I Admit It - I'm an Addict!

Hello. My name is Michael, and I'm a harmonolic.

Although I've never used the word, I've been a harmonolic since I was a kid. I remember as a second grader I would sing a third below the melody in music class because I liked the way it sounded. I guess my music teacher didn't think so, as she gave me a B in music. Later I began singing the bass part an octave high. My dad always sang bass, often emulating the quartet basses we heard on "Jubilee" on Sunday mornings, and so I hoped after my voice changed I would become a "lowdown bass singer." Unfortunately, my voice didn't go down quite that far, so at puberty I went from alto to tenor. I'd rather hear and sing harmony than almost anything I can think of.

It goes much deeper than music, though; I deeply and earnestly long for harmony in relationships, both between individuals and between groups of people. Sometimes music has helped to bring together groups of people who had been separated by language, economics, class, or race. In the 1960's and '70's in the United States, it was music groups that brought together black teens and white teens. Music became their common ground, and it held them up, and held them together pretty well.

I still love to sing harmony, and I still long for both musical and spiritual harmony. Recently my two children were riding together, and my daughter Amanda sang me a song, which she often does. I joined her on the refrain, singing harmony to her melody. When she asked me, "Daddy, what's harmony?", I told her, "Singing harmony means singing something different from the melody, but they sound good together." The next time she sang the song, I sang my harmony part, but I heard a different line coming from behind me: my son Christopher (who claims to hate music!) was making an attempt at an additional harmony. In fact, he sounded pretty good. Fluke? Time will tell.

We're about to reach the end of a particularly strident election season - I HOPE! It's too late to hope for the national mainstream media to provide impartial and objective coverage of the campaign; that obviously would have been too much to hope for. Likewise, it's too late to hope the candidates refrain from negative campaign adds; again. The negative adds even reached our area: I heard name-calling on adds for one candidate for state attorney. Think about it: we tell our kids not to call people names, and then those of us who would "rule" the rest of us call our opponents names like Liberal, Neo-Con, Socialist, Redneck, Neo-Com, Air Bag, etc. Then we enlist the help of mass media to broadcast and print our diatribes against our opponents. We even badmouth our opponents for their negative campaign adds.

I have only two hopes left: (1) that someone will win by a sufficient margin that the opposition feels no need to contest the election; and (2) that the wounds inflicted during this election season are not too deep to heal. You see, harmony is healing, and in order for that to happen, we don't need to sing the same line, but we do need to sing the same song, and we need to listen to each other in order for our parts to sound good together. Harmony is not strident - it's beautiful. So are we, if we learn to value people who are singing a different line, or speaking a different language, or wearing a different color of skin, or voting for a different political candidate.

Don't get me wrong - voting for the person we believe is the best person for the job is a good thing; calling those who vote differently idiots is NOT a good thing. And as tempting as it sometimes is, it's NOT appropriate to call persons with whom we disagree liars.

May God have mercy on us all, and may the Spirit of Truth also bring harmony to our discordant world.

Harmonically yours,

Michael

The Eye of the Beheld...

You can't see his entire face in this picture, but perhaps you don't need to. What do you see? A brat? A cute kid? A threat? A challenge? An inconvenience? A nice photo (Why, thank you! I took it myself!)? A beautiful eye (He gets his eye color from me!)? You know what I see? I see the One. Christopher was our firstborn, the surviving twin. His twin simply disappeared early in Wendy's pregnancy. They told us it was "Vanishing Twin Syndrome." He was born at 34 weeks and 5 days, but he was only 17 inches long, weighing only 3 pounds and 10.25 ounces, the size and weight of a 28-week baby. He had a feeding tube until he was almost 2 weeks old, finally leaving the hospital at 15 days. When he repeatedly spit up the formula he received in the hospital, we said, "Could he be allergic to milk? Michael (I) was allergic to milk as an infant." The doctors said, "No, I'm sure he's not allergic to milk." After two years of Christopher screaming every night and steadfastly refusing to sleep in his own bed, we took him to an allergist. The tests showed that he was indeed allergic to milk. The adults in his life had not done their best work!

Three years ago, our son Christopher began the long journey through the school system. When Wendy and I met with all his teachers as a group, I told the entire team that Christopher will never be one of the ninety-nine; he will always be the One. But if the adults in his life do our best work with him, I said, he will leave beauty in his wake.

