Here’s the second installment in my project to relocate anything I think might be worth saving from my old web site. For a few years there I got the idea that maybe I had some talent for poetry and song writing. The song writing bit is a little out there since I never learned music, not to mention anything about the quality of the lyrics. J This one was meant to be done to a driving dance beat with synthesized electric guitar providing a dark background. I’ll spare you any attempt at describing what I’m hearing in my head.

I think this marks the beginning of my dissatisfaction with all the ritual of traditional church services, regardless of flavor. The pastor at the time liked to have us all join hands at some point in the service, and it always struck me as contrived community. We would all stand there holding hands for what seemed like forever as he went on and on. Disheartened and longing for even a glimpse of the things that once drew me to that body, I wrote this.

Let’s All Hold Hands

Let’s all get together.
Let’s sing a song.
Let’s listen to the preacher
Tell us right from wrong.
Let’s all get together.
Let’s all shake hands.
I will tell you that I love you
But don’t make demands.

Let’s all hold hands.
That’s what the man said.
Let’s all hold hands
Looking solemn as the dead.
Let’s all hold hands
Until the monologue ends.
Let’s all hold hands
And pretend we’re friends.

Let’s all get together
Over here and over there.
Behind invisible walls
in the room we share.
Let’s all get together
And go our separate ways.
Let’s all get together
In another seven days.

Let’s all hold hands.
That’s what the man said.
Let’s all hold hands
Looking solemn as the dead.
Let’s all hold hands
Until the monologue ends.
Let’s all hold hands
And pretend we’re friends.

Let’s all get together.
Did somebody sneeze?
Let’s all get together
And spread the disease.
We’re so glad that you could join us.
If you stay here long.
One of us may take you in
And you can learn our song.
Let’s all get together
But not too near.
Under synthetic fragrances
we hide the smell of fear.

Let’s all hold hands.
That’s what the man said.
Let’s all hold hands
Looking solemn as the dead.
Let’s all hold hands
Until the monologue ends.
Let’s all hold hands
And pretend we’re friends.

© 2001 Larry Thacker Jr.

I’ve got an idea in my head to eventually move all the material from my dated and neglected web site to the blog and move the blog to the main web site address. Since I’m about to get a new PC and have no desire to install the obsolete FrontPage software on it, now would be a good time to start. Since it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought it would be fun to share the little story I wrote for Linda that initiated a rapid move from casual friendship to something much more. I delivered this in February, proposed in April, and we were married on June 19, 2004.

Desert Flower

I found a flower growing in a barren, arid place. I would almost say that it found me, for its vivid brightness seemed to call to me from the side of the path. It was a beautiful flower, so out of place in the desolate landscape where it grew. It looked so delicate, yet to be here in this place it must be hardy indeed. I gazed at it with admiration. I thought to pluck it up and take it with me on my journey. Oh what a hasty and tragic thing to do, for then its life would be but for a moment, and no one would ever have joy from it again. I can hardly bear to leave it in this place with no gardener to care for it and make it grow, yet I know that it does have a gardener, far better than I could be. No earthly gardener makes anything grow, but He does. We only help as He has shown us the way. I have water with me. Dare I share some of it? What if I share too little? What if I share too much? I fear even to touch it, lest even that be unwelcome. I put forth a tentative finger to feel the delicate peddles. I wonder if it would grow in my own garden where I and all who pass my way would be blessed by its bright beauty, but I cannot think of that now. Perhaps it was meant to thrive right where it is. Perhaps it is meant for someone else’s garden. Those questions do not have answers now, and do not need them. I only want to be the Gardener’s hand. In this short time, I have come to love the flower, and I want most of all to see it in the fullness of its glory, growing and reflecting back the rays of the sun in the profusion of color that is its potential. I will tend it wherever it grows best until the Gardner stays or stills my hands.

I choose to laugh. The alternative is no fun. Anyone living with an obvious disability has experienced it. People go into verbal contortions to avoid using certain words deemed to be insensitive. Sometimes I just tell people I’m blind now. It’s easier to say and quite true for legal purposes. I’ve used the term visually impaired most often I suppose because it’s really more accurate, but that too is a clunky PC construction. “Almost blind” is my new favorite. It’s really the closest I can get to the truth of the situation, though I don’t think of myself that way. This is all I’ve ever had, so to me it’s perfect vision.

I think the most uncomfortable appellation I’ve been saddled with is “sightless.” What clueless liberal dreamed that one up? Thankfully I have not encountered it often. I’m a big fan of calling a thing what it is. All of us facing some kind of mental or physical insufficiency are lumped into one big category that has also acquired various PC labels over the years. We’ve been disabled, a term I still use for the sake of peaceful coexistence. We’ve been physically or mentally challenged. We’ve been people with disabilities. Then there are the real aberrations such as “differently able.” What on earth is that supposed to mean?

