Movements

"Sorry I can't check you in right now. I have to leave and go demonstrate at the Capital." Just previously I heard on the local radio in my delivery van that there was a national anti-war demonstration in Washington, DC, with coinciding protests around the country. It shouldn't have surprised me to find half the staff gone from the vegetarian outpost which is the last stop on my bread route. This place rivals the life of a church in such uncanny ways. Promise Keepers is one comparison to the anti-war march the klerk was anxious to attend. Someone rallies support for a cause, a tipping point is reached and soon you have a movement. Excitement abounds. "This is it!" you think to yourself. "We are on the verge of an answer!" But of course it doesn't turn out to be the answer, and people lose interest and go home, leaving one to wonder what that was all about. People lose interest because there is no power. I can't speak for the anti-war folk since I don't know their agenda, but I did find myself at a couple of PK rallys. It was based on 7 promises, 7 really grand and noble claims that I could never keep, regardless of my best intentions. Those 7 promises, like much in my life, didn't really factor in a need of the power of God to transform. I yearn to see that power. For I believe it is this that separated Jesus from all the other teachers, and it will be this that separates the Church from all the other co-ops and non-profit groups that want to do some kind of good. Without it, the Church is just like the United Way or Red Cross. They raise money, have a following and try to do good in the community. Without power, I might as well just pay my membership fees at Open Harvest and hang out with them. They are, after all, very nice people.

Saying Goodbye to Yesterday

Knuki brings up a good point. Why do I feel like I need validation from someone to allow me to be myself? Why can't I just be OK with who I am? Most of you probably don't have a problem with this, but I care too much about what other people think. Here's more of my story. Jack of All Trades predicted about 3 years ago that I would feel like a very different person once I left the vocational ministry culture. He said there were limitations we accepted because the world we lived and worked in was very small. He could not have been more accurate. Most of the dreams I had for myself fell within the confines of ministry. I wanted to be a noted song writer or musician, but within the Church As We Know It. I wanted to lead, but only in that same realm. Writing, speaking, and teaching are all interests of mine, but I only saw myself exercising these to a limited audience, again, the Church As We Know It. But I got something via email this week that has helped me take knuki's advice. I saw an invitation to a weekend conference, and some alums of my collegiate ministry were invited. I looked through the list of titles for the messages and seminars and was stunned. They were the exact same titles we heard as college students 25 years ago. Yet another round of Quiet Time, Scripture Memory and Spiritual Journaling. And we wonder why men leave their wives. You see, the reason this email was such a downer was, I guess, I had in my mind that I would always stay connected to my past in some way, and that I would bring it with me wherever I went in the future. I never realized that to move forward in ministry, I may have to burn a few bridges along the way and leave some folks behind on the other side, especially those I once considered my leaders. New directions require new faith, and if we are going to lead the Church As We Know It into Terra Incognito, we’ve got to know that many will never understand us. I don’t like the thought of leaving my leaders behind, but when you awake to the fact that they are no longer leading you anywhere, its time to make a choice. Will I stay or go? Will I live in fear of offending, of being misunderstood just so I can fit in and be asked back to speak to the same old audience? I don’t think so.

