Thanksgiving Prayer a Bit Early

This afternoon, our family had the privilege of serving at The Lord's Lighthouse, a home-grown community service of our church.

About 300 people; some homeless, some down on their luck, some chronically mentally ill, all from the streets of Hollywood, were served today. This happens every Sunday, all year long.

The memory I take away from this afternoon, and everytime I serve, is of the hands. Countless hands, reaching up. Dirty hands, dirty fingernails, weathered skin, holding up Styrofoam cups into which I pour cup after cup after cup of fruit punch and coffee. Hands worn rough by life, by loss, by frustration, by mental demons, by being lost or forgotten, or downtrodden. All those hands.

As we gathered to pray before lunch, a Thanksgiving Prayer by Ralph Waldo Emerson was read:

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food,
For love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.

I looked at my hands when I got home to my comfortable suburban home. They seemed clean. But, you know what? My hands are dirty too.

Thankfulness is relative. May I be truly thankful, and may I live a life of thanks that is overflowing and spills over to others.

Big Game Coming

There is a big college football game tomorrow. Let's just pretend this little doll is named Tommy Trojan.

I confess, that when it comes to anything Troy, I have a heart of darkness. Mea Culpa.

Stopping a Moment from the Rush

Today I flew to Sacramento for work; I will return home tomorrow. Today was a very full day, up at 5 AM to catch my flight, a large meeting at 10 AM on a complex government property, and off to look at other commercial sites around the city until the sun went down. I have noticed that when one flys from Southern to Northern California, a new phenomenon occurs. Seasons. Yes people, it is actually Fall up here. The reds and yellows on the trees up this way are remarkable. You want to pull over the car and just stop. And look. And wonder.

On a side note, I have recently been reading more frequently the blogs of my friends Rob and Julie, who have a more "deconstructionist" view of their faith than I. Their thinking does not scare me, or make me angry, or make me want to change their minds. I like their minds, they are using them well, as they should. They are both remarkable and amazing people. I am very glad I know them both, and count them as friends.

And so, this afternoon, I am in my rent-a-car, whizzing about Sacramento, when rather unexpectantly, I had a small epiphany. While stopped at a red light, I glanced to my left, and suddenly noticed a clump of trees in full Fall color, next to an office park. An otherwise typical suburban landscape. But here, a gentle wind was blowing through these brilliant Northern California trees. I watched, transfixed for several moments, as the wind rustled through the trees, shimmering, dancing, waves of red and yellow. I caught my breath, and remembered.

And then, the light turned green.

Who designed those trees, and the subtle and sublime golden sunset today? Who designed my sweet and loving wife, and my daugthers in all their teenage fury and passion? Who designed me, and put me at that traffic light in the middle of the day in the rush of traffic to silently wonder? Just for a moment; caught in time. I choose not to argue evolution or Darwinian Theory with you. I am not quite deconstructionist. But still, I wonder....Who?

Sara Groves wrote a song that speaks about the core of who I am:

I'm trying to work things out • I'm trying to comprehend • Am I the chance result • Of some great accident • I hear a rhythm call me • The echo of a grand design • I spend each night in the backyard • Staring up at the stars in the sky • .....• Maybe this was made for me • For lying on my back in the middle of a field • Maybe that's a selfish thought • Or maybe there's a loving God • • Maybe I was made this way • To think and to reason and to question and to pray • And I have never prayed a lot • But maybe there's a loving God •

Indeed. Maybe.

I think ....there is.

Concession Stands and the New Congress

Simply stated, I love Peggy Noonan. She has a way of writing that cuts to the chase with simple eloquence. She wrote for Ronald Reagan. Need I say more?

She has just written a piece for the Wall Street Journal that resonates with me completely. Go here to read it, I am not sure how much longer it will be at the top of the page at the free WSJ site. It is called "Concession Stand", if they take it down soon, you can still search for it at this free site.

My favorite bit:

At the end of the day, or the end of this day, I look at the new Congress and wish them so well, such luck. Don't you? I want to say: Go, Nancy Pelosi. Be the speaker of whom historians will write, in 2032, "This was her moment, here was the summit, here she found greatness."

