Gay-Friendly

Last semester I was commissioned to write a paper for my Advanced Youth Ministry class on the Emerging Church, and what it means for my particular denomination (Southern Baptist). Well, anybody that knows me knows that the paper never got done, although it probably came closer to actually getting worked on than most papers in my Seminary career. Either way, it sparked an interest in whether or not Emerging sensibilities would be the death of my denomination, the reason it became irrelevant, or the Great Awakening. Not that I am drinking the Southern Baptist Kool-Aid, by any means - but being that that's where my roots lie - I'd be lying if I didn't admit to some affinity and no small amount of frustration with them. That being said, I have come across some interesting tidbits as of late that I would like to record here for posterity, so that I can come back to them later. One of them is a really cool article by the young lady pictured, Christi Avant, and can be found here. I'm not sure for how long. It's about being gay-friendly (her words), and very cool - if you're into that kind of thing. For a while I've been really disgusted at how religious folks have treated homosexuals, regardless of where they stand on the rightness or wrongness of the issue.

The second item is this article in the Baptist Standard in which Bill Leonard, dean of the Wake Forest University Divinity School in Winston-Salem, N.C, mentions that he'd "rather be Baptist in the postmodern period than anything else." It's pretty interesting.

Thanks to Emerging SBC Leaders for the first link, and tallskinnykiwi for the second.

For those of you who have no interest in this stuff - fear not! More mindless, banal, entertainment is sure to follow, in the forms of quizzes, surveys, and song lyrics that I didn't write. Stay tuned! And go ahead and leave your comment on something that was posted previously - I know you've been wanting to.

"Oh, it's already been brought'en!"

"I AM the squad. I mean, God blessed me with some booty-shakin' talent. I gotta get out there and shake it!"
- Jaime Doyle, about her acheivement at cheerleader camp this week

"At Last"

AT LAST
by Phil Harrison

The other day I had a dream.

I dreamt I arrived at the gates of heaven, heavyshut, pure oak, bevelled and crafted, glinting sharp in the sunlight. St Peter stood to greet me. The big man wore brown- a smile set deep against his ruddy cheeks.

"'You’re here," he said.

"I am," I said.

"Great to see you - been expecting you," he smiled. "Come on in."

He pushed gently against the huge door; it swung silently, creakless. I took a couple of steps forward until, at the threshold, one more step up and in, I realized I wasn’t alone. My friends had joined me, but they hovered behind, silently, looking on. None spoke. I realized only I could speak. I looked at them; some were Christians, some Hindus, some Buddhists, some Muslims, some Jews, some atheists. Some, God knows what. I stopped, paused. A hesitant St Peter looked at me, patiently, expectantly.

"What about these guys?" I asked him. "My friends. Can they come?"

"Well, Phil," he replied, soft in the still air, "You know the rules. I’m sorry, but that’s the way things are. Only the right ones."

I looked at him. He seemed genuinely pained by his answer. I stood, considering. What should I do? I thought about my reference points, and thought about Jesus, the bastard, the outsider, the unacceptable, the drunkard, the fool, the heretic, the criminal, and I knew exactly where I belonged.

"I’ll just stay here then too," I said, taking my one foot out of heaven. And I’ll tell you, I’d swear I saw something like a grin break across St Peter’s face, and a voice from inside whispered,

"At last."

Once again, taken from IKON

Buddhist Parable

Translating the Word of God

There was once a young and gifted woman who set herself the almost impossible task of setting up a printing press so that she could translate and distribute the word of God to those in her country. Yet such a task required a great deal of money and so she sold the few items that she possessed and went to live on the streets, begging for the money that was required.

Raising the necessary funds took many years, for a while there were a few who gave generously most only give a little, if anything at all. But gradually, over time, the money began to accumulate.

However shortly before the plans for the printing press could be set in motion, a dreadful flood devastated a nearby town destroying many people’s homes and livelihood. Without hesitation the woman used all the money she had gathered to feed the hungry and rebuild lost homes.

