Category: Peanuts Gang: A Voice Crying in the Pumpkin Patch

How do you bring peace and find happiness in a world filled with terror and sorrow? I guess if you can answer that question, you’ll have solved most of the world’s problems. Both Charlie Brown and Linus landed on one possible solution. They believed that if every child was issued a banjo and a puppy at birth, then everyone would find happiness. The logic is sound. A banjo is not known for playing a sad song, and puppies are anything but depressing.  

Happiness may very well be at the core of Schultz’s Peanuts Gang. The theme of happiness was not only the title of a book and multiple “Happiness Is” moments, but each character might have been seeking their own form of happiness. 

Charlie Brown might say that happiness is a loyal dog, which he may or may not have owned. Linus might say that happiness is a warm blanket, which was made into a movie based on numerous Schultz strips. Schroeder might say that happiness is playing Beethoven on his toy piano, undisturbed. Peppermint Patty might say that happiness is scoring higher than a D- without needing to study. Marcy might say that happiness is reading a good book. Sally might say that happiness is found in the love of her “Sweet Baboo,” (cue Linus off screen, “I’m not her Sweet Baboo!”). And Lucy might say that happiness is . . . well, she’s crabby and bossy, and I don’t think she was chasing happiness.   

The pursuit of “happiness” may very well be woven, not only throughout the fabric of the Peanuts Gang, but throughout the fabric of the American conscience. In the infancy of our nation, Thomas Jefferson, via the Declaration of Independence, penned that pursuing happiness was not only one of our freedoms, but a divine right.

Pursuing “happiness” has driven people to make choices where recreation and entertainment has taken priority in our society. People live for the weekend, as the build-up for Friday night begins early and the drudgery of Monday morning sets in. Many have their weekend get-a-ways, their boats, their campers, and their adventures all ready to go. The movie industry appears as healthy as ever, while sports programs are being fueled by fan loyalty. Everybody’s happy.

Everybody’s happy except for those struggling with chronic pain and depression, and that pretty much sums up our society. Anti-depressant medicine is common place. And, according to Sam Quinones, part of the opioid crises began when people were engaging in happiness without the pain (Dreamland, 35). One wonders where the other option is? One wonders when faithfulness kicks in (Rev. 2:10)?

Instead of focusing on happiness, we should turn our attention to joy. Happiness and joy are far from synonyms. Happiness tends to focus on the external, while joy tends to resonate from within. When we speak of wanting to be happy, the focus is generally on something outside of us that makes us happy: a new car, a relationship, a job promotion, a baby, or the latest toy. Our very words betray our belief, “this new item has made me happy.” The irony of course is that the new car demands maintenance and eventually breaks down; the relationship gets challenged or breaks up; the job promotion comes with more stress and responsibility; the baby wants fed or changed at 2:00 in the morning, and turns into a toddler who challenges parental authority; the latest toy immediately becomes obsolete and/or needs an upgrade. Even worse, more than one person has justified sinful and immoral behavior by claiming that God just wants them to be happy. 

Where happiness tends to be motivated by the external, joy emits from within and arises in spite of external circumstances. Two examples from the Bible easily emerge when joy overrides happiness. First, we find joy listed as one of the Fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 3:25), and is in fact listed first after love. When the Spirit is active in a person’s life, joy will be present regardless of what a person is facing. Secondly, James tells us that when we face a variety of trials, we should face it with joy (Jas. 1:2). James is certainly not a sadomasochist, but is pointing out that joy does not need external circumstances to radiate; more so, that joy can emit in spite of the situation a Christian is facing. Thus, after Paul and Silas were falsely accused, arrested, beaten and flogged, and then chained and locked up in jail, we don’t find them in pity or in anger. We don’t find them bemoaning their circumstance or questioning why they were suffering. We find them praising God (Act. 16:25). We find joy.

While I was writing this chapter, I received an encouraging note from a former member of the church where I preached. I was in that difficult transitional state where I had resigned from the church but was still preaching before I found a place. Not knowing any of the details for resigning, she shared with me her shock through Instant Message via FaceBook. Without wanting to know the details, she shared how much of a difference my ministry had made in her life. Her encouragement lifted my day. Even more so to know that my friend is bedridden with an undiagnosed paralyzing disease she’s battled for nearly twenty years. Unable to get up and go anywhere she wants, how easy for her to slip into self-pity and anger. Instead, a joy burns strong within her, and she was more concerned for my needs instead of her own well-being. 

