Goodbye, Bunny

I have this desire to start playing the piano more, and it's probably because the piano bench is back.

For the last 15 months, the bench was not at the piano. It was a few feet away, against another wall, acting as a pedestal for our rabbit cage. It had been there ever since our female dwarf rabbit Mocha passed away, leaving behind her male companion, Steamer.

Mocha had lived almost seven years (a good length of time for a small rabbit) in a hutch with Steamer in an otherwise lonely room, and they were good company for each other. Then in 2008 she died peacefully, so we buried her lovingly in the corner of our back yard. Now that Steamer was alone, we moved him from the large hutch to a good-sized cage, and placed him on his pedestal in front of a window, in a busier room of the house. That way he could see us coming and going, and be part of everything.

But today Steamer passed away, and the spot in front of the window is empty. Several times I've walked from room to room, and stopped to look at the vacant spot, and the piano bench sitting nice and proper in front of the piano. It's a good symbol of the emptiness we all feel when we lose someone important.

On the last day of 2008, I wrote a poem with Steamer in mind. One day I'll probably turn it into a song. Only a few days prior, we had made the decision to pay for a surgery to save Steamer's life, after an injury. It seemed like far too much to spend on a bunny, and it was a very difficult decision to make. But we reminded ourselves that he had just lost his mate, and it didn't seem like it was his time yet to go. So we made the decision, and felt a real peace afterward, which I expressed in the poem, called "Waste it All". The final chorus reads:

It may not work; I may be fooled But to really love is to fear no waste So I’ll waste it all on you. Waste it all on you.

Losing Steamer reminded me of the sentiment that brought about these words. The sentiment that I may, indeed, be fooled. I may be a fool to waste my time or my money, not just on a rabbit, but on any given human. What securities do I have? Is there sufficient collateral? Is it a good investment? Or am I just throwing my life down a bottomless pit called Relationship?

There is no doubt as to whether I am playing the fool here. I absolutely I am.

The question is not whether I will play the fool, it's what kind of fool I'm becoming. We are all idiots, really, with our silly ambitions and arbitrary values; our possessions and religions and bank accounts and trendy clothing and make-up and social conventions. We all look ridiculous all the time, and the more dignified we imagine ourselves to be, the worse it gets.

But there are good fools and bad fools, going around foolishly wasting their time and their talent and their resources. And the only way to tell them apart... is who they are wasting it on. The bad fools are wasting it all on themselves, going for broke to fix every flaw and enhance every asset. These are not the lovable fools, these are the ones we all despise. And sometimes they are us.

The only way to redeem our foolishness is to pour it out on someone else. The band 38 Special captures it with I'm a Fool For You. It can be a lover. It can be a parent or a child or a friend or a pet. The disreputable young woman had it exactly right when she wasted a priceless jar of perfume on Jesus' feet. She knew it was all going to waste in one way or another, so she might as well squander it on the lover of her soul.

It entered my mind briefly today, the amount of money spent on Steamer's surgery, and the amount of time he lived afterward. (As Judas might have said, "The money paid to that veterinarian could have been given to the poor!") I should say that Steamer made a courageous recovery, and spent this last year or so as strong as any bunny his age. But it occurred to me momentarily to divide the cost of the operation by the number of months he has lived since then, and ask myself if his life was worth that much per month. But I shook my head and rebuked myself for entertaining the most foolish of all calculations.

Even if we did the wrong thing, our only judge is God himself. And for all my shortcomings, I think I can imagine God's reaction as he peruses the record of my life and exclaims to himself, "That's a lot to spend to save a rabbit's life!" and looks up from his book with a tender smile. God's grace and kindness are so much higher than my own.

"Do you know why I assigned Adam the task of naming the animals, Ryan? I wanted him to love them. Until Eve arrived, they were his only family, and his only friends. When he and his wife were given dominion over the earth and all the animals, they were also given the desire to look after them, and to rescue them from harm. Many good things that existed in that garden are long gone, since mankind turned his heart away from me. But that is one thing that remains. I am Steamer's Creator, but you are his savior."

