My Simpsons Avatar

A good friend sent me this - my Simpsons Avatar. I love the t-shirt, and minimal hair. Thank goodness there is no significant spare tire.

I am so touched......

I Can Hardly Wait!

Becoming Agnostic

Doubt can be an overpowering force. It can also be attention getting. In my prior post I discussed my initial reactions to the article of William Lobdell of the LA Times.

As it turns out, Mr. Lobdell is getting lots of media attention, and feedback from readers. Today he was interviewed on NPR's Day to Day. Have a listen.

The LA Times had an interactive chat on his article here. Noted below are excerpts from the chat containing comments by Mr. Lobdell.

It turns our that Mr. Lobdell is a "long-time fan" of Christopher Hitchins. My friend Mark Roberts has much to say about Christopher Hitchins, having debated him on radio recently.

Mr. Lobdell has, what seems to be to be understandable indignation about the Catholic church. He states, "One of the biggest disappointments for me was the incredibly few number of priests and bishops who reported child molesters they knew were in their midst without first being contacted by attorneys, the media or authorities. It's the exact opposite of what the Gospel -- and our secular laws -- say to do." Amen to that.

When asked about his feelings about loosing his faith, Mr. Lobdell replies, "A) Sad B) Angry C) Liberated D) Confused E) Uneasy". This to me is fascinating. I would love to learn more about these feelings.

When asked about home churches, which the LA Times also recently covered, Mr. Lobdell offers, "The younger generation really insists on a real faith and not something contained in buildings. Though it has some drawbacks, I think it would eliminate some of the problems inherent in an unchecked power structure." I agree; this is Missional Church at its best!

Another observation worthy of merit: "Very generally, the churches that seemed to work the best -- that, at least in my opinion -- carried out the Gospel the best were small, poor churches, both Catholic and Protestant." Again, a thoughtful response.

And finally, this: "I've covered a lot of non-religious stories, but I traditionally never got more vicious hate mail than from people of the faith -- probably because they believe so much is at stake. This is a phenomenon attested to by religion writers across the country. But for whatever reason, this story provoked a different response. It was almost entirely loving and caring and gentle, whether from Christians, Jews, Muslims, agnostics or atheists."

This comment about mean spirited people of faith made me think about another recent event in my own life.

I think that if Bill Lobdell lived across the fence from me, we might spent a lot of time hanging out together. I so appreciate his honesty, his willingness to be truthful. He has not shut the door to things of faith, but he has admitted his struggles. I would not want to make him my project, or make him think like me. I would like to be his friend, no strings attached.

Bill Lobdell, I wish you well on your journey. May it find you, someday, again following Christ, but in a way that for you feels real, and honest, and redemptive.

Doubt, Fear, and Faith

There was a remarkable article in the Los Angeles Times today about matters of faith. It does not end happily, and that is ok.

But it is a completely honest assessment of things of faith, and a stirring indictment of the failure of both certain Catholics and Protestant Evangelicals to deliver on the real message of the Christ they purport to follow.

William Lobdell is a writer for the Times who found faith in Christ in 1989, and began a journey, first of mission to right the wrongs of the mainstream media in covering the errors of the church, and later a painful season spent reporting on both the sins of evangelicals and Catholics. Mr. Lobdell spent much of the early parts of this decade reporting on the ongoing sexual abuse scandal of the Catholic church, and witnessed up close the pain of the victims, along with the complicity of the leadership of the Catholic church. He also reported on the inner workings of the Trinity Broadcasting network, including the work of Benny Hinn, a televangelist faith healer.

Over time, the emotional weight of his reporting created a crisis of faith for Mr. Lobdell, as he describes in the article:

"My soul, for lack of a better term, had lost faith long ago - probably around the time I stopped going to church. My brain, which had been in denial, had finally caught up. Clearly, I saw now that belief in God, no matter how grounded, requires at some point a leap of faith. Either you have the gift of faith or you don't. Its not a choice. It can't be willed into existence. And there's no faking it if you're honest about the state of your soul."

