Scott Freeman

OK, so I’m preaching through the book of Romans right? I started this back in January and was supposed to be done by Mother’s Day.
Mother’s Day!
Sunday is July 3rd and I’m just starting chapter 13.
I resolve here today that I will be done with Romans by the end of July.
This Sunday, the day before Independence day, I will deal with the passage on submitting to governing authorities.
Is this providential? No. It is purely by design and creative timing that this has happened.
But as I sit before Scripture, commentaries, lexicons, dictionaries and concordances I find myself somewhat at a loss with my own conflicting emotions over the state of this nation.
I am distressed.
I am so sick of political rhetoric. I mean, really, what is being said that is of a substantive nature today by our elected officials? After last night’s address by GW and the predictable Democratic response the answer is nothing.
I am tired of our incessant need to label people as extremist, conservative, green, liberal, myopic, fundamentalist, etc. People are more than a label, right?
I’m tired of Howard Dean on one side saying ludicrous things.
I’m tired of Rush Limbaugh on the other side saying equally ludicrous things.
I’m tired of being unable to question our role in Iraq without being lumped with Teddy Kennedy.
I’m tired of being unable to hold a pro-life position without being lumped with those brandishing Molotov cocktails outside of Planned Parenthood clinics.
I’m simply tired. Preaching through Romans 12 Paul was clear about how we are to treat one another: with respect, kind words, and no thoughts of retribution or vengeance.
The Democrats in this country fail miserably in this regard: they treat Republicans with scorn, ridicule and contempt.
The Republicans in this country fail miserably in this regard: they treat Democrats with scorn, ridicule and contempt.
We need to restore those principles in Romans 12: kindness, civility and respect. Not by force or coercion. I don’t want anyone to agree with me without discovering truth for themselves.
In the meantime let’s be about the business:
Let’s eradicate poverty–if every Christian in America would simply tithe we would eliminate poverty in the world with millions left over.
Let’s be a beacon of hope for the hopeless–yes, we hold tightly to the conviction that we possess the truth. That will not change even in a multi-cultural, pluralistic society. People are free to choose their own paths but we must be vigilant in extending the gift of God’s grace for all those who would come to Him.
Let’s be peace-lovers–War is a bad thing. Whether or not our excursion into Iraq is justified or not, we must be people who seek peace at all costs. There may be times when war is the only alternative. But peace must always be our primary intent. We must be people who endeavor first to reconcile before we engage.

I know I’m not supposed to do politics here but somehow I am supposed to preach this passage Sunday and, to be honest, I don’t yet know what I am going to say.
Paul always does this to me. I can be cruising along in a text and then he throws me a curve.
But this I do know: it does not matter what the state of our nation is. It does not matter what other people believe or what political positions that they hold.
It does not matter if I feel I am in the minority caught in the crossfire of warring political parties.
It does not matter if I cannot verbalize the answers or reasons for the positions I hold.

What does matter is if I treat others with love and respect.
That I be Jesus to the world.

C’mere Democrats.
Step on over Republicans.
You too, Perot, Nadar, Ventura, ET AL.
Let’s have a group hug, shall we?

Watch this video and sign the letter. We must make a difference.

I am the youngest of five children. Three brothers, a sister and then me.

I am quite a bit younger than the rest of them. My two oldest brothers were practically out of the house when I came along.

I was closer to the middle child, Steve, and my sister Cindy growing up.

They were still around.

Out of all of us, I believe Steve had the greatest talent, greatest ability and greatest intellect.

It seemed that promise was his middle name.

Unfortunately, Steve had a tendency to make bad choices.

Over the years, we endured conflicts, fights, scrapes with the law, uncertainty of whether he would emerge intact on the other side, and anger at his propensity to live a willfully rebellious life.

Man, he could infuriate me.

He could disappoint me.

But nobody could make me laugh like he could.

Nobody could make me feel more special.

He was my big brother and I loved him.

Because of that I always prayed that he would get his act together.

About a decade ago, I truly thought that was happening. He seemed to have found love and purpose.

Then tragedy struck. My brother was in the wrong place at the wrong time and wrongfully accused of something that he did not do.

He was arrested, convicted and sentenced to 40 years in prison.

The charge was a joke, the evidence was non-existence and the punishment was deplorable.

But, in spite of all that, he was sent to prison.

This morning I stood with by family, friends and Steve to request that he be granted clemency. That the good governor would look at the case, the lack of evidence, and the fact that Steve has served 9 years and release him.

I am hopeful that will happen. It is a part of my daily prayers.

