I'm officially a one year old blogger. I'm not familiar enough with the demographics of this medium to know whether that means anything at all. What I do know is that I thoroughly enjoy punching out my stories, thoughts and provocations.
Looking back over the entries I can see a slice of my own journey over the past year. I hope you've enjoyed my postings and invite you to keep checking in with me. One of the earliest comments someone made a year ago says it well for me, "I'm glad you joined this bloggishness".
If you haven't looked back at my entries, take some time and browse. I promise to make you smile, frown or at least, think. Blog on brothers and sisters........
Monday, July 10, 2006
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Loving Life
I'm loving life this morning. It's the 4th of July and God in His great lovingkindness saw fit to arrange the cosmos perfectly for my pleasure. This cosmic alignment is actually quite simple....here's the set-up:
NASA postponed the space shuttle launch due to weather and other conditions to be at a time when I can watch it on my satellite TV. While some folks are boating, camping and generally outside, I'm glued to the TV watching the astronauts getting strapped into Discovery. Every so often the camera cuts to a shot of the engines of the shuttle and they are heaving, breathing smoke and giving off a gigantic hissing that just makes me growl with pleasure. Now THIS is my tax dollar being used for productive purposes.
The countdown is perfect, the NASA geek guy calmly tells us, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and Discovery lifts off...". Its the only imperfection of the show. I say we get the guy who introduces boxers with, "Let's get ready to rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrumble!" I imagine myself strapped in this behemoth screaming, "Yeeeeee-Haaaaaa!" with Eric Clapton and Cream playing, "The Sunshine of Your Love" in my headphones. NASA just needs a better DJ.
Anyway, when all of this is done, I just can't wait to blog and tell you about it. So, there you have it. I'm loving life this 4th of July. I'm loving America. I'm loving God. Life is good.
NASA postponed the space shuttle launch due to weather and other conditions to be at a time when I can watch it on my satellite TV. While some folks are boating, camping and generally outside, I'm glued to the TV watching the astronauts getting strapped into Discovery. Every so often the camera cuts to a shot of the engines of the shuttle and they are heaving, breathing smoke and giving off a gigantic hissing that just makes me growl with pleasure. Now THIS is my tax dollar being used for productive purposes.
The countdown is perfect, the NASA geek guy calmly tells us, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and Discovery lifts off...". Its the only imperfection of the show. I say we get the guy who introduces boxers with, "Let's get ready to rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrumble!" I imagine myself strapped in this behemoth screaming, "Yeeeeee-Haaaaaa!" with Eric Clapton and Cream playing, "The Sunshine of Your Love" in my headphones. NASA just needs a better DJ.
Anyway, when all of this is done, I just can't wait to blog and tell you about it. So, there you have it. I'm loving life this 4th of July. I'm loving America. I'm loving God. Life is good.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Teleology, Continued
One clarification to the last blog: my challenge to research all those "ologies" came across poorly. It was not meant to be condescending, but meant to challenge. Underneath all my faith based optimism is the fact that 22 years ago I was challenged by men and women of God to look closely at what I said I believed, and it changed my life and my ministry.
I came from all the fear based end-times teaching and when I found all my current "ologies" the Bible suddenly and beautifully made all the spiritual sense I was longing for. When I said, "You've got the time to research" it was to call you out of any of any "hurry up" mentality and spend the quality time you need to find what the Apostle Paul called, "a spirit of wisdom and revelation, in the knowledge of Him (Christ). And that, my friends, is Christology!
Thank you for visiting this challenging blog!
I came from all the fear based end-times teaching and when I found all my current "ologies" the Bible suddenly and beautifully made all the spiritual sense I was longing for. When I said, "You've got the time to research" it was to call you out of any of any "hurry up" mentality and spend the quality time you need to find what the Apostle Paul called, "a spirit of wisdom and revelation, in the knowledge of Him (Christ). And that, my friends, is Christology!
Thank you for visiting this challenging blog!
Got Teleology?
There’s no healing for my hope. I am hopelessly hopeful, incurably whole and beyond help for the view I hold of the God I love and the world He loves. I'm positively giddy about the future and drunk with a Holy Spirit induced high that won't let me go! And yes, I've seen the end-times forecasts on Christian TV. I've heard the gleeful singing about getting ready to fly away from this soon to be incinerated planet.
But my good cheer just will not let me go there with these bell ringers ding-donging doomsday. God has given me a theology with a teleology that has a methodology of an ontology rooted in the very nature of God as revealed in His Christology. It's just that simple. If you need any help on those terms, just do some research....you've got time.
Hmm...research and time; those are commodities that the sleazy salesmen of end-times products won't encourage you to use. Its just too costly to their bottom line. Trust me on this one; their "product-line" is generating a healthy profit that they can not afford to surrender. Bluntly stated, if they admit they are wrong, on any level, it costs them millions of dollars.
Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality”. In a speech following his acceptance of the Nobel Prize for literature in 1950, William Faulkner said, “I decline to accept the end of man….man will not only endure, but prevail….because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.”
There are voices in the church today who, with unchained reach and unfettered volume, are declaring the opposite. To them, there is a violent "end” of human life based solely on the evil nature of humans. Nuclear holocaust like hail stones from God with a garnish of devinely inspired 15.0 earthquakes......and those are just the appetizers! Their teleology welcomes the thief whose goals are killing, stealing and destroying.
"But pastor! Haven't you read the Book of Revelations?" Nope; but I have read the Revelation of Jesus Christ, if that's what you are talking about. And, my oh my, the optimism I live just rides ever higher. That part, where God says to John, "Come up here and I will show you what must take place after these things" just makes me squeal with delight, like a kid in a school yard recess "free for all" snow ball fight.
When John gets yanked out of his earth-bound funk by the power of the Holy Spirit, he sees a rainbow laced throne, glimmering with jewel like magnificense. That report alone makes me sound like a pessimist. What I'm trying to say is that in the face of the true dangers of the world in which we live, the Church can not afford an anemic teleology that plays into the plans of the enemy of God's creation! If you believe "it all blows up" in the end, then, whether you know it or not, you welcome and possibly subconsciously enjoy every incident that confirms your ultimate and final view of God's purposes. I just read in Ephesians that everything in heaven and earth will be summed up in Christ. Therefore, my teleology is producing a sky-high faith for everyday events that will lead to that summation!
Now, before I close this chapter, lets go back to William Faulkner's quote and speech. It's loaded with a healthy teleology. Google the speech with the quote, "I decline to accept the end of man". His warning 56 years ago was that if authors of any kind of literature stood among and watched the end of man, they would write not of the heart, but of the glands. They would write not of love, but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion.
In my view, even so-called Christian literature (Left Behind come to mind?) slides into this morass and has unwittingly contributed to the pessimistic immoral culture we so despise! So, tell me....Got Teleology? Is it brimming with unarmed truth and unconditional love? Is Christ risen from the dead and victorious over the grave? Or is His resurrection just an anecdotal historical event for your personal future pleasure safely distant from this blue planet turned to ashes from God's fury?
YOUR TELEOLOGY MATTERS!!!!
But my good cheer just will not let me go there with these bell ringers ding-donging doomsday. God has given me a theology with a teleology that has a methodology of an ontology rooted in the very nature of God as revealed in His Christology. It's just that simple. If you need any help on those terms, just do some research....you've got time.
Hmm...research and time; those are commodities that the sleazy salesmen of end-times products won't encourage you to use. Its just too costly to their bottom line. Trust me on this one; their "product-line" is generating a healthy profit that they can not afford to surrender. Bluntly stated, if they admit they are wrong, on any level, it costs them millions of dollars.
Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality”. In a speech following his acceptance of the Nobel Prize for literature in 1950, William Faulkner said, “I decline to accept the end of man….man will not only endure, but prevail….because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.”
There are voices in the church today who, with unchained reach and unfettered volume, are declaring the opposite. To them, there is a violent "end” of human life based solely on the evil nature of humans. Nuclear holocaust like hail stones from God with a garnish of devinely inspired 15.0 earthquakes......and those are just the appetizers! Their teleology welcomes the thief whose goals are killing, stealing and destroying.
"But pastor! Haven't you read the Book of Revelations?" Nope; but I have read the Revelation of Jesus Christ, if that's what you are talking about. And, my oh my, the optimism I live just rides ever higher. That part, where God says to John, "Come up here and I will show you what must take place after these things" just makes me squeal with delight, like a kid in a school yard recess "free for all" snow ball fight.
When John gets yanked out of his earth-bound funk by the power of the Holy Spirit, he sees a rainbow laced throne, glimmering with jewel like magnificense. That report alone makes me sound like a pessimist. What I'm trying to say is that in the face of the true dangers of the world in which we live, the Church can not afford an anemic teleology that plays into the plans of the enemy of God's creation! If you believe "it all blows up" in the end, then, whether you know it or not, you welcome and possibly subconsciously enjoy every incident that confirms your ultimate and final view of God's purposes. I just read in Ephesians that everything in heaven and earth will be summed up in Christ. Therefore, my teleology is producing a sky-high faith for everyday events that will lead to that summation!
Now, before I close this chapter, lets go back to William Faulkner's quote and speech. It's loaded with a healthy teleology. Google the speech with the quote, "I decline to accept the end of man". His warning 56 years ago was that if authors of any kind of literature stood among and watched the end of man, they would write not of the heart, but of the glands. They would write not of love, but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion.
In my view, even so-called Christian literature (Left Behind come to mind?) slides into this morass and has unwittingly contributed to the pessimistic immoral culture we so despise! So, tell me....Got Teleology? Is it brimming with unarmed truth and unconditional love? Is Christ risen from the dead and victorious over the grave? Or is His resurrection just an anecdotal historical event for your personal future pleasure safely distant from this blue planet turned to ashes from God's fury?
YOUR TELEOLOGY MATTERS!!!!
Monday, June 05, 2006
Route 666
Tomorrow will mark (pun intended) a scary day for a few people. June 6, 2006 or, 6-6-06. One Hollywood film company will cash in on the silliness by releasing a movie. Hell, Michigan (a real town!) is having some kind of festival tomorrow complete with people in devil costumes, temporary tattoos for the forehead and right hand and, more than likely, a gathering of "concerned" Christians to protest. It all just makes my spleen hurt.
