The following is a repost of an old post, hence the name repost.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Re: Post
The following is a repost of an old post, hence the name repost.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Saturday, April 03, 2010
Thoughts While in the McDonald's Drive Thru
The other day I was hungry. It was around noon so this was not too odd. What was odd was that I found myself in a rather long line at a McDonald's drive thru. I had time....lots of time. I did my usual playing with the phone routine, checking email and Facebook updates that remarkably hadn't changed in five minutes.. I looked in my rear view mirror and caught the guy behind me with his index finger two joints deep into his nose. “Must have a deviated septum.” I thought. This continued car length after car length until I finally reached the menu board.
Over the years I have noticed the ever changing appearance of the American drive thru. Especially McDonald's. McDonald's hires the best marketing geniuses to bring us such culinary delights like the Chicken McNugget, Double Quarter Pounder, the Dollar Menu and the Mc DLT. That last one came from the the same guys who brought us “New Coke”. What they brought to the table after being fired from Coke was an innate ability to be out of touch with just about every living person on the planet. They were last seen walking out of Microsoft headquarters carrying pink slips for bringing the world Vista. Apparently they make rounds through corporate America forcing their marketing blunders where ever they go.
My first suspicion came when I finally reached the speaker and was greeted, not by a human voice, but by a pre-recorded message asking if I would be interested in whatever the deal of the day was followed by, “Order when ready.”
What the heck was that? I thought, as I proceeded to order.
“I'll have a number three meal with a Coke, and that's all.”
I must say that it was pure genius for McDonald's to steal the Chinese menu method. This must shave at least three seconds off a typical drive thru order. They lose that advantage with what happened next.
The voice on the other end, a human one this time, repeated my order, and then asked if I would be interested in a McFlurry or apple pie. Note that I ended my order with, “...and that's all.” I do this deliberately. You see, I am trying to speed this up as much as they are. I figure if I use little cues like that then maybe they will pick up on that and save me from telling them no when they ask if I would like something else. Really, I had plenty of time to decide what I wanted to order, if I wanted something else I would have ordered it before I said, “...and that's all.” Unfortunately they still ask and each time that is three seconds I will never get back....So it goes..
There used to be a day when you would pull up to the speaker at the drive thru and you were greeted by a sometimes friendly voice. You would then place your order. They would repeat it back to you with your total and you were done. What was missing was the impersonal automated recorded sales pitch for something you never gave any thought to, and the feeling that one gets when approached by a used car salesman.
I think what bothered me most about the whole experience was that my first encounter was with a machine. It was the same frustration I feel when I try to call any business these days. Rarely are we greeted by a human voice anymore. Usually we are picked up at the third ring by an automated voice answering system that runs us through a list of options to get us to yet another automated voice with it's own set of options, and so on, and so on, etc, yada yada hey.
Over the years we have lost a connectedness that, at times, I think, we will never get back. Texting has replaced phone calls. Most social interaction can be done from the comfort of our home through social networks like Facebook and Myspace. These tools are great. I use them like everyone else and have caught up with people that I lost contact with over twenty years ago. They are great ways to keep in touch, but we need real connections as well. You can't share a meal with someone on Myspace. You can't receive a hug on Facebook, though they do have that poke feature that creeps me out. C'mon, why would something that would get you punched in the real world be acceptable in the cyber world?
I left that McDonald's drive thru with a number three and a Coke, and a whole lot of unresolved issues with the direction society is going.
Maybe I would have been better if I just watched the guy pick his nose a little longer.
It is what it is......
Thoughts While in the McDonald's Drive Thru
The other day I was hungry. It was around noon so this was not too odd. What was odd was that I found myself in a rather long line at a McDonald's drive thru. I had time....lots of time. I did my usual playing with the phone routine, checking email and Facebook updates that remarkably hadn't changed in five minutes.. I looked in my rear view mirror and caught the guy behind me with his index finger two joints deep into his nose. “Must have a deviated septum.” I thought. This continued car length after car length until I finally reached the menu board.
Over the years I have noticed the ever changing appearance of the American drive thru. Especially McDonald's. McDonald's hires the best marketing geniuses to bring us such culinary delights like the Chicken McNugget, Double Quarter Pounder, the Dollar Menu and the Mc DLT. That last one came from the the same guys who brought us “New Coke”. What they brought to the table after being fired from Coke was an innate ability to be out of touch with just about every living person on the planet. They were last seen walking out of Microsoft headquarters carrying pink slips for bringing the world Vista. Apparently they make rounds through corporate America forcing their marketing blunders where ever they go.