A rabbit is a small and simple creature, but we have learned large and complex things by caring for two of them, and for the last 15 months, just one. It's clear that Mocha and Steamer were made to be together, and now they are together again.

Goodbye, Bunny.

Comforting the Oppressor

And the winner is... oh s***, not again.

Wouldn't you love to hear this from an announcer at an awards ceremony? When Titanic just kept taking on Oscars, or Beyonce's name was called again and again at the grammys? If I was an announcer, opening the sealed envelope, I would want to call out a name that's surprising and unique; a real come-from behind champion; a cinderella victor. But somehow most of those revered but un-nominated envelope celebrities manage to read the names with a degree of gravitas or joy.

I couldn't do it.

The unfortunate fact is, even the surprise winners at the Oscars or Grammys or Golden Globes, etc, are not very big surprises. Every last nominee is a member of the inner circle in some way or another. Maybe there's a few nominees for "Best Reggae Album" or "Best Foreign-Language Film" that have escaped our notice over the past year, but they certainly are the exception.

And I will guarantee you one thing: the best album of every year is almost certainly an album that 99% of Americans have never heard. And the best new artist is some nobody practicing day and night in their basement or garage. But they will not walk the red carpet this year, or next year. Nor will they want to.

Our society has a narcissistic way of rewarding fame and fortune--the last things on earth that need or deserve a reward. You sold a gazillion albums! Here's a little gold statue! You starred in a movie that netted a billion dollars! Here is a moment in the spotlight, and the finally the recognition you deserve!

What a bunch of bull s***.

It's not just the entertainment industry, either. Who were the primary recipients of the government's bail-out money? The Fortune 50 companies who should have known better. Instead of taking pity on the broken and outcast, our tears are shed for the gilded insiders. Instead of comforting the oppressed, we comfort the oppressors.

Jesus was not impressed by royalty, or status, or wealth. He didn't go out of his way to talk to members of the upper-class, unless it was to call them out of it (think Zacchaeus or the rich young ruler.) He said that the first will be last and the last will be first.

I kind of hope there's no such thing as an awards ceremony in heaven (I'm sure hell will be full of them.) But if there is, I have an idea what it would be like. The nobody-artist practicing in her garage will get center stage, and the director with imagination, skill and a shoe-string budget will take home the statue. But most importantly, the people who have surrendered their lives and comforts for the sake of broken will be lifted up and crowned with honor.

They will hold their crowns high in the air for everyone to see, but they will not give a speech. They will throw them all down at the feet of Jesus. The cinderella victor.



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The 2010 Cure for the Maturity Disease

I forget who said it, but here's a good New Years' Quote: "Youth is when you're allowed to stay up really late on New Year's Eve. Middle Age is when you're forced to."

I'm 30 years old. Have been for 8 months now. Maybe it's just because I hang around a lot of college-aged and mid-20s types that the late night thing hasn't worn off on me. And maybe it was because I didn't wear out the party urge in college the way many people do. It's true that my wife and I were definitely the oldest in our group of friends that rang in the New Year last night, if only by a year or three.

But I can look down the tunnel of middle age from where I sit, and I can see how pointless the party thing will look in retrospect. (Note: I advise everyone to drink with caution, and I will be the first to set that example. I only "party" to be with friends, and perhaps make some new ones. But the party atmosphere can be a bit infectious while you're young, and that's the thing that can wear off, even if drinking was never an issue.)

I'm sure that when I'm 40, or maybe even when I'm 35, I'll look back at the way I spent some evening weekends with friends, and regret having invested so much in something so silly. Nevertheless, I can say one thing: all the silliness was with friends. I wasn't trying to be someone I'm not, or trying to cozy up to a crowd that I don't belong in. I was spending real time with real friends, and whether the time was loud and crazy, or quiet and dignified, doesn't change that fact.