As I looked around today at all the inmates waiting to be seen by the clemency board I was struck by two things:

1. Steve had, by far, the largest show of support from family and friends of anybody there. About 50 inmates waited alone. That Steve has such a group of cheerleaders is testament to faith, prayer, family and church. When he is released he will not be alone but surrounded by people who believe in Him. I was saddened for those waiting alone. It made me think of Thornton Wilders play, The Angel That Troubled the Waters. In that play Wilder describes those “broken on the wheels of living.” I am thankful that Steve has people beside him.
2. All of them were harboring hope in an atmosphere that seldom encourages one to look too far ahead. A chance to redefine themselves. A chance to begin again.

My brother said several months ago that he does not want to be defined by one single incident in his life.

Living the solitary existence of penitentiary life it is easy to see how that could be a possibility. To withstand the scrutiny and embarrassment of pleading for freedom is something few of us will ever have to experience.

I, too, want the same thing. I do not want Steve to be defined by his incarceration.

When I think of him I think of so much more than that:

Of talking to me like a person when others saw me as a kid.

Of making me feel important enough to teach me to play pinball.

Of teaching me the words to Boz Scaggs’ “Lowdown.”

Of taking me to see Phantom of the Paradise with Paul Williams and not laughing at me when I got scared.

For introducing me to my first sports hero: Pete Maravich.

I don’t identify my brother when prison garb. I identify him for what he is.

My big brother.

He will always be my big brother.

My prayer is that he will be released soon. I pray that the governor will grant him clemency.

My main prayer, however, is that he will find that identity he is looking for.

I hope he finds that identity in Jesus Christ.

For it is through Him and Him only that any of us will ever be set free.

That, is the ultimate clemency.

Today I turn 37.
I don’t feel 37.
Do I look 37?
Do I act 37?

Father’s day means a lot to me. I know that my 4 year old is anxiously awaiting being able to give a special card that she has made for me.
She seems to be genuinely excited about a day for me.
But Father’s day is more than that for me.
I cannot emphasize enough how truly blessed I am:
I have a beautiful wife.
I have three incredible kids.
I am able to do what I love for a living.
We have a great home and everything we could ever ask for.
The best thing of all is this: if, God forbid, something were to happen to me, Tracy or one of my children our salvation is secure.
Heaven is waiting for my family.
And for my salvation I owe a great deal of gratitude to my dad.
I was blessed to be born into a family that values a relationship with God.
My dad has exemplified to me the importance of a life well lived.
Of a life of service. Of family. Of holiness.
Much of who I am today has been in an attempt to follow in my dad’s footsteps.
He has modeled Jesus to me.
He has taught me the ways of faith.
He has shown me how to be a husband and a father.
It’s a gift I could never repay.
The best that I can do is to endeavor to do the same for my own children.
Thank you dad.
I love you,
Scott

I have a confession to make.
It’s not something I am necessarily proud of but I feel I need to come clean.
I love reading blogs.
I love seeing into the minds of other people and their views on life. I would link more, including some of my favorites, but it seems that some people have a little bit more of a “potty-mouth” than I am comfortable with.
However, one of my favorites is called postsecret. The idea for this site is that people write a secret confession on a postcard and mail it in.
Then their deep dark secrets are posted, anonymously, for the entire world to read.
Some are humorous:

• “I’m Afraid to Answer the Telephone” (No, Tracy, I did not send that one in)
• “I waste office supplies because I hate my boss.”
• “I sit in public and pretend to read, but I’m actually eavesdropping on your conversation.”

Most of the confessions, though, are eye-opening and candid:

• “I am ashamed to have felt such joy after my abortion.”
• “I am a Southern Baptist pastor’s wife. No one knows that I do not believe in God.”
• “I cut myself to kill the pain.”
• “I wished on a dandelion for my husband to die.”

As I sit transfixed weekly reading the new batch of secrets I can’t help but be amazed at the magnitude of pain that inflicts this world.
People are hurting.
They need the opportunity to unburden themselves of the inner weight that they carry.
They need a sense of resolution and closure.
And, invariably, I hang my head each week and think “It should be the church that they go to to ease their load.

Scripture is clear about confession. It is not a suggestion.
It is not just a good idea.
It is a command: “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.”
But for many people the church is the last place they would go for healing. For forgiveness.

The one place they could go and find the One who will gladly take their yoke is too often unused. I know this for a fact. I offer an invitation weekly for people to come and seek forgiveness.
They very rarely do.
We, in the church, have lost the beauty of confession.
Of praying for one another for healing and peace.

Why is that? I believe there are several reasons:

1. We fear the judgment of people will win out over their compassion.
2. We fear that forgiveness will be withheld in favor of condemnation.
3. We doubt that the power of prayer can really do anything for our situation.
4. We bristle at more well-meaning people telling us how to improve our lives all the while failing to listen to the extent of our pain.
5. We fear being vulnerable because we fear being hurt.

