Not a Very Good Friday

Good Friday. What a name.

In the Holy Land, Good Friday is known as "Great Friday." In German it is "Karfreitag", an Old German word meaning "Friday of lamentation", although this meaning is not obvious to speakers of modern German. In Armenia it is called "High Friday (Ավագ Ուրբաթ)". In Russia it is called "Passion Friday" (Страстной Пяток / Страстная Пятница). In Ethiopia it is called Friday of the Crucifixion (arib siqilat).

I am going with the Germans and the Ethiopians. But really now. Its not so Good. Its tragic. Dark. The Ultimate Sadness.

But history, and the Bible tell me that something is coming.

On Sunday.

Just Too Cool; Flight Level 390

I just have to share with you one of my favorite blog stops. This is a blog written by a pilot (who remains anonymous) who, I assume, flys for Alaska airlines.

Forgive me my geekiness, but his posts are just about the coolest thing imaginable.

Add to that, I just found out last night that my younger lovely daughter will be attending school next year with another girl whose Dad lived three doors up the block from me when I was a little kid, now lives across the street from where we grew up, is the son of this guy and......wait for it.....is a pilot for American Airlines! Yes! Hello! That makes for some fun Father/Daughter dances for me.

Is there a TSA rule against a regular dude, who is friends with the pilot, riding jump seat in the cockpit on a flight?

I hope not, 'cause I am asking, pretty soon.

Anyway, Flight Level 390. Completely beyond awesome. Check it out.

In The Interest of Candor

Some people have blogs that make their lives look like they are simply full of happy days and hearts and flowers.

I think that is fake.

Today, I had a nice day at the office. Then, I came home.

I have been spending years trying to learn how be a calm, rational, non-explosive, affirming, lovely parent. I have read books, attended seminars, and yes (gasp!) even been in therapy. Lots.

I did not behave well with with my family tonight. Afterward, I needed to go for a long walk, to try to sort out both my feelings, and my failings. I came home after a while, and apologized. At nearly 50 years old, I am still working out what it means to be a good husband and father.

Its not easy. I need more work.

Just wanted to be honest here.

March Madness, Go Bruins!

After several close calls over USC, Cal, and Stanford, the Bruins are heading into the NCAA Tournament with one of four number one seeds.

Best of luck to the boys of Westwood!

The video below gives me chills; its for my friend Julie in Ohio. Remember the good ole' days, Jules?

This Ball Field, Moon and Sixpence, Home

This is Orange Grove Field in South Pasadena; the softball field where my two daugthers have played for the past 10 or so years. I love this place, and I have been thinking about why that is.

We came here after a couple of years of T-ball in another park, with little girls picking dandelions in right field and wondering what base to run to after they hit if off the tee. The biggest event of the game for the girls was, of course, the snack. I loved those years, perhaps more now than I did back then.

The Moon and Sixpence (1919) is a short novel by William Somerset Maugham based on the life of the painter Paul Gauguin. The story is told in episodic form by the first-person narrator as a series of glimpses into the mind and soul of the central character, Charles Strickland, a middle aged English stock broker who abandons his wife and children abruptly in order to pursue his desire to become an artist.

What does "The Moon and Sixpence", from 1919, have to do with playing softball on the clay infield and green grass of Orange Grove park in 2008? Listen to this quote from the book, and maybe you might understand a bit more.

"I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood... remain but a place of passage. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves... Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest."

That's it. All of life seems to be about the search for, the often and silent ache to know the way, and the journey toward... home. Strangely, when I hit the grass of Orange Grove, helping to coach girls softball, if feel as if I may have settled upon a place to which I mysteriously feel I belong. Perhaps this green grass, this subtle pink and blue sunset above me, is just a peek, a glimpse of Something More, and a place I will someday call Home. A final place to settle.

Someday, I will know that place. I will be Home, at last. At rest.

Until then, I cannot think of a better place to be on a fresh, cool, spring night than at this field, with these girls.

What Happens At Death's Door?

Jill Bolte Taylor is a brain researcher. A number of years ago, while still a young woman, she had a massive stroke. She very nearly died, but she experienced amazing things.

Here is her story, you need 19 minutes to watch it, but I think you will be glad you did. While her "energy" language is a bit new-agey for me, just substitute in Holy Spirit (which Jill does not acknowledge, but I suspect), and you will be good to go. Hers is a remarkable story.

Honesty and Worship

This just simply speaks for itself.

A New School

This weekend we learned that our younger daughter, Heather, will be attending Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy next fall.

About a year ago, Heather let us know that she would like to apply for private Catholic girls school. Frankly, she was feeling exhausted by the environment of public school, and needed a change. As her parents, we would have never predicted this from one of our kids; we have always believed that being a part of the local community; being invested, was what we wanted and really, who we were as a family. This will be a change for us, too.

And so, over the last year, we have all been on a journey - to see where God might be leading us all, together. Tutors, extra studying, entrance exams, and test preparation. Interviews. Test taking. More interviews. Applications. And then, waiting, and praying.

Nancy and I could not be more delighted about Heather's choice. She actually had a choice of two different private schools to attend, and we feel she has worked very hard toward a great goal, and has made a wonderful decision.

For those of you who might be worried, Heather will not be worshipping Mary daily. Everything we have learned about Sacred Heart has left us with a terrifically positive feeling; the spirit and grace of Christ was present in all our experiences.

It is so fun to watch our girls spread their wings. What an amazing ride.

The Hour of (Pot) Power

The other night I was at a dinner event, and a friend told me a true story that I thought I should relay here.