But there is one benefit, one insight, I receive from being part of the loud and crazy, and I think if I wasn't sober I wouldn't notice it. I have observed that every desired result of what some call "nightlife" seems intended to restore something in childhood that's been lost in the maturation process.

Think about it... how do little children party, when they're left to their own devices? If they hear music with a beat, they dance. If they see a food or treat they like, they eat it. If they hear a funny joke, they laugh uproariously. They make up stories and play games and talk loudly and run around and make new friends, and if they party hard enough, they'll collapse and fall asleep wherever they land.

But maturity doesn't stand for this. There is a standard of dignity and propriety that causes us to forget what it means to enjoy ourselves, to celebrate, to bind ourselves together in happiness and a recognition of blessing. We grow up, and we mature. But the fact is... the child never leaves us. It simply hides behind a veneer we call "sobriety," which can only be removed by alcohol. (That children's party I described above? Just add sex and booze, and I've perfectly described a frat party or a bachelorette party or a 21st birthday party.)

Might there be another way to remove it? What if we just started accepting each other exactly as we are? What if those around us had our affirmation in advance, and knew that had nothing to prove? What if we learned how to stop taking ourselves so damn seriously?

Because alcohol doesn't cure the maturity disease, it only relieves the symptoms. Perhaps the cure, if we're ready to accept it, is plain, old-fashioned Love.

Happy New Year.




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Regina Spektor on Religion

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie
Who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus

God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they've lost all they got and they don't know what for

NPR's World Cafe: "Do you feel that people only turn to religion when we are stressed? And do you see that as hypocritical, or just natural?"

Regina Spektor: "No... there's not any kind of specific dogmatic way I feel. I'm suspicious of people that have it all figured out, and feel very strongly and specifically about such giant issues, and such mysterious things. So, if anything, I'm critical of people that hijack these concepts and these questions, and these kind of, worries that people have and use them to sort of make people feel like they know better, about how the universe works, or how God or, however you call it, works. But a song like this, it's more just ideas. And, kind of my own questions. I don't have a hard line with people.

Cafe: "Did your parents immigrate from Russia, to begin with, for religious reasons?"

Spektor: "Yeah. The main reason was, they wanted to have freedom to be Jews and to practice Judaism. And we did, as soon as we got to the Bronx. We became part of a really nice Jewish community, and I got to go to school and learn Hebrew and learn all the traditions, and all the stuff that they didn't have a chance. Now I love learning all the mystical side and the stories. There are definitely things that I wish weren't in there. And it's like, why sometimes they have to mix in... Why can't it just be good things? There has to be something that's sexist, or homophobic, or self-righteous or self-congratulatory, etc. Stuff that doesn't seem very spiritual, or it doesn't seem to bring anyone closer to any higher power. So, to me, that kind of stuff, I'm very picky. And I, there's a lot of things that I love about Judaism. And I'm a practicing Jew. But I always wish that there's something... When I listen to interviews of people that are Christian or Muslim or Buddhist, there's always those things that irk people in their own... It's like, in your family. You love your family, but there will just be those certain things that drive you crazy and you wish they weren't there. I guess your religion is like that."

Me: Is your religion like that? Are you skeptical of certainty?

You can hear this interview, along with several of her songs, at NPR World Cafe's website. You can read the complete lyrics, and discuss the meaning, of Spektor's song "Laughing With" (excerpted at the top of this post) here.

Will the Real Muslims Please Stand Up?

A great question came up in our Socrates Cafe discussion last night. (Topic: Muslimerica) The question is, does a Christian have any right to decide who the True Muslims are?

Or the true Hindus? Or the true Buddhists? Do Muslims have a right to decide who the true Christians are? Wouldn't that bug you, if you're a Christian, to hear a Muslim pontificating on the "correct" way to follow Christ?

In other words, does anyone have the right to decide the right way to follow a religion that is not their own?

