Blogger Beta Baby!

I am now running this Blog in Blogger Beta, the new improved version of Blogger. Or so I am lead blindly to believe. I love technology.

NomadShow Trailer - Sara Groves

Caring, Taking Risks, Going New Places, and Finding Christ

Above is the trailer for the brand new DVD, "Sara Groves...Just Showed Up For My Own Life". I have enjoyed Sara, and her music now for some time, and I think that this DVD could be a wonderful way to learn more about her life, and the way in which she puts her faith into action. I love this stuff!


For more information, go to the Nomad Show web site. For another great example of rich American's making a difference in the world, go here.


It seems to me that people want to see our faith lived out much more than just hearing us ramble on about it.

These Are the Good Old Days

Our two week family vacation to visit my wife's family in Toronto has come to an end. Tomorrow, we board Air Canada for the flight back to LA - free of liquids (including water) and gels in our carry-on items, thanks to some people who just hate us and our way of life.

These two weeks have had me reflecting a bit on my life, and its interplay with the lives of my daughters, my wife, in-laws, and other good friends back home.

We spent a week at a cottage in a quaint, old-fashioned location in Balm Beach, Ontario. This is a place that looks as if not much has changed in maybe 75 years. The cottage (Canadian term for house/cabin/place not in the city) we stayed in was constructed in 1930 or so. Just about nothing has changed in this home, and photos on the wall all have a 1930s feel to them. When you spend a week there, you feel, in many ways, like you are frozen in time. Its easy to forget what day it is.

Days at the cottage are easy, with the biggest decision of the day involving what time to go to the beach and enjoy the lake, the sun, and the sand. "The lake" is actually Georgian Bay, off of Lake Huron. Large lake. Beautiful spot. The cares of the world seem light years away; and actually they are pretty far away - about 2,500 miles.

In a place like this, you can pause from the busy whirl of life, and look back. Back on the past year, since our amazing vacation last summer, on how our girls our growing, the love in our marriage that continues to change and grow, and how new friends have blessed us with their mere presence.

But there is another part of me, perhaps a part of all of us. Its a longing for places like Balm Beach...all the time. We long for the good old days. Times free of trouble. Times when people cared about each other, and you actually knew your neighbors names. Times when you could stop, slow down, sit on the porch, and enjoy the soft light at the end of day. When exactly were those good old days anyway?

I had a small epiphany today, on the freeway in Toronto. We were stuck in Friday rush hour traffic, and I could have been home in LA for the way everything looked around me. Urban sprawl, gnarled traffic. In the back of the car, our two girls (12 and 15) were bored, and Heather, our 12 year old, was trying out the names of all her friends, audibly, in Pig Latin. This became a rather long and exhaustive dissertation, which involved large quantities of giggling between she and her sister.

And then it hit me. I will never, ever, again be at exactly this point in time, with these amazing, sweet, thoughtful, maddening, and wonderful ladies that God has briefly loaned to us. This moment in Toronto traffic, with the slightly annoying giggles of two girls, was in fact....The Good Old Days.

Some day, when Nancy and I are older, moving slower, and reflecting on the past, we might just recall this vacation, this time off, and this trip in the car. And we will smile and say.......well, you know the rest.

Maybe, these are the "good old days" for you to, if you are looking.

Hoser Nation

Having spent the last 10 days in Canada, I am again reminded of the distinct differences between our two nations. Exhibit A is shown above.

New Ideas, Good Ideas, Scary Things

We have spent a great week with family at the cottage on Georgian Bay, and I have almost finished Leadership Next, by Eddie Gibbs. I have completely enjoyed this book filled with new ideas about what the church and leadership within the church will look like in the years to come. Professor Gibbs has devoted much of his academic work at Fuller Seminary to these ideas, and so, I am learning from an expert.

Bottom line of what I have been reading: this is not your father’s church. Its not even my church. A church oriented to the missional call of Christ in the coming years is not going to necessarily look like what I expect, what I think it should, or what I feel comfortable with. It is going to be highly relational, not authoritative, not focused around a single personality. The future church is going to be, if anything, a team. A team focused on a common call and purpose, a vision to reach out, not to insulate within.

Can we pull this off at our church? Can we change traditions that have been many years in the making? Can we find a new direction and work together as a team? Can we?

Although the challenges are great, and the traditions of our old church are quite staid and ingrained, I have never felt more hopeful. The events of the past year have quite literally, broken us. We have few pretenses anymore. We are no longer the “big church on the corner” with the years of tradition, and the shiny images to protect.

We can start over. We can clear the decks and ask God to begin in us something new. Something new, and fresh, inviting, embracing, and empowering to those who visit. And for us older folk, who have been around a while, and think we know it all, it might well be something scary.

To that I say, please Lord, scare me.

File under: Church Thoughts

Feeling Powerless on Georgian Bay

We were warned earlier in the day on the weather channel.

The afternoon was sunny, hot, and more humid that I could imagine. Another typical Ontario summer afternoon. We spent most of the late afternoon in the lake, standing in cool water up to our necks. The perfect remedy to a hot and sticky day.

And then last night, as we finished dinner on the porch of our cottage, the sky slowly darkened, and the wind picked up. The breeze increased gradually at first, and then stronger, bending the trees at a 45 degree angle to the ground, the rushing sound of it all surrounding us. And then, as pictured at left (click to enlarge), the storm front approached. I felt as if I was in the early scenes of The Wizard of Oz. Where was Toto? The power went out, not to be restored until 5:30 AM the next morning.

Within minutes, the weather had changed completely. Now, as the wind reached perhaps 50 miles an hour, the rain came, first in sprinkles, then in sheets, coming right in the screen windows of the porch, a blast of fine mist. I felt like Jack Sparrow behind the helm of the Black Pearl in a raging storm. Arggggg! Avast! Batten down the hatches! We retreated behind glass windows to watch the show.

And then, after perhaps an hour and a half, the winds slowly subsided. Calm gradually returned, and we walked down to the beach in the wind to view a brilliant, colorful sunset.

Was this a metaphor for other things in my life? I am not sure, but it was one heck of a storm.

Balm Beach Cottage

Here we are at the cottage in Balm Beach, Township of Tiny, Ontario, Canada. Time like this, with family, is a blessing, and I am thankful for this noisy, funny, interesting, fun bunch of people that God has brought me to be a part of almost 18 years ago.

More Thoughts on the Scary New Future

Some more thoughts on what the future of the church is going to look like, based on my reading of Leadership Next, by Eddie Gibbs.

"A “missional church” is one that focuses on “going forth” into the world, rather than looking inward to its own programs and plans."

"The gospel embraces so much more than just the important truth of making a decision for Christ. It is as much concerned about how we live our lives before death as with after death. In its true New Testament meaning, external life embraces the here and now, as a prelude to eternity."

