“A song we used to sing in worship that I miss (because we no longer sing it) is _________ .”
Archive for April, 2008
Sometime when you have about an hour, listen to this amazing message from N. T. Wright.
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So . . . who’s booted off AI? Jason or Brooke? I’m guessing Brooke (again).
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I’ve been dancing almost daily with a (barely) one year old. My granddaughter has dancin’ toes. Her favorites: “Twist and Shout” and “Down on the Corner” (what a coincidence that they happen to be two of my favorite tunes!).
A couple resources to help think through appropriate ways for Christians to participate in politics:
First, a discussion between Charles Colson, Greg Boyd, and Shane Claiborne. Very interesting!
Also, Shane Claiborne’s new book, Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals
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A friend just reminded me of this great statement from Anne Lamott’s Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith
From a recent editorial in Christianity Today:
. . . Vitriolic language directed at political figures does not, to use the Pauline metaphor, attract others with “the aroma of Christ.” It just creates a stench, making it more difficult to nurture relationships with those who want to meet Christ and who happen to support Clinton. Such talk easily slides into denigrating those on the other side of the political spectrum—who may just be on the other side of the aisle on Sunday mornings.
None of this precludes vigorous and pointed disagreement in the public square. Neither John the Baptist nor Jesus nor Paul was always meek and mild when they challenged the principalities and powers. But when vigorous political discourse turns into bashing of public figures, it perpetuates a great lie: that they are merely the ideologies and symbols attached to them. When a candidate’s ideology is mistaken for his or her personhood, it masks a crucial truth: that each person, no matter their political views, bears God’s image and matters deeply to him.
While pundits see candidates as punching bags, evangelicals are supposed to see candidates as, well, people. As we ponder how candidates are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” we may haltingly come to realize that the most bold and courageous thing we each could do this election season, no matter who we vote for, is this: Love Hillary.
I don’t get all the hating of Hillary. I can understand disagreeing with her. I can comprehend having deep disagreements, in fact.
But I just don’t get why so many people — including some Christians — hate her so much. Some of these are people who generally know that hate isn’t a recommended Christian virtue.
Like it or not, the woman is a person of deep faith. You can refer to the new book by Paul Kengor (who had earlier biographies on the faith of Reagan and George W. Bush) for information about her Methodist upbringing, her prayer life, and her involvement in Bible studies. It’s called God and Hillary Clinton: A Spiritual Life
For us, the evidence is anecdotal. One time Mrs. Clinton, when First Lady of Arkansas, came to Searcy for an Associated Women for Harding event. My wife had a few moments with her alone and got to share the journey of our family with a mentally-handicapped child.
No photographers were around. No journalists. Just two women talking about a child. And Diane still remembers the compassion, the total focus, the deep faith, and the insight (since she did know quite a bit about the Arkansas educational system and its opportunities) of the First Lady. I have a picture of the two of them, along with two of our friends, that I’ll post here sometime. (Translation: I can’t find it right now.)
I’m not suggesting you should vote for Hillary. I’m not saying I’ll vote for her.
But I don’t get the hatred. Vigorous political disagreement? Yes. Hatred? No.
I’ve heard people make the very worst assumptions about why she stayed with her husband through their trials and about why she’s done so many other things. How do they know that? I’m thankful these people aren’t my closest friends.
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(Added Monday evening — thanks, Marla. From our Arkansas days [L to R]: Diane, Hillary, Marla, Margaret.)
I’m sure the higher ups at the Mormon Church wish this story of the FLDS sect in Eldorado, Texas would go away. It keeps reminding people of how extremely late and under what great pressure the church finally distanced itself from the widespread polygamist practices.
The stories are horrific. It’s a little peek into a world of high control and absolute patriarchy.
Women are there for the men. The Prophet decides whom they marry and when. If they are meek, faithful, sweet wives — obedient to their husbands and to the Prophet — then they have a chance that the husbands will invite them to join them in the celestial kingdom someday. The choice of clothing and hairstyle for the women helps keep them estranged from the world around them and dependent on one another.
Here’s one woman’s story of living in a similar environment.
El Dorado was the mythical city of gold the Spanish explorers sought. This compound in Eldorado, Texas, is a place of great sadness.
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Do you feel like you can actually see the price of gas changing before your eyes as you drive past the gas station?
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I recently went to a Wednesday night class on “A Theology of Ugly.” It was looking at the brokenness of our world and glimpses of God’s grace. The teacher that night, a good friend of ours, pointed us to one of her favorite poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins. Enjoy:
Glory be to God for dappled things
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscapes plotted and pieced — fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.
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I’m not supposed to be running anymore. But I’ve been cheating in small amounts lately. Cycling has been a wonderful replacement, but a cool, crisp spring morning just calls for a little jog.
ACU just changed its alcohol policy. It was the right move. The focus now will be on underage drinking and drunkenness.
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Just two weeks until the Pepperdine lectureship. I’ve gone every year since 1986. Good classes, good friends, and staggering beauty. Plus a daily run to John’s Garden for an avocado sandwich.
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My two favorite foods: avocado and bacon. (I’m including guacamole, of course, under the broad category of “avocado.”) Followed closely by fresh seafood (grouper, mahi-mahi, amberjack, snapper, etc.), a good steak, and blueberry pie.
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Next off of American Idol: Brooke.
If you’re a Red Sox fan — or just a Yankee-hater — you’ve got to love this story.
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Here are a couple posts from April, 2004. (I know, I’m lazy this morning!)
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I’m reminded by my little league team that some children have no one to be their advocate. No one to protect them. They have to grow up way too quickly.
