Friday, September 30, 2005
Zoe
By the time you read this and assuming it isn't my appointed time to rest until resurrection, I should be in Northwest Alabama ... killing time until the Zoe Worship conference begins on Thursday afternoon. Originally I was going to spend this time with my mother (and Jan's). Now I'll give Nana a visit ... see some friends and family ... do a lot of reading and praying ... miss my family and dog ... and probably very little blogging.
I've not finished packing and I'm already missing home. On the other hand, there is that Gibson Guitar Factory in Nashville calling ever so softly. Janice told me tonight I better take a bigger suitcase than I was planning. I asked why? She said, "There's no telling what you'll bring back. You might even come home with another guitar!" I like the way she thinks ... but that's silly. I would never try to put a new guitar in a suitcase!
I'm growing very fond of this blogging community, so I'll "see ya" when I get home! Until then, behave and GO TO SUNDAY SCHOOL! (That was for meowmix.)
I've not finished packing and I'm already missing home. On the other hand, there is that Gibson Guitar Factory in Nashville calling ever so softly. Janice told me tonight I better take a bigger suitcase than I was planning. I asked why? She said, "There's no telling what you'll bring back. You might even come home with another guitar!" I like the way she thinks ... but that's silly. I would never try to put a new guitar in a suitcase!
I'm growing very fond of this blogging community, so I'll "see ya" when I get home! Until then, behave and GO TO SUNDAY SCHOOL! (That was for meowmix.)
Mary
I was going through my junk drawer when I came across a funeral handout from 1999. Mary Freeman. 1912 - 1999. In that little dash between her birth and her death are years of some of my sweetest childhood memories. I loved Mary and was loved by Mary. Why I hadn't placed her funeral brochure somewhere other than my junk drawer is a mystery ... unless at one time this drawer was meant for treasures.When I was a baby, our family (sans Dad) lived with my Grandmother Mitchell and Mary was "Granmama's" housekeeper ... and my best friend. Mary always wore a rather heavy dose of perfume and when she'd come in about 8:00 each morning, I would tell her, (as she recalls it) "Mayna ... you stanks!" and she would all but double over in laughter.
There were about 20 or so grandchildren in the Mitchell family and Mary was very special to every one of us. We never knew she was anything other than a part of our family. She practically raised me. Fed me. Washed me. Changed me. Rocked me to sleep. Hugged and loved me when I needed it, and even whipped me when I needed that. Probably not as often as she should have! We'd go to her house and visit, even years later when we were adults we loved to drop in and give Mary a hug and a kiss and sit and visit. If we ever saw Mary downtown Sheffield (northwest Alabama), we never hesitated to go up to her with a hug and kiss. She was our Mary! Her husband would come by the house in the afternoons to pick Mary up in his old Ford truck ... with running boards ... and we'd all jump on the running boards for a quick ride around the block. He died long before we got enough of those rides.
I remember when we'd have lunch, Mary would never come and eat with us. She would take her lunch and eat it in another room. I didn't understand then, but there was a "code" for people of color other than white back then. Our family didn't impose nor enforce that code on Mary for she was always invited to eat with us, but she would politely decline and eat elsewhere.
By the time Granmamma died (1977, I think) Mary had long since retired from working, but there she was at the front door early the next morning. She'd come to help us clean up the house and do whatever she could to help prepare for the funeral and the family coming in from out of town. On the day of the funeral, Mary was at the church and we insisted that she sit with the family. She hesitated and tried to decline, but we insisted and Mary sat with her "white" family. After the funeral, she tried to play the role of housekeeper while we ate, but for the first and only time in my memory, Mary sat and ate a meal with us.
I loved Mary and even as I write this so many years later, my throat tightens up a little and my eyes are somewhat blurred. I hope to see my friend, Mary, again when this life is over ... and I believe with all my heart I will. And if there is perfume in heaven, I'll probably tell her, "Mayna ... you stanks!" At least that's the way Mary will tell it.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Cell Phones
For the past few years, Fridays have been our lunch date, the Wife and the Rev. I would keep my calendar as clean as possible on Fridays so we could have lunch together. At some point in time our lunches became a couple of days a week. Then Josh's class schedule allowed him to be here at lunch time several days a week, so he joined us. Now I keep almost every day free at lunch time to eat with Janice. As she told me last week, "I'm spoiled." And so she is. But there are worse things in life than loving and spoiling the love of your life, though I've only had experience as the spoiler and never the spoilee.
Last Friday we had lunch at Arby's, which is within walking distance from her school / our house. For that matter, I suppose most everything is within walking distance if you're willing to walk that far, but I digress. We sat with a dear lady by the name of Florence. We met Florence at Arby's on a Sunday afternoon when about half our church invades for lunch. We'd seen her many times but finally decided to get to know this sweet looking lady who, as it turns out, is as sweet as she looks. We now give her a hug when we meet her there for lunch and enjoy just visiting with her and listening to the stories of her life. You know those hard times stories of her generation. We have no stories. Not like her stories. I mean there were times when we had a black-and-white television and once the A/C went out on the van. I've even had to actually get out of my chair, walk all the way across the room and change channels by hand when we've had to endure the hardship of a lost remote! But that's about the extent of our life stories.
After saying "Goodbye" to Florence, we headed back to school. The light turned in our favor and we got the okay from the crossing signal to proceed. We were about half way across the street when I suddenly pulled on Janice's arm to keep her from walking right into a truck that was turning across our right-of-way. The woman driver never saw us until she nearly ran over us. She was talking on her cell phone and paying no attention to anything else in her very limited world. When she finally saw us, she smiled and waved, but never slowed down and never took the phone away from her ear. One of those life moments when you wish you could legally shoot someone ... at least wing 'em to get their attention and teach a lesson. But we don't live in that world. Thankfully. I'd be winged often. While in the pulpit!
I hate cell phones. About half the time I leave mine on my dresser and in the Off mode. Can't tell you how many funerals I've worked as a funeral director and had people's cell phones ringing during the eulogy.At least once with every service. I guess that's better than hearing beer cans being popped open, but not much better. People are no better when it comes to church, either. Or lunch meetings. Or staff meetings. Or movies. One good thing about spending the afternoon at Guitar Center (I'm not addicted) is that the music is so loud one cannot hear a cell phone ring! And why people have to look at their phone while it rings three more times before they finally decide to turn off the ringer is a mystery. But that's the world in which we live and it could have easily resulted in serious injury last Friday ... if not a life.
So the moral of this blog? Don't talk on your cell phone while you're driving.
No wonder my sermons are so long. Look at the space required to simply say some woman nearly ran over us today because she was talking on her cell phone and not paying attention to driving. But then you wouldn't know about Florence.
Oh, yes. One other lesson to be learned from this story: Go to Sunday School!
Last Friday we had lunch at Arby's, which is within walking distance from her school / our house. For that matter, I suppose most everything is within walking distance if you're willing to walk that far, but I digress. We sat with a dear lady by the name of Florence. We met Florence at Arby's on a Sunday afternoon when about half our church invades for lunch. We'd seen her many times but finally decided to get to know this sweet looking lady who, as it turns out, is as sweet as she looks. We now give her a hug when we meet her there for lunch and enjoy just visiting with her and listening to the stories of her life. You know those hard times stories of her generation. We have no stories. Not like her stories. I mean there were times when we had a black-and-white television and once the A/C went out on the van. I've even had to actually get out of my chair, walk all the way across the room and change channels by hand when we've had to endure the hardship of a lost remote! But that's about the extent of our life stories.
After saying "Goodbye" to Florence, we headed back to school. The light turned in our favor and we got the okay from the crossing signal to proceed. We were about half way across the street when I suddenly pulled on Janice's arm to keep her from walking right into a truck that was turning across our right-of-way. The woman driver never saw us until she nearly ran over us. She was talking on her cell phone and paying no attention to anything else in her very limited world. When she finally saw us, she smiled and waved, but never slowed down and never took the phone away from her ear. One of those life moments when you wish you could legally shoot someone ... at least wing 'em to get their attention and teach a lesson. But we don't live in that world. Thankfully. I'd be winged often. While in the pulpit!
I hate cell phones. About half the time I leave mine on my dresser and in the Off mode. Can't tell you how many funerals I've worked as a funeral director and had people's cell phones ringing during the eulogy.At least once with every service. I guess that's better than hearing beer cans being popped open, but not much better. People are no better when it comes to church, either. Or lunch meetings. Or staff meetings. Or movies. One good thing about spending the afternoon at Guitar Center (I'm not addicted) is that the music is so loud one cannot hear a cell phone ring! And why people have to look at their phone while it rings three more times before they finally decide to turn off the ringer is a mystery. But that's the world in which we live and it could have easily resulted in serious injury last Friday ... if not a life.
So the moral of this blog? Don't talk on your cell phone while you're driving.