"For younger leaders, the greatest concern isn't how to get people to come to church but how best to take the church into the world. Their emphasis is not on extraction from the world, but on engagement with society. This emphasis on engagement needs to be reflected in the church’s criteria for selecting leaders and training them for ministry. For example, those who seek ministry in the church as an escape from the pressures of secular employment need to be weeded out. At the same time, those offering themselves for ministry without any significant life experience outside of the church need to immerse themselves in the secular world – just as a missionary candidate would be encouraged to have prefield, crosscultural experience."

It is all going to be different folks, lets open our hearts and minds, and get ready.

For a wonderful and hauntingly sad example of resistance to change, go read this short story.

File under: Church Thoughts

Tipping the Table Over, Starting New

Over the past year, as our church has slowly been gaining its collective bearings, as the fog of confusion, and disagreement, and fighting has cleared, strangely, I keep thinking of the same mental image. Maybe this image is from God, maybe not. I don’t pretend to really know those times when God gives me ideas, much less tell other people that God told me something. But, I keep thinking about this image.

The image is twofold. First, is that of a table, that has been tipped over, its contents scattered on the floor around it.

The objects that used to be on this table were once very important to many people, and perhaps, things on the table had even represented “the sacred” to some. Things that were once neatly arranged, now throw to the floor in haphazard fashion, some broken, as if those things never really mattered for much in the first place. Could this be the traditions of our church?

Sometimes we Christian folk make these neat little place settings for ourselves, with all the components arranged so neatly; Martha Stewart would certainly call it a “good thing”. We have our neat little fellowship groups, and our Bible studies, and our men’s and women’s groups. Ushers, and deacons, and elders, Sunday school flannel-graph characters, age appropriate playground equipment, single’s ministries, pot luck dinners, “special music”, correct theology, guest speakers, noted scholars, and church leadership structures. All so ordered, so neat. It looks so good, we think. We think of ourselves as rather intelligent, contemporary, and fashionable, and even sometimes even relevant to the culture.

There is a new paradigm for church leadership, and Professor Eddie Gibbs talks about just these things in Leadership Next. I have to quote one bit here, it is just too good to ignore:

"…so much ministerial training has focused on caring for the flock of God and on maintaining the “shop”. So much of our traditional theological agenda has been shaped by a Christendom-context mentality and has been largely confined to an internal debate between various theological factions. A missional theology, on the other hand, focuses on dialogue with unbelievers and those of other religions."

The second part of the image I get is of that same table, set upright, cleaned off, and ready to accept a new place setting, this time with things that really matter. Could this be the agenda for the future of our church? Maybe these table images are in my head semi-balding head for a reason. Maybe Jesus is trying to tell me something new. Maybe I need to read that story of the money changers again, with new eyes. Maybe I need to think of that clean table, and set it with Kingdom things that really matter, not idle traditions devoid of meaning in the current culture. I am still trying to figure it all out.

One thing I do know. For our church to be vital, alive, and filled with Christ’s presence, its not going to look like it used to.

File under: Church Thoughts

Facing Fear, Silent Sentinels

The photo at left is the place I sit, to camp off a neighbor's wireless, so that I can post here, while on vacation. I know, I need to get a life, but blogging is a form of relaxation and therapy for me.

Silent Sentinels
In the midst of loss, and change, and moving forward, I have been thinking. Thinking about the quiet, subtle forces in my life that keep me from trying new things, working harder at relationships and friendships, and keep me from being a better man and a more loving parent. These forces, they act like silent sentinels that stand at points of change or opportunity in my life. They guard me from new things, from ideas that might be threatening, from people that would stretch me, or change me, or maybe even make me a better man than I am. I can’t really see them all, but I can identify a couple of them. So far, in the fog and mist of my often-inability to understand myself, I can name two of these sentinels; Fear and Complacency.

First, Fear. Maybe I am not so different from lots of people. I fear change, new things, places that make me feel uncomfortable. Nothing new for me, thank you. In my middle age, I find myself sometimes feeling comfortable in the familiar old ruts that I have worked hard over the years to cut deep in the soil of my life. It feels safe here.

Next, Complacency. This force is a good friend and ally of Fear. Everything is fine, just the way it is, thank you. Why would we want to change anything? And then there are the infamous words heard often in the American church for maybe more than 100 years, “We have never done it like THAT around here before!”

Ready, Set, Change Everything!
As I set out on our family vacation, I brought with me several books. The first book, that I am working through now, in the middle of enjoying family and time off is Leadership Next, by Professor Eddie Gibbs of Fuller Seminary. I was given this book, quite by chance, it seemed, to read as a part of my involvement with the School of Intercultural Studies at Fuller. But, there is no chance here, its much more like Providence.

As it turns out, this is a book about the future of the church, and the kind of new leaders that will lead this church. It is a book about the changes coming between the ideologies of modernism (read: my and my parents generation) and postmodernism (the future generations that will inherit the church).

If I can get some moments of clarity, and read through the lines, this is a book that is also about my silent friends, Fear and Complacency. They will not like the ideas in this book. These are Kingdom Ideas; big, wild, threatening, different, unfamiliar. Good ideas, ideas that inhabit the character of Christ. But in an interesting way, Old Ideas. Ideas that lead the early church that ended up changing the world through the birth and growth of Christianity. This is good stuff.

If I and lots of us complacent middle aged folk were to take these ideas seriously, maybe the church might be rebuilt. More soon.

File under: Church Thoughts

Take Off, Eh!

Our family is on vacation. After the events of the past couple of weeks, this is a welcome break.

The location of our holiday? The photo to the left provides a visual clue. Where else on the planet (save for Sweden, Finland, and Norway) could you find this large of a display of hockey sticks at Walmart in July?


The first comment to guess our location correctly wins a collectors edition hockey puck, autographed by me.

How Do You Say Thank You?

The past several weeks have been a time of sadness, loss, fear, and hope, all mixed together in ways that are still difficult for me to express. Sadness, loss, and fear in facing the death of my Mom. Hope in seeing God's real presence in the midst of this time. Writing down my feelings is hard, and saying them seems often even harder.

But there are, among many people, two women that I must thank here, in a public way, for the way in which they have loved my parents and me is something remarkable, and quite beyond my capability to understand.

First to my wife Nancy of nearly 18 years. You are my best friend, and I cannot imagine having faced the past several weeks without you. Thank you for the many ways in which you cared for both Mom and Dad, in the little ways and in the unnoticed details. You have been to me a help, a support, a friend, and a partner. You have been present in ways I am not capable of, and through it all, you did not loose your perspective on Kingdom things, or your patience with me; your sometimes difficult spouse.

