Breakable

Maybe it's about time we people who purport to follow Jesus just admit that we are not:

Invincible
Smarter
Less likely to completely foul up our lives
Look better
Somehow superior
Have some kind of special edge on the rest of humanity

We should, rather, admit that we are completely, well.... breakable.

Climbing Evangelicals

Here is something I have been thinking about.

In so many ways, we evangelical Christians have adopted the culture of the rest of America in forming the church, as opposed to the radically unusual world view that Jesus spoke so much about. You know, that "first shall become last" stuff. Pick up your cross and follow me? Be little, not big?

We have become a league of career climbers. We adore the large, the seemingly successful, the cool, the spiffy, the humongous.

This is for my pastor friends, those who would become pastors, and the like. Its also for all us lay people who take our leadership role in the church seriously. Recently, in my Internet wanderings, I came across this, which quotes letters written by Eugene Peterson, which I must quote nearly in whole:

“The one great advantage you have as a new church pastor is that you are forced to start small. Nothing is imposed on you. Determine that you will know every person, their names and whatever of their lives they are willing to let you in on. Be in their homes. Invite them into your home in small groups for an evening or lunch. The killing frost in too much new church development is forming programs that will attract people or serve their perceived ‘needs,’ getting them ‘involved.’ The overriding need they have is worship and that is the one thing that is lowest on their ‘needs’ list. Insist on it: keep it simple – learn to know every last one of them relationally. And call them to worship – and not entertainment worship, but a community at worship. Americans these days are not used to being treated that way, personally and apart from promotional come-ons. Religious entrepreneurism has infected church planting all over the country. When it is successful numerically (and if you are a good salesman and smile a lot it probably will be) you will end up with a non-church.”

And how about the greatest temptation when planting a church – and how do we avoid it:

“I’d say ambition. Church planters are tempted to do what it takes to succeed. Most of us grow up as competitors, competition is bred into our bones. And most of us are good at it. But the very nature of church – the Christian life – is to stay close to the ground that you are given, the people you are given, the Jesuw ho comes alongside of us. The temptation is to look for ‘leaders’ or ‘winners’ or look at people as ‘resources.’ That is not a mindset that cultivates patience with losers and the mediocre. Not that we don’t want to do our best, but unchecked ambition cripples us for dealing with the people who are right under our noses, the left-out and ignored. If we hold our competitive instincts on a short leash, we will probably stay small for a considerable time.”

To the Moon, Again

Forty years ago yesterday, man first set foot on the Moon.

Yesterday, I sat in my office and listened to a 40-year old live stream of the Apollo 11 landing, timed to the second to match the event that happened that July afternoon when I was 11 years old.

The adventure of Apollo was an adventure and celebration of courage. What adventures do we have yet to embark upon?

If you want to see an outstanding film about the space program, may I recommend one of my all time favorites?...

Walter Cronkite 1916-2009

Almost exactly 40 years ago today, I sat with my parents and watched Walter Cronkite narrate the landing of Apollo 11. This man was a journalist, and today seems to dwarf almost all of what is loosely called journalism today.

Married for 65 years to the same woman, father of three, and grandfather of four. He will be dearly missed.

What My Wife Does for Summer Vacation

This next week, our house will be just a bit more quiet, because my wife will be gone. We will be a bit (ok, a LOT) more disorganized around here. Meals might not have as much love in them as usual, and may have some rather odd, "guy-inspired ingredients". But it's for a very good reason.

I am married to a woman who chooses to take part of her summer vacation, drive to Arizona with a van full of teenage mothers, and spend time with them at this place:



It feels just wonderful to me.

A Different Sort of Sunday

Warning. Do not leave me alone with an underwater camera.

Nancy and Kelly took off this morning for college orientation at DePaul in Chicago. I came home and just generally vegged out, save for a trip to the roof, to clean off the solar panels. Yes, Al Gore loves me.

I then found the waterproof mount for the old digital camera, and commenced a taking photos of myself whilst sitting on the bottom of the pool. I am hopeless, and may never grow up. Man, it is so good to have days off like this, if only on occasion.

Today was a different sort of Sunday. The middle of the beginning of something new, post high school for Older Daughter, a trip to DePaul for her and Mom. New things to see, new places to visit, a new world out there. Dad waits at home, goes to the office each day for the next couple days, and eagerly collects the daily reports from Chicago via cellphone.

