Amazing Views

I am so jealous. I want this job.

For some amazing views of the latest Shuttle Mission, go here.

Happy Birthday Benny

This weekend would have been the 100th birthday of Benny Goodman, the "King of Swing".

Enough said.

Of Firsts and Lasts, Discovery and Loss

Two events happened recently. One was 350 miles above Earth.

The other was very much on the ground, in the middle of America. One was grand and amazing. The other, almost unbearably sad.

And, for some reason, I keep thinking about the strange juxtaposition of these events, and I cannot loose them from my mind.

Looking Up
The world watched as the Shuttle astronauts spent the better part of a week servicing the Hubble Space Telescope; an event covered by the worldwide press. Repair of Hubble offers opportunities for new discoveries unparalleled, and a sense of almost unbridled expectation, hope, and excitement for the future. Repairs to the Hubble will allow man to see to the edge of Creation, nearly 14 billion years ago.

Sixteen years ago, I was at the Kennedy Space Center with JPL friends to watch the first Hubble Servicing Mission. I will never forget the thrill of watching the Hubble float over us, 70 miles above Florida, in the middle of the night, or the grandeur of witnessing a night launch; the moment, with liftoff that the night became the day.

And now, all these years later, two men, floating in the silent void of space, loosening bolts and replacing parts. Counting the turns of specially designed wrenches; every move coordinated for months in advance. Connecting wires, waiting for "aliveness tests", all while suspended in a vacuum where sound cannot be heard. There is no air up there. This is a "thin place", this space.

Down Here on Earth
The other event was known by only a few, and was strangely and deeply sad, quiet, solemn, and at the moment it occurred, almost silent.

A baby stopped breathing and passed away, a victim of Trisomy 18, after only a few weeks of life. A close friend of ours was the Pastor at his memorial service. His family loved him well, in those brief days of his life. He was surrounded by constant care, and his brief life here, among us, was not lived in a vacuum. His brief encounter on Earth was filled with meaning, although that meaning may still may be shrouded, and, for the present, hard to fathom.

Astronauts floating hundreds of miles overhead in a void of silence, gloved hands reaching out in the dark of space. And below, a small breath, growing weaker, fading.

The void of Space, and the void of Sadness. I cannot begin to understand this.

Maybe this is how it works, this life. Mystery, profound sorrow, hope, discovery.

This Works for Me

Remembering Everyday Heroes

This Memorial Day, I am remembering my Dad, Roland Norris, who proudly served his country during World War II, as a B-17 training pilot, and later, air/sea rescue pilot in the South Pacific.

After the war, he came home rebuilt his life, and was my Dad. He went to work faithfully for 40 years, providing a home for me and my Mom, and paying for my education.

I have never had to lift a finger in service of my country. I am very thankful for those who continue to serve.

We're All Heading Somewhere

Awakening

I have always struggled to convey my faith to other people. After all these years, I am no better at it than when I started. I am not sure why.

The lyrics below, written and put to song by a very talented young woman from the Midwest, express in large part what I have wanted to tell my friends.

I will let these words speak for me. Often, when I shut up, things work out for the best.

Dress down your pretty faith. Give me something real.
Leave out the thees and thous and speak to me now.
Speak to my fear and confusion.
Speak through my pain and my pride.
Speak to the part of me that knows I'm something deep down inside.

I know that I am not perfect, but compare me to most,
In a world of hurt and a world of anger I think I'm holding my own.
And I know that you said there is more to life.
And I know I am not satisfied.
But there are mornings I wake up just thankful to be alive.

I've known now, for quite a while, that I am not whole.
I've remembered the body and the mind,
But I dissected my soul.
Now something inside is awakening,
Like a dream I once had and forgot.
And it's something I'm scared of
And something I don't want to stop.

