I Wash My Hands

"EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS FOR AT LEAST TWENTY SECONDS"
-sign in the bathroom at Biggs Supermarket in Hyde Park

Ladies, let me explain something to you about men: we don't like washing our hands after using the restroom. Right now there are some men reading, calling me a liar. I declare that you, my friend, are participating in the cover up. It's not that we're against cleanliness, but for quickness. Men enjoy the opportunity to get in and out of the bathroom in record time that is afforded to us as a result of our hardware. We'd rather not wash our hands, but we do anyway because we don't want to be that icky guy who doesn't wash. But the startling truth is THERE ARE SOME MEN WHO STILL FORSAKE THE HAND WASHING PRACTICE ALL TOGETHER. Sick. There's the episode of Seinfeld with Poppy, the restaurant owner, who didn't wash his hands after using the restroom; he's making Jerry's meal and he starts to get sick. He refuses to eat his meal, but is unable to say why. All men have witnessed a Poppy who made the noticable b-line from urinal to bathroom door. You want to say something, but there's almost like this unwritten code of non-confrontation in this issue. Perhaps, one day, I'll be bold enough to break the code of silence.

Oh, and not to cross the lines of TMI but I've even once witnessed the "fake-out hand wash," where a man turns on the faucet to pretend he is washing his hands but doesn't. I still haven't figured that one out. Why do almost all the work involved in washing your hands and stop short [second Seinfeld reference in the same post, but I guess it's apropos because this post is all about nothing]? All this info is rather disturbing, but it's rather true.

Especially now that I work in the food industry, I'm extra paranoid about the hand washing. I've never washed my hands so much in my life; I've scrubbed layers of skin from my hands in search of a cleaner manos. I think my hands are becoming more and more weathered as a result. Give me a few years and I'll be forced to become Edward Scissorhands.

About those signs in the bathrooms, I wonder if there are similar signs posted in women's restrooms. I'm sure there are, but it puzzles me. To my understanding, all women already wash their hands after using the restroom. And with the advent of this hand sanitizer crap, females are even more clean. So isn't this just a waste of signage, like labeling light switches? They'd be better served to double up signs in the men's bathroom.

But it was that sign at Biggs that really made me take notice. We've all seen an "employees must wash hands" sign, but have you ever seen one with a mandatory time limit? And 20 seconds? I'm not sure that stipulation helps any. Can you imagine a guy narking out another guy for stopping off at nineteen seconds? That would force a guy to go all "speck of sawdust vs. plank in the eye" on someone. I'm not sure I've ever witnessed a guy wash his hands for twenty seconds or more, outside of someone working with motor oil or gasoline. Twenty seconds? Count it out and see how it feels. Long time, eh? That's slaughterhouse time. Wash hands? Yes. Twenty second? Not to sure.

So just to reiterate: I wash my hands. And I'm rather proud of it. Men of the world, unite. Out those who flush and go.

But feel free to keep it under twenty seconds.

Charlie and Jimmy and Richard

I apologize in advance for the length of this post but I've been thinking about this for almost 24-hours now, so I need to get this out.

When it comes to ministry, I like pretty people. Doesn't everyone? I prefer pastoring nice looking people who don't have personal problems [or at least they keep those problems to themselves] and tithe. I can fluctuate and even accept a few personal foibles as long as they double-tithe. Gimme a group of those people, and I'm just fine; I'm happy pastor.

We've already had our first repeat visitor to Echo. His name is Richard. I actually met Richard right as we were about to begin our first service; he caught me in the hallway at the church and asked me for money. Richard is a 47 year-old divorced father of two kids. He's unemployed, almost homeless, and shows up when something is happening at the church. Currently he lives up the street with a friend. The people at the WHCC warned us that he's been hanging around, hitting people up for money. And he's already figured out that we're the new kids on the block [I'll be lovin' you forever, Donny]; like I said, he was there Sunday night for our first service and he showed up at our prayer meeting last night.

