When you don't know
25/11/14 05:30
So here are two stories that few would connect:
On May 18, 1926, Aimee Semple McPherson went to Venice Beach, near Los Angeles to swim and write a sermon. She took an assistant with here, who had to stop and make a phone call at a nearby hotel. When the assistant returned, McPherson was gone. At first it was feared that she had drowned. One newspaper claimed that a sea monster had been sighted. A young man drowned as he swam toward two dead seals, believing that he had sighted her body. No body was found.
Then in June, she was found, alive and apparently well, in the small town of Agua Prieta on the Mexico-Arizona border. Her story was that she had been kidnapped. Her story was that she was asked to help a sick child, who was in the back seat of a car. When she bent over to assist the child, she was shoved into the car, chloroformed and kidnapped.
At the time she was the most famous preacher in the United States. She had been born in Canada. As a teenager, she went to hear Robert Semple speak in a Pentecostal service in her town. She married him and joined his life on the road. In Hong Kong, they both contracted malaria. Her husband died and she survived, pregnant with her first child. She continued the ministry, returned to America and became a spellbinding preacher. She became known as Sister Aimee and gathered huge crowds. Her appearances were marked by great drama, professional actors, costumes, make-up artists, theatrical lighting and more. Soon she was a radio preacher with an enormous following. She married Harold McPherson and had another child, but they divorced.
With donations from her followers she built Angelus Temple in Los Angeles and bought a radio station. It was the beginning of what has become the International Church of the Foursquare Gospel. She was a superstar preacher before television evangelists.
There are a few more details to the story. Kenneth Ormiston, a married sound engineer who worked for McPherson, also disappeared the same night. Biographer Matthew Sutton believes they had an affair.
A grand jury was convened. No charges were ever brought.
McPherson died in September of 1944 of an overdose of sedatives. Suicide was speculated, but no proof existed.
The second story:
I have a good friend who lives in the St. Louis area. A minister who is married to a college professor, he has great gifts for the ministry, but is not able to move about because of his wife’s work. For as long as I have known him, he has served ably as an interim minister to a large number of United Church of Christ and Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, congregations. He and I have worked together on a large number of educational projects over the years and served together as Christian Education Consultants for nearly 15 years.
His most recent call has been to serve Immanuel/Ferguson United Church of Christ. And if you read any news stories or watch any television, you know that Ferguson has been a very challenging place to minister. Last night they had to put into place all of their alternate plans, cancel all church activities, and make sure the church was locked and secure. Activities and worship services may be cancelled for the rest of the week. I haven’t heard from Frank since yesterday, but here is more than enough tension in a city which last night saw the most intense rioting and looting in its history.
The outlines of the story are simple. The situation is far from it. On August 9, Michael Brown, an unarmed 18-year-old was shot and killed by a police officer. Brown was African-American. The police officer, Darren Wilson is white. The exact details of the shooting are not clear. Officer Wilson was investigating a robbery and used his police car to block Mr. Brown and another man. A scuffle ensued. Shots were fired. At one point Wilson ordered Brown to get on the ground. Brown did not comply with the order. When it was all over, Brown was dead, the victim of the lethal accuracy of a well-trained law enforcement officer.
A grand jury was convened. No charges were brought.
I don’t know what happened.
And I don’t know what happened when Aimee Sempel McPherson disappeared for a month back in 1926.
I don’t expect to ever know the complete details in either case. In both cases, I suspect that there is plenty that members of the Grand Jury don’t know, either. On television, crimes are “solved.” The truth is clear and black and white and eventually becomes known by the public. In the real world, it is a lot different. A police officer is taught to protect life with the use of lethal force. They train and train and train again both in the accurate and effective use of their firearms and in the deciton-making process about when to use the firearm. Events can unfold on a dark night where decisions need to be made in a split second. They are human beings. Sometimes mistakes are made. The results of mistakes can be tragic. Even if every officer were wearing a camera, we wouldn’t know the details of what happened.
I understand the statistics. I know that the 13th amendment to the US constitution abolished slavery “except as a punishment for crime.” I know that more African-Americans are in jail today than were slaves when slavery was legal. I know that there is incredible tension and distrust of law enforcement in African-American neighborhoods.
I also know that law enforcement officers are diligent, well-trained and not the people who make the laws.
I know that looting and firebombing and pepper spray and crows running in the streets do not bring justice. I know that armored vehicles and military weapons on the streets of our communities are not the answer.
I understand that the safety of members and guests requires that Immanuel/Ferguson United Church of Christ be closed and locked. But I also know that the voice of my friend is more likely to bring peace than what is going on in the streets. I know that the community needs worship and prayer and forgiveness and justice that don’t come from humans, but come from God.
Truth be told, I am a little bit afraid for Frank’s safety in such a violent setting. But I also know of his deep faithfulness to God’s call. You probably won’t see him on television, but he is there working for peace in justice and truth and reconciliation. It may be for a time such as this that he was born.
