Mr. Brown

It’s his hat that I remember most.  I don’t think I ever saw him without it.  You know the kind: navy blue truckers hat... the kind with the foam front half and plastic mesh back half with the little plastic snap band for sizing.  U.S. Navy was emblazoned in gold on the front and that stuff that looks like scrambled eggs was on the brim.  He always wore it perched on his gunmetal grey hair, everywhere he went.  He dressed well too, always with a polo shirt and slacks.  He’d be walking down the street and there was no doubt it was Mr. Brown when you saw him.

His smile.  I remember that too.  He always had the biggest smile and friendliest laugh of anyone I’ve ever met.  Always a joke.  Always an encouragement.  Always brightening your day.

Mr. Brown was an elderly black gentleman who I met when I was 17 and working at the restaurant.  I never knew his first name, he always introduced himself with a smile and said, “I’m Mr. Brown, what’s your name?”  He’d come in and say, “Hello,” to everyone in the dining room and every staff member.  He had a way of talking to you that made you feel like you really mattered.  He’d remember your name (and everyone else’s) and ask you how your dad was doing, how you did on your final, or some other tidbit about your life that he had tucked away during your last conversation.  He was a presence when he came into a room.  You couldn’t miss him.  He was the most amiable man I have ever known.

I only saw him angry once.  One of the counter girls had been treated poorly by her boyfriend shortly before and she had been crying.  Mr. Brown put his arm on her and told her that she was beautiful and that she was too valuable to waste her time with someone who couldn’t appreciate that. I believe that her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend would have been really sorry if he been there, at that moment.  Mr. Brown soon had her sniffing away the tears and laughing along with him.

Mr. Brown was generous with his time.  He helped me do my taxes for the first time.  I think he did the same thing for almost every young kid there.  He helped my friend work on his car and helped me fix my bike once.  He always seemed to be helping someone with something.

We walked together from the restaurant to my house to do my taxes.  It was normally a 20 minute walk, but it was five times that with Mr. Brown.  Along the way, he stopped at almost every shop and business to say, “Hello,” to people he knew there.  He took time with every single one of them to flash his smile and to listen to their story.  And, he introduced me to every single one of them as if I was his closest friend in the world. 

Mr. Brown impressed me so much, that I vowed that someday, I’d be like him.  I want to live in a community of people and be known by everyone.  I want to be able to encourage people and help them out.  I want to lift up those whose spirits are down, and be the kind of guy who can make a young girl smile through her tears and be just a bit scary to her loser boyfriend who hurt her.  I want to help some dumb kid with his taxes and maybe pass along a few life lessons along the way.

That’s who I’d like to be.  Just like Mr. Brown.

For years, I’d see Mr. Brown and his Navy hat walking around the streets of this neighborhood.  I moved to a different part of the city for a few years, and I haven’t seen him since I’ve moved back.  He’s probably passed on by now.  It may not be theologically accurate, but I like to picture Mr. Brown strolling the streets of heaven, wearing his Navy hat, stopping and talking to every single person there, remembering their name, and listening to their story.

He may be gone, but Mr. Brown lives on in my memory, and in my desire to be just like him.

Really a Hero

One of the high school girls that I work with was assigned to write a paper about a hero. She chose to write her essay on Tiger Woods. I barely suppressed my gag reflex as I asked her why she chose him. She said that he had done great things. “What, other than play golf,” I asked. She said, “Well, he gives money to help kids go to college.” Evidently that makes him a hero. I asked her what other kids in her class were doing theirs on. The top three on the list were all entertainers.

This is not my definition of a hero.

To be a hero requires sacrifice.

If a billionaire gives a million dollars to charity, then he isn’t a hero. Effectively that is no different from me giving fifty dollars to charity (based on last year’s salary calculations). Mark 12:41-44 tells of Jesus watching people give an offering. The poorest of the poor gives a large percentage of what little she had. The rich gave a small percentage of their wealth. She is a lot closer to a hero than they were.

I am not denigrating Tiger’s generosity by any means, I merely point out that he doesn’t rise to the status of hero by doing it.

Entertainers aren’t heroes either. Rarely are they even worth emulating in any way. They don’t sacrifice for others. Generally, any sacrifice that they do is only to further their own career or boost their public image.

Tiger Woods is not a hero. He is just an exceptionally good golfer who happens to give a little back. Charles Barkley had it right when he said, “I’m no role model.” He isn’t. Athletes, Movie Stars, politicians and other ‘stars’ aren’t role models and they aren’t heroes. Narcissism, Adultery, Abuse, Self-aggrandizement, Drug Use, Drunkenness, Obnoxious Behavior, and other such bad behavior is not worthy of the word hero.

I would define a hero as someone who sacrifices for others. A firefighter who risks his life to run into a burning building to save children. That’s a hero. A soldier who jumps on a grenade to save his comrades. That’s a hero. A police officer who takes a bullet in the line of duty, protecting us. That’s a hero.

There are other heroes in my book. Teachers who spend their lives making low pay because they have a passion for teaching children. Those are heroes. Youth ministers who invest their lives in kids. Those are heroes. Aid workers who spend their years digging wells to provide clean water in Africa. Those are heroes. Doctors and Nurses who give up their vacations to treat medical diseases in South America. Those are heroes. Missionaries who rescue pre-teen girls from sex slavery and give them a future. Those are heroes. Volunteers who go to hospice to hold the hands of an AIDs patient as they die. Those are heroes.

We need to redefine our concept of hero and I can only hope that the teacher who originally gave this assignment will spend some time discussing what makes a hero.

