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?

Huge Question, Part 1

It’s a cool August night. We enjoyed dinner on the back porch, shared some good wine, and laughed with good friends. The dinner dishes have been put away, and now, again, I am confronted with this Huge Question. It has been recurring a lot in my mind over the past several months, and I have been meaning to write about it. But really, this Question has been in my head for years.

Actually its more of a series of recurring questions; all of which compile into the Huge Question. I think I know the “answers” to the questions, but then again, not some of the real causes behind the Huge.

Here is the Huge Question. Why is it, that given the chaotic nature of our world, of the inability we have to control our own lives, of the extent and nature of disease, confusion, and the pain in daily life – why is it that so few of the people I know, in my life, in my work, in my circle of acquaintances, want to acknowledge God? Its as if God never existed, and spiritual things have absolutely no bearing on the lives of men today. None. Nothing.

Smart church people have a quick answer to this question. “It’s the fall”, they smugly say, referring to the Genesis story of the rebellion of Adam and Eve. “You know, God gave us all free will, and some people choose not to pursue spiritual things”, the smart church folks will say. They smile, and sigh, somewhat passively, and sit back in their chairs. Then, many of them move on. To other things, more immediate things; such as what is for desert, or what time their favorite TV show comes on, or what they are going to make for the next church potluck event. What they might not think about are all those people, that I run into each day, that are spiritually hungry at their very core, but do not look to the Christian church for answers.

More on this soon.

Blogger Beta Baby!

I am now running this Blog in Blogger Beta, the new improved version of Blogger. Or so I am lead blindly to believe. I love technology.

NomadShow Trailer - Sara Groves

Caring, Taking Risks, Going New Places, and Finding Christ

Above is the trailer for the brand new DVD, "Sara Groves...Just Showed Up For My Own Life". I have enjoyed Sara, and her music now for some time, and I think that this DVD could be a wonderful way to learn more about her life, and the way in which she puts her faith into action. I love this stuff!


For more information, go to the Nomad Show web site. For another great example of rich American's making a difference in the world, go here.


It seems to me that people want to see our faith lived out much more than just hearing us ramble on about it.

These Are the Good Old Days

Our two week family vacation to visit my wife's family in Toronto has come to an end. Tomorrow, we board Air Canada for the flight back to LA - free of liquids (including water) and gels in our carry-on items, thanks to some people who just hate us and our way of life.

These two weeks have had me reflecting a bit on my life, and its interplay with the lives of my daughters, my wife, in-laws, and other good friends back home.

We spent a week at a cottage in a quaint, old-fashioned location in Balm Beach, Ontario. This is a place that looks as if not much has changed in maybe 75 years. The cottage (Canadian term for house/cabin/place not in the city) we stayed in was constructed in 1930 or so. Just about nothing has changed in this home, and photos on the wall all have a 1930s feel to them. When you spend a week there, you feel, in many ways, like you are frozen in time. Its easy to forget what day it is.

Days at the cottage are easy, with the biggest decision of the day involving what time to go to the beach and enjoy the lake, the sun, and the sand. "The lake" is actually Georgian Bay, off of Lake Huron. Large lake. Beautiful spot. The cares of the world seem light years away; and actually they are pretty far away - about 2,500 miles.

In a place like this, you can pause from the busy whirl of life, and look back. Back on the past year, since our amazing vacation last summer, on how our girls our growing, the love in our marriage that continues to change and grow, and how new friends have blessed us with their mere presence.

But there is another part of me, perhaps a part of all of us. Its a longing for places like Balm Beach...all the time. We long for the good old days. Times free of trouble. Times when people cared about each other, and you actually knew your neighbors names. Times when you could stop, slow down, sit on the porch, and enjoy the soft light at the end of day. When exactly were those good old days anyway?

