Eternal life? Not so much, really . . .

Dick Novello, one of our elders at South, shared this devotional at last night's elder's meeting:

I recently read an article on high tech things to watch over the next couple of years. Under the heading of "Creamation Technology" (yes there really was such a heading) there were four companies listed:

1. Eternal Reefs of Decatur, Georgia will mix your ashes with concrete to make an artificial coral reef that is then dropped into the sea. Creatures are then attracted to and swim around these reefs.
2. Celebrate Life of Lakeside, California will scatter your remains in a fireworks display. It brings new meaning to "going out with a bang."
3. Celestis of Houston, Texas has already blasted the remains of about 100 people into space. The most famous of these was Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, and James Doohan the actor who played Scottie on the series. You float in space forever.
4. LifeGem of Chicago, Illinois has patented a process to manipulate the oxygen level during cremation to allow only carbon to remain. The carbon is then collected and heated in a vacuum until it becomes pure graphite. The graphite is sent to a lab to be compressed. In six to eight weeks, a gem is created. Grandma or grandpa then becomes a ring or a necklace. Mark Bouffard, a LifeGem spokesman says, "Each person has enough carbon to make 50 to 100 life gems. We'll store the remaining carbon just in case."

Now while this is interesting, there is a strong implication that these companies can create an e-t-e-r-n-a-l setting as your final resting place. But the Christian knows that isn't the case. We're told in Revelation 21 that this heaven and earth we know will pass away and there will no longer be a sea.

Paul writes these words in Philippians 3:18-21: "For, as I have often told you before and now say again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body."

Christ's physical body . . . was sacrificed for us and we look forward to His return and the transformation we'll all experience.

Good stuff, Mr. Novello!

Food as a delivery system

Let's face it: all food is one of a handful of delivery systems.

Popcorn - Classic salt and butter delivery system. (The same as lobster, by the way.) The whole point of movie popcorn is the butter and the salt. That is why air-popped corn stinks. No butter. No way for the salt to adhere. An exception - a couple of ladies here at South made chocolate covered popcorn the other day. Not salt and butter but a delivery system none-the-less.

Turkey, dressing and mashed potatoes - Simply put, a gravy delivery system. It's all about the drippings, mixed with heavy cream (or 2% milk if you're a Weller), a dash of corn starch, and simmered until thick. For better delivery, chop up the giblets and include.

Dessert - Cake. Pie. Ice cream. The vehicle is irrelevant. What we're basically talking about here is a sugar delivery system. Granulated, powdered, brown - it doesn't really matter so long as it is sweet.

Anything fried - Is a grease delivery system. That is what makes popcorn so tasty. When cooked in peanut oil it is a dual purpose delivery system combining grease with butter. French fries, fish, battered deep fried twinkies (another dual delivery system). Tasty, tasty, tasty.

Salad (including fresh veggies) - A salad dressing delivery system that serves as an alternative oil delivery system for those who are concerned about the DC (delectable correctness) of eating fried foods. Try serving a veggie tray this Thuersday without that Marzetti stuff in the middle and see how far you get.

Meat - Sauce delivery systems. My preference is barbecue for pork and Heinz 57 (with a twinge of guilt regarding John Kerry's wife) for beef. The less mature palates among our family settle for ketchup. Chicago's Wrigley field recognizes this immutable axiom and delegates to the lowly hot dog the exclusive mustard delivery system rights.

All food is a delivery system. Think about that this Thursday as you sleep off your tryptophanic overdose

Random thoughts on leaving Butler . . .

The realtor called today and told us that we have an offer on our home in Butler - one that we have accepted. We're praying (spiritual-speak for keeping our fingers crossed) that the buyer's financing will all work out and that we'll close in mid-December.

Selling 205 W. Oak Street fills me with random thoughts. . .

First, it really is an end. While I'm certain we were supposed to move from Indiana, selling the house means we really have "burned the ships."

Second, I feel that I've not yet developed a these-are-my-people sense. That is not the case here at South Lansing Christian Church, of course. I already feel a strong connection to the congregation, staff and leadership. They're "my people," and I am theirs.