Go, Democrats, be great and serious. Go, minority Republicans, refind yourselves. Go, conservatives.

To the freshmen: Walk in as if you're walking out. Put your heart on your sleeve and go forward. Take responsibility, and love America. No one will think less of you. They will in fact think more, as they do of politicians after the concession speech.

Where are all The Young People?

Recently, I received an invitation to attend a "Stewardship Lunch" at church. I know what this means. It means a box lunch for "church leaders", a chance to catch up with some friends, and then an hour long presentation about, of course, Stewardship - for the uninitiated, the giving of money.

We Presbyterians do this every year. Like someone may have forgotten what the point was last year! Sometimes, I would rather have oral surgery than go.

I could save this process a lot of time, and shorten the basic message to this: 1) We are a church, and order to operate, we need money, 2) Please give us your money; as much of it as you can, 3) Thank you, and please drive safely heading home.

They don't let me run these lunches. Can you guess why?

Anyway, during this event, I felt my mind wandering, and I took a moment to scan the room and take a quick inventory of the 80 to 100 people who were there; the "church leaders". As I have written before, our church is a wonderful mix of people, rich and not so rich, all colors of the rainbow, and a remarkable collection of faith stories.

But as I scanned the room, I saw one of the things I fear about our old, urban, mainline denomination church; an abundance of grey and colored-but-otherwise-grey hair.

Now mind you, I should talk. At 48 years old, I hardly even have any hair in the first place. But often, when attending events like this, I find myself having sort of semi-disembodied moments, when I try, for a moment, to mentally step out of the scene and take an inventory of who is there, why they came, and what motivates them to be a part of the scene in the first place. All these people, why are they here?

When I looked around this semi-and very-greying room, the thought that came thundering into my head, and then filled my heart with a cool wind was, "where the heck are all the Young People?". You know, the people under 40, under 35, or even under 30, for heavens sake! What are we going to build our church around in future years? Are we going to install hearing assistance devices in all the pews, and offer senior discounts to the Christmas pageant? Are future potluck dinners going to eventually transition to only pureed foods? Will we be issuing Clappers to turn on the lights?

Here is my problem. I think I read and think to much. For instance, this summer, I read a book that was formational in my thinking about the future of the Church. But guess what? This future church involves.....gasp!....younger people!

And where the heck were they when I was at the Stewardship Lunch. Not there, that is where. And why? Because I and the other leaders of our church have failed at reaching out, at building real, lasting, meaningful relationships with others, at being missional; we have hard slogging to do in the way of transforming ourselves. That includes me, Chief of All Sloggers. Tally ho!

Veteran's Day

Today is Veteran's Day. More than 60 years ago, my father, Roland Norris, served in the US Army Air Force. The photos to the left (click on them, they are pretty cool) are of my Dad; he was the real deal, a Captain, a training pilot, and a B17 Air Sea rescue pilot.

Today, it is not quite popular to celebrate heroes of conflict. I have no hesitation. I am thankful for, and proud of my Dad. Because he, and countless others served, our world has taken a safer path.

The Rush of Life - Personalized

'Too fast, Daddy! Slow down, slow dooown!"

"Too fast!" This is what my oldest daughter used to say when she was little, I would speed the car up to pass someone on the freeway. I have a problem with that - the whole too fast thing.

And my life is like that too. Poof! My daughters are almost 13 and 16, and how did that happen? And how did I get to be this age I am, and feeling so contemplative about my life and my family?

I recently received my first speeding ticket in about 20 years, for doing 50 in a 35 mile an hour zone. I so deserved it. I move way too fast. Sometimes, there is no stopping me.

And what for? I get up each day, shower, drive kids to school, stop in Starbucks, and off the to office, or meetings, or road trips for work, or flights out of town for more work. Then, each weekday night, its back home for dinner, more meetings (at church!) or in the community. And the sun sets, I go to bed, and get up and do it all over again.