Some Christians will say that Muslims are a peaceful people, with a few bad apple extremists poisoning the well. This would certainly be true if, by "Muslims" they mean "all those who call themselves Muslims." But other Christians point out that the Koran has many violent mandates, to eliminate those who will not follow the teachings of the Prophet Mohammad. They will tell you that the only "True Muslims" are the ones who take the Koran literally, and do what it says.

But is it appropriate to superimpose an evangelical view of the Bible onto a Muslim view of the Koran? Must all sacred texts have the same role within their respective faith communities? It's impossible, because many religions have a hierarchy of texts, including semi-sacred writings. Muslims have the Hadith. Jews have the Talmud. And many religions have no monolithic divine work, but rather a collection of revered and renowned writings.

I believe my only chance at understanding how to be a "true" Christian, is in knowing Jesus. Not just knowing about him, but knowing him personally. If many sincere and growing Christians fail often at this, then how could someone know better who's not even trying to follow Christ?

If we're careful, we can still make a few blanket generalizations about those people who identify themselves with a certain faith. But I think we'd have to leave it at that.



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Captain Hook: the Only True Biblical LIteralist

Do you read the Bible 100% literally?

"If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell." (Jesus, Matthew 5:29, 30)

Don't call yourself a biblical literalist unless you look like this guy. ----->

Don't get me wrong. I believe the Bible is 100% true. But if it were 100% literal, then we would worship a Messiah who is a loaf of bread. And a vine. And a door. And a light bulb.

If you'd like to know my real take on the Matthew 5 passage, check out a post I wrote on February 6, 2009 called West Bank Choppers & Gougers.




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Scripture Memorization is for Old-Timers

I would say I have internalized a fair amount of Scripture. Maybe more than average for an American my age. Maybe less than average for a pastor.

And some of that internalized scripture is indeed memorized. In other words, I can quote the verse(s) with some confidence in the accuracy of the words and their order. But the vast majority of my Scripture memory is less specific. I can recall the message, I know what's being said, and I have enough of the words in my head to go find it, but I don't have it memorized verbatim.

Worst of all, though, is my memory for references. Even my ability to find the book that contains the verse in question is sorely limited. Did Jesus say that in Matthew, Mark, Luke or John? Did Paul say that in Ephesians, Galatians, Philippians or Colossians? Or Romans or 1 or 2 Corinthians? Or was that Peter?

Don't get me wrong: often my recollection will get me close, but it's bad enough to give me a type of biblical inferiority complex, and to damage my confidence when talking about scripture with a "memorizer".

But here's my question for you. Does it really matter anymore?

Certainly, in the past it has been vitally important for rabbis, or ministers of the gospel to have a thorough grasp of Scripture. Torah teachers typically had the Old Testament memorized from cover to cover, and most certainly Jesus did as well. And as difficult an undertaking as that would be, it was important. Hardly anybody had a copy of the Scriptures in their home... they had to take what opportunity they could get, when they had access to the scrolls, to internalize them thoroughly, so they could then access them from their minds anytime they chose.

Even in subsequent (Gentile Christian) cultures, where learning and interpretation were less pervasive, this practice would be crucial for those teaching Scripture and ministering to the people. And this remained true until Gutenberg's invention of the printing press, and well beyond it, until the possession of vernacular Bibles became commonplace.

At this point we see the importance of Scripture memorization begin to wane. If everyone who wants one can have a Bible on the shelf, complete with a concordance, then thorough memorization is not necessary for mere reference purposes. Having a firm grasp on the contents and message in the Bible, along with a fair collection of verbatim verses, is probably sufficient.

But now things have changed further still. Not only do I have a few Bibles on the shelf, I have access to virtually every translation, commentary and word study ever written with the click of a mouse. I can view countless maps, diagrams, and photos without even getting up. In additiona, there are so many writings and interpretations of Scripture on the internet that Google has replaced any Bible website as a concordance, since every verse I might want to find has been written about dozens, if not hundreds of times over, for public consumption.