As it turns out, all the reporting and interaction with the ugly underbelly of the church resulted in Mr. Lobdell's abandonment of his faith.

I have been thinking about this article all day. Wondering about William Lobdell, about the church he was a part of, but then decided to stop attending. Did anyone call him when he missed a few Sundays? I thought about his family, and how they are doing. I wondered if he was a part of any form of genuine Christian community, a place where he could ask hard questions, and be loved in the midst of his struggle and doubt. And not be judged for his doubt. This might have helped, but also might not have made the difference in his abandonment of faith. Not much is for sure.

And then I thought about the primary moving force in all the dysfunction that Mr. Lobdell witness in Christendom. Fear. Catholic leaderships' fear of exposure, of humiliation, of shame, and admitting that much of the leadership structure of the church suffers from severe problems. I pray that through the unbearable pain, that God is somehow at work in this, cleansing His church. I thought of the fear of the leadership at TBN, and Benny Hinn, again, fear of exposure, fear of failure, fear that not everyone will get healed. Or maybe fear that the whole "healing and miracles" thing will be exposed for the sham that it just might be.

And I have been thinking about Mr. Lobdell's comments about faith. The gift of faith. This is something that has been discussed and debated for centuries, and still, no one really has the final answer. Its a mystery, but one I have chosen, and still choose daily, to participate in. I still believe in Jesus, and try to follow him.

Its the church that makes me nuts, and that I still love so much. Just like a drunk uncle, or father, for that matter.

My guess is this. Its the church that messed up Mr. Lobdell's faith, not Jesus. From the very beginning of his faith journey, he may have been sold a Divine Bill of Goods, if you will excuse me. I hope to say more about this soon, if life does not get in the way.

The article by William Lobdell can be found here.

I'm With Mika!

Chosen, Blessed, Broken, Food for the World

From Henri Nouwen:

"When Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, he summarized in these gestures his own life. Jesus is chosen from all eternity, blessed at his baptism in the Jordan River, broken on the cross, and given as bread to the world. Being chosen, blessed, broken, and given is the sacred journey of the Son of God, Jesus the Christ.

When we take bread, bless it, break it, and give it with the words "This is the Body of Christ," we express our commitment to make our lives conform to the life of Christ. We too want to live as people chosen, blessed, and broken, and thus become food for the world."

The Simple Way, The Fire, and Hope

On June 20th, my birthday, while we ate cake and celebrated my 49th year on this planet in Southern California, a tragic event occured in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Philadelphia, the City of Alleged Brotherly Love.

A devastating fire occurred in the neighborhood of The Simple Way, a community of Christian folk, who have chosen to live out their faith by following Jesus as found in John 1. I think these idealistic folk may have a lot of very good ideas about building communities of faith, even though they style their hair slightly differently than I do (like if I had any hair to be styling!).

To support the effort to rebuild this community of hope, go here. To find our more about the Simple Way and its ideas, go listen to this. You will need an hour, but it is worth it. Watch the video of the fire and aftermath below. Your heart will be happy you did.

787 Dreamliner Debute

I have always loved to fly. Perhaps its because I grew up hearing storied of flight from my Dad, who was a B17 pilot in World War II.

Today was the debute of the Boeing 787 Dreamliner. Its looks completely unique, from the curved wingspan, to the open cabin, to the cutoff engine cowlings. I am psyched!

And check out this about the interior:

And oh my gosh, check out the flight deck:

A Day of Celebration, A Miracle, and a Responsibility

Day off work. A parade through the center of town. Red, white, and blue bunting. A barbecue. Fireworks.

But so much more. Its the 4th of July. Two hundred and 31 years ago, the Declaration of Independence finished with this paragraph:

"We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

To me, the formation and sustaining of this nation for all these years is at once a miracle and a responsibility. May I do my part to maintain the responsibility.

Pastor KC, A Journey Filled With Hope

When I wonder if God really can change people's lives, I have one direction I can point to with great confidence. Northwest. That is the point on the compass from my house to where Pastor KC Wahe lives.