And next, to Jill, our dear family friend and Pastor-to-be. Clearly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you are called to care for others, love the unlovely, and be a shepherd. You have loved me, my girls, my wife, and my parents in ways that speak clearly of the character of Jesus. You are kind, gracious, caring, persistent, and wonderful, all together. I am so very thankful that Nancy and I said "yes" to your need for a room, almost four years ago. We all have been blessed beyond measure.

Nancy and Jill, in just the past weeks, you have shown me more about what love means than years of reading about it, studying it, and trying to live it out. You both, in your unique way, have been Christ to me. I am forever thankful. May my life reflect that thankgiving to others.

Elizabeth Lee Norris 1921-2006

Elizabeth Lee Partridge was born on April 18, 1921 in Los Angeles, California. She attended Los Angeles High School, and then USC, where she majored in Art. After a career in modeling, she married Roland Norris of Whittier, California in 1957. Her only son, Steven Roland Norris was born in 1958.

Betty, as she was known by family and friends, was a loving wife, mother, homemaker, friend, and accomplished artist. Her home was filled with oil paintings she had completed over a span of almost 20 years. She was active in the alumni chapter of Kappa Alpha Theta, her sorority at USC.

Betty is preceded in death by her brother Ted, and is survived by her husband of 49 years, Roland Norris, her son, Steven Norris, her brother George Partridge, and her grandchildren, Kelly Lynne Norris and Heather Ruth Norris. At her request, no services are scheduled.

Betty was my Mom. She will be greatly missed by us all.

Nearing The End

For those of you who know me well, you also know that my Mom, 85, has been in failing health for some time now. I have described this before here, by way of some background.

Mom is now in hospice care. She is clearly in her last days, and I do not have clever, or meaningful, or insightful things to say about this. It is not pretty, but I find this time, this experience of the end of my mother's life to be filled with a sense of God's care, in a way I would never have expected.

If you feel lead, please pray for a safe and peaceful transition for my Mom. Her name is Betty.

Softball, Sam, and Community

The past week has been Softball All Star week in our town. The South Pasadena 10-12 year old All Star team just won their section game tonight. Our daughter Heather is playing first base for the team, and this weekend we advance to Regional Playoffs. Undefeated, so far!

This is the kind of stuff that makes us glad to live in South Pasadena; great girls, a wonderful coach, and a community that bonds together to support each other.

Another huge part of our town is meeting those unsung everyday heroes that give of themselves in big and small ways. What could be better than an evening at Orange Grove Park watching the girls play, with an outstanding barbecued burger from the snack stand. And who does the barbecuing, year after year, for no pay other than the smiles and thanks and hugs he gets from every girl on almost every team in the league.


Meet Sam Hernandez, husband, father, general contractor, and everyday hero. Our girls have been playing softball for almost 10 years, and nearly every one of those years, Sam has been at the ball field every night and weekend, grilling burgers for the kids, and parents, and grandparents, passing out hugs and making new friends.

This is the stuff of what community really means. People who know your name, who are glad you showed up at the ball park, ask about your kids, and provide a loving environment for kids to grow up in.

Sam is an example to me, and his example makes me glad that I live in this town.

Doubting Thomas

I heard a song today that went right to the heart of who I am, and where my life is leading these days.

My Mom, 85, lies in the hospital today, and has for the past five days. She is "failing to thrive". She has lost a lot of weight, can no longer walk, and eats only small amounts each day. Only the Lord knows what each day going forward holds for her, and for all of us. All of us. Everyday.

And then, I heard this song.

By way of background, our daughter Kelly went to hear Nickel Creek at the House of Blues earlier this week, and she made me a CD of their music, which I have enjoyed hearing in the past. Mysterious lyrics that make you think. Perhaps Heaven does come close to Earth more than we think. Perhaps there is Something much larger than we could ever know of.

As I am returning from my Mom's bedside this afternoon, this song came on. Doubting Thomas. That is often me. Doubting. But strangely in this past week, I am doubting some things less, and understanding God as the Author of Life in new ways that I did not understand before.


what will be left when I've drawn my last breath,
besides the folks I've met and the folks who know me,
will i discover a soul cleansing love,
or just the dirt above and below me,
please give me time to decipher the signs,
please forgive me for time that I've wasted,
I'm a doubting Thomas,
i took a promise,
but i don't know what's safe,
oh me of little faith,

Now forgive me, but this was clearly something Providential - in my hearing THIS song at just THIS point in my life. Turns out something else is going on with the origins of Nickel Creek. Go here to read about it.

Help me Lord, with my unbelief. I will follow You, even if it makes no sense. Even if it is too big, or scary, or weird for me to understand. I will follow You.

< /span>

Thankful for a Memory, Waiting on the Sky

Tonight, I went to the softball field, to pick up Heather (12) from practice. Tomorrow is her first inter-league All-Star softball game tomorrow night. Lately, Kelly (15) always asks to come along for the ride to the field. For this simply mercy of time together, I am thankful. As we drove across town, an old memory suddenly bubbled up to the surface of my brain.

On July 23, 1995, an unusually bright comet outside of Jupiter's orbit was discovered independently by Alan Hale, New Mexico and Thomas Bopp, Arizona. The new comet, designated C/1995 O1, is the farthest comet ever discovered by amateurs, and appeared 1000 times brighter than Comet Halley did at the same distance. I was fascinated by this, and remember reading about it, and finding out exactly when it would be visible from our town. To me, there is something amazing about comets.

In the car on the way to the ballfield, I turned to Kelly and said, "Do you remember, a long time ago, when you and I climbed to up to the water tower, and waited for the comet to appear in the night sky?" Kelly did remember. We both smiled; Kelly, thinking of her impossibly dorky father, and me, giving quiet thanks for a small moments like these of shared memories, and for the simple grace of the memory itself.

Kelly was about six, as I recall, when we climbed up to the top of the hill with the water tower in our town. It was a fall night, and we waited for dusk to come and kept gazing to the northwest, where the comet would be visible. We waited, and waited. This was in the time when Kelly was far more patient with her science-fan Dad. Sure enough, as the sun went down, we saw the comet in the northwestern sky, low over the hills that border Pasadena.

A comet, possibly formed near Neptune, possibly 4.5 billion years ago. A father and his daughter, standing on a hill in a big city, straining to see the light produced by this comet 4.5 billion years later. I remember talking about how long it took the light from the comet to reach earth.

My heart is strangely warmed with this memory. How is it that I have been so blessed to wait on a hill with a lovely view of Pasadena, with a wonderful six year old, waiting for a comet? All those years ago.

It is all a wonderful mystery to me.