Once the town began to recover the woman went back to the streets in order to start again, collecting for the amount needed to translate the word of God.

More years passed, with the cold winters and rough street life inflicting great suffering. Then, shortly before the target amount was reached disaster struck again. This time a plague descended like a cloud over the city taking the lives of thousands.

By now the woman was herself tired and ill, yet without thought she spent the money she had collected on medicines and spent her time caring for the sick.

Then, once the shadow of the plague lifted, she again took to the streets, driven by her desire to translate the word of God.

Finally, shortly before her death, this faithful woman gathered the money required for the printing press and completed the project she had set herself many years before.

After she had passed away it was said by some that this godly woman had actually spent her life making three translations of the Word, the first two being the most beautiful of all.

Once again, taken from IKON

Zen Parable

The Moon Cannot Be Stolen

Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing to steal.

Ryokan returned and caught him. 'You may have come a long way to visit me,' he told the prowler, 'and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.'

The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away.

Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. 'Poor fellow,' he mused, 'I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.'

Other parables from IKON in the UK.
This stuff courtesy of Cory's blog on it.

R.I.P. Luther Vandross: 1951-2005

R.I.P

Luther Vandross
1951 - 2005

It finally happened. The greatest male R&B voice of all time has passed on. At only 54 years, he was in the prime of his youth. At last he'll finally have that chance to dance with his father again. In the wake of this tragedy, I predict a population boom 'round about tax time next year. After all, when news of his passing gets around, folks are going to naturally want to start putting on his old CD's and tapes. And you know what happens when you put on some old Luther stuff. I ain't playin'!

Anyway, the other concern I have is this: Celebrities always pass away in groups of 3. Don't act like it isn't true, because it is. Think back - or check your back issues of Entertainment Weekly. Everytime a major celebrity "wins the big Grammy" (you like that one, don't you?), at least 2 others follow in relatively close proximity. I couldn't make this stuff up, folks. Now I'm worried who else it's going to be. I always start to get really protective of my favorite celebs when this kind of thing goes down. I put in a call to the people who handle Adam West (the old 60's TV show Batman), because I think it would be particularly ironic for him to die right now. I should also send some e-mails to all four Monkees, and Billy Graham. I had a letter all written out, and ready to send to Fred Gwynne (The Munsters, Car 54, My Cousin Vinnie), and then I found out that he had actually died back in 1993. I did love his work, though.

Also - the right honorable Mr. Vandross' website lists him as "The World's Greatest R&B Vocalist". I guess that title's up for grabs, now, isn't it? Don't mind if I do....

Get freaked out

Perhaps one of the coolest, most disturbing things I have ever encountered in my entire life.
I want to look away - I really do. But I just can't. And neither can you, I predict.

Get freaked out.

If she gets stuck. Click and drag. Seriously.

I found this link on Robert Terrell's site at Ministry Via Mistakes.
Thanks a freakin' lot, Robert.

Three priests walk into a bistro...

I hate for my first post in weeks to be a link somewhere else, but if you check this out, I think you'll thank me.

Three Priests Walk Into A Bistro...

Seriously.  Start reading, and stick with it... it's worth it.  It's not that long.  I found it through a link on Real Live Preacher's blog at Salon.com.

Good stuff.

Shalom.

What's your theological worldview?

Yeah, I know. I was as surprised as you are. Take the thing for yourself.

You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this. Emergent/Postmodern 75% Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 68% Neo orthodox 57% Classical Liberal 43% Roman Catholic 36% Reformed Evangelical 32% Modern Liberal 32% Fundamentalist 25% Charismatic/Pentecostal 25% What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com

Batman McLaren

- Finished watching Equilibrium yesterday morning. It stars (as you can see) Christian Bale, Emily Watson, and Taye Diggs. Oh – and Robert the Bruce from Braveheart, whatever his name is. I am gearing up for Batman Begins, so I rented it, not just because Christian Bale is in it, but because Joss Whedon says it’s the best Batman movie ever filmed. Even though it’s, uhhh - not a Batman movie. The plot isn’t much. It steals from Fahrenheit 451 and 1984 pretty liberally, and is generally unimportant to what I wanted to see. If Christian Bale’s Bruce/Batman is anything like his character in Equilibrium, this might really be the Batman film we fanboys have been waiting for. The hand-to-hand fighting scenes are MIND-BLOWING, and though it can get a little silly at times, the gunplay is RIDICULOUS. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. Aside from the guns – this is Batman. I hope that Batman Begins in turn borrows liberally from Equilibrium when it comes to fight scenes. You should check it out. If you’re into that kind of thing (you are).

