Tuesday, December 10, 2013

My Apology

One of the most memorable interview moments I ever saw was that of Maria Shriver Kennedy Schwarzenegger.This time, she was not in the interviewer chair but instead on the receiving end of her good friend Oprah's questions. She was talking about her parents, specifically  her father, Sargent Shriver. She was telling about one of her most valued possessions, a crumpled piece of paper, she kept with her at all times at the insistence of her father.  In it was a love letter, not the kind you and I typically think of when we hear the words "love letter", but instead words of affirmation from her parents about her attributes, her identity,  what was good and lovable about her. She kept it with her always because, in the paraphrased words of her father, 'The world will tell you every day what you have done wrong, where your faults lie, and that you are not enough. It will beat you down and try to get you to focus on what you are not.' He wanted her to have something to redirect her attention, to keep her on a course of hopeful truth about her purpose and her true identity, a beloved child.

This week, dignitaries, heads of state and miners in Soweto alike will pause to remember the life of Nelson Mandela. Media will cover events live and streaming and inundate the waves with facts and perhaps some folklore about this storied individual. What we choose to believe and receive about his life and contribution is no doubt, slanted by our own experience, values, politics and choices. In the days since his passing I have seen many lovely tributes to this man, pictures and quotes, stories and news reel from  the pre-apartheid era. It didnt take long however, for the cynics to emerge, at first glance, respectful and objective but before long came the prickly questioning, followed by outright accusatory character assassinations. Over the years I have seen a number of pieces on this man and his life's remarkable journey and yes, these have been peppered with reports of adultery, political gain and missteps of one nature or another. 

Never once in all of that footage do I recall the term "perfect" being associated with this man. Good yes, revolutionary certainly, perfect, no. And so, when the news came last Thursday that he was no longer with us, I paused along with the rest of the world to reflect on what impact, if any his being here had on my life. I'm still processing that.

My parents arrived, coincidentally last Thursday to spend the winter with us on the Gulf Coast. Last night after working the previous 3, I woke up and walked into my living room to see my mom, Luke, and Nolin cuddling on the couch watching some made for tv movie and eating all sorts of bad things. I did the eye rolling smile and silently thanked God for this scene. I am so grateful that my kids are getting this amazing opportunity to share dinner conversation,  dish washing, a bathroom, cheesy movies and precious, precious time with their grandparents. They are being rooted and nurtured in the bosom of their family,  largely unware of the rare and resounding opportunity before them. I also like when my mom hugs me before I walk out the door and into God knows what at work. She is there when I come home too, after I'm beat up and sitting still long enough to question my mettle as a nurse after a frenzied shift. Was I enough? And she tells me I was, without ever uttering a word and hands me a cup of coffee. 

I have to believe I'm not alone in still needing this affirmation at age 44, or I'm as crazy as we have all always suspected.  The world is supposed to hurl fiery darts, I get that. However, when harsh criticism comes whizzing by my head, into my inbox, onto my fb page from the hand of fellow believers, I have to stop and scratch my head. Is this the business I'm supposed to be about? The best use of my time and energy? Its in those moments that I get it. I get why my unbelieving friends stand off, arms crossed with a look that says, "And ...exactly how is this any different from the rest of the world? THIS is what you call good news?"  Let me an offer an apology. Of course, I'm the pope, senator and executive director of exactly nothing so I cannot really speak for everyone. What I AM charged with, is defending the gospel and so I shall try. 

I pray that something, anything in my life bears witness to the fact that I know Jesus. In the timely words of Buddy the Elf, "I know him!!!" And I know what he wants me to do on this historic occasion. "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever can be admired... think on these things." Philippians 4:8. In my humble estimation, walking out of prison after being wrongfully held and abused for 27 long years and speaking forgiveness and reconciliation to my captors is pretty doggone lovely.  It also just happens to be the essence of the gospel I am charged with defending.


If you'll permit me an evangelical moment here, there is good news. Your father left you a crumpled note to keep in your wallet. He wanted you to know how very much you are loved and thought of.  "The Lord your God is with you. He is mighty enough to save you. He willtake great delight in you. The quietness of his love will calm you down. He will sing with joy because of you." Zephaniah 3:17. Talk about a love letter, that's a keeper. And thank you, Nelson Mandela for an imperfect and impactful life. One worth pausing to celebrate.