The Great American Cancer

There is very little in our polarized society that most of us can agree on. One exception to that is cancer. I don’t know anyone who is in favor of cancer. My extended family is definitely on opposite sides of the political divide, but we have all come together multiple times in common grief as people in four generations of our family have died from glioblastoma brain cancer.

Our saga began with my 86 year-old grandmother, then my mother at age 70, then a second cousin in his early 30’s, and what we hope is the last was that cousin’s 9 year-old daughter. The little girl’s memorial service was so large (over 300 people) they had to hold it in a big building at the county fairgrounds.

And I know our story is not unique; it’s just the one I’ve lived through most intimately. It’s a tragic story for anyone who travels that road. That brain cancer is still very deadly, but the good news is that medical science has made great strides in treating many other kinds of cancer.

What we haven’t found is a cure for is the cancer of racism that has threatened our American democracy from it’s very inception. As we near the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence it seems like a good time to reflect on that part of our story many would like to erase from our history books and our consciousness. But as with physical cancer, the longer we deny the malignancy is present the more deadly it becomes.

Contrary to the sanitized version of out history that the current administration is promoting, the fact is that 41 of the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence actually owned other human beings. That’s 73% of those who signed this document proclaiming that “all men are created equal” and said “For the support of this Declaration… we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor” did so while enslaving other human beings! And that practice had been going on in this country at that point for 157 years, and it took almost 90 more years and 600,000 lives lost in a Civil War before those black persons were emancipated. Do the math – people were enslaved in this country from 1619 to 1863, or nearly 250 years. We cannot celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday without acknowledging those two and a half centuries as well.

To be fair to the signers of the Declaration some of them repented and freed their enslaved persons later, but that token number pales in comparison to the total numbers of those in captivity. According to the 1860 U.S. Census, there were exactly 3,953,760 enslaved people in the United States, about 12.6% of the total U.S. population.

But according to the simple history I was taught in my public schools that problem was all rectified by the Emancipation Proclamation, Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court House, and the passage of the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments to the Constitution. End of story. My history text books omitted any reference to Andrew Johnson’s destruction of Lincoln’s plans for Reconstruction, Jim Crow, thousands of lynchings, and destructions of black communities all over the country. I am pretty well read, and I didn’t know anything about the infamous destruction of Tulsa’s wealthy Black Wall Street community until we commemorated its 100th anniversary in 2021.

I review all that uncomfortable truth because there has been the temptation throughout our history to think the cancer of racism has been cured or put into remission only to have it metastasize and erupt in new and worse forms later. In my generation we fell into that trap at least twice. In the 1960’s more blood was shed in Selma, Birmingham, Memphis, and Mississippi, along with other cities across the country, but the Civil Rights Act, Voting Rights Act, Brown vs. Board, and other victories for justice seemed to justify the terrible sacrifices made.

But then came the backlash in Nixon’s Southern Strategy, Ronald Regan, and the conversion of the Party of Lincoln to the very things the Republican Party was organized to oppose in 1860. And then the pendulum swung again and Barack Obama was elected as the first Black President of the United States. The once impossible became reality, and we dared hope that the malignancy of racism might be excised from the American culture for good.

Again, we were wrong. The cancer went back into remission for 8 years. It was not gone, but merely dormant until its smoldering embers were fanned into a roaring blaze by the son of a racist New York slumlord. When Donald Trump came down the escalator in Trump Tower in 2015 he announced a campaign for President that appealed to the most basic fears and insecurities of white Americans who are threatened by a multicultural and diverse racial society. For 8 years of the Obama administration the fear and anger among whites who felt their privileged status threatened by any thought of equality with other races festered and metastasized into a resurgence of the systemic racism present in our history for 400 years.

What Trump and his oligarch buddies have done to our democracy in the last 10 years is almost beyond comprehension. We are living in a bad combination of 1984 and Project 2025. The billionaires are running and ruining our country just like the Southern Plantation Owners of the 19th Century and the Robber Barons of the 20th. One of those eras ended in Civil War and the other in the Great Depression. It remains to be seen how deadly this outbreak of American Racism will be, but we stand a much better chance of surviving this one if we celebrate our true history and not just the parts that make us white folks look good.