Aside from the date, in my own experience I've been witness to a dozen or more theories about this much ballyhooed number, "666". Once, there was a giant computer in Brussels. Or was that a large brussel sprout in an old computer? Then, there was the arrival of the bar code on all of our merchandise! Right now I'm holding a book written in 1984 that devoted a chapter to the sinister power of the bar code with a concluding exclamation, "666 is here!". Then there was the Illuminati, the Trilateral Commission, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Morgans, the Rothschilds, the Boogeyman! Quickly, someone call Ghostbusters! And that's not even giving mention to Y2K and 88 Reasons the Rapture will happen in 1988. Oh, my throbbing spleen!
I said in my last blog that I made a commitment to God many years ago to be a voice of Truth in the face of these ridiculous fantasies. The end-times conspiracy theorists have held center stage for far too long. They have abused the Bible, the work of the Cross and the Resurrection with impunity. I've offered my own ministry and calling to do whatever I can to call the people of God out of this shallow wading pool and discover an ocean of practical, liveable Truth, which does not require the memorization of a dispensational chart.
The book of Revelation (13:16-18)is the origin of the reference to the number "666". In spite of the current fanciful interpretations, shouldn't we ask ourselves, "What would the first readers of these passages have thought?" How about the "mark" of sweat on Adam's forehead (Genesis 3:19) regarding his disobedience? Or, what about the High Priest of the Old Testament, marked on his forehead with gold letters proclaiming he was "Holy to the Lord"(Exodus 28:36)? Then there is the "mark" of the law of God on the hands and foreheads of those who are blessed and called by God (Dueteronomy 6:6-9) and the warning not to think that the power of our own hands provided our wealth apart from God's blessing (Dueteronomy 8).
The "mark" in Revelation is to be a revealed truth about our calling to be blessed by God and to never fall prey to the temptation of thinking that what you have or what you own or what you achieve is anything apart from the goodness and generousity of God's power to bless! He calls us to the perfection of His devine nature which is represented by the number of perfection, "7". He warns us to never be satisfied with the "almost" good of a number just short of seven, "666". God calls us to His creativity and a freedom from the love of money. He longs to deliver us from the spirit of greed into the beauty of knowing, "it is more blessed to give than to receive".
The "beast" has been driving souls into an early grave for centuries, but Christ has conquered His "Anti-" and offers something else; "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; but I have come that they may have LIFE and that more abundantly."
Aside from the date, in my own experience I've been witness to a dozen or more theories about this much ballyhooed number, "666". Once, there was a giant computer in Brussels. Or was that a large brussel sprout in an old computer? Then, there was the arrival of the bar code on all of our merchandise! Right now I'm holding a book written in 1984 that devoted a chapter to the sinister power of the bar code with a concluding exclamation, "666 is here!". Then there was the Illuminati, the Trilateral Commission, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Morgans, the Rothschilds, the Boogeyman! Quickly, someone call Ghostbusters! And that's not even giving mention to Y2K and 88 Reasons the Rapture will happen in 1988. Oh, my throbbing spleen!
I said in my last blog that I made a commitment to God many years ago to be a voice of Truth in the face of these ridiculous fantasies. The end-times conspiracy theorists have held center stage for far too long. They have abused the Bible, the work of the Cross and the Resurrection with impunity. I've offered my own ministry and calling to do whatever I can to call the people of God out of this shallow wading pool and discover an ocean of practical, liveable Truth, which does not require the memorization of a dispensational chart.
The book of Revelation (13:16-18)is the origin of the reference to the number "666". In spite of the current fanciful interpretations, shouldn't we ask ourselves, "What would the first readers of these passages have thought?" How about the "mark" of sweat on Adam's forehead (Genesis 3:19) regarding his disobedience? Or, what about the High Priest of the Old Testament, marked on his forehead with gold letters proclaiming he was "Holy to the Lord"(Exodus 28:36)? Then there is the "mark" of the law of God on the hands and foreheads of those who are blessed and called by God (Dueteronomy 6:6-9) and the warning not to think that the power of our own hands provided our wealth apart from God's blessing (Dueteronomy 8).
The "mark" in Revelation is to be a revealed truth about our calling to be blessed by God and to never fall prey to the temptation of thinking that what you have or what you own or what you achieve is anything apart from the goodness and generousity of God's power to bless! He calls us to the perfection of His devine nature which is represented by the number of perfection, "7". He warns us to never be satisfied with the "almost" good of a number just short of seven, "666". God calls us to His creativity and a freedom from the love of money. He longs to deliver us from the spirit of greed into the beauty of knowing, "it is more blessed to give than to receive".
The "beast" has been driving souls into an early grave for centuries, but Christ has conquered His "Anti-" and offers something else; "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; but I have come that they may have LIFE and that more abundantly."
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Happy 6/6/06!
Attention all fans of everything that has to do with the:
a. end times
b. book of Revelations (see my earlier blog by this title) and prophecy conspiracy scriptures
c. the mark of the beast and
d. the rapture......
This blog will bother you. It will basically make fun of the aforementioned theories. It will milk the sacred cows of these bothersome intrusions to a mature spirituality that loves and is vitally connected to the Living Christ. OK? Stop now.....c'mon now.....you haven't stopped yet.....well, so be it. You've been warned.
Next Tuesday is (spooky music please.....now the "ah-ah-ahs" of scary choir voices added)
6-6-06! The anti-christ will begin a tour of the nations with his tatoo shop in tow to offer all of us unsuspecting bobble heads the Mark of the Beast. No one will be able to buy or sell without it and if you refuse it, it will be "off with their bobble head!" Of course, this is just a synopsis of what some folks have been out to sell us but whatever their version is, it comes down to these basics.
It is unmitigated piffle. Tripe, tomfoolery, silliness and fantasy. I shouldn't be so vague. Let me just say it the way I believe it; it is deception. I decided many years ago that the Body of Christ had been drained and beleaguered for too long by these attacks on mature spirituality in Christ and that I was going to be a voice, maybe a voice in the wilderness, but still a voice for One whose character deserves better than all that.
Now that I have your attention, I need to end this short blog. I will come back next Tuesday to finish these thoughts. I know all the arguements, all the proof-texts from the Bible, all the pre, post, mid and "A's". The preterists, the literalists the blah, blah, blah. But I also know the Lord Jesus Christ Who came to seek and to save that which was lost. THE Christ Who trumps every anti-christ spirit that has ever walked this earth.
666? Its all about man's inability to be his own provision, his own perfection without God. What's the answer? The Mark of the Name of God our Father written on our foreheads. It's all about, "Who is your God? Who provides your life, whose Name is written in your mind? Whose love has seized your mind, will and emotions?"
Come back 6-6-06.....to be continued....................
a. end times
b. book of Revelations (see my earlier blog by this title) and prophecy conspiracy scriptures
c. the mark of the beast and
d. the rapture......
This blog will bother you. It will basically make fun of the aforementioned theories. It will milk the sacred cows of these bothersome intrusions to a mature spirituality that loves and is vitally connected to the Living Christ. OK? Stop now.....c'mon now.....you haven't stopped yet.....well, so be it. You've been warned.
Next Tuesday is (spooky music please.....now the "ah-ah-ahs" of scary choir voices added)
6-6-06! The anti-christ will begin a tour of the nations with his tatoo shop in tow to offer all of us unsuspecting bobble heads the Mark of the Beast. No one will be able to buy or sell without it and if you refuse it, it will be "off with their bobble head!" Of course, this is just a synopsis of what some folks have been out to sell us but whatever their version is, it comes down to these basics.
It is unmitigated piffle. Tripe, tomfoolery, silliness and fantasy. I shouldn't be so vague. Let me just say it the way I believe it; it is deception. I decided many years ago that the Body of Christ had been drained and beleaguered for too long by these attacks on mature spirituality in Christ and that I was going to be a voice, maybe a voice in the wilderness, but still a voice for One whose character deserves better than all that.
Now that I have your attention, I need to end this short blog. I will come back next Tuesday to finish these thoughts. I know all the arguements, all the proof-texts from the Bible, all the pre, post, mid and "A's". The preterists, the literalists the blah, blah, blah. But I also know the Lord Jesus Christ Who came to seek and to save that which was lost. THE Christ Who trumps every anti-christ spirit that has ever walked this earth.
666? Its all about man's inability to be his own provision, his own perfection without God. What's the answer? The Mark of the Name of God our Father written on our foreheads. It's all about, "Who is your God? Who provides your life, whose Name is written in your mind? Whose love has seized your mind, will and emotions?"
Come back 6-6-06.....to be continued....................
Friday, May 19, 2006
DaRandi Code
Brace yourselves. I know something you don't know. It is so disturbing, so cage rattling, so outside the norm that no one, no where, at no time has ever thought of what I know. I would tell you this mysterious, conspiracy laced riddle but then you would be in grave danger, just as I am for knowing this, this, this "thing". OK. Never mind. What's the fun of having special knowledge if you can't use it to be pompous and rich.
I have chosen to call this the "DaRandi Code". I came up with that title all by myself. I am brilliant. What I know will change everything you have come to believe about all human history, life on planet earth and the recipe for Rice Krispy Bars. Please, control your emotional response. I know this is unsettling. I know that some of you are actually losing bladder control even as you are reading this. Please, just quietly slip out of the room and take care of your personal hygiene needs and come back to this blog when you feel that you are capable of some self control.
This special knowledge came to me in an ancient, centuries old bowling alley in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I was leading a archaeological dig through a burial mound of discarded rental shoes. If you have never done a dig of that nature, it is almost impossible for me to adequately describe the stench that boils up into your nostrils. It is a combination of aerosol disinfectant and moldy foot odor. The air was also thick with second hand smoke and cheap beer breath. One member of my team was overcome by the noxious fumes and had to be air-lifted to an area hospital.
About the time I was going to call off the dig for the night, my helmet mounted light came across something tangled in the shoelaces that was not red, green, tan or gold (which for the novice reading this is the natural color of the "bowlicus renticus shoeicus"...please pardon the technical reference). Carefully, gently, tenderly I pulled the papyrus like material out of the mound, my hands trembling. The images that jumped off the page and into my optical nerves threw my mind and body into a state of complete ecstacy. The kind of "Price is Right" swoon when you hear your name spoken with that announcer man tone, and the mystical phrase, "Come on down".
