasis. Why pick a fight with the Boy Scouts? With all the problems facing the world today, it’s the Boy Scouts membership policy that tops your agenda? With traditional marriage divorce rates hovering around 50%, why do you spend so much time railing about the sexual practices of at best 10% of the population? And, what are we to make of this statement? Are we trying to encourage local churches to not allow local troops to meet in their buildings because they may have a gay member? Does this mean that we are against gay people coming to church? I guess I just don’t understand the method to this madness. Homosexuality is a sin. I get it. Lots of things are sins. The entire world is full of sinners. Isn’t it the job of the church to reach them with the message of salvation through Christ? How does this Boy Scout statement accomplish this? What it does accomplish, is reinforce the stereotype of Southern Baptists as a bunch of people who are against everything. We’re against drinking, gambling, dancing and gays. Well, there goes 75% of the country, and 100% of Washington DC.

Good luck dealing with the fallout from this. Oh, and the next time you’re sitting in a meeting pondering the problem of declining membership and influence, you might want to consider coming up with a list of things that you’re FOR.

Graduation Gift

Dear Graduate,

Congratulations on this important achievement in your life. I have no idea what the future will hold for you, and I’m not sure you do either. But, something tells me it’s going to be special. Ever since I’ve known you, God has had his hand on your life. Of all of the members of your wonderful family, you have always been the one who has reminded me most of myself. You have a rebellious streak, like me. You have a devilish wit and a gift for sarcasm, and the ability to not take yourself too seriously, things that I have been accused of all my life. Where all of these gifts will take you is anyone’s guess, but I bet it is going to be amazing, which brings me to your gift.

This United States 100 dollar bill is not just any old 100 dollar bill. It comes with strings attached. This is not to be spent on some new outfit, or Justin Bieber tickets, (I swear, if you buy Bieber tickets with this money I will hunt you down!!!). This 100 dollar bill is to be folded neatly a couple of times and hidden away in the depths of your wallet and forgotten about. First of all, an adventurous world traveler should never leave the house without a 100 dollar bill stashed away somewhere, but besides that obvious truth; God has plans for this money. Let me explain.

Someday, you might find yourself down on your luck, in a very hard place, thinking that you’re at the end of your rope. Then suddenly, you will remember this 100 dollar bill, and for you on that day, it will be a miracle, given to you not by me, but by my obedience to God. Or maybe, one day you will meet someone in your travels, someone destitute and truly at the end of their rope, for whom this 100 dollar bill just might save their life. You know better than I that in many parts of the world, 100 US dollars is life changing money. Imagine how awesome you are going to feel when you discover that God has used you as the instrument of their deliverance! Perhaps a day will come when you are presented with an amazing opportunity to do something for yourself, a chance to learn a new skill, or take a class, but it costs 100 bucks that you don’t have. Then you’ll remember this bill in your wallet, you’ll take that class, learn how to convert ocean water into gasoline and become a bazillionaire.

The point is, this is seed money. The huge string attached is this; whenever you use it, you have to tell me the story. Knowing you, you’ll probably be living in some hut in Zimchikastan somewhere so you’ll have to send me a letter or email. If you’re living anywhere near me, I’ll expect a personal visit. It may be next month, next year, or twenty years from now. If I’ve already passed away, tell the story to my wife and kids.  Another thing, don’t worry about using the money. Don’t think, “Man, if I use this money for this thing, he’s going to be disappointed.” No, when the time comes, God will let you know that it’s the right time. I can’t wait to hear all about it.

Now go out there and do something great with your life.

Your Financial Advisor on Percocet

Progress is being made, just completed my second consecutive night without getting up at 3am to take pain meds. Now, the discomfort level at 5:30 was high, but this is progress, no?

I have gone into the office two days in a row, and each day started well, but after 3 hours, I was done, shoulder throbbing and incredibly sleepy. So today, I’m dialing it back a bit. I will stay home today, and spend my waking hours writing.

Its funny how on the two days I was in the office, the phone rang off the hook with client after client asking me question after question about highly complicated financial things. My response was always, “Well, Bob, I’m not sure I feel comfortable answering that question on Percocet.” Then the client would laugh and say, “Oh yeah! I forgot that you just had your shoulder worked on! Tell ya what, why don’t you call me next week.”

