Once again Easter has come and gone. Last year I wrote a treatise on its meaning so I guess I'm off the hook for this year. "Good" Friday "celebrates" one of the more depressing events in our planets history - the good guy dies in the end. Because of this, I've always felt the need to watch ridiculously depressing movies to remind myself just how depressing Good Friday really is. Not much logic to it I know, its just something I do. In the past I've watched The Passion of the Christ or Jesus Chainsaw Massacre (as Brian McLaren calls it) as well as a movie called Nine Lives.
This year I changed it up a bit and watched Magnolia. I had seen it 3 times before which is why I chose it. Magnolia is an emotional Everest complete with the difficult breathing. It's directed by the brilliant Paul Thomas Anderson who was like 28 when he made it. It stars Tom Cruise who plays a crazed lunatic intent on controlling people - a role that narrowly won him an Oscar. Based on his latest Scientology videos and unauthorized autobiography, I now know why he lost. All craziness aside, Mr. Cruise was very effective in this role as well was his supporting cast. For 2 and a half hours, the movie follows the lives of broken people, chronicling their dysfuntion and despair in heart breaking fashion. Many times I found myself begging for a life preserver but P.T. shook his head and kept filming. This is where his brilliance lies. Most directors would have thrown the life preserver long before and then entertained you until you reached shore. Not this director. He never throws it. He forces you to feel their pain. In the end he allowed a whisper of redemption but the damage had already been done.
As the words came on Angie said something to the effect of "thanks for a great Easter." I felt pretty bad so all I could think of to say was "we'll watch something super happy on Sunday." And we did. Rory got together with Logan on Gilmore Girls Season 5.
So there you have it. Friday sucked, Sunday was Super Awesome. All in all it was a meaningful Easter.
John
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
My Skydive
So here's how it went down. I had just finished preaching and was talking to people in the lobby. My dad came up and said - do you know who you're talking to - to which I replied, uh, I think he said his name is Kyle - to which my dad said - yes, but do you know what he does for a living - I didn't. He's a professional skydiver. Seriously? Seriously. I've always wanted to do that. How bout this afternoon. My face went white. Uh, maybe. Kyle began to laugh, that's usually what happens, people are all brave until they are actually given the choice. Damn. Let me just go talk to my nephew. Luke - wanna go skydiving? Yeh man. Sweet, we're going in 3 hours. Cool. Kyle, we're in. Seriously? Oh, I'm serious Kyle, no cowards here. Allright, let me make a few calls. 6 minutes pass. Ok, we're set for 330pm. Go have lunch and then we'll meet at the Burger King just before Chester. Allright man. Oh and John. Yeah? It's on me, my gift to you.
Fast forward 3 hours. Luke and I arrive at the site. Hey boys, are you ready, it's a beautiful day to jump out of a plane. We both nod, all cool like. Ok, well follow me, we have some forms for you to fill out and you need to watch a video. The video begins. "The activity you are about to engage in is highly dangerous. You could die." You hear that Luke, we could die. We start to laugh. Better then soiling ourselves. We sign the forms. No I won't sue you if I die. I figure that's a safe enough thing to promise.
Lets get you boys suited up. We get suited. The uniform fits snug, like an unwelcome hug from a creepy 46 yr old. Looking good boys, follow me. We do. Next thing we know we're in a hanger full of other crazy people just like us. We get our gear on. Literally, not in the cool sense of the meaning. A guy films me, peppering me with questions. I try to be natural. Oxymoron. The gear fits even tighter then the uniform. I remember not minding under the circumstances. Tight usually means secure which usually means safe - which means I live. The plane pulls up. Time to load up. We walk to the plane in slow motion.
It'll be about a 20 minute flight so sit back and relax. haha. The twin otter is full, my legs have become chairs for the people on the left and right of me. We take off. I feel at peace, very excited. As we fly I try to talk to Kyle but we can't really hear each other. The camera comes out again, I act natural. Smile and what not. It's almost time now. I sit on Kyle's knee so we can hook up. Rephrase that. I sit on Kyle's knee so he can hook up to me. I don't mind since he's the one with the parachute. Plus, he's paying for it so its the least I can do. The people on my left are jumping out of the plane. It's almost time.
I walk up to the opening with a grown man strapped to my back. I squat. He squats. He says ready set, like we rehearsed. I never hear Go. I look and leap before I can freak. I expect my body to react, punish me for not consulting with it first. No punishment comes. I'm Tom Pettying at 120mph. It's the most intense, euphoric, freeing feeling I've ever felt. The camera comes out again. I try and look at it but its difficult while plummeting towards the earth at 120 mph. The wind is forcing my mouth open so I just yell and stick out my tongue. It feels like I'm flying. Truly. It's not like when you go down a mammoth roller coaster or even the free fall at Kenosee. It feels more like floating. I remember thinking, I hope this never ends. Then I feel a tug.
The parachute says hello. We float for 5 minutes until we touch down. As we float Kyle and I chat about this and that including the mountains to the west, and city to the north. We even cover the proper way to land. Whoa, the ground's getting closer I say. Kyle laughs. We're still 1000ft away. I'm dumb. We keep floating. Now we're close. I lift up my legs so I don't snap them in two as Kyle says and we touch down skidding on my heels and buttocks. I feel thankful for all the padding back there, but most of all I'm glad I'm alive. I feel 10x the man from the hour before.
6 days have passed. Not an hour goes by without thoughts skyward. As amazing as it was the best part was waiting 3 days to tell my wife what I did. I get home and say "here's some highlights from the weekend." She thinks its me speaking so she tunes out. Wait, what, what are you doing? haha. I'm the man.
John
Fast forward 3 hours. Luke and I arrive at the site. Hey boys, are you ready, it's a beautiful day to jump out of a plane. We both nod, all cool like. Ok, well follow me, we have some forms for you to fill out and you need to watch a video. The video begins. "The activity you are about to engage in is highly dangerous. You could die." You hear that Luke, we could die. We start to laugh. Better then soiling ourselves. We sign the forms. No I won't sue you if I die. I figure that's a safe enough thing to promise.
Lets get you boys suited up. We get suited. The uniform fits snug, like an unwelcome hug from a creepy 46 yr old. Looking good boys, follow me. We do. Next thing we know we're in a hanger full of other crazy people just like us. We get our gear on. Literally, not in the cool sense of the meaning. A guy films me, peppering me with questions. I try to be natural. Oxymoron. The gear fits even tighter then the uniform. I remember not minding under the circumstances. Tight usually means secure which usually means safe - which means I live. The plane pulls up. Time to load up. We walk to the plane in slow motion.
It'll be about a 20 minute flight so sit back and relax. haha. The twin otter is full, my legs have become chairs for the people on the left and right of me. We take off. I feel at peace, very excited. As we fly I try to talk to Kyle but we can't really hear each other. The camera comes out again, I act natural. Smile and what not. It's almost time now. I sit on Kyle's knee so we can hook up. Rephrase that. I sit on Kyle's knee so he can hook up to me. I don't mind since he's the one with the parachute. Plus, he's paying for it so its the least I can do. The people on my left are jumping out of the plane. It's almost time.
I walk up to the opening with a grown man strapped to my back. I squat. He squats. He says ready set, like we rehearsed. I never hear Go. I look and leap before I can freak. I expect my body to react, punish me for not consulting with it first. No punishment comes. I'm Tom Pettying at 120mph. It's the most intense, euphoric, freeing feeling I've ever felt. The camera comes out again. I try and look at it but its difficult while plummeting towards the earth at 120 mph. The wind is forcing my mouth open so I just yell and stick out my tongue. It feels like I'm flying. Truly. It's not like when you go down a mammoth roller coaster or even the free fall at Kenosee. It feels more like floating. I remember thinking, I hope this never ends. Then I feel a tug.
The parachute says hello. We float for 5 minutes until we touch down. As we float Kyle and I chat about this and that including the mountains to the west, and city to the north. We even cover the proper way to land. Whoa, the ground's getting closer I say. Kyle laughs. We're still 1000ft away. I'm dumb. We keep floating. Now we're close. I lift up my legs so I don't snap them in two as Kyle says and we touch down skidding on my heels and buttocks. I feel thankful for all the padding back there, but most of all I'm glad I'm alive. I feel 10x the man from the hour before.
