Disagree? Sure. Vilify? Nope.

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As a citizen of this country, I have opinions about things that are being done well and others that are being done poorly. As a Christian, though, it is my responsibility to keep my tongue in check and not vilify people as I'm disagreeing with policy. I love these words by James Emery White in Christ Among the Dragons: Finding Our Way Through Cultural Challenges:
Consider what has been our political voice - at at least, what has been perceived to be our political voice. An editorial in Christianity Today titled "Hating Hillary" chronicles the depth of rancor and animosity among Christians toward Hillary Clinton, particularly during her run for the presidency. While her political stances have been polarizing, instead of civil discourse there was an avalanche of animosity expressed in everything from T-shirts, bumper stickers, voodoo dolls and "No Way in Hellary" barbeque aprons. At the 2004 Republican convention, a spokesman for the Family Research Council passed out fortune cookies with the message: "#1 reason to ban human cloning: Hillary Clinton." In anticipation of her historic run, which would have made her the first female president in U.S. History, the late Jerry Falwell announced at a 2006 Values Voter Summit, "I certainly hope that Hillary is the candidate. Because nothing would energize my [constituency] like Hillary Clinton. If Lucifer ran, he wouldn't."
So much for the "aroma of Christ" (2 Corinthians 2:15)
And it is easy to smell.
It reminds me of a story told by Martin Niemoller, a German Lutheran bishop who was called on to negotiate with Adolf Hitler during World War II in the attempt to save the church of Germany from being closed down by the Nazi dictator. Toward the end of his life Neimoller had a recurring dream in which he saw Hitler standing before Jesus on Judgment Day. When Jesus got off his throne, put his arm around Hitler and asked, "Adolf! Why did you do the ugly, evil things you did? Why were you so cruel?" Hitler, with his head bent low, simply answered, "Because nobody ever told me how much You loved me." At this point, Niemoller would wake up from his dream in a cold sweat, remembering the countless meetings he had with Hitler - face to face - and he never once said, "By the way, Fuhrer, Jesus loves you! He loves you more than you'll ever know. He loved you so much that He died for you. Do you know that?"
For Neimoller, this was a nightmare. For us, it is the heart of our challenge. (pp. 95-96; the link was added by me but everything else came from White's writing)
 I promise I'm not saying this to shame anyone, but did you chuckle at any of the Hillary remarks above? I'll admit that I did. And then I returned to the verse linked above,
For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.
 And I was convicted.

Is it okay to hate Hillary? I don't think so. Is it okay to hate ____________ [insert name of politician you disagree with here or, for me, name of ridiculous political talking head on the airwaves]? I don't think so either.

'Cause y'all are smart. And 'cause I'm not too proud to beg. (Please comment. Pretty please?)

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And 'cause y'all are creative. And 'cause most of you reading this love Jesus. And 'cause y'all aren't trying to juggle a kazillion things. (Oh, wait. You probably are. So scratch that and make it something like "'cause y'all aren't writing a thesis on the relationship between school poverty levels and the test performance of students with learning disabilities." I bet that one's accurate. And if it's not, email me 'cause I'd love to swap research findings.)

(And, yes, my name is Shannon, and I get twitchy if I shorten because without adding an apostrophe. I'm really living on the wild side if I *gasp* use cuz.)

The hubs and I are now coordinating special needs ministry for kids birth through high school at our church. (Which is so very, very exciting in many more ways than I can describe in this post. Praise God!)

And we're thinking about what to call it. We're not tossing around ideas because our church loves to use confusing fresh names for everything, even though they do. (Vacation Bible School? Nah, we have Super Summer Adventure. Chidcare? Not here. It's SonStation. Adult Sunday school? Nope, LIFE class.

I could go on, but I won't.)

We may just stick with "special needs ministry," which is what we're calling it right now. Our church isn't opposed to explanatory names, like calling leadership training "leadership training." Not cutting edge, but descriptive nonetheless. I tend to prefer the bland names over ones that just add more jargon to a place that's already jargon-rich (Christianese, anyone?).

But some families are sensitive about labels. And some kids don't even have labels, if the child hasn't formally been diagnosed with a disability. And certain labels carry a lot of stigma. (See a good post about that here on one of my favorite blogs. I think the comments are as telling as the post.)

Yes, sometimes we need to change the stigma and not the label.

And, yes, sometimes we veer too far in the other direction. I used to be a part of a denomination that scrapped "disabled" and "differently abled" (which, by the way, makes me gag, but not as much as...) to use "definitely abled" at their term of choice in the 90s. Um, no. Try telling someone whose child is in a wheelchair that he's "definitely abled." Or sit across from a parents struggling with a new reality as an IEP meeting and say, "Yes, your child's IQ is significantly below the normal range. She's definitely abled." If you don't get slapped for that, you're lucky.

