Conference lgp30::christian-perspective

    I nominate the C-Pers who consistently speak from a place of LOVE!!
    
    You know who you are!!  ;')
    
    Ro
    

I hereby place these names into nomination (no particular order):

		KAREN BERGGREN

		A CERTAIN BLONDE WHO LIVES
		IN NEW HAMSHIRE, BUT WHOSE
		NAME I CANNOT DIVULGE.

		DAVE DAWSON

		RO FLAHERTY



					- Richard

I nominate Dave Dawson for his acceptance of all of the many diverse points
of view expressed here and for the love and tolerance that he shows for each 
voice here.

Nanci

Peter Paul Sprunger-Froese of Colorado Springs

Mennonite prophet.  Has suffered multiple incarcerations for acts of
Christian witness and non-violent civil disobedience.  Has dedicated
his life to Christian service, living among the poor, promoting vigilance
against systemic injustice, decrying oppressive militarism and economic
opportunism.  Innovator of several environmentally sound processes,
including a composting toilet and a bicycle-powered public address system.


Mary Sprunger-Froese of Colorado Springs

Mennonite witness.  Has suffered several arrests and incarcerations for
acts of Christian witness and Biblical non-resistance.  Has dedicated
her life to Christian service, living among the poor, promoting vigilance
against systemic injustice, decrying oppressive militarism and economic
opportunism.  The performing arts of music, drama and comedy have, in recent
years, become integral to the expression of her Christian faith.  Yes, I'll
say it...she's a Thespian!  8-} (also see Note 66.22)

Peace,
Richard

    I nominate the 'curly-haired blonde guy' ;') who is a read-only member of
    this file.   A courageous spiritual warrior who 'walks his talk' thru
    love and service.
    
    Ro

Cleve and Betty Stringer -- Contemporary Saints.

If they ever knew I'd spoken of them so glowingly, their sense of modesty
would likely be expressed to me in anger.  They never talk about it.  They
never accept honors or recognition.  They are quiet Disciples.

Cleve and Betty are unfailingly and unswervingly ready to serve and assist
anyone in need.

They have nearly singlehandedly resettled 2 refugee families that I
know of: a Cambodian family of 6, and a Viet Namese family of 4; none of
whom spoke any English nor possessed anything but what they wore when
they arrived in the U.S..  Both families became economically self-sustaining
within months.

Cleve delivers "meals-on-wheels" weekly and is a regular volunteer at
a local food bank.

There is so much more, I *know* there is!  But it's kept so well hidden
that I don't know enough about it to be able to say any more.

Peace,
Richard

	I nominate Diane Miller who works downstairs in Personnel.  The
woman exudes a warm and contageous light.  She's resiliantly kind, patient
and cheerful.  Diane's compassion has led to her serving as a Stephens
minister (a trained lay ministry open to all denominations).

Peace,
Richard

Bob Schlichting -

	I haven't thought about Bob in years.  Don't know why he popped
into my consciousness yesterday, but he did.

	Bob used to pick me up and drive me to high school until he
graduated.  He was Senior when I was a Sophomore.

	The drive to school was about 40 blocks along a heavily trafficked
city street.  Whenever he spotted anyone who appeared to have car trouble
he invariably pulled over and asked if he could help.  This frequently
took me by surprise, mostly because I usually didn't pay very much attention
and because I was so used to just passing by such situations.  Even then
being a roadside good Samaritan was considered a hazardous occupation.

	Many times Bob couldn't help or all he could do was to help push
the dysfunctional vehicle off the street.  I couldn't begin to estimate
all the car batteries Bob jump started from his own battery or how many
flat tires he changed without any thought of reciprocation.

	You know, it's funny.  I never told him how admirable I thought
it was for him to do this kind of thing.  I don't know why I didn't.

Peace,
Richard

I sing a song of the saints of God,
Patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died
For the Lord they loved and knew.
 And one was a doctor, and one was a queen,
 And one was a shepherdess on the green:
 They were all of them saints of God--And I mean,
 God helping, to be one too.

They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,
And his love made them strong;
And they followed the right, for Jesus' sake,
The whole of their good lives long.
 And one was a soldier and one was a priest,
 And one was slain by a fierce wild beast:
 And there's not any reason--no, not the least--
 Why I shouldn't be one too.

They lived not only in ages past,
There are hundreds of thousands still,
The world is bright with the joyous saints
Who love to do Jesus' will.
 You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,
 In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,
 For the saints of God are just folk like me,
 And I mean to be one too.

--Lesbia Scott, 1929

	The first time I ever met Olive Goodykoontz was more than twenty years
ago.  She was a vibrant Quaker woman of Germanic descent.  She had a vigorous
handshake and an unshakable faith.

