Do good things that people value, and value the good people who enable you to do those things.
That has been my guiding principle as editor of an evolving publishing venture during fast-changing times.
Truth-telling, of course, is an encompassing part of doing what needs to be done — while recognizing that I’ve been entrusted with both an amplifying format and with the freedom others may not have to speak so freely.
In my sheltered but shaping upbringing, I was clueless about much beyond planning the next camping trip, meeting basic school expectations or fumbling my way through naïve attempts at early romance.
While other organizations like Boy Scouts and 4-H drew my attention and offered experience in skills from outdoor survival to public speaking, it was a nurturing church that anchored it all.
As a stringy-haired teen, I worked after-school and weekend jobs that also provided some life lessons — one being to stay in school.
Meanwhile, Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock,” Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly,” Jim Croce’s “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” Dobie Gray’s “Drift Away,” Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” and Kris Kristofferson’s “Why Me” played in the background.
Back then, my vision of future possibilities was much too limited to consider the varied and enriching vocational and personal experiences that have come my way.
Yet fingerprints from the past can be spotted when reflecting on the shaping opportunities for leadership and service during those developing years. And repeatedly hearing or reading both the confronting and comforting words of Jesus was not totally in vain.
The best part of every job held over the past half-century — from washing dishes to writing articles — has been meeting incredible, delightful and inspiring people. They greatly outnumber those who can’t be described by any of those adjectives.
Editorial freedom — granted and protected by those who’ve served on boards of directors during my editorship — is a gift for which my gratitude is deep. I’ve sought to accept that gift with the right balance of freedom and responsibility.
Through the years, my writings have addressed many issues, trends and concerns — not as an authoritative and definitive word but as a way to encourage thoughtful consideration of these matters.
In more recent years, in particular, I have pursued the question of what it means to be a faithful follower of Jesus in today’s fast-shifting, technologically advanced and deeply divided American culture.
This has and continues to occur at a time when “Christian” as a label has little meaning and often evokes bad connotations resulting from self-inflicted wounds.
As a result, there are various responses. Some fully reject institutionalized religious expressions — and I understand the pain that leads some to make that choice for healthy reasons.
Others simply ignore the tragic ways Americanized Christianity has departed from the life and teachings of Jesus. They just uncritically go along with the crowd.
Others remain as loyal critics — who stay on the inside and keep asking, “Where is Jesus?” And how does he fit into what gets sold to us as truth?
Of course, Jesus is not found only in those places we designate for him. So there are widespread opportunities to consider what it means to bring the radical grace, hospitality, mercy and selflessness of Jesus into all kinds of encounters.
I’m not in a position to judge my own work other than to say I’ve tried to do a good job while admitting my shortcomings. Having written countless words for nearly 24 years in this job brings some introspection — or at least some wondering.
Where did they land? How were they received? Did they make a difference beyond the moment?
Those questions, however, are not the ones that most rest in my mind. There are others.
Did I speak truth when it was unpopular but needed? Did I use my privilege and power to give voice to those who are hushed or struggle to find the words?
There’s no illusion that my opinion writing, in particular, was always right or right on time. My prayer is that when I’ve erred, I did so on the side of inclusion, compassion, justice, equality, open-mindedness, and grace.
What I wonder most is if my writings exceeded any blinders of the moment. It’s too soon to tell.
My hope, however, is that if someone comes across my writings after I’m gone and asks one of my daughters, “Was this your dad?” — they can say “yes” without embarrassment and possibly with a little pride.
While highly imperfect in both my professional and personal roles, I’ve sought a balance in being truthful and graceful.
I tried, girls. I really tried.
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