No wonder my sermons are so long. Look at the space required to simply say some woman nearly ran over us today because she was talking on her cell phone and not paying attention to driving. But then you wouldn't know about Florence.
Oh, yes. One other lesson to be learned from this story: Go to Sunday School!
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
No Time for Death
Yesterday I had my morning all planned out. Wrap up several loose ends before leaving town this weekend for the Zoe worship conference, meet Janice for lunch and then spend the afternoon in the office when it's a bit quieter and most people are gone.
Then I got a series of frantic phone calls, both at the house and on my cell phone. Eric was in Memorial Emergency Room. Didn't look good. I cancelled my plans and immediately went down to the emergency room where I was quickly escorted to where the family had gathered around Eric. As I walked in they were coming out. Eric had just taken his final breath here on earth.
None of us had time for this death. Eric was not supposed to die at 59. He was not supposed to develop a rare dementia four years ago that took away his ability to function as a human. Eric was one of the most brilliant men I've ever known. He was a Greek scholar. He was teaching himself Hebrew. He was an engineer. A master craftsman with wood. He was going to build a model ship, so he bought the machinery to actually take pieces of wood to cut, shape and mold them into a ship from detailed instructions for building a real wooden ship ... only reduced down in ratio to a much smaller size! He was a bit eccentric, but we got along.
He'd occasionally wear his full Scottish regalia (including the knife) to church and I would kid him about not having the legs nor the hips to wear a plaid skirt to church. He finally pretty much ignored me, but we were friends. We got together during the week to brush up on Greek together. I could call Eric and discuss difficult texts, or interpretational variances. He had served the church as an elder. Ocassionally would lead a song. Could give a Bible class an entirely different perspective on a given text. Hated the NIV. One of his sons-in-law told me today the last words spoken by Eric to him were, "I hate the NIV." Eric didn't celebrate holidays. He was a bit different you might say, but we loved him and could even appreciate his differences. He didn't try to enforce his beliefs on the rest of us.
For the past 3 - 4 years we've missed Eric as we'd known him. He stopped talking altogether about two years ago. But we were not ready for him to go into full cardiac arrest yesterday morning. And we were not ready to make that visit to the mortuary and speak of him in past tense terms. We just didn't have time yesterday for death. But death is an appointment and Eric kept his appointment with the Father yesterday morning about 9:30. Keep Eric's sweet wife, Kay, in your prayers along with their family of girls, sons-in-law, and five grandchildren.
Monday, September 26, 2005
A Follow-up to Randy's Blog
Randy had a good blog this morning about intentional relationships to be salt and light to neighbors and friends. I wanted to tag this blog onto what he said. You can click on his link just to the right of what you're reading now. For that matter, if you've not been going to my links, they are all worth your while. I don't link to just anyone. For that matter, nor does just anyone link to this site!
Earlier I mentioned a couple at our church, Burt and Kim, who were baptized last year at our "A Gift for Jesus" Christmas program, their lives being their gift back to the Lord. They have been growing steadily (I started to say "like crazy" and compared to others who seem to never grow, that would be a better term, but I'm far too sensitive a guy to be so judgmental in a blog read by gobs of people) in their spiritual maturity and are a constant encouragement to me and my ministry here.
I'm preaching through a series of sermons on the nearness of God and took a couple of Sundays to re-examine baptism in light of 1 Peter 3, that baptism is a pledge of a good conscience toward God. I don't think I've ever preached on baptism here and very seldom offer an "invitation" at the end of my sermons, so this was all but a novelty to this church. But far more than a novelty to Burt and Kim's family. Their daughter, Ashley, and daughter-in-law, Samantha, have been more than intrigued by mom and dad's new life in Christ. Last week, much of the conversation around the Saldana household was on the subject of baptism. Ashley and Sam were working in the nursery when Burt sent for them to come back to the auditorium to hear this sermon (part 2 of 2). He told me I was addressing just about every question they'd been asking and discussing the past week. My sermon was: "Baptism: FAQs"
The girls immediately came up to me after our assembly (we used to say "after church" but that seems to absolutely distress people who say we can't go to church because we are the church) and asked if they could be baptized! Wouldn't you know it, we just so happened to have water in our baptistry! It is usually dry because we have a leak in the drain valve, so we just fill it on an as-need basis. I told them we could do that right now or that we could wait until the evening and the water would actually be warm. We also turn on the heater system on an as-need basis. They decided to go with the warm water.
Last night following our monthly Celebration!, in which we use our praise band in worship, and a delicious meal together, about 15 people stayed late to witness the baptisms of Ashley and Samantha. The amazing thing is to see their transformation from teenagers being forced to "come to church" by parents they no longer knew because of this "Christianity thing" into young women taking a serious heart inventory and realizing there was Someone missing! I've never enjoyed a baptismal ceremony more than last night.
Unless it was last Wednesday morning when an elderly black lady requested that I baptize her. We'd never met. She called around to find someone who would baptize her and I agreed to do so for no other reason than she wanted to be baptized! Interesting how you never find a pre-baptismal quiz in the Bible, but for some reason we tend to think we need to know why a person wants to submit to baptism, as if to give our stamp of approval on a personal decision that really does not involve us! I will baptize anyone requesting it and let Jesus sort it all out later! Jean came in and I immediately thought what a sweetheart of a lady in my presence! Just the kind of smile and warmth that makes the perfect grandmother. Or sister in Christ. She told me after her baptism she sure was glad the water was warm because she normally has to have an oxygen tube on her and had the water been cold, she would not have been able to hold her breath for me to plunge her underwater! I never cease to be amazed at how the things we do "coincidentally" seem to become such "God-things"!
Anyway, my point is that in these three lives it was intentional relationship that brought each woman to the foot of the cross and the grave of baptism. No slick sales job. No quick gospel presentation. Just the faithfulness of Jesus being lived out through submissive hearts.
I know and love Randy. I see in him a heart that would go for the most effective means possible to win someone to Christ. He has a passion for the Lord and for the kingdom. He helps keep me on the right path more than he knows. And I know we'll read future blogs where Randy tells us about the success of his intentional relationships! But only in eternity will we know the full extent of any of our efforts to be salt and light.
Earlier I mentioned a couple at our church, Burt and Kim, who were baptized last year at our "A Gift for Jesus" Christmas program, their lives being their gift back to the Lord. They have been growing steadily (I started to say "like crazy" and compared to others who seem to never grow, that would be a better term, but I'm far too sensitive a guy to be so judgmental in a blog read by gobs of people) in their spiritual maturity and are a constant encouragement to me and my ministry here.
I'm preaching through a series of sermons on the nearness of God and took a couple of Sundays to re-examine baptism in light of 1 Peter 3, that baptism is a pledge of a good conscience toward God. I don't think I've ever preached on baptism here and very seldom offer an "invitation" at the end of my sermons, so this was all but a novelty to this church. But far more than a novelty to Burt and Kim's family. Their daughter, Ashley, and daughter-in-law, Samantha, have been more than intrigued by mom and dad's new life in Christ. Last week, much of the conversation around the Saldana household was on the subject of baptism. Ashley and Sam were working in the nursery when Burt sent for them to come back to the auditorium to hear this sermon (part 2 of 2). He told me I was addressing just about every question they'd been asking and discussing the past week. My sermon was: "Baptism: FAQs"
The girls immediately came up to me after our assembly (we used to say "after church" but that seems to absolutely distress people who say we can't go to church because we are the church) and asked if they could be baptized! Wouldn't you know it, we just so happened to have water in our baptistry! It is usually dry because we have a leak in the drain valve, so we just fill it on an as-need basis. I told them we could do that right now or that we could wait until the evening and the water would actually be warm. We also turn on the heater system on an as-need basis. They decided to go with the warm water.
Last night following our monthly Celebration!, in which we use our praise band in worship, and a delicious meal together, about 15 people stayed late to witness the baptisms of Ashley and Samantha. The amazing thing is to see their transformation from teenagers being forced to "come to church" by parents they no longer knew because of this "Christianity thing" into young women taking a serious heart inventory and realizing there was Someone missing! I've never enjoyed a baptismal ceremony more than last night.
Unless it was last Wednesday morning when an elderly black lady requested that I baptize her. We'd never met. She called around to find someone who would baptize her and I agreed to do so for no other reason than she wanted to be baptized! Interesting how you never find a pre-baptismal quiz in the Bible, but for some reason we tend to think we need to know why a person wants to submit to baptism, as if to give our stamp of approval on a personal decision that really does not involve us! I will baptize anyone requesting it and let Jesus sort it all out later! Jean came in and I immediately thought what a sweetheart of a lady in my presence! Just the kind of smile and warmth that makes the perfect grandmother. Or sister in Christ. She told me after her baptism she sure was glad the water was warm because she normally has to have an oxygen tube on her and had the water been cold, she would not have been able to hold her breath for me to plunge her underwater! I never cease to be amazed at how the things we do "coincidentally" seem to become such "God-things"!
