I like Stephen King books. I've probably read most of them - including Christine, It, Pet Semetary, the Dark Tower series, and a few of his short stories books. I'm not as passionate about King as one of my brothers. I believe he has all of his books and reads them over and over again.
There was one book of his I could never get through, however. That would be The Shining. It just plain freaked me out too much.
I'm one of those weird people that actually liked the miniseries better than the movie. Yeah, go ahead film snobs. Get mad at me. The miniseries was more true to the book (from what I read), and I'm not a big fan of the directing of Kubrick. Once again, go ahead and get mad at me. I liked the idea that the weapon of choice was a huge kick-ass croquet mallet, not an axe like in the movie. Anyone can get killed with an axe, but it takes someone special to get their head split open with a croquet mallet. It could also be the fact that my wife and I were in Estes Park, CO at the same time they were filming the miniseries. We didn't get to see anyone famous, but we did get to see them make fake snow.
Anyway, I was in Barnes and Noble today, hanging out, listening to the iPod and reading through some magazines, when I happened upon an interview in a music magazine. It was an interview of Joe Turkel. Now, that may not be a familiar name to you - but if you love the movie The Shining, you probably know that Joe Turkel played the part of Lloyd, the bartender of the Overlook Hotel. You know, the one that helps Jack Nicholson go bat-s**t insane. It's obviously been several years since the making of The Shining, so I decided to read the interview to see what has been happening in good ol' Joe's life since then. It was a good interview - it mostly focused on Joe's relationship with Stanley Kubrick. I guess Kubrick wasn't a real easy guy to get to know, but since Joe did three movies with Kubrick, he probably knew him as well as anyone.
At the end of the article, Joe was talking about Kubrick, and the last thing he said about him hit me like a ton of bricks. Seriously. I had to read it over and over again to make sure that what I read was what I read. He said this:
I once asked him, many years ago, "Stanley, are you religious?" And he just shook his hand at me in a dismissive fashion. I should have asked him then if he believed in God, which I didn't. I regret never having asked him that. There's a big difference between the two.
How did Lloyd the Bartender get it right, and we Christians get it wrong so often?
Religion is what creates crusades and inquisitions and indulgences. It is what creates the idea that if you aren't a Republican, you aren't a real Christian. It is why the old joke goes that Baptists don't allow foreplay because it could lead to dancing.
It's sad that the world views Christians as religious. As Don Miller states in Blue Like Jazz, "She couldn't believe that a girl this kind and accepting could subscribe to the same religion that generated the Crusades, funded the Republicans, or fathered religious television."
The difference between Christian religion and Christian spirituality - and great quotes from Blue Like Jazz for support:
1. Religion tries to explain everything about God; spirituality embraces the mystery of God.
In his book Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton says chess players go crazy, not poets. I think he is right. You'd go crazy trying to explain penguins. It's best just to watch them and be entertained. I don't think you can explain how Christian faith works either. It is a mystery. And I love this about Christian spirituality. It cannot be explained, and yet it is beautiful and true. It is something you feel, and it comes from the soul.
2. Religion gets us to focus on relatively meaningless things, mainly ourselves; spirituality gets us to focus on what God wants us to focus on, mainly others.
Satan, who I believe exists as much as I believe Jesus exists, wants us to believe meaningless things for meaningless reasons. Can you imagine if Christians actually believed that God was trying to rescue us from the pit of our own self-addiction? Can you imagine? Can you imagine what Americans would do if they understood that over half the world was living in poverty? Do you think they would change the way they live, the products they purchase, and the politicians they elect? If we believed the right things, the true things, there wouldn't be very many problems on earth.
3. Religion tells us we need to sell and market Jesus; spirituality tells us we need to be Jesus to those who are hurting, dying, suffering, lonely, addicted, AIDS-infected, cast out, and unloved.
I was a salesman for a while, and we were taught that you are supposed to point out all the benefits of a product when you are selling it. That is how I felt about some of the preachers I heard speak. They were always pointing out the benefits of Christian faith. That rubbed me wrong. It's not that there aren't benefits, there are, but did they have to talk about spirituality like it's a vaccum cleaner? I never felt like Jesus was a product. I wanted him to be a person.
Lloyd the bartender is right. Being religious and truly believing in God are two different things altogether. Thinking of this almost gets that awful scene of the blood flowing down the hall out of my head.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Mr. Slug, Evangelism Explosion, and You
As I'm writing this, I'm wearing my favorite shirt of all time. It's a white t-shirt on what you could call its last legs (there are holes starting to appear in several places), but I'll probably continue to wear it anyway. It's a shirt that I found when I was attending a convention as a youth pastor in Colorado. I have no idea what city I was in when I bought it or anything, but I remember walking over to the booth and this t-shirt immediately caught my eye.
On the shirt, there is a giant brown slug with two orange antennae. It now looks like a big piece of crap on my shirt, but I don't care. I will still wear it. There is writing on the t-shirt as well. It says, "Mr. Slug Likes Me", and underneath this announcement, it says, "Sometimes when I walk by a tree, I think, 'Does Mr. Slug like me?' Now I know. That makes me grin."
The last part I had to remember because it's so faded, you can't see the last two sentences. Underneath the giant slug/poop thing, it says "Meaningless Ministries, Inc.", and underneath that it says "Read Ecclesiastes." When I bought the shirt, I asked the guy selling it to me what the heck the bottom two lines really had to do with the rest of the shirt. He told me it was an evangelistic opportunity every time I wore the shirt. I sniffed the air around me to see if there was any hint of lingering marijuana use, and then asked him what the heck he was talking about.
He said something like this: "Well, the shirt is really meaningless, isn't it? So when someone comes up to you and asks what your shirt means, you can tell them that it's meaningless, but there's something in your life that has meaning, and that's your relationship with Jesus."
I like the shirt. But I really hated his explanation for what it meant. Even at the time I bought it. Which is very surprising. You see, I used to be one of those kind of people who read books like Contagious Christian and Out of the Salt Shaker and other books on evangelism, and Ithought that evangelism could be done with tracts or with a four point presentation, or with knocking on people's doors and stuff. I was told in college in a class that that stuff works, and it's stuff we should be doing as Christians. I don't think that way anymore. I don't think that way about anything Christ-related anymore. I don't think you can narrow down things that pertain to your life in Christ into a nice neat little package, or a three-point sermon, or a (God-forbid) process. I won't even get into the whole discipleship/growing deeper in your relationship with Christ/go around the bases and hit a home run for Jesus approach to life in Christ. That's another post for another time.
When I used to wear my Mr. Slug Likes Me t-shirt out of the house (I think I might get arrested with the way it looks now), every once in awhile someone would ask me what my t-shirt meant. I told them it meant nothing, that it was just a t-shirt with a giant slug on it. Usually the person would say, "Oh, that's cool. I thought you were wearing a shirt with a turd on it, and that would be really weird." We would never get to the part about the meaningful stuff in my life. I would just pay for my Milky Way and leave the Circle K.
To me, evangelism isn't a program. It isn't a process. It isn't something you can pin down and say that one method works for everyone. Evangelism is messy. It involves getting to know people and loving them and living out what Christ means to you in front of them, knowing that there may never be a time when they will ask you why you're different. There may never be a time when you will lead them to Christ (whatever that means). It just means being who God has called you to be. It doesn't mean to befriend people in order to make them Christians. That sucks and isn't very truthful. It's about loving people just because they are people, because God made them.
So, I'm sorry Mr. Slug. You may like me, which makes me grin. But I'm not going to use you as a way to con people into liking God. Maybe they'll start liking God if I get off my duff and start loving people and getting to know people and stepping out of my comfort zone and being who Jesus wants me to be. And maybe they won't. And that's okay.
On the shirt, there is a giant brown slug with two orange antennae. It now looks like a big piece of crap on my shirt, but I don't care. I will still wear it. There is writing on the t-shirt as well. It says, "Mr. Slug Likes Me", and underneath this announcement, it says, "Sometimes when I walk by a tree, I think, 'Does Mr. Slug like me?' Now I know. That makes me grin."
The last part I had to remember because it's so faded, you can't see the last two sentences. Underneath the giant slug/poop thing, it says "Meaningless Ministries, Inc.", and underneath that it says "Read Ecclesiastes." When I bought the shirt, I asked the guy selling it to me what the heck the bottom two lines really had to do with the rest of the shirt. He told me it was an evangelistic opportunity every time I wore the shirt. I sniffed the air around me to see if there was any hint of lingering marijuana use, and then asked him what the heck he was talking about.
He said something like this: "Well, the shirt is really meaningless, isn't it? So when someone comes up to you and asks what your shirt means, you can tell them that it's meaningless, but there's something in your life that has meaning, and that's your relationship with Jesus."
I like the shirt. But I really hated his explanation for what it meant. Even at the time I bought it. Which is very surprising. You see, I used to be one of those kind of people who read books like Contagious Christian and Out of the Salt Shaker and other books on evangelism, and Ithought that evangelism could be done with tracts or with a four point presentation, or with knocking on people's doors and stuff. I was told in college in a class that that stuff works, and it's stuff we should be doing as Christians. I don't think that way anymore. I don't think that way about anything Christ-related anymore. I don't think you can narrow down things that pertain to your life in Christ into a nice neat little package, or a three-point sermon, or a (God-forbid) process. I won't even get into the whole discipleship/growing deeper in your relationship with Christ/go around the bases and hit a home run for Jesus approach to life in Christ. That's another post for another time.
When I used to wear my Mr. Slug Likes Me t-shirt out of the house (I think I might get arrested with the way it looks now), every once in awhile someone would ask me what my t-shirt meant. I told them it meant nothing, that it was just a t-shirt with a giant slug on it. Usually the person would say, "Oh, that's cool. I thought you were wearing a shirt with a turd on it, and that would be really weird." We would never get to the part about the meaningful stuff in my life. I would just pay for my Milky Way and leave the Circle K.