Some 20 years ago, I met KC, who at that time, was one of the high school kids at my church. I did not meet his family, in fact, I never did. That is because his family was struggling with many issues, including alcohol and drugs. KC told me recently that he was recently overwhelmed when one of his boys, after an otherwise ordinary trip to the supermarket, told him that the family refrigerator was too full to hold any more food. KC then related how he, as a boy of his son's age, mostly remembered opening his own fridge as a child, and finding only an old jar of mustard, and lots of beer.

And now, he is a Princeton Seminary grad, and is pastoring a wonderful church in Little Rock, near Palmdale, amidst the rocks and cactus of the southern California high desert. This is not an American journey from rags to riches, but it is a journey from hopelessness to a place and time filled with hope. This is not a mega church in terms of numbers, but it is mega in terms of love, grace, mercy, and Christian community. I have been there, and I like those people!

What made the difference for KC? Why not more beer, a little apartment in Hollywood, and a downward spiral of life, just like others in his family? I think I might know why; I watched it happen. Relationships. Love. Involvement. People being there for KC. Christian community. Matter of fact, just like what God might be building in Little Rock.

I am thankful for my old friend KC today.

IPhone Day, Spoiled Kids, and a Yawn

Yesterday shall forever go down in history as IPhone roll out day. Although I am somewhat of a techno-geek, please pardon me while I don't wet my pants in hysteric anticipation.

My office is in Old Town Pasadena, and some 15 year old kid from La Canada has been waiting in line to get his phone for two days now. Fifteen? Where did he get the $500 from? Oh, wait, Mom is in line with him. Can you spell "indulged child"? But then again, perhaps this child will avoid therapy later life because his Mom shared his interests in life with him when he was young.


However, I am encouraged that Jesus still outranks the IPhone, over the long haul. Click the image to enlarge.


This video sums up all the hysteria.....with great humor. HT to Julie

Teens, Text Messages, Connecting

I have a confession. I get bored in church meetings. And waiting for planes. Standing in line at Starbucks.

Another confession. I love my wife and daughters more than I ever thought possible. And so, when I get bored in church meetings, or when I am waiting at a stop light, or when I am waiting for a flight at the airport, I text message my girls.

My friend Julie has some interesting insight into this phenomenon that I think bears a look see.

My take is that anything that keeps me connected to my family, that keeps some form of communication open between us, is worthy of consideration. I shall continue texting....and keep the lines of communication open.

Chaperone

I have two daugthers. I am going to get me one of these babies.

Transpac and the Morning Light Project

<< Click to enlarge.

July 9th is the annual start again of the Transpacific Yacht Race, and this year Roy Disney will be creating a motion picture of the experiences of one crew. This is reality film-making as it was meant to be.

From Los Angeles to Honolulu, 2,225 miles. The open Pacific. Annoyingly calm waters, and 20 foot downwind swells.

The Transpac race has a bit of place in my life, as two of my cousins crewed on boats in the race during the 1970's. I will be watching this film project, and the race with great interest.

For more, go to The Morning Light Project, click on "The Transpac Race", and then click on "Movie Clip".

The Transpac. Now that is life abundant!

Can I Be Young At Heart, When I Grow Up?

Today is my 49th birthday....

I ditched work early, came home, and hung out by the pool. This song came on the radio; I remember hearing it as a kid.....it's true:

Frank Sinatra - Young At Heart Lyrics
(G.Leigh, J. Richards)
[Recorded April 29, 1963, Los Angeles]

Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you
If you're young at heart
For it's hard, you will find, to be narrow of mind
If you're young at heart

You can go to extremes with impossible schemes
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on its way

Don't you know that its worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart
For as rich as you are its much better by far
To be young at heart

And if you should survive to 105
Look at all you'll derive out of being alive
Then here is the best part
You have a head start
If you are among the very young at heart

Father's Day and Speaking in Portuguese

Sunday was Father's Day. We barbecued, and my oldest girl made the most amazing onion rings on the planet, I swear.

Being a father ranges the entire spectrum of emotions; from near vessel-bursting anger to teary-eyed sentimentality. Pain and joy, all rolled together. In my case, it seems like I experience both of these emotions on an almost daily basis.

