omg, i scored.... goth!

here's a similar, perhaps better stated, take on postmodern inc. from thin spaces. original blog here.

rick has a different perspective on fehrenheit 9/11. check it out here.

angela had an amazing observation about finding true love - "We both wondered if love like that actually exists any more. More than anything, I want this kind of love. The kind, it seems can only be found in a book, which was turned into a movie. Jaime said that her grandparents had the most amazing love. You could see it in them at all times. Her grandmother said that they had old soul. She also said that in order to have that kind of love you have to look for someone who has old soul."

read the whole blog here.

had a conversation with jordon cooper last week about the trend towards elevating certain individuals and methods in the postmodern movement. he told me that in discussion with spencer burke and others they had come to label the growing problem as postmodern inc. it is beginning to piss many of us off and here is why...

there is a growing awareness that we have begun to become entrenched in the very paradigm that we sought to overthrow. in the early days, and i am old, many of us longed for a time when we could deconstruct the structures and philosophy of church without the fear of losing our jobs. we hoped that we would see a day when leaders were no longer forced to be infallible, where we could meet and discuss issues as equals, where we could be ourselves, where we didn't have to buy into the latest formulaic church growth product, where numbers weren't important, where... where...

lately many of us have thought, with growing uneasiness, that we have become what we hated. while we are quick to condemn boomer church empires for expensive conferences and quick formulas, we still put out the money to go to "anti-conferences" where the same four or five superstars still can pack the house out. we have authority figures who don't act like authorities, yet we shill out the money for their books just the same. a few lesser known people are given a voice, but a british accent and a published book still speak louder than a passionate heart or a committed life. we have our own gurus, people like brian or tom or len or doug or whoever; who, though they never wanted the job, have had authority thrust upon them and we demand they keep posting the drivel we so desperately want. i am guilty, as are many, of replacing one wineskin with another cooler, less formal wineskin. of constructing and codifying that which was intended to be wild and changing. somewhere along the line i started to realize the competition creeping back in, the innate need to belong... again. somehow it became an attempt to fit in, be cool, be brilliant, get known and get on the circuits just like the ones i love to ridicule. maybe it is just me, but there seems to be ego involved once again, however humble we may dress it up.

during the conversation i had with jordon, and a later one with brander, we began to ask ourselves what to do about postmodern inc.

i personally believe that there is a need to re-embrace the chaos, and maybe even a bit of the anger. to have discussions without a need for conclusions, to embrace and not try to put to pen the struggles and temporary solutions we have found and fought through. there needs to be an honest attempt to include the marginalized and the un-famous, the un-published, the un-popular and the un-brilliant (there's an oxymoron). i would love to see conversations, even conferences, that were not dominated by the flavour of the week. open forums where there is an actual attempt, not just a stated one, to give voice to those who can not bring in the crowds. perhaps such gatherings would not be popular, but who cares if they get noticed. i would rather pay to spend a weekend with 10 people who i could be transparent with than 10,000 who get a binder at the door.

according to the CBC this morning (hey it was 4:40 am and not much else was on!) downloading music etc. will remain LEGAL in canada for the foreseeable future. ahhh, it's great to be canadian!

just got home from fehrenheit 9/11 with my son nathan. there was little information i did not already know but the combined impact was disturbing. i think i need to sleep on it before i deconstruct the experience but i must say, it confirms my biases... hehe.

susan has a great blog about people taking the wind out of your sails. pretty sure she was talking about me hehe.

i came across some interesting discussion re: a blog i wrote earlier this week about people who fancy themselves prophets

ever since we have been interacting with native culture we have been asked about the incorporation of native spirituality in the christian faith. many are nervous about allowing any indigenous culture and there is a ton of misunderstanding with regard to certain native traditions. recently i had a conversation with brander mcdonald about some aspects of native culture, specifically smudging:

about smudging... it is an abalony shell with buring sage, cedar, sweetgrass or sage... the smoke is lit with a match only or a burning stick... an eagle feather is used to fan the smoke and prayers are said for yourself as you cup the smoke with your hands over parts of your body... for your eyes for good sight, for your head for good thoughts, for your heart for a pure heart, for your ears for good listening and wisdom, for your body for good strength for your journey and for your arms and legs for general health... all the while praying to the Creator (Redeemer)... its an outward act of repentance, and dedication...

some native people believe much like Catholics that the ceremony physically embodies the prayers... i do not... its one's heart in the matter that has to be worshipful...
so in essence its an act of worship and praise

also its not conjuring up the dead or spirits or evil spirits for "powers"... its not anything like hollywood or voodoo or black magic or occultism... its not about anything but coming to the Creator publicly admitting that you are dependant upon Him... so it is also a great point of contact and witness to native people... it builds relationships and tells them you are serious about your healing journey...

