Communications pro Allan Jenkins, from his base in Hjelm Bay, Møn, Denmark, sends a tweet calling the Danish daily Politiken “complete wimps” for apologizing over the publication years ago of unflattering editorial cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad.

Link to story

Was it cowardice, or common sense? If an axe-wielding extremist broke into your home because you posted a comment or cartoon that might be considered “offensive,” or continued to plot ways to kill you, would you be willing to die for freedom of speech? Really?

Why then, do I hear and watch so much “humor” and “editorial comment” knocking the Christian faith, but just about zero directed at Islam? Why do people think it is acceptable, even in the workplace, to use “Jesus Christ” as a swear word, but those same people wouldn’t think of substituting “Prophet Muhammad”?

Christians don’t blow up innocent groups of people, and they don’t grab an axe to attack people who disparage their Lord, Jesus Christ.

Should they? It seems to work for Islamic extremists, at least in Denmark. Allan might think his local journalists are wimps, but maybe they are realists. And maybe we are, too.

A few days before Christmas, I read David Murray’s blog post about a fundraising effort to cover nontraditional treatment for a family’s terminally ill wife and mother. I thought about other people who had died after placing desperate hope in some unproven, promised cure: Farrah Fawcett, whose battle against anal cancer included treatments in a German clinic to boost her immune system, and my own sister, Annette, who died 18 years ago from breast cancer.

Cancer is ugly and scary. This year, about 562,340 Americans are expected to die of cancer, more than 1,500 people a day, according to the American Cancer Society (ACS). Cancer is the second most common cause of death in the U.S., exceeded only by heart disease. In the U.S., cancer accounts for nearly 1 of every 4 deaths, according to the ACS statistics.

While cancer is ugly and scary, its treatment can be even more grim. Chemotherapy with its nausea, hair loss and other side-effects. Mastectomies and other surgeries. Radiation.

All for what? The 5-year relative survival rate for all cancers diagnosed between 1996-2004 was 66%, up from 50% in 1975-1977. So even with progress in diagnosing certain cancers at an earlier stage and improvements in treatment, one-third of all people in the U.S. who were diagnosed with cancer in 2004 aren’t alive today.

That’s why people like the Wieland family fight like hell to beat cancer. When someone you love has cancer, the first response, after the tears, is to stay positive and to expect to defeat the cancer. Unfortunately, studies show that a positive attitude doesn’t extend the life of a cancer patient.

Of course, support groups can affect quality of life, but the threat of death from cancer-related causes can open the door to long-shot treatments and no-shot money wasters dangled by charlatans.

As research intern Krystal Wilson said in an October 2007 online article for the American Council on Science and Health,

That’s why I had mixed emotions when I read Murray’s post and checked out the “Lana’s Hope” site. I want to help the family in this small way, by spreading the news about the fund-raising effort. I want Lana to get those long-shot treatments that just might cure her cancer.

On the other hand, I want this emotionally drained family to avoid being taken by charlatans on the hope of a fake miracle cure. But I understand what’s driving them.

In the fall of 1982, I was living in a two-bedroom apartment in Aurora, Colo., just outside Denver, with a former college journalism buddy. I had called him the previous August from Decatur, Ill., where I had just decided to leave my job as a reporter at the Decatur Herald & Review. I told him that I had decided to move to Colorado “to see the mountains.” I was pleasantly surprised when he called me back later to say that he would go with me!

My friend, Bernie, quickly secured a nice position in the call center of a national check security firm. I was more focused on partying, and had floated through some low-paying, no-future “jobs.”

One day, the phone rang. It was my sister, Annette. It was about three months after she and her husband had their first child, a son. Annette was reaching out to her younger brother, to offer some encouragement.

During the phone call, Annette mentioned that she had been having some inexplicable back pains. A voice in my head said, “Tell her that is a sign of possible cancer.” But I pushed that thought aside; I mean, how weird would I have sounded, scaring my sister with the idea of cancer?

A few weeks later, I learned that Annette did indeed have breast cancer, and she needed to begin chemotherapy. I decided to move back into my parents’ home shortly afterward, stating that I wanted to be there to support Annette. The larger truth was that I needed the support of my family just as much.

Annette and her family went through a lot of ups and downs in the next eight months before she died on June 1, 1982. I later referenced that time in a song I wrote titled, “Cells of Fear”:

Near the end, as the cancer spread to Annette’s brain and lungs, choking her breath and stealing her sight, her family was desperate.