Richard asked if he could pray with us, and we said sure. He even offered up a prayer for all of us at the end of our prayer time. I hope he was sincere, but I'm a tad skeptical. Richard is looking for money from us. He privately asked me if we could take up a special offering for him. I told him we couldn't do that because we're not going to give him temporary fixes, but we'll see what we can do. Kelly and I ended up taking him home and we gave him a couple of bucks to help him out. I know Richard is here to stay with us.

Now let me be honest with you: my first thought about Richard is, "Great, another leech to deal with." I might be a pastor, but sometimes I'd rather not deal with it. I plead to God: "where are all the normal people who need ministry?" His answer: "take what I give you." I just wonder why I always get the people with extra-wants, extra-needs, and take a lot more work to pastor.

But that's my heritage. When we were growing up, my parents always had people projects they worked on. I specifically remember this guy named Charlie who lived in the ghetto. He'd come to our church on Sunday night and my parents would drive him home after church. Charlie lived a "fer piece" from our house, so taking him home killed our Sunday nights. Church didn't get out until 8:00, we wouldn't leave there until 8:30. Taking Charlie home meant we wouldn't get home until after 9:00 and we had to go to school the next day. It sucked, but my parents never complained; they just did it because they knew they should.

I guess their example actually got through to me. God has brought those same type of people to us, and we've always accepted them. Most recently, at Mason, it was a guy named Jimmy. Jimmy was in an alcohol related accident when he was 15 and is now 35; he has little use of his right side and he hasn't matured past his age at the time of his accident. Being around Jimmy is trying, but most people get fed up with his act and move on. I, instead, chose to plant a church to get away from him. Just kidding.

Jimmy used to call me at church all the time. One time he left a voice mail on my answering machine asking if Jesus wore cross jewelry. I told him I didn't think so. Jimmy was kicked out of quite a few churches, but somehow we were able to get through to him. Our relationship progressed so much that I even gave him my cell phone number. He calls me every couple of weeks now to check in with me [and he calls my buddy Tim Tucker everyday in my absence].

My point is this: these are the types of people we can't dismiss. God puts them in our lives for a purpose. Sure, they're rough around the edges, have a list of problems and need attention or money. It's so much easier to ignore them. But we can't. I know what the next weeks and months [maybe years] of dealing with Richard is going to be like, but we've got to embrace it. Sure, he might only look at us and only see money, but maybe this is an open door from God is transform his life through Christ. Yeah, I'll give him some cash here and there, but hopefully he'll figure out there's something more he needs.

Speaking of Jesus, His is an example we can look at for inspiration. The Creator of the world comes to earth and who does he chose to hang with? No, not the pretty people, but the outcasts and the [literal] lepers. If you claim to be followers of Jesus and dismiss needy people as freeloaders, I'd question your faith.

This isn't a guilt trip or anything. Well, maybe it is. But I need to be clear that I'm stating this as chief hypocrite. These are big words from a guy who has been in the area a little more than a month. I've screwed this up in the past; I've chosen to avert my eyes sometimes when there's an undesirable person who wants my attention. And I'll screw it up in the future too. I just hope I can be a little more like Jesus everyday.

Do you have a Charlie or Jimmy or Richard in your life. If so, keep on loving them. If not, open your eyes; maybe they're right in front of you.

Modeling Diversity

Even though our condo is on the edge of Eden Park, we actually live in Walnut Hills. On the signs welcoming people to Walnut Hills, it claims to be, "A Diverse Community since 1800." I'd say this is an accurate claim. There's a colorful palette of people here, people of different cultures and backgrounds; so far, it's been a cool place to live. I love driving through the community, able to claim that this is my neighborhood.

Allow me to rewind to a few months ago when I finally got an iPod. One of the main reasons I persuaded Kel to let me get it is that I love downloading sermon mp3's, listening to them during my commute. It's helped me both spiritually and in my preaching. Along with the iPod I purchased an iTrip, a device that allows you to listen to your iPod via radio frequency. In order to do this, you need to find a frequency that has no station on it. I use 87.9, which is a pretty safe bet throughout Cincy. But every once in awhile, I'm driving in an area and a signal interferes with my iTrip. I'll be listening to a sermon and then, out of nowhere, I'm jamming to Indian music. It's a little disturbing, but I still love the gadget.