Jackson Browne wrote a song many years ago that resonates in my head and defines my life these days:

I'm going to rent myself a house

In the shade of the freeway

I'm going to pack my lunch in the morning
And go to work each day
And when the evening rolls around
Ill go on home and lay my body down
And when the morning light comes streaming in
Ill get up and do it again
Amen
Say it again
Amen

Now, perhaps this is reason why I have found The Monastery on TLC to be such a fascinating program. This show follows five men who visit Christ in the Desert monastery for 40 days, each in a separate and personal pursuit of God.

What is remarkable to me about this program is the juxtaposition between the five visiting men and the monks of the monastery. It is Old World versus New. Secular versus Sacred. Fast Lane versus dirt road. Wait. Make that dirt path.

As I watch the lives of the monks, my heart feels strangely warmed. I sense a depth of spirituality and longing that my own life lacks.

The Rush of Life

I find this video to be completely fascinating. More on a theme from this is found in the post above.

Sitting Down and Remembering

Yesterday, I went to a place that most of us do not want to go. I paid a visit that was overdue, an obligation of sorts, and a way to honor my Dad. As both of my parents have both requested no memorial service, this was the first semi-formal way that Dad and I have had to remember Mom together.

Yesterday my Dad and I went for a visit to the Mausoleum niche where my Mom's ashes have been placed. Mom passed away just more than three months ago. I wrote about it earlier here and here.

It was about a 20 minute drive to Forest Lawn, and Dad spent much of the time reminiscing of the old days, talking about friends from his work and social life of 30 and 40 years ago. This is what those familiar with gerontology refer to as "life review". My Dad does a lot of life review these days.

As we drove through the gates of Forest Lawn, my Dad began to remember the resting places of old friends, relatives and family members who had also been buried there, years ago. Being with Dad is often like having your own personal family historian. Nothing about the current state of affairs of the world, or about what is going on in the life of our family now, but much about the events of the period from 1930 to 1980. He usually starts in on the old days about 2 minutes after you stop in to see him. Every time.

We arrived at the "Colubarium of Blessedness" (I love these names) where Mom's ashes are contained. Her resting place is right next to the door and was easy to find. She is in the same section as my Dad's brother Neil (who is a story in himself, but that is for another time). Mom's niche is right at ground level, and one must either bend down to read the plaque, or simply sit on the floor. At this point, something interesting happened. Dad chose to get down on one knee, and then sit on the floor right in front of Mom's niche.

For me, this was a most interesting and touching moment. My Dad is the person whom I have spent the better part of the past 20 years trying to understand and compensate for in my own life. I guess we all do this, figuring out how we are different from and the same as our parents. There we were, father and son, 48 and 86 years old, one standing, one sitting on the floor at the resting place of our wife and Mother. Two generations. Dad needed to be close to Mom in a way, I guess.

Dad needed time to sit, and think, and even talk to himself a bit about the loss of his wife of almost 50 years. More in the long process of grieving. Sitting on the floor and remembering at 86.

I helped Dad slowly to his feet, we got in the car, and headed home.

This life, this journey, this mystery we share. Father and son.

Something Entirely Brand New

I found something that is very important, and I think it bears linking here. There is a lot going on in these ideas, and I want my pastor friends to go read this.

What if God wants the future to look entirely different than the past? What if?

Oh, to view life with the eyes of a child again!

Christian or Christ Follower?

I am with the guy on the right.

My Halloween Issues

Now that its over, and not wanting to be a party pooper, I have to admit, I am getting to a place in life where I dread Halloween each year.

The reason; Halloween is not at all like it used to be. When I was a kid Halloween consisted of one night spent dressing up like your favorite TV character, scary person, or Super Hero, and running around the neighborhood fetching candy. One year I was a member of the Beatles (I think I was Ringo). Another year I was a robot, complete with a cardboard box outfit. The neighborhood bully saw me, and dressed as some form of low budget gool, pushed me and my unstable outfit over into the neighbor's ivy. Perhaps that was when I started disliking all the dressing up and cavorting for sugar.