Today....no rushing off to church like a family in a (badly dressed) Normal Rockwell painting. We had the morning free, and girls slept in.

I had the ability to leisurely enjoy the LA Times on the back porch, where I came across this touching article by columnist Steve Lopez about his latest journey with Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, a gifted musician troubled by mental illness.

What a wondrous, frustrating, and mysterious life this is, where a gifted musician is handicapped by mental illness. I plan on watching The Soloist very soon.

One line jumped out at me from Mr. Lopez column today, where Mr. Ayers is listening to Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 1, Opus 11. Mr. Ayers says, ""That's the sound of a child's heart," and later...."That's what God looks like."

Leave it to a seemingly unstable man to show us the beautiful. Who really is unstable and unsure of themselves, anyway?

Life is like that, you know.

John Adams - The Day of Deliverance

John Adams wrote to his wife, with a prediction, soon after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, in July of 1776:

"The Second Day of July, 1776, ought to be commemorated by succeeding generations as the day of deliverance. It ought to be celebrated by pomp and parade, with shows and games, sports, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other from this time forward forever more!

Now you think that I am getting carried away with enthusiasm. But I am not. I am well aware of the toil, the blood, and the treasure it will cost us to maintain this Declaration. Yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory, I can see that the end is more than worth the means. Posterity will triumph in this days business, even though we may regret it.

I trust in God we shall not."

Have a wonderful 4th of July, and may we remember these words, deep in our souls.

A Summer Evening, A Teacher, The Future

A Summer Evening
It was a warm summer evening last Sunday, and we spent it with good friends, enjoying, listening, and for me, remembering the past, and pondering the future.

Over the past decade or so, the music of one particular group has been one of the primary play lists in the background music to the life of this middle aged father and husband.

Sunday night Oldest Daughter and I joined good friends for an memorable evening of Bluegrass music - at the Largo in West Hollywood. On the bill - The Punch Brothers (photo above) and The Watkins Family (photo below). Some of these amazing musicians have a common genesis - from the group Nickle Creek.

For almost two hours we enjoyed the acoustic Bluegrass music of Chris Thile and The Punch Brothers. The was ridiculously good music. No amps and electricity for these guys. Just a banjo, guitar, acoustic bass, fiddle and mandolin. Beautiful.

After this, off to the bar for the "after show", featuring the Watkins Family. Another hour and a half of haunting melodies, beautiful lyrics, lots of laughs, and great music by amazingly talented people who surely enjoy each others company. It seemed we were all transported to a different place for a time, a place where only the music mattered.

If you ever want to head on down to the Largo and experience something special at the Watkins Family Hour, here is all you would ever need to know.

A Teacher
Our family was introduced to Nickle Creek almost eight years ago, through the gift of a 5th grade teacher. A teacher with a warm smile, a terrific sense of humor, and a gift of love. And, a teacher with a guitar. This was no ordinary teacher, this was the woman who changed the course of my daughter's life. If you asked her, Kelly might tell you she wants to grow up and be, well, much like that teacher. She will be majoring in Elementary Education this fall at DePaul University - and we can trace it back to Miss Lang in the 5th grade. The year that changed history for Oldest Daughter.

Miss Lang would bring her guitar to class most every Friday, and play for the kids. And one of the songs she played is shown below.

Miss Lang is an entirely unique and remarkable teacher, someone who takes her work seriously, expresses joy daily, loves kids well, and fills the room with her personality. She teaches her kids well, and loves them greatly. Its a rare commodity these days; someone who does their job with all they have, with all their heart.

The Future
As I sat in the dark soaking it all in, I would occasionally glance over at Oldest Daughter, enjoying her gaze, and her smile; feeling thankful for the young lady she is becoming. For a moment I smiled and thought to myself, "imagine this, we are together at a concert, enjoying the same music!".

I also remembered those days in 5th grade, and the gift of Miss Lang. I thought about the future, and the teacher this young lady next to me might become. I am amazed at this life.

When You Come Back Down

You got to leave me now,
you got to go alone
You got to chase a dream,one that's all your own
Before it slips away
When you're flyin' high,take my heart along

I'll be the harmony to every lonely song
That you learn to play
When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground

Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
When you come back down
I'll keep lookin' up awaitin' your return

My greatest fear will be that you will crash and burn
And I won't feel your fire
I'll be the other hand that always holds the line
Connectin' in between your sweet heart and mine

I'm strung out on that wire
And I'll be on the other end
To hear you when you call Angel,
you were born to fly
And if you get too high
I'll catch you when you fall
Catch you when you fall

Your memory is the sunshine every new day brings
I know the sky is calling Angel,
let me help you with your wings
When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground

Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
When you come back down

Kelly's Graduation, Skipping Onward

Last weekend was graduation time for the Older Daughter.