But in Grand Ledge that is a different story. Butler is a small enough town that I knew most folks by name and they knew me. I knew their kids - where they hung out, what their activities were, who was dating who - that sort of thing. A victory for one person in Butler was shared by all. When one felt a loss, I felt it with them. The struggles and triumphs that the people in Butler shared were my struggles and triumphs, too. In short, they were my people.

I don't have that yet in Grand Ledge. I suppose it takes time to develop that sense. Selling our house leaves me feeling like I don't have any "my people" anymore. Time will change that.

I hope.

Lloyd Knowles was right

Earlier this evening I had a great conversation with a guy who plans to be immersed this coming Sunday. I asked him what drew him to South Lansing Christian Church. He told me that he travels down Aurelius Road all the time and decided to stop in because he saw the building and the sign that said, "Christian Church."

What is so special about the name "Christian Church?"

Some time ago this fellow asked his mother, "What are we? Are we Baptist or Lutheran or what? Because I've always just thought of myself as a plain old Christian." He's right. We're just plain old Christians at South. A Christian Church for those who claim to be "Christians only, but not the only Christians."

I like it that the stuff I learned in Lloyd Knowles Restoration Movement History class in Bible college is true still today. There are still men and women who desire to be known simply by the name of Christ.

Where's my stinking Rolls Royce?

The Charlotte Observer is detailing a new Senate probe into the finances of a handful of "word of faith" pastors who have reported incomes in the high seven figure range. Chief among these is Creflo Dollar, the preacher at an Atlanta megachurch that took down $69 million last year. Creflo's church gave him a Rolls Royce last year, which he uses only on special occasions.

There are plenty of people who take exception to the aptly named brother Dollar. As my co-minister Wally observed, "When did Jesus get his Rolls Royce? The only disciple to get any money was Judas - and a fat lot of good that did him."

In fairness to Creflo, he's not all about money. According to Wikipedia, he's also about his "two Rolls Royces, three private jets, a million-dollar home in Fayetteville, and a US$2.5 million apartment in Manhattan. " And a partridge in a pear tree. (I made that last one up.)

Emma Jean Wagglesworth 1998 - 2007

Nearly a decade ago my wife, Tracy, went to Edon, Ohio to have some curriculum translated into Spanish. She came back with a dog. We were preparing to fly to Tijuana for a mission trip when our friend, Nancy, told us that she knew a woman from her home school group who could translate for us. Tracy took her lessons with her and they were dutifully translated. While there, however, she fell in love with a litter of fluffy golden retriever puppies. One – the runt as it turned out – stole her heart.

Tracy came to my office begging to buy the dog. The $200 was more than we could afford, but I love my wife and wanted her to have this small joy. We paid a deposit, tied a ribbon around the pup’s neck, and waited for her to be weaned. “Adoption day” finally arrived, and we eagerly gathered in our energetic ball of fur with her non-stop tongue. As we wrote the check to pay for her, the breeder told us, “I could have sold this one five times over. Everyone seems to want her.”

We took her home and gave her a name: Emma Jean Wagglesworth.

For 9 ½ years Emma has been a part of our family. We dressed her up at Christmas as a reindeer and took her to the nursing home. She wore Colts gear along with the rest of the family during last season’s Superbowl. Quiet and obedient, Emma Jean understood her place in our family: companion, foot warmer, fetch player and entertainer.

When, four years ago, Maggie Sue came to live with us, Emma finally had a canine companion – someone to tussle with when the humans were away. Emma and Maggie went everywhere together. On one occasion, when the backyard gate was left open and the pair had the opportunity to get into mischief, they instead walked around to the front of the house, plopped down on the porch, and waited for someone to open the door and let them in.

We noticed Emma slowing down this last year. Before our move to Michigan, she looked like she was losing weight. When the dogs received their “pre-move checkup” we discovered Emma had diabetes. She lost weight rapidly, began losing fur, struggled to swallow her food. With her prognosis grim and her condition worsening, we determined to make her death merciful and asked my veterinarian cousin to help us to ease her passing.

Our dear friend Emma died today. She passed on surrounded by her family, sleeping on her dog bed, wrapped in Tracy’s arms.

I am going to miss her more than I can express.

I grew up on a farm – the son of a farmer, the grandson and great-grandson of farmers – so the living and dying of animals is nothing new to me. I supposed that I would take today’s passing of our pet in stride like I did when I used to sell my 4-H animals at the county fair.

