Barbershop Theology

I went to the barbershop today to get my hair cut as usual. Today, however, is Thanksgiving Day. But my barber offered his services for a cut today and I agreed. And before I had left, the presence of the Lord showed up as well.

Hmm...Barbershop Theology...You come in and get your cut and talk about culture and faith to a people that go to church often to a people that do not see the relevance for going to church at all. This wasn't your ordinary church service.

So I found myself getting my bald head and beard tightened up. I think we covered everything from relationships (metro, hetero, homo, no - sexual relationships), ethical dilemmas found, how we worship, the differences in organized religion and more. And as these Timberland, black tee wearing, goal oriented African American men began to spit culture and theology, I began to listen. Listen to what their hearts were saying. What's going on my black brother, what IS going on?

The frustrations that they shared, the contradictions that they have experienced in the church and even the sinful lives that we live, all seem to dance in my spirit of a time that I could relate to. The gift of presence is a marvelous thing, but can I truly exercise this...and not be in my Sunday's finest. And what about the preachers pushing the Bentley's whilst their members push themselves to make it to this 'holy space'. Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almighty. Early in the morning, my soul shall rise to thee. And then there was an outburst, "that's how I need to go...like the story in the Bible where I am taken up from here all at once!" No 'body' to leave here on earth versus the 'spirit' only ascending. Deep, my man. Deep.

Three African American males. Doing the dog gone thang. Entreprenuer, Pentecostal, barber, club owner, model, engineer, Seventh Day Adventist, preacher, Father, Christians, daddys, United Methodist, and even a cultural anthropologist all in dialogue. In our earthly chanced meeting. In divine order that we could speak on the Word and relate it to how we live.

Will lives be changed by it? I know that mine will. I can smile on this day as one of the best days to have ever witnessed God at work.

Giving thanks, living thankful.

Is This What They Meant?/Thanksgiving Thoughts

This is truly a "What in the World?" moment for us all to just laugh. I want to be in style but, er, uh, is this what they meant about getting rid of the "saggy pants" in the Atlanta article? Would you love to see this catch on? Comments?

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

I am thankful that you take the moments of time to check out "What in the World?". It started as my frustrations with some of the things going on in the world, but has become a place where culture and theological thought converge. Thanks for the encouragement, the prodding to get another installment issued and your constructive feedback. Hope to have another one for Christmas...Until then...Hoov

The Black Walnut (07/05/02)

I was cleaning up my office and ran across this ironically... Maybe this is still true even five years later. Enjoy.

A black walnut grows on a tree and is green while it is still attached to the tree. This is where it gets its nourishment, support, guidance and rules for living. There comes a time, however, when the black walnut must fall from the tree. After it falls, then it will sit around on the ground or may be harvested by humans.

In both cases, the black walnut begins an aging process by which it turns from green to a dark brown or black hue. Then it wrinkles up similar to what happens when a grape turns into a raisin. At this point, the drying out process has taken place. Then you are able to remove the black stuff to reveal a hard core or shell.

A hammer is then needed to break it open and if the black walnut is not covered, the shell can go everywhere.

Aren't we, the congregation, the Body of Christ, like the black walnut? We were born into this world and a little green, or new to our environment. We had that parent or guardian provide for us, give us nourishment, and that guidance that we so needed, but may or may not have listened to. We then fell from the tree, still green, and got cut off from our parents/guardians to begin anew. We may have been still green in our spiritual walk as well. At some point, we either cut God and the church out of our lives or ended up accepting that there is a God and began to go to church.

We became "pew" members by just going to church and rushing out of the church doors, having spoken to no one. Then we began to get older doing a little within the church (our aging process like the black walnut). Then something got a hold of us and made us shed how we used to be or like the black walnut, shed that skin to reveal another shell.

God is trying to break that shell and keep you covered at the same time so you can receive the blessings that He has for you and not get spread all over the place. I heard a pastor say once that you have been spared so many times from death and destruction and in so many situations. What have you been spared to do? Was it so you could be saved? So you could receive His Word? Spread His Word? Usher? Acolyte? Sing in the choir? Attend Sunday School or Bible Study? Serve on the Hospitality Committee? There is work to be done in the Kingdom.

In God's time and our obedience, our shells can be broken.

Who Am I?

I found myself craving some chips and a soda and it wasn't any in the house. So at 10pm, I ran out to get me some from the local 7-Eleven. Good ole, 7-Eleven. Most of the times dependable and they had what I needed tonight. Some comfort food.

I was cleaning up the other day and found my favorite shirt and actually had it on as I walked to the store. But what would people say about me? Who would they think I am (as I pulled up my pants for lack of a belt)?

