Purple State of Mind

What if two guys, who were college chums long ago, got together and made an honest film about their differences? And what if the biggest difference they had was about what each believed about God?

Well, its happened, and it appears this film is going to be something fascinating. Oh, and all you Christian folk out there might not feel completely satisfied when its over. I think that is good.

The premise of this film, to explore the differences and relationships of two distinctly different people; a believer and a non-believer is something that is rarely done, and even more rarely done well. We Christian folk are often terrible at this sort of thing, and I am interested to see primarily, if Craig Detweiler (the God-believer in the film) can play his role with grace, dignity, and real care for his friend. Disclaimer: my wife Nancy has audited a class at Fuller Seminary from one of the filmmakers, Craig Detweiler. She loved the class. I have not seen the film, I ordered it today.

From the Purple State of Mind web site:

Conversations are the ideal form of communication in some respects, since they allow people with different views of a topic to learn from each other. A speech, on the other hand, is an oral presentation by one person directed at a group.

That nails it. We've become a nation of speech-makers. Everyone has their bullet points. Everyone takes aim. Left versus right. Gay versus straight. Atheist versus believer. The shrapnel has caught all of us in the crossfire, and we struggle to respond like soldiers; we fire back, but our own guns fail us.

As a person of faith, Craig is troubled by the perception of Christians as judgmental and hypocritical. How could Jesus, the great defender of the poor, the hungry and the hurting have been turned into a hater? As a reporter in the Balkans, John witnessed the process by which religious and ethnic identity drives division. He's unnerved by the potential for a war of words to become something far worse. Purple State of Mind is an 80-minute effort to bridge the cultural gap, to push past politics, and wade into the middle ground where most people live.

For more, and to order the film, visit Purple State of Mind.

The Leningrad Cowboys

I love the Internet. Everyday I learn things I would never otherwise know.

I am also quite fond of my half-brother John, a former fighter pilot and Air Force officer, who now lives in Norway. John sends me the most interesting emails you can imagine, and today was one I just had to share with my 6 readers.

Back in the days of the Soviet Union, the Soviet Red Army had an official choir composed of male soldiers and musicians. It still exists. The Red Army Choir performs throughout Russia to this day.

Now consider the Finnish rock band called The Leningrad Cowboys (pictured above - I love particularly the hair and shoes). A little while ago, they held a concert in Russia, in which - to the screaming applause of Russkie teen-agers - they got the Red Army Choir to join them on stage for a performance of "Sweet Home Alabama." In English. You couldn't make this up.

We have Ronald Reagan to thank for this video:

Turning 50 - More Photos

At the request of distinguished members of our Canadian family, I present a few more photos of "Steve & Friends Fly at 50" event. First, Steve flys, then Nancy does too. Wooo Hooo!

High Gas Prices

When I was a kid, my Dad used to sit at the kitchen table during dinner and complain about "those damn environmentalists".

We have not built a refinery in the US in 30 years. I can easily guess why that is the case.

Sometimes, only sometimes mind you, I think my Dad was right.

A Day at the Beach

Today we will blithely jump in the pool. We might barbecue something. Many of us will avoid the heat, stay indoors and watch the 4th of Joly festivities from the national mall on PBS. Some of us will actually go out and watch the local community fireworks; we will be doing that tonight. A few songs of patriotic note, a lot of explosions, and smoke. Lots of smoke.

Then we will all pile back in the car, drive home, and go to bed, content that tomorrow will hold little risk of our lives, minimal danger, and we will wake up in a free country. Tomorrow, we might even go to the beach. What the heck, its a long weekend!

The beach. For me the beach has always been a special place, a place of rest, of rejuvenation. There is something about the sea, the sand, the salt air, and the company of friends. To me, the beach means peace, sunsets, laughter, good conversation, and fun. A boundary between land and sea. For us in California, the beach is the edge of a continent, a stepping off point to distant lands.

In June of 1944, 64 years ago, a day at the beach meant something entirely different for those men who participated in the landing at Normandy. Peggy Noonan has rightly chosen this 4th of July to remind us of a completely different Day at the Beach.

Thank you, Ms. Noonan for remembering these remarkably brave men.

Tonight, when the fireworks fly at the football field in town, my eyes, as always, will fill with tears. I will be remembering the men of Omaha Beach, my Dad who flew in the South Pacific, and those of our country who serve now in dangerous places, all over the world.

I owe my freedom to them all.

Schools Kill Creativity

Over the past several years, as our girls have left elementary school, my wife and I have become increasingly frustrated with the public education system, even in our happy upper-middle class suburban locale. In short, our public education system in the US is a mess.

Sir Ken Robinson has some fascinating ideas about education. Its 20 minutes, but every minute is worth it. Check this out:

Wooden & Scully, A Match Made in Heaven

A couple of weeks ago, something wonderful happened in downtown Los Angeles. Two of my favorite people, and living legends, John Wooden and Vin Scully, sat down together to talk about sports, life, love, and their remarkable experiences in life.