I suppose that one can find happiness if he or she is given a warm blanket and puppy; and I’m pretty sure some people get excited if they’re given a banjo. But the blanket will wear out, the puppy will need to be potty-trained, and the banjo’s strings will eventually break. Maybe that’s why joy is God-given and God-driven, because you can experience joy even if you don’t have a puppy or a warm blanket. 

bonum dolar! 
(e.g., Good Grief!)

It was a simple wall, located somewhere in Charlie Brown’s neighborhood. Children gravitated to the wall, including – but by no means limited to – Charlie Brown and Linus Van Pelt. It was their gathering place. Here they entertained new ideas, contemplated life’s questions, and reflected on the days’ events. One time after an embarrassing Halloween debacle, Charlie Brown lamented the number of rocks he received during “tricks or treating,” while Linus cried out why the Great Pumpkin did a “no-show” in his pumpkin patch. 

Gathering Walls are not only common places, but are needed in society. In many small towns, court house squares often serve as a natural gathering place where people come to jump start their mornings. Sometimes a local diner, serving hot coffee, attracts customers who sip their Joe while exchanging ideas. I have a friend who regularly heads down to his local gun shop, where sometimes “unlike minds” load, unload and reload ideas with each other.  

During the ancient days of the Bible, the local gathering place was the city gates. Here, important business transactions took place, “lower” courts were convened, disputes were heard, and public announcements were posted or proclaimed. The elders of the town, those deemed wise because of age and experience, met to help negotiate conflict with neighbors. News in other towns and regions were learned as travelers entered the city. It’s no wonder that wisdom is personified as sitting at the gates (Prov. 1:21). When the angels of God entered Sodom, they were greeted by Lot at the gates where he offered them a place to eat and sleep for the night (Gen. 19:1-2). When Boaz wanted to secure the “levirate marriage” to Ruth, he conducted his business transaction at the town gate, where he met with elders of the town and the nearest kin to secure his future bride (Ruth 4:1-2). In the Persian city of Susa, men plotted to kill King Xerxes, only to be thwarted by Mordacai’s decisive action against them. They hatched their plan at the city gate (Esther 2:21-23). When Jesus said that “the gates of Hades would not overcome the church” (Mt. 16:18), he may spoke words of encouragement for the church will endure and thrive despite all the forces opposed to Christ, including Satan himself. 

A gathering place. Ideas are exchanged. Business transactions are completed. Politics are ironed out. Struggles are shared. Disputes are heard. Conspiracies are hatched, and more importantly, exposed. 

In our fast paced world, filled with electronic devices, which tends to isolate people from each other, we’re missing places to gather; those places have now been taken over by social media. Twitter, limited to 140 characters, doesn’t lend itself very well to concepts that need exposition. How do you reduce complicated issues to one paragraph? FaceBook, by far the most common social media outlet to share ideas (family pictures, funny memes, prayer concerns), has its weaknesses as well. Memes probably carry far more weight than exposition. Sharing ideas or taking stances on controversial issues tend to alienate, by creating arguments instead of dialogue. The level of distrust and lack of civility quickly elevates “discussions” into full-blown (hateful) arguments. I’ve left a couple of groups because the conversation turned so hateful, and I’ve unfollowed people for similar reasons. 

Maybe the problem with social media is that we’re no longer looking at people face to face?  The words we type are so easy to express when we don’t know the person we’re talking too. It seems that the more anonymity exists, the greater chance for escalating arguments and judgmental accusations. I may know you or value the relationship, but I certainly don’t know the person who’s a friend to you; I’m certainly not invested with any real reason to maintain a relationship. My cause or agenda becomes more of a priority than the person, or the place to express and share ideas. 

