Waffle House Church

During our time in Florida, and while experiencing our first hurricane, I learned of something known as the “Waffle House Index.” The index has three levels, based on the extent of operations and service at the restaurant following a storm: GREEN: full menu – restaurant has power and damage is limited or no damage at all. YELLOW: limited menu – no power or only power from a generator, or food supplies may be low. RED: the restaurant is closed – indicating severe damage or severe flooding.

Craig Fugate, former head of FEMA, once said, “If you get there and the Waffle House is closed? That's really bad…The Waffle House test doesn’t just tell us how quickly a business might rebound – it also tells us how the larger community is faring. The sooner restaurants, grocery and corner stores, or banks can re-open, the sooner local economies will start generating revenue again – signaling a stronger recovery for that community.”

In recent days, the present health crisis has raised concerns about economic slow downs. Business closings have become front page news. Some communities have moved beyond requesting gatherings be limited to ten or fewer people to actually forbidding all assemblies, churches included, and more are likely to come in the next week. Reading these headlines and stories and remembering the Waffle House Index got me to thinking of another, much more widely known, cultural contribution of the Waffle House: scattered, smothered, and covered hash browns.

Two of my greatest memories involve Waffle House hash browns. Three years ago Jade and I decided to baptize our new friends, and Idaho transplants Trevor and Libby, into Southern culture. This ritual included their first taste of SEC football at the (aptly named) "Swamp" in Gainesville, for the Florida-Tennessee rivalry game. As we made the forty minute drive back to Lake City, slowly coming down from the emotional high of seeing the game end on a Hail Mary touchdown pass, we were in desperate need of a pick me up, when we saw the familiar yellow glow of a comfort food oasis on the horizon. What better way to end their Southern sanctification than with a fellowship meal of scattered, smothered, and covered hash browns and waffles? It was on that night our northern neighbors became our kinfolk as Southern proselytes, complete with new Southern nicknames. Good times. The other memory involves a middle of the night New Year's Eve anniversary dinner (nothing but the best for my lady) in which Jade asked the waitress to cover her has browns with a little more cheese (she was expecting an immersion and the waitress clearly practiced sprinkling), resulting in the waitress quitting on the spot and walking out the door. But that's a story for another time.

A friend of mine likes to refer to Waffle House as “Southern Hibachi” and if you’ve ever watched one of their cooks clanging steel, while cracking eggs and slinging hash, you’d likely agree. As much as the waffle is the namesake of the restaurant, an argument can be made that it is the hash brown who is the true rock star of the show. Speaking of rock stars, the scattered, smothered, and covered dish is such a part of Southern culture that the multi-platinum selling, 90's rock band Hootie and the Blowfish actually named one of their albums in honor of the famous hash brown concoction.

If you are reading this, you have probably sat at a Waffle House counter and listened as a waitress shouted above the restaurant roar with the volume and enthusiasm of a tent revival evangelist, “Three hash browns, scattered, smothered, and covered!” (For the uninitiated, “scattered, smothered, and covered” refers to an order of hash browns that are scattered on the plate, smothered with onions, and covered in cheese).

The present nature of things in our country may have you feeling as flat and crusty as a day old order of Waffle House hash browns. Due to this virus and the restrictions it has created, our church family has been scattered, when normally we prioritize coming together. We are being smothered by round the clock updates and warning. Our primary concern for weeks has been covering our faces when we cough or sneeze. Perhaps we are craving a reminder from Scripture that we are not the first of God’s people to be scattered during troublesome times.

Within a year, the newly formed family of God known as the church was facing intense persecution. The persecution of Christians in Jerusalem became so intense that, “they were all scattered abroad” (Acts 8:1). No longer could they meet together in the open at the temple as they had been accustomed, “day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah” (Acts 5:42). These brothers and sisters in Christ were accustomed to continuing “daily with one accord…from house to house…eating together” (Acts 2:46) and “were of one heart and of one soul…and had all things common” (Acts 4:32). Suddenly they were unable to assemble together openly and eventually they were “scattered abroad” (Acts 8:4).

Imagine the impact it had on them once they were scattered and separated. They were going through some scary things and they weren’t able to be surrounded by the people they normally leaned on in tough times. Sound familiar? Those who believe the Bible isn't still relevant obviously don't read it.

It was dark times, but I want you to focus on what they did. They couldn't control what was going on around them, but they had complete control over how they responded to it. When circumstances were such that they couldn’t physically lean on their church family they could still lean on their faith. Although they were scattered, they “went everywhere preaching the word” (Acts 8:4).

Presently, we find ourselves scattered and isolated for the time being, but the bonds that hold us together have been proven to be able to withstand tremendous difficulties and long distances. In the meantime, we can do what our brethren in the past have done. We can take the name of Jesus with us wherever we are. We may be scattered but we are also covered by the blood of Jesus and His love (Romans 4:7; 1 Peter 4:8) and we need to smother one another with prayer and with care. More than ever we need to be making ongoing, intentional efforts to connect with one another and care for one another. If you are stuck at home with some time to think about how you can love and serve in Jesus name, get creative, use your imagination. Most of us decry the evils uses of technology and social media normally, but they are a gift from God "for such a time as this." There are more opportunities to love, learn, and serve out there than there are items on a Waffle House menu. Let’s use this time as an opportunity to show those around us that love and service are our speciality.

First You Make A Roux

First you make a roux. Many of my favorite recipes begin with this sentence. Roux (pronounced “roo” is from the French word “red”) is one of the simplest, and yet most delicately difficult dishes to prepare properly. There’s not much to it, just flour and fat, and you don’t have to do much more than apply medium heat and stir….a lot….for a long time. The one rule for making a roux is never walk away from it. You have to treat a roux like a two year old…take your eyes off them for thirty seconds and you can have catastrophe. Any parent who has spent hours removing magic marker from the couch, nail polish from the bathroom vanity, or stood in a pile of long blonde locks because the baby decided to “play beauty shop” with the scissors, will tell you that an unwatched two year old can strike without warning like a tornado, and leave as much destruction in their wake. The same could be said for roux. It burns easily, and that is true in two ways. If the mixture isn’t constantly stirred it will quickly burn and has to be thrown away. The other way it burns is you… literally. The quickest way to tell whether or not a cook makes their own roux or uses the kind that comes from a box and you “just add water” is to check their hands and forearms. A true roux connoisseur will bear the scars of their encounters with “Cajun napalm.”