So let me ask you, what place does Scripture memorization have in the age of the internet? Naturally, it helps us to meditate on the words of God in our hearts, and to have an answer ready for those who ask, and to find what we need when we do have the internet in front of us, but how much time should we be spending specifically on memorization?

How much time do you spend? Is it less than you would like? Or is your "spiritual growth" time better spent elsewhere?

P.S. Yes, the title is just a provocative attention grabber, nothing more.


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The Danger of Light and Joy

Allow me to share an insight with you from JRR Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring; something that, unfortunately, did not make the cut for the film.

Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord.

Gimli son of Gloin is not a Man, he is a Dwarf. Nevertheless, he represents the courage and fear of the male of our species better than Aragorn or Boromir. At our best, men will walk right into the darkness, ready to fight. And at our worst we mock it, feigning bravery and dismissing the dangers that present themselves to us. We believe this to be our central virtue: courage in the face of the enemy, whatever form it might take. And once we have overcome the fear of that enemy, we proclaim ourselves fearless. This is Gimli, bearing his axe and marching into the shadows of Moria without hesitation.

Gimli was ready for Moria; for the utter darkness, the labyrinthine passages, the orcs that held it and even the cave-trolls with their deadly spears. But Gimli was not ready for Lothlorien, the Golden Wood, brimming with light and wisdom and peace. Nor were any of them really ready for it, as evidenced by the misgivings of Boromir:

"Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed."

"Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth," said Aragorn. "But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlorien."

The Fellowship of the Ring was prepared to be scathed, even to be killed, but they were not prepared to be changed, to be undone. And of all the transformations that occurred, Gimli was perhaps in the lead; it is said that he wept openly as they floated away from Lothlorien. The reason: Trust and Reconciliation between two hostile peoples.

In the distant past, the Elves and Dwarves were partners and friends: the Dwarves garnered the Elves' speech and learning, and the Elves garnered the Dwarves' crafstmanship and industry. But after the Dwarves dug too greedily and too deep, and awoke the evil Balrog of Moria, the peace of the Elves was marred beyond repair, and no further kinship existed between the two races. And this rift was in itch on Gimli's back, as he traveled with Legolas the elf among the Fellowship of the Ring. Although he was tolerant of Legolas as a fellow traveler, he was not prepared for real friendship, for trust, or for love.

This was the transformation that occurred in Gimli's heart. Trust in him came slowly on the part of the Elves of Lorien; at first they blindfolded him while leading him through the forest. But when Galadriel herself, the queen of the Elves, showed him honor and respect, it changed everything. Darkness and evil could not defeat him, but light and love did, and he was undone like Isaiah the prophet. "Alas for Gimli, son of Gloin!" he lamented. And Legolas replied,

Alas for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Gloin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlorien shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor grow stale.

May we all walk with courage, not only into that which would threaten life and limb, but even moreso into that which would transform us into the likeness of our Teacher, and bring us reconciliation with one another.






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New Look, Same Old Taste

When the vision of The Core and the Front Porch were in their embryonic stages, (a glimmer in our eyes, so to speak) I was writing a lot of negative stuff about the sacrosanctity of our church service formats. "Why should everything revolve around the sermon?" I asked. "What would happen if we skipped the music entirely?" I inquired. "Why are we so stuck in our predictable little routines?" I demanded.

For the most part, I've out-grown it. My thoughts run along different lines now. But from time to time, it creeps back in, and I ask myself if we have honed ourselves into a happy little rut of our own. Here's how it goes:

-Brunch at 10 am
-Two songs at 10:30 from worship team
-Announcements (Explaining the stuff on the table, upcoming events)
-Misc. (could be Communion, Baby Dedication, Interview, etc.)
-Introduction to Prayer (may include a sermonette)
-Group Prayer for 15 minutes
-Solo worship song while prayer continues
-Prayer from worship leader to re-unify the room
-Two more songs from worship team
-Message (3 weeks out of 4, from Ryan, the other week, from another leader)
-Closing Prayer
-Fellowship & Cleaning

As I've noticed how little we deviate from this pattern, the old insecurities come creeping in, and make me wonder if we have become what we hate. That is, religion by rote. Instead of a vibrant communal spirituality.

Although I have deemed it a bit immature, like I said, to be overly critical of the "order of service", I think it is something I will never stop worrying about. Nevertheless, I feel like I've been given somewhat of a new perspective on the "packaging" of church.

When you're pushing your cart down the cereal aisle, looking for something new to try, packaging is going to influence you. But once you've tried a few, and found the cereal you really like, you won't care all that much what they do to the box. You might have a passing thought if they re-design it, but as long as it holds the cereal, and it's easy to open and close, you're not going to worry much about it. You'll notice as the cereals you don't like continue to change their packaging, "New Look, Same Great Taste!" But you already know about the taste, so their new look doesn't really matter to you either.

To the consumer who knows what's really inside, the box is just a box.

I was thinking about this again as I was listening to NPR yesterday. I listened to Robert Siegel give an intro to a story, and toss it to the reporter on location: "Julie McCarthy is in Islamabad." Then Julie McCarthy comes on, mixing it up with voice-overs, interviews and ambient sounds. When she's done, she says, "This is Julie McCarthy in Islamabad." Then, Robert Siegel makes a clever segue into the next story, or if they have time, they play a clip of some interesting music that may have some connection to the previous story.

This all remains pretty consistent from one day to the next, but I hardly ever think about it. Either I'm interested with the content, and I pay attention, or I'm bored by the content, and I tune out. And I'm usually interested. Consequently, I've never thought about asking NPR to change its format. However, I have watched as other programs on other stations have changed their format over and over to make up for a lack of worthwhile content.

What am I getting at? I think I've finally made some peace with the idea of having a consistent order of activities in The Core's worship gatherings. As long as it holds and represents the content well, then the format becomes invisible, much like the programs on NPR, or the box that holds your favorite cereal. It allows us to focus on what's inside, which is what we know God is paying the most attention to, anyway.




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There's a Why in Team

The Core Fellowship has a thing called The Core Team. What you might call Church members elsewhere, you'd call Team Members at The Core. And there's about seven people planning to join it this Sunday.

And yet, I'm tempted to kick everyone out of it. Myself included.

Christina and I had a long and challenging conversation last night, in which her key point was "We don't do anything... we just talk." I countered that so many of our Team Members had been gone over the summer that we really couldn't do anything. So she asked, "What do we plan to do that has to be so exclusive? Why couldn't non-team-members join us if they want to?"

And that's what did it. I suddenly felt like a sheep who'd been walking along on top of the fence, and couldn't reach the grass on either side. We never liked the idea of having "church members" because it seemed too passive, and it automatically created a group called "non-members". But I didn't like the idea of a nebulous crowd of people, either. I personally wanted some definition to the committed group, and a designation that would express that sense of commitment. So we put together a team. And those who are not Team Members are called Family Members, so there's no such thing as a non-member.

I don't regret the idea entirely. Maybe for some churches this would be a good thing. But for us I think it's been a waste of time, and a stress-inducer on me to figure out what to do with this so-called team. The fact is...

If you consider us your church home, then Welcome Home.
If you're interested in our meetings, then come.
If you want to commit, commit.
If you are compelled to give, give.
If you are called to serve, serve.
If you see a need, meet it.
If you want to lead, pray about it, then talk to us. Chances are, you can lead in some way.

I just can't see how one's status as a Team Member or Family Member should have anything to do with any of these. The last one is the closest, but if we're a family, and we're praying and talking together, why shouldn't we be able to discern what sort of leadership each other is capable of, and called into? We don't really need a team for that, either.