These Faces

Yesterday was a very interesting day. In the span of 24 hours, I:

• Spent time with young couples, pondering what solitude means
• had the priviledge of participating in the baptism of a little Korean 1-year old adopted by an amazingly loving family
• laughed with friends
• barbecued hamburgers for about 15 guests
• got elbowed in the eye by my daughter playing the pool (and have the shiner to show for it)
• played with babies in the water
• had to negotiate with a somewhat difficult teenage daughter
• stood at the bedside of my mom, whose health continues to deteriorate.

When I think back on it all, it's really hard to believe that my life is this full, this varied. And here is something interesting, as well. In all these things, the sprinkling of water, the cooking of food, the laughing, the grieving, Christ is present. It may not always feel like it, but He is there, if we will stop, and wait, and look.

He is in the eyes of the dying, the touch of water on the head of the child who has come half-way around the world to find a new life, in the smile and laugh of a new friend. In the joy of young friends turning circles in the pool and yelling "Maaarco......Polo!", and in the eyes of my Mom, tired and weary from life's journey.

He is there. Christ is here. I find it interesting that Jesus did not tell us. "The Kingdom of God is coming, just wait." Nope. He told us that the Kingdom is near, at hand. And so, it is.

Mom is back in the hospital; we will need to find her a different place to live now, perhaps some form of skilled nursing environment.

Our friends had a blast in the pool. My black eye looks cool. The babies went home, and had naps.

And, at the end of the day, for me, a gift. As I headed upstairs to bed around midnight, I stopped by the rooms of our girls. Two sleeping faces, completely at peace. Faces I have know so well, and loved, and wept for, and laughed with, and enjoyed now for a good many years. Both gifts. Both who do not belong to me. They belong to God.

Amen.

File under: Parental Musing, Thankfulness

Silence and Simplicity

Life just whizzes by. No matter what we do, we can't slow it down. It won't stop. We feel out of control, as if we have been sent down some water slide and we can't stop, and we are not sure what is at the other end; a cool pool of water or a sheer cliff.

Our lives are so noisy, so filled with commotion, city noises, or even just the voices of others. Life can be scary, noisy, busy.

In the midst of this, the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, written more than 60 years ago come:

"Silence is nothing else but waiting for God's Word and coming from God's Word with a blessing. But everybody knows that this is something that needs to be practiced and learned, in these days when talkativeness prevails. Real silence, real stillness, really holding one's tongue comes only as the sober consequence of spiritual stillness"

"in these days when talkativeness prevails"......indeed!

God help me to shut up, and listen.

Middle Age, Making a Difference, and Rapid Change

Several days ago, I mentioned that I would be writing more about my own internal reflections on middle age, the things that occupy our time and attention, and what really matters in this life.

How is that for sampling of light, easy, topics? Well, its either this, or you get to hear me hold forth on my latest Presbyterian naming of the Trinity: "Rock, Paper, Scissors". Anyway.

There are lots of things swimming around in my mind these days, as I face the declining health of my own parents (85 and 86 years old, respectively) coming to grips for the first time with my own mortality, the bittersweet maturing of my wonderful teenage daughters, and more recently, the beginning steps in rebuilding a divided and broken church. Other than these things, not much else is going on. I play a lot of solitaire. Oh yeah, Sports Center and Baseball Tonight. Do that too.

This past week, I participated in a leadership meeting at our church, and one of the recurring thoughts I kept having was "we are working with a leadership model, and discussing concepts here that are 30 years old, maybe we need to change some things". The other alternating thought was "I am so bored, I wonder what is on Baseball Tonight!" And so, might I start with some recurring themes I have noticed recently?

To Find New Life, We Must Die

Dietrick Bonhoeffer is one of my favorite theologians. I have mentioned this before. When it became clear that war was coming to his Germany in the late 1930s, Bonhoeffer's friends urged him to leave Germany, or risk imprisonment and death. For a time, he listened, and came to New York prior to the outbreak of World War II. Yet as Bonhoeffer walked around the streets of the city, he became convinced that, like Jonah fleeing from Nineveh, he had refused the call of God to fight the Nazis from within Germany. And he knew what that call meant after all, as he once wrote: "When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die." So Bonhoeffer boarded a ship and sailed back toward his homeland, where he taught, formed Christian community, lead the church, spoke out against the Nazis, plotted to kill Hitler, and finally met his doom in the death camps.

To Die We Must Give Up Old Stuff, and Embrace New

A number of months ago, I had an email conversation regarding our painful church split with Mark Galli, the managing editor of Christianity Today magazine. I found Mark to be a former Presbyterina pastor who is a very thoughtful man. Then, just the other day, I read an article in the most recent edition (no link yet) of Christianity Today about what we Christian folk THINK matters. Great article. Mark talks a lot about "relevance", and "power", and "success". These are very over used words and ideas in the American church.

I have to quote just a bit of it for you, it is worth repeating, perhaps several thousand times:

"Jesus loves us so much, he sometimes slaps our vague idealism in the face with a healthy does of reality. This shocks us, and we find ourselves speechless and blushing with either anger or shame."

and:

"Like Peter, we have to die to our notions of relevance and successs, and let God - through a crucified Savior, though and amateurish church, through a stiff Communion service - raise up his people when He will and how He will, with a power and glory we can hardly fathom."

Amen to that, and help me Lord! Help my need to be powerful, cool, successful, and relevant. Help me to love those you place in my path, whether their ministry model is 30 years old or not. Help me to love. Help me also to dance, like Matt. See above the post below....

Next up...

Help! The world is changing, and it makes me afraid, and I don't like it!!

File Under: Church Thoughts

Living Like Matt!

There is something magical, and a bit of the Kingdom in this video. God has made for us an amazing and varied earth to live on. Matt has seen a lot of this planet recently, and I love his approach.

Dancing!

Could this be part of the Abundant Life of which Jesus spoke?

Watching this makes me think that maybe God is calling us to dance more.....

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Forrest Gump's Mama was right when she told him, "Stupid is as stupid does, Forrest". Forrest listened to his Mama. The photo to the left illustrates that I can be perty stupid at times - note the Nascar baseball hat.

This past week, the Presbyterian Church USA did something pretty schizophrenic, and well, stupid. As I am not a theologian, I direct you here, to the most well thought out, fair, and measured response to the looniness of a declining denomination. For me, its not so much about being Presbyterian, but about honoring Christ and his church. I am not so sure this sort of nonsense does either of those things.

Hmmm, maybe things like this are why Presbyterians are loosing ground faster than Dale Earnhardt in a golf cart with low batteries.

The Week in Review

Help! There is too much going on. It seems like there are few moments to rest, to reflect, to pause, let alone blog. And so, here is a brief rundown of the "Steve Week in Review".