Ultimately, a roux is just the base ingredient which serves multiple purposes in Creole and Cajun dishes like étouffe and gumbo. The roux serves to add color, flavor, and to thicken the dish. The longer you stir and wait, the darker it becomes and the deeper and richer the flavor develops. An étouffe begins with a “blonde” roux, light in color and nutty in flavor, while different types of gumbos will call for a “peanut butter” or “brick” roux, both descriptions of the color it becomes over time.

For a little over a decade my hobby has been cooking Cajun and Creole recipes (one day I’ll explain the difference), so I’ve had to learn about the layers of ingredients and techniques used in creating and customizing their delicious dishes. There are two non-negotiables, several debatables, and an unlimited number of options in Louisiana cooking. The non-negotiables are the roux and the trinity. Once you’ve mastered the roux, the next step in every Cajun dish is to add diced bell pepper, onion, and celery. These three ingredients are so prevalent in Louisiana cooking that they earned the moniker “the trinity.” I’ve joked that a Cajun mama can’t make a bowl of Cheerios without first making a roux and chopping up the trinity. After that, the debates begin about things like what creole seasonings to add (Zatarain’s, Tony Chachere’s, Konriko, or homemade), whether or not to serve your gumbo with rice or potato salad, and which red beans to use (Camellia’s or Blue Runner). As for the other ingredients, everybody has their own family recipe and diversity is welcomed and celebrated.

Lately, I’ve spent a lot of time with roux and “the trinity” and Cajun recipes. Times of “shelter in place” and quarantines lend themselves to opportunities to make foods that have to be prepared slowly, and in stages. You have less distractions so you can go slow, take your time, and focus on what you’re doing, without a dozen disturbances that could potentially derail your efforts. It’s also been a really good time to sit and think about the ingredients that make up your life and the efforts that go into creating it. Even the greatest chef can’t make chicken stew out of chicken feathers, so the secret to any great dish is the ingredients, not whose making it. Although if you give a great chef quality ingredients they can give you a dinner you’ll be talking about for decades. So what is your life made up of…what are the ingredients…what are you giving God to work with?

I want to tread lightly in the next few sentences because I don’t want to give the impression that any of these things are bad or wrong or that we should feel bad because we feel bad. They aren’t and we shouldn’t. However, there are many things that are all fine and well in and of themselves that aren’t sufficient to center a life around. We have all probably grumbled at the inability to get a haircut, to go to a ball game, or the mall, or do any number of other recreational activities and luxuries that we normally enjoy. Those are all little blessings that we will likely appreciate more once this is all over, but if there is one thing this time has taught us it is that we might have developed an unhealthy emphasis on things of lesser importance. We’ve focused on the garnishing and ignored the steak.

Think about it this way, no one goes to a restaurant and raves over the garnishing. Have you ever once commented on the parsley instead of the steak? Garnishing is the little extra touches that add beauty, but they aren’t intended to sustain us. Fresh parsley can add a nice touch to a meal but no one eats it as the meal. Have we been guilty of doing that with our lives and the extracurriculars? Have little things that are meant to be garnishing become the “main course” of our lives? What is to be the foundation, the roux if you will, of our lives? I’ve had more time than normal to think about this, and I hope you have too. What I’ve come to realize is that the real focus of my life is actually quite simple, just two ingredients: trust and obey. “Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13). God has garnished our lives with so many other blessings, each of which I am thankful for, but those things cannot sustain me in times of lack or loss. My relationship with God is only as strong as my commitment to trust and obey. When things are “normal” it is easy to just rely on “spiritual fast food.” We rush in to worship services and then rush out and get back to all the other stuff that consumes our time. Don’t forget that it is your faith and commitment to Christ that will give you the strength you need in hard times. Use this time to slow down, take inventory of the ingredients of your life, and if necessary, start from scratch and give God something that He can use to sustain you.

As good as the best roux is, you don’t make a meal out of it. The roux is just the beginning, the foundation, and you add to it all sorts of other delicious things and garnishing to make a memorable meal. The same is true of faith and obedience. They are the foundation of our relationship with God, and you can’t have a relationship with Him without them, but our Father desires to share with us so much more than that. God’s plan is for faith and obedience to be the base that we build upon with Him. There are so many other ingredients He wants to provide you to use: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness (Galatians 5:22-23; 2 Peter 1:5-7). These are things that God refers to as fruit…fruit that is sweet and delicious, and always in season.

Anticipation

Is there anything worse than a sneeze that just won’t come? You step away from the group, cover your nose and mouth with your arm, pause and wait for olfactory outburst but…….nothing. No one “likes” to sneeze, but everyone hates having to sneeze and then not being able.

This is where all the mothers will step in and say, “Yeah, there is something worse than a sneeze that won’t come. Braxton Hicks.” For those wondering who Braxton Hicks is and why he is so awful, he was a nineteenth century English physician, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Braxton Hicks refers to the “practice contractions” that a pregnant woman experiences long before the time to deliver the baby. In other words, it is all the pain of labor and delivery without the joy of the baby to follow. This false labor can actually begin four months before the baby comes.