Anyway, my point is that in these three lives it was intentional relationship that brought each woman to the foot of the cross and the grave of baptism. No slick sales job. No quick gospel presentation. Just the faithfulness of Jesus being lived out through submissive hearts.
I know and love Randy. I see in him a heart that would go for the most effective means possible to win someone to Christ. He has a passion for the Lord and for the kingdom. He helps keep me on the right path more than he knows. And I know we'll read future blogs where Randy tells us about the success of his intentional relationships! But only in eternity will we know the full extent of any of our efforts to be salt and light.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Busted ... Revisited
Now that I've had a little time to play with the toy amp, I'm not as impressed as when I heard it that fateful afternoon at Guitar Center. For one thing, look at how much it shrunk since the earlier post! Too, I haven't figured out how to use it! Not all of the functions, which, by the way, is critical information for the use of any amplifier. The instructions that came with it are useless (main complaint, other than lack of power output, of most reviewers who know anything about amps). I would have thought if Fender was going to put that much research and marketing into this toy, they would have spent just a bit more time printing up a manual that actual contains useful information. Better yet, have someone who actually knows how to use the amp write the manual rather than some low paid person in China who barely knows the English language. (No offense to the Chinese intended.)
So, do I take it back and use the money for something such as ... paying off other bills? That would be stupid. That's why I have life insurance! Do I keep the amp and spend more time learning how to use it? That would be the natural response as no self-respecting man ever relies on printed instructions anyway. Or do I re-invest the money in some other musical instrument or accessory? This church praise band stuff can be quite a burden to bear.
If only someone had prepared me for such agonizing decisions much earlier in life. Whatever happened to responsible parenting? Why can't they teach you this stuff in grad school? This would have been far more useful to me than psychological statistics, or theories of learning, or the worst - educational psychology. If I could re-take graduate research, I'd study the management at Fender.
There is another option, by the way. Remote at best, but a possibility. One of the faithful readers of my blog (and the count must be close to double digits by now, as I once had over five responses to a single blog) might be compassionate and generous enough to send the money to pay for the amp and then it wouldn't matter to me whether or not I ever figured it out! After all, stranger things have happened. Just a thought . . . .
Friday, September 23, 2005
Just Another Wednesday Night In Southern California
On Tuesday morning I received a phone call from a brother and friend. He was offering me two free tickets to the Eagles' California Tour concert at Staples Center (Los Angeles). I asked him if I could think about it and get back to him later that day!So Wednesday afternoon, we were picked up and treated to a delicious steak dinner at Charlie Brown's (a place we seldom frequent because we're more into Burger King and places that offer only french fries as a side dish) and the concert of my dreams ... along with about 100,000 other fans.
Other than the girl in front of us who dominated three seats with her dancing, it was a great evening. We were sitting to the right of the stage looking down on it. Three rows from the top of Staples Center. At least we had better seats than the loosers behind us! I was grateful to be there at all. Our host friends had seats on the floor, but it wasn't nearly as loud in our seats and I loved the bird's eye perspective. With video screens all around the stage, we didn't miss a thing.
I could not believe how good they sound after all these years. Harmonies were tight, music was as good as it gets, the horn section was excellent and typical of horn sections ... doing their little dance steps as if they were center stage. Their lead guitarist, Steuart Smith, was absolutely flawless. Joe Walsh, old and overweight as he is, can still rock with the best of them.
When they played "Funk 49" (from early, early Joe Walsh / James Gang), I was taken back to my high school days. And this honestly happened ... I looked over at Janice, the love of my high school days and life since then, and thought how incredibly beautiful she still is to me! Though she isn't into music to the degree I am and certainly can't tolerate the loudness of a live concert, I was glad she was there to experience it with me. We've experienced well over half of our lives together, and with both of us rapidly approaching middle age, there won't be as many of these experiences ahead of us, I'm sure. She told me later, "You were absolutely mesmerized throughout the entire concert. You hardly moved!"
How could I not be? I've been playing their music (not quite as well as they play it) for about 30 years. The Eagles have always been my favorite band, particularly after Milly Vanilly got busted for lip-synching! (Joke ... insert laughter) The highlight of the evening, of course, was Hotel California ... in my opinion the greatest rock song ever recorded. They played that in their first of three encores. In all, about six additional songs in encore. Just another Wednesday night in Southern California included nearly three hours of the Eagles in concert.
After looking at who-knows-how-much money invested in instruments on that stage, I came away motivated to buy even more of my own! But if I want Janice to spend those middle and golden years with me, I better keep that bit of motivation more a fantasy than reality!
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Busted!
Last week I went with Josh to Guitar Center to purchase a better tambourine for our praise band. Josh considers it punishment to have to accompany me to any music store, but Guitar Center in particular. I, on the other hand, consider an afternoon at GC more like earth's version of paradise. So he told me which tambourine to buy and we left to have lunch at Chick Fil A ... which he considers to be earth's version of paradise. After lunch I returned to my paradise and he went off to enjoy the remainder of his day off.
There was a guy sitting near the front of the store jammin' on a Fender Tele, using a little Fender amp that is made especially for practicing. It has dozens of modeled amps, guitar voices, and even includes a back up band: Drums, bass, keyboard. You dial in a style, set the timing, and pick your heart out while being backed up by this digital band. This guy was incredibly good at blues and jazz. I stood there listening ... actually, I was envying ... to not only his talent and wishing my fingers would move so fast, but interested in that little amp. Like I need another amp. I have Carvin, Fender, and Roland acoustic (with a Sony sub-woofer) amps, (don't ask why I need 3 acoustic amps); a Fender Stage 100 amp w/ an additional speaker cabinet; a Behringer keyboard amp; and the small Roland Micro Cube practice amp that is a killer amp for a 5-watt / 5-inch speaker.
Just out of curiosity, I asked the manager what his "out-the-door" price would be. It was his last day at GC and he was in a generous mood. When he told me the price, I told him I'd at least take it and play with it for 30 days. GC is very good about letting a customer try out anything in the store for 30 days with a no-hassle return policy. What could it hurt?
So ... Friday night Jan and I were waiting to be seated for dinner, she asked what was on my mind. I replied, "Would you think me crazy if I told you I might want another amp for Christmas?" Without so much as blinking an eye, she said, "Yes! Why would you even ask?" I told her about the guitarist and that little practice amp. She let me go on for a couple of minutes and then stunned me with her next question: "So how long have you had it?" BUSTED! I told her only since Thursday and I'd not even taken it out of the box yet.
So as to prevent a recurrence in the future (which is where all recurrences take place), I asked how she knew I already had the amp. She told me my leg was shaking like crazy! Dead give away ... just like my good friend, Cecil. Every time he gets excited about anything, his legs start shaking! If I'm going to have any fun at GC in the future, I'll need to pick up some subtle habits from people other than Cecil! And if I don't blog again for a while, I've only got 30 days to putz around on this little toy.
POST SCRIPT: If you're reading this blog on Thursday, Sept. 22, I've had this toy a week and it still sits in an unopened box. I'm thinking about just taking it back ... but a week ago it seemed the right thing to do. Why must life be so complicated. Jan and I are headed for an Eagles' concert in Los Angeles at the Staple Center tonight (Wednesday). Maybe that will motivate me to get the toy amp out of the box!
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Touching the Past
Below are pictures from my church office ... which give some insight into this blog. The door to my office (picture to left) prepares one for what will be encountered once entering "The Shrine," as some of the more enlightened people here so affectionately call my office. Though I'm not photographically gifted enough to capture the full essence of the Stooge mementos given to me over the years, suffice it to say there are well over 100 Stooge items on display.On Wednesday of last week, my secretary asked if I could spare a few minutes for a pastor from a church down the street. Actually, he is from the church where my wife is on staff as a 5th grade teacher. And, since my door was opened, I could hardly tell her "No," with him standing there. So being the gracious guy I am when faced with no other options, I agreed to give him a few minutes.
Eric runs a ministry at Grace Brethren Church called Hope for Long Beach, involving people from various churches in our area in public service projects to serve the community. The last time he sponsored such an event, over 500 people showed up to work on a Saturday at various ministries around the city ... mostly non-profit organizations. He is sponsoring a lunch next week and wanted to invite me to come and learn more about their ministry and ways of involving our people in community service.
As he walked into the office and looked around (and I would like to think he was in awe), he said, "Wow! I've never seen such an office." I invited him to sit down as he continued to look around the shrine. Then he said something that me go, "Wow!" -- His grandfather had worked as a set designer / builder in Hollywood for years and actually built many of the sets used in The Three Stooges shorts (their numerous 20 minute "movies"). An "exercise in futility," he called it seeing as most of the sets were destroyed by the antics of the Stooges.I'd never been in the presence of anyone so closely connected to the Stooges. Strange how suddenly I was glad I had not blown him off. If for no other reason I'm getting a free lunch next week! Just kidding! :) For the rest of the afternoon, I felt as if I'd actually touched the past through knowing Eric.
