A Palm Sunday Dilemma
As a rule, I don't blog about work. I keep work stuff on the work site, and even then you won't find personal opinions on it.
But this week work and home collided on the front page, and I think it's a story worth telling.
Toward the end of the week, we were surprised to find the pastor of our church on the front page of my paper, having been accused of committing a rather odd act of larceney at an antique mall north of the Mason-Dixon line.
Barbara and I both love our pastor. He's a great guy. I like going to church when he's behind the pulpit because he challenges me. When we leave at noon each Sunday, Barbara is often on the receiving end of "Wow. Have you ever thought about it like that?" I have no doubt that our pastor loves the church and serves it to the best of his ability.
All involved with the incident agree that it's the result of an illness. Still, Barbara and I were in a tough spot this Palm Sunday. The story wasn't unfair, but it didn't pull any punches. As I work for the paper (even though most people at church don't know it), there was a chance that things could get uncomfortable quickly, in a variety of ways.
In the end, we decided to go, if for no other reason than to teach Gracie (someday) that you don't slink out of things just because they're uncomfortable. As someone wise once told me, a man stands up. And things went very well. It was an open expression of love, support and forgiveness by a community of believers. It was the kind of thing needed to restore badly-bruised faith from time to time.
It would have been a lot easier if the story hadn't been printed, but that's not the way life works. The media can't pull punches, even when it makes some of our number squirm in their pews. We have to be fair, but with no favor.
God is a god of second chances. If he weren't, none of us would have any hope. As Jesus showed us on the first Palm Sunday, we can't back down from the uncomfortable things required of us. Jesus rode into Jerusalem, knowing full well what was coming. He could have taken the easy route and tried to rally those shouting "Hosanna!" to rebel against Rome, and physically re-establish the throne of David.
But he didn't.
He did what he knew he had to do, because love demanded it. I know that's a lesson I could certainly stand to embody more often. When our pastor comes back, I'll shake his hand, hug him, and tell him in all honesty that we're praying for him. And nothing more will be said about it.
But this week work and home collided on the front page, and I think it's a story worth telling.
Toward the end of the week, we were surprised to find the pastor of our church on the front page of my paper, having been accused of committing a rather odd act of larceney at an antique mall north of the Mason-Dixon line.
Barbara and I both love our pastor. He's a great guy. I like going to church when he's behind the pulpit because he challenges me. When we leave at noon each Sunday, Barbara is often on the receiving end of "Wow. Have you ever thought about it like that?" I have no doubt that our pastor loves the church and serves it to the best of his ability.
All involved with the incident agree that it's the result of an illness. Still, Barbara and I were in a tough spot this Palm Sunday. The story wasn't unfair, but it didn't pull any punches. As I work for the paper (even though most people at church don't know it), there was a chance that things could get uncomfortable quickly, in a variety of ways.
In the end, we decided to go, if for no other reason than to teach Gracie (someday) that you don't slink out of things just because they're uncomfortable. As someone wise once told me, a man stands up. And things went very well. It was an open expression of love, support and forgiveness by a community of believers. It was the kind of thing needed to restore badly-bruised faith from time to time.
It would have been a lot easier if the story hadn't been printed, but that's not the way life works. The media can't pull punches, even when it makes some of our number squirm in their pews. We have to be fair, but with no favor.
God is a god of second chances. If he weren't, none of us would have any hope. As Jesus showed us on the first Palm Sunday, we can't back down from the uncomfortable things required of us. Jesus rode into Jerusalem, knowing full well what was coming. He could have taken the easy route and tried to rally those shouting "Hosanna!" to rebel against Rome, and physically re-establish the throne of David.
But he didn't.
He did what he knew he had to do, because love demanded it. I know that's a lesson I could certainly stand to embody more often. When our pastor comes back, I'll shake his hand, hug him, and tell him in all honesty that we're praying for him. And nothing more will be said about it.
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