- Speaking of Batman Begins – suckachumps moved the release date on me. Instead of Friday, June 17^th (2 days before my birthday), it’s now scheduled to drop on Wednesday, June 15^th. And I had all these great plans to rent the party room at Rave, and invite all my friends for cake and ice cream, popcorn, soda, and Batman party hats. I guess I could still do it. It’s a good thing I don’t have to work on Wednesday nights, or anything. Oh, wait. Jerks.

- This week’s Entertainment Weekly Summer Movie Preview issue confirms what I have known all along – that Katie Holmes and I share something very special. Something that obviously transcends all known kinds of human relationships, and is sure to result in everlasting bliss, as soon as we get together (WOW – textbook stalker language. Nice.). In EW, she mentions that during the filming of Batman Begins, she had to ask Christian Bale not to speak to her when he was in the Batman costume, because she had such a crush on him. So A) She has a real thing for Batman (not Christian – Batman.) and B) She’s got a thing for Tom Cruise. Kindred souls, I tell ya.

- Last Friday I finished reading the new Brian McLaren book, The Last Word And The Word After That. Bought it on Tuesday, started reading on Thursday afternoon, finished reading on Friday afternoon. All in all, it took about six total hours. SIX! I couldn’t put it down. When I heard him say that it was a book about Hell, I just assumed that that was one of many topics he’d cover, or that it would be the most controversial topic, so his critics would make it a book about Hell. Pretty much, no. It’s a book about Hell. How interesting can that be, right? Did you read the first part of this paragraph!??
Now, I'm not ready to just swallow all of his theology just because I like some other parts of it, but I can see how this argument could be very persuasive, and compelling - a relief, even, to people who are looking for answers outside of traditional Christian teaching on this subject. Sometimes I have to temper my response to his ideas. I am afraid of being a reactionary, and latching on to something just because it is a relief from my particular context. However, his point is at least worth considering, to even the most conservative among us. Do yourself a favor and read the New Kind Of Christian trilogy.

Boxes

Currently Reading The Last Word and the Word after That : A Tale of Faith, Doubt, and a New Kind of Christianity By Brian D. McLaren see related

Boxes
We like things boxed. Cereal,
Candy, soap, gifts, and corpses.
They seem safe when boxed, as are
We. As is God and other
Potential dangers. So we
Sleep in a box, awake in
A box, shower in a box,
Refrigerate food, store knives,
Drive to work, work for hours, where
We stare each day at boxes,
In boxed lives. Boxed-in we live.
Through boxed windows we look out, in.
God, once boxed, broke out, broke free.
But we keep pushing God back,
Our Jack, popping out on cue,
To music, though it's not fair.
Nests have birds. Dens have foxes.
God will have none of our small
Boxes. God is free, and we
Are too.
- Pat Murray

Habemus Papam!

"So throw your hands in the air!
And wave 'em like you just don't care!
Cuz Pope Benedict, the big one-six,
Says "hey - a lot of dudes were Hitler youth before we knew what Hitler was about."

So, we elected a new Pope yesterday. And by "we", I mean "a bunch of guys that I don't actually know." Apparently the new guy was the right hand man to John Paul II (hereafter referred to as JPII). I've heared him referred to as the "doctrinal watchdog", "second-in-command" and "the first German Pope in about a thousand years". My favorite description of him is "John Paul's enforcer". This dude was like Luca Brasi to JPII's Don Corleone. Any of these monikers is preferable to his real name - Joseph Ratzinger. Hey - wasn't that the guy that played Cliff Claven on Cheers?