In truth there is the ceremony... in and of itself it does not do anything so it is mute... but you have to understand the FORM, FUNCTION and the FOCUS of the ceremony just like anything else we do in life... if it does not look (form) appropriate, function as a act of worship and does not focus on Jesus the Creator Redeemer then it should be brought into question... that is why native elders will teach you and train you to not take these things lightly so as to bring honor to God as you are praying...

many Christians who do not understand the FORM tend to throw it out as with all things native in ceremony without fully investigating or asking why we do the things we do... its like asking why do you baptize or say the sinners prayer??? same idea...
obviously if you don't understand the FUNCTION of the ceremony you can also ask... elders try to use all these as a teaching point...
If the FOCUS is not on God the Creator Redeemer or the "Jesus Way"then it doesn't matter what your ceremony... its then void...

Brander

via bene diction's blog

"...When I hear someone say that they don't attend church, I understand a bit more. Church attendance isn't all that it's cracked up to be, and I can see why people get disillusioned if all they're doing is "attending" a church. Read the New Testament and tell me if we're really being all we can be. We can be more."
read the whole article on darryl dash's blog here.

here's the article i wrote for the "mosaic". it is... what it is.

I Dare You To Move

�Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! Look at it!�
2 Corinthians 5:17 (MSG)

A few summers ago, in the spirit of the family vacation, we all got in the car and headed out to the farm in Saskatchewan. We were nearing a small town in rural Alberta called Redcliffe when the fuel pump on the truck died. We coasted into the first little dive we could find and took a room at the local 5 star hotel. We knew it was a five star hotel because the stars were painted on the doors. There were four of us in a room that was, I kid you not, twelve feet by eight feet� for two days.

We soon learned all the wonderful benefits of a rural garage. They did not have any of our needed parts in stock. Jed, the mechanic with one good tooth in his head (and he wasn�t even taking very good care of that one!), explained to us the benefits of rural pricing and so we spent at least two hundreds dollars more than we would have had we had the repair done in a city. Finally, after more than two days of watching the wheat grow and chasing unknown arachnids around our hot hotel room, we begrudgingly paid our bill and were thankful to get on our way. We had done nothing but sit and stare and complain for what seemed like an eternity. No car, no entertainment, three channels on the television and Esso food for the first third of our vacation.

We no sooner cruised out of the garage and had gone only about 70 metres when we started down a steep hill... right into Medicine Hat. Travelodge�s, Canadian Tire Store, numerous full-service garages� the works. They had a Silver City Theatre, malls, pools... you can imagine it. Without a word of exaggeration, Red Cliff is right on the outskirts of Medicine Hat. We looked at each other and just started to laugh...

I often think of that experience and realize that it has several life lessons for me. The first and most obvious one is � bring a map! Only slightly less obvious than that lesson is the growing realization that many of us, myself included, often live on the edge of tomorrow and do not understand what is waiting for us just over the hill.

We settle for a life that we do not love and pine for a fresh start, but we do not actually get out of the hovel and start down the road into a fresh beginning. We are painfully aware that something is not right though we are unwilling to let go of the land we know and look forward to a shore we cannot see.

President Harry Truman used to tell the story of a man who was hit on the head and fell into a deep coma. He stayed there for along time. People thought he was dead so they sent him to a funeral home and stuck him in a coffin. At 2:00 a.m. all alone in this dimly lit room, he sat up and looked around. "Good night!" he said. "What�s going on? If I�m alive, why am I in a casket? And, if I�m dead, why do I have to pee?"

That story makes me laugh and it makes me think. How many times have I been unable or unwilling to understand what is going on? I have often become despondent because I can not understood God�s bigger plan for my life and feel shackled by the events of the past. Understanding that we can start fresh and be forgiven is a fact that many of us have a hard time ingesting. We constantly play the tapes of our past failures and convince ourselves that we are terminal. We lay in the casket and wonder if we can ever being truly alive again.

For many of us this is not just a platitude or a hypothetical problem. Like many of you, I live in a reality that I did not choose, and I�m regularly tempted to feel sorry for myself, blame someone else, or simply give up. The need for forgiveness and the belief for new beginnings gives many of us hope and help in a world that tends to condemn and pronounce judgment on us all the time.

Many years ago, as a white-water canoeing guide, I was often called upon to take groups across an infamous northern Saskatchewan lake called Nipew Lake. we always tried to get across Nipew Lake early in the morning before the waves got up. It�s a big lake and nasty from about nine in the morning until six at night everyday. It�s a long paddle. I�ve been stranded on the lake several times, taking refuge on islands or inlets.

