Who Needs the Bling? Bruin Women Volleyball!

Today, my family took a trip to Westwood to one of the finest universities in the land. I, on the other hand took a trip down memory lane.

It has been 26 years since I trod the hills of Westwood. Down Bruin walk at 7 AM for a calculus class, back up in the afternoon to eat at the dorm (Hedrick Hall), and then back down in the evening to study till I could barely stay awake, then back up to the dorm to crash into my bed (or party a couple of hours!).

Those were great times. So long ago.

Fast forward 26 years. Marriage, kids, life. Today, we traveled to UCLA today to watch the Bruin lady volleyball team take on Oregon in their last regular season game of the year. The lady Bruins won again, in a three game sweep, their 19th of the year. On to the NCAA Tourney! Pictured at left is our younger daughter Heather , who has just started playing middle school volleyball, with UCLA Senior Nana Meriweather, after the game.

It is a joy to watch these girls play! This is college sports at its best, untainted by the lure of professional play, unmarked by prima-dona overgrown boys in tattoos attempting to impress pro scouts. No threat of professional ball here, just pretty much true sport. What a nice change. These young ladies will go on to lead largely normal lives, without all the money, fame, bling, and moral failure of many male college athletes. These women will become the future coaches, business women, lawyers, mothers, and other professionals our world needs. Largely unnoticed, but greatly valued. This is a good thing.

Go get 'em Bruin Volleyball Women. Hail to the Hills!

This Fair Land

If we are careful, we can listen and hear something important, abiding, and profoud from the past. As we rush to get the turkey in the oven, greet the guests from near and far, and settle in around the table, we need to take a minute to remember.

Remember where we came from.

For the past 45 years, the same two editorials have appeared each year on the Opinion Page of the Wall Street Journal.

The Desolate Wilderness, And The Fair Land

I have found, after some brief research, that, at least on one side of my family, I am an 11th generation American, tracing my family directly to the Carolinas in the period of the Revolutionary war. And so, these words, perhaps mean a bit more to me:

Being now passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before them in expectations, they had now no friends to welcome them,
no inns to entertain or refresh them, no houses, or much less towns, to repair unto to seek for succour; and for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search unknown coasts.

Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wilde beasts and wilde men? and what multitudes of them there were, they then knew not: for which way soever they turned their eyes (save upward to Heaven) they could have but little solace or content in respect of any outward object; for summer being ended, all things stand in appearance with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage hew.

I find it helpful to remember from whence I have come.

Today, might we remember that for some Providential reason beyond our understanding, we have been placed in This Fair Land. All is not perfect in this land, all is not fair, justice is not universal.

Woody and Billy (Not a Country Band)

My friend Rob Asghar recommended this.....quite amusing. Oh, the good old days, when even agnostics were tolerant and funny.

Miscellaneous Items; Fundamentalists and Failures

For some time, I have wanted to find helpful material for me to process my own thinking/struggling with the Muslim world and the mess our country finds itself in these days.

I have found help from someone I trust. My friend Julie has a post on an important voice in Islam who brings a form of clarity that is greatly needed. I think we should keep our eye on this. And, brace ourselves. I think we have not seen the worst of the radical Islamic movement yet.

Separately, but related are two bits on the whole Ted Haggard mess that really should be looked at carefully. My friend Mark Roberts has done a series on Ted Haggard and the burdens that pastors face.

And again, Julie, that energetic Bruin that she is, has written perhaps the very best thoughts on the set up for failure that the church creates in this piece "No Christian Cure....". Outstanding!

One more thing. James Dobson often makes me nuts. And here is another reason why. I would hope that should I commit a major moral failure (God forbid please!), that my friends would have the time to commit to standing beside me, and holding me up as I seek healing; no matter how ugly. Seems to me, I remember reading something about this once. Maybe, just maybe, Dr. Dobson might need to examine his busy calendar and see what priorities most embody the character of Christ. For me, standing beside a fallen friend is near the top of the list. But I am not as important, or influential, or busy, or famous....so perhaps I should just shut up.

There. I will.

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

The Replacement Trinity and Living Richly?

Yesterday I had lunch with a long time business associate who happens to work for Citibank. During our meal, I mentioned how much I used to enjoy the old Citibank print ad campaign entitled "Live Richly". The entire mood of this advertising campaign, to me, seemed entirely counter cultural, and if you will, so "non-banker like".

The theme, you may recall, was basically to point out that money is, after all, not what life is all about. Family, relationships, experiencing the blessings of life really matter more, Citibank seemed to be telling us.

