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?