Pastoral Prayer, July 13, 2025

Great and gracious God, as we worship today we all come with personal cares and burdens.  And on top of those we have been shaken by images we can’t unsee from the horrendous floods in Texas.   The innocent children killed trouble our hearts the most, but we also pray for all the others who have lost loved ones, homes, businesses, and livelihoods. 

In times like these we can’t help but ask the question people have been struggling with since the days of Job – where are you, Lord, when walls of water sweep little girls away?  Why do you let things like this happen? Why do you let cancer, war, and human cruelty destroy innocent lives?  If you are all-powerful and all-loving, why is there so much pain and suffering in our world?

As much as we wish you were a helicopter parent who would sweep in and protect us from anything terrible happening, we know that is not who you are, God.  You are a heavenly parent who has given us the freedom to make choices.  When we mess things up with selfish or short-sighted decisions, we would often like to give that freedom back to you. 

But like earthly parents you know there is a time when children must be set free to make their own choices.  Hindsight is always 20/20, but no amount of blaming, no law suits can undo the consequences of our mistakes.  We can only learn from them and try to do better in the future. 

So we humbly ask, Merciful God, that you would forgive us where we have misused our freedom to choose.  Help us accept things we cannot change, and in our experiences empower us to be your presence through prayer and acts of service for those who are hurting next door, and in Texas, and around the world.

When we wonder where you are in the midst of tragedy, Lord,  remind us that you are always there in the form of helpers who comfort those who mourn, weeping with those who sob uncontrollably, in the form of first responders and volunteers tirelessly searching for the lost and missing. 

Thank you for being with us in every time of need, for being, as the Psalmist says, “close to the brokenhearted and saving those who are crushed in spirit.”  For all your mercies we offer our thanks, and especially for Jesus, who lived your presence as one of us, teaching us how to live, how to love, and how to pray.  Our Father ….

Northwest United Methodist Church, Columbus, Ohio, July 13, 2025

Where Oh Where is God?

As I have been shaken by the Texas flood tragedy this week my mind has wandered back to all the times I was responsible for a group of young people at camp or on mission trips. I keep wondering if I would have had the courage, composure, and strength to help save those children and youth entrusted to me by their parents if I awoke in a horror movie of rushing flood water filling our cabin?

I hear people asking as I do where is God in tragedies like this? Why did God let this happen? Why does God let cancer, war, and gun violence destroy innocent lives? Of course, I really don’t know any definitive answers to those age-old questions scholars categorize as theodicy, i.e. how do we explain how an all-powerful, loving God allows evil and suffering to exist in the world.

My answer for this week is that God is not a helicopter parent who swoops in to protect and prevent anything bad from happening to us, God’s children. There comes a point in every parent’s life where you have to let your children make their own mistakes and suffer the consequences. No amount of advice or warning or sharing our own past failures will stop a grown child from blazing their own path.

God has gifted us mortals with free will. Oh how many times I have wished I could return that gift which has allowed me to screw up so many times by pursuing my own pleasure, desires, and goals instead of a higher path.

I’m sure there were many times God wished people would not house innocent young girls in cabins on a flood plain. I’m sure God would have wanted and may have urged people in positions of authority to better prepare for floods like those on the Guadalupe River last week. I’m sure God shook her head in dismay when arguments prevailed that sirens and warning systems were too expensive.

I heard on the news tonight that some people who regularly camped in RV’s along the Guadalupe ignored warnings of potential flooding last week saying, “It floods here all the time.” Basing present precautions on past experience can be dangerous. We don’t live in pre-climate change times, and those of us who trust science know that we are living in a new normal where extreme weather events are more frequent and much more severe.