My mom told me that Annette’s husband had paid a fee and expenses to bring a “faith healer” from somewhere in Canada. “Don’t you say anything,” my mom sternly told me through tears. “This might be Annette’s last chance.”

I couldn’t help but glare at the “faith healer” as she was escorted past me in the hallway outside of Annette’s hospital room. I wasn’t going to watch the “show,” even if I had been invited. I wasn’t going to be invited because my unbelief might affect the potential “miracle,” some of my family thought.

So I spent a few minutes alone in the hallway, until the procession left Annette’s room. I may be making this up, but I have a partial recollection that someone commented that Annette was now “in God’s hands.”

I believe that she was always in God’s hands, and he did the merciful thing when he ended her suffering. That’s the way we deal with cancer: Expect to beat it, then if we don’t, hope to limit the suffering with a quick death.

I hope that Lana’s family raises the money to pay for the treatments they desire for Lana. If the treatments provide her with a longer, more enjoyable life, that would be a blessing.

I pray, as well, that they don’t fall victim to charlatans, dangling empty promises of hope. That is a curse.

When my wife and I began premarital counseling 20 years ago at her Lutheran church, I decided to convert from the Catholic to Lutheran faith. It was an easy decision for me, because I had long before stopped identifying with the Catholic religion I was taught from birth through high school. The Lutheran faith was similar to Roman Catholicism, but it held key theological and practical differences that made sense to me then…and now.

As someone who made a reasoned decision two decade ago regarding my religious beliefs, I was perturbed a few weeks ago when my dad sent me an email, inviting me to “come home” to the Catholic church.

The problem isn’t that the Catholic church is making an outreach effort to win converts. The problem is that the outreach efforts are sending a message to people like me that the Catholic beliefs are the only right choice. Even other Christian denominations “have it wrong.”

That message is, in the words of the apostle Paul, “a resounding gong,” (1 Corinthians 13:1) because it demonstrates a lack of love on the part of the people behind this outreach effort. How else to explain an outreach effort that alienates brothers and sisters in Christ, that assumes that “home” is a belief system that people like me left behind for theological reasons without regret?

I don’t want to get into a debate with Catholics. I want them to be able to express their beliefs, while respecting the beliefs of others. This “Come Home” campaign doesn’t do it in theory or in practice.

My grandfather, Clarence Fieberg, was in the trades for all of his adult life. He worked up the ranks at McNulty Construction Company, eventually earning a role as a vice president.

This is my grandfather, whom we called “Pop-pop,” along with his wife, Gladys, her mother, Maud, my mom, and her six children. That’s me in front, threatening to shoot the photographer (my dad).

Among its projects, McNulty Construction helped build the Pentagon in the early 1940s. Pop-pop commuted by train for months as he worked on the Pentagon project.

One day, his boss told Pop-pop that the firm had won another large project bid in the Washington, D.C. area, and that it would be a multi-year commitment. Pop-pop talked things over with my grandmother, and they decided to move to Washington so that they would be together.

They went ahead with a few suitcases, leaving the rest of their belongings to be loaded onto a moving truck. They had barely arrived in Washington when Pop-pop was offered a kickback from someone related to the new project. He refused it, and when he was told, “that’s the way things work around here,” he reported the incident to his boss at McNulty. “McNulty Construction doesn’t take bribes,” his boss affirmed.

Pop-pop called the movers back in Chicago and told them to stop loading the truck. McNulty Construction pulled out of the project, and Pop-pop returned home.

I remember feeling very proud of Pop-pop years ago when he told that true story to me and my siblings. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though it was understood that honesty was not something to compromise.

I wish that I remained forever unsoiled by the attitude that “it’s the way that things are done around here.” But I eventually became jaded growing up in Chicago, and reading numerous newspaper accounts of widespread graft, favoritism and an apparent lack of accountability for wrongdoing. It wasn’t just in the newspapers, it was in companies where I worked, among people who worked alongside me, or were in management positions.

The attitude that “right doesn’t matter, getting your way does,” even reared its ugly head in the youth sports in which I coached and in which my kids participated. Many people had a great perspective–that sports was a way to teach the values of honest work, determination, and discipline. But it seemed like there would always be a few coaches or parents on the sidelines, dragging down the team with ways to “play the system” or complain about fair calls that didn’t go their way.