6 days have passed. Not an hour goes by without thoughts skyward. As amazing as it was the best part was waiting 3 days to tell my wife what I did. I get home and say "here's some highlights from the weekend." She thinks its me speaking so she tunes out. Wait, what, what are you doing? haha. I'm the man.
John
Friday, March 14, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Tales from Sowth CarolIna
Hey Loyal Readers. Sorry for the non posting, I've been in Sowth CarolIna since Friday. For years I've been telling my brother to bring me down to speak so I could hang out with my family. That sly fox finally did. It's been a great time. I spoke 4 times this weekend including the sermon yesterday. My dream came true when I read this passage of scripture at a proper Southern Church:
"How beautiful you are and how pleasing, O love, with your delights! Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit. I said, "I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit." May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine."
The initial silence in the room was the greatest high of my life but finally somehow couldn't stand it and burst which caused everyone else to burst too. It was one of the rare moments where you know God is in the room. Ha Ha. One lady came up to me after and in all seriousness informed me I should perform at the local comedy club "tomorrow night." I'll think about it, I said. I decided no.
I've really enjoyed my stay. Last night I played football with my nephew Luke and all his ex college players. When I went to get out of bed this morning my right leg said to my left "so I guess we're doing this", to which my left replied "yeah dude, master needs breakfast." Such obedient legs although they're still pretty sore at me.
One of the highlights of the weekend was serving 300 hotdogs to the homeless. When we first showed up there were only 2 homeless people. I was disapointed -"what kind of city only has 2 homeless people. Pfff." Thankfully the word got out and dozens more arrived. I told the group this weekend that I feel closest to God when I'm talking to the homeless. This was no exception. One guy was a dancing machine. We had the windows open and the music going and my man was gone. I watched in awe as he moved and grooved. Later he told me he had taken 18 years of modern dance in NewYork and had even danced backup for MJ, Janet and Soul Train. I believed him, I've never seen such rhythm. After all the hotdogs were eaten and no more dancing was to had, my brother and I drove 6 of them to the shelter, filling up his little truck. When we arrived one of the girls asked me for a hug. It was cool.
I'm only here till Wednesday so I imagine the next few days will be spent smoking, drinking and hugging strange woman. My dad loves being in charge. Speaking of my immoral dad, the time we've spent together has been amazing. One of the truly special things about getting older is how your father also becomes your friend. Speaking of friend, my brother is the best and I can't think of another guy I'd rather spend all my time with then him. Very few people can go toe to toe with me and my. . .oddness like he can. We usually spend 87% of our time together laughing at things innapropriate and pulling our parents chains. Nothings better. My poor mom has had to miss out on the whole thing. While I've been here, she's been in Regina, of all places, for a board meeting. When she found out the date I was coming she experienced a pain on the level of birth. She flies in tonight at Midnight so I'll get a whole 36 hrs with her before I fly back.
We're heading out for lunch, as soon as dad gets out of bed. The last two nights he's stayed up past 3am watching movies. What a guy.
John
P.S. The Oilers just won't let me grieve in peace. They keep keeping hope alive by going 6-1 in their last 7. Part of me wishes they would just throw in the towel because for them to keep this up and then finally lose and miss the playoffs by 2 pts, I just don't think I could handle it.
"How beautiful you are and how pleasing, O love, with your delights! Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit. I said, "I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit." May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine."
The initial silence in the room was the greatest high of my life but finally somehow couldn't stand it and burst which caused everyone else to burst too. It was one of the rare moments where you know God is in the room. Ha Ha. One lady came up to me after and in all seriousness informed me I should perform at the local comedy club "tomorrow night." I'll think about it, I said. I decided no.
I've really enjoyed my stay. Last night I played football with my nephew Luke and all his ex college players. When I went to get out of bed this morning my right leg said to my left "so I guess we're doing this", to which my left replied "yeah dude, master needs breakfast." Such obedient legs although they're still pretty sore at me.
One of the highlights of the weekend was serving 300 hotdogs to the homeless. When we first showed up there were only 2 homeless people. I was disapointed -"what kind of city only has 2 homeless people. Pfff." Thankfully the word got out and dozens more arrived. I told the group this weekend that I feel closest to God when I'm talking to the homeless. This was no exception. One guy was a dancing machine. We had the windows open and the music going and my man was gone. I watched in awe as he moved and grooved. Later he told me he had taken 18 years of modern dance in NewYork and had even danced backup for MJ, Janet and Soul Train. I believed him, I've never seen such rhythm. After all the hotdogs were eaten and no more dancing was to had, my brother and I drove 6 of them to the shelter, filling up his little truck. When we arrived one of the girls asked me for a hug. It was cool.
I'm only here till Wednesday so I imagine the next few days will be spent smoking, drinking and hugging strange woman. My dad loves being in charge. Speaking of my immoral dad, the time we've spent together has been amazing. One of the truly special things about getting older is how your father also becomes your friend. Speaking of friend, my brother is the best and I can't think of another guy I'd rather spend all my time with then him. Very few people can go toe to toe with me and my. . .oddness like he can. We usually spend 87% of our time together laughing at things innapropriate and pulling our parents chains. Nothings better. My poor mom has had to miss out on the whole thing. While I've been here, she's been in Regina, of all places, for a board meeting. When she found out the date I was coming she experienced a pain on the level of birth. She flies in tonight at Midnight so I'll get a whole 36 hrs with her before I fly back.
We're heading out for lunch, as soon as dad gets out of bed. The last two nights he's stayed up past 3am watching movies. What a guy.
John
P.S. The Oilers just won't let me grieve in peace. They keep keeping hope alive by going 6-1 in their last 7. Part of me wishes they would just throw in the towel because for them to keep this up and then finally lose and miss the playoffs by 2 pts, I just don't think I could handle it.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
God and Empire - Your Thoughts Please
Amazon finally ding donged my door Saturday - bringing forth my boxful of books. I was at a Retreat with a whack of teens so I didn't get to peruse until Monday. Guns, Germs and Steel - The End of Faith - God and Empire - I am America and So Can You - The Road -plus a book about coffee - all grinned up at me as I tore open the box. I've had my face in God and Empire ever since.
The premise of the book is Jesus came to innagurate his Kingdom but civilization tends toward Empire. It always has. The book's subtitle is: Jesus Against Rome, Then and Now. Crossan has always maintained that it was the treasonous claims of Christ that lead to his crucifixion not God's divine plan of substitutionary atonement. Feel free to switch over to Dictionary.com or Wikipedia at this point. I know I had to. In other words, Jesus didn't die because it was in the cosmic cards - aka "God's plan" but because of his claims of Lord and Savior of the World. Caesar alone could make these claims and anyone who opposed him would suffer unspeakable tortures, as Jesus eventually found out. One can debate the implications of this understanding of the death of Jesus versus the traditional view that he died to save us from our sins but for the purpose of this post, I wish to go in a different direction. Perhaps I'll return to the other at a later time. FYI - Crossan would say Jesus didn't die for our sins but because of Our -humanity's - Rome's - sin of Empire and injustice. Perhaps it was some of both.
One of the things Crossan's book has made me question is the present state of God's Church. Do we funtion more like Caesar or Jesus? My guess is it probably depends on the church. That being said, perhaps the first question that needs to be asked is, what's the difference?
Crossan would argue that the difference in Jesus' day was between a dictator opearating a system of control and a leader ushering in a new way of life. Rome exercised military, political, economical and worst of all - ideological control - over most of the world. Caesar Augustus, the greatest Caesar of them all, was said to have "brought peace to the world" - which he did of course, although his chosen method was force and intimidation.
Peace as the result of control lasts only as long as the control.