The Reluctant Pastor

One point of discussion I’ve never heard addressed is the act of returning a spiritual gift. Supposedly all people of faith in Christ have been given a gift of some kind to use in the edification of the Body. What if you don’t like yours? Can you take it back? Can you call up Jesus and ask, “can I just have the money instead?” Maybe Jesus could come into the new millennium and offer a spiritual gift card. This way we could cash it in for what we really want and what we would like to use. Here’s my quandary. He gave me a pastoral gift and I don’t want to be a pastor. I have to be blunt here. I don’t relate to pastors very well. I don’t know one that I want to aspire to be like. I’m not trying to be arrogant or offensive here, but in my limited exposure of pastors, I can’t think of one that I would want to trade places with. Pastors have to be certain. Take BibleAnswerMan, for example. I cannot relate to that guy or his radio program. He never has a doubt, always has an answer, never a dilemma, always upbeat. I, on the other hand, often doubt, feel clueless, have difficulty reconciling conflicting issues, and wander in the dark. My choices seem to be 1) try to change and be like BibleAnswerMan 2) start my own radio show called BibleDimwitMan or 3) trade in my gift for something else. Are there other pastors like me, who feel drawn to bless people, to listen, to call, to write letters (or now email) of encouragement, or to just simply enjoy a pint and talk about our questions? Why do I feel alone in my gift? Why do I want to exchange it? Why do I look around at others who are called pastor and feel disconnected from them? My idea is that we have created a huge chasm between the office of pastor and the pastoral gift. One can hold the office of pastor and never have the gift or possess the gift but to only have the office smother it. It’s my hypothesis that there are pastors hidden like gems among the flock that will never find their way into the office. And that’s probably a good thing.

Paper or Plastic?

My last delivery stop on my bread route is the granola joint I spoke of previously. I like stopping there. It doesn’t take long to form a routine and find the guy with whom you can exchange the “Hey Doug, workin’ hard?/hardly workin” banter. You also identify the people who are glad to see you, and vice versa, so you try and make sure you say something to them before you leave. Now this place is more like church than I imagined. This week I asked an employee for a roll of tape. She asked me, “What kind of tape?” I froze, thinking it was a trick question, you know, kind of like the “paper or plastic?” line you get at the checkout. [Which, I later find out that it really is a trick question, and that the right answer is neither, because you carry a) your own canvas bag, or b) a fair traded Kenyan tote bag, or better yet, c) organically grown hemp bag, in which you carry home all things organic.] I, in noncommittal fashion, reply, “just whatever you have handy.” She digs through a messy worktable and hands me a roll of masking tape that looked older than the store. I wondered if it would even peel off. My insecurity led me to think she didn’t want to waste the good hemp tape on me, the unbeliever. I admit I am an outsider in this little community, but one thing I do recognize are the little inconsistencies that make you tilt your head and say, “Huh.” One of those is, why do lots of the employees smoke? Inside the building, I get this vision of a better, more healthier world with a commitment to wellness and wholeness, yet half the workers sit out back on the loading dock puffing away on their break. Understand that smoking is not my issue here. What puzzles me is how difficult it is to make the real match up with the ideal. The hippies and vegans and wannabes preach a gospel of a cleaner environment and go to great lengths to avoid meat and milk, but will ingest smoke and all other types of toxins into their temple. I would guess this is what your average church outsider might experience also (and I’m not referring to the deacons smoking out back.) Here is a place that is supposed to be the mainstay of love and goodness and charity and peace, but reality seems so inconsistent with that ideal. It’s the old line, “Practice what you preach.” What will enable us to live more in line with the values we proclaim so loudly? Without it we are nothing more than a health food store. I left the smokers on the dock and walked across the street and bought a bacon cheeseburger.

Please enter the last four digits of your....

At the risk of sounding like Grumpy Old Man, I reflect on the cultural progress of Christmas as I see it this year. I had a conversation with some friends recently, discussing childhood memories of Christmas. We got to the subject of favorite gifts, such as the Rockem’ Sockem’ Robots, or the G.I. Joe Survival Camp with 3’ tower and coiled up snake. Seems like every person had a similar memory of some kind. It made me wonder what this same conversation will be like 25 years from now, when the kids of this generation talk about their Christmas experiences. Will they reminisce on the $100 Best Buy Gift Card and how they were hoping for the $250 denomination? Will their minds return to the morning they opened the $50 from Old Navy, American Eagle, AND Abercrombie & Fitch? Will they recall the hours of delight they had with the $75 grandma sent? What will be their stories? I know times change and that it is not wise to wish for the “good old days,” but there is something about Christmas that leaves me feeling a little flat. I mourn the loss of the joy of giving. My wife and I have this little recurring discussion about gifts. She says giving is about the person receiving the gift, so if they want the gift card, get them the gift card. What’s the problem? I, on the other hand, find little joy in going down to Target and having this dialogue with the clerk: “Let’s see, can you give me that green one, no, wait, she would like the one with candy canes?” “That will be $25, sir. Credit or Debit?” Pretty soon Christmas will all just be direct deposit. Instead of getting a wish list, you’ll get an account number and a PIN. I’ll even be robbed of the joy of deciding what color or design I can get on the card itself.