We try to get on the lake by about six am. Usually that is evilly early but I have learned that if I sleep in, the price is too high. It is usually foggy on the lake and we are headed for a tiny inlet eleven kilometres away. I could not afford to make mistakes. I have learned how to read a compass. I know about things like declination and magnetic north vs. true north. My compass is worth several hundred dollars. When I�m in the fog and I have eleven canoes and twenty-two potentially dead people� I have learned to trust my compass, not my eyes. I don�t trust my ears; I don�t even trust my experience. I have tried to fake it in the past and gotten caught� a six hour detour.

If only I could trust gods promises like that� Not my eyes, not my ears, not even my experience�only his compass. Regardless of how I feel, regardless even of the past and my many failings, God forgives me. That forgiveness does not depend on whether or not I believe it, it just is. It does not matter how little I claim his grace, it is not dependent on anything I do, it is a simple fact. God gives me a fresh start. God forgives me. All I have to do is accept it� But often that is the hard part.

Lately I have been listening to a song called �I Dare You To Move� by Switchfoot. The words continue to challenge me and remind me that it is up to me whether or not I will grab hold of God�s promises of forgiveness and wholeness. Whenever I read or hear these words it stirs something deep within me�

Welcome to the planet, Welcome to existence. Everyone's here, Everyone's here.
Everybody's watching you now, Everybody waits for you now�What happens next?

I dare you to move, I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move, I dare you to move
Like today never happened, Today never happened before

The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go? Salvation is here�

I dare you to move, I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move, I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

When we were children there were few things more sacred than the �dare�. Like a Pavlovian dog I would stir to the challenge of the dare. If someone dared to me do anything, no matter how stupid, I felt compelled to rise to the call.

I dare you to move. I dare you.

I dare you to claim God�s promise of forgiveness and for once act like you are forgiven.

I dare you to start fresh right now. To live like you are truly alive. To stand up and let God give you the freedom of tomorrow, right now. I dare myself too.
I think the Rolling Stones said it well in their old song, �You can�t always get what you want� but if you try sometimes, you just might find, that you get what you need��

Life isn�t perfect. In fact I�ve found it isn�t even fun for many of us. But the truth of scripture reminds me that God makes everything new. It�s up to us whether or not we want to live like that is true or not. I dare you to move.

my free methodist denomination asked me to write an article on 'new beginnings' for their next monthly rag. after getting off the phone i started to think over the topic and soon realized that the article in my head probably wouldn't end up being the one on paper. as i let my pseudo-creative brain wander i thot about writing an article that didn't answer the questions. about my own struggle to let go and the part in all of us that is haunted still by a past that we have given over to god but still hurts and sometimes haunts our quieter moments. i wanted to write about how new beginnings are necessary but do not necessarily drop-kick your old issues into oblivion like the "super-christians" attest. the stains of the past still can hurt, though the guilt of the issues can be forgiven. some of us look into the eyes of a child we bore out of wedlock. i still hurt every single day for my marriage. i am forgiven for any sin i may bear from that; but the sting of pain still takes my breath away, usually several times a day. i still pine and hurt and cry way too much, and many of my friends do in their issues as well. the scars remain though the price has been paid.
i'm not sure where i'm going to go with the article but i'll publish it on my blog when i'm done. i've come to realize that i love to write but don't always relish the prospect of other people actually reading it.

on a different note, i was accused recently of seeming narcissistic through my blog. this person said that the topics, the "huge" picture of myself and the large type by-line gave them the impression that i was "into myself" and could be misinterpreted. i'm not sure how i felt about the comment but obviously it must have impacted me because i'm still thinking about it and obviously just brought it up in that very same blog.

i was talking to my dad the other day about physical affection. i grew up on a world that showed affection and i was shocked to learn that many parents struggle to tell their kids they love them or are unable to show physical affection. it's a different world view and in my mind a cycle that needs to stop. we are creatures in love with affection. children cry for it, young men die for it.
I remember the abject loneliness I felt being dropped off at boarding school. I also remember hearing later that my father had cried for almost two hours as he drove the long road home to Alberta. I remember the day my father kissed me for the first time since childhood. I was shocked, but overwhelmed. it was a moment of real intimacy between a father and a son. Kiss your kids. I try to still kiss my teenage sons on the forehead before bed. It is not strange or uncomfortable, it is a touch of belonging.