My first suspicion came when I finally reached the speaker and was greeted, not by a human voice, but by a pre-recorded message asking if I would be interested in whatever the deal of the day was followed by, “Order when ready.”
What the heck was that? I thought, as I proceeded to order.
“I'll have a number three meal with a Coke, and that's all.”
I must say that it was pure genius for McDonald's to steal the Chinese menu method. This must shave at least three seconds off a typical drive thru order. They lose that advantage with what happened next.
The voice on the other end, a human one this time, repeated my order, and then asked if I would be interested in a McFlurry or apple pie. Note that I ended my order with, “...and that's all.” I do this deliberately. You see, I am trying to speed this up as much as they are. I figure if I use little cues like that then maybe they will pick up on that and save me from telling them no when they ask if I would like something else. Really, I had plenty of time to decide what I wanted to order, if I wanted something else I would have ordered it before I said, “...and that's all.” Unfortunately they still ask and each time that is three seconds I will never get back....So it goes..
There used to be a day when you would pull up to the speaker at the drive thru and you were greeted by a sometimes friendly voice. You would then place your order. They would repeat it back to you with your total and you were done. What was missing was the impersonal automated recorded sales pitch for something you never gave any thought to, and the feeling that one gets when approached by a used car salesman.
I think what bothered me most about the whole experience was that my first encounter was with a machine. It was the same frustration I feel when I try to call any business these days. Rarely are we greeted by a human voice anymore. Usually we are picked up at the third ring by an automated voice answering system that runs us through a list of options to get us to yet another automated voice with it's own set of options, and so on, and so on, etc, yada yada hey.
Over the years we have lost a connectedness that, at times, I think, we will never get back. Texting has replaced phone calls. Most social interaction can be done from the comfort of our home through social networks like Facebook and Myspace. These tools are great. I use them like everyone else and have caught up with people that I lost contact with over twenty years ago. They are great ways to keep in touch, but we need real connections as well. You can't share a meal with someone on Myspace. You can't receive a hug on Facebook, though they do have that poke feature that creeps me out. C'mon, why would something that would get you punched in the real world be acceptable in the cyber world?
I left that McDonald's drive thru with a number three and a Coke, and a whole lot of unresolved issues with the direction society is going.
Maybe I would have been better if I just watched the guy pick his nose a little longer.
It is what it is......
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Things to think about while I ponder about things.....Mental Multi-Tasking
O.K. I am not too sure that I can go with this one. I am all for napping on long flights. I'm not too sure that it's a good idea for pilots...read here.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
Things to think about while I ponder about things.....Mental Multi-Tasking
O.K. I am not too sure that I can go with this one. I am all for napping on long flights. I'm not too sure that it's a good idea for pilots...read here.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Help, The Anointing Has Lifted and I Can’t Make It To My Limo!
Note: This is a very rough draft of one chapter of a book I am writing called "For Real, Being Real in an Unreal Church". It is, like the rest of the book, unfinished. I wanted to post this because this is what is going on in my head right now.
Shortly after we were saved, after the glory cloud lifted and we started seeing that even though they were in church, people were still people; we had the chance to see the inner workings of a real life, not too sure how biblical, pastor search committee. During this time we saw a variety of “preachers” come to audition. It was during this time that I realized that a majority of preachers and pastors are full of themselves, especially the self proclaimed bishops, evangelists prophets.
After one such “audition” the prospective pastor, an over the top spitting, screaming towel carrying man o’God called the worship team to play during the altar call. Somewhere between then and the mad rush to Applebee’s this guy ducked out the side door into the office across the hall. As we, the guardians of truth and all that is holy, known as the search committee filed into the office we saw this guy with head in hands looking as if he ran a marathon. When asked how he was his rely was, “The anointing really takes it out of me.” Being a new Christian at the tome, I didn’t read too much into it. But his words stuck with me.
From Easton’s 1897 Bible Dictionary one form of anointing “was also an act of hospitality (Luke 7:38, 46). It was the custom of the Jews in like manner to anoint themselves with oil, as a means of refreshing or invigorating their bodies (Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 14:2; Ps. 104:15, etc.). This custom is continued among the Arabians to the present day. (emphasis mine)
As I look back I realized that this guy was more about his power, and not too much about God. If this man were truly anointed he would have the energy to do what God set before him. I’m pretty sure that hiding from the people after service was not part of God’s plan for this man.
I read an article from J. Lee Grady recently titled Reality Check: The Case For Relational Christianity. The following is an excerpt from that article.