My favorite is probably the most politically incorrect of the bunch. I think handicapped is actually the best word. A common objection to this word is that it has its origin in the idea that people with disabilities had no option but to beg. They had a cap in hand. First of all, this is not true. I generally do not recommend Snopes as a good source of information, but this particular article does a good job of explaining the real etymology of the word.

Second, we get way too wrapped up in what was instead of what is. Even if the supposed history of the word were correct, no one understands it to have that meaning today. We know it to refer to one of two things. It is either descriptive of a person with a disability or a term used in competition to indicate an encumbrance placed on a contestant to equalize the field. In fact, the latter is the true history of the word. The handicap is put on the best horse to give the others a chance, so why would I resent that? Bring it on. I’m still going to win.

Unfortunately, there is likely still a cassette recording in someone’s possession that proves this was one of my favorite questions as a kid. I don’t have a lot of experience with children, but I understand I was not unique in this. It’s something we all want to know about everything. That questioning never really stops. As we grow up, sometimes we learn the answer. Other times we conclude that we cannot or do not want to know it.

We are always searching for reason. We want to know the purpose behind everything that happens and everything that is. When we are young, most of the time the answers are easy. Someone else has already learned them and all we need to do is ask, but soon we learn some questions are harder to answer. The scientists, the theologian, and the philosopher all seek to answer the question of why. Some decide we don’t need to know, but are then compelled to tell us why we don’t need to know why..

It is a question that when asked about things that really matter defines what life is about. Why are we here? Why do we choose? Why is there evil in the world? This is a new line of thought for me, and I claim none of the aforementioned titles; but it seems to me the world we live in can be explained by answering these three root questions, all leading back to the one, “why?”

Maybe the best answer for such an all encompassing question is also one word, “God.” I would prefer Yahweh, since that is the name of the one true God and ultimately descriptive in itself. It means “I Am” and that He is explains everything else. He does not need a reason because He is the reason. For many this is not a good enough answer. It claims to explain everything while seeming to explain nothing. We’re looking for proof. It is in fact hidden in plain sight. New discoveries are made all the time that show for anyone willing to see that what God said through Paul is true.

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. (Rom 1:20 NASU)

Here we have THE ANSWER, but we want more specific answers. I believe they are contained within the nature of Yahweh. The first question, “why are we here,” also has a single word answer, love. Odd as it may sound, love also answers the third question and on one level the second also. Evil must exist so that we can choose good. To understand why I’m saying these things, take a look at a post I wrote last year entitled God, Man, and Love.

We live out our lives on that second question. More pointedly, why do we do what we do? I’ve written before of my wife’s favorite pair of questions, “what are we doing and why are we doing it?” I think the latter is most critical. I have known people who do good things for evil or selfish reasons. (I would consider evil and selfish redundant terms.) We see it in our personal lives, and we see it in governments. Much of the supposed good our own country has done over the past century has in fact been evil in disguise. That’s another topic for another time.

Let’s make it personal. Have you ever had something done for you or given to you out of impure motive? How does it feel? Wouldn’t you have rather gone without? If we are honest with ourselves we will see that we have done likewise. Motivation is always the key, particularly among those with whom we claim to share love. You expect restaurant staff to serve you out of duty. You pay them to do it. You expect your spouse to serve you out of love, and you do the same. If either of you loses the motivation of love, the relationship begins to break down.

It is the same with God. He is not as concerned with what you do as with why you do it. I’m going to stop here because the week is about to begin and I may not get a chance to finish. Brevity does not seem to be in my nature. I guess it’s the preacher gene passed down from my father. I’ll just leave you with this one passage from the Bible confirming what I’ve just written.

¹ If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ² If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³ And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing. (1 Cor 13:1-3 NASU)

That’s why.

If I could have only one thing out of life, it would be to know love. There are many reasons why I say that. I don’t know that all of them are good, but as I prepare to once again speak on the subject tomorrow I would like to share one of them here. I’m not sure I know myself well enough to say which is truly the strongest motivation for me, but I know what it should be. To know love is to know God.

I know a statement like that will bother some Christians. They rightly decry movements in the modern church that emphasize God’s love to the exclusion of His wrath and judgment and our need for repentance. These things are not at odds. In fact they require each other to exist. God is holy and just because He is love, not in spite of it. John 4:8 says that God is love. Does that mean He can be nothing else? We are all many things at the same time. However, there is an important distinction where love is concerned in the case of God.

I’m no English teacher, so forgive me if I fail to use proper grammatical terminology. When we use a noun to describe a person, we usually affix a singular article to it. We would say that john is a man. We would not say that Jon is man. The latter implies that Jon is the standard by which We can judge whether anyone is a man or not. If we want another way to describe John in more general terms as belonging to the class of men, we would say that he is male, using an adjective rather than a noun.