And now, after pondering the thoughts of Eugene Peterson in "Eat This Book", I think I might understand a bit better what was going on in my upper class consumer American mind as I viewed those billboards. To quote Peterson,

"Our new class of spiritual masters is composed of scientists and economists, physicians and psychologists, educators and politicians, writers and artists. They are every bit as intelligent and passionate as our earlier church theologians and every bit as religious and serious, for they know what they come up with has enormous implications for everyday living."

And so, maybe one reason I loved those billboards is that they endorsed my dual lifestyle, one foot in this world, and one foot that wants to be in the Kingdom world. In short, Citibank was offering me platitudes about the things I valued most.

This final observation was confirmed at the close of my lunch. My friend said to me, "Know what, we (Citibank) have ended that ad campaign. It didn't really sell our products like we thought it might."

So, Citibank dumped the concept of Living Richly. But I remember something about a life that is really rich. I need to think more about what that means.

My Replacement Trinity, Part Deux

This stuff won't leave me easily.....

More from Eugene Peterson:

"The new Holy Trinity. The sovereign self expresses itself in Holy Needs, Holy Wants, and Holy Feelings. The time and intelligence that our ancestors spent on understanding the sovereignty revealed in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are directed by our contemporaries in affirming and validating the sovereignty of our needs, wants and feelings."

"I train myself to think big because I am big, important, significant. I am larger than life and so require more and more goods and services, more things, and more power. Consumption and acquisition are the new fruits of the spirit."

Wait. No fair. How did this fellow who lives in Montana crawl inside my head and look around and see everything just as it is?

I like to have my needs met. I am an only child, after all. I enjoy things laid out for me, my way. I own my own little company for heavens sake. What I say around the office goes. My way or the highway, baby. I am in charge.

But to hear my world described so clearly is both clarifying and haunting at the same time. Clarifying, in that I can sit back and say a resounding "Yes! I am just like that!" Haunting in that when I hear my world described this way, I know that my world is largely in conflict to the world that God is attempting to create. Its a world ordered as He desires, not as I, well, want.

“I can see how it might be possible for a man to look down upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how he could look up into the heavens and say there is no God.” -Abraham Lincoln

My Replacement Trinity

I have had this idea stuck in my mind for about two weeks now, and it won't easily let me go. I should talk about it here, as this blog is often a form of personal catharsis.

Eugene Peterson has a new book out, and the idea in my mind really belongs to Eugene, but it haunts me still. A lot.

The idea is Peterson's concept of "The Replacement Trinity". It is, if you will, a form of the modern American cultural trinity.

Hear Eugene out on this:

"The three person Trinity that we have learned of since we were kids, or heard about from our friends who go to church, has been subtly replaced. The New Trinity is a personal trinity; of my Holy Wants, my Holy Needs, and my Holy Feelings. This is the way we are taught. By the time we can hold a spoon, according to Peterson, we can choose between half a dozen cereals for breakfast. Clothes, hairstyle, deodorant, toothpaste, our identity in society; we choose all of these things. So really, as we become adults, we learn that whatever we need and want is the Divine control center of our lives. And so, the concept of the Replacement Trinity is developed."

If I am honest, there is a struggle at the center of my heart and soul between the real Trinity and the Replacement Trinity. More on this later.

Hope, Life, Renewal and Joy

Just over a year ago, tragedy hit New Orleans. And, on Sunday September 10th, 2006, the photo to the right (click photo to enlarge) was taken, at Canal Street Presbyterian church in New Orleans.

The looks on the faces here made my day, particularly after our visit with these dear people five months ago. I even pressure-washed the steps that these good, faithful, and determined folks are standing upon!

Not everything is fixed in New Orleans, not by a long shot. A very very long shot. Much needs to still be done, and all of us must remember the people of New Orleans and the area in our prayers, and with our wallets.

However, this photo proves something I mentioned here after we visited:

Isaiah 58:11

The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land

and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden,

like a spring whose waters never fail.

12 Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and

will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called

Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

Front Porch Homeland Security

I am not very political, but the other day I had a very interesting conversation on my front porch. I have a friend who works with the government; its best not to say anything more specific.

This friend is involved in safeguarding our country from the "bad guys". These bad guys are the type that are happy to blow themselves up, along with thousands of innocent others for the cause of a hypothetical world controlled by religious zealots. I trust that you now have the right mental images of what I mean.