In either case, sneezing or having a baby, the real problem has to do with unmet expectations and delayed gratifications. Anticipation is a powerful, powerful thing. Anticipation gives us the ability to rise above present circumstances and see beyond. Anticipation is “future fuel” driving us forward and preventing us from becoming bogged down in the doldrums of the present. Like any powerful thing, anticipation can propel us forward when harnessed and channeled, but it can also tear us apart if it's not. The difference between a bomb and a combustion engine is essentially the harnessing or channeling of the explosive energy, and the difference between anticipation creating excitement or anxiety is the same.

Our culture does not encourage delayed gratification, in fact, it does everything possible to encourage instant gratification. Rather than me illustrate it, just pay attention for one day to how many times you will see or hear words like now, instant, express, fast, immediate, or same-day, especially in commercials or advertisements. As 21st century Americans we aren’t accustomed to having to wait for anything and certainly not for very long. If you ever want to conduct an experiment to challenge this assumption, hang out in an express lane that is stalled or a fast food restaurant where the line is moving slowly.

One thing you quickly learn reading the Bible is not to rush God. “But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient” (2 Peter 3:8-9). God is playing the long game with humanity and that means He tends to speak of things in terms of “in the fulness of time” and “it shall come to pass.” When God looks at time He sees generations not days and centuries not seconds.

Wise parents employ this technique with their children. Many of the things a child desires he only wants because it is right in front of him. If the child has to wait, even if just for a few minutes, often times they completely forget about it, revealing that it wasn’t really important to them or something they needed. The great Father knows this better than any earthly parent. Many have commented that God always answers every prayer, sometimes yes, sometimes no, sometimes wait. Often times it is wait.

Abraham was told he would become a great nation, would be given the land of Canaan, and that God would redeem humanity through his descendants (Genesis 12:1-3). Although every single one of those promises were kept, not a single one of them were kept for at least 400 years (Exodus 1:7; Joshua 12) and the final one would not be fulfilled for roughly 2,000 years (Matthew 1). Abraham had to wait 25 years for God’s promise of a son to be fulfilled. Bottom line: God rarely uses the express lane, so get comfortable, but don’t get too comfortable. Don’t get so comfortable you fall asleep. While it is true that God deals in the realm of anticipation and delayed gratification, when He moves He moves quickly.

As we saw in the passage from 2 Peter 3 above, God’s judgment is delayed because of His patient love, though sadly this prompts some to scoff at the idea of his judgment, as they become convinced His delay means He won’t act (2 Peter 3:3-4). This is despite the fact that Scripture is filled with warnings not to “fall asleep” but to “watch” because the Lord will come “like a thief in the night.” The point of these warnings and reminders is that we should use our anticipation of the Lord’s return to fuel our drive to stay diligent and busy in what we are supposed to do. During his time in exile on Patmos, John prayed “Come Lord Jesus” but he also used the time to write the grand and vivid panorama of history that we know as the book of Revelation. Sitting in Roman imprisonment, Paul longed to depart this life and be with Jesus, knowing it was far better (Philippians 1:23), but ultimately he decided it was better to wait and remain working in the kingdom on earth, writing 25% of the New Testament following this. John and Paul used their anticipation as motivation to fuel their faithful labors, and we should do the same.

Everyone wants things to get back to normal, and they almost certainly will, but none of us knows for certain exactly when that will be. We will have to wait. Even when government restrictions are lifted, there will likely be a time of adjustment where people have to grow comfortable again with things we’ve been conditioned to caution — large gatherings, social contact, crowded restaurants, etc. Until then we wait and we anticipate, and hopefully we use this anticipation to fuel our efforts to be busy about our Father’s business in ways that might get neglected due to our busyness in normal situations.

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Busy

Recent days have been a flurry of activity around the world. Cable news delivers “breaking news” every two minutes, complete with dramatic music and menacing graphics, specifically designed to increase our heart rate and raise our blood pressure, creating a sense of urgency in viewers and triggering panic in the streets. Grocery stores, gas stations, and pharmacies have all been inundated with a flood of activity as shoppers rushed to grab whatever remaining items they could find. Shamefully, some of these encounters led to conflict amongst shoppers as people literally fought over toilet paper. Had this been a Saturday night at Toomer’s Corner in Auburn after a win instead of a Woolworth’s aisle in Sydney during a pandemic, strangers would have shared rolls of toiler paper to throw into the trees in celebration, but in times of uncertainty and fear social pleasantries are the first thing to evaporate.

Perhaps mercifully, all across the world leaders have urged citizens to reduce public activity and stay home as much as possible. “Social distancing” is the newest phrase to enter our vernacular. Schools and businesses are closing, restaurants have shifted to drive-thru and take out only, and even churches have adjusted how they normally assemble in an effort to slow down the spread of this virus. While it is true that this global “slow down” has left a number of new problems in its wake (childcare for those who can’t just take off work, loss of income for those who live paycheck to paycheck, dramatic losses in stock values, etc), there are also blessings to be found if we will take the time to look for them.

Almost everyone I know says they are “too busy.” Work, school, soccer, church commitments, school functions, and on and on and on. We all have a phone in our pocket and yet we don’t want anyone to call us on it. “I don’t have time to talk on the phone, just text me,” we say. We are too busy to sit down at the table and eat dinner with our families. We are too busy to study our Bibles. We are too busy to pray. We are too busy to check on folks that we know need a little help or attention. We are too busy to even do the things we enjoy that bring us peace and fulfillment. Most retired folks I talk to tell me that they are busier now than when they were working full time. We are all too busy. Not anymore, at least not for a few weeks, if not months.

We are not the first people to have our lives disrupted and made more difficult. Jeremiah 29 is a letter to the surviving children of Israel in Babylonian exile. Their lives have been disrupted, calamity has befallen them, they are suffering and scared and God comes to them through the prophet to say “seek me.” Jeremiah tells God’s people to go about doing what God’s people were created to do: love and serve God by loving and serving your neighbor in His name and to His glory. He tells them to “seek peace” and “pray” for the prosperity of the city they were dwelling in (v.7), “don’t listen to the liars and deceivers” (v.8-9), and He assures them that things will eventually “get back to normal” (v.10). Their greatest need was not to rebuild the city of Jerusalem and restore their lives to normal, but to begin “seeking the Lord” (v.13).