I had no idea this was happening, or I would have done my best to be there. I did read about it, at several places on the Internet, and wanted to share it here, so I could remember it.

Scully and Wooden first met by chance while living in the same Brentwood apartment building, when Scully held the gate open for Wooden, who was carrying groceries inside. Wooden introduced himself by saying, "Hello, I'm John Wooden, the new basketball coach at UCLA". Can you imagine?!

Scully and Wooden kicked off Father's Day weekend with a 1½-hour chat. A sold-out crowd of 7,100 paid rapt attention at Nokia Theatre, while a live television audience listened in. (As I understand, it was a one-time broadcast - if anyone reading this ever hears that it will air again, PLEASE let me know)

Scully and Wooden received prolonged standing ovations when they arrived and left the stage. Despite looming large over the Los Angeles sports scene for decades, the 80-year-old Scully and 97-year-old Wooden have never sat down together publicly to share their memories.

In agreeing to participate, the men requested that all money raised benefit children's charities. This is so like these two selfless men.

Ticket prices ranged from $25 to $200, with proceeds split between UCLA Mattel Children's Hospital and ThinkCure, the Los Angeles Dodgers' charity that focuses on cancer research. Scully and Wooden appeared beforehand at a dinner, where tables went for $25,000 each.

Wooden came onstage in a wheelchair pushed by UCLA athletic trainer Tony Spino, who helped the former coach settle into a leather chair. Wooden made a passing reference to having broken his left wrist and collarbone in a fall at home in February.

His body may be frail, but Wooden proved his mind is as sharp as ever as he recalled snippets of his life from decades ago in between making the audience laugh with his retorts to Simers.

Wooden tenderly admitted he still writes his late wife Nell – the only girl he ever dated – a letter on the 21st of each month. “She's still there to me,” he said. “I talk to her every day.”

Scully's famously soothing voice has defined summer in the city to generations of Angelenos. But he is fiercely private away from the announcer's booth, rarely giving interviews or discussing his life.

He explained that he grew up in New York being taught not to show his emotions.

“I'm less of a man because of it,” he said.

Scully said he's not a fan of the Dodgers because “if I did that every flyball would be a home run.”

Scully remembered a game that Jackie Robinson, who broke baseball's color barrier, and the Dodgers played in Philadelphia on a hot day. A man outside offered slices of watermelon to each of the players as they got on the bus.

“When Jackie came out he was not aware of anything, and all of a sudden, the man hands him a piece of watermelon,” Scully said. “He was ready to go pyrotechnic until we were able to say, 'No, no, Jack. Everybody is having watermelon, me, a redhead Irishman.' So it was fine, but there was always that underlying feeling.”

Scully said the worst thing anyone could do was make Robinson angry.

“Most of us, if not all of us, lose something when we get angry,” he said. “When Jackie got angry, somehow he took his game to a higher level. One game, he knew they were trying to hit him. So he got to first base on ball four and proceeded to steal second, third and home. The word around the league was, I remember hearing Leo Durocher say this to the Giants: 'Don't wake him up.'”

At one point, Scully, a former barbershop quartet singer, launched into his favorite song, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” with the audience joining in.

Asked the secret to his long life, Wooden replied, “Not being afraid of death and having peace within yourself. All of life is peaks and valleys. Don't let the peaks get too high and the valleys too low.”

Scully was asked when he plans to retire.

“I still get the goose bumps every day when the crowd roars for whatever reason,” he said. “I'm looking forward to at least next year. But I remember the old thing about talk about next year and make the devil laugh, so I'd rather just go day to day like we all are anyway.”

In a takeoff of “Inside the Actor's Studio,” Simers asked Scully and Wooden a series of questions requiring mostly one-word answers.

Their favorite words? Both men replied love. Their least favorite? Both said hate.

The noise they hate? “Booing,” Wooden said. “Chalk on a blackboard,” Scully said.

Their favorite curse word? “Goodness gracious snakes alive,” the clean-living Wooden said, drawing laughter. “Darn it,” Scully replied.

The profession they would like to try? Civil engineer for Wooden, and song-and-dance man for Scully.

If heaven exists, what would they like God to say when they arrive at the pearly gates?

“Well done,” Wooden said as the audience applauded in agreement.

“Can't really top that,” Scully said. “Welcome my son, well done.”

At that, the two legends reached toward each other, grasped hands and smiled.

There is a brief video of these two great men last week at this event, here at MLB.

---------

Now, may I recap for a moment?

1. Vin Scully tell us that when you hide your emotions, you are less of a man for it. To me, this is wisdom in its purest form.

2. Coach Wooden still writes his long deceased wife a letter once a month. This, my friends, is love.

3. Coach also tells us that the secret to is not being afraid of death and having peace within yourself. I am working on both of those. Maybe someday I will have it together.

4. Both of their favorites words are love.

And all I can say to both of these men is "well done". I know of few other men who more deserve these words.