I'm not quite sure how it works, but from what I understand, once a guy is elected Pope, he gets to choose his new name. His "handle", if you will. This must be a great day for the Pope. Especially this one and the last one - Cliff Claven and "a boy named Carol", respectively. I wonder, though, if this process is anything like choosing a username for Yahoo!, or eBay, or the message boards at Spankmag.com (be cool -it's a youth message board), where all the good names are already taken, and you have to settle for something that really has very little relevance to your actual person. That - and it has some ridiculous number at the end of it, because 217 people have already had to settle for that same stupid handle. And that, my friends is how we arrived at Benedict XVI. At least he gets to use Roman numerals,... I wonder - did he have a choice?

There is some speculation that this gentleman is being thought of as a "transitional Pope". In other words, they can't go from uber-conservative JPII, to the guy who's going to allow priests to marry, and ease up on contraception, in just one Pope. It takes a couple of Popes. So what do you do? You install another conservative guy with one foot in the grave, so that you can do some politickin' in the meantime. Before you know it, it's election day again, and you can elect who you want. How bad does that suck? You finally acheive your lifelong dream of being the head of the Universal Church Of Almighty God, and you find out you're just a pinch-hitter until they put the real guy in next inning. Its the papal equivalent of pitching to one batter. I wonder if they told him? I wonder how long he'll last. I did some serious thinking on this. A reputable professor of Youth Ministry (Allen Jackson) at a reputable(?) Southern Baptist Seminary (NOBTS) teaches a handy rule of thumb for the interim period for pastors, and long-term ministers. If I may be so bold, I will apply it here. Dr. J says that the interim period should last roughly one month for every year that the previous long-term minister was in place. By way of example - if my pastor, Bro. Tommy French, were to retire, or (God forbid it) pass on, the interim period before installing a new pastor would be 46 months. One month for every year of his tenure, or just shy of 4 years! Wow. Okay, so maybe the rule of thumb breaks down a little bit, there - but you get the idea. If this new Pope is the "interim Pope" (God bless him), then based on the tenure of the last Pope, he should be in office 27 months, or about 2 years, 3 months. Now, since the only real way to relinquish the office of Pope is to die, that places a bit of an ominous countdown on Benedict XVI, does it not? By my calculations, this guy is set to expire on or around July 19th, 2007. I don't think I could live with that kind of pressure. But, if I were him, you know what I'd do?

I'd go sky-diving
I'd go Rocky Mountain climbin',
I'd go 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu
I would love deeper,
and I'd speak sweeter,
and I'd give forgiveness I'd been denyin'

you know the rest.

Typoglycemia

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg! The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid! Aoccdrnig to rscheearch taem at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Such a cdonition is aprpropiately cllaed Typoglycemia.

Amzanig huh? Yaeh and yuo awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

Free therapy at...

postsecret.blogspot.com

Bill shot me a link to a site today that just blew my mind. It's a blog started by this guy named Frank. He asks for people to mail him postcards with secrets written on them that they have never told anybody before. Then he scans them and posts them to his blog. It's amazing what people will say when you give them the opportunity. There is feedback on there from folks who mention how much better it made them feel to send him their secrets. My heart was broken a couple of times, but I also felt a little bit relieved.
Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this is really not a new idea.

"Confess your sins to one another, and pray for each other, that you may be healed." James 5:16

Rob Bell calls this "spiritual vomiting". It feels good to spill our guts to somebody else. There are adverse effects to keeping that stuff inside. And just like real vomiting, you always feel way better afterward. We all need a friend in a clean shirt within puking distance.
Funny how folks these days (myself included) will latch on to something like this when the idea comes from just some guy. But if we hear that it's in the Bible, it must be some kooky, lame, religious hoop we have to jump through. A smarter man than myself (G.K. Chesterton?) once said something to the effect of: "Christianity has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried."