Now back to this afternoon, I was driving home from work, via the backroads. I was enjoying the beautiful weather, my windows down and my iPod blaring out a guy preaching. As I drove through one of the more diverse parts of Walnut Hills, in an area where I've been able to feel the bass from other cars pounding in my chest, my iTrip picked up another frequency. And it happened right as I pulled up to a stop light, with other cars around me. The sound of the sermon disappeared and, in it's place, was a bit of diverse music:

Bagpipes. Blaring bagpipes. I kid you not. Personally, I'm not offended by bagpipes. My high school mascot was a Highlander so I have an affinity for ax-wielding guys in skirts and their music. It's just having your car stereo playing loud bagpipe music while driving through the city is a tad embarrassing.

I saw the guy in car next to me start to look over at me, and I quickly looked away. I mean, I couldn't just turn it off, I had to work through it. I wonder if that guy thought I always drive around rockin' out to Scottish folk music. Perhaps he even wondered if I was sporting a kilt [which I wasn't, but I think I have the legs for it].

But then again maybe he, like me, thought to himself that this is a diverse community. Whether rap, rock, r&b or Scottish folk music, there's room for us all.

It's supposed to be colder tomorrow. My windows will be rolled up. I won't have to worry about this problem again for at least a few months.

Gonna Fly Now

Dreams do come true. No, I'm not talking about this whole church plant thing, I'm talking about something even bigger than that: they're making a sixth Rocky movie. Yes peeps, Sly Stallone is back to reprise his greatest role- Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion.

I've always felt a connection to the Rocky movies since I saw the fourth installment of the franchise in a theater. For those of you unfamiliar with each of the movies, I'm questioning your American citizenship. Nonetheless, here's a quick review of the movies:

1. The original. Sure, it was slow, but did you know it won the Best Picture Oscar? And Stallone was nominated for Best Actor. Crazy. 1976 must have been a slow year for movies.
   
2. They finally get it right: Balboa beats Apollo Creed in the rematch.
3. Obviously the best of them all. Hulk Hogan, Mr T, and Mickey dies. Epic.
4. A little lame, but the fight at the end against Drago [despite being totally unbelievable] was the best match in the series. Embarrassing confession: I owned the Rocky 4 soundtrack.
5. The absolute worst movie ever made. And I'm not limiting that to the Rocky movies. It was ridiculous. I'm still trying to figure out who paid money to get that trash made. Tommy Gunn, Rocky's protege was an actual boxer, not an actor. Unfortunately he wasn't very good at either.
   

I'll admit that I'm interested in seeing this sixth movie; they really needed to do it after the last movie [did I mention that Rocky V was horrible?]. The whole franchise is in need of redemption. While there's not much info out about the film, there is one piece of startling news that's been released: Adrian will be dead.

That's tough to deal with, not because Adrian was a great actress, but because of the end of the movies. Rocky fights to the finish. He's bloody after winning [or almost winning] the match. Somebody tries to interview him at ringside and he yells out an obligatory, "YO ADRIAN!" With Adrian dead what will Rocky yell? It's going to take some creative script writing to fill that absence. Sylvester Stallone is writing the story himself, so here are my suggestions to Judge Dreddful on how to fill the void:

• After Adrian's death, Rocky develops an affinity for men who play cello. After his match he yells out, "Yo Yo-Yo Ma!"
• The Italian Stallion returns to school to become a history teacher, specializing in rulers of the Roman Empire. At the end of a stirring lesson he declares, "Yo Hadrian."
• Rocky, still living in his dilapidated Philadelphia neighborhood, falls in love with music videos from the 80's and 90's. After his cable goes out he cries out, "Yo MTV Raps!"
• Balboa becomes depressed after his wife's death and over-indulges himself on Mexican Food. After kicking his chiuaua, he demands, "Yo quiero Taco Bell."