In the midst of this present time of uncertainty and change, God comes to us through the psalmist and says, “Be still and know that I am the LORD” (Psalm 46:10). This verse wasn’t written for calm and quiet Sunday mornings while sipping coffee, but in a time of war and trouble in Israel. This verse is meant to direct our memories to the Hebrew refugees fleeing genocide at the hands of the Egyptians, only to find themselves trapped between the army of Pharaoh and an impassable sea. It was in this time of hopelessness and terror that Moses declared to them, “Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD” (Exodus 14:13). Perhaps this is what we need to hear right now, and even more, what we need to do right now. As the world slows down for awhile in an effort to slow down the spread of this virus, why don’t we all commit to “being still” so that we can seek the Lord. Seek Him through His word and seek Him in prayer. You may not personally be able to stop this virus or speed up the time it will take for things to get back to normal, but you have complete control over whether or not you will seek Him. Ask Him today, and everyday, to “give us this day our daily bread” and “deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:11,13).

The storms of life have a way of washing away the temporary and worthless things we use to decorate, fill, and busy our lives with, leaving the true condition of our hearts exposed. Perhaps what we find is that our lives were built upon the sand. Even if this is the case, all is not lost. We have an opportunity to hear the words of Jesus and do them and rebuild our lives upon the Rock (Matthew 7:24). James, the younger brother of Jesus, tells us not to lie to ourselves by being hearers of His word but not doers (James 1:22). Seek Him, and then show Him to others. "Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31), “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:9-10).

Burdens can become blessings if we bring them to the Lord. Use this time to do that deep dive Bible study you’ve been wanting to do. Spend the extra time in prayer, “cast all your anxieties upon Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). Even if it isn’t wise to make in home visits, call up those you know who might need help getting groceries or medicines, or those who might just appreciate a conversation over the phone to remind them that they have people who are thinking about them. Spend time with the people you love in family worship, drawing nearer to Him and one another.

Christian, you are the light of the world (Matthew 5:14), and you can reflect His light most brightly in the darkest of times. “For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life” (Philippians 2:13-16).

The End

The clock on my phone says 3:12 am. The only sounds in the apartment are the snores of our exhausted family as they take their turn catching up on sleep, the concentrated oxygen machine which has a low rumble like a clothes dryer followed by what reminds me of the air brakes on a semi truck, and the tower fan cooling the living room. Seems strange to write the words “living room” when this is literally the room in which my mother in law is dying.

Tonight it’s my turn on the night watch, and really that is all I’m doing, watching. At this stage in her cancer she doesn’t need anything from me, aside from the occasional oxycodone we were instructed by hospice to squirt into her mouth every four hours, keeping her sedated and comfortable. Truth is I’m mostly watching for when she takes her last breath, and so I watch and I count. Sometimes she takes five or six rapid, though shallow and labored breaths, other times she goes as long as a minute before taking a somewhat violent, heaving gasp. It’s been like this for three days. We don’t know when it will end, but with a mixture of guilt, shame, and hope, mercifully we pray it will be soon.

It’s strange how a room can be so familiar and so foreign at the same time. Everything seems to be a two edged sword. The furniture that has occupied her home for years is still here, though now it’s rearranged to make room for, and share space with, the hospital bed and other medical equipment populating the area. These things are welcomed for their utility and yet, they are foreign, and they make us uncomfortable because we know why they are here. Their job is to compassionately usher her transition from the land of the living to the realm of the dead. 

The digital picture frame, running on a continuous loop, supplies precious memories, but it also pixelates our pain with a montage of people long gone and laughter that has fallen silent. Every twenty-two minutes it takes us on a journey from when she was a child, to a mother, to a grandmother, to a cancer patient, and every time it ends the same. It always brings us back here to this room with these sounds and this reality. Presently, it’s late August but we have a cloth Christmas tree on the wall and stockings above the fireplace. We put those things up today because she loves Christmas and this is going to be her last Christmas. Unlike most years, there’s no mountain of presents under a tree that is way too big for this little apartment, no baked ham, and no special dip or cheeseball like usual. This is a silent night, but there is no joy or peace here tonight.

The worst part is knowing this isn’t the worst part. Seeing her like this, a woman who has always been defined by her strength, lying helpless and weak, is painful, but at least we can still see her, speak to her, touch her. We are literally hours from her being gone. She’s 60 years old, she has been a mother for 43 years, and I’ve known her for 26 years, but in just hours she will be taken from us for the rest of our lives. We’ve had our last conversation, and it was a good one, maybe our best one, but still it was our last one.

I came across these words, never finished, while going through my notes this evening. I’m sharing them here, like this, because in many ways these old emotions are being stirred presently. The mixture of foreign and familiar reminds me of that night. One month ago we moved to an area that is very familiar, and yet it is new — a new house in a new town, halfway between two places I’ve lived before, Pulaski and Florence. We are new members of a church that we’ve known for a long time, but haven’t yet got to be with. As far as I’m concerned, there isn’t a prettier place on earth than the Tennessee Valley in Spring, but fear and dread are lingering over us like dark clouds on the horizon. Familiar, comforting, yet strange and sad. 

Sitting here tonight, I’m reminded of ancient stories, that tell of foreign people and places, and yet those stories are as familiar to me as my own story, because I’ve also known them all of my life. Stories of people who didn’t know how their story would end, but they set out to walk by faith. Despite the particulars of how their story, our present story, or our personal story will end, I know tonight, just like I knew that night in August in that little room at Tanglewood Apartments, how it will ultimately end. “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Hebrews 9:27). We have very little control over how things end, but we have complete control over how we want to spend the time we have until the end. Our family spent the final days of Debbie’s life together, laughing, crying, eating, telling stories, praying, and holding tightly to every minute we were gifted. You can do what you want to do with the time you are gifted today. You have that choice. You may not know or get to choose how and when this time will end, but you can decide what you do with it. “Make the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16).

