Lamar Howell's Weblog

Love God with all your heart,

with all your guts, with all your sweat

and every muscle and pound you pile on (more…)

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To me something is conspicuous by its absence. What is absent from the body of Christ today is the understanding and practice of the millenial truth that Christians are in almost every sense a family, and brothers and sisters in particular.

How long has it been since another believer has called me brother? Many moons, sir and ma’am. If anyone else who knows me and is a believer calls me sir, I swear I’m going to let loose with a tacky non-christian word (more…)

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There was something troubling in Rick Warren’s prayer at President Obama’s inauguration. His choice of words for invoking God sounded eerily like something from the Koran: “And you are the compassionate and merciful One.” The Muslim wording is “In the name of Allah, the merciful and compassionate one.”

The phrase he used is also in the Bible, yet I still question the merits of his motivation. That ecumenical inaugural prayer, done for the sake of inclusiveness, subtly and unwittingly betrayed our nation’s sacred trust with the unique God of the Bible. The God of the Bible is not the God of Islam. One example of this is in seen in Indonesia. When Muslims invoke God, they say AL-lah. When Christians invoke God, they say Al-LAH. The choice of stress on the syllables places the religions worlds apart.

 Warren also prayed, “Help us, O God, to remember that we are Americans, united not by race or religion or blood, but to our comittment to freedom and justice for all.”  That’s about as clear as a new law which would suggest that Americans may arbitrarily choose the metric system over US customary, or which side of the street to drive on. Certainly we are not united by religions (plural), but we are united under God. Americans have always been free to worship as they please, but the unwelcome truth is that Americans have historically recognized the God of the Bible as the God acknowledged in the Declaration of Independence, in our national motto, in prayers offered daily in the US Supreme Court, and — until just recently — in the prayers to open sessions of Congress.

Even sadder than the prayer was its reception. Applause broke out during the prayer when Warren mentioned that Obama was the first African-American to be elected to the Presidency. That act by an overzealous audience in effect subordinated God to a man. Let me put it plainly: while talking to Almighty God, people stop to applaud a mortal man. I’m sorry, but a prayer to God should be cognizant of God’s character, not softened to men’s affections. Far from bringing unity to the masses, a prayer which nods to every religion is at best appeasement; at worst, it is schizophrenic.

Religious pluralilsm is the twin sister of multi-culturalism, and both of them are enemies to national unity. If we are willing for the government to endorse religious pluralism, as opposed to the religious freedom all Aemericans and immigrants have always enjoyed, then we must be prepared for the government to act suspiciously toward any group which makes the exclusive claim to religious truth — Christians.

If we buy into that misunderstanding — that religious pluralism is equated to religious liberty — then official religious tolerance (all religions are equal) will lead us down a road to repression of the Christian witness. Christians will be shouted down if they so much as convey insensitivity, and censured if they criticize other religions. They will be labeled first as ignorant whiners, then as intolerant bigots, then as dangerous fascists. That is, if Christians can keep their nerve!

America has always been the nation with the greatest religious freedom. Then why the push for religious tolerance? Whatever the reasons, we must be vigilant, lest something which sounds as harmless as ‘religious tolerance’ softly strips away our rights to an inviolable conscience and to a robust proclamation of the gospel of Christ.

author’s note: This essay was written in January 2009, but it mysteriously disappeared from my blog.

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I sweat when I quote poetry about my Christ

Shiny beads pop out on my skin

and I feel a flush rising from my shoulders,

flowing out my face in exhalation.

I freeze when I contemplate His Majesty

Gel into slow motion

It labors me to move

bends me,  the weightiness of His worth

moves me closer to the pavement.

It grips my gut like a vise when I feel His pleasure,

turns my center of gravity counter-clockwise

as I steady my knees, like a runner, with both hands.

Oh! but what I would give to tell the world,

to say something – one thing – that would ring

forever in their souls

even one unforgettable unrehearsed

angelicly chiropracticked

gesture heavenward.

I swallow hard to think it may never be

that I could miss the chance

to stand on a soapbox for His highest Honor

and be hidden by a passing cloud of revelation.

I’m astonished when I scream of his pierced victories

I breathe harshly, embarrassed by my  gutteral sobs

Thunder-struck by the gulf between what can be said

and all that is unutterable.

Why a cross, nails, and a circle of thorns

so conquer and occupy  my mind

is hard to say,

but God – my own dearest God –

let me try.

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On Earth Day

Children planted grass in the worn out path up a hillView Post

Where Roman soldiers carried out a sentence.

Green was the bile which spewed from the spleen

Of religious men, green with envy.

Green the hind feathers of the cock that crowed

Green wood burned in a hasty fire

Greed was green in his Betrayer’s eye

Fresh green in his crown from the thorny burnet bush

Olive – the hue of the tree, deformed into an instrument of death

Its buds drying prematurely

Snakes of  jade slithered from the garden of woes

Slime – color of lime – in their wake

Verdant were the redbud leaves

that palmed the rain which flowed from angels’ eyes

Emerald the bow around the throne

as God looked away in pain

Green was the mildew in an oxygen-deprived cave

That served as the Son of the Earth’s tomb

It was the day that Saved the Earth

Remember Earth Day. . . when everything was green.