It turns out that a pastor of a church was, a number of years ago, called on the phone by the parents of a college-aged boy, who was attending college in the area. This boy's parents lived out of town, and they had become concerned, as their son, who had been raised in a Christian home, had reported that he was no longer attending church. The parents gave the pastor the phone number and address of their son.

They asked the pastor if he just might look in on their boy sometime, to see if he were doing alright. So, several weeks passed, and one Sunday, on the way home from church, the pastor decided to drop in at the college fraternity house of the boy.

As he ascended the steps to the porch of the fraternity house, he could see inside the living room, where he spotted four college guys, including the wayward son, all smoking rather generous quantities of cannabis, and huddled around the local afternoon broadcast of The Hour of Power. They watched in rapt attention, loudly agreeing together with the major points of the sermon. Hearty "amens", "oh, yah, mans!", and the occassional "dude!" could be heard through the window.

The pastor decided not to interrupt this time of interesting religious devotion, and reported later to the parents, "well, I stopped in on your son, and he was, in his own unique way, attending church".

Forgive me my sacrilege, but this story nearly made me wet my laundry.

The Right Reverand Rat

I have an old friend who is a pastor. His nickname is KC. But he is not your traditional pastor. The other day, this respected man of the cloth went to a local elementary school and donned a large literary rodent costume.

This is not a pastor who needs the respect of the local public. In fact, he wants to get a little disrespect, if it works for Kingdom purposes.

The other day I teased him about his rat costume, and his reply was rambling, but so good, I needed to quote him here. I have his permission:

"Not a professional (pastor) yet. No cheapening (of the gospel) here brother. Converts will come if I'm living my life like I'm forgiven in front of the world. A world where the church is "blowing chunks" (reference to the act of barfing) right now, and someone has to wear the dumb rat costume. My take? Go to where the people are. Next door. Meet them on the streets. Hang with them in their workplaces; Debbie's (his wife's public) school. Take them on long car rides to UCLA for kidney checkups, read to first and second graders and special ed. kids, so that the teachers get a 30 minute break in the midst of their hellish days. Work out with the people at the gym (24 Hour Fitness and Snap Fitness is an unreached mission field). Drink Starbucks with them. Be with them. Listen to them at Target, hear their struggles with the churches they attend. Go to barbecues, coach Little League with them. Christmas carol with them. Pray with them. Live like I'm forgiven and allow the Holy Spirit himself to do the intervening upon everyone I meet and greet, the souls in need of just a little bit of hope in the midst of a world that just isn't the greatest right now. Kingdom work even means wearing dumb rat costumes."

I wish I could hang more with my friend KC.

Dandelion - Antje Duvekot

My wife is away in Texas visiting friends. I am home with my two teenager daughters. We are having a fun time, just us three, as the family dynamic changes when Mom is away. We all miss Mom, but are enjoying a change of pace. The quality of the food has definately declined.

One of the best things about teenage girls is the new world they expose you to. Today, I learned about Antje Duvekot, a folk singer who moved to the US from Germany at 14. She is remarkable.

I am thankful beyond words for these girls that God has loaned us for a just a little bit longer, and for new little blessings and discoveries.

Come to think of it, these girls that live with us now, they are like dandelions, they will soon blow away. May I be able to watch it happen with bittersweet joy and sorrow, mixed together.

For the lyrics to this song, go here.

The Music of Freedom

I have been following with great interest the recent visit of the New York Philharmonic to North Korea. I have read a lot about this performance, both pro and con. I think my fascination in this stems from my own visits to Eastern Europe, prior to the fall of Communism, more than 20 years ago.


I remember those visits so starkly; the contrast of oppression and freedom, darkness and light. The bland expanses of centrally planned Eastern Block architecture, the attempts to immortalize communist leaders, and the looks of resignation on the faces of the people we saw, these are the memories I will never forget.

Today, North Korea, with its highly centralized system and tight controls on the daily lives of its people, remains firmly in the grip of its leader, Kim Jong-il. He and his father, Kim Il-sung, are the subjects of a personality cult that requires portraits in every home and their images on lapel pins on the jackets of every official. Huge statues of the older Kim dominate cities (shown above, click to enlarge). The state operates what human rights experts say is a vast gulag of labor camps, many filled with the ideologically suspect and their families.

Into this comes the New York Philharmonic, playing the music of Freedom. Dvorak's New World Symphony, and George Gershwin's "American in Paris." Dvorak's New World symphony has always been quite moving to me; I think it speaks of freedom. It was written by the composer while here in the US between 1892 and 1895. For more details see this.

Lorin Maazel, the Music Director of the New York Philharmonic wrote recently:

"It is a role of the highest possible order: bringing peoples and their cultures together on common ground, where the roots of peaceful interchange can imperceptibly but irrevocably take hold. If all goes well, the presence of the New York Philharmonic in Pyongyang might gently influence the perception of our country there. If we are gradually to improve U.S.-Korean relations, such events have the potential to nudge open a door that has been closed too long."

I have posted a clip of the actual PyongYang concert below - it is haunting to watch the elite of a totalitarian state listen to music composed in the Land of the Free.

The music of freedom. Millions still long to hear it in their hearts. My prayer is that someday, like the millions of Eastern Europe, freedom might ring throughout the Korean peninsula. Until then, listen for the music of freedom.

Of Professors and Regular Folks

The previous post below, and an experience the other night, have me thinking again about what it means to form meaningful Christian community in today's world.

One thing I do know. Following Jesus, and having lives that make Him attractive to others today, is in no way similar to the way people did it in 1950, 1970, or in 2000, for that matter. Change is persistent; it will not go away. I have been thinking about this for a long time now. And if you want to see a small peek of what change is looking like, look in the post below.