Jesus' method of attaining peace was quite different. "I'm not like you" he said to Pilate a few days before his death. "My Kingdom is not of this world." Jesus didn't come to build an Empire. If I did, "my people would fight for me." He came instead to usher in a Kingdom, one where God was King. The followers of this Kingdom would not be coersed into joining then controlled once they did. They'd be invited and then allowed to choose for themselves. Either way they'd be loved, as a Father loves his own child.
With that in mind, let's return to my question. Does today's Church function more like Caesar or Jesus? Empire or Kingdom? Control or Love?
I'd love to hear your thoughts. After 7, I'll offer up my own. Not that I'm coersing you into commenting. . .
John
The premise of the book is Jesus came to innagurate his Kingdom but civilization tends toward Empire. It always has. The book's subtitle is: Jesus Against Rome, Then and Now. Crossan has always maintained that it was the treasonous claims of Christ that lead to his crucifixion not God's divine plan of substitutionary atonement. Feel free to switch over to Dictionary.com or Wikipedia at this point. I know I had to. In other words, Jesus didn't die because it was in the cosmic cards - aka "God's plan" but because of his claims of Lord and Savior of the World. Caesar alone could make these claims and anyone who opposed him would suffer unspeakable tortures, as Jesus eventually found out. One can debate the implications of this understanding of the death of Jesus versus the traditional view that he died to save us from our sins but for the purpose of this post, I wish to go in a different direction. Perhaps I'll return to the other at a later time. FYI - Crossan would say Jesus didn't die for our sins but because of Our -humanity's - Rome's - sin of Empire and injustice. Perhaps it was some of both.
One of the things Crossan's book has made me question is the present state of God's Church. Do we funtion more like Caesar or Jesus? My guess is it probably depends on the church. That being said, perhaps the first question that needs to be asked is, what's the difference?
Crossan would argue that the difference in Jesus' day was between a dictator opearating a system of control and a leader ushering in a new way of life. Rome exercised military, political, economical and worst of all - ideological control - over most of the world. Caesar Augustus, the greatest Caesar of them all, was said to have "brought peace to the world" - which he did of course, although his chosen method was force and intimidation.
Peace as the result of control lasts only as long as the control.
Jesus' method of attaining peace was quite different. "I'm not like you" he said to Pilate a few days before his death. "My Kingdom is not of this world." Jesus didn't come to build an Empire. If I did, "my people would fight for me." He came instead to usher in a Kingdom, one where God was King. The followers of this Kingdom would not be coersed into joining then controlled once they did. They'd be invited and then allowed to choose for themselves. Either way they'd be loved, as a Father loves his own child.
With that in mind, let's return to my question. Does today's Church function more like Caesar or Jesus? Empire or Kingdom? Control or Love?
I'd love to hear your thoughts. After 7, I'll offer up my own. Not that I'm coersing you into commenting. . .
John
Friday, February 22, 2008
Statement bytes
I thought it was funny last night when Hillary said that Obama's campaign isn't "change you can believe in, but change you can xerox." She said that because of the plagarism accusations. . . and her dip in the polls.
I was talking to a friend who compared homosexuality to pedophilia. We were talking about the rise in gay clergymen.
In 4 hours I'm leaving for our youth group's annual Fire and Ice Retreat. This year we're doing an Oscar theme except we're handing out Pez instead of solid gold statues. The Pez Awards. I'm in the middle of writing acceptance speeches that unsuspecting teens will have to read when they win awards like "fastest texter."
I made an Amazon order a few days ago and have been living under the delusion it might actually arrive this week. A few minutes ago my wife called to say "a postal truck was backing up and I think it might be your books John." She hung up to greet the postal guy and then called back to say "sorry, it was just a Valentine's parcel from my parents." Stupid insenstive selfish inlaws.
I'm excited for the Oscars Sunday. Go Daniel Day. I've only seen the trailer but based on that alone I say give him the Oscar. I predict he'll win, along with Javier Bardem, No Country, The Coen Brothers. Big fan of them all.
I've been trying all morning to sing a showtune from the muscial/movie Chicago but can't get the rhythm. It's frustrating as well as "embarassing and retarded." Thanks Ang.
Castro fianally retired from controlling Cuba. 49 years is impressive even if the guy did smoke. (and be a Dictator)
My Oilers are 11pts out with 21 games to play. The realist in me says Go Jays Go, the idealist is still hoping for a miraculous run.
The Marcus Borg article I posted sparked some good discussian. There's more where that came from so I suggest you check him out online along with John Dominic Crossan, NT Wright, Karen Armstrong and if you're really brave Sam Harris. In fact, Harris recently sat down with Rick Warren and chatted about God, Relgion and other things bad. There's a lot to learn from our critics. If we're serious, we'll take the time.
It's noon now and I really have to go write some Oscar speeches, a Friday tradition this time of year.
John
I was talking to a friend who compared homosexuality to pedophilia. We were talking about the rise in gay clergymen.
In 4 hours I'm leaving for our youth group's annual Fire and Ice Retreat. This year we're doing an Oscar theme except we're handing out Pez instead of solid gold statues. The Pez Awards. I'm in the middle of writing acceptance speeches that unsuspecting teens will have to read when they win awards like "fastest texter."
I made an Amazon order a few days ago and have been living under the delusion it might actually arrive this week. A few minutes ago my wife called to say "a postal truck was backing up and I think it might be your books John." She hung up to greet the postal guy and then called back to say "sorry, it was just a Valentine's parcel from my parents." Stupid insenstive selfish inlaws.
I'm excited for the Oscars Sunday. Go Daniel Day. I've only seen the trailer but based on that alone I say give him the Oscar. I predict he'll win, along with Javier Bardem, No Country, The Coen Brothers. Big fan of them all.
I've been trying all morning to sing a showtune from the muscial/movie Chicago but can't get the rhythm. It's frustrating as well as "embarassing and retarded." Thanks Ang.
Castro fianally retired from controlling Cuba. 49 years is impressive even if the guy did smoke. (and be a Dictator)
My Oilers are 11pts out with 21 games to play. The realist in me says Go Jays Go, the idealist is still hoping for a miraculous run.
The Marcus Borg article I posted sparked some good discussian. There's more where that came from so I suggest you check him out online along with John Dominic Crossan, NT Wright, Karen Armstrong and if you're really brave Sam Harris. In fact, Harris recently sat down with Rick Warren and chatted about God, Relgion and other things bad. There's a lot to learn from our critics. If we're serious, we'll take the time.
It's noon now and I really have to go write some Oscar speeches, a Friday tradition this time of year.
John
Thursday, February 21, 2008
War Stance
Here's a good news story coming out of the war in Iraq. Regardless of how you feel, this is one stance we all can share.
Nice job Al and Dad.
John
Nice job Al and Dad.
John
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Agnostic about the After life
Note: This is an article from one of my favorite Christian thinkers - Marcus Borg.
I am a committed Christian and a complete agnostic about the afterlife. I use “agnostic” in its precise sense: one who does not know. Moreover, I know that I cannot resolve “not knowing” by “believing” – whatever we believe about an afterlife has nothing to do with whether there is one or what it is like.
There is more to say. I think that conventional Christianity’s emphasis on the afterlife for many centuries is one of its negative features. I have often said that if I were to make a list of Christianity’s ten worst contributions to religion, it would be its emphasis on an afterlife, for more than one reason.
When the afterlife is emphasized, it almost inevitable that Christianity becomes a religion of requirements and rewards. If there is a blessed afterlife, it seems unfair to most people that everyone gets one, regardless of how they have lived. So there must be something that differentiates those who get to go to heaven from those who don’t – and that something must be something we do, either believing or behaving or some combination of both. And this counters the central Christian claim that salvation is by grace, not by meeting requirements.
Another problem: the division between those who “measure up” and those who don’t leads to further distinctions: between the righteous and the unrighteous, the saved and the unsaved.
Another problem: an emphasis on the afterlife focuses our attention on the next world rather than on this world. Most of the Bible, on the other hand, focuses our attention on our lives in this world and the transformation of this world. At the heart of the Lord’s Prayer is the petition for the coming of God’s kingdom on earth: your kingdom come on earth, as it already is in heaven. There is nothing in the Lord’s Prayer asking that God take us to heaven when we die.