But my observation elsewhere is that many young parents, eager to be advocates for their children, are tempted to go the other way in being overprotective. They always side with their child against the teacher, against the little league coach, against really anyone who doesn’t agree that THEIR CHILD IS THE MOST PRECOCIOUS CHILD AROUND AND HE/SHE IS NEVER WRONG.
If a child isn’t playing enough, it’s the coach’s fault. He must not like the child. Or he’s playing favorites.
If a child doesn’t make All-Stars, then the people voting had some vendetta against the parent (since the child obviously should have made it). This is the Oliver Stone conspiracy theory of how All-Star voting takes place. (Stay tuned to this blog for my ranting and raving against the whole idea of All-Stars.)
If a child gets in trouble at school, it’s the teacher’s fault–even if the teacher is known to be loving and competent.
Do we really do our children any favors by giving them a sense of entitlement? Does it prepare them for the world to let them know that anytime they run into trouble, THEY aren’t responsible?
It’s a frightening thing to me to run into such children–whether as a coach in little league or as a professor in college.
Everyone is tempted to think their child is precocious–uniquely funny, artistic, smart, and insightful. In fact, we want so desperately to believe that about our kids.
But they’re just children. (A very, very few are, in fact, precocious–but they’re still kids.)
God love ‘em every one.
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I guess I’m the kind of customer that companies depend on. I’m an obsessive-compulsive loyalist. Which means this.
I like Lever 2000 soap. That’s all I’ll use. It’s all I’ve used for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I carry a bar with me rather than use the little freebies in the motel rooms. And with my O-C personality, I like to keep about 20 bars in the cabinet so I don’t run out.
I’ve stuck with Crest toothpaste, Gillette foamy shaving cream (although sometimes I’ll go crazy and opt for the exotic Lemon-Lime scent), Gillette disposable razors, and Paul Mitchell shampoo (no comments, please, about how little good it’s doing) my whole adult life.
I never have to ask myself, “What kind of aftershave will I buy this time?” Always the same. Nor do I have to ask what kind of vehicle we’re going to buy. It will be some kind of Chrysler. (That does have something to do with the fact that my father-in-law was a lifelong Chrysler employee and we get the family discount!)
I wonder how much of this goes back to the loyalty bred and preached into me by my father. My dad believed that we made a living by the good businesses of Neosho, Missouri that advertised in our newspaper. And so, we were expected to buy products from those stores and from those stores alone.
Once I used some of my paper route money to buy a new baseball glove from a sports store on the square. You guessed it: they were committed nonadvertisers in the Neosho Daily News. When I got home, Dad gave me the lecture about loyalty. The next day I took the glove back, went to the newspaper-friendly sports store on the other side of the square and bought another one.
A few times people who were upset with me have suggested that I leave Churches of Christ. Ha! Try getting me to buy Ivory soap! Or brush with Colgate. Or shave with a Bic. I’m afraid people in this wonderful religious tribe are stuck with me!
I remember well Wednesday nights growing up. If you think there was ever ANY question of what we’d be doing — regardless of homework, baseball practice, exhaustion, or anything else! — you’re wrong.
We were going to be “at church.”
We’d start in our classes. Forty minutes. Then the bell rang. We assembled in the auditorium, where we sang a few songs, the preacher delivered a five minute sermonette, and an invitation was offered. The final prayer was said. And then the fun began.
Today it isn’t quite that simple. Activities at the church building compete with exhaustion. Some adults can squeeze in one more meeting at work. Children need to get to bed. High school students have band, ball practice, and tons of homework.
And what are people looking for on Wednesdays?
A Bible study? (Well, probably for the 31% who are analytical.) a meaningful experience of worship? a coffeehouse where they can sip coffee, visit, and pray with others? a chance to reach out to the neighborhood missionally? a time of roof-raising singing? a few moments of silent reflection? a meal to be with friends?
There are so many changes in the past couple decades that make Wednesday night a different experience. For the most part, we can’t fight those changes.
But sometimes we have to lean against them. We have to keep reminding each other of the importance of so many of the things mentioned above: Bible study, fellowship, outreach, worship, silence, solitude, rest. We have to continue encouraging each other to live for the sake of “the other” — whether that other is fellow believers or those who are not yet part of the Christian circle. We have to consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds (Hebrews 10:24). We have to learn to live out Christian obligation without forming a new legalism.
As you consider your own needs midweek — along with your desire to bless others — what does a perfect Wednesday look like for you? Maybe it’s pizza with the family in front of American Idol. (I want to keep in mind here that not every church has a tradition of Wednesday activities.) Maybe it’s a good Bible class. Or a circle of friends praying. Perhaps it is when your small group meets.
No stone-throwing. Just looking for insights here. Tell us the challenges and the joys.
“From ancient times onward, every movement for social justice has been charged with misunderstanding Jesus’ true intentions.” - Peter Gomes, The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus: What’s So Good About the Good News?
I won’t be at the final game in San Antonio tonight between Memphis and Kansas. Though I was invited.
And then uninvited.
Friday afternoon Randy Harris called me and said that he would have an extra ticket for Monday night’s game. The guy who always goes with him (and actually supplies the tickets) could be there Saturday but not Monday. He asked if I’d like to drive down.
“Are you kidding?” I replied. I’ve always wanted to go to a Final Four game.
“Great. Well, you probably ought to try to get here by 3:00.”
That’s when I reminded him that since I was teaching his class so that he could be there I wouldn’t be able to get away until 2:00.
The line got quiet.
He’d forgotten that I was the one covering his Monday class.
The bad news is that I won’t be going. I’ll be in the classroom. The good news is that Randy felt so bad about asking the person who was filling in so HE could go . . . that I’m probably in the front of the line for a future invite!
Go Tar Heels! . . . oh, yeah.