just another chris miller

Reviewing "Why Men Hate Going to Church"

2012-01-05T09:10:00.000-08:00

Today I finished reading David Murrow's book "Why Men Hate Going to Church." I was reading the revised edition. I've never read the original. I'm not sure how they compare. I'd be curious about the difference, but I'm not sure I could bring myself to read it.

I really wanted to like this book. When I picked it up, I had high expectations. Our church struggles to get guys involved. I was eager to learn about changing that.

I almost didn't finish it. In fact, had I not agreed to read it in its entity I probably would have dropped out in the middle. It's a bit like reading the Bible cover to cover. It all starts strong, but then around Numbers things go off the rails and the repetition just about kills it. Here's what I mean: he bashes churches that repeat the same praise chorus until everyone is in what he calls "a worship coma" but does practically the same thing as he repeats again and again all the things that churches do to repel men. I get it. churches turn men off. And not only is he nauseatingly repetitive, at times he comes across homophobic. I'm sure he doesn't mean to, but he's got to let up on how "gay" some church practices come across.

If you'd like to read the book here's my recommendation: read the first two chapters to get his point, understand where he is coming from, and to begin to wrestle with the need. Then skip to chapter 16. All the qualities, the redeeming characteristics, and the value of the book begin in chapter 16. Then you'll be able to read something helpful. There is some good stuff in there, but I wonder how many will have the patience to find it. I'm sure men won't.

I suppose the irony of all this is that the book itself is incredibly man unfriendly. All the things he says the church does wrong in regards to men are done in the book. The only way it could have been worse would be if each copy came with a crocheted book mark.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255

The Problem With Being Knuckleless

2011-12-21T11:27:00.000-08:00

1,907 Days.

Or if you prefer, five years, two months and and 20 days.

I've learned a lot about myself since saying "I do" to Sheena 1,908 days ago. I've mentioned often how my understanding of my head size has changed.

I also learned I have no knuckles.

Eash finger is essentially a tapered sausage. They are fattest where they attach to my hand and narrower at what I'm sure my ring calls, "The beginning of freedom."

Having tapered sausage fingers is essentially only a problem if you try and wear a ring. Prior to our wedding, the only ring I had any interest in wearing was a ring pop. You remember those delectable mounds of sugar shaped like a massive diamond? Tasty right?

Well, now that I've taken to wearing a ring on the finger, conveniently named the "ring finger," the days since our wedding have become one epic battle to keep from loosing it.

The ring tried to escape me while surfing. It's rather difficult to paddle for a wave with a clenched fist, but I won that battle. It even tried to swim to freedom through a bathroom sink drain, but was no match for me and my wrench. And there have been too man incidents to count where my ring has jumped from my digit at the sudden extension of my fingers.

I've learned from each of these incidents. I no longer wear it while swimming of any kind. Our drains all have guards on them. And my left hand no longer makes sudden moves.

However, the battle almost came to an end yesterday, with the ring winning.

We headed up the mountain to go sledding. Before locking the van I took my ring off and put it in what I thought was secure location. I knew that if I kept it on, at some point I'd take my glove off on the hill and my ring would disappear. So leaving it in the vehicle is the safest place. Perhaps my house would have been safer yet. I had driven half-way down the mountain when I realized my ring was no longer where I put it. It was somewhere on the snowy road, most likely right next to where I was parked, but it was snowing heavily and the ground was no longer the ground we recognized. We went back but between the dark, the fresh snow, and the multiple lines of tire tracks over where we were parked, it seemed the ring was gone for good.

I went to bed thinking about the 1,907 days of blissful ring wearing. I wondered if there was a betting pool somewhere with people wagering on how long I would be able to keep from losing the ring. My sleep war far from restful.

This morning I woke early readied myself for the day and went back up the hill in the morning light. But this morning I went up armed with a weapon I knew the ring could not withstand. I carried a metal detector. It even had a ring setting. I thought one last look would be in order. If I didn't find it, I was preparing myself to resume the search once the snow melted.

In less than 120 seconds I found the white gold devil.

It seems to have been driven over multiple times. It hasn't lost its shape, but the snow in and around it was packed tightly. You can't even call it snow anymore. It was the frozen and watery equivalent to coal. Freeing the ring was like extracting a fossil from rock.

So, we had a scare, but we're at 1,908 days and counting. Let's see how long I can keep this band where it belongs.

On Peaceful Mornings...

2011-12-07T09:06:00.001-08:00

I anticipated many things being different once Sheena and I had children. I'm sure many things would have been wrong with us had we assumed nothing would change.

For 9 years I had enjoyed much of the same routine in the morning. Even though where I lived changed, who I lived with changed, what job I would be waking up to head off too (even when there was no job to head off to) changed, and yet the routine stayed pretty much the same.

The day began peacefully. In nine years there had been very few exceptions to that. The alarm would go off, then there was the obligatory shower, and that was followed by the donning of apparel. Once proper, breakfast was always consumed on the couch with the news informing me of all the happenings of the previous day. As a mail man, news also included the incredibly important weather forecast, so I could have some idea of what might happen to me on the rout.

The most important ingredient in all of this is some quiet, a chance to gather myself, think about the tasks of the day, and become mentally prepared. This requires peace: not necessarily quiet, but peace.

For some reason, I did not expect this to change much. I mean, I knew that once the child would awake peace would be gone. I just always thought that I could wake up before any child and run through the routine before they awoke. If they sleep to seven, I can be up at six. Easy.

I never anticipated that a child of mine would wake up every morning at 4:30 and lay quietly in wait for the slightest creak of the floor, or some other indication that I was up, and then belt out with all her gusto, "I'm awake!"

Some mornings I can literally hear the peace shatter.

If anything, my daughter is most like me in the morning. Despite wanting some peace before starting the day, I'm pretty ready and eager to go. You could say that I wake up in first gear. I'm ready. I'm engaged. I just need a little fuel and I'm off.

My wife wakes up in neutral. She could just as easily be put into first, as reverse and back the whole thing into bed for a few more hours.

My daughter wakes up, on most mornings, in third gear: she running at a pace that is hard to catch. However, on some mornings she's already in fourth. This usually only happens when company has spent the night: as anyone who has slept in our basement can attest to. Other mornings she'll wake up in first or second: ready to go, but not up to full speed yet. Sunlight to her is a big green flag waving to start the Formula 1 race that is her day.

What I'm finding, is that on most mornings there is a new peace. It isn't found in weather forecasts, and man on the street reporting. It's found in cuddling on the couch with my daughter, reading a book as she crunches dry cereal form a bowl in her lap. It's found in introducing her to a new cartoon. It's found in trying to navigate down the stairs with a two-and-a-half year old in one arm and a two month old in the other. It's found in being 35 minutes later for work than I would like because I don't want that cuddle to end.

This Christmas our church is pondering the thought that a baby changes everything. This new morning peace is one of the greatest changes a baby has brought into our home. I'm wondering what changes a baby has brought for you.

getting juicy

2011-12-01T10:28:00.001-08:00

I'm trying to get some writer juices flowing. I have a book report due tomorrow,* a youth talk to write for Monday, a Christmas letter to write, and my goal has always been to post here once a week.

Yet I have to balance writing to get get thoughts flowing, with making sure I don't write so much as to exhaust my brain. This is very tricky.

so instead of many words, how about a picture, which says a thousand of them right?

I can't believe this was back in June.

And this is two months ago already. Wow. Surprisingly his head hasn't popped of yet, despite all of Makiah's attempts.

Well back to writing more words. And soon, hopefully, there will be words here about a new van. Schooling, And thoughts on my favourite Bible verses right now.

*Wait, you're thinking, doesn't that sound like school work. Yep, it's school work. I've been taking a class. The first class, or first step you might say, towards a masters degree. Crazy right? I would love very much to write more about it, but that will have to wait.

Introducing...

2011-10-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

My wife is amazing.

Three weeks ago she was sprawled out on a table in an operating room to be sliced open so that our son could join the outside world.

This was not the outcome my wife had hoped for. It turns out that when you combine our DNA you get kids with big heads. I mean, we make noggins. And it takes medical advancements to bring these melons out into the world.

So my wife was in the OR, some 14 or so hours after going into labor, and many hours after the epidural wore off.*

The only thing, in my wife's opinion, worse than a cesarean, was being completely put under. Being right out meant not seeing the baby right away. It meant missing hearing the first cry, and missing that special moment, even though it is incredibly brief, where they let the mom see the baby before it heads up to the nursery.

She was not about to miss any of that.

Oh, and apparently I wouldn't be allowed in the room if she was right out. And she didn't want me to miss out on anything either.

Even if it meant having some feeling in her abdomen. As in, she felt the knife.

What?

Okay, there's no way I'd put up with that.

So, they couldn't freeze her completely, I get that. She had a lot of pain medication already, and her body was showing signs that the medication wasn't going to work.

So, she grinned and bared through open abdominal surgery so that the two of us wouldn't miss the first moments of our son's life.

I have a long list of proof that my wife is a whole lot tougher than I am, and because of stunts like this it keeps getting longer.

And so our son emerged on September 17. Unfortunately, despite much pleading with the nurses, I was not allowed to recreate the scene from the Lion King by standing on the hospital roof and holding him out for the world to see.

But now that he's home there's no one to stop me. Oh, except for Sheena, who I'm now a little bit afraid of, because of what she put up with in that operating room.

Makiah's doing a pretty good job showing him off, and maybe that's even better. She tells everyone we meet: "That's my brother."

She's proud and possessive.

And if she doesn't hug him to death she'll do a great job protecting him.

- - -
*how often does that happen?

Reviewing the Grace of God

2011-10-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sure most people reading this would be familiar with the words of the Hymn: "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound."

Is it?

Usually, grace only shows up when I've messed up. And then in that situation I'm hoping, or even pleading, for grace.

But is that Grace?

That is the question Andy Stanley opens up in his book, "The Grace of God." He begins where the world began, in the garden of Eden, and works through the Bible to the book of Acts pointing out what grace looks like.

He doesn't explain grace with a theological argument. He sets out some of his understandings of grace, but the book is about showing grace. So we read Bible story after Bible story and Andy Stanley offers commentary pointing out where grace was evident in the story.

It's a bit sad to me that in many of the stories where I was tempted to skip ahead because I've heard them countless times, my eyes were opened to see grace where I thought none was being shown. His point is that grace is offered by God in the beginning, and if we ask for it, beg for it, or deserve it, it is not grace. Our only response is to accept grace, to open our eyes to see it, to welcome it, and live differently in the way of grace.

That is the beauty of this book. After reading it I'm now looking to see grace: where God has shown me grace, and where I need to be offering it to others.

The book is a quick read. It's not long and not complicated. Another of his points is that grace isn't supposed to be complicated. I guess it's fitting that the book isn't either.

I was left struggling with who this book would be for. Certainly I, as a pastor and a longtime Christian, got something out of it. But I can't say that it changed my life. I do think he is wanting the church to wake up and be better known as a group that offers grace. I'm not sure enough was done in these pages to achieve that goal. Perhaps there is a followup book needed called: "The grace of God was given to you, now get off your but and go show some to others." I'm confident that says more about me than anything else.

I'm sure many will read this book and be encouraged, and some will read it and think he's missing the point. The author is aware of this and tries to address it in the conclusion. My hope is that, if people are struggling with grace they will continue to do so and not throw aside the thoughts presented here.

Andy Stanley offers some beautiful thoughts on an even more beautiful subject: grace. And all of this is to point us to God to one who offers grace. This is never supposed to be about us. It is all about God. And he is a God of grace.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

All-Powerful God

2011-09-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

I have never tried this, and so I cannot back this up, but I suspect that if you asked a group of 180 adults in a church service to roam around the room and write on the walls, well, I suspect that it would not go over well.

However, in a room with 20 youth you can ask them to do just that and then magical things happen.

Monday night there were five posters on the wall each with a word or two on them. One poster read "Holy," another "All-Powerful," another "All-Knowing," then "Eternal," and finally, "Fair & Just."

The students were given two questions:

1. What comes to mind as you look at these attributes of God?
2. What does it mean to you that God is Holy, Eternal, All-Knowing, All-Powerful, Fair & Just?

Then they were instructed to wander the room and write their answers on the posters.

Now, I know that often we are wired to give the answers that we think are expected. By that I mean we are prone to answering either Jesus, God, or the Bible. However, when I began to read through the responses I was encouraged by what seems to be some very heartfelt sentiment poured out.

My plan is to share with you some of what has been encouraging me from these students responses.

So, here we go...

What does it mean to you that God is All-Powerful?

"Nothing is impossible in him. He is mighty, and nothing, and no one is more powerful, and beautiful than he."

Now you might, as I did, expect someone to write "Nothing is impossible for God." But, I love the thought that nothing is impossible "in" God.

I hear "for" God and I think that God is doing all the work. I hear "with" God and I think that God and I are a team and together we're getting stuff done. He does his part, I do mine, and a great thing happens.

When I think about what it means that nothing is impossible "in" God, my mind goes somewhere new. I realize that I am the one working, but not as one works alone. My strength, task, purpose, goal, are all found in God. If I accomplish anything, it happens in God. I'm working in him and he is working in me.

I also love that this student connects God's power and beauty. I can't say that I've ever thought God's power is beautiful. I sure think that other powerful things are beautiful. Isn't that what a car show is all about: oohing and awing over a powerful engine?

Yet God's power is beautiful.

What a great couple thoughts.

What comes to mind when you think of "Nothing is impossible in God"?

And what does it mean to you that God is all-powerful?

L - I - N - G - E - R

2011-09-07T14:03:00.000-07:00

On occasion I check out the Dadequate blog.

Last week I read an interview with a dad, by the name of John Blase, and one particular word really jumped out to me.

It was the word "linger."

Which is a weird word.

You have to admit it: on it's own, linger is fun to say, but sounds beyond creepy. Say it three times slowly, right now. Say it slower as you go. You have to, I'm pretty sure this rule is written in a dictionary somewhere, linger as you say it. The pronunciation of the word demands it.

You can't say the word fast.

The point, however lost it is, is not the word linger. Let me share with you the word in context.

John was asked the question: "If another father asked you for one piece of advice about being a dad, what would you tell him?"

John's response: "Linger. Linger every chance you get: tying their shoes, washing their hair, teaching them to bike, helping them with math or getting them dressed for church...linger over them when they're sad, happy, angry, confused. Linger...'Cause by god it goes fast."

More on this in a moment...

Sometimes I find myself with less than enough patience with my daughter. But today, I'm wondering if patience isn't the right request.

Sometimes I have more than enough. She'll be taking her sweet time getting her shoes, and I'm literally thinking why rush? we've got all day. And I'm not being sarcastic.

So what makes the difference?

Sleep?

Maybe.

Today, I'm thinking that presence has a lot more to do with it than patience.

Those times when I'm most impatient are also the times when my mind is elsewhere. My brain is thinking about something else, usually the place where I'm trying to be, or where I believe I should have already arrived. My frustration arises because my body is being held back, as in it cannot get to the place where my mind already is, by 30 pounds of sweetness that believes wearing one gumboot and one crock is a good idea, if only she could find that boot.

And while I'm seriously debating whether or not she even needs feet, she is skipping along looking for that gumboot.

Her entire world is about whatever she is presently doing. She has no concept of time. For her, everything in the future is in two hours, and everything in the past is yesterday.

Here's an example: at bed time I'll ask, "Makiah, do you have to go potty?"

"I went yesterday." 9 times out of 10 that is her response unless she needs to go right then. And I can tell you that she never goes a whole day without peeing.

Her world, as it is with kids in general, it lived in the present, while mine is all over.

I'm usually thinking about what's about to be, or stuck ruminating on the past that I can't change but wish I could.

And it's in those moments when I fail to be present with her that I lack patience, and my moments of greatest patience come when I'm right there loving the hunt for all things blankets, and dollies, and even gumboots.

So maybe my issue isn't patience but rather presence?

And maybe I can begin to be more present by learning to linger.

I'm pretty sure I'll never learn to linger if I can't get my mind off the next meeting, or appointment, or the store closing, or whatever bit of nonsense that my daughter has no concept of.

Why Do I Do This...

2011-08-31T14:31:00.000-07:00

I was standing in line for a cash register yesterday and I learned two important things about myself:

Whenever I have the choice between Smart Water and Water, I always choose Water, because it feels like I'm making a wiser decision.

and

Whenever I see one tabloid with the headline "X + Y Married in Secret Ceremony" then on the tabloid next to it "Are X + Y an Item?", I always feel bad for the second tabloid because they're obviously not in the loop.

Am I the only one who does these things?

Finding Our Way: a book review, not a cartography course

2011-08-30T16:11:00.000-07:00

Ancient Christian practices are so hot right now.

That might not be true.

It might very well be true, I just have nothing to confirm or deny it. There seems to be a trend towards "rediscovering" the way church was done in the past as in ancient practices, but I have nothing to back that up but a hunch and what I've heard on the internet.

When I saw the title for Brian McLaren's book "Finding Our Way Again: the return of the ancient practices" I got really excited.

I picked it up expecting it to be filled with wonderful things I dreamed I would try: practices that would align my daily life in 2011 with the lives of saints of old.

It wasn't everything that I expected.

I was expecting to read about how I can more practically incorporate those ancient practices into my daily life. I was expecting a breakdown--more than that, a list--of practices, and a simple 1, 2, 3 step approach for beginning them.

McLaren didn't deliver. Well, to be fair, it wasn't his intention to deliver those things. This book stands as an introduction to a series of books. The subsequent volumes, written by other authors, will share more of what I thought I wanted. This introductory volume seems to exist to lay the framework for why us, the readers, should care about spiritual practices.

I say that I thought I wanted the expectation highlighted above. I came to realize as I read, that I was getting something better, and something more in line with what I needed.

McLaren highlights four reasons for writting this book (found on page 201 of my copy), and I hope I'm not giving anything away here: "First. spiritual practices help develop character, the kind of character we see in Saint Francis standing as a man of peace before the sultan. Second, they help us be awake and alive and more fully human, as this singer of songs, lover of birds, embracer of lepers, and carrier of joy so clearly was. Third, they help us experience God, or as we have said more recently, they help us join God so that we glow with Francis like holy embers radiant with the fire of God."

And there is a fourth:

harmony.

More specifically, McLaren is pointing readers to an understanding that despite many differences between Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, there are similarities in both ancestry (Father Abraham) and spiritual practice (such as fixed hour prayer) among others.

His desire is that we, meaning the adherents of the three faiths, would give more consideration to these similarities, and less to the differences. While we might all have very different opinions of Jesus, we need to "pursue the ancient way in which we learn to practice peace, joy, self-mastery and justice: because the future of the world depends on people like you and me finding it and living it and inviting other to join us."

I understand that some people have strong opinions of Brian McLaren. This is the first book, of his that I've read. There were parts I didn't agree with, but there was much I did. And more than that, much of what I read challenged my thinking.

I got from this book, not what I expected, but instead what I needed. I have a greater understanding of how life today can connect with the ancient practices of old. I'd say that chapters 15 through 19 were worth every bit of time put into the book. While the whole book is well worth reading, I'd recommend it to other just for those five chapters alone.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255

August Lent Thoughts

2011-08-23T09:36:00.000-07:00

I found myself thinking about lent this morning.

I say this today, because if I wait until Lent Eve* to share this I'll have long forgotten these thoughts.

My mind jumped into thoughts about lent because of some reading I was involved in, that also happened this morning. I'll share more on the reading in a moment. First...

I've heard of a lot of nontraditional fasts for lent. However, these "nontraditional" fasts are becoming so commonplace they are on the verge of becoming the new traditional. Who doesn't know someone who gave up "television" for lent? My sister gave up sugar one year. That would be a doozy. I don't know if I could do it.

I think there is a lot of merit in giving things up for a period of time so that one can become more focused on God. And for many people, food isn't the thing they most need to step away from.

I remember a conversation with a guy, years back, who gave up bacon.

Really?

Bacon?

What makes it better is that there was a massive bacon binge on either side of those 40 days. And I mean multiple pigs were involved in the making of this binge.

I'm sure that's exactly what the first "Lenters" had in mind when they began the tradition.

They were giving up all food, so that one day a guy would give up bacon, after eating a three month supply in the 24 hours prior to the "fast," and another three months supply in the hour following.

Way to show us how it's done.

While there are lots of absurd fasts. There are some nontraditional fasts that need consideration.

I read today** about fasting from pride. Or more specifically, fasting from ways we defend our pride. The author uses the example of going without defending yourself whenever you are criticized.