I was wrong.

Deer camp

The boys and I are headed north to deer camp next week. My son's blog describes the experience to perfection.

Me and the Mrs.

Mrs. Frankly and I recently had our portrait taken by Andrew at Canfield Jenkins Photography in St. Johns, Michigan. Andrew and his partner, Jacqueline, are artists. They are amazing with a camera. We're settling on portraits, and I think the leading candidate is this one:

Dudes with scarves

What is it with guys who wear scarves? Saw Sugar Ray Leonard on the tube today wearing a black velvet suit coat with a white (angora?) scarf draped around his neck. He reminded me of Pepe Le Pew.

Since when do dudes wear scarves absent a winter coat?

Financial Fallacy

I saw about three minutes of ESPN's The Contender earlier today while sitting in a pizza joint during a meeting. The sound was turned off, so I read the subtitles. They were interviewing who I can only assume was one of the contenders. Speaking of winning the competition he said something like, "If I win the $750,000, I can get a good education for my son; I can get a beautiful house; and I can be happy for the rest of my life."

Man, is that guy going to be disappointed. Happiness for the rest of your life? If $750,000 is the cost of happiness, then why don't I see a lot more happier people here and there? No, happiness costs everything you've got. In fact, if you want to be truly happy (living a life that is eternal), a first century rabbi names Yeshua taught, "go and sell everything you have and give it to the poor."

750K. Not even close.

Greg Stauffer told me to read . . .

I'm reading Eugene Peterson's book, The Jesus Way, right now. It is top-notch stuff. The sort of reading that challenges my thinking and my acting. Check out some of these yanked-from-their-context quotes:

"We can't proclaim the Jesus truth but then do it any old way we like. Nor can we follow the Jesus way without speaking the Jesus truth." (p. 4)

"The North American church at present is conspicuous for replacing the Jesus way with the American way." (p. 5)

"A consumer church is an anti-Christ church." (p. 6)

You can see, I imagine, why I was so taken with the book after just a few pages. Peterson contends that the Jesus Way is the culmination, or better put perhaps, ultimate expression of the faith that is exhibited in the Patriarchs. In writing about Abraham, for example, Peterson shares the "way of faith":

A sacrificial life is the means, and the only means by which a life of faith matures. By increments a sacrificial life - an altar here, and altar there - comes to permeate every detail of life: parenthood, marriage, friendship, work, gardening, reading a book, climbing a mountain, receiving strangers, circumcision, and getting circumcised. Abraham did not become our exemplar in faith by having it explained to him but by engaging in a lifetime of travel, life on the road, daily leaving something of himself behind him (self-sovereignty) and entering something new (God-sovereignty).

Sacrifice is to faith what eating is to nutrition . . .

Good stuff!

New this week . . . from the church that cancelled Christmas

Last year Southland Christian Church in Lexington, Kentucky ignited a storm of controversy when the church decided to cancel church services on Christmas day - a Sunday as it turned out. Church leaders from across the spectrum weighed in on the decision with opinions as wide ranging as their respective theologies.

Now Southland is in the news again. The only thing the church has in common with its previous "infamy" might be its reluctance to be the media "target of the day." The cause of their move to the latest media milieu? Why, Britney Spears, of course. More specifically, the church's effort to reach out to "love Britney the way Jesus loves her."

In a September blog posting, Pastor Jon Weece wrote:

Sometimes it’s easy to see celebrities and the mistakes they make and think they are less deserving of our care and compassion—and our prayers. They have it all—money, beauty, success—but really, they only “have it all” according to a worldly definition.

Take Britney Spears. In the world’s eyes, she’s young, beautiful, talented, successful, yet her life is in shambles filled with bad relationships and devastating life choices. If she were your next-door neighbor in the same situation without the money and success, wouldn’t you care about her problems? Wouldn’t you pray for her and offer her support and encouragement?

Take a few minutes and write a note to Britney Spears, and bring it to the front of the stage between worship services this weekend this week. No preaching. No criticizing. Just love. As a church, let’s love Britney the way Jesus loves her.