My parents used to live in Germany and we were lucky enough to get to visit them a couple times when they lived there. One of the most profound experiences of my life was when we visited Dachau Concentration Camp near Munich. On the wall of the museum of the concentration camp at Dachau is a large and moving photograph of a mother and her little girl standing in line of the Gas Chamber. The child, who is walking in front of her mom, doesn�t know where she is going. the mother, who walks behind, does know, but is helpless to stop the tragedy. In her helplessness she performs the only act of love left to her. She places her hands over the child�s eyes so she will at least not see the horror to come. When people come into the museum, they do not whisk by the photo in a hurry. they pause. They almost feel the pain, I know I did. And deep inside of me I felt myself saying, �O God, don�t let this be all that there is.� Don�t let me live in a world that is without the supernatural, without miracles, without hope and God.

My senior year in college the leader of the religious denomination I had married into came to speak at one of my classes about proper pastoral ediquette. It would have been funny had it not been so deadly sincere. He reminded us that a successful minister �dressed for success�, and proceeded to mandate for us not only our overall attire but key specifics. The suit was to be blue pin-striped, set off with a snappy red tie. The shoes were to be of a certain grade and style. Even our hairstyle came under scrutiny.
If you were to see me today you could safely assume that I was apparently not listening that day in school. I dress more like a skateboarder than an executive. I own only one suit now, and it is a high button black polyester number that looks better with big necklaces than a red tie. I have been known to wear a tee shirt under it, especially to funerals. It is my 'marry and bury em' suit that is also suitable for checking out the ladies at expensive affairs. You may think I was not listening that fateful day, but I was. On a subconscious level I knew I was being forced into an artificial mold not of my making. Later, in Denver, as i'm sure i've mentioned before, a well-meaning parishioner bought me that exact suit. It was important to fit in� but I didn�t. And I am not alone. besides, it was itchy...

many of us don't fit it. we pretend well, but like that day in school something deep inside us wants to rebel. it reminds me of that quote, "you were born an original, don't die a copy." from an early age we are told to fit it, not to cause waves. i find it not surprising then that as adults we struggle for meaning, we pine for a quiet rebellion and we live lives as one author has said, "in quiet desperation." many of us go out at 45 and buy harleys, not because they are good bikes, which they are clearly not, but because they appeal to our inner rebel. somehow it is easier to convince ourselves that we are giving the system the finger on a big fatboy. it's artificial. our last deperate attempt to be cool fails to meet a childhood need for self-expression and individuality as we drive down the road and run into our accountant on the same hog.

If you haven't turned rebel by twenty you've got no heart; if you haven't turned establishment by thirty you've got no brains. Swimming with Sharks

"the real battle, the big struggle of our times, is the fundamental choice between cynicism and hope."
read jim's compelling argument for hope on jordon's blog.

At Bethany a poster went up advertisting the Leadership Summit 2004 Conference...I'm guessing they are going to pull in about 80 million USD for that conference. I'm not going to launch in to some self-righteous tirade about how that money could be spent on some other cause, but it does say something about church leadership today. Where your treasure is, that is where your heart is...
I can't say WCA or Promise Keeper conferences are devoid of substance but what draws people back is the experience, the rally...

I imagine that you could probably learn as much from reading a few books and passing them around. So what do you think motivates people to go?
read 'the herasy' article here.

check out his thots on media and worship here.

in grade 11 we had to do this grammer book called "words are important". it seemed dumb at the time. after all, i was 16, what was the chance i would ever have to use words? but sometimes words are critical. take for example the word "genocide".

here's the latest coming out of sudan, via the globe and mail:
"It is without question the worst humanitarian catastrophe in the world today, with more than 30,000 dead and a million people driven from their homes, trapped in the searing desert heat without reliable supplies of food, water or medicine."

politicians fall short of describing the horror over there as genocide because this word carries with it a list of responsibilities. we are required by international law to aid countries who are experiencing the 'g' word. words are important.

"today's christians are addicted to solutions not transformation". read the whole quote here.

over the years i have often come across individuals who consider themselves prophets. they use words like "ordination" and "mantle" and "commissioning" though i have never heard of an organization actually credentialing a prophet. largely my exposure to these individuals and their revelations has been negative.

recently i have run across a few prophets in my own circle of influence. for some reason they are always women, though i have no idea why (generalization of course, only in my experience). they have a "word for the lord" for me. they gather a flock within the flock and their adherents are incredibly militantly in love with this person or this gift. they scare me.

the reason they scare is not because i don't think they are prophets. they may be, it is not for me to say (though none of them i have known have ever really understood the difference between prophesy and apocalyptic). but i have my suspicions, and here is why.

i am not allowed to hold such people accountable. they see themselves serving a higher authority than i do (which is interesting to say the least). they are more plugged in, their ideas are not their ideas, everything they spew comes from on high. they see their minister as "not as spiritual" especially if, god forbid, he should call them to account. you are not allowed to argue with them. after all, that would be the same as arguing with God himself. there is a subtle arrogance which frightens many of us.