To me, evangelism isn't a program. It isn't a process. It isn't something you can pin down and say that one method works for everyone. Evangelism is messy. It involves getting to know people and loving them and living out what Christ means to you in front of them, knowing that there may never be a time when they will ask you why you're different. There may never be a time when you will lead them to Christ (whatever that means). It just means being who God has called you to be. It doesn't mean to befriend people in order to make them Christians. That sucks and isn't very truthful. It's about loving people just because they are people, because God made them.
So, I'm sorry Mr. Slug. You may like me, which makes me grin. But I'm not going to use you as a way to con people into liking God. Maybe they'll start liking God if I get off my duff and start loving people and getting to know people and stepping out of my comfort zone and being who Jesus wants me to be. And maybe they won't. And that's okay.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
MRI Really Stands For Morbid Resonating Images
I thought of this post as I was becoming very claustrophobic, laying in an MRI machine.
If you've never been in an MRI machine, let me share with you my experience.
First off, they make you take off anything remotely metallic - watches, rings, belts, etc.
Then you enter the MRI room, where you lay on a stretcher looking thing. They put a helmet that looks like it came from the set of Battlestar Galactica over your head, tell you to relax (yeah, right), give you some earplugs (the noise inside the machine is deafening), and then push you and the stretcher thing into the machine. When you enter the MRI machine, you are seriously an inch from the "ceiling". (I just close my eyes, practice some breathing techniques, and try not to think, "What happens if terrorists take over this building and no one knows I'm in here?") Then you hear a bunch of strange knocking type sounds, and then a constant deafening alarm sound.
Halfway through the procedure, at least in my case, they pull you out of the machine and inject you with a contrast agent that lights you up inside. When it enters your body, it feels really cold, and then there is a metallic taste in your mouth. Actually, this time, I felt nauseous, which I haven't since the first time I had an MRI (ten years ago). Then there is more banging, more noises, and then you're done.
It's old hat for me - I have to have an MRI every year. When I was 23, I started experiencing headaches, dehabilitating at times. I went to see a neurologist in November of 1993, and through a series of tests, CAT scans, and MRI scans, they finally told me on a Thursday in January of 1994 that I had a brain tumor, that they didn't know if it was malignant or benign, and that they had to do a biopsy the following Monday.
I had a weekend to prepare myself for possibly dying.
Talk about a crazy weekend.
We might all say as Christians that we are ready to die, that we don't fear death, but I think that's a load of bunk. I was, and still am, afraid of death. That entire weekend, death was all I thought about. I called some friends, I wrote out a will, and I prepared myself the best I could, but I was terrified. What was it going to be like? Would I survive? How would my family cope? Why did this have to happen before I got married and had kids? Was it better to die before I got married and had kids?
I survived. When they went in my head to do a biopsy, they discovered that it was benign, and so they extracted the tumor. I woke up, spent a couple of days in ICU, spent another week in the hospital, stayed a month with a church family while I recuperated, took my anti-seizure medicine (you have to take that kind of medicine whenever you operate on the brain), and things slowly turned back to normal.
Until two months later. When I started having headaches again. And more tests. And the doctor realizing that the tumor grew back again, although this time it was larger.
So the process began again - I had the surgery at the beginning of June, stayed in the hospital for a week, recuperated for a month in an apartment, and life turned back to normal again. Supposedly they got it all out this time.
But everytime I go to get my yearly MRI, the fears come back. What if they find something? What if they have to operate right away? Now I have a wife. Now I have a daughter. What if I die? What if something goes wrong? Have I provided well for my family? Do I need to write out another will?
And so, the fear of death continues. Although I am comforted by the words of Leonard Sweet:
"How long our genetic whirlpool will allow all these cells to talk to each other and work together is anyone's guess and God's surprise. But one day a particular system will break down. One day an organism will lose the struggle against a competing organism. Disease has functions as well as causes - the germ wins, the body dies.
For the disciple of Jesus, death has meaning for the body but not for the soul. The soul lives forever. We shall never die. 'Death, that old snakeskin,' writes poet Irene Zimmerman, 'lies discarded at the garden gate.'
So, what is death like? The best answer I've ever encountered came via popular culture. When a dying character in a popular TV show (I think it was Seventh Heaven) asked someone what death was like, that person gave a reply that keeps ringing doorbells to eternity in every cell of my body, mind and spirit.The respondent said death is like when you're a child and you get sick and feverish. You go to bed at night sweating, shivering, feeling wretched enough to die. The next morning you awake, your fever is broken, and you are feeling much better. You feel secure, snug and strong - and suddenly you realize why. You're now in your parents' bed. In the middle of the night someone came to get you to take you home."
I am still afraid. There is so much I want to do before I die. But each MRI test result that is negative brings me closer to trust, closer to fruition of my goals, and further from the fear of death. And, it helps me to seize each moment, and realize that it may be my last, so I better make it count.
If you've never been in an MRI machine, let me share with you my experience.
First off, they make you take off anything remotely metallic - watches, rings, belts, etc.
Then you enter the MRI room, where you lay on a stretcher looking thing. They put a helmet that looks like it came from the set of Battlestar Galactica over your head, tell you to relax (yeah, right), give you some earplugs (the noise inside the machine is deafening), and then push you and the stretcher thing into the machine. When you enter the MRI machine, you are seriously an inch from the "ceiling". (I just close my eyes, practice some breathing techniques, and try not to think, "What happens if terrorists take over this building and no one knows I'm in here?") Then you hear a bunch of strange knocking type sounds, and then a constant deafening alarm sound.
Halfway through the procedure, at least in my case, they pull you out of the machine and inject you with a contrast agent that lights you up inside. When it enters your body, it feels really cold, and then there is a metallic taste in your mouth. Actually, this time, I felt nauseous, which I haven't since the first time I had an MRI (ten years ago). Then there is more banging, more noises, and then you're done.
It's old hat for me - I have to have an MRI every year. When I was 23, I started experiencing headaches, dehabilitating at times. I went to see a neurologist in November of 1993, and through a series of tests, CAT scans, and MRI scans, they finally told me on a Thursday in January of 1994 that I had a brain tumor, that they didn't know if it was malignant or benign, and that they had to do a biopsy the following Monday.
I had a weekend to prepare myself for possibly dying.
Talk about a crazy weekend.
We might all say as Christians that we are ready to die, that we don't fear death, but I think that's a load of bunk. I was, and still am, afraid of death. That entire weekend, death was all I thought about. I called some friends, I wrote out a will, and I prepared myself the best I could, but I was terrified. What was it going to be like? Would I survive? How would my family cope? Why did this have to happen before I got married and had kids? Was it better to die before I got married and had kids?
I survived. When they went in my head to do a biopsy, they discovered that it was benign, and so they extracted the tumor. I woke up, spent a couple of days in ICU, spent another week in the hospital, stayed a month with a church family while I recuperated, took my anti-seizure medicine (you have to take that kind of medicine whenever you operate on the brain), and things slowly turned back to normal.
Until two months later. When I started having headaches again. And more tests. And the doctor realizing that the tumor grew back again, although this time it was larger.
So the process began again - I had the surgery at the beginning of June, stayed in the hospital for a week, recuperated for a month in an apartment, and life turned back to normal again. Supposedly they got it all out this time.
But everytime I go to get my yearly MRI, the fears come back. What if they find something? What if they have to operate right away? Now I have a wife. Now I have a daughter. What if I die? What if something goes wrong? Have I provided well for my family? Do I need to write out another will?
And so, the fear of death continues. Although I am comforted by the words of Leonard Sweet:
"How long our genetic whirlpool will allow all these cells to talk to each other and work together is anyone's guess and God's surprise. But one day a particular system will break down. One day an organism will lose the struggle against a competing organism. Disease has functions as well as causes - the germ wins, the body dies.
For the disciple of Jesus, death has meaning for the body but not for the soul. The soul lives forever. We shall never die. 'Death, that old snakeskin,' writes poet Irene Zimmerman, 'lies discarded at the garden gate.'
So, what is death like? The best answer I've ever encountered came via popular culture. When a dying character in a popular TV show (I think it was Seventh Heaven) asked someone what death was like, that person gave a reply that keeps ringing doorbells to eternity in every cell of my body, mind and spirit.The respondent said death is like when you're a child and you get sick and feverish. You go to bed at night sweating, shivering, feeling wretched enough to die. The next morning you awake, your fever is broken, and you are feeling much better. You feel secure, snug and strong - and suddenly you realize why. You're now in your parents' bed. In the middle of the night someone came to get you to take you home."
I am still afraid. There is so much I want to do before I die. But each MRI test result that is negative brings me closer to trust, closer to fruition of my goals, and further from the fear of death. And, it helps me to seize each moment, and realize that it may be my last, so I better make it count.
525,600
525,600.
Why is that number important?
No, it's not the number of miles from earth to the moon. (382,500 km is the average distance.)
No, it's not the number of hairs on your head. (170,000 if you're a redhead, 185,000 if you're blond, and 200,000 if you're brunette or black-haired.)
No, it's not the number of insults that Calvinists have used for non-Calvinists. (That number is actually a little higher.)
If you've seen the musical Rent, you know the answer, because it's in its theme song.
It's the number of minutes that each of us have to live each year.
It's funny, because we as humans are so good at focusing on the broad picture. On January 1, we make our New Year resolutions, hoping that we will be able to change a certain part of our behavior/lifestyle by the end of the year. We fail.
It makes me wonder - instead of making yearly resolutions that are going to only make us frustrated and cause us to feel defeated, why don't we make minute resolutions?
"I resolve to change my behavior this minute."
That has a good ring to it, doesn't it?
Someone once said, "The quality of a godly life does not depend on its number of great happenings or big actions but on what happens in it one small moment after another. The soul is made up of an awful lot of moments and a lot of awful moments." There are some things we need to do if we are truly going to live moment by moment, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month, and year by year in such a way that will honor God and work towards our goal of becoming like Christ.
(1) Magnetize Your Moments.