Actually, a conversation with your financial advisor when he is taking Percocet might be rather entertaining:

CLIENT #1: Doug, I’m starting to worry about how I’m going to put little Johnnie through college. Can you explain this 529 thing, and do you think it would be a good idea for me to start one?

ME: Can I be frank, Frank? From what I’ve seen of your little Johnnie, he doesn’t stand a chance in hell of going to college. He’s dumber than a box of rocks. So, forget the 529 and invest in a baseball glove instead.

CLIENT #2: Doug, I know that you’re uncomfortable with my level of debt and the fact that I keep taking withdrawals from my IRA and all, but I don’t believe in life insurance. Betty and the kids and I have always trusted God to take care of us, and I think that if I buy life insurance it’s like showing a lack of faith.

ME: Look, don’t blame God for the fact that you’re one paycheck away from bankruptcy.

CLIENT #2: What do you mean? I’m not blaming God!

ME: You just said that you’ve always trusted God to take care of you. You’re 55 years old, 385,000 in debt and you’ve got 12,713 dollars left in your retirement account. If this is how God “”takes care of you”, he’s incompetent. AND since I know that God isn’t incompetent, it’s more likely your total lack of discipline, horrible choices, and personal malfeasance. You’re fired!

CLIENT #3: My neighbor says that he invested $100,000 in Siberian beach resort bonds that have a guaranteed 50% yearly return. How come you haven’t told me about this?

ME: Because your neighbor is a liar. Look at a map.

 

Yeah, think maybe I should stay home today.

Recovery Part I

When I first learned that my surgery was scheduled for June 5^th, it occurred to me that the appointments I had set in Atlanta for the 11^th “might” have to be rescheduled. But then I thought about it and decided that I could probably do just fine, after all, I had one good arm, and my suitcase is on wheels and 6 days will have passed since the surgery, so what’s the big deal? My assistant listened patiently to my travel plans, trying not to burst into laughter. Later, when I ran my idea past Pam, she was less patient and just cut to the chase, “There is no chance that you are getting on an airplane 6 days after shoulder surgery!!” Then she looked at me with that expression she gets sometimes. It’s like she is a scientist and I am some rare example of a species long thought to be dead. She quenches her eyes up, her mouth hangs open, and she starts slowly shaking her head from side to side. Then she lets out a heavy sigh and walks away.

The very idea that I thought that I could fly to Atlanta, rent a car, drive to two different appointments, stay overnight in a hotel, then fly back to Richmond six days after this procedure is actually pretty hilarious. So far, all of the stories I was told about the amount of discomfort associated with shoulder surgery have proven to be accurate. I was hoping that they were overblown exaggerations. No such luck. The Percocet helps a lot with the dull ache, but the sharp ice-pick pains that come upon you at the oddest times, caused by the smallest, most insignificant movements are beyond the reach of mere narcotics. When one of them hits you, you just grab something and hold on for a minute or so until it finally stops.

Today, Pam will be driving me over to the office where I will hopefully not have to take any calls from clients. I will do some paperwork; bring some of Pam’s cupcakes to my office buddies, and plan my very light week. It will be good to get out of the house.

My Daughter's Engagement

Four years ago, I was swaying peacefully between two palm trees on a richly woven hammock, in Key West, Florida, celebrating my 25^th wedding anniversary at the Casa Marina Hotel. It was a gorgeous day, beautiful blue skies, mid seventies, around noon, and I was sipping on a delicious tropical drink directly across from my daughter. This trip was serving two purposes, not only a celebration of 25 years of marriage, but also as a graduation gift to Kaitlin, since she had just a couple of weeks earlier graduated from Cedarville University. In fact, she had returned home from her roommates’ wedding in upstate New York just in time to pack her bags for our Key West trip. I had hardly had time to have a conversation with her since her graduation so I was looking forward to four days of fun with my son and my two best girls in the world. Only, things weren’t going as planned.

Despite the fabulous tropical surroundings, Kaitlin seemed a thousand miles away, her face and attentions fixated on her iPhone, where something close to a texting war was being waged. It was our first introduction to Jon Manchester. While Kaitlin was in New York standing up for Mrs. Katie Plume, she had met a boy, and apparently the two of them couldn’t go ten minutes without some form of communication, even in beautiful Key West, and despite the fact that she was in the presence of her heretofore most favorite man in the universe. I was in the process of being replaced!