modern-day so-called prophets need to understand that they are not infallible, not always right and not the sole representative for God and all eternity. it is entirely fictitious that God chooses to act through only one vessel. no one has the right to claim they are always right. that alone is hyper-spooky.

one of my favorite quotes is from the movie "lady Hawke". in it matthew broderick is approached by rudger hauer and told that "god told me you were supposed to help me storm the castle and kill the bishop". broderick's response is classic. he says, "funny, i talk to god all the time and he never mentioned your name." i love that. who am i to assume that i alone know gods' will for others, that they obviously are luke-warm if they disagree with me or don't feel the same message i did? what right have i to assume that every voice i hear is gods and not the pizza i had last night?

if you want to be an infallible prophet in my church then fine - let's play by the biblical rules --- if you are wrong we get to kill you. if you hear God's voice sometimes and feel led to share what he has said to you in humility - that is a very different thing. if you feel you are a prophet you better develop some humility to go with that calling or you aren't going to be of much use. your pastors spent 7 or so years in college and are accountable to a ton of people for every word they utter. the elders in your church are proven spiritual warriors. your leader's accountability partners have earned the right to speak into that man or woman. you better be sure you are god's mouthpiece before you assume everyone around you are idiots and you alone hold the "mantle".

lately i have had the privilege of being involved with our first nations brothers and sisters through various venues. sunday nites we tend to cater to this crowd and have seen some pretty amazing god moments. last sunday nite was packed, and towards the end we formed a circle and put out a chair for people to receive prayer. as we began to pray for this largely "unwashed" crowd, brander had two of the elders play their hand drums and sing a prayer song. it was mixing of two cultures -- laying on of hands in the middle by a mostly white team & traditional drumming. i just knew that the tradition from which i found faith woiuld probably blow a sphincter had they seen such an event. the next thing you know we could be smudging prior to an event... oops too late.

anyway - some of our music team are going to the Kamloops Creator's Circle all-nations gathering, july 9-11. if you are in the area, why not stop by. there will even be several of us there from the "whitea" tribe.

tansi nichiwan! (i have no idea what that means but it sounds really cool. the only real cree i know is the cree for "pass the book here please". but that's another story for another time)

i did a bit of very conservative v.j.ing for a fairly right-wing evangelical group this weekend. the event was deemed a huge success, though i had 13 people tell me they "didn't appreciate" the videos and pics. i cannot tell you how conservative i was attempting to be. they would have lynched me at any other event i have done. our church services on sunday are quantitatively more extreme.
where do evangelicals get off "sharing" their concern about every stinkin little thing. what a bunch of whiners. they were "concerned" for me and "needed to share something on their heart". one moron, a free methodist pastor wannabee, actually stopped a talk to tell the speaker to "get those stupid pictures off, they're distracting us." there were several ways to handle that correctly. he chose none of them. after i stopped being offended i felt sad. ya, ya... i thought it was kinda funny too.
it has been a long time since i have attended a mainstream evangelical event. this one was well attended with the best of intentions. people were deeply touched. at one point a close first-nations friend of mine wept on my shoulder as he let loose some horrible history. i cried like a baby. the event accomplished more than it set out to.
upon reflection, though, i have come to wonder at the depths to which evangelicalism has left the mainstream. the language, nuances, affectations and theology are far removed from the street jam we have on sunday nites. (which was amazing by the way). i understand they address a different need, but the people involved have a culture quite distinct from average joe. i wondered how hard it would be for the normal person on the street to "fit in" with such a crowd. i find it hard to conceive how they would possibly understand. it reminded me of the first time i stepped into a roman catholic church; how "out of my element" i was at the time.
the event accomplished what it set out to do. the organizer did a brilliant job. i am not commenting on the event. i am wondering about the future of the evangelical church.

i saw this linked on jordon's blog and the article bothered me so here's the link.

i'm not political by nature but...
imagine that you are going to the polls and there are several choices. all the candidates advocate basically the same stance, as politicians seem to. but one or two of the candidates stick out in your mind. you try to get your head around it but you can't seem to understand. two of the candidates believe it is ok to murder people who bother you. such people have committed no crime against humanity, no evil intent, yet it is still ok to kill them if you find their presence "inconvenient". you can't understand why these politicians are allowed to run. you look around you and realize that people are more concerned about their economic record than their concern for the vulnerable. you don't get it.

you're in a room and a killer is systematically killing the children in the ward. they are young and helpless, cannot stand against this evil, and die horribly. what would you do to help them? what would any of us do?