Professors' Thoughts
There is a little quote by a well respected theologian and professor that fits this idea well:

"…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."

Listening Well to Regular People
I am currently involved in the beginnings of a number of conversations in the life of our church, that will hopefully begin the process of leading us where God may be calling us to go in the future. And that will likely be a very new place, something very different from where we are now. As in completely different; not in the Christ we worship and serve, but in the way we do those things.

Over the past several weeks, we have been gathering groups across generational lines and typical groupings, to discover what God might be saying in our midst. Now listen to what these folks are saying:

"Most people don’t know their neighbors where they live and work. In terms of church, it seems that a certain type of person comes to this church. I don’t feel like the immediate neighborhood is interested in this church – we attract a certain maturity and educational level – there is not anything wrong with this – and we may not need to knock on the neighbor’s doors.

But what is an active role in the life of the church? What does that mean? Does it mean that everyone needs to take an active role in the life of the church? Is three hours a week on Sunday, and 1.5 hours in the middle of the week an “active role”? Different people have different levels of vesting their involvement in the church. Sometimes a church is like a hospital, where others are nourished and fed. Not everyone who comes here is happy and fulfilled – perhaps a "church" is a place that extends beyond the “life of the church”.

How is the life of the church defined? I find it alarming, that peoples’ only involvement in the life of the church is on Sunday. And there is a significant difference in the lifestyle of the younger and older generation. Older generation is committed marriages, long term relationships, but the younger generation is often disconnected, single parents, lack of ability to make commitments. There is a huge generational shift occurring, and how do we make this work. How do we make this equitable? How do we do mentorship; connecting generations?"

I find this all fascinating, that a seminary professor, writing several years ago in Pasadena, knew what might be in the mind of a lay person at a church in Hollywood several years in the future. Hmmm. Wonder if God is up to something here?

Students Today

Alright. Stop. Watch this video. Twice. Maybe more times.

This, my friends, is the future. Deal with it.

Officer Down, Randy Simmons

He was only a year older than me.

He was a hero.

He loved Jesus with all his heart, and his life displayed it, consistently.

And now, he is gone. The entire City of Angels is something less because of this loss.

I will be praying for grace, peace and mercy for his dear family.

Mr. Lincoln

Today is Abraham Lincoln's birthday.

This piece came on KUSC this morning, as Nancy and I awoke. What an appropriate way to start this day.

This piece was composed by the legendary (and one of my favorite) American composer, Aaron Copeland, and was performed by the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, under the direction of Zubin Mehta. The narrator is actor Gregory Peck.

This man Lincoln, and this moving piece, are two more reasons I am proud to be an American.

Majesty Above 10,000 Feet

Posted below is the reason why I love to fly......it is just amazing to me. Perhaps its in my genetics, as my Dad was a B-17 pilot. It is beyond me how anyone can book a flight and not ask for a window seat.

My Town, Samaria, Jesus, and Me

When theory and reality intersect, sometimes not much happens. At least that is my experience. I think about this a lot.

I have been a follower of Christ for the past 28 years. I have lived in the same town for the past 27 years. And I can count on one hand the times that where I live and what I believe have intersected.

I am wondering if anyone else has experienced this. Our church is 13 miles (and anywhere from 20 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on the lovely LA traffic) from our home. And, it seems, never the twain shall meet.

My church life is entirely divorced from my life in my local community. Why is this? Perhaps its because for the past almost 20 years of our married life together, our family has attended what used to be a mega-commuter church in Hollywood. This has been a church that over the years morphed from a church that drew its congregants from both near and far into a city church that now largely draws its folks from far, typically beyond 5 miles away, and often as far away as 25 miles.

Perhaps another significant factor is the way our culture works. Church life and civic life seem greatly disconnected. I long for a life that feels more integrated, where who I am on the inside is more connected to where I live, and how I interact with people.

Maybe its because life here in a larger city is just that way. Disconnected. Disjointed pieces never moving in a coherent pattern. I have my work life, my family life, and my church life; but they never really connect in a way that makes sense, or seems a unified whole. There is no meshing of home, work, and church.

I dislike this greatly, and it often makes me feel as if my faith is somehow, well, fake. I feel like this person who reads lots of books, thinks lots of thoughts, does the "church thing" but never really has a chance to live out the concepts and ideas in a lifestyle that gives real and deep meaning and purpose to the basic core of the faith.

My thoughts in this regard are not fully formed. But I know something is not altogether right, and I want to work toward a way (and a life) that is different than status quo now.

The sharing of these thoughts was instigated by my reading of Tim Stafford's most recent article in Christianity Today; a thoughtful comment upon the life of Christ following folk in current times. Take a look, it might shed more light than my ramblings.

Am I making any sense here? Does anyone else experience this?

St. Olaf Choir - Remarkable Music

They are 68 strong, they hail from a small northern Mid-Western college, and they are (save for two members) all very white.

But they can sing like you are standing at the Gates of Heaven. I swear it.

I first heard of the St.Olaf College Choir in December, when I saw their Christmas concert on PBS. And then, later that month, Nancy spotted a small add in a local newspaper that they would be on tour and stopping right next door in Pasadena.

And so, last Tuesday night, in the company of dear 20+ year friends Jeff & Sparky and Jamie & Polly, off we went to hear the Mid-Western white kids sing.

And sing, they did! The concert, in a word: amazing.

Powerful, subtle, moving, engaging, wonderful. Choral music is by no means a dead art. I promise you. At one point I was moved to tears by a choral treatment of Robert Frost's, The Pasture:

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

You come too, indeed. Words of a simple rural life, so long gone from where I live today, busily hurrying through my urban life. Flying here and there, things to accomplish. Sometimes, I think I would rather clean the pasture spring.