My friend told me that soon they will be heading overseas, to spend an extended period of time learning from the intelligence agency of another country. The comment was made during our conversation that "those folks over there don't have a constitution" to deal with in terms of domestic surveillance. And, as a result, in this particular country, they do a number of things better than we do here in terms of actually catching bad guys.

Now I know that many folks think that The Patriot Act is a raw deal. I also revere and respect the protections offered by the Constitution. However, this little chat on my front porch about bad guys got me thinking about activist lawyers and the so-called infringement of individual liberties of our government over the past five years. It also made me remember this really is a war. A war like no other. The UN cannot solve this problem, let alone order their own office supplies without assistance.

Here is my short response. Please, Big Brother US Government - keep up the good work. Read my mail, listen to my phone calls, intercept my email. I don't really care. I have nothing to hide. Frankly, I am glad you guys are at it every day. If you were not, by now, we might just have experienced the horror of multiple passenger jets blowing up in mid-air over our nations most populous cities, in a horrific aftermath to 9/11.

I am glad for my friend's work, and I think, after our conversation, I am a bit more thankful for things like the Patriot Act.

Meek and Rich?

I am thinking again about the beginning of the Beattitudes in Matthew 5. And in the airport earlier this week, I spot the Time magazine cover, which asks the question, "Does God Want You to Be Rich?"

I wonder. And again, this man and the book he wrote, helps me to see these ideas in a new way.

In these first five verses, Jesus has come to the dependent poor, the grief-stricken, and now the unaggressive – and he gives everything – the Kindgom of Heaven, comfort, and now the inheritance of the earth. Christ did not say "blessed are the Christians" or "blessed are those who believe in me, and behave like this". Just blessed are.....all those who are poor in spirit, who mourn, and who are meek.

Meekness is not so much avoiding pride, but more people who are actually powerless in the eyes of the world. These "poor beatitudes" do not so much describe good spiritualities, as they really describe people in bad situations.

Jesus at his trial as someone who was indeed meek. No aggression. Yet, poise. Poise that does not have to assert oneself. He was someone who could see Heaven, even from the gates of Hell. This was a meekness that is almighty, and gentleness of great strength.

The earth. Why the earth? This earth, will, in fact, be the scene of the coming Kingdom of God. This renewed earth. Breathtaking. God will make all things new, even this tired, sinful, overpopulated, impoverished, pock-marked, and slowly over-warming (some say) earth.

Dale Bruner asks us (and me) "Could it be that here, in the first three beatitudes, that Jesus is calling us to be willing to be abysmally poor, heartbroken, or powerless, when these desolations are visited upon us?"

Is this not a scary concept? In some way, the poor, the weary, the sad, the meek, are given first notice by Jesus; they are his Special People.

A Warning and A Tip

I have been in Sacramento for a couple of days for work. I tried to get into see Arnold while I was there, to lobby for my bill outlawing receding hairlines in Caleeforneea. He was busy.

Anyway, while flying home, I came across a couple of items that I thought warranted your consideration.

The Relatavistic Heavy Ion Collider. This is an experiment, that if successful, will create a thermal release that the scientists tell us, will be a million times hotter than the surface of the sun. They also tell us that the experiment probably won't create a galaxy-swallowing black hole or obliterate our planet. And to think, some folks are stressed about global warming.

Next, ArtCarFest. I have determined that if they had been born today, most famous Bible characters would like drive one of these cars. My favorite is posted above; the Buick of Unconditional Love. Clearly, this would have been Jesus' ride.

That is all for now.

Remember

A prayer.

The Answer to Worship Wars

Now what is all this I hear about these so-called "Worship Wars"? At our church, we have recently employed the services of Faber Grable, whose most recent CD is pictured here (click to enlarge......your heart). As a result of Faber's blessing, we are all happy smiling people holding hands.

Faber is a man who spans the vast divides of worship stylings and moods. Need traditional tunes? Faber delivers with organ and chimes. Looking for more emergent church music? You need Faber, a man of skill and passion on the guitar and vibraharp.

The title of Faber's most recent artistic release is somewhat autobiographical. Sadly, over the past decade, Faber has been suffering from his very own "thorn in the flesh" in the uncomfortable from of acid reflux; also commonly known as heartburn. Hence, the CD title.

Through it all, Faber Grable has continued to bless, amaze, and thrill church music fans throughout the area.

Blessed Are The Brokenhearted

This week, I am thinking about the Second of the Beatitudes of Jesus in Matthew 5 - Blessed are the brokenhearted, those who mourn, those who weep.