I don't know what would be harder, 40 days without sugar, or 40 days without thinking of a comeback, defense or excuse?

The book also speaks of doing secret acts of service as a way of deflating pride because one receives no credit for them. That still seems easy by comparison because there is a more tangible, and immediate, reward: what many call a warm and fuzzy feeling. I feel good when I do something nice in secret so it's not a hardship.

But standing there and taking criticism?

I don't know.

And that might very well be the thing I need to go 40 days without.

- - -
* I know that "Lent Eve" isn't an official term. However, I propose that it is perhaps a better, more encompassing, term for the day of preparations for lent than "Fat Tuesday."

** I've been reading Brian McLaren's "Finding Our Way Again: the return of the ancient practices" Nashville: Tomas Nelson, 2008

Camping

2011-08-18T10:15:00.000-07:00

I have a feeling that should Makiah decide to be a sports commentator she'd be very good at it.

She narrates everything.

EVERYTHING...

"I'm getting dressed. I'm taking my shirt off. I'm putting panties on..."

Sometimes it gets really awkward.

Last night we went camping.

This morning, at 6:10 she was awake and desperately needing the potty. I took her.

She wasn't the only one using the facilities at that hour. There was a gentleman in the stall next to us. And Makiah verbalized everything she heard.

"He flushed the toilet. The toilet's noisy. He flushed it again."

Also, every time she pronounces her name, she does it as if she's about to hit a game winning home run, or score the biggest goal of her career.

She building on each syllable, she gets louder as she goes. There's anticipation in it. Like you know, or hope, it ends with a winner.

Until she reaches her last name, elongating it, with emphasis on the ll's.

makiah Kate MILLLLLLLLER!

We're also camping tonight and tomorrow night. I'm a bit surprised to see my wife, who's 36 weeks pregnant, so eager to be sleeping 6 inches off the ground.

I'm sure Makiah will be there narrating any mishaps.

"Mommy's getting up. Mommy's having trouble getting up. Are you having trouble Mommy? Daddy help Mommy."

Praying for the Ill

2011-08-03T10:11:00.000-07:00

I think I pray for the sick wrong.

It sounds wrong to say, because there shouldn't be a wrong way to pray for someone else. (Well, unless you don't pray at all.) I mean, aren't five word prayers of "God, help ______ get better." better than no prayers at all?

Well, yes.

But today Iv'e been challenged that a better way to pray exists.

I read this morning about some spiritual disciplines, and among those listed was "praying for the sick."

If praying for the sick is a spiritual practice I have to admit that I don't feel very spiritual doing it.

When praying for the sick I am almost always no where near them. I don't mean sick people are across the room, I mean they are across the town, or country, or world.

I don't have a lot of contact with sick people unless they come to church. Then I'm usually sitting there thinking, "Why on earth did they come to church this morning? They're going to get everyone else sick. If I get what they've got, I'm going to be some mad."

So I began to ask, what if praying for the sick really is a spiritual practice? And what if praying for the sick wasn't meant to look anything like the way I pray for the sick? What if prayer was supposed to look like something else?

I remember the very first hospital visit I went on. I was fresh out of college, but was totally clueless about what it meant to be a pastor.* I was working with a church and one day the pastor told me we were going to visit a man in the hospital. He was loosely connected to the church. He wasn't a regular attender. I don't even know if he tithed. But the pastor knew him and that was enough.

I don't remember his name. But oddly I remember that he had very bad pneumonia.** (Is there good pneumonia?)

And I remember one other thing. I was beyond awkward. He had weird wires connected to his chest. And tubes coming out of places I don't ever want to have tubes coming out of. I thought, "surely this guy wants to be left alone."

We didn't stay long, but we sat, chatted, and prayed.

All while he had an ECG done.

Before we left the pastor prayed for him.

I think this is the spiritual discipline of praying for the sick.

Praying for the sick will involve, on some level, knowing the person in their sickness: coming close, or in contact with the sick them, and walking with them through the sickness.

And, I hope this doesn't sound biased, you don't have to be a pastor to do this. I think this type of prayer is for every believe to practice. Ever believer has it in them to visit the sick, begin to know them in their illness and pray through it with them.

That doesn't mean I won't pray when I get those emails from people I barely know to pray for some person I've never heard of who has a disease I've never heard of. I'll pray then, but that prayer is a different prayer than one offered while holding the hand to the ill.

* I'm still very much clueless only I can confidently say that in these 11 years I've learned approximately 3 things about being a pastor.

**that's right spell checker had to help me with this one. To my delight I was only one letter off from spelling it correctly on the first try.

Heroes in real Life

2011-07-28T13:57:00.000-07:00

For me, this summer has been all about the super hero. Our VBS here and in Port Hardy has been hero themed. We've looked at heroes in the Bible and learned the traits of a hero.

In the last couple days I've been thinking about the super heroes we see on TV, in movies, and read about in comics. Quite often their tales teach us something too. I love that Superman has his fortress of solitude. I see that and I am reminded that even super heroes need to take a break every now and then and recharge the batteries.

And so I'm wondering, what everyday life lessons have you gleaned from super hero stories. What might we learn from Bat Man for example? Always have the right equipment with you perhaps?

What do you think?

I NEED it...

2011-07-12T09:17:00.000-07:00

My two year old changes catch phrases more frequently than I change underwear.

Three days ago it was "Can't do it"

Two day's ago she was calling everyone "hun"

Now she'd onto "I need _____________. I Need _______________ right now."

And let me share with you some of the things she so desperately, in her own opinion, needs. Here are some of the ways she has filled in those blanks:

- to use the garden hose

- chocolate milk

- a chip

- a nap*

- blanket

- sit in front seat

- fruit snack

- stickers

- dolly

- eww**

Interesting that despite the food requests, none of which are classified as essential foods, nothing she "needs" are essential for life.

While I would love to be able to sit her down and explain the difference between needing and wanting, I realize that so often I need someone to have that very conversation with me. She has been cause to pause and examine how often I stomp my feet and demand things, reasoning they are needs, when I'm just pushing my wants and desires on others.

Perhaps there is a little two-year-old inside me that shows up every now and then.

_ _ _
* I was actually glad to hear her say this one

** Eww is her word for poo. As in I have to go to the bathroom.

3 ? Thursday

2011-06-09T11:56:00.000-07:00

I'm coming worship music looking for new songs to do with the youth. What are some songs that you've enjoyed recently, that have maybe meant something, or are just plain fun?

I'm working on a charge for the high school grads. Do you remember your high school grad and what was shared there? What is the best advice you've ever received?

I can't believe that we go to Port Hardy in one month. What are you most looking forward to this summer?

God Impressions

2011-06-01T10:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I love watching a masterful impressionist: one so good that when they begin the impression they don't even need to tell you who they are doing. You know a bad impressionsit don't you? They're the guys who tell you they're doing Robert DeNiro* and you still don't see the resemblance.

They really talented guys slip in and out of characters like they're flip flops, and they don't pause to tell you who they are now.

It's like they become the other person. Like Frank Caliendo here

That's a good impression right there. I mean, he didn't need to tell you he was doing President Bush, he did, but it was unnecessary. And I love too, how he breaks down the aspects of the impression: the squinting, the head bobbing, the hand gestures. This could almost be a video on how to do a President Bush impression.

It's a masterful impression.

Ephesians 5:1 says this:

"Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children"

Hmm, be imitators of God.

Where's a video on how to do this?

What would be part of a good God impression?

Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, Self Control, Holiness, Mercy, Justice, Caring, and more.

They would all have to be in there.

Some days I'll struggle with any combination of those. Okay, most days I'm doing great if I get one down.

If imitating God involves being all of that, modeling the all of those characteristic, it seems like Paul is instructing an impossible task.

But maybe not.

There's a great deal of hope in the second half of the verse: "as dearly loved children."

I've never tried, but I bet I could do a pretty good impression of my dad. Sometimes, I'd call my sister mom. Not because she was acting motherly, but because her and my mom do some things very much alike. Sometimes Sheena calls Makiah "Christopher." Why? Because we know where Makiah get's it. And sometimes I call Sheena "Sheila."

Recently I was at a camp with some students. One day, there were two gentlemen leaning against a counter in the dinning hall. One was older than I, and the other about 6, maybe 8, years of age. They were undeniably father and son.

If you held up two head shots of these guys I'd probably say there was no relation. But when they stood together it was blatantly obvious. They stood the same. There was something about their genetic make up that caused them to pose, and move, their lanky bodies the same way. And without even making an effort.

Then naturally had the same posture.

Children are like their parents.

It's genetic.

Accept it, it's true.

Paul says in 1 Corinthians, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation: the old had gone, the new has come!"

The new creation we are becoming, when we join Christ, is sons and daughters of God. That means new family lines, new spiritual DNA, new way of being, new tendencies.

I'm not sure that means we can work on our God imitation while sitting on the couch. The new muscles required to show justice, and mercy, and patience, and love, and gentleness, and etc. need to be worked and toned. But they're in there waiting to be shown off.

They're like my six pack. Oh it's in there somewhere, it's just very well hidden.

To balance this thought, we don't achieve a great God impression on our own either. We need to work on it, because practice makes it better: more visible, more God like. However, we don't get there on our own strength. God has given us, through his spirit, the spiritual framework to be more like him, but he doesn't leave us there. When we practice these characteristics God himself becomes our trainer helping us develop muscles that are growing inside of us.

God, as our father, is desiring to work with us, helping us, hone a better God imitation, so that others might look at us and know what God is truly like.

_ _ _

*because everyone does DeNiro especially the guys who can't do impressions.

On Leaping and Jumping...

2011-05-26T11:43:00.000-07:00

I was reading Acts chapter three recently.

I've read the book of Acts numerous times. As a child I enjoyed many of the stories it holds, but it wasn't until I was a freshman in college that I fell in love with the book. I remember one evening in the student lounge reading the final chapter and desperately wanting to know what happened to the characters. I was desperate to know more: to have a sequel.

In Acts 3, a rather out of the ordinary thing happens: a crippled man is healed. Maybe today it's more ordinary: we have surgeries for that.* My wife sees patient after patient go from crippled to walking. It's common today, but not so much back then.

So, a man, crippled from birth, is carried to his favorite begging spot. And where is the favorite begging spot? The temple door. Or, the church door, if that rings more true for you. He sits outside the place of worship to ask the faithfully religious for cash.**

I'm not sure how many people gave to him that day. We have no record of it. All we know is that two men were going into the temple, and they were asked, as we assume many others were asked: "brother can you spare a dime?"

Now, apparently he asked the wrong guys, because they were broke. Or at least, by their own admission, they have no silver and gold. But they are far from broke. they have something far more valuable:

They know a guy.

And, this guy, thought not anywhere to be seen, heals the crippled man.

The unseen one is named, the men speak his name: Jesus Christ of Nazareth. And when even the most remarkable, unimaginable things are spoken in this name they happen. People who have never walked, begin to walk.

Peter, the one who spoke the name gets credit for the healing, for he doesn't deserve it or even accept it.

There are two things in this story that are really speaking to me right now.***

1. He began praising God. There is a song about this story that tells us he was leaping and jumping and praising God. Well, we don't see him leaping and jumping here, but perhaps he was in his heart. He was, none the less, praising God.

It's understandable that he has much to praise God for.

He can now praise God that he is no longer employed. He can wake up the next morning and begin looking for something else to do with his life.

In his rare case, this is a very good thing.

God has just changed everything about his life. But maybe that's not so rare.

I then begin asking, what in my life has God changed? What areas has he touched? Have there been transformations in me?

You better believe it.

I've never been crippled. I don't know what it's like to lack the physical strength to walk. But God has done, and continues to do, wonderful things in my life. I look at my family, I hug my daughter, I feel kicks coming from within my wife's uterus, I savor an afternoon sitting by the lake tossing stones into the water, and realize the everything in my life is as much a gift as that man beginning to walk.

And have I ever, do I ever, go around leaping and jumping and praising God?

Not nearly enough.

There are things every day that I need to praise God for: that I need to jump up and do a dance of joy for.

2. Peter, the one the people try and credit for the healing, asks the crowd a telling question: "Why does this surprise you?"

Am I surprised that God healed this man? Am I surprised by God?

Or more accurately of myself, do I ever ask God for over the top things: things so big only God can do them?

Why?

Do I think God can't do it? Do I think he won't? Why don't I ask God?

I bring God petty things all the time. Why no outrageous things?

Am I trying handle them on my own? Or am I seeking nothing outrageous?

The crowd recognized this guy. They recognized that he used to beg outside the temple. They must have been passing him by for years. I wonder if anyone ever stopped to ask God to heal him. I doubt it. Surly Peter wasn't the first one to pass by without cash. Why does he seem to be the first to ask God to heal him?

What huge, massive, outrageous things might God be doing around me that I'm missing out on?

Why am I surprised? Why am I not asking God?

Is this true of any of you?

Why not go read Acts 3 and see what stands out for you?

*I'm sensing an apple app spoof with the tag line: "There's a surgery for that."

**As a side note, I wonder what would happen if on Sunday morning there was someone homeless, or crippled, or someone who can't find work for a variety of reasons, perched outside of our church asking for donations. What would I do? What would our church do? What would your church do?

***Besides my curiosity about whether or not anyone who gave to the crippled man wanted their money back. I wonder this very much, and maybe one day I'll get an answer. Perhaps this curiosity speaks more about me than anything else.

Coombs Baby

2011-05-13T20:13:00.000-07:00

I love it when Sheena has an ultrasound appointment.

I know they're controversial. I know some people have strong feelings about ultrasounds. I know some people never get them.

They are missing out.

They're so much fun.

I love seeing the images, but they're more than images. They're tiny clues into the personality that is already forming. The kid is playing around in there, and as a dad you are privy to such a tiny amount of what the mom is aware of.

My understanding is that Sheena feels movement almost constantly. While I probably play patty cake with the kid maybe ten minutes a week.

But when it comes ultrasound day I get to see what is going on in there. And it is awesome.

Kinda weird, because the kid looks more like an alien than his father at this point. But it's still amazing.

Here's a bit of what we saw on the last appointment.

So apparently, our kid is going to be a hippie.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Naming Offspring

2011-05-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

Naming offspring is never easy.

Are we seriously the only species to do it?

I know very little on the subject. In fact, I'm sure I know more don'ts than dos.

Here's one from the other day: Don't discuss baby names late at night. It may very well have been that 11:30pm is the first time the two of you have been able to talk all day but don't make that the time to discuss Jr's moniker. I'm certain that most of the ridiculous names kids are burdened with are dreamed up late at night by brains deprived of sleep and rest.

Earlier, I was on a website, Baby's Named a Bad, Bad Thing, that shars tips on what not to name your kids. To check it out go here. Here's a few rules I found on there today written by D: Goodman:

Q: What should I name my kids?

A: I can't give you the perfect name. I'm much better at cursing the darkness, anyway. But here are a few tips I've gleaned from digging around bulletin boards, books, and the tons of e-mails I get from readers:

Generally avoid nouns. You're asking for trouble.
Do a Google search for your name ideas. If all you get are porn sites, white supremicist groups and pictures of My Little Ponies - it's a bad name.
Look at lists of the most popular baby names for the last three years. Steer clear of the top 10, and definitely steer clear of any names that suddenly jump from #150 to #25.
No celebrity names. Your kids will immediately hate this celebrity, and be horribly embarassed forever.
If you like a common name, but don't like how it's spelled, tough. Either use the usual spelling, or find a new name. Andrywe is NOT a name.
Most Americans are assimilated cultural mutts, without much connection to their ancestry. If you want to reconnect with your heritage, go to the library. Do not name your kid Bronwyn and think you are now in touch with your 1/16 Welsh side.
A stupid sounding name is still a stupid sounding name even if its meaning is "beloved queen" or something else nice.
Do not name your kid with elementary school bullies in mind. If it isn't incredibly obvious (Gaylord, Fartoff), they're going to get that little bit teased like the rest of us were, and there's nothing you can do about it.
Try these on for size: "Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I'd like to introduce you to the new CEO of MultiGlobal Corp., [blank blank]" or "Also on the presidential panel is MIT's chief biochemical researcher, Dr. [blank blank].
Assuming your child will live to age 70, s/he will spend 16% of their life as a child, 10% of their life as teenagers and 14% as senior citizens. The remaining 60% of their lives they will be adults. Plan accordingly.

I think I'll be taking these to heart.

Dear Floss Picks

2011-05-02T11:19:00.000-07:00

It should be stated that I am a long time supporter of the fight against gum disease. I am not a user of floss picks, but I am behind you whole heartedly. I encourage products that ease people towards better oral health.

However, it may be getting out of hand.

What I mean is, Floss Picks, you may be making it too easy for people to clean their teeth.

And here's why: I should never find myself in a situation like the other day when I encountered an individual using you outside. In front of Canadian Tire is no place to clean pits of pastrami from between your bicuspids. That's gross.

"Never let lunch fester between your Incisors" is a slogan I wish to put on a t-shirt. Can't you picture it? The shirt would feature some big old from teeth with a chunk of romaine the size of Greenland wedged in there, and those words hanging around like the garlic dressing on the breath. That shirt would be awesome.

However, I don't want to see anyone doing anything about it. There are restrooms for that.

Do you know what happens when people floss their teeth?

Their teeth get clean. Which is awesome, but particles of nastiness go flying all over the place. Can we keep those particles where they belong: like on the mirror? When people floss on the sidewalk I might end up stepping in it. Or worse yet, what if a bit of food were to fly into my eye?

I just threw up in mouth typing that question.

I love you floss picks, but could you please make it a little less convenient for people to use you in public places?

Can I Get an Amen?

2011-04-29T17:06:00.000-07:00

Now, what if I told you they scored?

A fun thing happened this Easter Sunday: a group of us had gathered with a communal purpose, and passion, with the same hopes, fears and anticipation.

Now, given that it was Easter you might be expecting me to be talking about the church service. Yes, I went to church in the morning. However, the service had a very different, you might saw more hidden, kind of passion compared to this other gathering.

And what was the other gathering?

A hockey game.

At the arena?

Nope.

I was in a ferry terminal.

One TV in the ferry terminal had the game on. And the place was packed. All sorts of travellers and terminal employees gathered to cheer, talk about the game, and experience intense joys and bouts of anxiety. Fortunately I was there nice and early to get a good seat as it quickly became standing room only.

I probably loved watching the crowd as much as the game. There were all sorts of people shoulder to shoulder.

One of the employees gathered there was a supervisor of sorts for the ferries. He had his radio and cell phones squawking at him from time to time as he tried to watch the game and do his job. Another employee there was the sole operator of a salad bar. She almost seemed disappointed that customers were pulling her away from the game. One traveller to join us, the youngest spectator by far, was dressed head to toe in visual displays of which team he was cheering for. He was very concerned that he'd miss the end of the game, until he learned the boat he was on had one.

Why was there so much passion in the crowd watching the game?

Well, it's hockey, in a hockey crazed Canadian city.

But why was there more passion there then in church?

I'm not entirely sure.

Perhaps it's not fair to say the service had less passion. I suppose it's more fair to say that it merely had less visible passion. But then again, what good, or of what evidence is there, if passion isn't on display? Can you call it passion if you're quiet about it?

When the Canucks scored their first goal Sunday, there was loud, audible, make people not paying attention drop their coffee because of fright, cheering.

When the pastor said, “he is risen.” people were rather quiet.

I don't get it.

I hope with too much energy that I live to see the Canucks win the Stanley Cup, but as awesome as that would be, when you compare that with God's redeeming work through Jesus Christ, it is no where near as great.

If ever there was something to be passionate about it's that God loves each of us so much he would do anything to restore the relationship. God is crazy passionate about us. Can we begin to be passionate about the same things God is? Or are we too distracted by the hockey game?

By the way:

Go Canucks Go!

Wiplash

2011-04-21T12:10:00.000-07:00

I've had my share of wipe outs. I've hit my head on a lot of things. I've fallen in very creative and unfortunate ways. Three times I've been in car accidents where the vehicle was written off. I have scars on my body that have no known cause. I have scars with known cause, but the explanation makes no sense.

And yet very few major injuries.

No concussions.*

No severed appendages.

Very few broken bones.

No whiplash.

It amazes me that those last four lines are true. I don't know how I've made it this far without having spent more time in the hospital. This is especially true of those days when I was learning to drive a whole new class of vehicles that you can't just "shift" into drive.