Make each moment holy, an offering to God. Someone said, "To make a moment is not to manufacture a moment or concoct a split-second spirituality. It is rather to identify a moment in such a way that it can become a consicous moment, an enjoyed moment, and an enduring moment that redounds to the glory of God." When a moment is magnetized by the Holy Spirit, it becomes whole, holy and eternal.
There are so many discoveries to be made in life. Use each moment to discover.
(2) Landmark Your Moments.
This is what I like to call "milepost your life". Mileposts are signs on the highway that tell you where you're at, where you've been, and where you're going. When you have a moment in your life, whether good or bad, that's worth remembering, landmark it. There is one day in your life that will be your best day. There will also be one day in your life that will be your worst day. Landmark both. You may change both down the road as well. It's good to have these mileposts in your life, because it reminds you of God's faithfulness in the good times, and it reminds you of your dependency on God in the bad times.
(3) Live Your Moments.
"So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." I love that verse. It reminds me that even in the mundane moments of life, i.e. eating and drinking, there is still an opportunity to glorify God.
So stop seizing the day or seizing the year.
Seize the moment - all 31,536,000 of them each year!
"How we spend our days is - of course - how we spend our lives."
Annie Dillard
Why is that number important?
No, it's not the number of miles from earth to the moon. (382,500 km is the average distance.)
No, it's not the number of hairs on your head. (170,000 if you're a redhead, 185,000 if you're blond, and 200,000 if you're brunette or black-haired.)
No, it's not the number of insults that Calvinists have used for non-Calvinists. (That number is actually a little higher.)
If you've seen the musical Rent, you know the answer, because it's in its theme song.
It's the number of minutes that each of us have to live each year.
It's funny, because we as humans are so good at focusing on the broad picture. On January 1, we make our New Year resolutions, hoping that we will be able to change a certain part of our behavior/lifestyle by the end of the year. We fail.
It makes me wonder - instead of making yearly resolutions that are going to only make us frustrated and cause us to feel defeated, why don't we make minute resolutions?
"I resolve to change my behavior this minute."
That has a good ring to it, doesn't it?
Someone once said, "The quality of a godly life does not depend on its number of great happenings or big actions but on what happens in it one small moment after another. The soul is made up of an awful lot of moments and a lot of awful moments." There are some things we need to do if we are truly going to live moment by moment, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month, and year by year in such a way that will honor God and work towards our goal of becoming like Christ.
(1) Magnetize Your Moments.
Make each moment holy, an offering to God. Someone said, "To make a moment is not to manufacture a moment or concoct a split-second spirituality. It is rather to identify a moment in such a way that it can become a consicous moment, an enjoyed moment, and an enduring moment that redounds to the glory of God." When a moment is magnetized by the Holy Spirit, it becomes whole, holy and eternal.
There are so many discoveries to be made in life. Use each moment to discover.
(2) Landmark Your Moments.
This is what I like to call "milepost your life". Mileposts are signs on the highway that tell you where you're at, where you've been, and where you're going. When you have a moment in your life, whether good or bad, that's worth remembering, landmark it. There is one day in your life that will be your best day. There will also be one day in your life that will be your worst day. Landmark both. You may change both down the road as well. It's good to have these mileposts in your life, because it reminds you of God's faithfulness in the good times, and it reminds you of your dependency on God in the bad times.
(3) Live Your Moments.
"So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." I love that verse. It reminds me that even in the mundane moments of life, i.e. eating and drinking, there is still an opportunity to glorify God.
So stop seizing the day or seizing the year.
Seize the moment - all 31,536,000 of them each year!
"How we spend our days is - of course - how we spend our lives."
Annie Dillard
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Tell Me About Your Mother
I've been in ministry for over ten years now.
That's crazy. In some ways, it seems like it was just a couple of years ago, me being the "young pup", the "new guy", the "I graduated from bible college with a youth ministry degree, but I have no clue how to really minister in the real world" one. In other ways, I feel like Billy Graham - hanging around after years and years of doing what I love, seeing all of the things that have happened over the long period of time, and just asking God for a few more years of fruitfulness.
If I didn't leave my church last week, I would have celebrated my third anniversary as a worship minister in March. Before that, I was a youth minister - six and a half in Colorado, and a year and half in Dallas. I thought I was ready to make the "switch" from youth minister to adult minister four years ago. The associate minister at my church asked me to consider taking the position that was opening up that was in charge of the small group ministry and assimilation ministry (affectionately called "The Borg" ministry - "You will be assimilated.") I told him that I would take a couple of weeks to consider it. After three days, I told him I wasn't interested and that I wanted to still be youth minister. Although I really didn't tell him why, here were the top three reasons why at the time I decided I wasn't ready to leave youth ministry:
3. At the time, I still liked allnighters, week-long conferences and retreats. I look at them now and I thank God I don't have to do that anymore.
2. Adults scared me. The only adult contact I had in youth ministry was parents of teenagers. That was frightening. Well, I had some great adult leaders, but I figured they were "weird" like I was.
And the number one reason:
1. COUNSELING.
No matter what adult ministry position you end up taking, whether it be top dog (senior minister), loud dog (worship minister), mean dog (administrative minister), or whipped dog (Sunday School director), you will inevitably get looped into the counseling ministry of the church. Even if you end up avoiding having this task get put in your job description, there will always be a time when you're alone in the church office, trying to finish up something, and a lady will come in whose third husband is beating her and she doesn't know if she should leave him or not (To which I want to say, "Pack your bags, lady, get out of there now", but I know someone who said that, and an hour later her husband came back to the office with a gun. A big gun. Honestly. Of course, it was in Texas, where everyone has a gun, so...)
My rant is this: why do people seem to think that just because you're a minister, that makes you a good counselor? Believe me, it doesn't. I'm terrible at it. I never took a class in counseling (although I did have to take a class in psychology; unfortunately it was abnormal psychology, so I can only diagnose someone as a psychopath, I can't help them through it.), I don't have a counseling degree, but yet Mrs. Smith seems to believe that somehow my words of wisdom will make a difference in how she deals with her husband's "roving eye".
If I was the head of a denomination, one of the first things I would do would be to hire professional counselors for each church over 400 people. Or I would have each church partner with a Christian counselor in the area who would take on members of the congregation for a reduced fee; in return they would have some free advertising and more clients.
In the meantime, I have to go - Mrs. Smith just called and wanted to know if getting an ingrown toenail was a sign from God that she needs to cut down on her swearing.
Hugh Grant Is A Sexy, Sexy, Beast...HA! Caught You Reading My Blog Because Of That Remark...
Watched a movie awhile ago - About A Boy.
I really enjoyed it. I like Hugh Grant as an actor (if not as a regular person), and this movie was no exception. It had some good comedy, it had some dramatic scenes, and it was just a good movie.
When I watch a movie, I try to get more out of it than entertainment. I try to apply the main theme of the movie to my life, or I'll try to come out of it with a couple of things to work on.
So, as I watched About A Boy, there were a couple of elements of the movie that struck me.
First of all, Will (the character played by Hugh Grant) knew himself. There is a scene where he is at someone's house, and they just recently had a baby and wanted Will to be the godparent. Will looked at them incredulously and asked if they really thought that he would be a good godparent. The lady replied that she always though that he had a depth to him hidden somewhere. Will replied "You see, that's where you've always been wrong. I really am this shallow." Will knew his strengths, he knew his weaknesses. He knew that he pretty much did nothing, that his source of income came from a hit song his dad wrote in the '60's, that he had a different concept of time than most people, etc. etc.
It's good to take some time every once in awhile and reflect on who you really are. Not who you believe people see you as, not the mask that you wear each day in order to hide your shortcomings, but to really realize and discover who you are. So in thinking about this movie, here are some things I know about myself.
I know that I'm a pretty patient person, except when it comes to driving. And the fact that I live pretty close to almost every retirement community in Arizona doesn't help the situation. I've never been one to use bad language, but the place where I use it the most would be in the car.
Like most Americans, I'm selfish. I don't believe in "delayed gratification." I want it when I want it, which is usually right away. If I don't get it when I want it, then I usually will sulk and complain. I have a consumer mindset and one of the reasons why I'm so bad at saving money is that I spend it right away on whatever I think I need.
People infuriate me and frustrate me. Oftentimes, I will truly believe what someone once said: "The church would be a great place if it wasn't for people." Even simple situations, like today when I was waiting in line to get a couple of doughnuts, and some old guy cut in and got a couple in front of me because I reached down to get one of those tissues, and he thought I wouldn't see him and of course I did, make me wish that most people would just disappear.
Because of the things that have happened in my life, I have a continuing struggle in my relationship with God. I ask Job-like questions, but instead of being answered by God in a whirlwind, I get no answers. I see people who have had nothing happen in their lives and who continue to get away with sinful behavior and I envy them. Everyday I get up and wonder what bad thing will happen to me next. I fear that I will have to have brain surgery again. I fear that another person close to me will die. Somehow I still hold on to this little thing called hope and stubbornly believe that God really does love me.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone into veterinary school rather than the ministry. I love animals and when I hear cases of animal cruelty, I get very angry and want to exact justice on them. Animals love unconditionally. One time I was thinking of how sad I become when I hear of an animal that is hurt and heard God say to me, "Imagine how I feel when the people I created get hurt. Imagine the pain I feel when people choose hell over me." This is one of the main reasons why I don't believe in Calvinism.I could go on and on, but you get the point.
The other thing that struck me in this film is that towards the end, there is a remarkable transformation in Will's thinking. He goes through most of the movie knowing who he is and accepting who he is and not doing anything about it. Towards the end of the movie, however, he realizes that he can change, that he can be different, that he can turn his life around.
And I realize the same. Although I know who I am, it doesn't mean that's who I have to be, for the rest of my life. I can change. I can be different.
And that's what makes this life worth it.
I really enjoyed it. I like Hugh Grant as an actor (if not as a regular person), and this movie was no exception. It had some good comedy, it had some dramatic scenes, and it was just a good movie.