Enjoy the pictures ... if you're ever in Long Beach and your shots are current, I'll let you tour my office! And I'll let you know how our first involvement with Hope for Long Beach goes.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
CartoonLand
Just before going to work, Janice asked me last Friday morning if I'd see her at lunch. I responded by asking if she'd prepared a lunch to take with her. Of course I knew the answer, "No." Then I said, "If I can't have lunch with you, would you go fix a lunch to take?" "No, I'll just have to find some money to buy a lunch." I told her I'd pick her up for lunch, which was rewarded by a kiss and a confession: "You've spoiled me." Well, a better part of my life has been devoted to spoiling the women in my life ... Janice, Jessica (she says she's "well kept") and Chipper - perhaps the most spoiled of the three.So I picked my bride up for lunch and we went to a favorite pizza place, Red Brick Oven. Not only do we like their pizzas, but they have satellite television at several of the tables, so we enjoy a meal and some mind-numbing television for the same price. After doing what we do well at Red Brick Oven, which is somehow screw up the reception (if not completely disable the set) trying to use an unfamiliar remote control, Janice tuned in to a cartoon chanel--but only after the guy working there came and restored the picture for us--and we sort of drifted back to childhood memories. At least I did because I love cartoons!
Where else can animals outsmart people, both intellectually and verbally, but in cartoons? Where else can one defy the law of gravity (or all known laws of physics and science, for that matter) and hang suspended in mid-air and it seems all very normal for the situation? Or send a letter through a mail box in the middle of the desert, only to have the item you ordered from "Acme" arrive just seconds later? How many times could you have used one of those instant holes to drop in front of someone in your office? Or toss onto the freeway to catch the guy tailgaiting you? Instant holes would be a perfect addition to a Tuesday night elder's meeting! Just strategically place it in front of the office door and wait for them to show up!
What's not to love about the way they never seem to die though blown to pieces or shot full of holes, run over by trucks, dropped from airplanes or pushed off of perilous cliffs. Reduced to a two-dimensional being, they always pop back ... pick up their feathers or skin ... blow off the effects of the explosion ... replace limbs and lips ... and carry on with life! Who can't love that world of fantasy? The wisdom and intelligence of such personalities as Bugs Bunny or Foghorn Leghorn, not to mention the Roadrunner, never cease to bring a smile. The best, in my opinion, was always Rocky and Bullwinkle! But the stupidity of Daffy, Yosemite Sam, and Wiley Coyote also reflects life outside cartoon-land. I'm thinking, say ... politicians! It's a wonderfully wacky world to visit. And at times I long to stay in their world ... always, of course, on the good side of Bugs and Foghorn!
I was going to go someplace spiritual with my comments, but decided to just leave it as is. Why not enjoy a day in cartoon land once in a while ... just to remind you not to take the real world so seriously?
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Can You Help My Lady?
We broke down and bought Janice a notebook computer this weekend. She has one assigned to her by her school, and she had used it daily last year to project math lessons via PowerPoint ... until the video output on her unit went bad. Apparently that is something you don't want to happen to your computer because it is not a repairable problem. Her principal said there was no money to give her another computer this year. She can use the computer, just can't project from it. So I figured if she can put up with me buying notebook computers along with books, CDs, DVDs, and of course numerous guitars and amplifiers so that I can do my job more effectively (at least that's my story for now and I'm sticking with it), we could buy her a notebook. That can also be a bargaining chip the next time I need another guitar. But let's not go there . . .
So we're walking over to her school this afternoon (Sunday) to make sure she actually needs a new one and there's no way to use the S-video output on her old computer to project through the data coverter. There's not. She needs the computer. We meet an older couple walking toward us ... greet them with a friendly smile and "Hello" and walk on. The man is eating a taco and carrying a sack from a local fast food joint. The woman is walking several feet behind him and not looking too happy. She makes no eye contact and basically ignores our greeting. We'd gone only a few feet when we hear the man hollering at us. "Sir! Sir! Can I ask you a question?" I don't know why people will ask you if they can ask you something, but there's a lot of stuff I don't know. We stopped to let him ask his question, which was more of a commentary on his life and relationship than a question. But he eventually got to the question ... which I knew was coming long before it was asked.
He said he and his lady live on the streets and she had done something to make him mad. But being the sensitive man he is, he wants to not be mad at her and asked if we could possibly walk over to Jack-n-the-Box and buy her something to eat. That would be a nice gesture on his part toward her ... to get someone to buy her some food. We've done that often and I don't mind buying someone a meal, but when I reached down for my wallet, my pockets were empty.
Plan B: I asked him what he had in the sack; he held it up and said, "A taco and a cheeseburger." I suggested he share his food with his lady. He looked like I was from another planet ... stood there sort of speechless. We left him with his thoughts. And the food he was chomping down while his lady went hungry!
It takes all kinds to make a community. What would you have done?
So we're walking over to her school this afternoon (Sunday) to make sure she actually needs a new one and there's no way to use the S-video output on her old computer to project through the data coverter. There's not. She needs the computer. We meet an older couple walking toward us ... greet them with a friendly smile and "Hello" and walk on. The man is eating a taco and carrying a sack from a local fast food joint. The woman is walking several feet behind him and not looking too happy. She makes no eye contact and basically ignores our greeting. We'd gone only a few feet when we hear the man hollering at us. "Sir! Sir! Can I ask you a question?" I don't know why people will ask you if they can ask you something, but there's a lot of stuff I don't know. We stopped to let him ask his question, which was more of a commentary on his life and relationship than a question. But he eventually got to the question ... which I knew was coming long before it was asked.
He said he and his lady live on the streets and she had done something to make him mad. But being the sensitive man he is, he wants to not be mad at her and asked if we could possibly walk over to Jack-n-the-Box and buy her something to eat. That would be a nice gesture on his part toward her ... to get someone to buy her some food. We've done that often and I don't mind buying someone a meal, but when I reached down for my wallet, my pockets were empty.
Plan B: I asked him what he had in the sack; he held it up and said, "A taco and a cheeseburger." I suggested he share his food with his lady. He looked like I was from another planet ... stood there sort of speechless. We left him with his thoughts. And the food he was chomping down while his lady went hungry!
It takes all kinds to make a community. What would you have done?
Friday, September 16, 2005
For Example . . .
This is Michelle and her sister. Were it not for the hearts of Rebecca and Bonnie and their ministry of New Life Beginnings, Michelle and baby sister would have been victims of the streets of Long Beach. Their future was that of destitution.In yesterday's blog I wrote of the mission of the church as being involved in the ongoing redemptive work of God in our community. Here's an example of being the church in our community ... just one of many.
The Lord put it on the hearts of two ladies in our church to get involved in the on-going ministry of NLB in a support role. Each month, we would receive a list of items needed by the Mothers Home and people in our church would have an opportunity to give if they wanted to do so. No program. No sign ups. No long term commitments. No meetings to attend. No hassle. Just giving of ourselves to people under the protection and care of God in this truly faith-based ministry. NLB accepts no government help. They exist solely on the basis of faith that God will provide for their needs. And for over 20 years, God has done just that. It just "so happened" that we got involved in what God was already doing through hearts given over to the Lordship of His Son.
Does this type of "church" work? Will people respond when there is no program involved? I don't include the following letter to brag nor to say, "Yeah us!" It simply puts a "face" on the ministry of which I wrote about yesterday - Christ in us.
The picture above was attached to this note to our church from Bonnie and Rebecca:
Dear Members of Long Beach Church of Christ:
The month of August was like Christmas for us because of your generosity! The members of your church gathered together the following for our Mother's Home: Supplies for back-to-school, $100 Smart and Final gift certificate, $40 in Target gift certificates, $60 cash, $100 Albertson's gift certificate, $1,700 to be used for food, $1,000 to be used for new flooring, and $5,000 for windows! Wow! What an extreme blessing! How can we thank you?
I was watching a Christian program the other day when I saw a beautiful gift offer in exchange for your special monetary gift. I looked at that nice gift and thought, "I wish New Life Beginnings could offer such a gift to our donors." Then the Lord reminded me that our donors aren't looking for gifts from us. Our donors are looking for results, life changing results that repair and change broken lives!
Life changing results! Here at Mothers Home we take broken women and children with wrecked and hopeless lives and we are able to bring them up and out of the depths of despair. We have the privilege of introducing each of them to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. Almost all choose Christ. Not only have we interrupted their path and life of hopelessness, but we have done that for their children as well!
And through your generosity you share together with us in repairing and changing lives.