A friend in Alabama recently told me about a preacher who came to his city in unusual style. The man arrived at a church in a limousine and was whisked into a private waiting room behind the stage area. The evangelist gave specific instructions to leave his limousine's engine running (I guess he wasn't concerned about rising gas prices) so that the temperature inside his car would remain constant.
This evangelist then preached to a waiting crowd, took up his own offering and retired to the waiting room for some refreshments. Then he left the church with his entourage without even speaking to the host pastor.
Reality Check: The Case for Relational Christianity June 23, 2009
It was the combination of my encounter with the anointed pastor and J. Lee Grady’s article that gave me the title, and got me to thinking (again) about the absurd heights we place church leaders.
We have created a cult of personality within the church. We have taken 1 Samuel 26:9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him; for who can stretch out his hand against the LORD’s anointed, and be guiltless?” (New King James Version) and let charlatans and wolves into our churches, all the while living in fear that hail the size of VW Bugs and lightning will hit us if we dare question anything, cause you know there is that part in the bible where David had the chance to kill Saul, but didn’t, so somehow that applies to the new covenant. (There is also 1 Chronicles 16:22 and Psalm 105:15 that really have no connection to today’s modern church) This gives these leaders carte blanche to do whatever they please without any fear of real consequence in this life.
Another thing that happens to these untouchables is sad and regrettably avoidable if there were such a thing as accountability, and that's sin. A result of placing these people into these elevated celebrity status is that they are left alone, to their own devices and eventually end up in some sort of sin that shocks us and makes us recoil in disbelief saying, “But aren’t they God’s anointed?”
We have heard countless stories of pastors having marriage problems, infidelity issues, porn addiction, runaway children, etc. These issues, and countless others have kept leaders isolated felling like they can’t tell anyone they are human and they need help because, after all, aren’t they God’s anointed?
We need, as J. Lee Grady puts it, a reality check
Shortly after we were saved, after the glory cloud lifted and we started seeing that even though they were in church, people were still people; we had the chance to see the inner workings of a real life, not too sure how biblical, pastor search committee. During this time we saw a variety of “preachers” come to audition. It was during this time that I realized that a majority of preachers and pastors are full of themselves, especially the self proclaimed bishops, evangelists prophets.
After one such “audition” the prospective pastor, an over the top spitting, screaming towel carrying man o’God called the worship team to play during the altar call. Somewhere between then and the mad rush to Applebee’s this guy ducked out the side door into the office across the hall. As we, the guardians of truth and all that is holy, known as the search committee filed into the office we saw this guy with head in hands looking as if he ran a marathon. When asked how he was his rely was, “The anointing really takes it out of me.” Being a new Christian at the tome, I didn’t read too much into it. But his words stuck with me.
From Easton’s 1897 Bible Dictionary one form of anointing “was also an act of hospitality (Luke 7:38, 46). It was the custom of the Jews in like manner to anoint themselves with oil, as a means of refreshing or invigorating their bodies (Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 14:2; Ps. 104:15, etc.). This custom is continued among the Arabians to the present day. (emphasis mine)
As I look back I realized that this guy was more about his power, and not too much about God. If this man were truly anointed he would have the energy to do what God set before him. I’m pretty sure that hiding from the people after service was not part of God’s plan for this man.
I read an article from J. Lee Grady recently titled Reality Check: The Case For Relational Christianity. The following is an excerpt from that article.
A friend in Alabama recently told me about a preacher who came to his city in unusual style. The man arrived at a church in a limousine and was whisked into a private waiting room behind the stage area. The evangelist gave specific instructions to leave his limousine's engine running (I guess he wasn't concerned about rising gas prices) so that the temperature inside his car would remain constant.
This evangelist then preached to a waiting crowd, took up his own offering and retired to the waiting room for some refreshments. Then he left the church with his entourage without even speaking to the host pastor.
Reality Check: The Case for Relational Christianity June 23, 2009
It was the combination of my encounter with the anointed pastor and J. Lee Grady’s article that gave me the title, and got me to thinking (again) about the absurd heights we place church leaders.
We have created a cult of personality within the church. We have taken 1 Samuel 26:9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him; for who can stretch out his hand against the LORD’s anointed, and be guiltless?” (New King James Version) and let charlatans and wolves into our churches, all the while living in fear that hail the size of VW Bugs and lightning will hit us if we dare question anything, cause you know there is that part in the bible where David had the chance to kill Saul, but didn’t, so somehow that applies to the new covenant. (There is also 1 Chronicles 16:22 and Psalm 105:15 that really have no connection to today’s modern church) This gives these leaders carte blanche to do whatever they please without any fear of real consequence in this life.