Recently, I have been learning new things about my role as a Dad that I did not understand before. I was having a great conversation with a wise friend about parenting recently. I was musing about how sometimes I feel like I cannot have a decent conversation with my daughters, and how sometimes, it feels we are not connecting at all. They are 13 and 16, mind you, so this is tough work.

As most Dad of teenagers know, my name became a two-syllable word when my girls turned about 11 years old....from Dad - to Da - aad! Oh, that, and my IQ dropped about 100 points. I am now Frankenstein.

So, I learned something. I speak English, and much of the time it feels as if my daughters are speaking, well, Portuguese. When I was a kid, they called it "The Generation Gap". But I think it is not a phrase, or a phase, or a problem. I think it is a disconnect. And one that is largely of my doing.

More soon.....

Ruth Bell Graham 1920-2007

Ruth Graham passed away today. I feel a sense of loss.

My first thought was that Ruth spent much of her life alone. Alone raising babies as Billy traveled the world. Alone with teenagers, while Billy met with dignitaries. Alone. With five kids, alone with her thoughts. And then, after the kids were raised, again, alone. Billy kept on travelling. Alone. And yet, with Jesus there.

And now, Jesus is with her in a way she could only imagine before.

Ruth Graham lived an abundant life, indeed.

Model Homes, Difficult People, and Staying Put

I like to tour model homes. I have been recently reflecting on why this is so.

Last week, while in Phoenix, I needed to look at some model homes, as a part of my real estate consulting work. I spent the better part of two hours touring model tract homes, in part to understand things like product placement, new home absorption, and market behavior. This is some of the stuff I do at work.

As I went through my day, I found myself thinking that I really like to do this model home touring thing. Maybe I am partly voyeuristic, in an odd way. Partly I am amused by how perfect everything is presented to be. In model homes there are never any scuff marks on the baseboards or walls, no magazine fashion pictures taped to bedroom doors, like at my house of teenage girls. All the appliances are shiny and clean. No stains in the kitchen sink, or crumpled tortilla chips on the floor, fresh from the last kid attack of the snack cabinet. The perfect collection of farm tshatshke or modern Spanish decor to match the tiles and flooring. Nothing is out of place.

And then there are the upstairs. The bedrooms and bathrooms. The ideal collection of seaside trinkets happily arranged around the bathrooms. Kids toothbrushes all neatly aligned. A whimsical nautical theme. In the master bedroom, lovely photos on the bedside tables of the well tanned bleach blonde Handsome Family, taken last summer at "the shore" somewhere. Another mystical carefree vacation; not the kind we real world people have, where the teenage kids yell at each other and sulk for hours on end. These Model Home people are so handsome, so happy, so, well, serene and well adjusted.

Its all really made up though, isn't it? None of these homes are inhabited by real people. Well, if they are real people they suffer from a pretty mean case of obsessive compulsive clean-up disorder. Way too neat for reality.

After touring these homes I found myself thinking about the make-believe people whose pictures are scattered about the models. They appear, or look like, or represent the way our funny American evangelical church culture sometimes makes us think we are supposed to be.

There are the Buffingtons, for example, who live in the model aptly named "Nantucket Harbor". Three kids, all skilled at snow skiing; one in college, and the two younger siblings in honors classes at Marlborough Academy for the Privileged. Phil Buffington is an investment banker, and his wife Jill is a neurosurgeon. And then, next door, residing in the model "Seaside Slumber" are the Farnsworthys - Jack, Susan, and the kids, Audrey and Trey. This family loves to vacation in Newport Cove, where they spend their summer hours sailing on the grandparents sailboat. No one in their family ever got cancer or had a divorce. The kids are in nothing but honors classes.

Oh, and if we listen to some parts of our church culture, we would believe that the model home people are also Perfect Christians, too. They never fight in their model homes. The parents have read all the Victorious Parenting books, and their children are so well behaved. Lovely, isn't it? Why can't we be like them?