I had a small epiphany today, on the freeway in Toronto. We were stuck in Friday rush hour traffic, and I could have been home in LA for the way everything looked around me. Urban sprawl, gnarled traffic. In the back of the car, our two girls (12 and 15) were bored, and Heather, our 12 year old, was trying out the names of all her friends, audibly, in Pig Latin. This became a rather long and exhaustive dissertation, which involved large quantities of giggling between she and her sister.

And then it hit me. I will never, ever, again be at exactly this point in time, with these amazing, sweet, thoughtful, maddening, and wonderful ladies that God has briefly loaned to us. This moment in Toronto traffic, with the slightly annoying giggles of two girls, was in fact....The Good Old Days.

Some day, when Nancy and I are older, moving slower, and reflecting on the past, we might just recall this vacation, this time off, and this trip in the car. And we will smile and say.......well, you know the rest.

Maybe, these are the "good old days" for you to, if you are looking.

Hoser Nation

Having spent the last 10 days in Canada, I am again reminded of the distinct differences between our two nations. Exhibit A is shown above.

New Ideas, Good Ideas, Scary Things

We have spent a great week with family at the cottage on Georgian Bay, and I have almost finished Leadership Next, by Eddie Gibbs. I have completely enjoyed this book filled with new ideas about what the church and leadership within the church will look like in the years to come. Professor Gibbs has devoted much of his academic work at Fuller Seminary to these ideas, and so, I am learning from an expert.

Bottom line of what I have been reading: this is not your father’s church. Its not even my church. A church oriented to the missional call of Christ in the coming years is not going to necessarily look like what I expect, what I think it should, or what I feel comfortable with. It is going to be highly relational, not authoritative, not focused around a single personality. The future church is going to be, if anything, a team. A team focused on a common call and purpose, a vision to reach out, not to insulate within.

Can we pull this off at our church? Can we change traditions that have been many years in the making? Can we find a new direction and work together as a team? Can we?

Although the challenges are great, and the traditions of our old church are quite staid and ingrained, I have never felt more hopeful. The events of the past year have quite literally, broken us. We have few pretenses anymore. We are no longer the “big church on the corner” with the years of tradition, and the shiny images to protect.

We can start over. We can clear the decks and ask God to begin in us something new. Something new, and fresh, inviting, embracing, and empowering to those who visit. And for us older folk, who have been around a while, and think we know it all, it might well be something scary.

To that I say, please Lord, scare me.

File under: Church Thoughts

Feeling Powerless on Georgian Bay

We were warned earlier in the day on the weather channel.

The afternoon was sunny, hot, and more humid that I could imagine. Another typical Ontario summer afternoon. We spent most of the late afternoon in the lake, standing in cool water up to our necks. The perfect remedy to a hot and sticky day.

And then last night, as we finished dinner on the porch of our cottage, the sky slowly darkened, and the wind picked up. The breeze increased gradually at first, and then stronger, bending the trees at a 45 degree angle to the ground, the rushing sound of it all surrounding us. And then, as pictured at left (click to enlarge), the storm front approached. I felt as if I was in the early scenes of The Wizard of Oz. Where was Toto? The power went out, not to be restored until 5:30 AM the next morning.

Within minutes, the weather had changed completely. Now, as the wind reached perhaps 50 miles an hour, the rain came, first in sprinkles, then in sheets, coming right in the screen windows of the porch, a blast of fine mist. I felt like Jack Sparrow behind the helm of the Black Pearl in a raging storm. Arggggg! Avast! Batten down the hatches! We retreated behind glass windows to watch the show.

And then, after perhaps an hour and a half, the winds slowly subsided. Calm gradually returned, and we walked down to the beach in the wind to view a brilliant, colorful sunset.

Was this a metaphor for other things in my life? I am not sure, but it was one heck of a storm.

Balm Beach Cottage

Here we are at the cottage in Balm Beach, Township of Tiny, Ontario, Canada. Time like this, with family, is a blessing, and I am thankful for this noisy, funny, interesting, fun bunch of people that God has brought me to be a part of almost 18 years ago.