It was a ketshup/mustard stained, scoring scroll. Among the typical X's and /'s for strikes and spares with the occasional -'s for open frames, an amazing figure appeared on the page. An untrained eye would have missed it, but the brimming genius of my large brain did not overlook this exception to the rule. There it was, immediately following what the ancients once refered to as a "turkey" (3 strikes in a row, for those of you who are not as smart as me). The nearest key stroke I can find on the computer keyboard that resembles this sign is "~" (quotes not included). Again, for emphasis, what I saw was XXX and ~. Not a dash (-), but a ~. Do you know what this means?
It means that 300 is not a perfect game. It means that someone, somewhere has scored, or has the possibility of scoring......a 301. All these years, all those league nights of striving for the "pocket" of the pins, all those gutter balls, all the demonic 7 - 10 splits and all this time, a "~" was available to us!!! We've been lied to by the venerable Bowling Associations of America. Their hierarchy has kept this from us, their high priests who hide behind the "machinery" that places the pins have been secretly laughing at our vain attempts to roll the perfect 300.
Since that fateful day of discovery till now, my life is in danger. The only comfort I have, my only solace, is for you to immediately bring me lots and lots of money. Not hundreds, not thousands, but only millions of dollars will protect me. Trust me. I know. You must go to your banks, cash out your checking and savings accounts and bring the cold hard American dollars to my home today. I don't know how long I have before the large bellied men with obvious comb-over hair do's find me and drag me behind those mechanical altars from which gutter balls never return.
Please. I am begging you. Do not spend your money this weekend or any other time, for that matter, at some movie which is mocking my discovery. Their thinly veiled attempt of plagiarizing my works with their "DaVinci Code" is sickening. I alone must have your money. It is my only hope. Those of you who know me, know that I sign off all of my e-mails in the following manner; ~prd~. Notice the symbol "~". It is the sign of my discovery, the hieroglyphic image of this mystery, the reminder for you to go NOW to your bank and get all your money and give it to me. It is the only way.
You will never again be able to hear the sound of all ten pins crashing against each other without knowing that the ~ is out there. It mocks you because now you know, that all your heretofore cherished notions about bowling, are false. Quickly now. I need money. And somebody, please tell Tom Hanks he should have done "Forest Gump II" instead.
I have chosen to call this the "DaRandi Code". I came up with that title all by myself. I am brilliant. What I know will change everything you have come to believe about all human history, life on planet earth and the recipe for Rice Krispy Bars. Please, control your emotional response. I know this is unsettling. I know that some of you are actually losing bladder control even as you are reading this. Please, just quietly slip out of the room and take care of your personal hygiene needs and come back to this blog when you feel that you are capable of some self control.
This special knowledge came to me in an ancient, centuries old bowling alley in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I was leading a archaeological dig through a burial mound of discarded rental shoes. If you have never done a dig of that nature, it is almost impossible for me to adequately describe the stench that boils up into your nostrils. It is a combination of aerosol disinfectant and moldy foot odor. The air was also thick with second hand smoke and cheap beer breath. One member of my team was overcome by the noxious fumes and had to be air-lifted to an area hospital.
About the time I was going to call off the dig for the night, my helmet mounted light came across something tangled in the shoelaces that was not red, green, tan or gold (which for the novice reading this is the natural color of the "bowlicus renticus shoeicus"...please pardon the technical reference). Carefully, gently, tenderly I pulled the papyrus like material out of the mound, my hands trembling. The images that jumped off the page and into my optical nerves threw my mind and body into a state of complete ecstacy. The kind of "Price is Right" swoon when you hear your name spoken with that announcer man tone, and the mystical phrase, "Come on down".
It was a ketshup/mustard stained, scoring scroll. Among the typical X's and /'s for strikes and spares with the occasional -'s for open frames, an amazing figure appeared on the page. An untrained eye would have missed it, but the brimming genius of my large brain did not overlook this exception to the rule. There it was, immediately following what the ancients once refered to as a "turkey" (3 strikes in a row, for those of you who are not as smart as me). The nearest key stroke I can find on the computer keyboard that resembles this sign is "~" (quotes not included). Again, for emphasis, what I saw was XXX and ~. Not a dash (-), but a ~. Do you know what this means?
It means that 300 is not a perfect game. It means that someone, somewhere has scored, or has the possibility of scoring......a 301. All these years, all those league nights of striving for the "pocket" of the pins, all those gutter balls, all the demonic 7 - 10 splits and all this time, a "~" was available to us!!! We've been lied to by the venerable Bowling Associations of America. Their hierarchy has kept this from us, their high priests who hide behind the "machinery" that places the pins have been secretly laughing at our vain attempts to roll the perfect 300.
Since that fateful day of discovery till now, my life is in danger. The only comfort I have, my only solace, is for you to immediately bring me lots and lots of money. Not hundreds, not thousands, but only millions of dollars will protect me. Trust me. I know. You must go to your banks, cash out your checking and savings accounts and bring the cold hard American dollars to my home today. I don't know how long I have before the large bellied men with obvious comb-over hair do's find me and drag me behind those mechanical altars from which gutter balls never return.
Please. I am begging you. Do not spend your money this weekend or any other time, for that matter, at some movie which is mocking my discovery. Their thinly veiled attempt of plagiarizing my works with their "DaVinci Code" is sickening. I alone must have your money. It is my only hope. Those of you who know me, know that I sign off all of my e-mails in the following manner; ~prd~. Notice the symbol "~". It is the sign of my discovery, the hieroglyphic image of this mystery, the reminder for you to go NOW to your bank and get all your money and give it to me. It is the only way.
You will never again be able to hear the sound of all ten pins crashing against each other without knowing that the ~ is out there. It mocks you because now you know, that all your heretofore cherished notions about bowling, are false. Quickly now. I need money. And somebody, please tell Tom Hanks he should have done "Forest Gump II" instead.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
I Love You
I could write the book, "The Idiot's Guide for Coming To Christ". No choir singing, "Just As I Am" and no counselors waiting with plastic smiles and clever gospel tracts in hand. No heads were bowed, no eyes were closed, no seeker sensitive "bait and switch" set-up to lure me in. I hated church, I hated Christians and I hated their thinly veiled attempts to witness to me. I hated my mom and dad's new "faith". I hated life and I especially hated me. Hate; pure, raw, real.
Just as I was? I was just between drinking binges at 16. Too cowardly to shoot myself or slice my wrists. But not too cowardly to drive my dad's Cadillac up a hill at 100 miles an hour on the wrong side of the road just to hear my car load of friends scream for mercy and curse me. I will always wonder who it was I almost killed at the top of that hill. I took the left hand ditch at the last moment.
The beginning of the end came one night when, in the grey cloud of my misery, I was running my head into the walls of my bedroom. Not in the figurative manner of speaking; literally ramming my skull as hard as I could into the walls hoping to cause an injury bad enough to kill me. (People close to me now say that explains some things about me 37 years later). My insanity was based in the lie I believed and was speaking out between thumps on the wall, "Nobody loves me". I fell asleep, or to be more accurate, slipped into unconsciousness that night, sobbing those words into my pillow.
I think it was the next day, an old German man from a church my parents were attending came to the house. He parked his old Volvo a block away (because he knew I knew his car and would not come home if I saw it parked in our driveway). He sat and waited patiently for me to come home that night because he told my mother he had a dream about me the night before. He didn't tell her what it was. When I walked in the door and saw him sitting in my house, I cursed under my breath....
With a thick German accent he said, "Sit down." Honestly, my knees buckled and I sat. He choked with emotion and continued, "I had a dream about you last night. I saw you crying and saying, 'Nobody loves me'. And God told me to come here tonight and tell you that He loves you and I love you."
I have spent my life from that moment till this running toward and leaping into the Arms of that God. The rest of the events of that night belong to another blog at another time, but all of the above was written to lead to this moment for everyone reading this right now. Gather yourself for a moment of clarity and focus and drink these last words into your soul.....
God says to you right now, in this crease of eternity; "My child, I love you." He told me to tell you that. Yes He did. Whoever you are. Whenever you read this. God is looking back at you through this computer monitor and speaking those Words into your reality. A century ago the words, "born again" were not used to describe being "saved". In his book, "The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus", Brennan Manning says, "A century ago...in the deep south.... the words used to describe the breakthrough into a personal relationship with Jesus were, 'I was seized by the power of a great affection.'"
I am being obedient to a heavenly vision to use this venue to say we all need to be seized again and again for the restoration of an authentic life and faith. In too many ways, Christianity today has become a system, a "thing" and it does not seize lives as it could and should. That could change, even in this very moment.......there it is..........can you hear it? His Voice..........
Just as I was? I was just between drinking binges at 16. Too cowardly to shoot myself or slice my wrists. But not too cowardly to drive my dad's Cadillac up a hill at 100 miles an hour on the wrong side of the road just to hear my car load of friends scream for mercy and curse me. I will always wonder who it was I almost killed at the top of that hill. I took the left hand ditch at the last moment.
The beginning of the end came one night when, in the grey cloud of my misery, I was running my head into the walls of my bedroom. Not in the figurative manner of speaking; literally ramming my skull as hard as I could into the walls hoping to cause an injury bad enough to kill me. (People close to me now say that explains some things about me 37 years later). My insanity was based in the lie I believed and was speaking out between thumps on the wall, "Nobody loves me". I fell asleep, or to be more accurate, slipped into unconsciousness that night, sobbing those words into my pillow.
I think it was the next day, an old German man from a church my parents were attending came to the house. He parked his old Volvo a block away (because he knew I knew his car and would not come home if I saw it parked in our driveway). He sat and waited patiently for me to come home that night because he told my mother he had a dream about me the night before. He didn't tell her what it was. When I walked in the door and saw him sitting in my house, I cursed under my breath....
With a thick German accent he said, "Sit down." Honestly, my knees buckled and I sat. He choked with emotion and continued, "I had a dream about you last night. I saw you crying and saying, 'Nobody loves me'. And God told me to come here tonight and tell you that He loves you and I love you."
I have spent my life from that moment till this running toward and leaping into the Arms of that God. The rest of the events of that night belong to another blog at another time, but all of the above was written to lead to this moment for everyone reading this right now. Gather yourself for a moment of clarity and focus and drink these last words into your soul.....
God says to you right now, in this crease of eternity; "My child, I love you." He told me to tell you that. Yes He did. Whoever you are. Whenever you read this. God is looking back at you through this computer monitor and speaking those Words into your reality. A century ago the words, "born again" were not used to describe being "saved". In his book, "The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus", Brennan Manning says, "A century ago...in the deep south.... the words used to describe the breakthrough into a personal relationship with Jesus were, 'I was seized by the power of a great affection.'"
I am being obedient to a heavenly vision to use this venue to say we all need to be seized again and again for the restoration of an authentic life and faith. In too many ways, Christianity today has become a system, a "thing" and it does not seize lives as it could and should. That could change, even in this very moment.......there it is..........can you hear it? His Voice..........
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
"Now, With God's Help, I Shall Become Myself" ~ Soren Kierkegaard
Many people breathing, but not many people living. Crowds laughing, but not many happy. Stadiums cheering, but few champions. Car after car flying down the highway but few inhabitants within consciously aware of any significant destination other than geographic.
The promise of authentic Christianity is the reversal of this night of the living dead. Christ shouts through the centuries, "I have come that they might have life, and that more abundantly!". His guarantee for that Life, however, became the most counterintuitive act of all history; the crucifixion.
"Butcher Me! Ravage My body with your most efficient rakes of hate and after you do your bloody best, stake Me to a tree and hang Me out to dry. With your most important governmental prowess, seal My carcass in a dank death chamber. I will allow you 3 days to enjoy your arrogance......and then, I swear to you out of My Father's integrity, I will reject your offer to stay dead and explode up out of the dirt! A new kind of Life will be the harvest of your deed."
Jesus told His befuddled huddle of 12 that He would be butchered but live again. He told them straight out, that because He would Live again, they, and we too, would Live. Can you see their deaf and dumb faces nodding an oblivious affirmation? That Gomer Pyle, mouth hanging open, drool dripping "Yes sir, Sergeant" look? More importantly, do you see our very same obtuse response? We too, are a befuddled huddle.
That is, until somebody, anybody jumps out of the crowds and stadiums and parades to nowhere and screams, "Now, with God's help, I shall LIVE and become myself!" Christ awaits a people in every generation whose honest hunger outweighs the sedatives of their culture. His Resurrection, for them is far more than a line in their doctrinal pledge of allegiance. His resurrection is the power to finally, by the grace of God, become my truest, real self.
Hallelujah, Christ is Risen! And, hallelujah, SO AM I!
The promise of authentic Christianity is the reversal of this night of the living dead. Christ shouts through the centuries, "I have come that they might have life, and that more abundantly!". His guarantee for that Life, however, became the most counterintuitive act of all history; the crucifixion.
"Butcher Me! Ravage My body with your most efficient rakes of hate and after you do your bloody best, stake Me to a tree and hang Me out to dry. With your most important governmental prowess, seal My carcass in a dank death chamber. I will allow you 3 days to enjoy your arrogance......and then, I swear to you out of My Father's integrity, I will reject your offer to stay dead and explode up out of the dirt! A new kind of Life will be the harvest of your deed."
Jesus told His befuddled huddle of 12 that He would be butchered but live again. He told them straight out, that because He would Live again, they, and we too, would Live. Can you see their deaf and dumb faces nodding an oblivious affirmation? That Gomer Pyle, mouth hanging open, drool dripping "Yes sir, Sergeant" look? More importantly, do you see our very same obtuse response? We too, are a befuddled huddle.
That is, until somebody, anybody jumps out of the crowds and stadiums and parades to nowhere and screams, "Now, with God's help, I shall LIVE and become myself!" Christ awaits a people in every generation whose honest hunger outweighs the sedatives of their culture. His Resurrection, for them is far more than a line in their doctrinal pledge of allegiance. His resurrection is the power to finally, by the grace of God, become my truest, real self.
Hallelujah, Christ is Risen! And, hallelujah, SO AM I!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Gay, Straight, Red State, Blue State, War, Peace, Blah, Blah, Blah
I feel so left out. I'm not energized enough about any polar extreme that I feel compelled to protest for or against anything. In fact, the last protest gathering that interested me was held in Washington D.C. when Martin Luther King Jr. preached his immortal "I Have A Dream" prophetic Word. Some days I wonder if I am the only Christian alive that just is not interested in either side of most current protests. What side you ask? Pick a side, any side; I'm not on any of the protester's sides.
Gay marriage? I'm just busy keeping my straight marriage healthy, counseling other straight marriages so they stay healthy, meeting with straight couples who are planning on getting married and trying to spread as much love and healing on lonely singles as I can to keep them on the path of good mental health. I must be too apathetic about the greater cultural war to get involved in the politics of gay marriage.
The last time I checked, straight marriage is in a train load of trouble, all by itself. There's at least a 50% failure rate going on inside and outside the church. So, for now, I am going to leave the gay marriage argument up to all the smart people who are protesting on both sides of that issue so I can concentrate my simple tiny brain on what's going on right in front of me. Jesus warned me that the speck I see in someone else's eye might just be the plank stuck in my eye.
Pro-Choice? Pro-Life? I am completely pro-life; but for the "life" of me I just cannot imagine parading with signs, signing petitions or even putting bumper stickers on my car. I am spending my "pro-life" energies on ministering to people who believe that after they were born their dysfunctional parents aborted them. Teens and men and women whose fathers and mothers never mentored them. Adult children still looking for parental support and acceptance. I simply don't have time to go to the state capital to find a TV camera that will capture my indignation for the evening news and my 15 minutes of fame.
Oh, and by the way; in my 33 years of pastoring I have wept with many young ladies who have called me for help with the heart breaking "decision" to make about a surprise pregnancy. AND....with every one of them, since abortion became legal, the pressure they felt to end the life of their baby was coming from a man in their life. A boyfriend, husband and yes, even their fathers who were pushing them toward.....are you ready for this......the "woman's right" to a choice. As a result, I view abortion as more a sick and happy relief for some proud, arrogant, irresponsible sperm donor boyfriend/husband or shallow shaming father. Go to a protest at an abortion clinic? Not for me. I'd rather work out at a local gym for a few months so that I could adequately beat the crap out of few males (not men) who have broken too many hearts. Yes, I said crap.
Now what will happen is that someone will protest me writing the word "crap" in my blog. HEY! Maybe this will solve my problem of feeling left out. Yes....that's the ticket! Now I can be part of the whole protesting thing by being the object of a protest! Cool! That beats the crap out of being a protester!
Gay marriage? I'm just busy keeping my straight marriage healthy, counseling other straight marriages so they stay healthy, meeting with straight couples who are planning on getting married and trying to spread as much love and healing on lonely singles as I can to keep them on the path of good mental health. I must be too apathetic about the greater cultural war to get involved in the politics of gay marriage.
The last time I checked, straight marriage is in a train load of trouble, all by itself. There's at least a 50% failure rate going on inside and outside the church. So, for now, I am going to leave the gay marriage argument up to all the smart people who are protesting on both sides of that issue so I can concentrate my simple tiny brain on what's going on right in front of me. Jesus warned me that the speck I see in someone else's eye might just be the plank stuck in my eye.
Pro-Choice? Pro-Life? I am completely pro-life; but for the "life" of me I just cannot imagine parading with signs, signing petitions or even putting bumper stickers on my car. I am spending my "pro-life" energies on ministering to people who believe that after they were born their dysfunctional parents aborted them. Teens and men and women whose fathers and mothers never mentored them. Adult children still looking for parental support and acceptance. I simply don't have time to go to the state capital to find a TV camera that will capture my indignation for the evening news and my 15 minutes of fame.
Oh, and by the way; in my 33 years of pastoring I have wept with many young ladies who have called me for help with the heart breaking "decision" to make about a surprise pregnancy. AND....with every one of them, since abortion became legal, the pressure they felt to end the life of their baby was coming from a man in their life. A boyfriend, husband and yes, even their fathers who were pushing them toward.....are you ready for this......the "woman's right" to a choice. As a result, I view abortion as more a sick and happy relief for some proud, arrogant, irresponsible sperm donor boyfriend/husband or shallow shaming father. Go to a protest at an abortion clinic? Not for me. I'd rather work out at a local gym for a few months so that I could adequately beat the crap out of few males (not men) who have broken too many hearts. Yes, I said crap.
Now what will happen is that someone will protest me writing the word "crap" in my blog. HEY! Maybe this will solve my problem of feeling left out. Yes....that's the ticket! Now I can be part of the whole protesting thing by being the object of a protest! Cool! That beats the crap out of being a protester!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Hello. My Name is Truth
Truth will wreck you. It will set you right side up is an upside down world. Truth will strip you of every selfish notion devised by your past, your pains, your problems, your personality, your preferences, your possesiveness, your poverty, your personality, your prosperity, your pity, your power, your perfectionism, your performance, your peers, your paralysis, your predespositions, your prudishness, your put-ons, your papa and your paranoia.
Truth will meet you head-on with no intention of slowing down or dodging you. It's reality will be like headlights frozen on high-beam bearing down on you in it's own lane, challenging you to awaken to the reality that you are in the wrong lane. As a matter of fact, Truth won't even "honk". That sound you hear is your adrenalized heart-beating.
Truth, while not forgiving in itself, will lead you to forgiveness. Truth is a living power, a driving rain storm, a relentless blizzard and a sunshine drenched perfect day. Jesus said, "I AM the Truth....". Truth walks. Truth talks. Truth laughs. Truth weeps. Truth bleeds. Truth will die with every intention of living larger later.
Truth will set you free, not in spite of these things, but BECAUSE of these things. Truth heals us when we accept the stark fact that we don't know it. Truth delivers us when we crawl across the gravel of life, reach our bleeding fingers toward its hem and snatch it hard to our weeping face and say in our heart, "If I can just touch the edge of Truth I will be free".
Truth will meet you head-on with no intention of slowing down or dodging you. It's reality will be like headlights frozen on high-beam bearing down on you in it's own lane, challenging you to awaken to the reality that you are in the wrong lane. As a matter of fact, Truth won't even "honk". That sound you hear is your adrenalized heart-beating.
Truth, while not forgiving in itself, will lead you to forgiveness. Truth is a living power, a driving rain storm, a relentless blizzard and a sunshine drenched perfect day. Jesus said, "I AM the Truth....". Truth walks. Truth talks. Truth laughs. Truth weeps. Truth bleeds. Truth will die with every intention of living larger later.
Truth will set you free, not in spite of these things, but BECAUSE of these things. Truth heals us when we accept the stark fact that we don't know it. Truth delivers us when we crawl across the gravel of life, reach our bleeding fingers toward its hem and snatch it hard to our weeping face and say in our heart, "If I can just touch the edge of Truth I will be free".
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
New Hearts for Stones
I am preaching a lenten sermon series entitled, "New Hearts for Stones". The content is shattering me. It is literally haunting my thoughts and dreams. I am confident I am reaching at least one person with a Word from God.........me!
The essence is rooted in several promises throughout the scriptures that promise God's longing to dig out of our chests the hearts of stone and replace them with new hearts of soft flesh. I won't take the time or space for references here. Get a concordance and simply look up "heart" and start reading. The sheer volume of God's focus on the matter of "heart" will speak for itself. What is crystal clear to me from the Spirit's Voice in all of this is that a cold stone heart is more offensive to God than any, and yes, I mean any, other sin we churchoids (look up the suffixe "-oid") protest.
Author, Anne Lamott says, "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do." That's the heart of stone. Now, without me doing your work for you, can you identify the possibility of that stone in your chest? If so, you've got a promise to claim. God wants to give you a new heart.
Yesterday I was reading about a churchoid group that is criss-crossing the nation to go to the funerals of military service men and women killed in action. Their one and only purpose is to hold signs and yell at the funeral attendees the content of their stone hearts. "God killed your loved one to punish America for its sins!" "God is America's Terrorist!" Those are the nicest, and only quotes I'll print in my blog! Minnesota is studying legislation to put this churchoid group at a "safe" distance from any funeral held in the state. As far as I am concerned, Wyoming would not be a "safe" distance. I did find it enlightening to read that one mother of a slain soldier said, "My son fought for, and died for freedom of speech....if they want to stand out there at my son's funeral...they have every right to be there."
My simple point for this simple blog is this: the only solution is for each of us, one by one, claiming God's promise for a new heart. I cannot carpet the world, but I can put on a pair of shoes. I cannot stop people pretending to be the church from advertising their dead stone hearts, but I can claim a soft real heart for myself. And maybe, just maybe, it will be so real for me, that I can start a revolution of heart.
That is why I pastor. That is why I preach. New hearts anyone?
The essence is rooted in several promises throughout the scriptures that promise God's longing to dig out of our chests the hearts of stone and replace them with new hearts of soft flesh. I won't take the time or space for references here. Get a concordance and simply look up "heart" and start reading. The sheer volume of God's focus on the matter of "heart" will speak for itself. What is crystal clear to me from the Spirit's Voice in all of this is that a cold stone heart is more offensive to God than any, and yes, I mean any, other sin we churchoids (look up the suffixe "-oid") protest.
Author, Anne Lamott says, "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do." That's the heart of stone. Now, without me doing your work for you, can you identify the possibility of that stone in your chest? If so, you've got a promise to claim. God wants to give you a new heart.
Yesterday I was reading about a churchoid group that is criss-crossing the nation to go to the funerals of military service men and women killed in action. Their one and only purpose is to hold signs and yell at the funeral attendees the content of their stone hearts. "God killed your loved one to punish America for its sins!" "God is America's Terrorist!" Those are the nicest, and only quotes I'll print in my blog! Minnesota is studying legislation to put this churchoid group at a "safe" distance from any funeral held in the state. As far as I am concerned, Wyoming would not be a "safe" distance. I did find it enlightening to read that one mother of a slain soldier said, "My son fought for, and died for freedom of speech....if they want to stand out there at my son's funeral...they have every right to be there."
My simple point for this simple blog is this: the only solution is for each of us, one by one, claiming God's promise for a new heart. I cannot carpet the world, but I can put on a pair of shoes. I cannot stop people pretending to be the church from advertising their dead stone hearts, but I can claim a soft real heart for myself. And maybe, just maybe, it will be so real for me, that I can start a revolution of heart.
That is why I pastor. That is why I preach. New hearts anyone?
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Prayers I've Never Prayed
I have several book titles rattling around inside of my mind. Friends and family tell me I should be careful about saying them out loud because somebody is likely to steal the title, write the book and make a bunch of money. Well, today's blog is me not being careful. In fact, the title is one of those book titles. The difference is the book would have to be written under an assumed name to protect the innocent, the ignorant and the outright stupid. All three of which might just be me.
Have you ever gone to a "prayer meeting" and sat there listening to public prayers and wondered, "Who are we really talking to here?". When the prayer goes something like, "Dear Lord, You see the need of Brother Jones. He is in the St. Dude's Hospital with severe colon seizures"; Who are we really talking to? Wasn't that just a 2-fer moment where we snuck an announcement into the prayer? Or better yet, how about the "Prayer Breakfasts" where we talk about prayer for an hour and offer up 3 minutes of praying to bless the food?
All that aside, my frustration as a pastor is that I have way too much "rascal-randy" running around inside me when I see certain situations, know too much about what's really happening and then have somebody ask, "Pastor; would you just lead us in prayer about this?" (On a side note: have you noticed how it is the nice Christian thing to say the word, "just" in every sentence? JUST pray.....JUST trust the Lord....JUST do your best.....I'm JUST so concerned?) Anyway, rascal randy runs up into my mind and Pastor Randy has to make a decision.....(by the way, in my internal theater, r.r. looks and sounds like Bugs Bunny and P.R. looks and sounds like Elmer Fud). Got the picture?
Do I let r.r. pray? "Dear Lord. You see the incredibly short sighted decisions these people have made. How, when faced with self-preservation versus sacrifice, they have chosen to do what they want without bothering to ask You what You might want. Now that they are backed into a corner, they need You to bail them out. Please ignore the obvious patterns of bad choices they make. Please step aside from Your Holy Mental Health and be a gigantic codependent Daddy and clean up their mess with the least amount of inconvenience to them so that within 90 days of this time, we will be right back where we started. Amen" (carrot chewing noises followed by a long silence).
Funeral prayers by r.r. might clear the room. "O Lord! This guy was such a jerk! Some folks are here today just to make sure he's gone!" Wedding prayers might get r.r. killed. "Almighty God. This couple is clueless. They're saying 'I do' when they should be saying, 'I duh'." And most of what r.r. would pray would simply get P.R. run out of town and forced into the federal witness protection program in another state. Christians rival the Mafia when they're mad.
That's why prayers are NOT 2-fers where we sneak announcements and gossip into the mix. "Prayer Breakfasts" should be called "Let's Get Together and Eat Too Much and Laugh Alot and Pray Short Prayers at the Beginning and the End Meetings".
Thankfully, P.R. has won my internal debate with r.r. for who gets to pray out loud."Just" please pray for me that I won't let r.r. accidently win someday, open my eyes and look at a room full of church folks loading pistols, sharpening knives and thumping baseball bats in the palms of their hands. At which point, r.r. and P.R, better have legs like Bugs Bunny that spin like blurring wheels and make that ricochet sound running out stage left.
Have you ever gone to a "prayer meeting" and sat there listening to public prayers and wondered, "Who are we really talking to here?". When the prayer goes something like, "Dear Lord, You see the need of Brother Jones. He is in the St. Dude's Hospital with severe colon seizures"; Who are we really talking to? Wasn't that just a 2-fer moment where we snuck an announcement into the prayer? Or better yet, how about the "Prayer Breakfasts" where we talk about prayer for an hour and offer up 3 minutes of praying to bless the food?
All that aside, my frustration as a pastor is that I have way too much "rascal-randy" running around inside me when I see certain situations, know too much about what's really happening and then have somebody ask, "Pastor; would you just lead us in prayer about this?" (On a side note: have you noticed how it is the nice Christian thing to say the word, "just" in every sentence? JUST pray.....JUST trust the Lord....JUST do your best.....I'm JUST so concerned?) Anyway, rascal randy runs up into my mind and Pastor Randy has to make a decision.....(by the way, in my internal theater, r.r. looks and sounds like Bugs Bunny and P.R. looks and sounds like Elmer Fud). Got the picture?
Do I let r.r. pray? "Dear Lord. You see the incredibly short sighted decisions these people have made. How, when faced with self-preservation versus sacrifice, they have chosen to do what they want without bothering to ask You what You might want. Now that they are backed into a corner, they need You to bail them out. Please ignore the obvious patterns of bad choices they make. Please step aside from Your Holy Mental Health and be a gigantic codependent Daddy and clean up their mess with the least amount of inconvenience to them so that within 90 days of this time, we will be right back where we started. Amen" (carrot chewing noises followed by a long silence).
Funeral prayers by r.r. might clear the room. "O Lord! This guy was such a jerk! Some folks are here today just to make sure he's gone!" Wedding prayers might get r.r. killed. "Almighty God. This couple is clueless. They're saying 'I do' when they should be saying, 'I duh'." And most of what r.r. would pray would simply get P.R. run out of town and forced into the federal witness protection program in another state. Christians rival the Mafia when they're mad.
That's why prayers are NOT 2-fers where we sneak announcements and gossip into the mix. "Prayer Breakfasts" should be called "Let's Get Together and Eat Too Much and Laugh Alot and Pray Short Prayers at the Beginning and the End Meetings".
Thankfully, P.R. has won my internal debate with r.r. for who gets to pray out loud."Just" please pray for me that I won't let r.r. accidently win someday, open my eyes and look at a room full of church folks loading pistols, sharpening knives and thumping baseball bats in the palms of their hands. At which point, r.r. and P.R, better have legs like Bugs Bunny that spin like blurring wheels and make that ricochet sound running out stage left.
Monday, February 06, 2006
When God Attacks
One night, last October I was getting ready to speak at a Saturday night youth rally in the Twin Cities. The band was spiritually and authentically on fire with true and pure worship. I was a wonderful wreck trying to blink through my tears to keep eye contact with the worship leader so I would know when it was my time to preach. I suddenly and without any personal intention on my part, was seeing a vision. If that makes you nervous, I cannot help you. Its true, its lovely and it happened.
I saw a gigantic icy white lion. Not C.S. Lewis' Lion. To date, I still haven't seen the movie, and besides, this vision happened before the fanfare or even the ads. The lion was ravenous, glorious and lasered in on me. All at once I heard God's Voice saying to me, "Randy, I want to attack your soul!" I do not know how loud I spoke back, but I do know I responded immediately by saying, "Please, come and attack me, now!" The lion blurred directly at my face as I threw my arms wide open. When he came upon me I was bathed in his whiteness. When the icy colored fog lifted, I looked in my lap. The lion became an enormous, delicate Lamb. I shared the experience that night and the next morning, at my home church.
Now fast forward 3 months to last week. One of our assistant pastors, Steve, came to me with a book in hand and said, "Pastor, look at the part I highlighted". Here is what I read: "I will not leave you alone. You are mine. I know each of my sheep by name. You belong to Me. If you think I am finished with you, if you think I am a small god that you can keep at a safe distance, I will pounce upon you like a roaring lion, tear you to pieces, rip you to shreds, and break every bone in your body. Then I will mend you, cradle you in my arms, and kiss you tenderly." Brennan Manning, "Lion and Lamb".
I am currently basking in this Attack. Outside of God's ravening brillance I can faintly hear and see the hell that hates God's work in me. Just beyond the glory of God's hunger for me I am also vaguely aware of people who don't understand or like what they see God doing to me. Unfortunately for them, they are too terrified to step into the fray to "rescue" me. I say "unfortunately for them" because if they understood this Attack, they would be the rescued and not the rescuers.
An Old Testament man named Jacob wrestled with God and walked funny for the rest of his life. I expect as a New Testament man, I will come out of this Attack a dancing fool, for the Lamb of God. WATCH ME! If I've said that once in the past 6 months, I've said it a hundred times. WATCH ME!
I saw a gigantic icy white lion. Not C.S. Lewis' Lion. To date, I still haven't seen the movie, and besides, this vision happened before the fanfare or even the ads. The lion was ravenous, glorious and lasered in on me. All at once I heard God's Voice saying to me, "Randy, I want to attack your soul!" I do not know how loud I spoke back, but I do know I responded immediately by saying, "Please, come and attack me, now!" The lion blurred directly at my face as I threw my arms wide open. When he came upon me I was bathed in his whiteness. When the icy colored fog lifted, I looked in my lap. The lion became an enormous, delicate Lamb. I shared the experience that night and the next morning, at my home church.
Now fast forward 3 months to last week. One of our assistant pastors, Steve, came to me with a book in hand and said, "Pastor, look at the part I highlighted". Here is what I read: "I will not leave you alone. You are mine. I know each of my sheep by name. You belong to Me. If you think I am finished with you, if you think I am a small god that you can keep at a safe distance, I will pounce upon you like a roaring lion, tear you to pieces, rip you to shreds, and break every bone in your body. Then I will mend you, cradle you in my arms, and kiss you tenderly." Brennan Manning, "Lion and Lamb".
I am currently basking in this Attack. Outside of God's ravening brillance I can faintly hear and see the hell that hates God's work in me. Just beyond the glory of God's hunger for me I am also vaguely aware of people who don't understand or like what they see God doing to me. Unfortunately for them, they are too terrified to step into the fray to "rescue" me. I say "unfortunately for them" because if they understood this Attack, they would be the rescued and not the rescuers.
An Old Testament man named Jacob wrestled with God and walked funny for the rest of his life. I expect as a New Testament man, I will come out of this Attack a dancing fool, for the Lamb of God. WATCH ME! If I've said that once in the past 6 months, I've said it a hundred times. WATCH ME!
Monday, January 16, 2006
Soapbox Warrior
A lonely figure wanders to a busy street corner and throws a wooden crate down with a crash. His features are striking, with long-ish gray hair and piercing dark eyes. There is nothing noteworthy of his attire, except to say that it is clean, pressed and simple. With his box in place, he steps upon it and slowly draws a small black book from the back pocket of his jeans. Most people walking by seem determined not to notice the unusual actions of this man who is making it clear that he will soon be attempting to gain a great deal of attention.
The pages of the small black book are worn, even ragged and his eager search through the book makes it clear why it is in such an abused condition. Suddenly, he sees in the tattered pages what he longed to see, and with a long drawn breath he sharply exhales the words, "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand! Make ready the way of the Lord, make His paths straight!" A few people walking by are startled by the break in the voiceless silence, still others are visibly upset at the intrusive effort made by this stranger. However, two and three, now five and six people inquisitively stop to listen, sensing in the Voice a mysterious distant call from somewhere strangely familiar yet sadly undefined.
A large vein swells on the side of this man's neck with every passionate word he speaks. It would appear that this vein would burst from the weight of the Words it is pushing into the air of this busy street corner. Still, most passersby want nothing to do with this odd demonstration; they have no interest in the rantings of this Voice. But to the half dozen who have stopped, there is a greater urgency in the content of these Words than there was just moments ago in their harried and hurried footsteps. Like the swollen vein in his neck, their hearts are beginning to swell from the passion of the Words.
The echoes off nearby building walls naturally amplify the Voice above the sound of cars and trucks as he cries out, "We live in a world gone mad with self-promotion, indulgence and ego. Men find pleasure from their power over a girl. Women seek revenge on males through harsh manners and crude gestures. Babies are torn from the last safe haven on earth by forcepts and suction and children, confused by the insanity, mistakenly act out their rage by brutalizing their peers. Laws and government are powerless to heal. Self-important religious bigotry only parades itself as masters of the obvious. There is only one answer! A new heart! And only the God Who lovingly fashioned you in the secret place of His almightiness can give you that new heart. Today, let Him slip His invisible Hand into your chest. Let Him crush your heart of stone into the powder from which He will then with gentle genius recreate a heart of soft infant like quality. From that new heart will beat a new rythmn of Life. Birds will sing symphonies without beginning or end. The rain will wash your face, the sun will dry your tears, the moon will dance through the night sky and draw from your eyes a wonder and awe for which you long. Your sins, which stain you like a warrior of hate, will be displaced and removed so that the only thing from this day forward that you will wish to fight will be the old self you once treasured and despised. Come this day to Jesus, for He is your God."
Now, the six who were stopped by a mysterious Power, are bowing on a sidewalk, concrete altar. Their shoulders quiver from the release of long held emotions. A wide section of this street corner has been allowed to this tiny cathedral gathering as pedestrians pretend to ignore what is all too obvious. The man from the crate steps down and touches each bowed figure with kindness that seems foriegn to the volume of his just finished speech. One by one, those who have been bowed stand tall and look at each other as though they have just each one arrived home from a far away place. They are inexplicably changed. So too will the world around them be changed as they go home and find small planks of wood, nails and a hammer with which to create their own wooden crate.
The pages of the small black book are worn, even ragged and his eager search through the book makes it clear why it is in such an abused condition. Suddenly, he sees in the tattered pages what he longed to see, and with a long drawn breath he sharply exhales the words, "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand! Make ready the way of the Lord, make His paths straight!" A few people walking by are startled by the break in the voiceless silence, still others are visibly upset at the intrusive effort made by this stranger. However, two and three, now five and six people inquisitively stop to listen, sensing in the Voice a mysterious distant call from somewhere strangely familiar yet sadly undefined.
A large vein swells on the side of this man's neck with every passionate word he speaks. It would appear that this vein would burst from the weight of the Words it is pushing into the air of this busy street corner. Still, most passersby want nothing to do with this odd demonstration; they have no interest in the rantings of this Voice. But to the half dozen who have stopped, there is a greater urgency in the content of these Words than there was just moments ago in their harried and hurried footsteps. Like the swollen vein in his neck, their hearts are beginning to swell from the passion of the Words.
The echoes off nearby building walls naturally amplify the Voice above the sound of cars and trucks as he cries out, "We live in a world gone mad with self-promotion, indulgence and ego. Men find pleasure from their power over a girl. Women seek revenge on males through harsh manners and crude gestures. Babies are torn from the last safe haven on earth by forcepts and suction and children, confused by the insanity, mistakenly act out their rage by brutalizing their peers. Laws and government are powerless to heal. Self-important religious bigotry only parades itself as masters of the obvious. There is only one answer! A new heart! And only the God Who lovingly fashioned you in the secret place of His almightiness can give you that new heart. Today, let Him slip His invisible Hand into your chest. Let Him crush your heart of stone into the powder from which He will then with gentle genius recreate a heart of soft infant like quality. From that new heart will beat a new rythmn of Life. Birds will sing symphonies without beginning or end. The rain will wash your face, the sun will dry your tears, the moon will dance through the night sky and draw from your eyes a wonder and awe for which you long. Your sins, which stain you like a warrior of hate, will be displaced and removed so that the only thing from this day forward that you will wish to fight will be the old self you once treasured and despised. Come this day to Jesus, for He is your God."
Now, the six who were stopped by a mysterious Power, are bowing on a sidewalk, concrete altar. Their shoulders quiver from the release of long held emotions. A wide section of this street corner has been allowed to this tiny cathedral gathering as pedestrians pretend to ignore what is all too obvious. The man from the crate steps down and touches each bowed figure with kindness that seems foriegn to the volume of his just finished speech. One by one, those who have been bowed stand tall and look at each other as though they have just each one arrived home from a far away place. They are inexplicably changed. So too will the world around them be changed as they go home and find small planks of wood, nails and a hammer with which to create their own wooden crate.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Extreme Makeover; The Church Edition
I'm a sucker for the ABC television broadcast, "Extreme Makeover; The Home Edition". It's a quasi-reality show where they pick a deserving family whose house is in some kind of disrepair, rot, mold infestation or just plain ugly condition of some kind. They plow the shack to the ground and build a palace in its place.
The families are usually made up of adoptive/foster parents, single moms or dads with huge herds of kids and a wide variety of physically challenged adults and or kids. They're sent away for a free vacation during the house transformation and the show ends with the family wisked back for the surprise unveiling. ABC intentionally aims at weeping saps like me who are given to watch these shows, cry and bask in the glow of all the warm fuzzies....so sue me.
My point in bringing this up is that it has given me a great idea for another reality show; "Extreme Makeover; The Church Edition". Like the Home Edition, a group of design experts could descend on an unsuspecting ministry and wake them up with a guy on a bullhorn in the front yard bringing the wonderful surprise to light. Free vacation! Brand new ministry!
I can see it now; "Hey! Pat Robertson! Wake up! It's the Extreme Makeover team! We are here to take you to the West Bank, Israel, where you will spend the next 90 days living with Palestinian Christians with a roll of duct tape around your mouth. Having your mouth sealed might save your life, and if it does, it will also give you a rare opportunity to listen to people whose point of view is radically different from yours. Once you are done there, you will be helicoptered to Jerusalem to minister to Ariel Sharon and his family....the duct tape will remain on."
Or, "JJJJJerrrrryyyy Falwell! Come on out....we have an jetliner fueled and ready to fly you to Calcutta, India where you will take Mother Teresa's place. For 90 days you will walk the mean streets of Calcutta without a single TV camera to record your actions or any body guards or PR handlers to protect you. You will live her vow of poverty and be forced to love the most unlovable people on the planet. When you are done there, we will fly you back to the USA....to the place you once said was ripe for the judgement of God and deserved a killer hurricane...... New Orleans! Once there, we will assign you to an inner city church where you will spend an additional 90 days pastoring a massively wounded flock. No cameras, no handlers. Just you and God looking into the eyes of people hungry for answers and help."
Oh no....I feel a lump in my throat....I have to stop now.....I'm such a sap.....
The families are usually made up of adoptive/foster parents, single moms or dads with huge herds of kids and a wide variety of physically challenged adults and or kids. They're sent away for a free vacation during the house transformation and the show ends with the family wisked back for the surprise unveiling. ABC intentionally aims at weeping saps like me who are given to watch these shows, cry and bask in the glow of all the warm fuzzies....so sue me.
My point in bringing this up is that it has given me a great idea for another reality show; "Extreme Makeover; The Church Edition". Like the Home Edition, a group of design experts could descend on an unsuspecting ministry and wake them up with a guy on a bullhorn in the front yard bringing the wonderful surprise to light. Free vacation! Brand new ministry!
I can see it now; "Hey! Pat Robertson! Wake up! It's the Extreme Makeover team! We are here to take you to the West Bank, Israel, where you will spend the next 90 days living with Palestinian Christians with a roll of duct tape around your mouth. Having your mouth sealed might save your life, and if it does, it will also give you a rare opportunity to listen to people whose point of view is radically different from yours. Once you are done there, you will be helicoptered to Jerusalem to minister to Ariel Sharon and his family....the duct tape will remain on."
Or, "JJJJJerrrrryyyy Falwell! Come on out....we have an jetliner fueled and ready to fly you to Calcutta, India where you will take Mother Teresa's place. For 90 days you will walk the mean streets of Calcutta without a single TV camera to record your actions or any body guards or PR handlers to protect you. You will live her vow of poverty and be forced to love the most unlovable people on the planet. When you are done there, we will fly you back to the USA....to the place you once said was ripe for the judgement of God and deserved a killer hurricane...... New Orleans! Once there, we will assign you to an inner city church where you will spend an additional 90 days pastoring a massively wounded flock. No cameras, no handlers. Just you and God looking into the eyes of people hungry for answers and help."
Oh no....I feel a lump in my throat....I have to stop now.....I'm such a sap.....
Monday, January 02, 2006
God -- The Holy Spirit
The Holy Spirit is God. God is the Holy Spirit.
Do we believe that? Do we wrap our faith around that? Are we walking this earth with that reality beating in our chest? Something in me says that if we did, we Christians would be massively different than we are and the truest character of God would be far more accurately advertised. Something else in me shouts that the church of 2006 needs an extreme makeover, the likes of which is only possible if God, the Holy Spirit does the making over.
Not clever church growth "experts" who have not paid a bloody price for laying down their lives for a people in the inner city or the "outer city" middle of no where. Not the touchy feely sensitive to the seeker terrified of the truth hired hand pastors secretly proud of the number of sheep they've stolen by scratching where those sheep itch instead of healing the actual brokenness of their spirits. Not "pop-theology" end times magicians playing with Bible verses like David Copperfield pretending to saw a pretty lady in half. Where, by the way, the only thing sawn to pieces is the precious Word of God.
Not a smoke and mirrors change; but a real make over by the power of God in the Person of the Holy Spirit raging through today's Temple the way Jesus did in the Temple of His day. With a whip lashing the backs of temple "professionals" and throwing the tables of their ill-gotten cash around like some kind of internal tornado was roaring through the house. Today's Temple is boldly declared to be the Temple of the Holy Spirit, the Body of Christ, the Church, the people of God.
Come Holy Spirit! Be God Almighty in me, and the church that I pastor. Come ruthlessly to heal every layer of the wreckage of humanity that intrudes in what should be the beauty of the Bride of Christ. Come Holy Spirit and fearlessly rebuke Satan in every one of us the way Jesus did when Peter was too dumb to know the difference between the things of God and his own "stuff". Come Holy Spirit and tell us that we don't know what spirit we are of when we, like Jesus' own 12 disciples, with judgemental religious thinking were eagar to call fire down on "bad people".
Come Holy Spirit! We repent for making You God Jr. We repent for making you the author of parlor tricks that entertain only our perverse curiousity. We repent for boxing You in, pouring water on Your Fire, telling You how to pray instead of letting You pray the ragged, raw and real passions of Your needs. Come Holy Spirit, in nothing less than the full majesty of God in us, to make Jesus Christ more Lord in and through us than You have ever been allowed.
Do we believe that? Do we wrap our faith around that? Are we walking this earth with that reality beating in our chest? Something in me says that if we did, we Christians would be massively different than we are and the truest character of God would be far more accurately advertised. Something else in me shouts that the church of 2006 needs an extreme makeover, the likes of which is only possible if God, the Holy Spirit does the making over.
Not clever church growth "experts" who have not paid a bloody price for laying down their lives for a people in the inner city or the "outer city" middle of no where. Not the touchy feely sensitive to the seeker terrified of the truth hired hand pastors secretly proud of the number of sheep they've stolen by scratching where those sheep itch instead of healing the actual brokenness of their spirits. Not "pop-theology" end times magicians playing with Bible verses like David Copperfield pretending to saw a pretty lady in half. Where, by the way, the only thing sawn to pieces is the precious Word of God.
Not a smoke and mirrors change; but a real make over by the power of God in the Person of the Holy Spirit raging through today's Temple the way Jesus did in the Temple of His day. With a whip lashing the backs of temple "professionals" and throwing the tables of their ill-gotten cash around like some kind of internal tornado was roaring through the house. Today's Temple is boldly declared to be the Temple of the Holy Spirit, the Body of Christ, the Church, the people of God.
Come Holy Spirit! Be God Almighty in me, and the church that I pastor. Come ruthlessly to heal every layer of the wreckage of humanity that intrudes in what should be the beauty of the Bride of Christ. Come Holy Spirit and fearlessly rebuke Satan in every one of us the way Jesus did when Peter was too dumb to know the difference between the things of God and his own "stuff". Come Holy Spirit and tell us that we don't know what spirit we are of when we, like Jesus' own 12 disciples, with judgemental religious thinking were eagar to call fire down on "bad people".
Come Holy Spirit! We repent for making You God Jr. We repent for making you the author of parlor tricks that entertain only our perverse curiousity. We repent for boxing You in, pouring water on Your Fire, telling You how to pray instead of letting You pray the ragged, raw and real passions of Your needs. Come Holy Spirit, in nothing less than the full majesty of God in us, to make Jesus Christ more Lord in and through us than You have ever been allowed.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Hell; NO!
I love my son, Jonathan. Like too many fathers and sons, we have not always gotten along as well as we would like, but we have both grown through the pains of the past. Our love and mutual respect for each other these days is one of the greatest pleasures of my life. He now lives a few hours away, so whenever he has the chance to spend some time at home, it brightens my calendar. Last weekend was one of those bright pleasures.
He reads this blog (hi son!) and stays in touch with as much of my preaching as he can, so he generally knows where I have my spiritual sights aimed. Saturday, he said he saw a t-shirt advertised in a catalog that made him think of my current, "No Name Sermon Series". The shirt says something like this; Religion is for people who are afraid of hell. Spirituality is for people who have already been there." Amen.
I have often said that too many people already live in hell on earth. For any thoughtful Christian to use that afterlife threat as a means to witness is just ludicrous to me. In fact, I have encountered quite a few people down through the years who have told me that they would prefer hell over heaven if going to heaven meant that they would have to hang out (forever!)with some of the Christians they know. But, more seriously, too many lives are already suffering hellish torture, right here, right now. Trying to scare people with more punishment is like offering a drowning man a glass of water.
Another side of this whole matter is that the most rich and real Christians I know are people who have been delivered out of their personal hell and into the Kingdom of Heaven, right here, right now. Hell? Been there, done that. Authentic Christian Spirituality? Ahhhhhh.....abundant dynamic, animated and thoroughly living!
Unfortunately, there are church people who still think that we have to get the word out about hell! "Turn or Burn!" Truly, it is the ultimate blackmail message for some folks. And when you look closely at them, you will see the worst that "religion" has to offer: judgementalism, bigotry and hatred for a world that "God so loved". The truth is, most of these sad-sacks are just plain scared to death, not just of hell, but of life and living.
Jesus had an altogether different message. He came proclaiming a Kingdom of Life full of Spiritual reality for those who were hungry and thirsty. In fact, He joyously made this offer to the poor, the broken hearted, the prisoner and the outcast as a right here, right now Life, that, as a bonus, would stretch out for eternity. The only thing that sounded like a "turn or burn" message that came from Jesus was for the pompous religious brood of His day. The same is true today.
Those of you who know me, know this quote; "RUN FROM RELIGION AND FALL IN LOVE WITH JESUS!" Yet another t-shirt waiting to be sold....
Thank you Jonathan.....I love you, son.
He reads this blog (hi son!) and stays in touch with as much of my preaching as he can, so he generally knows where I have my spiritual sights aimed. Saturday, he said he saw a t-shirt advertised in a catalog that made him think of my current, "No Name Sermon Series". The shirt says something like this; Religion is for people who are afraid of hell. Spirituality is for people who have already been there." Amen.
I have often said that too many people already live in hell on earth. For any thoughtful Christian to use that afterlife threat as a means to witness is just ludicrous to me. In fact, I have encountered quite a few people down through the years who have told me that they would prefer hell over heaven if going to heaven meant that they would have to hang out (forever!)with some of the Christians they know. But, more seriously, too many lives are already suffering hellish torture, right here, right now. Trying to scare people with more punishment is like offering a drowning man a glass of water.
Another side of this whole matter is that the most rich and real Christians I know are people who have been delivered out of their personal hell and into the Kingdom of Heaven, right here, right now. Hell? Been there, done that. Authentic Christian Spirituality? Ahhhhhh.....abundant dynamic, animated and thoroughly living!
Unfortunately, there are church people who still think that we have to get the word out about hell! "Turn or Burn!" Truly, it is the ultimate blackmail message for some folks. And when you look closely at them, you will see the worst that "religion" has to offer: judgementalism, bigotry and hatred for a world that "God so loved". The truth is, most of these sad-sacks are just plain scared to death, not just of hell, but of life and living.
Jesus had an altogether different message. He came proclaiming a Kingdom of Life full of Spiritual reality for those who were hungry and thirsty. In fact, He joyously made this offer to the poor, the broken hearted, the prisoner and the outcast as a right here, right now Life, that, as a bonus, would stretch out for eternity. The only thing that sounded like a "turn or burn" message that came from Jesus was for the pompous religious brood of His day. The same is true today.
Those of you who know me, know this quote; "RUN FROM RELIGION AND FALL IN LOVE WITH JESUS!" Yet another t-shirt waiting to be sold....
Thank you Jonathan.....I love you, son.
Monday, December 12, 2005
I'm Dreaming....
With just a pinch of imagination, I can hear Bing crooning "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, on my biological iPod. The timeless popularity of this song is testament of the season's brimming capacity to inspire us to dream and I absolutely love it. But this season finds me already dreaming. Come take a short written walk with me and let me share some of my dreams.
I'm dreaming of families genuinely loving each other. Tenderly, forgiving each other day by day with little or no memory of past wrongs. Homes warm and alive with time for each other. I'm dreaming...
I'm dreaming of uncommon courtesies given and taken from stranger to stranger on highways, sidewalks, parking lots, stores, schools and businesses. People saying, "excuse me", "after you", I'm sorry; please forgive me", with all the authenticity imaginable. I'm dreaming...
I'm dreaming of hearing and saying, "Merry Christmas" without thinking of law suits, political correctness and the "war" on Christmas. I'm dreaming of "peace on earth, good will to all" and "joy to the world". Call me crazy, but aren't we ALL missing the point if we focus on our differences and sensitivities? I'm dreaming of fair play, thick skins, kind hearts, deference to those of difference, tolerance for minorities and longsuffering for the majority. I'm dreaming...
I'm dreaming of a church. Not my church or your church but the wider scope of the Body of Christ. I'm dreaming of that church loving each other profoundly and without without political persuasion or competition. I'm dreaming of that church loving the world the same way God loved the world and gave His only Son. I'm dreaming of that church, nationwide, celebrating Christmas so majestically, so purely, so thoroughly, so expansively that we hardly notice where we cannot celebrate Christmas.
I'm dreaming that some of you reading this are dreaming the same thing.
I'm dreaming of families genuinely loving each other. Tenderly, forgiving each other day by day with little or no memory of past wrongs. Homes warm and alive with time for each other. I'm dreaming...
I'm dreaming of uncommon courtesies given and taken from stranger to stranger on highways, sidewalks, parking lots, stores, schools and businesses. People saying, "excuse me", "after you", I'm sorry; please forgive me", with all the authenticity imaginable. I'm dreaming...
I'm dreaming of hearing and saying, "Merry Christmas" without thinking of law suits, political correctness and the "war" on Christmas. I'm dreaming of "peace on earth, good will to all" and "joy to the world". Call me crazy, but aren't we ALL missing the point if we focus on our differences and sensitivities? I'm dreaming of fair play, thick skins, kind hearts, deference to those of difference, tolerance for minorities and longsuffering for the majority. I'm dreaming...
I'm dreaming of a church. Not my church or your church but the wider scope of the Body of Christ. I'm dreaming of that church loving each other profoundly and without without political persuasion or competition. I'm dreaming of that church loving the world the same way God loved the world and gave His only Son. I'm dreaming of that church, nationwide, celebrating Christmas so majestically, so purely, so thoroughly, so expansively that we hardly notice where we cannot celebrate Christmas.
I'm dreaming that some of you reading this are dreaming the same thing.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Who is Scrooging Who Now?
Sometimes I wonder about me. Read on and maybe you too, will wonder about me.
Over the past several years we have all witnessed the battle lines drawn over the religious meaning of Christmas. I have been very bold in my own little way of celebrating Christmas in the face of the secular "Scrooges" who fight manger scenes on public property, Christmas Carols in public schools and merchants who establish inane policies about saying, "happy holidays" on one hand while they love lapping up the profits they make from "Christmas" sales. But this year something new has arrived on the battleground. And as disturbing as these other issues are, this new "Scrooge" is much more bothersome to me. Remember now, I wonder about me in all of this, too.
The new "Scrooge" is us. Yep, that's right, I believe we have become what we hate. In our effort to hold on to the meaning of Christmas, we have squeezed it so tight, I fear we are killing it. The most recent battle being fought for this season of "peace on earth" (oxymoron alert!), some of the "brethren" have taken the fight to court. Now, either I am having a mental breakdown of some kind, or this is just all wrong. "We" have decided to fight fire with fire, to live by the sword, "damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead"; this is America, by golly, and "we" have a stinking legal right to "celebrate" Christmas!
Bear with me...I'm in pain here. When did our butter slip right off the bisquit?
An old newspaper cartoon entitled, "Pogo" had a famous one liner that I love to quote in moments like this; "We have met the enemy and he is us." Jesus made it abundantly clear that His Kingdom was not made of the political material of the kingdoms of human making. He said that if His Kingdom was made of that material, "...My servants would fight..." to prevent His arrest (John 18:36). Once "we" take up the sword of the legal fight on this front, "we" stand to be sliced to death by the sword.
Please don't miss the fact that I am truly disgusted by the political correctness police of our day. As I stated earlier, merchants who love the bottom line of Christmas sale's receipts are completely hypocritical to forbid their employees from saying, "Merry Christmas". My point is that if we take to the courts to win this cultural war (oxymoron warning) over "good will to all people", we are actually admitting defeat!
That's right, when we have to hold on to our cherished Christmas expressions in this manner, we have admitted that our faith is won and lost on the same basis as we win or lose a dispute over a parking ticket. I, for one, refuse to stand in that quicksand. Maybe I'm the crazy one, and if so, just leave me with the drool on my face.
One last thought. I saw Rev. Jerry Falwell on the news the other day defending Christmas celebrations and vowing to take this fight to every court in the land. He told the newscaster that "we" Christians of America were the majority and "we" intend to stand for our "rights". A still small Voice came up in my heart urging me to read Matthew 5:38-45. I won't quote it here, but I strongly suggest that you get a Bible out right now and read these words of the Christ of Christmas. His Kingdom prevails only when "we" members of that Kingdom live by and "fight" by the principles of that Kingdom. Not when we become like the very world we say is persecuting us. Brother Falwell does not represent me, or the drool on my face, thank you very much.
Please, have a Merry Christmas.
Over the past several years we have all witnessed the battle lines drawn over the religious meaning of Christmas. I have been very bold in my own little way of celebrating Christmas in the face of the secular "Scrooges" who fight manger scenes on public property, Christmas Carols in public schools and merchants who establish inane policies about saying, "happy holidays" on one hand while they love lapping up the profits they make from "Christmas" sales. But this year something new has arrived on the battleground. And as disturbing as these other issues are, this new "Scrooge" is much more bothersome to me. Remember now, I wonder about me in all of this, too.
The new "Scrooge" is us. Yep, that's right, I believe we have become what we hate. In our effort to hold on to the meaning of Christmas, we have squeezed it so tight, I fear we are killing it. The most recent battle being fought for this season of "peace on earth" (oxymoron alert!), some of the "brethren" have taken the fight to court. Now, either I am having a mental breakdown of some kind, or this is just all wrong. "We" have decided to fight fire with fire, to live by the sword, "damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead"; this is America, by golly, and "we" have a stinking legal right to "celebrate" Christmas!
Bear with me...I'm in pain here. When did our butter slip right off the bisquit?
An old newspaper cartoon entitled, "Pogo" had a famous one liner that I love to quote in moments like this; "We have met the enemy and he is us." Jesus made it abundantly clear that His Kingdom was not made of the political material of the kingdoms of human making. He said that if His Kingdom was made of that material, "...My servants would fight..." to prevent His arrest (John 18:36). Once "we" take up the sword of the legal fight on this front, "we" stand to be sliced to death by the sword.
Please don't miss the fact that I am truly disgusted by the political correctness police of our day. As I stated earlier, merchants who love the bottom line of Christmas sale's receipts are completely hypocritical to forbid their employees from saying, "Merry Christmas". My point is that if we take to the courts to win this cultural war (oxymoron warning) over "good will to all people", we are actually admitting defeat!
That's right, when we have to hold on to our cherished Christmas expressions in this manner, we have admitted that our faith is won and lost on the same basis as we win or lose a dispute over a parking ticket. I, for one, refuse to stand in that quicksand. Maybe I'm the crazy one, and if so, just leave me with the drool on my face.
One last thought. I saw Rev. Jerry Falwell on the news the other day defending Christmas celebrations and vowing to take this fight to every court in the land. He told the newscaster that "we" Christians of America were the majority and "we" intend to stand for our "rights". A still small Voice came up in my heart urging me to read Matthew 5:38-45. I won't quote it here, but I strongly suggest that you get a Bible out right now and read these words of the Christ of Christmas. His Kingdom prevails only when "we" members of that Kingdom live by and "fight" by the principles of that Kingdom. Not when we become like the very world we say is persecuting us. Brother Falwell does not represent me, or the drool on my face, thank you very much.
Please, have a Merry Christmas.
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