On Converting to Vegetarianism

I got a new job. I now work at a French bakery. I wish I could say I bake bread, but as it is I just deliver it to a few local stores. One of the stores I visit everyday is a granola joint called Open Harvest. I really like stopping there, as it exudes a unique sense of community. Everyone there is very nice, but are mostly not like me. The air has a distinct aroma, you know, like there’s been a stock pot of parsnips, leeks and rutabaga simmering since Monday. It’s not offensive; mind you, just very different than the Super Colossal Mega-don warehouse called a supermarket where I usually shop. I must confess I feel a bit uneasy at Open Harvest, mainly because I feel like an organic heathen. I don’t think they are trying to make me feel this way, but I certainly sense I am an outsider. There is a definite “look” to the employees, as well as a language and an unwritten set of rules I’m afraid I will break. Today I’m looking at a shelf of snack food, (Keep in mind, here snack food means something different than the chips and jerky at the local Loaf-N-Jug) and below one of the items is a yellow warning label in all caps: THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS TRANS-FAT! Never mind the question that if it does, why are they selling it? I don’t know what the label says to you, but it says to me that if I choose this item and carry it to the checkout dude in the Himalayan hand-knitted stocking cap, I will do so with a sense of shame and chastisement. I can just picture the scowl on checker dude’s face. You’re buying this, this trans-fat laden poison!?!? Help me out here. Stop setting the snack food trap for me, the newbie, OK? I wonder if this is what its like for a person unfamiliar with the Church As We Know It. I’m sure they experience the same look, language and unwritten rules that would exist in any kind of community. These things are inevitable. They are what define us as community, whether we are a church or the Lion’s Club. Maybe we could make things easier by not setting land mines that explode whenever someone outside the community steps on one. Let’s let the offense of the Gospel be a spiritual one, not because your friend is a liberal lesbian who smokes and is afraid to do so around you because she was afraid of what you would think.

Am I Obsolete?

Jack of all Trades and I went to The Church as We Know It together for the first time in I can’t remember. Jack owns a promising media company that specializes in video production, so he asked me to do a job with him. We filmed a church Christmas program. While I’ve not been to anything like that in a couple of years, its like I never missed a day. Same songs, same use of little children in angel wings, same wannabe soloist trying, but not succeeding, to hit the high notes, same street scene of folks walking through yesteryear, same wise men in bath robes, same manger scene, same little speech from the pastor at the end, explaining how this is the church’s gift to you, but that if you were blessed by it, you could give money to one of the wise men standing by the door on the way out. I might try that this year when my family opens presents. “Here are our gifts to all of you, and if you really like them, here’s how you can help me pay for what I gave you. My 12 yr old will come around now with a basket..." As per usual, I think too much about too many things, and this Christmas program was no different. But the main question it made me mull over was, “When and how do we realize we are obsolete?” Among the ministry circles I orbited, there seemed to be a tremendous effort to justify one’s existence and very little concern, if none at all, to ask whether or not one should just simply get out and do something else. In the latter years of my vocational ministry career, I read numerous books that tried to help liberate me from a feeling of guilt, anxiety, and self-loathing about my place and the job that I am doing. I heard messages addressing pastors to stay faithful and hold the course. I was even pointed in the direction of reading about and understanding that what I was experiencing was just a midlife crisis, was that I should just endure until it goes away and then I could be normal again. But nowhere did I hear any pastor give a talk about knowing when its time to get out of the ministry. Why is this so? As I reflect on this underserved need, I’ve landed on a few conclusions: 1. We don’t want to ask ourselves the question, “Am I obsolete?” For me to seriously grapple with this, I have to face the possibility that what I an doing is no longer effective, and is in need of drastic change. 2. Even after asking the question, some professional ministers would have no idea that their work is obsolete, because we all hold to the cliché’ that since Jesus would have come to live on earth, and die for just only one person, all our efforts will be justified if one person is ministered to. (Problem is going about finding that one person) 3. Some of us have been doing the work so long, we fear being able to find another job. We find ourselves trapped. (I promise, I am not making this up. I talked with a dude applying for a mission organization because he couldn’t find a job elsewhere.) Its not a question I can answer for you, but I will direct it toward you. Are you obsolete?