A month ago is a long time in cyberspace, of course. But the story took on new life after catching the attention of CTV.com late last week. When Fark picked up the scent and attached a "dumba**" tag, I suspect brother Weece began flashing back to last December.

That's life on the cutting edge, I suppose.

Jon and Southland took a lot of heat over last Christmas. In Frankly Speaking's opinion, most of it was deserved, some of it was not. Certainly the tone of much of the criticism was uncalled for. By comparison, this latest media mess is much ado about nothing. What is the worst Weece is guilty of? Maybe naivety. Maybe. At best, though, Weece is teaching his people to love those who've messed up their lives so thoroughly that the rest of the world (including many Christians) seem happy to sit idly by and watch them receive their comeuppance.

I suspect that, if Britney receives the well wishes of the faithful at Southland, they'll point her to a God of love and not one of condemnation and irreversible judgment.

She needs that God.

But then again, so do I.

What happens when The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe meets Friedrich Nietzsche

Any flick with Nicole Kidman, Sam Elliot and Daniel Craig sounds like a pretty nice piece of celluloid. Not so according to an email I received from a fellow Southie earlier today. It seems The Catholic League is mounting a protest against the upcoming film, The Golden Compass.

The fuss is not so much over the film itself, but in regard to the book on which it is based, The Northern Lights. Written by "militant atheist" Philip Pullman, The Northern Lights (released in the US as The Golden Compass) is a subtle refutation of the spirituality in C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. The two books that follow The Golden Compass, however, fairly drip with anti-God sentiment and, at least from The Catholic League's perspective, anti-Catholic drivel as well.

I checked out the trailer and, frankly speaking, it is amazing. I felt an instant pang of guilt for wanting to see a film that has already earned such negative reviews form Christian folks. What to do, what to do? Should I protest. Should I acquiesce? Should I give up and just remain silent?

How about this. What would happen if myself and other Christians co-opted the film as an opportunity to talk about good versus evil. Perhaps by discussing the very existence of good and evil we confirm that there is a God. In The Problem of Pain, for instance, Lewis discusses the presence of evil as a confirmation of God's existence.

I suspect I will go and see the movie. I certainly will read Pullman's book. If I want to be able to engage our world where our world is at, then, like Paul, I'm going to have to climb the steps to the Areopagus and sit among the thinkers who influence the direction of our culture.

Happy Halloween

No mas problemas

Thanks to all who've contacted me about problems with Frankly Speaking. I think I've got the bugs ironed out in my blogger template now. And as soon as blogger lets me post pictures I'll be putting up a new post from the Lansing State Journal.

Keep the faith!

Lots of jokes . . . can't use a one of 'em

This article appeared in the Lansing State Journal the other day. If you click on the image, it should come up in your browser so you can read it . . .

Anti-perspirant inspiration

I love opening a new bar of antiperspirant! The nice curved arch. No white residue down the side of the plastic case. No stray armpit hairs stuck to the top. The whole experience screams, "today is going to be a good day!"

When I opened up my new stick of Degree deodorant this morning and pulled the little plastic doohickey off to throw away I discovered that the folks at Unilever printed an inspirational message on the top of the white bar.

This morning's encouragement: "Take the Risk!"

Okay I will. No deodorant for me. . .

Check out this dude's take on his degree deodorant.

God said that?

Saw this inspirational billboard on the way home from work the other night. Tell that to King Saul. Or to Eli's sons Phineas and Hophni. The fact is, there are times when God fires his apprentices.

I suspect the billboard's sponsor was trying to point out that God said he will "never leave us or forsake us," and he is right in doing so. Nevertheless, the Bible is pretty clear that we can reject Him. And when we do, God will write Ichabod over our ministry and find someone else to do the work of the Kingdom.

Band-a-maniacs

My son Caleb joined the Grand Ledge High School band when we moved to Michigan this fall. This 195 person ensemble is amazing. Under the direction of 32 year veteran band director Michael Kaufman, the Marching Comets have become one of the premier bands in Michigan. Here they are performing the Grand Ledge Fight Song at last Friday night's football game. Turn up the volume!

Crazy busy . . .

This week has been incredibly busy! Tonight Caleb's band is in exhibition with several other mid-Michigan bands AND the Michigan State Marching Spartans! I'll write more about it later.

