Talking With Your Hands

People talk with their hands.

Words come out of mouths but meaning comes from members.  Exclamations, sincerity and genuineness can be punctuated by hands.  Communicating with gestures is effective.

Think Danny DeVito.

An officer talked with his hands.  

Whenever he spoke, about anything at all, his hand fell to his sidearm.  Sometimes he softly cupped the butt of the gun between his thumb and forefinger.  Other times he shifted his weight onto the weapon by placing his palm and leaning.  When he really wanted to make a point, the semi-automatic would be gripped.

A slight tug left the barrel in the holster but the weapon in his hand.  He would pull the gun up an inch only to replace with the conversation's cadence.  Up and down, in and out of his hand, the handgun was just as conversant as its proprietor.  

Subjects varied; small talk and philosophy interested him, but each subject was accompanied by firearm fondling.  He talked with his hands.  Feedback from nervous listeners, interpreting his firearm fondness as a threat, seemed to fall on deaf ears.  

He meant no harm.

Civilian complaints about fearful exchanges may have been lodged but old habits are hard to break.  Police culture includes gun culture; he was one of many cops who talked with his hands.  

What's the big deal?

"What's the big deal?" a listener asked the writer.  "I have never feared the police.  Why would I?  They are here to help," wondered a member of the audience hearing a police chaplain's testimony.  God's grace can turn fear into a faith-filled ministry.

Serving among officers includes profanity and dark humor.  Coping requires thick skin and ministering to gun caresser is part of the deal.  

"I guess everyone has a different experience," said the listener.  "You were terrified of police, but have things changed for you?  Are you still scared of cops?"

Answering his question included a look back at a department meaning no harm.  Since encountering 9-millimeter nonverbal communication, police culture has changed.  Hand gesturing storytellers now think twice before touching sidearms because departments are implementing Axon Signal Sidearm.

Signal Sidearm is a sensor that alerts body cameras when a firearm is drawn.  Because cameras in the cruiser and on the officer's chest begin capturing footage, moving a weapon an inch now requires an explanation.  Awareness of technology that polices the police comes from proximity.

Some departments have made behavior, that discomforted civilians, uncomfortable for cops.  New patterns of behavior, like limiting sidearm touches, are the result of internal changes.  Perhaps citizen feedback played a role.  Litigation can bring about change, but sometimes an administration steps up and does the right thing.

An officer has kicked a disturbing habit because his department invested in technology.  Rather than storytellers touching a handle, their stories are touching hearts. 

Above all else, guard your heart,

    for everything you do flows from it. ~  Proverbs 4:23

Seconds and Seasons

Chronometers measure time.

Punctuality is established by orientation to clocks.  Cell phones measure time and are helpful in setting up appointments.  Texting to pick a day, time and meeting location is the mode.  Technology helps, but punctuality is a matter of flesh and bone.

Whether online or in person, corporal manifestations are required from time to time.  Good faith and punctuality eventually means breaking bread together.  Zoom callers want cameras on.  If one person organized, planned and followed through to arrive on time, the punctual person expects reciprocity.  Timely arrivals can be interpreted as mutual respect; a way of saying 'your time is just as valuable as mine.'

Life happens; even the most fastidious stewards of seconds yield to construction delays.  A habit, however, of timeliness sticks to a reputation like layers of wax to a wick.  Candles are created by successively dipping a string into hot wax and cooling.  One plunge a candle doth not make and one tardy or timely arrival is a poor barometer of character.  Keep dipping the string, however, and eventually a candle forms.  Paying attention to people's use of time, over time, is telling.

I am occasionally late.

Filial opinion is hardened by primary research.  Spousal certainty is as solid as wax.  Congregations can testify, and friends tell, that I know how a watch works.  Working by watches, however, is something with which I need work.

When, therefore, everything falls into place and the other person is off the pace, video footage is helpful.  Catching anyone doing something right is a gift to the would-be recidivist.  If the tardy struggle, replaying videos of punctuality at family gatherings is OK too.

