Full auto . . .

So the governor of Kansas recently signed a bill into law that permits Kansans to own machine guns, silencers, sawed off shotguns and other fully automatic weapons.

Now I'm a second amendment guy. Although I don't have the bumper sticker, and have never sent a dime to the NRA, I pretty much think I should have the right to own my great-great grandfather's twelve-gauge Meridan shotgun. And my deer rifle. And .22 caliber rimfire. And the Remingron 870 that I used to not kill a deer last fall. Someday I plan to buy a handgun so I can go to the range with Tim and Dr. Joe and shoot up a paper target or two. Hey, I even think Charlton Heston and his, "from my cold dead hand" thing bit was pretty cool - even if it was ill-timed coming, as it did, on the heels of the Columbine shootings.

But, for the life of Smith and Wesson, I can't figure out why anyone needs to own a machine gun.

The AP story reporting the events in the Sunflower State quotes a politician explaining that the bill is attempting to benefit collectors who want to make, say an M14, part of their collection. Their collection of what - military grade killing tools? Do they plan to display their burp gun on the shelf next to their harmless bazooka and for-show-only claymore mine?

Kansans ought to just do what Michigan rednecks have been doing for decades - filing down the sears on their Model 7400s and attaching drum magazines to their glocks. Or, if they're more well to do, buying a conversion kit on the internet. Of course, we don't install them, we just put them on the shelf. For our collection.

Detour . . . south

I preached from Numbers 21 today about life's detours. My son Caleb and I are headed south to Mexico in June for Caleb's first mission trip. As we make our plans we're finding that we, too, are going to experience a detour. Our original plan called for us to travel to the Yucatan Peninsula, but our original travel dates conflict with a wedding that I have committed to performing.

As a result, Caleb and I will be traveling with a group from the Butler Church of Christ to Baja California. We'll be building a house in Tecate - the home of a large cervezaria.

Our trip will cost us $2484. So far, we've raised approximately $1750, so if any of you Frankly Speaking readers would like to contribute, we'll gladly put your offering to good use building a home for a needy Mexican family. You can do so by Paypal. Just go to your account and send money to frank@southlansingcc.og.

Thanks!

Random stuff . . .

The dove out my window...
I spoke from Matthew 10 this week talking about being wise as a serpent and gentle as a dove. As it happened, I spotted a mourning dove outside my window today. Doves are cool. When they walk, their heads rock back forward and back. They look a little goofy, but I learned that they do so because they cannot walk and focus their eyes at the same time.

Move, focus, move, focus, move focus . . . People are the same, I think. Its hard for me to focus when I am moving, too. When I stop, though . . .

Andrew Lloyd Weber...
My daughter and I watched Phantom of the Opera last night. I've never seen it before. Loved it. Abby said, "Andrew Lloyd Weber is a genius." She's right. She sang along with Christine, and I sang along with Raoul and the Phantom.

Schmuck is a bad word...
Mentioned on Sunday that some people see naive Christians and think, "What a bunch of schmucks." Turns out that is a bad word in Yiddish. Didn't know that. Bad on me.

2 Samuel. . .
Read this in my quiet time this morning and it brought me great hope: "All of us must die eventually. Our lives are like water spilled out on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. But God does not just sweep life away; instead, he devises ways to bring us back when we have been separated from him." (2 Samuel 14:14, NLT)

GI Joe - Big game hunter!

My buddy Scott sent me this hilarious photo. Some people have too much time on their hands!

Beloved and "Belonged"

My friend Rick sent me a sappy picture montage of babies and their pets. The juxtaposition of a Bull Mastiff and an infant is striking. The older Rick gets the softer he becomes, methinks.

At the bottom of his email was this: "Within the heart of every stray lies the singular desire to be loved." He's right, I think. The desire is deeper, though. More than just to be loved, I think there is the desire within this "strays" heart to belong. We want to be adopted into God's family. We need to know that we're His.

When Paul writes about my adoption as God's son, my pulse accelerates a couple of beats. I am His! I belong to the Family!

"How great is the love of the Father that we should be called sons of God, and that is what we are!"