dan's hole in the wall

Well that was. . .fun

2012-01-21T15:14:00.000-08:00

In case you didn't hear, we had a little snowstorm up here in the Puget Sound area. After a brief snowfall on Sunday, and some light snowy conditions early in the week, we woke up Wednesday morning to a foot of snow covering everything.

It was beautiful. It was wonderful. It was a nice day to take the kids sledding at the local elementary school, followed by hot chocolate at a friend's house.

Thursday's when it all got interesting. The snow was followed by freezing rain. Everything was covered by 1/2 an inch of ice. The Jeep looked like it was encased in crystal. Plants and trees glistened as if dipped in glass. It was breathtaking.

It was also dangerous. All that extra weight was more than many trees could bear. Water seeped into trees, and, freezing, expanded outward. Soon branches large and small, and, in many cases, whole trees were crashing to the ground. The road below our house was raining large branches and heavy chunks of ice. We wandered down to the marina and saw many trees broken over. Our driveway was blocked by a 16-inch oak branch. There was a boat broken loose at the marina. Everything was a mess.

Then the power went out. We were out about 24 hours, which isn't so bad, considering many are still in the dark. The woodstove kept us warm, and candles offered light for playing and reading. Inside, it was cozy.

But I wandered out Thursday night and stood in the middle of our driveway. It sounded like a war zone, between the constant popping of trees snapping off and the flash/bang of transformers blowing up over by the highway. For the first time in 6 years I actually felt a little worried about living in the woods. The night was restless, as sleep was punctuated by the sound of falling trees, and chainsaws clearing the road below.

Friday we got the Jeep out and went for a drive, checking on people and shooting some video footage. Trees were down everywhere. Power and phone lines dangled down from poles onto the ground. Ice chunks continued to rain down from on high. More branches lay across our driveway.

And yet, everywhere we went people seemed in a good mood. There was laughter and joy in the sharing of survival stories. We had lunch at the local Mexican restaurant, and saw a dozen or so friends there. Across the street at the market cars were slipping and sliding through the parking lot, but everybody was helping each other out. While people in more civilized areas seemed to be angry and offended at the weather (based on the tone of callers to local radio programs), those out here on the KP just got down to making it work.

And now it's melting, and life is returning to normal, and the kids are getting restless, and 'mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again." I think we can even get the Kia out of the driveway. And last night I told the girls "now when you're old you can say 'I remember back to the great storm of '12, when school was closed for a week and all the trees fell down and we had to use a Jeep to get out and we all camped in the living room to stay warm by the fire.'"

Good times.

Book Review: A Christmas Carol

2012-01-17T12:49:00.000-08:00

I've seen the movie countless times; in fact, I've seen countless versions of the book countless times. There's no denying it's a classic in Western Literature; perhaps one of the best-known stories in the English language.

Not that anybody's ever read it.

I hadn't, up until this year. But last spring I found it at the Borders Going-Out-Of-Business sale, and decided it was about time to hear it as Dickens intended.

It's a difficult book to read, both because we're not used to reading Victorian English, and because it's impossible to avoid hearing the voices of Kermit the Frog and Michael Caine and George C. Scott. And yet, it's such a necessary book.

It's become important to the pantheon of "necessary items for Christmas," along with "A Christmas Story" and The Carpenters and ugly sweaters. But even more so, I think it's necessary for our world today. It's a little unfortunate that it's become window dressing for the festive season, because the message is entirely prophetic, judgmental, and yet hopeful. It's a message we need once again.

I don't need to rehearse the story or themes for you, but think about it for just a second - there's a message here about the proper place of money in relationships, there's a message of the importance of all people, whether they are rich or poor, there's a message about the voluntary redistribution of wealth; but it's all couched in a story of redemption. Yes, there is strong judgment against selfishness and greed (perhaps echoes of the Rich Man and Lazarus), but rather than simply condemn that man, Dickens paints a picture where even the worst can be redeemed and restored. That is a message sadly lacking in the 21st Century.

It's interesting to read the story, as so many familiar lines pop off the page; at the same time, there are tender and poignant scenes that I have yet to see in the movie versions; young couples in love, ships' crews huddled in their cold cabin celebrating Christmas far out at sea. The Ghost of Christmas present even gets in a pretty direct shot at the church of Dickens' day.

In the end, though, we're left with the familiar story of an angry, bitter, broken man who has all the money in the world but has lost all human connection, and the work of spirits to save him. Dickens reminds us that there is hope for even the worst of sinners, if repentance is found.

The bonus of this book is the addition of two lesser-known Christmas tales penned by Dickens - The Chimes, and The Cricket on the Hearth. The Chimes tells us of a broken-down man beset with terrible dreams while (accidentally) locked inside a church steeple; it's a mystic, visionary tale, lacking a bit of the clarity of A Christmas Carol. It's a cold story, and yet hopeful and redemptive. The Cricket on the Hearth is a warmer tale, with brighter characters and (in my opinion) a more interesting story. There's an old cartoon version of this one out there; I remember seeing it some years ago. Like Carol, it can be a little difficult to follow simply due to the Victorian English vernacular, but it's a fun story full of lame dogs and old horses and mysterious strangers and inept babysitters and blind saints and grumpy old men. And yes, in keeping with the others, it brings a surprise redemptive end, complete with a homespun party.

So Borders, I'm sorry you went out of business. But your sale finally convinced me to pick this one up, and for that I'm grateful.

Article

2012-01-03T11:13:00.000-08:00

For those of you not in our area: I am the faith columnist for the Key Peninsula News, our local paper. This was my article published in the December edition. It received quite a bit of positive feedback, so here it is for your enjoyment. It was originally entitled "Just Another Article about the Real Meaning of Christmas."

It’sthe story of a pregnant teen and her shame in the face of an honor-boundsociety. Subplots include a government that will stop at nothing – evenviolence – to maintain control. Throw in economic hardship, lack of affordablehousing, and an ill-timed road trip. As for the characters, you have it all –from kings and priests to common day laborers and migrant workers in the field.

Sometimesthis is all lost to our modern sensibilities. Christmas has been redefined forus by cute crèches adorning our lawns, by Christmas card watercolors of happypeople living happy lives, enjoying their place in this drama. Choirs singsongs of silent nights, of peace, of joy and gladness and festivities as wecelebrate this season.

Butstrip that all away and take another look. It wasn’t a silent night. Childbirthnever is. Transport the scene into a dark cave, surrounded by smelly farmanimals, and no midwife to be found. You can bet the cattle were, indeed,lowing. A frightened mother giving birth to her first child in the dung; andthen, just when she’s ready for a quiet moment, in barge filthy shepherdsclamoring about angels. It’s not the most sanitary way to begin a story.

Thingstake a frightening turn. The local politician, sensing a threat to his power,orders the National Guard to head into town and kill every baby boy. Whatshould have been a celebration with visiting dignitaries turns into a midnightflight, with death nipping at their heels.

Thisis the story Christians tell at Christmas: a Savior born to shame and poverty,a child bullied by the authorities, a king who shows up in the grimy soil, amessiah whose coming was announced to the outcasts of society.

Inthe end, it’s our story, yours and mine. We who struggle with shame, who workhard to put food on the table, we who find our lives manipulated by those inpower, we who have been hurt by religion and politics and family and so-calledfriends. We who come home with dirt under our nails and grease stains on ourclothes. Who, as the old carol says, find ourselves “beneath life’s crushing load. . . who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow.”

Thisancient story surpasses the sanitized store-front display and becomes ourstory. As the angels declared, this is “good news of great joy for all people.”“All people” includes you and me. And I don’t know about you, but I could usesome joy right about now. The world is in desperate need of good news.

Andso, this: God showed up, standing in opposition to the slave-traders, thebullies, the religious elite, the violent, the thieves in high places. In sodoing, he stands in solidarity with the poor, the marginalized, the broken, thevictim, the lonely, the shamed. There you have it: God is on the side of theminimum-wage-earning single father forced to work through the holidays just tofeed his kids; he stands against the corporate powers growing rich on the backsof those workers.

Ifyou’re feeling particularly lonely, desperate, sad, used, or angry, thenremember this: Christmas is for you. Not the plastic, shop-til-you-dropChristmas of our local malls, but the real Christmas – the story of one whocame to be with you in the darkness. Behind the facades of office parties andfamily gatherings and fake snow and manufactured joy, the real story is a storyof hope, a story that gives meaning to the struggles of our lives. We are notalone, but are part of this story. God is on our side. God is with us. Emanuel.

Onbehalf of the Key Peninsula Ministerial Association, I bid you a truly merryChristmas, and joy in the New Year.

Pepe and the Beast

2011-12-22T15:57:00.000-08:00

Late last week we headed off to bed but couldn't find the dog anywhere. So Karina went and called for him outside. I was alerted to her discovery by the shrieks of horror (this same scenario played out 6 years ago, when she discovered our dachshund Archie had been killed by a car). Pepe was alive, but it was obvious he'd had a run-in with some sort of wild beast out in the yard. Bite wounds on his head, claw marks on his side and belly, one leg hanging limp.

Thankfully we had a friend spending the night, so Karina and I could both make the midnight run to the 'local' emergency vet (and by 'local,' I mean 30 minutes away in Tacoma). I expected him to be dead by the time we got there. But he made it. The vet took him in the back, then met with us to talk about process. And by process, I mostly mean how much it all would cost. All the time she talked we could hear Pepe yelping in the back as the technicians attempted to diagnose the extent of his wounds. (We'd later see on the admittance form where they wrote "unable to diagnose right front leg - he tried to kill us." Which, if you know our dog, you have to admit is kind of funny.)

He spent the night there, and once they sedated him they were able to figure out that it really wasn't all that bad - just a lot of surface wounds, cuts, bite marks, claw marks. He came home 1/2-shaved and with drugs, so he's kind of a punk dog right now. And all in all, it didn't cost as much as it could have, so we have that to be thankful for.

We still don't know what it was that got to him - we have raccoons in the yard, and I saw a fox run across our driveway the next day. I suppose he's lucky to be alive, considering how much this beast scarred him up. And we're lucky, too; I didn't want to deal with a dead dog right before Christmas. I wasn't too happy with him at first, but I guess I have to be proud of him, now. Our little Pepe scrapped with a ferocious beast and came out alive. I just hope it doesn't turn into a habit.

What kind of person?

2011-12-14T13:14:00.000-08:00

Many years ago I flew from Sacramento to Seattle. When I arrived, I realized I'd left my PDA (remember those?) at the counter in Sacramento. I called, and they said they had it, and would hold it until I returned to pick it up. Two weeks later I flew back and went to claim it. . .but it had disappeared. The agent admitted it had been there, even placed in their safe, so all they could figure is an employee must have stolen it.

They were gracious enough to buy me a brand-new one, which I appreciated.

A year or so later I flew home from Knoxville to San Jose. This was following an exhausting week working as CHIC staff, working 20 hour days non-stop for a week. I was beyond wiped out. And in that exhaustion, I left my PDA in the seat pocket on the airplane.

Realizing my mistake a few hours later, I called the airline lost-and-found, but nobody had turned it in. I tried for a couple weeks, but it was never turned in. Whoever found it just kept it.

Last June we flew from Denver to Seattle. Somewhere in the process of checking into DIA Clara set down her 2nd-favorite blanket (thankfully we had left the most-favorite blanket at home) and forgot to pick it up. Even before leaving DIA we talked to some agents and the lost-and-found people, but it was nowhere to be found. For a few weeks I called, but nobody ever turned it in. Seems whoever found it just kept it.

A few weeks ago we flew from Ontario to Seattle. Somewhere south of Sacramento Olivia realized she'd left her most favorite stuffed animal at the airport. There were tears and sobs and anguish. But I told her we'd do our best to track it down.In Sacramento we started the process, calling the airline and the airport, but nobody had turned it in yet.

Unfortunately, it's now been three weeks, and it never turned up. We've called the airline lost and found, we've called TSA lost-and-found, we've called the airport lost-and-found. And nobody has it. Whoever found it just kept it.

Which I admit I don't understand. Don't people turn in things when they find them? I always do, if I can. I teach my kids to turn in found items. Just last week we were at Trader Joes and found a necklace in the parking lot. I had Olivia turn it in to the manager. I thought that's what people did.

If you find something, do you turn it in? Did I miss the memo that said "finders-keepers' is the expected behavior for us all?

Or maybe it's something about airports that cause people to keep things they find, even though it may be the most precious possession of a child, even though a dad may be spending a lot of time calling around trying to see if it's shown up. I really don't know. I'm beginning to wonder why we even have lost-and-founds, since in my experience people don't actually turn in things they find (or, when they do, somebody else just steals said item).

What kind of people just keep things they find, knowing somebody else may be looking for it?

Book Review: Reaching Out

2011-12-06T14:30:00.001-08:00

Loneliness, hostility, illusion - these things mark the lives of so many humans, wandering through life trying to survive, trying to find meaning, trying to make sense of it all. Broken by a sinful world, we find ourselves isolated and angry, living in illusions of our own making that cover over the reality of our pain.

Rather than avoiding all three, Henri Nouwen sees each as a starting place toward wholeness, as we realize each has something to teach us, and each can lead us deeper into the heart of God. In Reaching Out, Nouwen explains how our loneliness, painful and frightening as it is, can be transformed into solitude, the quiet place where we can know ourselves better, and the place where we can finally rest in the comforting presence of God's Spirit. "Instead of running away from our loneliness and trying to forget or deny it, we have to protect it and turn it into a fruitful solitude." The Christian life needs its time in the desert; by developing hearts that are comfortable with solitude, we can find again what it means to commune with God, and thus be better equipped to live with our neighbors.

This leads to the second movement - from hostility to hospitality. Because we are lonely we are protective of our space, and we often use others to fill up the empty spaces in our lives. "When hostility is converted into hospitality then fearful strangers can become guests revealing to their hosts the promises they are carrying with them." Hospitality, according to Nouwen, is "the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy." Hospitality is a ministry in which the host creates space for the guest to come as they are and find themselves. Nouwen sketches this out in the context of the teacher/student, parent/child, and healer/patient relationships. In each of these, says Nouwen, "Affirmation, encouragement and support are often much more important than criticism. The good host is the one who not only helps the guests to see that they have hidden talents, but who is able to help them develop and deepen these talents so that they can continue their way on their own with a renewed self-confidence."

Unfortunately, our loneliness and hostility is often hidden behind a veneer of illusion. We have such a hard time getting to the heart of our brokenness. We live as if we are immortal. We cover over our hostility with sentimentality. We make idols of our dreams, thinking ourselves much greater and of more importance than we really are. The answer is found only in prayer - not the pious platitudes of religion, but open, honest communication before the God who knows us better than we know ourselves. "When, however, prayer makes us reach out to God, not on our own but on his terms, then prayer pulls us away from self-preoccupations, encourages us to leave familiar ground, and challenges us to enter into a new world which cannot be contained within the narrow boundaries of our mind or heart."

Like all of Nouwen's writings, this book is deceptively simple. It is a short and easy read, yet so rich and deep that it requires time to ponder, contemplate, and re-read. Even more, it requires action - not programs or plans, but action of the soul, as we seek to reorient our lives back into line with God's loving desires for us. It is an extremely helpful book for people whose lives have settled into religious routine, who feel stifled, who feel like it's time for something new but are uncertain where to turn. It's a book that requires a little maturity, but will lead to so much more.

stuff

2011-12-02T11:20:00.001-08:00

- Prairie Bible College, the place I spent my first two years out of high school, is in a world of hurt. Although, like with many stories, the truth may not be as clear as some people think.

- Our friend Lori recently published an article about the building of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. She included a nice shot of Clara.

- I've gotten more positive feedback about my Christmas article in the KP News than for any other piece I've published there. In case anybody missed it, I'll post it here in a couple days. (I just noticed the KP News has a new website up and running. It's a big improvement over the old one. And it has a picture of me at the farm tour. I'm the one with the trumpet case, walking away from the pigs.)

- Fresno Pacific Seminary (my alma mater) and College have put out a devotional booklet for Advent. It looks nice. You can download a copy here.

- Thanks for asking. Thanksgiving week was good but busy. A 2-day train journey to L.A., a family thanksgiving celebration, a 40th-anniversary party for Karina's parents, an overnight trip to Las Vegas (sans kids!). . .lots of great memories. It all just swept by too quickly.

- Covenant Church in India burns down under suspicious circumstances.

- Missed in the busy-ness of the last couple months: Sumner Presbyterian chooses to leave the PCUSA and join the Covenant Church. (the article's mostly about Chapel Hill, but it throws in that little tidbit about Sumner). If it goes through, they would instantly be one of the largest churches in the North Pacific Conference. I have friends in the middle of all of this on both sides, and grieve for the pain it causes. But am also inspired by their good efforts at civility and love in the midst of great disagreement.

- This Sunday's sermon: What exactly does it mean to "Prepare the way of the Lord?"

- We're also throwing in two less-familiar favorites this Sunday. "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent" will be our communion song, and "Come, Messiah, Come," written by Cheryl Boydston, gets in there as well.

Sometimes the river wins

2011-11-12T19:08:00.001-08:00

I took some time to fish the Stillaguamish last Tuesday. I hadn't been there before, so picked a likely spot not far from Stanwood. Put on the waders, assembled the fly rod, and headed to the water. It was a beautiful northwest Autumn afternoon; the maples glowed orange while behind them rose the snow-covered flanks of the Cascade foothills. The sun glistened off the river as a donkey brayed somewhere in the distance. And I had it all to myself.

There was a small boat ramp leading from the parking lot into the river. Next to the boat ramp was a little trail climbing over the bank, and dropping to the river's edge. Seemed easy enough.

Except the downward slope was a tiny bit more slipper than I expected. Which is why I ended up sliding the final 2 feet down the bank into the river.

Oh, and the river was a bit deeper at the edge than I was expecting. No gentle dropoff; I found myself almost chest-deep though I was at the river's edge.

But, I was wearing waders, so not a problem. Except for some concern that I could get back out of the river, what with the steep dropoff and the slippery bank. I didn't feel like wading further out from the edge to get around a large tree, which was blocking my path over to the boat ramp. So I stood there about 10 seconds, pondering my predicament.

Because it only took about 10 seconds to realize that, as I slid down the bank, a sharp root had sliced a large hole in the waders, which were quickly filling up with water. (I should offer the observation that these waders were all of 2 months old, and this was only the third time they'd been in the water.)

Did I mention I was all alone and nobody knew where I was?

Quickly taking stock of the situation, I grasped a strong root just overhead and pulled/slithered/crawled up the muddy hillside to safety.

So what's a fisherman to do? Keep fishing, of course.

The hole in the waders was high enough that I could walk out the boat ramp a ways. And the water really wasn't all that cold, and the sun was still shining. Why let a little thing like this ruin the day?

Of course, the problem with riverbanks is they have overhanging trees. And the problem with not getting very far out into the river is that your backcast has a great chance of getting caught up in those tree branches.

And so I cast, and so my fly line was caught 15 feet up in a maple tree.

Which is right when the first person I'd seen in hours drove up in her car. And offered the helpful observation, "You're not supposed to catch tree branches! {chortle chortle chortle}"

I tried a few more times, got in some nice casts, watched a few sea lions float lazily down the river, even got a nibble or two. But wouldn't you know it, the second time I got my line caught back in that tree, two cars drove into the lot. It's like they were just waiting to humiliate me.

In August, when Mike was giving me my first fly casting lesson, he said something like "you will embarrass yourself. Just expect it." I guess this is all part of the learning process.

So I drove home, water still sloshing around my feet, counting up the cost of a new set of waders, sad that I hadn't caught a fish, but glad that I didn't drown.

Sweet Victory

2011-11-02T11:16:00.000-07:00

You know what else is offensive?

2011-11-01T13:03:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks go I went to Target with the girls, to look for Halloween costumes (Clara ended up being Cleopatra, and Olivia was a black cat).

We had a hard time finding the Halloween stuff (remember this was a couple weeks ago) because it was way in the back, hidden by all the Christmas stuff.

Is it too early to remind you all of this?

Book Review: awakening the quieter virtues

2011-10-28T13:39:00.000-07:00

We often define our faith by a big list of things we should do, and things we shouldn't do. Most of the items on those list also fall into the category of obvious and important things we should do (like go to church, love our mother, behave respectfully) and, more explicitly, the Big Sins we should avoid (murder, lust, pornography, addictions, voting for a Democrat, and stealing).

Gregory Spencer has written Awakening the Quieter Virtues, a very helpful book calling our attention to the fact that more often it's the little things that really count, the quieter virtues that really make a difference. It's the unseen practices that mold us and shape us as Christ-followers, and that slowly change the world around us. Much like yeast working through the dough, the quieter virtues act from deep within us, not calling attention to themselves yet all the while forming us and assisting us as we seek to be like Christ.