Progress, finally.

I quit my job. While that probably doesn't sound like progress, trust me, it is. For the last 16 months I worked in a commercial kitchen at our university. It was both a burden and an education. It was a great place to enter from the exit of my ministerial bubble. I have to admit a bit of shame as I considered many of the efforts I helped initiate for the purpose of "reaching people." I can't picture any of my co-workers doing anything but rolling their eyes if I were to invite them to something I thought might enable them to "hear the Gospel." The time in this prison of a job has led me to re-think, re-imagine and re-direct much of what I believe about the Gospel. Its been highly liberating. I resist the urge to explain to you, the reader, that yes I still believe in it. I hope my words will be self-evident, which leads me to my point. One of the first days on the job, I was working alongside a woman who I later labeled as Angry White Woman. In our conversation that day, she asked why I was working in a kitchen and not as a minister. I told her I was in transition in life and that I was asking myself different questions than before. Her reply: "What the fuck does that mean?" Part of me felt the need to try and explain and defend myself, but again I resisted. I tried to reiterate that I am going through a time where I am examining my faith. "It's all a bunch of bullshit, you know that, don't you?" It's probably clear now why I called her the Angry White Woman. It didn't take long to find out that her anger stems from the Church. She has a sister with whom she used to be very close. The sister got "saved" and now they hardly speak. Her sister thinks she is going to hell. That's her primary view of what faith has to offer. It makes you judgemental. I tried in vain to build a bridge to her, but I was lumped into the same category as her sister and there was not much I could do about it. It made me sad. One way to look at this story is that Angry White Woman had her chance and rejected God. But I want to address why the sister changed. Jesus did say the Gospel will divide, but I have to think its for reasons other than that it makes you act like an asshole.

A Waste of Time and Money

Sports are an interesting phenomenon. They invoke such responses as deep as fanaticism to mild indifference to outright protest and disgust. It is amazing to think of the role sports plays in our society. The amount of money alone could probably end world hunger and find a cure for AIDS. But it think there is a reason for its importance that some may not consider. I can't answer why for everyone, but I have come to a conclusion as to why Sooner football is important to me. The epiphany came about a month ago in Norman, OK. On Nov 11, I met up with some good friends from college for a weekend of fun and football. The six of us are in similar paths on our spiritual journeys, and took time during the two and a half days to tell how we are different now than during our time at the university. One guy told us how a certain retreat center on a lake outside of town held some of his dearest memories, how it was a place of refuge and relaxation, and that he was grateful for those times. His story came back to mind after the 34-24 victory over Texas Tech. Savoring the win, we slowly walked through the stadium, reminiscing of the good old days. There I found why Sooner football is important. This stadium was my retreat center. Football, for some reason, escaped judgement among my spiritual community. Golf was deemed a waste of four good hours that could be spent praying or reading your bible. Music concerts were a waste of time AND money and indicative of a lack of commitment since we could somehow afford tickets but not conference registration fees. Yet football was sanctioned. We even sold parking spaces at the student center parking lot. I could attend the games and not feel shamed. I love hearing James Garner's voice saying, "This is Oklahoma Football" on the highlight reel. But mentally I add my own images to those of Billy Sims and Steve Owens. I see standing in the rain with Jeff Campbell in November, getting beat by Nebraska. I see trips to Dallas in October with Bruce, Greg and others. Splice in sitting on the pavement in Arrowhead Stadium parking lot with Chris and Kerry around a charcoal fire on Dec 02nd, savoring the win over Nebraska. This is my Oklahoma Football.