More Thoughts on the Scary New Future

Some more thoughts on what the future of the church is going to look like, based on my reading of Leadership Next, by Eddie Gibbs.

"A “missional church” is one that focuses on “going forth” into the world, rather than looking inward to its own programs and plans."

"The gospel embraces so much more than just the important truth of making a decision for Christ. It is as much concerned about how we live our lives before death as with after death. In its true New Testament meaning, external life embraces the here and now, as a prelude to eternity."

"For younger leaders, the greatest concern isn't how to get people to come to church but how best to take the church into the world. Their emphasis is not on extraction from the world, but on engagement with society. This emphasis on engagement needs to be reflected in the church’s criteria for selecting leaders and training them for ministry. For example, those who seek ministry in the church as an escape from the pressures of secular employment need to be weeded out. At the same time, those offering themselves for ministry without any significant life experience outside of the church need to immerse themselves in the secular world – just as a missionary candidate would be encouraged to have prefield, crosscultural experience."

It is all going to be different folks, lets open our hearts and minds, and get ready.

For a wonderful and hauntingly sad example of resistance to change, go read this short story.

File under: Church Thoughts

Tipping the Table Over, Starting New

Over the past year, as our church has slowly been gaining its collective bearings, as the fog of confusion, and disagreement, and fighting has cleared, strangely, I keep thinking of the same mental image. Maybe this image is from God, maybe not. I don’t pretend to really know those times when God gives me ideas, much less tell other people that God told me something. But, I keep thinking about this image.

The image is twofold. First, is that of a table, that has been tipped over, its contents scattered on the floor around it.

The objects that used to be on this table were once very important to many people, and perhaps, things on the table had even represented “the sacred” to some. Things that were once neatly arranged, now throw to the floor in haphazard fashion, some broken, as if those things never really mattered for much in the first place. Could this be the traditions of our church?

Sometimes we Christian folk make these neat little place settings for ourselves, with all the components arranged so neatly; Martha Stewart would certainly call it a “good thing”. We have our neat little fellowship groups, and our Bible studies, and our men’s and women’s groups. Ushers, and deacons, and elders, Sunday school flannel-graph characters, age appropriate playground equipment, single’s ministries, pot luck dinners, “special music”, correct theology, guest speakers, noted scholars, and church leadership structures. All so ordered, so neat. It looks so good, we think. We think of ourselves as rather intelligent, contemporary, and fashionable, and even sometimes even relevant to the culture.

There is a new paradigm for church leadership, and Professor Eddie Gibbs talks about just these things in Leadership Next. I have to quote one bit here, it is just too good to ignore:

"…so much ministerial training has focused on caring for the flock of God and on maintaining the “shop”. So much of our traditional theological agenda has been shaped by a Christendom-context mentality and has been largely confined to an internal debate between various theological factions. A missional theology, on the other hand, focuses on dialogue with unbelievers and those of other religions."

The second part of the image I get is of that same table, set upright, cleaned off, and ready to accept a new place setting, this time with things that really matter. Could this be the agenda for the future of our church? Maybe these table images are in my head semi-balding head for a reason. Maybe Jesus is trying to tell me something new. Maybe I need to read that story of the money changers again, with new eyes. Maybe I need to think of that clean table, and set it with Kingdom things that really matter, not idle traditions devoid of meaning in the current culture. I am still trying to figure it all out.

One thing I do know. For our church to be vital, alive, and filled with Christ’s presence, its not going to look like it used to.

File under: Church Thoughts

Facing Fear, Silent Sentinels

The photo at left is the place I sit, to camp off a neighbor's wireless, so that I can post here, while on vacation. I know, I need to get a life, but blogging is a form of relaxation and therapy for me.