As yet another reason for my agnosticism about an afterlife: does it involve the survival of personal identity and reunion with those we have known in this life? Are family reunions part of the afterlife? For some people, this is much to be desired, for family has been the primary source of love and joy in this life. But for perhaps an equally large number of people, family has been the primary source of pain and unhappiness. So, are we going to be with those people forever?
What I do affirm about what happens after death is very simple: when we die, we do not die into nothingness, but we die into God. In the words of the apostle Paul, we live unto the Lord and we die unto the Lord. So whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.
For me, that is enough. My not knowing anything more does not bother me at all. And I am very wary when the Christian gospel becomes a message about the afterlife. I am convinced that it invariably leads to distortion. This is not the Christian gospel.
I am a committed Christian and a complete agnostic about the afterlife. I use “agnostic” in its precise sense: one who does not know. Moreover, I know that I cannot resolve “not knowing” by “believing” – whatever we believe about an afterlife has nothing to do with whether there is one or what it is like.
There is more to say. I think that conventional Christianity’s emphasis on the afterlife for many centuries is one of its negative features. I have often said that if I were to make a list of Christianity’s ten worst contributions to religion, it would be its emphasis on an afterlife, for more than one reason.
When the afterlife is emphasized, it almost inevitable that Christianity becomes a religion of requirements and rewards. If there is a blessed afterlife, it seems unfair to most people that everyone gets one, regardless of how they have lived. So there must be something that differentiates those who get to go to heaven from those who don’t – and that something must be something we do, either believing or behaving or some combination of both. And this counters the central Christian claim that salvation is by grace, not by meeting requirements.
Another problem: the division between those who “measure up” and those who don’t leads to further distinctions: between the righteous and the unrighteous, the saved and the unsaved.
Another problem: an emphasis on the afterlife focuses our attention on the next world rather than on this world. Most of the Bible, on the other hand, focuses our attention on our lives in this world and the transformation of this world. At the heart of the Lord’s Prayer is the petition for the coming of God’s kingdom on earth: your kingdom come on earth, as it already is in heaven. There is nothing in the Lord’s Prayer asking that God take us to heaven when we die.
As yet another reason for my agnosticism about an afterlife: does it involve the survival of personal identity and reunion with those we have known in this life? Are family reunions part of the afterlife? For some people, this is much to be desired, for family has been the primary source of love and joy in this life. But for perhaps an equally large number of people, family has been the primary source of pain and unhappiness. So, are we going to be with those people forever?
What I do affirm about what happens after death is very simple: when we die, we do not die into nothingness, but we die into God. In the words of the apostle Paul, we live unto the Lord and we die unto the Lord. So whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.
For me, that is enough. My not knowing anything more does not bother me at all. And I am very wary when the Christian gospel becomes a message about the afterlife. I am convinced that it invariably leads to distortion. This is not the Christian gospel.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Don't Recycle
Here's a story that'll put hair on your knuckles. The family and I were headed to small group last night and after stopping for coffees at Tim's we proceeded to the Safeway where I was hoping to engage in some much needed recycling. As we arrived, Angie said, "don't recycle, we don't have time anyways." The kids all chirped with agreeement and for whatever reason I actually listened to them and kept on driving. Seconds later 3 police cars came speeding towards us. "It's the recycling police" I said. I wish I had, but not even I'm that witty. What I did say was "whoo, maybe someone got murdered (I said murdered all scary like). The mature one in the car said the joke wasn't funny nor appropriate.
2 hours later we were driving home and as we passed the Safeway we saw that the Domo Gas Station, located right beside the recycling bins, was all taped off. We flipped on the news and discovered there had been a gang shooting at 6:30pm and 2 young men had been critically injured. 6:30pm. The exact same time I had planned to engage the family in some much needed recycling. I think about what could have been, and I'm thankful for my mature one.
John
2 hours later we were driving home and as we passed the Safeway we saw that the Domo Gas Station, located right beside the recycling bins, was all taped off. We flipped on the news and discovered there had been a gang shooting at 6:30pm and 2 young men had been critically injured. 6:30pm. The exact same time I had planned to engage the family in some much needed recycling. I think about what could have been, and I'm thankful for my mature one.
John
Monday, February 04, 2008
10 things I'd hate not to tell you
1. I enjoyed a bowl full of Super yesterday. As much as I wanted history to be made, Eli's scamper and Tyree's one armed clutch was one for the ages. Unbelievable.
2. I preached a sub par sermon yesterday. Perhaps it was the 11 minutes of Greek Mythology.
3. Angie and I were having a "disagreement" the other day when Alexa casually looked over and said "don't guys, you don't want to go on Dr. Phil."
4. 30 Rock. Check it out. While it's no Arrested Development, it's better than most other stuff.
5. The Oilers announced today that Horcoff will undergo season ending shoulder surgery. While I'm ever hopeful, the playoffs are now in the realm of pipe dream.
6. Breakforth was good this year. The Highlights were Chris Seay, Erwin McManus and Lee Strobel. Josh McDowell tried way to hard.
7. I'm doing a youth rally in South Carolina next month. It'll be great to see my brother and parents.
8. Maddison's gonna be on TV Friday for a project she's doing with her school and MS.
9. I hope the writer's strike ends soon.
10. I just had my first webcam conversation. Next thing you know I'll be Facebooking from my cell phone.
Battle of Alberta in 45min. My prediction: Oilers 3-1.
UPDATE: Ok, so I was wrong. It was 5-0. Worst Flames lost against Edmonton in 8 yrs.
John
2. I preached a sub par sermon yesterday. Perhaps it was the 11 minutes of Greek Mythology.
3. Angie and I were having a "disagreement" the other day when Alexa casually looked over and said "don't guys, you don't want to go on Dr. Phil."
4. 30 Rock. Check it out. While it's no Arrested Development, it's better than most other stuff.
5. The Oilers announced today that Horcoff will undergo season ending shoulder surgery. While I'm ever hopeful, the playoffs are now in the realm of pipe dream.
6. Breakforth was good this year. The Highlights were Chris Seay, Erwin McManus and Lee Strobel. Josh McDowell tried way to hard.
7. I'm doing a youth rally in South Carolina next month. It'll be great to see my brother and parents.
8. Maddison's gonna be on TV Friday for a project she's doing with her school and MS.
9. I hope the writer's strike ends soon.
10. I just had my first webcam conversation. Next thing you know I'll be Facebooking from my cell phone.
Battle of Alberta in 45min. My prediction: Oilers 3-1.
UPDATE: Ok, so I was wrong. It was 5-0. Worst Flames lost against Edmonton in 8 yrs.
John
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Scientology Documentary
You've probably heard about the secret Tom Cruise Scientology videos that have been leaked all over the internet. They've caused such an uproar that the Church of Scientology is threatening lawsuits to any person who posts the videos. Being a lowly youth minister I will not tempt fate so you'll have to google them yourself. Angie and I watched them this morning and - OH MY.
Anyways, if you're like us, you probably know very little about Scientology or its founder L Ron Hubbard. Angie and I found this documentary online and just watched it. It's disturbingly good.
John
Anyways, if you're like us, you probably know very little about Scientology or its founder L Ron Hubbard. Angie and I found this documentary online and just watched it. It's disturbingly good.
John
Friday, January 18, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
They are right
I never saw the movie What's Up Chuck, but it's ok, because now I know. It's what my wife did last night, Maddie 2 nights before that and Ethan 2 before that. Only Lex and I have stayed gag free, although in saying that I may have just jinxed things. Hopefully not because tomorrow's a packed day for me and ralphing on the parishioners is not as classy as it sounds.
They say you don't know what you've got till it's gone. It's so true and if They were here I'd pat them on the kaboose and say "good call sailor, you can ride coach with me anytime."
Today, Angie's been "gone" so to speak and I really haven't known what to do. Ususally she does that and that and that.