now take those same children and put them in a skin sack. now it's suddenly ok. now it's a matter of choice. now its legal. now politicians debate the "political correctness" of allowing a free vote in parliment. now that's rational?

spent the weekend at an evangelical gathering. went quite well. i had forgotten how long it has been since i have attended a 'real' church gathering, replete with the insider terminology and value system. i am a pastor of a church, go to church every week, but somehow found myself on the outside looking in. i had forgotten how far i have diverged from the evangelical terminology, mannerisms and prayer structures. i forgot how unique a culture it was. it was weird. i'm not saying it was bad, just very different.

i can imagine well how visitors must feel when they walk into evangelical churches for the first time. the tellers at McDonalds don't use phrases like "the mantle", "i trust", or "blessings". sober people rarely sway with arms extended unless they are at a concert. i have been hanging with my friends and street people so long i have forgotten what a counter-culture evangelical christianity really is.

remember when I was 14 trying to smoke. Me and my buddy Brent snuck a pack of smokes from my mom and went off to smoke em in hiding in case the smoking police caught us and told our parents. It was very cool, we lit up and started to suck. We were cool. For about a second until the smoke reached my lungs and My body went, �not in here!� I felt like I�d been hit in the chest by a baseball bat. We both hacked and barked and I almost barfed and after about 30 seconds it calmed down and I looked at Brent and said, �Pretty smooth huh?� (I�d seen that on a commercial). I think Brent was going into cardiac arrest.

We worked away at that vial thing, hacking and gagging and my eyes were tearing up and flushed and my throat felt as though I�d been eating the sidewalk. But we were looking cool.

Until I turned green on the way home and threw up on my bike and drove into a ditch and kind of passed out for a bit on the road to the air force base.

But it was a small price to pay for cool, right. And it took my dad about 3 minutes to catch me and apply the hand of justice to the backside of reproach. But I was cool. I belonged and I was better than other losers who couldn�t handle their smoke. there is no price too high to pay to fit in right?

Tony Campolo tells a story in one of his books about something that happened after World War II. There were more than 200 Frenchmen who returned to Paris suffering from amnesia. They had been in prison camps and were so psychologically devastated by their ordeal that they had lost the conscious awareness of who they were.
In most cases, their identities were quickly established, but after all that was done, there were still 32 men whose identities couldn�t be verified. The doctors who were treating them were convinced that their chances for recovery were slim unless they were connected with former friends and relatives and restored to their once-familiar settings.
Someone had an idea to help. They published photographs of the men on the front page of newspapers throughout the country, and gave a date and time when anyone having information about any of these amnesia victims could come to the Paris Opera House. Well, on the appointed day, a crowd gathered to view these war veterans who didn�t know who they were. In a dramatic moment, the first of the amnesia victims walked onto the stage of the darkened opera house, stood alone in the spotlight, and slowly turned completely around. Before the hushed audience, in a halting voice, he said to the crowd, "Does anybody out there know who I am?"
Well, in some ways, we�re all asking the same kind of question. who am i?

ok their worship guy quit so they decided to use an animatronic band! and we thot we were creative. just think, hearts touching fake hearts... its community!. check it out

ok i have a dark side, so when i read this i thot i would pass it on to you...

Do you believe that when you get spam you should respond in kind to the spammer? I do.

Here are some recommendations:

1. Reply to the email at least 128 times.

a) Copy the return address, insert a semi-colon and then paste the address. Repeat until you get a line full. Then copy the whole line, type a semi-colon and paste the line. Type another semi-colon and then copy the two lines.
b) Repeat the doubling of the addresses 7 more times. This should generate 128 emails.
c) Attach a picture with about 100 to 400 kilobytes.
d) Click send.

2. If the spammer has a spoof address, go to his website and get an email address from there and do #1.

If 1000 of us spammees did this, the spammer would get gigabytes of files sent to him. He might even have to pay extra hosting fees.

We pastors are being killed by the professionalizing of the pastoral ministry. The mentality of the professional is not the mentality of the prophet. It is not the mentality of the slave of Christ... For there is no professional childlikeness (Matt. 18:3); there is no professional tenderheartedness (Eph. 4:32); there is no professional panting after God (Ps. 42:1).

"Our business is to weep over our sins (James 4:9). Is there professional weeping? Our business is to strain forward to the holiness of Christ and the prize of the upward call of God (Phil. 3:14); to pummel our bodies and subdue them lest we be cast away (1 Cor. 9:27); to deny ourselves and take up the blood-spattered cross daily (Luke 9:23). How do you carry a cross professionally? We have been crucified with Christ; yet now we live by faith in the one who loved us and gave Himself for us (Gal. 2:20). What is professional faith?