A suggestion for Tiger - My friend, perhaps instead of spending all that time on the golf course or in the bedrooms of a bunch of young ladies who aren't your wife, you might take your family and spend some time serving the homeless at a local shelter. Just an idea. And, Tiger, if you want some more suggestions or help in this matter, give me a call. I'll buy you lunch and we'll come up with some ways to do some real hero work. I'd feel better about the hero thing then.

I Need a Hero

One of my earliest memories as a child was watching my father face death.

When I was about five years old, we lived across the street from an apartment building that was somewhat disreputable. One day, we heard a loud confrontation going on out in the street. The landlord who owned the building was arguing with a tenant who owed back rent. While we watched, the tenant reached in the back of his pickup truck and pulled out a wooden tomato stake and hit the landlord in the head, knocking him to the ground where he lay crumpled. My father (who was a former ambulance attendant) instructed my mom to call the police and then he went out front.

While we watched fearfully from the upstairs window, my father walked up to the angry tenant who was still yelling and waiving the stick at the unconscious and possibly dead landlord on the ground. As my father approached, the man turned the stick towards him and demanded to know if he, “wants some too.” Dad told the angry man that he was just there to check on the injured man and then he turned his back to the tenant and began checking on the landlord.
With that, sirens began in the distant and the tenant jumped in his truck and roared off down the street out of sight. We found out later that he was captured at gunpoint a few blocks away as he drove right into the oncoming police.

A few years ago, there was a woman brutally beaten and then raped in South Mountain park, while bystanders watched, unwilling to get involved. Since then, I have seen this story repeated dozens of times in different localities by different people, always the same outcome. Someone is attacked and other people stand by doing nothing, out of fear or apathy.

Where are the superheroes? Where are the warriors? Where are the knights in armor charging in on white steeds with swords slashing? Where is the cowboy in the white hat with guns ablazing?

Moral responsibility doesn’t require superheroes, knights, cowboys, or other fictional heroes. It requires ordinary people who have had moral upbringing to stand up through fear and do the right thing.

And moral upbringing, my friends, is where we are falling down.

As a nation, we have begun raising generation after generation of morally crippled individuals.

The Shema of Judaism (found in Deuteronomy 6 for Christians) says, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one, Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up…”

Did you catch that? “Impress them on your children.” That’s an imperative. It doesn’t say, “if your children ask,” it instructs us to do something about it. Then, it goes further. The instruction isn’t just once. It isn’t just in school. It is not just at church. It says, “Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up…”

As a youth minister, I am often surprised and appalled at the lack of moral education in the home. Parents bring their kids to church occasionally (not even regularly) and expect them to get their ‘dose of morality’ that way.

On more than one occasion, I have had parents who don’t regularly attend church call me up to ask me to deal with some issue that their child is facing. “My child is cheating in school…”, “My child is lying to me…”, “My child is hanging around with the wrong crowd”, “My child is_________.” They then say something along the lines of, “I told them that the Bible says…” this is generally followed by some misquoted passage or even something that isn’t in the Bible at all.

My question to them is, “How can you expect your child to respect to follow God’s law if you don’t even do so?”

I recently asked my Junior High and High School kids how often their parents talked to them about biblical issues at home. The resulting quiet was deafening.

It is simply impossible for a child to learn right and wrong unless they are exposed to it.

The symptoms are everywhere – steroid use in sports, Enron, Bernie Madoff, cheating scandals at Ivy League schools, the rise in violent youth crimes, and so on.

These things will continue to happen and continue getting worse until the adults of the world begin the simple and vital task of teaching moral values to our children.

My father’s actions so long ago have had a lifelong impact on me. I cannot stand aside watching evil triumph. I do what I do because of this. It may sound cliché, but, All that is required for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.

Let's change the world. You and I. We can do it. We'll teach our children and the kids that we meet about truth and justice, about right and wrong, about love and hate. Let's dare them to stand up for the good and then, let's show them that we live it in our own lives too.

Where have all good men gone

And where are all the gods?

Where’s the street-wise Hercules

To fight the rising odds?

Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?

Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need

I need a hero

I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the end of the night

He’s gotta be strong

And he’s gotta be fast
And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight

Lyrics from ‘I Need a Hero’ by Bonnie Tyler

In my professional opinion, it's time to get over it

OK, I have to say it... It has been two weeks now. If you aren't a part of Michael Jackson's immediate family and friends - Get over it.

I'm tired of that being the headlines in all the news, constantly mentioned on talk radio, and the only thing anyone seems to be talking about. I have no patience for the cult of personality for celebrities that our culture seems to thrive on.

You didn't know him personally and, no matter how much you liked his music, there is no personal connection there. Zip. Zero. Nada. Nicht. None.

If your life is so empty that his death matters to you (or the happenings of any other famous celebrity that you don't personally know), then it's time for you to get out into the real world. Go meet some people. Make some friends. Go to church. Use your time to serve others and get to know them.

His daughter's eulogy broke my heart. I hurt for her and the rest of his immediate family, just like I hurt for anyone who has lost someone close to them.

For the rest of you - get a life of your own and get over it.

That's all I have to say about that.

P.S. this also goes for anything to do with Paris Hilton, Brittany Spears, Brad and Angelina, Brad and Jennifer, the Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus, Lindsey Lohan, etc. etc. etc.

Today

Today,

More than 20,000 children will die due to famine or poverty related causes

Thousands will be made orphans due to loss of parents due to HIV/AIDS

Many more will be made homeless refugees due to war

Soldiers will be injured and die in wars around the world, leaving loved ones behind

Hundreds of Americans will lose jobs and homes due to the economy

Elderly grandmothers and grandfathers will languish in loneliness

Oh yeah, and some dead famous singer guy will receive thousands of hours of media coverage.

I'm glad we focus on the important stuff.