Another thing that happens to these untouchables is sad and regrettably avoidable if there were such a thing as accountability, and that's sin. A result of placing these people into these elevated celebrity status is that they are left alone, to their own devices and eventually end up in some sort of sin that shocks us and makes us recoil in disbelief saying, “But aren’t they God’s anointed?”
We have heard countless stories of pastors having marriage problems, infidelity issues, porn addiction, runaway children, etc. These issues, and countless others have kept leaders isolated felling like they can’t tell anyone they are human and they need help because, after all, aren’t they God’s anointed?
We need, as J. Lee Grady puts it, a reality check
Help, The Anointing Has Lifted and I Can’t Make It To My Limo!
Note: This is a very rough draft of one chapter of a book I am writing called "For Real, Being Real in an Unreal Church". It is, like the rest of the book, unfinished. I wanted to post this because this is what is going on in my head right now.
Shortly after we were saved, after the glory cloud lifted and we started seeing that even though they were in church, people were still people; we had the chance to see the inner workings of a real life, not too sure how biblical, pastor search committee. During this time we saw a variety of “preachers” come to audition. It was during this time that I realized that a majority of preachers and pastors are full of themselves, especially the self proclaimed bishops, evangelists prophets.
After one such “audition” the prospective pastor, an over the top spitting, screaming towel carrying man o’God called the worship team to play during the altar call. Somewhere between then and the mad rush to Applebee’s this guy ducked out the side door into the office across the hall. As we, the guardians of truth and all that is holy, known as the search committee filed into the office we saw this guy with head in hands looking as if he ran a marathon. When asked how he was his rely was, “The anointing really takes it out of me.” Being a new Christian at the tome, I didn’t read too much into it. But his words stuck with me.
From Easton’s 1897 Bible Dictionary one form of anointing “was also an act of hospitality (Luke 7:38, 46). It was the custom of the Jews in like manner to anoint themselves with oil, as a means of refreshing or invigorating their bodies (Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 14:2; Ps. 104:15, etc.). This custom is continued among the Arabians to the present day. (emphasis mine)
As I look back I realized that this guy was more about his power, and not too much about God. If this man were truly anointed he would have the energy to do what God set before him. I’m pretty sure that hiding from the people after service was not part of God’s plan for this man.
I read an article from J. Lee Grady recently titled Reality Check: The Case For Relational Christianity. The following is an excerpt from that article.
A friend in Alabama recently told me about a preacher who came to his city in unusual style. The man arrived at a church in a limousine and was whisked into a private waiting room behind the stage area. The evangelist gave specific instructions to leave his limousine's engine running (I guess he wasn't concerned about rising gas prices) so that the temperature inside his car would remain constant.
This evangelist then preached to a waiting crowd, took up his own offering and retired to the waiting room for some refreshments. Then he left the church with his entourage without even speaking to the host pastor.
Reality Check: The Case for Relational Christianity June 23, 2009
It was the combination of my encounter with the anointed pastor and J. Lee Grady’s article that gave me the title, and got me to thinking (again) about the absurd heights we place church leaders.
We have created a cult of personality within the church. We have taken 1 Samuel 26:9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him; for who can stretch out his hand against the LORD’s anointed, and be guiltless?” (New King James Version) and let charlatans and wolves into our churches, all the while living in fear that hail the size of VW Bugs and lightning will hit us if we dare question anything, cause you know there is that part in the bible where David had the chance to kill Saul, but didn’t, so somehow that applies to the new covenant. (There is also 1 Chronicles 16:22 and Psalm 105:15 that really have no connection to today’s modern church) This gives these leaders carte blanche to do whatever they please without any fear of real consequence in this life.
Another thing that happens to these untouchables is sad and regrettably avoidable if there were such a thing as accountability, and that's sin. A result of placing these people into these elevated celebrity status is that they are left alone, to their own devices and eventually end up in some sort of sin that shocks us and makes us recoil in disbelief saying, “But aren’t they God’s anointed?”
We have heard countless stories of pastors having marriage problems, infidelity issues, porn addiction, runaway children, etc. These issues, and countless others have kept leaders isolated felling like they can’t tell anyone they are human and they need help because, after all, aren’t they God’s anointed?
We need, as J. Lee Grady puts it, a reality check
Shortly after we were saved, after the glory cloud lifted and we started seeing that even though they were in church, people were still people; we had the chance to see the inner workings of a real life, not too sure how biblical, pastor search committee. During this time we saw a variety of “preachers” come to audition. It was during this time that I realized that a majority of preachers and pastors are full of themselves, especially the self proclaimed bishops, evangelists prophets.