Mounting the porch, on time, and preparing to knock reminded that chronometers measure time.  So successfully was the morning organized that I was early.  A raised knuckle, triumphantly knocking at the top of the hour, was halted.  Already opened, the door exposed a treasure more important than punctuality.

Behind the screen dozed the proprietor's granddaughter, barely a month old.  She slept with clasped hands and curled feet; so flexibly that her head dangled behind her spine.  Awakening such chubby, dreaming preciousness is probably a misdemeanor in ten states.  She slept on her grandfather's chest.

Her grandfather agreed to meet because we're raising support for the chaplaincy.  Texts and talking resulted in our telling time that morning.  On time was I, but he was dozing.  Clocks measure time but, Creation is measured in seasons.

 Seasons come and go when they want to come and go.  Shaking a fist at Mother's Day snowflakes is futile.  Chronometers tell time, but clocks have nothing to do with seasons.

A season, in the Greek language, is kairos.  Caesarian sections are scheduled but vaginal births depend on kairos.  No matter how the plumpkin dozing on granddad's lap came into the world, she was on a different schedule.  

Chronometers measure seconds, but consciousness measures seasons.

Looking at my watch, and remembering that babies sleep for as long as they want, I began to pray.

Alex: Lord, You've called me to a Christ-centered work among first responders.  Raising prayer and financial support seems part of the deal: here I am.  Appointments are stacked the rest of the day.  Knocking seems wrong.  How do I reach the goal, for You, if I'm too soft to do what it takes to be fully funded?

Holy Spirit: Turn around, Alex.

 Behind me, my host's porch spread widely.  Two rocking chairs faced a freshly mowed lawn.  Overhead, a sunshiny canopy of trees hid hundreds of singing birds.   

 Holy Spirit: What were you going to do for the next hour except trust Me in your conversation?  Why did you come to the house, Alex?  Did you come to get the money or did you come because you'll actually go wherever I lead?

Alex: Where You lead, I want to follow.

Holy Spirit: See how pretty the yard is?  Do you think he'd mind if you were empathic instead of being a jerk and knocking?  You remember what it takes to get a baby to sleep; knocking for the money makes you sick because you belong to Me.  Yet you're stressed because you have 'a job to do.'  What if 'doing your job' is sitting in a rocking chair and spending an hour with Me?

 Alex: Where You lead, I want to follow.

Chronos surrendered to kairos.  Birds, journaling and Bible-infused prayer consumed eighty-four minutes; they seemed a few moments.  Stewardship of relationships - more appointments and responsibilities - meant getting back on the road.  Before leaving, however, a note to the sleepy heads:

Dear XXXXXX,

Scripture promises, "It is appointed unto people once to die, but after this the judgment."  Every action will be laid bare.  Anyone who awakens a sleeping baby, and her sleepy grandfather, will have some explaining to do.

Seeing your tenderness with the wee one was a blessing.  Thank you for allowing me to rest on your porch and reconnect with the Lord.  A gem and treasure is the sanctuary of your yard. 

Your willingness to meet this morning is appreciated.  Outreach among first responders is strengthened by the intercession and generosity of families like yours.   Rescheduling is a hope.

May the Lord keep you until we meet again.  Together we're trusting Jesus to change lives. 

Jesus came naturally through Mary.  Maybe He'll come in season next time too.

Seconds and seasons matter; perhaps one more than the other. 

 

On The Count Of Three

 Tourism is an industry.

People displace to see sites.  Curiosity drives some; ego others.  While duty can motivate, tourism is also a temptation.  We wander when we're supposed to be working.

Temptation is an industry.

Taste, touch and tone are for sale.  Smells, sights and sentiments are available incognito or in community.  Work exposes workers to temptations and takes workers places.

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. ~ Mt 4:1

 Jesus took a tour and was tempted.  Following Jesus is work.

I followed Jesus into a hospital.  

Family was gathered around a pulse, no pulse; agonal breathing then silence.   Doctors retrieved the pulse and respiration was restored.  Back and forth...life to death to life to...