The photo to the left was taken about two weeks ago in our neighborhood, and this image reminds me, yet again, of how the Scriptures tell us that all Creation displays the majesty of God. If we will only open our eyes to see!

Tuesday was my birthday. I am 48 years old. I have many thoughts about this, which I shall share soon. I took the day off. My girls, out of the kindness of their hearts, took time out of their busy summer social and sports schedules, and spent time with Dad at Manhattan Beach. I remain in awe of the blessing of my family. Thank you God, and girls (all) for loving me.

Eight days ago was Father's Day. I decided it was time to take my Dad to visit our family home, after about six months of delayed repairs and painting. It was a bittersweet time, seeing Dad in our family home; a place he had spent so much time in, and now could no longer call home due to his declining health and mental acuity. Dad was very thankful to visit, and was pleased with the work we have done.

More reflections on middle age, time and attention, and what really matters, coming soon. I am sure that all six of you readers are so psyched!

Verbal Strategery

In our home, we have the unmitigated joy, and sometime near complete craziness of living with two daughters, one age 12 and the other 15. Could one want anymore from life? I think not.

As our oldest daughter Kelly matures, it seems her brain is sometimes caught in an interesting place; the limbo between childhood and becoming an adult. It is a strange and wonderful time indeed, full of a swirl of strange emotions and feelings, new discoveries, and internal conflicts. Going along with this is the great need to, as psychologists have termed it "individuate", or become their own person. It is not easy to be a teen today, on so many different levels. For more on adolescent brain development, read this great book.

One of the most hysterical parts of this season of life is the verbal confusion that occurs in the teenage brain. Case in point, from the Kelly Norris and Friends dictionary of...

Those Darned Substitute and Confusing Words

"Confession Stand" is confused with Concession Stand - is this a place where you can confess your sins, and THEN order two hot dogs, a pretzel and a Diet Coke. I am thinking about a joint venture between the Dodgers and Roger Mahoney.

"Tabolism" is confused with Metabolism - as in "I am sorry, but my tabolism is too slow to eat that hot dog and still feel hungry in an hour, Cardinal".

"Organtic" is confused with Organic. "Darryl Hannah is in favor of tree sitting until the organtic farmers get the land they do not own. Joan Baez is handing out organtic treats to the protesters.

"Camel Flage" is confused with Camouflage. This may actually work currently in some Middle Eastern settings; "The Al Qaeda terrorists were caught by US intelligence officers (near the oasis) who were disguised as camels, in, of course, Camel Flage.

T.P. - as in Toilet Paper. Kelly and her friends had never heard that T.P. actually stands for toilet paper. "Whooaa....is THAT that T.P. stands for?!" Shocking.

and my personal favorite....

"Extortion" - confused with the spiritual gift of exhortation. Kelly recently told us that one of her self-perceived spiritual gifts was extortion. With this knowledge, I am planning to quit my day job, and live in hiding in Costa Rica, collecting income via clandestine wire transfer from the spiritual gift of my oldest daughter. Please do not inform the authorities, thank you.

Facing Nearly Impossible Pain

Life is seemingly unfair at times.

Such a time occurred several weeks ago, when a good, kind, young man died of cancer, leaving behind a sweet wife and baby.

Would you want to become a part of this journey?

I have found Tricia's writing at this blog completely honest and real. She is an acquaintance from a prior job she had at my church.

As you read, pray. Pray for Tricia. Pray.

Go Fuller Grads!

Saturday was the Commencement ceremony for the 2006 class of Fuller Seminary in Pasadena. I have a growing affection for all things Fuller, based both on the dozens of great folks I know who are Fuller grads, along with my recent connection with the Fuller School of Intercultural Studies. Most importantly, our connection comes through the life of our dear family friend, Jill Williams, who has just earned her Masters of Divinity.

I have attended lots of commencements; high school, college, and grade school. None of these experiences will prepare one for a Fuller graduation. It is, in many ways, like watching a graduation of a part of the Kingdom of God. All shapes, sizes, and colors of God's Creation, Leaders for Christ, going forth from around the world, to around the world.

It takes almost 5 minutes to read through the list of countries represented by graduates.

Yesterday was the largest graduating class in Fuller's history, with over 500 graduates, and 4,000 in attendance. Amazing, wonderful! Dr. Richard Mouw, the President of Fuller, spoke to the graduates, and encouraged them to continue to testify to the simple message of Jesus. Dr. Mouw reminded the graduates that throughout the biblical story, the people of god have been discerning the voice and acts of god. He reminded graduates to point to God as the source of hope, meaning, and the real reason for any accomplishment in their lives, with the admonition that they should always tell others that "It's Him again" throughout their ministry careers.

We also had the priviledge of listening to the ministry plans of Fuller grads, in brief; a couple who plan to work in to work in cross cultural ministries among a variety of cultures, including Hispanics and Koreans, another couple who will be working with trouble youth, and returning veterans facing post traumatic stress disorders, and north African missionaries who plan on working specifically in ministry in North Africa. These graduates. All of these remarkable, wonderful lives. Oh! The places they will go!

This experience reminded me of this - from the end of Matthew 28:

"Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: "God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I'll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age."

This Amazing Place...Church Thoughts

Several times over the past year or so, I have relayed to you the struggle of my church. I use the possessive pronoun here, as it feels like home, so I call it "mine". But really, this church, like all Christian churches around the world, belongs to Christ. All these churches form, mysteriously, the Body of Christ.

This past Sunday, I had the privledge of attending a worship service that is held once a year. Its a celebration of music in which all four (yes, I know, a topic for another time) of our worship services combine to celebrate together. It is one of my favorite Sundays of the year.

Two themes kept running through my mind this past Sunday. First was the rich tapestry of music of all forms that we enjoy at our church. Second, and really more importantly, was the extravagant, beautiful, amazing tapestry of people that God has placed in our midst. It is my prayer that every church could become more of a reflection of the rich Creation that God offers to us. If you will indulge me.

In this hour in church, I sat amongst so many amazing people, and thought of so many wonderful, transformational stories of God's faithfulness, lived out there right in front of me.

There is the grandmother of 16 grandkids who buried her WWII veteran husband five years ago, and even in her 80s is fully of passion and vigor for the church, and continues to serve.

I watched as the former homeless man who now sings in a choir gave praise to his Lord.

Then there is the cancer survivor who leads one of the childrens choirs. The past year has been a great struggle, but she is recovering now, and continues to love kids and lead.

And then there is the Tulane graduate high school leader who leads the teen choir with enthusiasm and humor and grace. How did God lead her to our church, to love and serve with us?

I find this all, these stories, this music, the grace of God, part of An Amazing Place. And I am thankfull. Humbled, grateful, thankful.