Fighting Gravity, Reaching 50, Flying, Joy

"John, Michael, wake up.
There is a boy here who is to
teach us to fly and take us to
the Never, Never Land.
He says there are
pirates and mermaids and redskins." 

- Peter Pan, by Sir James Matthew Barrie

Have you ever dreamt that you could fly? I have lots of times, mostly when I was younger. My dreams in middle life seem to be more earth bound, for some reason. I wonder why? But the other night, it really happened; we flew, all of us. And reality was way more fun than a dream!

Friday night was my 50th birthday, and 11 of us piled into two cars and headed over to IFlyHollywood for what turned out to be an unforgettable 90 minutes of thrills, fun, and laughter. Now I think I want to turn 50 about once a month!

IFlyHollywood is a vertical wind tunnel, where you can make like you are skydiving without the hassle (and risk) of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. Oh, that and you can avoid the wetting your pants part, too.

How to describe the feeling of floating in a 120 mph wind tunnel? Well first of all, completely non-frightening. It seems like just the most natural thing one could do; you stand in the doorway, fall forward, and, well, just float. Instructors fly with you, so you feel totally in control. You go from 5 feet above ground to as much as 25 feet. Awesomeness! All 11 of us, young and old had a complete blast, and our youngest daughter wants to come back for her 16th birthday party. What a kid!

To float, for just a few moments, beating gravity. All these years, we are held fast to the ground by a force we cannot see, but is surely there. Unavoidable. Pressing us down. Life itself does that too. Maybe I am pressed closer to the ground by the seriousness and gravity of life. Closer to the earth than when I was born. Sir Mathew Barrie understood this, I think.

But I wonder, did Sir Barrie know, there is more to this life than meets the eye? Sometimes, we can fly, if only for a few moments. And then, there is Joy.

“To die will be an awfully big adventure.”

- Peter Pan, by Sir James Matthew Barrie

Matt is at it Again!

Two years ago, Matt produced a video that has spread around the world.

Matt is at it again, and this time, there is no possible way you can watch this without smiling, and then laughing and wondering again about this amazing, beautiful, troubling, fantastic world we live in.

Observation: Last time, Matt did a lot of dancing on his own. No longer. Isn't that the way our lives should all be lived? We don't have a long time to live on this planet. Come on, people...lets dance.

I give you Matt:

Turning 50 - Part 1

The other day I turned 50 years old. For what happened on the momentous day I was born, go here.

Friday morning I awoke to find that the clock (at least at our house) had been turned back about 35 years. My yard had been "TP'ed", or in the south also known as "rolled". This used to happen regularly to me when I was a teenager, but more on that another time.

The culprits? Teenage friends of my daughters? Local hooligans? My eccentric Cal Tech chemist neighbor? Paroled white-collar criminals? Nope. None of these.

As it turns out I was the birthday-boy target of this mischief - by our good friends the Wiericks - a couple of in-denial fellow 50-year olds in the neighborhood. This was a very cleaver decoration job that also involved free beverages, for which I am very thankful. Along with the decorative toilet papering of my lawn, porch, and rose bushes, I received 50 (count 'em) bottles of fine German beer, each festooned with humorous and thoughtful quotes on age and aging.

This was wonderful stuff. Below, I give some of the pithy beer bottle quotations (click to enlarge):

Lining Up, Promotion, The Future

They all lined up.

About 300 8th graders stood in line to receive their promotion handshakes, certificates, and photographs. Suits and ties, new shoes, new dresses. A Big and Special Day. I was reminded of the James Taylor song, "Line 'em Up". All those amazing lives, all clumped together in one place. If we had time to listen, what stories they could tell us.

I am never ready for these sorts of things. They thonk me over the head like I never saw them coming in the first place.

Its the end of the school year, and it always seem to hit me before I can prepare. Its a time of change; the end of spring, the beginning of summer. Bittersweet endings, yet new beginnings. This year my feelings and emotions are different than other years. I have blogged about kids growing up, and the changes at the end of the school year here, some time back. But today, it feels different.

We have one high schooler ending her junior year; senior year coming up. Big Decisions ahead. This will be an interesting year for her, and for all of us. In less than 18 months, we will hopefully have a child off to college, and all the emotions and excitement that go with that. Our family population will be reduced by 25%, not to mention the noise level, that should be in the range of a 50% reduction!

And now, our younger girl is finishing her time at Middle School, and oh, what a ride. Academics that were challenging, great teachers, great friends, the school play for three years in a row, volleyball, softball, and soccer. What a life!

Today, I dropped 14-year old Heather off in front of the Middle School for the very last time. I watched her walk up the steps, never to return this particular way again. It was then that I remembered those last days of both of our girls, first at Marengo Elementary, and then here, at the Middle School. Fleeting moments in time. I pulled away from the curb, smiling to myself; thankful for the years past, and looking hopefully to those ahead. The past is beginning to softly fade, as are our memories of the Junior High years.