When I watch a movie, I try to get more out of it than entertainment. I try to apply the main theme of the movie to my life, or I'll try to come out of it with a couple of things to work on.
So, as I watched About A Boy, there were a couple of elements of the movie that struck me.
First of all, Will (the character played by Hugh Grant) knew himself. There is a scene where he is at someone's house, and they just recently had a baby and wanted Will to be the godparent. Will looked at them incredulously and asked if they really thought that he would be a good godparent. The lady replied that she always though that he had a depth to him hidden somewhere. Will replied "You see, that's where you've always been wrong. I really am this shallow." Will knew his strengths, he knew his weaknesses. He knew that he pretty much did nothing, that his source of income came from a hit song his dad wrote in the '60's, that he had a different concept of time than most people, etc. etc.
It's good to take some time every once in awhile and reflect on who you really are. Not who you believe people see you as, not the mask that you wear each day in order to hide your shortcomings, but to really realize and discover who you are. So in thinking about this movie, here are some things I know about myself.
I know that I'm a pretty patient person, except when it comes to driving. And the fact that I live pretty close to almost every retirement community in Arizona doesn't help the situation. I've never been one to use bad language, but the place where I use it the most would be in the car.
Like most Americans, I'm selfish. I don't believe in "delayed gratification." I want it when I want it, which is usually right away. If I don't get it when I want it, then I usually will sulk and complain. I have a consumer mindset and one of the reasons why I'm so bad at saving money is that I spend it right away on whatever I think I need.
People infuriate me and frustrate me. Oftentimes, I will truly believe what someone once said: "The church would be a great place if it wasn't for people." Even simple situations, like today when I was waiting in line to get a couple of doughnuts, and some old guy cut in and got a couple in front of me because I reached down to get one of those tissues, and he thought I wouldn't see him and of course I did, make me wish that most people would just disappear.
Because of the things that have happened in my life, I have a continuing struggle in my relationship with God. I ask Job-like questions, but instead of being answered by God in a whirlwind, I get no answers. I see people who have had nothing happen in their lives and who continue to get away with sinful behavior and I envy them. Everyday I get up and wonder what bad thing will happen to me next. I fear that I will have to have brain surgery again. I fear that another person close to me will die. Somehow I still hold on to this little thing called hope and stubbornly believe that God really does love me.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone into veterinary school rather than the ministry. I love animals and when I hear cases of animal cruelty, I get very angry and want to exact justice on them. Animals love unconditionally. One time I was thinking of how sad I become when I hear of an animal that is hurt and heard God say to me, "Imagine how I feel when the people I created get hurt. Imagine the pain I feel when people choose hell over me." This is one of the main reasons why I don't believe in Calvinism.I could go on and on, but you get the point.
The other thing that struck me in this film is that towards the end, there is a remarkable transformation in Will's thinking. He goes through most of the movie knowing who he is and accepting who he is and not doing anything about it. Towards the end of the movie, however, he realizes that he can change, that he can be different, that he can turn his life around.
And I realize the same. Although I know who I am, it doesn't mean that's who I have to be, for the rest of my life. I can change. I can be different.
And that's what makes this life worth it.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Creamed Corn Ruins Friendship...Film At Eleven
I once almost lost a friendship over creamed corn.
No, really.
I had a roommate in college; Let's call him...Matt. The names have not been changed for protection. (I always laugh when I read stories and the names have been changed. As if we're going to know who the writer is talking about. "Oh, yeah, Mary. Yeah, that's right, Mary was a tramp who cheated on her boyfriend and tested positive for HIV." Do you know how many Marys there are in the world? Anyways...)
Matt and I were in the kitchen - he was making his chicken fried rice, I believe, and I was about ready to make my obligatory mac and cheese (my college diet), when Matt pulled out a can of creamed corn from the pantry. Here's the conversation that followed:
Me: "Creamed corn, ugh."
Matt: "What's wrong with creamed corn?"
Me: "Well, personally, I don't like to eat something that looks like I already ate it, if you know what I mean."
Matt: "No, I don't know what you mean. You're an idiot. Just because something doesn't look right to you, doesn't mean it's inedible. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
Me: "Right!" (in Monty Python English, where I then pull out my sword and lop off his arm in Black Knight style)
Okay, that last part was made up. But we did almost come to blows. And we didn't talk to each other for three weeks after the incident.Here's the kicker: it wasn't really about the creamed corn. This was an argument waiting to happen because of several incidents piled on top of each other that finally overflowed over in anger and rage.
There was the incident two weeks before, where Matt asked to borrow my car, which I agreed to let him do so on the one condition that he brought it back by 7 p.m., as I had a date with a rather beautiful blond I had been getting the nerve up to ask for three months - I asked, she said yes. 6:30 p.m. rolled by, and I was nervous. 6:50 came and I was more than nervous, I was angry. At 7:15 I canceled my date and roamed our apartment looking for sharp instruments to impale my roommate with. By 8:30, I had the look of a disgruntled postal worker. Finally, I walked the 2 miles to go to the college I was attending (I was obviously an off-campus student), found my car and took it back to my apartment. Matt called and said, "Hey dude, your car was stolen, I think." Then there were other less major incidents, including times when I made him upset and angry.
Here's the point of my rant: If we would have dealt with each problem and misunderstanding as they happened, we would have never almost killed each other over "The Creamed Corn Incident." But that's the world for you, isn't it?We will do anything as humanly possible to avoid conflict. We would rather give someone "the silent treatment", or talk about the problem to someone else, hoping that somehow the person who we have a conflict will hear through the grapevine and will fall at our feet in repentance and cries for mercy. But it usually just makes the other person angry because they don't know why we are treating them that way.
Barbara Pachter, in her book "The Power of Positive Confrontation", says that there are 12 kinds of behaviors that drive us nuts:
1. Space Spongers. These are people who play their music too loud, leave messes for others to clean up, neighbors who let dogs in our yard, or co-workers who don't respect our property.
2. Telephone Traitors. When you deal with this person, you might have complaints like these: "I have to do all the calling." "She never calls me back." "He only calls when he wants something."
3. Bad Borrowers. They return your car with no gas (or ahem, not in time for a date), CDs with scratches, and money they borrow never gets paid back.
4. Constant Complainers. Everyone knows one - the person who always had a problem or gripe that never gets resolved.
5. Interloping Interrupters. People don't like to be interrupted or not to be given an opportunity to join equally in a conversation.
6. Callous Commenters. Among other things, this can be the neighbor who makes nasty comments or the person telling racist or sexist jokes. You don't like what this person says.
7. Work Welchers. Some people just don't do their fair share whether at home, work, or on the volunteer committee.
8. Favoritism Frustration. "What about me?" Your boss gives his pals the best projects or your mother-in-law gives better presents to her daughter's kids.
9. Holiday Hogs. Your spouse always wants to spend the holidays with his or her family. One of you wants to go to Hawaii for vacation; the other wants to hike the Appalachian trail.
10. Request Refusers. You ask your spouse to be on time for dinner. Your co-worker knows you need the report by 2 p.m., but doesn't deliver; your client will not give the tax information you've asked for. These are people who say they will grant your request by don't.
11. Atrocious Askers. You're asked to do something by your friend, boss, or loved one that you don't want to do or don't agree with.
12. Interloping Loved Ones. Some people want to tell you what they think - even if you don't want to hear it. (my grandmother comes to mind.)
Who hasn't had to deal with these kind of people. Shoot, I'm a minister - I guarantee you that I deal with all twelve on a weekly basis. What do we do in these situations? How do we make sure that these conflicts don't become "creamed corn incidents?"
The best advice I've ever been given on conflict resolution didn't come in a class or from a book. Rather, it came from the greatest teacher that ever lived (who also happens to be our Savior): "Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.""If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over. But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses. If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector."
(Wouldn't that be great? "I no longer consider you my friend for right now - right now, you are a pagan to me." Of course if we follow Jesus' steps above, no conflict would ever come to that.)
Imagine what would happen with all of our conflicts and our broken relationships if we followed the words of Jesus. Imagine if we were honest with people with how we felt immediately in a situation, rather than harboring resentment towards those people after not dealing with the problems over and over again.
And imagine the numbers of creamed corn cans that would be saved. Of course it would still look like it's already been thrown up - and if you have a problem with that, will you let me know now? Otherwise, I may be throwing the can at you later.
No, really.
I had a roommate in college; Let's call him...Matt. The names have not been changed for protection. (I always laugh when I read stories and the names have been changed. As if we're going to know who the writer is talking about. "Oh, yeah, Mary. Yeah, that's right, Mary was a tramp who cheated on her boyfriend and tested positive for HIV." Do you know how many Marys there are in the world? Anyways...)
Matt and I were in the kitchen - he was making his chicken fried rice, I believe, and I was about ready to make my obligatory mac and cheese (my college diet), when Matt pulled out a can of creamed corn from the pantry. Here's the conversation that followed:
Me: "Creamed corn, ugh."
Matt: "What's wrong with creamed corn?"
Me: "Well, personally, I don't like to eat something that looks like I already ate it, if you know what I mean."
Matt: "No, I don't know what you mean. You're an idiot. Just because something doesn't look right to you, doesn't mean it's inedible. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
Me: "Right!" (in Monty Python English, where I then pull out my sword and lop off his arm in Black Knight style)
Okay, that last part was made up. But we did almost come to blows. And we didn't talk to each other for three weeks after the incident.Here's the kicker: it wasn't really about the creamed corn. This was an argument waiting to happen because of several incidents piled on top of each other that finally overflowed over in anger and rage.
There was the incident two weeks before, where Matt asked to borrow my car, which I agreed to let him do so on the one condition that he brought it back by 7 p.m., as I had a date with a rather beautiful blond I had been getting the nerve up to ask for three months - I asked, she said yes. 6:30 p.m. rolled by, and I was nervous. 6:50 came and I was more than nervous, I was angry. At 7:15 I canceled my date and roamed our apartment looking for sharp instruments to impale my roommate with. By 8:30, I had the look of a disgruntled postal worker. Finally, I walked the 2 miles to go to the college I was attending (I was obviously an off-campus student), found my car and took it back to my apartment. Matt called and said, "Hey dude, your car was stolen, I think." Then there were other less major incidents, including times when I made him upset and angry.