Spider Web Apologetics

I wonder if Cheryl Hayashi’s mother taught her, “The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout”? If she did, it was an investment that paid off. Hayashi, an Associate Professor of Biology at the University of California / Riverside, received a MacArthur genius award this week. Along with the prestige of being named a MacArthur Fellow, Hyashi received a $500,000 grant that will enable her to continue her research.

The subject of her studies? Spider silk. According to the foundation’s website, Hyashi is “a spider silk biologist revealing the architecture, properties, and function of spider silks and the possibilities of developing new synthetic materials.” What she teaches about spiders is simply amazing.

For instance, Hayashi has concluded that “Some species of spiders produce as many as six different silks, each with specific mechanical properties and functions . . .” Some of these compounds have tensile strength and elasticity greater than that of modern steel cables. Other spider silks are more durable than carbon fiber.

Her research is increasing our understanding of spiders and has “. . . the potential to influence the development of biomimetic material for a variety of applications, from biodegradable fishing lines to medical sutures to protective armor cloth.”

All from the posterior end of an arachnid.

There’s something else I wonder. I wonder if Cheryl Hayashi believes God created spiders, or that they are the result of evolution. If she is like the vast majority of biology professors that teach at our major universities, she has staked her tent firmly in the evolution camp. I don’t pretend to know anything about biology. Frankly, I struggle to handle theology, and it is my field. But for the life of me I can’t figure out how someone, anyone really, can look at a creature so complex that it can create six different types of silk based on the mix of chemicals secreted from it’s backside, and not think, “This creature is divinely designed!”

A spider web played a faith-building role in the life of Nien Cheng, a Chinese woman jailed in 1966 during Mao Zedong’s “Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution.” Locked in a small damp cell, Cheng shared her space with a tiny web-spinner. Huddled in the corner of her cage, she watched as the spider “swung out on a silken thread, attached the strand to the base of the bar, and swung another, then another. It worked with purpose and confidence weaving a web of intricate beauty.”

Cheng later wrote,

I had just watched an architectural feat by an extremely skilled artist . . . My mind was full of questions. Who had taught this spider to make a web? Could it really have acquired the skill through evolution, or did God create the spider and endow it with the ability to make a web so that it could catch food and perpetuate its species? . . . I knew I had just witnessed something that was extraordinarily beautiful and uplifting. Whether God had made the spider or not, I thanked Him for what I had just seen. It helped me to see that God was in control. [Charles Colson, The God of Stones and Spiders, (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1990), pp. 18-19]

Maybe I’ll think of Hayashi and Cheng next time I see something with eight legs rappelling from the ceiling on its self-made silk rope. Instead of swatting, perhaps I’ll stare and ponder the amazing God who created such a complex and wonderful creature. Until my wife sees it, that is. Then I’m afraid the itsy bitsy spider will have to go after all.

A year's worth of rules

New York author, A.J. Jacobs just invested an entire year trying to keep every command in the Bible. MSNBC details his rule-keeping regimen. Following regulations included the simple - not cutting hair - to the difficult - not coveting his neighbor's flat screen.

Grace is a much preferred path, I think.

Stretch run

The Cubs are 1.5 games up with eight to go. If we can get past the Pirates we have the cellar dwelling Florida Marlins followed by Cincinnati.

Meanwhile, the Brew crew faces must-win St. Louis and wild-card hopeful San Diego. God is good.

Sam, Scott, did I just jinx the whole thing?

Nine games left!

With nine games left, the Cubs are one game up on the Brewers. I've never prayed for a baseball team before, and I'm not going to start now. I can't help hoping, though, that God is a Cub fan!

A Response to Freeganism

Southie Rod Bisher was moved to eloquence by my freegan post. His inspiring response, abbreviated here, is well worth the reading. To read his complete response, email Frankly Speaking at the link to the right of this page.

People have the right in this country to make choices and our people, in military, and government fight for those freedoms. However, in this internet age of information, when people who are citizens of the United States, promote this type of socialism, these incidences stir me to my core.