As it turns out, the adults in his life did not do our best work that year or the next or the next. Some saw in Chris a threat to their way of doing things. You see, Christopher is "different." Oh, I know, every parent thinks their child is special, but this one is very unusual. For starters, he has several life-threatening food allergies, which means we have to be very careful not to feed him dangerous foods, like peanuts, chicken, and peas. Unfortunately, before he even started school, a day care worker gave him peanut butter crackers, prompting one of several trips to the E.R.

His third day in kindergarten, Christopher's teacher told me, "I just don't know if this is going to work. Kindergarten is not like it used to be; I don't know if Christopher can focus well enough to learn the material." Fortunately, he did. However, although he "graduated" from kindergarten, he had no friends, due to his extreme social awkwardness. When he was in first grade, he requested permission to leave the lunch room to go to the restroom (He had no history of "faking it"). The supervisor said, "No. You'll have to wait." He asked again, saying, "I can't wait." "Well, you have to." The problem is, he really needed to go, and he couldn't wait. So this tiny, socially awkward child was forced to urinate on himself and on the floor as his classmates watched. Once again, the adults in his life had not done their best work. I know exactly what that feels like; the same thing happened to me when I was in first grade. When I took his dry clothes to him, I found him coloring in the health room. He was coloring a picture for me, and although he was sitting there in wet and stinging clothes, he would not change until he had finished my picture.

Later in the year, Christopher had to stay after school for coloring on his desk. It turned out he was frustrated because he didn't understand what he was supposed to do, and couldn't get any help. So he colored. When I tried to persuade the assistant principle that detention would not be effective in changing Christopher's behavior, she refused to consider any different form of discipline. So the One had again been treated as one of the ninety-nine, and the adults in Christopher's life had again failed to do their best work.

Christopher has made up words and sounds since he was much younger. Although he was a late talker and an "odd talker," by the time we was in first grade, he spoke very clearly. However, he was misheard in his after-school program. An adult supervisor thought he repeatedly called someone a "jackass." The truth is, he was saying one of his made-up words, one that we heard at home all the time. There was nothing insulting about it, nothing crude, nothing inappropriate. However, he was suspended from the after-school program for several days, although we still had to pay for those days. He (and we) missed the deadline to sign up for the summer program because of this suspension. Again, the adults failed to do their best work with Christopher.

At church, we have another problem: Christopher has no tolerance for music. His doctor says it's a "sensory integration" issue, most likely connected with his ADHD. Please understand: music is my first language, so for me, this is especially problematic! Going to "big church" doesn't work for Christopher, especially for a music program. However, the nursery is only for younger children. When Wendy needed child care so that she and Amanda could attend a musical program I was playing/singing in, it was refused, and my wife was insulted in the process. Yet another failure.

Observing his unusual behavior, some see Christopher as a "bad kid." Some think (correctly, I believe) that he has an extreme case of ADHD. Some have thought he was simply not very intelligent. Others have thought Wendy and I don't know how to parent him, so his and our problems are our fault. Sometimes it may be true.

Because he doesn't always behave in predictable ways, Christopher is a huge challenge to anyone who wants all kids to conform to whatever standards constitute "normal and acceptable." He frustrates anyone who wants to control him. People often don't understand Christopher. Although I love him more dearly than I do my own life, I don't always understand him. However, I don't have to completely understand him in order to love him. You see, when I look at him, I see the One. He's the One for whom I would and do leave the ninety-nine. He's the One who first embodied the commitment Wendy and I made to each other: "for better, for worse; for richer and for poorer; in sickness and in health..." He's the One in whose eyes I am sometimes "the best daddy in the world." He's the One who said about the person who caused him to be suspended from after-school care, "Maybe she has a hard time in her job. Maybe that's why she was mean."

When you look at Christopher, you may see a cute kid, a real wierdo, or a spoiled brat. Sometimes, I agree, he may appear to be any of these. But you know, I always see Christopher as the One. He's the son of my heart and the expression of my love, the object of my affection and the subject of my dreams, a source of frustration and confusion, wonder and happiness. He is a reason to pray and a reason to cry and a reason to rejoice. And though he doesn't think so, he's even a reason to sing!

Chris doesn't ever look into my eyes for very long, so I really enjoy looking into Christopher's eyes as they gaze at me in pictures. What do you see when you look very closely? I see a reflection of my love. I think God sees that when he looks at us. Let it be true!

Grace to you,

Michael

©2008 J. Michael Bryan. All rights reserved.