No, you don't need a beautiful memento sitting in your home or office to remind you of your generous gift. You know what you have done, we know what you have done, and most of all, God knows what you have done and He has added it to your account
Thursday, September 15, 2005
What Next?
I'm in my 27th year of ministry in Churches of Christ, though when someone asks me, "Are you church of Christ?" my response is: "Not all of it." But that has nothing to do with this blog. After almost three decades of studying, teaching, preaching and counseling, I am the first to admit I have far more to learn than I presently know or will ever know.
But one thing I'm finally beginning to figure out is the purpose of the church. It's rather simple. We are to be about the redemptive work of God! In a consumer culture where churches are built on marketing principles of "needs-sensitive" programming, the role of the body of Christ remains much simpler. To be Christ to this culture in this moment in time. So for church programs to address the redemptive work of God, they need to be designed for those outside of the kingdom. In reality, most of our programs are for us. To meet our needs. I can't remember how many people have come to our church wanting to know, basically, "What do you have to offer me?" And these are people who are in the kingdom!
If you're feeling an intense need to get real defensive about the need for programs within the body for helping us to grow, please read on. If Paul's letter to the Colossians tells me anything, it tells me Jesus is sufficient for my every need, in particular my maturity in Him. The writer of Hebrews describes God as the "author and finisher" of our salvation. Paul assures us God will complete the work that he started in us. We are saved by grace to do the works God had planned for us from the beginning. Peter tells us everything needed for our faith-development is supplied. That is the ministry of the Holy Spirit who lives within us.
So it seems I have a choice: I can depend upon my church to provide programs to grow me up spiritually. My observation and experience has been the church is about as effective in doing that as the federal government is protecting me from terrorist attacks and natural disasters. Why would I depend upon others who are struggling in their own sinfulness to bring me to maturity in Christ?
Or, I can depend upon the ministry of the indwelling Holy Spirit to recreate in me the very person of Jesus Christ. "Christ in me" as Colossians says it. When I allow that process to begin, I find that even though I cannot find it within myself to forgive others, Jesus living in and through me is able to forgive. When I find it difficult to love others who are so unlovable, Jesus living in and through me loves in a way I could never love! When I find it difficult to have compassion, Jesus living in and through me expresses his compassion.
What a difference! What a power of transformation is unleashed when I stop striving and trying and allow Jesus, who is in me, to actually live his life through me! I have a long way to go, (anyone who knows me at all can testify to that!) but I'm finding some interesting transitions in my perspective on Christian maturity. And when I'm not writing sarcastic blogs, I find it actually working in my life ... when I abdicate the throne of my heart and allow Jesus to reign there.
So from now on when people want to know what are we doing as a church, my answer is, "We're being the church!" (At least we're attempting to be the church.) And as to that next big program / project to get everyone interested and excited about being a part of this church family? Rather than another program (which is ultimately destined to either failure or eventual irrelevance), I simply want to be about the redemptive work of God in this community. Not waiting on the church to do something or provide a program for me to become involved in, but just responding on an individual level to what God is doing around me. That's enough to keep me involved and excited for a lifetime!
But one thing I'm finally beginning to figure out is the purpose of the church. It's rather simple. We are to be about the redemptive work of God! In a consumer culture where churches are built on marketing principles of "needs-sensitive" programming, the role of the body of Christ remains much simpler. To be Christ to this culture in this moment in time. So for church programs to address the redemptive work of God, they need to be designed for those outside of the kingdom. In reality, most of our programs are for us. To meet our needs. I can't remember how many people have come to our church wanting to know, basically, "What do you have to offer me?" And these are people who are in the kingdom!
If you're feeling an intense need to get real defensive about the need for programs within the body for helping us to grow, please read on. If Paul's letter to the Colossians tells me anything, it tells me Jesus is sufficient for my every need, in particular my maturity in Him. The writer of Hebrews describes God as the "author and finisher" of our salvation. Paul assures us God will complete the work that he started in us. We are saved by grace to do the works God had planned for us from the beginning. Peter tells us everything needed for our faith-development is supplied. That is the ministry of the Holy Spirit who lives within us.
So it seems I have a choice: I can depend upon my church to provide programs to grow me up spiritually. My observation and experience has been the church is about as effective in doing that as the federal government is protecting me from terrorist attacks and natural disasters. Why would I depend upon others who are struggling in their own sinfulness to bring me to maturity in Christ?
Or, I can depend upon the ministry of the indwelling Holy Spirit to recreate in me the very person of Jesus Christ. "Christ in me" as Colossians says it. When I allow that process to begin, I find that even though I cannot find it within myself to forgive others, Jesus living in and through me is able to forgive. When I find it difficult to love others who are so unlovable, Jesus living in and through me loves in a way I could never love! When I find it difficult to have compassion, Jesus living in and through me expresses his compassion.
What a difference! What a power of transformation is unleashed when I stop striving and trying and allow Jesus, who is in me, to actually live his life through me! I have a long way to go, (anyone who knows me at all can testify to that!) but I'm finding some interesting transitions in my perspective on Christian maturity. And when I'm not writing sarcastic blogs, I find it actually working in my life ... when I abdicate the throne of my heart and allow Jesus to reign there.
So from now on when people want to know what are we doing as a church, my answer is, "We're being the church!" (At least we're attempting to be the church.) And as to that next big program / project to get everyone interested and excited about being a part of this church family? Rather than another program (which is ultimately destined to either failure or eventual irrelevance), I simply want to be about the redemptive work of God in this community. Not waiting on the church to do something or provide a program for me to become involved in, but just responding on an individual level to what God is doing around me. That's enough to keep me involved and excited for a lifetime!
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Birthdays
Circa. 1954 L-R: Elaine, Alan, yours truly.(My apologies to our younger brother, Rex. I don't have a picture of the four of us)
As I sent cards to my sister and brother (actually sent my brother's card a couple of weeks early, which is unheard of in our family), I couldn't help but think of the cards I've received over the years from our mother. Mom had a way of writing in a very small space on a card a brief history of our lives. She would usually recall the day of our birth (in my case, one of the happier days of her life! ... but I'm bragging and probably stretching truth, but hey, it is my blog site!) and then pick an event in our life and reflect on it. Apparently I was a very happy baby. How could I not be? I looked a lot like Curly of The Three Stooges! Over the past few years, the highlight of my birthday was to open Mom's card to see what she'd written for that year. Her memory was incredible. The stories were always a fun trip down memory lane. I think it brought her great joy to write her memories to each of us.
As she did the same for my children, we finally realized we should be saving these cards since mom would not have that many more years to give such treasured gifts. So I have about 8 or 10 of them in a drawer where I keep letters to encourage me from time to time. We'll continue to endure and occasionally celebrate birthdays, but they'll never be the same without mom's card.
It's a good tradition to have with children. A tradition I wish I could continue but my memory is so shot these days, I had to call mom to help me remember our past and with her gone, I'll just assume there was a past!
What are some birthday memories or traditions from your life? I'd love to hear about them.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Tom
Last Thursday, I was asked if I could take one of our members, Tom, to a doctor's appointment. I was more than happy to do so as I always enjoy time spent with Tom. He's one of the most encouraging people in our church. When he prays, you feel as if you actually touched the throne of God. I've known Tom (and his sweet wife) for over 12 years and have never once heard either of them complain about anything. Well, at times his wife will complain that I didn't preach long enough, but who's going to believe that?!
Tom missed our church assembly last week due to almost intolerable back pain. He has a lot of back and neck pain. Has had several surgeries to alleviate the pain, but none seem to help very much. Tom was born in 1945, weighing in at less than 4 pounds. Back then, babies born two months premature and weighing just over 3 pounds seldom had a chance at life. Tom beat the odds. But he grew up the victim of cerebral palsy. He and Darlene have been married 32 years. He has a job downtown selling newspapers at the courthouse. Gets up every morning before 5 to be on the job early enough to catch the crowd of lawyers judges and other judicial employees that support his business enterprise.
Tom went to see a neurologist for a shot directly into his vocal chords. The doctor believes this may help stop some of the spasms in his vocal chords that cause Tom not to be able to speak as clearly as he'd like to speak. He told me, "Greg, if this works, I might even be able to make a communion talk soon!"
I wish there were more people like Tom. I wish I were more like Tom.
Tom missed our church assembly last week due to almost intolerable back pain. He has a lot of back and neck pain. Has had several surgeries to alleviate the pain, but none seem to help very much. Tom was born in 1945, weighing in at less than 4 pounds. Back then, babies born two months premature and weighing just over 3 pounds seldom had a chance at life. Tom beat the odds. But he grew up the victim of cerebral palsy. He and Darlene have been married 32 years. He has a job downtown selling newspapers at the courthouse. Gets up every morning before 5 to be on the job early enough to catch the crowd of lawyers judges and other judicial employees that support his business enterprise.
