No News is Good News

but almost all news is no news

We have become a society that lusts for news. We perch hungrily for the latest scandal and are eager to see our enemies demeaned by the latest bit of information we squeeze from an ill-written headline. Increasingly it seems, no news is good news.

good news

photo credit: Oliver Klein,

If you’ve read my previous posts, you know my political choice for president. Not surprisingly, the majority of people I know don’t read my posts. So I’ve been fielding a lot of conversation about that.

Those visits usually begin with, “Well, I guess you’re happy about the presidential election results.” And then, I must honestly reply, “No, I’m not.” Living in conservative West Texas, I can usually expect the person to physically step back from me and then set my watch for about two minutes of disbelief and, sometimes, horror.

Evidently, the two minutes is about the average amount of time it takes for people to recover from shock and to realize, “Oh, it’s not a big deal, because my candidate won.” Something about winning and smugness usually prompts them to say, “Well, I love you anyway.” I wonder each time if they would be saying that if the results had been different. It’s easy to be magnanimous when you’re the winner.

Oddly, I bear no ill-will towards most of these folks because they, like me, took the information they had, applied some standards, and made a choice. That’s the way this works and, despite complaints, it is a pretty good system. If you read my personal call to action right after the election, you know that my first step was to be willing to admit I’m wrong . . . occasionally . . . every once in a while. Maybe I was wrong about Mr. Trump. I just want to be clear, the evidence is still out. I borrowed the “I just want to be clear” statement from President Obama. I can see why he likes it so much.

In the past, things seemed to be clear to me. Recently, when I’ve had conversations with people who show genuine interest in why I voted as I did, I’ve come to expect a measure of frustration and futility. It seems that we, as a nation, have no place to turn for accurate news. The main stream media — on both sides of any issue — have proven to be largely biased. Cable news and internet news is driven by advertising and sensationalism.

So, no news is good news.

I know that there are journalists out there who are working hard at their craft in investigation, fact-checking, and writing. I’ve read a lot of well-researched, coherent articles in the last six months written from many perspectives on the political spectrum. Unfortunately, many of us don’t have time to read anything in-depth, much less think about the message enough to ask questions and to engage in a personal level of inquiry.

We settle for the headline. We allow our hunger for outrage to be fed by illogical, inflammatory missiles that, most often, have little to do with actual events. Or, we revel in the mucus of stories that are simply created to do harm to some ideology or some individual. Fake news sources are profiting from our willingness to allow misinformation to be the main event in the blood sport of public rhetoric.

 It’s time to take back objectivity. We need to open our eyes and look for truth. We need to be able to trust again. We need to receive good news. Please don’t fall prey to the purveyors of sensationalism. Such behavior is an addiction. 


Get to know people. Talk to them. Differ with them. Make honesty and truth a vital component of any relationship. Perhaps the media will pick up on that and learn that good news — “good” meaning accurate and balanced — sells.


I feel a little intimidated writing about being thankful during the Thanksgiving season.

Thankful - Waterfall

photo credit: Will Steward/

So many good things have already been said. So many statements of gratefulness have been made. So many prayers have been prayed.

But I am thankful.

Thankful for the family I have. Every single one of them. My loved ones who love me even though they know me well.

Thankful for the friends I have made. Those people who always seem to be standing close by when tears come or fear arises. Those who are ready to celebrate when good times come.

Thankful for teachers and mentors I have had. Women and men who felt their greatest reward was seeing me succeed.

Thankful for my students through the years — and for what they have taught me. Incredible individuals who are my hope for the future.

Thankful for material blessings that I, for the most part, don’t really deserve.

Thankful for the sacrifices made by men and women to keep me safe.

Thankful for selfless people who serve and who allow me to see God at work in this world.

Thank you.

The Noises We Make

My gym workouts aren’t as frequent as they were just a few months ago. Travel, distraction, and a bit of injury have cut into my routine. So I was pleased this morning to be back at my Abilene gym. I even checked-in there on Facebook to enter one of the constant contests underway. It was early and quiet. The noises I heard were limited to the music from my earbuds and the muted thudding of my trainers on the treadmill.