Anyway, I thought about Pop-pop and McNulty Construction recently when I shooed the dishonest tradesman out of my home (read Part One of this post for the background). I’m not “Ivory Soap pure” by any stretch of the imagination, but every once in a while, I can do the hard thing, the right thing, that let’s me feel good about looking at myself in the mirror.

Sometimes, I guess I see part of Pop-pop looking back.

In recent years, my appreciation of the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday has grown. Thanksgiving is different than the highly commercialized Christmas holiday which follows in a month. Non-Christians (and, sadly, many Christians as well) use Christmas as an opportunity to covet things they don’t have.

Thanksgiving, on the other hand, provides an opportunity to be grateful for what we already have been given, in context of spirituality, health, relationships and “worldly goods.”

I slept in a bit today, a benefit of a holiday from work. Still, I began the day as usual, with time spent reading a bit of the Bible, along with a related devotion. Today’s devotion quoted a proclamation made in 1863 by then-President Abraham Lincoln.

I’m not well-versed in the study of speeches or proclamations; for that, I defer to DaMurr, David Murray. As editor of Vital Speeches of the Day, Murray has shared many examples of well-written prose.

Yesterday, Murray reprinted a very touching account by military veteran Stephen Banko, of events during one Thanksgiving lived in Vietnam during the war. It made me say thanks to the thousands of military men and women who are spending this Thanksgiving away from home, family and friends. I pray for their safety and honor their service to the nation.

President Lincoln designated Thanksgiving as an official U.S. holiday with a proclamation he signed in 1863. It was during another major military operation: the Civil War. As I read the proclamation, I thanked God for all of the things He has given me, and for all of the things He has taken away.

Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclamation
Washington, DC—October 3, 1863

The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added which are of so extraordinary a nature that they can not fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever-watchful providence of Almighty God.

In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign states to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere, except in the theater of military conflict, while that theater has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.

Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense have not arrested the plow, the shuttle, or the ship; the ax has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well as the iron and coal as of our precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege, and the battlefield, and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.

No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.

It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow-citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next as a day of thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners, or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the imposition of the Almighty hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it, as soon as may be consistent with the divine purpose, to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility, and union.

In testimony whereof I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the city of Washington, this 3d day of October, A.D. 1863, and of the Independence of the United States the eighty-eighth.

Abraham Lincoln

By the President:
William H. Seward,
Secretary of State.

My daughter, Caitlyn, and I are packing today in preparation for a 13-hour drive tomorrow with about 40 middle-schooler and adult leaders heading to Splash Camp.

The camp is a six-day combination of Christian worship, fun and unexpected growth through challenges. What challenges? Last year we had to use teamwork to get through a challenge course. My daughter had to overcome her dislike for touching fish when she happened to catch the largest walleye in the area up to that point (see picture).

So no blogging until we get back. I may try to Tweet a little (@commakazi) and update my Facebook page via mobile phone. But maybe not—we’re supposed to be leaving the technology behind. I need the phone so that parents can reach me or their kids in an emergency.

Yesterday I wrote optimistically and enthusiastically about the social skills of some U.S. teens. Then I read a news article regarding Chinese youth, and realized that a comparison is in order.

The article, “Web-savvy & cynical: China’s youth since Tiananmen,” quotes and compares Chinese citizens who either lived through the June 4, 1989 military crackdown against demonstrators in Beijing, or who were born after it. The difference in political knowledge and concern is striking.

Here is one portion of the article:

Wu Xu, 39, was a Tiananmen participant. His generation was plagued by insecurity, he says, and hoped that China could “catch up” to the West politically and economically.

“This generation is totally different,” says Wu, author of a recent book about Chinese cybernationalism. “There is no kind of feeling of inferiority. … They have had the advantage of the last thirty years of China’s economic performance.”

Wu contends that China’s youth know more than they let on, and while they tend to be fiercely proud of their country they are also highly critical of their government. He calls them “a double-edged sword with no handle,” because their opinions cut in many directions and are not guided by any single ideology or organization.

Although young people in the United States also have opinions that go in many directions and are not guided by any single ideology or organization, they have something that Chinese people don’t: the freedom to speak their minds and to hear dissenting views.

The last presidential election is a case in point. Young people in large numbers supported the ideas of Barack Obama, and used social media tools and techniques to energize that campaign. But Obama’s opinions and promises weren’t unopposed, and voters were able to sift through messages from every candidate (Republican, Democrat and several others).