So I woke up this morning and realized that Jesus is not a portrait.
Or stained glass windows or hymns or the tradition that surrounds us.
And I thought it would be hard to believe in
But it's not hard at all.
To believe I've sinned and fallen short of the glory of God
Oh the glory of God....

And He's not asking me to change in my joy for martyrdom
He's asking to take my place.
To stand in the gap that I have formed
With His real amazing grace.
And it's not just a sign or a sacrament.
It's not just a metaphor for love.
His blood is real and it's not just a symbol of all of our faith.

So leave out the thees and thous... and speak now.

From the song "Awakening", by Sara Groves

Mothers Day

Today is Mother's Day. As I reflect on this, I find that the clearest sign of God's presence and overwhelming love in our family is my wife, and the mother of our girls, Nancy.

Yesterday I happened by my daughters' room, and she had the video below playing on her Mac. It says it all. For more than 18 years, I have witnessed, daily, the great love of this Mom of our two amazing girls.

Happy Mothers Day, Nance! You are our best gift here on this planet. Thank you.

Hysteria Break - Hawai'i Aloha

I came across the video below the other day, and felt this blog would be the right place to share it. Maybe I need a mental break from The Great Recession and the H1N1 Swine Flu media hysteria.

The Hawaiian islands have always been a special place for me, ever since I was a kid. My grandparents had a winter home on the North Shore of Oahu.

Hawai'i Aloha is a revered anthem of the native Hawaiian people and Hawai‘i residents alike. Written by Lorenzo Lyons, a Christian minister who died in 1886. It is not the official state song, but just as well is, in the hearts of most native Hawaiians.

Hawai‘i Aloha is typically sung in both small and large, formal and informal gatherings in Hawai‘i while standing in a circle with joined hands. Traditionally, the last verse and chorus is sung with all hands raised above heads.

The artist here is Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole, who only lived to the age of 38, but seemed to have a wonderful spirit, which lives on in his music.

E Hawai‘i e ku‘u one hānau e Ku‘u home kulaīwi nei ‘Oli nō au i nā pono lani ou E Hawai‘i, aloha ē	O Hawai‘i, O sands of my birth My native home I rejoice in the blessings of heaven O Hawai‘i, aloha.
Hui: E hau‘oli e nā ‘ōpio o Hawai‘i nei ‘Oli ē! ‘Oli ē! Mai nā aheahe makani e pā mai nei Mau ke aloha, no Hawai‘i	Chorus: Happy youth of Hawai‘i Rejoice! Rejoice! Gentle breezes blow Love always for Hawai‘i.
E ha‘i mai kou mau kini lani e Kou mau kupa aloha, e Hawai‘i Nā mea ‘ōlino kamaha‘o no luna mai E Hawai‘i aloha ē (hui)	May your divine throngs speak Your loving people, O Hawai‘i The holy light from above O Hawai‘i, aloha. (chorus)

Isn't that just beautiful? Really now. That we all could have lives that express the spirit of this anthem. An anthem, a hymn of praise, sung holding hands on the beach, at twilight, under the palms.

Think these folks felt any closer to heaven? I do.

Too Many Choices, Shopping, and "We Walk"

What is the relationship between a seminary student from Denmark, a day at a desert indie rock concert, and the American church?

Asking a Question
Something sobering, sad and rather haunting happened to me recently. I asked a simple question, and received an answer I never anticipated.

We are friends with a young woman who is getting her masters at Fuller Seminary, who grew up in Denmark, and now, in her mid twenties, is studying here in Pasadena. As it turns out, being a Jesus follower in Norway can be quite strange. Norway has a state church, and 91% of the populous is listed as Christian. But, being an earnest Christian in Norway today can get one labeled as a cult member, or more likely just a religious wing-nut. The state church in Norway is essentially dead (read: six old ladies and a worn-out vicar). Our friend has earnestly sought to follow Jesus since she was 15. It has not been easy, and often lonely.