What an amazing ride this is, this life. Today, my heart is very full.

Time, Cleaning the Panels, and My Future Self

Its Father's Day.

Albert Einstein once said:

"The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."

I have thought often of this idea, this "illusion", over the past two years, as I have faced the death of both of my parents, and a bit more again in the past couple of weeks, as I muse upon turning 50.

Today, I went on the roof of our house with a garden hose, some dish soap and a brush. No, I am not loosing it completely, I have solar panels that require periodic cleaning. My sweet wife does not warm to the concept of me, The Provider, on the roof playing with water and dish soap. She logically fears an accident by somewhat awkward me, resulting in much trauma for our family. I am sobered by this, as a neighbor on our street, who was roughly my age, fell off a ladder to his death while cleaning his gutters several years ago, leaving behind a wife and daughter of elementary age. I am not kidding.

This life we lead, as Einstein knew, exists on one side of a thin veil from death, another dimension.

As I was scrubbing panels on the roof, doing my part to reduce my Big Foot-sized carbon footprint, I started to chuckle thinking how silly this solar-panel-scrubbing effort will very likely someday seem. Surely, within the next 20 years some new technology will either scrub my panels for me, or the whole idea of solar power will be transformed in some way I cannot even now imagine. Such is the future.

While alone up on the roof in the sun, I thought of all those pictures from my parents photo albums from when I (like my girls now) was a teenager. How old-fashioned and tacky they all look. Time marches on, unimpeded by our memories of better or more simple times.

And then, I came downstairs to watch the final round of the US Open. I could write another post about that, but suffice it to say, Tiger and Rocco are amazing. During the midst of the tournament, another commercial came on from Lincoln Financial. To me, Lincoln has the most amazing advertising agency ever. Almost every add they do grabs me right in the heart.

Einstein would like this ad's idea. What if the laws of time were, for a brief moment, abolished, and we could chat with our future selves? It might be amazing.

And so, I give you this commercial, from the people at Lincoln Financial. Think less about the financial aspect, and more about the timelessness of this. It is wonderful. The question that punched me in the gut, from the new father (note: its a baby girl, just like our two) to his future self, was, "How'd I do?". Oh my!

Now That is Some Banjo Playin'!

Now, y'all listen up. I don't know much, but I do know me some good banjo pickin' when I hears it. I want to go to a show where everybody gets a seat suspended on a giant elastic band. Oh my!



Can we not all just dance when we hear the music?

Tricky Dick, MTV, and Being a Parent

When I was a kid, the three of us, me, Mom, and Dad used to sit at the little dinner table in our kitchen each night for dinner. Tater tots, pork chops, and reconstituted frozen lima beans. Dad would hold forth on events of business, politics, and culture, in his own modified suburban white Archie Bunker sort of way. My Dad loved Richard Nixon. He considered himself one of the Silent Majority. He thought Vietnam was a worthwhile endeavor to thwart the commie threat. He never understood the civil rights movement.

And so now, 35 years later, I feel I have been, in some ways, transported back in time, and the roles are reversed. I am playing the uptight, ultra-conservative parent, confused at the responses of my kids to culture. But after watching The Merchants of Cool earlier this week, I am wiser about the poop that is being foisted on our youth, all in the name of hipness, but really with the intent of making money. Lots of it. And MTV is a big part of the force.

Those of you who are parents, or are even thinking about becoming parents will want to watch this. Want to know what is going on? First, go take a look at one of the most recognized market research firms in youth culture, LookLook. These are the people that study youth culture, and then tell the giant marketing machines what is the latest, the coolest, and the most. Another good source of cultural overview can be found in the books of the Merchants of Cool producer, Douglas Rushkoff.

So, is this a battle? Are we in a fight for the character of our kids? Well, I do not do well with the language of war in the attempt to win the hearts and minds of young people. I prefer groups like Young Life, they do a much better job. However, the machinery of marketing to youth is large, formidable, and determined. Its about making money, and clearly, the moral ramifications of how money is made just do not matter.

Read the comment on the post below from my friend Scott, who has spent a number of years in the entertainment business. Often, I feel like I am watching our culture unravel. Save for the grace of God, I feel helpless sometimes.

The Merchants of Cool

Parenting is not for cowards. Chalk one up for MTV.

We have been recently dealing with a teenager in our house who is telling us our values are bogus, and those of the MTV generation are more fitting. We have been told, essentially, that we can go pound sand.

The specific issue we, as parents, are dealing with is not so important as is the fact that the culture, at this point, seems to be winning. Young, and hip, cool and relevant are winning out over tradition, character, and values.

I love my kids, but I really hate this situation.

Last week, I spent some time with a 26 year old seminary student who has spent the better part of the last 8 years working with young people. He mentioned that I should really watch "The Merchants of Cool" to get a better bead on youth culture and how it is being shaped by large companies, and sold to kids.

I am going to watch it tonight.