A few weeks later he showed up at our house for a visit. I was not impressed. Who was this tall, skinny, Yankee with the big smile and his arm around my daughter? What on earth could Kaitlin possibly have seen in him, this Ohio State-loving northerner?

In fairness to Jon, there was no one alive on this planet who I would have liked standing next to Kaitlin that day in my living room. There’s this thing between Fathers and their little girls, a connection deep and sublime and woe be unto the poor boy that disturbs it. But now, four years have passed, my cell phone rings and the breathless voice of my daughter is on the other end of the line. She is deliriously happy, her voice radiates joy as she tells me that she’s engaged. But this time, there’s no resentment, no suspicion, only happiness and gratitude, because over these past four years we have had a chance to get to know this boy, we have seen his character on display, we have observed the depths of his love for our daughter in a thousand acts of kindness and consideration, and we now know that he’s the one we have been praying for since May 11, 1987.

So now the wedding planning begins, and my job becomes finding a way to pay for everything. I don’t lose a daughter in the exchange; rather, I gain a son. As long as he makes her happy, I will be his most enthusiastic advocate. If he mistreats her, then he will understand fully why there is still a small corner of his brain that fears me.

During one of the informal interviews I conducted with Jon over the past four years, I asked him why he thought he was good enough for my daughter. His answer was that he wasn’t, but that it was his goal to become good enough for her one day.  Well, that day has come. Jon will make for Kaitlin a remarkable husband, and for Pam and me, a wonderful son.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I have been told that it can be a dangerous thing to write a blog under the influence of Percocet. However, since my shoulder at present simply won’t allow me to set them aside, I will have to forge on. So, what follows might contain a few dangling participles, misplaced modifiers, and even for me, over the top hyperbole. But the news this morning that practically every phone call, text message, Skype exchange or e-mail that has originated from my house has been handed over to the National Security Agency for the last 7 years has to be dealt with today, or my head might explode.

After 9/11, a hideous piece of legislation, born in fear, and passed virtually unanimously was appoved as an emergency measure to give our vast National Security apparatus great powers to confront our terrorist enemies. The treacherously named Patriot Act has been the law of the land ever since. Despite the political caterwauling back and forth, both parties were on board and have largely remained on board ever since. The law’s most recent extension was shepherded through Congress by none other than Nancy Pelosi. Well, now thanks to an intrepid reporter from a BRITISH newspaper the Guardian, we have discovered just how much of our privacy we have lost. Even the darkest conspiracy theorists among us would have been hard pressed to come up with the facts of this revelation, the sheer scale of this invasion of personal privacy.

Late yesterday I actually read someone on National Review DEFEND this practice, a supposedly conservative, small government publication defending the biggest power grab of our lifetime. One’s phone records carry with them no expectation of privacy, this idiot argued, since you can call Verizon yourself and they will give you your phone records for as far back as you like. Yes, that’s true, you WashingtonDC insider moron, but having my phone company give my phone records to ME upon MY request is just a little different than my phone company giving those records to the GOVERNMENT without my consent!!

But Doug, but Doug, those terrible terrorist are lurking around every corner. Yes they are, as was just demonstrated to us by the two brothers in Boston. How come the sweeping Patriot Act powers didn’t prevent that attack? We are empowering our government by voluntarily giving up our rights as free men and women in exchange for an unrealistic expectation of safety that cannot possible exist. Is it worth it? The National Review defender closed out his argument this way, “ The problem here is not government power, it’s the people we have elected to wield it.”

This may very well be the worst sentence to appear in the National Review in 20 years. The secret intercept of billions of personal phone records of private citizens isn’t about government power gone wild, no, no,…it’s just about having Democrats like Obama and Holder in power?? This would all be perfectly fine if Chris Christie were at the helm?

No, Mr. Andrew McCarthy of National Review magazine, this is exhibit A in why our constitution is about LIMITING the power of government. It manifestly matters not how sterling a character we have in the Oval Office, because history tells us that power is the great corrupter. This is ALL about government power, you mental midget, and it has precious little to do with who wields it. The Patriot Act was a mistake made by free people in a moment of panic, and needs to be repealed at once. But guess what? Politicians from both sides of the aisle, having tasted the power of unrestricted surveillance, will not be in any hurry to give it up unless we the people raise a little bipartisan hell of our own and force them to.