And so, my question. During a lunch meeting of about 20 folks, learning about the graduate programs at Fuller, our Norwegian friend mentioned, almost as an aside, "It has been interesting, getting used to the American church". This caught my attention, and I wanted to know what that comment meant. So I asked "What do you think of the American church? You can be candid, you are among friends." I really wanted to know the honest opinion of someone who is genuinely "outside of our system".

Her answer caught me completely unaware, and changed the mood of the entire room....to awkward silence and reflection...if only for a moment. Our Norwegian friend seemed somewhat surprised by the question, and had to pause for a moment, as tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. Obviously moved, she replied:

"I meet so many people here who seem to be constantly looking for the perfect church, one that meets all their needs. You know, just the right worship, just the right preaching, all the right programs. They are never happy with what they have." She stopped for a moment, to catch her breath, and continued, her voice slightly breaking as she spoke. "I just want to tell them, you have so many churches in which you can serve - please, just pick ONE, and settle in, and serve people, and love them!"

The room was silenced. Here we were, a room full of Americans, likely all with too many choices. Used to a culture that somehow has made us all a bit too picky, and unwilling to "settle in". Dallas Willard has written about some of these ideas, and they have made me think.

So what is our problem, we Americans? We like to shop around, and not commit - its easier that way. And if it does not work out, in life, or church for that matter - we bail, we give up, we walk.

An Illustration - Under the Desert Sun
Last weekend, as I have posted below, I spent time at the Coachella Music Festival. I like to go, as this gives me the chance to see how "the rest of the world" is getting along, in terms of youth culture, and indie music, and things that my daily life life does not see. Basically, its a chance for the Old Dude to see and hear things new.

One of my favorite groups was a British duo called The Ting Tings. They do amazing things with fun lyrics and a great beat. During their hour long act in a tent in the desert, they played a song that had me thinking - I came home and looked up the words.

"We Walk" (song embedding disabled, follow the link) - is a song about disappointment, and making decisions. But really, its a song about bailing, giving up, and walking. We do that a lot here in America, don't we?

You see the changes
In things that come
It's how you deal with it
When switching off
Make a decision
A precondition
We got the choice if
it all goes wrong

We walk, we walk
We walk, we walk

I wonder, what it might be like, if we could just settle, and not just....walk?

Disney Hall

Franz Liszt and Joshua Bell at Disney Hall!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Sir Paul in the Desert

A year ago, I took my first trip to the desert with my oldest daughter and her friends, to experience the Coachella Music Festival for the first time.

This year, I took a trip to the desert again, (daughter in separate car - "Da-aaa-d, driving with you would be soooo uncool!") but I really ended taking a trip back in time, and experiencing perhaps the best rock concert I will ever see in my life.

Sir Paul McCartney was the headline act this past Friday night, and I will never forget the experience. Ever.

When Sir Paul came on the stage in a Nehru jacket and playing his Hofner bass, at about 10:20 PM, it was as if I had been strangely transported backwards by about 43 years. I suddenly and strangely remembered being at my friend Ebb Eskew's house in Arcadia, at about 7 years old, with Ebb playing for me his Beatles album. Ebb was crazy about the Beatles, it took me a little longer to get a clue. This was the British Invasion. Pop music would never be the same.

Sir Paul is now almost 67 years old, and except for some obviously slightly "color-assisted" hair, he looks great. The most moving moment of the show, captured in the amazing video below, was Sir Paul's reminding the audience that the evening's concert had fallen on the 11th anniversary of the death of his first wife, Linda, who passed away in Tucson, Arizona. From that moment on, Sir Paul had the audience entirely on his side. It was a magical experience, and I am thankful I was there.

Below find the best current available video clips of the concert, shot from the very front row...make sure to mash the little "HQ" button to get a better picture.

Ting Tings

This people, is/am/are the Ting Tings @ Coachella!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Coachella Arrival

Coachella 2009 people. On stage now - Airborne Toxic Event. Yes, its a band.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Good Friday

Today is Good Friday.

