At the end of 2010 I was inspired by a blog post by the beautiful Liz Eischen entitled 11 for 11. It was her resolution-like declaration for what she wanted 2011 to look like. I liked it so much that I copied it and I’m copying it again but a little differently this year. Starting today, I will post the first of 12 daily posts called “12 for 12.” Again, acknowledgements to Liz.

Consistent with the parsed out nature of this posting strand, I’m going to try to post more in 2012. Trust that it is not out of a need to be prolific, by any means; rather, it is an acknowledgement that there is simply a lot that I do not post. It’s not for a lack of writing either. I write a lot of posts, among other things,  but for various reasons that include not wanting to offend, wanting to avoid every possible perception of self-importance, or just being doubtful about what I’ve written, I don’t put them up.

A quick look has me counting no less than 17 unpublished posts in the last several months, they include stories about meeting Magic Johnson, follow-ups to the post about my dad meeting Jesus at an AA meeting, a post on pastoral narcissism, a couple of book reviews among others; all good stuff, I think.

In the last couple of weeks I’ve badly wanted to comment on the uprising and subsequent abuse of women in Egypt and further wanted to do my part to spread the story of the uprising’s unintentional hero, The Blue Bra Girl. But my comments on things have been so limited over the last year that I just didn’t feel practiced enough to wade in.

The New Not a Pastors Travel Blog Category

My wife warns me that only pastors will get this next section.  Maybe, maybe not; it’s part of the story.

In a moment of blogosphere nakedness I’m going to tell the truth of what has me scrapping a lot of those posts: So many of them have to do with experiences gained and/or things observed while traveling. It may be nothing short of ugly pride itself but I’ve done all that I can – unproductively so – to avoid making Life at the Turn come off like a Pastor’s Travel Blog.

I realize this begs for some explanation: A lot of ministry professionals are really funny about travel. For some reason, different from other professional circles where travel might be required and it’s just part of life and no big deal, it seems to be a big deal for pastors. I think that there’s a lot that informs this. Part of it is that denominational circles can sometimes socially be a lot like big overgrown high school classes that have occasional reunions with accompanying behavior. Another may be that we’re talking about a generally underpaid breed, so importance as affirmed by money is not a reality and other currencies of validation are necessary. If you’re traveling and you’re in an altruistic field ala the ministry, then you’re needed somewhere. That becomes a story to tell and that is ultimately, I think, what drives what I call The Pastor’s Travel Blog. Make no mistake, the blog exists outside of travel, it just lights up, along with its accessories, when one is on the move. You’ll see posts about this airport and that place, often with complaint, and the burden of travel as though they wish they didn’t have to do it but surrender their time and presence willingly and so on.

That all sounds pretty brutal, I know, and I hold out the possibility that my perceptions could be embarrassingly off and, honestly, just don’t want to come off wrong myself. That said,  I bring a little to this personally in that I made a promise to God in 2005. I was stepping onto a flight to Houston; the beginning of a journey that would land us in Katrina-torn East Biloxi. It was a week after a sudden, drastic and delightful career change. I knew that as I walked through the door of the aircraft that I was walking through the portal to the rest of my life, doing what I was specifically designed to do and that it would, like it or not, include more takeoffs and landings than I could count. That trip through Houston was one that I would round more than 50 times over the next 30 months.  The promise: I would never ever complain about the travel as a burden or glorify it in inappropriate self-important fashion. I’ve observed both and, in fact, both as the latter, which for me, makes the pastors travel blog and its accessory complaints and comments portals for self-important chatter. And, to be clear, I can go there as quickly as anyone can! I use the term somewhat generically too as it really has to do with ministry circles in general including the para-church and NGO world. Just search the Twitter-sphere for those who have defined their locations as “An airport somewhere,” and listen for language that makes being home with one’s family sound like an anomaly like, “I don’t get back on a plane for another two weeks…” And then, please just shoot me if you ever hear me say it.