I Have No Idea What I Am Doing!

Several weeks ago, I had a wonderful lunch, with my new friend Doug McConnell. Through a mutual friend, we got together, and now I will be acting as a part of an informal "advisory panel" to the Dean of the School of Intercultural Studies at Fuller Seminary.

Headline to read: "Average White Guy from Suburbs Asked to Advise World Renowned Seminary". Very gripping, I know.

What are my qualifications for this task. In my mind, none. Zip. Zero. Nada. Please, can we be serious? This is like asking Elmer Fudd to be on the advisory panel of a nuclear physics lab. Or maybe Arnold Schwarzenegger to be governor of the most populous state in the union.....oh, wait, never mind that analogy. Or having someone like Daryl Hanah speak to issues of urban development. In short, a nearly complete joke.

But strangely, in the mind of Doug, perhaps somebody like me might (emphasis on might here) be a good candidate for this task. And as I have thought of it, maybe this is a Kingdom economy kind of thing. Using the weak to confound the proud.

Over the past year, I have done some thinking and dreaming and praying about the balance of my life, the "second half" that I have left, God willing. Much of this thought has been a result of changes in the lives of my parents, as I have noted here, and then reflecting on the things I want my life to count for.

What I want simply, is to leave this planet better off for the Kingdom that when I entered it. If Jesus does not plan on showing up here for a while, then I find it incumbent on me to do things that might bring more of His Kingdom come, until well, until it does come.

This Desert Oasis And A Still Small Voice

My wife and I are taking a two-day midweek break, as I need to be in Palm Desert for an educational seminar for my work. We are staying at a very nice hotel, and spent the last two nights eating at local restaurants, surrounded by well-heeled and very well tanned desert dwellers. This is a very upscale area, featuring mile after mile of luxury desert homes surrounding lush golf courses, hidden canyon estates surrounded by palm trees, and high-end retail developments. If you sink a well down here about 100 feet, water literally bubbles up out of the ground. It's a desert oasis of sorts. There is also a great deal of very interesting 1950s and 1960s residential architecture. There is even one wealthy family who has their own 18 hole course on a massive estate.

I think something strange is happening to me in my middle age. I actually like it here now. Yesterday it was about 105 degrees, and I did not mind. I tend to travel out this way (about 70 miles from my home) about twice a year for work, and have been doing so for a number of years. My grandparents even had a house out here, and I visited often when I was a wee baby. But as long as I can remember, I never liked this area, and thought that people who lived out here in the heat were mental. It's a desert, it's full of old people, and gosh, its hot! Yuck. But now, for me, yuck no longer.

What is going on with me? Why do I strangely enjoy this place now? I have been pondering this over the past day or so. I have some thoughts. First, I am almost 48 years old, and maybe my "personal demographic" is changing. After all, the entire Coachella Valley is geared to the over 50 crowd. Egads, I am aging!

Second, I think that I am being subtly lured by the lifestyle here. Last night, I spend time on the web looking at this place - Bighorn. I will never live there, but it feels very enticing, alluring, intoxicating. Ahh, a lovely home, with a desert view, set by a golf course. Sitting by the pool, sipping something cool, and gazing at the desert mountains in a warm twilight. When I was younger, I used to play golf all the time. I love golf, but have no time at this season in my life to play. This would be a nice life.

But there is this Voice, and it won't go away. Its not very loud, but its there, and it is persistent. Relentless. As my wife and I had a great Mexican meal Wednesday night, as I sipped on a nearly atomic margarita, and watched the tanned affluent of Palm Springs arrive for dinner, I kept hearing this little Voice (even through the margarita fog). The Voice was there by the pool yesterday too. It's a still, small Voice, and it won't shut up. Sometimes, in my weakness, I wish it would.

When I see the tanned, seemingly happy people drinking, and dining, and laughing, the Voice reminds me that real happiness, real peace, real joy come from an entirely different place; only from knowing and trying to follow in the way of one solitary life of a man from Nazareth who walked around Israel more than 2,000 years ago. He made sick people well, helped the troubled find lasting peace, and afflicted the comfortable - like me.

When I look at the luxury homes at Bighorn and begin to covet a life like that, the Voice reminds me that treasures stored up here on earth really don't amount to anything. All possessions are fleeting. Only a life immersed in grace and hope and divine love can bring depth of meaning; an abundant life. A life like we can barely imagine, and often do not understand.

When I enjoy the luxury and comfort of the soft hotel bed, the Voice reminds me of countless thousands, nay, millions who sleep each night, under the same stars on bare dirt ground, in small wooden or cardboard shacks, or who lay in substandard hospitals without proper medical care. It reminds me of children dying of AIDS. They all are lonely, and feel lost, and have little hope. Why am I here, and they are there? I have no idea. But the Voice keeps on reminding me. I am here, and they, them, "those people" are over there and, yet, we are strangely connected. The Voice created us both, and I have an obligation to them. The Voice won't stop, like a shadow companion.

I think Christian song writer Bob Bennett best express what I am thinking:

A voice, crying in the wilderness
A still, small voice, loud and clear
And a voice, still ringing in my ear
Saying, follow me, follow me, and I will show you my Father

I struggle with this Voice all the time. I need to shut up, and listen more. But I love the God who speaks it, and I want to follow Him, feeble though my attempts may be. I pray that I can continue doing so, one day at a time.

We are leaving this desert. Sadly, but strangely, and even joyously, its not for us.

Memorial Day Party Warning

Warning....

We are having friends over tomorrow for a Memorial Day party.

This photo is of last year's party. This year we are going to go with a tropical theme again.

Brace yourself for intense party action.

Memorial Day & Wilfred Owen

This is Wilfred Owen (1893-1918). He is known as a poet of World War I, and he died at the end of this terrible war. He was raised in an Anglican home, but abandoned much of his faith as a young man.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. We have much to remember and much to give thanks for on this day. While browsing through the poetry of Owen, I came upon the poem below. While I find the theology flawed, it illustrates for me how we blame God for troubles we create, and the striking pain caused by all of humanity upon one another over the span of history. I want to be more of a peacemaker.

Soldier's Dream

I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears;

And caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts;

And buckled with a smile Mausers and Colts;

And rusted bayonet with His tears.

And there were no more bombs, of ours or Theirs,

Not even an old flint-lock, nor even a pikel.

But God was vexed, and gave all power to Michael;

And when I woke he'd seen to our repairs.

Sun Visors! Rays from Outer Space!!

Disclaimer before I begin. White guys have really bad fashion sense. See here.