DÍA DE LA TIERRA

En el día de la Tierra

Niños sembraron la hierba en el camino gastado sobre una colina

donde los soldados Romanos llevaron a cabo la pena de muerte

Verde era el mal genio que arrojo’ del bazo

de los religiosos, verde con la envidia

Verde las plumas traseras del gallo que cacareyó

Leña verde quemó en un fuego apresurado

Avaricia era verde en el ojo del Traidor

Verde fresco del arbusto espinoso en su corona

Olivo – el matiz del árbol, se transformó en un instrumento del muerte,

sus capullos secando prematuramente

Víboras de jade reptaron del jardín doloroso

Verdín – el color de lima – en su estela

Verdeante eran las hojas de la higuera

que palmaron la lluvia derramando de ojos de angeles

Esmeralda el arco sobre el trono

cuando Dios miró hacia otro lado en aflición

Verdoyo en la cueva que faltó de oxígeno

que servió como la tumba del Hijo de la Tierra

Era el día que salvó la Tierra

Recuérdate El Día de la Tierra . . . cuando todo era verde.

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One of the saddest things Jesus ever said was when he told his disciples that the world could not hate them. How ironic that later they made decisions and took stands which brought about their martyrdom. I wonder if I would do that.

I know I’ve been despised and disdained for something I have said or done because of Jesus and the gospel, but I’ve never been hated by anyone that I know personally. That is too bad, and is an indictment against the way I live for Christ.

The American christians I know are not hated either. (more…)

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The National Day of Prayer should be a time when we all stop and do serious business with Almighty God. It is not a time for people of different religions to try to get in the spotlight so government or anyone else can endorse their particular brand of religion or definition of God. Nor is it the government’s place to try to make everyone feel good by being inclusive on a national day of prayer. Everyone should already feel included unless we think that we don’t need God or that our nation doesn’t need prayer or that our individual lives don’ t need circumspection. We should stop trying to fit God into our agenda. He is so much bigger than that, and a symbolic nod to everyone’s “god” is not what the National Day of Prayer is all about.

When the astronauts of Apollo 13 radioed “Houston, we have a problem,” every psychologist, chiropractor, mechanic, wedding planner, and EMT did not converge on NASA offering their services. Everyone on Earth knew to whom the appeal for help was made. Same thing here. In our hearts, we know to whom we are appealing and why. Let’s be honest about the day of prayer and not turn it into another feigned attempt at multiculturalism.

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Yury Khorshunov’s story wrapped me in the arms of Mother Russia

Mrs. Khorsunov was Yury’s mother, and what she did endears me forever to her, to Nizhneudinsk, Siberia, and to the soil of Russia itself. Here’s his story: In March 1946, Mrs. Khorsunov was on her way from home after her work as a conductor on a train which regularly delivered prisoners to the Siberian wasteland. The driver of a sledge passed her with a load of dead prisoners. He told her one of the prisoners was still breathing and asked her what he should do, since it would be wrong, according to his Orthodox faith, to bury someone alive. (more…)

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Nostalgia

Nostalgia is the rarest of emotions.

The richest and choicest enclave of the soul,

the thickest and least stirred of any waters.

No one goes there willingly.

Something, someone—a friend in the guise of a foe—

takes the heart where the mind dreads to go.

Then somewhere in between you feel forced to stop

and nurse a lump in the throat,

you gulp at empty space for a full draught of an unsatisfying drink.

An invisible force sucks the breath from your chest,

and a haunting memory of a shadowy experience,

something ethereal but powerful,

grips the frontal cortex.

 It only lets go when you stand up to breathe.

It hangs like a smoke ring over your head, then withers.

Nostalgia is when the creditor takes stock of your debts,

the Clockmaker tinkers with the gears of an unfinished timepiece 

and the child within comes back for the forgotten promise.

Nostalgia is what I most dread longing for.

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DO NOT click on this link. Move mouse over the link and a small photo of John and Yoko will appear. Click play on that photo. Then sing to these lyrics

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6S5YF2-0ho

IMAGINE

Imagine there’s no heaven

 I couldn’t if I tried

No hell to be saved from

No Son of God who died

Imagine all the people

Living with no faith

Imagine there’s no

country

That hasn’t heard the news

Every race and language

All religions too

Imagine all the people

Streaming to the cross

You might say that I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

 I know that one day he will join us                                                                

and make the whole world his kingdom

Imagine no possessions

laying royalty down                                                                            

Choosing pain and hunger                                                                    

Thorns for his crown 

Imagine just one person

Saving all the world

You might say that I’m a dreamer                                                            

But I’m not the only one

I know that someday He will join us

And make the whole world His kingdom

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