After one such “audition” the prospective pastor, an over the top spitting, screaming towel carrying man o’God called the worship team to play during the altar call. Somewhere between then and the mad rush to Applebee’s this guy ducked out the side door into the office across the hall. As we, the guardians of truth and all that is holy, known as the search committee filed into the office we saw this guy with head in hands looking as if he ran a marathon. When asked how he was his rely was, “The anointing really takes it out of me.” Being a new Christian at the tome, I didn’t read too much into it. But his words stuck with me.
From Easton’s 1897 Bible Dictionary one form of anointing “was also an act of hospitality (Luke 7:38, 46). It was the custom of the Jews in like manner to anoint themselves with oil, as a means of refreshing or invigorating their bodies (Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 14:2; Ps. 104:15, etc.). This custom is continued among the Arabians to the present day. (emphasis mine)
As I look back I realized that this guy was more about his power, and not too much about God. If this man were truly anointed he would have the energy to do what God set before him. I’m pretty sure that hiding from the people after service was not part of God’s plan for this man.
I read an article from J. Lee Grady recently titled Reality Check: The Case For Relational Christianity. The following is an excerpt from that article.
A friend in Alabama recently told me about a preacher who came to his city in unusual style. The man arrived at a church in a limousine and was whisked into a private waiting room behind the stage area. The evangelist gave specific instructions to leave his limousine's engine running (I guess he wasn't concerned about rising gas prices) so that the temperature inside his car would remain constant.
This evangelist then preached to a waiting crowd, took up his own offering and retired to the waiting room for some refreshments. Then he left the church with his entourage without even speaking to the host pastor.
Reality Check: The Case for Relational Christianity June 23, 2009
It was the combination of my encounter with the anointed pastor and J. Lee Grady’s article that gave me the title, and got me to thinking (again) about the absurd heights we place church leaders.
We have created a cult of personality within the church. We have taken 1 Samuel 26:9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him; for who can stretch out his hand against the LORD’s anointed, and be guiltless?” (New King James Version) and let charlatans and wolves into our churches, all the while living in fear that hail the size of VW Bugs and lightning will hit us if we dare question anything, cause you know there is that part in the bible where David had the chance to kill Saul, but didn’t, so somehow that applies to the new covenant. (There is also 1 Chronicles 16:22 and Psalm 105:15 that really have no connection to today’s modern church) This gives these leaders carte blanche to do whatever they please without any fear of real consequence in this life.
Another thing that happens to these untouchables is sad and regrettably avoidable if there were such a thing as accountability, and that's sin. A result of placing these people into these elevated celebrity status is that they are left alone, to their own devices and eventually end up in some sort of sin that shocks us and makes us recoil in disbelief saying, “But aren’t they God’s anointed?”
We have heard countless stories of pastors having marriage problems, infidelity issues, porn addiction, runaway children, etc. These issues, and countless others have kept leaders isolated felling like they can’t tell anyone they are human and they need help because, after all, aren’t they God’s anointed?
We need, as J. Lee Grady puts it, a reality check
Friday, July 25, 2008
Stuff Breaks
So, the other day my truck broke. No big deal other than I am using our car to go to work. That is not that bad either seeing that I am closing shop here and I won't have the awkwardness of pulling up to a customers house in a 1998 Buick Regal. Nothing instills confidence in your general contractor like him pulling up in a car.
My truck goes in the shop on Thursday. My van is disabled and going to be sold on Monday. Our computer crashed for the last time, but that is ok, the library is a couple of blocks away, and I have a smart phone.(Now if the owner of the smart phone were smart enough to use it) My laptop is about to give up the ghost, and our can opener is junk.
All of this would make most people think I am cursed. Yet upon further investigation I can sum it up with: Old stuff breaks.
My truck is nine years old and has 125,000 miles on it.
My van is a 1980 E150.
My computer is six years old.
My laptop is just as old.
My can opener came from Dollar General.
So let me rephrase that: Old stuff and crap breaks. It is a curse to be sure. It is the same curse that we are all under. Beating our heads whenever something fails is not only senseless, it's stupid. Ain't no Charlie Brown woe is me going on here. I will just wade through the muck and mire to come out victorious, praising God.
Time out-let's get something clear
I speak-more truth than you want to hear
Scapegoat-to cover up your fear, you can't bring me
You ain't-never seen so much might
Fight for-what I know is right
What up-you got yourself a fight, you can't bring me
Stand up-we'll all sing along
Together-ain't nothin' as strong
Won't quit-we ain't in the wrong, you can't bring me
You...can't...bring...me...down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down, no!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me
down, you can't bring me down!