We, in the church, need a wake-up call. We need to reclaim the primacy of confession in our fellowship.
We need to foster an environment of forgiveness where people will know that they can find hope and peace.
We need to learn to share our own struggles in a community of compassion.
We need to learn to stop doling out advice and our little nuggets of wisdom and start grieving with the tortured souls that are seeking comfort. (Not that advice is bad, mind you. But it must always be given to the receptive heart in the context of compassionate community.)
We need to learn, once again, to be a refuge in the storm of tortured living.

If we can do that then we can make a difference. We can touch the lives of:

• The college student mired in debt from on-line poker.
• The young girl harboring the shame of promiscuity.
• The widower carrying the guilt of words left unsaid.
• The father struggling with the weight of being a good provider.
• The mother struggling with patience.
• The brother or sister struggling with issues of belief.

To confess is a risky proposition. It is to step off the precipice into a void of uncertainty, unsure how painful the landing will be.
It is to risk judgment and condemnation. Dirty looks and hushed conversations.
What if we could be a safe place for the confessor to land?
What if we would be people who would listen, love and grieve with them?
What if we would extend to them the blessed hope of the peace of Christ?
They wouldn’t need a post-card and a postage stamp anymore.
They would have the body of Christ.
Let’s confess to one another.

I left my home state of Arkansas back in 1992. For 13 years I have lived at least 5 hours away from family. In that interim period my parents have grown older, my brothers and sister have undergone life changes, and my nieces and nephews have grown up.
My niece was just 5 years old when I left. A sweet, loving girl with beautiful hair I was not able to watch her grow as I would have liked to. However, on the rare occasions when I did make it back to Arkansas I was able to mark her growth and notice that her specialness had not diminished but blossomed.
Two years ago this month, my sister and brother-in-law almost lost her. On a vacation to California she had been stricken with a mysterious, life-threatening illness. For days, the doctors were unable to pin-point the cause of her collapse (to a large degree, they still don’t know). Weeks went by with my sister, brother-in-law, and young nephew stranded in a California hospital unsure if they would ever be able to return home with the precious girl they had begun the trip with.
At the time, I had a 2 year old and a 2 month old. I was needed in Michigan (where we lived at the time). But I had arranged to raise some money so that I could fly out to be with my sister. Before my plans coalesced, however, my niece improved and eventually she was able to return home.
A month ago, today, she graduated high school. The pain of those long days of uncertainty that her parents endured were trumped by the joy of seeing her become the beautiful young lady that she is.
Again, I had a one-week old and was unable to be there. But I feel the joy none-the-less.
I can never pretend that I know the “dark night of the soul” that my sister and brother-in-law went through in that hellish summer on 2003. But I think maybe now I might have a small idea.
Sunday morning Shayla had a temperature of 101.8. At 5:30 A.M. Tracy took her to the ER. I stayed home with the bigger kids fully expecting Tracy to be home in a couple of hours with a Tylenol-filled baby and a $100 co-pay.
But there was much more in store for us. They proceeded to run every test of Shayla that they could. They checked for meningitis (a spinal tap!) and other invasive tests. It was a long grueling day filled with uncertainty but finally Shayla was allowed to go home with an admonition to see the doctor the next day. All of her tests to that point had come back OK. So we felt comfortable that she had just contracted a virus and would be OK in no time.
Monday, Tracy took Shayla to the doctor where she was told that there was bacteria in her blood culture. They needed an additional 24 hour period for the culture to grow before they could pinpoint what it was.
The uncertainty made Monday a long night. Finally we were able to go to the doctor on Tuesday. Come to find out the bacteria was a skin contaminant. Some dirt or something that had gotten into the culture.
Our baby is fine.
But for a moment I experienced a sense of the dread and emptiness that far too many parents feel.
It is something I hope I never experience again.

