so much emotion. so much contact. so many issues.
so often in this 21st century psychotic world we are bombarded by too many committments, too many work days, too many things to do. houses to clean, assignments due, people to interact with and problems to solve.

i find sunday morning, though i am theoretically "in the zone" and working a mile a minute, a time of reflection and peace in my life. i love the music, the talent and the heartbeat of people who have no other agenda than to connect and love. i love the people in my church. they are so appreciative, so kind, very tender. there are of course a wide variety of weirdos, and i count myself among them.

people are basically good. i sometimes forget that. the few who rub us wrong tend to blot out the many who love us and care more than we understand. it's good to remember that we are loved, though often we don't feel it.

it's sunday nite, street church is over, the services are done, the people have all gone home. we have finished off the last of the 288 bottle rockets we bought from some kid at the friday punk gig. it's been a good day, and i'm tired. "full metal jacket" is on tv. time to chill, eat some mini-wheats, check my email and realize that though all is not well in the universe, there will be sufficient time tomorrow to worry, plan and fret. tonight is over. time for bed.

It is so much easier for me show or display love to others than to be on the receiving end. So, but how do I respond when others express their love for me? One of the things I struggle with is finding an appropriate response when people want to pay me a compliment or show their love in an outward way. Something we studied the other day helped me put it in perspective.

from ricks's blog

from darryl:
I don’t really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind. I even object to the implication that I am wasting something valuable if I stay in bed after the sun has risen. As an admirer of moonlight I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it. At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves.
(The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks)

our friend, andrew, who works with our street people, is blogging here.

ben deyo in his halloween outfit... alice cooper

ok, for all of you with a big halloween party coming up and you are wondering where in heaven's name you are going to buy the meat you need.

this week i was throwing out all my old cassette tapes when i decided to listen again to the interview james dobson had with ted bundy. disturbing.
what bugged me the most isn’t his disgusting acts
- confessed to 28 murders
- 11 corpses found in apartment
- sexual assaults galore
- kept skulls in firdge

that stuff is all sick – but that's not what bugged me the most - what i found most disturbing – last minute conversion to christianity a few months before another inmate killed him. it really pissed me off that ted bundy became a christian.
- said he repented/felt bad/profoundly sorry
- had put his faith in jesus/baptized/went to church
- sins forgiven/soul cleansed/past forgiven

bugs me big time – because it messes up my moralist principles of judgment, of cause and effect, of vengeance. in my mind… fry em…
(part of me wants to see michael jackson get lynched or kobie bryant or martha steward do hard time too)
… they don’t deserve forgiveness.

ever been just totally abused – what’s the one thing that keeps you sane? it's that some day they are going to get theirs, either in this life or the next but they are going to get it… their chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

and the traditional religious answer, the one we like, goes something like this, "oh their conversion can’t be right or honest or earnest, right? therefore they burn..."

sometimes I like OT justice
- kill em
- castrate em
- stone em… what they deserve right?

Romans 2:1 – if you think you are on high ground when you point a finger at others, think again. Everytime you criticize someone, you condemn yourself. It takes one to know one.”

--that’s a heavy verse – it’s God’s job to judge – not mine, not your mother-in-law’s.

--- it’s one thing to discipline. some of us need it. it’s another thing to pronouce judgment. to pass a verdict.

---god tells us to hate the sin, but it’s his job to judge the sinner, not me.

I HAVE A BIG PROBLEM THOUGH WITH THIS --- i like judging other people. it’s fun.
check out reality tv – fun to cast that vote to destroy someone else’s future. it’s fun to throw some of you off the island…

i feel better about me, when I can put you down.
i love being self-righteous
it’s powerful!

recently i reflected again on jonah, especially the forgotten chapter -
chapter 4:1 Jonah was furious. He lost his temper. 2He yelled at GOD, "GOD! I knew it--when I was back home, I knew this was going to happen! That's why I ran off to Tarshish! I knew you were sheer grace and mercy, not easily angered, rich in love, and ready at the drop of a hat to turn your plans of punishment into a program of forgiveness!3"So, GOD, if you won't kill them, kill me! I'm better off dead!"4GOD said, "What do you have to be angry about?"

saying pretty much – who are you to hold the gavel? you think you deserve to be the judge, jury and executioner? you not exactly perfect.

seeng more and more in my life – i’m too screwed up to pronouce final judgment on anyone.
- i’m a terrible sinner
- i’ve had to be forgiven so much
- what real right do I have to point a finger?
- lier/cheat/thief/arrogant/shallow (just when those who love me think I’m the shallowest man alive I manage to drain a bit more out of the pool)/thotless/childish

i’ve hurt the love of my life. hurt my friends. hurt my kids. probably could get a line up of complainers and enemies if we wanted to.
- done things I regret deeply, what right do i have to judge you?

And I’m also not qualified
– do I know what you are really thinking?
– do I know your heart? (might think I do)

i love it when people tell me how I feel, or my motivations. had a lady tell me recently that she pretty much knows “why” i am the way i am and knows what my real motivation is for this job i’m in.

really? wanna bet?

my buddy wilf is a master carpenter. So one day I go up to him at his job site and he says, “so what do you think? Your approval means a lot. (this is the point when youu realize this story is fictional)

so I say, “well I don’t know, let me look around… “ who cares what I think!"
--- I can’t build lego!
--- when rod was renoing his house he asked me specifically NOT to help him
--- when we renoe the office they send me for donuts!