S.T. You Can't Bring Me Down
My truck goes in the shop on Thursday. My van is disabled and going to be sold on Monday. Our computer crashed for the last time, but that is ok, the library is a couple of blocks away, and I have a smart phone.(Now if the owner of the smart phone were smart enough to use it) My laptop is about to give up the ghost, and our can opener is junk.
All of this would make most people think I am cursed. Yet upon further investigation I can sum it up with: Old stuff breaks.
My truck is nine years old and has 125,000 miles on it.
My van is a 1980 E150.
My computer is six years old.
My laptop is just as old.
My can opener came from Dollar General.
So let me rephrase that: Old stuff and crap breaks. It is a curse to be sure. It is the same curse that we are all under. Beating our heads whenever something fails is not only senseless, it's stupid. Ain't no Charlie Brown woe is me going on here. I will just wade through the muck and mire to come out victorious, praising God.
Time out-let's get something clear
I speak-more truth than you want to hear
Scapegoat-to cover up your fear, you can't bring me
You ain't-never seen so much might
Fight for-what I know is right
What up-you got yourself a fight, you can't bring me
Stand up-we'll all sing along
Together-ain't nothin' as strong
Won't quit-we ain't in the wrong, you can't bring me
You...can't...bring...me...down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down, no!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me
down, you can't bring me down!
S.T. You Can't Bring Me Down
Stuff Breaks
So, the other day my truck broke. No big deal other than I am using our car to go to work. That is not that bad either seeing that I am closing shop here and I won't have the awkwardness of pulling up to a customers house in a 1998 Buick Regal. Nothing instills confidence in your general contractor like him pulling up in a car.
My truck goes in the shop on Thursday. My van is disabled and going to be sold on Monday. Our computer crashed for the last time, but that is ok, the library is a couple of blocks away, and I have a smart phone.(Now if the owner of the smart phone were smart enough to use it) My laptop is about to give up the ghost, and our can opener is junk.
All of this would make most people think I am cursed. Yet upon further investigation I can sum it up with: Old stuff breaks.
My truck is nine years old and has 125,000 miles on it.
My van is a 1980 E150.
My computer is six years old.
My laptop is just as old.
My can opener came from Dollar General.
So let me rephrase that: Old stuff and crap breaks. It is a curse to be sure. It is the same curse that we are all under. Beating our heads whenever something fails is not only senseless, it's stupid. Ain't no Charlie Brown woe is me going on here. I will just wade through the muck and mire to come out victorious, praising God.
Time out-let's get something clear
I speak-more truth than you want to hear
Scapegoat-to cover up your fear, you can't bring me
You ain't-never seen so much might
Fight for-what I know is right
What up-you got yourself a fight, you can't bring me
Stand up-we'll all sing along
Together-ain't nothin' as strong
Won't quit-we ain't in the wrong, you can't bring me
You...can't...bring...me...down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down, no!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me
down, you can't bring me down!
S.T. You Can't Bring Me Down
My truck goes in the shop on Thursday. My van is disabled and going to be sold on Monday. Our computer crashed for the last time, but that is ok, the library is a couple of blocks away, and I have a smart phone.(Now if the owner of the smart phone were smart enough to use it) My laptop is about to give up the ghost, and our can opener is junk.
All of this would make most people think I am cursed. Yet upon further investigation I can sum it up with: Old stuff breaks.
My truck is nine years old and has 125,000 miles on it.
My van is a 1980 E150.
My computer is six years old.
My laptop is just as old.
My can opener came from Dollar General.
So let me rephrase that: Old stuff and crap breaks. It is a curse to be sure. It is the same curse that we are all under. Beating our heads whenever something fails is not only senseless, it's stupid. Ain't no Charlie Brown woe is me going on here. I will just wade through the muck and mire to come out victorious, praising God.
Time out-let's get something clear
I speak-more truth than you want to hear
Scapegoat-to cover up your fear, you can't bring me
You ain't-never seen so much might
Fight for-what I know is right
What up-you got yourself a fight, you can't bring me
Stand up-we'll all sing along
Together-ain't nothin' as strong
Won't quit-we ain't in the wrong, you can't bring me
You...can't...bring...me...down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down, no!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me
down, you can't bring me down!
S.T. You Can't Bring Me Down
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
I like Mike.. Mitt's a loon, and I can prove it
It appears that Mike Huckabee is taking a heat round for his comments about Mormonism. You can read the story here. I fully agree with Mike in that they, (the Mormons) are a huge flippin' cult. Any religion that makes you wear funny undergarments, and doesn't believe that the Bible is the final authority is a cult.