Why Agree When We Can Destroy Each Other Instead?

It's astounding to me that the Good News doesn't always look so good these days and grace has become conspicuous for its absence in much of the speech and writing of Christians. I absolutely believe that God really is God - that God intentionally created all forms of life, as well as the universe in which we all live. I also believe that there is a real heaven and a real hell, and that the nature of heaven consists of living in unbroken and intimate relationship with God, and living in God's unmediated presence. Further, I believe that to experience relationship with God our creator, we must go through Jesus Christ - he is the bridge between human beings and God. How? By being God and becoming a human being. Being both God and human, he will be our judge. The thing is, he doesn't want to judge; he wants to embrace us! His grace is so abundant, I can't help but be amazed. But now, the way "Christians" are talking and blogging about political issues and presuming to publish pronouncements of the guilt and motivations of people they don't even know, it appears that some are trying to take over Christ's "judgment seat" but do not temper our judgment with the grace of Christ.

I again can't help but be amazed at the intemperate judgmentalism expressed by some who claim the name "Christian". It looks to me like some of us are intent upon destroying the reputation and wrecking the confidence of any who don't see things the way we do. Instead of following the biblical exhortation to "live in harmony with each other," we seek to destroy those with whom we disagree. May God have mercy upon us all, and may we allow God's grace to displace our pride, prejudice, and malice.

©2008 J. Michael Bryan. All rights reserved.

Healing Me Softly...

Just yesterday I wrote about it, and tonight, what I wrote about came true. The evening has started out rough: my son wanted nothing to do with me - he wanted Mommy. However, Mommy had promised our daughter she would stay with her for the children's program at church. Our daughter was pretty sweet with me, and I thought maybe she would be cool with my staying with her and "Mommy" leaving with our son. I found out that was most definitely NOT the case. So we had to make the choice of which child was going to melt down. I had to physically remove my son from the situation, as he cried as though I had beaten him.

Eventually I outlasted his mood and helped him recover from the meltdown. Then we played a bit, and got him ready for bed. He read me a story, using different voices for each character. He even sang some of the dialogue. Then Mommy and Sissy got home, and we found out he had homework - and he immediately went back into meltdown mode. Eventually, I helped him get through it and sent him back to bed just a few minutes after I was supposed to be at rehearsal. By now, I had a raging headache to go with the heartburn I've had all day and the other digestive problems I've had for two days.

In this condition, I left my home and drove to the rehearsal site, only about a mile away. I walked up to the stage feeling tired, stressed, a bit sick, and achy. I listened to the other singers and found my part, sometimes with just a little help from my friends. As we sang together, the harmony did its healing work in my heart, as well as in my head. Perhaps it's more accurate to say the Spirit behind the songs worked in my heart and in my head. This combination of people: a fifty-something male guitarist, a twenty-something female singer mainly singing harmony, a college-age female lead singer, and me, an almost-fifty keyboard player and harmony singer, became the harmony St. Paul wrote about as he encouraged contentious groups of people to "live in harmony with one another."

Now, these folks are friends of mine. I would choose to be with them even if we were not singing. But the act of listening to each other and blending our parts to create something beautiful helped me experience just a touch, just a taste of heaven. The hymn writer called it "a fortaste of glory divine." I don't mind bearing whatever burdens come my way, as long as I also get to regularly experience God's healing grace. For me, harmony of the voice helps to bring harmony of the heart, and that, my friends, is a wonderful channel of grace.

Until tomorrow,

Michael


©2008 J. Michael Bryan. All rights reserved.

No, Hell has not frozen (at least not this part of it!)

Weird title, don't you think? And why would I use it? It's because I haven't posted to my "daily" blog since December of 2007. Crazy! And again, why is that? Because I try to "finish" my blog before posting it. In other words, I think I have to edit and polish everything I write, instead of publishing my reflections on life, in process.

In real life, I'm a very strong introvert. When writing, that carries over as I try to think it through before writing it, as opposed to thinking it through by writing it. Well, it's not really working out for me to work that way, because there are 'way too many things that require my decisions these days, and so I never get to polish and perfect anything. So I'm going to try writing as a part of my thinking through/decision-making process. If you'd like, you can tell me what you think; if not, you, my theoretical reader(s) can just think positive thoughts for me and pray that God shares with me enough wisdom for the day, and that I recognize it when it comes.