Maybe we need a gathering wall, a place to engage with one another. A place to go and discuss what is on our hearts.  A place where we can share our hurts and pains. A place to iron out our differences. A place to express new ideas and insights into difficult issues. A place where we can speak, and a place where we can listen. And maybe on an occasion, a place where we can pray. Maybe it’s a place where hugs are free, handshakes are made, and we can look at each other face-to-face. 

Then again, maybe that Gathering Place is called Church. 

bonum dolar!
(i.e. Good Grief!)

While Lucy was hardly a fan of Snoopy, the beagle only had two enemies; one was real and the other played out in his imagination. The first one was the cat next door. During the fifty years Schulz penned the comic, we never saw this phantom menace. We only saw the results of his aggressive attack on Snoopy – a chunk of his dog house, missing in the final frame with the remaining section in the shape of a cat’s claw. 

The other enemy was the World War I Flying Ace’s nemesis, the Red Baron. Whenever the Ace was sent on patrol, he inevitably crossed paths with the Baron, and the fighting ensued. They both had missions, and they’re both roadblocks to clearing the skies of the enemy. In every meeting, the fighting was intense; machine guns fired at rapid speed. In every meeting, the Ace’s Sopwith Camel was flacked with bullets, and the Ace was usually shot down behind enemy lines. 

I’m not sure what to make of Snoopy’s antagonists. Concerning the cat, Snoopy usually egged on the conflict by making ridiculing remarks to his neighbor. He pays a price for it in the damage to his home. Concerning the Red Baron, while he was historically a real and successful German fighter pilot in WWI, he is only as real as Snoopy’s imagination. If the Ace had actually shot down the Baron, who would he fight the next time he went on patrol? So it’s easier to take a hit, keep the Baron alive, and feed his anger towards him. 

Isn’t that true with anyone you consider your enemy? Let’s keep the fuel of fire against them burning as long as we can, because we’re defining our strengths against their shortcomings. Let’s dehumanize our enemy because it makes it easier to hate them. Like in war, let’s draw clear battle-lines and assume our position is always right and their position is always wrong, and let’s bring God into the arena where we assume he takes our side. 

Maybe that’s what makes Jesus’ words so radical. While the Israelites thought the command from Leviticus 19:18, “Love your neighbor,” justified hating one’s enemy, Jesus clarified the command. Hatred, and the feeding of hate, was never justified. In fact, he sets the bar even higher by commanding us to “love our enemies” (Mt. 5:44a), and if that’s not hard enough, he adds, “pray for those who persecute you” (Mt. 5:44b). Where the world calls for an “eye for eye” mentality (Mt. 5:38 quoting Ex. 21:23 & Lev. 24:20, which was a statement made for judges and courts to rule fairly, not for permission to taken the law into one’s hands), Jesus calls for compassion. In this way we’re facing our enemy. 

Jesus’ call crosses every line we’ve drawn in the sand, or every barrier we’ve erected to keep us divided. Where “facing our enemy” used to mean squaring off to fight, he redefines it through the service of loving and praying for our enemies. How do we defuse the racial tension? By “facing our enemies” with love and prayer. How do we bridge the anger between the social economic chasms? By “facing our enemies” with love and prayer. How do we respond to those who have hurt us with malicious intent? By “facing our enemies” with love and prayer. 

This kind of life demands faith. Faith leading to kindness and gentleness prevails in a world filled with destruction and retaliation. This kind of faith trusts God with the future, and does not make him choose a side. This kind of faith allows us to face our enemy with all courageousness, as God’s Spirit begins to work in us and through us to his glory. 

On the night before Israel was to begin the conquest of Canaan, the purist vision of a Holy War, Joshua encounters a man with a drawn sword. When Joshua confronts the man, asking which side he was on, the angelic being answered, “Neither, but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come” (Josh. 6:13b-14). In a clear moment where God was granting victory to Israel to destroy Jericho, they’re reminded that just because they will win this battle, doesn’t mean God cared nothing for the people of Jericho. A big difference exists between God granting a victory over people, and God’s choosing a side in the battle. 