Over the years we have had our fair share of nut cases coming to our door in pairs with their backpacks and squeaky clean dress, trying to sell us a bill of goods that will literally burn in Hell. They have stopped coming by. I think that they have our picture on the wall of those who will try and turn you away from us. I miss the company. I really like hitting a brick wall in conversation. I equally enjoy asking the hard questions that make them squirm in their funny underwear. In all seriousness though, I like planting the seed of truth.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything other than the fact that they are wrong, against the Mormons. Back in the day I was known to watch the Donnie and Marie show. I just can't take a grown man seriously when I know that he is wearing his special underwear.
Now, before it gets out, I would like to admit to having a pair of special underwear. The reason they are special to me is that my children bought them for me. They are a pair of boxers with a tool belt and tools printed on them. Along the waistband there is "Mr. Fixit" written in white letters on a black background. The only time I wear them happens when I have absolutely no others clean.
Somehow it's not the same...
Over the years we have had our fair share of nut cases coming to our door in pairs with their backpacks and squeaky clean dress, trying to sell us a bill of goods that will literally burn in Hell. They have stopped coming by. I think that they have our picture on the wall of those who will try and turn you away from us. I miss the company. I really like hitting a brick wall in conversation. I equally enjoy asking the hard questions that make them squirm in their funny underwear. In all seriousness though, I like planting the seed of truth.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything other than the fact that they are wrong, against the Mormons. Back in the day I was known to watch the Donnie and Marie show. I just can't take a grown man seriously when I know that he is wearing his special underwear.
Now, before it gets out, I would like to admit to having a pair of special underwear. The reason they are special to me is that my children bought them for me. They are a pair of boxers with a tool belt and tools printed on them. Along the waistband there is "Mr. Fixit" written in white letters on a black background. The only time I wear them happens when I have absolutely no others clean.
Somehow it's not the same...
I like Mike.. Mitt's a loon, and I can prove it
It appears that Mike Huckabee is taking a heat round for his comments about Mormonism. You can read the story here. I fully agree with Mike in that they, (the Mormons) are a huge flippin' cult. Any religion that makes you wear funny undergarments, and doesn't believe that the Bible is the final authority is a cult.
Over the years we have had our fair share of nut cases coming to our door in pairs with their backpacks and squeaky clean dress, trying to sell us a bill of goods that will literally burn in Hell. They have stopped coming by. I think that they have our picture on the wall of those who will try and turn you away from us. I miss the company. I really like hitting a brick wall in conversation. I equally enjoy asking the hard questions that make them squirm in their funny underwear. In all seriousness though, I like planting the seed of truth.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything other than the fact that they are wrong, against the Mormons. Back in the day I was known to watch the Donnie and Marie show. I just can't take a grown man seriously when I know that he is wearing his special underwear.
Now, before it gets out, I would like to admit to having a pair of special underwear. The reason they are special to me is that my children bought them for me. They are a pair of boxers with a tool belt and tools printed on them. Along the waistband there is "Mr. Fixit" written in white letters on a black background. The only time I wear them happens when I have absolutely no others clean.
Somehow it's not the same...
Over the years we have had our fair share of nut cases coming to our door in pairs with their backpacks and squeaky clean dress, trying to sell us a bill of goods that will literally burn in Hell. They have stopped coming by. I think that they have our picture on the wall of those who will try and turn you away from us. I miss the company. I really like hitting a brick wall in conversation. I equally enjoy asking the hard questions that make them squirm in their funny underwear. In all seriousness though, I like planting the seed of truth.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything other than the fact that they are wrong, against the Mormons. Back in the day I was known to watch the Donnie and Marie show. I just can't take a grown man seriously when I know that he is wearing his special underwear.
Now, before it gets out, I would like to admit to having a pair of special underwear. The reason they are special to me is that my children bought them for me. They are a pair of boxers with a tool belt and tools printed on them. Along the waistband there is "Mr. Fixit" written in white letters on a black background. The only time I wear them happens when I have absolutely no others clean.
Somehow it's not the same...
Monday, September 17, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear (or, What Kids Do Without TV)
Some time ago we made a decision to have only one TV. We also decided to never again buy cable or satellite service. Since we decided to make such a drastic lifestyle change (how does TV become a lifestyle?) we figured that we should go all the way and have the smallest TV we could all watch without getting headaches. We opted for a 13 inch TV/ VCR combo that my dad bought the kids when he lived with us. Dad loved TV and really thought that everyone should as well.