You see, my shirt says actually more about what I used to do versus who I am today. It is a snapshot from a time when I used to live in Georgia and liquor was my preferred drink. Yes, I survived "FREAKNIK". Now for those of you who never experienced this event, it really was a chance for African-Americans to come together in Piedmont Park of the outskirts Atlanta and hang out for an entire weekend. Basically shutting the city down. If you thought you were somebody, you were there. If you were nobody, you found your way there, by hook or crook. This was a weekend when the economy went up, but also the hem lines, the attitudes, the violence and the club prices.

So the shirt I was wearing has an "NFL" type of logo on the front that stands for "National Freaknik League" and a big "97" on the back as tall as the front logo. So I am on my way to the store with this ten year old shirt and my jeans that I have trouble keeping up without my belt. Never leave home without it!

So who am I? To the store owner, I am just a customer. To other customers, I am some middle aged wanna be young person (was it the gray in my beard?). To others, a fellah that just couldn't let the ten year old t-shirt go. To me, I am the same guy from ten years ago, however, I am smarter, wiser and more grown up. I am not an alcoholic and have given up liquor since then. I am not a party-goer, but still like to dance. I am not faking my age by wearing trendy clothes. I am Ashley Hoover.

A young, black, gifted brother with a lot of potential still yet untapped. I am a Christian, a Cultural Anthropologist, an Encourager, a Believer, a Nature Maintainer, a Sports Enthusiast, an Artist, with potential that again is still yet untapped.

I am sure you have seen me hanging on the corner, throwing trash to the ground, laughing with my friends walking down the street, coming out of the liquor store, sitting in a classroom, singing in the choir, playing sports, taking my kids to school, mentoring, tutoring, and hoping for that day...

when you don't judge me by my exterior (my Freaknik shirt and baggy jeans), but by my interior (the potential that is yet to be birthed if given a chance and can be nurtured by someone like you).

Matthew 7:1-6 "Do not judge or you too will be judged".

In Style or What?

I remember wearing my jeans inside out, backwards, with paisley designs on the pocket, with leather (like) patches on the front panels, holes down the legs, holes in the back and now this.



My waist is here, but I wear the waist on my jeans approximately four to six inches below my God-given waist. But why? Is it so that the ladies can check out my boxers or briefs? Is it so I can appear cool? What is it that has made cities around the country put "a style" of sorts into law?

I was offended thinking that it was racially motivated until I was in California recently and saw the same style on some Latino youth. Then I thought that maybe it isn't racial at all. Then when I heard that the law also included thongs and sports bras, I knew this was ridiculous.

So we are going to arrest women as they work out and possibly jog because someone is offended? I will admit that all of these styles cannot be made to look cool by all body types to say the least. But a law?

Has the government gotten to the point where they will tell us what to wear and "what not to wear?". I would love to leave that to the individual households, but some people do not care what they look like when they leave out. Today it is saggy pants so you can see the underwear, what's next?

On The Other Side of a Wake Up

This is an editorial response to One Week and a Wake up. I didn't realize that I hadn't blogged in a minute.

I am no longer everyone's groomsman, but I am someone's husband now. The wedding was well attended and as weddings go, we had a minor musical snag, but the Lord provides. I did not have to light candles, pull runners, help serve dinner, play the trumpet, but the quartet that I am in, HIS 4, sang "Great is Thy Faithfulness" acapella. Thanks Albert, James & Eddye. The wedding went off well. I almost got my shout on (actually Josie and I both did) during the service. It may have been the vows, the liturgical dancers, the sermon or even the Lord's Prayer. Whatever it was, that day was ordained by God. I even rushed the Pastor and finished my vows in unison with the Pastor. All we could do was laugh. It must have been all of the studying of this information that made me finish the Pastor's thought. Maybe I was just anxious to marry Josie. Josie & I were definitely appreciative to have had clergy stand in support of our marriage at that appointed time.

I consider myself blessed one month and a wake up later. I remember lip singing to "The Wedding Song" by Frank McComb as Josie walked down the aisle. No quiver of the lip, no heart racing, but a sense of peace of how blessed I am.

But what about the marriage? For you married folk, have you felt that you have been married for years where your souls were wed long before the earthly, outward, expensive, show of your covenant with God? It has only been 37 days and we still feel that way. I love Josetta Roxanne Hoover with all my heart.

I am an African American male that has been talked about, lied on, cheated on, forgotten, wasn't good enough to date, but be a friend, the dreaded friend zone. But all of that made me stronger to be able to walk into this new phase of our lives. Our address now is on "From this Day Forward" Blvd. We travel with God. Today, I wake up with Josie -- my friend, my love, my soul, and my wife by my side.