Photo credit: Bruno Nascimento/

And then, I heard it.  A sharp cry. And then again. Over time, the brief outbursts morphed into a grunting sound. The noises made as hernias are created.

I looked back for a moment to see a man half my age sitting on one of the nearby weight stack machines. In that instant I could tell he was new to the machine. His form was wrong, the seat was in a bad position, and, from the agony on his face, it appeared that he was attempting too much weight. And so the grunting continued, interrupting my music and my concentration.

I hear a lot of noises at the gym. Half-conversations from people on cell phones who somehow think we can’t listen in. Sounds of machines moving alongside human body parts. Weights dropped by those who believe that such behavior makes them somewhat akin to Conan, the Barbarian. Conversations among friends about sports and relationships and politics. One guy even talks to himself — constantly. He says those things a trainer might say to a client. “You can do it! Two more! DO YOU REALLY WANT THIS??!!” And then, there are those exertion noises like the ones I heard this morning.

I wonder what noises I make. Not just in the gym, but at the office, at home, and in my community. What are the noises that people hear when they think of me?

As we continue to seek a level of equillibrium following a rocky political campaign and as we move now into a period of a new normalcy in regard to our political leadership, I find myself being more and more aware of the noises people are making. We have seen protests. We have heard exasperation from those who don’t like the protests. We have seen individuals choose to fall quiet, to slip on the sneakers of self-preservation and steal away into the shadows.

I have heard good and bad noises during this time. Some are expected and even welcomed. A few are surprising, revealing underlying anxiety that had been previously hidden. And some are like those from the gym this morning — explosive outbursts indicating a lack of forethought and preparation . . . sure signs of pending internal and external damage.

Perhaps in life, as in exercise, attention to the noises we make can serve as a governor to our choices and our well-being — and to our influence as leaders and people of faith.

The Beautiful Side of Opposition

When I hit the “publish” button on my blog site a few days ago, it was with some fear and apprehension. In that moment I had chosen to not only signal my lack of support for Mr. Trump for president, but also to report that I had voted for Mrs. Clinton. I knew that many, if not most, of my friends on social media and in real life would be surprised. In fact, I assumed that some would be angry. I made that post expecting another migration of “friends” from my Facebook account. I underestimated the opposition.

I did have a few people express disappointment in me. One, a friend from my school days, was forthright in her statement that I was in favor of socialism. I get that. To her credit, she put that aside and remains connected to me. That story was just one of many, however, that let me hear disagreement and acceptance. That is the beautiful side of opposition. That is the miraculous side of difference.

[ASIDE: By the way, I’m not a socialist in the political sense. But in terms of my feelings toward others, I am a “socialist.” As I stated in the earlier post, I think we’re all better together. And I was simply calling for us all to stand up against “anti-socialism” — in the people sense. If you are struggling to find a pigeon hole for me, I’m a compassionate capitalist. I think our vocations can build prosperity for all of us through personal and community effort. I believe that the majority people are searching for a way to contribute and that, in some cases, we have largely failed in making those opportunities available.]


Some of the most special moments were in comments I received from those who voted differently, but who obviously read every word I had written. And then took time to respond. That’s conversation. Uncomfortable in some contexts, but ultimately life-giving. Often their direct statements of difference were packaged in expressions of love and friendship. Beautiful.

And then there was the affirmation of those who felt aligned with what I wrote. Thanks to those of you who also left your comfort zone to do that and those of you who have been my examples in sharing their thoughts and positions freely and without fear.

With a few exceptions, notes of encouragement from all perspectives refreshed me, reassured me, and restored me to my confidence in people. We have a lot of work to do as we witness the aftermath of a time in our country when we were made to believe that power could be captured only by being divisive and seeding conflict. Indeed, the destructive behavior we are witnessing post-election attests to the fact that the simple act of a choosing a leader does not quiet the storms evoked by real needs. Or the fears.

Fear still reigns in our country. It’s not enough to say, “Don’t be afraid.” Instead, we should attack fear by standing together.

Stand for justice. Stand for mercy. Stand for people.

The beautiful side of opposition emerges from the darkness when we do that.