Final Salute

I spotted this image today on the front page of the New York Times. I was transfixed, and humbled. This is the caption that goes with the photo:

"When 2nd Lt. James Cathey's body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine's casket at Denver International Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process: "See the people in the windows? They'll sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what's going through their minds, knowing that they're on the plane that brought him home," he said. "They're going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. They're going to remember bringing that Marine home. And they should."

We should. All of us.

To see the slide show, go here. To purchase the book, go here.

Its Coming!

In four more days:

Orange Grove Park, The End of a Softball Era

Yesterday marked the bittersweet end of an era in the life of our family. Our last girls softball game at Orange Grove park.

We have been watching, cheering on, encouraging, and participating in coaching our girls at this simple little ball field for the past 10 years or so. Yesterday, our team won the league championship for 14-year old junior girls, and will advance this month to the area "Tournament of Champions"; that has a rather Olympian ring to it, does it not?

But back to the bittersweet. As Heather is our younger daugther, we have now exhausted the years that our girls can play ball at this park. It has been a wonderful ride, and I have written about it several times, both here, and here. We are so blessed.

Every once in a long time, we get the chance to stand still, if just for a moment, and reflect on what is going on in our lives. I had that chance last night. It was the 5th inning or so, and our girls were in the field. We had the game under control, coming from behind in the earlier innings; pretty darn exciting! I wandered to the far end of the dugout where the trees that ring the stands open up to the western sky. It was nearly twilight. Twilight has always been my favorite time of day, a place in time to reflect, if only briefly, on the day gone by.

As you move to the end of the dugout, its like removing yourself slightly from the action of the game, the crowd noises get a bit less, the intensity of the game seems less, somewhat softer, if you will.

There I stood, reflecting on a decade of softball games at Orange Grove Park. Thousands of people glide by each day in their cars, oblivious to the games full of little and (now, for us) bigger girls. Ten years full. Of strikeouts, walks, fly balls to left field, dropped ground balls, laughter, tears, screams, and silly girl-team cheers from the dugouts. A lot has gone on here on this green patch in the midst of the city; many memories. Little girls turned big. Toothless smiles turned bright and straight (with help from the orthodontist). Characters of young ladies were formed, by winning, and loosing, and being a good sport on the way to the car afterward. Families reconnecting each week in the stands.

Its a just a city park, a little patch of green, surrounded by homes, tennis courts, a brick office building and the Arco station. But to those of us who played there, coached there, and raised our girls on this field, its a whole lot more.

This Weekend, Dickens, and Nicholas Nickleby

I come from a small family of three; I am an only child. Growing up, I remember our family life together often felt, well, rather small. And sheltered. And sort of isolated. Not a lot of connection with the wider outside world. Safe and insulated, that was our family. My parents liked it that way. Perhaps they were compensating for some pain in their own past.

By way of contrast, this Memorial Day weekend has been a busy one, full of get-togethers, parties, celebrations and friendship.

Thursday night there was a party for the girls JV Water Polo Team from South Pasadena High School; tons of girls and noise and laughter. Saturday night was a birthday party for our new friend, Megan, who is getting here Masters of Divinity from Fuller Seminary. New friends, new beginnings, and a celebration of a life redeemed.

Sunday afternoon was a lunch with two families we have known for years; our kids are growing up around us, heading off to college and becoming amazing people.

Yesterday was an old tradition, Memorial Day lunch and swim with old friends of more than 20 years. Being surrounded by those you love is a blessing beyond measure.

Charles Dickens knew this, and celebrated struggle, friendship, and family in his writing. One of my favorite Dickens stories is Nicholas Nickleby. This is a story of suffering, of loss, of loyalty, character, and above all, love and friendship. And this story has been made into one of my all time favorite films. At the end of the movie there is a speech made, that for me is wonderful and full of meaning. It does not quote Dickens directly, but it is good enough for me:

"In every life, no matter how full or empty one's purse, there is tragedy. It is the one promise life always fulfills. Thus, happiness is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes, and to add to other people's store of it. What happens if, too early, we loose a parent? That party on whom rely for only....everything. What did these people do when their families shrank? They cried their tears. But then they did the vital thing, they built a new family, person by person. They came to see that family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood, but as those for whom they would give their blood. It is in that spirit that we offer this heartfelt toast, to the brides and grooms!"

This has been a weekend rich with sharing, laughter, and friendships, both new and old. I am deeply thankful.

Memorial Day 2008

Today I am remembering my Dad, Roland Steele Norris (1920-2007), who served this country in World War II, as a B-17 pilot trainer, and air-sea rescue captain. I am also remembering the more than 4,000 American families who have paid the ultimate price of sacrifice in the war in Iraq.

May there be Peace on Earth.

Zac's Big Adventure

This is Zac Sunderland. He is 16, and is planning on sailing around the world. Solo.

This morning I opened the LA Times to find this article about Zac's coming adventure. Zac has a web site here, where we all can follow his travels, and watch an introductory video.