Silent Sentinels
In the midst of loss, and change, and moving forward, I have been thinking. Thinking about the quiet, subtle forces in my life that keep me from trying new things, working harder at relationships and friendships, and keep me from being a better man and a more loving parent. These forces, they act like silent sentinels that stand at points of change or opportunity in my life. They guard me from new things, from ideas that might be threatening, from people that would stretch me, or change me, or maybe even make me a better man than I am. I can’t really see them all, but I can identify a couple of them. So far, in the fog and mist of my often-inability to understand myself, I can name two of these sentinels; Fear and Complacency.

First, Fear. Maybe I am not so different from lots of people. I fear change, new things, places that make me feel uncomfortable. Nothing new for me, thank you. In my middle age, I find myself sometimes feeling comfortable in the familiar old ruts that I have worked hard over the years to cut deep in the soil of my life. It feels safe here.

Next, Complacency. This force is a good friend and ally of Fear. Everything is fine, just the way it is, thank you. Why would we want to change anything? And then there are the infamous words heard often in the American church for maybe more than 100 years, “We have never done it like THAT around here before!”

Ready, Set, Change Everything!
As I set out on our family vacation, I brought with me several books. The first book, that I am working through now, in the middle of enjoying family and time off is Leadership Next, by Professor Eddie Gibbs of Fuller Seminary. I was given this book, quite by chance, it seemed, to read as a part of my involvement with the School of Intercultural Studies at Fuller. But, there is no chance here, its much more like Providence.

As it turns out, this is a book about the future of the church, and the kind of new leaders that will lead this church. It is a book about the changes coming between the ideologies of modernism (read: my and my parents generation) and postmodernism (the future generations that will inherit the church).

If I can get some moments of clarity, and read through the lines, this is a book that is also about my silent friends, Fear and Complacency. They will not like the ideas in this book. These are Kingdom Ideas; big, wild, threatening, different, unfamiliar. Good ideas, ideas that inhabit the character of Christ. But in an interesting way, Old Ideas. Ideas that lead the early church that ended up changing the world through the birth and growth of Christianity. This is good stuff.

If I and lots of us complacent middle aged folk were to take these ideas seriously, maybe the church might be rebuilt. More soon.

File under: Church Thoughts

Take Off, Eh!

Our family is on vacation. After the events of the past couple of weeks, this is a welcome break.

The location of our holiday? The photo to the left provides a visual clue. Where else on the planet (save for Sweden, Finland, and Norway) could you find this large of a display of hockey sticks at Walmart in July?


The first comment to guess our location correctly wins a collectors edition hockey puck, autographed by me.

How Do You Say Thank You?

The past several weeks have been a time of sadness, loss, fear, and hope, all mixed together in ways that are still difficult for me to express. Sadness, loss, and fear in facing the death of my Mom. Hope in seeing God's real presence in the midst of this time. Writing down my feelings is hard, and saying them seems often even harder.

But there are, among many people, two women that I must thank here, in a public way, for the way in which they have loved my parents and me is something remarkable, and quite beyond my capability to understand.

First to my wife Nancy of nearly 18 years. You are my best friend, and I cannot imagine having faced the past several weeks without you. Thank you for the many ways in which you cared for both Mom and Dad, in the little ways and in the unnoticed details. You have been to me a help, a support, a friend, and a partner. You have been present in ways I am not capable of, and through it all, you did not loose your perspective on Kingdom things, or your patience with me; your sometimes difficult spouse.

And next, to Jill, our dear family friend and Pastor-to-be. Clearly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you are called to care for others, love the unlovely, and be a shepherd. You have loved me, my girls, my wife, and my parents in ways that speak clearly of the character of Jesus. You are kind, gracious, caring, persistent, and wonderful, all together. I am so very thankful that Nancy and I said "yes" to your need for a room, almost four years ago. We all have been blessed beyond measure.

Nancy and Jill, in just the past weeks, you have shown me more about what love means than years of reading about it, studying it, and trying to live it out. You both, in your unique way, have been Christ to me. I am forever thankful. May my life reflect that thankgiving to others.

