My confession

Why do we talk about the weather or traffic or sports when someone is dying? How can we think of so many things to say rather than what needs to be said? We’ll tell a joke before we’ll touch their hand and say, “I love you.” And I am the chiefest of the offenders.

My dad suffered with lung cancer for the last two years of his life. I was 18 when he was diagnosed and he passed away a few weeks after my 20th birthday. I visited dad in Tennessee on several occasions throughout that two-year period, and we chatted often by telephone, too. Far too many of those conversation had nothing to do with how much I loved him, how proud I was to be his daughter, how I regarded him as a hero, or how I wanted nothing more than to make him proud of me. Instead we talked about the Vols and politics and college life and other fleeting topics.

You’d think I’d learn my lesson. But here I am 20+ years later and, as Yogi Bera said, “It’s déjà vue all over again.” It was last Thanksgiving when my sister, BJ, was diagnosed with breast cancer. A year later she has had a double mastectomy, three rounds of chemotherapy, and a round of radiation. Today the hospital bed was delivered to her home. She is not doing well. The cancer is aggressive and, in the words of her doctor, “consuming” her. Barring some miracle, we know her days are numbered. So, when I visited today, I let her tell me a funny story, and then she dozed off to sleep. I want to tell her that I love her, and that I’m so thankful that we are friends. I want to tell her that it’s going to be okay, and that I’m going to be there until the end. I want her to know how special she is to me, and that I have thanked God for her friendship on so many occasions. Instead, I talk about the baby kittens, or compliment her Christmas tree, or discuss today’s Oprah episode.

Perhaps it’s just me. Maybe the rest of the world is in touch with their feelings. If so, I’m not feeling the love, people! Instead, I’ve got to believe this is one of our greatest shortcomings—ignoring the elephant in the room. And who is to say that I’ll outlive anyone—even BJ. Just because I don’t have cancer doesn’t guarantee me of one more day.

Supposedly confession is good for the soul. This is my confession. This is my shortcoming. What about you? When was the last time you spoke your heart? Who needs to hear from you?

"Give us Barabbas!"

Every year I try to read through the Bible. It’s not a big deal and does not consume a lot of time (if I don’t fall behind). The cool thing about my Bible reading schedule is that by the time we get to the holidays I am reading in the New Testament. The week before Thanksgiving my reading schedule usually takes me through the crucifixion of Christ. Certainly, at this time of the year, my salvation is something I am thankful for, and these daily readings are just daily reminders of my “I am blessed” list. By the time Christmas rolls around, and we’re celebrating the birth of Christ, I am already in Revelation and celebrating Christ’s second coming.

This morning my reading was from Matthew 27. After walking the dog, I came in and settled down with a cup of coffee and my daily reading. Afterward, I hustled off to the gym, as usual, but the words of Matthew 27 stayed with me. When I returned from the gym, I opened the chapter again and re-read certain portions of it. In the chronology of Christ’s crucifixion, Matthew 27 takes place after the Last Supper and after the arrest in the garden. Christ has been betrayed by Judas. He has been taken before the Sanhedrin and, in Chapter 27, to Pontius Pilate.

Even though I have read this passage numerous times, my heart was pricked this morning by how the crowd chose Barabbas over Christ. They cried, "Give us Barabbas" even when they knew his reputation. Barabbas was a convicted murderer; he was a “notorious prisoner,” rebellious, the epitome of evil.

I reflected on that for quite some time. I even went back and read it again. I couldn’t get away from the crowd begging for evil to be unleashed upon them. What a bunch of losers! Who would choose Barabbas over the Son of God? Who would choose a murderer over a Savior? The truth is, I would, and I have. I am ashamed to say there have been times when I have said, "Give me Barabbas" instead of "Give me Christ"—if not literally with my voice, then certainly by my choices. I have chosen rebellion and evil over Christ so many times that I can't condemn one person in that crowd.

I have found myself in public situations, with friends and business associates, who expect me to follow their lead and call, “Give me Barabbas!” And other times I have cried “Give me Barabbas” deep within my own spirit where only God could hear and be grieved.

How much faith must it take to see the eternal is much better than the temporal? In that town square on that Thursday morning, how much courage would it have taken for one person to yell, "Give me Christ!" Probably the same courage that it still takes for me (and you) to stand up for Christ today. “Give me Christ!” Let me have the faith to see the eternal much better than the temporal. “Give me Christ!” Let me keep my attitude in check, let me work hard, let me be a friend, let me be sensitive to the needs of others, let me guard my tongue against gossip, let me guard my heart against judgment, and let me be faithful in the little things—minute-by-minute and hour-by-hour. And, should the occasion arise, may I also be faithful and courageous enough to proclaim in the town square, “Give me Christ!” even when my friends or my leaders cry, “Give me Barabbas.”

We Begin Again

I discovered blogging several years ago at an educational seminar. In 2006, when I left the world of academia (as an instructor) to join the world of academia (as a law student), I decided to document my journey through a weblog. If you're reading this entry, you probably followed that blog as well, i.e., theantediluvianlawstudent.blogspot.com. The Antediluvian Law Student blog recorded the highs and lows of three years at law school. As I neared the end of that journey I felt compelled to close that blog address and begin a new work. So, welcome to the new blog page. I look forward to writing and hope you look forward to reading and sharing your thoughts as well.