Those Damn Charismatics

My Presbyterian buddy and I used to trade the joke about the difference between Baptists and Presbyterians is that Presbyterians will say hi to each other in the liquor store. I enjoy this kind of denominational humor, especially when its self-deprecating. But most of the jokes I like aren't printable. Differences can make us laugh if we let them, but one difference has not allowed my soul to deeply be humored. It has to do with those damn Charismatics. The Baptists I grew up around were always afraid of Charismatics. I could be (am) grossly over-generalizing, but I think its because they were a happy lot. We were afraid, it seems, of happy. It felt too shallow, too easy, not biblical. (I'm not kidding; massage the text long enough and you get the Gateway to Suffering). Happy people were viewed as not in touch with reality. The world is too cruel, too harsh to be so up beat. Jesus, after all, was a man of sorrows. Show me the antonymic verse to "Jesus wept." There is no "Jesus laughed," or "Jesus saith, Pull my finger." "You have no right to be happy." In my season of darkness, a voice would whisper subtle justifications like this one. I tried to believe that it was normal, that I could not be happy and really serious about my faith. I didn't want to be shallow like those Charismatics. Again, where do ideas like this form? It seems to me that happiness is to be baseline. It is the desired frame of reference. Joy is a fruit of the Spirit, it is to be expected. It should be normal. Suffering and grief are inevitable, but we don't seek them or long for them like we do joy and happiness. I feel embarassed that I've missed something so obvious. O God, it feels good to be happy again.

Would winning the lottery really make my life better?

I wish I could speak with people like Glen Phillips, who wound up finding the popularity they craved, to see what they would say about the deception of their success. I can't find very many people who would even admit they lust for the spotlight, say nothing about those who actually attained what they were looking for. Vocational ministry, in my experience, was no different than any other career pursuit. You could not get away from the "job" aspect of getting paid for what you did. Maybe this is where I went wrong. How many of us really made decisions about that next position, not truly because "the Lord was calling," but because the salary was higher, the congregation was bigger, and our name would be more recognized? This is one thing that made vocational ministry difficult to reconcile. On the one hand, I longed to have impact, for my life to matter. On the other, I so wanted to gain attention in the eyes of men. In retrospect, I'm so glad none fo my songs or work ever got recognized, else I'd probably still be on the hamster wheel, chasing a pornographic idol called success. The freedom for me now is found in the absence of that dilemma. I can now live out my gifting and calling as a pastor and leader without feeling like I am using the ministry for personal gain. I admire my collegues who serve out of a clean heart and pure motive. May your tribes increase.

The Curse of Popularity

One of my favorite musicians is Glen Phillips. On his blog profile he explains his early success with his music career and now his recovery from it. This led to me a thought that may bore you. The need for popularity seems to start pretty young. The phrase “popularity contest” emerges in junior high somewhere, used when kids feel like all the best-known students get picked first for everything. Teachers, coaches and other kids give the nod to ones who are more likeable, thus creating more of a craving for being one of those favored. It’s at this point a kid might make a subtle, probably unconscious choice. The craving for popularity begins its gnawing, so the kid begins to change, becoming someone else in order to fit in. The kid chooses activities that get recognized, never questioning whether or not he loves those activities or not. The main thing is the drug of being noticed is delivered and begins is soothing, numbing work. I wonder how many kids are in sports, play in the band, take certain classes, not because they like those things, but because they are in love with the idea of those things. These kids then grow into adults like me who get into their 40’s and start wondering what to do with their life. I’m not saying I regret the choices of life direction I made, but I do often wonder how life might be different had I not been seduced by a need to be popular. Would I have pursued other interests purely for the sake of enjoying them, without the ulterior motive of hoping they might get me recognized? You always hear bands make statements like this on VH1’s Behind the Music, "You’ve ghot to luv the mooosic, mahn. Its’ awl aboat the mooosic.” They come to these realizations after their fall from the spotlight. Were they in it because they loved making the music, or for what the music might get them? I think I needed to get out of vocational ministry because I stopped loving the music. I prostituted it for my own gain. I had in the back of my mind that it would take me somewhere, that it would make me popular. I needed a change to remind me what it meant to do something for the sheer pleasure of it. I think I’m getting there {could this be the topic for my best-seller?} Solomon said there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his life’s work and I couldn’t agree more. To have something you love doing, regardless of whether or not people think its great or not, is a great gift to possess.