Over the past year or so, I have noticed a new fashion trend in the Asian community that I find completely hysterical. Beware the Sun Visor craze! I cannot help myself from laughing out loud every time I see a local woman (always women, never men) walking, biking, or even driving a car around town in one of these babies (photo to left). Apparently, there may some kind of creepy solar radiation occurring involving invisible little red lines coming from outer space, perhaps only visible when wearing a Sun Visor!

I did some fishing around, and found this lovely description of the sun visors from a Korean website. I love the use of English, very similar to the menu wording I have found in some great Chinese restaurants around town.

Transparent Sun Visor (Sun Cap) protects your face from UV (ultra-violet rays) of the Sun. It has the transparent (see-through) shade of cap. It can protects from UV until 93%. You can take down or raise the transparent shade of sun cap freely. When you take down the shade, it completely protect your face from ultra-violet rays with clear polycarbonate film. In this case you can see clearly as you put on sunglass. When you raise the shade, it is like other sun cap. Also it is very fashionable. Transparent sun cap is new and unique products worldwide.

Why did I not first think of this "new and unique products worldwide"? I could then be uniquely rich and famous everywhere worldwide all the time. In this case I could be sipping drink from coconut on some far away Micronesian Island while wearing Sun Visor which would be protecting my face from harmful ultraviolet Sun!

We white people are so pathetic. All we can come up with are things like this:

and this:

Examen Thy Self!

What is wrong with us? I live in Southern California, a place where just about everything looks like it was built within the last 15 minutes. We are not big on history here.

And yet, history has a great deal to teach us. Including the saints of the church. My friend Tod has a great post on a technique of daily prayer, that I am going to look further into. This sounds wonderful.

Oh, that I might be more reflective in each day, rather than stupidly rushing forward.

This is Me (not the picture, the essay)

This essay.....is largely descriptive of one of the ways God has been slowly changing my heart, over the past 26 years, since I came to know Christ.

Go, read it. I loved Mr. Rogers too. Still do.

Old Hands, Tired Bones, A Life Receding

Last week, in the dead of night, at the senior home where my Mom and Dad now live, Mom took a fall. She landed on the hip that she broke about six years ago, falling at the supermarket near their home - the last time she would ever go shopping. Someone came quickly to help her up. She is well cared for.

Mom has been using a walker for the past six years or so, and life has slowed down considerably for both she and Dad. Mom's doctor had her checked into the hospital the next day, and to our relief, there are no broken bones, but a bad and scary fall for her never the less. Mom is back at Sunrise now, but it either in too much pain, or too scared to try her walker again. She spends all day in bed, assisted to the restroom by caring workers - the hands and feet of Christ in a way, I think. She is eating well, but these events have a way of traumatizing her for weeks. She is not her usual self. She does say that she sleeps well; I find that a sure sign of God's grace.

And Dad is well, not a big help. In times like these he tends to get crabby and negative, and to complain that "its amateur hour around here" when he speaks of the care Mom is getting. That is not true, its hard to hear, and it brings up years worth of "issues" I have with my Dad. I told Dad yesterday that he needs to simply be more patient, and much more encouraging of Mom.

This has been an interesting week for me. At the core of it, I realize how self-concerned I am. The visits to the hospital, the ambulance ride back to Sunrise, the pain and fear Mom is experiencing, all make me ponder quite a bit about my own ending - hopefully many distant years from now. Will I live in fear? Will the promises and hope of my faith make a difference in my own heart and in the way I treat others? Do those things really matter in the way I behave now? What will my final passage be like?

I wake early in the mornings now, with thoughts of Mom's well being circling my brain. Why is this so?

The words of St Paul have taken on new meaning this past week. From 2 Corinthians 4:

7But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. 12So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

It is so. When we are young, we feel invincible. And, as we age, we begin to understand better, with each day, month, year, our own.....well, vincibility. This week, I have learned a bit more of what it feels to "carry around....the death of Jesus". I am glad for this, and thankful for the journey.

Rest well, Mom.

Mothers Day and The New Underground Railroad

Its Mother's Day. I am thankful today for two women, my mom - who is 85 years old and recovering from a fall earlier this week, but with no broken bones. I am also thankful for my sweet wife Nancy, whose love has transformed my life, and brought grace, care, and joy to our family.

On this day, it is fitting to remember mom's in other places, who face nearly insurmountable odds. From the Friday edition of the Wall Street Journal, please read:

"The New Underground Railroad"

which tells the story of two women who fled North Korea and faces unbelievable journeys in China, finally finding their way to freedom in the US this past week. Please, take the time to read this rather long piece, you will be glad you did. Maybe we might leave this reading wondering how we, our country, can work to bring freedom to the people of North Korea.

For more images of North Korea, click on the photo above....

Pastor Search Update

The email messages have been pouring in from those of you concerned about the pastor search process at our church. We had a momentary set back, as we determined that Pastor Robert White, was, well, dead. Cancer of the mouth, I understand. However we can now, again, take heart. There is hope!

These days, some folks are down on the future of the mainline denominations. To this I have but one reply....Don Lonie.

Apparently, not a lot of people are familiar with Don, but after he talked with teenagers, there was apparently sufficient demand for his

talking, that he, well, talked again. Not only is Don good at talking, he sports a fine, yet conservative wardrobe. Finally, and most importantly, Don is a self-assured and confident balding man; a true mark of maturity and leadership potential. Rare is the Christian leader who does not need to expend his spiritual maturity on the growing of head hair.

If Don was asked to talk more that once, that is good enough for us! Count us in, Don. We will be in touch with you soon.

What a Bunch of Spazzes We Are!

This afternoon I called my old buddy, Neal. Neal used to have a job in the real world. He also used to be a regular church-going layperson like me. Then he heard God's call, and went to seminary. Now, Neal is a pastor. Neal is keenly aware of the dysfunction within the church. I like Neal, he is cool.

Well ok, he is actually not cool. I mean, he is my age, for goodness sake - late 40s. His wardrobe is pathetic, just ask his daughters. Heck, just ask my daughters about MY wardrobe. It's near disaster condition! In our daughter's minds, Neal and I could double for the Festrunck Brothers.

Anyway, Neal is a great guy. Very smart, as we two agree on just about everything, except sports. Neal is unaware that sports exist, because he is too busy reading some theological tome, or spending time being with people. Pastoring. Neal needs to work on this. Less time with people, more time with the remote control, buddy!

During our conversation today, Neal related that he is concerned that the church often falls short in relating to the rest of the world. Can I get a giant Amen on that one? I was relating to Neal the story of how I recently mentioned our church website to a friend (also from my church), and he replied, "oh, you mean the high school bathroom web site?" I laughed very hard when I heard this. But later on, I felt more like crying.