For instance, she's Ms. Chipper - she waltzes around our house flashing her smile whilst bringing joy to the tator tots. I am not Ms. Chipper. I'm not even Mr. Chipper. I like chips. That's it. She also knows how to make hot chocolate. A dash of this and a dash of that and presto - winter becomes merry. The kids wanted some of that winter magic today and all I could do is heat up some water and offer them tea. Then there's the dishes, they pile up so quick. . .and the laundry, gees we wear lots of stuff and here's the worst part - its playoff time in the NFL and guess how much I've been able to watch - exactly. One quarter. The point is, I miss my wife (so far for all the wrong reasons but if I listed the right ones you'd all think I was corny. . .or gross, right? Right? Right?)
Time to get better babes, the family needs you.
John
P.S. Right?
They say you don't know what you've got till it's gone. It's so true and if They were here I'd pat them on the kaboose and say "good call sailor, you can ride coach with me anytime."
Today, Angie's been "gone" so to speak and I really haven't known what to do. Ususally she does that and that and that.
For instance, she's Ms. Chipper - she waltzes around our house flashing her smile whilst bringing joy to the tator tots. I am not Ms. Chipper. I'm not even Mr. Chipper. I like chips. That's it. She also knows how to make hot chocolate. A dash of this and a dash of that and presto - winter becomes merry. The kids wanted some of that winter magic today and all I could do is heat up some water and offer them tea. Then there's the dishes, they pile up so quick. . .and the laundry, gees we wear lots of stuff and here's the worst part - its playoff time in the NFL and guess how much I've been able to watch - exactly. One quarter. The point is, I miss my wife (so far for all the wrong reasons but if I listed the right ones you'd all think I was corny. . .or gross, right? Right? Right?)
Time to get better babes, the family needs you.
John
P.S. Right?
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Friday, January 04, 2008
Once
Every Once in a while a movie comes along that towers above the rest. Tonight, Angie and I watched that movie . It was shot in 17 days on a shoestring budget with inexperienced actors -but we sat transfixed. It got to me, in a beautiful way and I think it will get to you too. The music is incredible, deeply personal and raw. Here's the title song along with clips from the film.
John
John
Monday, December 31, 2007
21
Yesterday the Dallas Cowboys, my Dallas Cowboys, were soundly beaten by a Washington Redskins team playing for more than just a win against their fiercest rivals and a chance to play come January. They were playing for Sean. A fallen friend.
November 18th. Sean is not home when burglers break into his house doing damage to his desk and safe. The perps leave with nothing, unable to find what they were looking for. Sean's mother checks on his house in his absence discovering the breakin and calls the police. Meanwhile, Sean sits out his first game after sustaining a knee injury the week before. His Skins lose 28-23 to the first place Dallas Cowboys.
November 25. Sean sits out his second straight game watching his Skins fall yet again, this time to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It's their third loss in a row.
November 26. 1:45 a.m. The perps come back to Sean's house, this time finding him at home. A melee insues and Sean is shot in the upper leg by one of the 4 armed teenage intruders. He is critically wounded in the femoral artery. His long-time girlfriend Jackie Garcia hides under the bedding throughout along with Sean's 18-month-old daughter. She calls 911. Sean is airlifted to the Ryder Trauma Center at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, where he undergoes surgery. He emerges from surgery at 12:30 p.m. but remains unconscious, in a coma. Sean never wakes up, dying a few hours later as a result of the massive blood loss.
His team mates are devastated.
November 30. 4 young men are detained in connection with the murder of Sean Taylor. The youngest of the men is 17. Confessions are given.
December 1. All four men are charged with second-degree murder, armed burglary and home invasion with a firearm or another deadly weapon. The charges result in life sentences for each of the perpetrators.
December 2. Shaken by the loss of their team-mate and friend the Skins suffer their 4th loss in a row losing 17-16 to the lowly Buffalo Bills.
December 3. 4,000 people attend Sean's funeral service held at the Pharmed Arena at Florida International University. The entire Redskins organization attends the funeral taking up a section of the arena. Many of them are seen weaping throughout the emotional service. Sean's daughter sits in the front with her mother - wearing a pin with her father’s jersey number “21” on the sleeve of her dress. Sean is buried near his home. He is 24 at the time of his death.
December 7th. The Skins suit up to play last year's Super Bowl Finalists, the Chicago Bears. The Skins record sits at 5-7. A berth in the playoffs is the least of their concerns. As the Skins take the field they are greeted by 21's everwhere. It seems the 85,000+ fans aren't content to see their Skins throw in the towel. They've sown 21's everywhere, their clothes, their jerseys, their flags, everywhere. It's as if they're saying "do it for Sean." The Skins oblige defeating the Bears 24-16. They do not lose again.
The following weeks they dispose of the New York Giants and Minnesota Vikings 22-10, 32-21 respectively - spurned on by the Spirit of their fallen friend and faithful fans. By this time all the players have sown 21's into their Jersey's and afixed 21's to their helmets. The team now sits at 8-7 having won 3 games in a row. Talk of playoffs can now be heard.
December 30. Final game of the season. The Skins only hope is that Minnesota loses to the lowly Denver Bronco's. The other option is the Skins beating the Dallas Cowboys, but it's unlikely, considering the Boys tower above all in the NFC, sporting an impressive 13-2 record. The Skins take the field and are immediately overwhelmed by a record 90,000 fans all adorned with the number 21. Their coach, Joe Gibbs, having overcome tragedy himself, leads them on to the field. It isn't even close. The Cowboys are defeated soundly and are held to just 1 yard rushing. 1. yard. Even more remarkable, the Denver Broncos upset the Minnesota Vikings 22-19 securing the Skins a spot in the playoffs.
Joe Gibbs after the game. "To get to the playoffs was a dream of ours and four weeks ago everybody would have said it looked impossible. It was a great four weeks. It was guys just playing their hearts out. We couldn't have been prouder. The Lord has blessed us with a great group of guys. When you think about what they have gone through this year."
In the end, Washington showed us all the true meaning of having Skin in the game. They defeated my Cowboys 27-6 - winning for, and remarkably by, 21.
I didn't mind so much.
John
November 18th. Sean is not home when burglers break into his house doing damage to his desk and safe. The perps leave with nothing, unable to find what they were looking for. Sean's mother checks on his house in his absence discovering the breakin and calls the police. Meanwhile, Sean sits out his first game after sustaining a knee injury the week before. His Skins lose 28-23 to the first place Dallas Cowboys.
November 25. Sean sits out his second straight game watching his Skins fall yet again, this time to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It's their third loss in a row.
November 26. 1:45 a.m. The perps come back to Sean's house, this time finding him at home. A melee insues and Sean is shot in the upper leg by one of the 4 armed teenage intruders. He is critically wounded in the femoral artery. His long-time girlfriend Jackie Garcia hides under the bedding throughout along with Sean's 18-month-old daughter. She calls 911. Sean is airlifted to the Ryder Trauma Center at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, where he undergoes surgery. He emerges from surgery at 12:30 p.m. but remains unconscious, in a coma. Sean never wakes up, dying a few hours later as a result of the massive blood loss.
His team mates are devastated.
November 30. 4 young men are detained in connection with the murder of Sean Taylor. The youngest of the men is 17. Confessions are given.
December 1. All four men are charged with second-degree murder, armed burglary and home invasion with a firearm or another deadly weapon. The charges result in life sentences for each of the perpetrators.
December 2. Shaken by the loss of their team-mate and friend the Skins suffer their 4th loss in a row losing 17-16 to the lowly Buffalo Bills.
December 3. 4,000 people attend Sean's funeral service held at the Pharmed Arena at Florida International University. The entire Redskins organization attends the funeral taking up a section of the arena. Many of them are seen weaping throughout the emotional service. Sean's daughter sits in the front with her mother - wearing a pin with her father’s jersey number “21” on the sleeve of her dress. Sean is buried near his home. He is 24 at the time of his death.
December 7th. The Skins suit up to play last year's Super Bowl Finalists, the Chicago Bears. The Skins record sits at 5-7. A berth in the playoffs is the least of their concerns. As the Skins take the field they are greeted by 21's everwhere. It seems the 85,000+ fans aren't content to see their Skins throw in the towel. They've sown 21's everywhere, their clothes, their jerseys, their flags, everywhere. It's as if they're saying "do it for Sean." The Skins oblige defeating the Bears 24-16. They do not lose again.