Further, as a Christian, I appreciate having the freedom to speak truth as I have learned it, in a country where people with other views also have the right to state their views. The mention of a double-edged sword in the article above reminded me of the verse in the bible that states,

For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. — Hebrews 4:12 (New International Version)

I truly believe that the situation in China cannot be sustained, and someday, that nation will face truths that have been long suppressed.

Jesus Christ isn’t a swear word; it’s the name and title of a human being who is worshiped as both God and Savior by millions of people worldwide—including me.

Today it is not unusual to hear someone say “Jesus Christ” with contempt, using it as a swear word when something or someone upsets the person who uttered the words. If you are one of those people…stop it.

People have used foul language for thousands of years, and this post isn’t an attempt to change that behavior. I swear on occasion, and I understand why people do it. It’s difficult to offend me with most vulgarities—with the exception of “Jesus Christ.”

If you are an agnostic, an atheist or a believer in a spiritual movement other than Christianity, why should you care? After all, Jesus is not your Lord, your savior, your God. You should care out of respect for Jesus Christ. Notice that I’m not saying, “out of respect for Christians.” We could have a good long discussion of how Christians have wronged others. That might give you reason to curse them, but not Jesus.

No evidence exists that Jesus ever did anything in his 33 years on earth that would justify scorn. He led a pure life; spread a message of love and repentance for sin; and healed people who were blind, lame, deaf and crippled. For that, he died a terrible death after three sham trials and without evidence of wrong-doing. Well, he did say that he was the Son of God, but many of us believe it.

Should people around me stop using “Jesus Christ” as an obscenity because I believe that they are defaming my Savior? Yes and no. The answer revolves around decency and courtesy towards the beliefs of another human being.

For example, the next time you’re tempted to use Jesus Christ as an obscenity, picture yourself substituting another name. Say, “Prophet Mohammed,” or “Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,” or “Buddha.” Picture yourself saying those names with the level of scorn and contempt that you would use with “Jesus Christ.” Picture yourself exclaiming it in a crowd of Muslims, Jews and Buddhists.

Maybe you want to avoid the obvious verbal and/or physical pain that you would suffer from that example. Okay, substitute another person’s name, such as, “Barack Obama,” “Queen Elizabeth,” “George Bush,” or “George Clooney.” These are other good people, not quite up to par with Jesus, but about the best we see at the international level these days.

A final thought about the words “swear” and “curse.”

According to Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary, two definitions for the word, “swear,” are:
1: to utter or take solemnly (an oath)
2: to use profane or obscene language: curse

The same source includes the following definitions for the word, “curse”:
1 : a prayer or invocation for harm or injury to come upon one : imprecation
2 : something that is cursed or accursed
3 : evil or misfortune that comes as if in response to imprecation or as retribution
4 : a cause of great harm or misfortune : torment

I don’t use “Jesus Christ” as a swear word because I utter that name with solemn reverence.

On this Good Friday, Christians remember how Jesus was cursed; that is, caused great harm and torment by people who invocated for his injury.

Don’t be one of them. Leave the name of Jesus out of your swearing and cursing vocabulary.

Today, I’m enjoying a round of golf at Eastern Illinois University. Early Sunday morning, I leave with a busload of middle-school youth and other adult leaders of my church for a week of fun and spiritual renewal at a Christian camp near Bemidji, MN.

No PCs at camp, so this blog will be quiet for at least one week.

I had lunch today with some people, one of whom told us about his history of heart problems. Bill has endured two major heart surgeries and can’t work because of the damage to his heart muscle. He told us that at one point during his most recent heart attack, while he was being pumped with nitroglycerin and morphine in an attempt to reduce his pain and keep him alive, the doctor told him:

“According to all of my training, and what I know, and what I’m seeing, you have about five minutes to live. If you feel inclined to make peace with your God, I’d suggest that you do it right now.” Bill decided that it would be a good idea to follow his doctor’s advice right then, and thought,
“God, thank you for the life you’ve given me. If this is my time to go, I’m ready.”

As soon as he had finished that “prayer,” the pain from the heart attack ended. “Doc, the pain is gone,” Bill exclaimed. “Are you B…s..ing me?” the doctor replied. Bill wasn’t kidding, and in the decade since that near-death experience in 1998, he has continued to live his life as though God has him here for a purpose.

If you were told that you only had five minutes left to live, would you be at peace? If you then learned that the Grim Reaper wasn’t making a house call that day after all, how would you want to spend the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months that could follow?

All of our days are numbered; let’s make them count.