• I have been in ministry in one form or another since I was 21 years old. I have sat through many sermons, classes, lectures and devotional thoughts. I have given my share of them as well. Yet I have never heard anything stir my heart as when my family joins hands at the dinner table and says our prayers. Chloe usually goes first and thanks God for everything from her parents to Couscous. She always tells God “I love you so much in the whole wide world. You are the best. I love you forever. Amen.” Cassie’s prayer usually consists of “Thank you for mommy. Thank you for Daddy. Thank you for Chloe. Thank you for Shayla.” She will repeat that about 30 times. It melts my heart to hear these two girls as they begin to develop their faith. Such innocence. I believe that is what Jesus was talking about when He said our faith must be like the little children. There is more purity in those two little girls than my world-wearied heart can muster. The preacher must learn when he is being preached to.
• Chloe’s first dance recital was last weekend. Her group was the second to perform in the second act. The song that they “danced” to was Someday My Prince Will Come. After their performance Tracy took the other girls home and I stayed with Chloe to receive her awards at the conclusion of the second act. While we were sitting there watching the performances, Chloe climbed up in my lap and said, “Daddy, will you marry me?” Although I told her I was already married to mommy she was insistent. “I want to marry you.” My prayer is that I will be the kind of father to her that models what a godly husband and father should be. It is a humbling proposition but I must embody the man she seeks for a husband.
• While we were at the recital two girls performed to Christian songs. Although the rest of the songs chosen were innocuous their performances to me were inspiring. I hope my girls will seize whatever opportunities are presented before them to make a statement of their devotion to Him. What a testament.
• I’m enjoying a TV show called Hit Me Baby One More Time. The premise is that five artists whose fifteen minutes of fame are well past them compete for charity. They perform one of the songs that made them famous all those years ago and a contemporary song. The winner voted on by the audience donates the winnings to the charity of their choice. The show has been sobering to see formerly well-known artists strive for a few remaining minutes of fame. It made me wonder how disconcerting it is when people realize that their finest moments are behind them. When the actor realizes that the meaty roles are going to someone younger. When the singer realizes that he has written his greatest song. When the athlete realizes that he no longer has that explosive first step. I wonder when I will reach the day when I have preached the greatest sermon I will ever preach? Have I already preached it? Isn’t it good to know that, as Christians, our best days are forever before us? It does not matter how old we get. Heaven is always waiting for us. And that is as good as it gets.
• I just got through reading a series of interviews with Bono, frontman for U2. In the course of the conversation he mentioned that one of his favorite passages of Scripture was “be still and know that I am God.” He made the comment that if he were to write a song about it that he would entitle it, “Shut Up and Listen.” How true is that? We need to learn to talk a little less and listen a whole lot more. There is no telling what God can do through us if we will be more willing to shut up and listen to Him.
• Look at this quote from Rick Warren: “We are blessed to be a blessing to others, and certainly America, as
  the most blessed nation on our planet, has the greatest obligation to
  help those who are stuck in poverty around the world. Last month, I was
  in Kenya and Uganda, and then in Rwanda where the average income in
  that nation is 67 cents a day! Imagine trying to raise a family on that.If
  you were hopelessly in debt, with no chance of ever getting out of debt
  – or even your children getting out of debt — you’d despair. But if
  someone canceled all your debts — as the Bible commanded Israel to
  often do — you’d have the hope of a new future. The poor aren’t asking
  for a handout — they just need a hand up!

  This summer, at the
  G8 conference, our nation has a historic opportunity to lead the world
  by showing a visible and significant commitment to the fight against
  global poverty, hunger, and disease. In early July, President Bush will
  gather together with leaders from the world’s eight wealthiest nations
  in Edinburgh, Scotland, to discuss these very issues — especially in
  Africa.

  We all grieved when 250,000 lives were lost in the
  tsunami in Southeast Asia. But there is a health tsunami of that
  proportion in Africa every 12 days!”

• May we all summon the innocence of children and pray that we will do all that we can to stop the widespread affliction of poverty and disease that plagues so many. It is the least we can do.

Felt like doing a list. These are the albums that had the biggest impact on me during my formative years (12-22). Otherwise known as the 80′s. I miss these days.
A couple of rules for my list: No greatest hits packages and only one album per artist. I am not saying these are the greatest that the 80′s had to offer but these are the disks that meant the most to me. Humor me and give your input. I’d love to know your thoughts.