Here's the point of my rant: If we would have dealt with each problem and misunderstanding as they happened, we would have never almost killed each other over "The Creamed Corn Incident." But that's the world for you, isn't it?We will do anything as humanly possible to avoid conflict. We would rather give someone "the silent treatment", or talk about the problem to someone else, hoping that somehow the person who we have a conflict will hear through the grapevine and will fall at our feet in repentance and cries for mercy. But it usually just makes the other person angry because they don't know why we are treating them that way.
Barbara Pachter, in her book "The Power of Positive Confrontation", says that there are 12 kinds of behaviors that drive us nuts:
1. Space Spongers. These are people who play their music too loud, leave messes for others to clean up, neighbors who let dogs in our yard, or co-workers who don't respect our property.
2. Telephone Traitors. When you deal with this person, you might have complaints like these: "I have to do all the calling." "She never calls me back." "He only calls when he wants something."
3. Bad Borrowers. They return your car with no gas (or ahem, not in time for a date), CDs with scratches, and money they borrow never gets paid back.
4. Constant Complainers. Everyone knows one - the person who always had a problem or gripe that never gets resolved.
5. Interloping Interrupters. People don't like to be interrupted or not to be given an opportunity to join equally in a conversation.
6. Callous Commenters. Among other things, this can be the neighbor who makes nasty comments or the person telling racist or sexist jokes. You don't like what this person says.
7. Work Welchers. Some people just don't do their fair share whether at home, work, or on the volunteer committee.
8. Favoritism Frustration. "What about me?" Your boss gives his pals the best projects or your mother-in-law gives better presents to her daughter's kids.
9. Holiday Hogs. Your spouse always wants to spend the holidays with his or her family. One of you wants to go to Hawaii for vacation; the other wants to hike the Appalachian trail.
10. Request Refusers. You ask your spouse to be on time for dinner. Your co-worker knows you need the report by 2 p.m., but doesn't deliver; your client will not give the tax information you've asked for. These are people who say they will grant your request by don't.
11. Atrocious Askers. You're asked to do something by your friend, boss, or loved one that you don't want to do or don't agree with.
12. Interloping Loved Ones. Some people want to tell you what they think - even if you don't want to hear it. (my grandmother comes to mind.)
Who hasn't had to deal with these kind of people. Shoot, I'm a minister - I guarantee you that I deal with all twelve on a weekly basis. What do we do in these situations? How do we make sure that these conflicts don't become "creamed corn incidents?"
The best advice I've ever been given on conflict resolution didn't come in a class or from a book. Rather, it came from the greatest teacher that ever lived (who also happens to be our Savior): "Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.""If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over. But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses. If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector."
(Wouldn't that be great? "I no longer consider you my friend for right now - right now, you are a pagan to me." Of course if we follow Jesus' steps above, no conflict would ever come to that.)
Imagine what would happen with all of our conflicts and our broken relationships if we followed the words of Jesus. Imagine if we were honest with people with how we felt immediately in a situation, rather than harboring resentment towards those people after not dealing with the problems over and over again.
And imagine the numbers of creamed corn cans that would be saved. Of course it would still look like it's already been thrown up - and if you have a problem with that, will you let me know now? Otherwise, I may be throwing the can at you later.
Prayer And The Art Of Spiritual Lobotomies
A roller coaster.
The stock market over the last 15 years.
Take whatever analogy you want to take. Use whatever appropriate illustration.It would describe my spiritual walk.
Today I was writing in my prayer journal at an Atlanta Bread Company, waiting for my wife and her grandmother to join me for lunch, and I noticed that I had written in my journal six days in a row. A definite record for me.
You see, I believe I've grown in several areas of my life in the past few years. But one area that I continue to struggle in is this:CONSISTENCY.
I've lived a mostly up and down spiritual life. Many highs and many lows. Not a lot of middle ground that's been covered. In fact, I'm beginning to believe that I am a bi-polar Christian. Amazingly high in the clouds one moment, amazingly down in the rut the next.
For most of my life, I've felt that an inconsistent journey with God is a bad thing.Maybe I've been wrong.
I can see the definite negatives of bipolar spiritual journeys. Inconsistency means there are times when my walk is absolutely fantastic, I'm on cloud nine, and everything seems to be going great. But it also means that there are other times when I'm doing poorly, caught up in some kind of sin, and depressed about my life and lack of spiritual maturity.
But there are positives. If I don't experience the extreme highs of my walk with God, then in the low points I won't have the hope of achieving those high points again. And if I don't experience the extreme low points, then I will not understand the grace and mercy of God and his ability to lift a person out of the depths and remind them that He is in control.
Look at some of the characters in the Bible - to me it seems like most of them are bi-polar followers of God as well. Reading some of the psalms of David is like reading a book written by a bipolar person. Half of a psalm will be filled with praise, and then in the next instant will turn into a wail of misery. Reading the story of Elijah on the mountain battling against the prophets of Baal reads like a bipolar test subject story. There's Elijah, victorious over the prophets, turning his people back to God and enjoying one of the high points of his spiritual walk. But then in the very next chapter, he's fleeing for his life and asking God if He abandoned him.
So maybe having a spiritual journey with God that looks like my mutual fund over the past year isn't so bad.
Which brings me to my next question: Is there such a thing as a spiritual lobotomy?
The stock market over the last 15 years.
Take whatever analogy you want to take. Use whatever appropriate illustration.It would describe my spiritual walk.
Today I was writing in my prayer journal at an Atlanta Bread Company, waiting for my wife and her grandmother to join me for lunch, and I noticed that I had written in my journal six days in a row. A definite record for me.
You see, I believe I've grown in several areas of my life in the past few years. But one area that I continue to struggle in is this:CONSISTENCY.
I've lived a mostly up and down spiritual life. Many highs and many lows. Not a lot of middle ground that's been covered. In fact, I'm beginning to believe that I am a bi-polar Christian. Amazingly high in the clouds one moment, amazingly down in the rut the next.
For most of my life, I've felt that an inconsistent journey with God is a bad thing.Maybe I've been wrong.
I can see the definite negatives of bipolar spiritual journeys. Inconsistency means there are times when my walk is absolutely fantastic, I'm on cloud nine, and everything seems to be going great. But it also means that there are other times when I'm doing poorly, caught up in some kind of sin, and depressed about my life and lack of spiritual maturity.
But there are positives. If I don't experience the extreme highs of my walk with God, then in the low points I won't have the hope of achieving those high points again. And if I don't experience the extreme low points, then I will not understand the grace and mercy of God and his ability to lift a person out of the depths and remind them that He is in control.
Look at some of the characters in the Bible - to me it seems like most of them are bi-polar followers of God as well. Reading some of the psalms of David is like reading a book written by a bipolar person. Half of a psalm will be filled with praise, and then in the next instant will turn into a wail of misery. Reading the story of Elijah on the mountain battling against the prophets of Baal reads like a bipolar test subject story. There's Elijah, victorious over the prophets, turning his people back to God and enjoying one of the high points of his spiritual walk. But then in the very next chapter, he's fleeing for his life and asking God if He abandoned him.
So maybe having a spiritual journey with God that looks like my mutual fund over the past year isn't so bad.
Which brings me to my next question: Is there such a thing as a spiritual lobotomy?
Move Over Reality T.V., Make Room For Pet Weddings
This is from 02.23.03:
There should be pet weddings.
No, that's not what I mean. I think they already have weddings between pets on the Animal Planet channel, right before "The Planet's Funniest Animals" and right after "Pet Detective". Or maybe they don't have that yet. No matter.
What I mean is that there should be an official ceremony between pets and owners that link them together for the rest of their lives.Why am I ranting about this?
Well, my wife is pregnant. And a lot of people have asked us questions about what is going to happen when the baby is born. Questions like, "What color are you going to paint the baby room?"; "Are you going to breast feed or bottle feed?" (usually, I turn away from a conversation if that question is asked, clear my throat, and try to find something else to do, like pick up a scorpion, or play with knives or ANYTHING ELSE BUT ANSWER THAT QUESTION!)
Or this question: "Well, are you going to give your cat up when the baby is born?"What? Quoi? (insert other language term of the question what here)?
"Well, yeah, a lot of times cats don't do well with babies. They may try to smother the baby trying to get warm. Or I've heard of cats that are so mad at the baby that they pee in the crib."
Umm, hey dorkwad. It's called, "close your baby room door so the cat can't get in, okay?"
I'm not giving up my cat for anything. He's been with us for six years, and he is a part of our family , no questions asked. You see, I'm not one of those people who love and take care of a pet only if it's convenient, or as long as it's not a bother, or unless it screws up. No way, Jose.
Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who do just that. That's why the pounds are full of cats and dogs. That's why millions and millions of unwanted pets every year are euthanized. Because people get pets because they're supposed to. Or because their kid wants one, and then ends up torturing the pet so that it's mean. Of course it's the pet's fault, so the pet goes back to the pound.
So I'm offering a solution. Let's institute a "marriage" ceremony of sorts. Let's say our vows, that we will love our pets - in sickness and health, when they behave and when they don't, when it's convenient and when it's not, when we move to a new state and when we don't (I have never understood this reasoning of taking a pet to the pound - because you're moving. So? All your crappy furniture is going with you.), till death do us part, Amen.
Are dogs going to heaven? Nope. Do cats get to go with us to those pearly gates? Probably not.But that doesn't mean that we can't make it heaven on earth for our pets by taking care of them, and loving them in the same way that they so unconditionally love us.
Just make sure the wedding rings are non-chewable.
There should be pet weddings.
No, that's not what I mean. I think they already have weddings between pets on the Animal Planet channel, right before "The Planet's Funniest Animals" and right after "Pet Detective". Or maybe they don't have that yet. No matter.