There will be finger pointing and blaming and many law suits filed because of this tragedy. None of those things will bring back any of the victims or ease the trauma of the survivors. The only redeeming quality of this disaster is that our free will enables us to learn from our past experiences. We can ask what would have helped make this tragedy less horrific? What needs to be in place to prevent or limit future flooding occurrences and to improve rescue and recovery operations?

Where is God in all this? Not zooming in like a master puppeteer to prevent the consequences of poor free will choices; not picking and choosing who will survive and who will not. No, God is there comforting those who mourn, weeping with those who sob uncontrollably, and giving strength to the brave first responders and volunteers who are doing the horrible/wonderful work of searching for those who are still missing.

God is there offering hope to the hopeless, absorbing the hate and pain of the angry, and sitting peacefully and patiently with those for whom there simply are no words – at least not yet.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

Life as Improv

drama masks
As a retired pastor I have often joked that I cannot find the concept of retirement anywhere in the Bible, but not being employed by a church during busy and important seasons like Holy Week reminds me of both the benefits and challenges of being “retired.” It is certainly nice to be more relaxed and not put in an extra-long work week with preparation for 3 or 4 worship services on top of dealing with routine responsibilities and any pastoral emergencies. It’s great to have more time for personal and family activities that pastors sacrifice even more than usual during the busiest times of the church year.

On the flip side retirement often lends itself to a feeling of being less relevant and important, maybe like being the maid of honor or mother of the bride, though I confess I’ve never been in either of those roles. And speaking of roles, I was reminded today of Shakespeare’s line from “As You Like It”: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts…” Some days retirement for me feels like I am still on stage but I no longer have a script. Some days I have trouble remembering which act or scene I’m in or even what play. I miss cues and interactions with other actresses and actors who are no longer in the cast.

When I was a child I had a blind trust in my parents and others in authority to direct my life and give me wise counsel. I made my way through much of my education playing the part quite well of one who learned my lines and fed them back to teachers on exams. With age comes an increasing realization that life is more improv than memorizing lines or taking direction. Many of my mentors have made their final exit from this stage of life, and the need to write my own script and take responsibility for the meaning and purpose of my life without a boss or other authority figure directing my play is both intimidating and liberating.

Sometimes we fall into the trap of thinking of God as the great director or playwright of our lives. It sounds comforting to think God has predetermined our fate and knows the outcome of our lives. But then we realize the terrible cost we pay for that escape from freedom and responsibility. If we surrender our free will to a notion of such a controlling God or any false gods we become more like puppets than actors and lose the very essence of our humanity.

Life as improv means cutting the puppeteer’s strings that bind and control us, being open to new challenges as adventures to be embraced instead of wasting our time looking for a script to tell us what we should be doing at any given stage of life. We humans don’t come with an owner’s manual. Lots of people try to usurp the role of producing and directing our lives for us, but ultimately the stage lights go up again every day and we get to improvise.

Unfortunately religion is often used as a tool to stifle creativity and freedom. Yes, we need guidance and direction from a higher power, but we do not need a micro-manager for a God. The Judeo-Christian Scriptures can be viewed as a guide book or a rule book, but in reality they are really a collection of scripts from the lives of those who have gone before us in the faith journey. We can learn from the lives of the heroines and heroes of faith in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures (and also from the villains who show us what not to do). But their lives and contexts are not the same as ours. We have to write our own scripts that account for the unique circumstances of the scenes we are called to perform in the 21st century. That does not mean we start from scratch. The basic guidelines for living a faithful life of integrity don’t change. Very few of us can memorize a long script or recite multiple chapters and verses from the Bible. But the essence of God’s direction for our lives is neatly summarized in key verses. Among the favorites that I fall back on when I can’t remember my part or all my lines are these:

“He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:8

“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” Matthew 7:12

“Which commandment is the first of all?” 29 Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; 30 you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ 31 The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:28-31

Those words do not dictate stage directions for what I should do in a particular situation, but they describe the quality of the character we are all called upon to play no matter what our role is. The roles change from time to time as Shakespeare tells us, but how we are to play our parts is very clear. God as director says, “Love me and love your neighbor.” The details and nuances of how we do that is where we get to improvise.