Nowadays, Halloween feels like it is careening out of control. According to a study by the National Retail Federation, consumers are expected to spend $5 billion this Halloween, up significantly from $3.3 billion in 2005. That is an increase of 51% in one year! Halloween now ranks as the biggest decorating holiday of the year after Christmas. Two thirds of consumers planned to purchase Halloween décor and half planned to decorate their home or yard, the federation’s study found.

This yard decorating thing is also getting out of hand. We have several neighbors in our area that put more effort and money into Halloween decoration of their homes than they do Christmas. So then, let me get this straight, a holiday that gets its origins from the Celtics and Druids is now ramping up to surpass the birth of Christ for spending.

Call me a balding, pudgy, middle-aged conservative white guy from the suburbs, but I feel a bit weird about the spiritual future of our land.

Do We Have Souls?

About 10 days ago, I was returning home from a business trip to the Bay Area, and spotted this article in U.S.News & World Report in the airport newsstand. I grabbed the magazine (paid for it, yes) and then hurried to my flight home, weary from a long day.

It was a breathtaking fall evening, as I flew home about 7PM. The sunset out the window seat was every color imaginable of orange, yellow, gray and blue. I was reminded of this verse, as I opened the article on "Science and the Soul", my eyes filled with tears of thankfulness for what God had created right outside my window at 41,000 feet.

After reading, I can only advise every pastor I know to spend some time, and look this article over. Warning: it is not an endorsement of Christian orthodoxy. However, this piece is wonderfully well done, and presents a number of interesting perspectives about developments in the science of consciousness.

I found reading about the competing ideas concerning present understanding of the human soul to be almost a form of a spiritual exercise. This article mentions quantum physics, Buddhism, Platonism, Augustine and Calvin, all together. Another resource mentioned is the Center for Spirituality and the Mind, at the University of Pennsylvania. I also remembered how a psychiatrist friend told me recently, "the things we know now about the human brain, were largely unknown even 10 years ago".

In retrospect, there are lots of new ideas here, and many different brilliant minds trying to grasp the inner workings of the mind, even at the microscopic level. For some more conservative Christian folk, all this thought and science might seem too theoretical and threatening. Not so for me; I love reading and learning. My favorite bit about Oxford physicist Roger Penrose:

"....Penrose proposed that consciousness was a quantum computation within the brain, and infinitesimal collapse of quantum information into classical information that takes place at the level of the neurons."

And people say there is no God.

TLC - The Monastery

This looks like it might be good television! I just spotted this series yesterday, and will be watching the second episode tonight. Here is the TLC web site for the series; lots of good information.

Golfing For Jesus, First Presbyterian Honolulu

I have found my calling. I have heard the voice of the Lord! And I am bringing my clubs.

Pictured at left is the Koolau Golf Club in Kaneohe, Hawaii. Located just northeast of Honolulu, Koolau is an 18 hole course known as one of the toughest courses in the nation.

And now, to my glee, its a CHURCH too, baby! I am not making this up.

It seems that First Presbyterian Church of Honolulu has just purchased this golf course. This is just about the best news I have heard in years. Its a golf course, a club house, a restaurant, a catering business, and a place to deepen your faith. Its in Hawaii, for heaven's sake! Could things possibly be any better than this?

I heard this story from a good friend at my church, who just visited the new and improved First Pres Honolulu. My friend, who is in her "golden years" said she heard a wonderful sermon and enjoyed meeting the warm people of this congregation. She reported that after the Sunday service she went to find the ladies room and discovered, on her way back that, "the clubhouse bar was really rockin'!". This is my kind of place.

Astronomers tell us that wormholes in space may lead us to a parallel universe. Given this, I am convinced that somewhere on this golf course there exists a wormhole leading directly to Heaven. This is too good to be true!

I plan on finding the portal to Glory; I think its near the 12th green, in the rough.

If You Love Me...

Friends, family members, sycophants.

If you love me, you will buy me this for Christmas; a Dwight Shroot Bobblehead (from The Office).

I don't ask for much.....

Still in the Healing Business

One week ago, our church had its annual retreat weekend. I wrote about attending this event a year ago here.