What I mean is that there should be an official ceremony between pets and owners that link them together for the rest of their lives.Why am I ranting about this?
Well, my wife is pregnant. And a lot of people have asked us questions about what is going to happen when the baby is born. Questions like, "What color are you going to paint the baby room?"; "Are you going to breast feed or bottle feed?" (usually, I turn away from a conversation if that question is asked, clear my throat, and try to find something else to do, like pick up a scorpion, or play with knives or ANYTHING ELSE BUT ANSWER THAT QUESTION!)
Or this question: "Well, are you going to give your cat up when the baby is born?"What? Quoi? (insert other language term of the question what here)?
"Well, yeah, a lot of times cats don't do well with babies. They may try to smother the baby trying to get warm. Or I've heard of cats that are so mad at the baby that they pee in the crib."
Umm, hey dorkwad. It's called, "close your baby room door so the cat can't get in, okay?"
I'm not giving up my cat for anything. He's been with us for six years, and he is a part of our family , no questions asked. You see, I'm not one of those people who love and take care of a pet only if it's convenient, or as long as it's not a bother, or unless it screws up. No way, Jose.
Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who do just that. That's why the pounds are full of cats and dogs. That's why millions and millions of unwanted pets every year are euthanized. Because people get pets because they're supposed to. Or because their kid wants one, and then ends up torturing the pet so that it's mean. Of course it's the pet's fault, so the pet goes back to the pound.
So I'm offering a solution. Let's institute a "marriage" ceremony of sorts. Let's say our vows, that we will love our pets - in sickness and health, when they behave and when they don't, when it's convenient and when it's not, when we move to a new state and when we don't (I have never understood this reasoning of taking a pet to the pound - because you're moving. So? All your crappy furniture is going with you.), till death do us part, Amen.
Are dogs going to heaven? Nope. Do cats get to go with us to those pearly gates? Probably not.But that doesn't mean that we can't make it heaven on earth for our pets by taking care of them, and loving them in the same way that they so unconditionally love us.
Just make sure the wedding rings are non-chewable.
When Orthodoxy Kicks Praxis Out The Door
I've been delaying this post trying to find a story that I think would go rather well with what I'm going to rant about, but I could never find the story, so I'm going to have to loosely paraphrase, and probably not even get the story right.
The year was 1917. Russia. As the country was about to be swept away by the Bolshevik Revolution and the Communist Party, there was a conference being held by the Russian Orthodox Church. Was it to openly defy the communists? Was it to rally the Russian people and give hope to the hopeless?
No. They were fighting over what kind of communion chalice they were going to start using.
So as their country was basically going to "hell in a handbasket", as the saying goes, the church was fighting over dumb issues that really shouldn't have mattered.
Which brings me to my rant. Debating theology. Especially when it's the ongoing battle between Calvinism and Arminianism. Unfortunately, I used to enjoy participating in these debates, and I heard such comments such as "can the words Arminian and scholar actually go together?".
Come on, people. Does it really matter? What is our responsibility as Christians? Is it to endlessly debate each other over issues that are non-essential when it comes to salvation? Yes, that's right, Calvinism vs. Arminianism is a non-essential issue. Of course, there are other theology debates, but most of them are the same way: debating over issues that really don't matter.
Mark Twain used to say he put a dog and a cat in a cage together as an experiment, to see if they could get along. They did, so he put in a bird, pig and goat. They, too, got along fine after a few adjustments. Then he put in a Baptist, Presbyterian, and Catholic; soon there was not a living thing left.
Surprisingly, Mark Twain was not a Christian (that's sarcasm, folks.) I'm sure he saw the hypocrisy of Christianity, where Christians are supposed to love each other, support each other and encourage each other, but he saw the opposite in practice.
John Calvin himself said this about Christian unity:“Among Christians there ought to be so great a dislike of schism, as that they may always avoid it so fast as lies in their power. That there ought to prevail among them such a reverence for the ministry of the word and the sacraments that wherever they perceive these things to be, there they must consider the church to exist...nor need it be of any hinderance that some points of doctrine are not quite so pure, seeing that there is scarcely any church which has not retained some remnants of former ignorance.”
Not surprisingly, a majority of theology debaters are students who are going to some kind of Bible college. It reminds me of what Mark Buchanan had to say about Bible college in his book "Your God Is Too Safe":
"We go to Bible college, hoping that will inoculate us against spiritual languor, will create in us robust faith. But many theological schools and bible colleges are built on borderlands. There is the danger in such places that we will learn much about God and at the same time grow distant from God; we will study the intricacies of doctrine, but lose passion; we will become eloquent at God talk, but cease talking to God."
That's not a condemnation of Bible colleges, just a warning. And it's a warning to those who debate theology: don't spend all your time fighting with fellow Christians over non-essential issues. We would all be a church of one person if we were adamant that everyone believed the same as us.
The year was 1917. Russia. As the country was about to be swept away by the Bolshevik Revolution and the Communist Party, there was a conference being held by the Russian Orthodox Church. Was it to openly defy the communists? Was it to rally the Russian people and give hope to the hopeless?
No. They were fighting over what kind of communion chalice they were going to start using.
So as their country was basically going to "hell in a handbasket", as the saying goes, the church was fighting over dumb issues that really shouldn't have mattered.
Which brings me to my rant. Debating theology. Especially when it's the ongoing battle between Calvinism and Arminianism. Unfortunately, I used to enjoy participating in these debates, and I heard such comments such as "can the words Arminian and scholar actually go together?".
Come on, people. Does it really matter? What is our responsibility as Christians? Is it to endlessly debate each other over issues that are non-essential when it comes to salvation? Yes, that's right, Calvinism vs. Arminianism is a non-essential issue. Of course, there are other theology debates, but most of them are the same way: debating over issues that really don't matter.
Mark Twain used to say he put a dog and a cat in a cage together as an experiment, to see if they could get along. They did, so he put in a bird, pig and goat. They, too, got along fine after a few adjustments. Then he put in a Baptist, Presbyterian, and Catholic; soon there was not a living thing left.
Surprisingly, Mark Twain was not a Christian (that's sarcasm, folks.) I'm sure he saw the hypocrisy of Christianity, where Christians are supposed to love each other, support each other and encourage each other, but he saw the opposite in practice.
John Calvin himself said this about Christian unity:“Among Christians there ought to be so great a dislike of schism, as that they may always avoid it so fast as lies in their power. That there ought to prevail among them such a reverence for the ministry of the word and the sacraments that wherever they perceive these things to be, there they must consider the church to exist...nor need it be of any hinderance that some points of doctrine are not quite so pure, seeing that there is scarcely any church which has not retained some remnants of former ignorance.”
Not surprisingly, a majority of theology debaters are students who are going to some kind of Bible college. It reminds me of what Mark Buchanan had to say about Bible college in his book "Your God Is Too Safe":
"We go to Bible college, hoping that will inoculate us against spiritual languor, will create in us robust faith. But many theological schools and bible colleges are built on borderlands. There is the danger in such places that we will learn much about God and at the same time grow distant from God; we will study the intricacies of doctrine, but lose passion; we will become eloquent at God talk, but cease talking to God."
That's not a condemnation of Bible colleges, just a warning. And it's a warning to those who debate theology: don't spend all your time fighting with fellow Christians over non-essential issues. We would all be a church of one person if we were adamant that everyone believed the same as us.
Patriotism Gone Wrong
Originally thought of 02.09.03:
I like America.
I wish I could say that I love America, but I’m beginning to become annoyed more and more at the behavior of my fellow Americans. We’re rude on the road, we drive big cars that are gas guzzlers, and we like blood sausage (sorry, had to throw that in from the movie Groundhog Day). We are more concerned with our own welfare than those who are less fortunate than we are. Christians in America seem to believe that being a “Christian nation” is our God-given right. Isn’t it funny that we really think that America is going to be heavily involved in the end times of Revelation? I don’t see any mention of our country anywhere.
But where I’m beginning to dislike my country more and more is in this area: Patriotism gone wrong.Hey, don’t misunderstand me. I can be as patriotic as the next person. There are times when I’m very proud to be an American – of course it was harder during the Clinton era, but the times are still there.
Let me give you two areas of patriotism that makes me shudder in my American-made (I think) shoes:
First of all, I don’t like what I call “reactionary patriotism”. What I mean by that is that when there is a big national tragedy, or a war, then people begin supporting America. After the 9/11 tragedy, patriotism was at an all-time high. Flags were in high demand. You would drive down a street, and there would be flags on poles, flags in windows. It seemed like every car had a flag bumper sticker or at least something American. My question is, “Why did people decide to become patriotic after the 9/11 tragedy?” Why weren’t people patriotic before? Why aren’t we “proactive patriots” rather than reactive ones? Why do we have to wait for a huge tragedy in America in order to grab a flag, wave it proudly, and declare that we are Americans, and we’re proud to be so?
The other area is what I call “patriotism sells.” After the 9-11 tragedy, it seemed like every commercial you saw on T.V. had an American flag waving proudly in the corner, or a shot of a New York firefighter, or something American. In fact, the reason I’m thinking of this right now is that the collision repair shop right next to my church’s offices just put up a huge flag that is two times higher than the building. I know for a fact that it’s not because all of a sudden they became proud Americans. It’s so that people will be driving by, see the huge flag, and ask themselves, “Who has that huge flag hanging over that building,” and they’ll go over and see what it is and think, “Hmmm, since I’m already here, I do have a ding in my door, so I guess I’ll get it fixed.” In fact, I’ve made it a point not to go to places that try to sell me something by pretending to be patriotic. I’m not buying it.
Patriotism gone wrong. I guess I’m just not as American as I thought I was.
I like America.
I wish I could say that I love America, but I’m beginning to become annoyed more and more at the behavior of my fellow Americans. We’re rude on the road, we drive big cars that are gas guzzlers, and we like blood sausage (sorry, had to throw that in from the movie Groundhog Day). We are more concerned with our own welfare than those who are less fortunate than we are. Christians in America seem to believe that being a “Christian nation” is our God-given right. Isn’t it funny that we really think that America is going to be heavily involved in the end times of Revelation? I don’t see any mention of our country anywhere.