No thanks, Jesus. I don't drink

I'm not sure why I haven't thought of this before, but the whole grape juice at communion thing is starting to bother me. Could be just me and where I'm at. Maybe it doesn't even matter, but I've got some questions that don't have any answers right now. 1. Why did we (my tradition) start using grape juice in the first place? I can understand if there was not wine available, so to use what you had onhand was acceptable, but why all across the board? 2. Did we think that Jesus used only grape juice? I've witness a few textual gymnastic moves over the years to prove that he did, but his first miracle, after all, was to turn water to wine, really good wine (it seems), so its hard to believe the people at the party were happy about getting a few barrels of Welch's. People celebrate over a case of Caymus, not Juicy Juice. By the way, did people get drunk off that wine that Jesus made? Just curious. 3. What does using grape juice do to the symbol of communion? I would guess to most of my evangelical friends it wouldn't even cross their minds, but to me it cheapens the ordinance. As I said in my last post, we learn to prefer sweet over bitter, but I believe its in the bitter palatte that resides our most mature flavors and richest sensory experiences. Communion is not a sweet, easy experience, so to use grape juice takes something away from my senses as I receive it. Has fear of the symbolic cup led us to soften the intimate portrait of Christ's blood being shed?

The Taste of Life

I love helping people learn new things. Its a deep sense of personal satisfacton to have someone tell me they liked something I wrote, having never thought of a particular idea in those terms. A good friend tells me he likes coffee now because I showed him the difference between bad coffee that most people settle for and the really good stuff that makes you want to be a poet. Life is like food. There are different experiences of taste that come our way. We know sweet memories and bitter ones. We have relatives we refer to as salty and relationships that have gone sour. I kid a fellow collegiate minister when we would get together for "coffee" on campus. He would order this skirt drink called a "Mt Fuji Snow." I couldn't tell you what was in it, but all I know is that it was sweet to the taste. Looking at my dark French Roast, he would ask, "How can you drink that stuff?" "I've learned how to enjoy it." I replied. To some, learning to enjoy coffee is like learning how to love eating tripe or kidney. If it doesn't come naturally, why bother? Sweet sensing taste buds are at the fore of the tongue. Sweet is most easily accessed and experienced. It's why babies love sugary treats. But bitter lies further back on the palate, and if we are not careful, we will miss its opportunity to deepen our tastes and our enjoyment of flavor that come through that sensory input. I wonder if this is why the church of my tradition prefers grape juice over real wine? In exchange for the blessing of the vine, have we settled for the drink of children?

Shopping at Starship Records and Tapes

Still thinking about the Ted Haggard bit, strongly believing that the Spirit is never caught off guard by these types of stories. Movie producers and novelists do this kind of thing all the time. Tension is allowed to enter the story. The drama that is created results in an opportunity for the hero to step forward, to think, improvise, to rise to the occasion. We need not hang our head at the onset of this kind of tension. A phrase has stuck in my craw this week after reading an article in Wine Spectator. The author was describing the enjoyment of wine as a "humanizing ritual" for him. He explained that the act of studying the wine, purchasing the bottle, letting it rest in the cellar, waiting for the right occasion, retrieving the bottle, dusting it off, lifting the cord (no screw tops, please) decanting and finally tasting. For him, there is pleasure in every step of this ritual. Through it he feels more human. I think he's on to something. Do simple little acts like this make us more human?