Swimming Up A Tree

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

There’s something fishy about this popular internet meme. The above quote is attributed, incorrectly, to Albert Einstein, a bona fide genius. He actually never said this, but there are more problems with this quote than the incorrect origin. For one, it’s a misuse of the term “genius,” watering it down to the point that it literally exalts the ordinary to the same level as extraordinary. Speaking of literally, we see the same thing happening with the word “literally,” which mostly gets used metaphorically. “Literally” has literally become the most misused word in the English language, which will ultimately rob it of its meaning.

The word “genius” has been diluted, getting tossed around so casually that those who are above average in the slightest often get labeled “genius.” Or, as in the case of the above quote, calling everyone a genius as something. There are relatively few legitimate geniuses in the world in any given field. Everyone is not a genius at something, and that is perfectly ok. It’s better than ok, it’s completely normal, because most people aren’t geniuses. You don’t have to be a genius at something to still be good, useful, and beneficial at it.

What the above quote gets right is that you cannot judge the effectiveness, skill, or ability of a person solely on their ability, or lack thereof, to do another thing. A woodpecker is pretty good at making a hole in a tree, but I doubt it would have much success digging a tunnel. On the other hand, if you put a mole in the mud he can make magic happen underground. This seems easier for us to accept and acknowledge in others than in ourselves. We judge others by what we see and ourselves by what we know. Someone can praise or appreciate something we are good at and we barely hear it because we know they aren't privy to the litany of faults, flaws, and failures running through our minds. Like an iceberg, we know our good is just the tip that is readily visible, while our inadequacies, mistakes, and sins are many and lie just below the surface.

Maintaining a healthy view of self is somewhat like walking on a tightrope. Lean too far to one side and you fall into insecurity. Lean too far to the other side and you get lifted up with pride, which precedes a fall (Proverbs 16:18). Ego and esteem are a lot like a pair of shoes or jeans -- at first they may look good, but they don't necessarily feel good, but in time they get broken in and become comfortable. It took me around forty years to grow comfortable with who I am and the fact that I don’t have to: 1) be good at everything, 2) try to be something I’m not, or 3) impress anyone. Rather than being content swimming, I wanted to climb trees, and felt compelled that I must or I should or else I wasn't good enough. Even when I wasn't trying to climb trees, I was convinced I should be able to swim better or faster or upstream. Comparison is a leash to lead us around at best, and a noose around our necks at worst.

I know PLENTY of preachers who are: tremendous personal workers, great at pastoral care, dynamic speakers, brilliant teachers, inspiring leaders, cultivators of others abilities, strong counselors, inventive creators, skilled promoters, effective youth leaders, and more. What I don’t know are ANY preachers who are great at all of these things. I’ve known a few who are proficient in all of them, but MOST are really good in one or two of those areas, and then do the best they can in the others when called upon to perform them. I wasted too many years of my life being discouraged that I couldn’t measure up to others in different areas. It took me a long time to accept that there are abilities that I possess naturally, and some that I have cultivated over a long period of time, and these are MY strengths. Some people love me for these things, usually because it is what they prefer or needed, and so naturally they value these things, and by extension me. Other people have different interests or needs that they value, and so they prefer other preachers. One of my favorite quotes says, “You can be the biggest, juiciest, sweetest peach in the world, but some people just don’t like peaches.” Just because a person praises someone else for something good in them, doesn’t mean they are criticizing you for lacking it. For me it might be things pertaining to preaching, for you it is likely something else. Maybe you are envious of the way someone decorates their home, or keeps their yard manicured. Perhaps you think you aren’t as good of a parent or spouse as someone else, or that you can’t teach as well as them. It could be weight or money or number of friends, or any number of other things. Few of us are immune to the curse of comparison.

Even the apostle Paul had to deal with the curse of comparison, sometimes from others, sometimes self-inflicted. Littered through his letters are comments and defenses of his apostleship, and the fact that he wasn’t one whit behind the chiefest of the apostles, though he was "born out of due season." “I do not think I am in the least inferior to those ‘super-apostles.’ I may indeed be untrained as a speaker, but I do have knowledge” (2 Corinthians 11:5-6). When describing his initial meeting with the original twelve Paul wrote, “As for those who were held in high esteem—whatever they were makes no difference to me; God does not show favoritism—they added nothing to my message. On the contrary, they recognized that I had been entrusted with the task of preaching the gospel to the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been to the circumcised. For God, who was at work in Peter as an apostle to the circumcised, was also at work in me as an apostle to the Gentiles. James, Cephas and John, those esteemed as pillars, gave me and Barnabas the right hand of fellowship when they recognized the grace given to me. They agreed that we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the circumcised. All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I had been eager to do all along” (Galatians 2:6-10). Paul wasn’t afraid to defend himself and his abilities, and yet he also wrestled with the insecurity of his limitations and mistakes. “For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God…No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me. Whether, then, it is I or they, this is what we preach, and this is what you believed” (1 Corinthians 15:9-11). “When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom…I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words” (1 Corinthians 2:1,3-4). "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--of whom I am the worst" (1 Timothy 1:15).

On a day to day basis Paul may have wrestled with his place in the apostles and his role in the kingdom, but over the course of his life he figured out exactly who he was, who he wasn’t, and what he was meant to do. “By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.” Somedays we have the same struggle, trying to be something we’re not instead of just being what God created us to be. You can use a hammer like a saw, but you will have to settle for beating on something until it breaks in two. A hammer was made to drive nails and a saw was made to cut things. Neither has to compete with the other. You need both to build a house.