These June endings, they always surprise me, and leave me with a rainbow of emotions. Melancholy, hope, sadness, joy, wonder, bewilderment. What is happening to the days of childhood in our home? But in the midst of these transitions that hasten life forward, slipping from our hands, there are glimpses of joy, and mercy, and grace.

This past weekend was deeply meaningful for me, as it marked the graduation of my oldest daughter from high school. That's her (click to enlarge), pointing at us silly yelling family people (in the stands at the football stadium) in the photo above.

We can choose to just just let these milestones pass us by as they happen, without reflection. Or, we can pause, step back for a few moments, take some time, and reflect. What is the deeper meaning of this time of moving forward, looking back, and changing places? And where in all this may Grace, and Joy, and Hope be found?

Thirteen years of school. After pre-school at Calvary Church here in town, we were off to Marengo Elementary School in September 1996; holding a little hand on the first day of Kindergarten. Filing into the classroom in October, on Back to School Night in 2nd grade. Book fairs, school plays, parent days. And then, seemingly without warning, the first day of Middle School; the Semi-Big Leagues of public education. And then, a blur of Middle School plays, sports events, open houses, and homework. Oh, the homework!

And then, again, suddenly, the first day of high school, sports, boys, basketball games, girls water polo at the pool in January (brrr!).

It was a warm afternoon at the high school football field, the setting for graduation each year. For a very long time our town has gathered here each June to mark endings and beginnings. Speeches were made, music was played, names were announced. In less than 75 minutes we were done; over 300 seniors had left the past behind, and were facing a summer of wondering and hoping, before moving on to college, and life beyond, in the Fall.

As all the students left the field, I followed our Kelly with my telephoto lens, taking pictures of these fleeting moments.

And at the end of it all, our otherwise self confident, seemingly omniscient, and often even mature daughter did something I did not expect at all. Something altogether childlike and joyous; filled with glee, and youth, and promise for tomorrow.

After hugging everyone in sight, for just a bit, she skipped across the field toward the exit. Ten yards on the football field. First down. In just those couple of moments, that skipping, for me, illustrated so much of what makes up this remarkable young lady. My eyes filled with tears, a smile broke out on my face, and my heart brimmed with hope. Hope for a whole new generation.

Skipping forward, not looking back. That is how our Kelly will face the future. She is going to DePaul this fall to major in Elementary Education.

How fitting. The future teacher that skips into the future. I am so filled with admiration, and joy, and thankfulness, I could just skip.

And know what? The other day, when no one was looking, I skipped too. For Joy, and Mercy, and Grace.

Old Outside, New Inside - Words to Live By

Cardinal John Henry Newman, said this:

"Therefore I will trust Him. Whatever, where ever I am. I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him. In perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about."

My experience in thus far in this life; the holding of my own newborn girls in my arms, and sitting at the bedside of my dying parents, as illustrated by this Scripture, leads me to say "Yes!" to the words of Cardinal Newman.

There is a Guard There.... His Name is Ron

I recently attended the moving memorial service for a man who spent much of his adult life standing guard for the rest of us. A simple job, and yet filled with almost a royal sense of dignity. I will never forget my friend Ron Cherry. Now, each time I pull up to the front of our church, I remember, and miss our friend.

Because he watched out, countless people felt safe, and more importantly, welcome. It was said several times during his memorial that Ron was "the face of Hollywood Presbyterian Church". I agree completely, and we are, all of us, greatly honored by that memory.

He did so much for so many, and yet, I am convicted that I did not get to know him better, or appreciate him more while he was here. I am a much richer man for having witnessed the graceful, joyous, and genuine way in which he cared for others.

Ron spent 23 years of his life as a Security Guard at our church. And because he was there day in, day out, night in, night out, doing his job in such an excellent way, hundreds of people will never be the same for having known him; there were more than 150 people from our church at his memorial service. It is completely safe to say that Ron affected the lives of thousands in his time at Hollywood Presbyterian. My friend Mark Roberts has eulogized Ron recently here.