OK, that's all I got. You know, the worst part about this new movie is that it's not due out until next Thanksgiving; we have to wait a year for it to come. That's a long time. Until then, I'll be in training: sit-ups, push-ups, jumping rope, running on the beach, eating lightning, and crapping thunder.

Let the earth shake!

I haven't "come down" yet, the day after the kick-off. I'm just lovin' life. It was back to work this morning, making the bagels and stuff like that. We were short on help today so I had to do dishes. Hail the conquering victorious church planter: rinsing the French Onion residue out of soup bowls. I rock.

So this afternoon I had to go see Mr Insurance Guy. Apparently we've not had any coverage on our condo since we moved into this place. Just terrific. So this meant a trip to the westside [Cheviot to be exact].

SIDEBAR: During this errand I was able to witness a typical westside scene. As I pulled up to Mr Insurance Guy's office there was a gentleman in the neighboring yard with no shirt on. He was actually picking things out of his chest hair. I kid you not: he kept at it from the time I got out of my car until I got inside.

Yes friends, these are my people. I am one of them. We sometimes have stuff in our chest hair that have to be removed . . . in our front yard . . . in broad daylight.

Now you know. OK, back to the story.

As we were getting coverage hammered out, Mr Insurance Guy asked if I needed earthquake insurance. I thought about it. For those of you who don't know, Cincinnati is near a fault line. There is the [slight] possibility that a major earthquake could hit the Ohio River valley. Our condo is on the side of a hill. If there ever is an earthquake, we could see some serious damage. Oh yeah, I went for it: I bought earthquake insurance in the midwest.

I know, I'm a tad loco, but it was cheap stuff. And now I can sleep easier knowing that, should the earth begin to tremble, that my stuff is covered. Can you say the same?

I'm having Mr Insurance Guy send me some quotes for hurricane insurance too. You never know.

"And it was good."

Echo Church is now more than a dream; it's a reality.

Aaron and I were running around northern Kentucky about two hours before the service was to start, in search of a projection screen. We never found one [not even at stinkin' Staples] so we ended up moving the screen from the fellowship hall into the sanctuary. Kudos to Tim Tucker who went above and beyond the call of duty getting the screen hung from the choir loft.

And we didn't have all the sound equipment we needed to get things done. We were short a microphone and some cords. Fortunately Dale lent us an XLR cord, but it was only six feet long, so I had to stay close to the sound board with my mic as I led worship with the guitar.

Despite those little speedbumps, things went well. Very well, if you ask me.

It was a simple service: a few songs, communion, and teaching. We talked a little bit of Genesis 1, describing the beginning of the world: that God spoke and things happened. The point we wanted to drive home this evening: this church will be about God and we will echo His Word[s]. I pray we can keep that in the forefront of all we do in the months and years to come.

There were about forty-five people there to help us kick things off. About half of those people were friends who were just visiting to show support; it meant a lot to us that they were there. Yep, next week we'll have less people there, but those people that are sticking with us for the long haul are fired up. It's going to be a fun ride.

I'm almost unsure of what to do next. For the past six or seven months we've been working towards October 16th as our kickoff; I've said "October 16th" hundreds of times. Now that it's come and gone, it's almost like I'm a little lost about what to do next. I'm sure I'll figure something out.

And let me say this really quickly: I love my wife. She's always had faith in us doing this. I yanked her from our cushy suburban life to the city to pursue "what could be." She's never doubted. I hope people understand what a huge part she's played in all of this. Echo couldn't have happened without her.

It was good. It was very good. And God is good. So good that I think we'll do it again next week. That sounds good.

The Sun Will Come Out . . .

Tomorrow is the big day. As I've been saying all week, "It's going to happen," and it is. Yesterday and today were spent getting things together for Echo's first service. The video projector we've borrowed took a little extra work to get up and going, but we figured it out. We've hammered out an order of service [nothing too complicated]. We even have the bulletins printed out. I think we're ready to start this new chapter of our lives.