Echoes

When I got up this morning I heard the Lord speak to me. I didn’t audibly hear His voice the way I hear my wife call my name, but I heard Him still. I heard Him while I was sitting on the front porch drinking my Mardi Gras King Cake flavored Community coffee. I haven’t bought a single roll of toilet paper, but I’m pretty sure I’ve purchased every bag of this coffee sold in the Shoals, and I am hoarding this once a year blend. In less than a week drinking coffee on the front porch has become my morning ritual. It’s my quiet time alone with the Lord to clear my head, cleanse my heart, and seek His guidance.

Levi was enjoying his favorite morning ritual — sniffing around every square inch of the yard exploring — while dozens of songbirds provided the soundtrack for the sunrise. As the light got brighter, I could see some of the most beautifully colored birds hopping around the yard, and flying from branch to branch, and that is when I heard Him speak. I heard Him speaking to me through the writings of His disciple Matthew, which writings I long ago “hid in my heart” (Psalm 119:11). Sitting and watching the barn swallows, warblers, robins, and cardinals these words flooded my mind:

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matthew 6:25-27).

He spoke those words to me the same way my Grandaddy Richard still speaks to me, though he’s been gone close to two decades now. Whenever I’d walk out the door he would say to me, “Keep it between the lines.” I haven’t heard his voice in far too long, but as long as my memory functions properly I’ll hear him saying that. I heard Him the same way I still hear my Grandaddy Sam, who died when I was only eight years old, saying “toodlee doodlee” when you would leave his house. Sitting here just north of forty I cherish the fact that both my grandfathers had such unique ways of saying goodbye. They aren’t with me physically, and I can’t hear them audibly, but they are never far from me. In the drawer of my desk right now, not three inches from my elbows as I type this, is the letter opener, engraved with the name “Richard Britton,” that he used to open his mail. Next to it is the Alcoholics Anonymous medallion he was given to celebrate his twentieth year of sobriety. Sitting on the shelf in the closet to my right is Grandaddy Sam’s “good hat” (which I believe is known as a Trilby) and his favorite hat…a 1984 Atlanta Braves baseball cap. Though long gone, there are times I feel closer to them than people who are literally within my reach. I spent a lot of time listening to those two men, both of whom are long gone, but I can still hear them in my heart as clearly as if they were sitting here with me.

For twenty-three years I’ve tried to spend as much time with the Lord as I can. I’m not interested in just knowing about Him or just being able to recite facts about Him. I want to know Him, so I spend all the time I can with Him. I spend time with Him in prayer, talking to Him, and He always listens. I spend time with Him through His word, and I always……I mostly…..well, I try very hard to listen. I spend as much time as I can with Him in His church because He manifests Himself in His body, the church. I’ve never audibly heard His voice or physically felt His touch or literally seen His face, but really, I have.

I have welled up with tearful gratitude as I listened to one of my shepherds tell me he loved me last week. “We love Him because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).

I have felt my crushing grief lifted when a beloved brother in Christ hugged me and said, “It’s going to be ok and I’ll be here for you until it is” at my mother in laws funeral. “Bear one another’s burdens and fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

I have been reassured and encouraged that what I do does make a difference as I’ve seen smiling faces with open Bible taking notes while I teach or preach. “Be steadfast, unmovable and always abounding in the work of the Lord..knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 15:58).

After my heart had been shattered into a million pieces it was put back together and bonded with love by two dozen people who surrounded my fourteen foot kitchen table every Thursday night for Bible study and prayer. “I came to heal the brokenhearted” (Luke 4:18).

If Abel, who has been dead longer than anyone, can still speak to us (Hebrews 11:4), then certainly the Lord can too, and He does. He does in a million different ways in every language and in no language, so that none of us have an excuse for not hearing Him (Romans 1:20). “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world” (Psalm 19:1-4).

No, He’s not here with me physically and audibly, but He will be the next time I gather with His people, whenever, wherever, and with however many of us there are, be it 100 or 50 or 10 or less. “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am among them” (Matthew 18:20…I know this is slightly out of context, but the principle remains true). He was with me in all of those other times, and He was with me this morning, and if you will look for Him and listen for Him, you will find wherever you are right now, He is there with you too, even if it is just through this Facebook post. He is saying the same thing to you that He said to me while sitting on that little red bench in the cool morning air, “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). Before you scroll further, before you turn on the morning news, before you listen to what the armchair experts have to say today, why not listen to Him for a few minutes first? I assure you, if you listen to Him first it will change your perspective on what everyone else says next.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?…Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:33-34). If you have ears then listen (Matthew 11:15).

Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.

The Road Goes On Forever...

My definition of a life well lived has changed significantly from fourteen to forty-four. When I was fourteen my “big sister” cousin Denise introduced me to the music of Jimmy Buffett. The next four years of my life were spent dreaming of sailboats and tropical islands in far off exotic lands. The music of Jimmy Buffett led me to his writings, which in turn led me to Hemingway (The Old Man and the Sea), Twain (specifically his travelogue Following the Equator), and my eventual favorite Don’t Stop the Carnival by Herman Wouk. Don’t Stop the Carnival tells the story of Norman Paperman, a boring, normal, “every man” vacationing on the fictional island of Amerigo, when he decides to abandon his same old same old life and buy the hotel he is staying in, moving to the island permanently. Growing up in Pulaski, Tennessee, a town that was the stereotype of same old same old, I ached for adventure and associated with Mr. Paperman.

Being sixteen and still several years from a possible emancipation, I settled for writing my own story, and began my first, and still as yet unfinished, novel Seashores or Summer School. The plot was a little “on the nose” as it tells the story of a small town boy graduating high school, loading up his jeep with a few essentials and his dog and taking off for New Orleans, the Gulf Coast, and ultimately Caribbean islands. For the next few years, I lived a life of adventure vicariously via the title character Dean Colbin, whose name was an amalgamation of my best friend Jode Holden, who was from the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain, twenty-five miles outside of New Orleans, and Holden Caulfield, the naive, immature, and frustrated wanderer from Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye.