Tom went to see a neurologist for a shot directly into his vocal chords. The doctor believes this may help stop some of the spasms in his vocal chords that cause Tom not to be able to speak as clearly as he'd like to speak. He told me, "Greg, if this works, I might even be able to make a communion talk soon!"
I wish there were more people like Tom. I wish I were more like Tom.
Monday, September 12, 2005
One Year of Sobriety!
Almost three years ago one of our elders (Chuck) requested the prayers of our church ... he had neighbors who were into drinking and drugs and loud music. The whole family. They would have a rock band practice on weekends in the garage till all hours of the morning. It was a living nightmare. The prayer request was specific: That God would remove this family from that neighborhood. So we entered in a prayer partnership that God would remove that family.
Fast forward about a year. Kim, the wife of this neighbor is outside and obviously very distrought. Chuck asked her what was wrong and she replied that the county had taken her children from her. Chuck offered to pray with her and later told her if she and her husband wanted to come by the church office later on, we'd pray over all of them. He really didn't know what else to offer to help them through this crisis. They came and we prayed for about a half hour, asking God's intervention in their lives. Kim told us later, "I don't what happened or how to explain it, but something happened to me that night when you prayed over us. I felt it." Of course, coming from our religious heritage, we assumed it was indigestion! :) That set up some friendly conversations between Chuck and his neighbors.
Fast-forward to Christmas of last year. We have an annual event near Christmas that we call "Bring a Gift to Jesus" in which our church gathers for a seasonal celebration and people are encouraged to bring a gift for Jesus (hence the name of our event). People will read a story or share a poem. Some will sing, others may offer a dance routine. The children will gather on stage and sit around a rocking chair while one of our ladies reads a seasonal story to them. It's pretty much open to what you want to bring as your gift, but the highlight each year is to have the children bring their gifts of songs or poems. Last year, Burt and Kim gave Jesus their hearts and lives. They were baptized during our celebration!
This past Friday night, about 16 of us from church drove down to Saddleback Community Church (Rick Warren's church home) for their weekly "Celebrate Recovery." They have a program there that has gone international and is very effective in helping people overcome numerous addictive behaviors. On a given Friday night there will be 1,500 or more people there to fellowship, worship together, meet in small groups and share their journies out of addiction. It is a very open and safe atmosphere where numerous people will come up to you and welcome you, eager to want to know you and encourage you. Something like any given Sunday morning should be at every church worship assembly. We were there to share in Burt's one year of sobriety celebration. Burt and his family have been involved in Celebrate Recovery for months and are growing in their understanding of how to live life sober and clean.
I was very proud of our three elders for being there, though they are good about trying to encourage our people in this way. But it was a long drive down to Forest Lake and I know it pushed them all to get off work and drive that far on a Friday evening.
When we prayed a couple of years ago that God would remove these people from Chuck's neighborhood, we had no idea God would put them to death and raise them to a new life! It's been an amazing answer to prayer and an encouraging journey to walk with our new brother and sister! Every now and then when I'm wondering if we're doing any good at all, Kim or Burt will walk in the building and I know for a fact that God is still using us.
Sunday morning, Burt gave our communion devotional. Just to see him stand before the church with a year of sobriety behind him was far more of sermon than anything I said that morning.
Fast forward about a year. Kim, the wife of this neighbor is outside and obviously very distrought. Chuck asked her what was wrong and she replied that the county had taken her children from her. Chuck offered to pray with her and later told her if she and her husband wanted to come by the church office later on, we'd pray over all of them. He really didn't know what else to offer to help them through this crisis. They came and we prayed for about a half hour, asking God's intervention in their lives. Kim told us later, "I don't what happened or how to explain it, but something happened to me that night when you prayed over us. I felt it." Of course, coming from our religious heritage, we assumed it was indigestion! :) That set up some friendly conversations between Chuck and his neighbors.
Fast-forward to Christmas of last year. We have an annual event near Christmas that we call "Bring a Gift to Jesus" in which our church gathers for a seasonal celebration and people are encouraged to bring a gift for Jesus (hence the name of our event). People will read a story or share a poem. Some will sing, others may offer a dance routine. The children will gather on stage and sit around a rocking chair while one of our ladies reads a seasonal story to them. It's pretty much open to what you want to bring as your gift, but the highlight each year is to have the children bring their gifts of songs or poems. Last year, Burt and Kim gave Jesus their hearts and lives. They were baptized during our celebration!
This past Friday night, about 16 of us from church drove down to Saddleback Community Church (Rick Warren's church home) for their weekly "Celebrate Recovery." They have a program there that has gone international and is very effective in helping people overcome numerous addictive behaviors. On a given Friday night there will be 1,500 or more people there to fellowship, worship together, meet in small groups and share their journies out of addiction. It is a very open and safe atmosphere where numerous people will come up to you and welcome you, eager to want to know you and encourage you. Something like any given Sunday morning should be at every church worship assembly. We were there to share in Burt's one year of sobriety celebration. Burt and his family have been involved in Celebrate Recovery for months and are growing in their understanding of how to live life sober and clean.
I was very proud of our three elders for being there, though they are good about trying to encourage our people in this way. But it was a long drive down to Forest Lake and I know it pushed them all to get off work and drive that far on a Friday evening.
When we prayed a couple of years ago that God would remove these people from Chuck's neighborhood, we had no idea God would put them to death and raise them to a new life! It's been an amazing answer to prayer and an encouraging journey to walk with our new brother and sister! Every now and then when I'm wondering if we're doing any good at all, Kim or Burt will walk in the building and I know for a fact that God is still using us.
Sunday morning, Burt gave our communion devotional. Just to see him stand before the church with a year of sobriety behind him was far more of sermon than anything I said that morning.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Anonymous
Most of the preachers I know on a personal level (and I try not to know that many!) have received those wonderfully encouraging and over-the-top-in-Christian-love (sarcasm intended) letters that bear no return address, are addressed by typewriter, and are never signed. I get two or three a year and typically throw them away unopened. I've even told my church family if you want to write and don't have the guts to sign your name, I'll pay no credence to your letter ... if I read it at all.
Well, this week I accidentally opened a letter I should have just tossed. Unsigned. Typed address. Blasting me for something I had said last week from the pulpit. It contained two xeroxed articles that had absolutely nothing to do with the criticism leveled against me. At least I have the guts to say what I say publicly, but those who take offense never seem to have the courage to stand their ground "face to face" so to speak. Jesse Jackson, Jr. (I didn't even know there was a Junior ... God help us all!) made a comment last week regarding president Bush's response to hurricane Katrina. He made a reference to how George Bush stood on the rubble of the World Trade Center towers and warned the terrorists who brought down the towers that we would find out who did it and come after them. In Jackson's opinion, Bush should have stood on the rubble in New Orleans, shaken his fist toward heaven and told God, "We know you did this and we're coming after you." Right. Blasphemy from our leaders will certainly contribute to the overwhelming job of responding to the greatest natural disaster to ever hit this nation.
I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the tape replay. My critic says I took him out of context, adding, "Have you no shame?" Have I no shame?! What about Junior making the comment in the first place? I can't imagine a context in which that would be an appropriate response from anyone, be it a president or a peon! Why would anyone defend such a moronic statement? And for the record, I did hear the comment in context.
I tell others and they, in turn, tell me to pay no attention to anonymous letters, but sometimes they just tick me off. If any one has the audacity to make stupid statements publicly, then they should not only be held accountable, but endure the ridicule to follow. Myself included. One thing I absolutely refuse to do is bow down to the god of political correctness ... which gets me in trouble quite often here in a state that worships PC. In my opinion, Jackson and Sharpton and others like them have never done a single thing to help this nation. They show up, make their absurd comments ingoring the facts, then leave the scene for others to mop up the racial mess stirred up by such "leaders." I'm tired of them and I'm tired of the cowards who take me to task anonymously when I refuse to bow to stupidity and political correctness!
Whether you agree or disagree with this blog ... I feel a lot better having written my thoughts. Now I'll settle down and do something actually productive. Hope you have a great weekend.
Well, this week I accidentally opened a letter I should have just tossed. Unsigned. Typed address. Blasting me for something I had said last week from the pulpit. It contained two xeroxed articles that had absolutely nothing to do with the criticism leveled against me. At least I have the guts to say what I say publicly, but those who take offense never seem to have the courage to stand their ground "face to face" so to speak. Jesse Jackson, Jr. (I didn't even know there was a Junior ... God help us all!) made a comment last week regarding president Bush's response to hurricane Katrina. He made a reference to how George Bush stood on the rubble of the World Trade Center towers and warned the terrorists who brought down the towers that we would find out who did it and come after them. In Jackson's opinion, Bush should have stood on the rubble in New Orleans, shaken his fist toward heaven and told God, "We know you did this and we're coming after you." Right. Blasphemy from our leaders will certainly contribute to the overwhelming job of responding to the greatest natural disaster to ever hit this nation.