So there it is, I said it and, right or wrong, and all meant with a good bit of humor; it is, in part, why a lot of my posts hit the scrap bin. I’m gong to try to change that this year with the clear understanding stated that I’m home much more than I’m gone, and only go when I should.  As well, to say, I do like the going; it is really a privilege and the coming home is awesome!  Mrs. Mercer likes the coming home too!

So, my resolution in this regard, to share more and more often and dispatch a handful of fears along the way.

Happy New Year All…I’ll be interspersing 12 for 12 in over the next few days.

I’m really thankful for Facebook. It has truly added to my life; there’s no question about it. I’ve been able to dig up old friendships that would have otherwise slipped further into the past; I keep up with everyone in a manner that I would otherwise not be able; and, I’m able to use it to tell a bit of the story of what we’re doing both in our family life and with Compassion First. All in all, it is fun and it is amazing how it has become such an integrated part of my life and the lives of most of the people around me.

I just read a good post by Suzie Genin. You can read it here.  She asks good questions about what is good and not so good to post on Facebook and takes a quick trip in to the conversation of motive – How and why are you using Facebook the way you are.

She tapped a bit of a full barrel for me on this one because I’ve realized that I’ve not been fully engaged with social media in the last year, whether it be Facebook, Twitter or just writing in this blog – not to suggest that myself or anyone else needs to be fully engaged. 

It is amazing – the things that end up on Facebook. What I use for fun interaction with friends and an occasional portal of promotion for Compassion First, some others use entirely differently. Some use it for marketing (I’m okay with that; in fact, I appreciate it). Some use it to air their grievances with others; this bums me. And then there are those who have simply found the ultimate cat-nip for their narcissism; this is just annoying, especially in ministry circles.

And then there’s the really unfortunate stuff. Over the last years, I’ve seen the benign pages of Facebook blatantly riddled with libel and near-libel (stuff that is written not as a complete untruth but intended to draw an untrue conclusion). Where some big bombs have been thrown I’ve watched more mature parties simply restrain themselves and endure the scorn of others without reply. Given the public nature of social media and the potential number of eyes that are watching, those that are of a mind and heart to fight their fights in such a public way will tend to either go away or go deeper. The latter is too often the case. Ultimately, I think that it reflects back to the essence of narcissism previously stated which is truly unfortunate.

Facebook has done some interesting things to the culture. To say so is not to say that those interesting things are bad or good – as with ‘most anything, it is how something is accessed and utilized that makes that determination. Ultimately, where negative things are concerned, I think Facebook has created a false sense of security and bravery. Folks can throw bombs out there from their safe places with a sense that it is surgical and that there won’t be collateral damage. They’ll be mostly ignored with the exception of a few that will agree which the bomb-thrower will interpret as affirmation and reload. All-in-all, I think it contributes to a false reality and a perception of self that is wholly inaccurate. For those that have chosen to behave this way whether in the name of cause, circumstance or personal experience, I hope for better. I truly hope and pray for peace in their lives.

I worry a little bit about the upcoming political season. Facebook is in a fuller place of maturity in our culture than it was even four years ago. In 2008 the Obama campaign had the corner on Twitter and text communications; it was a key component in their unbelievably well put together organization and strategy. They learned quickly that they could get a crowd anywhere with a simple tweet. Someone close to the fire four years ago suggested to me that this had everyone outside the Obama camp scratching their heads.

Well, it’s four years later and nobody has the corner on new media and no one will be surprised by it. Every candidate, every campaign, every PAC, everyone will be producing a feed which will get re-fed. Already my storyline is getting cluttered from predictable sources that have a lot to say but little to talk about. I’m pretty deconstructed these days where it comes to political affiliation so I’m going to need a little more than that which can be themed your dumb if you’re not conservative or you’re dumb if you still are (You can insert the word liberal in the previous sentence if you prefer). While I’m hopeful to read heightened and thoughtful postings, I’m preparing for something less and already figuring that there are a few that I’ll be blocking from my feed (Yes, you’ve already self-identified).