Just a peek more at the St. Olaf's choir is found below, in a treatment of Mark Jennings "O Crux" (O Cross). I could not find the english translation from the Latin, but watch this, I think you will be blessed.

George

His name was George. He never missed a church committee meeting, or a potluck dinner, his weekly Sunday school class, or anything at church, for that matter. Nothing. He was there for everything. Part of the landscape. A fixture. It had been that way for years.

But to me, George was much more than just a fixture. He was a pain in my rear end.

You see, by fate, or Divine Providence, George and I seemed to end up involved in the same activities at church all the time. Constantly. I could not avoid him. Have you ever met someone who has an opinion about everything, whether you want to hear it or not? Someone who seems to act as if they might be the only person alive? A man who is easily hurt, constantly annoyed, and permanently angry. Joyless. Ever met someone like that?

I've heard others say he sould be medicated. Immature and annoying some might say. Unbalanced, say others. Completely annoying, many say. George would easily tell you about all the faults, shortcomings, and inabilities of others; but never imagine that he might have some faults of his own. His picture should have been next to "tedious" in the dictionary.

But a man like George does not merely evolve out of nothing. There was something distinctive about George. It was his past. His life had been one of nearly constant struggle and enough emotional pain for several people. Broken marriages, disconnected family. When you took a bit of time to hear his story, if only in outline form, all the crankiness, all the negativity, all the medling behavior makes much more sense. It was as if the sum total of all the pain, loss, and long suffering in his life had etched itself upon George's soul, and was constantly clawing to get out. Pain always there, without hope for removal, save for Heaven.

Given his past, it was a wonder that George even showed up, at of all places, our church. And yet, there he was every week, in the same pew, holding fast to a faith in Jesus that was muted through a cranky and painful exterior. Figuring out his Belief, right there next to the rest of us. Together.

A while back, I was placed on a committee with George for a very long time. We met often enough that George worked his way into my skin. His neediness, his complaining, his sour outlook on life wore me nearly completely down. There were nights when I would get in my car after our meetings and wonder what in the world I was doing on this stupid committee. I could have been home, for heaven's sake! Some nights, I would get to my car, hit the freeway ramp home, and scream as loud as I could, just to release the energy of frustration I was feeling from having to deal with ...... George.

And then, one particularly late committee meeting night, as I drove home feeling frustrated yet again, I was struck by something. Call it a thought from God, maybe. I'm still not sure.

I thought to myself of exactly where both George and I would be heading home to that night; and the contrast of the two. I was heading home to a house with two lovely little daughters, a wonderful wife, a chocolate labrador, and a cat. All sleeping when I came in the door, close to midnight. A home. Full of people and love and blessing, laughter and life; but quiet now, in the dark. The happy ending of the movie.

George, on the other hand, would pack himself up in his ancient import car, and ride home to a small apartment in a not-so-great part of town where he lived, alone. With his thoughts, his loneliness, and a 15 year old color TV. Not much else. Alone.

And then, as I sped down the freeway, another thought occurred to me. I remember somewhere in the Bible it said something about "bearing others burdens". Becoming Christ for others.

What might that look like, if I did that? If I became more familiar with the life of another that did not look like or turn out like mine has, at least so far? Spending time with a person who would be last on my list of people to hang with. What if I gave of myself, rather than enjoying my warm and comfy place of annoyance at the behavior of others? What might it be like if I became more like Jesus? For George.

I wondered.

George grew ill, and stopped coming to church. I never got to find out about my questions of getting to know George better.

I still feel the shame.

Some Things Speak for Themselves

This is what beautiful sounds like.

Everything Must Change - Book Review

Brian McClaren has a new book, which I have just finished reading. I have been interested in the things Mr. McClaren has had to offer over the last several years. While I am aware he has a number of both critics and admirers, I really wanted to see what was on his mind in this book, particularly after hearing a compelling interview here.

After reading this book, I have several conflicting thoughts. Please remember, this is from the mind of a 49-year old white guy from the suburbs who has not voted Democrat since Jimmy Carter. What do I know?

Helpful Critique of The Church

Mr. McClaren offers a very insightful and helpful critique of the modern church, and the surreal way in which Christian-think has become mixed up in conservative politics. This whole thing bothers me a great deal, as the older I get the less I think that any of us who follow Christ can shrink wrap him into our way of looking at the world as Democrat or Republican. Given this, what is said in the opening chapters of this book is very helpful. We all need more of this constructive criticism.

Of particular value is McClaren's thoughts on the way that we have misunderstood the message of who Jesus is. Suffice it to say there is much to think about how we might "reframe" our view of Jesus here. Change here is needed; we believing folk should make this a priority. The decline of the Western church is evidence that our old model is not working. I am totally in with this form of thinking.

A Mass of Criticism
After the early chapters, Mr. McClaren ventures into the deep water of politics, economics, international affairs, and the military history of the United States.

I find myself often wondering during these chapters if the author is in over his head. While his ideas are good, and also faithful to Scripture in many ways, they seem, at the end, to be idealistic, and frankly detached from reality. I shudder to think what would have happened with Mr. McClaren at the helm of US foreign policy over the past decade, most particularly in the face of 9/11. Be very careful when mixing theology and politics, this is very choppy water indeed.

I will admit that much is and has been wrong with the way the US has acted in relation to other countries, and our sense of imperialism over the past century.