I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the tape replay. My critic says I took him out of context, adding, "Have you no shame?" Have I no shame?! What about Junior making the comment in the first place? I can't imagine a context in which that would be an appropriate response from anyone, be it a president or a peon! Why would anyone defend such a moronic statement? And for the record, I did hear the comment in context.
I tell others and they, in turn, tell me to pay no attention to anonymous letters, but sometimes they just tick me off. If any one has the audacity to make stupid statements publicly, then they should not only be held accountable, but endure the ridicule to follow. Myself included. One thing I absolutely refuse to do is bow down to the god of political correctness ... which gets me in trouble quite often here in a state that worships PC. In my opinion, Jackson and Sharpton and others like them have never done a single thing to help this nation. They show up, make their absurd comments ingoring the facts, then leave the scene for others to mop up the racial mess stirred up by such "leaders." I'm tired of them and I'm tired of the cowards who take me to task anonymously when I refuse to bow to stupidity and political correctness!
Whether you agree or disagree with this blog ... I feel a lot better having written my thoughts. Now I'll settle down and do something actually productive. Hope you have a great weekend.
An Exercise in Futility
So who is to blame? We have an incompetent city mayor who implodes emotionally ... rendering him useless to everyone. A governor who hesitates to send in the aid that she later criticizes the federal government for not sending in earlier. A police chief who blames the National Guard ... all the while his own officers are morphing from protectors into looters. City blames state. State blames federal. Democrats blame Republicans. Republicans blame democrates. Senators blame congressmen, who in turn blame senators. There is certainly blame enough to go around!
The Army Corps of Engineers has done numerous studies on the levees surrounding New Orleans and has recommended for years that they be brought up to standards to withstand a Category 5 hurricane. Yet the politicians decide for decades on end that social programs are far more important than infrastructure. Maybe ... but when the infrastructure fails how much good are the social programs?
Some blame the President for not having a more competent cabinet under him. Others say that his environmental policies actually caused Hurricane Katrina! There are more than enough racist voices accusing authorities of not caring; saying had New Orleans been predominantly white, middle class the responses on all levels would have been faster and more efficient.
And while all the blame goes on, there are vitims to be helped and cities to be rebuilt.
If I may offer an observation: Blaming resolves nothing. Be it a bureaucratically laden government, a friendship, a business partnership, or a dysfunctional family, all blaming does is establish (and never to everyone's satisfaction) a winner and a loser. In reality, blame produces no winners. The situation to be resolved remains to be resolved when the blame has been established.
There is a time for accountability, and there is a time (hopefully) for lessons to be learned and adjustsments to be made ... but blaming is an exercise in futility that never resolves a problem.
The Army Corps of Engineers has done numerous studies on the levees surrounding New Orleans and has recommended for years that they be brought up to standards to withstand a Category 5 hurricane. Yet the politicians decide for decades on end that social programs are far more important than infrastructure. Maybe ... but when the infrastructure fails how much good are the social programs?
Some blame the President for not having a more competent cabinet under him. Others say that his environmental policies actually caused Hurricane Katrina! There are more than enough racist voices accusing authorities of not caring; saying had New Orleans been predominantly white, middle class the responses on all levels would have been faster and more efficient.
And while all the blame goes on, there are vitims to be helped and cities to be rebuilt.
If I may offer an observation: Blaming resolves nothing. Be it a bureaucratically laden government, a friendship, a business partnership, or a dysfunctional family, all blaming does is establish (and never to everyone's satisfaction) a winner and a loser. In reality, blame produces no winners. The situation to be resolved remains to be resolved when the blame has been established.
There is a time for accountability, and there is a time (hopefully) for lessons to be learned and adjustsments to be made ... but blaming is an exercise in futility that never resolves a problem.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
A Mature Man's Challenge
The male members of our species out there who are a bit past the prime of life (c'mon, admit it guys) will relate to this. When guys get old, the hair on our head leaves the scalp and starts showing up other places ... mainly the ears and nose. So we have to start shaving and cutting away hair where we never had to shave and cut away hair before. I mention that because I started my day (not to mention the Fall of 05 if you go by school calendars, my wife being a teacher and her summer now officially over) with a slight shaving injury to my left ear, trying to remove said hair with a triple edged razor. I'm not sure which of those three blades got me, but one of them took a bit more than hair and my towel looked like I'd slaughtered a pig in the shower.
I bring this up only because one role in life that Josh takes very seriously is that of telling me when I need to clean up those out-of-control hairs. He'll look at me in profile while I'm driving (always after we've left the house and there's nothing I can do about it) and say, "Did you shave this morning?" Meaning? "You have a single black hair growing off the end of your nose that makes you look kin to a rhino!" It's one of several hairs that grow on a mature man's face that can only be seen in profile and only by someone else. Or, he'll say, "Growing some tusks, are you?" Meaning: "Is that an ingrown moustache coming out of your nose?" Hopefully you have a wife, son, or daughter that will inform you of this before you leave the house and are on your way to, say, church, or a wedding or an important social engagement.
Or, he'll say, "When was the last time you shaved your ears?" Meaning? "I'm not sure if you need to shave or if there is a caterpillar crawling out of your ear." I'm not sure why God did this to us, but trying to shave the inside of your ear with a razor is tricky at best. Even the slightest nick and you're bleeding profusely out the side of your head like one of those professional wrestlers from Parts Unknown! I'm talking a steady flow of blood. Those shaving pencils that stop razor nicks will help, but then you look like you have a tick on the inside of your ear for the next couple of days. And those rotary razors that are supposed to clean up your nose ... sort of like a cordless nostril edger? I've had them from the $5 ones at Target to the name brand ones that cost about as much as a small sports car and they all do the same thing: rip the hair from your nose! Talk about pain. Close to male childbirth.
I asked one of our church elders why so much hair grows from cranial orifices in older age and he gave great spiritual insight: "Greg, you can lose weight, you can buff up, you can run miles a day, you can get hair transplants and have a face lift and all those things to make yourself look younger than you are, but God put that hair where it is to remind you, 'You ain't young any longer.' " He's right. Something my father should have warned me about before he passed on. At least Josh will know what to expect. And maybe that's the best birthday present a father can give a 24-year-old.
And if God answers my prayer, when Josh gets my age, he'll have a son just like himself!
I bring this up only because one role in life that Josh takes very seriously is that of telling me when I need to clean up those out-of-control hairs. He'll look at me in profile while I'm driving (always after we've left the house and there's nothing I can do about it) and say, "Did you shave this morning?" Meaning? "You have a single black hair growing off the end of your nose that makes you look kin to a rhino!" It's one of several hairs that grow on a mature man's face that can only be seen in profile and only by someone else. Or, he'll say, "Growing some tusks, are you?" Meaning: "Is that an ingrown moustache coming out of your nose?" Hopefully you have a wife, son, or daughter that will inform you of this before you leave the house and are on your way to, say, church, or a wedding or an important social engagement.
Or, he'll say, "When was the last time you shaved your ears?" Meaning? "I'm not sure if you need to shave or if there is a caterpillar crawling out of your ear." I'm not sure why God did this to us, but trying to shave the inside of your ear with a razor is tricky at best. Even the slightest nick and you're bleeding profusely out the side of your head like one of those professional wrestlers from Parts Unknown! I'm talking a steady flow of blood. Those shaving pencils that stop razor nicks will help, but then you look like you have a tick on the inside of your ear for the next couple of days. And those rotary razors that are supposed to clean up your nose ... sort of like a cordless nostril edger? I've had them from the $5 ones at Target to the name brand ones that cost about as much as a small sports car and they all do the same thing: rip the hair from your nose! Talk about pain. Close to male childbirth.
I asked one of our church elders why so much hair grows from cranial orifices in older age and he gave great spiritual insight: "Greg, you can lose weight, you can buff up, you can run miles a day, you can get hair transplants and have a face lift and all those things to make yourself look younger than you are, but God put that hair where it is to remind you, 'You ain't young any longer.' " He's right. Something my father should have warned me about before he passed on. At least Josh will know what to expect. And maybe that's the best birthday present a father can give a 24-year-old.
And if God answers my prayer, when Josh gets my age, he'll have a son just like himself!
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
24
It was twenty-four years ago on a late Sunday evening that we became parents. If you've read my earlier blogs, you know it was a traumatic evening on many levels. Our son arrived about a month early. Underweight. Critical problems with his lungs. But very good urinary output! When I first saw him he was peeing all over the doctor who'd delivered him. Considering the fees those ob-gyns charge, I was proud of our little scrapper. On another level, Janice was fighting for her life ... a victim of the most dangerous form of toxemia poisoning.It would be three days before she would regain consciousness so that we could give him a name. Joshua was chosen because he's been one of my favorite Biblical characters. Hendrix for the middle name to honor Jan's father. He always wanted a son and settled for sons-in-law instead. England for obvious reasons.
