As some of you know I am running for a political office. Its a school board and non-paid (just like my nonprofit propheting) but an elected position all the same. And of course I would have opponents so I'm having to purchase signs and campaign and all that jazz. But I have to admit its pretty damned interesting.
Being a fiscal conservative and a social moderate is quite the balancing act. To mix reason with politics is almost undoable. Its like Spirituality and Religion - its hard to get past the rhetoric and noise to what is actually important. But I'm trying.
I have been on this Facebook thing for some time now and it is quite interesting as well. Reconnecting with folks I haven't heard from in 20 years and some folks I have never even met. I like the way technology functions in this respect. However, sometimes our media doesn't always work this way.
Take the Tea Party's of last week. To watch the mainstream media, one would think that it was an isolated minority of right wing extremists fueled by Fox News and talk radio. That the audience was exclusively those folks. I think the British attempted the same labeling and propaganda against the Colonists/Founding Fathers when they threw their little temper-tantrum in Boston. Admittedly, there were "some" fringe elements there, but they were NOT representative of the overall crowd. There were democrats, libertarians, republicans, conservatives, moderates, christians, non-christians, spectators, and others.
And I think the main stream media and possibly some talk shows have missed the point. Its not Anti-Obama. Its Anti-Stupid spending of our tax dollars. And this was started in the last days of the Bush Administration. Of course the finger pointing is always prevelant depending on one's point of view, and enough fingers pointed in enough differing directions is bound to cause enough confusion so that the issues and solutions are not forth coming. And thats unfortunate.
Now I'm a pretty simple fella, and somehow spending money we don't have (and spending it recklessly) just doesn't make sense to me. If we have people in this country without medical insurance, losing their homes, and a growing unemployment rate, why in the world would we pledge billions to other countries (such as Sudan) when we are having to borrow money from China just to stay afloat here? And if we are going to bailout anyone, how about the people who paid the taxes in the first place? Why give it to the big corporations? We see what they have done with it and the common folks, like myself, are still no better off.
Well, Bush is to blame. No, Obama is to blame. No, greedy corporations are to blame. No, irresponsible home buyers are to blame. How about all of the above. Okay, so everyone is to blame. Could we at least quit the pandering and propaganda and solve this issue. The media tore Bush down all the time. The talk shows tear Obama down all the time. Maybe its time we tore ourselves down, and these political lines and idealogy, come to grips with we aren't ever all going to agree on the best way to do anything, and at least get something done?
probably not. Well, I gotta go put out some more campaign signs....
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Put Christ Back in Schools?
I came across this on Facebook the other day, "Put Christ Back in Schools". Someone had joined this group and had sent me an invitation to join as well. So I asked myself "who took Him out?". Where in the heck did they put Him? I have a bobble-head Jesus (yes, my baptist friends think it complete heresy) in my office on the shelf, and I had a mental image of someone moving him somewhere just to mess with me. I would start a group "Put Jesus back on the Shelf", but that wouldn't sound good either now would it.
Now I understand what people mean when they say "Put Christ Back in Schools". Its an expression of sentiment that their beliefs and freedoms of religion are being trampled upon by political correctness, culture wars, atheists, and whatever else, and in some measure I believe they are correct. It is a two-edged sword however, as freedom to practice ones religious beliefs is more inclusive than just chrisitainity, and I'm afraid those same persons who would like to pray to Jesus at football games would not be so inclined if the prayers were Islamic to Allah. Anyway thats another discussion.
So why isn't Christ in schools? Are you folks leaving him at home when you pack your lunches and grab your books and head out the door? Are you busy getting your gradebook and your lesson plans together and forget to pick Him up with your purse and ID card? Since there are no official clergy present in the lunchroom, are you not able to pray over your meal? Are you so focused on your sport that you don't take Him into the locker room with you?
So who took Christ out of the schools in the first place?