However, after several chapters of predictable screeds against our country's behavior, I wonder again, what would Mr. McClaren have done with the brutally oppressive Taliban in the aftermath of the attacks on the US? See: The Kite Runner. Should we have sent over diplomats to talk about our feelings; how we had been deeply hurt by the "damage" brought upon our country? About how, perhaps, these attacks had really been our fault, because of our oppressive behavior? I wonder. While I struggle with much of the military posturing of our country, the world is still menanced by bad people, and no amount of happy thinking seems to be able to change this.

Mr. McClaren reminds me of utopian urban planners, with whom I have to deal often in my work. They love the idea of "mixed use" projects with residential and commercial uses placed neatly together. However, guess what? Many times these mixtures are financial disasters; they simply do not work in the real world. I can prove it to you numerically. I think the same ideology applies to other things in life. Urban planners need to spend some time with those who actually need to show their developments must make money. Shocking, I know. Not all militarists are evil, some like their kids and care about others.

That offered, I think McClaren has much to offer about the way we view money. Our consumer culture needs healing, and there is much good thinking here!

Nowhere to Go - Vague Suggestions
The final portion of this book is long on hints and short on practical response. I felt as if I was offered a book thick with complaints, and short on suggestions and solutions. How shall I then live, please?!

If the dominant world view is so messed up, where do I, as a believer who wants to make a difference turn? Where are the centers of hope in the world, where are the opportunities to make a change? Please, Mr. McClaren, tell me stories of transformation and of hope, of renewal and rebirth. I want to hear them.

I am not just a shallow white guy who wants to stay comfortable. I would like to think about this sort of thing more. Or do I need to wait for your next book? If that is the case, I call foul.

Ok, so that is what my tiny mind thinks. But there is far more in the blogsphere to look at and think about. Much smarter people than me. If you struggle like I do with this sort of thing, go look!

George Will - One of My Favorites

Since what is in George Will's mind is far more interesting than what is typically inside my head, I will give you some highlights from a recent speech by Mr. Will:

I write about politics to support my baseball habit.
If the Democrats can’t win the presidency this year, they have to get out of politics.
2008 is the first year when profits of Fortune 500 companies will be less than their healthcare outlays.
The thing that worries me is the entitlement mentality produced by a welfare state. 40% of the American public changes jobs every year.
Economic illiteracy leads to economic hypochondria.
We know how to manage our economy — keep inflation out of it and stand back.
The economy is doing rather well but its not acceptable to say that.
Americans feel entitled to uninterrupted prosperity.
Evian water is $180 a barrel.
Economic illiteracy will kill us.
People feel entitled to incompatible things
A recession is often a correct thing to happen.
Every American feels entitled to sue someone even if it’s the result of his or her own imbecilic choice.
Envy is the only one of the seven deadly sins that doesn’t give someone even temporary pleasure.
Today the great source of wealth is the mind — human capital.
Anyone willing to do what you have to do to be president should be disqualified.

What is Real Beauty?

I have two daughters. This is very important to me. Watch it.
Then, go read this book. Its a very important book you really must read, if you are raising girls.

The Bucket List - Go See This Movie!

What things would you do....if you knew you only had months to live? And, would your station in life dictate what you could or would do? Would you wonder about yourself, your journey through life, and about what it is all about? Would you wonder about God? Would you make things right with those whom you may have hurt? Would you leave earth with "your eyes closed, and your heart open"?

Nancy and I went to the movies today, and had the wonderful opportunity to think about all these things. Given the loss of my Mom and Dad during the past two years, this was an emotional film for me, and a wonderful opportunity to reflect yet again on what makes this life such an amazing ride.

Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson combine to pull off this movie with grace and charm, complimenting each other all the way along. My favorite moment comes as Jack and Morgan are flying to Italy on he polar route at night. Its a full moon out, and Morgan comments on the wonder of Creation. This leads to a remarkable conversation between someone who believes and someone who does not that I loved. Its honest and real. In the end, Morgan's summary comment is, "Yes, but I believe". Simple, yet wonderful.

Go see this movie..... immediately.




From "Say" by John Mayer......theme to the movie, "Bucket List"

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for getting older
You better know that in the end its better to say too much
Than to never to say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Why? Say what you need to say

Shallow Christians & The New Monastics

Today's LA Times has an interesting, fair, and thoughtful article on The New Monastics.

I found this article interesting and refreshing, having known this form of faith expression for a number of years, both through my church and the urban ministries it has birthed, and in the larger community of Los Angeles.

Thankfully, the writer was careful to describe the real journey, and not detour into yet another patronistic view of well-meaning Christian folk. Thank you, Stephanie Simon.

Two things struck me from my reading. First, it seems this well-meaning bad of believers in Montana formed their new Christian community out of a sense of deep disconnection and disaffection with the Christian Church. Well then, lets chalk another one up for the great accomplishments of modern organized religion. Well meaning, serious people, those seeking after God, who feel isolated and disconnnected from the church. Does this theme feel familiar?

Had the local church been doing more to meet the needs of these young families and singles, perhaps the desire to form a monastic community would have taken an entirely different form. Maybe a community of Believers formed organically from out of the church body, young and old, married and single, rich and poor. Or a different way to live together, perhaps not in the same home, but with shared and intentional lives. Idealistic maybe, but interesting to ponder.

Secondly, I was impressed by the need for rules and order, and the struggle to complete daily tasks, even in this little community. It felt like being single and just out of college all over again. The annoying roommate who never cleans up, the undone dishes, the empty fridge. Add to this the complication of little kids, single and married people living together, and you have the ingredients for a relational mess. Tough stuff, this living out the Kingdom of God on earth!