A day of remembering an event which often feels so immense that it seems the world can scarcely bear it. I know I hardly can. It is too hard, and painful, and deep and wide. It seems too much.

Tonight our family attended a Good Friday service of worship that is taken from an early Christian service called "Tenebrae". The name Tenebrae is the Latin word for "darkness" or "shadows." Through this service we experienced only a small portion of Christ’s pain and suffering the day of His crucifixion.

One of the most conspicuous features of the service is the gradual extinguishing of candles until only a single candle, considered a symbol of our Lord, remains. As it gets darker and darker we reflect on the great emotional and physical pain that was very real for Jesus that evening. Toward the end of the service, the Christ candle is removed from the sanctuary, typifying the apparent victory of the forces of evil over good. And at the end, we file out quietly into the night.

Tonight, right in the middle of this service, I was reduced to tears by something I completely did not expect. "Gabriel's Oboe" from Ennio Morricone, the composer of the film "The Mission" stole my heart, and lead me on several moments reflections of the impact of the one solitary life of Christ. A life that has changed the face of the planet, and a life that has changed my life. Forever. I sat and listened to this haunting piece, and reflected on all centuries of followers of Jesus, who for both good and bad intentions, have changed the face of this planet.

How could one life so permanently affect so much of humanity? How could this be so? How could one man, who died as an obscure radical - reach into history, and continue to touch and transform lives today? How could this be?

Take a few moments, and listen, and wonder. From Ennio Morricone's performance at the UN in 2007:

Coach

This video of John Wooden is about eight years old, but really, it is timeless.

Missile, Schmissile

And they say North Korea wants to launch a missile. I have something for your missile, Dear Leader!

Twittering the Gospel

Rob Bell was asked how he could present the gospel on Twitter. Although not 140 characters, this was his answer:

“I would say that history is headed somewhere. The thousands of little ways in which you are tempted to believe that hope might actually be a legitimate response to the insanity of the world actually can be trusted. And the Christian story is that a tomb is empty, and a movement has actually begun that has been present in a sense all along in creation. And all those times when your cynicism was at odds with an impulse within you that said that this little thing might be about something bigger – those tiny slivers may in fact be connected to something really, really big."

Also, this:

“And there is this group of people who say that whoever that being is came up among us and took on flesh and blood – Andrew Sullivan talks about this immense occasion the world could not bear. So a church would be this odd blend of swagger – and open tomb, come on – and humility and mystery. The Resurrection accounts are jumbled and don’t really line up with each other – I really relate to that. Yet something momentous has burst forth in the middle of history. You just have to have faith, and you get caught up in something.

I like to say that I practice militant mysticism. I’m really absolutely sure of some things that I don’t quite know.”

Very good. And honest. Me too.

Evacuation Theology

Recently Rob Bell was interviewed in CT – and shared a theology to which I wholly subscribe, although I am not a theologian. One comment in the article is that Mr. Bell is reframing the gospel in North America for the last couple of hundred years, with many of his comments contained within his new book Jesus Wants to Save Christians. I might just have to buy this book.

“The story (of the Scripture) is about God’s intentions to bring about a new heaven and a new earth, and the story begins here with shalom – shalom between each other and with our Maker and with the earth. The story line is that God intends to bring about a new creation, this place, this new heaven and earth here. And that Jesus’ resurrection is the beginning, essentially, of the future; this great Resurrection has rushed into the present.

The evacuation theology that says, “figure out the ticket, say the right prayer, get the right formula, and then we’ll go somewhere else” is lethal to Jesus, who endlessly speaks of the renewal of all things.”

Evacuation! I like this A LOT.

First, Mr. Bell is echoing N.T. Wright in many of his recent books in terms of “the Kingdom being at hand”. Second, I have to confess that I have been a subtle victim of this “evacuation theology” that has turned the church into a sometimes strange fortress against, rather than for, and involved with the world.