I have a bit more to add.

Ron Cherry was born in a small town in rural Louisiana. As a young man, he grew tired of small town life, and longed for adventure in the Big City, so he moved to Hollywood, in search of his own dream. Over his early years in town, Ron worked various jobs, as a hotel limo driver (often for inebriated celebrity guests who will remain nameless here), cab driver, movie extra, and finally, and most importantly, as the senior security guard at our church.

Ron did everything with grace, humor, and joy. He was especially loved by the children at our church Preschool. Following his sudden and unexpected death at just 63, a chapel memorial service for Ron was organized by the Preschool, in order for the children to express their feelings, and remember their friend Ron. My friend Tom is the unofficial chaplain of the preschool, and here are some quotes from the kids about their memories of Ron:

"We played tag" "He made me feel safe" "He always said hi" "He was so nice, and very fun" "We played soccer with a pine cone" "He always had candy for us!".

Ron made such a lasting impression on us all from often only passing interactions on Sunday mornings, or often midweek chats about sports, and politics, and the latest news. For us, Ron was a part of the billions of threads of God's infinite tapestry. From the peculiar distance of these passing conversations, so many of us felt a sudden sense of loss. Ron had the gift of simple Southern kindness, and he abided well in his place on guard, watching out for what he called "the Hollywood knuckleheads".

In retrospect, Ron taught me about joy, abiding in one place and being content, and finally, about the simple beauty and dignity of serving others.

Theologians are pretty much silent on the concept of what Heaven will be like. But, Jesus told us he goes to prepare a place for us, and that there is plenty of room There.

Based on what I know of Ron, when we get there, he will be waiting, watching, and smiling.

Amazing Views

I am so jealous. I want this job.

For some amazing views of the latest Shuttle Mission, go here.

Happy Birthday Benny

This weekend would have been the 100th birthday of Benny Goodman, the "King of Swing".

Enough said.

Of Firsts and Lasts, Discovery and Loss

Two events happened recently. One was 350 miles above Earth.

The other was very much on the ground, in the middle of America. One was grand and amazing. The other, almost unbearably sad.

And, for some reason, I keep thinking about the strange juxtaposition of these events, and I cannot loose them from my mind.

Looking Up
The world watched as the Shuttle astronauts spent the better part of a week servicing the Hubble Space Telescope; an event covered by the worldwide press. Repair of Hubble offers opportunities for new discoveries unparalleled, and a sense of almost unbridled expectation, hope, and excitement for the future. Repairs to the Hubble will allow man to see to the edge of Creation, nearly 14 billion years ago.

Sixteen years ago, I was at the Kennedy Space Center with JPL friends to watch the first Hubble Servicing Mission. I will never forget the thrill of watching the Hubble float over us, 70 miles above Florida, in the middle of the night, or the grandeur of witnessing a night launch; the moment, with liftoff that the night became the day.

And now, all these years later, two men, floating in the silent void of space, loosening bolts and replacing parts. Counting the turns of specially designed wrenches; every move coordinated for months in advance. Connecting wires, waiting for "aliveness tests", all while suspended in a vacuum where sound cannot be heard. There is no air up there. This is a "thin place", this space.

Down Here on Earth
The other event was known by only a few, and was strangely and deeply sad, quiet, solemn, and at the moment it occurred, almost silent.

A baby stopped breathing and passed away, a victim of Trisomy 18, after only a few weeks of life. A close friend of ours was the Pastor at his memorial service. His family loved him well, in those brief days of his life. He was surrounded by constant care, and his brief life here, among us, was not lived in a vacuum. His brief encounter on Earth was filled with meaning, although that meaning may still may be shrouded, and, for the present, hard to fathom.

Astronauts floating hundreds of miles overhead in a void of silence, gloved hands reaching out in the dark of space. And below, a small breath, growing weaker, fading.

The void of Space, and the void of Sadness. I cannot begin to understand this.

Maybe this is how it works, this life. Mystery, profound sorrow, hope, discovery.

This Works for Me

Remembering Everyday Heroes

This Memorial Day, I am remembering my Dad, Roland Norris, who proudly served his country during World War II, as a B-17 training pilot, and later, air/sea rescue pilot in the South Pacific.

After the war, he came home rebuilt his life, and was my Dad. He went to work faithfully for 40 years, providing a home for me and my Mom, and paying for my education.

