I don't watch TV news and rarely listen to radio news. I read the on-line news feeds. Same news stories but written by people who are more concerned about their content than they are about their hair and make-up. I read both liberal and conservative feeds. I figure somewhere in the middle is truth. I did watch the aftermath of the shooting Saturday evening because reading it does not tell the active story. Anyway, I learned some interesting things in my reading.

    Sunday morning, I opened up MSN, which used to be MSNBC. I wanted the liberal take on the shooting. The lead story was about a college football player who was expected to be drafted by an NFL team in the first round of the draft, but who didn't get selected until the second day. Shocking. Then there was the aging Hollywood star who still looks good in a bikini. Amazing. Then there was the US drone shot down somewhere. Frightening. Finally, fourth story in, something about the assassination attempt. Not much, but at least a little something. 

    I then went to CNN. First story. Gunman had been shot and killed. This was something they reported, and it was wrong, Saturday night in the frenzy and it was still on their feed on Sunday morning with no correction.

    Then, FOX News. Almost every article was about the shooting. The articles didn't have the breathless feel of CNN or the 'I really don't care' from MSN. Articles on the shooter. Trump's remarks. FBI's involvement. Praise given to the Secret Service. Update on the Secret Service agent who was shot. Actual news. 

    Which tells part of the story of where we are in America today. A media that mostly refuses to share the truth. Look, it was the correspondent's dinner. The place was packed full of reporters having a good time and adjusting their hair and make-up. Then the action begins. What should a good reporter do? Should they keep pondering on which wine goes with what food or should they drop their forks and start actually reporting on a big news story? What a shameful display of self-indulgence.

    Something else I noticed. It may have been different on the TV broadcasts, but on the news feeds I found there was no mention anywhere that the shooting shows just how much we need stronger gun laws. So, after Sunday worship, I started looking things up. He bought the weapons in California. Strictest gun laws in the nation. He did the whole qualifying thing such as shooting at the gun range and taking the tests. He left California heading for D.C. by train rather than by plane because they would have found his weapons at the airport. He arrived at Chicago and was there for a time. The article did not say why he stayed a bit in the Windy City. But Chicago is in Illinois. That state has the sixth toughest gun laws in the nation and Chicago adds more. Then he traveled on to D.C. where the gun laws are the ninth toughest in the country and he checks into the Washington Hilton. Somehow, in spite of all these gun laws, he was able to cross the country and secure a room in a hotel where the president and high ranking government officials would soon be all in the same place. This is known as a target rich environment and should be protected, in advance, from nut jobs with guns in their luggage. In the end, law enforcement won. But what if he had managed to get into that ballroom and began to spray bullets everywhere. He would have been lucky to have hit the president, but with all those people, there would have been some real tragedies. Could it be that the anti-gun activists are thinking, 'Hmmm. He got past the toughest gun laws in America. Hmmm. Maybe it is true. Guns don't kill people. People kill people and sometimes they use guns.' But no. Their thinking probably runs to 'It's too soon. We'll start squawking next week.'   

    But what really bothers me is that Earth Day was last Wednesday. On April 19 and then April 26 in churches all over the country the services had climate change and glacier melting and old growth forests and rain forests rather than the Gospel of Christ. If we were focused on presenting the Gospel to the world more than the plight of the polar bears, we would be better all around. We are where we are because Christendom has failed on our mission. "Oh, that just isn't so!" Really? When was the last time you shared the Good News of Christ? Prayed over your meal in a restaurant? Given your neighbor an invitation to your church? 

    We have dropped the ball. We have failed and continue to fail. We are not truly sold out to serving Jesus. It begins with you and me. We can change ourselves and, in turn, see others change. Either we do this, or our world will quite literally go to hell. 

    This is kind of cool, really. After all these years I can say with all truthfulness that I have no regrets in my career. There have been personal things that have happened that I wish had been different and I have had physical issues that have not been fun, but the things that really matter, all good. At some churches and in some situations there have been people who were hard to like, much less love. But in all cases the Lord has grabbed me by the back of the neck, given me a good shake and pointed me where He wanted me to go. Oh, I could get frustrated at times. For several years I was bi-vocational. Twisting wrenches and working at selling auto parts and going to school and serving a church and being a husband and father. Actually falling asleep at the dinner table. Once my head dropped right into the mash potatoes. My five year old son thought that was the funniest thing he had ever seen. (He turns forty five this Sunday. I don't know how that happened.) Later I was staff clergy at a funeral home while I also helped churches going through crisis. Always busy, always living by the clock. Frustration was natural. Yet, to me it was all a learning experience. There were times, though.....