The Bible tells us that God is love. To say that he is a love would not make much sense. We don’t use the word that way, though we might, since there are four words translated as love from the Greek. He is associated with the root word “agapé”, which is by far the most used. To say that He is loving is true, but He means to communicate something more powerful here. God defines love. He is the standard by which love is proven. John writes: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” (1 John 4:7-8 NASU) This is why I say that to know love is to know God.

This may still be hard to swallow unless we have some understanding of what love really is. I don’t think it’s an accident that the word has fallen into vulgar usage. We apply the same word to everything from the height of ecstasy to a preference for popcorn. I too am guilty, though no longer without regret, of using the word lightly. When God uses the word, it’s definitely not shallow. Just look at what He did for love.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

⁷
For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die. ⁸ But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Rom 5:7-8)

When Jesus talks about the kind of love we should have for each other (John 13:34-35) and even about the kind of love we should have for our enemies (Matt 5:43-48,) the writers use the same Greek word that is used in the passages above. It is a love willing to sacrifice itself even for those who pay it back with hate. I have to ask myself, is this really the kind of love I want to know? It is freely given, but it is not free. You can have it for nothing, but it will cost you everything. My flesh cringes, but my heart says “YES!”

Ever since reading I John out of my Braille New Testament at seventeen, I have longed to understand and know this kind of love. For all of that, I can’t say that I do. I’m looking back over tomorrow’s sermon, and not for the first time I am seeing a very academic presentation, full of facts and lacking feeling. The truth is still the truth and God may use it to bring life, but where is the life in me? I feel like a hypocrite explaining to you something that I do not understand myself. Yet I believe in it. Love puts everything else in context. That is why Satan has worked so hard to corrupt and destroy it. I will continue to pursue it, and I will keep calling for you to join me. The One who loves us best will be found, and He will show us what it means.

Finally, no explanation of love is complete without at least making reference to a couple of other key passages from the Bible. One that you may not associate with the topic is Galatians 5:22-23:

²² But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

Speaking of grammar, look at the structure of this sentence. Often we see somewhat cumbersome structure due to the fact that we are translating from another language with different syntax rules, so consider that the word “fruit” is singular then reread the sentence with a semicolon after the word “love.” Love is the fruit of the Spirit. The adjectives that follow describe love. I’ll leave you to read I Corinthians 13 for yourself. Join me on the journey, and if you’d like come to Bartimaeus Baptist Temple at 2:30 tomorrow and hear the rest.

If I worked hard enough I suppose I could find you. If I cared as much as I’m about to say that I do, maybe I would. The last I knew you were not doing well and had decided not to come back to school in Fayetteville, Arkansas. I hope you’re still around, but I don’t really know how bad your health was. If you’ve left us, I hope I’ll see you again in Heaven.

That’s what I think about when you come to mind. I was such a young fool. I had much to learn about life and my place in it. On the other side of a painful divorce, much of the arrogance you saw in me was shattered. That kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to a preacher’s kid who thought some day he would be a preacher too. As I reflected on our brief friendship I realized that I didn’t model for you the kind of life I advocated. In many ways I was the classic hypocrite. If only I had the understanding then that I do now, but I guess that’s what growing up is all about.

What sticks out in my memory, though no longer distinctly is that toward the end of our time together you began to say some troubling things. I remember the night we prayed together. I remember it was you who took the initiative to accept Jesus as lord of your life. It is among my most precious memories. I’ve always taken the blame for the doubts you began to express. Even after that night I didn’t live the part consistently, and sometimes I enlisted your help in my error. Ultimately you are responsible to God, but I should have been a help and not a hindrance. My church was no help either. If I had acted properly I would have immediately begun looking for a place with real Christians in it who would have accepted both of us, but you were left with only a young fool for support who was too self-absorbed to even know what he was doing.

Here I am, twenty years later still thinking about it and wondering if you ever found your way back. This letter will probably never find you, but if it did, I would want you to know that though much has been shaken, my faith remains. I wish I could have the opportunity to talk with you about it. At least I can talk to everyone else about it, and I hope that my life now is a clearer reflection of the truth then it was when you knew me. I express myself best when writing, so that’s what I do when I can make the time. All I want now is to here “Well done, good and faithful servant” when I leave this earthly life.

I still can’t help wondering from time to time if at least one person, namely you, will be there with me. I pray you didn’t let my folly drive you away from Him. His love is perfect. It never fails. I on the other hand have never stopped failing. My only hope is that God has a remarkable tendency to take even our failures and make something beautiful of them. That’s the only way I can explain the life I have now. If I’ve learned nothing else, I know that I am nothing without Him. I don’t know where this would find you, but if it is not a good place, I say that even now it is not too late.