Elizabeth Lee Norris 1921-2006

Elizabeth Lee Partridge was born on April 18, 1921 in Los Angeles, California. She attended Los Angeles High School, and then USC, where she majored in Art. After a career in modeling, she married Roland Norris of Whittier, California in 1957. Her only son, Steven Roland Norris was born in 1958.

Betty, as she was known by family and friends, was a loving wife, mother, homemaker, friend, and accomplished artist. Her home was filled with oil paintings she had completed over a span of almost 20 years. She was active in the alumni chapter of Kappa Alpha Theta, her sorority at USC.

Betty is preceded in death by her brother Ted, and is survived by her husband of 49 years, Roland Norris, her son, Steven Norris, her brother George Partridge, and her grandchildren, Kelly Lynne Norris and Heather Ruth Norris. At her request, no services are scheduled.

Betty was my Mom. She will be greatly missed by us all.

Nearing The End

For those of you who know me well, you also know that my Mom, 85, has been in failing health for some time now. I have described this before here, by way of some background.

Mom is now in hospice care. She is clearly in her last days, and I do not have clever, or meaningful, or insightful things to say about this. It is not pretty, but I find this time, this experience of the end of my mother's life to be filled with a sense of God's care, in a way I would never have expected.

If you feel lead, please pray for a safe and peaceful transition for my Mom. Her name is Betty.

Softball, Sam, and Community

The past week has been Softball All Star week in our town. The South Pasadena 10-12 year old All Star team just won their section game tonight. Our daughter Heather is playing first base for the team, and this weekend we advance to Regional Playoffs. Undefeated, so far!

This is the kind of stuff that makes us glad to live in South Pasadena; great girls, a wonderful coach, and a community that bonds together to support each other.

Another huge part of our town is meeting those unsung everyday heroes that give of themselves in big and small ways. What could be better than an evening at Orange Grove Park watching the girls play, with an outstanding barbecued burger from the snack stand. And who does the barbecuing, year after year, for no pay other than the smiles and thanks and hugs he gets from every girl on almost every team in the league.


Meet Sam Hernandez, husband, father, general contractor, and everyday hero. Our girls have been playing softball for almost 10 years, and nearly every one of those years, Sam has been at the ball field every night and weekend, grilling burgers for the kids, and parents, and grandparents, passing out hugs and making new friends.

This is the stuff of what community really means. People who know your name, who are glad you showed up at the ball park, ask about your kids, and provide a loving environment for kids to grow up in.

Sam is an example to me, and his example makes me glad that I live in this town.

Doubting Thomas

I heard a song today that went right to the heart of who I am, and where my life is leading these days.

My Mom, 85, lies in the hospital today, and has for the past five days. She is "failing to thrive". She has lost a lot of weight, can no longer walk, and eats only small amounts each day. Only the Lord knows what each day going forward holds for her, and for all of us. All of us. Everyday.

And then, I heard this song.

By way of background, our daughter Kelly went to hear Nickel Creek at the House of Blues earlier this week, and she made me a CD of their music, which I have enjoyed hearing in the past. Mysterious lyrics that make you think. Perhaps Heaven does come close to Earth more than we think. Perhaps there is Something much larger than we could ever know of.

As I am returning from my Mom's bedside this afternoon, this song came on. Doubting Thomas. That is often me. Doubting. But strangely in this past week, I am doubting some things less, and understanding God as the Author of Life in new ways that I did not understand before.


what will be left when I've drawn my last breath,
besides the folks I've met and the folks who know me,
will i discover a soul cleansing love,
or just the dirt above and below me,
please give me time to decipher the signs,
please forgive me for time that I've wasted,
I'm a doubting Thomas,
i took a promise,
but i don't know what's safe,
oh me of little faith,

Now forgive me, but this was clearly something Providential - in my hearing THIS song at just THIS point in my life. Turns out something else is going on with the origins of Nickel Creek. Go here to read about it.

Help me Lord, with my unbelief. I will follow You, even if it makes no sense. Even if it is too big, or scary, or weird for me to understand. I will follow You.