Zac is also going to be writing a blog on his journey, which should be well worth the reading.

God speed, Zac.

Going to the Movies!

I know, some people love it, others are not so impressed. We are excited. Date tonight with my sweet wife!

Against us, For Us

Today I pondered this short conversation between Jesus and his followers.

Mark 9:38-40 (New International Version)

"Teacher," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us. "Do not stop him," Jesus said. "No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us.

Jesus could have said, whoever is not for us, is against us, excluding all but his closest friends (like we silly Christian folk do). But he didn't. Fascinating, I think. I wonder what this says about the divisions amongst Christian folk even today, and Jesus attitudes about those divisions. What does this mean, and what does it mean for my neat and tidy "Christian" assumptions about the world?

Want to think about this more? Go here. Listen.

When We Left Earth

Discover Channel is running this in June. I am so excited.

Kelly, Joni, and I

Yesterday, I rode home from church with my older daughter, Kelly, who is now 17. College is a bit more than a year away, and the little girl days are many years behind her. I am slowly getting over that; it depends on the day.

As is typical, when we got in the car, she pulled out her IPod, and asked, "Dad, can we do my IPod?", which means plugging it into the car stereo and listening to her tunes. Her tunes, mind you, not mine.

And so, we did. And I was pleasantly surprised. Joni Mitchell, all the way home. I felt as if I was caught in a time machine! Here was one of my favorite artists from my college days, who I listened to for hours on my commutes around LA, being played almost 30 years later in my car, with my daughter. And get this, she knew almost all the words! Almost paranormal. What an amazing ride home!

And here, one of the songs we listened to, whizzing down the freeway, blazing through this life here, in, of course, California:

A Thin Place

Today, everyday, we stand in a "thin place". Let me explain.

Evelyn Underhill was a modern contemplative. She was the first woman given lecture-wide status at Oxford. She wrote 39 books on Christian spirituality and philosophy.

Once, when a friend of Evelyn Underhill had been to the Isle of Iona, a place deep with roots in Scots Christianity (pictured at left), her gardener said to her, “Iona is a very thin place.” And she asked, “What do you mean?” The gardener, a Scotsman, said, “Its a thin place, because there is not much between Iona and the Lord.”

We need to be sensitive to the closeness of the invisible world. We need a sense of wonder. “The beginning of the truth is to wonder at things,” said Plato. That’s not just Plato — it is good faith in Christ as well. It works for me.

C.S. Lewis once said "We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. Every bush is a burning bush. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always easy to penetrate. The real labor is to remember to attend. In fact to come awake.

I have come to the realization that all of life, properly looked at, is a "thin place". I need to remember this, today.

Our Distorted View of the World

I found this to be very interesting. Perhaps you will too.

Well Meaning New Ideas

There are these two brothers. They grew up in a loving home, with wonderful parents. And, as fate would have it, their Dad was a pastor. And in spite of this, both boys have grown up to be functional members of society, avoiding both prison time, and some nutty period of rebellion living in animal skins in a commune in upstate New York. Amazing.

Anyway.

The boys' father was too humble and giving to create a giant multi-million dollar tele-evangelist empire. And so these boys will miss the chance to battle over leadership, and become embittered religious leaders themselves. These two brothers still believe in Jesus, each in his own unique way. They are very different, in wonderful ways; one is a bearded wacky youth minister, and the other is a clean-shaven college professor.

And now, in the attempt to share thoughts and ideas, the two brothers have a blog, which I very heartily recommend to all five of my readers (including the crazy Norwegian hacker who hits on my site repeatedly at 4 AM. Hi there, Kjel.).

Most recently, the brothers have offered two posts about the church which are very thoughtful, and indeed, made even me (with my pronounced and large forehead) think as well.

Take a look. Here and here.

Pray

In the last 10 days Myanmar and China have seen more suffering than all the world should have to endure in a year, or maybe a lifetime. Events like this make me feel like we really are living in the suffering of the "end times", even if the end does not come for a long time yet.

For those who sit, or squat, or lie, and wait, and wait, and wait in the delta region of Myanmar, may hope dawn. May the insane rulers of that beautiful country give up trying to control at all costs, and merely care. Let the aid and workers in!

And may the hundreds, if not thousands of parents in China who have lost their only children to the earthquake, be in some way comforted. And going forward, may this tragedy serve to change forever the shoddy way in which construction takes place in that country.

May it be so.

Coachella Reprive - Excellence & Humility

Last week I had lunch with my good friend John, at one of South Pasadena's cultural icons (newly renovated - now featuring cloth table napkins!).

John has had a remarkable life, and I count him as one of my favorite human beings. At one point in life, he was even a member of The New Christy Minstrels, a long standing American folk group of the funky variety. But enough about John.