On the brink of this endeavor, I'm not too nervous. I've read/heard stories of church planters on the eve of their first service unable to sleep for fear that no one will show up. I can't relate; I don't feel that way at all. Not trying to be cocky, but I think I'll sleep well tonight. I know there'll be at least twenty people there tomorrow, and that's good enough for me.

Aaron and I were talking about it yesterday, but we're both rather Calvinistic in our church planting theology. God is going to bring the people who need to be brought to us. This is HIS church, not ours. He makes the plants grow, we'll do the harvesting.

Tomorrow morning I'm preaching at the Amelia Church, so I'll stay busy enough not to start thinking too much; I have a tendency to over analyze things, even though I'm not gripping yet. Aaron and Dorota will stop by early in the afternoon. We'll watch the Bengals get back to their winning ways against the Titans and then head over to Walnut Hills to get things set up.

Six-thirty is go time. We'll begin by teaching through the book of Genesis. I'm so stoked. I've been waiting my whole life for this day. We're starting a new church and I'm finally a preacher.

So maybe I won't sleep to well tonight.

What the hell?

Before you criticize me for my potty mouth, you need to read the entire post.

Because of our homelessness and our move this summer we didn't get to watch many movies. I can't believe the new Batman movie finally comes out on video next Tuesday. Batman is my favorite comic book hero, so I'll be all over that video like nipples on George Clooney's Batman outfit [if you've ever seen that stupid movie you know exactly what that reference was about]. Let's see: a curse word and "nipples" in the first few sentences of the post. Like I said, hang on and you'll see where I'm going with all this.

So we've been renting a few videos each week, catching up on movies we missed during the past few months. I really wanted to see the movie Constantine starring Keanu Reeves because it has some Biblical themes in it. Kelly wanted nothing to do with it, so I ended up watching it by myself yesterday afternoon. There were some awesome effects and camera shots in it but, after marinating about it for a day, I have no idea what this film was about.

The kid from the movie Holes and The Greatest Game Ever Played is in it, and adds some comedy relief. So is the chick from the Mummy movies, who is a great actress. Oh, and who is was in the movie? Hmmmm, might it be: SATAN?!?!

The background of the flick goes like this: Keanu tried to kill himself when he was a teen because he could see dead people [at least Haley Joel Osment got to see John McLean]. Keanu died for a couple of moments and was briefly in hell, because Catholic dogma insists that suicide results in an eternity of hell. But apparently he was only "mostly dead," and came back to life. That's when he started chain smoking and ended up in his thirties, dying of lung cancer, but spending his free time performing hard core exorcisms. Sounds interesting, huh?

Don't want to ruin the movie for you but SPOILER ALERT: the angel Gabriel tries to switch sides and help bring the son of Satan into the world. Hilarious. So summing up, the movie includes [additional SPOILER ALERTS here. . .

• about four glimpses into hell
• Neo performing exorcisms without Trinity [how unBiblical]
• a sprinkler system with holy water used to kill demons
• a shot gun in the shape of a cross used to waste demons
• a glimpse into the "Bible of Hell" which gives I Corinthians 21 chapters

And to my dismay, I watched the entire movie and still didn't see the guy from American Idol. I thought this was his movie. I swear one of the demons looked like Bo Bice.

I don't know if this post was helpful, but I think I've learned that sometimes it's better not to watch the movies you missed in the first place [see Mother-In-Law].

But I'm still renting Batman.

Foot In Mouth Disease

I'm still figuring out the nuances to the cash register at Panera; it's a computerized touch screen with a slew of menus and sub-menus. Yeah, I'm better at ringing up than when I first started, but there are a ton of buttons to figure out and it's always a chore to find where things are hidden.

Case in point: this afternoon there was a woman who ordered a salad and wanted almonds on it. For the life of me, I couldn't find the button for "almonds." This prompted me to say the following statement [loud enough to be heard, mind you]:

"I can't find my nuts!"

And of course, the woman had her five-year old daughter with her. Brilliant.