"Then, wonder of wonders, we were given the gospel treasure to carry in clay pots to show that the transcendent power belongs to God (2 Cor. 4:7). Is there a way to be a professional clay pot? The strong wine of Jesus Christ explodes the wineskins of professionalism. There is an infinite difference between the pastor whose heart is set on being a professional and the pastor whose heart is set on being the aroma of Christ, the fragrance of death to some and eternal life to others (2 Cor. 2:15-16).

i've been doing alot of personal writing lately and some of it isn't even that bad. one of the topics i've been writing to myself about is the whole issue of learning to love yourself. it's a terribly hard thing to fully engage with in a culture that considers self love to be arrogance. in a church that teaches that everything good about you is god and everything bad is you...

here's some random thots that i have stored away in the nether portions of my computer-

I usually make a terrible first impression. recently i received a letter from an associate carefully underscoring the point for me that people tend to take me wrong at first. for some reason, and i know you'll be shocked, a few people are blown away by my strong emotions, my highly charged responses, and as one person described it, my "fire hydrant approach to creativity. over the years i have come to accept this about myself, though not relish it. There has been a failure on my part to consider that I alone am responsible for monitoring my behaviour and the way I interact with others. I must not use my temperament as an excuse for immaturity or belligerence. In the same way that others need to come to grips with my uniqueness and special gifts, so I also must grow up in my conversations and relationships. Marginal leaders know better than most that feelings are easily hurt and we don't have the luxury of trampling over the feelings of others with a 'damn them all', 'love me or screw you' attitude. Restraint is called for. Maturity is not optional. It is a lesson that I continue to learn, often suffering the consequences of my extreme temperament. I cannot expect people to understand my heart when I damage with my mouth.

I'm not ok, you're not ok, but the bible say's that's ok - Campolo

As a counsellor I have seen firsthand the effects of self-loathing. It is apparent to anyone in this field that virtually everyone battles feelings of insecurity and years of self-doubt. Coming to terms with one's self is perhaps the hardest internal battle that anyone of us fights.

For most of my life I subconsciously hated who I was. It affected my relationships, my career choices, my marriage. The intrinsic scream for acceptance drove me to deny my own value. I turned to drugs, exaggeration and other desperate attempts in a sick attempt to fill the hole in my heart.

You were born an original. Don't die a copy. ~John Mason

I remember standing last summer at a campfire with one of my kids as people testified how God was making them healthier, wealthier and happier. And my kid looked at me and said something like, "what does God have against me?"
Grace - when you believe you are really forgiven
- when you begin to see you are approved by God
you begin to see miracles in your life/ you begin to live your life differently - unashamed/ no baggage.

When you believe in grace you start to believe in yourself, you start to realize that you have worth, that your ideas matter, that your dreams are doable, that your healing is happening, your life counts, and you can make a difference.

I used to belong to an exclusive club - the NTLA.
I won't tell you just what the initials stand for yet so it'll give you something to do for a few minutes in case I am boring. The NTLA - the members of this club were passionate about canoeing and not just any kind of canoeing, whitewater.
We would pattern our whole year around the NTLA. We would plan and share pictures. Whenever a few of us and our wives were together that's all we would talk about. The NTLA. It was like being in a room with a bunch of teachers. Many of my finest friends are teachers and they are awesome people... alone. But put two teachers in the same postal code and you can pretty much leave the room. You know who you are.
Teachers love to talk about teaching. In Fort McMurray my three best friends were teachers and if we were all together it was sooo boring. I could pretty much leave the room and they wouldn't care. I would try to enter into the conversation and they would all turn to me, give me the little patronizing smile and pretty much pat me on the head and say to each other, "oh, isn't that cute. He thinks he knows something about teaching". They would throw me a cookie and go back to talking.
There were no women allowed in the NTLA. Not that any of our wives were interested in it in any way. By the time the NTLA would come around, they were pretty much begging us to go away. So everyone was happy.
It was called the "No tan-line annual" NTLA. 6 guys, 3 canoes, beans, testosterone, burping, farting and no toothpaste, no bathing suits.
There was a cardinal rule. No bathing. I used to wear the same clothes pretty much the whole time we were out there. It was guy heaven. If we would have had a remote control it would have been perfect.
We were passionate about it. Collected all the info, planned overly, prepared anally. We were into it. It was important to me.
Then one year it fell apart. It was the year I first found out my wife had breast cancer and I was an emotional wreck. I phoned my best friend at the time in search of emotional support and before very long it denigrated into a conversation about how he didn't feel that we should do the canoe trip anymore. I couldn't understand why and my emotional state did not aid in my comprehension of what was really going on.
A few months later, on a whim, I phoned my best friend to see how things were. His wife answered the phone and said in a slightly surprised way, "aren't you with him? Why aren't you on the canoe trip?"
7 years before I had started this canoe trip. For years it had been the center-piece of my year. I had taught them how to paddle, read maps, make wet fires, shoot whitewater, look for a campsite. Now they had gone on a trip and did not want me there. I was crushed. Later on the phone with one of the guys he explained that I was too intense, they wanted a casual trip not an adventure every year. He said that they did not value my friendship, that there had been personality and leadership conflicts. They simply didn't want me around. Five guys whom I had considered close friends. One whom I thought of as a brother. I felt beaten. My feelings of self-worth plummeted. Not only could I do nothing to help my wife during her hardest battle of her life; now I began to realize my friends wanted nothing to do with me. Many of my handholds were being stripped away. as one person in a small group i attend mentioned last week - "that's where the learning began..."