The following weeks they dispose of the New York Giants and Minnesota Vikings 22-10, 32-21 respectively - spurned on by the Spirit of their fallen friend and faithful fans. By this time all the players have sown 21's into their Jersey's and afixed 21's to their helmets. The team now sits at 8-7 having won 3 games in a row. Talk of playoffs can now be heard.
December 30. Final game of the season. The Skins only hope is that Minnesota loses to the lowly Denver Bronco's. The other option is the Skins beating the Dallas Cowboys, but it's unlikely, considering the Boys tower above all in the NFC, sporting an impressive 13-2 record. The Skins take the field and are immediately overwhelmed by a record 90,000 fans all adorned with the number 21. Their coach, Joe Gibbs, having overcome tragedy himself, leads them on to the field. It isn't even close. The Cowboys are defeated soundly and are held to just 1 yard rushing. 1. yard. Even more remarkable, the Denver Broncos upset the Minnesota Vikings 22-19 securing the Skins a spot in the playoffs.
Joe Gibbs after the game. "To get to the playoffs was a dream of ours and four weeks ago everybody would have said it looked impossible. It was a great four weeks. It was guys just playing their hearts out. We couldn't have been prouder. The Lord has blessed us with a great group of guys. When you think about what they have gone through this year."
In the end, Washington showed us all the true meaning of having Skin in the game. They defeated my Cowboys 27-6 - winning for, and remarkably by, 21.
I didn't mind so much.
John
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas Break
Sitting on my butt actually. And reading. A ton. And watching Canada win. A lot. And laughing every evening at The Best Yet Most Underated Television Show In The History Of Television. Arrested Development. Besides that. . .playing street hockey with Ethan, laughing with Lex at Elf then rewinding and laughing even harder. Completing the "Human Faces Art Book, Tips, Questions and More", written by Maddison Close. And last but not least - doing the papers for my wife which is incredibly sexy. ..apparently. All in all it's been a fantastic holiday. A real break. Just what I needed after a mammoth project.
Tonight we have great friends coming over for good food. Speaking of great friends, Jay and Shannon were here last Sunday and as always we had a delightful visit. I like the word delightful. It's pigtail cheery. Tomorrow, I'm headed across town to visit with a good buddy who's back from the South. Next week, Angie and I plan to see a couple movies, probably Atonement and Dewey Cox (guess who picked which movie, you have 3 seconds). I start back to work Jan 2 which is still far enough away that I don't have to shower or shave. Tyler Butel has promised to slot me in, once, which is good of him considering he's so important. There's also talk of some bball before the break ends. A last ditch effort to shed unwanted pounds. I remember a time when bball is all I was, now it's a 1 hr slot on a packed holiday schedule. I'd love to say I still got game but the last time I dunked was 11 years ago.
I said I've been reading a lot and I have. I'm not lying ok. Jeez. My habit has been non fiction in the day and fiction in the evening. During the day I've been absorbed in The Portable Athiest. There's just something about Christmas that brings out my heretical ness. All jokes aside, its been a very good read and I've learned a ton in areas previouly unexplored. Much of it is rants written from men fuming over the carnage religion has left in its path but every once in while someone like Mark Twain will stop me dead and I'll find myself mulling for several minutes - struck with an unplesant truth. Einstein has been provocative as has Darwin. He's not what most think he was. Darwin I mean. He's more. Anyways, my faith has felt fuller lately and I must give credit to this unlikely source. I would recommend it but I fear that may be going to far. For obvious reasons. So don't read it. . .I recommend that you don't read it.
Life is good in Close land. Thanks for stopping by. It makes us feel loved.
John
Tonight we have great friends coming over for good food. Speaking of great friends, Jay and Shannon were here last Sunday and as always we had a delightful visit. I like the word delightful. It's pigtail cheery. Tomorrow, I'm headed across town to visit with a good buddy who's back from the South. Next week, Angie and I plan to see a couple movies, probably Atonement and Dewey Cox (guess who picked which movie, you have 3 seconds). I start back to work Jan 2 which is still far enough away that I don't have to shower or shave. Tyler Butel has promised to slot me in, once, which is good of him considering he's so important. There's also talk of some bball before the break ends. A last ditch effort to shed unwanted pounds. I remember a time when bball is all I was, now it's a 1 hr slot on a packed holiday schedule. I'd love to say I still got game but the last time I dunked was 11 years ago.
I said I've been reading a lot and I have. I'm not lying ok. Jeez. My habit has been non fiction in the day and fiction in the evening. During the day I've been absorbed in The Portable Athiest. There's just something about Christmas that brings out my heretical ness. All jokes aside, its been a very good read and I've learned a ton in areas previouly unexplored. Much of it is rants written from men fuming over the carnage religion has left in its path but every once in while someone like Mark Twain will stop me dead and I'll find myself mulling for several minutes - struck with an unplesant truth. Einstein has been provocative as has Darwin. He's not what most think he was. Darwin I mean. He's more. Anyways, my faith has felt fuller lately and I must give credit to this unlikely source. I would recommend it but I fear that may be going to far. For obvious reasons. So don't read it. . .I recommend that you don't read it.
Life is good in Close land. Thanks for stopping by. It makes us feel loved.
John
Saturday, December 22, 2007
One crappy day part deux
I got into an accident yesterday. Just one day after all things Crappy, a 20yr old with a 2008 Nissan thought it would be prudent to turn in front of me while I drove the preacher's kid to the mall. I barely had time to react so I stamped the brake, swerved to the right then refrained from introducing the boss's youngest to new words. I know cuz I asked her after. "So, when we were about to crash did I happen to say f. . .No? Excellent."
Nanoseconds after not swearing I plowed into Mr Altima rendering both our 2008's 911 worthy. As the cop drove away an hour later he wished me a Merry Christmas. I thought it curious.
2 cops, 2 days , 2 Merry Christmas's wished. I'm trying friends in blue.
John
P.S. Stuff like this is helping. Oh, no one was injured btw. Although my poor Matrix will be in Shop Class for a month.
Nanoseconds after not swearing I plowed into Mr Altima rendering both our 2008's 911 worthy. As the cop drove away an hour later he wished me a Merry Christmas. I thought it curious.
2 cops, 2 days , 2 Merry Christmas's wished. I'm trying friends in blue.
John
P.S. Stuff like this is helping. Oh, no one was injured btw. Although my poor Matrix will be in Shop Class for a month.
Friday, December 21, 2007
One crappy day
There are many ways in which I would not wish to be woken up. The blare of the smoke alarm for instance. The scream of my darling wife convinced hundreds of spiders are biting her is another. An excited son leaping onto my sensitiveness. Yesterday morning was among the worst though as it involved my youngest, Alexa, announcing, "Ooo, Hugo pooped" followed by a series of giggles. What is wrong with her I wondered, as I lay, what could possibly be funny about dog's excrement at 630am?
I got vertical and walked towards the awfulness. Hugo had exploded in 5 different spots in most rooms of the house. The option of one place just hadn't occured. In Hugo's defence, he was sick the day before as well. Angie discovered this after coming home, opening the door only to be met with Hugo's awfulness from head to paw. Angie said he seemed embarassed, which, embarassed enough to clean it up, I wondered? Angie hinted aloud on the phone if I might take some time off from work and deal with this, but I politely declined citing the work of the Lord as my defence. 4 baths later Hugo was clean. er.
Ah yes, did I mention the day before we had paid $80 to get him professionally groomed? Sadly its true, so if you've seen Murphy, let me know, I'd love to strangle him then burn his stupid laws.
As I headed to work after attending to the hilarious dog poop I decided to stop by the bank to check on the ol account. It was still there but there was some zero's missing. I drove to work distracted by the statement when I saw the red light. The problem was, I was already in the middle of the intersection and it was a big one. Lots of whizzing cars. Panicing, I continued through, holding up my hands at the other cars as if to say "please don't hit me, I just need to get through this intersection, k?" Everyone complied and I made it through but was greeted with flashing red lights. CRAP!!! I yelled, to no one in particular. (actually I wish that's what I yelled.) As I sat waiting for the inevitable tap on the window I thought about Hugo's poop and how it no longer seemed that bad. How on earth am I going to explain this?
Tap Tap Tap. I rolled down the window greeting the cop with a smile so big my dentist would have surely nodded with pride. "Do you have some sort of medical condition?" "You'd think so, I replied, but actually no, I just had a brain fart." Brain fart. That the best I could come up with. "Do you have a driver's license?" "I sure do," I said, a little too excitedly. I handed it to him and he looked it over. "You do realize this is a $250 fine?" "Yeh, I responded, looking at my crumpled up bank statement. "What do you do for a living," was his next question. I looked at him, smiled sheepishly, then said "actually, I'm a Pastor, and I'm just headed to work." His expression stayed the same as if his brain was still processing this ludicris information and hadn't yet told his face it's response. "A pastor eh." "Which church?" "Uh, actually it The Calgary Church of Christ, in Malborough, just behind the Mall." I thought about including -"you know, the church that is helping 700 homeless people get gifts this Christmas," but I didn't. The cop continued to look at me. I continued to sweat knowing there couldn't be a worse time for a $250 mistake. "Well, have a good day then, try to be more careful." "I sure will, I replied, way to cooperatively.
I still wonder why the cop didn't ticket me. I was clearly in the wrong, so much so the question of my mental health was on the table. Perhaps it was because he believed me, I was awfully honest. Maybe it was the "what kind of unfeeling Nazi gives a nice man a ticket 5 days before Christmas dynamic?" Maybe it was the whole Pastor thing. Like, God's birthday is just around the corner, better not mess with one of his employees. I'm not sure actually. But it was cool. And one of the better Christmas presents I've recieved.
John
I got vertical and walked towards the awfulness. Hugo had exploded in 5 different spots in most rooms of the house. The option of one place just hadn't occured. In Hugo's defence, he was sick the day before as well. Angie discovered this after coming home, opening the door only to be met with Hugo's awfulness from head to paw. Angie said he seemed embarassed, which, embarassed enough to clean it up, I wondered? Angie hinted aloud on the phone if I might take some time off from work and deal with this, but I politely declined citing the work of the Lord as my defence. 4 baths later Hugo was clean. er.
Ah yes, did I mention the day before we had paid $80 to get him professionally groomed? Sadly its true, so if you've seen Murphy, let me know, I'd love to strangle him then burn his stupid laws.
As I headed to work after attending to the hilarious dog poop I decided to stop by the bank to check on the ol account. It was still there but there was some zero's missing. I drove to work distracted by the statement when I saw the red light. The problem was, I was already in the middle of the intersection and it was a big one. Lots of whizzing cars. Panicing, I continued through, holding up my hands at the other cars as if to say "please don't hit me, I just need to get through this intersection, k?" Everyone complied and I made it through but was greeted with flashing red lights. CRAP!!! I yelled, to no one in particular. (actually I wish that's what I yelled.) As I sat waiting for the inevitable tap on the window I thought about Hugo's poop and how it no longer seemed that bad. How on earth am I going to explain this?
Tap Tap Tap. I rolled down the window greeting the cop with a smile so big my dentist would have surely nodded with pride. "Do you have some sort of medical condition?" "You'd think so, I replied, but actually no, I just had a brain fart." Brain fart. That the best I could come up with. "Do you have a driver's license?" "I sure do," I said, a little too excitedly. I handed it to him and he looked it over. "You do realize this is a $250 fine?" "Yeh, I responded, looking at my crumpled up bank statement. "What do you do for a living," was his next question. I looked at him, smiled sheepishly, then said "actually, I'm a Pastor, and I'm just headed to work." His expression stayed the same as if his brain was still processing this ludicris information and hadn't yet told his face it's response. "A pastor eh." "Which church?" "Uh, actually it The Calgary Church of Christ, in Malborough, just behind the Mall." I thought about including -"you know, the church that is helping 700 homeless people get gifts this Christmas," but I didn't. The cop continued to look at me. I continued to sweat knowing there couldn't be a worse time for a $250 mistake. "Well, have a good day then, try to be more careful." "I sure will, I replied, way to cooperatively.
I still wonder why the cop didn't ticket me. I was clearly in the wrong, so much so the question of my mental health was on the table. Perhaps it was because he believed me, I was awfully honest. Maybe it was the "what kind of unfeeling Nazi gives a nice man a ticket 5 days before Christmas dynamic?" Maybe it was the whole Pastor thing. Like, God's birthday is just around the corner, better not mess with one of his employees. I'm not sure actually. But it was cool. And one of the better Christmas presents I've recieved.
John
Monday, December 17, 2007
Spencer, Hank, Bruce and Janet.
Do not judge less you be judged. A few weeks ago I called out the blogworld judging all the non-updaters. Let's see 12 days have passed since I "sold out" as my good friend Kyle said, writing a blog wrought with tired cliches. Ha Ha, Kyle's a real treasure of a friend, the kind that will tell you the truth. He was correct of course, I didn't want to dissapoint my cousin's wife by not Grid Blogging so I turned to Picasso to bail me out. Never trust a dead guy who paints odd shaped boobs. Anyways, I have time now so lets hope I get this thing right.
For the past two weeks I've spent my evenings sitting across the table from men and women on the edge of despair. No, I'm not talking about Flames fans (that joke would have worked much better if the Flames weren't currently on a five game winning streak. Crap.) The men and women I speak of are currently living in Calgary without a home. The homeless. Many of them came here looking for work but found no rent control instead. Some of them had their lives torn apart when their wife, partner or room-mate took off leaving them broke or worse, broken. Some of them made poor choices and are now addicted to. . .pain. All of them touched me. Messed with my mind and touched my heart. Each night, as I headed home, I felt grateful to be me and depressed they are them. Not dressed up and no place to go. We conducted 700+ interviews over a 10 night span. Of the dozens I personally conducted there were four that stood out.
The first was Spencer. As he walked towards me I saw his face was contorted, and then it wasn't, and then it was again. You could tell he was aware of what was happening but was powerless to do anything about it. Like hitting a patch of black ice. As he shared his story he talked about medical school and how he had become a nurse. "It's my passion, he said, I love taking care of people." One day he woke up and everything changed. Dystonia took care of him. Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes abnormal muscle contractions. Spencer got emotional as he talked about losing his job and no longer being allowed to take care of peole. Without a source of income or support he was now forced to survive at The Drop In Centre. Survive. "We don't live here, a man shared with me one night, we exist." When it came to his wish, Spencer asked for Victor Frankl's classic "The Search for Meaning." He once knew where to find it but now wasn't so sure.
Next was Hank Williams. He chuckled as he told me his name. "Actually, it's Henry", he said. Life emanated from his eyes. Like he had found a way to not just exist. Hank had been homeless for 10 years which meant he was now 71. I know. Oh yeah, and he's paralyzed. I can't imagine what would be worse, being homeless at 71 or being paralyzed. Perhaps they're the same thing. Hank went on to share that he had 13 children (7 step children) and 28 grandchildren. I finally blurted out at one point "what on earth are you doing here?" He replied "I prefer this environment, its much more positive then living with my family." I was dumbstruck. Most of us couldn't survive a night at The Drop In let alone live there for years. But Hank was. And had chosen it.
A few nights later I met Bruce. Bruce is a 22 yr old Maritimer who moved to Calgary for you guess it. . .work. Bruce was brutally honest as he shared how alcohol had taken over his life causing him to lose his job and place. As he shared I couldn't help but notice he was different. He stood out. He wasn't like the others I had talked to, he was sharp, sure of himself, even seemed to know what he wanted. We ended up talking for several minutes as he told me tales of growing up in Nova Scotia, playing hockey with Sidney Crosby but being forced to quit when he hurt his shoulder. BTW - he claims Crosby is the biggest A_____ H_____ he's ever met in his life. When it came to his wish he said "all I want is to go home for Christmas." He then admitted how he hadn't told his family. I imagined his parents, sitting at home in N.S. talking about how proud they were of Bruce, moving west to get a job. Little did they know, their son was living on the street. When I asked why he hadn't told his parents he shrugged his shoulders and said "why tell them, they don't need to be burdened by my mess, they have their own challenges. Besides, if they knew, they'd send me money they didn't have or come up here and get me. Why would I put that kind of stress on them" Bruce impressed me.