I like to help other people. Tell me what you need, and I'll happily try to fulfill it for you. Tell me what decision you have to make and I'll help you think and pray it through. Tell me what you need to find out and I'll jump at the chance to research your options. However, when it comes to me, I'd rather not make a lot of decisions. I'm more comfortable before the decision gets made, when all the options are still open. I like being a loyal team member; I'm very uncomfortable being a team leader or manager. The title "Boss" feels to me like a noose around my neck.

In some respects this feels like hell to me. At least, it feels like what my imagination tells me hell feels like. I must do what I cannot do. My responsibility as a "boss" conflicts with my feelings of loyalty as a friend. I'm required to confront someone about problems I can't fix when I'd prefer to listen to the other singers and sing the missing harmony part. And when I finally do get to simply sing my part, I no longer feel so hopeless.

What is hell? Theologians and philosophers have written volumes about it. One friend of mine even wrote a book with the unlikely title of Hell: the Logic of Damnation. But to me, it boils down to this: hell is a state of the absence of the knowledge and feeling of God's presence. Is God actually gone? I don't think so, but in my life, sometimes I can't feel God's presence. That, to me, is hell. So I have definitely been to hell and back many times.

What is heaven? When I'm singing my part with friends (whether we know each other or not), I again know the presence of the Creator. The Spirit moves in and out of me like my breath. This, to me, is a bit of heaven. And when I get to look at a rainbow with my kids. And when my dreaded voice mail, instead of being a complaint, ends up being from my wife, who says, "I'm sorry we had such a horrible morning. I love you." These things, simple as they are, help me to notice the presence of the God who has promised never to leave or forsake me.

Please understand: I do believe in a hereafter, including a realm in which we experience God's unmediated presence for eternity. I believe this is what most of us call "heaven." We think that's where we go when we die physically. I believe it. But I don't want to die before tasting of heaven. I want it now. If heaven involves the direct, unmediated presence of God, it seems to me that God's "mediated" presence can come through truth or beauty, creation or creativity, a word spoken or sung, and especially through the presence of someone who never turns away, no matter how unacceptable I feel.

So sometimes I feel like I'm in hell. Like a lost child who wants to go home, I want to be in heaven - in the presence of Mommy and Daddy - but I can't get there. I need someone to bring heaven to me, so that I can then take it to someone else. I'm not up to that task. But together, I think we can do it. Our world desperately needs to experience heaven, so that we can recognize hell for what it is - and avoid it like the plague.

Much love to you, dear reader(s). Please come back soon - and I will too. If I don't, please remind me!

Michael


©2008 J. Michael Bryan. All rights reserved.

Seems to me...

I remember hearing (and playing) the Joe Walsh song during the summer of 1978. The chorus started out with "Seems to me you don't want to talk about it; seems to me you just turn... and walk away." My memory doesn't tell me what "it" was, but there's an awful lot that most of us don't want to talk about, at least with the people we need to talk to. Unfortunately, we tend to talk about it with other people instead. Here's what I mean:

[Disclaimer: This is a completely hypothetical situation, not intended to directly represent any person(s) in particular.]

Joe: I have no idea how Roxanne got that job anyway. Everyone knows she can't lead her way out of a wet paper bag.

Edwina: What do you mean, Joe?

Joe: Well, in order for someone to be a leader, other people would have to follow them, and no one follows Roxanne! Besides, it takes a certain amount of intelligence to lead a group such as ours, and she clearly has none. After all, have you ever even heard her defend herself against these charges of incompetence? She hasn't done so because she doesn't know how!

Edwina: On the other hand, maybe Roxanne hasn't defended herself because she hopes people will be able to see that the charges are unfounded, and she doesn't want to attack those who attacked her.

Joe: Oh, I see you're on her side! Well, it's nice to finally know where I actually stand with you.

Edwina: Have you discussed your concerns with Roxanne?

Joe: Of course not! It would be a waste of time.