I could write for hours but you don't want to read about my children any more than I want to read about yours. (Part truth, part sarcasm) Josh has always been a joy to be around. His sense of humor has provided hours of laughter and a lifetime of memories, though he rarely shows that side of him in full to anyone outside of immediate family. We've moved from a relationship of father / son to a relationship of friends. There is no one I enjoy being with any more than I do with Josh (except, of course when he gets hungry and then feeding him becomes the urgent matter of the moment). He continues to grow in his chosen profession ... in his circle of friends ... and, hopefully, in his relationship with the Lord.
He has a mischievous streak in him that will catch you off guard, given any degree of a chance to pull something on you. But that adds to his charm and keeps us on our guard. But underneath that streak is a heart of gold and a sensitive spirit of compassion. God directed him into the right profession to touch people's lives at a critical moment. I'm just grateful that, for now, he is staying close to home and extending our time together.I know the day will come when he'll go his way in life and we'll move into that chapter of long distance relationship. Until then, I'm going to enjoy every moment I can have with both of my children.
Josh, happy birthday, son and know that you are dearly loved.
Dad (and Mom)
Sunday, September 04, 2005
The Journey of Grief
I have no idea how anyone out there might use this, but in a time of unprecedented natural disaster in our nation, here are some thoughts regarding grief from hospital chaplain, Virgil Fry. I added a couple of my own at the end. If you know of others to add to the list, please respond!
No one likes to talk about death. Everyone needs to.
Tears and laughter, sorrow and joy: God's reminders of the richness of love.
Dealing with grief can bring out the worst -- and the best -- in families.
Grieving is a process, one that takes time. And then some more time.
The more significant the relationship, the deeper the wound, the longer the healing.
Grief is common to all, but unique to you. There is no "right" way to grieve, only your way.
Death of a loved one offers an opportunity to consider one's own mortality.
Eventually, faithfulness to the deceased demands re-engagement with life.
Getting over grief is impossible ... getting through grief isn't.
Sometimes the best gift offered to one grieving is simply, "I'm willing to talk about anything, anytime."
Rituals create communities and offer comfort. Avoiding rituals robs us of needed companionship.
Faith in God doesn't lessen the pain of loss. It does, however, provide direction, meaning, and hope.
Fellow grievers share a language which outsiders cannot understand.
Those who try to talk you out of your grief are not evil -- just insecure.
Significant dates will always remain significant, and deserve to be honored in some way.
Those who do not--or cannot--fully grieve are destined to unexpected bouts of anger, depression, and sadness further down the road.
There is no fast forward button for getting through grief.
Keeping it together emotionally for the sake of others exacts an exorbitant price on the griever's emotional well being.
Being in grief is not being crazy. It just feels like it.
From my own experience, I might add the following to Chaplain Fry's excellent list:
The best gift you can give a person in grief is your physical presence. There are no words that can lessen the pain. But your presence shows you care. Platitudes are meaningless. Your presence comforts more than your words, so don't feel like you have to say something. A hug and shared tears speak volumes.
It is common to become angry at God for not intervening. God's love for you can handle your anger, so express it honestly in prayer with an humble attitude.
No one likes to talk about death. Everyone needs to.
Tears and laughter, sorrow and joy: God's reminders of the richness of love.
Dealing with grief can bring out the worst -- and the best -- in families.
Grieving is a process, one that takes time. And then some more time.
The more significant the relationship, the deeper the wound, the longer the healing.
Grief is common to all, but unique to you. There is no "right" way to grieve, only your way.
Death of a loved one offers an opportunity to consider one's own mortality.
Eventually, faithfulness to the deceased demands re-engagement with life.
Getting over grief is impossible ... getting through grief isn't.
Sometimes the best gift offered to one grieving is simply, "I'm willing to talk about anything, anytime."
Rituals create communities and offer comfort. Avoiding rituals robs us of needed companionship.
Faith in God doesn't lessen the pain of loss. It does, however, provide direction, meaning, and hope.
Fellow grievers share a language which outsiders cannot understand.
Those who try to talk you out of your grief are not evil -- just insecure.
Significant dates will always remain significant, and deserve to be honored in some way.
Those who do not--or cannot--fully grieve are destined to unexpected bouts of anger, depression, and sadness further down the road.
There is no fast forward button for getting through grief.
Keeping it together emotionally for the sake of others exacts an exorbitant price on the griever's emotional well being.
Being in grief is not being crazy. It just feels like it.
From my own experience, I might add the following to Chaplain Fry's excellent list:
The best gift you can give a person in grief is your physical presence. There are no words that can lessen the pain. But your presence shows you care. Platitudes are meaningless. Your presence comforts more than your words, so don't feel like you have to say something. A hug and shared tears speak volumes.
It is common to become angry at God for not intervening. God's love for you can handle your anger, so express it honestly in prayer with an humble attitude.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Random Ramblings
I would like to think that I would have enough common sense to evacuate in the face of a Category 5 hurricane.
I would like to think that a community sitting several feet under sea level and on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico would have the foresight to protect themselves against a Category 5 hurricane. (For all the arguments in the past that they could not afford and / or justify bringing their levees up to higher standards ... how are they going to afford the consequences of their moronic decisions now that they have to rebuild an entire city? My grandfather taught me, "If you can't afford to do it right the first time, what makes you think you can afford to do it again?")
I would like to think I would remain civil if caught in the aftermath of such a storm.
I would like to think that the police officers sworn to "serve and protect" would not lower themselves to become looters and lawbreakers.
I would like to think my neighbors would not shoot at helicopters sent to rescue them.
I would like to think people would act more civil when faced with the horror of the present circumstances of New Orleans. That my neighbors would not come into my house to beat me and rob me at gunpoint simply because we are in a desperate situation.
I would like to think our elected officials would act on behalf of the good of the people they represent and truly serve as statesmen. I have no idea who the last true statesman was to occupy an elected office, but I can't think of a single statesman on any level of government today.
I would like to think that just once in a while common sense might prevail on a government level.
I would like to think we, as a nation, would learn valuable lessons from past experiences. We never seem to do so.
I would like to think the world community would respond to our tragedies as we respond to their tragedies. They never do.
I would like to think that we will overflow in compassion and benevolence in this present tragedy. And that, I think will happen, because the majority of Americans are a notch above the looters and rapists and government officials that seem to take center stage during a crisis.
And I think that will happen because of the phone I just received from an 85-year-old man who asked if we were going to take up a collection on Sunday "to help those folks."
And sometimes I would just like to think for no particular reason at all!
I would like to think that a community sitting several feet under sea level and on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico would have the foresight to protect themselves against a Category 5 hurricane. (For all the arguments in the past that they could not afford and / or justify bringing their levees up to higher standards ... how are they going to afford the consequences of their moronic decisions now that they have to rebuild an entire city? My grandfather taught me, "If you can't afford to do it right the first time, what makes you think you can afford to do it again?")
I would like to think I would remain civil if caught in the aftermath of such a storm.
I would like to think that the police officers sworn to "serve and protect" would not lower themselves to become looters and lawbreakers.
I would like to think my neighbors would not shoot at helicopters sent to rescue them.
I would like to think people would act more civil when faced with the horror of the present circumstances of New Orleans. That my neighbors would not come into my house to beat me and rob me at gunpoint simply because we are in a desperate situation.
I would like to think our elected officials would act on behalf of the good of the people they represent and truly serve as statesmen. I have no idea who the last true statesman was to occupy an elected office, but I can't think of a single statesman on any level of government today.
I would like to think that just once in a while common sense might prevail on a government level.
I would like to think we, as a nation, would learn valuable lessons from past experiences. We never seem to do so.
I would like to think the world community would respond to our tragedies as we respond to their tragedies. They never do.
I would like to think that we will overflow in compassion and benevolence in this present tragedy. And that, I think will happen, because the majority of Americans are a notch above the looters and rapists and government officials that seem to take center stage during a crisis.
And I think that will happen because of the phone I just received from an 85-year-old man who asked if we were going to take up a collection on Sunday "to help those folks."
And sometimes I would just like to think for no particular reason at all!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Bad Days
So you think you're having a bad day? Apparently this catfish tried to swallow a child's basketball, unsuccessfully. Observed by a Wichita resident, the fish repeatedly tried to go to the bottom (catfish are bottom dwellers and scavengers that eat things we don't want to discuss) only to float back to the top because of the ball wedged in its mouth. The kind resident finally caught the fish, had his wife deflate the ball by cutting it w/ a knife, and released the fish to resume whatever it is that catfish do after trying to swallow a basketball!
"Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!"
"Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle!"