If I am honest with myself, there are parts of my life that feel as if they are a persistent place for weeping. Little corners, dark places where we would rather not spend much time. The ways in which I let my wife and children down, where I fall short. More profoundly, when a child is deathly ill, or a parent is close to death, or a friendship withers and dies, these dark little corners seem to grow, and nearly engulf the rest of our lives. And the darkness is cold and unpleasant. It is too quiet in the dark, we feel threatened by the sound of our own breathing.

When we have family or close friends who suffer debilitative illness, or an early death, or deep and lasting pain, it can seem dark for days, or weeks, or years. Blessed are those who mourn?

Strangely, this deep sadness, loss, and our broken hearts can coexist in the midst of an otherwise "normal" life. Matthew scholar Dale Bruner comments in this book that mourning and sadness often are "a state that can as easily coexist with an outwardly happy life, as do all the other normal contradictions of living."

Sadness and mourning are inherent in our culture. Depressive disorders affect approximately 18.8 million American adults or about 9.5% of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year. Everyone, will at some time in their life be affected by depression -- their own or someone else's. Pre-schoolers are the fastest-growing market for antidepressants. At least four percent of preschoolers -- over a million -- are clinically depressed. The rate of increase of depression among children is an astounding 23%. About 54% of people believe depression is a personal weakness, and 41% of depressed women are too embarrassed to seek help. Sadly, 80% of depressed people are not currently having any treatment.

What is happening in our society, and to us? Why are we so wealthy, so "blessed", and yet so poor inside? Perhaps our sadness, our sense of sadness is related to how "blessed" we are. We have so much, that we need God so little. And so, perhaps we are all, together, in so many ways, broken hearted. And only God can come to us, and heal our broken hearts. And here again, Dale Bruner offers the thought that the first Beatitude (of being poor in spirit) "presses into" the second, where poverty of spirit descends into mourning - which creates faith in the very longing about our inability to believe." The second of the Beatitudes actually longs for the faith to believe. We mourn, because we do not believe. And yet, we want to believe.

Bruner tells us that... "in deep sadness human beings are in God's hands more than at any other time" .

Jesus lends his authority to the perception that it is those for whom sadness is deep that God is real! Jesus puts himself on the side of the outsider.

In Isaiah 61:1-2, we are reminded that, in the midst of our suffering, God promises to "bind up the brokenhearted".

The gospel is for us. We will be comforted.

Goodbye Summer, Hello Life

The photo at the left was taken about 14 years ago, when my oldest daughter Kelly was just old enough to shuffle down to the waves, and take in the view of the massive ocean before her. She did it with a smile though, she has been in love with the water ever since. Its a family trait, I think; we all love the water.


Today was the last official day of summer. Technically, there are more summer days on the calendar, but for those of us with kids in school, we can pretty much say goodbye to the beach, the sun, and the surf. Today, as is our family tradition, summer ended at a beach side home with old and good friends. We hiked down the cliffs to the beach, sit on the sand, play in the waves, and enjoy each other's company. We smile at the way the kids have grown and changed, exchange stories of coping with near-teenagers and teenagers, and marvel at how time flies.

That same little girl who held my hand at the waves is older now, and chose not to make the trip to the beach with us, as she had more fun things to do with good friends elsewhere. Independent woman. Trying to be cool parents, and knowing that our daughter was with good people, we enjoyed the last day of summer in different places. Its evening now, on Labor Day, and we are all home together, sharing stories of our day. Seems our oldest, the one who used to hold my hand at the shore, crashed a Greek wedding reception with her friends, and had great fun. My, how times change.


Dad has gone upstairs to blog a bit, a habit the rest of the family kindly tolerates. Maybe someday in the distant future, my girls will read this and smile, remembering the end of Summer 2006.

The beach today was drenched with sunshine, and people - it felt like everyone in South Orange County was enjoying the last day of summer at the same place.

After we came up from the beach, we enjoyed a delicious meal of Mexican food, and again, the blessing of conversation with dear friends. During the past year, two of us have lost our mothers, and the pain and mystery of all this is still close. We sat together in the fading light of day and spoke of the loss, our feelings, and how our respective widow parents are fairing. This is a new season of life, gone are little children running everywhere, the need to change diapers and secure car seats. That has been replaced by larger kids who get together well on their own, and the need to hear from our friends on how we are caring for our aging parents.