"I am the resurrection..." ~ John 11:25

'What do we do, now?' is a question families ask victim advocates.  Absent care, disasters can be forms of tourism.  

When are people ever exposed to an ambulance's interior, flashing lights and siren blaring?  When does a century of combined medical training cycle into the same room on the same day?  When do cops show up with guns blazing?  Where are meal vouchers and bottomless cups of coffee available?  When are drones and tracking dogs and body armor commonplace?  When will a telephone keep ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing?  

Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." ~ Luke 9:23

Jesus was talking to a group of people who chose the work of following Him.  Mention of "daily" cuts to the quick; following Jesus includes a fight against tourism some days and flight from temptation on other days.

"What do we do, now?" asked the family.

"Exactly what you've been doing.  You're weeping and holding each other and breathing for one another.  You're angry and confused and hearing things for the first time.  Keep hugging, keep listening, keep asking questions.  Keep each other.  In abnormality, your abnormality is normal," I said.

Victim advocacy is a service offered by police.  Calls for service expose us to new and interesting places, people and events.  Temptations toward tourism lurk. 

Enter Jesus.

When He taught in Luke 9 to "deny self", what He seemed to say to a follower like me was, "Remember why I'm sending you in there, pretty boy.  Blowing through doors with Cool Kids can become a form of tourism.  Seeing things bystanders want to see, but you are supposed to see, is possible because I'm embedding you among cops.

"Watch it, hot shot.  Tourists abound.  I expect you to shut up until I tell you to speak; go where I tell you to go; remain in constant prayer so you can hear Me over the sirens, wails and radios.  Deny yourself.

"Take up your cross but first take a look at what a cross did to My hands, feet and side.  When you think about it, I see understanding rolling over you.  You know this work can kill you.  What you're doing, with Me, may cost you your life.  What do you think crosses are used to do?

"Uniformed professionals messed Me up.  Remembering that you could be riding with them in the morning, and prosecuted by them in the afternoon, might help.  You're on the road for My purposes; for what I will; for My glory.  Temptations to - in place of obedience - be smart, helpful or spectacular are as old as the Tempter.

"Deny yourself, take up your cross daily and follow Me.  Today is a day you might really mess up.  In prayer, You heard Me establish boundaries for your work.  When cops or the community have asked you to do some things, you've told them "No," because you follow Me.  Good...

"Good, but keep watching Me.  Rigidity in boundary setting can easily be confused for holiness.  You'll be tempted to refuse to do what today's assignment requires unless you watch me.  Deny yourself and follow Me.  Forget yesterday's work; stay focused on Me [in prayer] and lift today's cross with your knees.  Stoop, breathe, lift and follow.

"You trust Me?  On three...one, two..."

While sitting with the family, doctors informed they could visit their loved one.  

During training, each advocate is encouraged to set boundaries.  Child abuse may impact one worker differently than car accidents impact another.  Suicides may bother an advocate; homicides another.  Unless necessary, I've learned to avoid bodies.

Voyeurism is an industry.

There is no reason to stand over a person's remains unless there's a reason.  Helping a funeral home move the body is a reason.  Counseling a family member at risk of ruining evidence is a reason.  Complying with a police request is a reason.  When the doctor says it's time, going with a family because the family shot-caller says, "We're all going, right Alex?" is a reason.

We show up to serve but families decide to let us in; to share stories; to trust us to help as chaos barks.  

In the room I went. 

Before going, I heard Him say, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me."  I saw what I cannot unsee because I fixed my eyes on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith.  He endured the cross, despised the shame and is now seated in honor at the Heavenly Father's right hand.

"How do you deal with all of this?" one of the family members asked.

"I'm a Christian.  I think of the cross of Jesus, and the brutal way He died.  Remembering Him helps me help you."

Tourism is an industry.

Temptation is an industry.

Trusting Jesus is work.  

When lifting a cross, lift the way He tells you, on the day He tells you, just how He tells you.

Make sure you lift on three.