Many of you know my son Patrick is in training as a Navy S.E.A.L. We have a number of people here at SLCC who have either served their country in the military or have loved ones serving currently. Also, we have people who have served in positions at the state or federal level, as owners of companies and small businesses or CEOs in the corporate sector, all kinds of professionals and people who work for an honest day's wage. All of whom understand some basic tenants that people like these "freegans" refuse to recognize. They were given a birthright of freedom, but because they refuse to take ownership, do the work, and take up the mantel of responsibility, they, like Esau, they have sold it for bread and a bowl of stew.

The last line of the Navy S.E.A.L creed reads,

"Brave men have fought and died building the proud tradition and feared reputation that I am bound to uphold. In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed. I will not fail."

Charles Colson wrote, "The root of duty is the gratitude for what others have done." But these "freegans" seem to have given up on the ideal which is America, and do not recognize the duty that others have done. They choose a life of escapism instead of participation in life. They haven't chosen to study the great successes of our country or the people in it, people who started with nothing, and because the cared about others first, became great influences and had much prosperity.

Contrary to a lot of advice they may have heard out there on how to live successfully, or perhaps build a prosperous business, integrating compassion for your fellow man with lucrative opportunities is the real secret to security and happiness. It's the knowledge that what you're doing is making a difference that makes you feel worthy of the privilege as a U.S. citizen and even the comfort of wealth. But even long before the wealth comes, having a compassionate attitude along with sound business acumen (which can be learned) goes a long way towards increasing your chances of attaining dreams, and/or wealth, and influence. . . .

The ideals held by people who are bent on living socialist values are the ideals that continue to plague any free society. Not only here at home, but all over the world, the United States is constantly fighting for social freedoms, economic freedoms, property and ownership freedoms, and religious freedoms.

If one searches the scriptures, one can see that capitalism is a Godly system, socialism is man's corruption of it and Satan's twisting of the truth. Capitalism and free enterprise are the opportunities that are carried on the winds of freedom. . . [In] the free wind of freedom, the Stars and Stripes still wave, and by the grace of Almighty God 'we will not fail'.

You can say "no"

Wally turned me on to a news story about a German man who is turning down his recent $4 million lottery winnings.

The idea blows me away. Of course, there are plenty of folks who reject a far greater gift - salvation. We can say "no" to God. Unless you're a Calvinist. In which case you can't say "no," or you can't say "yes." Apparently the whole thing is out of your hands. I think. Maybe.

The cat lady

I learned that our Administrative Assistant, Micki, has ten cats. Cool. Her "secret sister" gave her this nifty "Crazy Cat Lady" action figure today.

A freegan by any other name . . .

My buddy Erick gave me the 411 about a group of folks who have taken vegetarianism to a whole new level. They call themselves "freegans."

What is a freegan? Glad you asked. According to their website,

Freegans are people who employ alternative strategies for living based on limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources. Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed.

Sounds reasonable, right? Unpack their nice little definition, though, and you will find folks dumpster diving for food and freeloading off hard-working folks.

They practice "eco-friendly transportation" (hitch-hiking), "rent-free housing" (squatting), and "voluntary joblessness" (unemployment). My father's generation called them "bums." You can call them whatever you want, as long as you don't call them late for supper. And its free. And doesn't contain meat. Good luck with that.

South Pole (barn)

South is finishing up a new pole barn. Just outside my window, a dedicated crew of Southie volunteers have been working for about two (or is it three) weeks to build it. We'll be using it for storage, mostly. Rod asked me to post it here so fellow "Southies" can check it out.

Rutgers fans shame on you

My blood is boiling after reading Mark Diiono's column about the Rutger - Navy football game last Saturday. After you read it yours will too. Apparently, the future white-collar workers of America got all liquored up and, from the safety of the stands, harrassed the Navy players. Okay. Fine. That is football.

But Saturday they crossed the line from fan to fanatic by personally attacking men who, following graduation, will be protecting their right to be jackasses at football games.

I sent an email to NCAA President Miles Brand asking him what he intends to do about it, and I urge readers of Frankly Speaking to do the same.

Progress at GLCC

It is ironic that, on a day devoted to remembering the destruction of two iconic American symbols and those who perished in New York, Washington, D.C., and a Pennsylvania field, steel began being hung for Great Lakes Christian College's Doty Center.

Those who perpetrated the hateful acts of six years ago cannot withstand the onslaught of the Church of Jesus Christ, and those being prepared for ministry at GLCC.