We drove home tonight from San Clemente just as dusk enveloped the beach and twilight pressed through into night. The sky was a remarkable shade of peach, and red, and higher up aquamarine. As I navigated the Southern California freeway in the growing dark, I was struck by the beauty of this otherwise ordinary sunset, and the grace-filled nature of this otherwise ordinary day. Often, I feel confined by my senses. Confined from really understanding the Divine in each day, in each person I meet, and today, in knowing the measure of love and grace that brought me to this familiar beach with these very familiar friends.

Summer is over. Tomorrow we start, together, the 7th grade for Heather, Sophomore year at High School for Kelly, and the rest of life for Nancy and I. I love this journey.

All good things come from our Father. Thank you, Father, for this end of summer, and for the hope of tomorrow.

Why Do You Sing?

Recently, some friends of mine made a trip to a church conference. You know those church conferences; the ones where attendees run around in the hotel halls till all hours in the morning, hurl water balloons out the windows at unsuspecting passersby, and place "Jesus Love You" fart cushions on the dining hall chairs.

Anyway. My friends came back very encouraged, with some great stories to tell. This is good news, given the recent wackiness in my denomination.

Much of the positive feedback by my friends was about an amazing talk by Scott Dudley, who is embracing lots of the ideas I like about what the church should become. Go here to find the full video of Scott's thoughts (middle of the page for the video links - Friday, August 18 - first video). There were lots of good ideas, more on a bit of this soon here. Stay tuned.

You will need some time to view this video. Take it. Its very worth it. It will do your heart good.

File Under: Church Thoughts

A Confession

Alright. I have something to confess. I have always wanted, no coveted, no wait - LUSTED after a nice long trip in in of these babies, pictured at left. This is a Bombardier Challenger 604, which I can imagine is one sweet ride. Yes, I would like more red wine please, as we near Mach 1.....

And now, I think I have figured out a way to get one. Not just a ride, but one to keep for me (oh, and my "ministry" too). Oh yeah, I will also need hair plugs for the "big hair" look, have my wife bleach her hair, and sell my collection of Hawaiian shirts in exchange for more polyester.

Just go look here, and you will see the essence of my plan.

The Warehouse & The Question

My last thoughts may have seemed like I was a bit miffed, or annoyed, or that I had ingested something bad at dinner, and simply had gas. That was not the case.

The Huge Question about the lack of response of most people to the good news of the Gospel is still there, and I think that many of us Christian folk are not spending enough time thinking about it. This bugs me.

How can we know the greatest news in all the Universe, and not find new, creative, real, and meaningful ways to share it?

Today, I was reading this book by this guy. I have to admit that I bought it several months ago, with good intentions. It sat on my bedroom floor until today. Eugene Peterson tells a story that helps me with the Huge Question. Not an answer, but some help in understanding.

The Warehouse

Imagine a group of people living in a warehouse. They were born there, raised, and have everything they need there. There are no exits to the building, but there are windows. However, these windows are thick with dust, and are never cleaned, so nobody bothers to look out. Why would they? The warehouse has everything they need, and it feels safe.

But then one day, one of the children drags a step stool under one of the windows, scrapes off the window-crud, and looks out. She sees people walking on the streets; and calls to her friends to come and look. They crowd around the window; they had no idea a world existed outside of their warehouse. And then, they notice a person out in the street looking up and pointing; soon a crowd is gathered out there, looking up and talking excitedly. The kids inside the warehouse look up, but all they see is the dark roof of their warehouse.

Finally, the kids get tired of looking of watching the people outside acting weird, pointing at nothing and getting all excited about it. After all, what's with those people, stopping for no reason at all, pointing at nothing in the sky, and they talking to each other like its a big deal?

But, know what? Those people down in the street were looking up at a huge flock of geese, or a massive pile of brilliantly white thunder clouds, or a team of hang gliders doing turns in sky. Those people down there look up and see the heavens, and everything in them. The warehouse people have no heavens above them, just a warehouse roof.

But what if, one day, one of those warehouse kids cut a door in the side of the warehouse, coaxed his friends out, and discovered this immense sky above them and the grand horizons beyond? Karl Barth tells us that this is what happens when we open the Bible, and open ourselves to the Creator; we enter the totally unfamiliar world of God, a world of creation and salvation stretching endlessly above and beyond us. Warehouse life did not prepare us for this!

Adults in the warehouse scoff at the adventure tales that the kids bring back. After all, we are completely in control of this warehouse world, and in control in ways we could never be outside under the Big Sky. And, we want to keep it that way.

So, how do we tell our kid adventure stories in new ways, ways that coax others outside the warehouse?