My First Eulogy - Curtis Bernard Emerson

Death. The sting of it all. The heaviness of it all. The reality of it all. On Saturday, July 21st, I did my first eulogy. As a pastor, I will do many of these. But this was my first and I am not a pastor. To add to the pressure, Curtis was my cousin. It was difficult, to say the least, as to what I should say, what should I not say, what ounce of comforting words could I provide to my family while at the same time, comforting myself. As I went to prepare, I remember one of my friends saying that you cannot preach the dead into heaven or hell. That is not our task for we really don't know, where the deceased has ended. How true it is when we experience loss in our lives that at the funeral, we have the deceased walking on water. How will you be remembered when the time comes? Will you have done all that you could for others while on earth? Did you help feed the homeless, clothe the naked, did you buy a breakfast sandwich or pass out a blanket to someone on a cold night? As for Curtis, everyone spoke highly of him and remembered him in the same way..."he was like a brother". My brothers and my sisters, not because folk will say good stuff upon your departure from this earth, but because "if you have done it for the least of these, you have done it for me." Jesus just requires us to "Just Do it". Thank God I preached my cousin's eulogy. I just had to "do it".

One Week & A Wake Up

This is an editorial. For a while, I was everybody's groomsman. I had attended and been in countless weddings. I have sung, lit candles, pulled runners, helped serve dinner, played the trumpet, and even designed a headpiece for two brides (my artistic trait). Even in all of that, I am wondering how I will be feeling in a week and a wake up. Will it be hard for me to swallow when I see Josie, the woman I prayed for even though we had not officially met, come down the aisle? Will my palms sweat endlessly until I hear "you may now kiss your bride"? Don't lock your legs! Will I try to stand there fighting back the tears of joy as my love approaches? So those are my concerns. There, I have said it.

But what about the marriage? The fact that someone will be looking to me for encouragement and leadership for the family. The fact that my next of kin will be my wife and for so many years, it was my mother. The fact that space is an issue...physical and mental. The reality that ministry can clog pores just as easily as lotion can...but you have to remember to breathe and that the family is not forgotten because of ministry. They ebb and flow I believe always remembering God is with us. The fact that the thought processes of two individuals that have come together still has individual approaches to the same problem.

It is a matter of location. And right now, I am an African American male that has been talked about, lied on, cheated on, forgotten, wasn't good enough to date, but be a friend, the dreaded friend zone. My address has changed for I don't live on those streets anymore. I travel with God now, so those other addresses are now marked "address unknown".

I am a week and a wake up away from my seeing my friend, my love, my soul, and my fiance' at the altar. Two pm it is.

Why Do We Continue to go to Church?

I once heard a young adult say, "Church is a necessity". It is this statement that I would love for all young adults to have or "Church is like that!". It is dependent upon where you are being raised, nurtured, and reassured in the church. If there is no fuel to the flame, the fire cannot get hot. What part of "church" keeps you there? Or has made you flee?

Complaining about the Cold

"I feel seasons in the air, and I feel blessings everywhere." For those who are not familiar, those words come from an old Donald Lawrence album.

The air has gotten colder since our record temperatures in DC back during the Thanksgiving and Christmas timeframes. Honestly enough, that season was winter also. People failed to acknowledge the winter and found themselves wrapped in shorts and short sleeve shirts. I couldn't afford to get sick so I marvelled at their defiance for the weather and went along.

But just as someone gets slapped for no reason, we have been slapped by cold weather. Imagine that...cold weather in January and February? No real snow storm...yet. No frozen power lines...yet. No 25 car pile up on the roads...yet. Yet we complain about how cold it is. But have we truly ever stopped to recognize the cold that the homeless and those who cannot afford to pay their electric bill face? I know that the blankets and clothes that are donated and the extra money that is put forward to pay into the electric fund won't do it. I am saddened that we have this homelessness, especially in the cold. I am complaining!

"Oh my it is cold!", Karen uttered the other day. She had on a coat, scarf, hat, gloves and probably had long johns on underneath but still complained. God had provided her with the finances to afford all that she had or she had received the items as gifts. No matter how they were obtained, she was protected from the elements as best she could. My heart wept the other day watching the news when I saw that a lady with Alzheimer's wandered from the place in which she stayed without a coat on and died in this cold. I can only imagine that the cold was the earthly culprit, but I am sure God called her on.

So the next time we utter as to how cold it is, remember that God provides and we should count our blessings, not our inconveniences. To endure the cold from the house to the car is temporary. To endure the cold from the house to the metro is brutal, but again temporary. To endure the cold because that is your home for whatever reason, keep these brothers and sisters in prayer. As a friend said today, "we all could be one paycheck away from joining the ranks".