< /span>

Thankful for a Memory, Waiting on the Sky

Tonight, I went to the softball field, to pick up Heather (12) from practice. Tomorrow is her first inter-league All-Star softball game tomorrow night. Lately, Kelly (15) always asks to come along for the ride to the field. For this simply mercy of time together, I am thankful. As we drove across town, an old memory suddenly bubbled up to the surface of my brain.

On July 23, 1995, an unusually bright comet outside of Jupiter's orbit was discovered independently by Alan Hale, New Mexico and Thomas Bopp, Arizona. The new comet, designated C/1995 O1, is the farthest comet ever discovered by amateurs, and appeared 1000 times brighter than Comet Halley did at the same distance. I was fascinated by this, and remember reading about it, and finding out exactly when it would be visible from our town. To me, there is something amazing about comets.

In the car on the way to the ballfield, I turned to Kelly and said, "Do you remember, a long time ago, when you and I climbed to up to the water tower, and waited for the comet to appear in the night sky?" Kelly did remember. We both smiled; Kelly, thinking of her impossibly dorky father, and me, giving quiet thanks for a small moments like these of shared memories, and for the simple grace of the memory itself.

Kelly was about six, as I recall, when we climbed up to the top of the hill with the water tower in our town. It was a fall night, and we waited for dusk to come and kept gazing to the northwest, where the comet would be visible. We waited, and waited. This was in the time when Kelly was far more patient with her science-fan Dad. Sure enough, as the sun went down, we saw the comet in the northwestern sky, low over the hills that border Pasadena.

A comet, possibly formed near Neptune, possibly 4.5 billion years ago. A father and his daughter, standing on a hill in a big city, straining to see the light produced by this comet 4.5 billion years later. I remember talking about how long it took the light from the comet to reach earth.

My heart is strangely warmed with this memory. How is it that I have been so blessed to wait on a hill with a lovely view of Pasadena, with a wonderful six year old, waiting for a comet? All those years ago.

It is all a wonderful mystery to me.

These Faces

Yesterday was a very interesting day. In the span of 24 hours, I:

• Spent time with young couples, pondering what solitude means
• had the priviledge of participating in the baptism of a little Korean 1-year old adopted by an amazingly loving family
• laughed with friends
• barbecued hamburgers for about 15 guests
• got elbowed in the eye by my daughter playing the pool (and have the shiner to show for it)
• played with babies in the water
• had to negotiate with a somewhat difficult teenage daughter
• stood at the bedside of my mom, whose health continues to deteriorate.

When I think back on it all, it's really hard to believe that my life is this full, this varied. And here is something interesting, as well. In all these things, the sprinkling of water, the cooking of food, the laughing, the grieving, Christ is present. It may not always feel like it, but He is there, if we will stop, and wait, and look.

He is in the eyes of the dying, the touch of water on the head of the child who has come half-way around the world to find a new life, in the smile and laugh of a new friend. In the joy of young friends turning circles in the pool and yelling "Maaarco......Polo!", and in the eyes of my Mom, tired and weary from life's journey.

He is there. Christ is here. I find it interesting that Jesus did not tell us. "The Kingdom of God is coming, just wait." Nope. He told us that the Kingdom is near, at hand. And so, it is.

Mom is back in the hospital; we will need to find her a different place to live now, perhaps some form of skilled nursing environment.

Our friends had a blast in the pool. My black eye looks cool. The babies went home, and had naps.

And, at the end of the day, for me, a gift. As I headed upstairs to bed around midnight, I stopped by the rooms of our girls. Two sleeping faces, completely at peace. Faces I have know so well, and loved, and wept for, and laughed with, and enjoyed now for a good many years. Both gifts. Both who do not belong to me. They belong to God.

Amen.

File under: Parental Musing, Thankfulness

Silence and Simplicity

Life just whizzes by. No matter what we do, we can't slow it down. It won't stop. We feel out of control, as if we have been sent down some water slide and we can't stop, and we are not sure what is at the other end; a cool pool of water or a sheer cliff.