Yep. You guessed it. We did. We are responsible for "Putting Christ back in Schools". Christ is not a bobble-head that has been moved from my shelf to another location. He is not a morning prayer right after the pledge of allegiance. Christ is us. We are the hands and feet of Christ/Jesus. He dwells within us. Our actions are an outpouring of our hearts. So if anyone took him out, it would be us.
So let's take it a bit further. Put Christ back in our Families. Put Christ back in our Workplace. Put Christ back in OUR CHURCHES! And the way to do that is to put Christ back in your heart and take him with you. And you don't need the government for that.
Now if you want to talk about the legitimate assaults on Christianity from the culture, (as in the group suing in Texas over the moment-of-silence) we can do that in another post.
Now I understand what people mean when they say "Put Christ Back in Schools". Its an expression of sentiment that their beliefs and freedoms of religion are being trampled upon by political correctness, culture wars, atheists, and whatever else, and in some measure I believe they are correct. It is a two-edged sword however, as freedom to practice ones religious beliefs is more inclusive than just chrisitainity, and I'm afraid those same persons who would like to pray to Jesus at football games would not be so inclined if the prayers were Islamic to Allah. Anyway thats another discussion.
So why isn't Christ in schools? Are you folks leaving him at home when you pack your lunches and grab your books and head out the door? Are you busy getting your gradebook and your lesson plans together and forget to pick Him up with your purse and ID card? Since there are no official clergy present in the lunchroom, are you not able to pray over your meal? Are you so focused on your sport that you don't take Him into the locker room with you?
So who took Christ out of the schools in the first place?
Yep. You guessed it. We did. We are responsible for "Putting Christ back in Schools". Christ is not a bobble-head that has been moved from my shelf to another location. He is not a morning prayer right after the pledge of allegiance. Christ is us. We are the hands and feet of Christ/Jesus. He dwells within us. Our actions are an outpouring of our hearts. So if anyone took him out, it would be us.
So let's take it a bit further. Put Christ back in our Families. Put Christ back in our Workplace. Put Christ back in OUR CHURCHES! And the way to do that is to put Christ back in your heart and take him with you. And you don't need the government for that.
Now if you want to talk about the legitimate assaults on Christianity from the culture, (as in the group suing in Texas over the moment-of-silence) we can do that in another post.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
a day in the life of the prophet
So I'm camping yesterday with my lubberly lil' family at one of the State Parks when my eyeglass frames break. Fun times. I am officially a dork now with one ear piece missing and the glasses perched upon my nose held only in place by the other ear piece.
So off I go to the place where I purchased them to get another frame and we decide to go to the local chinese food place for lunch. I'm wearing my normal weekend camping attire, a pair of cargo shorts and a black t-shirt from my good friend's faith community (Journey IFC) and my gold chain with my United Methodist cross hanging from it. While I'm eating, an older fella with his company logo shirt comes in the door and our eyes meet. Somehow we seem to connect as we look at each other, and then he goes to another part of the restaurant. A little later on I'm interupted by the words, "Excuse me sir." Holding an egg roll in one hand and a mouth full of something that looks like chicken, I look up and its this same guy. He says to me, "Thank you for wearing that cross". I respond with something stupid I'm sure, like "Thanks" or "your welcome" or something, and he says, "I appreciate that". And its not the "politician smiling suck up way" of saying something, it was the "sincere somber I've got a story" way of saying something. So he turns and walks out of the restaurant. I resist the urge to follow him outside, due to my family being with me, but would really have loved to hear his story. To see where he is in his life. There was something there.