I rang her out as quickly as I could, without saying much else to her.

What the world needs now

Have you seen these diamond commercials where the guy gets his wife of ten plus years in some pretty location and then says he wants to marry her all over again? Immediately the woman looks up and all of her friends and family are there to share in the moment. Heart strings are yanked and South Africa makes more money off diamond purchases [which they used to use to maintain apartheid].

What a crock! Like that kind of thing would ever happen in real life. Guys, could you imagine a buddy coming up to you saying, "Hey, I want to impress my wife. Can you show up so I can give her an expensive ring and ask her to marry me all over again?" Your response would probably be to stuff the expensive jewelry in a place from which the woman would never retrieve it. Any guy trying to get away with something like that, flaunting his mojo in front of another guy's woman, would never watch football, play golf or drink beer with men ever again.

That being said, here's a picture of my wife and I in Paris. Bite me, guys, I don't need friends.

Why Amazing Race Family Edition Makes Me Uncomfortable

If I wanted to hear a kid call his step-mom a b----, I'd watch Dr Phil.

Blog Almighty

Even the name of the convention sounds ominous:

God Blog 2005

Never knew God had a blog. Wonder if he uses a Mac. Are comments submitted via rosary?

This convention is supposed to be the first Christian blogging convention. Hosted by Biola University in L.A. [shout-out to Megan and Cassidy Coffman, who are Biola alumni], the convention starts this Thursday, so I won't be attending. The goal of this gathering: to establish and cultivate relationships within the Christian blogging community and to provide opportunities for Christian bloggers to think about their role within the broader blogging world. If we read between the lines here, we understand who'll be attending i.e., more geeks than a Star Wars convention.

Two things to laugh about here:

1) Why do we always have to put a Christian spin on everything? Seems like the whole world is one big Berean Christian Store. I'm not sure blogging is the best way to show Jesus in your life. In fact, there are some blogs out there that make me want to switch religions. But, that's what we Christians do: try to "Christianize" things.

2) The majority of people on the invited speakers list was over fifty years old. THIS IS NOT A CRACK ON PEOPLE OVER FIFTY, but I find this pointless. The people who will shape the next ten to twenty years in blogging are people under twenty. I'm not sure that I'm even young enough to really share on this topic, since I remember life before Al Gore's wonderful invention. They should have found some young punks who are being innovative in the blogosphere let them share what they think the future holds for it. Who knows, blogging could be a fad nearing the end of its days. But, that's what we Christians do: stay at least twenty years behind the times.

You know someone at that convention has made a bumper sticker that says,

THE BIBLE: GOD'S BLOG.

If not, you should get some made; you'd make a killing.

****************
postscript: didn't find a bumper sticker, but I did find this. I guess God uses Blogger.

T-minus one week

So I guess this church is actually going to happen. We had our "trial run" last night, and things went really well. We didn't get a video projector [looks like we'll need to buy one], but the sound system we borrowed from iMPACT Church was a piece of cake to set up. Until we figure out otherwise, it looks like I'll be leading the worship. I just don't want it to be tacky if I'm pulling double-duty [music and teaching] but I think we'll manage. We're not depending on worship music to build this church anyway.

The sanctuary of the Walnut Hills church has a great feel at night, and it handles sound well. If we happened to lose our sound system, I don't think we'd really need a microphone to be heard.

The thing that really excited me last night, more than any of the technical aspects that we figured out, was the vibe in the room. The people there were all excited about Echo and what God's going to do. We had communion and ended the evening in a time of prayer, praying with our hands on the pews where people will worship from. I can't wait to see how God moves . . .

There's still a lot of stuff to get accomplished this week, but I'm not worried about it. I can't understand that I'm not nervous or stressed out. I was more stressed watching the Bengals blow it last night.

That's what's cool about Echo: it's all God; we're just along for the ride.

In 1492

I'm confused . . .

Do we still get email today?

Oh, man . . .