But where I’m beginning to dislike my country more and more is in this area: Patriotism gone wrong.Hey, don’t misunderstand me. I can be as patriotic as the next person. There are times when I’m very proud to be an American – of course it was harder during the Clinton era, but the times are still there.
Let me give you two areas of patriotism that makes me shudder in my American-made (I think) shoes:
First of all, I don’t like what I call “reactionary patriotism”. What I mean by that is that when there is a big national tragedy, or a war, then people begin supporting America. After the 9/11 tragedy, patriotism was at an all-time high. Flags were in high demand. You would drive down a street, and there would be flags on poles, flags in windows. It seemed like every car had a flag bumper sticker or at least something American. My question is, “Why did people decide to become patriotic after the 9/11 tragedy?” Why weren’t people patriotic before? Why aren’t we “proactive patriots” rather than reactive ones? Why do we have to wait for a huge tragedy in America in order to grab a flag, wave it proudly, and declare that we are Americans, and we’re proud to be so?
The other area is what I call “patriotism sells.” After the 9-11 tragedy, it seemed like every commercial you saw on T.V. had an American flag waving proudly in the corner, or a shot of a New York firefighter, or something American. In fact, the reason I’m thinking of this right now is that the collision repair shop right next to my church’s offices just put up a huge flag that is two times higher than the building. I know for a fact that it’s not because all of a sudden they became proud Americans. It’s so that people will be driving by, see the huge flag, and ask themselves, “Who has that huge flag hanging over that building,” and they’ll go over and see what it is and think, “Hmmm, since I’m already here, I do have a ding in my door, so I guess I’ll get it fixed.” In fact, I’ve made it a point not to go to places that try to sell me something by pretending to be patriotic. I’m not buying it.
Patriotism gone wrong. I guess I’m just not as American as I thought I was.
Not An Original Thought, But It's Good
I don't know where I got this from, but I like it.
We encounter many things every day that we take on faith. We take them on faith because to do otherwise would be to admit that almost everyone in every part of the world around us is smiling and lying to our faces. When your waiter brings you the check and says, "I'll take that up whenever you're ready," that's a lie. What she or he really is saying is, "I'll take that up in about twenty minutes when I get around to coming back to this table. And then I'll keep waiting another ten minutes before I bring you your change. And instead of bringing you even a single five-dollar bill, I will bring you five one-dollar bills in order to encourage you to tip me generously despite my maddening habit of failng to make eye contact with any of the occupants of my tables to prevent them from disturbing my day with frivolous requests for drink refills."
Hot-Pockets are a lie. Yes, it is true that many of us, myself included, seem only too willing to consume our food in "pockets." With the exception of the pita, however, no food on earth naturally occurs in the form of a pocket. Hot-Pockets are not a convenient dinner-delivery system; they are a combination of vaguely cheese-like substance and something masquerading as a derivative of what might once have been an animal. There is nothing reassuring about this, no matter how happy the people in the commercials seem to be.
You know that little cardboard sleeve lined with some sort of gray, nonmetallic foil that comes with Hot-Pockets? That thing that is supposed to make the Hot-Pocket crispy? That's a lie. The Hot-Pocket sleep imparts as much crispiness as the crisper in my refrigerator. Which is to say, if it's possible, that a negative quantity of crispiness is permeated through the Hot-Pocket.
When the cashier tells you to have a nice day, that's a lie. Your cashier hates you. Your cashier hates her life, her family, and her job. Your cashier hates the fact that anyone over sixty-five is convinced that some sort of organized crime pyramid scheme is taking place at the checkout, a crime that can only be foiled by holding up everyone in line disputing every single price produced by the scanner and then laboriously examining the receipt. Your cashier would like you to take your badly-bagged groceries and go away, thank you. And if, by some sadistic twist of fate, you answer the question, "Paper or plastic?" with the answer, "Paper in plastic," your cashier secretly hopes you will be run down in the parking lot by a woman named Edith Krunkel who is not watching what's in front of her Buick Roadmaster because she's still reading the expired coupon for Metamucil that she's certain they should have accepted.
There are countless other lies, big and small, that we tell ourselves every day. I would go into further detail, but my Hot-Pockets are burning.
We encounter many things every day that we take on faith. We take them on faith because to do otherwise would be to admit that almost everyone in every part of the world around us is smiling and lying to our faces. When your waiter brings you the check and says, "I'll take that up whenever you're ready," that's a lie. What she or he really is saying is, "I'll take that up in about twenty minutes when I get around to coming back to this table. And then I'll keep waiting another ten minutes before I bring you your change. And instead of bringing you even a single five-dollar bill, I will bring you five one-dollar bills in order to encourage you to tip me generously despite my maddening habit of failng to make eye contact with any of the occupants of my tables to prevent them from disturbing my day with frivolous requests for drink refills."
Hot-Pockets are a lie. Yes, it is true that many of us, myself included, seem only too willing to consume our food in "pockets." With the exception of the pita, however, no food on earth naturally occurs in the form of a pocket. Hot-Pockets are not a convenient dinner-delivery system; they are a combination of vaguely cheese-like substance and something masquerading as a derivative of what might once have been an animal. There is nothing reassuring about this, no matter how happy the people in the commercials seem to be.
You know that little cardboard sleeve lined with some sort of gray, nonmetallic foil that comes with Hot-Pockets? That thing that is supposed to make the Hot-Pocket crispy? That's a lie. The Hot-Pocket sleep imparts as much crispiness as the crisper in my refrigerator. Which is to say, if it's possible, that a negative quantity of crispiness is permeated through the Hot-Pocket.
When the cashier tells you to have a nice day, that's a lie. Your cashier hates you. Your cashier hates her life, her family, and her job. Your cashier hates the fact that anyone over sixty-five is convinced that some sort of organized crime pyramid scheme is taking place at the checkout, a crime that can only be foiled by holding up everyone in line disputing every single price produced by the scanner and then laboriously examining the receipt. Your cashier would like you to take your badly-bagged groceries and go away, thank you. And if, by some sadistic twist of fate, you answer the question, "Paper or plastic?" with the answer, "Paper in plastic," your cashier secretly hopes you will be run down in the parking lot by a woman named Edith Krunkel who is not watching what's in front of her Buick Roadmaster because she's still reading the expired coupon for Metamucil that she's certain they should have accepted.
There are countless other lies, big and small, that we tell ourselves every day. I would go into further detail, but my Hot-Pockets are burning.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Two Reasons To Give Up Beer
I like beer.
Well, let me rephrase that. I like some beer.
Let me rephrase that as well. I basically like three brands of beer.
My favorite is one that I can never get. It's out of my home state of Colorado, called Breckenridge Avalanche. It's great stuff. I once drank a couple of them at lunch at a ski resort, and then skiied the rest of the time a little tipsy. It was fun. I think it's why I decided to jump off more cliffs that day.
My second favorite is a more recent find, called Shiner Bock. I actually like most "bocks". My first bock was at the Beaver Street Brewery up in Flagstaff, AZ - I place I am looking at possibly moving to. Anyway, Shiner Bock is good stuff. It's too bad I didn't try it when I actually lived in Texas, since it's out of Shiner, TX.
My third favorite is also from Colorado, one you can find pretty much anywhere. Fat Tire.
I'm one of those kind of people who didn't drink much of anything until about the age of 30. Actually, pretty much until I moved to Arizona. It could be because it seems that most Arizonans are beer-drinking, jack-up your truck, white trash kind of people, and I wanted to do something to relate, and since I don't have a truck and don't need to compensate for something else, I guess I went for the beer.
I've always felt a little guilty drinking beer, because I'm a pastor and you're not supposed to do that. I don't know why, but that's what they tell me. But now that I'm not in ministry at the present moment, I've already had a couple of six packs of the Shiner Bock. You can get it pretty cheap at Wal-Mart. But now I'm afraid that I could end up as one of those fat guys who sit around, watch T.V., drink beer and yell at their kids to shut up. You know, an alcoholic or something. So I've decided that I need to figure out a couple of reasons to keep myself under control - maybe drink a couple every once in awhile, but nothing too crazy. I've come up with two.
The first one is something I read online at www.simpleliving.org , a website that is dedicated to, surprise, surprise, simple living. Since I don't have any money now and no job, this would be probably be a good step for me in my life. In fact, some friends of ours from Flagstaff took us out to dinner at a new place in the Phoenix area called "Paul Lee's Chinese Kitchen", and my fortune from my cookie actually said I would find happiness in simple living, no lie. So I've been looking at some things on the website and came across a Lenten calendar. I've never participated in Lent, I remember seeing a lady at my church with a smudge of something on her forehead and I had no clue what it meant. However, on the lenten calendar, it talks about beer. On the 13th day, it tells me to read Luke 14:12-24, and then says to oppose use of grains for beer and whiskey. I'm intrigued and I read on. It then says this: American breweries and distilleries use about 16,000 tons of grain a day, enough to feed 128 million people for an entire year!
Holy cow. That's not good. That website is basically saying that the average American Joe Six-Pack is causing people to die of starvation. I'm becoming the average American Joe Six-Pack. I do not want this on my conscience. Perhaps if I drink less beer, maybe that will make a difference.
The second reason is a little more personal. I grew up thinking my grandparents on my mother's side died of cancer. When I was 18, my mother - who was suffering from cancer and who ended up dying from it a couple of months later - came into my bedroom one night while I was studying or something (it may have been air guitar, I did a lot of that before I learned how to actually play) and told me to have a seat next to her on my bed. She then pulled out an article from the Denver Post back in the early 1960's. In that article, it talked about how an alcoholic husband and father shot his wife in a drunken rage and then turned the gun on himself. It then said that the first person to come upon the scene was my mother, age 14 I believe. I was obviously stunned. She told me that her father was two different people. When he wasn't drunk, he was a great father. When he was drunk, he would beat his wife, beat his kids, throw things around. I decided at that time that I would never become an alcoholic.