We leave and go to the place where I bought my glasses and they don't carry that frame anymore. I call the eye doctor and he loves me so much he works me in so I can get a new exam. We drive over and I walk in the lobby and have a seat. My family goes elsewhere. A lady in her 50s walks in and sets in the lobby as well. Just she and I. She looks over at me and asks, "Is that a United Methodist cross" and I replied yes. Thats all it took. She opened up like the flood gates of the Hoover Dam and begin telling me how her grandparents were the charter members of some baptist church in another community, how she had been a Baptist for 50 plus years of her life but is now going to one of the local United Methodist churches. I said "good for you" and she kept on... I was a Baptist for 50 plus years until I got a divorce. Then I was treated differently because I was divorced. This lady also had a story to tell and I listened. We talked about judgement of others and how different she now felt with a grace filled theology instead of the one she had grown up with. She said she wished she had known this earlier in her life because she actually liked to go to the casinos, have some wine and dance every now and then. I told her it was a beautiful thing that she was a recovering baptist and she replied "I'm recovered!". I tried to explain there was no such thing as a "recovered baptist", that its a process like AA, you are always in recovery, and she just laughed. She said she now teaches a sunday school class and thoroughly loves it. She wasn't allowed to at her Baptist church it sounded like.
She asked me if I had read "The Shack". Wow, yes I had read it and it was a good read. She said she was reading it now but some of her Baptist friends said it was heresy. We both agreed those folks would probably have a rude awakening when and if they actually met god. Then the lady who worked there spoke up and said she was reading it for the second time. It went on like this for a while until they called me into the exam room. I gave the lady the name of a book to read that lets her know its okay to be human, "Messy Spirituality" and she had me write it down on a piece of paper. I have no doubt she drove down the street to the book store and bought it. This lady, in her 50s, was all on fire with finally getting the chance to figure out who she is and what she believes and what God wants of her.
It was totally cool.
And this happens to me all the time. Another day in the life of the nonprofitprophet.
And that is cool as well.
So off I go to the place where I purchased them to get another frame and we decide to go to the local chinese food place for lunch. I'm wearing my normal weekend camping attire, a pair of cargo shorts and a black t-shirt from my good friend's faith community (Journey IFC) and my gold chain with my United Methodist cross hanging from it. While I'm eating, an older fella with his company logo shirt comes in the door and our eyes meet. Somehow we seem to connect as we look at each other, and then he goes to another part of the restaurant. A little later on I'm interupted by the words, "Excuse me sir." Holding an egg roll in one hand and a mouth full of something that looks like chicken, I look up and its this same guy. He says to me, "Thank you for wearing that cross". I respond with something stupid I'm sure, like "Thanks" or "your welcome" or something, and he says, "I appreciate that". And its not the "politician smiling suck up way" of saying something, it was the "sincere somber I've got a story" way of saying something. So he turns and walks out of the restaurant. I resist the urge to follow him outside, due to my family being with me, but would really have loved to hear his story. To see where he is in his life. There was something there.
We leave and go to the place where I bought my glasses and they don't carry that frame anymore. I call the eye doctor and he loves me so much he works me in so I can get a new exam. We drive over and I walk in the lobby and have a seat. My family goes elsewhere. A lady in her 50s walks in and sets in the lobby as well. Just she and I. She looks over at me and asks, "Is that a United Methodist cross" and I replied yes. Thats all it took. She opened up like the flood gates of the Hoover Dam and begin telling me how her grandparents were the charter members of some baptist church in another community, how she had been a Baptist for 50 plus years of her life but is now going to one of the local United Methodist churches. I said "good for you" and she kept on... I was a Baptist for 50 plus years until I got a divorce. Then I was treated differently because I was divorced. This lady also had a story to tell and I listened. We talked about judgement of others and how different she now felt with a grace filled theology instead of the one she had grown up with. She said she wished she had known this earlier in her life because she actually liked to go to the casinos, have some wine and dance every now and then. I told her it was a beautiful thing that she was a recovering baptist and she replied "I'm recovered!". I tried to explain there was no such thing as a "recovered baptist", that its a process like AA, you are always in recovery, and she just laughed. She said she now teaches a sunday school class and thoroughly loves it. She wasn't allowed to at her Baptist church it sounded like.
She asked me if I had read "The Shack". Wow, yes I had read it and it was a good read. She said she was reading it now but some of her Baptist friends said it was heresy. We both agreed those folks would probably have a rude awakening when and if they actually met god. Then the lady who worked there spoke up and said she was reading it for the second time. It went on like this for a while until they called me into the exam room. I gave the lady the name of a book to read that lets her know its okay to be human, "Messy Spirituality" and she had me write it down on a piece of paper. I have no doubt she drove down the street to the book store and bought it. This lady, in her 50s, was all on fire with finally getting the chance to figure out who she is and what she believes and what God wants of her.
It was totally cool.
And this happens to me all the time. Another day in the life of the nonprofitprophet.
And that is cool as well.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
so I'm teaching over Matthew when...
I've been teaching over a study of Matthew for the past several weeks. Its a pretty good study and the group, as far as I can tell, is enjoying it. We try to mix our discussions up by studying a book such as Blue Like Jazz, watching a film clip and applying it to our daily walk (the last was Batman The Dark Knight), and then a study of one of the books contained in the bible. This gives us some variety.
So today's discussion was over Matthew 19: 13-30, where Jesus blesses the little children, despite the disciples trying to keep the kids from bothering them and Jesus. Jesus sets them straight and blesses the kids and then makes a couple of examples on how they need to be like these little ones to enter the kingdom. And then the story of the rich man asking Jesus what he needs to do to enter the kingdom of heaven.
Now, I know you've heard this story at least a hundred times. And so have I. But when preparing for it this week, I just got tickled. You know, it struck me funny. So Jesus is standing there and this unknown person (presumably wealthy) asks Him what he has to do to enter the kingdom. Jesus says "If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments." And the guy replies, "Which Ones?". Man, I just laughed. "which ones?". So I'm thinking "all of them you moron!". Why would God give you commandments and then say, "uh, go ahead and choose which one of these you'd like to keep". And it reminds me of my conversations with my kids. "eat your french fries." to which they reply "do I have to eat them all". Or "eat your carrots" and they say "how many". So Jesus replies with six commandments the guy needs to keep and names them. Now I'm not Jesus, and I have no idea why He cut him slack and only said six of them, but I guess He had his reasons.
So the six have something in common, they are all centered around our relationships to others. How we treat and respond and respect and love each other. Out of the 10 commandments, Jesus chose these. And that tells me something about what is important to Jesus when he actually allows the guy to keep only six of the commandments. Jesus is concerned with relationship.
now there is more to the story of course. The young man says he has kept those six (don't know about the other four) so wanted to know if there was anything he hadn't done. Jesus says, "yep, go sell your stuff and give the money to the poor" and that would do it. The guy can't do it. He values stuff more than people. And the scripture says he is grieved by it.
So is something keeping you from the Kingdom? Is it possessions? Is it fear? Is it control? I wonder what Jesus would tell us if we asked, "what do I need to do?". I wonder if He would cut us some slack?
So today's discussion was over Matthew 19: 13-30, where Jesus blesses the little children, despite the disciples trying to keep the kids from bothering them and Jesus. Jesus sets them straight and blesses the kids and then makes a couple of examples on how they need to be like these little ones to enter the kingdom. And then the story of the rich man asking Jesus what he needs to do to enter the kingdom of heaven.
Now, I know you've heard this story at least a hundred times. And so have I. But when preparing for it this week, I just got tickled. You know, it struck me funny. So Jesus is standing there and this unknown person (presumably wealthy) asks Him what he has to do to enter the kingdom. Jesus says "If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments." And the guy replies, "Which Ones?". Man, I just laughed. "which ones?". So I'm thinking "all of them you moron!". Why would God give you commandments and then say, "uh, go ahead and choose which one of these you'd like to keep". And it reminds me of my conversations with my kids. "eat your french fries." to which they reply "do I have to eat them all". Or "eat your carrots" and they say "how many". So Jesus replies with six commandments the guy needs to keep and names them. Now I'm not Jesus, and I have no idea why He cut him slack and only said six of them, but I guess He had his reasons.
So the six have something in common, they are all centered around our relationships to others. How we treat and respond and respect and love each other. Out of the 10 commandments, Jesus chose these. And that tells me something about what is important to Jesus when he actually allows the guy to keep only six of the commandments. Jesus is concerned with relationship.
now there is more to the story of course. The young man says he has kept those six (don't know about the other four) so wanted to know if there was anything he hadn't done. Jesus says, "yep, go sell your stuff and give the money to the poor" and that would do it. The guy can't do it. He values stuff more than people. And the scripture says he is grieved by it.
So is something keeping you from the Kingdom? Is it possessions? Is it fear? Is it control? I wonder what Jesus would tell us if we asked, "what do I need to do?". I wonder if He would cut us some slack?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Awareness
I'm not exactly sure when this took place, but I was probably ten or eleven years old when awareness began. Awareness for me took the form of noticing girls, and then noticing myself and becoming self conscious about how I looked. Before this time, I was blissfully unaware of anything other than whatever was taking place at the moment. I just reacted to my surroundings like a squirrel in the middle of the road with an approaching car - all over the place.
And it was about this time that my dad became unemployed. He was an insurance salesman and I don't really remember what happened, I just knew that for a while there he didn't have a job. And somehow I found out that he had borrowed some money from the neighbors to buy us kids some new t-shirts and underwear for christmas. I can still remember my younger sister crying about not getting the toys she wanted, and how sad my parents looked.
So we never asked for anything much. Except now I was starting to notice that my clothes weren't quite in style. My mom, bless her heart, took it upon herself to purchase me two pair of jeans for school. Bell bottoms. Dark Blue. Totally yuck. And I hated them. So everyday at school, while on the playground or at P.E., I would run and slide and try to tear them up in hopes of getting a new pair. And finally, one day, after much sliding, the knees ripped! Yippee, home free. I went home and told mom and showed her my dilemna and was expecting the "lets go get you another pair then" and I could pick out some cool ones.
Didn't happen. Mom took them from me, ironed a patch on each knee, and handed them back. Yes, a terrible blow had been dealt to my self esteem.
This was also about the time Nike tennis shoes became popular. They are nothing now like they were then, but they were the prized possession of the day. Blue nylon looking things with a white check on the side. And I wanted a pair. I guess I bugged mom long enough that we had to drive all the way to the big town eleven miles away to find them. Yep, we left Maberry and went to Mt. Pilot. I can still remember getting them and getting back into our chevrolet caprice station wagon with the wood trim, and looking at those shoes like a prized possession. It could have been a golden trophy. Mom's words still come to me: "You better take care of those. I have never paid $14 for a pair of shoes in my life". For real.
Now the shoe is on the other foot. (pun intended)
I am much older, and though I try to be aware of how I look and what I wear to a certain extent, I don't really care much if its to the approval of others. I wear boots. Cowboy boots mostly. And I wear them all the time if I have pants on. Suits, jeans, slacks...heck, I don't care. I like boots. And in the summer, shorts and sandals only. Its me. Its who I am and it makes me comfortable.
Fortunately, I can afford this stuff now. And my kids get what they want also for the most part. One is eleven years old now and hasn't quite gotten to the point of being aware of what the culture says she should wear. And that's good. One is sixteen, and is thoroughly self conscious about her looks, but not because of what others will think about her, but how she wants to look. She is very comfortable with herself, something I really wasn't at her age. And the self confidence of both of them makes me proud. They don't follow the crowd or the culture or the marketing overall. They totally dislike Hannah Montana clothing. YEAH!
I'm not sure if its harder being a kid now than it was for my generation. In some ways its seems so, in others not. I guess its all relative to the situation. Times seem more complicated, but kids seem cooler. The seem to be more comfortable with who they are. More accepting of others. More into social activities. More concerned with the environment and food drives and "race for cure" activities and saying I love God on their MySpace pages...
More Aware.
Good for them.
And it was about this time that my dad became unemployed. He was an insurance salesman and I don't really remember what happened, I just knew that for a while there he didn't have a job. And somehow I found out that he had borrowed some money from the neighbors to buy us kids some new t-shirts and underwear for christmas. I can still remember my younger sister crying about not getting the toys she wanted, and how sad my parents looked.
So we never asked for anything much. Except now I was starting to notice that my clothes weren't quite in style. My mom, bless her heart, took it upon herself to purchase me two pair of jeans for school. Bell bottoms. Dark Blue. Totally yuck. And I hated them. So everyday at school, while on the playground or at P.E., I would run and slide and try to tear them up in hopes of getting a new pair. And finally, one day, after much sliding, the knees ripped! Yippee, home free. I went home and told mom and showed her my dilemna and was expecting the "lets go get you another pair then" and I could pick out some cool ones.
Didn't happen. Mom took them from me, ironed a patch on each knee, and handed them back. Yes, a terrible blow had been dealt to my self esteem.
This was also about the time Nike tennis shoes became popular. They are nothing now like they were then, but they were the prized possession of the day. Blue nylon looking things with a white check on the side. And I wanted a pair. I guess I bugged mom long enough that we had to drive all the way to the big town eleven miles away to find them. Yep, we left Maberry and went to Mt. Pilot. I can still remember getting them and getting back into our chevrolet caprice station wagon with the wood trim, and looking at those shoes like a prized possession. It could have been a golden trophy. Mom's words still come to me: "You better take care of those. I have never paid $14 for a pair of shoes in my life". For real.
Now the shoe is on the other foot. (pun intended)
I am much older, and though I try to be aware of how I look and what I wear to a certain extent, I don't really care much if its to the approval of others. I wear boots. Cowboy boots mostly. And I wear them all the time if I have pants on. Suits, jeans, slacks...heck, I don't care. I like boots. And in the summer, shorts and sandals only. Its me. Its who I am and it makes me comfortable.
Fortunately, I can afford this stuff now. And my kids get what they want also for the most part. One is eleven years old now and hasn't quite gotten to the point of being aware of what the culture says she should wear. And that's good. One is sixteen, and is thoroughly self conscious about her looks, but not because of what others will think about her, but how she wants to look. She is very comfortable with herself, something I really wasn't at her age. And the self confidence of both of them makes me proud. They don't follow the crowd or the culture or the marketing overall. They totally dislike Hannah Montana clothing. YEAH!
I'm not sure if its harder being a kid now than it was for my generation. In some ways its seems so, in others not. I guess its all relative to the situation. Times seem more complicated, but kids seem cooler. The seem to be more comfortable with who they are. More accepting of others. More into social activities. More concerned with the environment and food drives and "race for cure" activities and saying I love God on their MySpace pages...
More Aware.
Good for them.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Sweet 16
Sixteen years ago today my life was forever changed. Entering the world was my first child. A daughter. Now I have been scared plenty of times in my life. From getting shot at to car wrecks to fist fights to getting caught doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing.
But nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare me for that day. There are no words to describe the anxiety and fear I was feeling with concern for the birth I was about to be apart of. Oh yes, I got to go into the delivery room of a C section. I hate medical stuff. Seriously. Freaks me out. Mainly because I am not in control and I have to rely on other people. Total trust. I have this problem with God sometimes as well. but back to my story...
So we are in the delivery room and "surgery" starts and I get quizzy. Of course my wife is put under and is being cut with a sharp instrument, but all I can think of is "Oh my God don't let me pass out!". Within a couple of minutes a little nasty looking thing gets lifted into the air (never ever looks like that on the television does it), and a child is born.
I freak out. Is it breathing? I run over and for some wierd reason start counting fingers and toes. Great! they are all there as they should be. Oh my God something is wrong cause they are putting her in a basket! Stop worrying dad, we are only going to weigh her. Oh.
Whats the name dad? Crap - I can't remember. I blurt something out.... It sounded right when it came out so they wrote it on the side of the see thru plastic baby box. I then remembered my wife. They say she is okay too. Good.
I want to throw up. I want to set down. I can't do either. They hand me a baby wrapped up in a blanket with a little pre-mugger stocking cap on its head. I hold my daughter for the first time. Geez she is small. I'm afraid I'll break her. I give her back really quick.
that felt like yesterday.
Today she turns 16. She is a beautiful person. Inside and Out. I can't believe I've been a parent this long. She has two younger sisters that are as endearing as she is, each in their own unique way.
I am going to give her a hard time tonight as we go out to eat for her birthday. Each of them get to pick where to eat for their birthday. Its getting expensive. I am going to be the dorky dad. Its my job to be the dorky dad. Hopefully, one day, someday, she will look back on her life, and these moments together will be as meaningful and special as they are to me.
Happy Birthday Sweet 16.
But nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare me for that day. There are no words to describe the anxiety and fear I was feeling with concern for the birth I was about to be apart of. Oh yes, I got to go into the delivery room of a C section. I hate medical stuff. Seriously. Freaks me out. Mainly because I am not in control and I have to rely on other people. Total trust. I have this problem with God sometimes as well. but back to my story...
So we are in the delivery room and "surgery" starts and I get quizzy. Of course my wife is put under and is being cut with a sharp instrument, but all I can think of is "Oh my God don't let me pass out!". Within a couple of minutes a little nasty looking thing gets lifted into the air (never ever looks like that on the television does it), and a child is born.
I freak out. Is it breathing? I run over and for some wierd reason start counting fingers and toes. Great! they are all there as they should be. Oh my God something is wrong cause they are putting her in a basket! Stop worrying dad, we are only going to weigh her. Oh.
Whats the name dad? Crap - I can't remember. I blurt something out.... It sounded right when it came out so they wrote it on the side of the see thru plastic baby box. I then remembered my wife. They say she is okay too. Good.
I want to throw up. I want to set down. I can't do either. They hand me a baby wrapped up in a blanket with a little pre-mugger stocking cap on its head. I hold my daughter for the first time. Geez she is small. I'm afraid I'll break her. I give her back really quick.
that felt like yesterday.
Today she turns 16. She is a beautiful person. Inside and Out. I can't believe I've been a parent this long. She has two younger sisters that are as endearing as she is, each in their own unique way.
I am going to give her a hard time tonight as we go out to eat for her birthday. Each of them get to pick where to eat for their birthday. Its getting expensive. I am going to be the dorky dad. Its my job to be the dorky dad. Hopefully, one day, someday, she will look back on her life, and these moments together will be as meaningful and special as they are to me.
Happy Birthday Sweet 16.
Monday, January 19, 2009
"I'm Fine with God...It's Christians I Can't Stand"
Okay, so the title of this post is actually a book I am reading. Of course the title of the book enticed me to buy it, and I'm glad I did. It is written by Bruce Bickel and Stan Jantz, neither of whom I have heard of before.
But it is good. An easy read, nodding your head in agreement page turner. I can see a good study based on this book. It is subtitled, "Getting past the Religious Garbage in the Search for Spiritual Truth".
I think if you read this and see a little of yourself in the pages, then maybe it'll give you pause to think and reflect on just what it means to be a Christian. A real christian. Not the "Norman Rockwell" painting of your mind's eye of what a christian is. Parts are serious, parts are cras, parts are downright funny.
So, if you do nothing else this week. Go buy this book. Or at least go by Barnes and Noble or Books a Million or wherever you like to go, pick the book up, set your butt down and read Chapter 8, pages 135 - 151. I could do my whole study on this one chapter.
But it is good. An easy read, nodding your head in agreement page turner. I can see a good study based on this book. It is subtitled, "Getting past the Religious Garbage in the Search for Spiritual Truth".
I think if you read this and see a little of yourself in the pages, then maybe it'll give you pause to think and reflect on just what it means to be a Christian. A real christian. Not the "Norman Rockwell" painting of your mind's eye of what a christian is. Parts are serious, parts are cras, parts are downright funny.
So, if you do nothing else this week. Go buy this book. Or at least go by Barnes and Noble or Books a Million or wherever you like to go, pick the book up, set your butt down and read Chapter 8, pages 135 - 151. I could do my whole study on this one chapter.
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