Thank God for the work of Great Lakes and for this new tool in the education of student leaders for the church of today and tomorrow.

Colts roll . . .

The Colts absolutely dismantled the New Orleans Saints last night. I told my buddy Fred that this is the finest team to take the field in the 21st century. He says its early in the season. He's right, I guess. But then again, his Michigan Wolverines just got beat by. . . well, let's not talk about that.

My cultured ear

So it turns out I like classical music. It surprised me, actually. I never saw it coming.

As I anticipated my move to Lansing, I looked forward to listening to Lansing's Christian radio station. WBCL was what we listened to back in Butler, and I wanted to continue a steady diet of CCM. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy listening to Smile FM. I especially enjoy hearing Rob Dale's weather forecast. (Shameless plug for a fellow "Southie.")

Nevertheless, I find myself listening to more and more classical music on WKAR. There is just something . . . soothing about their music. Their announcer (it seems wrong to call him a "DJ") exudes calmness as he intones:

And now the 23rd symphony by Italian composer Aldente Rotini. The prime number symphony. Rotini composed this symphony during his dissipation years, and for that reason the 23rd is sometimes referred to as the Baccardi overture. Here performed by the Prague National Symphonic Orchestra under the direction of Marco Polo.

Ahhhh.

The announcers on WKAR don't even try to "hit the post." DJs make "hitting the post" - trying to fit as many words as they can in before a song's lyrics kick in - an art form. A good platter spinner can give you the time, weather, traffic, stock tips, relative position of the moon to the earth and the solunar table before Garth or Carly or Bono ever spits out a word. Its all so hurried. Contemporary radio, including CCM is rushed, intense even.

Not classical radio. To talk over the music is unthinkable. Its not real time.

So I'll order my Taco Bell and hurry back to the office, careful to avoid exceeding 35 mph on Miller Road. I may even make a call on my cell if I have to. But by the time I get back to 6300 Aurelius, I'll be feeling pretty good. Because whatever I'm having for lunch, I know I'm dining on Rotini (or Haydn or Mozart).

Who knows. Maybe I'll even contribute a few bucks to WKAR's annual fund drive. Now if I could just get past that thing with NPR.

Commitment versus Surrender

Going through my journal entries from May of this year, I came across something Larry Carter preached at South: "Commitment means I am still in charge. Surrender means letting God be in control."

I preach commitment all the time. Larry is right, though, and that means I need to refine my vocabulary a bit. And while I'm at it, perhaps I need to refine my thinking and my acting some, too.

Chocolate

Mrs. Frankly brought home a giant chocolate bar from our bank earlier today. There was a mix-up with our checking account and, after straightening it out, our "personal banker" told Tracy, "You need this." It's nice to have a banker that understands our needs.

The whole chocolate thing reminded me of something that my buddy Erick Riddle wrote to me yesterday:

A good piece of chocolate has about 200 calories. As I enjoy two servings per night, and a few more on weekends, I consume 3,500 calories of chocolate in a week, which equals one pound of weight per week.

Therefore...

In the last 3 1/2 years, I have had a chocolate caloric intake of about 180 pounds. I weigh only 165 pounds, so without chocolate, I would have wasted away to nothing about three months ago!

I owe my life to chocolate.

Erick, I can completely relate.

My favorite month

September is here - my favorite month. For my DeKalb County, Indiana friends, the reasons are obvious:

• The Auburn-Cord-Dusenberg Festival. 100,000 people descend on my home county to buy and sell classic cars. Since my cousin married into the Kruse auctioneering family, I've been blessed to have some free tickets to the festival come my way over the years. They've been worth every penny someone else paid for them. (And much appreciated.)
• High School Football. The Eastside Blazers opened play and I wasn't there to see their collision with the mighty Garrett Railroaders. I did see the Grand Ledge Comets play and it was a ton of fun. Still, I miss Chuck cheering "First down! Move those sticks!"
• The National Football League. The Colts open Thursday night against the Saints. Back to back? I think so.
• The DeKalb County Free Fall Fair. My home county's fair is the last in the State of Indiana. This year, for the first time in many years, I won't be working the morning grill at the Bar None Saddle Club. I plan to stop in on Friday, though, and enjoy the great food and fine company.
• Deer season. The quest for a big buck begins with the Michigan youth hunt later this month. Perhaps we'll bring home a wall-hanger this year. But even if we don't, we'll bring home plenty of good memories.
• Color. The leaves, they are a changin'. I'm actually looking forward to the drive to and from work each day as I enjoy the splash of autumn hues that dot the roadside.

