Posted on by Wallis Landrum (Wally) · 3 Comments

Right to Pray Right Aug 28, 2024

At 17 I asked myself whether God had spared my church and my home when the 4/3/74 tornado did damage all around both. Had I done something right to be rewarded? Had others suffered God’s wrathful punishment? Should I thank God for sparing “me and my house” who serve the Lord our way, while punishing those outside my “tribe”? Is it just to pray, “Thank you God for sparing me and destroying them”?

When I read Matthew 5, I see that God gives the sun’s warmth and the rain’s nourishment to the just and the unjust, the nice and the nasty alike. God doesn’t play favorites and neither should I by only loving the lovable. 

As a teacher of “Becoming a Love and Logic Parent” I learned that allowing consequences to befall behavior is more effective than rewards and punishments. I came to believe that God’s ways are not transactional – the art of the deal. God’s ways are relational – compassionately suffering with us as we learn and mature through the consequences of our choices.

I am thankful that I have the right to pray anywhere, anytime. I am thankful I have the right not to be preyed upon by those who force their prayers on me. I seek to use my right to pray to pray right. When I request something from God, I talk to God about how it might affect others.

A rabbi’s deep wisdom asked me a question, “If you are heading home, and you see smoke coming from your neighborhood, is it ethical to pray, ‘O God, don’t let it be my house.’”

How do you answer the rabbi’s question? Where do you see God portrayed as punishing us BY our sin (consequences) instead of FOR our sin (retribution)? Which God are you drawn to?

Posted on by Wallis Landrum (Wally)

Clergy Killers August 13, 2024

In 1999 a pastor in a “Healthy Congregations” workshop told us about a man who told his board, “A lot of people are complaining to me about our pastor.” The board members wisely asked him to identify “a lot of people,” but he refused to name them — “to preserve confidentiality”. They asked for specific examples of complaints; he refused to give them — only generalities. He threatened the board, “You’d better take action because so many of these important members will leave the church and take their donations with them.”

After an investigation, when no evidence was found to back up the threats, the bully relentlessly escalated — accusations now went from he’s not visiting enough to financial and “maybe” sexual abuse. Some wondered what truth there might be to these attacks. The pastor doubted himself and his call to be a servant leader. After his heart attack, when he swore that “the whole church is against me”, it was revealed it was two cruel people who brought the carnage and chaos.

That’s when I read the book Clergy Killers that had been published in 1997. I learned how often clergy killers bully their way to power in a church. When pastors think the whole church was against them, it is almost always 2 or 3 — what we began to call a TLG (that little group).

From the introduction to the book: People rightly often criticize and disagree with their minister, but clergy killers are intentionally destructive. Whether you call them mentally ill or evil, they insist on inflicting pain and damaging their targets. They call on others to do their dirty work, subvert worthy causes, lead acts of sabotage, and cause their victims to self-destruct.  (Pg 9 Clergy Killers: Guidance for Pastors and Congregations Under Attack, G. Lloyd Redinger, 1997, Westminster John Knox Press).

Have you ever experienced someone bent on destruction who says “somebody should look into” some false accusation? What is it about a church that allows clergy killers to gain so much power? Read the book, or stay tuned if you want to learn some positive ways to respond.

Posted on by Wallis Landrum (Wally)

My Gang  May 24, 2024

My high school church youth group was my gang. Our initiation was professing shared beliefs. When I felt out of place elsewhere, I was welcomed and supported by them. I only dated the girls in the gang. I could be their leader when I felt like a nobody elsewhere. Our perspectives weren’t limited by poverty; we were made myopic by our neighborhood of white wealth. We went door to door, not with threats, but with invitations to help us collect magazines and newspapers for Louisville’s new recycling center; we sought to preserve God’s creation. We invaded our streets by cleaning up dozens of homes destroyed by the 1974 tornado. Our “West Side Story” was “Godspell” where I was to perform the role of Jesus.

Our church allowed our group to talk about almost anything. We asked deep questions with complex answers as we began to evolve beyond a childish christian faith. We ate, laughed, traveled, and played together. We role-played in situation games to learn about ourselves, others, and life. We couldn’t come to a moral consensus when one older brother fought in Viet Nam, and one older brother objected; we still supported each other.

Maybe my experience helps me understand the pressure adult gangs feel to normalize white christian nationalism in their religious or political groups. I have to confess that in my youth group I doubt I would have put truth over tribe, because of my stronger desire to be liked and accepted. My explanation cannot be an excuse.

How have you felt accepted by a religious, social, or political community? Where was your vision limited by your gang? When have you felt pressured to put tribe over truth and how have you responded?