One of my favorite Christmas songs as a child was by The Royal Guardsmen, and the song arose out of the famous World War I Christmas truce of 1914. In the song, Snoopy faces off with the Red Baron, and in the dog-fight, Snoopy loses. The Red Baron forces him to land behind enemy lines, where, instead of being taken prisoner, or worse, the Baron pops champagne and celebrates Christmas with his enemy. Ironically, it’s not our hero schooling us on how to face our enemies, but it’s the enemy showing us how to love one another. 

bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)

Head buried in his hands. Sitting alone on a bench. Paper lunch bag holding an uneaten peanut butter sandwich. School filled with children. Charlie Brown without his dog or a friend. I don’t know the narrative behind the scene. Did Lucy and her friends just call him, “Blockhead,” or did he fail to impress the Little Red-Haired Girl? While I’m inclined to believe the latter, the result is another moment when Charlie Brown was shamed. 

So much of Schulz emerged from Charlie Brown; did you notice they had the same first name? Schulz may well have been the greatest cartoonist to pen a daily strip. He certainly inspired a generation of cartoonists to take up the cause. He also had his own set of insecurity demons, and when reading about his personal story, you find him living between guilt and shame. Not without some irony, the same traits could be found in a boy named Charlie Brown. 

But Schulz and Charlie Brown aren’t far from the only ones who struggle with those demons. From the earliest recorded memories of mankind, guilt and shame have tag-teamed humanity. When Adam and Eve realized they were naked in the garden, and more importantly, before God, they made makeshift clothing out of fig leaves and hid themselves (Gen. 3:7). The text doesn’t say why they chose to make the clothes and go into hiding, but filling in the blanks is easy: they sinned against God and felt bad about the sin they committed. 

Guilt and shame. The two are easily linked. Together they serve a purpose. They cause great spiritual and emotional discomfort in order to draw us back to God. So when we’ve committed sin and feel the guilt and shame, its purpose is to drive us to repentance, refusing to commit that sin again, and to draw us closer to God. Unfortunately, like the fallen world we live in, it doesn’t always work out that way. 

Guilt can have three components to it, and certainly what follows is an over simplification of guilt. First, we experience Real Guilt when we commit a sin or cross a boundary and the sting is felt. You’ve done wrong and you know you’ve done wrong. You lost your temper and unloaded your anger on your child. When the dust settles, you recognize the damage on your child and ask forgiveness from him/her. Secondly, we experience Repressed Guilt when we commit a sin or cross a boundary but instead of feeling the sting of wrong, we’ve compartmentalize our life in such a way as to avoid dealing with the guilt. Unfortunately (or fortunately), eventually what is repressed makes its way to the surface of our lives. What is hidden or buried, like rubber tires in a landfill, cannot stay hidden and buried forever. Once the repressed guilt surfaces, the damage can be felt. Finally, we experienced False Guilt when we do not commit a sin or cross a boundary but feel the sting of wrong as if we did. Usually, False Guilt has an outside element to it by other people’s own insecurities and character flaws projected ourselves. As a minister, I’ve discovered numerous times when people refuse to deal with their own sin, but they’ll project their problems onto the leadership. Sadly, they’ll blame me or someone else for their own guilt. 

Guilt and shame have their place in the redemptive story, but can be abused. Using guilt and shame as a form of motivation may have a desirable short-term result, but its long-term impact is negative. Not only does guilt and shame create an environment of fear, it never moves you out of fear. It burdens you. It weighs you down. (see Em Griffith, The Mind Changers). Guilt and shame, as motivators, trap the victim in a perpetual cycle of fear, making one believe he/she is never “good enough” for God’s grace, or that God’s grace is always out of reach. 

God does not want us to live our lives encumbered by guilt and shame. He wants to relieve the burden (Jn. 3:16-17). He wants to lead his people beyond guilt and shame where hope, love, mercy, and grace are found (Rom. 8:1). God’s desire is for his transforming power to change our lives so that guilt and shame no longer act as the decisive and/or defining factor in our lives. If he can remove the guilt and shame from the worst of sinners (1 Tim. 1:15), what can he do for you? Or, case of Adam and Eve, we find grace as he made garments out of skin to replace their leaves (Gen. 3:21)?