And then, there are the rest of us. Ordinary people. Messy lives, unfulfilled dreams, unfinished business. Unkempt hair, cavities. Oh, and our churches look like that too! Messy, unkempt, unlovely.

As I drove back to the Phoenix airport, I reflected on my non-model home life. I thought about the disordered, confusing, sometimes unpleasant ways things happen in my world. I thought about church committees I have been on, sometimes with people that make me nutty, talking for hours about things that don't really seem to be that important. I remembered the difficult people.

And then, as I swerved to avoid a speeding tow truck on the freeway, took a deep breath, and gave silent thanks to God for my life, I thought again. I like my life, and I am thankful for my sometimes disheveled, bewildering, non-model home faith. And church.

I am not moving to the model homes. I am staying put.

Can I Please Go to "Big Church"?

We Need Therapy

Still Looking

I Haven't Found What I Am Looking For

We Christian folk often like to boast that, through our clean and shiny faith, we have found the final answers to all of lifes stress and problems.

We have happy, smiling lives, free from pain, free from struggle. We are victorious. We even make more money than most, because we subtly belive that God is blessing us. And if we do have "challenges", they are short lived and have a happy ending.

To this I say, baloney.

If my almost 49 years have taught me much of anything, it is that the struggle, the striving, the searching, in many ways, never stops. Its unavoidable. Its life. And guess what else? Following Jesus often makes the journey harder in some ways. A friend of mine wisely says that the Christian life is "living life on purpose, not just letting it happen to you". She is right. We have a dear friend who lost her battle with cancer several years ago. Her death was brutal, unpleasant, and not like a happy ending to a movie. She knew Jesus better than just about anyone I know, and she did not go peacefully. It was very messy.

We likely won't even find the perfect setting in which our faith can grow and be nurtured, with all the dials adjusted perfectly to our own wants and needs. In this regard, I often feel like a Presbyterian Catholic Baptist Emergent Post Evangelical Nondenominational Episcopalian, or something similar. I often feel confused, like I am a couple blocks from home in a dream, and can't quite make that last turn around the corner that gets me back.

And so, I have not yet found the perfect church setting. I am attracted to many things across the Christian spectrum, from the ancient liturgy of the Catholics, to the focus on the Eucharist of the Episcopalians, to the get-you-all-wet-because-you-really-mean-it dunking of the Baptists. I often find myself repelled by the Committee-centric mindset of my own dear Presbyterians, and yet I love the open way that people from my own tradition love others, regardless of where they have come from.

I am tired sometimes of the only "getting you saved" mentality of many evangelicals, but many of my best friends and most admired role models come from there. It seems to me that Jesus had much more in mind for his Kingdom than "getting people in". He wanted to come and live with them, everyday. How intrusive!

And so, you see, I still haven't found what I am looking for. Its ok, though. I am on the way there. I just wanted to take a minute and be honest. My life is no less messy than yours. Just providing full disclosure.

Next, why I am staying where I have been put, and why need to love the messy people God has placed me with....

Still Haven't Found What We're Looking For

U2 wrote a song:

I believe in the Kingdom Come
Then all the colours will bleed into one
Bleed into one.
But yes, I'm still running.

You broke the bonds
And you loosed the chains
Carried the cross of my shame
Oh my shame, you know I believe it.

But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for.

Here is what I am thinking these days.

These words are both antithetical to just about everything that I have become and am becoming, and at the same time, describes me quite well. If you like your life neatly defined, do not read on. I have found life to be very messy, so get ready to have me define some of my mess for you, and for myself.

I HAVE found What I Am Looking For

In my senior year at UCLA, my life seemed without reason. For 21 years, there had been a voice in my head which wondered what the heck was the point of life? Why was I here? What was my purpose on this planet? What was I to become? Why did relationships with women never work out? What was my carer to be? What would life after college look like?

In the midst of this wondering, and over the course of a year or so, in a story that is a bit long to repeat here, the words and life of Jesus became real to me in a way that was tangible, healing, transforming, and filled to overflowing with meaning. My journey in this Way has changed in many ways over years, but my focus on the beauty, meaning, and mystery of who Christ is has grown deeper in ways I would not have expected. In this way, I have found what I am looking for.