Posted on by Wallis Landrum (Wally)

The All-American Smile

I was sixteen when I saw the movie “The Way We Were”. One scene has stayed with me for 50 years. Hubbell Gardiner’s college professor praises and reads his essay to the class. It was entitled “The All-American Smile.” Maybe the scene was the beginning of a life-long dream to have anyone appreciate my writing in school, church, or online.

The words that the screenwriter set in the late 1930’s are what have stayed with me for five decades. “In a way, he was like the country he lived in. Everything came too easily to him, but at least he knew it.” Sitting in the dark theater beside my date, I knew that everything came too easily to me. I couldn’t take credit for the “pre-natal brilliance” of choosing my family of origin. I couldn’t change my birthright. So that night I vowed to remain aware of it.

When I read memoirs sharing personal struggles about how to overcome this, or how to overcome that, I think that my memoir title would be: “How to Overcome an Easy Life.” I’ve sought ways to be aware of, grateful for, and responsive to what I’ve received in life. My ministry has given me the privilege of compassionately walking beside individuals through their suffering, finding meaning in the struggles I have, and seeking inclusion, liberty, and justice for all.

Today on the Web I discovered I’d remembered the quote verbatim, but I also learned the next line: “About once a month he worried that he was a fraud. But then most everyone he knew was more fraudulent.” Guess I should have kept paying attention that first night.

What have you received from others in your life? What struggles do you continue to face today? What has come too easily to you? How do you practice an awareness of gratitude?

Posted on by Wallis Landrum (Wally) · 2 Comments

The Happy Hypocrite (Colorado Kool-Aid Continued)

man sitting on steps posing

I told my psychology professor what had happened and that I was never going back. He said, “If you don’t go back, you won’t complete the assignment; you will get a D. If you complete the assignment; you’ll probably earn an A or B. You choose.”

“But what if that guy’s still there? How can I face him?” I whined. My teacher replied, “I hope he is there. Then you can apologize for the buckle and ask him for another chance.” 

I went. He was. I did. He invited me to sit and talk. He gave me another chance.

During the first 20 minutes of a 1000 worship services in my 20 years of living, I had been told I was forgiven. Sometimes I paid more attention than others. Here I was truly experiencing forgiveness in an unforgettable way.

That man became the first of many persons with alcohol use disorder whose story I’ve heard and whose path I’ve walked alongside. I have seen families, lives, and relationships ruined by severe problem drinking—some publicly, some privately. I have seen people find a way to live an abundant life one day at a time through the help of a community and a higher power.

As I grew older, I would learn that Jesus of Nazareth had a few things to say about hypocrites.  Many people tell me they don’t come to church because it’s full of hypocrites. I’m quick to quip: “There’s always room for one more.”  

That day, I became a happy hypocrite, because my clueless belt buckle led to forgiveness which led to trust. Today I join other happy hypocrites who share a vision of God’s Kingdom that we strive for and never complete. What we proclaim is always greater than what we accomplish. Somewhere between being a damned no-good do-gooder and fulfilling all God’s good will for the whole creation lies where you and I find ourselves along the path.

When have you been given a second chance? How have you been told you are forgiven by God? What’s your story of when you forgave another person? What is a hope, a vision, a dream you have that you can never fully fulfill?

Posted on by Wallis Landrum (Wally) · 6 Comments

Colorado Kool-Aid

Colorado Kool-aid

In 1977 I learned many lessons about “alcoholism” in a psychology class at Emory University. I learned more about myself. 

One assignment was to volunteer at an alcohol addiction treatment facility in Atlanta. My first visit was on a Saturday morning. I walked in and introduced myself to a man sitting at a table. “I’m a college volunteer today.  Would you like to visit some?” 

The man turned, looked me over, and barked back, “Go home kid. You’re just a damned no-good do-gooder and we don’t need you here.”

“Hey, man,” I thought, “I drove here to be helpful and caring. You should be grateful, not angry.” I had been nervous; now I was confused. I couldn’t speak.

The man stayed silent as he held out his finger and pointed at my gut.  I looked down at my daily college attire – yellow Oxford shirt, brown corduroy pants, and a “Coors” beer belt buckle.

Coors was cool in the East, because it was only distributed in the West. As the song “Desperado” put it, “you only want the ones that you can’t get.” Coors was cool, but I wasn’t. I was just a “damned no-good do-gooder” at an addiction treatment facility sporting a beer belt. I ran out in disgrace.

My inner desire to care did not match my outer appearance; the hypocrisy spoke volumes. Since then, I have sought to become more than a damned no-good do-gooder. I have sought God’s help to open my blind eyes. I have tried to pay attention and see how others might see the world, and respond to my actions.

When have your actions spoken louder than your values? How have you been blind to how others see? What steps do you take to bring your interior values and exterior actions into alignment?