And no, I won't link to it. You have to go find it for yourself. Once you get there, you will understand the comment. Guess what though?! I hear that the website is presently under reconstruction. Oh dear God, I hope so. We silly Christian folk. Why can't we be more relevant to the world that is watching us? And please don't freak out when I used the "r" word, thank you. I still believe in Jesus.

I had another smart pastor friend tell me something many years ago. He said something like, "You know, it takes the church about 5 years to decide if a new technology or idea is not Satanic, and then, once its decides its ok, the new thing is now out of date." I need another Amen!

And then, Neal reminded me of a great web site that addresses just this issue. I may put in for this web site to be cannonized.

That is all.

Did You Take Today for Granted?

Tell me something. When you woke up this morning, did you roll over, look out the window and start thinking about what day it was, what you needed to get done, or that little thing that needing doing that you sort of dread taking care of? Did today feel like an annoyance, or an opportunity?

Or did you stop for a brief moment, and wonder, even if a bit slightly, at the mystery of your life, and how you came to be in this place, at this time, in this spot? Did you think for a moment about Who made you, and what He might want to make of your day?

Did you wonder, and give thanks?

The photo to the right is of Marieke Dourdias, who passed away earlier this week here in our town.

Are there any lessons in a loss like this? We can only guess. As Paul said, as translated by Eugene Peterson....

"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!"

I live in hope for that day. Continue to pray for the friends and family of Marieke.

Action! Oh Wait...Stop?!

You never know what to expect, living in LA. Today, a man from here came by our house, looking for a location to shoot a "family friendly" film. Turns out, this production company is controlled by these guys.

Now, if you want to feel like you have ingested too much medication, read this, a primer on Scientology theology.

So, what to do? Should we let these folks use our house for filming, and then take the money and give it to these guys? Do we tell them no thanks, we are Christian folk, and would prefer not to have Thetans in our home?

I am sorry, I am making fun. This really is all very sad, this Scientology thing. Very sad. What would you do?

For more information on Scientology, look here and here.

My favorite line, from the Rolling Stone article:

In his 1983 autobiography, Over My Shoulder: Reflections on a Science Fiction Era, the sci-fi writer Lloyd Eshbach describes meeting Hubbard in the late 1940s. "I'd like to start a religion," Eshbach recalls Hubbard saying. "That's where the money is."

A Sunny Day, A Quiet Afternoon, An Empty Chair

This is the view of our front porch just now. So normal. So American. It was a brilliantly sunny afternoon, after almost a week of rather typical Southern California spring coastal gloom. The sun is still streaming in the back porch french doors just now, as I write this.

It has been a quiet afternoon on our street. The jack-hammering of construction work at the neighbors house yesterday has been broken by the calm of this still semi-sacred day in a secular culture. Everything around here has begun to burst with spring green. It was a good day for lunch with a friend on a sunny patio, a walk with the dog, or even a brief nap.

But in our town, beneath the veneer of a calm spring Sunday afternoon, something very sudden, scary, and painfully dark has happened. Like the thud of a 1,000 pound weight, or the shock of a violent traffic accident that no one expects; leaving a hole in our emotions that words cannot describe or fill back up. Its like the black of night.

There will be an empty chair tomorrow at the Middle School in our town. An 8th grade girl, who was in the joyous chorus of the school play just last night, has suddenly died. As we broke this tragic news to our own 6th grader this afternoon, our kitchen was hushed with shock, then grief, of loss, and weeping. Tomorrow, there will be special counseling for kids at school.

And there will be an empty chair.

The details of how she died are not important really, but it was a sudden, unexpected seizure. I find that I always want to know what happened. Its a way to cope with my own mortality. Its also a form of selfishness. What is important is the deep, dark, piercing, almost bottomless grief the family of this girl will feel. As a parent, this must be a pain inexpressible, seemingly unquenchable, almost limitless. And it never really goes completely away. It is always there, like a shadow companion.

I have nothing to offer but my prayers for a family I do not know, but whom my wife has met on several occasions. Nothing to say that will alleviate the searing pain. Nothing here, on this earth, that will calm so many troubled hearts.

But, I am reminded of a similar story full of pain. From Rossini's "Stabat Mater":

Her grieving heart,

anguished and lamenting,

was pierced by a sword.

Oh how sad and afflicted

was that blessed mother

of an Only Son.

She mourned and grieved,

and trembled as she saw

the suffering of her glorious Son.

And if you will, particularly parents who read this, take a moment to offer prayers of peace and healing for this family.

A Bible on the Dashboard

Earlier this month, our family had the unique opportunity to spend time in New Orleans. We did a bit of helping, a lot of eating, and spent time with old friends.

The photo to the right is the sanctuary of Canal Street Presbyterian Church in New Orleans. This photo was taken this past Easter Sunday, which was only the second time that the sanctuary has been used (the first was Palm Sunday) in the seven months since Katrina. When Pastor Mike emailed me this photo, earlier this week, upon my return from Alaska, I could not help but smile, and give a brief prayer of thanks for this small act of restoration, and for the determination and persistence of this congregation.

I also had to take a minute to also smile and give thanks for my friend Pastor Mike. Mike is an amazing manifestation of pastoral care. Mike came to know Christ through the ministry of of a rather weird, old Cadillac driving fellow in Philadelphia, who loved kids for Jesus, and would not give up on relationships. Through him, Mike's life was changed forever. And now, in turn, many lives in New Orleans are given hope, humor and great love.

The pastor's I know lead sometimes quite cerebral lives. They think thoughts, they lead committees, they prepare sermons, and some write books. Several of them have rather pithy Blogs. They may even spend time with people. They have orderly offices in quiet settings. Classical music often plays in the background. Life is sedate and ordered. Many different bible translations dot the shelves of calm temperature controlled offices. People speak in hushed tones, the receptionists are very polite.

Pastor Mike does not have his office back yet. It is packed in boxes still. There is no receptionist. His office is his truck, where his battered bible is always on the dashboard. His ministry these days is a very unquiet and uncommon blur of constant movement, relentless caring, and a passion for bringing the care of Christ to a congregation still in transition. During our stay in one week, Mike was helping me empty water out of a still-flooded clothes washer as we gutted a home, visiting a sick church member in the hospital, meeting with other pastors, preparing a sermon, helping church members move, leading a small group with other men in the church, driving his kids (there are five of them - from ages 9 to 16)to and from school, and leading a Wednesday Lenten service. This is a man always moving from one place in town to another. His cell phone battery is typically dead by 2:00 PM everyday; talking to people all over town and all over the country about ways that they can help in New Orleans. In all he says and does, a joke and a laugh are not far away. Mike is one of the funniest guys I have ever met.

A bible on the dashboard, and a heart for the Kingdom. Never still. Always moving. I love my friend, Pastor Mike. I am thankful.

Would you pray for my friend, Pastor Mike?