Charlie Brown, sitting alone on the bench with his head in his hands, has an emotive look to it. Not because it’s a two dimensional cartoon character, but because we’ve all been there. Hope does not arrive because of a boy named Charlie Brown, but because of a Savior named Jesus Christ.           

bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)

The sounds of silence in the middle of the night. The clock ticking. The house creaking. The wind whistling. The shadows coming to life. A mind racing. A brain active. A guilty conscience screaming. 

Something about the middle of the night arouses our minds as we either replay events which unraveled during the day or anticipate events about to unfold in the morning. I’ve been there too many times to count. So have you. Schulz drew from that well, which never seemed to run dry, and I can imagine he wrote many of those strips in the middle of the night. 

Charlie Brown lies awake to ponder life’s greatest questions, and “Life” always had an answer for him, though the answer was never quite the answer he was seeking or expecting. 

● “Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, ‘Is life a multiple choice test or is it a true or false test’?’ Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, ‘We hate to tell you this, but life is a thousand word essay.’” 

● “Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, ‘Why me’?’ Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, ‘Nothing personal. Your name just happened to come up.’” 

● “Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, ‘Where have I gone wrong’?’ Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, ‘This is going to take more than one night.’” 

The night is prime for our minds to rest, or to arouse our restlessness. The curtain of the night closes in on the day-time drama. With its darkness comes the quiet. It’s peaceful. The crickets in the background are almost the perfect white noise. After a long day of rushing, and meeting scheduled appointments, and dealing with all the headaches of life, we’re given the night for rest. Yet too many of us on too many occasions are unable to embrace the night’s rest. If we can’t sleep because of our biological clocks, I’m not sure what can be done. If we can’t sleep because our mind is still running, maybe there is something we can do. 

The Psalmist tells us, “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10). For most of us, our days are filled with too much noise. The children are screaming. The TV is active all day. The radio or iPod is constantly playing. No time exists for the quiet, to listen to the “gentle whisper” of God (1 King. 19:12), until our heads finally hit our pillows. By then, we’ve probably shocked our bodies into the moment of silent quietness. 

Martin Luther King, Jr. knew something about restless nights. As catalogued in multiple sources, during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, people made death threats. Phone calls in the night warned him to leave Atlanta. The phone rings and as he picks up, the caller hangs up on him. And more than one time he woke up to a cross burning in his front yard. While he did pack up his family and move them out of town, he stayed behind until the threats dissipated. Shaken to the core, he felt like leaving as well. He felt the struggle to hold onto his conviction or to give it all up. But something within him wouldn’t stop. He chose instead to spend many, many hours on his knees in prayer. No, he didn’t get his sleep back, but his worries evaporated and his courage was restored. He was able to move forward with bringing justice and equality to the American system. 

When I was a little boy, and was often overcome by sleepless nights, I asked my mom what she did to get to sleep. She told me she talks God. I probed further, “But what if you’ve prayed and still can’t get to sleep?” She smiled and said, “That gives me that much more time to talk to God.”

As an adult, I’ve had more restless nights than I care to admit. Sometimes they arise because with age comes a change in sleep patterns. I don’t sleep like I used to, so I find myself awake when I’d rather be asleep. Sometimes they come because I’m worried far too much about church and family crisis. My family, either by water or by blood, is making life decisions or is rejecting the help I’ve provided in leadership, so I find myself awake when I’d rather be asleep. Sometimes I’m filled with regret, because I’ve chosen words that were cruel or thoughtless or lacked compassion, so I find myself awake reliving that moment the words exited my mouth, when I’d rather be asleep. I either lie awake, and either emotionally beat myself up or try to take my mind off what is worrying me. I get up and read a book, or watch a late night movie on TV. 

I need to recall and embrace my mother’s words. When you’ve tried praying, but you’re still wide awake, trying praying some more. And if you’re still awake after you’ve prayed, try praying some more. So in the stillness of those late nights, when you’re overcome by guilt and worry, or just wired and cannot unwind, and you’re asking questions about life and life events, why not just cast your cares on God, because he really does care for you (1 Pet. 5:7).                   

bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)

“I found it!” Like the shepherd who found the lost sheep, or the widow who found the lost coin, I had found it. 