	My first encounter with Olive was a memorable one for me.

	I remember at the time, my friends and I were starry-eyed young
idealists.  One of our number, a dear friend named Sharon "Frog" MacDonald,
shared with us her interest in a group called the Society of Friends.  Sharon
was fascinated by the name:  Society of Friends.  "Wouldn't it be something,"
I recall her saying, "if the whole world could become a society of friends?"

	So, about seven or so of us decided on a Sunday morning we could all
go and check out this Society of Friends (Safety in numbers, you know).  Well,
I don't know about any of the others, but I didn't do any research before
going.  We arrived just a little after the appointed hour at the Friends
Meetinghouse in Phoenix, Arizona.

	Upon entering, we took seats together in a row of cushionless metal
folding chairs.  The chairs were set up in two opposing semi-circles, about
3 rows deep.  The seating was about 2/3rds full.  One whole side of the room
was windowed from floor to ceiling, revealing the coarse beauty of the nearby
mountains and the desert to the worshipers.  Against another wall was a
library.  There were no crosses and no flags.  The floor was carpeted in a
non-descript, short-pile gray.

	Well, we sat there and we sat there.  I kept waiting for the pastor
to show up.  But no one seemed to be alarmed about this predicament.  So we
just sat there some more.

	Near the end of the hour, an elderly man rose from his chair and
uttered several sentences, none of which any of us could make out.

	Nothing else happened until suddenly everyone started shaking hands
with each other.  It was over.

	Olive came up to each one of us and introduced herself with one of the
broadest, most genuine glad-to-see-you smiles I've ever seen.  She invited us
to stay for the potluck lunch that the Friends had planned for that day.  We
declined.

	It was several years later that returned to that little meetinghouse
and started attending Friends Meeting in earnest.  I learned that the elderly
man who had spoken that first day simply had a thick German accent, which was
slurred as a result of a stroke.  He *always* spoke that way.  In time, I
even learned to understand most of what he was saying.

	Olive, one of the mainstays of Phoenix Friends Meeting, sort of became
my spiritual mentor, though we had no formal agreement to that effect.  She
recommended certain books.  She loaned books to me from her personal library.
And when I asked her about a version of the Bible that was written in a form
of English I could understand, she showed up with a copy for me the very next
Sunday.

	I took Olive's recommended readings very seriously.  By her words and
her actions it was evident to me that Olive possessed an uncommon depth of
faith.  Olive's life had a quality and spiritual dimension that I believed
to be most worthwhile and wanted in my life.

	She encouraged me.  She prodded me.  Occasionally, she even scolded me.

	It was an enormous loss to me when she passed away.

Peace,
Richard

Sister Joan Brown, a Roman Catholic religious of the Franciscan Order (Poor
Clare), a servant of Christ, a witness for peace, a champion of justice for
the poor and oppressed, and a friend of mine. (See Note 66.22)

Peace,
Richard

    I hereby resubmit the name of David M. Dawson, Child of God.
    
    Shalom,
    Richard
    

	"In this very century there has been a great Muslim leader who
showed the way out of the tragic cycle of an eye for an eye which, as
Mahatma Gandhi observed, only makes the everyone blind.

	Abdul Ghaffer Khan was the khan or chieftain of the Pathans, one of
the most violent people on earth, who are committed to a code of vengeance
that is binding from generation to generation.  Badshah Khan, as he was
called by his people, foresaw that this cult of violence would bring great
sorrow if it were not transformed into what Gandhi called 'the nonviolence
of the brave.'

	Khan exploded three myths: that nonviolence can only be followed
by the gentle, that it cannot work against ruthless repression, and that
it has no place in Islam.  From his warring tribesmen, he raised the world's
first nonviolent army; a disciplined body of men women and children which
swelled to 100,000 at the height of Gandhi's satygraha movement in India.
It was precisely because of the Pathans' fierce fighting spirit, Gandhi
said, that Khan's unarmed army was able to face even vicious rifle fire
without retreating or retaliating.

	No one could has anticipated that a Muslim Saint Francis would
emerge from the blood-stained Pathan soil.  Even Gandhi was amazed.  'That
such men,' he wrote, 'who would have killed a human being with no more
thought than they would have for killing a sheep or a hen, should at the
bidding of one man have laid down their arms and accepted nonviolence as
the superior weapon sound almost like a fairy tale.'

	The story of Badshah Khan has hidden within it a great truth of
which our tottering world stands much in need."

(Excerpt from Blue Mountain magazine.  Badshah Khan died in 1990 at the
age of ninety-seven, a three-time Nobel Peace Prize nominee.)

Thank you, God, for all your prophets, witnesses and saints, past and present.

Shalom,
Richard