And finally, I am touched by Mr. Bell’s use of the present tense to describe Jesus’ words – note above that it is “endlessly speaks” that is used, rather than something like “spoke”. Imagine that, a resurrected Christ, one who still speaks.

Amen.

Looking Across The City, And Into the Abyss

I hardly ever talk about my work here on the blog. But today, something fascinating happened. I was allowed on a private tour (along with other real estate professionals), to the very top of Freedom Tower 7 - at the World Trade Center.

Above is the view from from the top floor of Freedom Tower 7 in New York. The first phase of the rebuild of the World Trade Center.

More soon....

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Racing Forward, Struggling Home, Disquieting Times

I had just come out of a late afternoon meeting.

Racing Forward
My mind had been engrossed in my work for the past several hours, and the earth had not waited for me, turning on its axis without my permission. Time rushing forward.

I walked into the parking lot next to a rush-hour street, above me hung a sublime golden twilight sky - the few wisps of white clouds looked like the perfect brush strokes of a master, painted with ease and perfection. Creation shouting, if I would but listen. The cars continued to rush by, and I was aware of a sense of timelessness, even in the midst of this busy commuter evening.

I got in my car, backed out of the parking space, and began the trip home. It was not two blocks away, when stopped at a busy intersection, I was presented with a visual, living reminder of the fleeting, struggling nature of this life we all lead.

Struggling Home
To my left, out of the car window, was an elderly man, towing behind him a small shopping cart. He was not on the sidewalk, but moving diagonally through the gas station on the corner. He was not moving easily, not at all. Not really walking, more like shuffling, very very slowly. It was as if he was existing in a time warp that was 1/5th that of everything around him. Going 15, in a world of 75 miles per hour.

The most striking feature, and the image that is burned in my memory now, was his posture. Or perhaps the complete lack of it. In fact, his body was almost completely bent over to the point where he did not look forward as he shuffled; rather, due to age, or time, or pain, or maybe disappointment, he looked down, directly at his feet. He moved so slowly, never looking up, towing his little cart of groceries.

Hurry up, little old man. Get out of that gas station parking lot, before someone honks at you, and scares the daylights out of you.

Time seemed to stand still just then. My mind filled with all sorts of thoughts, sitting at the traffic light, under that early evening sky:

Who was this old man?
Where was he going, and would he get home safely?
How much farther did he have to shuffle to be safe at home?
Did he have family? Did they know if he was ok?
Where had he been in life?
And what physical ailments, or emotional burdens had reduced him to this slow plodding shuffle?

And then, the light changed.

I eased forward, heading home. The old man continued his slow plod, in the opposite direction as me, receding in my side-view mirror.

I hope he did not have far to go. To get home. And as I moved on, the sky above this little scene glowed a brilliant orange and red that brought tears to my eyes.

Fitting It Together
The writer and philosopher Laurens van der Post, in his memoir of his friendship with Carl Jung, said, "We live not only our own lives but, whether we know it or not, also the life of our time." We are actors in a moment of history, taking part in it, moving it this way or that as we move forward or back. The moment we are living now is a strange one, a disquieting one, a time that seems full of endings."

I agree. Over the past several months, we have witnessed the sadness and loss of the death of two very dear friends. Two really wonderful men; one, Jim, passing far too early in life, from cancer. In his early 60's with way too much life left to live. Another friend, Frank, in his 80's, after a battle with Lou Gehrig's Disease that left him comatose for months, but still alive.

How might can I fit together these deaths, that struggling gas station man, and that stunning sunset together?

I am not sure how it all fits, other than to say that there is a form of great and tragic, wonderful and ominous orchestration going on around me, every day, if I would but take the time to see it all.

And, if I am a part of this symphony of life, may I play a joyous, hopeful, and comforting part.