May you and I discover the benefits of confessing our sins to trusted individuals who will hurt, even cry with us, and hold us accountable without foisting guilt upon us. May we find the shalom (peace, wholeness, harmony with God) that comes from living the way we were created to live.

Shalom,
J.T.

**Strong Language Warning**

Currently Watching Baseball - A Film by Ken Burns see related

Well, I almost wasn't going to add any babies today, but Jessica Varner came to the rescue with a couple of irresistibles of Jaden, the offspring of SpoonyLuv himself (am I out of the doghouse now?).

To add to the Ken Burns drooling... there's killer interview with him over at http://www.aintitcoolnews.com talking about his latest film, about boxer Jack Johnson. Here are some highlights:

**STRONG LANGUAGE WARNING**

AICN: I was talking about that with a friend of mine, and we were discussing how this film, the Jack Johnson story, might be the perfect story for you in the sense that with your other films, the more you know about the subject going in, the more criticisms you might have due to content issues. Why did you not focus on Tris Speaker enough, why so much Louis Armstrong, whatever, whereas with Jack Johnson it’s essentially a tabula rasa. Nobody knew the story, so nobody can nit-pick.

Ken Burns: That’s exactly right. Let me tell you this great story. I was in Racine, Wisconsin, and I was making a film on Frank Lloyd Wright and I was going through this wonderful Wright building on this tour, and one of the rooms had been remade into a gym. And there was one lone guy on a stationary bike pedaling furiously. And I just walked by on this tour, and the guy looks up and says, “My brother hates you.” And I look at him for a second, and I think to myself, “There’s no brother.” And I go, “Baseball, huh?” And he goes, “Yeah, how’d you know?” And I thought about where we were, and I said “Harmon Killebrew.” And he goes, “Yeah!”

Another one: I was walking with my then-fiance in New York a year ago, and it was a spring day on a fairly dark block in the Village, and you never necessarily notice people that pass by if you’re in a conversation, y’know? Anyway someone passed by, the only person that passed by on the entire block, and we got about 100 yards away, and I had to retroactively remember that we’d even passed somebody, because suddenly out of the darkness behind us I hear “What about motherfucking Mingus??!!!??” And my wife stiffened, and I had to go, “It’s OK, he’s not coming back.”

But that was great to me, it’s so great to me. Because one, he hadn’t seen the episode where we said Mingus was the greatest composer after Thelonius Monk and Duke Ellington in jazz. And it was a great scene, unbelievable. But that you can make an 18-hour film on baseball or jazz, and people are telling you what you left out! Eighteen hours! What it is, it’s the insecurity of knowledge.

[/interview]

Genius, man. Pure genius.

A Theme?

I was checking back on the past few posts, since nobody has found anything worth commenting on, to see what I had done wrong. I found a disturbing trend. Babies. Seems I've developed some sort of penchant for baby pics, and I didn't even realize it. So, in an effort to not disappoint - here's another one. I love this picture for two reasons. One - the kid's wearing a Batman outfit. That's for those of you reading this site in braille, and can't see the picture. Second - that's Kevin Smith's kid, Harley Quinn Smith. Yeah, that's right. The kid's name is Harley Quinn. After the Joker's girlfriend/stalker. Genius, I tell ya - the man's a genius. Maybe one day I'll be lucky enough to be married to a woman who'll let me name our offspring after a comic book villain. In the spirit of brevity (yeah, right - have you been to this site before?), and Craig Nash, (as Shane would say, in true Nashian style), here are a few bullet points regarding some things I'm looking forward to, starting with the least:

- Special Editions of all four previous Batman movies. (here's a website first--->)http://batman-on-film.com is reporting that the SE's are almost complete and will be released with commentaries by both directors (Tim "anybody that knows me knows I don't read comic books" Burton for the first 2, Joel "the franchise killer" Schumacher for the last 2). This should be good. Schumacher has a lot of explaining to do, and I for one can't wait to hear it. Warner Bros. gave him a budget to go ahead and re-cut the movie for the SE, but I don't think he can take enough footage out of that stinka. They are also reporting that the first one (read: the good one) is going to include a feature-length making-of documentary. One of the marketing options they are exploring is to issue all four films in a box-set that includes two tickets to the new BATMAN BEGINS flick, premiering on June 17th, 2005. HA. Just in time for my birthday, 2 days later.