During this era of my life, I convinced my parents to let me paint a two wall mural of a tropical island on my bedroom wall. My Uncle Ricky and Aunt Jean painted sets for a local playhouse and accepted the task of transforming a Tennessee teen’s bedroom into a tropical paradise. My life was mapped out in my mind and all I had to do was wait to make my escape. I’ve since learned the quote, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” I’ve also learned the verse, “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, 'If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’ As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes” (James 4:13-16).

Late night winter dreams can really distort your view of reality. If I had it all to do over again I would have spent that time in the living room with my parents, talking to them, learning from them, and listening to their perspectives on life. Little did I know that I would soon walk the path of a young, married, teenage parent. I wouldn’t be a trail blazer, for in my family, this path was already well worn. My parents were sixteen and seventeen when they married and had me. My grandparents were eighteen when they began their family and Jade and I would be nineteen when our began. Instead of drifting from port to port writing about my adventures, I was working third shift in a factory warehouse by night and learning to mix formula and change diapers by day. At the time I was oblivious to the fact that God was at work, forging a path of His own choosing, and inviting me to follow Him. Fast forward a few years and my mindset had changed from “you can go your own way” to “where He leads I’ll follow.” I would, in fact, leave Pulaski for the big city, moving my family to Memphis where I would study to be a preacher. Although my focus in life was becoming clearer, the naiveté of my youth was still very much producing delusional daydreams.

My definition of meaningful ministry has changed from twenty-four to forty-four. At twenty-four I wanted to be the apostle Paul and change the world. My perception of effective ministry involved a big church, being widely known and in high demand. At forty-four, I’ve learned it’s best to glorify Him, not self. At forty-four I’ve learned it’s better to help others rise to their potential, rather than being lifted up yourself. At forty-four my ambition is to live a quiet and peaceful life with a family of believers, loving, serving, and sharing together so as to be a light for those who are lost in the darkness (1 Thessalonians 4:11). My life is not the one that fourteen, or twenty-four year old was seeking, but it is precisely the life this forty-four year old needed and loves. To quote Jimmy Buffett,

“The days drift by

They don't have names

And none of the streets here look the same

And there are so many quiet places

And smilin' eyes match the smilin' faces.

And I have found me a home

Yes, I have found me a home

And you can have the rest of everything I own

'Cause I have found me a home.”

One of my favorite songs at present begins with a brief poem, “Maybe I’m not here to be a superstar after all. Maybe I’m here to pray for all of those who have lost hope along the way.” I’m pretty sure someone was praying for me when I lost hope in ever making my dreams a reality, because somewhere along the way I learned the way of the Christ, and that way is not a yellow brick road with a mansion, robe, and crown waiting at the end, but a dirt road, uphill, that leads to a cross. Make no mistake, the mansion, robe, and crown are real, and waiting once we “finish our course,” but only for those willing to walk the path of the Son of Man. The One who has no place to lay His head, who girds Himself with a towel to wash feet, and who feels the sting of the crown of thorns.

If I had my life to live over, I would spend more time with my parents and grandparents listening to their wisdom about being a young parent and spouse, rather than dreaming of adventures. If I had my early years of ministry to do over, I would spend more time with my spiritual ancestors, those earliest disciples of Jesus who knew that faithfulness and significance have little to do with numbers, names, and notoriety. Unlike their Jewish and Pagans counterparts, with their temples and altars as sacred spaces for meeting with and worshipping their God(s), those first disciples of Jesus were the sacred space. God had come to dwell in them, and they were invited to abide in Him as well (John 15:4). They didn’t have temples, or altars, or houses of worship because they were His temple (1 Corinthians 3;16). Their hearts were the altar upon which selfish ambitions and desires were sacrificed daily (Luke 9:23). For the first century believer, their very lives were their worship (Colossians 3:23). They forgave their enemies as an offering to God (Ephesians 4:32). They spoke words of grace and not bitterness, to and about one another, as humbly and sacredly as if they were speaking to God in prayer (Colossians 4:2-6). They rejoiced in their suffering for His name as a song of praise (Acts 5:41). They invited the hungry, the stranger, the orphan, the widow to their homes and tables in an expression of compassionate communion with the socially poor, knowing they had a shared fellowship in spiritual poverty, if not material. They listened attentively to the grief and struggles of others as if they were listening to the voice of God Himself. They did not cease to participate in the “acts” of corporate worship, but it was the joint expression of their worship, not the totality of it. These actions and attitudes were attended to with the utmost reverence, as if they were sacred rites, because they were. “For as much as you’ve done this to the least of these, you’ve done it unto me” (Matthew 25)

The path God put me on is not the course I’d charted for myself, but it certainly has been an adventurous one. At present, my passport has stamps from a dozen different countries. I finally got to spend time sleeping in a hammock in a grass hut in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, not making up my own story to tell, but telling the story of Jesus to the Kuna Indians. Someday I’ll tell you of my trip to meet an indigenous church in the middle of a plantain plantation in Nicaragua, the twenty-four hours I had to spend in hiding for my own safety in Honduras, or the Bible studies I’ve conducted in El Salvador with soldiers holding machine guns across their laps.

This morning I needed to be reminded that, like Joseph in Egypt, Esther in Persia, and countless other characters in the greatest book ever written, God is preparing the path for His people presently. This path may not look like what we wanted, or expected, but He is with us on this journey. When we get to where we are going we will not be disappointed, so in the meantime we should focus on the journey and not the destination. Our current path isn’t a disease driven detour, but a path of righteousness, and when we reach the end we will find that God was leading us to still waters and greener pastures.

Crimson and Clover....Over and Over

One woman’s weed is another woman’s flower. One man’s pest is another man’s food. So it goes with people, plants, and nature. By “nature,” I mean both nature — the physical world collectively — and nature — the personal qualities, character, and traits of an individual.