I can't make up stuff like this: a church in Illinois claims is the country's first "man church." Grove Community Church in Peoria calls themselves "America's First Church for Men and Those Who Love Them." Grove City sets-up their sanctuary look like a hunting lodge, refers to their senior pastor as a "head coach" and are in the midst of offering a NASCAR ticket give-away promotion.

Now I'm all for reaching out to men; churches in the past twenty years have done a lot of emasculating, so there's plenty of damage to make up for, but trying to make your church a Sunday morning version of The Man Show [sans the alcohol and trampoline girls, I can only assume] is . . . well, a bit tacky. Is it possible to reach men for Jesus without making your church look like a Bass-Pro Shop? I think so. I think you can make the Christian faith "manly" without resorting to gimmickry. So my call is: good motive, bad form.

If nothing else, the man church reminded me of a song they always play on the Bob and Tom Radio show. So for all you testosterone bearers out there, here's The Man Song.

Time For A Change

For the second time, I felt the need to change the look of my blog. The picture at the top of the page is one I took of the cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris [not South Bend]. The number next to the blog post title is how many comments there are. If you want to chime in, just click on the number and you'll be able to comment.

I like it; hope you do too.

In Need of a Movement

Finally, one of our own has hit it big time. By "one of our own," I mean a member of a Restoration Movement church and by "hit it big time," I'm referring to Harriet Miers being nominated for the Supreme Court. Ms Miers is a member at Valley View Christian Church in Dallas where former Cincinnati Christian University President Barry McCarty is now preaching.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term, the Restoration Movement is a group of churches that dating back to the early 19th century, spawned by Thomas and Alexander Campbell and Barton Stone. We're the un-denomination, as we have no denominational hierarchy and congregational autonomy. I've identified with the group my whole life, and probably will until the day I die. Echo Church will be a part of this movement. I love it because no one can say who's in or who's out.

What's fascinating about us is that it's nearly impossible to nail down Restoration Movement theology down. There are both conservative and liberal extremes in our churches. This explains why the national media is having problems with Judge Miers: they're unfamiliar with our Restoration theology and they're not sure exactly where she stands on the controversial issues. This article has already identified her as a evangelical, but many in our movement would want nothing to do with such a label.

Yes, the media is confused but so are we. This Harriet Miers nomination is going to leave many leaders in our movement in a quandary. Many want some national legitimacy for our churches so they'll lift up Miers as one of their own. At the same time, as Miers is apparently getting support from homosexual advocacy groups, many in our movement will want nothing to do with her; they'll most likely try to distance themselves from her, claiming she never was "one of us" in the first place.

As for me, I'll just sit back and laugh because I don't care either way. Sure I'd love to see her approved, but because of her "liberal leaning" it could be the conservative Christian lobby that does her in. How ironic: the religious right finally gets the conservative justices they've always wanted, but assault them for not being conservative enough. Christians can be funny like that.

Wonder if I'll see Harriet at the North American next year . . .

Striptease

Stick with me here. I want to take you on a journey that begins with this confession:

I think I'm part of a cover-up.

As I was working this afternoon, I wondered why I didn't "flaunt" my minister status to my coworkers. By now, most of them know I'm a minister, but I haven't "unleashed the fury" of being a pastor upon them. Case in point: people drop f-bombs around me and I don't correct them. Plus, I've overheard a few of them talking about sexual escapades and I haven't rebuked them. Am I cowering from being the voice of God to a group of heathens? Why don't I go medieval on them?

Obviously, one of the reasons I wouldn't go Pat Robertson on them is because I don't have a deep relationship with them yet. Maybe some day I could be close enough to them to discuss topics of grace and sin. But right now, I really want to redefine their concepts of what a minister is like.

My job [minister, not Panera Bread Associate] could possibly be the most hated profession in the world. Why? Because the wrap on ministers is that they preach at everyone else not to do things that they themselves are probably doing. Our churches are full of hypocrites and preachers rule the roost. Just this evening I saw a news teaser about a local minister who plead guilty to embezzlement. With everything going on in this world, this is the story they lead with? Of course! Everyone loves to see the man of God fall. So I ask . . .