- BATMAN BEGINS. Directed by Christopher Nolan, director of Memento. Christian Bale as Batman. Gary Oldman as Sgt. Jim Gordon. Ken Watanabe as Ra's Al Ghul. Cillian Murphy as the Scarecrow. Also starring Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, and Katie Holmes. Influenced by Frank Miller's Year One and Jeph Loeb's The Long Halloween, and supposedly the most faithful movie representation of the character ever. Dark. Pissed. Young. Solo. Realistic. Well, it freakin' well better be. Because another ridiculous mis-representation will kill the franchise for sure - and that might be more than my fragile psyche can stand. I'm gonna go all Arkham Asylum on somebody. Things are looking good, though. It seems D.C. and Warner Bros. are taking a page from the Marvel Comics school of moviemaking that (GASP!) says you should make the movies to reflect the actual comics they come from. Fanboys unite! Check it out at: http://www.batman-on-film.com and the official site http://www.batmanbegins.com .

- The Chronicles of Narnia: THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE. Gonna be a good one, I think. Same effects people who did The Lord Of The Rings trilogy - WETA. Check out the WETA featurette at http://www.apple.com/trailers/disney/the_chronicles_of_narnia.html . Also, check out the semi-official site at http://www.narniaweb.com .

- Baseball - by Ken Burns. Not a lot of people know this... but my first real love in life was baseball. When I was barely able to walk, the men in my family started teaching me to hit, and to throw, and I instantly caught the fever. I was three years old when my sister was born, and after two weeks, I asked if we could send her back, because all she ever did was sleep, and she couldn't even play baseball. All I ever wanted to be when I was a kid was a pro ball player. Unfortunately, I was never very good. That didn't keep me from playing on city-league teams during elementary, Jr. High, and High School, though. Sometimes, nobody even came to my games. Sometimes I would walk, or ride my bike to games, and back home again. But I didn't care, because I always loved baseball. When I was in High School, I had a TV in my room, and would sneak it on when my folks thought I was long asleep. One night, I was flipping past PBS and got sucked in my a show they were playing about baseball. It was a documentary by this guy Ken Burns, who, unbeknownst to me, is the greatest documentarian ever. A distinction he has earned from me - just now. Never before would I have even thought of lingering on PBS, but that night I watched most of the entire 2 hours. The next night, I tuned in earlier, and caught the whole thing. Then again the next night and the next, until all nine episodes (innings - pretty clever, huh?) had played. Thus began my love of documentaries, and continued my love of Baseball. For years, I asked for the entire documentary on video, but never got it. Turns out it cost $150 bucks for the entire 9 volume set. Now they have it on DVD, and I finally found a set at Blockbuster Online. For the past month, they have been sending it to me, disc by disc, and I have devoured each one. I just finished Inning 8 this morning. Inning 9 should arrive in a day or so. Then comes the Extra Innings disc - an update that is new to the set. The whole "film" starts back in the 19th century with the legends concerning the invention of the game, and it's roots in American culture, and goes all the way through the 70's, and into the 80's. I can't describe how funny - i literally laugh out loud several times each disc; how moving - when I am not laughing out loud, I'm unable to hold back tears; and how inspiring this film is. Even if you're not into documentaries like I am; Even if you're not into baseball, like I am; you should check out this movie. Unless you're a freakin' pinko commie baby-killer. Seriously - this movie has immediately vaulted into my #1 favorite of all time. Jumped right over The Princess Bride, skipped past The Godfather, and pimp-slapped A Few Good Men to situate itself as the king of the hill in my movie queue. Watch it or die. Also check out his documentaries on Jazz, The Civil War, and The Old West.

By the way - can anybody guess which player that's a picture of?