Now, when you make such decisions you must also limit the use of it. That part is easy to do around these here parts. You should consider yourself blessed(?) if you can get a good signal from one of five stations (2 of which are PBS. hee hee). It becomes a case of why bother, when sitting down to watch a show. You will find yourself getting up a few times to adjust the antenna. This aggravates kids as well, so they will invariably end up doing one of 2 things.
1. Beat the tar out of each other.
2. make stuff with common building materials and your neighbor's plants.
After Mom sends them outside for #1, they are left to their own devices, and Dad's shed of stuff.
For the last week I have come home to various forms of unique weapons of no destruction sitting on my back patio. One particularly ingenious item is the shield that Noah has been sporting for the last couple of days. It is made from cardboard, packing tape, duct tape and our neighbor's lamb's ear plant.
When I asked Noah about the plant on his shield he told me that it was for his new club. "What club is that?" I ask.
"The Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear."
Should have known.
Hunting Dragons (no doubt)
Lamb's Ear Plunder
Now, when you make such decisions you must also limit the use of it. That part is easy to do around these here parts. You should consider yourself blessed(?) if you can get a good signal from one of five stations (2 of which are PBS. hee hee). It becomes a case of why bother, when sitting down to watch a show. You will find yourself getting up a few times to adjust the antenna. This aggravates kids as well, so they will invariably end up doing one of 2 things.
1. Beat the tar out of each other.
2. make stuff with common building materials and your neighbor's plants.
After Mom sends them outside for #1, they are left to their own devices, and Dad's shed of stuff.
For the last week I have come home to various forms of unique weapons of no destruction sitting on my back patio. One particularly ingenious item is the shield that Noah has been sporting for the last couple of days. It is made from cardboard, packing tape, duct tape and our neighbor's lamb's ear plant.
When I asked Noah about the plant on his shield he told me that it was for his new club. "What club is that?" I ask.
"The Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear."
Should have known.
2 Valiant Warriors
Hunting Dragons (no doubt)
Lamb's Ear Plunder
Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear (or, What Kids Do Without TV)
Some time ago we made a decision to have only one TV. We also decided to never again buy cable or satellite service. Since we decided to make such a drastic lifestyle change (how does TV become a lifestyle?) we figured that we should go all the way and have the smallest TV we could all watch without getting headaches. We opted for a 13 inch TV/ VCR combo that my dad bought the kids when he lived with us. Dad loved TV and really thought that everyone should as well.
Now, when you make such decisions you must also limit the use of it. That part is easy to do around these here parts. You should consider yourself blessed(?) if you can get a good signal from one of five stations (2 of which are PBS. hee hee). It becomes a case of why bother, when sitting down to watch a show. You will find yourself getting up a few times to adjust the antenna. This aggravates kids as well, so they will invariably end up doing one of 2 things.
1. Beat the tar out of each other.
2. make stuff with common building materials and your neighbor's plants.
After Mom sends them outside for #1, they are left to their own devices, and Dad's shed of stuff.
For the last week I have come home to various forms of unique weapons of no destruction sitting on my back patio. One particularly ingenious item is the shield that Noah has been sporting for the last couple of days. It is made from cardboard, packing tape, duct tape and our neighbor's lamb's ear plant.
When I asked Noah about the plant on his shield he told me that it was for his new club. "What club is that?" I ask.
"The Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear."
Should have known.
Hunting Dragons (no doubt)
Lamb's Ear Plunder
Now, when you make such decisions you must also limit the use of it. That part is easy to do around these here parts. You should consider yourself blessed(?) if you can get a good signal from one of five stations (2 of which are PBS. hee hee). It becomes a case of why bother, when sitting down to watch a show. You will find yourself getting up a few times to adjust the antenna. This aggravates kids as well, so they will invariably end up doing one of 2 things.
1. Beat the tar out of each other.
2. make stuff with common building materials and your neighbor's plants.
After Mom sends them outside for #1, they are left to their own devices, and Dad's shed of stuff.
For the last week I have come home to various forms of unique weapons of no destruction sitting on my back patio. One particularly ingenious item is the shield that Noah has been sporting for the last couple of days. It is made from cardboard, packing tape, duct tape and our neighbor's lamb's ear plant.
When I asked Noah about the plant on his shield he told me that it was for his new club. "What club is that?" I ask.
"The Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear."
Should have known.
2 Valiant Warriors
Hunting Dragons (no doubt)
Lamb's Ear Plunder
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Strange Bedfellows
Official: $20 billion arms sale to Saudis in the works. Read the rest of the story.
Can anyone show me the logic in this?
Strange Bedfellows
Official: $20 billion arms sale to Saudis in the works. Read the rest of the story.
Can anyone show me the logic in this?
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