Yep. September is my favorite month. Sure glad it's here again!

James' fears confirmed

Our youth minister, James Pahl, sent me a clip of South Carolina Miss Teen. She proves, he says, that our culture does indeed value looks over brains. Really? I didn't realize that. Then again, James might just have fallen in love? Here she is . . .

Jonah's Game-O-Rama

Saturday morning Jonah participated in Grand Ledge's version of a sixth grade football jamboree, the Game-O-Rama. They played four mini games against Dewitt and Waverly. The first two games were uneventful for Jonah. During the third game though, while on defense, Jonah woke up and turned into a one-man wrecking crew.

The carnage began when the quarterback dropped three steps to hand the ball off on the left side to the half-back. Only the half-back wasn't there. In a panic, the QB spun around to the right and met Jonah head on. It was the hardest hit I've ever seen him make. All the dads went "whoa!!!" All the moms sucked air.

After that Jonah went on a run of five straight tackles behind the line of scrimmage, including the sack you see here. The opponents finally decided to double team him. One play saw J get hammered - it was pretty cool, really. That didn't stop him, though, and by the time the game was over, Jonah chalked up about a dozen solo tackles. The J-man is a sledge hammer!

Press the play button below for highlights . . .

Skunked!

Wally sauntered into the office today and informed us we had trapped a skunk. If you’ve looked out back behind the church building, you’ve noticed the construction of a pole barn. Lloyd and his crew have been working hard to create a place for storage. One of their first tasks was to dig several holes on which the building’s posts will rest.

A lonely skunk found one of the holes. I wonder what happened. Did he fall in? Was he . . . pushed? According to Wikipedia, “Although [skunks] have excellent senses of smell and hearing — vital attributes in a nocturnal omnivore — they have poor vision. They cannot see objects more than about 3 metres away with any clarity, which makes them very vulnerable to road traffic.” Apparently also to holes.

On hearing the skunk’s plight, James and I grabbed the digital camera and ran out to the hole giggling like schoolgirls. The plank that Wally tossed in it so the skunk could climb out made it easy to locate. Naturally the little fellow was too nearsighted to see the board. As he clawed away at the side of the hole I stood above snapping pictures of his (or was it her) furry, striped little body. Eventually the critter turned a tail to us, and we turned a tail to it, scurrying off to the safety of the church building before suffering the consequences of crossing the fine line between spectator and participant.

Sitting here now, I wonder how often I am like that skunk. Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking. All jokes about baked beans and clumsiness aside, I’m afraid I am like him more often than I would like to admit.

Believe it or not, this preacher sometimes falls into holes. Morally. Emotionally. Spiritually. I cruise through life, merrily on my way. Suddenly the bottom drops out, gravity takes over, and I plunge downward. A billboard with an immodestly dressed woman catches my eye and, rather than averting my eyes, I linger. Someone criticizes me or I feel taken for granted and my self image plummets. Or, I get so busy doing ministry that I neglect the God for whom I minister. Before long I find myself at the bottom of some chasm staring up at a sky that seems all but unreachable.

Lying there, as I am, at the bottom of my self-made self-pity abyss, what do I do? Too often I dig around, scratching and clawing, looking for some way out, when all along God has placed the means of my escape right there beside me. Or worse – when God peers down to see if I’ll get a clue and crawl out of the pit – I become frightened, turn tail, and stink things up.

Like me skunky friend, my response is completely irrational. I mean, holes happen. Aside from learning to dig less holes on my own, there is little I can do about it. Even if I could stop my own excavations (unlikely as that is) I’ll still stumble into pits dug by other people or even just uncontrollable circumstances. Holes happen. And when they do, I need to learn to stop trying to dig my own way out, look up, and let a far greater being than I can possibly fathom reach down and pull me out from the miry clay of my humanity. And, frankly speaking, maybe you do, too.

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.