But here I am, age 34, and I like a couple kinds of beer. Could I become like my grandfather? I couldn't imagine hurting my wife or daughter. But would I even know if I was drunk?
I drank the last Shiner Bock in our house yesterday. The biggest reason was because my friends were coming over and they are youth ministers. I think I'll wait awhile before I pick up any more. At least that gives me one less reason to go to Wal-Mart.
Well, let me rephrase that. I like some beer.
Let me rephrase that as well. I basically like three brands of beer.
My favorite is one that I can never get. It's out of my home state of Colorado, called Breckenridge Avalanche. It's great stuff. I once drank a couple of them at lunch at a ski resort, and then skiied the rest of the time a little tipsy. It was fun. I think it's why I decided to jump off more cliffs that day.
My second favorite is a more recent find, called Shiner Bock. I actually like most "bocks". My first bock was at the Beaver Street Brewery up in Flagstaff, AZ - I place I am looking at possibly moving to. Anyway, Shiner Bock is good stuff. It's too bad I didn't try it when I actually lived in Texas, since it's out of Shiner, TX.
My third favorite is also from Colorado, one you can find pretty much anywhere. Fat Tire.
I'm one of those kind of people who didn't drink much of anything until about the age of 30. Actually, pretty much until I moved to Arizona. It could be because it seems that most Arizonans are beer-drinking, jack-up your truck, white trash kind of people, and I wanted to do something to relate, and since I don't have a truck and don't need to compensate for something else, I guess I went for the beer.
I've always felt a little guilty drinking beer, because I'm a pastor and you're not supposed to do that. I don't know why, but that's what they tell me. But now that I'm not in ministry at the present moment, I've already had a couple of six packs of the Shiner Bock. You can get it pretty cheap at Wal-Mart. But now I'm afraid that I could end up as one of those fat guys who sit around, watch T.V., drink beer and yell at their kids to shut up. You know, an alcoholic or something. So I've decided that I need to figure out a couple of reasons to keep myself under control - maybe drink a couple every once in awhile, but nothing too crazy. I've come up with two.
The first one is something I read online at www.simpleliving.org , a website that is dedicated to, surprise, surprise, simple living. Since I don't have any money now and no job, this would be probably be a good step for me in my life. In fact, some friends of ours from Flagstaff took us out to dinner at a new place in the Phoenix area called "Paul Lee's Chinese Kitchen", and my fortune from my cookie actually said I would find happiness in simple living, no lie. So I've been looking at some things on the website and came across a Lenten calendar. I've never participated in Lent, I remember seeing a lady at my church with a smudge of something on her forehead and I had no clue what it meant. However, on the lenten calendar, it talks about beer. On the 13th day, it tells me to read Luke 14:12-24, and then says to oppose use of grains for beer and whiskey. I'm intrigued and I read on. It then says this: American breweries and distilleries use about 16,000 tons of grain a day, enough to feed 128 million people for an entire year!
Holy cow. That's not good. That website is basically saying that the average American Joe Six-Pack is causing people to die of starvation. I'm becoming the average American Joe Six-Pack. I do not want this on my conscience. Perhaps if I drink less beer, maybe that will make a difference.
The second reason is a little more personal. I grew up thinking my grandparents on my mother's side died of cancer. When I was 18, my mother - who was suffering from cancer and who ended up dying from it a couple of months later - came into my bedroom one night while I was studying or something (it may have been air guitar, I did a lot of that before I learned how to actually play) and told me to have a seat next to her on my bed. She then pulled out an article from the Denver Post back in the early 1960's. In that article, it talked about how an alcoholic husband and father shot his wife in a drunken rage and then turned the gun on himself. It then said that the first person to come upon the scene was my mother, age 14 I believe. I was obviously stunned. She told me that her father was two different people. When he wasn't drunk, he was a great father. When he was drunk, he would beat his wife, beat his kids, throw things around. I decided at that time that I would never become an alcoholic.
But here I am, age 34, and I like a couple kinds of beer. Could I become like my grandfather? I couldn't imagine hurting my wife or daughter. But would I even know if I was drunk?
I drank the last Shiner Bock in our house yesterday. The biggest reason was because my friends were coming over and they are youth ministers. I think I'll wait awhile before I pick up any more. At least that gives me one less reason to go to Wal-Mart.
I Have Lots Of Time To Deconstruct Now
It's been awhile since I've written down any of my thoughts in this journal. One reason is that I've been really busy.
Well, now there's another reason. I resigned from my job.
Anyway, this gives me a lot of time to hang out with my daughter - since now my wife has to work more hours at her job so that we can survive for awhile - as well as continue to "de-church" and consider what's next. Before I think about that, however, let me write down the things that bugged me about the senior pastor, so you, my journal readers few and far between, can understand why this guy was such a pain to work for.
1. He never planned ahead - at all. Every decision was last minute, which meant that the rest of the staff had to scramble to get everything done at the deadline. He also was week-to-week with sermon preparation.
2. He is such a poor communicator. He never communicated with me or the rest of his staff on anything. We were supposed to get together once a week to iron out the details for the upcoming Sunday and to deal with conflict, but he would cancel all the time. Also, he would make a decision and tell someone on staff or eldership, but would never communicate it with everyone, which was very frustrating.
3. He is a positional leader. What I mean by that is that he operates on the lowest level of leadership - using his position to lead others. It's his way or the highway.
4. He makes poor decisions and then the staff has to cover his butt. For example, the commercials.
5. He really only cares about himself. One time at a staff meeting, he and I got into an argument because our services are only an hour long, and we only have 15 minutes in between, and he was consistently going over. When I confronted him on this, he told me that he had decided that he was a 40 minute preacher. I told him that was great and all, but he didn't have 40 minutes. I then laid out all of the ministries that were suffering because he was going over - and he still didn't care. What a jackass.
6. He has set up the church in such a way (since he is the one who planted it) that no one can hold him accountable for anything. The eldership is a joke - 3 of his best friends and one new guy. He can do anything he wants and no one can challenge him on it. I tried and I got too frustrated and left.
7. He doesn't really want to know staff on a personal level. I was at his house two times in three years - one was to drop off a dinner we had made when his wife had a baby, and the other was for a baptism ceremony. He never came into our offices during the week just to chat. He pretty much again cares only about himself.
8. Everything he is in charge of has failed. He used to be in charge of small groups and those were horrible until he gave that responsibility to someone else. He is in charge of setup/tear down, and no one ever shows up because he somehow thinks that if he just announces it on a Sunday, that a hundred people will show up - and stay showing up.
9. He is incompetent. He cannot take the church to the next level. He spends most of his week shopping for golf clubs on eBay, going golfing, paying his bills, and talking to his buddies. He spends very little time on his sermons, and it shows.
10. He is hyper-competitive. I think it stems from the fact that his younger brother is a better athlete than he is. His father-in-law is pastor of a church of 12,000 people, and I think he's jealous of that and wants to reach that too. He is proud of the fact that his church is farther ahead in numbers in seven years than his father-in-law's church was. Who gives a crap.
Well, that's enough. I'm sure there's more.
Anyway, I will probably be posting in here more often since I've got the time.
Well, now there's another reason. I resigned from my job.
Anyway, this gives me a lot of time to hang out with my daughter - since now my wife has to work more hours at her job so that we can survive for awhile - as well as continue to "de-church" and consider what's next. Before I think about that, however, let me write down the things that bugged me about the senior pastor, so you, my journal readers few and far between, can understand why this guy was such a pain to work for.
1. He never planned ahead - at all. Every decision was last minute, which meant that the rest of the staff had to scramble to get everything done at the deadline. He also was week-to-week with sermon preparation.
2. He is such a poor communicator. He never communicated with me or the rest of his staff on anything. We were supposed to get together once a week to iron out the details for the upcoming Sunday and to deal with conflict, but he would cancel all the time. Also, he would make a decision and tell someone on staff or eldership, but would never communicate it with everyone, which was very frustrating.
3. He is a positional leader. What I mean by that is that he operates on the lowest level of leadership - using his position to lead others. It's his way or the highway.
4. He makes poor decisions and then the staff has to cover his butt. For example, the commercials.
5. He really only cares about himself. One time at a staff meeting, he and I got into an argument because our services are only an hour long, and we only have 15 minutes in between, and he was consistently going over. When I confronted him on this, he told me that he had decided that he was a 40 minute preacher. I told him that was great and all, but he didn't have 40 minutes. I then laid out all of the ministries that were suffering because he was going over - and he still didn't care. What a jackass.
6. He has set up the church in such a way (since he is the one who planted it) that no one can hold him accountable for anything. The eldership is a joke - 3 of his best friends and one new guy. He can do anything he wants and no one can challenge him on it. I tried and I got too frustrated and left.
7. He doesn't really want to know staff on a personal level. I was at his house two times in three years - one was to drop off a dinner we had made when his wife had a baby, and the other was for a baptism ceremony. He never came into our offices during the week just to chat. He pretty much again cares only about himself.
8. Everything he is in charge of has failed. He used to be in charge of small groups and those were horrible until he gave that responsibility to someone else. He is in charge of setup/tear down, and no one ever shows up because he somehow thinks that if he just announces it on a Sunday, that a hundred people will show up - and stay showing up.
9. He is incompetent. He cannot take the church to the next level. He spends most of his week shopping for golf clubs on eBay, going golfing, paying his bills, and talking to his buddies. He spends very little time on his sermons, and it shows.
10. He is hyper-competitive. I think it stems from the fact that his younger brother is a better athlete than he is. His father-in-law is pastor of a church of 12,000 people, and I think he's jealous of that and wants to reach that too. He is proud of the fact that his church is farther ahead in numbers in seven years than his father-in-law's church was. Who gives a crap.
Well, that's enough. I'm sure there's more.
Anyway, I will probably be posting in here more often since I've got the time.
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