Back at the Ranch

An incredibly frightening and awkward part of being a minister is that you speak on behalf of God. There are a great deal of people in this world with an incredible amount of responsibility, and I in no way discredit either themselves or their job; however, I would be remiss were I to not say that in my mind there is no more daunting task in all of humanity than giving a tangible representation to an intangible being. Imagine the audacity of imperfection to portray perfection with words, much less a lifestyle. The concept to me is ludicrous – downright absurd. Yet in the ultimate act of irony, which I have come to believe is one of the Lord’s favorite tools, he asks his flawed children to express in word and deed his flawlessness, an impossible task from the beginning. For if we were able to portray perfection we wouldn’t need God in the first place... irony runs rampant through his story, through history – irony is the beauty of the story of God.

Aside from an Alanis Morissette song from high school I’m not sure I ever understood the power of irony until I moved to New York. I was born in Baton Rouge, LA, and within a couple weeks my parents moved to Colorado "for 2 years." They stayed 22. With my degree in hand, weeks from my birth into adulthood I moved from Texas to New York, committing to 2 years of service... it’s been 3 going on 22. An irony that has not failed to escape my mother, whose already impressive prayer life has only increased on my behalf, beseiging the Father to "bring me home". Irony has made it’s bed in my life, and as I sit here washing its silk sheets, I am convinced God will keep it there for the rest of my service to him.

I can spout many stories of irony; besides stress, sleeplessness, fear and male pattern balding, irony is one of the many byproducts of investing in the unknown, in the future, in human lives. It rears its unexpected head time and time again, and upon deeper reflection, it never ceases to bring you back to the One who put it there in the first place. Irony returns my heart to my God, that even when things turn out just the way you didn’t want, somehow there is someone who can make good of all the bad... the irony.

To save you three days of reading and a thousand stories I’ll share with you the most recent irony here. I work with what the world calls "troubled young men"... they’re really just normal teens for the most part, they just got caught... the irony. Is their normality a sad commentary on our culture, definitely, but it’s the truth. On Monday I took these young men to a fancy breakfast commemorating Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (It’s a Baptist event, so you have to put Rev. at the front). Dressed in suits these young men the world thinks are nothing but troubled, flawed young men from imperfect backgrounds, behaved as perfect gentlemen.

The keynote speaker was a prominent African American businessman, a graduate of Harvard in both Business and Law, a Public Servant, an entrepreneur and a philanthropist. Not the greatest of public speakers, but one heck of a man. He spoke of the irony of King’s power. He spoke of his accomplishments post mortem, the rewards he received, the steps humanity has made, the influence of a dead man to living men. My wish was that he would have been a little more articulate, but his gist was lucidly powerful. He spoke to a middle class audience comprised of successful business men and women, of bankers and clerks, teachers and lawyers, politicians and pastors, and about 25 "troubled young men" who were incredibly out of place. He spoke to this mob about a man who emerged from the very same crowd, a third generation collegiate graduate, King’s father and grandfather had both graduated from college... he was not without. King was not fighting for a job, if he was only "looking out for me and mine" he would have needed to make no such stand. I had never known that about the man, and it was all the more impressive to me that he would offer his life on the altar of equality as the last man who needed to... the irony.

The speaker went on the to portray the ultimate irony of King’s power, the power of peace. That the very institutions that tried to hold him back, the very universities that would not let him in, the very organizations who refused to acknowledge him, all are closed on this day, they cannot do business, they do not offer classes, they close their doors to the world in honor of the man they once closed their doors and minds to... the irony.

So leaving there, juiced by a powerful message and a very moving Kirk Franklin song, I took the boys home. And when we arrived back at the Ranch I could only imagine the growth and education that came from that morning. I left, excited. Hours later I returned, the very same day, to a group of young men watching Malcolm X on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, to hear them threatening to slap all the white people, and desiring the freedom to express their "civil liberties". On the very day where we celebrate one of history’s greatest proponents of peace, the day that commemorates our most memorable pacifist... the birthday of the very man who uttered the words of one of my favorite quotes

on this very day to commemorate the man who fought a fight without violence, and whose death brought about in many ways a new life to this nation, the most my young men can muster is a broken line from a movie by an annoying, short new yorker of a historical figure who stood in direct opposition to the very man for whom we stop this day to remember... the irony.

And what has this day accomplished, the end of the story has yet to be seen, but the irony has the same effect on me as it always has. It brings me back to the only One who can bring the good from the bad. The only One who offered the greatest of gifts to a people who couldn’t have cared any less. The One who sent perfection to walk among an imperfect world, who offered love to the unlovable, grace to the unforgivable, and life to those trapped in death. And what did humanity do with such a gift, we rejected it. The very thing we need the most is the last thing we want... the irony.