Perhaps it isn’t nature, so much as circumstance or situation. If you get hungry enough, I suppose most anything can become food. I mean seriously, who was the first person to look at a crawfish and think, “I bet I could eat that”? I’ll tell you who — a very hungry Acadian who’d fled Nova Scotia and found himself settled in the bayous of the Atchafalaya Basin in Southwest Louisiana. Over time he figured out that if you catch a whole mess of crawfish, boil them in salt, cayenne pepper, garlic, paprika, onion, thyme, oregano, dry mustard, dill weed, and bay leaves, and throw in some corn, carrots, potatoes, and sausage, those little mudbugs ain’t too bad. Mix all of that culture, environment, necessity, and availability, let it simmer for a few hundred years and voila, the Acadian becomes “a cajun” and an entire culinary style is born.

I regularly get to witness this transformation up close through Levi. Whenever he is introduced to something new he has to figure out whether or not it is friend, foe, or food, and the test for a pickle or a person is the same. First he looks at it, then he sniffs it, then he licks it, and somewhere deep in his little dog brain he decides whether or not to bite it or befriend it.

Whether or not something is a weed or a flower, a food or useless, good or bad, annoying or useful, necessity or luxury, has a lot to do with perspective. When you get down to the root of the matter, the difference between a weed and a flower isn’t scientific, but in the eye of the beholder. There’s not a mama in Alabama who, when presented with a handful of dandelions from a four year old, doesn’t immediately put them in a vase. Likewise, there isn’t a mama in Alabama who has gone to the co-op and asked for dandelion seeds to plant in their flowerbed. Weed or flower, it’s all about perspective.

A plant that is growing where it is not wanted is labeled a weed, and yet some of them are actually my favorite flowers. Ragweed wreaks havoc on my allergies but its beautiful covering a field in yellow during the fall. In recent years, people have started buying and planting wisteria vines, but this purple plant is actually an imported invasive species. Marco Polo first brought it to West from China in the 13th century and it made its way to the United States in the 1800’s. Since then it’s spread from sea to shining sea, consuming ecosystems in its path, much like the more recent unwanted import from China. But for me, Spring doesn’t truly begin until I can see those purple flowers cascading like a waterfall from the tops of trees scattered around the countryside.

What is an unwanted weed at one point in life, might become a life saving staple at another. While living in Florida I was introduced to “swamp cabbage.” Swamp cabbage is essentially the heart of a Sabal palm tree shredded like Cole slaw and boiled with any number of a variety of seasonings. I wouldn’t want to eat it for every meal, but it wasn’t bad. Though not a weed, Sabal palms naturally grow everywhere in Florida, and our hungry ancestors learned that in tough times you could make a meal from what would otherwise be just a decorative tree. Reading about the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl era I learned that people actually figured out how to cook and eat, and even can, tumbleweed (Russian thistle). The point is this, we learn to do what we have to in order to get by when times are not ideal. That’s a good lesson for a society that has mostly known luxury and abundance, the likes of which are an anomaly throughout human history.

Ready access to an abundance and diverse variety of affordable and easily accessible foods, goods, and services is historically abnormal. Most of us have a hard time comprehending this because we are not good students of history, we haven’t lived very long, and we haven’t traveled very far. My time in Central America gave me a whole new perspective on necessity and luxury. Fortunately for us, we still have a few “old timers” around who remember what the world was like not so long ago. How many of you remember a time when you seldom ever went out to eat? Did any of you receive fruit for Christmas? Do you recall beans and taters for every meal, with the only variation being the type of bean and the way you cooked the potatoes? Can you remember a time when the only cookie you ever ate was one that was made at home? For better or worse, it's all a matter of perspective, times changed, and people had the option to go to the store and choose from a few different types of cookies, like chocolate chip, sugar cookies, and Oreos. Now, if you go to the cookie aisle in most any grocery store you can choose from a dozen or more types of Oreo cookies alone! Seriously, do we really need a watermelon Oreo? I vote we create a crawfish Oreo. How did I get from weeds to watermelon Oreos, where was I going with this? If you haven’t figured it out by now, sometimes I can get off in the weeds in my writing and my preaching.

Back to the lecture at hand. Most mornings I sit and drink coffee and look out at what has become a beautiful red field across from our house. Until recently, I believed the flowering red growth was a weed that just naturally sprouts in a field like ragweed, but I discovered recently that it’s actually a cover crop known as Crimson Clover. Man I tell you, this state really takes its football fanaticism seriously. From the houndstooth wearing red bellied woodpecker I see every morning to these crimson covered fields — even nature seems to be shouting Roll Tide! By the way, as a reminder that this remains a state divided, I learned all about the Crimson Clover from an Auburn University agricultural study. There I go wandering in the weeds again. Let me wrap this up before I start a riot.

Whether or not something is a flower or a weed comes down to perspective, and whether or not the current situation is a blessing or a curse is too. None of us want anyone to be sick or die, but even without this virus that happens. We would all prefer things to be ideal, but in the meantime we have to make the best of what is real. The reality is this virus isn’t going anywhere for awhile and none of us can do much of anything to change that. The reality is our economy is going to take a hit and times will get tougher for a great many people and there isn’t a lot we can do to stop that either, but it doesn't mean those of us who suffer less can't help them out. When everyone shares a little, everyone has a lot. The reality is social distancing and shelter at home orders are going to be extended for the foreseeable future and there is nothing we can do about it. These are things that are completely beyond our control, but that doesn’t mean nothing is within our control.

We can control our attitude today. Will we choose to make today a good day or a bad one? We can control how we spend our time today. Will we spend it frustrated, frightened, and angry or will be do something constructive? We can control how we will come out of all of this. Will we grow bitter and hardened or grateful and compassionate? These are things we can control. “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24). 

Now, if you will excuse me, I’m choosing to spend the day planting some food and flowers, and the rest of this evening watching the sun set over a crimson field.