And for the rest, as it pertains to your life, your loves, your stories, please keep posting. In our house, we love hearing about how you’re doing, what you’re doing, who you are with and where you are.  We love reading your blogs. We love seeing your pictures. We love you.

It is fair to say that my dad found God in a church. It was a little place that we would visit on occasions like Christmas and Easter.  We had a few good effort appearances in between too — one that included an initial sprinkle baptism experience that I remember participating in without particular consent. As churches go, I liked it. I remember that the pastor wore a robe and had a gentle smile. The people were interesting if not odd and the place felt a little sterile. On occasion, the pastor’s son, a John Denver wannabe, would come to sing a song or two.

By and large, I have very warm memories of the place. While bearing only scant reflection on my current world view, faith disposition and theology, it was a formative for me. More than anything, it is a landmark to a change in the course of my family history which has me thanking God for it every time I drive by the building that looks like an upside-down margarita glass, even now thirty-plus years later.

My dad did not find God in the sterile sanctuary, the John Denver music or the words of the robe-clad pastor. Rather, he found him in a back room on Monday nights — a room that was so full of smoke you had to duck after you walked in just to see who was seated around the tables.  It was at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting that he surrendered his life. A place where he found a very necessary brand of unconditional love, acceptance, forgiveness, personal value, fellowship, accountability, bad coffee and, eventually, peace and purpose. And the short story about his faith journey is that it was the keyhole that brought him to an eventual faith in Christ.

I was sitting around with a bunch of pastors and non-profit leaders at a conference yesterday. We were talking about how great it is when people come to faith outside of our feeble constructs. In short, we were acknowledging that the Holy Spirit had gotten ahold of all of our hearts and asking the genuine question about why we don’t truly trust Him in the reaching of others. Instead, we try to pull them through our strainers and reconstruct them on the way to their personal altar.

Summarizing it is difficult because it as a big conversation but the nut of it is that our conversation lent to me telling my dad’s story. The idea that someone would find Jesus in an AA meeting was leaned up against a spectrum of ideas like someone surrendering to God as a result of good therapy or a Muslim coming to faith in Christ while maintaining their Islamic identity and thoughts on Genesis, Job and Romans 1 natural revelation that leave plenty of room for God to be huge in the manner that He reaches into the soul of man and identifies with him. Again, it was a big conversation. In fact, the sum of the conversation: God is just that big.

While everyone was generally affirming the conversation — keep in mind that none of us fall far from the tree of conservative evangelicalism — it was my friend that stood up with a parting shot in dissent that sincerely indicated that he missed the point completely and otherwise motivated this and my next couple of blogs.  He said, “Well, that’s a nice story but the reason why AA, counseling and so many other things don’t work: Because there’s no power in them.” He went on to further say, “That’s why you have people going to AA meetings for the rest of their lives.”

I have to be honest with myself and say, that while I would never have agreed with my friend in my soul, there was probably a day that I would have felt an obligation to agree with his sentiment.  He was regurgitating evangelical rhetoric and, no doubt, believed it.

My dad’s story is actually full of power and kissed by so many other beautiful attributes of a powerful God. It was love for his family that path-ed him to that first meeting, undoubtedly with bourbon on his breath. Heaven will show us where the Holy Spirit inserted his finger and brought action to that love and where faithful God heard the weak prayers of a man tired of carrying the curse of several generations.

And as for power and the ongoing work of the Almighty who demonstrates in Scripture that He’s not beneath using an ass to do his work or any other mechanism for that matter; it is in no way absent from this story.  My dad, with the help of God, broke that curse. We don’t live under it anymore.

Some have said that they’ve all but kicked God out of AA meetings these days — that identifying Him as your higher power might be discouraged in the current culture of the movement.  I’m not close enough to the fire to know one way or the other.  Perhaps they have. Even if that is the case, I have a hunch that He still shows up.