Learning to drive standard was a lot of fun, but it rattled my brain around something fierce. Some youth would ask to go for a ride in the Eurovan, while I was mastering the nuances of a clutch, because it was the closest thing to a carnival ride in our town. Perhaps I should have charged admission, or at least enough to cover the gas, but I was driving anyway.

The day after I bought the van I wanted to drive it to church. But I was nervous. I didn't want to stall in front of everyone in the parking lot. At the grocery store everyone was anonymous. On the highway it didn't matter I'd never see them again. But at church, I knew these people and they knew me. I was hoping to spare myself some embarrassment.

So I practiced.

In the driveway.

Back and forth. Back and forth: wearing ruts in the dirt and taking years of life off the clutch.

My parents driveway isn't long, but long enough to get comfortably in first gear before slamming on the breaks. Then I'd throw it into reverse and find my way, literally, backwards to the start. I'm sure I put a good twelve kilometers** on the odometer.

For 45 minutes or so I was working at this trying to get to the point where I could roll through the church parking lot smoothly. I din't care so much what happened on the open road, but I wanted everything to be elegant in that parking lot.

Clutch in. Clutch out. Clutch in. Clutch out. Clutch in. Clutch out.

The van lurching, rolling, stuttering, jerking every which way. And my head right along with it. Now, my cranium has impressive girth. So there is considerable mass sitting atop my neck. And numerous laws of physics at play. Adding to that, my hair was much longer at the time--carrying momentum, and adding effect if nothing else. Yes, my hair was whipping back and forth. It's a wonder I didn't sustain any injury as I was bouncing around. This was what I imagined riding a mechanical bull to be like. The Eurovan was my giant, blue, made in Germany, mechanical bull.

After all that it was time to leave for church. It was time to see what the outcomes of my practicing would be.

It wasn't pretty.

It wasn't smooth.

You'd think I hadn't practiced at all. I guess that's the outcome of never getting to second gear.

I was in the wrong gear as I attempted to hop the curb into the parking lot.*** The van then, mostly because of the wrong gear thing, began to shake violently and I was certain and explosion was immanent.

Fortunately, no explosion.

But there was a whole lot of head turning.

Eventually my driving skills improved. The headaches went away. I rarely turn heads in a parking lot anymore.

*at least not that I know of

**I'm sure it was more like .12 but much of my memory may have been skewed by rattling.

***The entry into that church's parking lot is like the entry into any parking lot, in that if travelling the right speed you barely notice the bump. However, if you're not travelling the right speed, let's say because you're in the wrong gear and made poor estimations of how much time your much-heavier-than-you're-used-to vehicle needs to slow down, you may in fact find that "small barely noticeable bump" have an affect on the van much like a mogul would on a downhill skier. The van never went air born, but it certainly hopped.

9 Years of Eurovan Love

2011-04-11T09:08:00.000-07:00

I cleaned out the inside of my '93 VW Eurovan this weekend.

It was long overdue.

There was dirt, sand, and raisin boxes all over the floor.

But I didn't just clean the floor. I got out the armor-all wipes and wiped down the dash, and any surface that looked the slightest bit dirty. I used over 15 wipes. I cleaned the glove box, taking out every last item and evaluating whether or not the glove box was the best home for it. Then I put back only what belonged.

Then I changed the air freshener.

Now the van looks and smells wonderful.

Well, at least on the inside.

Makiah calls it "the dirty van."

I don't know how that started. I'd love for it to stop.

As I was cleaning out the van, I found the original transfer papers from the purchase.

And that's when I realized that in a few days I'll be celebrating* nine years of Eurovan ownership.

Nine years...that's incredible.

Well, it's been nine incredible years anyways.

I began to think about all the wonderful memories I have from the past nine years, and the van is featured in most of them. The best example being that I proposed to Sheena in the van. Now I'm really wondering if those memories would be so sweet if it weren't for my good friend Eileen.**

What is more, Sheena and I will probably be saying our last goodbyes to our transportation friend within the next year. Her life is nearing it's end. At least she is becoming too aged to meet all of our transportation needs.

I wish there were some farm, perhaps with sheep, where she could live out the rest of her days frolicking in fields with other Eurovans. Oh how the Eileen loves to go off road. To my knowledge no such farm exists, leaving us uncertain of her future.

I feel that to celebrate the old girl in a manner that is truly fitting, I should share with you some of the stories that play out so vividly in my memory.

Those will come in time.

All I say for now is that I still remember sitting in the Toyota Tercel outside a closed tire shop, my dad in the seat next to me, we had just test driven the van and I had to make a decision: to buy or not to buy.

I had been working for Canada Post for a year and a half. In that time I had saved up enough money, but this would wipe out my savings. Did I want to take the plunge? It was the most incredible vehicle I had ever been in. And I hadn't even driven it yet because I didn't know how.

The Eurovan is a six speed manual, with a hidden reverse. I didn't want to grind the crap out of it and then say: "No thanks. I'll keep looking."

After ten long minutes in that parking lot I had made a decision. We went back to the guy's house. He was very surprised to see us again. I don't think he expected to be selling his van that day. But he did.

We signed a bunch of papers and that was it: I had purchased the Eurovan.

My dad drove it the two hours home while I drove the Tercel. The Tercel had been my primary form of transportation since the summer of '99. It had taken me far, and had left me stranded far too. The Tercel and I never boned. I had memories but they were nothing special--unless you count the time my friend Brad and I had to push it across Crossfield, Alberta.

During the drive my dad and I chatted back and fort on walkie-talkies. I remember that we were each eating an apple while driving up the Malahat. When I got down to the core I had to manually roll the passenger window down before throwing it out. This was awkward, uncomfortable, and very dangerous given the speeds we were traveling. I was not going to miss that.

My dad delighted in showing off how one finger rolled down the passenger window of the vehicle he was driving. Oh how I was moving up in the world.

My standard education would begin latter that day. It was a rough first week. I'll tell you more about that next time.

*I say celebrating, but this will be the first time I've ever marked the occasion. The past 8 anniversaries have come and gone without any sort of fan fare.

**Eileen is, of course, the name of the Eurovan. Our relationship had progressed several years before a truly fitting name was found. Perhaps one day I'll tell you how that came to be.

The Problem with April 1

2011-04-07T11:55:00.000-07:00

I don't think there were a greater than normal number of April fool's jokes this year, but it's taking me longer than normal to recover from it.

Here's the problem I have with April 1.

I'm taken by almost every prank. That's right I fall for almost every bit of it.

Let the name calling begin. Believe me you can't accuse me of anything I haven't called myself.

That's the real problem.

So what if for a day I believe that scientist have discovered one small clan of penguins who learned to fly. I might look foolish for a couple minutes because I believed for 30 seconds that a new Narnia book was coming out, but I don't care.

The problem with April 1 jokes is that I become distrusting and cynical for the rest of the month.

Sheena could tell me that she's having twins and I won't believe it until they are born. Why? Because I believe a bunch of lies on April 1.

I heard on the radio this morning that there was another earth quake in Japan. I didn't believe it until I heard it from many other sources.

This is a problem.

I'll try not to fall for everything next year, but, more importantly, I'll try and believe what you tell me now.

Happy Birthday Makiah

2011-03-28T11:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Makiah's second birthday.

We celebrated over the weekend with family and friends and then yesterday Sheena and I took our daughter out and had some fun just the three of us.

The picture to the right is her celebrating with her free birthday sundae at the restaurant of her choosing. It might be hard to tell, but she celebrated with ketchup and chocolate sauce all over her face, shirt, sleeves, and table.

It was a wild party.

She's apparently not one to rush a good thing and when the ice cream all melted away, and her spoon ended up across the room, only one option presented itself for finishing off the party.

I tried to offer help, but she turned that down with an emphatic: "I dood it. I dood it."

I think she was just worried I'd sneak a bite for myself.

She was probably right to be worried.

Happy Birthday Makiah.

Dear Bridger

2011-03-23T14:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Bridger:

I have a feeling I won't be able to thank you enough.

found on totsandgiggles.com

Just Like Mommy

2011-03-21T14:07:00.000-07:00

There is no denying that Makiah wants to be just like her mom.

Whatever Sheena is doing Makiah wants to be in on.

But now there's something new, and we're not sure if this is imitation, participation, or mockery. Because the list of things that Makiah wants to do just like mommy now includes vomiting.

Sheena's body does not like being pregnant. For Sheena pregnancy is nine months of nausea with a 90% chance of chunks. It's the only time in our marriage when she spends more time in the bathroom than I do.

A few weeks ago Makiah began walking around the house making retching sounds. She would then run to the toilet, shover her face in the bowl, and begin fake hurling. Then she lifts her head and exclaims: "me sick." And retches some more.

It's adorable.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I'm not so sure Sheena is all that flattered.

Name That Fetus

2011-03-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

I'm never sure what to call it. It, seems inappropriate. It is the worst possible thing to call your child.

Yet "it" is the only thing that seems to fit right now. We don't know if it's a him or a her. We're pretty sure it's not a "them." All we are certain of is that it is an it.

That being said, I'd like to come up with something better by which to name our fetus. I suggested "#2" but Sheena vetoed that one fast.

And, by they way, "Feeti" was also shot down.

So, I'm hoping that you will help me come up with a name. Consider this a "Name That Fetus" Contest.

Here is a picture of the little guy/girl if that helps. You can see the face quite well. It's sure a cutie.

Leave a suggestion in the comments and if we* like the name for our fetus you might win a prize**.

Please leave as many suggestions as you like.

Good luck.

*I say "we," because apparently Sheena gets a say too.

**by prize, I mean that you might win a pat on the back and a hearty congratulations next time I see you. If we ever develop a t-shirt that uses the name in a clever way such as "_______________ on board" with a picture from the ultrasound, we'll send you one. But you should know now that the odds of that happening are slim.

Older Sisters

2011-03-14T11:22:00.000-07:00

I was warned a couple years ago that you have to be careful what you say in front of kids.

Now trust me, I believed it whole heartedly. And that led me to be relatively careful what I say: especially when Makiah is awake. I don't want to take any chances.

Still, it seems, that from time to time, a word or phrase pops out of her mouth and I'm left wondering where she learned it.

Take the other night* for example, Sheena was at work so I was putting Makiah to bed. I was about to pray with her, as we do every night, but this night I decided to ask her who she would like to pray for.

Her response: "Baby."

I inquired if she meant her dolly. I could see a two year old wanting to pray for her dolly.

But she said "No, baby! Baby in tummy."

I had a feeling I knew where she was going with this, but I wanted to be sure. "Makiah, do you want to pray for the baby in Mommy's tummy?"

"Yeah. Baby Mommy tummy."

So that night, we began praying for the baby in mommy's tummy too. And now, partly because Makiah is crazy about routines, we pray for the baby every night.

It will be a lot of fun telling our second child that they were prayed for by their older sister since before they were born. Hopefully this means that Makiah will be an awesome older sister.

* this was actually three or four weeks ago.

Wedding Lessons

2011-03-10T08:10:00.000-08:00

I learned a very important lesson from the wedding of Sheena's brother last weekend.

Well, several lessons.

The first, and most serious, is that when you're officiating a wedding be very careful when, where, and for how long you pause. For example, a pause right after you say "You may kiss the bride" is highly appropriate. They need time to kiss without you yabbering through it.

However, a long pause right after you ask the groom: "Do you take [the bride] to be your wife" confuses the groom. When you're nervous, and in front of a room full of people, and especially when you're not used to being before a room full of people, a second feels like an hour. Your groom will begin to wonder if you're waiting for him to respond. So, if you leave a pause after that phrase, don't be surprised if the good says "I do." It seems like you're asking him a question.

And you are.

So, if you're officiating a wedding, watch the pauses.

The second thing I learned is that it's becomming popular for weddings today are borrowing from 1960's TV shows. Let me demonstrate this with a picture.

This is a picture of the truck the couple used to leave the ceremony. It's an old white. Yes that's a rocking chair in the back for the bride to sit on.

This is the first wedding I've been to with such a vehicle for the newlywed couple. However, it wasn't the frist time I've seen this truck. Standing there watching them leave, I kept thinking I'd seen this vehicle, and scene, before. Then it occurred to me. I had seen it.

This is a picture of the Beverly Hillbillies from the 1960's TV show. It looks crazy similar to the truck pictured above. There's even a rocking chair in the back. I'm sure somewhere, I've even seen Granny sitting in that rocking chair up there.

I am now going to be looking for other 60's TV show inspired weddings. Wouldn't a batman themed wedding be amazing?

"Holy inappropriate first kiss Batman."

That would be awesome.

The last thing I learned is that it doesn't take much for my wife to return to her roots. This picture serves as witness.

Can you identify Sheena?

She's in there along with members of her family. It's scary how naturally she dressed up for the reception. She heard the reception was a red neck theme and out came the flannel, gumboots, suspenders and grubby t-shirt.

I almost didn't recognize her.

I'm a little bit afraid of what might happen if we move to too small of a town. And it totally explains why Makiah's favourite footwear is her pink rubber boots. She just wants to be like mommy.

2 Year Old Bieber Fever

2011-03-04T14:41:00.000-08:00

Thank You Girls in our youth group who taught my daughter to sing Justin Bieber's Baby.

The four hour dive to the island today was wonderful with a two year old singing: "Baby, baby, baby ooh."

Thank You very much.

Wedding News

2011-03-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

I'm headed to good old Vancouver Island today. One of Sheena's brothers is getting married. I guess, if you didn't know that then this is news.

I'm excited about what may or may not be happening at this wedding. I've heard rumors that I really hope come true. If that is the case, check back here next week and be prepared for some awesome.

Writing

2011-03-03T16:37:00.000-08:00

I never expected that as a youth pastor I'd do so much writing. Here's a list of some things I write regularly:

- sermons
- devotionals
- Bible studies
- to do lists
- correspondence
- youth talks
- board reports
- committee agendas
- annual reports
- budgets
- event descriptions
- advertisements
- directions
- permission forms

and just last week, I even wrote what someone was going to say on the phone to someone else. That may sound a bit odd, but given the situation made a lot of sense. I do a lot of writing. Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes I write what people are supposed to say on the phone to others.* For the most part I really enjoy writing. Good thing. A lot of my week is spent think up words.

Add writing to the list of things that no course on youth ministry prepared me for. I'm not complaining. Fortunately I like writing. This has just got me thinking that I should probably take some writing courses, or at the very least some grammar courses.

*I'm kidding, I didn't mind that so much.

Competitve Sleeping

2011-02-24T08:50:00.000-08:00

I had some trouble sleeping this morning. Then a funny thought poped into my head:

What if sleeping was a competitive sport?

Not that I think sleeping would be easier with the pressure of worrying about whether I was winning or loosing at it, but it was a crazy thought. As with most crazy thoughts, my brain began to explore it. Coincidently, this led to more trouble sleeping.

Here are some of the thoughts:

If sleeping were a sport what would define victory?

Would it be for longest span of uninterrupted slumber, or for being able to function on the least amount of sleep? Or would it be something else?

And why shouldn't sleeping be a sport? They made eating a sport, so perhaps more of our everyday routines should be turned competitive. And if more of our everyday routines were turned competitive, what else should be?

T.V. viewing
Grochery shopping
Thank You note writting

I think I'd most love to see a competition in sarcasm detection. That would be crazy.

What about you, what everyday routines would you like to see turned competitive?

Baby Beats

2011-02-18T09:00:00.000-08:00

This video is brilliant. A great way to spend a minute on a Friday.

found on tots and giggles

On Weddings

2011-02-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

It was Valentine's Day yesterday.*

Chances are, you either know someone who just got engaged, has been engaged for a while, or is about to become engaged.

All of that is to say, you're about to go to a wedding.

Wedding season is closing in.

It seems as though I've been to a lot of weddings, with one as recently as this past December, and another one coming up in March. All this has got me thinking about some of the different weddings I've been to. Some have been a blast, and some not so much. What makes one fun and the other a test of endurance?

You might feel differently about these things than I, but here is a chart that's been pretty helpful, and accurate, at predicting how much fun I'll have at a wedding. And if you find yourself trying to decide which box to check on the RSVP, perhaps this will help you decide.

*I thought I should point that out in case you missed it.

Little Miss Backseat Driver

2011-02-14T09:47:00.000-08:00

Sheena and I have been trying to help our daughter learn colours.

She's getting it, but on occasion will shout "Pink!" for absolutely no reason.

Which leaves me wondering: is there such a thing as colour turrets?

But then, then, she'll do something absolutely brilliant like point at the different colours on her jammies and tell you what they're called. This makes us fell like good parents, and we pat ourselves on the back for a brilliant job educating our daughter.

Yes, she's quite smart.

Perhaps too smart.

The other night Makiah and I were driving through town and while stopped at a red light I began making funny faces at her in the mirror. This is a common event while driving. Then something new happened. I'm in the middle of my best goofy face, one that usually causes her to bust out laughing, when she begins pointing straight ahead and shouting "Green! Green! Green! Green!"

I look up and see the light has changed.

As I start to drive away I look back and she my daughter all proud of herself. While it's wonderful seeing her full of self-confidence, I can't help but wonder if she's more proud of herself for corectly identifying the light colour, or prompting my driving.

I think it might be more the latter.

I can't believe that she's not even two and already an excellent back seat driver. I'd be more proud if it wasn't kind of annoying.

Fingerprints

2011-02-08T06:59:00.000-08:00

I was at the police station yesterday getting my fingerprints taken.

I should point out that I wasn't in trouble with the law.

I was getting a criminal record check taken.

Apparently, they don't want to just take my word for it.

I'm in the process of applying with the school ditrict to volunteer at a local elementry school helping kids improve their reading skills.

I'm excited about the prospects of helping in a local school. And I totally understand, and even appreciate, the criminal record check. But here's the thing, I'd love it if someone would explain to the guy taking the fingerprints, that not everyone having their prints taken is a criminal.

It wasn't a police officer who processed my digits. And this guy had some attitude on him. To his credit he softened as we went along, but at first I thought he was going to throw me in a cell until they got word back from Ottawa.

It turns out that not everyone doing a criminal record check needs to be printed, however, if you share a birthday with someone with a record you're going to get inked. And that ink does not wash off easily. I still have a bit of ink on my hands.

So, does anyone have any suyggestions for getting this stuff off? I promise not to raise any suspicions about your past.

On This Day A Book Review

2011-02-03T22:13:00.000-08:00

Today I wrapped up reading On This Day in Christian History: 365 Amazing and Inspiring Stoiries About Saints, Martys, and Heros by Robert J. Morgan.

It did not take me 365 days to read.

On This Day in Christian Histroy, was written as a daily devotional with a short, one page, entry for each day sharing a story from history that happened on that day in the past 2,000 years. It was not suprising then, to read about St. Patrick on March 17th.

While there are 365 stories, they do not introduce us to 365 people in history. As a result, you may read about an individual, let's take Martin Luther as an example, then a few days later read more about them. At times this gets a bit confusing as the story of an indivual's life is told in bits and pieces throughout the year. This format makes the book work far better as a devotional than a history book.

I do not believe that Robert J. Morgan intend the book to be read in the brief manner in which I did. This becomes clear as you read on.

While I enjoyed the read, and would recommend it as an introduction to Church history for people who wish to know more, there were a few things I'd love to see different. First, as is the case with most history books, it can be dry. I don't believe this to be necessarily the author's fault, as I suspect it would be incredibly difficul to craft a one page summary of complex historical events in a creative and entertaining way. Therefore, I would not classify Robert J. Morgan as a dry author.This would be especially unfair as I've read nothing further by him.

A second suggested revision for the book would be an index of people. There is a topical index which might be helpful, and certainly fits with the devotional aspect of the book, but an index of people would could transform this devotional into quite the helpful resource.

The final suggestion would be to update some of the innacuracies. Twice in the book we read the phrase "modern day Czechoslovakia." Last I checked, Czechoslovakia doesn't exist.

Despite all these three things, On This Day in Christian History, is an educational, enlightening, devotional that will hopefully leave readers appreciating not only where we stand in Christian History, but also what others have gone throught to advance the gospel. As a devotional it leads others closer to God by showing him faithful in the most dire of circumstances.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Squeaky Shoes

2011-02-01T06:54:00.000-08:00

Hey Parents!

Do you have trouble finding your child in a crowd?

We've got just the thing for you.

These are real shoes!

Not that long ago, Sheena was in a thrift store and found some cute shoes for our daughter. And they're adorable.

When she was contemplating buying these shoes, she noticed they had a squeaker box in them. She tried to make noise with them but was unsuccessful. This led her to believe they didn't chatter.