I am not qualified to judge wilf’s work --- I know nothing.
jonah – nothing!
your heart? – nothing.


the bible says – I’m not qualified/don’t have enough information

---how can I condemn a soul that god is still working on?---

peter – denied jesus 3 times…. And changed the world
paul – killed christians… and started the early church
high school geek…. Richest man in the world.

i need mercy… so I need to give out mercy
i desperately need grace…. need to learn to give grace
... try not to be too hard on me
– until you know my heart
- until you know my true motivations

and i’ll try not to be too hard on you.
i think there’s a world full of people here who want forgiveness and mercy.
and a town here that’s crying for it too.
and the christian church sits around picking it’s nose and arguing about crap like music styles and colour of the carpet

… meanwhile a world dying without hope.

God help us/me/you not to let them down.

my notes from "the present future"

Invest in community:
- the emphasis will involve helping people with job placement, car repairs, furniture distribution, food, financial help and financial planning.
- Releasing people to be missionaries will turn your congregation upside down. This new reformation, turning members in missionaries, will precipitate a crisis, both in individuals and in a congregation. P.65
- Adopting a missionary approach will require changing the scorecard p.67
- church scorecards currently reflect member values: how many show up, pay up and participate in chub member activities. A missionary church culture will need to begin keeping score on things different from what we measure up. P.67
- This is how we keep score and determine champions, division leaders and losers. What if, instead, we asked about people, not the institution? What if denominational reporting inquiries asked, “what percentage of your congregants feel they grew to be more like Jesus this past year?” what if church leaders asked each other, “how is God at work in your people?” or “where do you see Jesus bustin’ out?”

People don’t want to be assimilated. But that’s what it feels like for many people who joined the church only to become part of “the collective” and lose their own individual lives.

How many churches have heard sermons on these texts since the terrorist atrocities of September 11?
Where is the serious debate about what it means to confess Christ in a world of violence?
Does Christian "realism" mean resigning ourselves to an endless future of "pre-emptive wars"? Does it mean turning a blind eye to torture and massive civilian casualties?
Does it mean acting out of fear and resentment rather than intelligence and restraint?

Our world is wracked with violence and war. But Jesus said: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God" (Matt. 5:9).

read jordon's review and link to the sojourner's confession here.

Church members trying to be missionaries are not immune from persecution either. I know people who have given up church responsibilities to create more time to minister to people outside the church. Sometimes their reward has been to receive much less greetings from staff members who tried to recruit them for church jobs and were turned down. Some have been tagged as "unfaithful" to the church or "not committed." What a sad day when answering the call to live on mission earns you the ridicule from the church....

via jordon

I am on a journey. Life seems to be divided into streams. Often I am swimming with the current, occasionally I attempt to swim upstream. These past few weeks have been a battle with the waters, a defining moment in time, an epiphany of growth brought on by a very disturbing series of conversations.

Our longing to be affirmed, loved unconditionally is, I'm discovering, a powerful primordial urge. Many of us struggle in our marriages to be affirmed, realizing only subconsciously that we have an intrinsic need to be adored, not understanding that often the marriage bed is not the vehicle we secretly long for. When our spouses tell us they love us, they think we are beautiful, we subconsciously chalk it up to obligation. This person is supposed to feel that way about us. Though it carries meaning, it does not touch us as we had supposed.

Recently someone came to me and told me they loved me. They told me I was attractive, valuable and amazing. I did not realize at the time, but I could not hear what they were saying. We bear such remarks but do not process how profound they are. We long for someone to say the words but rarely accept them should they happen.This person would not let up. They forced me to stop my justifications and listen. It was as if they grabbed me by the throat and forced me to not only listen- but to really hear. I began to back paddle, they cut me off. With superior will, they forced me to my emotional knees and made me confront what they were saying. It sent me into an emotional tailspin of joy and self-doubt. Later they confronted me again, with equal tenacity.I am learning that all of us long to hear those words. We long to be adored. We secretly cannot accept our own value and 'lock down' our self-worth. We intrinsically understand what it means to love with abandon but have no idea how to accept such love in return. It is one thing to hear a family member tell us they love us, it is quite another thing to have someone who, under no obligation, reaches into our hearts and awakens our worth.

Since that day I have over-processed what has happened and have discussed it at length with one of my closest male friends. We both have had such an experience and admitted the utter terror that we felt when someone told us we were beautiful, wonderful or the like. It stirred in both of us a legion of self-doubt and embarrassment. Both of us tried to blow off the conversation. Both of us we forced to hear and really hear.In a world where, as I have said, it is critical that we do not think of ourselves more highly than we ought, we have subjugated our egos to such an extent that we are unable to be truly affirmed. We cannot hear the love of others. We realize our own depravity, our own ugliness and it penetrates our understanding of ourselves to such a level that it dements our mental health.We all long for someone to grab us, shake us, and love us with abandon. Then when it happens we contextualize our understanding and demean the gift. They are the words we long to hear all our lives, but we are so afraid of them that they paralyze us. To be loved completely... is a humbling thing.

Don’t you get it. You don’t want to love yourself. You can’t. you’ve been told too many times to be humble. Pride comes before the fall. Don’t you get it? You’re sick inside. You’re not healthy. You have a pride in your humility. You think its good to be self-loathing. Don’t you understand?

I’m not there either but I’ve glimpsed the mountain. It doesn’t matter how other people feel about you. It doesn’t matter if you are single or married. That person you love will never never never never be able to love you enough.

I’m realizing lately how screwed up my definition of love is. I’m going to say something I shouldn’t. but here goes. I’ve spent my entire married life trying to earn the love of my spouse. But it never happened. It was never enough. I couldn’t do enough, and believe me when I tell you, I’m a romantic fool. But it’s not enough..

And then someone tells you they love you completely. And there is no way you will ever believe them because you can’t. you won’t give yourself to be loved. You will never find the security you long for because you are sick.

And god tells you he loves you with abandon and you don’t believe him. Because you can’t. you know your own depravity but you can’t admit to yourself your own worth. You can’t tell yourself you are beautiful, you are talented, you are special because it hurts inside, it feels dirty to tell yourself such blasphemy. It seems wrong.

And god watches you and I know he must cry. He longs to love you completely, sensuously, with abandon but you don’t get it. You may understand it, believe it, but you don’t get it. I don’t get it. Because I play the sick scenarios over and over again and know I’m dirt. And it hurts god. He sees his son, his daughter with a terrible view of themselves and he tries to affirm you. He tries to wrestle you to your knees and love you. But you won’t listen. And you become your own god. You try to stay away from your own worth and in the process begin to worship your own understanding of reality. The doors of your spiritual heart are shut and God takes second place to your own opinions.

There are a lot of theological things I could say to you now. The bible is full of good theology. But it’s meaningless because you can’t grasp how high and how wide the love of god is for you. So It’s all legalism. It’s all manure. It cuts in your mouth because your heart is not ready. And god weeps for you. And your friends weep for you. But no one can convince you of your worth. As one person told me you listen but do not hear. And God waits. And your friends wait. And your heart waits for the day when you will accept love. When your selfish need to demean your own value, your pride in your worthlessness, will finally be satiated. And then the healing will begin.

You won’t need to demean yourself anymore. You won’t need to hide your joy in your own uniqueness. You won’t feel unworthy – but you’ll begin to understand that you have value. You are beautiful. You are beautiful.

Ephesians 317so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Are you rooted in love. Do you know love. Have you wrested the demons and felt the release. Can you grasp it. Can you begin to even get your head around how much God loves you. Can you grasp it?

It’s a love that surpasses knowledge. It’s beyond what you can accept. It’s beyond what you can understand. So let it go. Quit trying to understand it and begin to accept it. It doesn’t make sense to you but get over yourself… and let it happen. Shut off your brain and your insecurities and your fears and ---

Close your eyes. Repeat after me to yourself. Shut out everyone else and say these words – I am beautiful.
I am loved by god. Fully. God loves me. God loves me.
I am beautiful.

From annette’s blog:
We have a friend who has crippling arthritis. It is an uncommon type where the joints fuse together. It has been a painful life for him, and the times when his spine was on the verge of fusing were incredibly difficult. Once the fusing was complete, though he was relatively immobile or definitely inflexible the pain was subdued. This illness hasn't stopped his passion for life and willingness to try new things. He'll think of a way to make things work.Ken always wears socks, even in the summer under his sandals. It's not to keep his feet clean. It's because he doesn't want to show his gnarled, twisted feet. If not for his comfort then definitely for the comfort of others.One day at a small Christian gathering, it was decided that everyone would wash the feet of the person next to them, continuing in the circle. Ken froze. He didn't want to expose his feet and even worse have someone touch their grotesqueness. But yet he so wanted to participate in the tradition of servanthood.It came time for Ken's turn. He embarrassingly took off his socks in preparation to be washed. He would understand if the other person wouldn't want to do it. He had to be ready for anything.Without hesitation the person took Ken's feet and washed them, blessing them. No fear. No expression of disgust or putridness. Simple obedience with a servant's heart. Ken wept. The unlovely had been loved. The worst part of him was the best part for that moment.Many of us feel unlovely. We feel we are grotesque at times...or most times. We don't feel we can be touched. Until someone does. And they don't flinch. And they don't gag. And we know that through them the Creator is telling us that he has made something beautiful, despite how we view ourselves. In that transforming moment we believe it. And when we can't, someone will believe it for us. Just listen to them. Just watch them. Just give in to them...to Him.

that just about covers it…

"The father went to war in Iraq to defend the principle that you can't invade another country unilaterally; the son goes to war with Iraq to establish the principle that you can invade another country unilaterally."

via wendy

jordon has a great post about...
"This is what life in the church bubble can do to you. It shrink wraps your vision to the size of the church."

"Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?" 7"Sir," the invalid replied, "I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me."

do you want to be healed? it's a seemingly insignificant question with huge ramifications. my friend keith talked about this this morning at staff meeting. it is a reminder that many of us tend to wallow in our unhealthiness. in my own journey i know i definitely, during my "dark period" did not really want to be healed. i carried the pain around like a trophy, wallowing in my own situation. it was easy to pray for release, talk the big talk, but never truly let go. letting go... it's hard.

it's hard to be well. it takes away your excuses, it robs you of your arrogant self- absorbed lifestyle. it forces you to confront your demons and see yourself for who you really are.

keith also mentioned the man's response. it was full of excuse - it was someone else's fault. it's the road we all go down. we blame others for our dysfunction, it's our father's fault, or our spouces, or whatever. so we carry the pain and blame the past and never get on with living. we desperately try to manipulate the circumstances or other people to make up for the fact that we are basically *&^$'d up and we have no one to blame anymore, but ourselves. there comes a time when the most heinous hurts need to be forgiven. there comes a time to say goodbye to the people and the pain that have kept us in slavery for years.

i'm thinking of the quote in "shawshank redemption" where the inmate says, "it's was time to get on with living, or get on with dying." it's true. the pain and the anger and the hurt and the violation of a lifetime someday will force us to act. to get on with living... or get on with dying. how long are we going to blame others for our life? how long do we bask in the glow of past abuse before we take the painful steps to find a new life? easy words to write, harder words to live. but thousands and millions of people down through the ages have found release and healing from circumstances that would stagger the imagination. i regularly listen to people who have experienced abuse on a scale i cannot imagine. yet some have broken the cycle, some have said goodbye, maybe we can too.

time to get on with living... or get on with dying.

coming this sunday nite. working on a few tunes by the "trews", one by "rise against", "get over it" by the eagles, "you're a god" by vertical horizon and a few other oldie moldies. hey it's halloween, anyone have a triple d cup bra i can borrow?

oh ya, need to work on "monster mash". any other halloween songs out there?

i used to think i was self-aware. i knew the score. i understood what people thought of me, i knew my motivations. not anymore.

i hate to admit it but i may be becoming an adult. you hit a certain milestone in your life and believe you have arrived. you get your driver's license, can drink, can vote, maybe you get your career going. get married. you are supposed to be an adult. people start asking you for grown up advice. as a full time pastor for many years now i am supposed to be an authority figure of sorts. respectable.

several weeks ago my friend brander told me that in many ways i am an emotional child. it was not a comment off the cuff. we had been discussing my life and choices and it was a natural conclusion that i was also drawing. like many people i had grown into adulthood but was not dealing with things on an adult level.

for me the issue was intrinsic motivation. i have lived my entire adult life trying to impress an individual close to me. they provided me with external checks and balances and i knew implicitly, sometimes overtly, whether or not i reached or failed their expectations. though it was not necessarily their fault, i felt that i constantly did not measure up. i didn't do drugs anymore because they would find out. i didn't get plowed because they might be disappointed. i played the part, spoke the language and even dreamed great dreams, largely to impress an individual it would be nieve to assume that every thought or motivation was guided by that modus operendi but the fact remained that it served as a guiding force in my adult life. it was unhealthy.

when my life fell apart four years ago it became apparent that i possessed few coping skills. i also felt so unworthy and realized that i had derived so much of my self worth from the wrong sources. i made opinions my god and my faith. not completely... but enough.

my life is different now. i have been forced to deal with who i am, without a net. i have learned to see my own worth, though it is an ongoing struggle. i hope that though i am still perhaps not where i need to be - that i am on the road and not where i once was.

i said to someone today that i am grateful for the terrible journey i have been on. if i had to do it all over again, i definitely wouldn't, but it has changed me.
like many of you, i am becoming comfortable in my own skin.
the voices in my head that remind me of my own ugliness, my own pathetic thoughts, no longer seem to be as loud as they once were.
i realize that i am a hopeless romantic, a lover, and far less macho than i once projected.
i am not as sexual as i once bragged, but more gentle than i care to admit.
i am not as cool as i desperately wanted to be.
i am older than i admit publically.
there are rough edges, plenty of them, but the glare of having to fit in has lost some of it's intensity.
there are people who love me, one or two intensely, and i hope i am learning to accept and return that love without asking or dreaming of something in return.

we are all on the journey. we all struggle to define ourselves. we all struggle to fit in. it is a sad reality that we are getting older but not all growing up.
time to grow up.

blogger issues again!

jennifer writes:
"This truth hit me that day. It hadn't even occured to me that within the mess I created God would be concerned with me, after all I was the one who strayed away. I was convinced that He would only be concerned with the happiness of the ones I hurt."
link

Had a roommate named Leo when I was in my early twenties, had to be pretty early twenties I got married when I was… 20. Anyway, Leo takes off to California for a couple months and takes my mail key with him. So I called him up and said, hey dude, you have my mail key so … he mailed it to me.