Our lunch conversation covered lots of stuff, including their kids, our kids, his parents, my in-laws, friends, silly church things, his work, my work, our lovely spouses, and the general meaning of life. Good friends are a blessing beyond measure or description. John was curious about my trip to Coachella, as he has been interested in music and the arts his whole life. Strangely it seems I have become a bit of a mini (read: very very tiny) local sudo-legend in my age grouping, for actually having the nerve to go to Coachella. Some folks can't believe I went, but I can't imagine not going, just to have the opportunity to visit the other side of the generation gap.

I told him about my three highlights, all posted below. During our chat, I mentioned to John that something had dawned upon me, after reflecting on my day and night in the desert. What I found was that the individual acts and groups that I was most drawn to and impressed by all shared two primary and defining characteristics. First humility, and second excellence.

Excellence
One of the scriptural guidelines I try to remember in my work is from Colossians 3, where Paul is (again) advising a messed up church. His admonishment is very helpful for all I am trying to become, as I grow up:

"And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way."

Sing out your hearts. Do it in the name of the Master. Wonderful. The best acts I observed at Coachella got this very well. They were good. Very good. They had rehearsed a lot, worked to get it right - and when they stepped on stage, you could tell. Now, mind you, most groups very likely did not have a squeaky clean Christian brand, but they were very good at music. You could tell. Great stuff!

Humility
Perhaps the more profound message I received from Coachella was an abiding sense of humility from certain artists. Look below for my favorite acts. In each instance, there was a direct and profound sense of thankfulness from each artist for merely being asked to play on stage. Really. I heard this over and over. Comments like, "We are just so glad to be here", and "Thank you so much for coming out here tonight to listen to us", were commonplace. How heart warming.

What? I thought this was the culture of rock stars, instant fame, and bling. I was wrong, and pleasantly surprised!

Humbleness. This is the way I want to go through life. I try each day, to defer praise to other people, to step out of the way. And then, I remember this:

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.

I want to learn about humility. In certain places, Coachella, of all places was a good lesson.

Coachell Musings - Tres - Too Much Competition

Last Saturday night, in the desert, under the stars, with 40,000 young people, and a handful of us old dudes. Lots of funny cigarette smoke too. Ok, so its like 10:45 PM, and its way past my middle-aged bedtime. But there is more to come, and I have to rally.

What a day. And then, at the end of this long day, the Perfect Mellow. Jack Johnson.

Jack was a professional surfer until an accident at the Pipeline in which his front teeth were knocked out and he received more than 150 stitches. Ouch, man! Although that is when most people believe he changed from a surfer to an artist, in a recent Rolling Stone cover story (March 6, 2008) he stated that it actually happened a week before in the finals of the trials of the Pipeline Masters on Oahu. At the age of 17 he became the youngest competitor to ever reach the finals. Jack was eventually disqualified after failing to catch three waves. Jack realized that the competitiveness was too much for him, "guys were ready to kill each other to catch the next wave," Johnson remembers. The accident allowed time for Jack to start on his new passions, the guitar and making music. He stated about the accident, "I like to joke that I hit my head so hard that that's why I'm so mellow, but I think it did mellow me out." While he was recovering in bed, he spent his time writing songs and playing guitar.

Guys killing each other to catch the next wave. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Like life in the real world, the world of commerce that I live in. Ruthless competition. But strangely, I try to march to the beat of a different drummer, a cadence that is harder to hear, but easier on the soul. I think Jack gets that too.

Jack has it right, in his song "Better Together", he figures out one of the best blessings of life, relationships.

And so, this song goes out to all the dear people in our lives. For Pastor Jill. To Pastor Mark and Linda. To Tod and Beth. The Kamms. Jeff and Sparky, Jamie and Polly. To Julie in Cincinnati. To the Reverend KC and family in the desert. To John and Shelley. If you aren't mentioned here, you know its only cause my old head is foggy right now. To all those good, dear, long time friends. We love you more than words, or this song can convey.

It really is always Better When We're Together.

Love is the answer
At least for most of the questions in my heart ,
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy,
And sometimes life can be deceiving,
I'll tell you one thing, its always
better when we're together

[Chorus:]
MMM, it's always better when we're together
Yeah, we'll look at the stars when we're together
Well, it's always better when we're together

Coachella Musings - Section B

Last Friday, I spent an amazing day in the desert, at the Coachella music festival, with my daughter and friends. I am so glad I went, I start smiling whenever I think about it.

The day we went, there were about 40,000 people in attendance, and as I commented, a whole lot of people far younger than myself. I will not shut myself off from the future - I want to embrace it.

Several days ago, the Gallop organization released a poll about the happiness of Americans. The results are mixed; it seems 49% of Americans are "thriving", while 47% are "struggling". As a point of comparison to more than 130 countries around the world, the percentage of citizens thriving ranges from 2% in Cambodia to 83% in Denmark. While the percentage of citizens suffering ranges from less than 1% in Denmark to 47% in Zimbabwe.

So, based on my observations, the Coachella crowd was not necessarily similar to the American public as a whole. Younger, more energetic, more idealistic. They actually believe we can change the world, cool the planet, and bring about world peace. Good for them, maybe we can!