I have never had to lift a finger in service of my country. I am very thankful for those who continue to serve.

We're All Heading Somewhere

Awakening

I have always struggled to convey my faith to other people. After all these years, I am no better at it than when I started. I am not sure why.

The lyrics below, written and put to song by a very talented young woman from the Midwest, express in large part what I have wanted to tell my friends.

I will let these words speak for me. Often, when I shut up, things work out for the best.

Dress down your pretty faith. Give me something real.
Leave out the thees and thous and speak to me now.
Speak to my fear and confusion.
Speak through my pain and my pride.
Speak to the part of me that knows I'm something deep down inside.

I know that I am not perfect, but compare me to most,
In a world of hurt and a world of anger I think I'm holding my own.
And I know that you said there is more to life.
And I know I am not satisfied.
But there are mornings I wake up just thankful to be alive.

I've known now, for quite a while, that I am not whole.
I've remembered the body and the mind,
But I dissected my soul.
Now something inside is awakening,
Like a dream I once had and forgot.
And it's something I'm scared of
And something I don't want to stop.

So I woke up this morning and realized that Jesus is not a portrait.
Or stained glass windows or hymns or the tradition that surrounds us.
And I thought it would be hard to believe in
But it's not hard at all.
To believe I've sinned and fallen short of the glory of God
Oh the glory of God....

And He's not asking me to change in my joy for martyrdom
He's asking to take my place.
To stand in the gap that I have formed
With His real amazing grace.
And it's not just a sign or a sacrament.
It's not just a metaphor for love.
His blood is real and it's not just a symbol of all of our faith.

So leave out the thees and thous... and speak now.

From the song "Awakening", by Sara Groves

Mothers Day

Today is Mother's Day. As I reflect on this, I find that the clearest sign of God's presence and overwhelming love in our family is my wife, and the mother of our girls, Nancy.

Yesterday I happened by my daughters' room, and she had the video below playing on her Mac. It says it all. For more than 18 years, I have witnessed, daily, the great love of this Mom of our two amazing girls.

Happy Mothers Day, Nance! You are our best gift here on this planet. Thank you.

Hysteria Break - Hawai'i Aloha

I came across the video below the other day, and felt this blog would be the right place to share it. Maybe I need a mental break from The Great Recession and the H1N1 Swine Flu media hysteria.

The Hawaiian islands have always been a special place for me, ever since I was a kid. My grandparents had a winter home on the North Shore of Oahu.

Hawai'i Aloha is a revered anthem of the native Hawaiian people and Hawai‘i residents alike. Written by Lorenzo Lyons, a Christian minister who died in 1886. It is not the official state song, but just as well is, in the hearts of most native Hawaiians.

Hawai‘i Aloha is typically sung in both small and large, formal and informal gatherings in Hawai‘i while standing in a circle with joined hands. Traditionally, the last verse and chorus is sung with all hands raised above heads.

The artist here is Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole, who only lived to the age of 38, but seemed to have a wonderful spirit, which lives on in his music.

E Hawai‘i e ku‘u one hānau e Ku‘u home kulaīwi nei ‘Oli nō au i nā pono lani ou E Hawai‘i, aloha ē	O Hawai‘i, O sands of my birth My native home I rejoice in the blessings of heaven O Hawai‘i, aloha.
Hui: E hau‘oli e nā ‘ōpio o Hawai‘i nei ‘Oli ē! ‘Oli ē! Mai nā aheahe makani e pā mai nei Mau ke aloha, no Hawai‘i	Chorus: Happy youth of Hawai‘i Rejoice! Rejoice! Gentle breezes blow Love always for Hawai‘i.
E ha‘i mai kou mau kini lani e Kou mau kupa aloha, e Hawai‘i Nā mea ‘ōlino kamaha‘o no luna mai E Hawai‘i aloha ē (hui)	May your divine throngs speak Your loving people, O Hawai‘i The holy light from above O Hawai‘i, aloha. (chorus)

Isn't that just beautiful? Really now. That we all could have lives that express the spirit of this anthem. An anthem, a hymn of praise, sung holding hands on the beach, at twilight, under the palms.

Think these folks felt any closer to heaven? I do.

Too Many Choices, Shopping, and "We Walk"

What is the relationship between a seminary student from Denmark, a day at a desert indie rock concert, and the American church?