• is this why I still prefer buying music at a music store than just downloading from iTunes?
• is this why I like going into the bank and making a transaction with a teller, than via ATM?
• is this why I plant a garden?
• is this why I don't like going to the church as we know it? The anonymity, the sameness, the "please hurry and exit this door so the people waiting came come in and take your seat" leaves me feeling empty.

Did Ted lose touch with something of his humanity by the form of church that he helped create? Mega, monstrous, anonymous form that would not allow for his humaness to come forth and get help years ago. Thankfully, the Spirit is still kind and slow to anger.

Iron Pastor

I've been doing some thinking about this Ted Haggard story. For those of you who don't know, he was a well-known pastor in Colorado Springs who resigned this week over sexual immorality. Shock, outrage, disbelief. All are among a common set of responses that people, mainly Christian, have to this story. While I would probably fall into this category had I known the man personally, mine is a little bit different reaction. There is a rising phenomenon today, called the Celebrity Chef, that I find fascinating. Why on earth are we celebrating such a basic, common skill? Why have we elevated the ability to cook to rock star status? Here's my idea. Institutions need rock stars to survive. Hollywood knows this very well. They create them, and we let them. We set the rock star apart in our mind as special, as better than, as other. Is Rachel Ray really a better cook than your wife? Is Paula Deen any better than your grandmother? But Food Network is not going to put your wife or grandma on TV because they are ordinary, and nobody tunes into ordinary. This is why we crave the rock star. The church has done the same thing. It name drops all the time, just read the recommendations of any "Christian" book. "Max Lucado says about...." "Beth Moore writes..." "Henry Blackaby gives two thumbs up about...." Why do we do this? Its because you won't go to a conference with Ernest Goodman as the keynote speaker. Why? You have no idea who he is, even though he might have some really good things to say. But you will shell out the geet to hear Bill Hybels or Rick Warren tell you something you could probably come up on your own, if you gave yourself the benefit of the doubt and just believed that you're as smart as they are. Ted Haggard is just a dude like you and me, sits on the same kind of toilet you and I did this morning. But we've made men like him to be rock stars for us, then get pissed when they fail and we find out they are no different. Maybe incidents like this can remind us that the essense of ministry, like cooking, is a basic, simple skill for everyone. You don't need Iron Pastor.

95 miles of orange Hot Wheels track

Probably the biggest pile I've had to go through was labeled "Discipline." I'd collected a ton of awards and trophies over the years, so there was quite a bit of personal attachment to these items. Among them were my "Never miss a day reading the Bible" plaque, the "Memorize a verse a day for the rest of your life" pin, a really nice "Pray for everyone and everything" binder. I found my "Save every sermon note from everything I've ever heard" certificate. I even came across the 3'x5' picture of me when I was poster boy for Discipline is the Key to Life Foundation. I was really proud of the accomplishments, which made it hard to go through all of them. One dilemma in asking myself if I really needed these things with me on the next leg of the journey came in the form of the question, "Why were these awards so important to me?" Everything has value, but value is based not on the item itself, but on the opinion of the one who is collecting the treasure. I love eBay. I buy and sell stuff there all the time. A few years ago, my Mom came up to visit and brought with her several boxes of stuff from my childhood. Comics, GI Joe, Matchbox cars and 95 miles of orange Hot Wheels track. My wife rolled her eyes, and I too, asked the same thing, "Where are we going to put this stuff?" To make a long story short, much of it sold on eBay. Why? Because to someone, the 1969 Sears Christmas Catalog (don't ask) was worth $37.50 because of the buyer, not the catalog. I was ready to toss it. My awards of discipline were important because I put worth on them. I thought they would make me look better in God's eyes, and my leaders. Now I see my value is place on me by the Ultimate Collector of Hearts.

Hey wait, don't throw that out...