Am I proud of being a minister? And if so, why don't I want people to know?

Hmmm. That's a good one. Let me answer it this way:

Say I was a stripper [for some disturbing reason, I think I've written that before]. Not only that, say I was an awesome stripper, having the perfect combination of the stripping and the teasing. Maybe I even won critical acclaim for being a stripper [a Strippie, perhaps]. If I was a heathen, I'd probably be proud, but who could I tell? Not my mother, that's for sure. I doubt I'd ever brag to people about my awesome strippiness. Why? Because it's just not an admirable profession.

I'd say that's almost how I feel about being a minister. I know, not a perfect analogy, but that's how I feel. Yes, my friends and family are proud but to the person that's at odds with Jesus, I might as well be a murderer. Which is why I hide it so much. Those are the people who I want to reach so desperately. I don't want to be prejudged by them. I'd like for them to at least get to know me a little better before they hate me.

So in a way, I'm a fake, but I'm showing people [slowly] what I'm all about. I don't think I'm misleading people by withholding that part of me, just presenting it piece by piece. One day, they'll get the Full Monte. So I guess you could say that I am a stripper. Or am I just a tease?

Mom would be so proud.

Press On

I don't have to be into work until 11:00 this morning, so I'm sitting here watching Good Morning America. Watching TV is what prompts me to ask you this question this morning . . .

Why are depression commercials so depressing?

I'm not making light of depression. It's a horrible disorder that people don't take seriously enough. But whenever I watch commercials advertising drugs for depression they have these people that should be happy moaping around, showing how depressed they are. I then start to relate to those people and wonder if I'm actually depressed. Of course I'm not, but the commercials almost convince me that I am.

If I was making a good depression commercial, I'd show a bunch of happy people playing in a field, jousting or something. I know the reason they make those commercials so depressing is so people having one bad day will misdiagnose themselves and demand that their doctor prescribe them the drug. But I just don't like it. That's just sad. And I thought Victoria's Secret commercials [no hyperlink available] were the only ones that I needed to change the channel from.

I'm going to get me a Diet Coke.

Not So Great

I finally rented the movie Alexander. I've always been interested in the life of Alexander the Great, the most important in the Bible not actually mentioned in the Bible. 300 years before Jesus lived, Alexander conquered the known world. He helped shape its culture, religion, and infrastructure. And he did it all before the age of 32, when he died suddenly. He was part genius, but mostly lunatic. He indeed thought he was a god. Nonetheless, he's a fascinating historical figure. I have a biography of Alexander I got for Christmas last year [thanks Dave and Bev] that discussed in-depth his reign over the world.

So finally a new movie was made, chronicling his life. Sure it got some bad reviews, but I chalked it up to film critics playa' hatin'. I was extremely disappointed I didn't get to see it in the theatre but now, after watching it, I wish I had never even rented it.

Oliver Stone has served up some lemons in the past, but this one is huge. The film has ADD. Stone couldn't settle for simply telling the story, but made it a series of flashbacks and flash-forwards, enough to make JFK seem normal. Colin Farrel just didn't work here, Angelina Jolie was a bit much and I didn't even like Val Kilmer in it. And Stone just messed around with the facts and gave us a bunch of fiction to try to sell the story.

Not only this but, never thought I'd say this I'm finally getting fed up with the huge war scene. Braveheart, the first of the "modern movies" to show us a massive battle, was amazing. Unfortunately Mel Gibson messed up by trying to replicate it in The Patriot. It worked for Lord of the Rings, and I even liked it with Russell Crowe in Gladiator. But Brad Pitt in Troy, George Lucas' laughable new Star Wars episodes, and Oliver Stone's Alexander are just plain wannabes. Memo to Hollywood: huge battle scenes are the trucker hats of 2006- a bit tacky.

Where have all the good storytellers gone? It seems that unless Peter Jackson is making the movie, you're not sure what you'll get. I don't know about you, but I'm ready for some better movie choices. Can't wait for Good Will Hunting 2: Hunting Season.