    The time in question today was a Tuesday morning in June of 2007 when I worked at the funeral home. I had been on call the night before and we had had two in-home deaths. I had spent all night sitting with grief. My principle job. But I also had other talents no one had expected, such as having a knack of caring for a deceased individual. So, here was a warm day, a very tired man who had a long night behind him with a deceased man laying in front of him whom he was setting features on. I remember being tired of death. I was thinking of going to Tahiti on my vacation, maybe even taking the wife. And then my company cell phone started vibrating. It was the boss. There was a young couple up in the funeral home who had gone into their nursery that morning to enjoy their four month old infant son and they found the little fellow had died during the night. SIDS, or Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. No warning, no known cause. Happy the night before and dead by morning. The couple, the boss told me, was devastated. I needed to go and talk with them. I clicked off, took off the latex gloves, straightened my tie and went up the stairs to the viewing room, where the couple sat in despair. The wife was sobbing with deep, soft wails. The husband was trying to be strong but failing. I was tired and irritable and my first inclination to go back to the deceased, who at least was quiet. But, as always, the Lord grabbed me by the back of the neck. The thought ran through my mind, 'This is important.' So, I went over and introduced myself and we began to talk. For an hour and a half. I assured them the baby was in heaven and someday, if they were believers their own selves, they would see him again. The husband wanted to explain about being a believer, so I presented Christ. When they left, they were comforted. I, on the other hand, felt like I had been beaten up. But it was my job.

    Six months later it was a cold day in December. Normally, unless I was actually involved in the funeral, I was not present. But on this morning one of the fellows scheduled to work the parking lot had called in sick. We had a new guy who was working parttime, but he couldn't handle the parking lot yet. So, I put on the heavy dress overcoat, put on the earmuffs and gloves and went out into the snow. The new guy was standing in the parking lot facing away from me. Hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. I went over to introduce myself and give him instruction. "Hey guy, I'm Larry, but everyone here calls me Pastor. I would be happy if you called me by name!" He stuck his own hand out and said, "HEY! It's me! Paul." Head scrunched down low in his coat, cap pulled down, only his eyes and nose visible. Even when pulled his head up in turtle fashion I didn't connect. "I bet you never thought you would see me working here! Last time I saw you I never wanted to see this place again!" And then the mental connection was made. In between parking cars we talked at length. He and Peg (his wife) were doing well. In fact, Peg was pregnant. They had gone back to their own church but had found it did not meet their need any longer. They were new believers and wanted to really explore the Word. They wound up in a really neat church and were growing. Paul was a fireman in our county's county seat and, because he worked twenty four hour days, he had time off that most did not. He wanted some parttime work and was drawn to the funeral home. This started a really good friendship. Over the next few years, Peg would give birth to three more children. They would adopt two children, a brother and sister, who had severe special needs. Eventually the little girl died, but she passed knowing she was loved. The young man and his wife found that they had a much larger capacity to love than they would have ever been aware of because they found a Savior who had a capacity to love so much that He died for the whole world. Over the years I have been blessed to enjoy the pictures of the kids getting older, enjoying their sports and 4-H, seeing Paul get some gray hair. No pictures of Peg. She refuses that, and that is her privilege. A Mom and a Dad who gave their all for the Lord and He, in turn, gave them more than enough love for everyone in their sphere.

    So what brings this to mind? This past Wednesday I had a procedure that left me in a lot of pain. On Thursday, barely able to function, I was grumbling to myself. In my seventies now. Fifty years in the ministry. Do I really need to have this much pain, Lord? Really? On Friday I lit up my computer, mostly to see if North Korea had nuked us during the night. What I got was a video of Paul being sworn in as Captain of the fire department. All of his kids were there and even Peg. Smiles all around. We were blessed to be there when Paul and Peg and the kids were baptized. We saw the growth, the purpose of people drawn to the Lord. And now, personal achievement. YAY!

    So, I sat there in pain. Tears in my eyes, thinking back to all those years ago. I was so tired that morning. Dealing with grief, and especially SIDS, is so hard. I had so much to do. What if I had returned to the prep room? Would their marriage have endured? Would there be anymore births? Would they have taken those two little ones who had only known pain and hate and given them love and compassion? Would they ever have come to the Lord? I don't know any of that. But I do know that when the Lord puts an opportunity in front of us, we seize it with both hands. IT IS IMPORTANT! Age shouldn't stop us, fatigue shouldn't figure into it, lack of knowledge shouldn't slow us down because the Holy Spirit will fill in the gaps. Just because your kids are no longer in VBS doesn't mean you are done.

    What is it I always say? BE A BLESSING!