Saying We Are Sorry

I stumbled upon a web site that is helpful for all of us Christ - follower types. It goes by the simple name of "Sorry" in banner links from other websites, and I might add it to my links. I think I will find it good for me to read from time to time. Maybe more often than that.

We Christian folk have done a lot of damage to people, and for that, I am very sorry.

Some apologies from the site that were meaningful to me:

I have been critical and expected you to live according to my expectations. I am sorry. -- Patsy

I am sorry that so often the church has twisted Jesus' message to exclude rather than include people. --Sally

I'm sorry that so many acts of kindness we bestowed upon you had strings attached. --Lee

I'm sorry that I joined with the multitude of Christians who were known by what (who) they are against, rather than what (who) they are for. That’s judgment, not grace! --Glenn

I am sorry that I ran off my mouth instead of just listening to you. --JP

For those of you who bothered to read up on Jesus, I know you read the wonderful stories about people flocking to Him and finding love. Or finding a miracle and you hoped that if you came to church you’d get some too. So you came with that last ember cupped in your hands, coming to find the God you’d read about and the love, treasure and the miracle. We stomped on it. I am mortified that we took your last hope and extinguished it. Lord have mercy. I am so sorry. --Sonja

I am sorry too. Sorry for the life I have lead thus far, ensconced in the little Christian social bubble I have built around me. About not seeking out people in my life, and just loving them, without an agenda. For not listening, for being self absorbed. I am sorry for the gigantic undercurrent of Christian folk in this country that have created a consumer culture that rivals that of WalMart, instead of really loving people till it hurts, and making disciples of Jesus.

I am sorry for the shallowness of my faith, and for ignoring the depth of pain and questioning in the lives of those around me.

I am really sorry for judging those around me, just because they don't go to church every Sunday like me.

I am just sorry.

God Speed Discovery!

I saw this in person about 17 years ago; a night launch. This one was earlier today. I love this stuff.

German Tragedy

Tonight, all we can do is pray for the community of Winnenden, Germany.

My Inner Peter

It's Lent, and so, a season to reflect on the end of Jesus' life.

They were sitting around a fire. Sort of like a campfire. It was the final night of Jesus' life.

And Peter was there. You know, The Rock of the Church, and the thoroughly ordinary, all in one. He was by that campfire too. Eyes nervously darting around. Not willing to look anyone in the face, at least for very long, for fear the expression on his own face might give away the feelings that were churning around inside him. Much like those feelings that swirl around inside us all at times, when we know we have been self-absorbed, let others down, lied, or acted like a fool with people we love. I do those things lots.

That Peter. Like me. The one that denied Christ three times. The one who was a general disappointment.

The other day, I came across this, from the Gospel of Luke:

⁶⁰Peter replied, "Man, I don't know what you're talking about!" Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. ⁶¹The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times." ⁶²And he went outside and wept bitterly.

I am familiar with this story, and have read it many times, and skipped right over one little piece - right there, in the middle.

"The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter."

I have been stuck there now, thinking about that look, for several days.

What was in that look; how would his gaze have looked to me? Could I have sensed what he was thinking? How would it have made me feel; would I have felt the warmth coming to my face, if I had received that gaze from him?

I asked a very wise theologian about that look, just the other day. His response was, "I would like to think that look was the same look on the face of the Father in the prodigal son story." Perhaps.

Then I wondered if there might have been something else in that look; very different emotions that we have heard about Jesus that put us more on edge. Like the time he got fed up with smart guys. And probably with humanity a little too, perhaps. He got mad on occasion, that Jesus.

And then I asked my wife what she thought of that look. Her response was similar to my own thoughts. "Maybe that look was full of a thousand different emotions". Exactly. Sadness, regret, understanding, empathy, frustration, anger, resignation, pity. How many human emotions are there? So many were likely contained in that look.

So, I am back to thinking about Peter, and what made him sit by that fire, and what made him deny the most important relationship in his young life. And I am back to that look.

I think I have an Inner Peter.