Our lives are so noisy, so filled with commotion, city noises, or even just the voices of others. Life can be scary, noisy, busy.

In the midst of this, the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, written more than 60 years ago come:

"Silence is nothing else but waiting for God's Word and coming from God's Word with a blessing. But everybody knows that this is something that needs to be practiced and learned, in these days when talkativeness prevails. Real silence, real stillness, really holding one's tongue comes only as the sober consequence of spiritual stillness"

"in these days when talkativeness prevails"......indeed!

God help me to shut up, and listen.

Middle Age, Making a Difference, and Rapid Change

Several days ago, I mentioned that I would be writing more about my own internal reflections on middle age, the things that occupy our time and attention, and what really matters in this life.

How is that for sampling of light, easy, topics? Well, its either this, or you get to hear me hold forth on my latest Presbyterian naming of the Trinity: "Rock, Paper, Scissors". Anyway.

There are lots of things swimming around in my mind these days, as I face the declining health of my own parents (85 and 86 years old, respectively) coming to grips for the first time with my own mortality, the bittersweet maturing of my wonderful teenage daughters, and more recently, the beginning steps in rebuilding a divided and broken church. Other than these things, not much else is going on. I play a lot of solitaire. Oh yeah, Sports Center and Baseball Tonight. Do that too.

This past week, I participated in a leadership meeting at our church, and one of the recurring thoughts I kept having was "we are working with a leadership model, and discussing concepts here that are 30 years old, maybe we need to change some things". The other alternating thought was "I am so bored, I wonder what is on Baseball Tonight!" And so, might I start with some recurring themes I have noticed recently?

To Find New Life, We Must Die

Dietrick Bonhoeffer is one of my favorite theologians. I have mentioned this before. When it became clear that war was coming to his Germany in the late 1930s, Bonhoeffer's friends urged him to leave Germany, or risk imprisonment and death. For a time, he listened, and came to New York prior to the outbreak of World War II. Yet as Bonhoeffer walked around the streets of the city, he became convinced that, like Jonah fleeing from Nineveh, he had refused the call of God to fight the Nazis from within Germany. And he knew what that call meant after all, as he once wrote: "When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die." So Bonhoeffer boarded a ship and sailed back toward his homeland, where he taught, formed Christian community, lead the church, spoke out against the Nazis, plotted to kill Hitler, and finally met his doom in the death camps.

To Die We Must Give Up Old Stuff, and Embrace New

A number of months ago, I had an email conversation regarding our painful church split with Mark Galli, the managing editor of Christianity Today magazine. I found Mark to be a former Presbyterina pastor who is a very thoughtful man. Then, just the other day, I read an article in the most recent edition (no link yet) of Christianity Today about what we Christian folk THINK matters. Great article. Mark talks a lot about "relevance", and "power", and "success". These are very over used words and ideas in the American church.

I have to quote just a bit of it for you, it is worth repeating, perhaps several thousand times:

"Jesus loves us so much, he sometimes slaps our vague idealism in the face with a healthy does of reality. This shocks us, and we find ourselves speechless and blushing with either anger or shame."

and:

"Like Peter, we have to die to our notions of relevance and successs, and let God - through a crucified Savior, though and amateurish church, through a stiff Communion service - raise up his people when He will and how He will, with a power and glory we can hardly fathom."

Amen to that, and help me Lord! Help my need to be powerful, cool, successful, and relevant. Help me to love those you place in my path, whether their ministry model is 30 years old or not. Help me to love. Help me also to dance, like Matt. See above the post below....

Next up...

Help! The world is changing, and it makes me afraid, and I don't like it!!

File Under: Church Thoughts

Living Like Matt!

There is something magical, and a bit of the Kingdom in this video. God has made for us an amazing and varied earth to live on. Matt has seen a lot of this planet recently, and I love his approach.

Dancing!

Could this be part of the Abundant Life of which Jesus spoke?