Shalom.

2 things that bothered me, and 2 things that didn't bother me so much

1 thing that bothered me:

On Sunday, I had a Youth Council meeting. For those of you without a background in Youth Ministry - this is when youth ministers enlist a panel of actual teenagers to do part of their job for them, because teenagers will always know teenagers better than even a 20-year-old will. We do this by using them as a kind of focus group, and giving the illusion of power in the decision-making process, when really we just want to get them on our side, or blame bad decisions on them when the other students don't really go for it.

The idea behind this is to get the best of the best from the youth group for the Council - putting them, for better or worse, in the position of "Example for the other students". Anyway, the meetings at 5:30, Evening Worship is at 6:30. The meeting covered, among other things, the expectations for those who wish to have a position of service on the council, including church attendance. I don't think that's too much to ask of someone who's pursuing a position of responsibility that involves decision-making. I think you see where this is going. Of the 12 students that came to the meeting, FOUR OF THEM actually attended the church service. What the heck? I don't know what to do anymore. These same kids who are clamoring for a leadership position, complaining that we didn't have some kind of Youth Council, are skipping church after the first meeting! After church got out (at 7:15 - only 45 minutes later!) I called them all at home to tell them that they were losers. Get this - some of them weren't even at home. No excuses about homework, or their parents not letting them stay out - they weren't even at home! So I told the parents that their kids were losers. I hate being a youth minister.

The other thing that bothered me:

An open letter to the Louisiana State Trooper in the cruiser with License Plate # 464:

Dear Smokey, Po-po, the Heat, the Fuzz, Pigs, Bacon, Cops, Louisiana's Finest,

I'm not sure where you were headed on Sunday night at about 8 p.m., but I hope you made it safely. God knows that all of us jerks driving the speed limit in those two east-bound lanes of Coursey Boulevard didn't mean to get in your way. And I appreciated you using your turn signal when you filled up that one-car-length space in front of my car, and behind my girlfriend's, at 45 miles per hour. I was wondering (while you rode her bumper for a mile and a half, and then proceeded to pass her on the right, and speed up to nearly 60 mph in a 45 mph zone) why you didn't just turn on your lights and sirens to move everyone out of the way, if you were headed toward some official police emergency. I'm sure that in all the hustle and bustle, you probably just forgot, didn't you? Strange how you don't forget the lights and sirens, though, when you can't stand sitting at a red light with the rest of the citizenry. Just out of curiosity - who polices the police? Who makes sure they don't drive too fast when there's not an emergency? Who makes sure they don't commit the godless offense of speeding up at yellow lights? Who's in charge of counting one - one thousand, two - one thousand for the car in front of them? Just curious. Sunday night you came very close to hearing my horn, and my flashing bright lights until you yourself pulled over. I had a fantasy of walking up to your window and asking for your license and registration please, while I made show of walking around your car and giving it a very smug and official looking once-over. I wanted to ask you if you knew why I had pulled you over today - and without waiting for an answer, take your documents back to my car, and listen to the iPod for a few minutes, while you wondered, and were late for whatever appointment you had. I probably would have fulfilled my fantasy - except for the fact that now I have to hide from you, because I can't afford to fix some ridiculous little emissions thingamabob that is specific, not just to Louisiana, but to this particular part of south Louisiana, and therefore couldn't get my inspection sticker.

Oh- I don't mean to complain. After all, sir,... YOU are the one who needs the pay raise. Isn't that what you've been complaining about for the past 2 years? Isn't that what our new mayor promised you? Forget the fact that in Louisiana, people like me already pay an astronomical state income tax to support you - it's going to take a few more dollars an hour of our money to subsidize your failure to serve or protect anybody. Well, officer, take it from a guy who's been more than 3 years in the same position without a pay raise - It's probably best that the voters at large get to decide how much you make, because I wouldn't pay you a penny for the example you set on the road the other night.

Sincerely,

LA JJM 028

Take a few moments... come down off of that... Okay. Ready.