Janet hit me the hardest though. She came up behind me and said "hey, don't I know you." I turned around seeing a girl I recognized but wasn't sure from where until she said "you're from church, right?" Then it clicked. Janet had attended my youth group 4 years ago, very infrequently mind you, but she had come, even to BC for Got Faith. When it clicked I almost broke down right there in the middle of The Drop In Centre. I talked to her for several minutes wanting desperately to save her yet not knowing where to begin or if she even wanted to be rescued. She ended up thanking me for chatting then wandered off. She looked so lost. And she was. She still is.
We completed all the interviews on Friday. Most of them have been added to the website - http://www.homelesspartners.com/. Many of the people have had their wishes granted but hundreds more still wait. (Btw - if you are moved by their stories or wish to participate you can grant their wish by mailing their gift to the shelter. If you are interested, let me know.)
This project was both heartbreaking and inspiring, eye opening and moving. I encourage all of you to either start this project in your own city or start volunteering at your local shelter. I realize this last part is turning into a commercial but I'm not sure I care. My life was changed.
John
For the past two weeks I've spent my evenings sitting across the table from men and women on the edge of despair. No, I'm not talking about Flames fans (that joke would have worked much better if the Flames weren't currently on a five game winning streak. Crap.) The men and women I speak of are currently living in Calgary without a home. The homeless. Many of them came here looking for work but found no rent control instead. Some of them had their lives torn apart when their wife, partner or room-mate took off leaving them broke or worse, broken. Some of them made poor choices and are now addicted to. . .pain. All of them touched me. Messed with my mind and touched my heart. Each night, as I headed home, I felt grateful to be me and depressed they are them. Not dressed up and no place to go. We conducted 700+ interviews over a 10 night span. Of the dozens I personally conducted there were four that stood out.
The first was Spencer. As he walked towards me I saw his face was contorted, and then it wasn't, and then it was again. You could tell he was aware of what was happening but was powerless to do anything about it. Like hitting a patch of black ice. As he shared his story he talked about medical school and how he had become a nurse. "It's my passion, he said, I love taking care of people." One day he woke up and everything changed. Dystonia took care of him. Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes abnormal muscle contractions. Spencer got emotional as he talked about losing his job and no longer being allowed to take care of peole. Without a source of income or support he was now forced to survive at The Drop In Centre. Survive. "We don't live here, a man shared with me one night, we exist." When it came to his wish, Spencer asked for Victor Frankl's classic "The Search for Meaning." He once knew where to find it but now wasn't so sure.
Next was Hank Williams. He chuckled as he told me his name. "Actually, it's Henry", he said. Life emanated from his eyes. Like he had found a way to not just exist. Hank had been homeless for 10 years which meant he was now 71. I know. Oh yeah, and he's paralyzed. I can't imagine what would be worse, being homeless at 71 or being paralyzed. Perhaps they're the same thing. Hank went on to share that he had 13 children (7 step children) and 28 grandchildren. I finally blurted out at one point "what on earth are you doing here?" He replied "I prefer this environment, its much more positive then living with my family." I was dumbstruck. Most of us couldn't survive a night at The Drop In let alone live there for years. But Hank was. And had chosen it.
A few nights later I met Bruce. Bruce is a 22 yr old Maritimer who moved to Calgary for you guess it. . .work. Bruce was brutally honest as he shared how alcohol had taken over his life causing him to lose his job and place. As he shared I couldn't help but notice he was different. He stood out. He wasn't like the others I had talked to, he was sharp, sure of himself, even seemed to know what he wanted. We ended up talking for several minutes as he told me tales of growing up in Nova Scotia, playing hockey with Sidney Crosby but being forced to quit when he hurt his shoulder. BTW - he claims Crosby is the biggest A_____ H_____ he's ever met in his life. When it came to his wish he said "all I want is to go home for Christmas." He then admitted how he hadn't told his family. I imagined his parents, sitting at home in N.S. talking about how proud they were of Bruce, moving west to get a job. Little did they know, their son was living on the street. When I asked why he hadn't told his parents he shrugged his shoulders and said "why tell them, they don't need to be burdened by my mess, they have their own challenges. Besides, if they knew, they'd send me money they didn't have or come up here and get me. Why would I put that kind of stress on them" Bruce impressed me.
Janet hit me the hardest though. She came up behind me and said "hey, don't I know you." I turned around seeing a girl I recognized but wasn't sure from where until she said "you're from church, right?" Then it clicked. Janet had attended my youth group 4 years ago, very infrequently mind you, but she had come, even to BC for Got Faith. When it clicked I almost broke down right there in the middle of The Drop In Centre. I talked to her for several minutes wanting desperately to save her yet not knowing where to begin or if she even wanted to be rescued. She ended up thanking me for chatting then wandered off. She looked so lost. And she was. She still is.
We completed all the interviews on Friday. Most of them have been added to the website - http://www.homelesspartners.com/. Many of the people have had their wishes granted but hundreds more still wait. (Btw - if you are moved by their stories or wish to participate you can grant their wish by mailing their gift to the shelter. If you are interested, let me know.)
This project was both heartbreaking and inspiring, eye opening and moving. I encourage all of you to either start this project in your own city or start volunteering at your local shelter. I realize this last part is turning into a commercial but I'm not sure I care. My life was changed.
John
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Belated Gridblog
Chels suggested we blog on "The Art of Happiness." Immediately I had visions of sunshine and rainbows grinning down on a square house with a triangle roof and a family making merry in the curvy grass below. The artist was 5 and used a broken crayon. But that's Happiness Art.
The Art of Happiness. It's not a Science. Most of us approach happiness as if it were paint by number - convinced a completed picture is the key. I think its more Picasso then that. He seemed to just paint allowing the brush to move his arm. The key with Picasso is not in what he completed but how he completed.
Life is a canvas. How we approach it determines everything.
John
The Art of Happiness. It's not a Science. Most of us approach happiness as if it were paint by number - convinced a completed picture is the key. I think its more Picasso then that. He seemed to just paint allowing the brush to move his arm. The key with Picasso is not in what he completed but how he completed.
Life is a canvas. How we approach it determines everything.
John
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Alexa
Angie thinks I spoil little Lex which. . . ok, maybe at times, but she has freckles and baby blues so what do you expect? I took the kids to school today so I could watch Lex perform her first ever tap dance. As the kids tapped the parents grinned ear to ear including this one. There's something about kids that turns adults into putty.
On the way home Alexa sat in the front seat and pushed every button ever put out by Toyota. I finally encouraged her to stop so she moved on to CD's, skipping every song, ejecting, putting a new one in etc. At one point I would have actually perferred Angie's back seat driving. Love ya dear but cmon, if said driving was a crime you'd be doing 10-20 at Levenworth.
When we got home Lex wanted to say the prayer for the lunch. She pleaded with God to stop Rusty from showing off and for Hugo to stop being so greedy. The interesting thing is Rusty's our cat and Hugo's the family dog. To her credit she also prayed for the food.
Awww little Lex.
John
On the way home Alexa sat in the front seat and pushed every button ever put out by Toyota. I finally encouraged her to stop so she moved on to CD's, skipping every song, ejecting, putting a new one in etc. At one point I would have actually perferred Angie's back seat driving. Love ya dear but cmon, if said driving was a crime you'd be doing 10-20 at Levenworth.
When we got home Lex wanted to say the prayer for the lunch. She pleaded with God to stop Rusty from showing off and for Hugo to stop being so greedy. The interesting thing is Rusty's our cat and Hugo's the family dog. To her credit she also prayed for the food.
Awww little Lex.
John
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