Asking a Question
Something sobering, sad and rather haunting happened to me recently. I asked a simple question, and received an answer I never anticipated.

We are friends with a young woman who is getting her masters at Fuller Seminary, who grew up in Denmark, and now, in her mid twenties, is studying here in Pasadena. As it turns out, being a Jesus follower in Norway can be quite strange. Norway has a state church, and 91% of the populous is listed as Christian. But, being an earnest Christian in Norway today can get one labeled as a cult member, or more likely just a religious wing-nut. The state church in Norway is essentially dead (read: six old ladies and a worn-out vicar). Our friend has earnestly sought to follow Jesus since she was 15. It has not been easy, and often lonely.

And so, my question. During a lunch meeting of about 20 folks, learning about the graduate programs at Fuller, our Norwegian friend mentioned, almost as an aside, "It has been interesting, getting used to the American church". This caught my attention, and I wanted to know what that comment meant. So I asked "What do you think of the American church? You can be candid, you are among friends." I really wanted to know the honest opinion of someone who is genuinely "outside of our system".

Her answer caught me completely unaware, and changed the mood of the entire room....to awkward silence and reflection...if only for a moment. Our Norwegian friend seemed somewhat surprised by the question, and had to pause for a moment, as tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. Obviously moved, she replied:

"I meet so many people here who seem to be constantly looking for the perfect church, one that meets all their needs. You know, just the right worship, just the right preaching, all the right programs. They are never happy with what they have." She stopped for a moment, to catch her breath, and continued, her voice slightly breaking as she spoke. "I just want to tell them, you have so many churches in which you can serve - please, just pick ONE, and settle in, and serve people, and love them!"

The room was silenced. Here we were, a room full of Americans, likely all with too many choices. Used to a culture that somehow has made us all a bit too picky, and unwilling to "settle in". Dallas Willard has written about some of these ideas, and they have made me think.

So what is our problem, we Americans? We like to shop around, and not commit - its easier that way. And if it does not work out, in life, or church for that matter - we bail, we give up, we walk.

An Illustration - Under the Desert Sun
Last weekend, as I have posted below, I spent time at the Coachella Music Festival. I like to go, as this gives me the chance to see how "the rest of the world" is getting along, in terms of youth culture, and indie music, and things that my daily life life does not see. Basically, its a chance for the Old Dude to see and hear things new.

One of my favorite groups was a British duo called The Ting Tings. They do amazing things with fun lyrics and a great beat. During their hour long act in a tent in the desert, they played a song that had me thinking - I came home and looked up the words.

"We Walk" (song embedding disabled, follow the link) - is a song about disappointment, and making decisions. But really, its a song about bailing, giving up, and walking. We do that a lot here in America, don't we?

You see the changes
In things that come
It's how you deal with it
When switching off
Make a decision
A precondition
We got the choice if
it all goes wrong

We walk, we walk
We walk, we walk

I wonder, what it might be like, if we could just settle, and not just....walk?

Disney Hall

Franz Liszt and Joshua Bell at Disney Hall!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Sir Paul in the Desert

A year ago, I took my first trip to the desert with my oldest daughter and her friends, to experience the Coachella Music Festival for the first time.

This year, I took a trip to the desert again, (daughter in separate car - "Da-aaa-d, driving with you would be soooo uncool!") but I really ended taking a trip back in time, and experiencing perhaps the best rock concert I will ever see in my life.

Sir Paul McCartney was the headline act this past Friday night, and I will never forget the experience. Ever.

When Sir Paul came on the stage in a Nehru jacket and playing his Hofner bass, at about 10:20 PM, it was as if I had been strangely transported backwards by about 43 years. I suddenly and strangely remembered being at my friend Ebb Eskew's house in Arcadia, at about 7 years old, with Ebb playing for me his Beatles album. Ebb was crazy about the Beatles, it took me a little longer to get a clue. This was the British Invasion. Pop music would never be the same.

Sir Paul is now almost 67 years old, and except for some obviously slightly "color-assisted" hair, he looks great. The most moving moment of the show, captured in the amazing video below, was Sir Paul's reminding the audience that the evening's concert had fallen on the 11th anniversary of the death of his first wife, Linda, who passed away in Tucson, Arizona. From that moment on, Sir Paul had the audience entirely on his side. It was a magical experience, and I am thankful I was there.

Below find the best current available video clips of the concert, shot from the very front row...make sure to mash the little "HQ" button to get a better picture.