When you purge your belongings, its always hard to know where to start, especially if the task seems overwhelming due to the amount of stuff you have to sort through. I write with the awareness that one man's junk is another man's treasure. After our garage sale this summer, I hauled the leftovers to the curb for the Monday morning trash pickup. A guy pulls up and asks if he could have the BBQ grill, which wasn't even a part of the sale. I was just getting rid of the rusty of piece of metal. He drove away like he had found a brand new one. A blog buddy [stepchild] wrote my thoughts on the whole matter of kids. We have been doing church simply, in our home with a few other couples, for about a year and a half now. Invariably, when people (always churchgoers) find out what we are doing, the first question is "what about the kids?" Like a smartalek, I say "what about them?" What they usually mean is, how do the kids learn about the God and Jesus and the Bible with out the church as we know it. I hide my offense in their assumption that I am insufficient to lead my children to awareness of those truths. I have to keep in mind that I have been sorting through my pile labeled "Children and Faith" for quite some time now. So when a collector looks at the things I've discarded at the curb, an honest first reaction is to scramble and try to save the precious things from destruction. I don't need them anymore, so I don't put up too much of an argument. What I've kept and taking with me on the journey is a belief that children should be children. Let them play, imagine, create, explore and mostly, learn the way children learn, by watching what Mom and Dad do. Try as we may, but there will never be a greater force on our children than their parents. As a Dad, I take this very seriously.

Would you like to buy some insurance?

I heard an interesting ad this week for a new kind of insurance. It makes sense now that this kind of coverage is easily needed. Even five years ago we probably wouldn't have even known what the heck the commercial was talking about. Identity theft is a 21st century phenonemon. Who would have thought that someone could essentially "become" me just by possessing a few bits of personal information. The anonymity of the Internet allows a thief to pose as me in exchange for goods purchased by my means. Actually, identity theft isn't entirely new. It's been going on for years. The relevant bits that get taken are not credit card or social security numbers, but the facts about who we really are have been stolen. This, like any theft, renders the victim helpless. Until the perpetrator is caught, he keeps running up the bill which lands in your lap. But most self-respecting citizens, once they find their identity missing, will take immediate steps of action to stop the crime from continuing. It's a hassle for sure, but a few phone calls to the bank and credit card companies bring quick results. I was a victim of a similar crime. I had my identity stolen, or so I thought, but I had let it go for so long, I forgot what it looked like. I couldn't recall it from memory, so I just assumed there was nothing I could do. But when I found the gem buried in my stuff, I knew that it was never really stolen at all. I was just led to believe it was. to be continued...

Overcome

If we are overcome, it means there is a force stronger than us. My son has started working out with weights. I can already tell. It won't be long until he pins me down when we wrestle. His arms are noticeably bigger. He's about to catch me in height. His strength will soon surpass mine. He will eventually be able to overcome me physically. So for years, I carried around in my stuff the idea that the strongest thing about me was my sin and my desire for it. I was never reminded that since I am now in Christ, the old is passed. I have new everything. I have new power available to overcome. I have it because I am His child, I have His Spirit and I have His authority. After sorting through this pile labeled "Identity," I am carrying out a bunch of junk to set by the curb. I no longer need to believe that my most powerful desires are for behaviors that will harm me and other people, and lead me away from Jesus and all that He offers me. I face my day differently now because of this gem. I pull it out often and polish it, gazing into it. I listen for its message, one of strength, of belief and hope that I am complete in the eyes of the One who ultimately defines my identity. It doesn't warn me or try to invoke fear in me, or shame me for recent mistakes. As I pack for the journey, this is the first thing in the bag. I used to write songs. Sometimes people would ask me what my favorite one was. I would have to say it is the one written about this idea, titled "Overcome." (click for mp3). Below are the lyrics. ------------------------------- Overcome by Kevin Shinn Owned by love, Could I know such power? Bound to grace, Free to journey near Your embrace? Instead I'm prone to wander far away from what I'm made to be Waiting patiently, reveal to me what I have yet to see. Overcome Overwhelm Over all Over everything in me Every word Every thought Every care Over everthing in me Overcome