Soon, "I Have NOT Found What I Am Looking For"......

Remembering a Very Good Neighbor

WWFD - What Would Fred Do?

My daughters both loved Mr. Rogers. During their younger years, I often found myself late for work in the morning, because I wanted to linger just a moment or two on the couch and watch Mr. Rogers with my little girls. It was calming, heartwarming, and the most emotionally healthy stuff on TV.

The other night I had the time to watch the DVD of "Fred Rogers: America's Favorite Neighbor". It had been recommended to me by a friend. This is one of the more memorable films I have seen in some time. This is a film that stays with you. It sticks. In your soul.

I will tell you why. Watching Fred Rogers makes me feel just a bit uneasy. Maybe it was because he wasn't assertive or macho enough for our world. But really, I think it is because he was such a completely genuine and kind man, with very little guile. He really did not seem to understand or tolerate sarcasm, the way all of us "modern" people do. Rather, he really believed in everyone he met, and felt that they were each a special miracle, never to be repeated.

He seemed to be emotionally way ahead of his time. He thought about and cared for children in a way that, even today, is quite remarkable. He was altogether kind, gentle, perceptive, and loving.

As I watched more of the program, I started to figure out both why I felt slightly uneasy, and also so very fascinated by this man. There was something else motivating him. Rogers attended both the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and the University of Pittsburgh's Graduate School of Child Development. He graduated from the Seminary and was ordained as a Presbyterian minister in 1963 with a charge to continue his work with children and families through the mass media. He was ordained to care. To sit on the floor and listen to little kids; to respond and communicate to them love and understanding, sometimes with puppets.

I felt strangely moved because Fred Rogers was motivated by the Gospel, but in a different way that our culture is used to. He did not shout, or color his hair, or write a book about six magic ways to success, or start a big shiny church with his name on the marquee. He did not parade his faith about town, carrying a bullhorn. As I listened to him speak, and the words of the many songs he had written for his television show, I sensed that virtually everything he did and said was motivated by genuine care. A care that is not anything like what our culture is used to. Fred was very counter-cultural. Emergent and missional, if you will.

I would have loved to have known Fred Rogers. I think it would have been a bit like knowing Jesus. Slightly troubling and wonderful, together at the same time.

For the past couple of days, as I recall this great biography I watched, I have been thinking to myself, "I wonder what Fred would do?"

Underwater Fun

May I offer a thought?

I learned several years ago that schools for Down children are starting to take children with other syndromes since Down is becoming so rare. Now that tests can tell so early in pregnancy that a baby has Down, fewer people are choosing to have them.

My heart breaks when I think about what our lives would be like without our friend Molly.

Memorial Day 2007

Coming to the Aid of a Friend

Within the past hour, I have been asked to come to the aid of my college chum Julie. There is a serious crisis affecting her home, a trauma so severe it borders on the cataclysmic. The future peace and harmony of the Bogart family is in jeopardy.

And so, my considerable experience as an amateur family therapist has, once again, been summoned to the rescue of this fine Midwestern family. I also have experience as an amateur sushi chef, but more on that another time.

However, in this instance, my gut tells me that the drama in the Bogart family is far more serious than just family therapy.

Julie and Jon, I am quite concerned what you may have in your home is a demonic possession of Jacob's saxophone, and, more likely, his entire high school band. Pictured above is another unfortunate manifestation of this type of poltergeist. This is not the USC band, but is, in fact, the Smithfield Elementary School of Ottumwa, Iowa in 1997, shortly before the band was exercised of their demonic possession by a trained professional clergy person at the local shopping mall. This event has now become known as "The Iowa Redemption".

There is only way to solve this situation. Tough love, holy water, and heavy construction equipment. May I recommend the Hubbard Construction company for the necessary equipment. Pictured at left is the result of the "band instrument exorcism process".

Julie, I know this may be painful, but there is no other way. Bill Bright would agree. God help you.