• Journey–Escape: Pure candy. Every song is still a delight to listen to 24 years later. I still remember the disappointment when I bought Frontiers and realized that they were unable to maintain that level of excellence. Favorite Track–Don’t Stop Believin’ Overlooked Gem–Still They Ride
• Styx–Paradise Theater: My local record store staged a phony petition to get them to come to Little Rock on this tour. This qualifies as my first true rock and roll show after years of Shaun Cassidy and Helen Reddy concerts. (Note to the band: You don’t have Dennis DeYoung with you? Then please, for the love of all that is sacred in this world, stop. Put down the instruments and back away. I Am the Walrus? Come on.) Favorite Track–Nothing Ever Goes As Planned Overlooked Gem–She Cares
• Reo Speedwagon–Hi Infidelity: I still remember getting this album from Columbia House, plugging in the headphones, picking up the tennis racket and giving the ultimate concert in my room. Favorite Track–Don’t Let Him Go Overlooked Gem–In Your Letter
• Survivor–Vital Signs: Get an idea of my musical tastes in the early 80′s? The only problem with this album is that, although I truly believed in the sentiment behind The Search Is Over, the girl that I had dedicated the song to did not agree. Favorite Track–I Can’t Hold Back Overlooked Gem–I See You In Everyone
• Rick Springfield–Living in Oz: I know, I know. But Springfield was my favorite artist for years. This is the album where he left behind the bubble-gum and proved that he could write a great lyric. Doubt that? Listen to Souls again. Favorite Track–Souls Overlooked Gem–Alyson
• ‘Til Tuesday–Everything’s Different Now: Still on the list of my five favorite albums of all time. A tremendous deconstruction of a romantic destruction. Heart-breaking paean to lost love. Favorite Track–Rip in Heaven Overlooked Gem–The whole album was overlooked but I have to give a nod to Why Must I
• Paul Simon–Graceland: Quite simply, one of the greatest albums ever recorded. Favorite Track–Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes Overlooked Gem–Crazy Love Vol II
• Bruce Springsteen–Nebraska: The folkie in me awakes. The despair in this album still grabs me. The grappling with the loss of innocence, the pain of the forgotten and the stark realities of life is a reminder to me to count my blessings. Favorite Track–Atlantic City Overlooked Gem–Reason to Believe (Hope concludes the album. Priceless.)
• Stevie Nicks–Bella Donna: For this 13 year old in 1981 Stevie Nicks was the most beautiful woman on the planet. And that voice. I was in love. Favorite Track and Overlooked Gem: After the Glitter Fades
• John Mellencamp–Scarecrow: Subtitled Scott Freeman Grows a Social Conscious. This album was an awakening for me and ushered in an era of listening to more overt political music: Jackson Browne, Lou Reed, Billy Bragg, etc. Anybody remember White Lion’s Little Fighter? Favorite Track–Rain on the Scarecrow Overlooked Gem–Between a Laugh and a Tear
• Queensryche–Operation Mindcrime: For a three year period of time all I listened to was heavy metal. This is the most timeless album of those days. I could have named several other albums: Appetite for Destruction, Master of Puppets, Among the Living, Halfway to Sanity. However, this is the one album from that period of my life that I still want to listen to from time to time. Favorite Track: Revolution Calling Overlooked Gem: The Needle Lies
• Husker Du–Candy Apple Gray: My punk days. Couldn’t explain it then. Can’t explain it now. But I loved the melancholy in Bob Mould’s voice. Favorite Track: Don’t Want to Know If You are Lonely Overlooked Gem: Too Far Down
• U2–Joshua Tree: What can I say? The greatest rock and roll band of my lifetime explode. It doesn’t get better than this one. Favorite Track: I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For Overlooked Gem: Running To Stand Still

Come on. Give me your thoughts, suggestions and lists.

Jack and Bobby–a show that started out with tremendous promise tied up all the loose ends in anticipation that it would not be renewed for a second season. That turned out to be a good move because one season is all this little drama got. It seems me, Tracy and Christine Lahti’s parents were the only ones watching. And I lost interest a little over halfway into the season after growing way too weary of their insistence of depicting conservative Christians as morons. Grade: C

24–the best show of the season gave us the best two hours of the year in it’s riveting conclusion. I know there are plot holes but man is it fun. And now, what is to become of Jack Bauer. Where does he go and what does he become? A man who has given up everything in service to his country has now been betrayed by that country. I think next season we might see him even more unhinged with nothing much to lose. (Side note, notice there is only one “o” in lose.) Grade: A

House–the best show of the season goes to 24 but there is no better character on television than Hugh Laurie’s creation. To be able to play that curmudgeonly a character and still possess a like-ability factor is other-worldly. If he does not receive the emmy for that portrayal there is something seriously wrong. Kudos for going about the regular business of the show and giving us a strong, tight finale. Grade: B+

Lost–such an exciting show. What is going on on that island? Who are the others? What is that creature? What is down the hatch? What is the significance of those numbers? Alas, a finale that answered no questions. I’ll be back next year but give me some answers, please? Grade: B

Alias–I’ll be honest, I loved the first two seasons of this show. Last season was OK but I found this season to be somewhat underwhelming. I watched the whole season out of loyalty expecting that I would not tune in next year. The finale was largely uninteresting and nothing noteworthy occurred that would encourage me to set the TIVO for it next year. But those last 30 seconds? I’ll be back. The single most startling scene of the season. Overall grade: C Final Minute: A-

American Idol–the wrong person won. Grade: D