So she bought them.

Turns out out daughter is pro at making them sing.

We shouldn't be loosing her in church again.

God in a Box

2011-01-25T06:59:00.000-08:00

There are some great stories that come out of the book of 1 Samuel. Because of this, the writings of Samuel have to be among some of my favourite of the Old Testament.

In chapter 4 we read of the Israelites going to war against the Philistines. After the first day of fighting they get humiliated. It's an absolute defeat. 4,000 Israelites die that day.

That's a bit embarassing.

So they come up with a new plan. It doesn't say who, but someone eventually shares their iedea: "Hey let's go get God."

So they bring the Chest of God, the Ark of the Covenant, a box that is God's seat in the meeting place.

This isn't any ordinary box. To say it is special is an understatement. In Numbers it's reported that Moses heard the voice of God speak to him from between the two angels on the top of the chest.

The Israelites cheer loudly when the ark enters their camp on the front lines of the battle. They whoop and holler so loudly it's as if God himself were walking through the camp.

The shouting is so loud the Philistines grow concerned. They begin to wonder what's going on and they learn that the God of the Israelites has joined them. This concerns them greatly. They resolve to fight harder for fear that they'll become the Israelites slaves if they don't.

Okay, I've got a question, so when they killed 4,000 Israelites in round one, were they not trying their hardest? They seem to be saying that they weren't giving it their all. At the very least they have more to give.

And they do, and they kill 30,000.

And the defeat is as surprising as it is troubiling. God was supposed to help them win. God was supposed to be there with them. Why did God let them loose when he was there fighting with them?

I can't blame the Israelites for wanting to have God join them in the fight. The books of Exodus, Numbers, Joshua, and Judges, all leading up to the time of Samuel, are full of stories where God helped them win battles. In those times God showed up, and often it says God delivered the victory. So why didn't God show up when he was with them?

Clearly God wasn't with them in the way they thought. They thought he was with, or even in, the box. He wasn't. Not that it was just an ordinary box, but it didn't have the magical powers they thought. Having the box didn't necessarily mean you had God.

You can't put God in a box and tote him around with you. You can't just pull that box out and begin showing God off.

And I can't help but wonder how often we do this. How often do we carry God around in a box so we can pull him out and show him off at our convienience and whim. Or how often do we keep him in a safe place where we can find him to get us out of a jam?

The box was God's. It was not God. And it did not contain God. God cannot be contained in a box.

An Open Letter to Cucumbers

2011-01-17T12:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Cucumbers:

Last night I sliced one of you for the sole purpose of using you as a cracker. It was amazing. You make an amazing delivery platform for cheese. Have you considered marketing yourselves along these lines?

Think about it. Everyone know's that you're great in sandwiches, or with dip, and some even like you plain, or with a bit of fresh ground salt and pepper. But as a substitute for crackers? That is revolutionary.

Why were you not on billboards when everyone was crazy with Atkins fever? A carb free cracker? Some would think no such thing exists. Oh, but they would be wrong. You, my long english friend, make for excellent crackers.

Or were you hoping to keep that a secret?

Regardless, I suggest a marketing campaign with the slogan: "The New Cracker!"

Think about it.

Stay tasty Cucumbers, stay tasty.

Been Readin'

2011-01-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

I hope you've all had a great start to 2011.

I spent much of the past few weeks reading. I read a book reminding readers that Jesus loves them, half a book on church history which I'll post a review of once finished, many reviews of guitar gear, some magazines, and a book on evangelism.

To be honest, much of what I've read has been long forgotten.

However, two things have stood out that are worth mentioning.

First, go read "And Now a Word From Our Sponsor" over at The Church of no People. Matt Appling writes an appeal for the Church to get back to creating great art. I especially love the line near the end: "What we're doing isn't cutting it... We need to spend some of that money that we spend on buildings and shows for ourselves, and hire real artist to help us communicate with people we don't know how to communicate with."

As you may know, or have guessed, I'm not an artist. I suck at art. No reasonable person would ask me to create beautiful artistic expressions of the gospel story. Yet, we live in a world that consumes visuals: a world where people speak through art. We need someone to communicate love, hope, grace, peace, and Jesus in a visually compelling way.

So let's get on that already.

Secondly, I finished up a book on evangelism by Matthew Paul Turner called "The Coffee House Gospel." I love Turner's writing. I read his blog often, and I have one other book of his on my shelf. I'm not a "crazy let's stalk him online and ready every word every written by him" kind of guy, but I enjoy his writing none the less.

If you read this book hoping to find a defense for your personal belief that a Grande a day will save your soul, you will be disappointed. If you read it hoping to become the world's most famous evangelist, you should know that this is not a how to book.

It's more of a, "Hey, did you know that when you talked to your neighbour about your mutual displeasure of waking up to a foot of snow needing to be shoveled off the driveway, you were creating future opportunities to share with them the hope you have of being saved from eternal damnation because you were building a relationship with them and are not hoping to one day say: 'Walking on snow is like walking on frozen water. Hey speaking of walking on water, my friend did that once. Maybe you've heard of him, his name is Jesus.'? " kind of book.

There are now many underlined sound bites in my copy of the book, and here's one I'd love to share with you:

"I've realized that sometimes I have found myself to be so cold towards non-Christians. Not that I'm mean to them, but I just simply don't feel the weight of the void in their lives."

I think this really jumped out at me for the simple reason that I've been a Christian as long as I remember. I remember being told as a kid that inside everyone's heart there is a God shaped hole. I don't have any idea what that means anymore. I mean, I know the concept, it's just not personal to me. I have no idea what it is like to feel a void that only Jesus can fill. I feel no void. And I don't know that I ever have.

Plus, given my incredibly lush Canadian lifestyle, I have no idea what it's like to have a void in my life, period. Like many people I avoid voids.* I struggle to relate to any concept of void. Yet, perhaps there are people who sense a void and just don't know how to put their finger on it. They can't name it and have to live in the discomfort that causes.

I'm speculating now.

I just don't know.

And that's why these words jumped out at me. Turner pointed out to me that perhaps I struggle to relate to my neighbours because they live with something I don't. He shares that he would pray for God to make him aware of what that feels like. I wonder if he still prays that way. I also wonder if I should be praying likewise. Perhaps it would be a greater motivator to reach across the fence.

This book was not only an encouragement to share my faith, but to also strike up conversations with strangers, because any conversation can become an opportunity to share the difference that Jesus makes in my life.

*And you read that right. I was not referencing this game or advertising campaign.

Dear Shirt Maker

2011-01-12T13:54:00.000-08:00

Dear Shirt Maker:

I'm sorry.

I saw your shirt, the one pictured here, and I immediately assumed you made a mistake. And then, as I was on the verge of making copious amounts of fun of your error, I thought I should perhaps look into things and I discovered that you, fine shirt maker, are not a failure but are, in fact, far more culturally sensitive to the country of Brazil than I.

I have known for years that the language of Brazil is Portuguese. But I did not know that in Portuguese Brazil is spelled with an "S," and therefore this shirt is far more supportive of all things Brazil than I realized.

And so, dear shirt maker, you have inspired me. I'm feeling compelled that, from this day forth, there is only one right way to spell Brasil.

So thank you shirt maker, for the lesson, the inspiration, and the covering for my hairy chest that I'm certain no one in Rio De Janeiro would ever wear.

Tuesday Tree Trimming Tradition

2010-12-23T13:56:00.000-08:00

Tuesday Night we trimmed our Christmas tree.

I think.

I have to admit that I'm not one hundred percent certain what this expression means.

Growing up I thought trimming the tree was what you did to get it into the house because dad came home with one that was too big.

Almost every time I use the word "trim" I'm talking about cutting something away.

As in, I trimmed my daughter's bangs.(1) Or, because it disgusts you so, I trimmed the hair on my big toe.(2)

In a related note, I thought trimming the turkey was what you did to fit it in the roasting pan.

As many of you know, and I recently learned, trimming can be cutting away and decorating: removing or increasing, subtracting or adding.(3)

Trim is like the Christmas version of Aloha -- only instead of hello and goodbye it means two other opposites at the same time.

Many have the Christmas tradition of trimming: either a tree, a turkey, a beard, or something else. Whether understood or not, Christmas is a time of tradition.

As my wife and I prepare to celebrate Christmas with our daughter for the second time, I've been thinking more about the traditions that we're passing on to her. Until this week I didn't think I had a lot of Christmas traditions. Then we started to decorate the tree and it wasn't done in the manner in which I like(4), and I realized that I may have more traditions than I thought.

Here are some other traditions I'm holding to: stockings, Birthday Cake(5), presents under the tree before Christmas Day(6), Christmas Eve service, and I think that's it.

But I wonder if there's an important tradition I'm missing. I know some people read the Christmas story together every year. Others always have Chinese food on Christmas eve, which sounds excellent. And lots of people have traditions I've never heard of.(7)

So, any suggestions of Christmas traditions we should consider incorporating into our celebration?

- - -
1. for her sake I've never actually done this.
2. now doesn't that sound like a rejected Seuss rhyme?
3. Oh how I wonder what is going through a mathematician's head right now as he ponders trimming.
4. Okay, here are the following ingredients necessary to decorate a tree properly: 1. a bowl of nuts and bolts, 2. Egg Nog, 3. A Christmas tree, 4. working mini lights, and 5. Festive Music
5. That's right, because it's my birthday. Now, I'm not too picky on what the cake looks like, it can be Christmas pudding with a candle in it, so long as it's birthday themed.
6. Because the fun in opening presents comes after days, or even weeks, of trying to figure out what they are. Then you get to see how often you were right, and there's score keeping, and the whole day turned into a competition. It is awesome.
7. No joke here, just wanted to achieve the perfect number of footnotes. Mission Accomplished.

Saving Milk for Daddy

2010-12-16T13:13:00.000-08:00

Saturday Sheena and Makiah flew to Vancouver Island. Sheena's brother is getting married in a couple days and Sheena wanted to go early and help with last minute prep.

Typically when Sheena goes away for a week I try and keep myself as busy as possible. It is during times like these that I tackle house projects that generally go over better when she isn't around. A typical week of her absence looks like 5 days of me destroying the house and two of me trying to put it all back together.

Last night I began the putting it all back together phase.

I began the reconstruction in the living room.

For some reason I keyed in on Makiah's toys as the place to start.

Here's a fun fact about my daughter. She loves milk.

She loves milk so much that she doesn't want to stop drinking to play. She will do as much as she possibly can with a milk cup in one hand.

Now, if that milk cup has chocolate in it, I believe her hand and the cup become fused together. I'm pretty sure that somehow flesh and plastic become one.

It get's kinda gross.

I'm also pretty sure that this caused her to begin walking when she did. After a few weeks of trying to crawl with a milk cup in one hand she gave that up and when vertical.

Often when she's drinking and playing she'll put her milk cup down for the few things that she needs two hands for. Usually when she does this she puts the cup somewhere safe: as in, somewhere where I won't pick it up and relocate it to the fridge. Somewhere like in her toy box.

I'm never surprised anymore when I ask her to get her milk cup and she pulls it out of the toy box, or the doll house, or from under the TV. That is how she rolls.

And so last night I began putting away her toys in the living room and made a discovery: six day old milk.

Given the browness in the cup I think it was chocolate.

I hope it was chocolate.

I have much more cleaning to do tonight and I'm a little anxious about what I shall discover as I go.

Now I'm quite certain that my daughter is not the only toddler to have done this. Where have you found nasty old milk or other food your kid was saving for later?

Dear P-trap

2010-12-14T22:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Sink P-trap:

Thank You!

I cannot say that emphatically enough.

Tonight you saved me from a world of emotional and physical hurt.

Normally I don't think all that highly of you. It's not that I think lowly of you, I simply give you little consideration except to chuckle at your name.

I understand the role you play as gatekeeper. You stand watch over the forgotten points of entry into my house. At night I deadbolt the doors and lock the windows. I never think to secure the pipes. Yet there you are keeping predators from entering my sanctuary. You enable me to sleep deeply, soundly, safely without ever wondering if I'll wake to the smell of sewer gas roaming my halls.

Yes, now and again I hear of water born pathogens such as snakes and alligators entering homes through the pipes, but that's not your fault, perhaps we humans haven't given you all the tools you need. You're a dip in a pipe, how much should we expect?

And so I must apologize for all the times I take you for granted.

Tonight you bailed me out big time. I will be forever grateful, for while I was washing my hands my ring fell off and slipped down the drain.

Now don't go blaming the drain. I know you two are at odds because of such issues. It isn't the drain's fault that the installer never provided the drain with the pop up top. The drain's only half installed so back off!

I take full responsibility for the ring washing away. You see it was a very hot day when Sheena and went ring shopping and my hands were swollen. Now on cold days, such as today, my fingers are so thin that it just pops right off.

And today as I saw my wedding ring disappear into the plumbing abyss, I was so thankful that you where there watching my back. The gatekeeper extraordinaire, standing tall, keeping predators from entering the house, and our most prized possessions from running away.

If it wasn't for you I'd be ring-less tonight.

I will, from this day forward, be singing your praises o mighty P-trap.

Gratefully Yours

Chris Miller

Music Videos

2010-12-01T12:51:00.000-08:00

When there's snow outside, such as there is in Kelowna today, it isn't all that difficult to think pleasantly of Christmas coming. It's seems to be coming fast, as if to say: "Ready or not, here I come." It is, after all, December 1st today.

This Friday is our Church's kickoff to the holiday season with our children presenting a Charlie Brown Christmas. Then Monday night is our youth Christmas dinner. Six days later our Church is having a Christmas dinner and before you know it Christmas eve is less than a week away.

It's a lot of Christmas celebration packed into a few days. If one isn't properly prepared they might be more of a Lucy and Less of a Linus.*

To help you prepare I thought I'd share with you a new Christmas music video from our friends** Coldplay. This video have everything: fireworks, violin playing Elvis', and a piano that plays itself.

Also, you may wish to head over to http://www.starbucks.com/share#/the-killers. and watch the music video there as five cents is donated for every play. Why not? The video is not only holiday themed, yo swell with anticipation in the last few seconds, and it's directed by the guy who did Napoleon Dynamite. That's what you call, win, win, win.

Enjoy

* Lucy, you might say, is kind of the Grinch in a pre-heart transformation sort of way, of A Charlie Brown Christmas, where as Linus is the Grinch in a post heart transformation sense. If you're still confused by this reference you should watch the film or join us Friday night at 6pm.

** Friend is used here in a very loose way. I have never met the fellows who make up Cold Play and have therefore not befriended them. They seem like friendly folks but there is no relationship between them and I, or even between them and someone I know. I am thus unable to even consider vicarious friendship with the members of this band.

Christmas Shopping

2010-11-30T11:12:00.000-08:00

Did you know that you can type "What should I get my wife for Christmas?" into a Google search and get a ton of responses?

It's true.

Out of frustration, because I have a horrible Christmas shopping track record, I mound myself turning to Google for help this year.

In years past I've gone the whole rout of trying to listen to Sheena's "hints" about what she wants for Christmas. Then Christmas day would roll around and it would be revealed that I failed miserably at deciphering what she wanted. "What do you mean you don't want four boxes of that tea? Were you hoping for five?"

This year, at first, I took a new approach. I developed an ingenious way of getting the answers I wanted. I formed a question so brilliant, so simple, so perfect that the most amazing Christmas list ever would be developed. I knew that these seven words were going to deliver the best Christmas presents ever: "Sheena, what do you want for Christmas?"

It's brilliant isn't it?

Here's what I got in response:

- A perfect daughter.

At first I thought, Sweet, I'm done. But then I grew unsettled.

I wasn't as satisfied with the answer to my question as I hoped. Oh sure, there was also some nonsense in there about a sowing machine (way over our spending limit) and something about a pillow.

A pillow?

Here's why Sheena is not going to be getting a pillow from me for Christmas: For the past two years she's be in pursuit of "the perfect pillow." We have a room full of pillows as a result of her vain efforts. I imagine that she could Frankenstein a pillow together of all the parts of the worthless pillows that she has "invested" in. Pillow shopping has become something of a hobby for her--right along with pillow complaining four days later.

I don't believe that my efforts will change things so I'm moving on.

And without her help I turned to the internet.

So you can Google "What should I get my wife for Christmas?" but I'm warning you, the answers there aren't very helpful either. You get the male responses (flowers, bath stuff, spa package) which some women might like, but mostly you get women weighing in on how your wife really needs a new husband: perhaps one who doesn't turn to the internet for help in shopping for her.

So then I made two lists. The first is of all the stuff I know she does not like: bath stuff topped that list pretty easily.

The second list was all the stuff I want. This list proved very helpful. Do you remember that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza made all his decisions by thinking of what he would normally do and then doing the opposite? I basically looked at the list of what I wanted and then bought the opposite.

I'll let you know how that works out.

Accented Sermon Prep

2010-11-16T09:52:00.000-08:00

This Sunday I'll be preaching and so I'm surrounded by a good pile of books and a whole lot of thoughts.

But unlike most weeks, I'm a bit apprehensive about this one.

Here's the deal: every time I think through something before writing it down, the voice in my head speaking the thought has a Northern Irish accent.

What does this mean?

And so naturally I'm a bit concerned that come Sunday I'll run on the platform and deliver this sermon in a foreign accent. While I have nothing against speaking in an accent I can't help but think that the congregation will be very lost.

Banff

2010-11-10T16:50:00.000-08:00

Sheena and I spent last weekend in Banff, Alberta.

We were at a conference for pastors.

We had a good time.

Thank You.

- - -

Did you ever write reports like that?

The above is all true, and now I'm working through how to report what happened to the church board who paid for Sheena and I to attend. We had a great time. But that should be a given considering the two major factors in the weekend. 1. It was in Banff* 2. It was all paid for by the church.

In school I probably wrote reports similar to the first three lines of this post. Simple. To the point. Reports.

That may be fine when you're six, but at 31 people expect more.

Also, I expect more.

So here are some of the highlights:

We considered every imaginable way to get to Banff except the train and bus.** So basically we considered driving and flying. We decided we wanted to drive then considered a rental. In the end we took our car. And we're glad we did. It was a wonderful drive. It was supposed to take six and a half hours. I got there in a speedy seven.

We often fantasize about living and pastoring in a small town. Now we've heard stories about having to drive 45 minutes for milk and have a greater appreciation for where we live.

Thank you Tony Roma's buffet, I gained three pounds: three pounds of meat and animal fat. Tasty.

Makiah had a holiday of her own at Chez Bessy. Friends took her in so we could talk about other things than "the potty," "ray-rays" and "eeze." While we didn't miss Makiah as much as we thought, we still talked about potties and ray-rays. And while she was excited to see us when we got home, when I dropped her off there today because Sheena and I are both working, she got super excited to be back.

The weekend provided us, relative newbies to the NAB, with better insight into what's going in the our conference of churches. We now have some faces to the names, and a better understanding of where things are.

And finally, the sessions were short, to the point, meaningful, and few. All that translates into a lot of free time to hang out with Sheena, poke in shops, and soak in the hot springs. It was great.

* If you've never been to Banff this might not be obvious. Here are some things you should know: it's gorgeous, even without a car you can see great sights, it's a wonderful place to relax, there are several incredible candy shops.

** Seriously, who considers the bus? I mean, when was the last time you heard someone say: "So I'm taking the buss..." and thought wow, I bet they'll enjoy that trip, get there refreshed, and have a lovely journey. No, you're thinking really? the bus? are they that broke? were the flights all full? can I loan them my car? I sure hope they don't get stabbed.

Change Your Church for Good by Brad Powell

2010-11-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

In Change Your Church for Good Brad Powell gets to the point quick:

"I believe that the church is the hope of the world...when it's working right. And therein lies the problem. Most aren't!" (page 20)

From there, He goes about sharing encouragements, strategies, and lessons learned the hard way from his years of pastoring. This wasn't written only for pastors, elders and deacons. It's a book written for all believers who desire to see their neighbours come to a faith in Christ, as Brad points out on page 53, "If you're a believer, God has given you the responsibility to make sure the church is working right. It doesn't matter who or what you are in church--(pastor, volunteer, staff, leader attendee, nonattendee)--God's holding you responsible."

As a pastor I was hesitant at first to pick this book up. I wasn't hesitant because I didn't want the church to be more effective, because I really desire it to be more effective, but because I would hate for someone to see it and draw the wrong conclusions about the book and myself based on the title alone.

Let's be honest, there are too many books out there claiming to change, or fix, whatever you feel you need changed. You want to change your husband? Oh, there are books on that. How about changing your kids, or your boss? Yep, there are books for that too.

But issues with the title aside, the gem of the book is that Brad Powell's love for the church shines through. On every page I got the sense that he writes from a deep desire to see the Church please God and live up to its purpose of making disciples.

I didn't always agree one hundred percent with what was written, but I think that's partly because I suspect the church where I minister doesn't have the same issues as the one written about.

In all, it was a great read, one that took longer than expected because there is a lot in there to wrestle with. As a pastoral staff we are now reading through it together.

I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze.com <http://BookSneeze.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Phone Pics

2010-11-03T12:07:00.000-07:00

For being a low quality camera, the camera in our phone captures some pretty great moments. I thought I'd share a few today.

Here's Makiah learning to shop by following the example of her mother.

And here she is, last night, at her very first hockey game. While she didn't watch the puck all that much, there was plenty of action for her to check out. Of course during the game all I could think of was something I read earlier in the day from Owl Cit's blog. He recently posted The Top Ten Ridiculously Cool Advantages of Being a Hockey Goaltender. I recommend checking that out.

And I found this on our holiday in Oregon. I don't know why a picture of Jesus is in the fantasy section. I think this demonstrates the difficulty people have with categorizing Jesus. Or someone is trying to be funny.

DCB Music Video

2010-10-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

I was delighted to watch this music video this week

*Spoiler Alert* it is recommended that you watch the above video before reading the following:

I have some questions about this video. Now, I'm quite certain that no one from David Crowder Band will ever be reading this, but I'm posing them here because I fantasize that they will.

Dear DCB:

First, thank you.

Thank you for the delightful whimsy. Thank you for taking me back to a time when life was good: when sitting, putting pegs into a lamp that would damage my retinas, was an afternoon well spent.

Thank you for demonstrating that low tech can be high tech.

And thank you for reminding me how much I suck at Lite-Brite.

But why?

I get the Lite-Brite. That is not my issue.

Why do you insist on playing with my emotions?

Why did you do that to me? Why did you cause me to fall in love with the characters, with this relationship? Why did I root them on as their love grew? Why did I cheer when they got married?

And why did I feel crushed when the green line goes flat?

Why did I empathize so much with a character created only from Lite-Brite pegs?

Why did you use a symbol of innocence, a child's toy, to remind me of pain of this world?

Why?

I'll probably never be able to look at Lite-Brite the same way again.

Dear Sweden

2010-10-21T11:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Sweden:

Really???

the image is originally found here on this is why you're fat.

120 Years

2010-10-21T11:48:00.000-07:00

I was reading a book today.

The chapter I was reading begins with the following quote:

It is not scientific doubt, not atheism, not pantheism, not agnosticism, that in our day and in this land is likely to quench the light of the gospel. It is a proud, sensuous, selfish, luxurious, church-going, hollow-hearted prosperity.(1)

My first thought, upon reading those words, is of the remarkable truth they speak. This is often my experience: I don't often see science, or atheism, or pantheism or agnosticism attacking the church all that much. Most often the detractors to faith are self-fulfillment. People today are hesitant to seek God because they don't need God. Even people in the church seem to be meeting all their own needs instead of looking to God for help.

I thought this quote, because it spoke so plainly of today's North America church, must be recent. Turns out it's not. Unless there is a typo in the book's citation, the quote is from 1890. Crazy that for 120 years the issues have been much the same.

I wonder why this is so.

The chapter goes on to deal with our lukewarmness. As in, our response to Jesus is often more lukewarm than we realize. It's as if we're not fully buying in to the words Jesus has for his followers.

It's as if we're not taking Jesus at his word.

A few minutes later I was reading John 4 when these words jumped off the page at me:

The man took Jesus at his word and departed.

(John 4:50b)

Because this guy "took Jesus at his word" amazing things happened in his life: his son, who was on the verge of dying, lived.

That is incredible.

I can't help but think that if we took Jesus more literally we'd see incredible things too: the dying would live. Churches would be filled with people who don't see God as another thing to have* but as their source of life.

And so I pose this question: What words of Jesus do we need to be taking more literally?

- - -

(1) Frederic D. Huntington, Forum magazine, 1890. Cited in Francis Chan, Crazy Love, p. 65 David C. Cook, Colorado Springs, 2008

* Got Jesus?

New Haircut?

2010-10-14T13:35:00.000-07:00

Tuesday I saw this here video

Wednesday, I got a haircut.

The whole time I was in the chair it was running in my head.

No I did not get a bowl cut.

Yes, despite trying a different place the result was the same.

I suggested to Sheena that perhaps I need to try a new style: one that would be easier to reproduce on my noggin'.

She said that guys my age do not just go out and get a new style.

That being said, maybe next time I'll just get a bowl cut.

Dreams V Nightmares

2010-10-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that what might be just a dream for you, would be a nightmare for someone else?

The other day Sheena was telling me about a dream she had the night before. The dream involved a wedding she went to in the summer. It was a friend's wedding. There were some similarities between the dream wedding and the real wedding. Most notably, the bride was the same.

However, in the dream version, the bride and her bridesmaids were posing for photos before the ceremony and some of the photos involved drinking the popular drink SOBE.*

That is, until tragedy struck.

Someone spilled the bride's drink all over her dress.

The drink left a stain all down one side and was most noticeable near the bottom of the dress. That is where most of the drink splashed. Sheena explained that the stain was quite large, and a brownish colour. This leads me to believe they were most likely drinking the "Honey Green Tea" flavour: which is an excellent choice.

Anyways, Sheena stepped in to help with the situation but besides buying an incredible amount of Tide-to-go pens there was not much she could offer.

And that was when I woke Sheena up abruptly ending her dream.

As you can tell, it was one of those funny, weird little dreams that seem to mean nothing. There was no psychological impact on Sheena. She woke happy except for the fact that she wanted to know how it ended.

It struck me as funny that for Sheena this was just a dream. If something like this happened on the morning of our wedding it would have been a nightmare. I'm sure if the bride from the dream had dreamt the same thing, she would have been horrified and ensured the wedding would be a beverage free environment.

I guess what is "just a dream" for one person could be a horrifying nightmare for another.

*I'm not sure why Sobe was featured so prominently in my wife's dream. I do not believe that any portion of the dream or actually wedding was sponsored by the brand.

Wanna Hear Me?

2010-10-07T15:22:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning I had the opportunity to preach in the Sunday morning service.

I thought I'd pass along the link to our church's website where you can listen to it for yourself.

"Heading Home"

What To Expect In A Youth Conference Foyer

2010-10-05T12:10:00.000-07:00

On Friday evening I was walking into a church auditorium for a youth conference that was about to begin. We had three students from our ministry with us, but they had scattered looking for people they knew and a spot much closer to the front.

Makiah was with us.

What can I say, she's a hardcore 18month old rocker. She loves music and we were quite confident that the worship band was going to bring it*: an experience that she would love.**

So, we're about to walk into the auditorium, but were still in the buzz that is a conference venue foyer. You know, you've got colleges, missions agencies, child sponsorship programs, and band merchandise tables all competing for the attention of the teens who have cash to spend.*** You mix all that testosterone infused competition, with the buzz of students who have just been shooting back 5 hour energy drinks on the bus ride over, and add a tsunami of Axe Body spray and you've got the typical youth conference venue foyer.

Our heads were buzzing a little bit. Do we go right in? Do we want to pause and check out a booth or two? I forgot a pen, do you think anyone will give me one? Do any of the colleges have an iPad I can play with? If I stop here is that guy going to talk at me for 20 minutes about the awesomeness of their ministry in Timbucktwozistan, while I think about how I could have read all this in 30 seconds off their website, and wonder if that school over there has an iPad I could be looking this up on?

There is much to consider in a conference venue foyer.

And as we were walking towards the auditorium door, someone was grabbing my hand, to shake it and greet me.

A bit weird.

But awesome.

It was a guy I met five years ago in Northern Ireland, and hadn't seen in four.

We were able to chat a bit here and there over the course of the weekend. Catching up and hearing what God was doing in each of our lives.

It was wonderful.

Wonderful because it was such a picture of how the family of God is supposed to be. Brothers who can chat after four years of separation as if nothing and everything has changed.

We've both been through a lot in four years. Which is exciting. All the more exciting when you get to see similarities between the stories and share in the faithfulness and awesomeness of our God.

It was the highlight of my weekend. Right up there with my daughter dancing in my arms to the music.

Also had the opportunity to preach in church Sunday morning. Check back later and I'll post a link to hear the sermon online.

* They did

** She did. And I have to admit to a certain sense of awesomeness for getting my kid into such great concerts. She might as well experience as many as she can while she's free.

*** And I'm sorry, but colleges, when you're over there in the corner saying: "hey come chat with me, I have candy." You come across a little creepy. And no one is excited by pens anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm excited by pens. But guess what: I graduated from college 10 years ago. I'm not your target audience. Your target audience doesn't use pens anymore. Just a few tips. By the way, thank you for the pens.

September 30

2010-09-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

I'm up early this morning with an incredible pile of things to do.

I have a coffee house with youth tonight to finish preparing for, and a sermon to write.

I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I need to share something with whoever will read it.

Four years ago today, I woke early, drove to Starbucks, drove to a house, met up with a bunch of guys, we put tuxedos on, had some pictures taken, then headed to a church where Sheena and I would become husband and wife.

Sometimes I can't believe all the incredible things Sheena and I have been a part of in the past four years. As great as our wedding day was, we've had greater days.* And I'm pretty certain that even better days are ahead, as we walk together wherever God leads.

Sheena, it's an honour to be married, and best friends, with someone who cares so deeply for me. You deserve much more than simple comments on the internet. Maybe I'll sing a sappy song about you tonight at the coffee house.

Sound good?

*maybe Sheena would disagree with me on that one. But then I'd remind her of the day Makiah was born (and nine months of nausea ended creating the double whammy of awesomeness), and I think she'd have to agree with me.

High Calorie

2010-09-20T13:33:00.000-07:00

We love our daughter.

We think she's brilliant.

Out of the blue Sheena asked her to put something in the garbage and she did it quickly and percisly. And without formal training.

She's just that good.

She's not perfect though. We're aware of that.

We're currently enjoying a few days away down the Oregon coast. We took her to the aquariam today. She loves animals. And sure enough you'd think someone threw a giddy switch when she saw the sea lions swiming around. She went nuts. And we couldn't tear her away from the sea otters--which we tried, unsucessfully, for 45 minutes to convince her weren't puppies.

She still thinks sea otters are puppies.

I'm somehow holding her uncle Jason accountable for that.

Today we're in Newport Oregon.

Here's a few things I've leaned from our travels today.

1. Not every place called "South Beach" is glamorous.

2. If you need a sword* this is the place to come. I've seen more swords than people today.

3. If you take delicious clam chowder and add baby shrimp and tons of cheese you will create a very delicious dish, which I'm pretty sure has nearly my daily allotment of calories.

*and really, who doesn't need one?

Dear Makiah

2010-09-16T11:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Makiah:

It's time I made a confession: we were laughing at you the other night when you ran into the couch at full speed while trying to make it to the bathroom.

We fully understand that the delay with the couch made it impossible for you to make it to the toilet on time.

You should know that we are very proud of you.

I hope that one day you will be able to admit how funny the situation was. Sometimes I wonder if you do funny stuff like that on purpose. I recognise this probably wasn't one of those situations.

You should know that we will probably laugh if it ever happens again.

Oh, and while I'm at it, I'm also very sorry for all the horrible outfits I put you in. I'll try and delete all the pictures.

Don't Worry Be Happy

2010-09-16T10:03:00.000-07:00

For better or for worse, my ringtone for the past seven years have been predominantly the song "Don't Worry Be Happy."

Why?

It was cheap, and I purchased it in a moment when I was all caught up in nostalgia.

Last night I wanted an new ring tone and ended up buying a whole new phone.

Okay, so that's not how it went. I've previously written about our old cell phone. Here's a picture of it:

It's far from pretty, but it worked in its own temperamental and quirky sort of way.

We've moved on to another phone. One with a camera (the photo above was taken with it), an Mp3 player, and most importantly a keyboard so we can get all into the texting. Turns out we can now text anyone in the world for free. I'm actually keen to test this. Shoot me a note with your phone number and maybe I'll text you. Actually, the most important feature is probably the internal antenna. We had to super glue Flippy McFlipperson's on three times in the past month.

Our new phone is also quite pretty. Want to see a picture. Well, you can't, Flippy doesn't take pictures.

But if you see Sheena she'll probably let you see it and more than likely let you hold it for her for a while. She's already made a couple comments about the size.

I should say that the motivation behind the switch is to better communicate with people: especially the younger crowd who are frequently doing the texting. After our event Monday night Sheena became convinced that I needed a better phone to be better equipped to do my job. I'm trying not to treat it like a toy, but rather a ministry tool since that increases its holiness.*

But now we need a new ringtone. We've considered a few options and are weighing the pros and cons of each.

I can tell you right now that it won't be Taio Cruz's song Dynamite. I do enjoy air travel from time to time and I would hate for the words "We gon' light it up, like it's dynamite" to be heard coming from my phone while I'm in an airport.

So, any ringtone suggestions for us. What songs make for a good ring tone? Or is the boring old ringer best? What do you think? And is it acceptable to get my wife a Bluetooth for her birthday?

*are ministry tools tithe deductible?

Impossible Gifts

2010-09-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel as if it is impossible to give Sheena a good gift.

I get feeling this way because of my gift giving history. Consider the following:

For a "just because" gift I got her the first two seasons of The Big Bang Theory. Turns out if you use a gift more than the recipient of said gift, it wasn't really for them. That didn't count.

For mother's day I gave her a cookbook. Well actually, our one year old gave it to her. I really thought she would like it. turns out that also was more for me. Oh, and she hasn't used it yet.

One year for Christmas I gave her what I thought was a one year supply of a tea she really likes. We still have four boxes in our cupboard.

That was four years ago.

In the next two weeks I'll be giving her two gifts: a birthday gift Sunday and an anniversary gift at the end of the month.

Suggestions are gladly accepted.

But mostly I'm curious, what is the worst gift you've ever given?

We started looking at impossibilities with our youth on the weekend. But I'm not so certain this is a spiritual matter. I mean, Paul said: "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:13)

I don't think shopping was what Paul had in mind.

This evening I'll be at the mall trying to figure some things out. Trying to see if I can do better than a wallet full of gift cards. Wait a minute, that's maybe not such a bad idea.

Oh, and I got the green light on a new phone. That's right it's time. More about that later.

Why Churches Probably Shouldn't Have that 3rd Balcony

2010-09-01T15:44:00.000-07:00

As a pastor who occasionally preaches, I go back and forth between a couple thoughts on sermon length. Part of me thinks that length shouldn't matter. Not too many of us put a roast in the oven before leaving for church anymore. For that matter, how many of us cook a roast at all? Yes, lives are busy, but what's the likelihood of a house burning down if I preach too long? Probably pretty slim. And how amazing is it for a sermon to be forty minutes but only feel like twenty? Some of the greatest sermons I'v heard have been long. And when the topic, or the presentation is gripping, time fades away. The important thing is to communicate everything that God is prompting preachers to share.

But maybe I'm trying to say too much. Sometimes I wonder if I'm guilty of padding sermons, or trying to say things just for the sake of saying them. Which leads me to a common philosophy that everything worth saying can be said in twenty minutes. I'm sure there's a reason sitcoms are only 22 minutes. I think we've been conditioned to accept that a story can be told in twenty minutes. That a truth can be effectively communicated in three seven minute segments.

So, do I cut it down or preach on?

I don't think the apostle Paul wrestled with this one bit.

In acts 20 there is an event in the life of Paul that many are probably familiar with.

But if you're not, I'll summarize it here. But you can read it for yourself in Acts 20:7-12

It's Sunday, time for church, and the church was meeting for worship, and specifically to celebrate the what we call communion. In the evening. Okay, this is important. Previously in the book, Luke has spoken of a daily gathering of Christians. But this seems like something more. And its' the first day: Sunday. Somewhere the big day to gather has shifted from the very Jewish last day of the week, to the first day. And it's evening. The most likely reason for an evening gathering is that the Christians would have had to work during the day. They met to worship at a time when people were available. they accepted that work was a necessity and gathering important so they worked it out.

And who would want to miss Paul. Paul is there, in Troas, and he was planning to share with the church that day. In our context this was like a missionary coming to speak in church Sunday morning. My experience with missionary Sundays has usually been a longer than normal sermon, with pictures of the people they work with, in a country and culture very different than my own. Usually the topic, scripture passage, and sometimes the points, are the same as other missionaries. I almost never expect to hear something new.

I don't know what this church expected to hear from Paul. He would not have had slides, but he certainly had stories. I bet they were captivating.

I wonder what a typical service length was in that day. Were people usually home for the afternoon? Would people put a roast in the oven so that it was ready for lunch? If they had roasts in the oven they would have been charred. Paul was on the clock, but a different one. His ship was leaving port the next day and he had much to share.

I wonder what I would share if I was leaving the next day. How long would I preach if it were my last sermon? And what if the people in the chair on Sunday were to never hear from me again?

I find verse 8 very interesting: "there were many lamps in the upstairs room where we were meeting."

The meeting room was well lit. Perhaps even unusually well lit.

Have you ever walked into a church's meeting place, looked up, and thought: "Wow, that's a lot of lights! I wonder if they make full use of them."

Now a days, many churches use some sort of thematic lighting for their services. For us, on a typical Sunday we'll dim the lights for a video then it's full on for everything else. We keep it simple.

I read today that the rise of the Sunday evening church service was tied to churches being the only place in town with lights. Once it got dark, in the evening, there was nothing else to do. So people went to church because the church had light bulbs. I guess that's a good reason to go to church. "Hey Martha, let's go down to the church and seem them light bulbs I keep hearing about."

I don't know if that's true or not. The author didn't site any sources, and I don't see GE bragging about their role in the development of evening worship.

And Luke thinks it's worth mentioning the lighting.

That's like saying, they were able to meet so they kept on meeting. They had the resources. I imagine that lamp oil was pricey, and candles weren't cheap, but the room was well lit. They could see, therefore they could gather.

The provisions were met.

I wonder if we really think about the provisions necessary for our worship gatherings. We flip a few switches and have at er. I think it was a bigger deal to meet back then. Plus, when we read verse nine I get the impression that window sills were viable seating options because there wasn't a whole lot of space.

The room was probably packed because of Paul's notoriety. And a young man named Eutychus was enjoying the sill. I don't know why Luke points out that he was young. But I'm glad he does. Actually I'm very grateful for this whole story. Here we have a young man falling asleep in church. It can happen to the best of us.

My wife nearly fell asleep in church a couple weeks back while I was preaching. She had worked all through the night and was staying up so that she could support me as I spoke. It's not easy going 30 hours without sleep. I'm glad that she didn't actually fall asleep but only succumbed to a few head bobs.

I'm even more grateful that she wasn't in a third story balcony.

Because that's how high Eutychus was.

Only he wasn't merely bobbing. He was in a "deep sleep." He was REMing. He was sawing logs. He was in snoozeville, population Eutychus.

He was out on the branch and it broke.

And down came young Euty, cradle and all.

And they found him outside on the ground: dead.

I hope no one ever dies during one of my sermons. Yepp, definitely could go a lifetime without that happening. And partly, okay this is going to sound selfish but oh well, partly it's because I don't want to be labeled "Pastor Death" or "The Preacher of Darkness." And I don't want to be the guy referenced in all the "Hey did you hear about the pastor that bored his congregation to death?" jokes. Quite frankly, I just don't want that reputation.

Don't get me wrong, I really hope that no one dies during a sermon period. It's not like I'm hoping it will happen to someone else.

I just REALLY don't want to be the guy on stage if it does.

And party that's because I don't think I'd handle it well.

Paul, however, handles it awesomely.

He seems so calm. Almost like he's seen it before.

He walks down stairs, gives the guy a big hug, and says: "Don't be alarmed, He's alive!"

Then Paul goes back upstairs, has a snack (this isn't communion but another serving of food), finishes his sermon (which went through the night) and then hops on that ship to Mitylene.

That is the most awesome missionary exit of all time.

When was the last time you heard of a missionary pulling an all-nighter, raising a guy from the dead, preaching all he had, having a snack and then leaving town.

Paul's hard core that way.

Except that, he doesn't hop on the ship.

No doubt the night was exhausting.

You'd think that he'd want to find a spot on the boat and take a nap, but he doesn't. He goes for a walk. His companions get on the boat right away. But he goes for a 20 mile walk first, to the next town, where he boards the ship.

After a night like that I'd want some rest, Paul goes for a hike. We don't exactly know why. Maybe to pray alone, maybe to clear his head, maybe to get some air, maybe to think or write another sermon. We just don't know. But he had a reason. It was prearranged.

And because of all this the church felt comforted.

They didn't become there church were Eutychus died. They didn't see themselves as having little. They didn't see hardship.

They were the church where Paul invested, where Eutychus lives. They saw God's presence and power. They knew that the apostles cared about them. They knew more of how much God loved them. They had the ability to meet. They had celebrated the Lord's Supper together. They had a lot of reasons to feel comforted. It was a church with a lot going on.

I'm not about to use this story as an excuse to speak for hours on end, but it is encouraging to me to set my priorities on the right things. The first of which is being thankful that we get to meet on a regular basis with people who love God, are knowledgeable of the scriptures, and are passionate for making Jesus known. And our church is so well equipped to meet, to share the gospel, to reach the lost. And we've got lights a plenty.

I wonder what the neighbours would have thought when they saw the lights on at 3am. I bet that was a testimony to them.

I think there's a few lessons for us from that church. And a few ways we can be comforted, just like them.

More From Acts 19

2010-08-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

If the whole dirty rags part of Acts 19 wasn't really your thing, then get ready, because Acts 19 is about to get weird--well, weirder.

I've never been beaten up.

The closest I have ever come was when two guys in college chased me around campus* then tackled me and began giving me the tickling of a life time, which, for some reason, including patting my belly.

This happened repeatedly.

I'm still recovering.

Like many things, my expertise in the realm of beat downs is limited to what I've learned from watching television.

So naturally, I like to think that I know the ins and outs of getting smacked around.

This is because I like to think that watching something on TV makes me an expert at it. That's why I attempt golf, try to solve complex physics problems on white boards, tell the quarterback who's open down field, think I'm the funniest man alive, and am considering trying to catch bullets with my teeth.

Now, on TV, when guys get smacked around it either ends very horribly for them, or very comically. We're about to read about one that ends rather comically.

Acts 19 says this:

Some Jews who went around driving out evil spirits tried to invoke the name of the Lord Jesus over those who were demon-possessed. They would say, "In the name of Jesus, whom Paul preaches, I command you to come out." Seven sons of Sceva, a Jewish chief priest, were doing this. One day, the evil spirit answered, them, "Jesus I know, and I know about Paul, but who are you?" Then the man who had the evil spirit jumped on them and over powered them all. He gave them such a beating that hey ran out of the house naked and bleeding. (Acts 19:13-16 NIV)

Let's break this down a bit and help you get the picture that's in my head.

Let's start with the seven. These were sons of a chief priest. We might call them Pastor's Kids. So here we go again with another story about pastor's kids gone wild. What are they up to now?

But I think these guys are actually trying to do some good. Okay, so maybe their motives weren't the most pure, we can't say for certain but it is possible they were trying to heal people in order to become famous. However, they were trying to do good. They were trying to drive out spirits. That is commendable.

Let's move on.

They just went about it wrong. They traded knowing God, for knowing God's name.

I can't help but think that their attempt at casting out a demons was something like trying to diffuse a bomb because you saw a guy do it once on TV.

And sure enough, this one guy, like a bomb when the wrong wire is cut, goes off on them.

I'd love to see a picture of what this one guy looked like. Was he a tiny guy, unintimidating, but with a whole lot of fury pent up inside of him? Or should they have known better because when Goliath says "I have no idea who you are" you better start running?

I hope he was a little pip squeak.

I hope they never saw the beating coming.

But then again, I love to root for the underdog. And in this case part of me is glad that the underdog won, even if he was demon-possessed.

Because what happens next seems really funny to me.

Then the man who had the evil spirit jumped on them and overpowered them all. He gave them such a beating that they ran out of the house naked and bleeding. (Acts 19:16 NIV)

One would think that the seven guys could handle the one.

How humiliating must that have been.

I bet when they told their buddies the story the guy had 13 demons.

And 33 inch biceps.

And absolutely repulsive b.o.

And horses instead of legs.

All so that he could balance on one of the horses legs while simultaneously kicking all seven brothers.

It would make sense for seven guys to be running through the street, bloody and naked, when a mob is after them. But there's just one guy. One guy severely annihilated the seven.

And that's kinda weird.

But what gets even more weird, and by that I mean abnormal, is that a demon speaks rather truthfully.

We're often told that Satan is a liar, which is true at times, so we would think that every word from one of his henchmen would also be a lie. But we have here a demon making plain an obvious truth. He's calling them out--calling out their hypocrisy.

And then teaches them a lesson.

But let up enough for them to get away.

And yes the guy had an evil spirit help him out.

But I think God was in the middle of it all.

He was, at the very least, aware of it.

I think it might be easy to pick on these brothers because they tried the run around on God. But God used the situation to build his church. Consider the results in verse 17 & 18:

When this became known to the Jews and Greeks living in Ephesus, they were all seized with fear, and the name of the Lord Jesus was held in high honor. Many of those who believed now came and openly confessed their evil deeds.

Here's how I see this:

We've got an opponent of God's work calling out some fakers, then a whole lot of truth breaks out.

The community stopped faking it.

Somehow the demon made sense of the situation before the chief priest's boys did. And once the truth is made known a whole lot of people begin fessing up.

The community stopped faking it.

Many of those who believed now came and openly confessed their evil deeds.

Maybe this was purely motivated by a desire to avoid future humiliation at the hands of evil spirits. But before the honesty there was a newfound reverence for the name of the Lord. And that makes me think that when their honesty was well intentioned.

They didn't want to fake it anymore.

They didn't want to fake a perfect life when in reality their lives were filled with evil deeds.

They didn't want to fake knowing God.

They didn't want to act like they knew God when really they only knew his name.

I wonder how often we go around faking knowing God.

To be honest it seems rather unspritual to have to admit that there is a whole lot about God I don't know--especially as a pastor. It would be easy to pretend to have God all figured out. And I wonder if that's why there is so much religious turmoil. Becuase we, as Christians, pretend to be experts in something we aren't. We pretend to think that God has a certain view or opinion on a matter when we can't say for certain: even though we speak very certainly about it.

Don't get me wrong, there is much we do know. I'm merely saying that maybe we don't know as much as we like to think.

I think there is so much of God that we don't know.

I need to admit that I'm not a God expert. I'm a God pursuer. My life is about getting to know God more and more each day. And that pursuit will take all of eternity.

I think we need to be more open about our lack of knowledge. More willing to say: "I have no idea what I'm doing even though I've seen it done on TV."

We need to stop faking it.

We need to pursue knowing God instead of only knowing his name. I know lots of names. That doesn't mean I know lots of people. There is a difference there that our society struggles with today.

It's bad enough to act like I know Paul when I don't. I don't want to make it worse by acting like I know Jesus when there is so much more to learn.

*it should probably be said that due to the small size of our college campus, I didn't have far to run. It was one building. I just wanted to say something more grand than, "chased me around the room."

Great Mental Imagery from Acts 19

2010-08-24T15:40:00.000-07:00

Acts 19 tells the events that happened in the city of Ephesus as the church there was being birthed. Some crazy stuff happens--stuff that I think would make most church goers uneasy. These events, spark some vivid images in my mind. The first one involves hankies.

I'm not a fan of the hanky, or handkerchief if you're all proper like that.

And here's why, I'm not the least bit interested in putting snot into my pocket. Disposable tissues exist for a reason. They are a quick easy delivery system transporting mucus from my nose to the garbage can, and ultimately the landfill where it belongs. Snot does not belong in my pocket. And neither does a hanky.

Now, when you have a baby you have to get used to snot.

Actually, snot is the easiest of baby "things" to get used to.

Yesterday my wife made mini ginger & carrot bran muffins. Our one year old loves them. She ate two this morning for breakfast.

This morning I had to deal with a very messy diaper.

And for some reason we avoid using disposable wipes.

I'm okay with the cloth diapers. Actually, I really like them. But the wipes issue is one I'm struggling with. I like to wipe and toss, not wipe, rinse, clean bathroom spattered with poopy splash water, toss in bin, wash bin contents, repeat.

I get the whole save money, save the planet approach.

But the planet is the least of my worries when my toes are soaked in water that ricocheted off of a poopy cloth.

There are some conveniences of our "disposable generation" that I like. Namely, disposing gross cloths whose sole purpose is to become soiled and then disposed of.

For that matter I don't reuse tissues either. Dirty them and dispose of them: that is their destiny.

This morning I was reading in Acts 19 and it seems some people found a good use for the apostle Paul's dirty handkerchief's.

consider these verses from Acts 19:

God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that even handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched him were taken to the sick and their illnesses were cured and the evil spirits left them. (Acts 19:11-12 NIV)

There is so much going on here to comment on.

Consider this, you have a rare time when a dirty hanky is curing illness instead of spreading it. Usually you'd see a dirty cloth and avoid it for fear of catching something. Here, a dirty cloth is used to cure an ailment: either spiritual, or physical, or both. Now, I'm not about to go looking through trash to find healing aids. But in Paul's day, people who had sick loved ones were desperate to find healing for them, even if it meant collecting Paul's trash, or offering him your handkerchief so that you could use it to later heal your brother.

But it's not just handkerchiefs. It's aprons too. Never has there been a better use for that tired, old, "kiss the cook" apron than this.

Now, I really appreciate it that Luke begins this wee story with the words: "God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that..."

Often the book of Acts is called "the Acts of the Apostles," but really, as Luke points out again and again, it's the Acts of God. God is the one doing the work here. God is the one doing the extraordinary miracles. God is the one healing.

And sometimes that healing comes through a touch, and sometimes it's through snot.

I think that if God were to begin doing extraordinary miracles through me I'd be too tempted to take credit. If my dirty tissues were healing people I'd begin gathering people around to sneeze on them. I'd probably even charge admission. But that's not what we see with Paul. God is given the credit.

And rightly so, God is doing the work.

I hope that I'm giving God enough credit.

Paul still had a job to do for God. God didn't need Paul to do it, but he blessed Paul's work.

By backing up a verse, to verse 10, we see that Paul spent two years living in a foreign city to spread the gospel message. Paul was working hard. As a result "all the Jews and Greeks who lived in the province heard the word of the Lord."

That's something.

But what is more, a few chapters earlier in the story Paul is prevented entirely from entering the province. He was eager to preach in Asia in chapter 16 but headed to Macedonia instead because he couldn't get in. Now he's in, has been in for a couple years, and is seeing much success.

God was up to something.

God was doing an incredible, "extraordinary" work.

I know I'm sometimes guilty of overlooking stuff. I can easily overlook what God can use. And I can easily overlook what God is doing.

I think God is up to a whole lot more than I give him credit for. And I hope that one day soon I'll have the eyes to see it. And most of all I hope that I don't discard that which he is most desiring to use for his glory--be it a person he desires to use who is in the process of transformation into something beautiful, or a dirty old rag.

And that reminds me: I have a bathroom to disinfect.

An Argument for Watching Golf

2010-08-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

I watched some golf this weekend.

Not a lot.

I mean, I had things to do.

But the golf was on the TV, and during the course of the weekend I watched with varring levels of concentrated focus.

I used to watch golf regularily. Watchng golf was as much a part of my sunday afternoon as napping.

Mostly because the two went hand in hand.

I learned that one could nap on the couch while watching golf. The body would rest and when the ears detected the faint sound of applause an eye could sleepily open, catch the replay, and then continue snoozing.

It was a great routine.

The routine is gone and that's okay. I would far rather spend an afternoon joyously playing with my daughter or doing pretty much anything with Sheena. Who, by the way, does not enjoy the watching of the golf.

Possibly the best argument for watching golf is this: A Golf broadcast is one of the most education programs on Television.

I mean, consider the lengths to which the commentators go to try and help me be a better golfer. They analyse every aspect of a great players game: stance, swing, posture, addressing the ball, focus, how to read a green, club selection, ball selection, laying up, routine, clothing selection, sponsors, everything.

I stop watching golf a better golfer.

And not because I went online and bought a new driver.

But because next time I'm teeing off, I'm thinking about what my hands are doing. Or because I'm thinking about what I'm doing with my feet, or where my head is looking, or which part of my body is crating the momentum.

I learn.

I become better.

It is certainly more educational than any other sports coverage. I don't learn how to have a more accurate slap shot from watching hockey. I don't learn to catch a ball from football. I don't learn to dunk from watching basketball. I don't learn to ride my bike watching the Tour de France.

I would love it if a baseball commentator walked through the steps of climbing the center field wall once.

But golf teaches you everything, including that if you wanted to become a pro you needed to pick the game up by the time you were 10.

And I watch a variety of programming: cooking shows, home renovation shows, game shows, news casts, sporting events, consumer education programming, auto shows, situation comedies, dramas, "reality" television, and anything featuring Hanson.

And yes, some of them are educational.

But American Idol doesn't try and help me become a better singer.

I can't learn to wire my home watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition.

And cooking shows have a lot of tips and techniques, but not to the extent of golf. Has a phrase anything like, "now, keep your feet shoulder width apart as you address the meat" ever been ever been uttered by the iron chef?

Not that I've heard.

Perhaps more shows could learn from the golf commentators and try and pick it up the educational factor a bit.

What sorts of shows do you find educational?

Bad Timing

2010-08-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

I've never had great timing with anything.

Keep that in mind.

Recently our pastor made a comment in a sermon that "you're usually angriest when you're wrong."

Sheena wasn't in church with me at that moment, and I began wondering if, and when, I should share this information with her.

That got me thinking. Besides the obvious answer, when they're hopping mad about being wronged, when is the worst time to tell someone, let's say your wife, that they're usually angriest when they're wrong.

Here's what I've come up with so far:

    - When they're yelling at the ref on TV, or from the stands, because he "made a bad call"

    - When I'm so wrong about something that it angers her

    - When they thought there was enough gas in the tank but are now stranded in the middle of no where

    - When you thought the cup holder would securely cradle the coffee but you forgot about the flailing foot of your toddler

    - When they thought the project would be a quick, easy, and cheap one and now wonders why there's no kitchen sink

    - When I look smug

    - When you're running in the downpour because a 20% chance of rain became 100%

- Any time faecal matter is involved

What do you think? When would be the worst possible moment to tell someone that they're angriest when they're wrong?

July

2010-08-11T09:36:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a month since I've written. This is a feeble attempt to explain why.

The past month was filled.

We packed a lot in.

We did some stuff, but God was doing more.

And I'm still trying to sort it all out.

Here's the thing, in the past month I've experienced some of the most incredible ministry highlights ever. Also, in the past month, I've been through some very difficult ministry challenges. Yes, you could say the most difficult ministry challenges.

Funny how often they go together.

I want to say that it's been a joy to go through both, but somehow that seems wrong. Can it be a joy to go through challenges? Can it be a joy to walk though hardships with others?

I think that while is sounds totally wrong to say, we are supposed to declare with joy everything that God is doing in our lives--including the difficulties and hard times.

In the past month I haven't had much to say.

I've tried to listen a lot.

I've tried to observe and be with people where they are at in life.

To sit.

To be present.

To be available.

To understand.

Although, I have little understanding.

I have asked questions but I'm still waiting for the answer.

All I can do is rejoice that God is doinging something in my life and in the lives of many people around me.

It doesn't make sense.

It will probably never make sense.

I'm coming to grips wtih that.

What seems to make sense is all the great things that have happened in the past month. Here are a few of them that I'm celebrating today:

- We ran a VBS for pre-school kids at our church. And lots of kids came. I mean, there were never fewer than 18 children between the ages of 2 and 5 running around our church those four days.

- It's hard to be having a bad day when you're having a Dance Party that praises Jesus with four-year-olds.

- I was part of an incredible group of 11 people (8 youth and 3 adults) who travelled to Port Hardy to partner with that church in their vision for reaching their community.

- In Port Hardy we saw over 70 kids come out to the camp we were helping put on.*

- God answered our prayer in regards to kids at the Port Hardy camp, and the answer was a surprise, not only in how many kids came, but because it revealed in ourselves a higher capacity than we imagined.

- We've seen God move hearts toward him.

- We continue to meet more people and make new friendships.

- And our daughter, Makiah, is now walking and it's so much fun to watch her "run" towards other kids, tackle them, and give them hugs and kisses. Also enjoyable, how often she smashes Sheena's and my head together for a kiss then joins in.**

One of the greatest joys has been being with Sheena through everything. She had a part in everything that has happened in the past month: the high and the low. She is amazing, and a big part of why this past month has been amazing.

And so today I wish to declare that this what what God has been doing in my life: great joy and great challenge.

Please be praying for our youth who have been learning a lot as well, our church, the church in Port Hardy, and the pastor there.

thank you

- - - -

*Okay, kinda funny story. All along we were planning for a camp of about 35-40 kids because that's what we had the year previous. Then, a week and a half before the trip I spoke with their pastor and he asked if we could handle 50. I thought about their building size, space issues, leadership, and sighed, "I think we could do that." Then we got to town and he said, "registration is up to 60 and there's a waiting list." By the end of the camp we had 72 kids come through. We never had more than 62 in a single day, and that was probably a good thing.

**Less enjoyable is how often her kisses involves her tongue hanging out. I don't know where she learns that from. I know she likes puppies, and I'm beginning to think she wants to be one.

VBS Next Week

2010-07-04T09:53:00.000-07:00

In the hours leading up to the kick off of a VBS I'm always a weird mix of excited, nervous, stressed, worshipful, and jittery and exhausted.

The jitters are really just from the high levels of caffeine in my body necessary because of the lack of sleep over the past two weeks. For some reason it's hard to sleep when the next days "to-do" list is much longer than the list of things accomplished that day. Eventually the VBS begins whether everything was accomplished or not. Often it's only little things that I think would make everything cooler that get missed. Well, they're only missed by me. Truthfully, given my track record to coolness, most people probably wouldn't find them all that cool anyway.

Usually the morning of the thrid day is the best day of VBS for me. Everyone's into a good routine and things are humming along. This is why two day VBS' just don't cut it for me. You miss the best day. The last day is never all that good, because it's the last day, and they are usually finale touches that I'm hoping work as well in real life as they should in my head.

Regardless, VBS begins tomorrow. I'm super excited, and typing fast because of the jitters. It's an awesome privilage to work with families and their children. One I'm trying to relish amidst all the things that are yet to be done.

Cell Phone Envy

2010-06-29T10:33:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning I walked to our church. On the way I passed one of the coolest things I've seen in a long time. I took a picture of it:

Wait, you don't see it?

Oh, that's because my phone doesn't have a camera. To take a picture with my phone you have to take your phone, dial your number so that you get your voice mail, then describe the scene with as much detail as possible. That's what I did. I took a picture, it's just a mental one. That's right, my phone takes mental pictures.

Does your phone do that?

The phone of every student in our youth group does.

And there are almost as many iPhones in our youth group as there are youth leaders.

And not a single youth leader has one.

I know youth pastors who do.

They're the cool kids at the youth leader get-togethers.

You can always spot the guys with the smart phones. They're fact checking the speaker on wikipedia. Then correcting the wikipedia entry if they think it's wrong too. They're chatting with students on facebook while at a "wilderness" retreat. At lunch, they're downloading all the videos and graphics the speaker just used so that they can give a talk next week they will say was "inspired" by the one they just heard. But really it's the same talk. And they have packed the smallest bag because everything they need is on their phone. You may think they have the Holy Book memorised but really there's an app for that.

I'm okay with youth pastors having better phones than I do. I've accepted that it will probably always be that way. But I'm having a little trouble accepting the new golden rule for youth pastors:

Thou shalt not covet thy ninth grader's iPhone.

It's becomming a tough rule to follow.

Three years ago, we'd go on youth trips and I'd pass my phone around so studetns could call their parents as we returned to town. This was helpful for parents timing student pickup. Now there is no need. Now students have texted, or called, or tweeted, "back in town, mom come pick me up" before I can even open my phone and offer it.

Okay, I've yet to have a student in our group do that last one, but it's coming: I feel it in my bones.

The rare student that doesn't have a phone of thier own is too embarrased to admit it to the group and even more embarrased to be cauth using my phone* for fear that somone might think it's theirs.

I love the idea of the junky car club. The idea of "living with less to give more" apeals to me on so many levels. In many ways that's how my wife and I live. However, there is no junky cell phone club. At least not one I could fine in the five seconds of searching I did on google with the search terms "junky phone club."**

I do not use a six year old cell phone because it's what Jesus would do.

I'm okay, and have accepted, my lack of coolness. Consider the points I make in this post or this one. It surprises me how much I consider my uncoolness. I'm okay with a six year old phone: it gets the job done for the most part.

This morning I'm wondering if my lack of technology tells others that I'm not prepared to live in today's world. You won't get a text from me. You will not find me driving with a bluetooth. And I will never be updating my facebook status while away from a desk. Why? Because my phone doesn't do any of those things.

So, hopefuly people can relate to me even if I didn't get what they tweeted five seconds ago. And hopefully we can connect even if I don't answer my phone while I'm driving. And hopefully you're okay with me calling you back.

And hopefully this isn't about cell phone envy. But sometimes it feels like it is. However, I'm not about to get a new phone anytime soon.

* I almost referred to it as antiquated technology, but it's not even up to those standards. I'm considering launching a series of "your moma" style jokes about my phone. Consider this, my first offering: My phone is so out of date that razor phones make fun of it. My phone is so out of date it drops more calls than the new iPhone. My phone is so out of date today's youth don't even know how to use it. My phone is so out of date there's a rotary dial. Feel free to add more in the comments section.

** I did, however, find a forum called "Jetta Junkies." I assume it's for people who love the Volkswagen Jetta, but I did not investigate further.

Naming Stuff

2010-06-25T10:00:00.000-07:00

I remember a day in a middle school music class when we had to create a "new" instrument, and then bring it to class and play if for everyone.

I don't remember my exact score only that I did poorly on the assignment.

Probably the worst part of my project was the name. Despite having built what was essentially a four-year-old's rendition of a guitar, I came up with the worst name in the class. I'm pretty sure that's why I did poorly, because I'm almost certain now that you will never score well when the word "thingy" is in the title.

I would not have done well as Adam.

Genesis 2:19, "Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the field and all the birds of the air. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name."

Genesis 2:22-23, "Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, 'This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, for she was taken out of man.'"

Genesis 3:20, "Adam named his wife Eve, because she would become the mother of all the living."

Reading these verses your first thoguth might be that the smartest thing Adam ever did was rename his wife. "Eve" sure sounds like an upgrade from "Woman."

But this morning I was pondering this, and reflecting on my struggles with naming things such as "the stringed thingy," and wondering what life would be like if every guy had to give his wife her name. I don't think I would have come up with Sheena. I don't think she would like what I would come up with.

Naming things is a daunting task.

Naming things requires great levels of creativity.

We see in Genesis God placing man in the midst of all that God had created. God then enlisted Him to care for the creation and put language to what God had made.

We often use the word "stewardship" to refer to the act of being trusted to care for what is God's. And it seems that stewardship requires a great deal of creativity. Somewhere, within the act of stewardship, is the need to create: whether it's a method, or a system or a name, or a space or whatever. We can't be good stewards without employing thought and creativity.

Thankfully, I was never charged with naming my wife. And she's more thankful than I. But I was involved with naming our daughter, and hopefully one day I'll be called on to help name another child. Naming what God creates is an honour that I hope we never take lightly. It's one of the first acts of stewardship and caring for what is the Lord's.

Metaphor Shirt

2010-06-23T10:00:00.000-07:00

Last week, while on holidays in Alberta, my family and I went shopping at a mall.

The mall had a few outlet stores.

One of those outlet stores had a shirt I liked.

The shirt, which regularly goes for $60 was only $9.95.

I have a spending limit of $10 per shirt.

I tried on the shirt.

It fit nice.

I liked it even more.

I bought the shirt as fast as I possibly could.

I did not inspect the shirt.

Sunday I ironed the shirt so that I could wear it to church.

While ironing, I learned the back of the shirt has a flaw.

A major one.

I now call the shirt my metaphor shirt.

I call it that partly because I like to name my clothes* and partly because of the following:

Had I noted the flaw in the store I might not have purchased it. I still like the shirt because from the front it looks great. It's stylish. The color of it is unlike anything else in my wardrobe so my wife can't confuse it with any of my other shirts. And, to be honest, I like the company name embroidered on it.

When you approach the shirt from the front it appears flawless. However, when you approach it from the back you see that this shirt was not crafted with care. There are defects. Specifically, there is a misalignment of seams that is unstylish and glaringly obvious.

For how many of us is this true?

How many of us try and have it all together out front but are falling apart, or misaligned, out back, or on the inside?

The shirt is a facade.

Sometimes I am too.

Plus it is a reminder of me to watch for blind spots. There are things that cause me to miss the obvious. A good deal is just one of them.

So, when people ask why I am wearing such a messed up shirt I tell them it's my metaphor shirt. Buying it may have been a mistake, but wearing it is a lesson learned.

*In addition to the metaphor shirt, I also have a pair of sexy jeans, and painting pants. However, I refuse to call anything with holes "holy." That joke, like the article of clothing, is worn out.

3 Tips for Hitchhikers

2010-06-21T12:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've never been hitchhiking, so I suppose that leaves me under-informed on how to go about getting a ride.

However, and here's the very important thing, I drive almost everywhere and pass hundreds of hitchhikers, or more, in a year and in almost every situation I've got empty seats.

So hitchhikers, as it is approaching hitchhiking season,* and as I noticed a great number of you looking for rides during my family's road trip last week, let me share with you a few tips to help you secure a ride in my vehicle.

1. Ditch the Dog. I like dogs, and my kid likes dogs, but we do not want our vehicle smelling like an unbathed dog for the next few weeks. I get that having a travel companion is great and all, but your companion does not have to be one who slobbers, pees wherever he feels like it, and has travel companions of his own--that's right I'm talking about fleas.

2. Don't Pass Your Time Whittling. I see you there on the side of the road trying to pass the time and keep the tradition of our forefathers alive. But guess what, I don't just see you there fashioning a souvenir from the road for your mantle, I see you there carving a stabbing device. And what's more, you're holding an implement of death. So what, you're going to have something in each hand with which you could stab me? I don't think so.

3. Don't be Making Out With Your Travelling Companion on the Shoulder of the Highway. It's disgusting. Great, you and your girlfriend are going coast to coast on the cheap. I applaud that. I may even enjoy the story of how you met just a few states back and decided to finish your journey together. But I don't want to be afraid to use my rear view mirror. Keep it cordial and maybe I'll pick you up, but if your public displays of affection are over the top I'm going to pass you by. Here's a simple, but important, rhyme to remember: No PDA on the highway.

I sincerely hope this advices helps get your thumb noticed.

*I'm not certain hitchhiking season is a thing, but I assume it is because during certain months the amount of hitchhikers I pass on the highway grows incredibly. I don't pass very many in January. So either January is a month when no one passes a thumb, or no one is out there looking for a ride. Whereas in the summer I can hardly drive three blocks without passing someone on the shoulder.

An Open Letter to Fanny Packs

2010-06-10T16:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Fanny Packs:

I have a confession: I've spent my whole life resisting you.

So many people have told me countless times of your lack of coolness and I've believed them. It turns out that the only way I could be any less cool, would be to wear one of you.

But now I need some of you: four to be exact, although six would be nice.

How is it that every lifeguard, and dorky dad on the planet have one of you, yet when i need to buy one I can't find a store that sells you? Is there some secret underground Lifeguard/dorky-dad supply shop?

Do I need a time machine to go back to 1988 when you were everywhere? I was nine then. Were you the reason it was a simpler time?

I read on Wikipedia that some of you are designed by Louis Vuitton. Is that real, or a Wikipedia editor's idea of a joke? I really don't need a designer fanny pack, but if that's all that is available I'd consider it.

It's true that I have no desire to use you for your intended purpose. I desire to fill you with candy and make students in our youth group wear you for a game we're calling "Human Wrestling Pinatas." Are you hiding from me because of this? I can assure you that no beating devices will be used in the playing of this game.

If you're willing to come out of hiding and tell me where I can find you, it would be much appreciated.

Sincerely,

Frustrated Youth Worker

Holidays

2010-06-10T15:58:00.000-07:00

I'm away with the family on Holidays next week. We're doing two eight hour drives with our 14 month old daughter. Greatly looking forward to what that brings. either lots of material, or car loads of anxiety. It should be an excellent week visiting friends and family in Alberta.

To Be a Gate or a Gate Crasher?

2010-06-01T11:52:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been reading a book aimed at helping the church, meaning the people who make up the church, be better at fulfilling its purpose. This book has been an encouragement, especially in all the areas I see our church aligned with his ideas, and a challenge when I see we have a ways to go in being more effective.

One thing stood out to me in my reading today. Brad Powell writes this: "As we've seen, Jesus promised that He will build His church and that the gates of hell will not prevail against Him (Matthew 16:18) In other words, He wants his church to be on the offensive. Gates don't attack; gates are attacked."

Matthew 16:18 says this in the NIV, "And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it."

This idea of the church standing up against the gates of hell is nothing new to me. I'm familiar with this verse. However, what struck me for the first time today, was that gates don't move.

Gates don't attack.

Gates stay where they are built.

Gates wait for an attacker to come.

Too often I see churches that think they're the gates. We use language that speaks of being able to stand up against the gates, but we speak as if they're going to come and attack us. We get dug in and defensive waiting to be attacked.

We speak as if we're gates secured in a rock.

But maybe Jesus is saying we're a rock that needs to roll through some gates. Maybe we need to, as a church, rush the gates, rattle them good, and watch them crash.

I wonder what our world would look like if hell began to fall apart.

I wonder what our world would look like if the church was on the move.

Last Weak

2010-06-01T11:39:00.000-07:00

Sorry for not posting last week. Oh, and I was on such a roll. Here's what happened. The weekend (which was long in Canada) was occupied by a youth retreat. It was a great weekend of connecting with youth and helping youth connect with God. Because the weekend involved little sleeping and I live with at one-year-old infectious baby whom I can't refuse to hug, I got sick.

Some would call it a cold. It was more than that. It was a full blown man cold.

For insight on the man cold view this educational video.

Thank you to those of you who showed care and concern in a time of life threatening illness.

Last week* was also a week of sermon prep. Sunday I was delivering the message at our service, speaking on the relationship parents have with youth. It was a challenging yet rewarding topic to study further and present.

The extra reading, writing, nose blowing, phlegm excavation, and resting left little time for other activities such as writing.

This week I feel much more back to normal, and that means reading and thinking about the things that normally occupy my thoughts. I have a couple ideas in my head that I'm excited to share this week and hope you enjoy them too.

*the word "weak" would be equally accurate in this sentence because that is how I felt throughout the seven day duration.

More Haircut Hullabaloo

2010-05-18T11:15:00.000-07:00

I've received a few personal comments about my hair cut yesterday.

Most were from Sheena and included beauties such as: "I could have done at least that good." "They shaved it too high on the side." "They left the bangs too long." And my favorite: "They missed a spot at the back."

That's right, they missed a spot at the back.

I paid $13 for a partial haircut.

It's one thing when I miss a spot shaving or mowing the lawn. I can go back and fix it. I can't fix the back of my head.

So I'm hoping people will help me feel better about my do and share some of their haircut horrors in the comments.

For more on my haircut opinions read yesterdays post here.

a letter to anyone who might cut my hair

2010-05-17T12:15:00.000-07:00

To whomever might be cutting my hair in the future:

Please note that I do not know what I want in a hair cut. When you ask: "What would you like?" My first and only thought is, "something that looks good."

I rarely get that.

All I want is a haircut that makes me look good and I have no idea what words to use to accomplish this task.

I'm looking for someone who can approach my head the way Michaelangelo approached a hunk of marble. I want someone to chisel away whatever is necessary to leave a work of art.

Please only chisel away hair.

I say this because I keep getting weird looks from hair care professionals when I say things like, "I'd like it short but not so short that I look like an army recruit," or "If you turn this into a mullet I will cry and not leave a tip."

And so, if I say some combination of words that lead you to believe I've asked for something that will look horrible, please offer your professional opinion. I will never be offended by the following statement: "In my professional opinion what you just asked for will make you look ridiculous and your wife will be mad at you for weeks for spending money to look like you cut your own hair."

A statement like the one above would have prevented me from the ridicule I still face from an incident in '06.

Also, please stop with the shock and awe at the actual size of my head.

It's large I know.

Over the years I've come to dislike haircuts so I leave it a while between trims. As a result a thickness of mane occurs that disguises the actually size of my dome. While it's quite normal to wonder how much of the globe is hair and how much is actual cranium, please cease the expressions of horror, and pity, and dismay when you discover how little of it is hair.

There are a lot of follicles, you will be there a while.

I'm sorry.

I've come to accept it and I'd appreciate it if you would too.

You might also want to take your rings off before you begin. Should a ring fall off in my hair it will likely be lost forever due to the density of the forest. I lost a GI Joe back in '85 and I've concluded that it was either stolen or lost in my hair during a nap.

And please don't be offended if you see me restyling my hair in the parking lot. I try very hard to make sure you can't see me, but it might happen. I will always say yes to the free gel you offer because I like added value and I'm curious to see what you, a profession, will do with the art you created. I enjoy a finished product. However, having said that, I usually like the way I style it better. I'm not such a fan of the fork-in-the-outlet style you seem to think looks "hip" on me.

I should say that if it looks like anything remotely resembling the fauxhawk, I won't wait for the parking lot.

Sorry if that offends you.

I understand that I leave you with an almost impossible task. You should note that I expect very little when I get my haircut, so while you can't please me, you probably won't disappoint me either. I am always open to suggestions but will probably turn them down due to the fact that I'm chicken.

If anyone is wanting a good challenge I'll probably be ready for another cut in about 8 weeks. Fell free to contact me.

stuck in my head

2010-05-12T15:47:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd share a few random things that are in my head right now.

I'm currently reading a book about church change that has a picture of a compact fluorescent light bulb on the cover. Is that because the CFL is a symbol of change, or was the book, written by a pastor, inspired by the old joke: "How many Baptists does it take to change a light bulb?"

I can't believe the spell checker missed my original miss-spelling of fluorescent.

The post burp apology/plea for excuse, should be equal in volume to the burp.

This story here inspires me to get a smart phone. Oddly enough, the geriatric phone I currently use fails to be that inspiration.

My dreams of mobile phone ownership used to involve communication, now they involve taking pictures of old men in ridiculous sweaters.

I didn't really understand what a sweet tooth was, until I met a bitter one.

I love a good groaner joke if I'm the one who thought it up. But I usually roll my eyes, and find them so unfunny if someone else does. Does that make me a hypocrite?

If Iceland is green, and Greenland is ice, what is Peachland made of?

Someone found my blog last week by searching "christopher miller vs. walmart" but I've never had a confrontation with the retailor. Which one of me is out there picking fights with Walmart? Whichever Chris Miller you are please stop. I've got great plans for the penny I now save on milk and I don't want the price to go back up.

In my house, math causes more arguments then I care to count.

Whenever I have a problem to work out I got to the bathroom: especially if the problem is constipation.

What about you? What are some random things stuck in your head?

Apology Letters Vol. 3

2010-05-11T11:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Smart Cars:

I'm sorry, but the claims made by your title are not impressive enough to lure me into buying one of you.

I mean, they did. There was once a time when I thought you were grand. However, it seems smart just doesn't cut it anymore. My hard earned dollars tend to purchase products that are at the genius level. Take our diapers for example: they're bum genius.

See what they did there? There are smart diapers, sure, but what consumer is going to buy smart when he can have "genius?" I'm sure the bum genius people knew this and so worked hard at becoming the geniuses of the diaper world. Or at least figured no one would question it and called themselves genius anyways.

I appreciate smart, but times are tough, I need to spend more wisely. Perhaps you would entice me to buy you if you worked at picking up your IQ a bit. I might buy a Genius Car.

Which I'm sure puts you in a tough position. There are a lot of intelligent automobiles out there. I hear there's a car that parallel parks itself. That's incredible. Can you do that?

Maybe that's not the point. Maybe that's not what makes a product all that intelligent. Using the diapers I do means fewer diapers in a landfill, and knowing how to produce less garbage makes me feel like a genius. Perhaps if driving you could make me feel like a genius, then it would all work out, but I've got to say, I've never seen a smart car driver that looked all that smart.

But perhaps their brilliance is in figuring out how to fit all their luggage in the trunk.

And perhaps I've misunderstood you, and what makes you smart, all along, and for that I am sorry.

Saying Amen Before Hanging Up the Phone

2010-05-05T13:31:00.000-07:00

I get distracted fairly easily.

When there is a lot of noise, or kids darting around at my feet, or one of them trying to escape, I loose focus and concentration.

For some reason I need a lot of focus and concentration to leave a good phone message.

And so I was leaving someone a phone message the other day while chaos was unfolding around me, and I found myself distracted. In my defense it wasn't a little distraction like if I had left the TV on. This was a Level Tangerine distraction. There are only two levels of distraction higher than that: Fire Engine Red for when the house is on fire, and code brown which is too gross for words.

I'm okay with leaving a rambly distracted message. Most people I call are probably used to it: they may even expect it by now. However, as I was approaching my favourite part of the phone conversation, hanging up, my distracted, non thought out words, were words usually reserved for ending a different type of conversation: prayer.

I almost ended the phone message with the word Amen.

Instead it ended with the sentence, "In your name, ah,...(pause while I went "what am I saying here? did I think I was praying?)...talk to you later? bye."

I'm thankful that when I next saw the individual she made no mention of it. But really how do you begin that conversation? "Hey, so where you praying to me, or was that message for God?"

This has caused me to consider how I pray.

When I pray am I treating God like a voice mail inbox?

"This is a message for God. It's Chris Miller calling again at 6:30 on Tuesday May 4th. I still haven't heard back from you on the issue I was mentioning last week. You may have forgotten. I was calling to inquire about what I should be getting my wife for Mother's Day. I'd really appreciate your input on this because she is no help at all. If you could get back to me soon that would be a big help. Mother's Day is this Sunday. Thanks. You have my number."

Is that what my prayers have become?*

While I don't believe my prayers have been reduced to playing phone tag with the almighty, I think there is the potential for prayer to be like leaving a phone message if I fail to build into my relationship with God. If I fail to allow Him to speak to me. If I fail to spend time in his presence. If I fail to grow in an understanding of who God is. If I fail to grow in my understanding of what prayer is and how God communicates with His creation.

I hope that none of us would find our prayers similar to leaving a phone message. I hope that instead, we find that God is listening and working in us through our prayers.

*By the way, I have not been asking God for help in dealing with Mother's day. I think I've got that covered. And because Sheena probably won't be reading this before Sunday I'll tell you: WiFi in the house. That's right, for mother's day I'm giving her the opportunity to check facebook from the bathtub. I can hear her say it already: "Best Mother's Day gift ever."

Tourist Season

2010-05-04T14:05:00.000-07:00

I spent a little better than three hours on ferries this weekend.

On the ferry you can always spot those who sail often from those who are tourists, perhaps sailing for the first time. The frequent floaters have ferry boat routines: they get on board, do their thing, then disembark. Those familiar with the way of the ferry are never surprised to hear that the boat is late, but rather expect it, and you almost never hear them surprised at how much a burger costs. It's not a cruise ship, if you want ketchup with that, it will cost you, but they still complain about it.

Complaining is fun for the ferry faithful. Complaining is almost a sport as you sit around and see who has the best complaint about the ferry. Oh, and they're constantly going over the good old days when the rows of seats alternated directions so that you could sit down and put your feet up on the seat in front of you. We miss those seating configurations and hearing our sisters complain about our feet being on them. And we miss the old ferry fries. Ferry fries were legendary. Or at least they are for those who knew them.

But for the momentary mariner it's all a brand new experience: everything is fresh, exciting, and surprising. You don't care if the boat is crowded you didn't expect to sit anyways. A lot of tourists are huddled by the brochure rack* learning about hotel discounts and searching for coupons for surf lessons. The kids of tourists are on the upper deck testing the hypothesis that if you jump straight up the wind will push you back.

I love watching tourists. At times they're so goofy. I remember watching a tourist try and feed French fries to a sea gull. Locals don't do that. Locals curse the gull because a gull once pooped on them, and they certainly wouldn't feed overpriced food to a scavenger bird.

And I love being a tourist. Little seems to bother me when I'm a tourist. When I'm relaxed, and enjoying the adventure in whatever happens, the annoyances disappear. It's great acting like a tourist on the ferry.

1 Peter 1:17 jumped out at me Specifically a part in the verse that reads: "live your lives as strangers here."

As Christians this world isn't our home. We're strangers here: tourists even.

I think we need to act more like tourists. We need to be less bothered by what we often classify as annoying. We need to relax and enjoy whatever comes our way. Our faith needs to be less shaken by the events of this world. We need to remember that this world isn't our home. Whatever happens is temporary. We're not going to be here all that long.

We need to stand out and not be afraid to look goofy. We're different, so what. We're not from around here.

Oh, and I recommend taking the ferry. It really is a nice way to travel. And spend some cash on the food, it's all part of the experience.

*as a kid the brochure rack was the free magazine rack. We'd grab stacks of free reading material to entertain ourselves cheaply.

Essentials for Life -- a book review

2010-04-28T12:57:00.000-07:00

Essentials for Life: Your Back-to-Basics Guide to What Matters Most by Marcia Ford

"What is actually essential to your life--the well-being of your body, your mind, your spirit?"

That question opens the introduction, and is the very question I had as I picked the book up for the first time. There are times when we all desire to remove the clutter from our lives and live more simply and with greater purpose. The goal of Essentials for Life is to help one recognize the necessary so that the unnecessary is more readily identified.

At first I was surprised to find fifty essentials, then after thinking about it I became curious to learn which, of the more than fifty, were written about. Each topic receives a short, concise chapter that is a general overview of the topic. Each four page chapter then, is filled to the gills, even using the margins to share the authors thoughts, Biblical references, and quotes from individuals some famous and others not so much. When the chapter seemed only to skim the surface of the topic, references were given and the reader was directed in how to find more information.

My impression is that this book would be great for one new to the Christian faith as it would help give a better understanding what a Christian life consists of. It's also a good read for a long time believer. As one who has been a believer for many years I found it a fresh reminder of the important things: something we all need from time to time.

I would recommend this book to anyone as a starting point to a less cluttered life.

Disclosure: I received a free copy of this book from Thomas Nelson as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program.

Woodpecker on a hot tin chimney -- A rant

2010-04-28T07:18:00.000-07:00

Please don't misinterpret this because I do love nature. I love being in the woods, as long as I'm with a group because cougars find me tasty, and I go hiking and exploring whenever I can. I love and appreciate animals.

This is simply venting directed at one woodpecker who has lost his way. The sad thing is that he and I will never be able to properly communicate about this. He'll never read this and I have no idea how to get through to him.

Here's the thing: this morning, as with many mornings this spring, I've been awoken by a woodpecker in search of friends, or perhaps just one special friend, I think it's safe to say he's "lost that lovin' feeling." His method of date arranging seems to be loud knocking on the chimney of our house. The audio is also projected down the metal pipe and fills or house with a glorious string of "d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dat, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dat, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dat" at 6:15 it's far from welcome. Is there an e-harmony for woodpeckers? Perhaps he should try that.

I do not wish to seem opposed to this flighted woodland creature, but I would love to be able to sleep at least until 7am when the bulldozer in need of lubrication starts it's diesel engine and begins squeaking around the adjacent lot. As I type this there is either an low grade seven hour long earthquake happening or it's just another day on the job site for captain squeaky machines.

Sometimes I want to stand on my deck and yell: "You missed a spot!" But then I fear another week of work, and I refrain.

Neither way is a particularly enjoyable way to wake up, and I do hope the woodpecker finds someone, if for no other reason than an extra few minutes of peaceful sleep.

Thoughts on the 2010 NHL Playoffs

2010-04-28T06:57:00.000-07:00

It's playoff time for hockey. Sadly, many of you are unable to watch a game with me. I would love it very much if you were sitting on my couch as the games unfold, however, that just doesn't always work out. You should know, that if you were seated on my couch you would be regailed with all sorts of wonderful hockey themed thoughts. Just ask Sheena.

Here then, are some of the thoughts that I would be sharing with you if you were here.

1. I find myself caring about a lot of teams right now, that I normally don't care about. Why did I want Buffalo to win? Since when did I ever care about the Buffalo Sabres? Now, for some reason, I seem to care. Or Nashville, why should I care about Nashville? For some reason I now do. Or did. Both those teams were eliminated the night before last.

2. I now have very strong feelings about certain players. Do you know why I want Montreal to beat Washington? It's not because they're a Canadian team, which many Canadians say is why you have to cheer not just for them but for every Canadian team, but because I can't stand Ovechkin. I don't know why I have such strong feelings about him. In March he was a good player. Now I hope he looses badly. I can't really explain this. But I know it has nothing to do with him spraying snow all over that kid before a game in Montreal. While at first glance it made him look kind of jerkish, I bet that kid went home bragging to all his friends about getting sprayed by him. It is perhaps better than a handshake.

3. I love it when they interview rookies. The playoff beard is a wonderful thing. I respect a player a lot more when he's got enough facial hair to protect his neck from a slap shot. I could probably write a whole post on the virtues of the playoff beard. Perhaps one day I will. For now I just want to say that when they interview a player, one of my first thoughts is, Can I grow a better beard than him? Chances are I can out grow a rookie. That makes me feel better about myself because I think that although I don't have the puck prowess, or the ability to skate, or the ridiculous salary, or the general awesomeness that comes with being a professional hockey player, I can out do that guy at something--even if it's something as ridiculous as growing a playoff beard. It probably goes without saying, but playoff beards in women's hockey lacks the awesomeness. But go ahead and rock the playoff leg hair.

In The Word But Not Of The Word

2010-04-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

In the word but not of the word.

Does that look right to you? Or is something missing?

If you've been around Christianity for a while, you've probably heard the expression: "In the world but not of the world." The expression is often used as a Christian cliche to give license to doing the things that our non Christian neighbours do, so long as they don't become a bad influence on us. Thus one would be in the world, doing the "safe" things of the world, without being of the world, being influenced negatively by the actions of ones self or others.

But now I'm wondering how often Christians are just as guilty of being in the word but not of the word. Meaning, that one would read the Bible but not be transformed by the message of it.

How often do we read the words without considering their weight?

How often Christians read words that could potentially be life changing but remain unmoved?

That's being in the word but not of the word.

I think simply being in it, without allowing God to speak to you through it, is pointless. It's the religion that Jesus spoke against and leaves so many people distrusting and dissatisfied with the Church. Yes we need to be in the word, but we just as much need to be people of the word.

A Big Ol' Cat Fight

2010-04-20T10:50:00.000-07:00

I was reading chapter five of 1 Peter today. And verse 8 jumped out at me.

Here's 1 Peter 5:8 "Be self-controlled and alert. your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour."

I don't have a lot of experience with lions. I saw the circus as a kid, and I think I remember lions being a part of it. I've been to the zoo. Actually, I was at a zoo just a couple years ago and I saw some lions there. But most of my experience with lions is all wrapped up in the Lion King. I've seem that animated classic dozens of times.

However, I suspect there's more to this lion business than the film lets on.

I grew up in an area that has a high population of Mountain Lions, or cougars as they are known locally. I've never come face to face with one because the generally leave people alone. Sightings, and attacks on people, are becoming more common. Now and then you hear of a good man versus cougar story. There was an older gentleman who, when attacked by a cougar, fought it off with his pocket knife. He was badly injured, but was able to appear on the 6 o'clock news from his hospital bed to show off his favourite pocket knife.

There was another story of a woman out camping with her family when a cougar attacked one of her children. The story goes that she grabbed a cooler and began beating the cat with it. The cougar ran off and the child suffered no long lasting effect.

These are great stories of man triumphing over large Feline.

We were taught as kids that if you spot a mountain lion, it's been watching you for a long time, but if you make yourself really big, stare it down, and show no fear, you can scare it away. Mountain Lions, so I understand, are chicken.

I am uncertain if the same thing goes for the non-mountainous lion.

I don't know why, after reading this verse many, many times, this image of the Devil being like a lion stood out to me, but as I read it my mind immediately diverted to another lionly image in Christianity: Jesus.

Sometimes Jesus is called "The Lion of Judah" with Biblical support for this name coming out of Revelation 5:5.

And it occurred to me that we are living in this world with two lions--one ruling bringing life and justice and redemption, and one fighting bringing death and destruction.

But that isn't Peter's point in calling the devil out.

In verse nine he tells us to "Resist him, standing firm in the faith"

He is resistible. We can overcome.

I think that if I were staring down a roaring lion I would be filled with a bowel moving fear that causes one to forget all sorts of survival tactics. Meaning, I would poop myself and run. Which is the exact opposite of what to do in the moments before a mountain lion attack.

Yet Peter is telling his readers to stand firm in the faith--that holding onto ones faith is overcoming this lion-like devil.

Hold on to your faith in the midst of the devil's opposition.

Hold on to your faith.

Grab that cooler.

Clutch your trusty pocket knife.

Stand firm.

Resist him.

He may be like a lion, but, so what, lions can be overcome.

Wal Mart Menace

2010-04-19T14:07:00.000-07:00

I was nearly injured in Wal Mart the other day.

Now, given the amount of time I spend in Wal Mart, there is a high mathematical pprobability that eventually I will sustain a minor injury while shopping in that store. Most likely it will be something minor like a paper cut, or frostbite from holding frozen food too long while standing in line at the checkout.

However, the other day something far more out of the ordinary was going on.

I was almost run over by a lady on one of those motorized chairs that they provide for those with trouble walking across the massive floor space of the store. That in and of itself isn't all that odd. I've seem many a motorized menace. However, this one lady takes the cake.

She was texting while driving.

In a Wal Mart.

On a motorized chair.

Near the produce.

I would have a picture for you, but my phone is so antiquated that it lacks the capacity to do so. I need not fear a ticket for texting while driving because I lack the ability to do so.

I mention this to caution you because there is a motorized hazard on the loose.

And not because I'm jealous of this older lady with the sweet ride and the cooler phone.

Definitely not because of that.

Carstache

2010-04-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

I struggle to grow facial hair.

That's no secret.

I have no problems growing it everywhere else.

That's also no secret.

Some days I'm tempted to cultivate the hair on my big toes so that I can have a goatee.

But maybe there's another option.

I present to you the Carstache.

And now I'm wondering if perhaps this might work out for me. I have a large head. Maybe a carstache is the solution.

Imagine all the cookie crumbs I could save for later in that thing. I could fit a whole Subway sandwich in there.

Chocolate Rasperries

2010-04-07T06:22:00.000-07:00

Here's a question for you: is there anything better than blowing raspberries or eating chocolate?

How about doing the two together?

Makiah gave it a try last night when she was given a hunk of chocolate. The first time she had any major chocolate intake.

I enjoy raspberry flavoured chocolate, but I think I won't be doing this.

Apology Letters Vol. 2

2010-04-06T14:57:00.000-07:00

To those troubled when the words affect and effect are misused:

I was leaving a comment today and couldn't decided whether to use "effect" or "affect." That's when I realized that I have no idea the difference between the two.

I'm sorry to all of you who know the difference and the appropriate usage of affect and effect. I'm sorry for all the times I've used one when I should have used the other. I'm working of ensuring that it won't happen again.

I read an eHow article sorting things out.

It affected me.

I'm smiling right now because of the cleverness of that last paragraph. If the internet is right, effect will never end in "ing" or "ed" because effect is a noun and affect is a verb.

I will continue to work on this, and other grammar issues, but you should know that it will happen again.

And I'll be sorry then too.

Dear Books:

I'm sorry. I judge you by the cover all the time. I know that I was taught not to do that but I am guilty of it.

You see, my book budget is limited. Besides, I have to get rid of one book for every new book procured. If you're going to replace a book that I love, or more realistically thought had a nice cover and purchased only to get a chapter and a half in and be too bored to pick up again, you better impress me right off the bat.

I'm talking first impressions here.

They matter.

I want to see an intriguing and beautiful cover. I want to flip through pages that seem worthy of the couple minutes that my eyes will be beholding them. I want to smell that intoxicatingly wonderful new book smell.

There are millions of books out there. Why should I invest in you?

I'm sorry for all the books that I've overlooked because your publishers didn't impress me. I really am.

And I'm sorry that I've made this apology more about me than you.

My Very Baptist Daughter

2010-04-04T09:16:00.000-07:00

At just one year of age, our daughter is yet to experience the vastness of expressions that is Evangelical Christianity. By that I mean almost all of her of her 53 Sundays of Church going have been spent in a Baptist Church. That is beginning to become apparent.

Friday, Good Friday, we were at an interdenominational service. If you're unfamiliar with the term that means that all sorts of churches gathered to worship and remember Jesus together. It was a beautiful service.

Sheena and I were seated near the front in great seats, row three. There were many rows behind us. Looking back I could see fifteen rows of people. So could Makiah. She was trying to get to know all of them. She got to know the people right behind her very well.

When we stood to sing she was more interested in watching those around her than praising Jesus. By the second song a high percentage of the people behind her had their hands raised as they sang. They were praising Jesus.

She thought they were waving at her.

So she waved back.

She waved and waved until her arms got tired. Then she didn't know what do. Her look said: "Mom, these people keep waving. What's going on? Dad is it okay if I stop waving, I'm tired?"

Yes, how do you know your daughter might be a baptist? If she thinks that people only raise their arms to wave, she just might be a Baptist.

Year One

2010-04-01T06:36:00.000-07:00

I went to two birthday parties last Saturday, both very different, yet both very much alike.

The first was for a little girl. My little girl. She turned one. Here's a picture of her celebrating:

I feel the need to tell you that we don't normally let her have so much cake. But, seeing as it was her birthday, and we wanted funny photos, we let her dive in. As you can probably tell, she loved it. By the time she had enough cake, pink icing was over most of her facial skin. You'd think we put a pink mud mask on her.

It was fun celebrating the year that was, one that went entirely too quickly. But then every parent says that, and every parent told us it would. We expected quickness. We didn't expect the quickness at which she learns stuff. She goes from giving no signs of an ability to suddenly doing something.

Case in point: nose picking.

She began performing the proboscis pick on her birthday. We have no idea when she actually learned to pull this off, we know only that we have many pictures with her digit lodged in her beak.

Here's a bit of advice for parents about to give a kid their own cake: don't put the cake within their reach until you are ready for them to dive in. If they dive in prematurely and you tell them no, which you are most certain to do because you want a picture of them with the cake and a lit candle on it, they may cry. You will then have pictures of a crying baby who is now hesitant to dive into the cake once you tell them it's okay because they fear being scolded again.

Unless you have a boy. A boy will probably be back in the cake before the flash even goes off.

Even with the nose picking, and the tears, the morning was a wonderful time of celebration, reflection, and looking ahead. By all accounts, there should be many birthdays to come. Especially, if she lives to be as old as her great, great grandmother.

Her birthday was in the afternoon.

Even more family gathered for that celebration--a 95th birthday party. It was a bit of a different kind of a party. Oh, it was every bit as joyous, and fun. It was just that a year in the life of a 95 year old is so much different than one for a one year old. The party was different too because we weren't just celebrating one year, but 95.

That's a lot to celebrate.

And it takes a lot more people to do properly.

Five generations gathered to mark the milestone of this matriarch. It wasn't a long party--parties never are with old people. There was no gathering to watch grandma eat cake. There were lots of pictures, and catching up with family not seen in a while. And lots of posing with grandma.

We got this picture of Sheena with her grandmother and the birthday girls. We're glad we got to be there for the birthday celebrations for two girls born ninety four years and a day apart. We and eager to see what the next year will hold for them and glad that we'll get to be part of it.

And, see what I mean about the nose picking.

March Thanksgiving

2010-03-15T14:27:00.001-07:00

I realize that Thanksgiving is a long way off. (Seven months if you're Canadian.) However, today I am thankful for a few things and thought I should share them.

I'm thankful that for a limited time milk is a penny cheaper at Walmart. I joked recently that I'll have to save those pennies for a very long time before I can afford a pool. But let's be honest, saving a penny makes me feel really good. It's like they say, "A penny saved is a penny earned." So while I hope the Walmart execs who thought to roll back the price of milk by 1/100 of a dollar, aren't patting themselves too hard on their backs, I am thankful they did it because it is, the rolling back of the price of milk by one penny, a funny punchline, and because a penny saved really is a penny earned. And now according to the old adage I'm not sure if I've earned two pennies or one.

I'm also thankful for the way we tell time. Can you imagine how confusing it would be to announce the reading of a clock with a fraction? I can, and it would go like this: "Oh, I see that it is three and twenty five sixtieths of an hour. I must hurry if I'm to catch the train that leaves at three and a half.*"

Those last two sentences were ridiculous. I began writing them at fourteen hours, thirty six sixtieths of an hour, nineteen sixtieths of a minute. And finished writing them at fourteen hours, thirty seven sixtieths of an hour, fifty eight sixtieths of a minute.

It took thirty seven times longer to calculate and figure out how to write and say that last paragraph than it did to write the two sentences described by it.** However, while writting that paragraph it occurred to me that perhaps it would be easier to calculate the duration of things if time was stated in that manner.

I should say that I'm quite comfortable without exactly knowing exactly the duration of things.

I like my time digital. Well, I like my watch analog because of how classy analog watches look, but I like to state it digitally because I like colons. I'm speaking specifically about the punctuation marks. Although, I suppose that my fondness of digestive health also means I'm fond of the other colon. Now, as for the telling of time I quiet enjoy throwing a colon in there.

It's 2:50pm.

And now I'm wondering if using fractions would be the ultimate analog watch.

Moving on...

I'm also thankful for March. Here's what's so wonderful about March: A good number of family members have been born in March--especially a little girl that my wife and I have grown quite fond of. I'm also a fan of March because you have days like today when it almost feel necessary to have the window rolled down while driving. I greatly enjoy driving with the window open but do to the fact that I drive an older Volkswagen, meaning the vehicle has no heat, I have been prohibited from doing so for some time. And now it's becoming window open season and I'm thrilled.

Finally, I'm thankful that I have a place where my brain comes up with weird ideas. For example, a few minutes ago I was in the bathroom. While in there I checked the time and went "It's 2:25. i suppose you could say it's twenty five sixtieths of an hour past 2. Oh man, I'm so glad we don't talk like that." And now I've spent the past few minutes going on about that.

Thank you bathrooms for helping me think.

*I don't know why, but somehow I associate fractions with a bygone era--one where train travel was more commonplace.

** I feel compelled to inform you that the figure "thirty seven times" is completely made up. I'm not that good at math, and you should know this. If you know me, then you already knew this, and knew instantly that the thirty seven was made up. If you're married to me you instantly, upon reading the "thirty seven," told everyone around you that I lied.

1 Grande + 1 Grande = 11 Grandes

2010-03-03T08:58:00.000-08:00

I read an article yesterday that Starbucks is testing out an even larger sized cup. It seems someone has told them that a 32 ounce cup of iced coffee is exactly what everyone needs.

I'm undecided on where I stand with the sizing option. However, if they're seriously considering naming it the "Trenta" then I seriously hope they reconsider. Here's my issues with the name.

1. According to this website the name rhymes with "Venti" yet ends with an "a". I don't get it. How big of a looser am I going to look like for mispronouncing it all the time? Guess what, in my feeble attempts to get what I want, I already look like a dork trying to rattle off the right combination of the made up English/Italian hybrid language they've got going on. It only works 52% of the time as it is. Let's not make this more difficult for me and people like me.

2. It would be a huge drink named after a tiny town. That makes no sense. If it's a big drink name it after a big town, and not after a town of only 2,600* people. (Coincidentally, 2,600 it the number of people who can take a sip of one "Trenta.") If you name a drink after a small town, you're giving the impression that larger drinks might follow. That could be an even worse idea.

Now if they're going for the whole irony of large drinks names after small places, then perhaps the largest cup ever should be called the "Atrani," or "Citta Morte." Look them up and see if you agree.

Here then, are my suggestions for other names to be considered. As best as I can tell, they're all Italian. I've provided the definitions from wordreference.com

1. Vescica -- bladder -- There should also be a warning on the side of the cup: "if consuming this beverage while on a road trip, keep this cup because you may need it to empty your vescica.

2. Torrione -- great tower -- that is simply what the cup looks like next to a Tim Hortons large.

3. Petroliera -- oil tanker -- Hmmm, which holds more?

4. Enorme -- enormous -- This seems to fit the sizing idea better. You've got the grande with is grand, why not have the enorme which is enormous? Plus it has a nice ring to it.

5. Cisterna -- cistern -- I'm pretty sure there are wells somewhere that produce less than 32 ounces of water a minute.

These are my thoughts on the name, what are yours?

* this stat come courtesy of Wikipedia, so take it however you will.