this morning i sat in the wings and watched our musicians go to town and frankly was humbled. they are amazing. i would put them up against any pro touring band like delirious as far as skill, humility, and attitude go. i have worked with recording bands, touring artists, incredibly talented people who i'm not sure could hold a candle to these guys. if it's vanity to say so, it's not my vanity. i just try to stay out of their way. it's humbling to know they want to be there, are committed, have very little attitude and all i have to do is give them permission and get the heck off the stage. it makes me proud, and a bit torqued off that they are so far beyond me now! jerks. i despise them... hehe.

got quite a bit of mail recently attacking some of my articles as "not right". none of these are comments posted on the blog so don't worry, it's probably not you. got 18 emails from people telling me that i "shouldn't write such-or-so" because they disagreed with me. haha.

if you don't like it, get offended, and think i need to be reigned in; i appreciate your comments and want to say this as delicately as possible not to offend anyone...piss off. i'm not writing this to make anyone happy. this is not a church publication. i'm not trying to win votes or make friends or speak on behalf of the church here. i see it as a way to express my life a bit, try to be honest about stuff that we all work through, and work out some stuff with people who are smarter than i am. if you don't like it, i really don't care. don't read it... hehe.

channel surfing today i happened upon a review of a chuck colson book. the reader praised the work as the "proof that christianity was the most rational and logical way to live." I used to believe that too.

as a person new to the faith i was convinced that christianity was a proven commodity, a rational tenet and a logical system of belief. i read books in defense of the faith, memorized apologetics arguments, quoted the archeological foundations for rational belief... the whole nine yards. i knew christianity to be 'evidence that demands a verdict'. it was a happy and idealistic time for me. a time long gone.

as i grow up in my belief system i have come to see it less and less like a system and more like a journey. i can no longer rely as fully on rational proofs for god's existence anymore. i have studied the arguments, see their value, even agree with their conclusions. i have not, however, seen them as other have as stone cold proof of my faith in god. my life has also been skewed by hurt that has stripped away many of my sunday school answers to impossible questions. many of the trite beliefs i have held have been burned away by pain, remorse and the gradual tainting of my idealism. i still believe, but often can't explain 'why' as well as i used to when everything was so rational and linear.

christianity is not a rational faith. if it were there would be indisputable evidence that all could see. it would cease to be a question of faith and become merely a matter of proof. as a result it would be difficult to include the miraculous, the mysterious, and the god who refuses to fit into our rational categories. it would be boring.

i remember when i was a rational christian. i knew what i knew and i was cold inside. i reduced god to my miniscule understanding and refused to accept that which i could not understand... i limited the creator. then i read books like "the myth of certainty " and they screwed me up. then i had doubts. then i realized god wasn't acting like i thot he should. then i lost my stranglehold on understanding god... then i lost my faith.

i don't want a rational faith anymore, though i appreciate the truths i know. i want a dynamic growing faith with an entity that frankly scares me a little. i want to be shocked, pushed and frustrated. as campolo said, "maybe god is bigger than your categories, maybe god wants to do more than your categories could ever ask or imagine."

call me, I won�t call you.

we all have friends like this. those who we believe to be our close friends but who are, in actuality, merely relationships of convenience. one-sided relationships, where i feel like an anxious child awaiting approval, we've all had them.
we do things together but only if i call. times together are good, but you can�t help but feel a bit powerless. after all, the relationship seems to mean more to you than it does to them. you are careful not to hurt their feelings, they seem to care less about yours. token gestures abound, but you are left with a lingering feeling that if you didn�t call them, you would never hear from them again... unless they needed something.

much of life seems to be like this. most of us are a bundle of insecurities, constantly wondering if we are loved. we all have relationships we feel invested in, but which don�t seem to