Our church has had a tough go of it over the past 18 months, suffering a most painful split, resulting in the resignation/dismissal of two pastors. It felt like living through the most embarrassing moments of Christendom; a modern version of the Crusades, with all the drama but no dead bodies. Certainly some very wounded souls, though.

After last weekend though, I have been reminded of something elemental to my faith. God can, and does, heal even the grossest of scars. I am very thankful. He is beginning the process of healing in our hurt souls, if we will let Him.

Over the course of two days, we heard from a young couple with two little children who have, in the past year, found in our church a place of welcome, belonging, and home.

We heard from a Korean seminary student who as struggled with depression, who has found our congregation of place of grace and support and love.

And then, we listen to the gentle voice of a woman who has been a part of our church for more than 50 years. Her husband has passed now, but she continues, in her "third trimester" of life to love, and care, and serve and laugh, and life.

Our speaker was this guy, who is a good and faithful man.

Amazingly, God still heals, still involves himself in our pathetic, self absorbed lives.

Still. I am thankful.

The Huge Answer - What People Really Want

“All people really want is God”. That was the answer to the question posed by my friend. That is all. And yet,there is so much more to that answer.

God. The Lord.

Images come to mind of a giant bellowing figure, suspended in space, waiting to smite us all. Or perhaps a somewhat bemused and detached Santa Claus-like fellow, slightly amused at the folly of our lives. Or maybe a tired and haggard old celestial fellow, who is too tired, detached, or fed up to communicate with his Creation. We all have different images, for each one of us, they are unique. Perhaps images of long-ago Sunday school Bible figures with flowing white beards, wearing brightly colored robes and bad looking sandals.

What image do you have of God? Is it from your childhood, standing inside a cathedral and being awed at the color, and smells, and somber expressions of those around you? Or maybe a few years later, from when you were a teen or in your twenties and discovering the richness of the world; and found yourself in that same sacred space, and saw the same things, smelled the same smells, and then thought to yourself, “this religion is all a load of crap”.

The Lord. Maybe what comes to mind is nothing. A void. The blackest of nights. The feeling in the pit of your stomach that comes when you loose someone dear, and there is no replacement. You are suddenly more alone than you were just a short time before. Darkness.

Maybe you have felt these things. I have felt them all. And yet, there is more than just this. More soon....

The Huge Question

I heard this question asked today, by a dear friend, who I have known for many years.

At the moment it was asked, I felt as if I had experienced something very elemental, very deep, and strangely, sometimes hard to answer.

His question: “What is it that people really want?” This question was far bigger than it seemed. As big as the universe, really. And astronomers are still undecided on the answer to that one.

It was not a question about physical needs, or possessions, nor about one’s place in life, or the acceptance of peers, or of emotional security. This question lies at the very core of who we are. Why we are here on this beautiful blue planet floating in space, and what our lives really mean. This question, of what we really want is, at the same time very existential, and yet real, very earthy. Very vague, and yet so tangible. You can almost feel and sometimes even see this question, there at the core of every person.

Its there, just below the surface, this need. So we do our best to hide it, to make ourselves look like we don’t have any questions, and that our lives are nice, and clean, and put together. But, there is this longing inside us all. Deep down. Inside.

“What is it that people really want?” We spend so much of our time avoiding and repressing this question. We don’t want to deal with it at all. Its like this enormous mess in the basement. Its been there for years, and we just don’t want to deal with it. Its large, and tangled up, and cleaning it up would take far too much time and emotional energy, because inside that pile of basement stuff are things about our past, present, and future that we just don’t want to deal with. So we ignore it. We never go down to the basement, its dark, sort of cold, and feels like a forgotten place. We avoid it.

More soon…..

Which Church Would You Pick?

My wife and I just finished watching "Is God Green" on PBS. I have one primary prevailing thought, and its not about the complicated intersection of global warming, Christian ethics, and political conviction.

Its about which church I would want to go to. I believe in the Missional Church, big time. Given this, it is my conviction that people who have never been drawn to the church will often be drawn by what we do in the world, rather than within the walls of the church.