But again, lurking subtly in the background is the failing of the organized church to provided meaningful relationship, authentic community, and a new way of living. I have also experienced Christian community that leaves me feeling sad, wanting more, unsatisfied. Friendships and relationships that once seemed so important so crucial, yet over time turn out to be not much better than what the rest of the world has to offer. Yet, I have also enjoyed deep and abiding friendships in the church that are of greater meaning than I could have imagined. Where are the real answers to these big questions of community, I wonder?

It makes me sad. The Bride of Christ, looking poorly dressed, yet again.

Is there a better way, a way to connect our lives in a more meaningful way? What does real Christian community look like? I wonder, and I hope.

Bruin Good News

After a painful basketball loss to USC earlier this week, I need something to cheer myself up.

I got it, and in short order. It seems that Norm Chow, the former offensive coordinator at USC, and the artist behind a number of great Heisman Trophy winners, is going to become the new offense coach at UCLA!

Can you hear my evil laugh? Bwaaaa Hahaha!

Nite Nite Mr. Bill

Pangea Day - May 10, 2008

Get ready. This could be amazing.

Heading Home

Business Trip - Boston

At left, above the "Big Dig".

I feel like a man from the land of plastic architecture. Disneyland. Suburban Instant Utopia - just add water.

Lets admit it, people from the West Coast are hopelessly disconnected from American History.

To prove it to yourself, just visit Boston.

My meetings were done today at 3 PM, and I took myself on a long self-guided tour of downtown Boston, ending at Boston Commons and Park Street Church (looks very cool). Right behind Park Street church is Granary Burial Ground.

I was reading the Park Service information signs, learning of the remarkable people from American history who are buried there. I finished reading, turned around and was facing the grave of Paul Revere!

This town is amazing. And so is our nation. To whom much has been given.....

Business Trip - Washington DC

What a fascinating place to live. The entire culture in Washington DC is so strongly oriented to revolve around the political, military, diplomatic, and career government sectors, that this town is very much in a world of its own.

Infrastructure. Its another thing I thought about today, whilst riding the Metro to several meetings. Being from LA, serious transit systems (we have wimpy and very limited transit - we prefer massive carbon footprints amid the privacy of our own autos) amaze me. Rather than being a part of ordinary life, underground transit seems to me to be like something out of a fantastic future. People, hundreds and thousands of them, in steel tubes on rails, running underground. Water delivered clean to every home. Sewage systems, to remove the unsightly parts of our lives. Telephones, internet, electricity, satellite and cable TV. We take for granted, this amazing infrastructure of everyday life - and perhaps more selfishly, we do not think of the blessed nature of our advanced Western culture.

As I sat warm and content on the Metro (with a snow storm blowing above ground), whizzing underground from one point in the capital to another, I thought again about the people around me. If you look at the stats, over 700,000 rides a day now. All those lives, young and old, rich and poor, single and married, contentedly happy and desperately depressed, joyous and tragically sad. They are sitting next to me, around me. I am one of them, trying to find my way, figuring life out. In need of purpose.

We Christian folk like to think we have it all figured out. But the older I get I find a dichotomy occurring in my life. I am, at once more certain of some things, and yet wondering of the mystery, disorder, and confusion of so many other parts of life. I am ok with the cognitive dissonance. I wonder, do I lead a life that is elevated, aloof, and disconnected with people who are not of faith. Have I cubby-holed my life into an isolated Christian subculture?

Faith can be found in the midst of wondering. Can my life be connected in meanful ways to others, so that I can relate to the bigger questions of life, of meaning, and of purpose?

Business Trip Leg 2

Greetings from our nation's capital. After about 28 hours in lovely Miami, I am now spending about 45 hours in Washington DC.

I looked at three separate office buildings today for a client. You can rest assured that your tax dollars are being wisely spent, as it seems two-thirds of all office building tenants in this area are either a branch of the Federal government, or a company that would cease to exist if not for the government's business.

I must confess that I too have the Federal government as a client, and they are fine people. Every last one of these people love their mothers, pull over and pick up road-side liter, and are exceptionally kind to animals. Particularly road-side animals. And yes, I am completely unbiased. But I digress.

Meetings with clients tomorrow, and then off to Boston late tomorrow, the last leg on this fun trip, before returning to the Land of Milk and Honey. Weather forecast for DC tomorrow is a mix of snow, turning to rain late in the day. I love this. Weather for Boston on Friday is the same thing.

Hopefully tomorrow I will have photos of the Capital Mall or something to prove I was actually here. It has been two years since I visited (Jill, read ALL of this link!), and strangely, the government continues to exist without my direct involvement or oversight. We shall see about that after the next election.

I fancy myself a traveling businessman. Maybe this is what I shall do when I grow up.

Business Trip Leg1A

Here I am in Miami Beach. Not much time to explore around, as I have a 9:30 PM flight to Washington DC tomorrow.

Up in the morning to look at two properties, one near the airport here (Miami Airport Embassy Suites is pictured), and another located in beautiful Pompano Beach.

I shall try to add my deep thoughts/impressions of the Miami area tomorrow PM.

Business Trip - Leg 1

Today, I leave on a five day trip, four flights, three cities. I don't usually travel like a road warrior, so I will attempt to blog my adventures here. Some day, when I am using a walker and eating pureed foods, I can look back on my business life, and smile.

Rob Bell - Trouble Maker or Prophet?

Rob Bell is a pastor of Mar's Hill Church in suburban Grand Rapids, Michigan. He says things that might make church people mad. Like this (in the most recent edition of Relevant Magazine):

"What a lot of people call church in America has little to do with the church Jesus had in mind. I think you just begin by acknowledging that [America's idea of church] is an absolute total failure. The whole system that says these few people, because of what they said, did, believe, etc., are going to Heaven and everybody else is going to Hell, is deeply flawed and must die. The systems that says big growth and numbers are the goal must also die. The central metaphor Jesus uses is the Eucharist. His body is broken and His blood is poured out to the healing of the world. God is looking for a body of people who will break themselves open and pour themselves out of the healing of the world."

