sucked! blew! bit!... poo poo.

the plot had holes you could shoot a cannon through. the entire time i sat there going... ok something happen... now! or now! or now!

kept thinking, "maybe you should do less gawking and more running?"

tom's son gets caught in a several hundred foot high wall of fire and complete frontal annialation. then of course at the end of the movie he's at the only block in north america that is not destroyed, waiting for tom with mommy.

don't waste your money. go see longest yard instead. even batman. you've been warned. buy a pirated copy of the dvd. then give it to someone you don't like.

United States admits torture at Guantanamo; in Iraq, Afghanistan. via
Same-sex bill on way to adoption. canada wide
Court to rule on Rwandan deportation - "kill Tutsis and dump their bodies into the rivers of Rwanda."
Grokster liable for piracy. it's really not my fault...
Rapists get off 'scott free'. Pakistani rape victim begins Supreme Court appeal.

my friend mike is blogging from chilliwack.

AIDS. Famines. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. By instinct I do not want to hear about yet another tragedy, but down deep I know I have no option. I must care about that holocaust of human suffering because God cares.

Why, then? Why would anyone choose to follow a God who promises more hardship, not less? more here.

...flaunt it. my dad used to say.
growing up my dad (and mom) used to always brag about how good looking we were, about what great leaders we were, about many things i have since come to question. later in life i would look in the mirror and hear those words again echo in my mind, "if you've got it, flaunt it". i guess i must be good looking, i would think, after all, i've got to flaunt it.

i have since come to recognize that i may not win any beauty contests; that there may not be such a striking resemblance to brad pitt as i had imagined. and let's be honest, the older i get the less that beauty win is likely to come my way. i have hair in places no one was ever meant to have hair (and no hair in places i should). somehow my follicles are migrating without my permission. there is no six-pack, no huge shoulders or small nose. now that i am over 40 i'm pretty sure i should never take off my shirt in public again.

my dad is now a qualified senior citizen, and at the risk of immodesty, less likely to win a beauty contest than i am. but you would never know that to talk to him. he still stands in front of the mirror and winks at himself. he still prays for humility then thanks god that he has it. he still styles for us and says, "if you've got it, flaunt it!" i love that about him.

there is a lesson there. in spite of how the world views him my dad continues to give the ladies what they want. he's still a player. and in a couple of weeks when they come to visit my father will be telling my sons, "if you've got it, flaunt it!" he will tell them they are uber studs until they believe him. damn the world's opinions, my dad's opinion means alot to my boys. and they will feel valued and loved, secure and beautiful. and they are.

it is so easy for me, and probably for you, to be hard on myself. it's easy to squint in the mirror and find my own faults. feeling ugly is a natural thing. if you don't believe me, stand in front of the mirror naked for a few moments. or blog naked... yes it's happening as we speak. in fact my son just walked out and said, "that's disgusting... and kind of arousing." i worry about him. now that you have that visual image in your minds, let us proceed.

i heard an old preacher on the radio yesterday say, "the greatest thing about heaven is that when i get there everyone will love me." that is an awesome understanding of love. people in this place will mock us out, call us ugly, belittle our intentions and our weaknesses but someday we will realize that, "if you've got it, flaunt it".

go ahead...

But where is the passion?
The sexual crisis is turning into an epidemic, with the internet only helping to spread the virus. Old methods of addressing such problems may not be up to the task of securing our integrity in this new paradigm. Almost every teenager is having pre-marital sex (i had a friend comment recently that he wished he was having
post-marital sex). Pornography and loosening TV standards are paving a way to a world where every child will have seen full penetration sex in elementary school; where the intimacy of love-making has been reduced to a recreational sport; where the gift of God has been cheapened and largely diminished. What He intended for good, as usual we are well on our way to screwing up big time.

The result is a loss of passion. A loss of intimacy. A loss of intensity.
So much lack of intensity these days. Look at other areas of your life as well; where is the passion?

Some of you are married. Where is the passion?
Quit greeting each other with your housecoat on and slippers and hairy armpits and body odor. Where’s the passion? Did you get married so it would end up this boring? Where’s the romance? Where’s the passion? You going to settle for boring? Is that why you got married?

Teenagers. Nothing sucks worse than boring, uncommitted teens. So you’re bored. So this town sucks… guess what? It’s your fault. Quit whining! Stand up and make something of your life. Take a stand at school. Believe in something. Go on a missions trip. Get a life. Volunteer. Make a difference. Quit living just to make yourself happy. Be alive.

Single adults. So you have a job and a car. How’s that working out for you? You happy yet? Maybe you’ll be happy when you get a better car or make money… but I doubt it.
What are you giving your life for? Yourself? Instant pleasure? More trips surfing or playing around or just being selfish? How are you changing your world? How’s that working out for you?

Older adults. Made enough money yet? Done enough yet? Acquired enough stuff to load down your hearse yet? How’s that working out for you. How are you investing the rest of your days?

What kind of a world would you create for yourself if you actually took the time to think about what you were doing? Would you really want to spend the next 30 years at the same lame-ass job that wasn't making a difference? Would you really settle for security? In a watered-down world of cream of wheat dreams and instant gratification where is the danger?

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting. - e. e. cummings

guys invented the LUGE. As a guy I totally understand how it got started… one day a couple of guys were sitting around drinking beer and watching reruns of spiderman and arguing about whether the original cartoon or the remake was truer… when one guy, with cheetos on his lap, turns to his buddy and says, I have a great idea. Let’s dress up in ridiculously coloured very skin tight spandex and lie on top of each other on a sled and race down a scary hill… and it actually seemed like a good idea at the time.

I have read the book called Foxes Book of Martyrs about the many saints who suffered for their faith. FBM is not of course to be confused with Marty’s book of foxes… I’m sure that’s an informational read too…

T.S. Elliott...
This is the way the world will end
This is the way the world will end
Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

While walking through the forest one day, a man found a young eagle who had fallen out of his nest. He took it home and put it in his barnyard where it soon learned to eat and behave like the chickens. One day a naturalist passed by the farm and asked why it was that the king of all birds should be confined to live in the barnyard with the chickens. The farmer replied that since he had given it chicken feed and trained it to be a chicken, it had never learned to fly. Since it now behaved as the chickens, it was no longer an eagle.
"Still it has the heart of an eagle," replied the naturalist, "and can surely be taught to fly." He lifted the eagle toward the sky and said, "You belong to the sky and not to the earth. Stretch forth your wings and fly." The eagle, however, was confused. He did not know who he was, and seeing the chickens eating their food, he jumped down to be with them again. The naturalist took the bird to the roof of the house and urged him again, saying, "You are an eagle. Stretch forth your wings and fly." But the eagle was afraid of his unknown self and world and jumped down once more for the chicken food. Finally the naturalist took the eagle out of the barnyard to a high mountain. There he held the king of the birds high above him and encouraged him again, saying, "You are an eagle. You belong to the sky. Stretch forth your wings and fly." The eagle looked around, back towards the barnyard and up to the sky. Then the naturalist lifted him straight towards the sun and it happened that the eagle began to tremble. Slowly he stretched his wings, and with a triumphant cry, soared away into the heavens.

For many people life is a lot like that story, only they never stretch out their wings and attempt to fly.
They spend their lives living the life of chickens when they could be living the life of an eagle.

my son found out today he was accepted for college in hawaii. he was all cool about it till i became a reality today. now he's sweating bricks.
... and of course i need to go with him to make sure he gets settled in ok.

My journey has taken me on this path of realization that I beat myself up alot. Do you? I always said I could criticize myself better than anyone else could. I can tell you most of my faults before you even begin to formulate an opinion about them. That's not ego...it's guilt. I'm soooo familiar with them because I beat myself up over them all the time.

more here.

i was standing in the park today wondering why frisbees look bigger the closer they get to you... then it hit me...

my buddy mark greenshields is now blogging here.

i was surfing old music i have loved this afternoon. somehow this song by larry norman rings as true today...

i was born and raised an orphan
in a land that once was free
in a land that poured its love out on the moon
and i grew up in the shadows
of your silos filled with grain
but you never helped to fill my empty spoon

and when i was ten you murdered law
with courtroom politics
and you learned to make a lie sound just like truth
but i know you better now
and i don't fall for all your tricks
and you've lost the one advantage of my youth

you kill a black man at midnight
just for talking to your daughter
then you make his wife your mistress
and you leave her without water
and the sheet you wear upon your face
is the sheet your children sleep on
at every meal you say a prayer
you don't believe but still you keep on

and your money says in God we trust
but it's against the law to pray in school
you say we beat the russians to the moon
and i say you starved your children to do it

you are far across the ocean
but the war is not your own
and while you're winning theirs
you're gonna lose the one at home
do you really think the only way
to bring about the peace
is to sacrifice your children
and kill all your enemies

the politicians all make speeches
while the news men all take note
and they exagerate the issues
as they shove them down our throats
is it really up to them
whether this country sinks or floats
well i wonder who would lead us
if none of us would vote

well my phone is tapped and my lips are chapped
from whispering through the fence
you know every move i make
or is that just coincidence
well you try to make my way of life
a little less like jail
if i promise to make tapes and slides
and send them through the mail

and your money says in God we trust
but it's against the law to pray in school
you say we beat the russians to the moon
and i say you starved your children to do it
you say all men are equal all men are brothers
then why are the rich more equal than others
don't ask me for the answer i've only got one
that a man leaves his darkness when he follows the Son

one of my favorite campolo stories:

Tony Campolo tells of a time he was on on a landing strip just outside the border of the Dominican Republic in northern Haiti. Haiti is one of the poorest nations in the world. As Tony waited for his plane to arrive a woman came toward him holding a child in her arms. The baby's arms and legs were stick thin, his stomach was swollen from malnutrition.

The woman held her child out and cried, "Take my baby! Take my baby! Please, mister, take my baby. If you don't take my baby, my baby's going to die. Take my baby. Please, take my baby!"

Tony tried to explain he couldn't take the baby, tried to look away, but the mother kept appearing in his face "Make my baby your baby. Feed my baby. Take my baby to a hospital. Save my baby. Please! Please! Please!"

Tony's plane finally arrived. A small plane, he ran across to board it. And the mother followed. "Take my baby! Take my baby! Take my baby!"

Tony climbed on board the plane, desperate to get away, but the woman wouldn't let him go that easily. She ran to the side of the plane and banged on the door. "Take my baby, take my baby." Til finally the plane pulled away and took off into the sky.

Halfway back to Haiti's capital Tony was shamed by the words of Christ as recorded in Matthew 25:42-43, "I was an hungry, and you gave me nothing to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger, and you didn't take me in; naked, and you did not clothe me; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit me". That was Jesus he left behind.

this weekend is father's day.

i really love my dad. he's the coolest short guy i know. in a world of old people, howie is an authentic party in a can.

chicks dig my dad. he's got game. it's hard to play the field when he's in the room cuz he's smooth. the ladies love the howie.

growing up i didn't see as much of my dad as i would have liked. he worked three jobs to make a life for his family. it would be easy to take a cheap shot at my father, blame him for 'not being there' and make up a myriad of excuses for my own shortcomings because somehow i felt neglected as a child. the problem is, that line of reasoning simply does not hold weight. he did the best he could in a difficult time. it may be trendy to blame all your maladies on your parents but i refuse. he's my best bud. he taught me to believe in myself, to act like a winner, to be a leader. he showed me the value of hard work and of perseverence; and he never cowtowed to anyone. he was tender and tough. he treats my children like kings.

several years ago when my marriage broke up my father was one of the few people who was unwilling to think the worst. his heart broke for what had happened and he continued to love in spite of the situation. he showed me the value of loyalty, even though i did not want to acknowledge it at the time.

happy father's day dad. i love you. thank you for my life. thank you that you continue to teach me lessons - i plan on being a dirty old man someday too...

3.8 million people have died in the Congo since 1998, dwarfing not only the biggest of natural catastrophes, such as December's South Asia tsunami, but also other manmade horrors, such as Darfur.

An Ipsos-Reid poll in May 2005 found more than 60 per cent of Canadians say they believe in God and that religion is an important part of their lives.

cbc looks at evangelicalism in canada. via jordon

You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.

Emergent/Postmodern		82%
Classical Liberal		61%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan		54%
Neo orthodox		43%
Modern Liberal		43%
Roman Catholic		39%
Reformed Evangelical		32%
Charismatic/Pentecostal		29%
Fundamentalist		18%

What's your theological worldview?

i stole this from van...

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed, observing his wife turning back and forth, looking at herself in the mirror. Since her birthday was not far off, he asked what she would like to have for her Birthday. “I'd like to be six again”, she replied, still looking in the mirror.

On the morning of her Birthday, he arose early, poured her a nice big bowl of Lucky Charms, and then took her to Six Flags theme park. What a day! He put her on every ride in the park; the Death Slide, the Wall of Fear, the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster, everything there was. Five hours later they staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down. He then took her to a McDonald's where he ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a chocolate shake. Then it was off to a movie, popcorn, and a soda pop, and her favorite candy, M&M's.What a fabulous adventure!

Finally she wobbled home with her husband and collapsed into bed exhausted. He leaned over his wife with a big smile and lovingly asked, "Well Dear, what was it like being six again?" Her eyes slowly opened and her expression suddenly changed. "I meant my dress size, you dumb a**!"
The moral of the story: Even when a man is listening, he is going to get it wrong.

i grew up visiting my grandparents several times a year. if you have grandparents that you love and respect you might well imagine that this would be an awesome opportunity. but my grandparents were assholes - alcoholics, vindictive and abusive.

i tend to have only spotty memories of many childhood events, but for some reason i can remember all too well many days at grandma's house. drinking, card playing, yelling at us kids. i grew up hearing that i was to be 'seen and not heard'. it seemed people were always drinking. i don't remember any moments of tender embrace from my grandparents. all i remember is alot of yelling and belittling.

my parents have always been supportive and encouraging. my other relatives... not so much. i learned early in life that it was important to make most adults think you were being obedient, even if you were hell-raising.

in high school, fundamentalist religious high school, lying just became an issue of survival. i rarely even considered it immoral, it simply was a way of life.

as an adult i soon came to realize that it was usually easier to lie to people about how you are doing than it is to live a life of integrity and honesty. it becomes so easy to tell people what you perceive they want to hear. to be too candid is to invite criticism and consternation. as a pastor i tended to talk big about confrontation and honesty, but in private i was afraid of conflict and found it was easier to gloss over issues than do the painful work of conflict resolution. being real with people is a difficult and often unrewarding way to live. it's easier to pretend.

i spent part of today talking about some of this with a close friend. i admitted that i felt that it is hard to trust people. so many people will tell you they can be trusted... until you tell them you are sleeping around or masturbating or hateful or any number of taboo problems. i had a good friend who was a youth pastor in ft. mcmurray tell his co-worker, in a moment of confidentiality, that he had been sexually irresponsible; only to have that person turn on him and report him to the denominational authorities (he also threw him out of his office and called my friends wife to break the news to her before my buddy could).

we have all been deeply scarred by betrayal. to trust is to be dangerously vulnerable. it is a risk.
i am thankful that i have a few friends i know i can trust. they are not shocked by my sick thoughts or my sin. they help me to realize that i am not as twisted as i could believe. they are god's forgiveness and grace in my life. i pray that there are people who feel the same way about you.

my last post reminded me of this story...
I grew up knowing I was different, and I hated it. I was born with a cleft palate, and when I started to go to school, my classmates-who were constantly teasing- made it clear to me how I must look to others: a little girl with a misshapen lip, crooked nose, lopsided teeth, and hollow and somewhat garbled speech. I couldn't even blow up a balloon without holding my nose, and when I bent to drink from a fountain, the water spilled out of my nose.
When my schoolmates asked, "What happened to your lip?" I'd tell them that I'd fallen as a baby and cut it on a piece of glass. Somehow it seemed more acceptable to have suffered an accident than to have been born different. By the age of seven I was convinced that no one outside my own family could ever love me. Or even like me.
And then I entered the second grade, and Mrs. Leonard's class. I never knew what her first name was -- just Mrs. Leonard. She was round and pretty and fragrant, with chubby arms and shining brown hair and warm dark eyes that smiled even on the rare occasions when her mouth didn't. Everyone adored her. But no one came to love her more than I did. And for a special reason.
The time came for the annual "hearing tests" given at our school. I was barely able to hear anything out of one ear, and was not about to reveal yet another problem that would single me out as different. And so I cheated. I had learned to watch other children and raised my hand when they did during group testing. The "whisper test" however, required a different kind of deception: Each child would go to the door of the classroom, turn sideways, close one ear with a finger, and the teacher would whisper something from her desk, which the child would repeat. Then the same thing was done for the other ear. I had discovered in kindergarten that nobody checked to see how tightly the untested ear was being covered, so I merely pretended to block mine.
As usual, I was last, but all through the testing I wondered what Mrs. Leonard might say to me. I knew from previous years that she whispered things like "The sky is blue" or "Do you have new shoes?"
My turn came up. I turned my bad ear to her plugging up the other solidly with my finger, then gently backed my finger out enough to be able to hear. I waited and then the words that God had surely put into her mouth, seven words that changed my life forever.
Mrs. Leonard, the pretty, fragrant teacher I adored, said softly, "I wish you were my little girl."

i watched my son graduate from high school tonight. it was a proud moment for him... for me too. he's an amazing young man. tonight he received a scholarship for being, simply put, a great human being - for being proud of his family and involved in his community. it wasn't a large scholarship and i'm not sure he understood the ramifications of what he received, but i felt it spoke volumes to the heart of a man who has learned what it is to be human.

this fall he is jetting off to hawaii for 6 months for school. it's only a beginning but an auspicious one. he's going to take schooling in order to love people more. he'll be spending 2 of those six months in second and third world countries. he already has more countries on his passport than i have. he struggles with youthful angst, he wonders what his life will become, but tonight i realized that i was not afraid for his future. he is becoming real.

without a doubt life will deal him several vicious blows. he has already gone through more than someone his age should ever be asked to live through. but he will do well. he cares deeply, he feels passion and he knows love.

when my boys were little i determined that, given a choice, i would try to mold them into men who would change their world. i have never asked them to be successful by societal standards, it just hasn't seemed to be crucial. instead, as a young parent, i learned that it was more important to 'be' than to 'do'. i remember hearing alot of tony campolo's sermons back then - being challenged to teach my children and myself what really mattered. i have often failed but am deeply thankful that in spite of my poor parenting my sons are compassionate souls.

i remember sermons from campolo about teaching your kids they are special. my own parents blindly believed that i was incredible, and it rubbed off. i was determined to take that lesson and apply it in my own life. the world constantly sends them signals telling them they are ugly, unimportant, stupid, poorly built and worthless. i continue to try to tell nate and ben they are amazing. it is hard for them to believe these truisms but i'm going to continue to fight that fight until it sinks home.

my whole life i have struggled with feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. when i see these lies taking root in my children it drives me to fight for their healing. i want them to know that i am their biggest fan. if i can give them nothing else i want to give them self-love. it's an uphill battle but one that is worth winning. so tonight, when all is said and done and nate walks through the door (far too late) i'm going to make sure i tell him again
he's a winner.
he's special.
he's unique.
he's beautiful.
i'm proud of him.

and try to keep telling him the rest of his life.
no matter what.

Only in canada...can a pizza get to your house faster than an ambulance...
Only in canada...are there handicap parking places in front of a skating rink...
Only in canada...do Supermarkets make the sick people walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front.
Only in canada...do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet coke.
Only in canada...do banks leave both doors open and chain the pens to the counters.
Only in canada...do we use answering machines to screen calls and then have call waiting so we won't miss a call from someone we didn't want to talk to in the first place.
Only in canada...do we buy hot dogs in packs of ten and buns in packs of eight.
Only in canada...do we use the word "politics" to describe the process of Government. "Poli" in Latin meaning "many" and "tics" meaning "bloodsucking creatures."

A young punker gets on the cross-town bus. He's got spiked, multicoloured hair that's green, purple, and orange. His clothes are a tattered mix of leather rags. His legs are bare and he's without shoes. His entire face and body are riddled with pierced jewellery and his earrings are big, bright feathers. He sits down in the only vacant seat, directly across from an old man who just glares at him for the next ten miles. Finally, the punk gets self conscious and barks at the old man: "What are you looking at you old fart... didn't you ever do anything wild when you were young?"
Without missing a beat, the old man replies: "Yeah. Back when I was young and inthe Navy, I got really drunk one night in Singapore, and had sex with a parrot. I thought maybe you were my son."

i was talking with someone today who reminded me that so much of our love is conditional. she told me that it is so easy to reject someone when they have gone too far down a road we cannot agree with. it's hard to love 'no matter what'. it reminded me of this story i heard tony campolo tell years ago...

Lorraine Hansberry's play, Raisin in the Sun, is the story of an African-American man who makes mistakes that destroy his family's hopes and dreams. When he confesses and asks for forgiveness, his sister, in great anger, screams at him and calls him despicable names.
The mother interrupts her to say, 'I thought I taught you to love him.'

The sister shouts back, 'Love him? There is nothing left to love.'

And then the mother says, 'There is always something left to love. And if you ain't learned that, you ain't learned nothing. Have you cried for that boy today? I don't mean for yourself and for the family 'cause we lost the money. I mean for him; what he's been through and what it done to him. Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most; when they done good and made things easy for everybody? Well then, you ain't through learning – because that ain't the time at all. It's when he's at his lowest and can't believe in hisself 'cause the world done whipped him so. When you starts measuring somebody, measure him right child, measure him right. Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is.'

i feel convicted.

since greg hasn't been writing anything i hijacked it. so if you want to contribute just email me and i'll give you his passwords.

Two men, sentenced to die in the electric chair on the same day, were led down to the room in which they would meet their maker. The priest had given them last rites, the formal speech had been given by the warden, and a final prayer had been said among the participants.
The warden, turning to the first man, solemnly asked, "Son, do you have a last request?"

To which the man replied, "Yes sir, I do. I love country music. Could you please play Garth Brooks for me one last time?"
"Certainly," replied the warden.

He turned to the other man and asked, "Well, what about you, son? What is your final request?"
"Please," said the condemned man, "kill me first."

80,000 blondes meet in the Kansas City Chiefs Stadium for a "Blondes Are Not Stupid Convention."
The leader says, "We are all here today to prove to the world that blondes are not stupid. Can I have a volunteer?" A blonde steps up. The leader asks her, "What is 15 plus 15?"
After 15 or 20 seconds she says,"Eighteen."Obviously everyone is a little disappointed.
Then 80,000 blondes start cheering, "Give her another chance, give her another chance.
"The leader says, "Well since we've gone to the trouble of getting 80,000 of you and the worldwide press here, I guess we can give her another chance."
So he asks, "What is 5 plus 5?" After nearly 30 seconds she eventually says, "Ninety?
"The leader is quite perplexed and sighs -- everyone is disheartened, the blonde starts crying and the 80,000 girls begin to yell and wave their hands shouting, "Give her another chance, give her another chance."
The leader, unsure whether or not he is doing more harm than good, eventually says, "OK!, one more chance. What is 2 plus 2?"
The girl closes her eyes and after a whole minute eventually says,"Four."
Through out the stadium 80,000 girls jump to their feet, wave their arms, stomp their feet and scream,
"Give her another chance, giveher another chance!"

the genocide in darfur as seen in children's depictions

via karen at beyond mag

great insights from jordon

from charlie wear:
Life is hard. It isn't fair. Bad stuff happens to the greatest people around. Tsunamis drown. Suicide bombers bomb. Earthquakes shake. Hurricanes destroy. Friends and family suffer. I am thinking about people I know in the emerging church. People suffering with illness, miscarriage, children with leukemia, stuff we can't wash away with platitudes. I guess this is part of the "not yet" of kingdom life. The part that really sucks. The dark nights of the soul. The situations that make you want to pound your fists on the wall and argue with the Lord Almighty. Forget all of the other bunk about "living in alignment", the prayer of Jabez and all of the other gimmicks that seem to promote that everything will go great for you if you just perform the right ritual in the right way. Right now, I just want God to do something. Intervene. Take away the suffering. Make it all ok. We don't need our characters tested quite this much, ya know?

i've spent some time lately assessing my motivations and have come to a shocking realization that i have spent most of my adult life being owned by the opinions of others. so much of who i have been, and what i have done, has been dictated by external pressure and the fear of disappointment. i have quit doing a myriad of things because of peer pressure. there has been a constant set of standards i have been forced to abide with. i have felt that i have lived a great deal of my life in order to not disappoint someone. though i am the kind of person that perhaps has needed some accountability and guidance, i am realizing that much of my intrinsic motivation has not been internal at all. most of my value systems have been inflicted, not adopted. it is a sad realization to come to - that i have been who i am because of an artificial set of standards for living - fear, disappointment, peer pressure, fear of being caught - improper motivations for someone who is considered a societal example and a spiritual leader.

don't get me wrong, i'm not advocating personal anarchy. i have no desire to go out on some midlife disco joyride. i hate convertibles and gold chains. what has happened, however, is that i have had a growing awareness of how susceptible i am to outside influences for my personal morality, self-worth and identity. like most of us i can talk a big talk but at heart am still a people-pleaser. that drive to be loved, to be noticed, has consumed the private areas of my heart and led me to become someone that is easily influenced or belittled into obedience. while i maintain the desire to live my life to please my god and my integrity i still fall sway to lesser influences. i think most of us do.

i find myself at a unique crossroads. i no longer have to perform my monkey tricks for a denomination or a wife or even a church. with the exception of my children i feel no compunction to live up the standards of any of my friends. my true friends have not asked me to jump through any hoops and my conditional friends will be disappointed anyway. i have even considered moving to complete the transformation.

as i strip away the artificial constraints in my life i am finding out some things about myself that i did not know. i am realizing that i do have intrinsic motivations and worth. i have come to the startling conclusion that i do desire to live with integrity, even if i don't have to worry about being 'caught'. i have lived with the shackles of responsibility for so long that i secretly wondered if i would lose it should those prison doors be opened. i am finding the opposite is true. often the reason for the secret desire for rebellion has been the constraints themselves. the rules that were prescribed to promote proper behavior were the very tools that served to turn my heart to rebellion.

i tell people that my parenting aim has always been to encourage my children to 'want to be good' more than to insist they act accordingly. i have long maintained that the motivation of the heart is the only true issue. it is interesting, then, that as their parent and pastor i felt forced to pay more attention to the outward signs of goodness than the inward motivations. it is no wonder than that so many of my pastor friends have secret pornography and drinking problems. there is a desire to secretly rebel against a burden of rules they feel they can in no wise maintain with integrity but must pretend to adopt in order to survive.

i'm tiling my kitchen and as a result have moved the fridge out to the living room. today i went into the fridge... while sitting in my easy chair. i'm contemplating leaving it in the front room... ahh the guy house.

- Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.
- I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly.
- If you are going through hell, keep going.
- It is a gaping wound, whenever one touches it and removes the bandages and plasters of daily life.
- One ought never to turn one's back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. But if you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half. Never run away from anything. Never!
- Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.
- The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.
- The power of man has grown in every sphere, except over himself.
- We are all worms. But I believe that I am a glow-worm.
- When the eagles are silent the parrots begin to jabber.
- You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they've tried everything else.

- You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.

i spent an hour at the unemployment office today. first time i've ever been there. i liked it actually.

most of the people there looked only slightly better than those i usually see at the Gospel Mission. funny, i thought there would be more white collar types. the girl taking my application looked at me sideways - they don't have alot of ministers applying for unemployment it seems; at least not in abbotsford. she asked me some very personal and leading questions, questions i'm sure are not on the standard form. i found it amusing. the curiosity was killing her, so i only answered evasively... just for fun. i wanted to see her drool. i could imagine the juicy reasons she could imagine. the unanswered questions. the innuendo. i'm getting used to that. people love a conspiracy.

we all love, far too much, the secret thrill of a forbidden piece of gossip. we promise to keep it to ourselves, only to pass it on to that one person we know will keep it to themself. we talk about people out of concern for their well-being, smug in our belief that we are only trying to help. christians are notorious for gossip, perhaps more guilty than most people. we live in pseudo-community and feel it is our inaliable right to feel pseudo-concerned. most of us have felt firsthand the sting of gossip... yet we still can't seem to stop.

some time ago, when i was still a minister, i spoke with a person in my church about their issues - there were a few. in diagnosing their key problems i turned to him and said, "you need to just shut up." i meant every word of it. just shut up. shut up.