Not only does he point out this often-overlooked point; Spencer spends the bulk of the book working through these quieter virtues, explaining what they may look like in our 21st-Century lives. He peppers his work with stories from his own life and the lives of his friends and students (he teaches at Westmont College). The book is not an esoteric description of spiritual disciplines unattainable by normal, non-spiritual folks. He proves that with a little effort, anybody can put these virtues into practice and slowly see their spirit drawn closer to the Spirit who gives life.

Certainly these are important virtues for our world today, and if the church were to put these into practice, we would begin to shine a brighter light into a dark world. Virtues Spencer explores include discernment, innocence, modesty, reverence, contentment, and generosity. Each virtue is paired with a spiritual discipline that is useful to form that virtue in the reader's heart. However, I must say again that Spencer is not working toward a pious, self-righteous unearthly spirituality. He labors to plant these virtues firmly into the soil of our postmodern lives.

This certainly isn't a theological tome, and the fact that Spencer teaches college students shows up in his writing. Some may be put off by his attempts to be catchy, but in the end I appreciated his efforts to contextualize this work, making sense of it for our time and place. It reads lighter than Nouwen or Merton, but to that end would be especially useful for people without much (if any) experience with the concept of spiritual disciplines.

Awakening the Quieter Virtues was a gift given to Covenant pastors at last year's Midwinter conference. I appreciate that people within our denomination are generous in their gifts, and thoughtful in the books they send out way.

This is Offensive

2011-10-18T20:25:00.000-07:00

This was pointed out on a worship leader facebook group of which I'm a part. It's a brand-new album release. And it defines the word "hubris."

Some label out there has just released a CD entitled "Let's All Worship." It's the subtitle that is evil: "The Very Best Worship Songs of All Time."

Think about that for a second. The Very Best. Of all time.

Hmm. I doubt it. Especially when the 'old ones' include 'Shine, Jesus, Shine.' Let alone that 'Shine Jesus Shine' should never end up on any album with the title 'best' in it. That's as historic as they get.

Somehow I think Bach might have something to say about this. Or, say, Handel? Mozart? Tallis? Rutter? Or someone more 'modern,' like John Wesley or Fannie Crosby? How do they not rate on the list of "The Very Best Worship Songs of All Time" ? How is Messiah not on here? Or Vivaldi's Gloria? I enjoy Paul Baloche as much as the next person, but is he really one of the 25 best worship music composers OF ALL TIME? I highly doubt it.

Oh, and this. As a selling point, they mention their international flavor, with music from Australia to the UK to Ireland to the U.S. Yep. Truly international. Although. . .pretty white, too. Funny how nothing by any Mexican composer made it here. How do we know "The Heart of Worship" is definitively better than a song being sung in an underground Chinese church right now? Or something being sung under a tree in Africa? Or in the jungles of New Guinea? Being a Covenanter, I should point out no Swedish songs made the list either.

Seriously. This is offensive. (the fact that if you follow that link, the album shows up under a banner ad for a new Casting Crowns CD is offensive, too, but that's a different story for a different day).

Who sits in a room and comes up with this stuff? They ought to be smited.

It was a good retreat

2011-10-06T11:33:00.000-07:00

A Psalm for B of A, et. al.

2011-09-30T12:01:00.000-07:00

I remember being a kid, and going with mom and dad to open up a bank account. I remember that little passport-like book they gave me, where we kept track of how much money was in my little account. From time to time I'd earn some cash and we'd go give it to the nice bank teller, who then stamped new numbers in my book, and off we'd go into the big bright world. I even remember getting notices of the tiny bit of interest I'd made over the last few months.

I learned that banks were trustworthy, that they were reputable, respectable organizations who cared about little people like me. I gained a worldview that said "Banks are good! Banks can be trusted! Banks are here to help!"

It's taken a lot of time for me to let that image go, and replace it with a much more realistic one. One that says "banks are evil and satanic and vile and despicable and untrustworthy and willing to walk all over the little people to maximize their profits on behalf of the wealthy and powerful."

Yes, we dropped out of that system when WaMu was sold off to Chase, and are now happy members of the local credit union, where they still know us by name and where they still give lollipops to our kids. And I'm looking forward to the day we take our daughters down there to open up a savings account.

In the meantime, based on the news of B of A's intent to steal money for their customers by charging a fee to use debit cards, I offer this (slightly out of context) Psalm to the fatcat bankers trying to gouge hardworking Americans just to pay for their vacations in Bermuda:

They encourage each other in their evil plans,

they talk about hiding their snares;

they say, 'Who will see it?"

They plot injustice and say,

"We have devised a perfect plan!"

Surely the human mind and heart are cunning

But God will shoot them with his arrows;

they will suddenly be struck down.

He will turn their own tongues against themand bring them to ruin;

all who see them will shake their heads in scorn.

Psalm 64:5-8 (TNIV)

Movie Review: Thunder Soul

2011-09-20T15:00:00.000-07:00

Thunder Soul is the story of a reunion 30 years in the making. It's a story of music. It's a story of race. It's a story of culture and fashion, and a story of hopes and dreams. It's a story about the power of education.

In the late 60s and early 70s, funk was a powerful influence in music. The stage band of Kashmere High School in Houston, TX, came onto the scene bringing that funk with them. Playing far above the level most people would find believable, they won multiple national competitions, recorded any number of albums, toured Japan and Europe, and changed a generation at their school.

In 2008, they gathered again, putting on a reunion concert to honor Professor Conrad Johnson, the band director responsible for making it all happen. This film chronicles that reunion, but it also takes us back into a world of their youth, a world in the midst of war and fresh out of race riots, a world awash in afros and bell bottom jeans, a world of James Brown and Sly and the Family Stone. We learn the stories of kids growing up in the hood, kids heading down dark paths only to find their meaning in life through the mentorship of Johnson. We see how this band became a family to so many kids struggling to come of age in a difficult time.

We also see just what a difference music can make in the life of kids and the culture of a school. Unfortunately, we also see the dark side - the place where jealousy and pettiness on the part of administrators can eventually destroy that which is so good (and yes, I've seen that happen to good friends of mine).

Thunder Soul is a moving example of the power of mentors, of the need for arts in education, and of the ability for young people to do so much more than we usually think they can. It is full of great music and interesting characters; best of all, these are real people sharing their real lives, and not actors living out a feel-good script. It's well worth watching; in many ways the answer to last year's Waiting for Superman.

And, of course, not only is it worth watching; it's worth a listen, since it's really about the music these kids, now adults, create. Exciting, fun, full of pizzazz and humor and life - it's enough to make you smile, just a little more hopeful that there is still good in the world.

Thunder Soul opens September 23 in select theaters - check their website for a screening near you.

Leftover from Sunday

2011-09-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

Toby Keith: "We'll always recognize when we see old glory flying, there's a lot of men dead, so we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our heads."
( from the song Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue)

Vs.

Psalm 4: "In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety."

It's an either/or, not a both/and. And as Christians, we're called to live according to the gospel of Jesus, not the gospel of Toby.

Family Camp

2011-09-05T16:18:00.001-07:00

Family Camp: where you can ride horses through the woods, swim in the lake, take long bike rides, jump off an inflatable iceberg, take a night trip down a waterslide lit by tiki torches, stand in a field and look at galaxies through telescopes, sleep in a train car, catch a large mouth bass, hang out with some downright nice people, sing some fun songs, listen to some good teaching, play with your kids, listen to the song of geese over the water, eat pancakes in the shadow of glorious Mt. Rainier, shoot off model cars with rocket engines, hang out by the beach, eat too much popcorn and cotton candy. . .and still not have time for every option available.

changes in the air

2011-09-02T12:02:00.000-07:00

In a Bible study a few weeks ago, we talked about how people react to change. Specifically, that many people don't react well. Their status quo is threatened, so they push back. They fight. They belittle the other. Rather than receive the possibility of something new, they prefer to stay in their comfortable little world, and thus become bullies toward anybody who threatens their world. This goes a long way in explaining the Taliban and Muslim terrorists. It explains the passion and vitriol of certain young Calvinists who post on internet message boards. It explains so-called Christian extremists who go on shooting rampages. It explains kids on the schoolyard.

note: I know in some of those cases, it goes beyond simple self-protection. Some form of mental illness is often necessary before people go on shooting rampages. But that's beside the point for now.

I pointed out that this is more true of the rest of us than we'd like to admit. It's true of Christians in America, and it's true of people here in our own church. The root of the decades-old worship war isn't really about what kind of music is best-suited to praise God, it's really more a territorial battle over who gets their preference when it comes to music. Many in the church today are nervous, worried, and angst-ridden at all the 'change' in the church; they do their best to push back and return us to a more traditional Christianity in the name of restoring something good and holy; in reality, they just don't like it that some emerging trends in the church threaten their worldview, their sense of well-being (Brannon Howse over at Worldview Weekend is a great example). Change in practice, or questions to traditional theological (or social, or political) positions is taken as a threat (after all, if those people are right, it would force me to change my belief system, which would cause me to change my lifestyle, which would just make me uncomfortable).

So the question was asked, why are people grieving this change? What have we lost that is causing us to fight back, to feel all this tension and anger and worry?

Two articles came to mind.

First, there was the church in Olympia that was told by the state they couldn't hold their baptism at a local state park. A picnic and barbecue was okay, but not a baptism, because, according to the state's General Administration office, a baptism is a religious activity, and the state constitution doesn't allow for state property to be used for religious activities. (Side point A: actually, a picnic is a religious activity, too, since fellowship is a central core of Christian practice.) (Side point B: this article stuck out to me, since we do a baptism service at our local state park every year, we just don't get a permit).

The church, after looking at all their options, decided being good neighbors was important, so has chosen not to sue, even though it would seem they have a good case.

Then there was the article my friend Stan wrote for the Covenant News website, which talked about a recent court decision in New York forbidding schools from renting their facilities to churches during non-school seasons. The court decision said it is "reasonable for the board to fear that allowing schools to be converted into churches might foster an excessive government entanglement with religion that advances religion."

It's those words "fear" and "entanglement" that jumped out.

So this is what I pointed out in our Bible Study. The wind has shifted. Back in the day, being a Christian was respectable. Sometimes it was necessary, if you wanted to be part of the social and business societies in town (one could argue that that was unhealthy in its own way). Being a minister was respectable. The church held pride of place in society. And some of us still remember those days.

But things have changed. The church is being shoved aside. Christians are to be feared (just go read the comments section in this recent article about Mark Driscoll and Mars Hill Church. But put on your flak jacket first).

I know this isn't news to many of you. But for some who've been in the Church for a long time, who don't really pay attention to popular culture, all they sense is that something has changed, and it doesn't feel good. So some fight back, be it politically (see Dobson, James) or theologically (see MacArthur, John). Many others fight back in their local churches whenever and wherever the younger people try to make adjustments befitting the times (and no, I'm not saying every change those youngsters make is good). The landscape is littered with pastors who have made missional moves to better reach the world, only to be attacked by people more interested in maintaining a comfortable status quo.

It's a complicated situation, but we have to face the reality that, while the Church is eternal, the age of respect for the Church in the U.S. has passed us by. And we need to name it and grieve it, but then move on. God still has a work to be done in and through us. The playing field may have changed, but the Spirit is as powerful as ever.

Oh, and this. The discussion we were having was around the church in the 1st Century, the church in Jerusalem. God was doing an amazing new thing, but it was happening within the world of Judaism and synagogue. Most chose to reject this new movement, kicking these upstart Jesus-followers out of their world. And the church split from its historic Jewish roots, and the two have been uneasy with each other ever since. And, at the risk of sounding a little offensive, Judaism lost the chance to experience this amazing new Messianic wind. Imagine if rather than rejecting God's work, they had embraced it with open arms? History would be different.

God is still at work around us, but it looks different than before. Are we going to shut ourselves off to it, and lose the chance to be part of this Spirit Work? Or are we willing to be a little uncomfortable, to try some new things, to accept a different landscape, and to carry forth with God's mission? Are we going to keep fighting to keep things as they are, or, in fact, to push things back to 'the good old days'? Or are we willing to be like Peter, and realize the landscape has changed, and all that's left is to trust the Spirit and ride this train wherever it goes?

I'm no fan of those who ridicule the church; I'm not happy with court decisions marginalizing the church and Christianity. But it is what it is. At some point, we just have to stop worrying about all that, and instead look around to see what God is doing anyway, climbing on board and being part of his work. Because he's not going to be held up by court decisions or public opinion. He's just going to keep at his work of saving this world, whether we want to join him or not.

August 17

2011-08-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

Clara, the youngest, will have many adventures and achievements in her coming years. But forever and always, when she looks back on her life, she will have this: August 17, 2011, the day her dad took her to her first Major League Baseball Game.

The trip was really in honor of Olivia's 11th birthday, so she should get most of the press here. But it was Clara's first-ever MLB game, so that added to the specialness of the day.

Right over the top of Olivia's head there is grandpa, my dad. And my brother there on the other side of him. I got to figuring we've been going to Mariners' games for at least 3 decades now, so it was all the more poignant for them to be part of Olivia and Clara's day.

Here's Safeco Field on a sunny Seattle evening:

Really, for all the bad press Seattle gets about weather and such, there's no prettier place when the sun decides to come out. And almost no better place to enjoy it than sitting in the bleachers at the ball park.

Uncle Michael decided to buy the kids dessert.

Cotton Candy.

Dippin' Dots

As to the game. . .as I said, my dad and I have been doing this for 30+ years. And in all that time, the one certainty is the M's will lose more often than they win. And this was a normal night in that regard.

We showed up in time to kick a family out of our front-row seats (out in the left field bleachers) just before somebody sang O Canada (we were playing Toronto, and I think there were more Canadians there than Americans) and the National Anthem. Watched the first inning. Went to find hot dogs and fries. Came back and it was already 4-0 Toronto. And that was pretty much it. A little exciting later on when the M's loaded the bases with 1 out (the last guy got on when Brandon Morrow beaned Caspar Wells in the face with a fastball), but then Ichiro grounded into a double play, and that was it. Typical Mariners baseball.

But then again, a bad night at the ballpark is better than a good night sitting at home watching movies on netflix, so it was worth it. And to spend time with dad and Michael, and to celebrate Olivia's birthday and to take Clara to her first-ever professional baseball game, that was all wonderful.

Book Review: The Pastor

2011-08-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

Ever pick up a book and realize it's written directly to, and about, you? Ever have a book that comes along at just the right moment, perfectly matching your situation, essentially changing your life?

I'd been meaning to get to Eugene Peterson's memoir The Pastor ever since it came out, but had a large pile of unread books I was working through. Then Ron came in and dropped a copy on my desk. He had no idea I was about to enter into a long summer of introspection and assessment. He had no idea I was going to need a friendly voice to sit with me as I sat and pondered my ministry and my life this summer. He just knew I probably needed to get to this book sooner rather than later.

And so Peterson has been a voice speaking into my life all summer, whether sitting in the quiet of my living room, or flying with me on the way into Chicago, or sitting beside the Skykomish River waiting to catch a fish. And his truly has been a helpful, and necessary, voice.

Peterson has written a lot of books during his storied career as pastor, writer, and professor; now that he has laid most of those titles aside, he has chosen to look back over the last decades and find the places God was working, using them as signposts to the rest of us, clues to the ways God might be working still. He points out quickly that Pastor has never been an easy title, and is probably more confusing now than ever. "North American culture does not offer congenial conditions in which to live vocationally as a pastor. Men and women who are pastors in America today find that they have entered into a way of life that is in ruins."

Thankfully, Peterson chose another way, a non-comformist way; or, as Peterson would probably say, God led him through this vocation to another way, a way of life in which he learned to live as Pastor to a specific people in a specific place over a long period of time.

I liken it to a long walk through a dark wood. There is beauty and terror along the way, with no clear path, no obvious trail. But God has left markers along the way to keep us on the path. Peterson has gone ahead of us, sometimes failing and sometimes succeeding, but he's now teaching us how to live in this forest. No quick plans to bring the forest to submission, no designs on fame or fortune; instead, an attentiveness to God's provision in the moment, and his people traveling with us.

One of the most helpful pieces throughout this book is Peterson's attempt at reclaiming the role of Pastor, a role this world can't seem to figure out. Whereas often the role of pastor is co-opted into CEO, therapist (my personal temptation), or simply village dimwit (Rev. Lovejoy, anyone?), Peterson works hard at drawing healthier, more vibrant pictures of what it means to represent Christ, to serve a people, to become part of a place and witness to what God is doing there. It certainly challenged me to consider why I'm in Lakebay, and what, in the end, God is calling me to do here.

So I need to thank Ron for dropping it on my desk, I need to thank Peterson for writing it. . .and now that I'm finished, I think I need to read it again. And again. And again.

hither and yon

2011-08-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

Sometime back there in late June, my family left Lakebay for Colorado, and the Covenant's Feast and Annual Meeting. The end of that week, Olivia took off for Southern California and time with Nana and Tata, while Karina, Clara and I all came back home.

A few weeks later Karina and Clara headed to Southern California to see family and friends. The next week I flew off to Chicago for four days of meetings and such. While I was gone, Olivia flew back to Seattle, where she stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for a couple days. Last week I flew home and picked up Olivia. She was back in her own room all of one day, because the next day I dropped her off at Cascades Camp in Yelm.

Monday I headed up into the mountains for 4 days of camping, fishing, train watching, and solitude. It was good. But this solitude thing is getting a little old.

So. . .tomorrow morning Olivia comes back from camp. Tomorrow evening Karina and Clara fly home. And tomorrow night, for the first time in over a month, our family will all be together, in our own home. And hopefully it will remain that way for a while.

Stuff of Note

2011-07-22T13:59:00.000-07:00

Do you know Caspar Babypants? You should. Chris Ballew, singer and guitarist for that other band known as The President of the United States of America, heads off in a different direction and starts recording/performing children's music. Talk about a 180-degree turn.

But it works. It's got so much going for it. It's children's music that I, as an adult, still enjoy. Almost as much as my 6-year old loves it. It's the opposite of that Disneyfied, overproduced gunk that sells so much. No slick vocals, no overdubbed, auto-tuned harmonies, to attempts at sounding cool. Just fun, intelligent music. Lots of ukeleles, hooters, saws, and guitars. It's also the opposite of the Barney genre, where everything seems dumbed down and goofy. This is smart music. It catches you off guard. It actually surprises from time to time.

It's mostly original stuff, but there are covers along the way (3 Blind Mice, Frere Jacques). There are lots of songs about bugs and creepy things. And enough catchy little hooks to keep you (and your kids) singing along.

This is currently Clara's favorite:

______________________

Just got my copy of the 2nd edition of Mark Baker and Joel Green's Recovering the Scandal of the Cross. Mark was one of my profs in seminary, and this book was important in helping me understand the dynamics of the ongoing conversation on the Atonement. It ought to be popular among us Covenanters, because it fits well with P.P. Waldenstrom's challenge to the same thing so many years ago. Look for a review sometime soon.

_____________________

I just read where they've closed the Camp 6 Logging Museum at Pt. Defiance Park. One more victim of a bad economy and changing entertainment choices. As a kid I loved going over there and riding the train through the woods. A couple years ago I took our two daughters over and we rode it again, albeit with the diesel engine this time around. But apparently they don't have enough money to keep it running, and fewer and fewer people are coming out to visit. (Insert snarky comment about how people would rather play video games than get out and experience history.) They're looking for a buyer, if anybody's interested in a 1:1 scale model railroad.

Dan's Eye, Installment XVII

2011-07-18T17:50:00.000-07:00

Just because some of you keep asking. . .

I went to the eye doc today. It was becoming apparent that the latest and greatest (and last and best hope) contact lens wasn't working. Vision-wise not so bad, but fit-wise, it kept migrating inward and downward, and thus was uncomfortable to wear. Eye doc took one look through the magnifying lens and agreed. So out goes this lens.

Which pretty much shattered any hope of working with a hard (RGP) lens, which would give the sharpest vision in this eye. So just for the fun of it, we're going to try a soft lens - a specialty, back-toric soft lens - once, and see if that works. If it does, I'll have decent (but not great) vision. If it doesn't, then we're going to have to look at glasses from here on out.

In the meantime, I'm back to being one-eyed for the next three weeks (just in time for a trip to Chicago and a camping trip - yeah!), and then we'll give the soft lens a shot.

This is summer?

2011-07-17T17:58:00.000-07:00

Went to a wedding yesterday. The post-wedding celebration was marked by an impressive thunder shower, with rainfall levels just a little below Noahic proportions, I do believe. Although the sun peeked out for a bit, most of the afternoon was cold and rainy.

Drove home from Seattle this morning, through rainshowers the whole way. Karina turned the furnace on when we got home, the house was so cold.

Played with the Down Home Band at the Longbranch Croquet tourney this afternoon. We had to play under a portable tent cover, since it was drizzling the whole time. And these aren't your Miami-esque, soft and warm afternoon showers that give way to beautiful sunny evenings. These are more like March rain showers. Cold and miserable.

I'm thinking it's time to sacrifice a goat to the weather gods. We must have done something to tick them off. Anybody want to join me?

The summer of growing up

2011-07-11T15:36:00.000-07:00

I had some free time in Tacoma a few weeks ago and wandered into a Big Lots!. I don't tend to spend much time in Big Lots!; I'm not sure I've been in one since we left Turlock. But I found myself in the back corner, back where they sell the cheap plastic toys made in China and shipped over here to fill our closets. And I had a flashback to visiting Big Lots! back in the day, when we'd wander in there with Olivia in a stroller, and we could spend $.95 and it made her happy for a couple days. Back when we'd push the shopping cart back there and her eyes would light up at the splendor of plastic cars and dolls and dogs and buckets and such. Back when we could buy one of those cheap plastic things and give it to her in the car, and all would be well.

The good old days.

While in Colorado, Olivia officially became eligible to join in for the Middle School activities. Even Clara is mostly past the stage of being fascinated by cheap plastic trinkets. The back corner of Big Lots! has lost its hold on our kids as they move into more complicated things, like puzzles and tree houses and books and lighting fires in the back yard.

The kids are growing up and the wonders of toddler-hood have been left behind. And that just makes me a little bit sad.

Book Review: The Way of Simplicity

2011-07-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

This was one of those books I picked up at the "Borders is Going out of Business Sale" a few months ago. I've been refocusing my reading lately, digging into books on prayer, simplicity, and heart-work. And this was a nice counterpoint to so many books on the latest fads in Christian ministry.

Going back a millennium, the Cistercians are the Catholic order that gave us both Bernard of Clairvaux and Thomas Merton. With a focus on living out the Rule of St. Benedict, focusing on communal living and simple faith, the Cistercians offer a deep, rich faith that speaks well to our fast-paced, disposable society.

In The Way of Simplicity, Esther De Waal mines the writings of the Cistercians to reveal the heartbeat of their order. These are a people grounded in a place (she spends an entire chapter speaking to Cistercian architecture), motivated with the simple desire of living as Christ, informed by the Word, seeking to love God and love neighbor in all they do. De Waal explains the prayer and study habits of these monks (and nuns); she shares their writings both to support her work, and as poetic prayer guides (a la lectio) in an addendum at the back.

The Cistercians teach us that the Christian life is not easy, but neither is it drudgery. We live in a tension of Mary (attentive to Christ) and Martha (attentive to the other). We are called to love, but only because we are first called forth by the great Love. We are called to live in a community of faith, even while we are all responsible to walk our own journey with Christ. Mostly, we are called to lay aside our own striving, our own desires for comfort and success on our terms, and allow Christ to mold us and shape us as he desires - a process that is never easy but is rich with reward.

The Way of Simplicity is but a mere introduction to a much richer, deeper tradition, and the book gives only a taste of those who have lived out its path. But it was certainly thought-provoking and challenging, as the men and women on its pages become a witness to 'forsaking all else' for the sake of Christ and his people.

Mountaintops

2011-06-30T10:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a good week. Seeing old friends and making new ones. Enjoying the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Witnessing the fruition of long-worked-on dreams and plans. Playing with the family. Being surrounded by the wonderful people who are the Covenant Church. It's been good.

The Feast was marvelous. Individuals and families experiencing the Spirit through learning experiences, worship, and play. Friendships breaking out all over. From early morning to late at night, people took advantage of opportunities to try new things out, to relax, to learn, to rest in the Lord. My part (Awakenings and Spiritual Learning Experiences) pretty much met or exceeded our expectations. Families did dress-up bible stories. Some learned of prayer through the music of Johnny Cash and Ralph Stanley. Others learned how to use a camera as an avenue of meeting God. Ancient prayers and prayer in a wired-world held the attention of small groups. Some met Christ in the pool, others on a morning jog. Attention was paid to the Spirit's presence along a mountain trail. And some learned better how to see God in the people around them. My only sorrow is that it was all over so soon.

The Covenant Annual meeting has been good, as well. We are a blessed people. Mission is strong, the budget is healthy, the leadership maintain a strong dependence on the Spirit. Worship remains rich. meetings are punctuated by lightheartedness. Yet there are painful moments - the list of those being removed from ministry roles included friends of mine. Time has been spent remembering ministers, missionaries, and spouses who have died in the last year. Churches have been closed.

Through it all, a strong spirit of unity prevails - that great Covenant freedom in unity.

Life is full of unexpected twists and turns; random conversations lead to entirely new worlds. I could be just about anywhere right now. And I find myself wondering how I am so blessed to be part of this great Covenant mission. How marvelous, how wonderful, is my savior's love for me.

Archived pictures of the Feast (mostly taken by Karina) can be found here: http://www.covchurch.org/feast/photos/

Archived video of the Feast (including the highlight video) can be found here: http://covchurch.tv/category/events/the-feast/

Photos of the Annual Meeting (some taken by Karina) can be found at: http://www.covchurch.org/am/photos/

Video of the Annual Meeting is being posted at: http://covchurch.tv/category/events/annual-meeting/annual-meeting-2011/

Speaking of gospel: an album review

2011-06-18T21:58:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to Patty Griffin's Downtown Church for the last week.

She gets it. From the rocking gospel blues of Move Up or Wade in the Water, to the wistful We Shall be Reunited, this album is a marvelous collection of spirituals performed by an amazing group of musicians.

It's not all gospel, though. Broken relationships make an appearance in the angry I Smell a Rat. And high church shows up in the finale, All Creatures of our God and King. The pain of broken families and hope of restoration pours forth on Waiting For My Child. But mostly it's the old gospel of Never Grow Old and Death's Got a Warrant.

It's the kind of music you want to put on on a Sunday afternoon while sipping your iced tea on the back porch; it's the kind of music that makes you want to dance just a bit. It's church music for the big wide world.
And it's marvelous.

Movie Review: Rejoice and Shout

2011-06-14T15:16:00.000-07:00

One of the most beautiful things about human life has to be our ability to soar above circumstances, to survive through trials and tribulations, to thrive even in the midst of great sorrow, to sing even in the darkness. Gospel music is a testimony to the Spirit at work in and through people who never seem to get a break, people who struggle under oppression, people who face death and sadness and injustice, yet people who refuse to give up, lose their hope or lose their dignity.

Rejoice and Shout (Magnolia Pictures) is a testimony to that gospel spirit, telling the story of a people's song as they traveled the difficult road of slavery, racism and oppression in the United States. It is also a veritable feast for the eyes and ears, using more than ample vintage audio, photography, and video. It's a history lesson into this wonderful music, taking the audience hundreds of years into the past when gospel songs were sung on plantations, up through the creation of early gospel quartets at the turn of the (last) century, right up into the gospel resurgence of the 60s and 70s and new gospel today. Old favorites are here, in the form of Mahalia Jackson, The Blind Boys of Alabama, and Thomas Dorsey; in addition, newer additions to the genre like Andrae Crouch, the Winans, and Kirk Franklin make an appearance.

It's a story of hope, of journeying toward a blessed reward for suffering faced here. The church plays a prime role, and gospel preachers get their say. The interplay of music, revival, and Pentecostalism is explored. Ecstatic experience gives way to exuberant singing, and joyful singing gives hope and joy to those experiencing it.

Especially important are the interviews with the men and women who lived through Gospel's growth in the mid 20th Century. Interviews with Smokey Robinson, Mavis Staples, and so many others give a unique view of the fertile ground out of which this beautiful sound grew. Their joy as singers and songwriters gives proof that gospel is first and foremost a music of the heart, and that those who have the privilege of participating are all welcome in the family.

Rejoice and Shout is open in limited engagements, so you'll have to check out the website to see if it's playing near you. If you have the change, do go and enjoy this marvelous film. You'll be educated, entertained, and uplifted' probably, if you're like me, you'll come away with a song resonating in your heart.

Why I love living in the woods

2011-06-12T21:52:00.000-07:00

Late yesterday afternoon I realized the well pump wasn't working. The lowering pressure meant water was slowing to a trickle coming into the house. That's bad enough. But our well also provides water to the church. If we didn't get this fixed, it would be difficult to expect people to come to church when you couldn't provide the basic necessities like flushing toilets. And coffee.

But it was Saturday afternoon, and time was running short. So I called Doug, the building and grounds guy for the church, and a man able to fix just about anything. No luck. So I called the church chair, just to give him something to panic about. Turns out he knew where Doug was. "He's out in his backyard on the tractor." That's the thing about small communities. Somebody always knows where to find the person you're looking for.

I drove to Doug's and went around the back, where I ran into Doug's lovely wife. Which afforded us time for a brief how-do-you-do. She pointed me over to the neighbor's yard, so I headed that way. Where I ran into the neighbor. I hadn't seen him since last year, when I was called over late at night after he had come home to find his father dead in the backyard. So we had a nice chance to catch up, and I was glad to hear how he was keeping his life together and making meaning of his father's death. And sad to hear that his dog is dying.

Finally Doug came around the corner; the problem was explained, he grabbed some tools, and back to our place we came. But not before I had the chance to play a couple of banjos that Dorene had been telling me about. Anyway, Doug got right to work and diagnosed the problem, but didn't have the parts to fix it. We called, but Home Depot didn't have the parts either. So he figured he'd go cannibalize the parts from his own well and see if that got our pump working. First, though, Ron showed up for dinner, so he got in on the conversation. And Megan showed up as well (for dinner), so she got to hear the whole story and to meet Doug as well.

Doug took off and I got to charring meat on the barbecue. Then Gene (the aforementioned chair), his wife, and the little girl they babysit showed up to get in on the action. We had a wonderful conversation before Doug came back. Then Gene and I watched Doug install the new power supply. Power was restored and we all rejoiced at the hum that marked the pump kicking back into action. Disaster averted, we had water, and church could go on.

For the record, all that means that just because the well pump went out, I got to spend quality time with Doug, Dorene, Steve, Bonnie, Gene, and Amber. And Doug got to spend quality time with Gene and Ron and I. Etcetera. It turned into a regular social event.

Oh, and this. Doug called the well pump repairpeople from his house. Their tech called him back. Doug described the part, and the repairman said "yep, I got one of those." So Doug said he'd run up to Port Orchard (40 miles round trip) to pick it up. But the repairman offered to bring it by. So they started exchanging locations. Turns out the repairman lives all of 2 miles from Doug, and was only 3 miles from home. So faster than you can say "How about that?" the guy got to Doug's house and dropped off the part. So nothing had to be cannibalized, and we got a brand-new part without having to drive 40 miles on a late Saturday afternoon.

That's why I like living out in the woods.

Book Review: 10 Power Principles for Christian Service (2nd ed.)

2011-06-06T16:12:00.000-07:00

This has to be one of the worst titles for a book ever. I don't know about you, but 10 Power Principles brings to mind door-to-door insurance sales people, used car sales people, or multi-level marketing schemes. A title like 10 Power Principles reminds me of one too many seminars I've attended, promising magical practices that will transform my work and turn me into Joel Osteen.

And this book is nothing like that.

Instead, it reads like the wisdom collected over a lifetime of faithful ministry, of lessons learned through deep struggles and challenges, of basic, necessary, obvious and yet so often neglected practices at the root of God-pleasing ministry.

There's nothing surprising here. It could all be summed up as "Pray, spend time in the Word, rely on the Spirit, expect pain, rejoice when trials lead to growth, submit to God and his people; in other words, be like Christ." Written in the gentle, winsome tone of a seasoned minister, filled with stories that set these principles at home in the hearts of ministers, 10 Power Principles is one of the best books I've read on ministry and the necessary heart-work it requires. There is nothing here about church growth or magical successes, no promises of winning thousands to Christ, no lessons on marketing or sermon-writing or website development. Just a call to return to the foundational work of prayer. Of spending time in the Word. A call to lay aside dreams of comfort and prestige, replacing them with sacrifice and service. A challenge to live lives of honesty and integrity before God and others. And a reminder that our entire work is to bring people to growth and maturity in Christ.

This is one of those books that probably needs to be read every 5 years or so; especially when discouragement sets in, or the mailbox fills up with promotional material for one more ministry scheme, or when we've lost our way in the fog of herding ornery sheep. It's one of those 'reset' books, that reminds us who we are and what we're supposed to be doing. I certainly needed it right about now, and I do believe I'll be passing along copies to a pastor friend or two in the days to come.

Memorial Day

2011-06-03T19:05:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday

2011-05-29T17:59:00.000-07:00

Thanks, dad, for the pictures!

Book Review: I See the Rhythm of Gospel

2011-05-13T10:01:00.000-07:00

(Note: This was first posted earlier this week. Blogger seems to have eaten it, so I'm posting it again)

I See the Rhythm of Gospel is a richly textured tale of the African American experience over a 500+ year period, told through art, poetry, and song. Beginning with life in Africa, through the journey of slave ships and plantations, escape and emancipation, the community of church and the language of song, this story weaves Gospel - both the music of hope and strength, and the work of God to liberate people from darkness - throughout the long struggle faced by African Americans. It deals artistically, yet realistically, with the pain of slavery and the civil rights struggles of the 50s and 60s. I See the Rhythm confronts and laments the deep abyss of pain left over from centuries of abuse, and yet is ultimately a story of hope, that this people found a way to survive, to thrive, to overcome (a journey which sadly is still not complete). And the role of the Church, and gospel music in particular, can't be overstated in that work to overcome.

Many famous names are here - Mahalia Jackson, Thomas Dorsey, Shirley Caesar, Andrae Crouch - as are the old gospel quartets - the Soul Stirrers, the Dixie Hummingbirds. Along with the musicians are others we know of, from Nelson Mandela to Rodney King, from Harriet Tubman to Toni Morrison. More importantly, however, are probably the millions of nameless people whose faces have been lost to history. The ones who struggled and died, the ones who marched and sang, the ones who simply put food on the table for their children. These are the ones honored by artist Michelle Wood in the beautiful, colorful, profound artwork that graces these pages.

I was touched by the dignity and hope pervading these pages; I was educated about pieces of African American history I hadn't yet heard. This is a wonderful book for children and adults alike, and worthy reading by people of all ages as we all seek to understand our unique yet shared history.

A bonus CD is supplied with the book, containing five representative gospel songs, from the classic "Wade in the Water" by the Golden Gate Quartet, up through the Holy Hip-Hop of Cross Movement's "I Love You."

The music, along with the lyrical text and the lush, bright, powerful artwork, all combine to help us see the rhythm of gospel, and the way it has woven itself into the history of African Americans in the United States.

Special Thanks to Zondervan for Supplying a Complimentary Copy for the Purposes of This Review

It's the End of the World. . .and I feel just fine

2011-05-04T13:08:00.000-07:00

I've seen the news scuttling about the internet. I even saw a billboard proclaiming the news down in Oregon last weekend. But now letters are beginning to show up.

In yesterday's mail, our church received a very official, earnest-sounding pamphlet declaring that, without a doubt, Jesus is coming back on May 21, 2011. Because, in fact, the Bible teaches that Jesus is coming back on May 21, 2011.

Well, no, it doesn't. There is no chapter and verse you can look to that will say "and Jesus shall return on May 21, 2011 A.D. according to the Gregorian Calendar." But these fine folks have put all the clues together and arrived at the definitive conclusion that that is, indeed, the Day of Judgment.

By the way, I should point out that this particular letter is a secondary source. The primary source of this revelation is one Harold Camping of Family Radio fame. This letter came from a church in Pennsylvania, who are quick to point out that they are in no way affiliated with Family Radio. They just happen to believe everything he's selling.

So let me step up to the microphone for a moment and make a declaration for all my friends, Christian and non-Christian alike: These people do not speak for me. In fact, they don't speak for the Church at all. Any more than Osama bin Laden spoke for Muslims. Or Miley Cyrus speaks for Rock Stars. They may think they do, they may earnestly believe they are speaking on behalf of the Church, but in reality, they're a fringe group that really does nothing but make everybody else look bad.

For what it's worth, Harold has done this before. Predicted the end, I mean. And he's been wrong before, obviously. Just like he'll be wrong this time. We'll all wake up on May 22 and these people will be sad, but rather than admit their wrongness, they'll make up some excuses and scurry back to their study rooms where they will try to pick the next can't-miss date.

What it really comes down to is how they treat the text. Unfortunately, the Bible doesn't come with an owners' manual, which leaves room for all sorts of people to read the texts in ways they weren't meant to be read. These particular people approach the text the way Nicolas Cage approached a treasure hunt in National Treasure. Find a clue here, uncover a clue there, discern the hidden super-secret message under that thing, and voila! You uncover the treasure trove. So they pick a verse here and a verse there, apply some really bad science, and voila! discover the date.

Here's the real difficulty with proof-texting. Camping and his followers point to verses like Isaiah 56:10-11 to show why people like me (pastors) don't know what we're talking about when we challenge them. "His watchmen are blind; they are all ignorant, they are all dumb dogs, they cannot bark. . .they are shepherds that cannot understand. . ." Oooh. That sounds bad.

But I could just as easily point our Jeremiah 23:26 to challenge their authority: "How long will this continue in the hearts of these lying prophets, who prophesy the delusions of their own mind?"

And on it goes, my prooftext against your prooftext, and none of us gets anywhere.

For now, I'm content to sit around and wait until May 22, when the world will see they were wrong. Although it grieves me to think of the money and resources wasted to this lie. And I grieve the faith of so many that will be lost when May 22 dawns, a faith that will probably be replaced with cynicism and doubt. And, of course, I grieve that these people give the rest of us in Christendom a bad name. Which is why I repeat: they don't speak for me. The don't speak for most of us.

In the meantime, it should be pointed out that Jesus' message was never about figuring the day of his return. It was always "be about my work until I get back." And that work was not proclaiming judgement. It was more important stuff like feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, taking care of the elderly, protecting children from exploitation, loving the alien in our midst, pursuing justice and righteousness, living lives of honesty and simplicity and compassion. That's the point of the text.

The cross proves us wrong

2011-04-26T11:38:00.000-07:00

An excerpt from my message at Lakebay's Sunrise Service

. . .Sometimes we’re like those powers and principalities, thinking that our comfort and prestige are worth any cost. Our world is filled with tyrants and thieves, but we’re all sinners alike. We run around chasing our own pleasure, amassing our little kingdoms, mistreating our friends and co-workers; we live by the world’s system, we lie and cheat and think we’re good enough to win in the end. And Jesus stands there Easter morning in victory, telling us we’re wrong – that the cross and resurrection mean something, they demand something of us; that we lay aside our schemes and plans and self-satisfied lives, and embrace instead the life offered by the Lamb who was slain.

Sometimes we’re more like the disciples. We’re angry. We feel let down. We think we’ve been defeated. We feel betrayed. Sometimes we look at our lives and hate what we see. We think it’s all pointless, all worthless. We see the troubles in the world and we want to go away and and hide. We live in fear of all the pain and trouble in the world, we decide maybe it’s just not worth going on. . .and Jesus shows up Easter morning and tells us we’re wrong. Jesus comes to us this morning with victory in his hands, a victory that is already won and therefore assured and guaranteed. Life is worth living, victory is ours because Jesus defeated evil, he defeated sorrow and pain and all who come against us; Jesus won the victory, and he invites us to share it with him.

And sometimes we’re like the women. We’re just sad. We’re broken. Our emotions are seared – we show up to the grave expecting the worst. No matter how beautiful the sunrise, deep down inside we know it all ends up in the grave. Some of us have felt the sting of losing loved ones to death. Some of us mourn deeply this morning. And yet. . .Easter tells us we’re wrong. Wrong to fear death, wrong to mourn without hope, wrong to expect the worst. The empty grave proves that Jesus was right, that his promise of life and victory and joy and hope and peace and healing and love all come true. He is justified. Our doubt and fear, our posturing and vain attempts at ordering our own lives all come crashing headlong into the cross. . .

and here stands Jesus, risen, alive, and offering life and victory to all of us.

And now, over to the health desk for our regular feature: "An Update on Dan's Eye"

2011-04-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago I received the latest in a long string of contact lenses we've been trying in a vain attempt to make one work. I wore it for about a week, and, as has become a custom, it didn't work. But I have to wear it anyway, seeing if it will eventually settle down.

By last Friday (the day after Thursday and the day before Saturday, after which come Sunday) it was becoming quite uncomfortable. Actually, very painful. I assumed it was just because of a bad fit.

So I had an appointment set for yesterday, to see just how this latest lens was doing. As has also become our custom, I sat in the big chair, Dr. Ralph looked at my eye through the big machine, and, upon seeing whatever he sees, he swore. I've been through this enough times to know that that's not a good sign.

So, two things. First, the lens didn't fit like he had hoped.

But more. . .it seems sometime last week my body woke up and said "hey! there's some sort of foreign object here! We need to get rid of it!" So all that pain wasn't the contact lens, it was my body trying to reject the graft. All sorts of white blood cells were flooding the eye, trying to kill off this foreign object which was actually my new cornea.

It's never a dull moment in this ongoing saga.

The good news is it's treatable with steroids, and shouldn't cause any longterm issues. The bad news is that we can't move forward with lens fitting until this is over, since it could actually change the topography of the lens. Which. . .in a convoluted way, may end up being a good thing, since the current topography isn't working out anyway.

In the meantime, if I look a little bloodshot, don't think I've been out doing something I shouldn't. It's just that my cornea is feeling a little rejected.

Well, hello there!

2011-04-18T19:33:00.000-07:00

Didn't I see you in a movie once?

Breaking Up

2011-04-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

I once had a girlfriend who I treated rather poorly. Not so much during the dating part; I think, overall, I treated her pretty well. It was the breaking-up part that I handled in such a way that she could rightfully call me a "jerk."

Somewhere along the line, a couple months into the relationship, I realized I wanted out. I still appreciated her as a friend, but the whole 'dating' thing just wasn't working for me. No fault of hers, there. I just needed to end the relationship, but didn't know how.

So I started ignoring her. I found ways to be busy, ways to keep myself some distance from her. It was the classic conflict-avoidance strategy, wherein the hope seems to be that the other party will 'get the message' and just go away. It was horrible, I know. But I wasn't quite mature enough to recognize that.

She eventually bailed me out, bless her soul. She chased me down and forced me to spill it; we had a good heart-to-heart talk and broke off the relationship there in the student lounge at Azusa Pacific University. And I can say with all honesty that she deserved better. And that I'm glad she had the emotional security to demand I talk, recognizing that the news probably wouldn't be what she wanted.

Many years later, following a Sunday morning worship service, a man from our church family came up and asked if he could talk with me. He was blunt: he loved our church, but for reasons which he explained (mostly dealing with the health of his wife), he had to leave and seek out another church to join. He was clear about his reasoning, he answered all my questions, but at the end of the day, he was gone.

I appreciated his honesty. I appreciated his heart. I appreciated that he did the tough thing and spoke to me about it. And I was able to pray for him and bless him as he went on his way. From time to time we'd run into each other, and it was always a good reunion. with no hard feelings.

All too often, that isn't the case. In many (most) instances, families and individuals choose to leave churches in the same manner in which I (sort-of) broke up with my college girlfriend. As in, little or no communication. They just disappear. Wander away. All is smiles and happiness one week. . .and three weeks later people start asking "Does anybody know what happened to them?"

I suspect I know the reason why, if even because I recognize it in my younger self. People don't naturally like conflict. People don't like hurting others. People don't relish having difficult conversations. So rather than address their desire to move on, they simply drift away, deciding it's easier to ignore it than deal with it. And hoping that time will pass by and this unfortunate incident will soon be behind us all.

Unfortunately, the easy way is never the healthier way. It's certainly not the mature way. One of the marks of maturity is knowing how to deal with the hard decisions, how to speak hard truths to those around us. Back to my college sweetheart - in my strategy I was avoiding the hard truth I needed to speak, a conversation certain to disappoint her - but I was really just prolonging the pain, and causing her more anxiety and confusion along the way. How much better was my church friend who spoke the hard truth, but removed any need for self-doubt, fear, or confusion?

So let's be clear about this: the mature, clean, healthy way to leave one church family for another is to simply speak the truth. Let the pastor and leadership know exactly why you are leaving, where you think you might be going; let them know if there are issues that need addressing. No, it's not healthy to use this time to take unfair parting shots as you run out the door, but it is healthy to let everybody know not to expect you around any more.

Because slinking out, simply disappearing leaves everybody wondering why. It leaves room for accusations and gossip, it leaves room for people to make up their own reasons for your leaving. It leaves leaders wondering if they've somehow failed you. It just leaves way too many unanswered questions, too many dangling emotions. And then. . .when you run into each other at the grocery store, it's all just so awkward, dancing around questions that you've already shown you don't want to deal with.

In case I'm not being explicit enough, let's summarize it this way: mature adults know how to break relationships off cleanly, be they dating relationships or church memberships. On the other hand, the "let's just stop going and hope nobody really notices" is a mark of immaturity. You may think you're letting people off easy, but in reality, it's the exact opposite. It only makes things worse.

So, from this pastor's heart to the church at large, I make this suggestion: grow up and learn how to handle conflict in a mature manner; speak the truth in love, as it were. Just make your thoughts and feelings known, be ready for some hard questions that may come back to you. Please, don't force your pastor and church family to try to guess where you went and why you left. Better a short, decisive pain than one that lingers on for months and months and months. . .

Thursday

2011-04-07T11:35:00.000-07:00

- -Last Thursday, we woke up in sunny Southern California. By mid-day, it was approaching 96 degrees. Did I mention it was sunny? Then on Sunday we strolled the beach in San Simeon under a clear blue sky, with temperatures in the mid-70s. Did I mention the sunshine? Tuesday I took a walk with Clara along the rim of a large reservoir in Upland under a brilliant blue sky, the sun shining down on us, temperatures hovering in the mid-80s. Yes, I got a little sunburned, but most of that came Monday as we wandered around Disneyland under - of course - clear blue skies and warm sunshine.

Arrived in Seattle yesterday. Got in the car and headed up toward my parents' house in Shoreline. Somewhere along that way, as we headed up Aurora north of Woodland Park, it started to rain. Hard. Only it was cold rain, mixed with snow. And the sky was black. Driving south toward Tacoma we passed through a blinding, dark rainstorm. By the time we hit Gig Harbor there was quite a bit of snow mixed in there. And the bank at Key Center was brightly proclaiming a temperature of 36 degrees.

- - While waiting in line at Space Mountain I noticed the man behind us was wearing a T-shirt with the name "Megan Whitmarsh" on it. So we struck up a conversation. Turns out Megan Whitmarsh is his sister, an artist in Los Angeles. I don't know that I've ever met another Whitmarsh that I wasn't related to, and there we were, next to Whitmarshes in the line for Space Mountain. Unfortunately, just as we started talking he received a phone call, and then we got pushed through the entrance and we never saw him again.

- - -I'm listening to the new Alison Krauss And Union Station album, which is streaming live at NPR until it releases on April 12.

- - -I missed the first few days of baseball season whilst on our journey, but I'm happy to see the Mariners picked up right where they left off. We did drive by the new Rainiers Stadium last night, and it looks like they've done nice work. I'll have to schedule a game in sometime soon.

- - -It was kind of a rough flight from Oakland to Seattle yesterday. When I looked in the cockpit, I saw why. Pilots are looking younger and younger these days.

It's been a week (and then some)

2011-04-06T13:12:00.000-07:00

Sitting in the Oakland airport, waiting for our plane to Seattle. We flew down last Wednesday, and have been in California ever since.

During that time, we:
- enjoyed breakfast at Some Crust Bakery in beautiful downtown Claremont
- had dinner at the Bass Pro Shop out in Rancho Cucamonga (the setting was fun, the food not so much).
- drove up the coast to stunning Cambria. Sunshine, the California ocean, Santa Barbara and wine country and SLO and Morro Bay. . .it was all good for the soul.
- had breakfast with Dax and Anna, rich with talk about old times and all that God is doing in our lives today.
- performed/shot a windy wedding on a bluff overlooking the Pacific, sharing a blessed day with Jason and Michelle as they became husband and wife
- reconnected with Erin at the reception (and met her new sweetie Phil (not Phil. R. Up., in case anybody's wondering))
- did a senior photo shoot in a sandy cove under a clear blue sky (well, Karina did the shoot. I mostly walked barefoot on the beach) in San Simeon. I got soaked by a large wave, and it was wonderful.
- had brunch at the Madonna Inn in SLO.
- Drove past Azusa Pacific University, my alma mater.
- Spent a day at Disneyland with the kids. Karina's mom knows somebody who knows somebody who got us in free. Which was nice, since Disneyland is now $76/person for the day. The girls had as much fun as possible, and I found myself thinking 'this is what it's supposed to be like, watching the fireworks from Main Street with your daughter on your shoulders.' I also got sunburned. And we got to spend the day with this kid, since he's the cousin of a friend of ours. He kept our kids entertained, which helped in those hour-long lines waiting for Autopia.
- Bugged Erin at Starbucks, where she didn't make us cry.
- Cooked up a carne asade feast for dinner with the family.
- Had breakfast (once more) at Some Crust.

And now we're heading home after a full week. It was a good week; we got lots of sunshine and some beach time, we shared some marvelous days with some quality people, we enjoyed the beach and the desert, we played and we rested, we had time with family and time with some old friends. And now, as we sit at the airport, Clara's wearing her pink Minnie Mouse ears and we're enjoying the last bit of sunshine before heading north again.

So that eye thing

2011-03-29T11:55:00.000-07:00

Just because some of you keep asking. . .

I saw the corneal specialist yesterday. The good news: there's a quick solution to all of this. The bad news: It's PRK laser surgery, which would cost a mere $5000. So if anybody's feeling particularly generous, let me know.

Barring that, there are two options. Glasses, or contacts. I'm borderline for glasses, because, post-surgery, the focal point is fairly different between the two eyes. As in, I'm nearsighted in both, but one focuses about 3 inches out, the other about 12 inches out. And that could make for some issues with fitting glasses that don't look weird or give me headaches on a regular basis.

I'm still not a candidate for a normal contact, because the cornea has some steepening toward my nose. The option left is a lens that's specifically crafted to fit the ridges on my cornea, which theoretically should lock the lens into place. Usually the specialist doesn't like making that kind of lens for a person with a graft, but in my case it seems the best option.

Complicating all of this is the fact that I'm 42, so am right on the cusp of needing reading glasses or bifocals, so no matter what we do now, in another couple years we're back to looking at some sort of glasses. It's all so much juggling of a lot of complicating factors. For now, he's ordering the custom lens and I'll give it a try when it shows up next week, and we'll see how that goes.

One idea he mentioned was to pray I develop cataracts, because then my insurance would pay for the PRK surgery. I'm not sure I'm ready to ask for that yet.

Book Review: Unshaken

2011-03-25T16:58:00.000-07:00

In early 2010, Dan Woolley found himself trapped beneath the rubble of Haiti's Hotel Montana, following the 7.0 earthquake that devastated that country. In Haiti as part of a media production team for Compassion International, Woolley had just entered the hotel when the earthquake hit, bringing it down on him and all those inside. For 65 hours he struggled to survive, cobbling together a strategy that included iPhone apps, memories of Man vs. Wild episodes, prayer, worship, and a digital camera. Encouraged by the hope of friendly voices, thrust to the depths of despair as hunger and thirst set in, his body broken and yet unable to do anything but wait, Woolley experienced the full range of emotion and physical trauma. And now, having been rescued from that place, he is telling his personal piece of that immense national tragedy.

Note #1: I went to college with Dan and his wife. We were all at Azusa Pacific University at the same time. Not that we were friends, but I do remember them from back in the day.

Unshaken is certainly a gripping story, and a deeply personal one as well. It goes beyond the struggles Woolley faced underneath all that rubble to explore the struggles faced in his life and marriage, struggles compounded by a wife stricken with clinical depression. It asks difficult questions about the nature of faith and how we live it out in our lives. And it speaks of hope, hope for redemption and hope for change. None of us has to stay where we are; we are all given opportunities to move toward health and fulness in our lives.

There was one area, though, where the book left me frustrated. It stems from that common Evangelical tendency to elevate personal experience over most anything else. Woolley does mention multiple times that the purpose of this book is to tell his story, and not to explore the larger question of what it means that 200,000 people died (and many more still suffer even today). But I wonder if we can actually do that: isn't it a bit insensitive to say "here's my story of survival which shows God's grace" even while ignoring the epic tragedy endured by so many?

I don't really fault the author for this; as I mentioned, he does at least recognize the issue even if he chooses to sidestep it. I just wish we in the church could be more sensitive about praising Jesus for the wonderful things he's done in our lives, when so many more are still, like Job, sitting in the dust mourning their losses.

Then again, it should probably be pointed out that Woolley is doing his part to help out in the ongoing recovery efforts in Haiti. His website points toward recovery work which people can support, and a portion of the sales of Unshaken go to support Compassion International's work in Haiti. That is to be commended.

Perhaps even more so now, following floods in Australia, earthquakes in New Zealand, and the tsunami in Japan, people need reason for hope, and assurance that even in the darkest places God is still present. Unshaken is a good reminder that even in the valley of the shadow of death, God never forsakes his children.

Note #2: Thanks to Zondervan for sending me a free copy of Unshaken for the purposes of this review.

Concert Update

2011-03-23T11:49:00.000-07:00

As mentioned earlier, the Signature Brass Quintet was scheduled to share a concert with the GHPSO clarinets on April 9. Last week we learned the clarinets aren't able to do their piece of the show. The good news (for us): the brass quintet now gets to do a complete concert on April 9. The bad news (for us): we now have an extra hour of music to polish. Which raises the stress level just a tiny bit.

But that's an exciting problem to have.

In case you missed the earlier announcement:

The Signature Brass is now performing an entire evening concert of brass music, from baroque to pops and everything in between. Saturday, April 9, 7:00 p.m. St. John's Episcopal Church, Gig Harbor, WA.

This concert is the spring edition of the Gig Harbor Peninsula Symphony Orchestra concert series.

Book Review: The Importance of Being Foolish

2011-03-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

Few people get to the heart of things like Brennan Manning. Like a personal trainer, he challenges all the self-justification, the excuses, the laziness in our spiritual lives. With hawk-like eyes he discerns the murky depths of the soul and pulls it screaming into the light where we see it for the ugly thing it is.

And yet, nobody seems to understand grace like Brennan Manning. No sooner does he excoriate our propensity to sin but that he jumps in with the marvelous good news of the gospel: God loves us more than we can ever hope, dream, or imagine.

In The Importance of Being Foolish, Manning challenges three temptations common to our lives: the temptations to security, pleasure, and power. He debunks the thought that any of these have any place in the life of a disciple of Christ. Security is impossible to achieve, pleasure never satisfies, and power always comes at the expense of others. Pursuit of any of these proves that the soul has yet to fully trust God to protect, to please, to provide.

The only worthwhile pursuit, according to Manning, is the pursuit of the mind of God. For in God's mind we find that we are the beloved of God; that God promises safety in his arms, joy in his heart, and victory over the things that weigh us down. As we pursue our heavenly Father, we also find ourselves drawn into his Kingdom work, proclaiming and seeking God's holiness in this world. As we seek the power and love of Jesus, a love revealed in all its fullness on the cross, we are filled with the marvelous gifts of God: freedom from fear of death, forgiving love, poverty of spirit, selfless service, a joyful heart, fidelity to commitments, and reckless love.

One thing I so appreciate about Manning is his amazing attention to the craft of writing. He gets to the point, and does so quickly. There are no superfluous words here. It seems Manning doesn't have much space for extraneous pondering. Some of the more memorable lines from this book:

"In the Scriptures intelligence does not consist in the more or less brilliant performance of the mind. It consists in recognizing the omnipresent reality of God. . .From the biblical perspective, a great theologian may be stupid; an illiterate washerwoman praising God for the sunset immeasurably more intelligent."

"Paul's cheeks are still streaked [with tears] because of the tepidity, rank insincerity, spiritual adultery, indifference to prayer, ignorance of God's Word, comfortable piety, and apostolic sloth that dapple the Christian life in America today."

"It is symptomatic that, despite the church having been around for two thousand years, the mass of people still pass Christianity by. Why? Because the visible presence of Jesus Christ is rarely present in Christians as a whole. We will never move people to Jesus Christ and the gospel merely by making speeches about them. . .contact with Christians should be an experience that proves to people that the gospel is a power that transforms the whole of life."

"There is no Christ the humanitarian, Christ the master of interpersonal relationships, or Christ the buddy. It is Christ the Lord and Savior who calls us to repent, change our lives, and strike out in a new direction."

"The Christ of Paul was not merely a great teacher, an example of a great man, or a symbol of man's noblest aspirations; he was Lord and Savior. To reinterpret Jesus any other way is to bleed Christianity of its point."

"Life in the Spirit is the thrill and the excitement of being loved by and falling in love with Jesus Christ. If the Spirit is not fire, it does not exist."

It's been a good ten years since I last read Manning, and, although it was challenging, I have to say I was glad to let him in my life again. He's had a strong influence in my life over the years, and this book, like all his others, challenged me regarding the sincerity of this thing called the Christian walk, and reminded me again just how real and all-consuming is the love of God.

Sunday

2011-03-13T16:31:00.000-07:00

- We halted the normal flow of worship this morning, broke into small groups, and spent time praying for Japan. It was a beautiful thing to see, an entire body gathering into circles, young and old and men and women and children lifting up those who are suffering. I am grateful for a church that knows how to pray.

- Proof that the tsunami hit Washington (according to Doug). I think it makes sense. . .

- I'm heading to Colorado tomorrow, spending 4 days in Estes Park at a planning meeting for Feast 2011. Looking forward to hanging out with some friends, and (hopefully) seeing some blue sky. It's been a long time since WA saw the sun.

- The dr. thinks I have pseudo-gout. And the eye doctor decided I needed a couple weeks lens-free before attempting another fit. So I'm limping on one foot and blind in one eye.

- 5 years ago today was my first day as pastor at Lakebay Community Church. And they've finally stopped throwing me parties. I suppose that means they think I'm finally just one of them. That's good.

- We started watching D ownton Abbey on netflix. Good stuff. Sort of like Upstairs Downstairs, but in the country. Speaking of Upstairs Downstairs, they're bringing it back.

Ladies and Gentlemen. . .

2011-03-11T10:42:00.000-08:00

Introducing The Signature Brass Quintet.

Identity

2011-03-10T10:25:00.000-08:00

Suppose the school from which you graduated changes its name. When people ask "where did you got to school?" do you give them the old name? Or the new one?

This is a real issue, since I graduated from Watson Groen Christian School, which is now Shoreline Christian School. I did some graduate work at Western Evangelical Seminary, which is now George Fox Evangelical Seminary. And I received my M. Div. from the Mennonite Brethren Biblical Seminary, which is now the Biblical Seminary at Fresno Pacific.

It's like having my own little identity crisis.

Ashes to Ashes

2011-03-09T14:28:00.000-08:00

I have to be honest. . .I'm not so sure about this Ash Wednesday thing. Not even that sure about the whole Lenten season.

Imagine you really really really really love somebody. So you buy them a really costly gift. More costly than anything you've ever purchased. But you love them, so it's worth it.

Imagine they open the gift, and they love it. They're overwhelmed by it. They can't say "thanks" enough. You can see their joy, and it makes you happy. And over the coming weeks, as they tell the story to their friends, as they show off the gift and gush about your generosity, it makes you happy. To see their joy and feel their appreciation.

But then. . .imagine they start focusing on that generosity piece. In fact, they stop really thinking about the gift, and instead spend all their time talking about your generosity. Wouldn't that bother you just a bit? You didn't give them the gift just so they could perpetually tell you how wonderful you are (well, if you did, your motives would be suspect).

And then. . .imagine it's not just your generosity they keep mentioning. They start harping on how they didn't deserve it, that you were too generous, that somebody like them isn't worthy of this gift. Wouldn't that start to grate on your nerves? You gave them the gift out of love, and your love proves they are, in fact, worth the price of the gift. I'm sure a momentary "Oh, you shouldn't have!" is appropriate. Even a couple "no, really, it's just to expensive"s wouldn't be out of the question.

But suppose, a year later, around the anniversary of the gift, your beloved starting acting morose. A little too serious. Somewhat sad. And when you asked why, they told you, "I'm just remembering how expensive that gift was, and how I'm not really worthy of such a gift from such a wonderful person." And then. . .they did it year after year after year. Always going on and on about the cost, the price, and how a dirty, unworthy, shameful person such as they didn't deserve that kind of gift. How amazing you were, that you would give a little wretch like them such a precious gift.

I know, I know. Maybe this isn't the overall purpose of Lent. But isn't it what it often becomes in our little corner of the world, our little Christian campout? Doesn't it often become a reflection on the heavy price paid by God, and our unworthiness of that gift?

Too much of our theology and practice came of age in a medieval age of kings and emperors and serfs and vassals. In that world, should the king bestow you with a gift, the only proper response was deference, reflection of the amazing generosity of the king to stoop in such a way as to offer such a blessing to an unworthy little worm. For ages stories would be told and songs sung of the generosity of the king, that one of such a high station would give gifts to lowly peasants.

But that's not the biblical story. The biblical story is "How great is the love the Father has lavished upon us, that we should be called sons and daughters of God." When I give my daughters a gift, I do appreciate a little gratitude on their part. But that's not why I give it. I give it because I love them and want to see the joy on their faces when they open it. And if my daughter would spend the next 6 months after Christmas repeating the mantra, "thank you, daddy - I am such a horrible daughter, so lousy, such a miserable wretch, and you are so amazing, so wonderful, so much higher than I. . .I don't deserve you or your gift" at some point I would say "stop it!" Or I'd sign her up for counseling.

There's a time and a place to remember this great gift of God to us in Jesus, and certainly each generation needs to hear the story again, but I'm just not a fan of the way it often slides into low self-esteem Christianity. The puritan heritage that speaks of us as worms and lower than dirt and wretches, that sees us as lowly vassals lucky even to mop the floor in God's great Kingdom. Instead, we're the prodigal child welcomed home with a party, with a celebration.

Regardless of how we tell the story, we still stand on this side of Easter. I'm not sure it's healthy to try to go back pre-Easter. I'm not sure we ought to spend so much time lamenting the sins of which we're already forgiven. God wants to throw a party, and we're still fixated on the dirt that's already been washed away.

Needing something new

2011-03-04T11:05:00.000-08:00

Not really anything new to say. I just didn't want my ponderings on hell to remain the top post here for too long. I've got a couple thoughts brewing regarding Ash Wednesday and Lent, which I hope to post next week. But for now, too much other stuff calls. A wedding tomorrow, sabbatical planning to complete, finalizing Sunday's sermon, a Feast planning meeting in Colorado in 10 days, a wedding in April. . .too much to do.

Hell?

2011-03-01T12:27:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I did a Q&A sermon. One of the questions was about hell. I spent some time discussing the scant biblical evidence for the traditional view, and riffed a bit on some of the other alternative readings of the doctrine of hell (see: annihilationism, apocatastasis). Suddenly, the internet is alive with the biggest hell debate we've seen in generations. I had no idea I was so influential.

Oh, wait. It's not me. It's just my gift of timing. The true story is that Rob Bell's new book is about to come out, and rumor has it he's making the claim that in the end Love Wins and everybody is saved. The heresy hunters are coming unglued and unhinged. Rob Bell has finally left the camp, they're claiming, and joining the ranks of all those heretics who deny the 'biblical' understanding of hell as a place of eternal torment with flames and devils and burning sulpher.

Eugene Cho talks about it here.
Jesus Needs New PR tells us how to survive the book release here.
The NakedPastor offers up his opinion cartoon-style here.
Out of Ur gets into the discussion here.
And in perhaps my favorite piece on the subject, the Slacktivist deftly covers the issue front to back here.

Good timing, all of this, since I preached on it last week. And not everybody appreciated it.

One interesting observation here: Hell seems to be right up there with the divinity of Christ and the Virgin Birth as the most important Christian doctrines.

Which is sad, because, as I said in my sermon, the biblical basis for the traditional view of hell is sketchy at best. In fact, it's almost nonexistent. Nowhere is it found in the Hebrew scriptures. Nowhere is it found in the epistles of Paul. Hell as torment only shows up a few times in the gospels, and each time the context pushes us away from a literal reading. The Lake of Fire shows up in Revelation, but so do dragons and seas turning to blood and stars falling from the sky, and nobody takes those as literal descriptions.

To be clear: The Bible does teach there is judgment on sin, that there is a price both here and in eternity for rejecting Christ, for living lives of unrighteousness, for neglecting the poor and needy and homeless and alien and orphan and prisoner and widow and marginalized. And there is reward for choosing to live in Christ, for accepting his offer of salvation, for choosing to live justly and righteously.

The question comes down to the nature of hell (about which the Bible isn't clear), and the timing of hell. Is it eternal? Is it temporary? Or, to be more accurate, the timespan spent in hell by those who go there. Is hell a place of eternal torment for those who reject Christ, or a holding place that eventually releases its inhabitants? Do people in hell suffer torture for all eternity? Or are they consumed in the fire, annihilated?

Here's the truth: you can build a biblical case that hell is a place of ongoing, eternal torment. But you can also build a case that those who are judged as unrighteous truly die in every sense - they cease to exist. And, you can also build a case that in the end every person who has ever lived will spend eternity in the loving presence of God.

Which, by the way, is not the same as Universalism. That's a cheap shot that denies the intricacies of the theology at play. Universalism states that it doesn't matter what you do, everybody gets a free pass to heaven. Some do believe that, but it's not a biblical position. What people like Rob Bell, Brian McLaren, and my friend Randy Klassen are saying is that nobody gets a free pass into Heaven. All are saved in the atoning work of Jesus on the cross. It's just that some receive that salvation in this earthly life, while others finally own up to their sin, and receive God's grace, after suffering the torments of judgment (yes, it sort of sounds like Purgatory. . .but it's not).

(you know, even C.S. Lewis postulated that people could take the bus out of hell, if they would so choose).

The problem, to me, is that we're too invested in this Dante-an vision of hell, and can't really read the texts as they are. And we're too afraid of new ideas. Thus, whether it's Pastor Dan simply stating there are alternatives, or Rob Bell staking the claim that The Alternative is actually correct, people react instead of respond. Anger and rage come flying out, rather than healthy discussion. Accusations are made, rather than the robust work of theological debate.

And, truly finally. . .I'm not saying I agree with Rob Bell (how could I? I haven't read the book yet) or Brian McLaren (I stopped reading him before he got to his Hell book). I do, however, think there is a nugget of truth in this idea that our idea of hell is wrong. Mostly because, as Bell points out in the promo video, I think it both comes from, and paints, the wrong view of God. God IS love. God HAS wrath as a temporary response to sin. If hell is eternal, than wrath becomes an eternal quality of God. But that's not biblical. His anger is but for a moment, his love for a lifetime. His anger passes, his love endures. And if that be true, than hell cannot endure.

(Oh, and this - I know I left the exegesis off the table for this discussion. Some of the links above lead to some more theological discussions, but that wasn't really the purpose of this post today.)

Well, that was sad

2011-02-28T20:28:00.000-08:00

Saturday I took the family out to run some errands and get some dinner. One of our stops was at the Gig Harbor Borders, one of the 200 Borders set to close in the next month. I did get some great deals on a few books; it seemed a lot of other people were doing the same as the store was pretty crowded. But shelves were emptying and being stacked to the side, the Seattle's Best Coffee shop upstairs was already cleaned out and closed up. It all felt so forlorn.

I'm not a big fan of box stores, and try to shop the local, mom & pop place whenever possible. But there really isn't any place like Borders in Gig Harbor - place to check out some music, peruse a wide range of books, pick up some Christmas presents for the kids, and sit down with a cup of coffee for some quiet reading. So I'm sorry to see this one shut down. We have a wonderful used book store down in the harbor; I've bought a number of books from him. I hope the loss of Borders sends some business his way. But I felt a little sad walking out of Borders on Saturday, knowing we were losing an important asset and piece of our culture.

And I have the suspicion I'll be even sadder when a generic clothing store opens up in that space, selling stuff I'll never want to buy.

Just a couple quick dates

2011-02-25T11:38:00.000-08:00

Our brass quintet, the Signature Brass, has a couple of gigs lined up in the next few months:

On Saturday, April 9, the Gig Harbor Peninsula Symphony Orchestra is hosting its Spring Concert. The first half of the event will feature the symphony's clarinet choir, and the second half will feature the Signature Brass playing a variety of music from baroque to pops. The show will begin at 7:00 p.m., and be held at St. John's Episcopal Church in Gig Harbor.

On Sunday, May 22, the Signature Brass will make our feature debut - our first full-length concert. We are performing as part of the Haller Lake Music Series, at Haller Lake United Methodist Church in North Seattle. That show begins at 3:00 p.m.

Both shows are free, although donations are accepted.

What happened to theme songs?

2011-02-18T10:44:00.000-08:00

Quick: start humming the Indiana Jones theme song!

Or, the Star Wars theme song. Or the theme from Rocky. (duh duh dududduh dududuh dududuh).

Are you older than 40? Then start singing the theme from the Greatest American Hero ("Look at what's happened to me. . ." Can you hum the theme from the A-Team? I know I can still sing the MacGyver song. And then there's the classic theme from Cheers.

Too old for you? Maybe you can join in the chorus of the Friends song?

And yes, I know it got way too much airplay, but I'd bet most of you could start singing along with that Titanic song.

So where did they all go? Are there any movies or TV shows with sing-alongable theme songs? Theme songs that dig deeply into the American conscious? Can you sing the theme song from Avatar? How many people sit around at parties and start singing the theme song from Lost (you'd do better with the Land of the Lost)? It's not like you can really hum the theme tune to The Office. I suppose the theme to Dr. Who is pretty epic, but really, how many times does it pop into your head at random moments? Do you hear people "do-do-dodod"ing to the 30 Rock theme?

So what happened to transcendent, memorable theme songs? Are producers purposely choosing to avoid them? Or are today's composers and musicians just lame?

At least one important lesson to take from Egypt, et al

2011-02-17T10:15:00.000-08:00

Last week a woman in our church came up and asked "what's this 'postmodernism' I keep reading about?"

In some ways, Egypt and the continued chaos across the Middle East sheds some light on the question. And it teaches us all an important lesson about leadership. What you had in Egypt was a power clash between two distinct worldviews, aided and abetted by technology unforeseen a generation ago. Mubarak, like so many other leaders in the Middle East and around the world, ruled because he was the ruler. His authority was in his position. The world has a structure, with leaders (often divinely-designated) and followers. Kings/presidents/Prime Ministers/Despots/Juntas rule because, well, because they're the rulers. And the rules of civilization state that the rest of society will follow these rulers, because that's the way it is. Mubarak's claim to authority was mostly that he was the leader; therefore, everybody else should follow.

A new world is upon us, in which the playing field has been leveled. No longer are rulers divinely appointed, no longer does their position hold any authority. They can say whatever they want, but the power of the individual voice, magnified in the massive echo chamber that is the internet, holds equal sway. In fact, in Western Culture at least, the voice of the leader is suspect simply because he or she is the leader. The voice of the common person, tweeted for all to hear, is seen as the voice of reason. Experts and politicians and authorities are distrusted, they are held in contempt. Public Opinion as culled from Facebook and Twitter is much more trustworthy than anybody with a degree or experience.

Thus, the leader says "follow" and the masses get on their twitter feed and say "rise up in revolt." And the masses win.

Sometimes this is a wonderful thing. The story on Egypt (as well as the other Middle Eastern countries) remains to be written, but we may be seeing the dawn of a new age. We may see freedom and openness in societies known for secrecy and internal violence. We may see some form of democracy plant its feet in the deserts of that ancient land. Our 'enemies' may move closer to our own worldview. Some are already comparing this to the fall of the Iron Curtain 20-some years ago. These are historic days and, for Egypt, they may be very good days.

But there is a difficult lesson to be learned for those of us who are called to leadership in our lives/communities/churches/organizations. Too often the Church behaves like Mubarak. We in pastoral/priestly leadership carry a divine authority to speak truth and righteousness, to call people to a certain moral behavior, to challenge false belief and action. And for too long the justification for our pronouncements has been "because the Bible says so." Or "because God says so." Remember that lovely song in the 1970s - "God says it, I believe it, and that's good enough for me"? That's Mubarak-type thinking.

We say "same-gender sexual activity is a sin." Our kids ask "why?" And we say "because the Bible says so."

We say "abortion is a sin." Our kids ask "why?" And we say "because God says so."

We say "you need to tithe" and people in the pew ask "why?" And we respond, "because I said so."

And we think we're going to win the argument that way.

Unfortunately, our kids all go home and get on facebook and find 1000 other people who think "Church is lame" and "Christians are bigots and haters." And even if we've spent countless hours studying the scripture, seeking God's face, discussing theological trends and meditating on God's work in the world, the countless online choir chanting "church is for losers" will still win.

Authority and leadership based on "because I said so" no longer works, as Mubarak just found out. Authority based on "because the Bible says so" pretty much stands the same chance. Which is going to be a monumental difficulty for established, institutionalized churches to overcome.

The good news is this. We don't serve a God who said "I'm God because I said so." Our God isn't like Mubarak, resting in his position of authority. Ours isn't a God who rules because of an Office or a Role. Ours is a God who climbed out of that presidential office and got his hands dirty. Ours is a God who ruled by washing the feet of his followers. Ours is a God who proved his authority not by coalescing power, but by giving power away; God doesn't rule by making edicts and then waiting for everybody to obey. Our God rules by loving, even to making the ultimate sacrifice.

It seems to me that too many Christian leaders want to lead according to the autocratic, Mubarak-style of leadership. It also seems to me that, rather than being frightened by this new, postmodern, voice-of-the-masses, bottom-up leadership issue, we can find our answers still in the pages of Scripture, in the face of Jesus, who led by being a servant, and didn't care about the trappings of power. Jesus built up quite a following that way, and he certainly remained a leader in spite of his lack of a P.R. campaign.

To be certain, there is a dark side to all of this. Sometimes, as we just saw in Egypt, the voice of the masses can be a good thing. But all too often the masses are idiots. You can prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that mankind landed on the moon, and still have a large percentage of the population believing its a hoax. You can prove that continued burning of fossil fuels is bad for the environment and bad for our children, and still the masses will demand their over-sized pickup trucks and SUVs. You can give an award to a talented musician known for her dedication to her craft, and still have hundreds of thousands of 12-year-old girls rise up in a twitter frenzy calling for a Biebolution. And this is where it becomes difficult.

Again, Jesus didn't seem to worry about that. He spoke truth, he humbly lived out the truth, he challenged misguided thinking, but he didn't seem to need to prove his point beyond that. When others rejected his teachings, he let them walk away. When the masses abandoned him, he remained faithful to the task, trusting that God was working behind it all and would take care of the details. His only work was to spread the good news of the Kingdom of God.

And this is the leadership challenge to us all. Those who want to hold on to their authority, a la Mubarak, will eventually lose it. But those who give up their need for power and authority in exchange for the opportunity to love and serve others, will eventually find themselves leading, because the world is drawn to those kinds of people. In this postmodern world, the authentic voice of love and compassion will win over the authoritarian 'because-I-said-so' leader every time.

Worst Date Ever

2011-02-12T12:06:00.000-08:00

In honor of the upcoming Valentine's Day, Jonathon Acuff over at Stuff Christians Like tells the story of his worst date ever, and asks readers to respond with their own stories. I thought I'd get in on the action and tell a not-so-fun tale of my own romantic past.

I was at a Bible College where romance was mostly frowned upon. You had to get permission to go on a date. Fill out forms and promise to be good, stuff like that. So there wasn't a lot of dating going on in the first place. But my friend and I got to talking and realized I sort-of-liked this one girl, and he sort-of-liked her friend. Neither of us had the gumption to ask our lady-interest out alone, but a double-date seemed a good idea. More fun, less pressure, plus maybe the powers-that-be would see fit to give us permission, since it's probably harder to get into trouble in a group of four than when a man and woman find themselves alone together in a public restaurant.

We asked and - glory be! - they both said yes. We went to the dean and asked permission and - glory be! - he said yes. And so we had our first date with real college women, and cute ones, at that.

The big day came; we had arranged to meet them at the new pizza place in town. The time came, my friend and I were waiting, when we saw our dates outside, talking on the payphone. They seemed to be having an argument with somebody. Eventually they came in.

"Everything all right?" I asked.

"Fine," said my date. "It's just my mom's birthday today, and she's mad at me because I'm not staying home to celebrate." And things were off to a, ahem, great start.

Which lasted all of five minutes. Pleasantries were exchanged, pizza was ordered, and a cold gust of wind blew in as the front door opened. In walked two young men. Our dates responded with shrieks of delight. Turns out these two young men were former high-school classmates of our dates, and they hadn't seen each other in 5 months. So it was reunion time.

These two young men sat at the table right next to us. Our dates spent the entire evening talking with them, and basically ignoring my friend and me. They were all old friends talking about the old times, catching up on the latest smalltown gossip. My friend and I, so recently eagerly anticipating an evening of fun and romance. . .we were the proverbial third wheel. At one point our dates just left our table and joined their friends (although first they finished off the pizza my friend and I had paid for). And after a couple hours we all said goodbye and went home. No sweet nothings shared over pizza and root beer, not even a light-hearted conversation. In fact, no conversation at all. Just us sitting there listening to them all have a great time. And the pizza wasn't very good, either.

So there you go. The only date I ever went on in Bible College, and my worst date ever.

Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

Dan's trip to Chicago and back: the picture book!

2011-02-09T17:29:00.000-08:00

The plot may not be exciting, but the graphics are pretty spiffy!

Leaving Seattle on a Rainy Monday Morning

A Snowy Morning at the Hyatt

More Snow at the Hyatt

Lots of Snow at the Hyatt

But then the sun came out

Dinner With Pastor Jim

Worship with Pastor Jim

Coffee with Pastor Andrew

Leaving Chicago (5 hours late)

Morning View

St Paul, Minnesota

A Junk Yard in St. Cloud, Minnesota

Staples, Minnesota

Detroit Lakes, Minnesota

Fargo, North Dakota

Rugby, North Dakota

Minot. In Nightvision.

Waiting for Breakfast

Breakfast

Browning, Montana

Marias Pass. Continental Divide. Note the gray marker.

Apgar Mountain, Glacier N.P.

Whitefish, Montana

An old engine in Whitefish, Montana

Me looking grizzled in Whitefish, Montana

The end of The Gut, Libby, Montana

Snoqualmie Pass Rest Stop

Seattle

The BiPolar Express

2011-02-07T20:25:00.000-08:00

I love trains. I love riding trains. I also needed some time to myself, time to process and dream and relax and pray and sleep, so the idea of riding the train from Chicago to Seattle post-Midwinter was the perfect connection between those two.

And in many ways, it was everything I'd hoped for. I read a lot, I sat and watched endless North Dakota prairies roll by, I was amazed at the grandeur of Marias Pass and the Snow-covered Rocky Mountains. I watched a deer, startled by the train, swimming across the Kootenai River (I also saw a deer that wasn't so lucky, laying headless in a ditch beside the tracks). I saw bald eagles perched high in aspens, I watched the snow falling in Minot. I woke to a fog-shrouded Minneapolis and a ghost town in the Montana flatlands. I waved at ice-fisherman in Idaho. I read some more. I planned out my sermon schedule for the rest of the year. I did some journaling and praying. I slept on and off. I enjoyed a dinner conversation with two sisters heading to Wisconsin to see their mother, suffering from alzheimers. I sat and talked with a roofer who fell off a roof last summer, breaking both his feet. I watched young men racing snowmobiles beside the train. I turned my mind off and watched Minnesota slide by. I got out and walked around in Fargo and Whitefish. I arranged some music parts for our worship team. It was nice.

On the other hand. . .
- the train was five hours late leaving Chicago. Five hours spent in a stuffy, low, uncomfortable room, sitting on the floor waiting for the train to come. At least they gave us some crackers and bottled water.
- outside of Milwaukee, somebody discovered some boxes lining the tracks; boxes suspicious enough that they called the police, who called the FBI, who called Homeland Security, who called a bomb squad from Chicago. And so there we sat for 4 more hours. Apparently it was all a hoax.
- The train alcoholic sat in front of me. And his friend sat across from me. They were drunk before they got on the train. They sat and talked about the $200 they'd spent at the strip club before getting on the train. In great detail.
- The young man next to me hooked up with a young lady on the train, in the restroom. The porter caught them and almost kicked him off the train. Which led to a shouting match at midnight. The next morning I sat and listened to this fine young man talking to his girlfriend on the phone, telling her just how much he loved her and couldn't wait to see her. Except when he got off the phone he kept asking the guy in front of me where the girl from the previous night went, because he wanted to go see her again.
- A traveler from Switzerland connected with the alcoholic in front of me. They shared beer after beer. They were so drunk the porter told them they couldn't be together any more. So they sat in front of me and cussed about the porter. Did I mention they reeked of booze?
- Somebody next to me was sound asleep. And their alarm went off. They slept. For 20 minutes it went off.
- When we got to Minneapolis, we were 9 hours behind. By the time I woke up in Shelby, we were 12 hours behind. By the time we reached Whitefish, we were 16 hours behind. Needless to say, I missed the Super Bowl.
- Because the train was so late, they made us get off in Spokane, where we boarded buses for the rest of the trip. Thus, I missed my favorite part of the journey, the part I was most anticipating - the Cascade crossing. But they did give us Subway sandwiches.
- We made it to Seattle after 10:00 p.m.

Still, on the 2nd night I'd had enough, so upgraded to a sleeper car and left the alcoholics behind. And because we were so late, we crossed the Rockies in daylight, whereas usually it's done at night, in the dark. So the scenery was a blessing, and the sleeper car made all the difference - especially when they ran short on food, and only gave lunch to the sleeping car passengers.