Thats not all. Rob goes on:

"I think the problem is that when people say "church", many mean religious good and services where you come and have a nice inspiring talk, good coffee in the back, snappy music, and everything ends up fine. Jesus speaks of His people who are willing to suffer and die so that the world can be healed - that's an entirely different proposition. For us [at Mars Hill church], if you can resolve the sermon in the course of the church service, then the sermon has failed. If you can resolve what's being talked about just by listening to it, then something's seriously wrong. The only way to resolve the church service you just experienced, and specifically the sermon, is that you're going to have to go and wrestle with it and then live it out. Our interest is not in providing goods and services that will leave you with a well-packaged religious experience. We understand the Gospel is to be how you are going to break yourself open and pour yourself out for the healing of the world. I know what we believe and what we're trying to do, but the degree to which we're successful - I have no idea. Someone else can talk about that. I always get a bit suspicious of religious leaders who talk about how big their [ministry] is or their crowd ratios."

That'll preach just fine.

I think that Rob has been reading a lot of Dallas, and a lot of, ah, maybe.....the Bible!

What? Huh? Me...."Best Of..."?

Ok. I am flummoxed. I just found out that I made the list (mind you the bottom of the list, rather fitting...) for one of the best posts of 2007 from the wonderfully clean-shaven folks in Texas at "The Higher Calling Blogs". This is the first writing award I have received since I was published in the second grade creative writing book in 1964 at Hugo Reid Elementary school. I am stunned.

On behalf of my Director wife Nancy, my co-star daughters Kelly and Heather, and my Producer G-O-D, I accept this award gratefully and with thanks.

Jean Vanier, Powerful Jesus, Pathetic Me

Recently, during the same interview I mentioned the other day on American Public Radio, Jean Vanier spoke of power, of the handicapped giving our lives a sense of "equilibrium", about the importance of "being" rather than "doing", of the sacred nature of the body in the context of the handicapped. Jean, at 79 years old, said:

"I just want to become a friend of Jesus. Jesus was quiet...., he ate with people who were caught up in prostitution... there is something so simple about Jesus that he is disarming. Frequently we want a powerful Jesus; who will put everything straight, who will cure everybody, who will do everything we tell him to do. And its not like that."

Its not like that with Jesus, is it? And guess what? The American church, and much of the charismatic church around the world, those preaching a subtle gospel of health and wealth, they all want a powerful Jesus too. No meek and mild Lord, thank you very much. No paradoxes, no mystery, just power and response; like a new Corvette.

But wait, as I think of it, count me in too. I too want a Powerful Jesus. I want everything straight, I want everybody cured, and I want Jesus to do everything I tell him to do, because I am always right. What is wrong with Jesus?

Or rather, what is wrong with me?

Sacred and Secular - You Can Take This To Work

"The universe is God's sanctuary. Every work day is a day of the Lord, every supper a Lord's supper, every work the fulfillment of a divine task, every joy a joy in God. In all preliminary concerns, ultimate concern is present, consecrating them. Essentially the religious and the secular are not separated realms. Rather they are within each other."

Paul Tillich

"Theology of Culture"

p 41

Oxford University Press, London, 1964

Jean Vanier, Living in Reality, My Struggle

Jean Vanier is a most amazing man, who, indirectly has affected the lives of two of my close friends, as well as a far more expansive effort in the founding of the L'Arche Communities, world wide.

My friends Mark and Tod, had a lunch with priest and writer Henri Nouwen about 20 years ago in Toronto; and this was a lunch that changed both of their lives significantly. His support for the work of Jean Vanier was the reason Henri Nouwen was living in Toronto, serving in a L'Arche community.

Vanier said something recently in a radio interview that struck me with the force of an epiphany. He said,

"The big thing for me is to love reality, and not live in the imagination; not live in what could have been, or what should have been, or what can be, but to love reality, and then discover that God is present there."

My Church Problem
As I heard these words, I realized this was me Mr. Vanier was talking about. I have spent the last decade or so wanting something bigger, better, stronger, slicker, and not being content at all with reality. Always striving for something out of my reach.

I go to a church that was once "great", what ever that means. Perhaps it was the large traditional worship services, the cathedral sanctuary, the handsome, velvet-throated pastor, or the shiny TV ministry. Oh, we were once really great. Bigger, better, stronger, slicker. A force to be reckoned with.

But then the troubles and slow decline came. The times changed, and the church did not. The new pastor was an Emperor Without Clothes. Nothing really changed, christian community was eroded, we did not look as spiffy as we once did on TV. Accusations were leveled, arguments began, it got very ugly.

This was several years ago. Our church has recovered, and is slowly, carefully, on the mend. I care deeply about all this; I have been involved at this church for more than 20 years - I met my wife there, and both our daughters were dedicated there. But sometimes, I get discouraged.

I have never really been able to just be content in our "church reality". To be satisfied with the way things are - partially complete, wounded, yet healing. Jean Vanier's words struck me as very profound; to be simply content with the present state of affairs.

I wonder, can I love reality, and find God there?

Holiday Fun Review

About 12 days ago, we pulled the kids out of school and spent the day at Disneyland. Just the four of us, as a family.

It was very fun to be a kid again, if only for a day.

The last time we pulled the girls from school like this, one was in 5th grade, and the other in 2nd grade. My, my how time flies.