In this hypothetical scenario, Joe strongly criticizes Roxanne to Edwina, but has not spoken with Roxanne about his concerns. Instead of seeking to work with Roxanne to help her improve her leadership skills, he is trying to build a coalition against Roxanne. Perhaps he wants what's best, but he's not willing to talk with Roxanne. Perhaps Joe is afraid she will argue him down; perhaps he's threatened by her success or worried that he will be exposed as a back-biter. Perhaps he thinks his own position is not secure, and he believes if he can discredit Roxanne, then his own position will be more secure. Regardless, he's unlikely to accomplish much in the way of supporting his organization by this type of conversation. He would stand a much better chance of reforming the organization by earning Roxanne's trust and then helping her in her areas of weakness. In other words, instead of trying to recruit Edwina to his team, fighting against Roxanne and her team, Joe could say to Roxanne, "I can tell you need help; how can I help you accomplish your goals for this quarter?" After working with Roxanne for a while, Joe might find himself in the position of trusted advisor to Roxanne. Joe's leadership could turn into leadership by influence instead of leadership by criticism. It could all start with Joe talking with Roxanne instead of about her. What will he do?

If it were you, what would you do?

More to come.


©2008 J. Michael Bryan. All rights reserved.

Where's the Beef?

I suppose I'm dating myself (pretty desperate, don't you think?), but I actually remember where that quote comes from. If you remember too, and choose to email me about it, I'll give you a gift certificate to the establishment that gave birth to the quote, provided you're among the first five correct answers. Of course, that has nothing to do with the topic of this post.

Last week, I took some prepared food to the Panama City Rescue Mission. When I got out of my car, a man asked me to give him some meat before taking it inside the mission. "Why?", I asked.

"Because we'll never see any of that meat."

"What do you mean, you'll never see any of that meat?"

"By the time we homeless guys go through the line, the meat will be gone."

He told me that the people in the drug treatment and other programs at the Rescue Mission go through the food line first, and eat up all the meat. I told him I couldn't break into the pans, but he helped me take them inside anyway. I trust he got to eat some of it, since it was unexpected food. I have much respect for those who run the Rescue Mission, and I'm very glad the man didn't tell me the employees of the mission eat all the meat (Someone recently told me that about a mission in a different city).

I don't know whether his claim was true, but I do know it's quite plausible. For most non-vegetarians, meat is the most expensive part of our diets. The same is probably true at the Mission. Whether the food is donated or the mission buys it, chances are that the meat costs more than the rest. Because we're such a carnivorous society, we tend to think of our meals as being a "main course" which is virtually always a meat dish, and other "side dishes." It's likely that whoever goes through the line would make sure they get a main course, even if they don't eat the veggies and other sides. So toward the end of the line, it's very plausible to me that the meat supply would run low. If the "homeless off the streets" are in the back of the line, they might not get any meat. In case you're a local, please understand this: I HAVE NOT INVESTIGATED THE CLAIM THAT THE MISSION RUNS OUT OF MEAT. While it could be true, experience tells me it's at least as likely NOT to be true.

I may not be able to reliably verify the claim, but the morning after this experience, I made a commitment to be a vegetarian until my birthday (Christmas Eve). Any money I save by NOT eating meat I will either (1) give to someone for the purpose of purchasing meat for "people off the street"; or (2) use to buy ready-to-eat non-perishable meat products for the hungry people who come my way. Perhaps you'd like to join me. If so, I invite you to either give money directly to your local rescue mission or Salvation Army outpost for that purpose, or simply buy non-perishable ready-to-eat meat products that do not require a can opener, and either take them to an agency such as a local church (Hungry people come to most local churches every day seeking help) or keep them yourself. When you see someone with a "Hungry - need food" or "will work for food" sign, give them some food on the spot.

Another idea: This one came from an experience at a McDonalds in downtown Panama City. On my way in, I struck up a conversation with a man outside the restaurant. After we had talked a few minutes, he told me he was hungry and asked if I would buy him a meal. I bought two meals, than sat down with him and shared food and conversation for the next 20 minutes. I don't know which one of us gave more, but both of us received gifts from and with each other that day.

Another time, I had met my dad in a parking lot. We were talking when a young man walked up and asked if we would give him at least enough money to get food for his traveling companion, whom I took to be his wife. Instead of giving money (I had none with me), I reached in my car and pulled out the brown bag lunch my mother had sent.

I have missed many opportunities, but I'm missing fewer than I used to. The reason is that I've become convinced that God created us to help each other, and nowhere is God's presence more obvious to me than when one reaches out for help and another reaches out to help. Therefore, I try to help everyone I can. In this as in many situations, I try to do what I can, and not worry about what I can't do.

If you decide to give "meat money" to the hungry this season, please email me. I'd love to keep up with how many meals and/or dollars are given away because of this simple challenge. Until next time, keep on giving!


©2007 J. Michael Bryan. All rights reserved.