In any case, perhaps it actually is fair to say that on any given day half of us are "thriving" and the other half are "struggling". And there we all were, sitting on the lawn in the bright, hot sun, standing to hear bands we loved, dancing under the misters to ward off the heat, relaxing in shade tents to good sounds. And one half of us are doing ok in life, and the other half are having a tough go of things.

What does it all mean? Where are we going, and who are we following on the way there? What is the point of it all?

Another Coachella moment of transcendence - the music of Swell Season, who we listened to under the stars. It was a magical experience. Their song, "Falling Slowly" won an Academy Award:

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along

All those people gathered in the desert. Some thriving, some struggling. We've all still got time, and great hope.

Coachella Musings - Installment 1

Coachella 2008. What an amazing experience!

Polo grounds in the middle of the desert. 97 degrees, hot hot sunshine. 40,000+ people. Music (loud!), art, food, water (lots), more music, and a festive, clean, absolutely fun environment.

Only problem; I felt 25 years too old. And I was. By my estimation, and that of the friends and kids we were with, the averate age of attendance at Coachella 2008 was about 23, with a median age of just a bit older. That would, by a long shot, make me one of the oldest of Old Farts in attendance. But really, who cares? I had a blast!

Now, some folks of my faith persuasion might say that this whole three day music festival is an exercise in futility. God-forsaken music, meaningless art, and a bunch of poorly bathed and tattooed young people. Godless. Lost. Forsaken. But not me.

About 2,000 years ago, the Apostle Paul was confronted with a similar situation, as he visited Athens (Acts 17):

22-23So Paul took his stand in the open space at the Areopagus and laid it out for them. "It is plain to see that you Athenians take your religion seriously. When I arrived here the other day, I was fascinated with all the shrines I came across. And then I found one inscribed, to the god nobody knows. I'm here to introduce you to this God so you can worship intelligently, know who you're dealing with.

24-29"The God who made the world and everything in it, this Master of sky and land, doesn't live in custom-made shrines or need the human race to run errands for him, as if he couldn't take care of himself. He makes the creatures; the creatures don't make him. Starting from scratch, he made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find him. He doesn't play hide-and-seek with us. He's not remote; he's near. We live and move in him, can't get away from him! One of your poets said it well: 'We're the God-created.' Well, if we are the God-created, it doesn't make a lot of sense to think we could hire a sculptor to chisel a god out of stone for us, does it?

We are the "God-created" indeed! All of us. All of us there last Friday in Coachella, basking in the sun, enjoying the sounds and sights. We are all, in our own way, searching for meaning. Even in the desert at a music festival, that is what is happening. We are looking, searching, trying to find those magic moments that bring meaning to our lives.

As Exhibit I from Coachella, I present you with John Butler, of the John Butler Trio. What a wonderful example of something God-created.

Thoroughly Modern Millie

When our girls were little, almost every time family and friends gathered at our house (usually with extra kids joining the bunch) their would be, eventually, a "show" by the kids. All the adults had to sit in one room, while the Norris girls would co-direct and act in some form of short impromptu comedy or drama. Much laughter and applause was always a part of the mix.

And then, the little girls grow, and the house, ever so gradually becomes a bit more quiet. The plays have moved on to the setting of school. Part of me is glad, and part of me is sad about this. Life moves on.

This weekend marked a relatively important milestone in our family - the final play for our daughters at Middle School. This weekend follows weeks and weeks of practice, preparation, and involvement by so many in town.

For the past five years we have enjoyed these remarkable productions. Both of our girls have each been in two plays their 7th and 8th grade years. Hello Dolly, How to Succeed in Business, Grease, Guys and Dolls, and this year - Thoroughly Modern Millie.

What a joy to see our community rally around these wonderful shows, and what a gift in the leadership and direction of Ms. Tompkins (note: Bruin grad), the long-time director!

Its just a school play, you might say. But it is so much more than that, its a celebration of kids, of community, and of life itself.

What an outstanding show, and how blessed we are!

Coachella Music Festival

A year ago, my then 16 year old daughter was dying to go to the Coachella Music Festival. Remembering what concerts were like when I was a kid, I thought it might be better to wait a year, and have a parent go along. And so, it is a year later, and we are fired up to go!

Its me, my daughter, four of her friends, my buddy Dave (invited so, as my daughter put it, I would not be a "complete loner / looser") and I - a full van, baby! We are leaving Friday morning, and come back on Saturday afternoon. I am very excited. What a great opportunity for this balding, middle aged guy to spend some time in the world of the next generation. Woooo Hooo!

PS: I apologize in advance if I come home smelling of funny cigarettes. I will not inhale, I promise.

For the Beauty of The Earth

Its Earth Day.

I have always been very moved by John Rutter's hymns, and in particular, the one noted below.

For the beauty of the earth
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth Over
and around us lies.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.

Here is hoping that as I grow older, I might be a better steward of the planet God has placed me on.