I'm not sure I will ever be able to express the wonder, joy, frustration, amazement, and mystery of raising these girls, and of joining my sweet wife on this journey we call life.

Between the Holidays

This is the twilight sky out our back door, looking west. It has been a full and happy Holiday Season for us. I would show more photos of our fun right now, but I am cheating off my neighbor's wireless (Apple) because my Apple wireless router cannot talk to my Windows PC correctly. I have been on the phone with HP in India (my laptop manufacturer) for about 1.5 hours in the past two days.

Tomorrow, I get to call Apple, as I have to do a hard-reset on my Extreme Airpoop Airport, and once I do that, I think I throw off the wireless thingamajiggie for everyone else in my house.

Gosh darn, I just love technology. It is so simple, freeing, and rudimentary.

The Bishop's Wife - Ending Sermon

I have just discovered a wonderful Christmas movie, and it only took me 49 years to find it.

The Bishop's Wife, produced in 1947, is the story of a suave angel who comes to earth to save a woman and her Episcopal priest husband from spiritual doubt, and a lack of love for life itself.

But this movie is more than that, and features a sermon at the end, that would preach well anywhere today, in a world so in need of the simple, non-commercial message of Christmas. And here, for the first time on the Internet (as I could not find the script in the public domain), is the closing sermon of The Bishops Wife:

Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking.

Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child's cry, a blazing star hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven't forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, with the sound of bells, and with gifts.

But especially with gifts. You give me a book, I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and Uncle Henry can do with a new pipe. For we forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings are filled, all that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to hang it up. The stocking for the child born in a manger. Its his birthday we're celebrating. Don't let us ever forget that.

Let us ask ourselves what He would wish for most. And then, let each put in his share, loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched out hand of tolerance. All the shinning gifts that make peace on earth.

Short but sweet. Sixty years old, and not a day off center. Still relevant.

Merry Christmas to all.

For the latest version of the sermon on YouTube which has not been attacked by the attorneys:

Have Yourself a Tacky Little Christmas

We Americans are a completely nutty bunch, and I have found evidence of this at a lovely seasonal web site known as Tacky Christmas Yards. You can always count on my directing you to the most meaningful and uplifting of Holiday web sites. Go ahead, have a look, I promise you will laugh and be repulsed, all at once.

The photo at left is one of the featured homes at this site. You need to click on the photo to enlarge it, and get the fully confused meaning of American Christmas. When you click the image it gets quite big, so you examine in detail the cornucopia of Tackiness.

What are the psycho social and theological implications of this particular yard? Well, by count there are 3 Santas, 3 Choir Boys, 2 Polar Bears, 3 Reindeers, and, I think, 3 Reindeers, and zero Baby Jesus (Jesus-es?, Jesus's, Jesi?). Could be the entire family were eaten by the polar bears. Shown prominently on this house is also some odd sort of Sun God Ra or Sixties Hippie star burst thingie. I am not sure about the residents of this home. Most likely they are very post modern in their outlook.

My favorite is the upstairs bedroom on the right featuring Santa and the Leg Lamp, in a nice gesture to one of my favorite Christmas movies, A Christmas Story. I am impressed that Santa is showing some restraint and fidelity to Mrs. Claus, and is not looking directly AT the leg lamp. Good job, Santa.

St. Olaf's Choir and This Christmastide

And I was going to watch SportsCenter.......

But something else happened. I watched a choir. Now mind you, I am not a huge choir aficionado. I live in Southern California, mind you. Flip flops and Hawaiian shirts are the typical attire in our area. Sacred music in our world is often played by dudes who have forgotten modern shaving techniques, and who are also wearing Hawaiian shirts. Sacred music, schmakred music. Please.

Pictured above is the Choir of St. Olaf college, in Northfield, Minnesota. The other night, as the day ended, I flipped on the TV to see what might be on, and found on PBS the St. Olaf Christmas Festival. This is big time choral music, one of America's longest running musical celebrations of the Holiday Season, and has been named one of five significant global Holiday events by the New York Times. This is serious, major league, unbelievable music, performed on a scale that will nearly blow your shoes off. At one point in the program, I think there must have been more than 250 voices together. Whew! I want to go to this Festival once before I die.

Three words describe this concert and this choir. Oh. My. Goodness!

One song deeply touched me. Know alternately as This Christmastide, and also "Jessye's Carol" (as it was first performed by opera star Jessye Norman), composed by Donald Fraser. This is a choral piece that is, all at once, loud and resounding, praiseworthy, yet gentle, sweet, and thoughtful; referring to the gift of the Christ Child. The song develops in a perfect sine wave. I was a complete mess by the time it was over. Wonderful.

This Christmastide
Green and silver, red and gold and a story born of old,
Truth and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

Holly, ivy, mistletoe and the gently falling snow,
Truth and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

From a simple ox's stall came the greatest gift of all,
Truth and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

Children sing of hope and joy at the birth of one small boy,
Truth and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

Let the bells ring loud and clear, ring out now, for all to hear,
Truth and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

Trumpets sound and voices raise
in an endless stream of praise,
Truth and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

Green and silver, red and gold and a story born of old,
Peace and love and hope abide, this Christmastide.

We need these things. In a world that is wandering - Truth. For lives that feel empty - Love. For us all, facing loss, struggle, confusion - Hope.

This Christmastide.

Thank you, St. Olaf College Choir. Every last one of you. I have been blessed beyond words. You have expressed in song, things that reside deep within my soul.

You may be in a place where this is being rebroadcast. If you can watch it, drop everything, and do so. Forget SportsCenter, just for one night.

The video of the PBS broadcast is not yet on the web. To give you a taste of the musical ability of this choir, check this out: