Slugs

Yesterday morning, I heard this piece on NPR's Morning Edition: Slugging to Work

For those of you who don't want to go read the whole article or listen to the segment, the basic gist is that in Washington, D.C. there is a system of car-pooling called "Slugging." The "slugs" wait in a line, and folks who want to be able to drive in the HOV lane pull up and call out where they're headed. The first slug in line who is going there hops in and they ride together. Here was the kicker for me: They don't share names, personal information, or really engage in any sort of meaningful conversation.

When I finished listening to the segment on the radio, I felt sad. As the report mentions, there are people spending hours of their lives in the confined space of a car with other people and they aren't connecting on any level deeper than a slug connects to a piece of driftwood as it floats down the river. While I understand the realities of a world where people have limited time for relationships, I think I'd have a hard time being a slug.

So, I wondered later, why is that any different than riding the bus or on a plane while listening to my ipod and reading The Atlantic? Somehow it feels different, especially if it's just the driver and the slug in the car together. What kind of meaningful relationship opportunities could be lost because of rules of disengagement?

Anyway, the story made me sad.

Recouping the cost of my seminary education

Last night I joined some friends for Team Trivia at a local pizza joint. This particular team of folks has a pretty good record at Team Trivia. Seldom do we finish out of the top three, and we often win. This week we were struggling a bit and were right in the thick of things leading into the final round and final question. Twice during the evening, information garnered from being a seminary trained member of the clergy came in handy. The first question came early in the evening, while the second was the final and decisive question that allowed us to bury everyone else by 20 points, thus allowing me to recoup $25 of the cost of my seminary education in the form of house cash.

So, Renderings fans, here are the questions. The answers will follow tomorrow:

1. One word may be used to describe the following three things:
1. A holy sacramental bread
2. What a parasite feeds off of
   
3. Alex Trebek

What is the word?

2. The last book of the New Testament is called Revelation (the guy running trivia said "Revelations" but I let that slide). What else is the book of Revelation called?

Please hold off on answering in the comments section so others may have the fun of trying to figure it out.

Last Sundy

Last Sunday, Mother's Day, was a day full of random thoughts for the publisher of Renderings. Here are my random thoughts/happenings in a quazi timeline:

• 8:30 As I was making announcements at our early/breakfast service, I couldn't keep my mind on the announcements. I was mostly distracted by all of the people who were talking while I was trying to make announcements about stuff like, oh, Confirmation Sunday, Graduating Senior Recognition Sunday, when we go to one service for the summer. But then, as I was making announcements, I saw someone drinking from a tumbler mug that I could swear was my WPLN mug that I received for pledging. As I'm asking for other announcements, I keep a darting eye on the mug, all the while thinking, "Is that my mug? Did I use it last week and it made its way into the assorted mug collection? Surely she didn't take that from my office? Maybe she pledged to WPLN, too. I'm being ridiculous. Still, I'm checking that out after worship." Yeah, who knows what other announcements were made. In the end, as I was leaving to teach Confirmation class, I saw that it was a mug of the same color and type, but with some other logo on it. Yes, in all of my attempts to "figure it out" there was a possibility I never considered.
• Lesson One: You can think something to death and still not find "the truth."

• 9:45 I began Confirmation class 15 minutes late, hoping that the entire HALF of the class that was absent would show up. No luck. This was the last class before the actual day of confirmation, and half of them simply weren't there. Apparently one family had a crisis involving a cat that got away, one kid sheepishly comes in after his covenant partner went looking for him, and, well, the last one, who knows?
• Lesson Two: Not everyone takes things as seriously as I do, and that bothers me more than it probably should.

• 1:00 pm I was on my way to the car to leave for Missouri after eating lunch with my lovely girlfriend, and she asked if I wanted to run in the mall to buy some sort of fancy deodorant. "This is a search and destroy mission," she said. I decided that this was an invitation I should say yes to. We made our way to the fancy store, bought the deodorant, looked at some lamps at Restoration Hardware on the way out of the mall and then had the awkward kiss and hug in the parking lot. Upon telling this story to my Mom, she said that "Do you want to come with me to buy deodorant?" translates to "I want to spend 10 more minutes with you before you leave."
  
• Lesson Three: Girls are funny.
  

• 4:30 pm I stopped at Kentucky Exit 3 on I-24, because that's a cheap gas exit. I decided to hit the BP instead of the Pilot this time. The BP ended up being much smaller, but whatever. I decided to buy some coffee for the road. In my attempt to "Go Green" I brought in my travel mug. I tried to buy some cake in a cup, you know, french vanilla cappucino, but it was out. Figures. After loading up on some flavored coffee-mate and coffee, I got in line behind the 8 people who had come by to buy gas and other things in the 5 minutes it took me to pour my coffee. I stood there watching as person after person actually pays for the gas they've already pumped with cash. I didn't even know you could do that anymore. After standing there for 10 minutes, I was determined never to come back to the localsville BP. Then, when I put my coffee and my Little Debbie Star Crunch on the counter, it rings up as 50 cents or something like that. I ask the woman behind the counter if she got my coffee. "Yeah," she says "coffee refills are 27 cents." I'm gonna stop there every time from now on. Talk about rewarding folks for going green.
• Lesson Four: Patience is a virtue I need to cultivate.

I eventually arrived back in Columbia, MO safely and had a wonderful time wishing my Mom a happy Mother's Day and Birthday (yes on the same day this year). It's amazing how many little lessons one can learn in a single day.

I was on my way home from my favorite Nashville coffee shop (Fido) today, and I saw this sign at the gas station around the corner. That's right, folks, Regular gas now costs an arm, Middle level gas costs a leg, and Premium will actually cost you your first born child. I definitely chuckled as I drove by.

Seminary: Moses style

OK, so for all of you seminarians and previous seminarians out there who complained about all the hoops we had to jump through (and there were numerous ridiculous, sometimes seemingly fire-lit hoops), at least Moses wasn't still in charge. I don't think I've ever paid attention to this little passage from Exodus. There is seriously some crazy stuff in the Bible:

Exodus 32:21-29

²¹Moses said to Aaron, "What did this people do to you that you have brought so great a sin upon them?" ²²And Aaron said, "Do not let the anger of my lord burn hot; you know the people, that they are bent on evil. ²³They said to me, 'Make us gods, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.' ²⁴So I said to them, 'Whoever has gold, take it off'; so they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf!"

²⁵When Moses saw that the people were running wild (for Aaron had let them run wild, to the derision of their enemies), ²⁶then Moses stood in the gate of the camp, and said, "Who is on the Lord’s side? Come to me!" And all the sons of Levi gathered around him. ²⁷He said to them, "Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, 'Put your sword on your side, each of you! Go back and forth from gate to gate throughout the camp, and each of you kill your brother, your friend, and your neighbor.'" ²⁸The sons of Levi did as Moses commanded, and about three thousand of the people fell on that day. ²⁹Moses said, "Today you have ordained yourselves for the service of the LORD, each one at the cost of a son or a brother, and so have brought a blessing on yourselves this day."

I mean, the Levites basically wreaked some major havoc on the people of Israel for their idolatry. They slaughtered people! I don't care how many ords I had to take; that is some bad ass shit (and yes, I just cussed on my blog...I think this is one of those times when the emphasis is worth it).

If I were independently wealthy

So, if I were independently wealthy, after I paid for clean water for the world, and set up endowments to fight hunger and poverty and AIDS and other awful things in the world, I would totally endow my local NPR station so that they never had to do fundraising drives. I hate fundraising week on NPR. Please, some totally wealthy person in Nashville, endow WPLN with a bajillion dollars so I never have to hear again how important my support is. Oy!

Can you believe this?

The 10:30 worship service at Harpeth is our more "traditional" service, complete with a ringing of the Harpeth bell and moment for silence after we make announcements and share prayer concerns.  Well, yesterday there was a new family visiting Harpeth during the 10:30 worship service.  As everyone else bowed their heads for the moment of silence, the mother of said family said to her little boy, "this is quiet time," to which he responded in a full voice, "I don't wanna be quiet."  Then, as we all stood to sing our first hymn, he said, "I don't wanna stand up."  At this point, half the congregation was chuckling and most of the choir at the front of the sanctuary was trying not to lose it.  When we finished singing that first hymn, the little boy proclaimed, "Can you believe this?"  as if to say, "Isn't this awesome!"  It was a wonderful moment in Harpeth history.  I'm still laughing about it, but not only laughing.  I've also been thinking about it.

I think that little boy was totally excited about a place where everybody sings and where a violin plays along and where there's standing up and sitting down and all kinds of other stuff to see and do.  I wonder when was the last time that any of us regular worship attendees just took a moment to say, "Can you believe this?"  Can you believe that all these people are here to worship God?  Can you believe the amazing lyrics of that hymn we just sang?  Can you believe that we get to share in a ritual of breaking bread and pouring juice that goes all the way back to Jesus?  Can you believe that we dare to put water on people's heads and proclaim to the world that they are children of God?  Can you believe all of this?  That little boy helped me to experience worship, not so much in a new way, but in a re-newed way...a way that marvels in the glorious nature of worship.

Stuff I've seen/heard lately

There are so many times during the day when I see/hear random stuff and do a little commentary on it in my brain.  Today's post is a collection of some of the recent stuff I've seen/heard.

Red mini-van with a spinner rim on the back right tire and no hubcap of any kind on the front right tire-I didn't see the left side of the car, but I'm gonna go ahead and give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that those tires had spinners.  But, come one.  A mini-van with spinners?  I feel like that's a bit ridiculous.

Click on this link to hear a very moving story on npr.org: Report: American Death Toll in Iraq War Hits 4,000:  It's about a Major in the Army who was recently laid to rest at Arlington Cemetary.  Something about this story nearly had me in tears.  4,000 of our soldiers dead...that number doesn't even include the Iraqis who have lost their lives in this senseless war.  It just makes me so sad...

Billboard with this slogan: Loans For the Wealthy.com.  Yes, a website solely devoted to helping the wealthy get more money.  We don't bother to loan money to poor people, because, you know, they'll never pay it back anyway, and wealthy people need more advantages in this world as it is.  Add to this my daily drive by Legends Ridge, a huge suburban neighborhood with mansions scattered on a verdant hillside, and I wonder if anybody's paying attention.

OK, that's all I can remember for now.  Here are some pictures from Guatemala for those who really look at blogs for pictures and not the ramblings.  :)

Slacker

Yes, I'm a slacker. I haven't blogged in a month and a half, or something like that. I keep meaning to, and then, well, I don't. Here's a quick update before I head to Guatemala for a week:

• My lenten discipline this year has been to write a letter to someone every day except Sunday. I haven't been as "disciplined" as I'd like, but it's been fun thinking of folks to write.
• I drove to Davidson, NC on Wednesday and my care was covered with salt and other gross stuff. I was going to get it washed when I got home. God decided to do it for me. It rained most of the way home, so now my car looks beautiful. I thought that was cool.
• I'm headed to Guatemala tomorrow with the Presbyterian Student Fellowship from Vanderbilt University. Look for pictures from that trip soon.
• I went to London at the end of January with my Dad. I posted pictures on my Facebook, but not here. I guess I'll put those up when I do the Guatemala pictures. Going on a vacation with my Dad now that I'm kind of a grown up was really cool. If any of you get the chance to travel with one of your parents, take it. I can't imagine that you'd ever look back on it and say, "Wow, I really wish I would have stayed home and worked that week."
• I'm reading The Golden Compass trilogy right now. So far, I have no earthly idea why the crazy conservatives have been on the rampage about it. I'll let you know what I think when I'm done.
• OK, now get off my case about not blogging. :)

Adventures in Missing the Point: Worship

I'm close to wrapping up Adventures in Missing the Point by Brian McLaren and Tony Campolo. It's a great book that takes a look at a variety of theological/ecclesiological/practical topics and challenges the way we have typically thought about such things. I think this would be a great book to do for Sunday school or an adult book study. It includes great discussion questions at the end of each chapter.

Anyway, today, as I was reading the section on worship, I came across these words by Brian McLaren:

Worship leadership that fails to explore new territory (but rather dispenses products designed in an industry that has as its unspoken aim to deliver a good feeling 52 times a year) can inadvertently lead us not into worship but into temptation. And that's missing the point.

For some reason, I found these words to be particularly profound. He goes on to challenge those who claim that worship is all about attaining "The feeling" or "The High" that comes from encountering the presence of God. I often wonder if, in the course of 52 weeks in any given year, we worship leaders are intentional about exploring the depths of spiritual expression as found in Scripture. To be sure, the Bible isn't just a long list of people for whom life is fabulous and joyous. Do we avoid lament Psalms because people might leave worship feeling blue? Do we stay away from the Prophets because they sound too political, and we might offend someone? Do we go for the "feel good" moments instead of the "faithful to the text" moments? Definitely some questions to keep me thinking for awhile.

In Today's World, the Well-Rested Lose Respect

This morning, when I got into my car at 8:30, after sleeping in on my day off, this newspiece began to play on NPR: In Today's World, the Well-Rested Lose Respect.

For those of you who don't want to follow the link and/or listen to the 8 minute story, the basic gist is that sleeping less has become a certain badge of honor in our contemporary culture. People brag that they only need five hours of sleep, when in reality, they probably need more. This story also addresses the prevailing myth, propagated by morning people, that success and productivity are directly tied to getting up early, even if it means losing sleep.

As someone who much prefers to get up between 8:30 and 9:00, I can tell you that I am often a victim of prejudice at the hands of the early risers. Somehow I'm seen as lazy or non-productive because I don't want to be up before the sun. I can tell you that on more than one occasion I've wanted to say mean things to those who chastise my desire to be well-rested. I mean, especially considering my occupation, what good would it really do for me to be up at 6:00 everyday. Are the youth at Harpeth clamoring for theological inquiry and pastoral care at 6:00 am? I doubt it. Is the Holy Spirit more likely to breath inspiration into Scripture at 6:30 am? Doubtful.

Anyway, it's good to hear that there's some scientific basis for my claim that being well rested has its advantages in overall productivity. Perhaps my next blog entry can be about my concerns with "productivity" as the gold standard by which our lives should be measured. For now, though, I think I'll enjoy my day off.

Mr. Alan

When I was home for Christmas, I was telling a story about the amazing, brilliant, precocious Lucy King and I quoted her as calling me "Mr. Alan." My family all chuckled. You see, in the midwest, we don't call adults by Mr. (insert first name). If we use Mr. or Ms. or Mrs. we use their last name. Otherwise, we just use their first name. This causes me to wonder why, in southern culture, adults are called Mr. or Ms. or Mrs. First Name. Is it a hybrid of respect for authority and familiarity? Anybody have a good answer for that?

Last Sunday's sermon

I'm not usually one for posting my sermons online (mostly because I know there are a dozen people who are better preachers than I am out there reading this), but I've received some good feedback on this one and thought I'd throw it out there:

The Story Goes On
by Alan Bancroft
Preached at Harpeth Presbyterian Church 12/30/07

Isn’t Christmas a lovely time of year? There are presents to open, cookies to eat, friends and family to see, parties to attend, songs of cheer and joy to listen to, twinkling lights to see on houses and on trees. Christmas really can be a lovely time of year. We love watching the redemption of Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol and the Peanuts gang make a lovely Christmas out of a spindly tree. We think about Rudolph and Frosty and Santa and oh, of course, Jesus in the manger…God with us…joy to the world…peace on earth…all that good stuff. And then we come to church on the last Sunday of the year and we get slapped in the face with this story of Joseph and Mary fleeing in the middle of the night, with Jesus in their arms, for fear of infanticide at the hands of Herod’s men. Some of you might want your money back, and I wouldn’t blame you.

This is one of those stories we don’t like to tell very often. I didn’t check for sure, but I doubt it’s in the scope and sequence for our workshop rotation Sunday school. Most of the time, we read about the shepherds, then the wise men, then something about Jesus being smart in the temple as a kid, and then, wham! Jesus is in Galilee preaching and teaching the good news.

But, I have a feeling that the early hearers of this story, probably Jewish people…Jewish people who knew the stories of the Hebrew Bible, those early hearers would have found this story quite fascinating. In a short ten verses, Matthew manages to evoke some of the greatest stories of the Hebrew Bible. Before I read it, I asked you to put on your Hebrew Bible/Old Testament listening ears. Did you hear anything? Did you hear echoes of the great dreamers of the Old Testament like Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, and Samuel who are told by God to go somewhere? Did you hear the echoes of the story of Moses and the liberation of the Hebrew people as Joseph fled to Egypt? Did you hear the cries of the Hebrew women of Moses’ time as Pharaoh murdered the innocent children so that the Hebrew people might not become too powerful? Did you hear the voice of the prophets who promised hope for people who were exiles in a strange land during the Babylonian occupation of Israel? If you didn’t, you must not be a very good Jew.

This story not only hearkens back to the history of Israel, but actually foreshadows what is to come in the life of this infant who is whisked away in the middle of the night. Just as Herod was threatened by the rumor of a new king being born, the people in positions of authority and power when Jesus is an adult will be threatened by the many ways in which Jesus threatens the status quo. Jesus will spend his life under threat of destruction, and, even though it may seem strange to talk about it the Sunday after Christmas, we know that the powers eventually succeed in taking Jesus out and shutting him up, even if only for a little while.

You see, that’s what people like Pharaoh and Herod and Pilate do. They go to any length to hold onto the earthly power that they’ve been given. They will dismiss those who ask too many questions about the least of these and the way they’re treated. They will actually destroy those who claim an authority and power that doesn’t bow down to their own. That’s what the powers do. In the case of today’s story, Herod hears that one Hebrew child will grow up to be a king and the son of God, and when the wise men refuse to come and give him the exact identity of the child, Herod decides it would be better to destroy every child two years and younger in and around Bethlehem. Take a moment and think about that. Every child under the age of two was torn from the hands of its mother and mercilessly slaughtered. For years and years to come, the absence of any children of those ages would be felt. Imagine if every year, for 12 years, two grades of children were missing. It’s gruesome. It’s awful. It’s unimaginable. How could people in that time be so evil and twisted and unconcerned for the welfare of innocent children? It seems unfathomable to us, and yet…and yet, folks, every generation of powers does it, and the powers are still doing it today.

Some of you lived through World War II and saw the abominations of the Holocaust, and after that horrible atrocity, the world said, “Never Again,” but it keeps happening. A couple of weeks ago, I asked Ooney Dreher, who is deeply involved with the Nations Ministry Center, to give me some insight into the story of the Burundi people who have been resettled in Nashville over the past year or so. Here’s what she had to say:

This past summer, over 100 people, men women and children from Burundi, were resettled in Nashville. They came from a refugee camp in Tanzania but that is not where their story begins.

Burundi is a small country in Africa, next to Rwanda and Uganda. In 1972, the government ordered politically motivated mass killings and chaos ensued. Families were torn apart as everyone literally ran for their lives. With crazed militants bursting into homes, the people of the villages scattered, ruining families and leaving many with no family at all. A group of wandering Burundis were accepted into a Rwandan refugee camp. Over the years, new families were formed from men, women and children who arrived with no one. These people adapted and made the best of the crowded, minimal camp. They rebuilt their lives and regained order and routine. The ugliness of their past became a memory but the loss of loved ones remained fresh.

Twenty years later, in 1992, the Rwandan genocide happened. Again, these refugees found themselves running for their lives. Unable to understand why this was happening, they scrambled and eluded the crazy men with guns again. This time a group of the Burundis’ found a refugee camp in Tanzania. Again, they settled in and made their new homes. The Tanzanian government offered them some primary schooling primarily to teach them Swahili so they could communicate with government officials. These refugees were not allowed to work, or leave the camp so they kept themselves busy with gardening and bartering goods for services. The UN brought in 3 meals a day, and the refugees learned to survive…again…in tents and overcrowded conditions.

This past summer, the United States offered refuge to over 300 Burundi refugees from the Tanzanian camp. The Tanzanian government wants to reclaim the refugee camp site for their own people. There are many refugees in this camp from all over, but the Burundi group are unique because they have no homes to return to. They are a generation or two removed from actually living in Burundi. Most of them have been born into or have only known refugee camp life. Some of them remember their Rwandan experience, and most of the adults speak of the loss of children, parents and extended family with an eerie detachment, as if they are quoting history, because senseless death is such a reality for them.

Friends, this oppression and slaughter of the Burundi and Rwandan people is what the powers do.

Many of you have probably seen Save Darfur signs around Nashville. The current crisis in Darfur began in 2003. After decades of neglect, drought, oppression and small-scale conflicts in Darfur, two rebel groups – the Sudanese Liberation Army/Movement (SLA/M) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM) – mounted an insurgency against the central government. These groups represent agrarian farmers. These were people who saw that the government of Sudan was selling all of the nation’s oil to foreign countries and failing to use that money on behalf of the Sudanese people. When they called for liberation and justice and equality, the central government of President al-Basihir responded with brutal force, by supporting local militias who rape and murder people suspected of supporting change in Sudan. Many people still live in fear of their homes being destroyed for no other reason than the powers asserting authority. World aid organizations estimate that 500,000 Sudanese have been murdered and nearly 2.5 million people now live in refugee camps in the bordering countries of Chad and the Central African Republic. This is what the powers do.

Just this past week, Bennizier Bhutto, who was a voice for democracy and justice in Pakistan, was murdered as she called for free elections. This is what the powers do.

Our story for today tells us that God, in Jesus, was forced to leave his home and live in a country where he didn’t look like anyone else, where he didn’t know the language, where some of the people still thought of his people as slaves, and where his future was uncertain. Even when Jesus’ family was able to return, they didn’t really get to go home for fear of being found out. Think about it: It would be pretty obvious if they moved back to town and Jesus was the only kid within a two year age range. Having experienced all of that, I wonder if God doesn’t have a special place in God’s heart for the refugees of Burundi and Rwanda, and Darfur. I feel quite certain that God looks at the state of affairs in Africa and cries long, heaving, sobbing cries.

And you know, I believe God invites us to mourn as well. I wish, in my preparation, deliberation, meditation, and prayer over this passage, God had sent me a revelation of what to do about Burundi and Rwanda and Darfur, but that didn’t happen. I did see three things in this passage, though, that, I think, offer some hope:

One: God refuses to let foreign occupation, genocide, or any other violence thwart God’s plans on earth. God is determined for the incarnation to reach its fulfillment in the teaching, preaching, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Whether it is through dreams, hasty trips in the middle of the night, or maybe even our own participation in seeking justice in the world, God fulfills God’s purposes.

Two: As I looked back in Jeremiah to find the original context of verse 18 where there is said to be weeping in Ramah, I found these wonderful words of God in response to the lamentation of the mothers of Israel in the midst of exile:

Thus says the Lord: Keep your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears; for there is a reward for your work,

says the Lord: they shall come back from the land of the enemy; there is hope for your future,

says the Lord: your children shall come back to their own country.

As I think about the millions of refugees living in camps and who have made their way to other countries, I cling, even if slightly, to these words of hope…these words that God promises to fulfill…these words that assure the mourning mothers of refugees and exiles that they will eventually get to go home and live peacefully.

Three: The story goes on. The story of Israel goes on. The story of the Christ child goes on. The story of the followers of the way that become Christians goes on. Just as Jesus finds himself fulfilling a dozen stories from the past, so do we find ourselves in the story of God’s designs and dreams for creation. We find ourselves as people called to respond to God’s dreams as we search for the image of God residing in everyone who is a refugee or an exile. Despite what the powers do, the story of God’s steadfast love and abundant mercy goes on and on and on. Amen.

Christmas cards revisited

First of all, thanks to everyone who has been offering thoughts on my previous post about Christmas cards. As I would expect from such quality people, the comments have been insightful and have caused me to think quite a bit. While I'm still not sure that Christmas cards en masse are my favorite thing, I received a Christmas card today that actually brought me to tears, so I stand convicted by those of you who are making the claim that Christmas cards are a way to reach out and touch someone in a special way. Here's the inside of the card:
In case it's hard to read, the note on the left hand side says, "Alan, I opened this card and knew that it was made for you. Keep working and praying for it. Peace, Mr. Peeler."

James Peeler is one of my go-to guys in the youth advisor team at Harpeth. The guy is always willing to lend a helping hand. He went on both of our summer mission trips last summer and was always a voice of support and comfort at times when I most needed that voice. During my time at Harpeth, I've walked alongside James in the death of his Mother and his Father. As some of you know, I sign my e-mails with Peace. I often challenge the youth (and adults for that matter) to think about the peace/shalom that God offers and how we might live as peaceful people. Anyway, James has noticed that during our time together and thought of that as he was signing Christmas cards, and for that, I am extremely grateful.

So, Christmas cards aren't all bad. :)

Christmas cards

OK, I'd like to know how much folks spend on Christmas cards every year. Beginning about two weeks before Christmas, I receive three or four cards a day in the mail. I should keep track of the postage folks have collectively spent sending me Christmas cards and pictures of the family at the beach. Now, I'm not one to get into the whole, "Jesus wouldn't do that" stuff, but I'm beginning to wonder about the stewardship of Christmas cards. Here are some reasons I think folks might want to re-consider the whole Christmas card thing:

• The trees we kill with all those envelopes.
• The envelopes and cards that people don't recycle.
  
• The extra work for postal workers who are already over burdened during Christmas was extra packages and whatnot.
• Does everybody in your address book really want to see you and the family at the beach?
• The chemicals that go into developing the pictures that go with the card.
  
• The time you spend addressing cards.
• The money you spend...it could go for something else like food banks, heifer project, or Salvation Army

In line with that last thought, I wonder what would happen if everybody in a given congregation would take the money they usually spend on sending Christmas cards, pool it together, choose a charity or worthy organization, and send them the money. What if everybody donated the x number of hours they usually spend addressing Christmas cards and helped to feed the homeless, or read to children, or a variety of other service projects?

On a lighter note, I hope my Mom doesn't read this, because she works for Hallmark. :)

Merry Christmas everyone!

irony...or something

irony=being given a multi-tool pocket knife for Christmas and then realizing you could really use a multi-tool pocket knife to open the ridiculous package the multi-tool pocket knife is in. Seriously.

It's a silly thing

Weather really is a silly thing. Here I sit on the porch of Bongo Java next to the campus of Belmont at 8:30 pm on December 11th and I'm wearing short sleeves because it's something like 65 degrees outside. Meanwhile, folks back in Joplin, MO are still without power because of snow and ice storms over the weekend and continuing sub-freezing temperatures. Wild stuff.

So, yesterday I was driving to work and I was eating an apple and I had a thought (yes, only one). I wonder if talking on my cell phone while driving is really any more dangerous than eating an apple while driving. I mean, while I'm on the phone, the phone stays stationary, and I'm able to watch the road. But, when I'm eating an apple, I'm always looking down to figure out where to bite next. I just kind of wonder.

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Does faith matter in politics?

As I was eating breakfast this morning, I read the half page "Controversy of the Week" section in The Week (seriously, everybody should subscribe to this magazine...it rocks) that asked the question "Mitt Romney: Does it matter that he's Mormon?" It raised the question of whether Mormonism is a cult and mentioned some of their more outlandish beliefs, such as the ability of human beings to evolve into gods. Now, I'm pretty skeptical of the Mormon faith and do not grant the Book of Mormon the same authority as the Bible, but let's not act like Mormons have the market cornered on wild stories and strange customs. The Bible is full of "ridiculous" stories and claims. I mean, we Christians go to church every Sunday and worship a guy we claim rose from the dead. We put water on people and say that it represents something powerful. We break bread and drink juice or wine and call it the body and blood of Christ...but not really (but really if you're Catholic). The claims of any faith are not logical. Our religion doesn't make "more sense" than that of the Mormons. Faith isn't often about what "makes sense."

Finally, has the gospel been tamed so completely that we really think that devotion to our country is more important than devotion to the gospel and the kingdom of God? I say it often, and I'll say it again: Our ultimate allegiance is to God's kingdom, not the kingdom of the United States of whatever. Don't hear me say that I think religious law should be the law of our land. I don't think that. I do think, though, that when people of faith are faced with discrepancies between God's law and the law of the land, serious consideration should be taken as to what law one is going to follow. What if all the Jews and Christians in the U.S. observed jubilee? That would be amazing!

Simply put, I really don't give a lick what faith someone claims to have as they run for public office. I want to know how he or she is going to live out that faith in the way he/she governs. I want to knowhow someone plans to provide liberty and justice for all people (whether it's "under God" or not). I want to know how someone plans to care for the least of these.

Somebody has to be on the take

Seriously? The Cotton Bowl? Kansas goes to the Orange Bowl? Tell me how Kansas gets a better bowl game than Missouri when MISSOURI KICKED THEIR JAYHAWK TAILFEATHERS ALL OVER THE PLACE!!! I seriously don't understand. We got hosed. Somebody must be on the take. Seriously.

My day yesterday

Yesterday started off a decent day. Sure, I had to get up before the sun to be at the airport for a 7:00 am flight, but I had a delightful ride with my girlfriend and had time to grab a mocha and a muffin from the coffee beanery. I greeted a fellow Mizzou fan as we boarded the flight and I settled in with my ipod, Scene newspaper, and novel for the two hour flight to Houston on my way to Tulsa and eventually on to Joplin, MO where I'm officiating a wedding this evening. Oh, but not so fast, Renderings fans. After taxiing onto the tarmac, our pilot received word that there was low visibility in Houston, so we would be delayed by 30 minutes. Well, 30 minutes turned into an hour, and then, Mr. Pilot came back on to say that we would be returning to the gate, because it would be another hour before we could take off, again, because of bad weather in Houston. I'm realizing at this point that my connecting flight is scheduled to depart approximately 20 minutes before we're not schedule to leave Nashville. I stand in line with all the other "my connecting flight will be long gone when we get to Houston" folks. I'm assured that I will be on the next connecting flight.

Fast forward to 10:30, when our flight finally departs Nashville. I'm doing the math again and realizing that my new connection is supposed to be at 12:40 and this is a two hour flight. Yes, you guessed it, by the time we landed and I waited for my updated boarding pass, and made my way to Gate B84, the 12:40 flight was already boarded and taxiing away. Ah, but there's a 1:00 you can catch. It's in an adjacent terminal, but if you hurry, you should make it. I flash my half marathon running skills and approach the gate by 12:50 only to see on agent and a very dead looking gate area. "Oh," Ms. Escobar tells me, "that flight was moved to gate B84." "I was just there," I say. "They sent me here. The screen here says there's a flight at 1:00 at this gate." "The screen in wrong," Ms. Escobar says, "and that flight is now closed. We'll put you on the 2:30 to Tulsa." "Great" I say.

So, now I'm definitely going to miss the wedding rehearsal of the wedding I'm officiating. Great. I resign myself to the fact that I'm simply a victim of all this airline travel hullabaloo I've been hearing about. Frustrating, but what can you do.

Baggage issus: I arrive safely in Tulsa and make my way to the baggage claim and wait eagerly for my grey/blue suitcase to come sliding up the conveyer belt. Alas, the big metal beast stops, the screen reads "Last bag placed on belt" and my bag is nowhere to be seen. Perfect. I go stand in line at the Continental service desk (Continental is now on my "no fly" list by the way...more on that later). There's a guy in front of me who's in the same position I am. We've been standing in lines together all day, beginning in Nashville. "Well," the Continental agent says, "it looks like your bags came in on the 1:00 flight. They ended up being delayed and didn't leave Houston until 3:30, but it just arrived, so your bags should be upstairs now." Sure enough, there they were. Now, this turn of events makes me wonder how it is that I was turned away from the 1:00 flight at 12:50 if it didn't leave until 3:30, but I like to take some pleasure in thinking that I may have avoided another hour and a half on a tarmac by taking the 2:30.

Finally, I picked up my rental car, made the two hour drive to Joplin and arrived in time for a lovely rehearsal dinner. Yes 13 hours after I left my house yesterday, I finally arrived at a destination to which I could have driven in approximately 9 hours.

OK, so here's my Continental is on my no fly list. I get that there are delays and that you can't fly into someplace with zero visibility. Totally get that. But, I approached the counter to ask about my connecting flight, the agent didn't give me the new flight number or gate number. She simply said I'd be on the next flight out. Then, when we all got off our plane, you know, three hours late, there were absolutely no agents standing by to help us find our way. Then, when I finally wait in an eternal line and get to the front and hand my three hour expired boarding pass to the agent, do not condescendingly tell me that I missed the flight. Yeah! No shit I missed the flight. Your airline got me here three hours late! Fix it! Call down to the gate and ask them to hold the flight. And then, don't send me to three different places for a flight that was in the original place I looked. Communication people! I know you have stuff on your computer. Anyway, the delays can't be avoided. I get that. But when you have planes full of people in tough spots, don't treat us like the bad guys. Call in extra help. The only person who gets any props is Ms. Escobar and her supervisor who was standing there. They actually said, "We're really sorry for the inconvenience." A simply apology goes a long way in my book.

OK, enough ranting an raving. All is well here in Joplin. Looking forward to the wedding.

Happy Advent!