I had been visiting my parents in their new home, shortly after they moved in, and was going through boxes and boxes of “treasures” when I found two precious items. The first was my dad’s antique Lionel Train set he had as a little boy. Dad thought the movers had “sticky” fingers and knew the set was gone forever. He was relieved to know I had “found it.” 

However, the big find wasn’t the antique train set, but my childhood stuffed Snoopy plush doll. True, Linus had his famous security blanket to comfort him when he felt lonely, anxious, fearful, or vulnerable. I had Snoopy. Linus’ blanket was versatile. He had 101 things he could do with it: it was a Shepherd’s scarf, an ascot, a sport coat, felt for his new pool table, a kite, and to protect himself, a whip. I had a Snoopy doll I got for Christmas when I was 3, and I slept with him every night. He brought enough comfort to me that when I entered the hospital for an ulcer (I was 10 years old) I wanted him with me. (He was so worn and dirty with love, that mom was ashamed to bring him to the hospital, so she bought me a new “knock-off” Snoopy instead). 

Except for Franklin, Linus may have been the most adjusted child among the Peanuts Gang, despite his constant need for his security blanket. He always went into withdrawals when it was wash day, or when grandma threatened to take the blanket away from him. When Charlie Brown chastised Linus about his need for the blanket, Linus quickly responded, pointing out, that while he needed a blanket, Charlie Brown needed a “psychiatrist” for his insecurities.

The older I get, the more brilliant I find Schulz. His assessment of humanity, combined with his own projected feelings, were spot on. In a world filled with danger and uncertainty, both from within and from without, we long for comfort and security. We fear ourselves and our own inadequacies. We fear that our nation is tearing itself apart. We fear that since our world is smaller, the terrorist attacks feel like they’re now in our own neighborhoods. 

Certainly, the anxieties and insecurities of life carry over into our relationship with God. Our view of God, and our understanding of doctrine, either heightens our anxiety or calms it. If we believe that God is looking to condemn us, we probably need a blanket, or at least a stuff plush doll. If we believe that God is gracious and compassionate and forgiving, then we simply rest in his assurance of his love for us. 

The Fellowship of believers I’m associated with has struggled in the security section of Scripture. Since we believe that salvation can be lost (an Armenian view of 1 Cor. 10:18-22; Heb. 2:1-4), we tend to believe that salvation cannot be assured either. We cannot find the middle road between the extremes. Since we’ve focused so much on establishing the “right doctrine,” many feel they cannot trust their baptism was done correctly; hindsight tells them they didn’t get it right the first time.

I once re-baptized a friend who was in her late thirties. We met and talk at length about baptism and God’s grace. She was smart, capable and insightful. She told me about how much more she understood Scripture and God’s will today versus when she was a teenager, and this time she was getting baptized for the “right reason.” I tried convincing her she didn’t need baptism, for she was growing in the grace of God (2 Pet. 3:18). However, when push came to shove, I relented and I baptized her. It was her third baptism. I wondered, at the time and even today, how many more baptisms will she need before she will finally get it right, and that God will forgive her?

Thus, enough of us doubt we’re saved, and have convinced ourselves that God’s looking for any reason to condemn us. Where can we find security without running for a blue blanket, or a stuff plush doll? 

John 3:16-17 has God looking for every reason to save us, not to condemn us. Jesus’ cry is for “All to come to him who are heavy burdened and he will give you rest” (Mt. 11:28). John reassured his readers when he wrote, “I write this things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life” (1 Jn. 5:13); he didn’t write, “. . . you might have eternal life.” And if our weekly partaking of the Lord’s Supper says anything, it should answer the question, “how much does God love us;” this much, as Jesus stretches out his hands. 

I may not need my Snoopy doll today as a point of security, and you may not need a blue blanket either. I do find that the above Scriptures help in my security, and it doesn’t hurt to sing songs like Blessed Assurance either.

By the way, the original Snoopy doll I found in a box, covered with thirty years of age and love, was used by my mom and her sister as a pattern to clone an identical Snoopy. In fact, they made one for me and for each of my three children. I’m glad I found it. More importantly, I’m just glad Jesus found me. 

bonum dolar!
(e.g., Good Grief!)