It was a marvelous trip; it had no shortage of challenges. I may even do it again next year. I just may need to get a sleeper from the start. Truthfully, the Amtrak staff on board were marvelous, considering they were in the same predicament we were. They handled it well, and even most of the passengers took it in stride. Seriously, consider airplane passengers delayed 12 hours - they'd be freaking out. But everybody on the train took it as part of the adventure, laughing it off.

I'll post some pictures later.

So the fun is over. . .now the fun begins

2011-02-04T12:30:00.000-08:00

Midwinter 2011 is over. In my experience, it was one of the best I've attended. I'll probably post some highlights later. But now the next part of this journey commences. I decided a couple months ago to take the train home from Chicago - a 45 hour journey. Call it a mini-sabbatical, a personal retreat, a chance to think and process and do some long-range planning. . .and maybe just to sit and watch the country go by.

So here I sit at Chicago's Union Station, waiting to board the Empire Builder. . .and it's already delayed an hour. We're off to a great start!

Ow

2011-01-29T20:41:00.000-08:00

Ever had somebody drive an ice pick into your ankle and then twist it around a bit? Neither have I. Nevertheless, that's what my ankle felt like last night. What started as a bit of tightness became agony like I've never felt before. And for no reason that I could see. No injury, no swelling, no rash. Just burning pain.

To make matters worse, the longer it stayed still, the more it hurt. Getting up and walking around a bit lessened the pain. For awhile. Then it came crashing back. So that was last night. Fall asleep for 20 minutes, wake to intense pain, walk around a bit, go back to sleep for 30 minutes. . .and repeat.

I had it looked at today by a professional. He said it didn't fit the symptoms for gout or a blood clot, so he really couldn't say what it is. But he did take some blood for tests, and he did get me some mighty powerful medicines to get me through the next few days.

Oh, and after I iced it most of today, it actually feels a bit better. So maybe it was just one of those unexplainable things that passes with time.

However, if I start speaking in tongues during my sermon tomorrow, it'll probably be the drugs. And if you see me limping around Chicago this week. . .now you know. I was living my own little Misery.

Book Review: In the Name of Jesus

2011-01-27T17:29:00.000-08:00

Have you ever picked up a book and found it was exactly what you needed at that moment? That was my experience with Henri Nouwen's In the Name of Jesus.

Written originally as a lecture for the Center for Human Development, this small book contains Nouwen's thoughts on Christian Leadership in the 21st Century. He speaks to three temptations facing ministers, and offers three spiritual disciplines to disarm those temptations.

Nouwen begins by speaking the question many ministers face: "After twenty-five years of priesthood, I found myself praying poorly, living somewhat isolated from other people, and very much preoccupied with burning issues. Everyone was saying I was doing really well, but something inside was telling me that my success was putting my own soul in danger. I began to ask myself whether my lack of contemplative prayer, my loneliness, and my constantly changing involvement in what seemed most urgent were signs that the Spirit was gradually being suppressed."

Typical of Nouwen, much wisdom follows. His first 'temptation' is one that runs deeply in the church today: the temptation to relevance. To be important. To prove our worth with great wisdom and accomplishment. But, as he points out, "Many priests and ministers today increasingly perceive themselves as having very little impact. They are very busy, but they do not see much change. It seems that their efforts are fruitless. They face an ongoing decrease in church attendance and discover that psychologists, psychotherapists, marriage counselors, and doctors are often more trusted than they are. . .The secular world around us is saying in a loud voice, 'We can take care of ourselves. We do not need God, the church, or a priest. We are in control.'" The answer, according to Nouwen, is to give up our desire for worldly relevance and instead return our gaze to Christ. "The question is not: How many people take you seriously? How much are you going to accomplish? Can you show some results? But: Are you in love with Jesus? Perhaps another way of putting the question would be: Do you know the incarnate God?" He then calls the reader to consider the discipline of contemplative prayer, saying that future leaders of the church need not be experts or professionals in their field, but people who 'dwell in God's presence, [who] listen to God's voice, [who] look at God's beauty, [who] touch God's incarnate Word, [and who] taste fully God's infinite goodness."

The second temptation Nouwen explores is the temptation to popularity, the temptation to success. Speaking of his training for ministry, he writes, "I was made to feel like a man sent on a long, long hike with a huge backpack containing all the things necessary to help the people I would meet on the road. Questions had answers, problems had solutions, and pains had their medicines." The problem is, that sets the minister up as the healer who helps others, rather than a member of the community itself. "When you look at today's church, it is easy to see the prevalence of individualism among ministers and priests. Not too many of us have a vast repertoire of skills to be proud of, but most of us still feel that, if we have anything at all to show, it is something we have to do solo." The answer, according to Nouwen, is to remove ourselves from the pedestals and truly identify with our local community. "We cannot bring good news on our own. We are called to proclaim the Gospel together, in community." The spiritual discipline suggested by Nouwen is the act of confession and forgiveness. ". . .ministers and priests are also called to be full members of their communities, are accountable to them and need their affection and support, and are called to minister with their whole being, including their wounded selves."

Finally, Nouwen attacks the temptation of Power. Often leadership becomes "a desire to control complex situations, confused emotions, and anxious minds." Or, as he later writes, "power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life." The discipline suggested here by Nouwen is an intense theological reflection, bringing our all our lives and activities under the leadership of scripture. "Theological reflection is reflecting on the painful and joyful realities of every day with the mind of Jesus and thereby raising human consciousness to the knowledge of God's gentle guidance."

I've read quite a few books on Christian leadership (and leadership in general), and while In the Name of Jesus is one of the shortest, it is also one of the most profound. It may not ever be the most popular, since it doesn't speak to building large congregations or having great success in life, but it's probably important for that very reason. Too many ministers (this one included) are prone to judge our lives by the world's standards, and Nouwen here is calling us back to our first duty of loving God, loving others, and living our lives under the lordship of Christ.

Communal Response to a sermon on Matthew 4:12-23

2011-01-23T11:51:00.000-08:00

He Qi, The Calling of the First Disciples

The world is too tempting, and our desires for comfort and fame too powerful.
We turn from God and choose glory, we hoard our wealth and doubt God’s provision.
In fear we use others to our end;
in pride we insult and gossip and bicker.
Instead of building God’s Kingdom, all too often we are builders of our own little kingdoms, protecting the walls of our hearts and lives while ignoring the lost and lonely outside.

And so we repent, admitting our failures, our pride and doubt and fear.
With David we cry out “Have mercy on me, O God, and cleanse me from my sin.”
With the disciples, we hear the call of Christ to “follow me,” and we stand, turn, and follow.
We repent of our pride and pray for humble hearts;
we repent of our greed and pray for generous hearts;
we repent of our anger and pray for loving hearts;
we repent of our comfort, and pray for hearts willing to give it all away for the sake of Christ.
We repent, turn, and follow, knowing the new life God offers is better than the life we now live.

Book Review: Common Prayer

2011-01-19T12:18:00.000-08:00

Praying The Hours, or Set Prayers, is an ancient custom that Evangelicalism has been relearning in recent years. While The Church has incorporated communal common prayers since the time of Christ (following in the even more ancient practice of our Jewish roots), it is a practice mostly ignored in evangelical protestantism until the last decade. Thankfully, it seems to be making a comeback.

Many books are being written about the subject, like Arthur Paul Boers' The Rhythm of Grace, and Scot McKnight's Praying with the Church. In addition, many prayer books are being published to help people in their journey into this old way; books like Celtic Daily Prayer, the youth-oriented Book of Uncommon Prayer, and Phyllis Tickle's monumental Divine Hours. These join the more traditional communal prayer books published by churches and denominations, such as the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, the New Zealand Prayer Book, and the Presbyterian Book of Daily Worship.

One of the newest additions to this collection is Common Prayer, published in late 2010 by Zondervan and assembled by Shane Claiborne, Jonathon Wilson-Hartgrove, and Enuma Okoro. Common Prayer contains morning prayers for every day of the year, with an extra week added for use during Holy week. It has a shorter evening prayer for each night of the week, and a midday prayer for use throughout the year. In addition, it has a collection of Occasional Prayers for various situations; among them are a House Blessing, a Prayer for Adoption, Prayer for Healing, and a Prayer for the Death of Someone Killed in the Neighborhood. Finally, there is a short songbook at the back, a collection of music from a variety of traditions, including African spirituals, hymns, chants from the Taize tradition, and Mennonite worship gatherings.

Common Prayer is ultimately meant to be used in community, reflecting Claiborne's roots in the New Monasticism movement. It certainly can be used to guide one's personal prayer life, but most of the prayers are designed in a responsive manner. Some readers will be surprised at the political nature of the book. Claiborne is one who believes faith impacts the way we walk in the world, and is no private matter. To this end, Common Prayer is liberally sprinkled with stories of saints new and old who have impacted the world for Christ. Some are not so surprising - Brother Lawrence, Cyprian of Carthage, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer are all highlighted. Others might catch the reader off guard just a bit - Dorothy Day, Clarence Jordan, and Oskar Schindler.

Besides sharing the stories of individuals whose lives reflected Kingdom values, Common Prayer also highlights historical events both good and bad. October 10 remembers the Women in Black and their vigil against war in Serbia. October 16 remembers the Cuban Missile Crisis. August 21 remembers Nat Turner and a slave revolt in Virginia. March 21 retells the story of protest and violence in South Africa. February 25 remembers the Hebron Massacre and ongoing tensions in the Middle East. Each of these prompt us to consider Christ the peace-maker, and to continue to pray for God's Kingdom to reign on earth.

In addition, paragraphs appear throughout asking us to consider issues such as living our liturgy, practicing confession, and being thoughtful about creating sacred spaces. Also included are short teaching pieces on practices such as the Eucharist and church seasons. Each month concludes with a short list of suggestions for Becoming the Answer to our Prayers (the title of an earlier book by Claiborne and Wilson-Hartgrove).

In other words, there is a lot packed into this book. It takes prayer out of the context of 'personal religious practice' and sets in within the larger framework of the Kingdom of God on earth. It asks the user to dig deeper in prayer, but also to spread our arms wider around our fellow Christians and the world.

Of course, to fit all that in meant they created a rather large book. At almost 600 pages, this isn't an easy book to lug around in your backpack, or store in your church library. On the other hand, it's a well-crafted book whose cover, binding, and weight add to the substantial nature of the content. A few basic prints of woodcut art add to the beauty found inside. People used to the idea of common prayer might find this book a refreshing wind blown into their ancient tradition; those new to the idea will find it simple enough to engage and learn this meaningful practice.

In order to expand on their ideas, a website has been created with prayers for the day, .pdf files of the songs included in the book, and information regarding the contributors and their communities.

Special Thanks to Zondervan for providing a copy of Common Prayer for the purpose of this review.

At least the NBA gets one thing right

2011-01-17T12:52:00.000-08:00

I don't like the NBA. I've never enjoyed basketball as much as baseball or football. And since the travesty of the Supersonics' "relocation" to OkayCity, I've pretty much ignored it. But there is one thing the NBA gets right - the NBA finals always match up the best team from the east and the west. So even if your team doesn't get in, at least you have some regional affinity toward one of the teams. You can have some ownership, some reason to root for a team from your area to cream those thugs from the East Coast.

This year, even the BCS got lucky enough to match up teams from opposite sides of the country, and in an inverse way, it made rooting for one team over the other an easy pick. Oregon is a hated rival, and it gave all of us out here great satisfaction to see them go down to Auburn.

But look at the final four teams in the NFL playoffs. They all reside far up there on America's right shoulder, where all the dandruff from Canada falls down. Green Bay, Chicago, New York, Pennsylvania. . .that entire region probably makes up, what, 15% of the county? Sure, Green Bay-Chicago is a storied rivalry, but it means as much out here as an Oakland-San Francisco World Series means to people in Florida. I'm sure at ESPN studios in New York this seems like Christmas came again, with all the action right in their backyard. But there's a huge country out here that no longer has any ownership in any of these teams, and therefore no longer really cares.

In the CD player

2011-01-06T13:40:00.000-08:00

Two CDs I picked up last month that have been getting regular play at home and in the office:

This year's Christmas selection. I kept hearing Alison Krauss singing the Wexford Carol on the radio, and said to myself, "I didn't know Alison Krauss did a Christmas album. That's wonderful!" But it's not AK that did the Christmas album, it's Yo Yo Ma, who did a Christmas album with a lot of guest artists, AK included.

It's not really a Christmas album, per se, although it includes "The Wexford Carol," "Joy to the Word," "The Wassail Song," "Happy Christmas" and "Auld Lang Syne. It expands on the idea of Christmas and becomes a Celebration album, full of holiday songs and joyful songs from around the world. James Taylor sings "Here Comes the Sun," Amelia Zirin-Brown sings a soulful "This Little Light of Mine," Wu Tong and the Silk Road Ensemble perform "Kuai Le," and the Assad family perform "Familia."

Listening to this album feels akin to gathering with a group of musically talented friends, spending the evening sharing talents and stories from their traditions. Chris Botti's trumpet shines on "My Favorite Things" and "Auld Lang Syne." Diana Krall's lush vocals and smooth piano dance across "You Couldn't Be Cuter." The old master Dave Brubeck takes a turn on "Joy to the World." Chris Thile's mad mandolin skills fly around "Dona Nobis Pacem" and "Touch the Hand of Love" (in which he backs up Renee Fleming's glorious vocals. Alison Krauss mourns the previously mentioned "Wexford Carol." Jake Shimabukuro pulls his ukelele out for a spin on "Happy Xmas (Was is Over)." Joshua Redman graces us with "My One and Only Love." Natalie McMaster rips into a dance with "A Christmas Jig/Mouth of the Tobique Reel." And threading all these various pieces is the repeated refrain of "Dona Nobis Pacem," improvised upon time and again by the various artists.

This album goes in a lot of directions, from Spanish dance to Canadian reel to Christmas carol to experimental mandolin to smooth jazz to Americana to classical to gospel. It never settles into any genre or feel for very long, before somebody else picks up the pace and runs in a different direction. What does hold it together is the cello of Yo Yo Ma, and the passion of the friends he chose to partner with. At the end, once the instruments are put away and the voices grow quiet as they head into the night, one is left with the warmth of joyful celebration exhibited with such passion and talent. And you can't quite wait for it all to happen again, soon.

It's difficult to know how to describe Eric Whitacre's choral music. Except to say it's necessary. It's beautiful. It's ethereal, dreamlike. Ebullient and Ethereal. One can hear the angels singing. It hearkens back hundreds of years to Tallis and Taverner, and yet feels ahead of its time. Beginning with texts culled from classic literature, Whitacre paints tapestries of sound; tight, shimmering chords, blocks of sound carrying one after another, gentle melodies and complex harmonies. In many ways restful, peaceful, gentle, and yet profound and moving all the same.

Eric Whitacre is probably the closest thing there is to a choral superstar; choirs love his music, and I've even heard him a few times on Classic King FM, Seattle's classical music station. Some criticize this success (composers aren't supposed to be famous unless they're dead; otherwise they're 'too commercial' or they've 'sold out'); others who think choirs still ought to sound like Mitch Miller probably won't quite get Whitacre. But I've been enjoying him for a few months straight now, and am saving my pennies up to buy his latest CD.

If you're curious, here's a sample, and a wonderful example of the use of technology to create something worthwhile and beautiful.

Counterpoint: First sunset of 2011

2011-01-01T19:49:00.000-08:00

Leaving Edmonds. That's a blue heron sitting up there.

Across the Puget Sound, looking toward the Olympic Mountains

The sun shines for the last time on 2010

2010-12-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

It was a very nice day

2010-12-31T13:28:00.000-08:00

According to Douglas Adams, my age is now equivalent to the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

So it stands to be a good year.

And it got off to a nice start. Wrestling with the girls in bed is a good way to wake up. Then off to Marlene's Deli and lunch with my parents. And presents. The girls went off with grandma and grandpa, leaving Karina and me alone to play the rest of the day. So we did the most adult thing we could think of, and went to Seattle Center and watched the new Tron movie, in 3-D, at the Imax theater. Yes. Good decision. Good movie.

After the movie it was a stroll a couple blocks over to the Crow for dinner. I had the chicken wrapped in prosciutto. Karina had the fish. We sat at the chef's bar, a long bar facing the kitchen, and we enjoyed bantering with Steve and his crew all night. He even gave us a sample of the risotto. Heavenly.

About 7:45 Karina headed off to the ladies room, and I checked the current score of the Holiday Bowl, fully expecting to find UW behind by 3 touchdowns. Surprise. It was almost halftime, and they were up 10-7. So we paid out and hurried back to the car, stopped for some coffee on Capitol Hill, and then drove home, with the game on the radio. Seriously, this is the Huskies. They had to find a way to lose.

But no, a signature win, finalized just as we pulled into the driveway. What a way to end a birthday. Good times, all around. I am blessed in many ways.

Oh, and Susan - as to your presents, I'll cherish them, always. I think.

After all. . .

2010-12-24T15:58:00.000-08:00

A Poem for Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T11:04:00.000-08:00

Where is this stupendous stranger
Prophets, shepherds, kings, advise:
Lead me to my master's manger,
Show me where my Saviour lies.

O most mighty, O most holy,
Far beyond the seraph's thought!
Art thou then so mean and lowly
As unheeded angels taught?

O the magnitude of meekness,
Worth from worth immortal sprung!
O the strength of infant weakness,
If eternal is so young!

God all-bounteous, all creative,
Whom no ills from good dissuade,
Is incarnate - and a native
Of the very world he made.

Christopher Smart (1722-1771)

Book Review: What is God Really Like?

2010-12-17T13:27:00.000-08:00

"What is God Really Like?" is a collection of sermons preached by a long list of pastors for "One Prayer," which was, according to the book jacket, "a monthlong, multichurch campaign unifying churches around the world." Each sermon focuses in on a different aspect of God's character. They include:
- God is Here
- God is Certain
- God is Encouraging
- God is in Control
- God is Big
- God is Not Like Me
- God is Father
and a host of others (17 chapters in all).

On the whole, it is a powerful collection, and a good reminder to the reader to keep focusing back on God's character in the craziness of life. It is the immutable aspects of God that give us hope, courage, strength, and the ability to keep moving forward. And with 17 different sermons expounding on 17 different characteristics of God (well, there is some overlap), this book goes a long way to painting a fuller picture of the God we serve.

Equally helpful is the way each pastor explains the impact of God's character on our lives. It's not just a still portrait of a God from across the universe, it's a dynamic, interactive picture that invites the reader to form his or her own according life to God's purpose, to understand how God touches us, works in and through us, carries us through hard times and places us in amazing, wondrous places and situations. Pieces of this book sing in adoration of a God 'who so wondrously reigneth;' others dig into the tough places and explore God's presence in the midst of pain.

As a collection of sermons, it reads much like a devotional; each chapter stands on its own, so it makes for a good book to have lying around for spare moments. And as a collection, it has some variety; each preacher has his own style, his own method, his own way of painting this picture. Which means not every sermon will speak to the reader in the same way; truthfully, some I didn't really care for. But overall, there's something in here for just about everybody.

However, the book does have a few weaknesses. Not every sermon in here would fit in the 'outstanding' category. If this were preaching class, some of these sermons would be fortunate to get a 'C.' And, even with a large variety of pastors, they all still come from the same general sermon mode. No exposition here, no strong textual work; these sermons are more in the 'Encouraging Talk' mode. Not that those sermons are inappropriate; just that the reader needs to recognize going in that this book represents one particular method of sermonizing, eschewing the rest.

In addition, the book has a strong regional flair. Two of the preachers are from Los Angeles, one is from Hawaii, and all the rest are based in the southeast United States. Lots of Texas, Oklahoma, Georgia, South Carolina, Florida. . .in other words, lots of Bible Belt. And while some may say 'preaching is preaching,' the truth is the Church is a different animal up here in the Pacific Northwest than it is in the Bible Belt. The Church in the northeast is different from the Church in Texas. It would have been nice to see broader representation from across the U.S.; in fact, since the book touts itself as part of a "worldwide" campaign, I would have liked to read preachers from Mexico or Canada or Thailand or Germany or India.

Perhaps as part of the regional flair, the book comes from a fairly narrow slice of Evangelicalism. Lots of Baptist and non-denominational, but lacking in a broader picture of the church. It would have been nice to see a Presbyterian or Episcopalian or Mennonite - something to prove that the Church is larger than conservative Evangelicalism.

And one more. Every preacher in this book is male. If you really want to claim to represent the Church as a whole, you ought to include some voices from our sisters, as well. Craig Groeschel, the book's general editor, serves in a denomination that ordains women and is home to many excellent female preachers. He wouldn't have had to look very far to find even one or two.

You might think I'm nitpicking, but some of that comes from the claim made on the book's back cover, that these are "Reflections from the Best and the Brightest." (I know, that's probably put there by some P.R. rep trying to sell more books, but still, there it is). Even while ignoring the hubris of that statement, one would still have to believe that all the best and brightest preachers are a)male, and b)living in the Bible Belt. And I just can't accept that as true.

In the end, however, the positives of this book outweigh any negatives. I'd gladly recommend this to anyone in my church, or anyone else who is trying to understand our God better. It's a nice choir of voices saying "Here is Your God."

Note: Thanks to Zondervan for providing me a free copy for the purpose of this review.

Has Christmas Changed That Much?

2010-12-15T12:35:00.000-08:00

Lesser-known carols you should probably know.

2010-12-11T12:58:00.000-08:00

In case you're sick of Jingle Bells by now.

A quote worth pondering

2010-12-09T14:48:00.000-08:00

From Fred Clark:

Whatever path you're on, God will meet you there. How you respond in that encounter matters far, far more than whatever path you happen to be on, or where you thought you were going, or whether or not the catechists think you have the correct answers to all the wrong questions.

Book Review: The Skin Map

2010-12-07T14:00:00.000-08:00

The Skin Map Book Trailer from Magnus Creative on Vimeo.

I'm a big fan of Stephen Lawhead. If you read this blog regularly, you know he's one of the few 'Christian Fiction' authors I enjoy. I've read most, if not all, of his novels, and recommend him regularly over other, lower-quality Christian authors.

This time, not so much. Lawhead's newest release, The Skin Map, was disappointing. It's the story of a young man swept into an alternate universe, and the girlfriend he (literally) loses along the way. It's also the story of an ancient map, and heroes and villains out to find that map and the secrets it holds. It reads like time travel, since each universe is at a different point in history as the characters jump to and through them. We spend time in merry old England, an 18th-century Chinese port, and ancient Egypt. The primary characters are very much children of the 21st Century, but those they interact with include Bohemian royalty, salt-of-the-earth serving wenches, lords and ladies and footmen, priests and bakers and gentry.

And yet, it felt a little stifled. Colorless. More like random jumping from point-to-point than the grand, sweeping epics that Lawhead is known for. Many of the characters show great promise, yet come across as lifeless. Sometimes he paints vivid pictures of a particular scene, but create minimal action to fill that scene. And if there's one piece of fiction writing that irritates me, it's the over-use of exalted descriptives like "She was easily the most beautiful women in the world" and "It was the most beautiful scenery he'd ever laid eyes on" and "He was the most frightening-looking man in the world" (note: those are not exact quotes from the book, but there are enough of them in there). Because, really? How do you know she's the most beautiful woman in the world? And by whose standards? Far be it from me to criticize a master like Lawhead, but this is the sort of freshman-level writing employed by people who don't know how to write vivid descriptions, which Lawhead has already proven he knows very well how to do.

Of course, it was in many ways just the book I needed right about now - a mindless adventure roaming across the centuries and continents. It did require a modicum of brainpower to follow the various subplots, not to mention understanding the physics behind the plot of ley lines and travel between multiple universes. Yet it spritely moved along from scene to scene, with just enough intrigue and action to keep the pages turning. There's enough here that I look forward to the next book in the series. In the end, though, I hope Lawhead isn't simply going through the motions now that he's an established writer. He's built up quite a reputation and fan following, and The Skin Map just doesn't live up to the standards he's already set.

The problem with pain

2010-12-02T10:53:00.000-08:00

and grief in our society is that we don't seem to know how to handle them well. I've been learning a lot about wounding, grief, and pain lately, and I've noticed a tendency to fall off the map in two different ways:

First, we become cynical. Angry. We give in to the hurt, seeking validation for our pain. I suppose this fits in well with Kubler-Ross's Anger stage. We have been hurt, we face grief, and we get angry. It's normal, it's natural, and it can be productive in the right time and place. But sometimes I think the world is full of people who've been hurt and never moved on from this stage. I meet so many angry people, people holding grudges, suspicious people who take offense at any perceived slight (have you noticed they all tend to come out at Christmas-time, those cynical, perpetually-offended folks who take every opportunity to downplay the joy and happiness of others?). It's so easy to dwell in the pain, to feel self-righteous in the pain, to cherish the pain, to wallow in the pain. Some of us are professionals when it comes to righteous anger.

On the other hand, the second area in which we fail is to deny the pain. At least, to pretend it doesn't matter. We're good at fooling ourselves this way; we're often prodded in this direction by well-meaning friends. "It's not that bad. . .you just have to get over it" is the repeated refrain. So what that somebody lied about you? So what that somebody is gossiping about you? So what that a trusted friend betrayed you? Just get over it! (note to readers: this isn't exactly autobiographical, so don't start trying to read more into this than is here. I'm not speaking of any person in particular, just situations common to us all) We often tell ourselves "It's wrong to remain broken; I need to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep moving as if nothing happened!" Others tell us "you just need to forgive and forget." But that's denial. You would never tell a friend with a broken arm "just get over it." So, too, we can't "just get over" a place that's wounded in our soul.

The real challenge is to maintain hope even while owning the pain. Either of the above two picks up on one of those pieces but misses the other. We claim to 'hold out hope' by denying the power of the wound, or we hold on to the wound but miss out on the possibility of redemption and healing. The lesson I'm being taught these days is the necessity of naming the pain, of accepting the wound, of choosing reality over denial (yes, life hurts sometimes) even while holding out hope that God is in control, God brings healing, God is our defender, God will make something beautiful our of our brokenness. All of which allows us to live with peace and joy even while nursing a broken spirit. It allows us to look deeply into the pain and mourn the loss, to grieve and lament the hurt, but it doesn't allow it to defeat us. Instead it reminds us that God is a friend who sits with us in our pain but also carries the pain for us; it also allows us to lift our eyes and see that, even in the valley of the shadow of death, we don't need to be afraid. The day is coming when we will feel the anointing of holy oil upon us, when our cups will overflow again, when we will dine at the table he has prepared for us.

Truthfully, it's not easy. It's hard soul work, something we're not naturally inclined to do. But it's a sweeter road to walk, this walking in the light, this naming the pain even while holding out hope for a better tomorrow. It's a lesson I gladly accept from the Lord's hand.

I'm Dreaming of a White. . .Thanksgiving?

2010-11-22T15:24:00.000-08:00

Snow started falling last night, and continued on into the morning. Not enough that school was delayed, but enough to create a winter wonderland out here in the woods.

So off the kids went to school, and off I went with my mother-in-law to do some shopping.

That's when it really started to come down. I stopped in the Harbor, looking for a magazine, and almost couldn't make it back up the hill to the freeway. Picked up mom-in-law at Fred Meyer and left for Target. Quickly it became obvious that going straight home would be the better choice. Cars littered both sides of the freeway. I could feel our tires slipping underneath us. The other side of the freeway was completely blocked by 2 big rigs unable to climb the hill out of Purdy.

We made it home, but not without some drama going up our driveway. Which proved impossible, so we went around and tried going down the other way. Creating even more drama as we slipped and slided every closer to the ditch.

And now the snow continues to fall, the temperature continues to drop, apple cider is warming in the crock pot, a fire crackles in the wood stove, supplies are laid in should the winds knock out the power tonight, the kids are outside sledding, Christmas music is playing, and Karina's in the air toward the U.S.

I believe I have much for which to be thankful.

It's all my fault

2010-11-18T21:15:00.000-08:00

On Monday I was praying with a small group of pastors. We were using the Lord's Prayer as a framework for our prayer time. We were in the "Hallowed Be Your Name" section.

I was bemoaning the way our world has cheapened our understanding of God, of the loss of awe and wonder, of the abundance of "bumper-sticker God" and "Jesus nightlight God" and "plastic trinket God" and "T-shirt slogan God." And mourning the loss of the Isaiah 6, Holy Holy Holy God.

And so I prayed, "God, we need to see your power again. We need you to show up and remind us of your majesty and might. Holy Spirit, come and reveal your power to us."

And at that very moment the entire building shook as a deep rumble echoed across the water.

Yes, it was a little disconcerting. A few moments of nervous laughter. . .and I said "okay, I'm just going to shut up and let you do your thing."

And in roared a storm that socked the entire Puget Sound region, hours and hours of gale-force winds and lashing rain. All completely unexpected, unpredicted by the weather forecasters. We turned off our lights and watched the lightning show for the next hour. Then all the power went out, so we were forced to stay in the dark until the next morning.

By daylight, the destruction was pretty severe. Trees toppled, boathouses destroyed, cars smashed, branches everywhere. I heard today some people are still without power. And nobody saw it coming.

So there you go. God pummeled the entire northwest just to prove my point. And the lesson seems to be:

- Be careful what you pray for
- God listens to Dan
- We should have gotten to the "Give us this day our daily bread" part sooner. I might be driving a Porsche right about now.

Part of my childhood died today

2010-11-10T23:37:00.000-08:00

Seven or eight years ago I was driving north from Fresno, headed up the 99 toward Turlock following a day at seminary. It was dark; the sun had long set, and I was scanning around the AM radio dial, wondering what I could pick up.

A baseball game came on, clear as day. For a few seconds I assumed it was out of the Bay Area, or maybe Fresno's minor league broadcast, it was that clear. But it slowly dawned on me that I knew the voice, I recognized the players. It was a broadcast of the Seattle Mariners, bouncing down my way across the atmosphere. It was the voice of Dave Niehaus. And suddenly, I was home.

I was that kid, going to M's games with my dad, brother, and sister, back in the days when you could park 1/2 a block from the Kingdome, when maybe 8,000 people showed up for the game, when it was fun, win or lose. A ship in the corner climbed out of its hole and fired a cannon shot with every home run. The floor would be littered with peanut shells and popcorn seeds. No-names ran the bases (well, they were big names to us, just not in the bigger picture of major league baseball).

But more often than not, we had the games on in the background at home. Dave Neihaus' voice filled our home, filled our summer nights. I just took him for granted, assuming he'd always been there.

During the eight years I spent in L.A., I only paid attention to the Mariners when they were down playing the Angels, or if they made it on TV (which they did during that amazing '95 season). But when we moved to Portland I found, to my delight, that they broadcast the M's games there. Many a summer day I was outside, working in the yard, and had Dave's voice to keep me company, to connect me to home.

Then there were those nights in Turlock. Once I discovered I could get the games, I listened every chance I got. Even there, in California, I could follow my beloved Mariners as if I were right there in Seattle.

Since moving back to the Puget Sound, I'm sure I've listened to 75% of the games each season (much to Karina's consternation, mind you). We don't have TV, so I turn the games on when I'm working around the house, or chopping firewood. Or driving home from Seattle. Or driving to the YMCA. Or anyplace else I'm near a radio. I can't tell you the times the girls have whined "Do we have to listen to baseball?" But of course we do. It's Dave. It's art. It's opera. Even as low as the M's have sunk in recent years, it was just comforting to have Dave's steady description of the game.

Last year somebody gave me a bottle opener. When you open a bottle it makes an electrical connection and plays one of Dave's famous calls, the Brett Boone "Grand Salami Time!" Olivia was playing it earlier today, over and over and over again. Then, tonight, Gene told me he'd heard Dave had passed away.

Truly, summer will be poorer without him. Baseball will be blander. The Mariners will simply stink (again). He was a connection to my past, to my family's past, to a Seattle that doesn't really exist anymore. To an innocent time when simply showing up to play was all that mattered. Wherever I went, it seemed Dave's voice brought me home again. I never met the man, but feel like I've lost a close friend. I suppose a lot of people are feeling the same way tonight.

Prayer for All Saints Sunday

2010-11-09T10:46:00.000-08:00

Prayed at Lakebay Community Church 11/7/10

Almighty and compassionate God,
in Christ you have known the sorrow of our days.
Our losses are your losses, our pains are your pains.
Our grief is your grief.
In faith we believe that you know our tears,
that you hear our crying, that you know the
darkness stalking our dreams.
You who have known death, rejection,
pain and misery watch over us day by day.
Offer your comfort, O Lord, to those living
in the land of darkness. As you guided those who
have gone before us into your blessed home, guide
us through this dark and mysterious land.
Remember in your mercy those who have left us,
lead us into your Kingdom and grant us your peace.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

One of the things I like

2010-11-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

is making my girls happy.

Like today, when Clara came to me and said, "Daddy, I hope you never have to become a Viking and kill people." To which I replied, "Okay then, I'll never become a Viking."

And she said "Good" and walked away with a smile.

Sometimes parenting is pretty easy.

Mary did you know - and when did you know it?

2010-11-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

John 2. Jesus heads off with his mom to a wedding. His disciples are there with him. But the wedding planner hadn't planned very well. Long before the party is over, the wine runs out - a disaster with immense social ramifications.

But Mary has an ace up her sleeve. She's got Jesus there. "They're out of wine, Jesus," she tells him. He pushes back. "Why me? It's not my time yet." Mary isn't one to back down, however. In fact, she ignores her son's question. Turning to the servants, she tells them to "do whatever he tells you to do."

You know how the story ends. Jesus has them fill up some empty stone jugs with water; when they draw the water back out, it has been transformed into wine of the finest vintage. The day is saved, and Jesus has officially performed his first miracle.

The thing is, every time I've heard this story told, from childhood Sunday school classes on up to adult lessons and sermons, it's related with the assumption that Mary was pressuring Jesus into performing a miracle. She knew his mad miracle skills, so decided to use him in order to fix this situation. In essence, she's asking him to do something miraculous, he says he'd rather not do any miracle, but being a good mother, she pushes him into doing one anyway.

But what if that's telling the story wrong? After all, there's nothing in her initial request that implies an expectation of anything miraculous. It seems more like a mother simply saying "there's a problem, Jesus. Fix it."

By this time, Jesus had ascended to the rank of rabbi - he obviously was an intelligent man. And he had a group of disciples; he obviously had leadership skills. Regardless of his divinity, he was a man who could make decisions and deal with difficult situations.

So what if Mary herself wasn't expecting a miracle? What if she was simply proud of her intelligent son with good leadership and problem-solving skills. What if she really expected Jesus to say "Hey Peter and Andrew - they're out of wine. Could you run over to Safeway and pick up a couple of those Gallo boxes? Maybe a '95; that was a pretty good wine. Oh, and take Judas - he has the credit card."

If you read the story without making assumptions based on the end, doesn't it make more sense that Mary's request isn't for a miracle, but simply a desire for Jesus to take charge in the situation? To figure out a (human) solution? And thereby, maybe to receive a little glory in light of her wonderful son?

I think so. In fact, I think it better fits the reading of the entire gospel of John. There's a theme running through this book of Jesus showing up in unexpected ways. Of Jesus surprising people. Of Jesus baiting the hook, and then pulling people in. From the opening salvo of Jesus coming and setting up camp among us, to the woman at the well, to Nicodemus, to the sick man at the pool. . .time and again, people mistake him for a 'wise man' or 'good teacher,' and then, when least expected, he lets his divinity shine through.

Maybe there's just a little bit of humor in this story of the wedding banquet. It might be reading a bit too much into it, but imagine Mary asking Jesus to 'fix it' - she's thinking he'll use his management skills - and Jesus thinking to himself, 'You want me to fix it? I'll fix it alright, and won't you be surprised. . ."

By the way, Ben Witherington has made a pretty strong case that the gospel of John was written by none other than Lazarus. And wouldn't this have been the very lesson Lazarus learned? Jesus was a family friend, a man with whom he and his sisters had shared meals. But then one day Lazarus had the entirely shocking experience of being raised from the dead by this Jesus. I suppose that was just a little surprising, but an instant revelation into the true nature of Jesus.

And what a good lesson for all of us. How often do we look to Jesus to manage our situation, how often do we treat Jesus just like a teacher or parent or our extra-capable child, the one we expect to deal with our little problems. But Jesus' true desire is to let his divinity shine through, to surprise us with little miracles here and there - if only we have eyes to see it. Maybe we need to go back and read this story with fresh eyes, to see Mary's utter shock when, instead of managing the situation, her son does the unexpected - he creates a miracle before her very eyes. Feel her surprise, sense the dawning realization in her heart that there's a lot more going on here than she thought. Watch the awe and wonder bubble up in her heart.

And let it teach us something new about this man. Perhaps we ought not take him for granted so much.

In case you missed it

2010-10-31T21:07:00.000-07:00

Karina's blogging from India. She's got some pictures up from her first few days.

Practice What You Preach

2010-10-26T12:38:00.000-07:00

Sunday's sermon was on hospitality. We spent some time in Matthew 25 - the judgment passage, wherein the nations are divided into sheep and goats based on how they treated their fellow man. "I was hungry, and you fed me; thirsty, and you gave me something to drink; I was in prison and you visited me; I was a stranger and you invited me in" and so on.

(Side note: is it sacrilegious that I think the Keith Green version is better than the original?)

Hospitality, as defined in the sermon, is simply creating a space into which broken people can enter and find healing; a place wherein lost people can come home, lonely people can find friendship, people hungry and thirsty can find their souls (and stomachs) filled. It is an invitation to share a moment and space together. Hospitality can be inviting someone over for dinner; it can also be sitting with a person at the bus stop and giving a piece of your life to them. And this is our calling: as Christ has invited us to join him in friendship, as the Lord creates green pastures in which he invites us to lie down, as God has become our safe harbor in the storm, so are we called to create safe, warm, inviting, comfortable spaces into which others can come and receive healing and solace in their weary lives.

That was the gyst of it anyway.

And then we finished; the kids headed downstairs for Sunday School, the adults adjourned to the fellowship hall for cake and cheese and coffee and a discussion about creating inviting, comfortable spaces.

An hour later, Mike walked in. We didn't see him at first, but Duncan happened to be walking through the foyer and saw draped over the couch there. It was obvious Mike wasn't doing well. Incoherant would be a good word. He was looking for his grandmother, Delores, or his aunt or sister. But he didn't know their names. They supposedly taught Sunday School at our church, but none of us knew them. He didn't know his phone number. He was pretty wet and disheveled. And as much as we tried to figure out who he belonged to, he couldn't really tell us. But still, we sat with him for a bit. He didn't smell like he'd been drinking, which is (unfortunately) always the first suspicion out here on the KP. So we assumed it was medical, and wouldn't you know it. . .Sean was still around. Sean who works with the fire department, who's used to situations like this. So he came and joined the conversation. About the time Mike mentioned he's diabetic, and hadn't taken his medication in 4 days, we decided it was time to call the paramedics.

Eventually he decided he didn't like all the attention, so he wandered to the cemetary next door. I followed him up there, where he lay down and began weeping next to his dad's grave. And he showed me his grandmother's grave (the same grandmother he'd come to the church hoping to find. . .). And there he lay, sobbing in the wet grass under a steady drizzle. And there I sat with him until the medic units showed up. Thankfully, the knew Mike. He's a regular, you might say. They got him into the ambulance and took care of him. Many of our children had come out to see the fire truck, and they prayed for Mike as he was loaded in.

"I was a stranger, and you invited me in." Maybe today, Jesus might add "I was messed up, and you got me medical help." Or "I was incoherant and raving and soaking wet, and you let me sit on your couch and showed me love." All I know is, the message of the sermon was put to the test, and it was an honor for me to see some good people live it out, just because that's who they are.

Well, what the hey. If you've still got 8 minutes, here's Keith.

Get in the Bunker, Honey

2010-10-23T17:09:00.000-07:00

Texas in the World Series? Oregon ranked #1 in the country?

Surely the apocalypse is upon us.

My Dear John letter

2010-10-19T16:10:00.000-07:00

Sorry, but it's time to say goodbye.

I'd let you down easy by saying "It's not you, it's just me," but that would be a lie. It is you.

The thing that bugged me most was your two-faced nature. We'd be in town and you'd behave just fine; but we'd head home and you'd go quiet. There was no communication. No connection, as they say. You'd sit there, keeping to yourself, of no use to me. I'd want to talk, to find out what was going on, but you cut yourself off. And I can't live with that.

I know, it wasn't really your fault. It's more the way you're wired. It's not as if you didn't try. I saw you attempting to reach out from time to time, searching for some sort of signal, some sort of connection. But you just didn't have it in you.

I wish I was more patient, but in the end, I think I deserve better. I need more than you can give. So thanks for the memories, T-Mobile. You made for some good times, you gave me some good memories. But I'm going off with a new cell phone now, one that actually has some connections out here on the Key Peninsula. Let me know if you ever grow up; maybe we can be friends someday in the future.

Sincerely,
a not-quite-satisfied customer

We have seen the enemy, and the enemy is. . .California

2010-10-18T12:15:00.000-07:00

From the State of Washington Voter's Pamphlet:

Initiative 1053: . . .but at least we are doing better than other states. The two-thirds majority is a disaster in California, creating gridlock and making it impossible to balance their budget. . .California is a mess because of the two-thirds requirement. . .The two-thirds requirement is causing havoc in California.

Initiative 1100: Under this scheme hard liquor outlets will explode from 315 to 3,300, three times more per person than California.

Initiative 1105: I-1105 allows hard liquor stores to explode from 315 to more than 3,300; three times more per person than California.

I remember a number of times during the years I lived in Oregon where this tactic was used. Pick the issue; the only argument against needed to be "Well that's how they do it in California" and the conversation stopped. Somehow California became the official bogeyman against which all northwest ideas are measured. And the mantra becomes "whatever they do, we need to do the opposite."

I'm not making any political recommendations on the above initiatives, so don't read anything into this. I just hope we don't go down that road of measuring our ideas not by their own merit, but instead by "at least we're not like California."

Quick Update

2010-10-13T17:09:00.000-07:00

I had my second eye-cutting-up yesterday morning. If you're following the story, the graft from the transplant I had 2 years ago settled a little off-kilter, so a few months ago the Dr. carved it up, hoping it would flatten itself out. But that didn't work, so he wanted to try it a second time before attempting anything more drastic.

Thankfully, this time around was a lot less painful. It took all of 5 minutes, where last time took half-an-hour. There was some pain, but I was able to take some Advil and sleep most of it off. Today it feels a little raw, but much better.

The doctor was hopeful this time around will do the trick. If so, 4 more weeks and I get set up with contacts and can see again. If not, we go back in for surgery, probably after the first of the year. You can guess which way I'm praying.

It was nice to have a day off today, though. Pretty much resting, but watching the rescue in Chile, too. It's like Christmas over and over again. This world needed some good news.

It's this guy's day today

2010-10-09T17:03:00.000-07:00

Kirk pointed out on Facebook that today is Leif Eriksson Day. Which gives me an excuse to share this picture of Leif, taken by Karina, during our stay in Iceland last spring.

We're in the news again? Why am I scared?

2010-10-08T16:12:00.000-07:00

No, I don't mean our church. I mean Lakebay, the area where I live. It's gotten to the point that every time I hear that we're in the press, I automatically assume it's not good.

A couple years ago we made the Seattle news when the local food bank was robbed. I even got some airtime on a news broadcast on that one.

Then there was the time our local fire commissioner beat another fire commissioner over the head with a coffee mug. That one made news all over the country.

Last month we had the infamous vandalism case at the Longbranch Improvement Club and the Longbranch Community Church.

And now it's all about the "Wild-West-Style shootout" following a botched home invasion robbery last night. We've got all the big-time news crews over here now. Seattle must think we're really uncivilized.

If you look at this article in the Seattle Times, the bright red dot on the google map is actually sitting on top of my house. Which wasn't the crime scene, so don't worry about us.

For the record, I think Lakebay is a wonderful place to live. It's got its share of cranks and ne-er-do-wells, but it certainly deserves some better press for the sense of community, for the beauty of the area, for the local events and the people who work together to make this a fine place to live.

It's not a war zone out here, really. It just plays one on television.

You know what's not fun?

2010-10-01T12:00:00.000-07:00

Opening up the local paper and finding a letter to the editor attacking your friends, your church, and you. Accusations that publicly excoriate you and those you love. Being on the receiving end of self-righteous condemnation, being held up as a misfit pastor and heretic. Having to sit back while another's anger and fear cause him to lash out and warn the community of a danger in their midst.

I get it, really. Whenever you take a stand, you open yourself up for criticism. It's the price we pay for leadership, for attempting to speak to the public good. Having been around fundamentalists for a large portion of my life, I also understand their need for 'defending the faith' against any and all who appear 'weak on the fundamentals.' Still, there's nothing like having somebody misunderstand your point, misread your intention, assume all sorts of untrue things, and then put it all in print for the world to see.

If only this gentleman would have called and asked to talk it over. If only he had spent a few minutes on our website. If only he had asked around, to find out what we really teach and believe. But, no. "Fight or Flight" kicked in, and the "fight" option was chosen. And that's sad, really.

The toughest shots to take are always the ones from inside one's own camp.

Still, the Lord is our defender, and ours is the high road to take.

Awake, and rise to my defense! Contend for me, my God and my Lord. Vindicate me in your righteousness, Lord my God; do not let them gloat over me. - Psalm 35

Quote: Thom Rainer

2010-09-30T14:02:00.000-07:00

". . .in our research of over four thousand churches across America, we have seen clearly that many congregations are abandoning the biblical model of pastoral ministry. Instead of allowing pastors the necessary time and encouragement to spend time in prayer and the ministry of the Word (Acts 6:4), congregations are demanding time and energy from pastors for tasks that have no biblical foundation.

Like the leaders of the Jerusalem church in Acts 6:1-7, if pastors have to meet all the perceived needs and demands of church members, they will have little time to give to their primary call of preaching and the ministry of the Word."

- In Surprising Insights

Entertainment for a good cause

2010-09-28T10:15:00.000-07:00

The Gig Harbor Peninsula Symphony Orchestra is hosting a screening of Mr. Holland's Opus at the Galaxy Theater next Tuesday, October 5, beginning at 6:30 p.m. Tickets are $10, with all proceeds benefiting the orchestra.

As a bonus, two groups will be performing live music prior to the movie. The clarinet quintet will be performing in the theater itself, while the brass quintet (that's me!) will be performing in the theater lobby. Both groups plan to start playing around 6:00 p.m., although the brass group is hoping to kick things off a little earlier, if the tuba player can make it from Puyallup on time.

We'd love you have you join in the fundraiser, but honestly, if you just want to hear some fun brass music, come on by from 5:45-6:30 and hang out in the lobby. I think you'll be impressed.

Said the wise older pastor to me

2010-09-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

"If a cow takes a dump out in the back forty, you can pretty much ignore it until it dries up. But if it takes a dump on your front porch and everybody's tracking it through the house, then you've got to deal with it now, messy and smelly though it may be."

And said another,

"Never wrestle with a pig in the mud. You'll both get muddy, and the pig always loves it."

Degree vs. Category

2010-09-22T17:11:00.000-07:00

Leftover thoughts from our Islam and Christianity seminar on Sept. 12.

While the seminar was positive and constructive, there were a few moments when tension and anxiety filled the room. At least two who attended weren't pleased with the overall message of reconciliation, hospitality, love and understanding. And one question that wouldn't seem to go away: "Do Muslims worship a different God than Christians?" Andy wouldn't quite go there; one woman who is a leader in the local interfaith movement seemed to balk at the idea that anybody would try to elevate one religion above another; and one or two seemed offended that Andy wouldn't categorically denounce Islam as a false religion, and Muslims destined for hell.

But it's got me thinking, this question of whether or not Christians and Muslims (or anybody else, for that matter) worship different Gods. The traditional answer is "of course." Behind that answer is the often unspoken assumption that, while we say we worship different Gods, the reality is that we worship the one true God, and they worship a false idea of a false god.

In other words, it's an issue of category. 'Our' God is over here in this category of 'true,' and 'their' god is over there in the category of 'false.' We worship a real God, they worship a thing that doesn't exist except in their minds.

I wonder, though, if we're looking at it wrong. That it's not an issue of category (real vs. false, true vs. fake), but an issue of degree. That we're all in some sense worshiping the same God, it's just that some are closer, and have a clearer understanding of God, while others are further away, and have only a hint of God - but worship God as much as that hint allows.

Christianity teaches that there is one God, and that the clearest representation of God is known to us in Jesus Christ. Jesus himself taught that the only true way to come to God was in following him. Our worship of God comes from the knowledge that God has saved us through Jesus, and now lives in us in his Spirit. I would make the case that this means, on the whole, Christians are closest in scale to worshiping God as fully as humanly possible.

But the Hebrew prophet wrote of God placing eternity in the hearts of humankind. The Psalmist tells us that the heavens declare the glory of God. There seems to be this belief within Christianity that only those enlightened by the Spirit can sense and worship God, and everybody else is worshiping either their own imagining, or a satanic misrepresentation. But could it be instead that people of other religions can still sense the working of God in the world; in their hearts and souls, there is some recognition of the reality of the One True God, and they are worshiping that One True God - just not to the same degree as those who have met God in Jesus?

Supposing Mohamed simply had a sensitive soul; supposing he spent hours under the desert sky pondering the nature of the universe and the working of God, supposing he sensed in his deepest places the marvelous reality that is at work behind all we see and hear and touch. . .supposing he truly was sensing the One True God only, in the absence of knowing Jesus, he couldn't grasp the true nature of God in Jesus. In the absence of the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, he couldn't come to see the reality that is the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Paul, Peter, Luther, and me?

You could look at it this way: A lot of people around Washington see Mt. Rainier off in the distance, and have a distant understanding of what's actually up there. We all have a picture in our mind, but only a fraction of those people have actually climbed it, and know what it looks like when you're actually standing on it. It's still the same mountain, but we know it to different degrees.

I think perhaps this is a better way of looking at all the dueling religions: most (not all) have some sense of the reality of God, they are, in some sense, worshiping the real God. It's just that a relatively few have actually met that God and are worshiping him, in the words of Jesus, in Spirit and in truth.

Of course, the idea of degrees of closeness will still rankle people who don't believe any religion ought to claim a greater understanding of truth. Their are those who want to believe that every religion is legitimate in its own way, that none has a greater degree of 'correct-ness.' But I can't go there. I can learn to respect and love people of other religious faiths, but in the end, Jesus was the one who said "No one comes to the Father except by me." That's a claim to singular truth, a claim that all other paths are dead ends. So I hold fast to the truth that God is known to us in Jesus, that our salvation is won in Jesus.

But this idea that Muslims worship a false God. . .I'm not so sure. Maybe they are worshiping the God of the Bible, just not to the same degree of fullness that followers of Christ are.

Book Review: Stuff Christians Like

2010-09-15T17:36:00.000-07:00

I've got a little section on my bookshelf reserved for Christian humor. It's little, because most Christian humor is lame. At least the stuff that gets published. But I've got a few of these little cartoon books, the kind that poke fun at Christians and the Church. I was looking through them a few months ago in a vain last-minute attempt to find something funny for the Alpha introductory talk.

The problem was, they're all pretty dated. I found them pretty funny, but that's only because they were poking fun of the church in which I grew up, a church of potlucks and steeples and choirs and pastors in robes. But I quickly realized they wouldn't translate to people coming in from outside the church, or to people more attune to the Church of the 90s to the present. Which made me sad.

But then, along came Stuff Christians Like, and the day was saved. This is that same book, only with three major differences:

1) This book is the product of the 21st-Century Church, not the 1950s church. Thus you have pieces discussing metrosexual worship pastors, hip youth group rooms, side hugs, church logos (the holier, the better), mission trip romances, Rob Bell, using "love on" as a verb, using the word "just" as prayer filler, and judging fundamentalists for being judgmental.

2) This isn't a comic book, although it has great illustrations.

3 This book often uses humor to make a serious point. Just when Acuff gets you laughing, he rips home with a zinger, challenging us in our blind spots to, you know, actually be better Christians.

Of course, the book is ironic in its own way. One of his pieces is on ripping off advertising and logos to make similar-looking T-shirts (think "Jesus: The Real Thing"). When, as even Acuff admits, this book is a knock-off of the wildly popular Stuff White People Like website. In fact, Stuff Christians Like began as its own website. So there you go. In (gently) mocking Christians for being unoriginal and derivative, Jonathan Acuff's book is unoriginal and derivative.

That's not to say it's not funny. Or worth picking up. It is funny, and it is worth picking up. It might not be the most important Christian book of the last decade, but is still a worthwhile way to pass some time, laughing at ourselves and the funny way we live our lives. But don't fear that it's a sarcastic diatribe against the church, as so many of these things are. It's more along the lines of Keillor making fun of Lutherans, or Foxworthy making fun or Rednecks. The humor is in seeing yourself somewhere in there, and saying "oh yeah, I guess we are a little goofy. Maybe we should stop taking ourselves so seriously."

Note: thank you to Zondervan for providing a free preview copy of Stuff Christians Like for the purpose of this review.

Christianity and Islam: A workshop

2010-09-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

Do we need to be afraid of the growing presence of Muslims in our communities? Must Islam and Christianity be pitted against each other for supremacy in society? What should the non-religious make of the ongoing struggles between these two religions?

We invite you to join us for a critical conversation as we explore whether Christianity and Islam can peacefully coexist, and what the best of these religious traditions have to contribute to our communities. We will look at how to build relationships of trust with Muslims, extending hospitality to our new neighbors.

SOME OF THE QUESTIONS WE WILL EXPLORE:
• Can Islam and Christianity co-exist in the same world, or must there be a “clash of civilizations?”
• What are some of the key differences and similarities between these two monotheistic religions? What are the core beliefs of Islam and what do Muslims believe about Jesus?
• How do Muslims view Christianity? Do we worship the same God? What should be our attitude to the Muslim community down the street?
• Is Islam compatible with democracy or capitalism? Does the Koran support terrorism?

Sunday, September 12

4:00-6:00 p.m.

The Key Peninsula Civic Center

PRESENTER
Rev. Dr. Andrew Larsen has been an ordained minister with the Evangelical Covenant Church for over 20 years, experiencing extensive cross-cultural work in Latin America and now serving Muslim communities locally and abroad. He has also served as Pastor in the U.S. for 7 years, engaged in the broader work of the church in both local and global projects. He has taught classes on inter-religious engagement and is currently facilitating local churches across the U.S., Canada, and Latin America to serve their immigrant neighbors. He has traveled and networked with Non Government Organizations and churches serving in Europe, South & North America, North Africa and the Middle East. He regularly visits mosques, has many Muslim friends in the Puget Sound region and been involved in Christian-Muslim dialogue for over 5 years. He lives in Seattle with his wife and 3 children. He received his Doctorate in Ministry from Fuller Seminary in 2007 where he received his M. Div. in 1988.

Dr. Larsen will also be sharing in the Sunday Worship Celebration at Lakebay Community Church. We begin at 9:30 a.m.

Eye am becoming annoyed

2010-09-08T19:06:00.000-07:00

For those of you tired of reading the ongoing saga of my eyeball, feel free to ignore this post and move on to something more interesting.

I went to the eye doc today for a followup to last month's torturous procedure, wherein said eye doc carved up my cornea with a scalpel in an attempt to relax some pressure leftover from the corneal transplant. That pressure left the cornea with too much astigmatism, making it impossible to fit a contact lens with any success. The procedure was supposed to flatten out the lens; today was the day to finally fit the eye with a lens, and, after almost two years, return me to the club of "people who can see out of two eyes."

Nope.

Doc looks through machine and says "I need to do it again, and see if it works better this time."

Me: "Um, what? Do what again?"

Doc: "Relax the cornea, just like we did last time."

Me: "Is it going to be just like last time? The same amount of work, same amount of pain?"

Doc: "Yes. Why? Did it hurt much last time?"

So, to make a long story short, I talked him out of cutting me up today, since I had lunch plans with a friend I haven't seen in 18 years. But I now have an appointment to go in in mid-October, at which time they'll cut up the cornea again. Then wait another 6 weeks to see if that even works.

Ominously, the doctor said these things usually get their best results the first time; there's a much smaller chance the 2nd time is successful. And if the 2nd time isn't successful, he said, "we go back into the operating room." Not another transplant or anything that drastic; they simply 'reopen the wound and suture it back up again.' Oh. That's reassuring.

For now. . .it will be Thanksgiving at the earliest before I finally get a contact that works (over 2 years since the original operation); but if this 2nd procedure doesn't work, it could easily roll over into 2011 before I finally see well out of that eye.

The Scourge of Self-Righteous Divisiveness

2010-09-07T21:21:00.000-07:00

Back from a weekend at family camp. The weekend started with a conversation with a fellow Covenant minister. He related a story of a group of neo-calvinists who had joined up with his church, and then attempted to force the church to adopt their theology, and teach it, and nothing else, to their youth. Their suggested curriculum for the youth group was all 'Pure Calvinist theology" a la John Piper and J.I. Packer. Said one father to the pastor, "We have to teach our youth to be afraid of God, so they won't sin." When the pastor responded "I'd rather teach them about the love of God, so they will want to obey," that man left the church, taking quite a few families with him. And he took a parting shot, labeling this man of God a Liberal, and dangerous to the church.

Later in the weekend, I had a conversation with a Young Life leader and youth pastor, a man caught up in the current atonement debate within Young Life. Once again, a vocal group of neo-calvinists has taken control, declaring that Penal Substitutionary Atonement, being a good Calvinist position, be the only method of atonement/salvation taught in Young Life. A group of others, who hold to other models of atonement (mostly Christus Victor, but there are others), a group that wants to tell the story of a loving, forgiving God rather than an angry, vindictive God, have essentially been told to be quiet or leave.

Finally, I came home to read a heartbreaking email, telling the story of a seminary prof and personal friend being accused, slandered, labeled a heretic, and essentially being forced to defend himself before his denomination. . .all because he dared challenge the predominant, Penal-Substitution Model of the Atonement. And the charges. . .once again, strident neo-calvinist influences.

Why?

I don't have a problem with calvinism, really, although I don't agree with much of it. I do recognize the weight of their arguments, and don't deny that they may be right. I give them the right to believe, to teach, to hold to those positions. But time and again, they don't offer the same freedom to others, instead teaching that calvinism (especially as espoused by Piper, Sproul, and MacArthur) IS the gospel. And thus they divide the Body, a sin (in my opinion) far greater than choosing the wrong model of the atonement.

For a people who supposedly believe so much in grace, they sure don't show it much.

(and I know there are some good calvinists who read this blog, so feel free to join in the conversation. I don't want to attack the many for the sins of the few. . .it's just that, I know too many who have suffered too much at the hands of your fellow theological brothers and sisters)

Church Reading

2010-09-01T15:32:00.000-07:00

A couple of books I finished in the last month - David Olson's The American Church in Crisis, and David Gibbons' The Monkey and The Fish

Both books are by ministers/leaders in the Evangelical Covenant Church, the tribe to which I belong. Both books were gifts to Covenant Ministers at a previous Midwinter Conference, so thanks to Zondervan for your generosity.

Both books cover the same general ground: the world has changed, and continues to change. What was is slowly passing, what is is in flux, and what will be is anybody's guess. Regardless, the church finds itself in trouble - losing touch with society, losing members faster than we realized, losing influence in our world; and, where there is growth, often times it is shallow, narrow, lacking in the depth and breadth that ought to mark the Kingdom of God.

Olson's book is a statistical tour de force, based on substantial research into almost every nook and cranny of the American Church. The results of that survey are pretty disturbing. Church attendance overall is down; compared to population growth, the attendance figures are even worse. Almost every denomination is losing ground in every county in every state. Old churches are stagnating and dying off, and not nearly enough new churches are being planted to stem the tide. Too many churches are simply surfing on the final waves of Christendom, enjoying the remnants of the kingdom they used to control, even while ignoring the changing landscape around them.

Gibbons' book is more of a friendly chat, looking into the amazing cultural forces at work to chance the American (and world) landscape. Any semblance of a monolithic culture is quickly passing. Our neighborhoods are filling up with people from all over the world, and our young people are wired into the world even from their very bedrooms. The 'Seeker-Sensitive' church of the 80s and 90s, the church that tried to tap into singular cultures in order to draw like-minded people, can no longer be counted on to grow the Kingdom. In fact, Gibbons would argue, it's an unbiblical model in the first place. The Church is instead called to be cross-cultural in every way: crossing ethnic lines, social lines, and socio-economic lines. He says, "Here is the reality: if we really want to see our churches grow in the way Jesus would want us to grow, if we really want to see Christ revealed in our communities and through our lives and in this global world of ours, then we must focus our strategic initiatives of love on people who make us feel uncomfortable, who don't fit into our thinking and our conventions, who are marginalized and even considered misfits and outsiders."

He goes on to say, "When the world sees the church willing to forgo size and scale to love and embrace people who are not like us, treating them as neighbors, they can sense an expression of true and genuine love. It's a thing of miraculous beauty. And people know beauty when they see it."

Both books are realistic, but also hopeful. First of all, God is still at work in the Church, so we always have reason to hope in the future. Secondly, God seems to be raising up a new group of leaders, pastors, thinkers, and church planters who can help us all move into this new world. The challenges are real, and many will be tempted to bury their head in the sand. To those who are willing to take a risk, to be "liquid," as Gibbons says, to flow with the Spirit, to carry on conversations rather than making pronouncements, to listening and learning and loving and risking, these are great times. A new wave of the Spirit may be happening before our eyes.

The question is, are we willing to give up our false ideas of importance, our desire for comfort, our (false) belief that we have all the answers? Are we willing to give up the delusion that we can return to the 'good old days'? Or will we sit back, hide, and forgo our mission to the world?

Both Gibbons and Olson challenge the church to step out in faith, to learn anew what it means to minister in the world, and to be a part of this amazing work of God. We would do well to listen.