But, even though I prefer my newspaper to online news and detest text-speak, I'm open to considering a name that's hip and cool and fresh. Or to sticking with a descriptive one. Yep, I'm decisive like that.

One church with a solid model for special needs ministry calls it Green Light Ministry. Their explanation is this: "Children with special needs and their family members face more than their share of red lights as they travel through life. Unfortunately, for many of these families, the church has been just another one of those red lights along the road." They also call their parents' night out respite care Refuel. I like those names. And we might steal borrow them.

Here are some more I've seen around: Access Ministries/Access Ministry, ones that include the word "Inclusive," Special Stars (at a church where children's ministry is called "All Stars"), and Special Connections (which is out because our church already uses "Connections" for middle and high school Sunday school). And there's a church that calls their special needs buddy volunteers "shadows," and I haven't decided whether or not I like that. I know I don't care for calling those volunteers "special friends" like one local church does and like many I've found online do; that just doesn't sound right.

And then there are some wild and crazy churches that just call it special needs ministry, like this one.

So now I'm asking you, dear readers, for your thoughts. But first...

To help you out, let me tell you what we're doing now. We have a handful of kids who need a Sunday morning volunteer partnered with them to help them in a regular class. We have other kids who we just make sure have a fully staffed room with at least four teachers. We don't currently have a self-contained special needs class, though we might open one in the future as we evaluate needs. (There is class like that for adults with special needs at our church, and we call it the Joy class. But we haven't liked any variation on that name, because most - "Little Joy Class" - sound like we're reducing the joy. Which is probably a bad thing.) We do have plans for the future, which will all operate in submission to the godly leadership at our church and which may or may not include things like the occasional parents' night out respite care and parent workshops. We're just serving Christ with our gifts and passions and following where He leads.

Whadya think:
Should we leave it "special needs ministry" or change it?
Do you have any hip ideas? 
Or ones that aren't hip?
(Is it even hip to use the word hip, or am I clinging to that like I cling to my newsprint?)
Are there any names I've listed or that you've heard that you hate/dislike/don't prefer?

Please comment. Pretty please. But not with a cherry on top, because I don't like cherries.

But, if you do, I suppose I'll add the cherry back into the equation.

As long as I don't have to eat it.

(And no promises here, folks. We might stick with the name "special needs ministry." Or not. It'll definitely be one or the other, though. I can guarantee that.)

My cover doesn't tell my story. And neither does anyone else's.

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Our plasma TV has had some red sparkly issues on the screen, so - since it was under warranty - we called the Samsung folks on Sunday. As Lee was on the phone with them, I overheard, "Well, my wife has arthritis, so..."

As it turns out, they were offering to send someone out the next afternoon to replace some of the panels. And asking that we take the TV off the wall before they came over. A quick glance out the window showed us that the neighbors who usually help with that sort of thing weren't home. And Lee was right, his wife does have arthritis. She goes to the gym a few times a week (well, when her liver is functioning), but she can't hold things well enough to, for example, pour from a full gallon of milk. So she couldn't help much with a big ol' TV.

And she really needs to stop talking about herself in third person.

Anyway, they said it would be okay, and they would send an extra guy out to help Lee get the TV off its mount if Lee would just loosen the screws (or whatever it is that holds it up there...I don't really know). It wasn't until later that I realized that they must think we were an elderly couple because they wouldn't have to send an extra guy if Lee was capable. Lee plus one guy would have been enough.

So Monday afternoon rolled around. I was about to head to a meeting when the guys arrived. No big deal, right?

Um, no.

Older gentleman, with a bit of irritation in his tone as he pointed toward his younger partner: "Oh. I brought him because we were told that you two wouldn't be able to take the TV off the wall."

Long pause.

Questioning look.

What did I do? I just gave Lee a hug and kiss and left for my meeting as planned. I thought about explaining, but I didn't see the point of it. Would it have embarrassed him? Would it have educated him? Would it have mattered?

I don't know. I'm usually an open book, but I just didn't have the words to explain the situation with equal measures of gentleness and transparency. So I said nothing.

I do know, though, that it's had me thinking. The poor guy just didn't have a clue, and he wasn't given any indication of one as he looked at a couple in their late twenties who appeared to be in good health and in good shape. How often am I like him, assuming that what I know or what I see is the full picture? And then making judgments based on those assumption?

How many people do I pass without knowing their stories or struggles? Do I listen more than I assume? (I wish the answer to that one was yes, but it's not.) Do I treat others with grace and mercy? Or do I look at the cover of the book and think I know the contents from that?

It made me think: When have I been irritated by strangers recently? Was the source of my irritation my ignorant assumptions or their behavior (or some combination)? What keeps me from caring enough to look beyond the cover?

How 'bout you?