Ting Tings

This people, is/am/are the Ting Tings @ Coachella!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Coachella Arrival

Coachella 2009 people. On stage now - Airborne Toxic Event. Yes, its a band.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Good Friday

Today is Good Friday.

A day of remembering an event which often feels so immense that it seems the world can scarcely bear it. I know I hardly can. It is too hard, and painful, and deep and wide. It seems too much.

Tonight our family attended a Good Friday service of worship that is taken from an early Christian service called "Tenebrae". The name Tenebrae is the Latin word for "darkness" or "shadows." Through this service we experienced only a small portion of Christ’s pain and suffering the day of His crucifixion.

One of the most conspicuous features of the service is the gradual extinguishing of candles until only a single candle, considered a symbol of our Lord, remains. As it gets darker and darker we reflect on the great emotional and physical pain that was very real for Jesus that evening. Toward the end of the service, the Christ candle is removed from the sanctuary, typifying the apparent victory of the forces of evil over good. And at the end, we file out quietly into the night.

Tonight, right in the middle of this service, I was reduced to tears by something I completely did not expect. "Gabriel's Oboe" from Ennio Morricone, the composer of the film "The Mission" stole my heart, and lead me on several moments reflections of the impact of the one solitary life of Christ. A life that has changed the face of the planet, and a life that has changed my life. Forever. I sat and listened to this haunting piece, and reflected on all centuries of followers of Jesus, who for both good and bad intentions, have changed the face of this planet.

How could one life so permanently affect so much of humanity? How could this be so? How could one man, who died as an obscure radical - reach into history, and continue to touch and transform lives today? How could this be?

Take a few moments, and listen, and wonder. From Ennio Morricone's performance at the UN in 2007:

Coach

This video of John Wooden is about eight years old, but really, it is timeless.

Missile, Schmissile

And they say North Korea wants to launch a missile. I have something for your missile, Dear Leader!

Twittering the Gospel

Rob Bell was asked how he could present the gospel on Twitter. Although not 140 characters, this was his answer:

“I would say that history is headed somewhere. The thousands of little ways in which you are tempted to believe that hope might actually be a legitimate response to the insanity of the world actually can be trusted. And the Christian story is that a tomb is empty, and a movement has actually begun that has been present in a sense all along in creation. And all those times when your cynicism was at odds with an impulse within you that said that this little thing might be about something bigger – those tiny slivers may in fact be connected to something really, really big."

Also, this:

“And there is this group of people who say that whoever that being is came up among us and took on flesh and blood – Andrew Sullivan talks about this immense occasion the world could not bear. So a church would be this odd blend of swagger – and open tomb, come on – and humility and mystery. The Resurrection accounts are jumbled and don’t really line up with each other – I really relate to that. Yet something momentous has burst forth in the middle of history. You just have to have faith, and you get caught up in something.

I like to say that I practice militant mysticism. I’m really absolutely sure of some things that I don’t quite know.”

Very good. And honest. Me too.

Evacuation Theology

Recently Rob Bell was interviewed in CT – and shared a theology to which I wholly subscribe, although I am not a theologian. One comment in the article is that Mr. Bell is reframing the gospel in North America for the last couple of hundred years, with many of his comments contained within his new book Jesus Wants to Save Christians. I might just have to buy this book.

“The story (of the Scripture) is about God’s intentions to bring about a new heaven and a new earth, and the story begins here with shalom – shalom between each other and with our Maker and with the earth. The story line is that God intends to bring about a new creation, this place, this new heaven and earth here. And that Jesus’ resurrection is the beginning, essentially, of the future; this great Resurrection has rushed into the present.

The evacuation theology that says, “figure out the ticket, say the right prayer, get the right formula, and then we’ll go somewhere else” is lethal to Jesus, who endlessly speaks of the renewal of all things.”

Evacuation! I like this A LOT.

First, Mr. Bell is echoing N.T. Wright in many of his recent books in terms of “the Kingdom being at hand”. Second, I have to confess that I have been a subtle victim of this “evacuation theology” that has turned the church into a sometimes strange fortress against, rather than for, and involved with the world.

And finally, I am touched by Mr. Bell’s use of the present tense to describe Jesus’ words – note above that it is “endlessly speaks” that is used, rather than something like “spoke”. Imagine that, a resurrected Christ, one who still speaks.

Amen.