Watching this makes me think that maybe God is calling us to dance more.....

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Forrest Gump's Mama was right when she told him, "Stupid is as stupid does, Forrest". Forrest listened to his Mama. The photo to the left illustrates that I can be perty stupid at times - note the Nascar baseball hat.

This past week, the Presbyterian Church USA did something pretty schizophrenic, and well, stupid. As I am not a theologian, I direct you here, to the most well thought out, fair, and measured response to the looniness of a declining denomination. For me, its not so much about being Presbyterian, but about honoring Christ and his church. I am not so sure this sort of nonsense does either of those things.

Hmmm, maybe things like this are why Presbyterians are loosing ground faster than Dale Earnhardt in a golf cart with low batteries.

The Week in Review

Help! There is too much going on. It seems like there are few moments to rest, to reflect, to pause, let alone blog. And so, here is a brief rundown of the "Steve Week in Review".

The photo to the left was taken about two weeks ago in our neighborhood, and this image reminds me, yet again, of how the Scriptures tell us that all Creation displays the majesty of God. If we will only open our eyes to see!

Tuesday was my birthday. I am 48 years old. I have many thoughts about this, which I shall share soon. I took the day off. My girls, out of the kindness of their hearts, took time out of their busy summer social and sports schedules, and spent time with Dad at Manhattan Beach. I remain in awe of the blessing of my family. Thank you God, and girls (all) for loving me.

Eight days ago was Father's Day. I decided it was time to take my Dad to visit our family home, after about six months of delayed repairs and painting. It was a bittersweet time, seeing Dad in our family home; a place he had spent so much time in, and now could no longer call home due to his declining health and mental acuity. Dad was very thankful to visit, and was pleased with the work we have done.

More reflections on middle age, time and attention, and what really matters, coming soon. I am sure that all six of you readers are so psyched!

Verbal Strategery

In our home, we have the unmitigated joy, and sometime near complete craziness of living with two daughters, one age 12 and the other 15. Could one want anymore from life? I think not.

As our oldest daughter Kelly matures, it seems her brain is sometimes caught in an interesting place; the limbo between childhood and becoming an adult. It is a strange and wonderful time indeed, full of a swirl of strange emotions and feelings, new discoveries, and internal conflicts. Going along with this is the great need to, as psychologists have termed it "individuate", or become their own person. It is not easy to be a teen today, on so many different levels. For more on adolescent brain development, read this great book.

One of the most hysterical parts of this season of life is the verbal confusion that occurs in the teenage brain. Case in point, from the Kelly Norris and Friends dictionary of...

Those Darned Substitute and Confusing Words

"Confession Stand" is confused with Concession Stand - is this a place where you can confess your sins, and THEN order two hot dogs, a pretzel and a Diet Coke. I am thinking about a joint venture between the Dodgers and Roger Mahoney.

"Tabolism" is confused with Metabolism - as in "I am sorry, but my tabolism is too slow to eat that hot dog and still feel hungry in an hour, Cardinal".

"Organtic" is confused with Organic. "Darryl Hannah is in favor of tree sitting until the organtic farmers get the land they do not own. Joan Baez is handing out organtic treats to the protesters.

"Camel Flage" is confused with Camouflage. This may actually work currently in some Middle Eastern settings; "The Al Qaeda terrorists were caught by US intelligence officers (near the oasis) who were disguised as camels, in, of course, Camel Flage.

T.P. - as in Toilet Paper. Kelly and her friends had never heard that T.P. actually stands for toilet paper. "Whooaa....is THAT that T.P. stands for?!" Shocking.

and my personal favorite....

"Extortion" - confused with the spiritual gift of exhortation. Kelly recently told us that one of her self-perceived spiritual gifts was extortion. With this knowledge, I am planning to quit my day job, and live in hiding in Costa Rica, collecting income via clandestine wire transfer from the spiritual gift of my oldest daughter. Please do not inform the authorities, thank you.