One thing that's certain is that we must clearly teach the distinctions that God makes. He does divide between the sheep and the goats, the lovers of God and the lovers of this world, those controlled by the Spirit and those controlled by the flesh, the followers of Christ and the followers of the enemy. This is a real distinction, both for the present and for the hereafter. It determines whether you commit for the right reasons, and give with the right motives, and serve with the right guidance, and fellowship with the right Spirit.

But it is also a growth process: a journey. And who are we to deny someone their first steps of that journey by keeping them on the outside? Let the motives and guidance and Spirit come, as they dive into the life of the Body. The closer they get, the closer they can examine the difference.

And that Body life is about to turn a corner as well, which we'll discuss at our next (and possibly our last) Team Member meeting this Sunday afternoon. Do you want to come? Then come.



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The Future is Facebook

I'm really thinking about making my weekly newsletter a monthly newsletter.

One of the main reasons for this: Facebook. The Core Fellowship has a group for the worship gathering, and the Front Porch has a group for events. On top of that, Socrates Cafe has its own group. The Front Porch events group is one I use every week to invite people to weekend events. The other two I don't use much at all.

I have to remember that the whole purpose of writing a weekly e-newsletter to begin with, was to remind people about the upcoming weekend's events. Now I'm finding that only 15-20% of the people who receive that letter actually open it, and I think part of the reason is that it's redundant. So many people are getting their invites from Facebook, that there's no reason to open a newsletter. Once a month should be plenty from here on out.

Now that I've touched on how Facebook is the future, I'd like to air out some ideas on the future of Facebook. I think if they're smart, they'll will start enabling users to actually create their own websites on FB. Similar to Myspace, but cleaner, with options for multiple pages and a higher level of user interaction. Let me break it down:

1) For a small monthly or yearly fee, allow users to create a page for themselves (or their company, church, band, organization, etc) that retains Facebook's clean interface, but provides numerous customizable graphic options, content possibilities, and user-friendly video and audio players.

2) Allow the creators of these pages to set up multiple tabs, just like a website would have multiple pages. For example, a band could have a tab for their schedules, one for mp3s and videos, one for bios, etc.

3) One of these tabs should be a "members only" page, where people can "join" the website (much like pages have fans, now) and take part in discussion boards or chat rooms. People then would not only be able to see what other fans are online at the moment, but could engage them in conversation, either one-on-one, or in a group conversation setting.

I think these opportunities would have a huge appeal for many different types of Facebook users. Think of it...

-Bands could finally abandon the pain-in-the-arse Myspace, and help their fans to really network with one another.

-Many churches and small organizations wouldn't even need a website anymore, or at least not a very complex one. I know lots of church websites that have tried to have chat rooms, discussion boards etc, in the past, but found that they were too small to make it happen. On Facebook it might actually work, and it would take the burden of the technology off the church itself.

-What else? There's a lot of possibilities here... how do you see the future of Facebook?



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Jesus the Con-Artist

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Who is Jesus to you?"

"Oh, Jesus? Jesus is a womanizer. He's a megalomaniac and a paranoiac. He's also a brainwasher, a con-artist and a compulsive liar."

"OK... that was unexpected. How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Because I knew him. I lived with him in a compound outside Billings for three years. Along with about a hundred other people. Sadly, I was one of four people that made it out alive."

"Right... ok, then."

Here's a guy who will shake your paradigm. He rejects Jesus, and rightly so. He's rejecting a thoroughly unworthy and wicked person, and obviously not the Son of God, the historical Jesus. But as far as he knows, he has rejected Jesus, and God is probably glad that he did. Because it's not till he rejects his false Jesus, that he might have an opportunity to meet the real one. But it will take some time to disassociate, no doubt.

I wonder all the time how well I know the Jesus-followers from the rest. You might say all kinds of bad or indifferent things about Jesus, and I can't tell right away whether you're talking about my Jesus, or David Koresh. Conversely, you might say all kinds of beautiful and loving things about Jesus, without a strong clue as to his true identity. Are you talking about the Republican Jesus or the Democrat Jesus? the pacifist Jesus or the imperial Jesus? the homeless Jesus or the health-and-wealth Jesus?

We've heard it often enough by now that many people who shout "Lord, Lord" will find their cries falling on deaf ears. But this knife cuts both ways, because I believe there are also many out there with a hatred for who they think Jesus is, and a love for who he really is. It may not be common, but it's out there.

The fact is, God knows intimately who his children are, even if they never really figure it out about each other.



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The Mustard Tree

I don't like mustard. Even brown mustard is something I usually avoid, and I am most definitely not a fan of the yellow stuff.

But I got a fresh glimpse of the mustard tree this morning, and I want to share my thoughts about it.

Mark 4:30-32 has Jesus talking about the tiny mustard seed, which becomes the giant mustard tree. This is pretty familiar to most of us. But back up, if you will, to verses 26-29. This is where Jesus gives us a type of "bridge" parable, between the Parable of the Sower (v.3-20) and that of the mustard seed.

He says that the Kingdom of God is like a man who plants his seeds, and then goes to bed, wakes up, goes to bed, etc, and the seeds grow into a crop. Naturally it is assumed that he waters and tends the plants, but Jesus points out that the farmer is not "making" it grow. And doesn't really even know how it grows. He just plays his meager part, and then grabs the sickle when it's harvest time.

What would you think of a farmer who walked over to a little sprout and started yanking on it, shouting for it to grow faster? "I planted you, I watered you, and now I'm going to sculpt you into the biggest crop in the county! Now grow, damn you!" Not too bright, eh?

Now what about those church-planters or pastors or evangelists or even missionaries who have decided that they know how a church grows? They have the research and the figures and the strategies, and are prepared to train you to know exactly how to grow a tiny fellowship of believers into a vast and influential congregation, or network of congregations. They don't plant the seed, and water it, and wait patiently for it to grow... they pull it out of the ground, assuming that it's all up to them.

Jesus made it clear that we have our role to play in the Kingdom of God... we are certainly not spectators. But the growing itself is left entirely up to him. It happens by means that remain a mystery to us, so long as we're honest.

All we have to ask ourselves is, are we to be part of the Kingdom of God, or are we perhaps more interested in the Kingdom of Church?



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Retail Nation

To read the answers, just highlight the space between the brackets

Where can you buy...

modern gadgets for navigating Himalayan high-roads?
[The Sherpa Image]

trendy furniture AND Powerball tickets
[Lottery Barn]

accessories for fire stations?
[Brass Pole Shops]

a narrow assortment of tribal weaponry?
[Spear One]

lunch at the home of the throwed hamburgers?
[Burger Fling]

a wide variety of Walmart-type items, except with higher prices?
[Charget]

hippie fruit drinks at America's favorite neighbor?
[Snapplebee's]

Muslim women's fashion at a defunct electronics store?
[Burka City]

business supplies with several no-mercy financing options?
[Office Repo]

trendy clothing that always has a piece missing?
[THE G_P]

urine-proof home accessories?
[Bed, Bath and Peeon]

apparel for numerous parts of your body?
[Just for Feet, Heads, Arms, Legs and Torsos]



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the city is a drunkard

the city is a drunkard
drinking to the dregs
a sluggard and a braggart
with a story spat on passers-by
an angler clutching a fictitious fish
and a smooth finish, far less filling

drinking to the dregs of any drink it finds
it finds a bud light or a boulevard
a blue moon, bass or new belgium
taking a tonic, sipping a triple sec
expanding and elevating

where we are glad we can be ecstatic
where we are mad we can be enraged
where we are sad we can be crushed
and recycled and emptied and filled
and more and more than we'd thought before

the city is a drunkard
a chugging sluggard, tall and wide
where we are human, we can be moreso
not just in numbers, but nature
a destiny of density, of humanity amplified

and ultimately less than the sum of its parts



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