No one was able to do more with less, than Schroeder. He sat down at his toy piano and provided masterpiece renditions of Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach, but mostly Beethoven because Ludwig van Beethoven was Schroeder’s hero. He kept a closet-full of Beethoven’s busts to display (he always wanted a spare because Lucy might break one in her own frustration). His house number was 1770, which was easy to remember since it was Beethoven’s birth year. He once enlisted a sponsorship for his baseball shirt from Beeth-Ovens. And every year he picketed his neighborhood carrying a sign to count down to Beethoven’s birthday. 

One day while he was playing, Charlie Brown noticed something about Schroeder’s toy piano; the black (i.e. ebony) keys were painted on the white plastic (i.e. ivory) keys. When he questioned how Schroeder could play such beautiful music with the painted keys, Schroeder’ response was simple, “Practice.” I guess if Charles Schulz is drawing pictures of Beethoven’s sheet music or Vince Guaraldi is providing the piano sound for the TV/movies, then you can play almost anything on a toy piano. 

My own musical journey was more akin to the plunking sound Schroeder did at the Christmas program when he played Jingle Bells, than when he played the now famous Linus and Lucy theme song. My guitar attempts were short-lived as I couldn’t get my left and right hands to come together in tandem (I could say the same about my attempts at the piano). I spent eight years trying to play a French Horn, which they say is one of the hardest instruments to master (small mouth piece and very long horn wrapped in a coil). In the right hands the French Horn sound is the most beautiful of the brass instruments, but it wasn’t in my hands.  Most of the time I was more concerned with hitting the right notes, than I was with making music. 

My eight years of band experience was overall positive. Both of my directors were meticulous instructors, particularly my middle-school/high school director. She demanded our best, and we respected her enough to give her our best. The results spoke for themselves. We got the notes right by winning sight reading competitions, propelling us to win the equivalent of the State Competition for stage bands my junior and senior years in high school. 

I still feel the residual effects of getting the notes right when I listen to music. My ears cringed when my children were learning to play their respective instruments. Sometimes American Idol tryouts are too painful to watch; I’m thankful that The Voice weeds out the singers/performers from the pretenders. And while I’m supposed be “lost in wonder, love and praise,” I easily get distracted when the hymns veer far off from the written score. 

Getting the notes right not only resonates with my musical background, but also with my theological background as well. I’m part of a historical Movement focused on getting doctrine right. Certainly, I admire and applaud such a history. Who wants to admit they belong to a group who perpetuates a lie? I don’t. We long for harmony with God, not dissonance. We pursue getting the doctrines right: resurrection, baptism, Lord’s Supper, worship, Incarnation, Church, et. al. But in our pursuit of getting these right, two problems have emerged. 

One, we’ve tended to settle for a select few doctrines (i.e. baptism, church structure, worship, etc.), while forgetting how much the Bible speaks about forgiveness, taming the tongue, social justice and equality, and how lives touched by Jesus means being transformed into looking like Jesus. Even Jesus preached that there were “more important matters of the law, like justice, mercy and faithfulness” (Mt. 23:23). He also reminded us that God “desired mercy, not sacrifice” (Hos. 6:6; Mt. 9:13). 

Secondly, in our pursuit of the right note of doctrine, we’ve often failed to humbly and compassionately pursue harmony with each other; we’re far too comfortable living in dissonance with those we disagree with. Dissonance may be of value in certain musical contexts, but harmony is the norm. Jesus’ prayer was for the church to be one (Jn. 17:21), not to just talk about unity, but to mirror the unity of the Triune God. Or, as Paul McCartney once prayed, “Ebony and Ivory lived to together in perfect harmony; side by side on my piano keyboard, O Lord, why don’t we?” 

So let’s get the notes right, or in this case, let’s get the doctrine right. But let’s expand our play beyond treble and bass cleft, or the white ivory and the black ebony keys, and embrace the “whole counsel of God” (Act. 20:27). Let’s be all encompassing, for only then will we play the beautiful music of Christ. More importantly, maybe then, God will use us in a way where people will ask, “How’d you get that sound out of that toy piano?” Besides, no one has been able to do more with less, than God.

bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)