When my kids started preschool they told us that our kids couldn’t have peanut butter because some kids are really allergic to it and we said, no problem, we wouldn’t want to send anything to school that could potentially hurt another child.
They said, no, no, you don’t understand, your child can’t even eat peanut butter at home. He could have it in his blood system and sneeze and get saliva on his hands and touch a door knob. Another child could touch that doorknob and have a seizure.
I don’t mean to be callus, but if your child can’t be around any other child who has had any peanut butter in the past 48 hours, in this world where it's the staple of life for preschoolers… he’s not going to make it… don’t get too attached to him…

It is 1936. American Jesse Owens seems sure to win the long jump competition in the Olympic games. The previous year he had jumped 26 feet, 8 1/4 inches -- a record that will stand for 25 years. As he walks to the long-jump pit, however, Owens sees a tall, blue eyed, blond German taking practice jumps in the 26-foot range. Owens feels nervous. He is acutely aware of the Nazis' desire to prove "Aryan superiority." As a black son of a share cropper, he knows what it is like to feel inferior.
On his first jump, Owens inadvertently leaps from several inches beyond the takeoff board. Rattled, he fouls on his second attempt, too. One more foul and he will be eliminated. At this point, the tall German introduces himself as Luz Long. "You should be able to qualify with your eyes closed!" he says to Owens.
For the next few moments, the African American and the white model of Nazi manhood chat together. Then Long makes a suggestion. Since the qualifying distance is only 23 feet, 5 1/2 inches, why not make a mark several inches before the takeoff board and jump from there, just to play it safe? Owens does and qualifies easily. In the finals, Owens sets an Olympic record and earns the second of four gold medals. But who is the first person to congratulate him? Luz Long -- in full view of Adolph Hitler.
Owens never again sees Long, who is later killed in World War II. "You could melt down all the medals and cups I have," Owens later writes, "and they wouldn't be a platting on the 24-carat friendship I felt for Luz Long." P
erhaps unknowingly, Luz Long taught the world a valuable lesson. Someone else put it like this: "We can learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp ..some are pretty...some are dull...some have weird names...and all are different colors.
But they all have to learn to live in the same box."
So do we.

I love camping for a lot of reasons. One particular thing I enjoy is watching people make fires. I love it cuz everyone is an expert fire maker in their own opinion. I used to be a guide and I met tons of expert fire makers. Often their fires sucked but hey, they knew more than anyone else. For some reason making fires is a real ego thing.
You know the number one problem in fire making? too much wood. As soon a small flame gets going people think they have won, so they start adding more and more kindling and stuff until they choke the fire.
Same with people. Lot of us start out good and our fire is bright but it isn’t long before things start to choke the life out of our fire. The fresh wind can’t get through as easy. Stuff clutters and bad experiences choke and old memories and attitudes creep in and the fresh wind can’t get in.
A lot of us have a lot of deadfall plugging us up.

link

He says, be happy when you…

- Have lost someone dear to you (God can finally hug you)
- learn to be content – (God can show you peace)
- worked up an appetite for God (you’ll learn He’s enough)
- when you care (understand how others care for you)
- get your life worked out (you’ll see God’s hand)
- show others real community (you’ll discover who you are)
- when you go through hard times (it drives you deeper)

when you’re weak. When you’re willing. When you aren’t complete. When you’re real…

- people who come to God out of a need for him to give them what they need for life. The way they see it, if God does not fill their spirit, they will not be filled at all. Their lives are in Christ Jesus, and nothing else.

Nothing in my hand I bring.
Simply to thy cross I cling.
Naked, came to thee for dress
Helpless, look to thee for grace
Foul, I to the fountain fly
Wash me, Savior, or I die.

Just as I am without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee
O Lamb of God, I come I come.

Just as I am, poor wretched blind
Sight, riches, healing of mind
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

He is supposed to be Turkish. Some say his father was German. Nobody believed he was real. Nobody ever saw him or knew anybody that ever worked directly for him, but to hear Kobayashi tell it, anybody could have worked for Soze. You never knew. That was his power. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. One story the guys told me - the story I believe - was from his days in Turkey. There was a petty gang of Hungarians that wanted their own mob. They realized that to be in power you didn't need guns or money or even numbers. You just needed the will to do what the other guy wouldn't. After a while they come to power, and then they come after Soze He was small time then, just running dope, they say... They come to his home in the afternoon, looking for his business. They find his wife and kids in the house and decide to wait for Soze. He comes home to his wife raped and his children screaming. The Hungarians knew Soze was tough, so they let him know they meant business. They tell him they want his territory -all his business. Soze looks over the faces of his family... Then he showed these men of will what will really was. He tells him he would rather see his family dead than live another day after this. He lets the last Hungarian go, and he goes running. He waits until his wife and kids are in the ground and he goes after the rest of the mob. He kills their kids, he kills their wives, he kills their parents and their parents' friends. He burns down the houses they live in and the stores they work in, he kills people that owe them money. And like that - he was gone. Underground, no one has ever seen him again. He becomes a myth, a spook story that criminals tell their kids at night. Rat on your pop, and Keyser Soze will get you
… the will to do what others wouldn’t

"The success of the Purpose Driven Life is a sad testimony on the state of the church today. Christians have become so used to eating the processed food found in seeker sensitive churches, glitzy conferences, and the Christian marketing industry that they can't tell what is truly good for them. I fully acknowledge that some people have been "helped" by PDL. There have been many fads and gimmicks that have "helped" Christians but in the end the church is still in decline across North America. Does anyone remember how inspired they were coming back from Promise Keeper conferences, or how cell groups were going to transform church community? How about "Evangelism Explosion" or spiritual gift tests, the Passion, WWJD bracelets or the Prayer of Jabez. If we take a step back and look at all the activity and so little fruit yet we continually get sucked in. More and more so it is profit driven companies that push us to consume what they sell regardless of it's true spiritual value."

read the critique on leighton's blog here.

"In my darkest moments when I thought death was my only refuge He showed me Life. Why should I be afraid?"
cathey hits the nail on the head here.
via

"He knows the rejection, each moment of sorrow, every pain, every wound. He wants to give me beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning. I take comfort in that. As Susan says the garbage has to be consumed so that there is nothing but the ashes, no cinders that can spark another fire. He has to excise the wound where the infection has set in. It's painful as I go through the process but I look forward to the result..."
link

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.

-- Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night

check out biscotti's blog about her amazing church experience recently here.

jim goudie blogs about his first weird visit to new heights church.
via

james has a great post about his impressions of street church.

In 1987, Billy Graham had an alter call at Urbana. It was an incredible response-thousands and thousands of young people committing themselves to missionary service.
Afterward, Billy Graham said, "That was wonderful. I bet we come away with at least a couple of hundred missionaries out of this meeting."
someone said, "There were thousands."
He said, "Yes, there were thousands, but they'll go home and they'll be talked out of it. And you know who will talk them out of it-their parents."
Jesus wasn't kidding when he said, "When you get a vision of doing incredible things for God, the first opponents will be those in your own household. Think not that I have come to bring peace." We listen to Focus on the Family and think, "If you just become Christians, it's all going to become well in the family. Jesus says it's not that way. When you become Christians, mothers will be set against daughters, daughters against mothers, fathers against sons, sons against fathers. When you stand up and say, "Mom, my life belongs to Jesus," like St. Frances, your own father will probably turn upon you and say, "Look, I didn't send you to school to go traipsing off to some place and accomplish nothing. There is a lot that you can do right here at home."
Young people ---You've heard it, haven't you? I know what your parents tell you and they're wrong. They said, "Go to a university. Go to Trinity. It's a good university and you will get a good education, and if you get a good education, then you will get a good job, and if you get good job, you will make a lot of money, and if you make a lot of money, you will be able to buy a lot of stuff."
That's what it's about people, stuff. The sizes of Canadian houses have increased 20 percent in floor space in just 10 years. Why? Because we have more and more children, bigger and bigger families? Is that why we are building bigger houses? No, we need bigger houses just to hold all the stuff. When it's Christmas, your parents have to go up to your rooms and shovel half the stuff out to make room for all the new stuff.
That's what it's about.
-- tony campolo with a few additions

The next time you feel like GOD can't use you, just remember...
Noah was a drunk
Abraham was too old
Isaac was a daydreamer
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses had a stuttering problem
Gideon was afraid
Sampson had long hair and was a womanizer
Rahab was a prostitute
Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
David had an affair and was a murderer
Elijah was suicidal
Isaiah preached naked
Jonah ran from God
Naomi was a widow
Job went bankrupt
John the Baptist ate bugs
Peter denied Christ
The Disciples fell asleep while praying
Martha worried about everything
The Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once
Zaccheus was too small
Paul was too religious
Timothy had an ulcer...
AND
Lazarus was dead!
What do you have that’s worse than that?
So no more excuses!
God can use you to your full potential.
Besides you aren't the message,
you are just the messenger.

powerful lyrics:

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
I get knocked down
But I get up again

Don't cry for me
Next door neighbour...
"I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing...

The memories of my family outings are still a source of strength to me. I remember we'd all pile into the car - I forget what kind it was - and drive and drive. I'm not sure where we'd go, but I think there were some trees there. The smell of something was strong in the air as we played whatever sport we played. I remember a bigger, older guy we called "Dad." We'd eat some stuff, or not, and then I think we went home. I guess some things never leave you.

-- jack handy

i have many regrets from these past 4 years. hundreds of bad choices, wasted moments, poor decisions, dysfunctional behaviors. if i spend time dwelling on these in their entirety, it is overwhelming. i start my downward guilt spiral again - the self-loathing consumes me. i know i am unworthy. i obsess on my failures. i play the list of people i have let down... and the list is long. friendships lost. lies told. hearts wounded. i am dirt. i am profoundly aware of how dark my heart is. it was very black. i cannot describe how dark...

"in it's entirety" is enough to keep me broken for the rest of my life. many of us play the tapes regularly and we will never be free. unless...

i have chosen to forgive myself. it hasn't been a one-time occurance; it's often a daily reforgiveness. and i am free.

there are ramifications for our actions. there are people who may never trust us again. there are issues that may never be reconciled fully. i have scars. and i am free.

free to know god loves me still. free to forgive myself and give myself a break. free to begin my healing.

and when i proof-read this blog i will be insecure. i will feel arrogant or self-absorbed or attention seeking. i will know that many scars remain and not all the issues are settled. but i will probably hit the "post" button. and tomorrow i may need to forgive myself yet again. but it doesn't matter. i'm free.

It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.

Why do people in ship mutinies always ask for "better treatment"? I'd ask for a pinball machine, because with all that rocking back and forth you'd probably be able to get a lot of free games.

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

When you go in for a job interview, I think a good thing to ask is if they ever press charges.

I think someone should have had the decency to tell me the luncheon was free. To make someone run out with potato salad in his hand, pretending he's throwing up, is not what I call hospitality.

To me, clowns aren't funny. In fact, they're kind of scary. I've wondered where this started and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus, and a clown killed my dad.

You know what would make a good story? Something about a clown who make people happy, but inside he's real sad. Also, he has severe diarrhea.

If you go parachuting, and your parachute doesn't open, and you friends are all watching you fall, I think a funny gag would be to pretend you were swimming.

Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead. No, wait, not me, you

If you ever reach total enlightenment while drinking beer, I bet you could shoot beer out of you nose.

If you're in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it'll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a real grenade at them.

I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.

check out the great pics of "very fresh" gracie, born to jen and gary (local bloggers) over on carolyn's blog here. born yesterday!

it's a terrible thing to be broken. we build up walls our whole life, learn coping skills, develop our personality, only to have our lives come crashing down upon us one day. maybe your spouce left you, maybe you still can't forgive or forget a childhood wrong. maybe you were caught. maybe you lost someone dear to you. maybe you were fired. whatever the reason, your life has fallen apart and you can't seem to put the pieces together again.

it's a terrible thing. yet a necessary one. usually you can define a person's life as segways before and after their brokenness experience. they become a different person in some ways. they are skewed and changed and marked with a limp. there is an understanding there. there is a realness that was absent before.

everyone needs to be broken. broken of their childhood immortality, broken from their reliance on there own giftedness, intuition or ability. we need to realize that certain lessons can only be learned in grief, in pain. people who have never been broken, really broken, have no idea the depths of what i am talking about. they point to low points in their life and identify lessons learned, but they don't get it. they cannot fathom the pain and the agony of brokenness, though they believe they can. they do not know the insecurity, the fear, the darkness that comes with losing your emotional life. but they need to.

someday in our lives i think most of us will be broken... bad. at least i hope so. on the other side of the hell there are lessons to be learned, living to be done and joy to find. but joy with scars. living with scars. lessons with blood. there is pain and laughter, wisdom and folly, always mixed with a keen realization that you are not as self-aware as you once believed yourself to be.

my crazy friends lori and cathey are blogging now.

new pics of our team working with HIV positive orphanage children in thailand here.

This last month or better has been good for me.
I’ve come to understand something about myself. I understand symbolism. A couple weeks ago I took some things to the river to throw away. I needed a physical reminder that things can change. Some of you may want to do something symbolic too. Maybe you need to go to the river, or start a fire, or go to a bridge somewhere and let some things go. Let some healing begin -take some of the vestiges of your past hurt and let it go. Give yourself permission to live again. It’s tearing you up inside and it isn’t hurting those people who wronged you at all. It’s time for forgiveness.
Symbolism. A couple of weeks ago I took a special friend to the mall to help me pick out a ring. It’s a celtic ring, big surprise, that is a powerful symbol for me. It’s a symbol of freedom. And everytime I look at it, feel it’s weight, it reminds me that I am forgiven. It reminds me that god loves me, that people love me; and it reminds me that I’m allowed to live again. It’s a visible reminder that I am forgiven. That I am free.
Maybe you should get something too. Something to remind you, when you forget, that God loves you. I forget a lot, and its easy to start my downward spiral again. So I play with my ring.
One other piece of symbolism.
My good friend Carolyn took a picture at street church that you may have seen around lately. It’s a little beautiful girl dancing like there is no one watching. It’s a powerful symbol for me. It speaks of freedom. It speaks of joy, that little child in so many of us that still laughs. That piece of me that is truly alive. She put this picture on a mat and I hang it over my fireplace.
I look on the walls of my bedroom where some things are gone. Symbols of pain. I wear my ring to remind me that I am free. I watch that inner child on the wall of my frontroom and see the joy and the healing. Symbols. I need them. Reminders that I am forgiven. Challenges to let go, challenges to forgive.
it would be cool if we could all wear a ring to remind us that we are free - but i am conscious that for each of us the symbols may be different. A picture, a gift, a ring, a memory of past hurt. It’s different for all of us, the things in our lives that hold us back.
Forgiveness.
Forgiveness.
Forgiveness.
It’s time to be free.
It’s time to run and laugh and dance and party again.
It’s time to let it go and get on with living, instead of getting on with dying.
It’s time children.
It’s time.
Be free.

Thankfulness
what are you thankful for today?
me… i’m thankful to be alive…. wasn’t always…
…but I am today

I know what it’s like to forget to be thankful. I know what it is to forget God loves you, forget your friends care. To forget to count the good things you have. To focus on the pain, or the loneliness or the present situation and forget you have anything. It’s easy to lose your focus…

though things look horrible – God is still in control (I forgot that)
though situations seem untenable – God is still in control (I forgot that)
though you think it will never get better – God is still in control (I forgot that)

--sometimes the pain is so intense and the situations look so bad and the hurt shocks you with it’s intensity. Sometimes you can see no end in doubt and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts... sometimes.

August 23 – I received a healing in my life I didn’t even want. God touched me in a way I thought would never happen. Other people get healed. Other people see his hand, but I was convinced I was never going to be “other people”. I forgot God was in control.
-- in one night God started a healing that was 4 years in coming. God is in control.
-- in one moment God opened the possibility to me that things could change. God is in control. In one moment… God is in control.

Let us not forget to say thank you to God for our health and the many times he heals us.
Don’t forget where you were.
Don’t forget.
Don’t forget the children with aids in Thailand,
the outrageously poor in costa rica.
Don’t forget what you have.
Don’t forget.
Don’t foret when you were hurting.
Don’t forget when you were a practicing addict
Don’t forget what it was like to have no hope.
Don’t forget those times when you were abused. Don’t forget how far you have come
Don’t forget your healing
Don’t forget your hope
Don’t forget people love you
Don’t forget God thinks you are special. Oh don’t forget that. Don’t forget.

Phil. 4:11-13 – “…I have learned how to get along happily whether I have much or little. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything with the help of Christ who gives me the strength I need.”

If that author were here today, he would probably say:
Whether eating diner at a nice restaurant, or cleaning the toilet, give thanks.
Whether you get a promotion and a raise, or a pink slip and shown the door, give thanks.
Whether you’re strong and healthy, or sick and diseased, give thanks.·
Whether your marriage is rewarding and satisfying, or a painful struggle, give thanks.

I feel like a child again. I’m having to relearn so much of what I thought I had covered. Everything seems like it’s new.
I’m learning to see joy.
I’m learning to let love happen
I’m learning to allow myself happiness.
Learning to let go.


Today upon a bus I saw a girl with golden hair
I envied her her loveliness and wished I were as fair.
And then I saw her struggle up and hobble down the aisle -
She had one leg and a metal crutchand a dazzling, friendly smile.
Oh God, forgive me when I whine
I have two legs - THE WORLD IS MINE!
And then I stopped to buy some sweets from
a lad who had such charm,
I stayed to chat a while - If I were late, what harm?
And when I turned to leave, he said, "Thank you; you've been so kind.
It's nice to talk with folks like you.
You see," he said, "I'm blind."
Oh God, forgive me when I whine
I have two eyes - THE WORLD IS MINE!
Farther on down the street, I saw a child with eyes so blue -
He stood and watched the others play, as though puzzled what to do.
I stopped a moment, said,"Why don't you join the others, dear?"
He looked ahead without a word,and then I knew he could not hear.
Oh God, forgive my words of woe -
I've eyes to see the sunset glow
And ears to hear what I would know
2 legs to take me where I’d go.
Oh God, forgive me when I whine -
For I am so blessed @ THE WORLD IS MINE!

my fav photographer, carolyn, is now blogging!
so are jennifer and gary loewen.

harlene is a gentle soul. every sunday nite street church i have to take some time to talk with her. she wouldn't understand if i was busy, preoccupied or whatever. she lives in a simple world, knowing that people at the church love her. and it's enough for her.

a couple weeks ago she came up to me to show me her spelling. one of our gentle saints, liz, brought her to me as i was setting up the sound system. it was a simple lined paper with words like "cat" and "dog" and "hat" on it. harlene has the spelling ability of about a grade 2 child, though she is clearly in her sixties. she proudly told me, "i got 100%!" and i was suitably impressed.

sometimes at street church, or when we are out feeding the homeless, harlene will come very upset. something in her little world is off-balanced, and she needs a hug. she is a simple soul, but a powerfully important one.

last friday night the church got together to celebrate the marriage of one of our pastors. we had planned a "no gift" event but harlene insisted on buying a small gift. she had her hair done, probably by one of our ladies. she had on a new dress... well new to her. pastor susan gently directed her to erin and greg with the gift and it was simply given -- a gift that cost more than any i could have purchased. a gift purchased in love by one who has nothing.

i am proud to say that though i have just met greg's wife erin, i know that she totally got the ramifications of what was going on. she made a huge fuss, gushed with love, and genuinely gave love to a little old lady who knew how to receive that gift of grace. later when erin was throwing the bouquet we noticed that she looked for harlene in the crowd, a simple thought of kindness that was noticed by only a few. harlene never caught that bouquet but it didn't matter, the thought was there.

many of us love the harlene's we know. we also know kenny's and sandy's and chris's and dozens of others for whom christ died. people who are often overlooked who bring much more to the table then they will ever take. people like my friend len who, though simple in mental capability, has profoundly impacted hundreds of us. len, who since he died has still continued to impact hundreds of us. len, who though he owned only a few things, gave to many. len, who sweated and sang and lived like there was no tomorrow. len. harlene.

i hope when i die i make as big an impact as len did. i hope people will say of me the things that they regularly say about people like harlene. i hope the gifts i bring to the table will be as genuine and real as theirs, my life count for as much, my heart be as filled with living.

2 weeks of repressed blogging to follow!