Now, from what I saw, I would rather be a part of what is happening with the folks of the Vineyard Church in Boise, than with the folks from ICES. You see, I don't spend my weekdays with church folk, the types at ICES (who seemed to have genuine thoughts and hearts, but, as a group, seemed to me to be rather, well, constipated). Instead, most of my days are spend with all kinds of people from the real regular world and business world, many of whom never darken the door of a church.

To me, this PBS show was, in part, about the warmth and contagious nature of a congregation.

If some of my friends who are not "churched" found out that my church was going to "tend God's garden" by planting trees or cleaning up the city park or some such thing, I think they would be much more interested in coming along, than they would be in coming to church.

And maybe, just maybe after meeting some of my believing friends (many of whom are a blast to be with and damn funny), they might, someday, want to come spend time with us all at our church. And maybe after, even come over to our house for dinner. Then, we could debate the merits of global warming, while drinking something smooth and warm.

Just maybe. Maybe this is what the church needs to be more like.

Alright, The Truth

Its time I confessed. Last week, I posted that I was on a business trip. Some of you might have been suspicious of the timing, given recent world events.

I guess I should tell the truth; see photo at left. Its me and the Dear One.

Thanks, Eric.

Clear the Streets!

Today, our lives entered a new phase. Our 15 year old, began driving.

She went down to the Costco parking lot tonight with her mom, to practice just putting the van in gear and trying out the gas and brake. It was a thrill-seeking task for my wife. Apparently there were several close calls involving inanimate objects, such as parking bumpers and the exterior concrete wall of Costco itself. I am thankful that my wife and daughter did not make the evening news... "Teenage driver goes on first-drive rampage! Film at 11!"

Soon, before we know it, she will be driving off...away from us, to a new life, college, career, and the path in life she chooses for herself, hopefully with a bit of guidance from Mom and Dad. May we be parents full of grace, love, and hope. May we listen well, speak seldom, and not get coronaries teaching her to drive.

I Love My Job

On a quick business trip.

I could tell you what I do for a living, but I would have to kill you afterward. Or maybe kill myself, and then take your camera from you.

Echo of Genesis, A Modern Icon of Faith

This is an image taken by the COBE satellite, which portrays the background radiation from the Big Bang, or Genesis, if you will (I may have just ticked off scads of biblical innerantists, but I will sleep well tonight). This photo has been dubbed by the press as "the face of God".

Today, there was a wonderful editorial in the Wall Street Journal, entitled "Echo of Genesis", which discussed the history of the theory of the Big Bang, and the recent award of the Nobel Prize in Physics. The author of the article, Michio Kaku, a professor of physics at City University of New York pointed out:

"....in 1965, Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson were scanning the heavens with the huge Holmdel Horn Radio Telescope in New Jersey, which picked up a pesky background "noise" that filled the sky. They were mystified, and even thought this annoying static might be due to bird droppings on the telescope. Later, it was pointed out to them that this spurious noise was probably the residual radiation from the creation of the universe, predicted by Gamow. (Remarkably, this echo from the Big Bang makes up a significant fraction of the static you hear on the radio. You literally pick up signals from Genesis itself every time you spin the radio dial. And if we somehow had eyes that could see microwave radiation, we would see this radiation come out every night, filling the night sky with a soft, faint glow.)"

And then, right after I read this editorial, I turned on my laptop and found this web site, which I have mentioned before here. These things are connected, in a strange and mysterious way - physics and faith, the Big Bang and being better and more genuine as evangelists, listening with gigantic telescopes and the simple act of listening in prayer. And each night, as we step outside, we don't know it, but we are, all of us, every last one, bathed in the invisible glow from Genesis itself.

If only we would allow God to show us new ways to explain this amazing story, so that it might become real to those around us who have not yet experienced the glow of Genesis, in the person of Jesus.

Free Hugs and The Church

Showing below is the latest Internet craze, the Free Hugs video.

I just have one question. What would our churches look like if we offered a lot more free hugs; particularly we Presbyterians?

Free Hugs

Sarah Mclachlan Redux, Kingdom Values