On May 18, 1926, Aimee Semple McPherson went to Venice Beach, near Los Angeles to swim and write a sermon. She took an assistant with here, who had to stop and make a phone call at a nearby hotel. When the assistant returned, McPherson was gone. At first it was feared that she had drowned. One newspaper claimed that a sea monster had been sighted. A young man drowned as he swam toward two dead seals, believing that he had sighted her body. No body was found.
Then in June, she was found, alive and apparently well, in the small town of Agua Prieta on the Mexico-Arizona border. Her story was that she had been kidnapped. Her story was that she was asked to help a sick child, who was in the back seat of a car. When she bent over to assist the child, she was shoved into the car, chloroformed and kidnapped.
At the time she was the most famous preacher in the United States. She had been born in Canada. As a teenager, she went to hear Robert Semple speak in a Pentecostal service in her town. She married him and joined his life on the road. In Hong Kong, they both contracted malaria. Her husband died and she survived, pregnant with her first child. She continued the ministry, returned to America and became a spellbinding preacher. She became known as Sister Aimee and gathered huge crowds. Her appearances were marked by great drama, professional actors, costumes, make-up artists, theatrical lighting and more. Soon she was a radio preacher with an enormous following. She married Harold McPherson and had another child, but they divorced.
With donations from her followers she built Angelus Temple in Los Angeles and bought a radio station. It was the beginning of what has become the International Church of the Foursquare Gospel. She was a superstar preacher before television evangelists.
There are a few more details to the story. Kenneth Ormiston, a married sound engineer who worked for McPherson, also disappeared the same night. Biographer Matthew Sutton believes they had an affair.
A grand jury was convened. No charges were ever brought.
McPherson died in September of 1944 of an overdose of sedatives. Suicide was speculated, but no proof existed.
The second story:
I have a good friend who lives in the St. Louis area. A minister who is married to a college professor, he has great gifts for the ministry, but is not able to move about because of his wife’s work. For as long as I have known him, he has served ably as an interim minister to a large number of United Church of Christ and Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, congregations. He and I have worked together on a large number of educational projects over the years and served together as Christian Education Consultants for nearly 15 years.
His most recent call has been to serve Immanuel/Ferguson United Church of Christ. And if you read any news stories or watch any television, you know that Ferguson has been a very challenging place to minister. Last night they had to put into place all of their alternate plans, cancel all church activities, and make sure the church was locked and secure. Activities and worship services may be cancelled for the rest of the week. I haven’t heard from Frank since yesterday, but here is more than enough tension in a city which last night saw the most intense rioting and looting in its history.
The outlines of the story are simple. The situation is far from it. On August 9, Michael Brown, an unarmed 18-year-old was shot and killed by a police officer. Brown was African-American. The police officer, Darren Wilson is white. The exact details of the shooting are not clear. Officer Wilson was investigating a robbery and used his police car to block Mr. Brown and another man. A scuffle ensued. Shots were fired. At one point Wilson ordered Brown to get on the ground. Brown did not comply with the order. When it was all over, Brown was dead, the victim of the lethal accuracy of a well-trained law enforcement officer.
A grand jury was convened. No charges were brought.
I don’t know what happened.
And I don’t know what happened when Aimee Sempel McPherson disappeared for a month back in 1926.
I don’t expect to ever know the complete details in either case. In both cases, I suspect that there is plenty that members of the Grand Jury don’t know, either. On television, crimes are “solved.” The truth is clear and black and white and eventually becomes known by the public. In the real world, it is a lot different. A police officer is taught to protect life with the use of lethal force. They train and train and train again both in the accurate and effective use of their firearms and in the deciton-making process about when to use the firearm. Events can unfold on a dark night where decisions need to be made in a split second. They are human beings. Sometimes mistakes are made. The results of mistakes can be tragic. Even if every officer were wearing a camera, we wouldn’t know the details of what happened.
I understand the statistics. I know that the 13th amendment to the US constitution abolished slavery “except as a punishment for crime.” I know that more African-Americans are in jail today than were slaves when slavery was legal. I know that there is incredible tension and distrust of law enforcement in African-American neighborhoods.
I also know that law enforcement officers are diligent, well-trained and not the people who make the laws.
I know that looting and firebombing and pepper spray and crows running in the streets do not bring justice. I know that armored vehicles and military weapons on the streets of our communities are not the answer.
I understand that the safety of members and guests requires that Immanuel/Ferguson United Church of Christ be closed and locked. But I also know that the voice of my friend is more likely to bring peace than what is going on in the streets. I know that the community needs worship and prayer and forgiveness and justice that don’t come from humans, but come from God.
Truth be told, I am a little bit afraid for Frank’s safety in such a violent setting. But I also know of his deep faithfulness to God’s call. You probably won’t see him on television, but he is there working for peace in justice and truth and reconciliation. It may be for a time such as this that he was born.