1 thing that didn't bother me so much:

So in a cruel twist of fate, and a triumph of acheivement in spite of parenting, my own sister, Casey Thomas, is now serving as Children's Minister on the staff of the church where I serve. She and I haven't attended the same church since I was a senior in high school, and she was a freshman. Well, apparently, somewhere along the line, she picked up the art of sign language. Who knew! As I stood next to her in church recently, she proceeded to sign the words to every single song we sung. At first it annoyed me, because I was thinking that maybe she likes the attention. She is textbook drama queen, anyway. But the more I thought about it, and chastised myself for being concerned about somebody else's worship, I began to recognize it for something more beautiful.

I suppose that there is one sacrifice; one friend; one supreme act of selfless service; one mediator between God and men; one way; one truth; one life; one Alpha; one Omega; one Logos; one Creator, Sustainer, and Author of our faith; one lover of my soul; one image of the invisible God whose virtues cannot be extolled with the lips and voices of a multitude of individuals. No - it takes more than we can express, or ever will express. If all of our feeble offerings were a grain of sand, then His glory would be a universe of beaches. In this context - I suppose that if I encountered such a force in the universe, I would want to be armed with all the languages my lips and hands could muster to express a portion of what my heart yearns to say. What a beautiful way she interfaces with her Creator.

I'm not annoyed so much by it anymore.

The other thing that doesn't bother me so much:

Tommy Stewart sits on the very front row on the right side of the floor seats every Sunday morning. Actually, he doesn't sit on the row, because he's in a wheelchair. I'm not sure how old he is, 60's I'd guess, but he's the sweetest man you ever met. You can't walk by him, even if you're in the habit of trying not to make eye contact with handicapped folks. He has a smile that is magnetic, and a slurred "Good morning, brother!" that I have grown to look forward to. I don't know how long it's been since he walked.

This past Sunday, we sang the hymn Love Lifted Me. In my mind, it always conjures memories of the old Kenny Rogers version of that song that I used to hear riding with my parents. Kenny's version didn't have the spiritual significance of this one, and I have ruined many a worship service with it's very mention. Needless to say, I was distracted as I mouthed the words robotically. I looked over and saw Mr. Stewart singing, and pointing to himself right in the chest everytime we sang the word "me". Love lifted me (point), Love lifted me (point), when nothing else could help, Love lifted me (point). He didn't just point every now and then. He pointed every time. Right at himself. Right in the chest. At first it seemed cheesy. But then again - I'm kind of a lame Christian, so it took me a second to get to this point:

Funny how, when I'm in the car, I am very aware of the lyrical content and significance of the songs on the iPod, or the radio. Funny how, when I'm in church, I could be saying anything, and not know it. Sad, really. Maybe I'm the only one - but as I'm singing Love Lifted Me, I'm guilty of singing a different song altogether. I'm singing a song that goes: Love lifted some guy a hundred years ago that was so moved that he wrote a song about it, Love lifted some guy - you get the idea. Not Tommy Stewart, though. If I may be so bold - Here's a guy who knows a little something about being lifted. Because of his handicap, he gets lifted out of his chair and into the car; lifted onto the couch or chair at home; lifted on to the toilet; lifted into bed at night; and lifted back out of it the next morning. Somebody physically has to pick him up and lift him. And it can't be just anybody who would fool with 200 pounds of hairy old man. It's somebody who cares for and loves him, when he has absolutely nothing to contribute. Love, very literally, lifts him, over and over, all day, every day. He is singing a song about Tommy Stewart; written by the heart of Tommy Stewart; and told (once again) by the lips and hands of Tommy Stewart. He's singing a song that I may never know.

All my heart to Him I give, ever to him I'll cling, In His blessed presence live, ever His praises sing; Love so mighty and so true merits my soul's best songs; Faithful, loving service, too, to Him belongs. Love lifted me (point), Love lifted me (point), when nothing else could help, Love lifted me (point). Love lifted me (point), Love lifted me (point), when nothing else could help, Love lifted me (point).

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