The Times

In the Stephen King novel, 11/22/63, a man discovers a portal back to the 1960s. He walks around the town and sees the signs. The textures. The fashion. All the details he never knew and what the pictures don’t quite show.

He is surprised that his New England mill town STINKS! Air pollution was still unchecked. And people smelled like sweat as the deodorant wasn’t as strong as modern deodorant and air conditioning wasn’t as wide spread. He finds a diner and sits down and has a root beer float. It’s home-brewed root beer with local ice cream that’s creamy and rich. Way better than anything today.

I wasn’t born in the 1960s. But many of you were. Many of you have forgotten more about the 1960s than I could learn by reading every book or watching every documentary about it. Books are a poor substitute for experience. It has been so good to hear many of your memories of the 1960s. I’m sure that it’s hard to imagine that it’s been 50 years since 1969. Change can be very hard. It’s surprising how time flies.

This series is not meant to make you feel old. It is an attempt to find understanding and common ground across generations. For I am currently in my late-thirties, which is statistically the most stressful time of life. Kids are in the house, more responsibility at work, and aging parents. Yet I also heard Rob Bell interview Rev. Lydia who works with people in their 90s. She did a study and the time the 90-year-olds most loved? Their 30s with the kids in the house, parents around, and life humming.[1]

I’m always amazed by our faulty memories. We don’t remember things as they were. We remember them as we were. This is the human condition. We know our perspective, not someone else’s. We know what we know. It is the work of becoming an adult where our perception expands. Any artist has no choice but to express themselves in the medium of their own background.[2]

In Stephen King’s book, there’s a scene that haunts me. The main character is traveling down a new highway, recently built by the Eisenhower highway project. He stops at a rest stop and marvels at how clean and graffiti-free everything is. On his way out, he notices a bathroom sign that reads “coloreds.” He walks down a dirt path and sees a board over a river. Sure, the 1960s were a great time for many of you—you had amazing root beer floats, and you saw man walk on the moon. Yet it also had boards over rivers.

The poet Maya Angelou stated, “When we know better, we do better.” This is true of us at every level of our lives.

Many of us don’t investigate signs unless they apply to us. The ‘60s were great for many of us, and I don’t want to take that away. Yet we also want to be open to other opinions. As the Rev. Truman Whitaker’s sermon last Sunday reminded us, “listen to the disturbers for our Lord was a disturber.”

Jesus has disturbing words for us today. We can read the signs for the weather, but we can’t read the sign of the times. Maybe this is because it’s easier to talk about the weather. Less risk involved. No way to get into sticky politics or offend someone that way. If we read the times and offer our opinion on it… say that it’s a time to gather stones, we might offend someone who thinks it’s a time to scatter stones.

It is good to know that there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. What exactly our season is in this life of faith may vary from person to person. That’s a hard fact to accept sometimes. Some of us might be excited for the future, while some are conscious that there’s not much future left. It would be easier to go back.

Unlike King’s book, we can’t go back to the ‘60s. Maybe in the ‘60s, you were a teenager having a great time. Learning to drive. Going on a first date at a sock hop. Maybe some of you were in college in that decade. Or got married. Had kids. That season has passed for some of us. Many of you who lived at that period are near retirement age or have been retired for a while.

What to know is that the past is not prelude. The past is in the present. You who were alive then are with us. With your knowledge and wisdom, you can help other generations read the times and listen to the echoes of history.

When things look bleak, you can remind us that you saw trouble in your own time. Protests, marches, wars, and assassinations. Yet in those times of trouble, we also had promise and possibility. To call a moonshot! To imagine and innovate! To walk on the moon and change the world. To find love and friendship and life. For that’s what you did and still are doing now.

As I looked back to the 1960s, a time I first thought must have been so hard. When I studied. When I listened to many of your stories. When I saw the hope, promise, and love… Yeah… there’s the juice. It restored my faith in humanity a little bit. It gave me courage to face the challenges of my own day.

As I read the time, I see a time where many are trying to scatter stones. A time to tear down. A time to refrain from embracing. A time to tear.

No, my friends. We have scattered for too long. It is time to gather. We have torn so many things down, including each other. It is time to build up and mend! It is a time to embrace!

My friend Alan Jones asked, “Do you know what the most scandalous claim was in early Christianity? Everyone mattered. People then did not think they counted, but they did. We need to recover this understanding. We need to re-imagine humanity in light of God’s gift.”[3]

This past week, my mom’s dog Maggie ran away. She escaped from my fenced backyard when I was packing to head to my doctorate. I and many of you… looked for signs. We posted signs. We flooded social media. We had an army out looking for her. The story had a tragic ending when she was found dead yesterday after being hit by a car.

We didn’t find the dog alive. But we found one another.

I spoke to my mom in wonderful ways, and I was reminded that I am her son. She matters in my life and I in hers. Folks from all parts of my life were praying and that was another sign that I matter in people’s lives. We each need that reminder. You matter. Everyone matters. Are you hearing me, church? Everyone matters.

I am reminded that whatever is happening in the world… All the scary stuff. All the politics and international crisis and natural disasters. The political division and troubling testimonies and investigations. All the stuff that can divide us… People can still rally, come together for a common cause, and shower love on one another. To face a common crisis and be present to one another. This week has been a reminder that all signs from God point to love. Love of a dog. Love of people in need. Love enough that it sends folks out to look on rural roads, walking through fields and stomping through creeks. The signs point to love.

And many of you know this. The Livengoods know this as you prayed and showered them with love after the loss of Tom. The Reigger Family knows this after they lost Bob. Darlene and Steve Fazekas know this after they lost his sister Mary. Dave and Becky Weber know this as you are checking in on them. Medith and Earle Olsen know this as you packed this church on a Saturday with people from all over the country. Engagement is the key. Together is the goal. It’s hard… But it’s what all the signs point to.

Sure, I wish there was a portal to go back. But there isn’t. Sure, I wish we each could go back to the times in our life that felt most full, but we can’t. Instead, we have each other. And the signs of God’s love for each of us.

All signs point to: You matter. So listen to the echoes of history. Read the signs. Embrace one another. Use your imagination and innovate. Listen to the disturbers. And may grace and peace be with you. Amen.

Works Cited

[1] https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/reverend-lydia/id956742638?i=1000444522006

[2] Edwin Friedman, Failure of Nerve; Leadership in the age of the quick fix. Page 141.

[3] https://chqdaily.wordpress.com/2012/06/24/rev-alan-jones-lets-get-used-to-gods-lack-of-taste/

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *