Hilarious

Jeremy Brummel posted this bit on his blog.

Qantas' Pilot Gripe Sheet

After every flight, Qantas pilots fill out a form, called a "gripe sheet," which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems; document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by Qantas'

Pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers.

By the way, Qantas is the only major airline that has never had an accident.

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.

S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.

S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit.

S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield.

S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent.

S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.

S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.

S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.

S: That's what they're for.

P: IFF inoperative.

S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.

S: Suspect you're right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.

S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny.

S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.

S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.

S: Cat installed.

And the best one for last..................

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.

S: Took hammer away from midget

Smoke 'em if you got 'em

Meet Winnie Langley. She just turned 100 years old. She celebrated by firing up her 170,000 cigarette. Marlboro man my . . . patootie.

My friend Scott sent me this poem that was attributed to Maya Angelou. Actually, Angelou never wrote it. Rather, someone named Carol Wimmer penned it. The newer anonymously edited version is better, I think, that the original. Here it is:

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven."

When I say.. "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
And need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!

Spider pig, spider pig . . .

Son number two and I stopped by Celebration Cinema tonight to take in The Simpson's Movie. I'll admit, I've never been a big fan of Bart and company. Fact is, I don't think I've ever seen an episode on television. Obviously I would never see so impious a movie were I not interested in better understanding the postmodern cultural phenomena. My take on the flick?

In short, it was hilarious.

There are plenty of folks who will, no doubt, decry a preacher seeing the movie. They're probably right in some respects. Still, I was surprised by several aspects of the film.

First, Ned Flanders, the stereotypical Simpson's Christian, was not so stereotypical. In fact, the writers portray him as a good father, and an admirable friend to Bart and his family. I wish all Hollywood were so kind to Christians in the cinema. Flanders is such a good dad that Bart . . . well, I don't want to spoil it for you.

There was also one scene that confirmed to me that these folks know human (and dare I say it, Christian) nature. As doomsday approaches, the church folks and the patrons of the adjacent bar all run out into the street and look up at their impending ruin. As if on cue, the bar folks run into the church to pray while the church folks run into the bar to play. That is so 21st-century-western church it is scary.

Ultimately, the movie is a story of a man who rises above his incompetence and sacrifices himself for the good of others - not exactly The Passion of the Christ, and yet a story of redemption nonetheless.

I give the movie two and a half donuts.

What's in a name?

MSN is reporting that a Catholic Bishop from Amsterdam is suggesting that, in order to ease tensions between Muslims and Christians, we all begin calling God "Allah."

A better idea, I think is to rename God "Frank."

And why not? I've often felt quite a bit of tension with the name Frank. Think about all the television buffoons you know. They're named Frank. Consider Frank Burns, the inept, bumbling surgeon of MASH fame. Although he wasn't hated by his peers, he was incessantly made fun of and mercilessly picked on. Then there is Ray's dad Frank from Everybody Loves Raymond. What a bonehead.

There might be better understanding between Christians and people named Frank, if we renamed God "Frank." Anybody agree?

Then again, we could just stick to calling God "Yahweh." Or "I AM." Now there's an idea. Call God by his own name. Hmmmmmm. That might just work.

Whatever we call God, I suspect the best we can do is to honor His name by the way we live. In Malachi 2:2 God said,

Listen to me and take it to heart. Honor my name," says the LORD Almighty, "or I will bring a terrible curse against you. I will curse even the blessings you receive. Indeed, I have already cursed them, because you have not taken my warning seriously.

Someone needs to tell our Dutch Catholic brother that he is out of line - way out of line. But while we're excoriating him for his sacrilege, we'd better make sure we're not profaning God's name by our sin.

Which is worse, after all: to get God's name wrong, or to wrong God's name?

Creepy

Am I the only one who is creeped out by Chris Angel? His television show, Chris Angel, Mindfreek is amazing. His illusions, floating from one building to another, for example, are . . . unbelievable.

According to wikipedia, Angel claims to not have paranormal abilities, and even says he does not believe anyone has supernatural ability. Nevertheless, he carefully cultivates his image as a mysterious sorcerer.

As I said, creeeeeepy.

I'm a bad dad

Last night my friend Deputy Sheriff Johnny Lopez stopped by the house. He works the late shift for Eaton County, Michigan. Johnny and I became acquainted this year at church camp. What a great guy. As we stood in the garage chatting while waiting for my son and daughter to come home from the youth group movie outing, his police cruiser was parked in front of the house. I expected them to arrive at about 11:30. Abby's friend Chelsea, whose father is a Lansing Police Department Inspector, was driving them home.

I thought to myself, "lets have a little fun with the kids!" "Hey Johnny," I said, "When the kids pull up, lead me out of the garage with my hands behind my back like I'm being arrested."

That's exactly what we did. When Chelsea and the gang drove up I walked out of the garage. My head was down to keep them from seeing the smirk on my face. Jonah came flying out of the car yelling, "Dad, dad, dad." Abby went hysterical. It took me a good five minutes to calm her down, even after she recognized Johnny and pretty much slapped me silly.

Some things seem funny in the garage, but they lose their humor by the time you get to the end of the driveway.

Baptism? Ya' sure . . . we teach dat

At last week's Northmen men and boy's rally, one of the speakers (from the righter wing of The Restoration Movement) made a veiled reference to "Bible colleges that don't teach baptism." I am so glad that he wasn't talking about my Alma mater, Great Lakes Christian College.

From time to time folks question whether or not GLCC teaches immersion as essential for salvation. I decided I would ask James Pahl, our church's youth minister, what he learned at GLCC. I was surprised to learn that James didn't come from a Christian Church background. He grew up Free Methodist and was unimmersed when he came to GLCC as a freshman. Through the teaching of his professors in Life of Christ and in Acts, (more specifically the scripture to which they drew his attention) James came to the understand that he needed to be baptized to be saved.

That is what James now teaches at South Lansing Christian Church.

Whenever a school, such as GLCC, admits students from other faith traditions, they open themselves to the accusation "your students don't believe in baptism." Even though the professors teach immersion as an integral part of the salvation experience, there will be students who will leave the classroom disagreeing.

But, as in the case of James, there will be others who, like Apollos, learn the gospel "more adequately." Because of GLCC, James Pahl is entrusting the gospel to reliable students who will also be qualified to teach others. And that, friends, is good news!

Nope . . . not here

Drove past The Family Motorcycle club today on South Washington. The sign above the draw about made me wreck my car.

"If you're not sure you're welcome," it read, "you're not!"

I'm gonna drive back around tomorrow just to see if I read it right and maybe snap a picture for the blog.

I wonder - do we communicate that in our churches?

If we're not intentional and diligent in welcoming people to our assemblies, aren't we communicating to them in some implicit way, "you're not welcome"?

South Lansing has a fantastic team of greeters on Sunday mornings. Jerry Rountree and his crew do a great job of helping South become "A Place for You." Every church needs a handful of Jerrys Otherwise, we communicate "This is a place for us."

Ahhhh, porcelain!

My sons and I returned early this morning from The Northmen. It was a great week filled with good friends, good food and some good preaching.

To be completely honest, I didn't agree with everything I heard from the pulpit. I found some of the men's sermons to be offensive, even. That is always the case for me and the Northmen. There are some pretty far-right preachers who come there. But even those guys, when I've sifted through the chaff, give me plenty to think about and several grains of truth.

Here are a few kernels:

Referencing Isaiah 6, Kerry Allen preached, "Sometimes worship isn't a warm, fuzzy; sometimes worship is a painful experience that results in reformation." He also said, "Kingdom people, sometimes, never hear the voice of the King, and that is tragic."

From Greg Dill: "We don't have a right to change the message; our job is to deliver the message."

Fred Rodkey, Preaching Pastor of Chapel Rock Christian Church preached "You look like Jesus when you're searching for the lost, more than any other time in your life."

Ron Otto, the former minister at South Lansing gave, in my opinion, the best sermon of the week. He told us that 1 out of every 1000 doors we knock on results in a conversion to Christ. 1 of every 9 people we invite to church becomes a Christian, but 1 of every 3 people we invite into our home will make Christ their Lord.

Dick Chambers preached, "Salvation is free, but discipleship costs you everything you've got."

On Thursday morning, Harry "Bud" Yoder told us, "You can teach people how, but until you teach them why, they'll never be disciples.

J. Allen Cook delivered one of the best sermons I've ever heard on the parable of the prodigal son. he told us, "Your church reflects either one of two spirits. It reflects the prodigals willingness to celebrate and come home, or it reflects the older brother's spirit of judgment." He also said, "Prodigal sons sin gregariously; older brothers sin tastefully. They both sin. Prodigals are just on the accelerated plan." He concluded by preaching, "Older brothers, don't forget you have a past; prodigals, don't forget you have a future."

Of course, Mike Kjergaard preached a dandy. Speaking on the parable of the unmerciful servant, he said, "As a forgiven people, we need to be a forgiving people."

The week was rounded out by Lee Mason. I don't always agree with what Lee writes, but I've yet to hear him preach a clunker. He did not disappoint last night, either. He preached, "A man's life does not consist of what he possesses, but of who possesses him." He also told us a Spanish proverb that puts material possessions in the right light: "There are no pockets in a shroud."

All in all it was a great week, and I look forward to returning to the North woods on August 5-7, 2008.

Houghton Lake Heaven

It's 1:30 AM and I am sitting in the living room of my buddy Mike Harrison's Houghton lake cottage. Tomorrow morning (or later this morning, actually) my sons and I are headed to The Northmen men and boy's rally out in the woods of northern Michigan. My friend Mike Kjergaard and Ron Otto, the former preacher from South Lansing Christian Church, are both scheduled to preach. It should be a great week.

Receiving the baton

This morning Larry Carter and George Brown passed South Lansing's baton of ministry to me. It was a humbling experience, coming from the two men for whom I have such immense respect.

When I read names like Lee Doty and Bob Palmer and Ron Otto on the baton, I am reminded of the heritage which I inherit and the responsibility that comes with so sober a charge. I hope I am worthy of that with which I have been trusted.

Geeked!

Tomorrow is my first sermon as South Lansing's Senior Minister. I am more than a little excited. Tonight came over to the church and helped the youth group set up chairs for tomorrow. With each chair I laid down I said a quick prayer for the person that would be worshiping there tomorrow.

Still, my enthusiasm is tempered a bit. Last Sunday during worship I glanced over at Mrs. Frankly and tears were trickling down her cheeks. I mouthed the words, "what's wrong?" She reached over and wrote in my journal "Butler." She misses folks, and I do, too.

Yet the turning of this page in our life has been made so clear by the Lord. God has opened this door, and that makes it alright to walk through it. In fact, it is better than merely alright, it is awesome.

What will God accomplish in the coming years? I can't wait to find out.

Even!!!

With last night's victory over the Phillies, the Cubs are tied for first place!!! Go Cubs!

Politically correct baseball . . . what's next?!

New England television station WBZ TV carried an interesting story about a minor league baseball team that played a "politically correct" baseball game recently in an effort to boost attendance.

While the Lowell Spinners and Brooklyn Cyclones played the game, the announcers struggled with terms like "first baseperson," and "vertically-challenged stop." All in all, a pretty hilarious evening.

What would happen if political correctness came to church, I wonder?

Oh yeah, the TNIV.

Sorry, Wally. I just couldn't resist.

A great blessing

I love this blessing, found in Psalm 144:

May our sons flourish in their youth
like well-nurtured plants.
May our daughters be like graceful pillars,
carved to beautify a palace.
May our barns be filled
with crops of every kind.
May the flocks in our fields multiply by the thousands,
even tens of thousands,
and may our oxen be loaded down with produce.
May there be no enemy breaking through our walls,
no going into captivity,
no cries of alarm in our town squares.
Yes, joyful are those who live like this!
Joyful indeed are those whose God is the Lord.

Seven words in a sermon. . .

Sunday, one of my college professors, George Brown, preached at South. George is one of my favorite writers - a real word smith.

His sermon title was, "The Cost of Confession." He explored Peter's confession of Christ as Messiah in Mark 8. George told us, "Death is a choice of style. We cannot choose if we will die, but we can choose how." "Why would anyone choose to follow the bloody path which He marked out with his own death," George asked, "except that He is the Christ?"

That's not all George said. I kidded with him after the service. He used seven words that I have never before heard in a sermon. Here they are, along with their definitions (for those of you who attended DeKalb High School - you know who you are):

1. dissuaded - past tense, to turn from something by persuasion.
2. inculcate - to teach and impress by frequent repetition or admonitions.
3. untenable - not able to be defended or occupied.
4. paradox - a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed or opposed to common sense and yet is perhaps true.
5. ignoble - of low birth or common origin; characterized by baseness, lowness, or meanness.
6. heinous - hatefully or shockingly evil.
7. neoplatonic - the philosphy which conceives of the world as an emanation from an ultimate indivisible being with whom the soul is capable of being reunited.

Of course, George uses thse words like I use "the" and "if." They roll of his tongue with an ease that gives testimony to - not only his learning - but to his authenticity.

Afterward I began thinking about other words that I don't hear much in sermons. Words like "holiness," and "sin." It has been a while since I head the word "hell" in a sermon. When was the last time you heard the word "gluttony" in a sermon? Or the word "pornography"?

Chances are, there are a lot more words that I could and should be using in my sermons. Of course Dave Stone writes, "I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day." Those of us who live and die behind the "sacred desk" each Sunday are challenged to do both. To speak the right words and to live them.

Frankly speaking, that is one tall order.

Battling boxes

Spent the day unpacking the forty plus boxes in my new office at South Lansing Christian Church.

I had no idea how many books or how much stuff I have. Whew! It is a lot. Later this afternoon the folks from DISH network came by to install our DISH system. I was really geeked about it because the Cubs are on tonight at 7 P.M. They're only 1/2 game out of first place, and I was all primed to watch 'em win. Alas! The DISH guys need to call "Miss Dig" to get permission to drive the post into the ground. Lame! No Cubs.

So, I'm sitting at a Beaner's Gourmet Coffee cafe checking the line on the game and blogging on my new MacBook Pro. Very cool.

An evening at the Lickety Split

We're moved into our new home in our new hometown, Grand Ledge, Michigan. It seems like a nice place, so far.

Last night my sons and I rode our bikes to the Lickety Split for an ice cream cone. Grand Ledge is the sort of place where residents argue - good naturedly - about their ice cream. There are two summer stands where folks can buy frozen treats: the Lickety Split and the Corner Cone. Grand Ledgeians (is that the right word?) seem divided over which is best.

We enjoyed our cones from "the split." The only reasonable thing we can do now, though, is to stop by the corner cone and decide for ourselves.

Born again . . .

It's a simple act, really. Plunged beneath the waves, sins are washed away. The Holy Spirit comes to reside within. The promise of eternal life is secured.

It is simple, but it never fails to fill me with awe and reverence. At the conclusion of camp last week, I was privileged to baptize Brianna Mausteller.

She who is young enough to be my daughter has now become my sister.

A Tough Day

I preached my most difficult sermon ever at Butler Church of Christ this morning - my last. After ten incredible years, our family is answering God's call to move to Lansing, Michigan.

The church held a potluck today in our honor. It was really great as so many BCC'ers offered kind words. There were many tears. We shared lots of hugs and handshakes.

I'm really going to miss Butler Church of Christ. The faithful here have worked their way into my heart. As I prayed this morning, I leave with a "Butler Church of Christ shaped hole in my heart."

While that void will eventually be filled, only BCC is the perfect fit. I am excited to move on to what God has planned for us at South Lansing Christian Church. Nevertheless, I leave with bittersweet feelings. While leaving is hard, I know that God has greater things planned for both me and for BCC. I can't wait to see what they are.

Out at old Lake James

I'm investing a week at Lake James Christian Assembly, working with 8th and 9th grade students. This is my last week as the minister of Butler Church of Christ. It somehow seems appropriate that I spend it here, one of the first places where I learned to love Jesus and was exposed to the idea that I, one day, might be involved in vocational Christian service.

Now that I'm headed to Rock Lake country, I'm growing more and more nostalgic. This is a great camp!

Martha's popcorn

Mrs. Frankly and I stopped in at Martha's popcorn stand last night for some caramel corn and a visit with Jack Randinelli. Martha's is an icon.

In 1940, Martha went to visit Jack's grandfather. She had recently lost her job at the Auburn Motor Company and decided to open a popcorn stand. A loan officer at the Savings and Loan, Mr. Randinelli, Martha hoped, would loan her enough to go into business. At the time, the S&L only made loans on real estate. Although the bank couldn't help her, Mr. Randinelli made her a personal loan and a tradition was begun.

Several years ago, as Martha's health began to fade, so did the fortunes of her popcorn stand. It looked, in fact, like the tradition might be lost. Enter Jack Randinelli, the grandson of Martha's original benefactor. Jack bought the popcorn stand, and his wife and daughter continue to operate it today.

On Wednesdays and Thursdays, you can buy a dollar bag of hot popcorn in either butter flavor or caramel until 9 P.M. But come early. As we sat and visited with Jack last night, I'll bet there were at least a half dozen folks who were disappointed to find they arrived after closing time. (On the weekend, the shop stays open until 11 P.M.)

With the recent exhibition of Sculptures on the Square, Martha's has become an even better family destination. For only $5, you can grab the family pack - four bags of popcorn and four cans of soda pop. You won't find a better deal anywhere in DeKalb County. Stop in on west 9th street next to The Evening Star building and get your popcorn fix.

(Check out Chad Gramling's and some other guy's memories of Martha's.)

Brothers of another mother?

Matt stopped in on the Frankly Speaking porch last night for a visit. I didn't catch his last name.

Reading his bio reminded me of an event over twenty years past. It was the summer before my senior year at Garrett High School. I drove to Ft. Wayne and took the ACT exam. I had one of those out-of-body-in-the-zone type of testing days. It is the best I ever did on any test. I scored a 32 out of 35, which is one of the highest ACT scores I've ever heard of. (Before you get too excited about my intellect, realize I pretty much tanked the SAT.)

Anyway, with such a high test score, I got an offer for a full ride scholarship at a school in Tennessee - some place called David Lipscomb University. I was a Church of Christ boy (and still am), and they were a church of Christ school, so I thought, "let's check 'em out." But like any good Church of Christ boy, I asked a couple respected elders in our church about the college. One elder I esteemed considerably (he has since gone on to be with the Lord) told me, "They're not one of our schools. Steer clear." So I did.

Turns out they are one of our schools, they just don't have pianos.

No regrets, though. My Alma mater Great Lakes Christian College was a fine place to learn ministry. It is also where I met my wife, some of my best friends, and will be within a few miles of our new home when we move to Michigan next month.

So all's well that ends well.

Oh, and Matt. Next time I'll come to your place.

Last library board meeting

Tonight was my last library board meeting as President of Butler Public Library. The board and staff prepared a nice meal in my honor and presented me with a lovely plaque. I have been privileged to serve with some incredible staff and board members. I will miss each one.

Pray for rain . . .

Our area of Indiana is as dry as I can ever remember it. My lawn is dead. My flowers are parched, despite daily watering. Our farmers are beyond nervousness. One I spoke to on Sunday told me that he estimates his yield is already 25% lower than it should be. Without rain, that number will quickly climb.

I was reading Psalm 65 the other day, and I thought perhaps we ought to pray that Psalm for our community. Here it is:

What mighty praise, O God, belongs to you in Zion. We will fulfill our vows to you, for you answer our prayers, and to you all people will come. Though our hearts are filled with sins, you forgive them all. What joy for those you choose to bring near, those who live in your holy courts. What joys await us inside your holy Temple. You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds, O God our savior. You are the hope of everyone on earth, even those who sail on distant seas. You formed the mountains by your power and armed yourself with mighty strength. You quieted the raging oceans with their pounding waves and silenced the shouting of the nations. Those who live at the ends of the earth stand in awe of your wonders. From where the sun rises to where it sets, you inspire shouts of joy. You take care of the earth and water it, making it rich and fertile. The rivers of God will not run dry; they provide a bountiful harvest of grain, for you have ordered it so. You drench the plowed ground with rain, melting the clods and leveling the ridges. You soften the earth with showers and bless its abundant crops. You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance. The wilderness becomes a lush pasture, and the hillsides blossom with joy. The meadows are clothed with flocks of sheep, and the valleys are carpeted with grain. They all shout and sing for joy!

Let's pray for rain. And, when it comes, let's remember to thank the maker of the rain.

Zoo day

Grandpa Frankly took the family to the Ft. Wayne Children's Zoo last week. If you've never been to this premier zoo, you're missing out. It is one of the finest in the Midwest. They recently tore out their African Veldt and are completely retrofitting their African habitat. Part of the redo is a great cable car ride that spans the lot where the new display will be located when it is complete.

I was surprised, in spite of all the construction to see a bobcat in its native environment. Check it out:

My favorite exhibit of the day, however, are the three monkeys I snapped in this pic:

A good day . . .

Today was a great day. We started off with a dynamite worship service this morning. The worship team selected some of my favorite songs that really complimented my sermon. Sunday service was followed by Sunday lunch with Abby's friend Michelle and her family.

The piece de resistance was a night on the lake with our small group. We grilled out a pork loin and a big old slab of beef. Just hanging out with our small group was really good.

Nicer boomers, Butler!

The Frankly family enjoyed watching Butler's Heartland Festival fireworks display earlier tonight. It was, once again, a fantastic display.

Way to go Butler! We're sure going to miss it. . .

Closed!

The Wellers are homeowners . . . times two! Our closing went according to plan on Friday, so our new home belongs to us (and the bank!). Thanks to all who prayed that it would go smoothly.

Now we need to sell our current castle! If you're looking for a great old home in Butler, Indiana, check out this beauty! She has great maple trim, a new kitchen with custom maple cabinets, a double lot that is fenced and beautifully landscaped. The basement is guaranteed dry, and there are a number of great updates including some new carpet and lots of new paint (thanks to my brother-in-law Marty).

Call Alan at 260-337-0337 to schedule a showing! End of commercial. Thanks for indulging me . . .

Just a thought . . .

This week's issue of Christian Standard raises some interesting questions about the blending of patriotism and faith - questions that I asked myself during church last Sunday.

Each year our congregation turns the auditorium red, white, and blue for the month of July. While I absolutely love the decorations our worship folks create the rest of the year, I must admit that I am uncomfortable with this month's patriotic motif.

Why? Simply, because God is not an American. When the church comes together to worship on Sunday our sole focus should be on God and on him alone. While it is certain that God has blessed America, it is less clear that we, as Americans, have blessed Him.

This was especially keen in my thinking this past Sunday. My missionary sister was in the congregation and I couldn't help wonder if she saw the juxtaposition of old glory and "glory to God" as a bit anachronistic. I wondered: "Do they have Guinean flag backgrounds in Guinea?" When my sis lived in France was there a blending of French patriotism and Father-worship? Or what about her Venezuelan friends. Do they as easily blend faith and national fervor?

I love our country. I get teary-eyed when I watch our soldiers marching on the battlefield. I don't for a second take for granted the sacrifice of so many who have made our freedom a reality.

I know I am not alone in these feelings. Britons, no doubt, get a lump in their throat when they reflect on Dunkirk. Still, I can't imagine they use the Union Jack as the background for their worship choruses. If they did, frankly, I would be more than a little offended by them so doing.

I wonder, are they offended by my flag-waving worship?

Happy Independence Day!

A happy 4th to each of you, Frankly Speaking readers.

The Frankly family is enjoying beautiful Jordan Lake and shooting off a boatload of Indiana fireworks to celebrate our nation's independence. Hopefully your family is enjoying one another, too!

Local love-struck legend. . .

Last night my friend, Kim, told me a story that is making its way around the town of Hamilton. It seems there is a certain bachelor farmer who took a liking to the waitress at the nearby watering hole. The farmer himself is a bit of a local legend. He has three seasons: planting, drinking, and harvesting. When he's not on a tractor seat, he's on a bar stool.

Anyway, this little waitress of his apparently had only one flaw to mar her natural beauty: she lacked teeth. (She might have had more but, as I understand it, gals become more pristine with each subsequent beverage.) This farmer courted the gal and, when they finally became an item, bought her a brand new set of choppers.

Fast forward. The farmer and the waitress had a falling out and broke up. When the farmer left her, and here is the really legendary part of the story, he took her teeth with him!!!

If this were the end of the tale, it would be tall enough. But apparently the lovesick couple has begun dating again. Kim tells me that the farmer has returned her teeth but, unsure if the relationship will endure, he has only given her the top set!

Wow. . .

A lesson from Eddie

Several years ago our friends Mike and Shelly treated us to an evening at Eddie Merlot's. If you've never been to this incredible eatery, you would be amazed. It is p-o-s-h! For us, it was a once-in-a-decade experience where the incredible food was eclipsed only by the company of our companions.

In particular, what stood out to me was the attentiveness of the wait staff. A wait person stood sentry at one end of the dining room at all times. A mere glance from one of our party brought him table side. Eye contact was all that was required, and he immediately swung into action.

Why the talk of Eddie Merlot's? Something I read today made me think of that experience. The psalmist who penned Psalm 123 wrote:

I lift my eyes to you, O God, enthroned in heaven. We look to the LORD our God for his mercy, just as servants keep their eyes on their master, as a slave girl watches her mistress for the slightest signal. Have mercy on us, LORD, have mercy, for we have had our fill of contempt. We have had our fill of the scoffing of the proud and the contempt of the arrogant.

Reading Psalm 123 made me wonder, am I as attentive to the Father as my Eddie Merlot's waiter was to me?

Tracy is home . . .

Mrs. Frankly is back home after a rough week. She had surgery on Tuesday. She came home on Wednesday. She was home only one hour when she passed out and had to be returned to the hospital via ambulance.

She was bleeding internally and had to have another surgery on Wednesday night / Thursday morning. They found the "bleeder" and were able to get it stopped. She came home today. Nothing like a little stress on top of stress to raise the blood pressure.

Thanks for praying for Tracy and for me. We're grateful.

Victimology

I'm reading Thomas Friedman's award winning book, From Jerusalem to Beirut. I was interested to read what he had to say about the victim mentality. Speaking of Menachim Begin's willingness to violently confront the PLO, Friedman wrote: "Someone who sees himself as a victim will almost never morally evaluate himself or put limits on his own actions. Why should he? He is the victim."

That made me think of something my friend Lee Bracey, Executive Director of Woodburn Christian Children's Home often says: "We're not raising victims, we're raising overcomers." I'm glad Lee and WCCH are raising overcomers. Maybe that is why their kids more often break the "victim cycle" from which they come.

Grieving goodbyes

Earlier tonight my two oldest children were upset and crying because they had a bad encounter with one of their friends. Usually chatty and interacting, their friend blew them off at a party. They wondered, "is he mad at us for moving?"

That got me to thinking about the five stages of grief. I wonder, do they apply to saying goodbye to people you love?

1. Denial - They're not really moving away. They can't be.
2. Anger - Why are they leaving? Where's their loyalty? Doesn't our friendship mean anything to them?
3. Guilt - I wish we had spent more time together. If only I would have ______________.
4. Genuine grief - In essence, a good cry.
5. Resolution - I accept that the "status is no longer quo" and joyfully move on with life.

Tonight I tried to explain to Abby and Caleb that, when people say goodbye, they grieve the loss of that friendship. As they do, they go through various emotions like those listed above. They're not bad people, they're just hurting.

The time will come when all that remains is the joy of a lifelong friendship. I believe that. I hope my kids do, too.

Till my trophies at last I lay down . . .

Mrs. Frankly and I have spent the week getting ready for and now having a massive yard sale. We've been dragging . . . stuff . . . out of every nook and cranny of the Weller home. I had no idea how much . . . stuff . . . I had.

Tonight, as I was toting boxes out of the attic, I ran across a banana box filled with my old 4-H trophies. I've carted them from Indiana to Michigan and back to Indiana. We've been married twenty years, and this next move will be our twelfth (that's for you Scott and Sam). I've carried that same box each and every time.

I'm wondering . . . perhaps it's time I left the pig trophies behind. Or, should I lug them to Lansing once again? What say you faithful readers?

Our new castle

They say that a man's home is his castle. It looks as though our new chateau will be the home located at 201 Queen's Court in Grand Ledge, MI.

As most Frankly Speaking readers know, I have accepted the position of Senior Minister at South Lansing Christian Church in Lansing, Michigan. Consequently, we have been house searching for the past three weeks. We sifted through over a hundred listings in four school districts. We went through more than thirty homes. We finally settled on this beauty. Our counter-offer was accepted Tuesday, and our financing was preapproved Wednesday, so it looks like we're all set.

It is easy to find (click here for the map), so we expect all our friends to come and visit. There is plenty of room, and the A&W is right across the street so we can enjoy a visit over a root beer float.

Please be praying that our home in Butler will sell quickly (we plan to list it on Monday), and that our closing in Grand Ledge will go off without a hitch. Then pray for the transition as we sell some of our stuff, pack the rest, and tote it 90 minutes north.

Ninety-eight percent

The vote was cast Sunday morning at South Lansing Christian Church. 98% of the assembled congregation voted to call me as their new Senior Minister. I am overwhelmed and humbled by the confidence placed in me. Better put, I am pleased that South puts so much trust in the leadership of their church. It is a testament to the elders and the search committee that so many voted to approve their unanimous recommendation for my candidacy.

Tracy and I will be formally announcing our decision to leave our Butler Church of Christ family this coming Sunday. It will be a hard day for us - one that is bitter and sweet.

We dearly love the brothers and sisters at Butler. But when God calls, you either go and experience the wonderful things He has in store for you, or you ignore Him and risk losing His blessing on your life. We're going to go.

Bringin' home the bacon . . .

My friends Todd and Pat Imhoff just opened their new store, IQ Meats. We stopped in last week and bought some bacon and steaks to take with us to the lake. Gooooood eatin! Their grand opening is this Saturday. I plan to stop in and pick up some meat for my annual Father's Day carnivore spectacular.

My advice to Frankly Speaking readers: do the same!

Finally . . .

It's nice to see Bill Gates finally get his college degree from Harvard. He and that other college-dropout-loser Steve Jobs have done okay. I guess.

No small potatoes

Our Joshua's Men group is reading Point Man by Steve Farrar. Farrar quotes Donald McCullough in his book:

"We think we know what will secure greater happiness - marriage or divorce, a higher salary or professional recognition, steamier sex or deeper intimacy, a new faith or better spiritual experiences - the list is as long as humans are ingenious in imagining greener grass on the far side of the fence. But we don't realize how hungry we really are. Small potatoes won't satisfy. We need a banquet table that only God can spread."

Heading North to South

Earlier today the elders of Butler Church of Christ announced to our congregation that I will be preaching a "trial" sermon at South Lansing Christian Church next Sunday, June 10. For some, this came as quite a shock. Others began hearing whispers in the last few weeks, and our elders wanted to end any speculation that might distract from our church's mission. While we'll have to wait a week to learn if, in fact, I am called to South, the events of today compelled me to share some thoughts about this anticipated transition.

The decision to leave Butler might seem sudden, but it has been anything but.

Tracy and I began talking about 2007 late last year. For us, it promised to be a noteworthy year. In February we celebrated our tenth anniversary at Butler Church of Christ. Just last week both Tracy and I turned forty. In August we will commemorate twenty years of marriage. With all our "anums in alignment," Tracy and I began to pray about God's direction for our ministry. Was it his desire for us to remain at BCC? Or was it time for us to move on and begin a new chapter of our service to God's Kingdom?

In addition to praying we sought counsel from people we trust and admire. We asked them to pray. We listened.

Then, in late February, South's Associate Minister, Wally Lowman, called to ask if I was interested in discussing the Senior Ministry position at their church. Frankly, I was stunned. When I was an associate minister, I would average a phone call from another church about once every other month. But it had been ten years since another church seriously "courted" me.

Tracy and I prayed and talked, and decided to put Wally off until we completed our long anticipated mission trip to Haiti. While in Haiti, we continued to pray, and when we returned I phoned Wally. He asked how our trip went. After giving "Lowman the lowdown," he said something I later relayed to Tracy: "We have a group go to Northwest Haiti Christian Mission every year." For me, that was confirmation number one that maybe God was doing something. When I mentioned Wally's comment to Tracy she said, "Oh, don't tell me that!" She can recognize God's hand at work too, and she wasn't quite ready to call U-Haul.

Another confirmation came when Wally asked me if I was familiar with a discipleship process their leadership was working to implement. It is taken from a Thom Rainer book titled Simple Church. I nearly dropped the receiver. For the past several weeks I had been leading our church staff through a discussion of that book. At that point, we were already working to redefine our ministries in "Simple Church" concepts. Confirmation number two.

I agreed to meet with the search committee. Actually, finding a date when we could all connect was tough, but when we did, I was really blessed by our time together. They asked some tough questions. I asked some tough questions, too. We discussed South's mission, and I discovered that it is nearly identical to the mission I've been promoting at BCC for the last four years. By the end of the meeting I found myself making a subtle mental shift from, "God, are you doing something?" to "God, I hope you're doing something!"

The search committee told me that they wanted to make a unanimous recommendation to the elders at South. I expected to wait a couple of weeks before hearing anything. It took only two days.

We set up a meeting with the elders at South. Again, tough questions. One elder in particular, a 30 year Human Resources veteran at GM posed some difficult administration related questions. Another asked me to talk about my position on the role of women in the church. The time flew by, and before we knew it we had met for over two-and-a-half hours. Again, I anticipated hearing something in about a week.

Dick Novello, the chairman of the elders called me the next day to ask when I might be available to preach a trial sermon if, at their meeting later that night, the elders decided to recommend me to the congregation. Again, I saw God's hand at work.

There have been other confirmations, too. Larry Carter, the President of my alma mater, told me, "I believe you're the man for this job." His affirmation means a lot to me, and humbles me even as I write this. My GLCC English professor, George Brown, called to encourage me. George's opinion carries a lot of weight - not just for me - but for all who know him. Jeff Strickler, a guy I knew in college who now attends South, was an encouragement as was Ruth Doty, one of the kindest ladies I've known. Of course my buddy Fred and his wife, Mariah, have been an incredible support to us as has my long-time friend, Mike.

Let me give you one more signpost from God. We've been looking at houses and, on the recommendation from a friend, we contacted a particular realtor. Now, this friend doesn't attend South; he has just used Missy in the past with great results. We've traveled all over Holt and Grand Ledge with Missy, and she is a delightful person. It turns out she listed the last SLCC preacher's home. She even attended South at one time and told Tracy that she really needs to start going back to church. Tracy was happy to recommend she return to South and see us.

God, we're told, works in mysterious ways. Yet, I'm certain he also works in convincing ways. We're convinced this is God's plan for us.

It hasn't been easy, today. We've shed some tears, and watched our friends hurting. We wish we could wrap folks up and take them with us. But just as surely as God's plan for us is to move to Lansing, God's plan for Butler is to continue to connect with God, connect with people and serve the world. Somewhere right now, there is a pastor who is praying that God will reveal "what is next" for him. That pastor is about to be blown away by the providence of God and the goodness of the people at Butler Church of Christ.

I hope he enjoys the journey as much as I have.

Miller's Time . . . or at least it oughta be!

Did you see Donald Miller peering out from the cover of the latest issue of Christianity Today? Me either. It's a shame, too. Miller has become one of my favorite authors. His books, Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What and To Own a Dragon have all impacted me. It is entirely appropriate that Miller grace the cover of CT's Annual Books Issue.

Of course, to look at the cover you wouldn't know that he was there. Why? Because the "Annual Books Issue" of Christianity Today has been re-covered with an advertisement for the new movie Evan Almighty.

It is so subtle that I didn't catch it until I had nearly read through the issue. The only difference between the sell-out cover and a typical CT is the upper right hand corner addition of the word "advertisement" in small letters. [See it there above the "a" and the "y"?]

The marketing of CT's cover and the displacement of Miller's mug suggests that we live in a world where movies have supplanted books as the dominant media of our day. That is probably true.

But, as one who loves both movies and books, I still don't like it.

My May flowers

My yard is alive with color! After several weeks of off and on planting, my flowers are beginning to bloom and fill an otherwise drab spring with vibrant color. Marigolds were the first to go in the ground. I have one bed that fills up with orange and yellow blooms each year. Their golden orbs nestle beneath a yellow day lily and a black-eyed susan. Beautiful!

Right behind them, on the east end of our porch, are two window boxes filled with red and white begonias. They're a blue flower away from a patriotic statement, but I've yet to find a blue begonia.

There are euphorbia and knautia (I just like saying their names). I've got a purple cone flower and about fifty feet of canna lilies. They're just poking through the warm soil, but by mid summer, they'll stand five feet tall crowned with giant flowing red blooms.

I've potted a red geranium in a hanging basket next to the garden gate, and along the sidewalk in the back yard, there is a mixture of red begonias (in the sun) and red New Guinea impatiens (in the shade). In the front yard, I potted several gerberas. And, of course, there are a number of petunias in various hues of purple and red.

My most frustrating flowers, though, have been the dahlias. Last year I purchased some incredible dahlias and planted them in the front yard. They loved the southern exposure and bloomed all summer long. I dug up the bulbs and replanted them this spring, but they've been slow to come on. They're just now breaking the surface of the soil. Who knows when they'll begin blooming.

My horticultural endeavors remind me of several truths.

• Not every flower grows at the same pace. Neither do people. I've seen some folks bloom right away. Others take time and patience. Often it is those who take the most time who seem to bloom the longest and brightest - if I'm patient enough to stick around to see it.
• Conditions need to be right. It takes the right plant in the right soil with the right light, moisture, and fertilizer to get the really big blooms. Subtract any one of those ingredients, and the result ranges somewhere between disappointment and failure. I wonder if I am too quick to judge a person's failure to blossom when I really need to pay more attention to where and how they're "planted"?
• Some plants are more fragile than others. My perennials - the knautia, euphorbia, day lily and black-eyed susan - can remain planted through our harsh winters, no problem. But my canna lilies will rot in the ground if I don't get them out by Thanksgiving. They've got to winter over in the basement and be planted again in the spring if I expect a summer color spectacular. Some people are more fragile, too. Perhaps I need to be a more gentle with some folks.
• A world without flowers is a dreary world indeed, and so is a world without people. No wonder God said, "It is not good for man to be alone." He knew we need other folks in our lives to provide color and contrast.
• Set it and forget it only works for Ron Popeil. I can set my Ronco Rotisserie and forget it, but my flowers will need my attention all summer long if they're going to bloom. People need attention, too.

There are a lot of other lessons I could learn from my flower beds, I'm sure. Stop by some time, and I'll show you around my color parade. Maybe we'll both learn something.

The Arab View of Baptism

I am reading Dore Gold's book The Fight for Jerusalem. It is an interesting account of the importance of the Holy City, both throughout history and in the current political context.

Tucked within the book (on pg. 153) I discovered something interesting about baptism. In 1949

. . . Israelis were denied access to both the Western Wall and the Mount of Olives during the entire period of the Jordanian rule. Jordan further barred non-Israeli Jews from the Western Wall, demanding that tourists present a certificate of baptism before a visa would be granted.

Apparently Jordanian Muslims understand what some of us don't get. It is our baptism which signifies that we are Christians. Interesting . . .

Norwegian Helpdesk

A tough call

My son isn't speaking to me right now.

At last night's ballgame his team was down 7-4 going into the bottom of the last inning. I was umpiring the bases (how did that happen, I ask myself). His teammates mounted a two-out rally to close the gap to 7-6.

Little Javey Moreno came to the plate and hit a hard shot to the shortstop. Javey put on the speed and hot-footed it to first while the shortstop struggled to field the grounder. He gathered it in and fired it to first, but over the first baseman's head. Javey sped on to second base.

Just one problem. He never touched first. Nobody saw it but me. The visiting manager and coaches were looking at the overthrown ball bouncing down the right field fence. The home team was looking at Javey running to second. I saw it, though. Hence the tough call.

As soon as Javey touched second base I knew that he, by all rights, should be rung up. What to do? Call him out and the game is over. My son's team loses. I am a goat. Stay silent and . . . well . . . nobody saw. No harm, no foul, right?

Wrong.

It wasn't any fun, but I made the tough call and punched Javey out. Game over.

It's not always easy to do the right thing. It's never easy when you know it will hurt the people you love, especially when nobody will know if you did the right thing or not. But, as I told my son after the game, your integrity is worth more than a tally in the win column.

One thing's for sure. If Javey ever plays Major League Baseball, I'll bet he never misses first base again. And with a name like Javey Moreno, he just might make "the show."

Not in my Wildest Dreamz

Survivor on CBS provided a great teaching opportunity for my three children tonight. Last week Yau-Man won a new Ford F350 Super Duty pickup truck. He used the truck as a bargaining chip with Dreamz. The deal: in exchange for Yau giving Dreamz the truck, when they reached the final four, if Dreamz won immunity he would give the immunity necklace to Yau-Man. Dreamz gave Yau his word and got his truck.

Fast forward to tonight. Dreamz won immunity, and then completely welshed on the deal. Yau was sent packing.

By doing so, Dreamz earned a shot at a million bucks. Of course, the price for his one-in-three shot at the big bucks was his integrity. With tears in his eyes, Dreamz looked into the camera and said how important it was for his young son to see his daddy on national television keeping his word.

Well, he didn't keep his word. He may have a new truck. He may even win the million dollars. But for my money, I would rather be an empty handed Yau than an underhanded Dreamz.

Little League Loudmouths

It's springtime again in Butler, Indiana. On a humid night I can hear the call of the umpire wafting across the railroad tracks as little leaguers stare knock-kneed at their classmates firing baseballs in their general direction.

My son is playing again this year - had a big hit the other night in fact. I am umpiring, too. That seems only fair as many times as I've hollered at the guys in blue over the years. Simply put, we spend a lot of time at Hathaway Park.

Last night I attended my friend Scott's game. He is the coach of the Butler Angels. His son, Tristan, is their shortstop. They were playing a team from another town. I arrived late. The home team was at bat. As I was pedaling my bike toward the diamond, I was surprised at the unusually loud noise coming from the park. The 'hey batta batta" seemed particularly strong.

Parking my bike, I discovered why. The kids in their blue unies out on defense were doing their best impersonation of Ferris Bueler's classic "swing batta." But so were the parents. And the parent's sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. I think I even saw a Schwann's man getting into it.

The Butler parents were disturbed by this. My buddy's wife was about to go off. She told me, "Go say something to them!" Sure, you know me, Mr. Non-confrontational.

I walked over among the hollering hoard and leaned against the backstop. The ring leader looked to be about seventeen. He was doing his best impersonation of an up-and-coming meth dealer - silver chain with a dollar sign medallion, straight-brimmed Yankee hat on cock-eyed, shirt down to his knees. You've probably seen him before hanging out at the corner stop-and-rob looking for chicks with driver's licenses.

I stood taking it all in for several minutes. A mother ambled over my way and leaned into the backstop because, apparently, yelling at someone else's kid from twenty feet away wasn't nearly effective enough. I smiled at her. She smiled back. "I've never seen anything like this," I said. "Really?" she responded. "No, this is a first for me." "You mean this is your first baseball game?" "No, I've been coming to little league games for twenty years." I had her hooked. Now she was interested.

Her brow was knotted in curiosity. "What then?" "Well," I said with a smile, "I've just never been to a baseball game where the fans heckled ten and eleven year-olds. I mean, I've heard adults yell at umpires, and coaches, but I've never actually seen grown people scream at someone else's little boy to strike out." (I was still smiling, by the way.)

"We like to support our kids," she ventured cautiously. "I think that's great, but why does supporting your kid mean tearing down another?" As if in answer to my question she tossed her head back to indicate the howling mob, "But they're all my family."

Okay. . .

"See the little guy out there at second? He's my son and we're all here to support him." I smiled again. "I think that's great. I'm sure he appreciates it."

The inning ended and I jogged to center field to turn the lights on.

Our team came to bat the next inning and put up four runs. The heckling stopped. What common sense and casual cajoling couldn't accomplish the scoreboard finally did.

Coach Tony Dungy on the National Day of Prayer

Which "P" will you pursue?

I spoke to 150 high school students and their parents tonight. It was really a blast. The Tri-Kappa Sorority in Garrett, Indiana plans an annual event to honor those who earn good grades at Garrett High School. I was asked to speak to them.

I told them that folks often pursue the wrong "p's." You know them: possessions, power, prestige, popularity, prosperity and pride. All of those pursuits leave one unfulfilled and empty, though.

Rather, I suggested, we should serve people. Possessions, popularity, pride - all these are fleeting. People last, however. Souls are eternal.

Watching these kids, I am hopeful in the generation who will be choosing my nursing home.