Here and Now

I was at a "meeting of the minds" the other day as a few of us geared up for leading a three day youth retreat over New Years' weekend. We were talking about getting our workshops together and how we need to be focused in what we're doing and what we say. One of the guys said, "Sometimes I just talk until I have something to say." That's kind of profound, I think. Not deep like "Blessed are the meek" but, still, it's important. I think that it defines our culture. There's an awful lot of "talk" - TV, internet, blogs, YouTube, MySpace, movies, books, magazines, IM, cell phones - and all the hundreds of sub-genres in those spaces... And it's a lot of talk - but only occasionally is there anything to say... Lori and I like a few shows on TV now and several are dealing with faith issues. I like Battlestar Galactica - the humans talk a lot about "the gods" but the cylons (the bad machines) worship the "one

“Daddy,” she said as she looked up at me, “I want to be just like you.” I smiled as I hugged her but I thought to myself, “No, I want you to be so much better.” You see, I know where I’ve failed, where I’m weak, the mistakes that I’ve made. I want so much more for my daughters. You see, they only see the good things (well, mostly the good things…) but I can see it all. That's how my article starts this month for the church newletter - and I go on to make some really deep, theological points...or, probably not... What prompted this opening paragraph was that my girls have both said to me, on very different occasions, that they want to be just like me. I can't imagine why - what do they see in me that I can't see? Where is the good in me? I mean, it must be there, but... Well, it prompted me to write a song about the whole thing. Here's a draft of the lyrics: Be Just Like You Daddy she said looking up at me, I wanna be just like you I want to do all the things you do, I w

It's hell being a kid today. Okay, maybe it always has been, but... A couple months ago a woman beat her boyfriend up with her infant child, swinging the kid like a baseball bat. The kid survived, but with severe brain damage... The other day in Lousiana, parents slept on a mattress while a pit bull puppy chewed off four of their one month old daughter's toes... In Philadelphia a guy punched his 17-month old daughter in the face twice because she may have broken his video game...killling her... The woman whose boyfriend drowned her three kids because they were getting in the way of their relationship was convicted of child endangerment...talk about understatement... Maybe it's always been hell being a kid, but it seems like I'm hearing more and more about it now and it sickens me. I just want to yell at God on days like today. Where were you? What were you doing that morning when some too young to be a father but too stupid not to be kid punches out his daughter over a

We celebrated communion last night at our Modern Worship Service... It was a pretty normal experience for me - leading the prayers, breaking the bread, naming each person as they came forward to receive the body and blood of Christ. My family came toward the middle - all three of people I love most in the world. It wasn't Elie's first communion - I think maybe the second or third time she's received. We've always encouraged our kids to participate as fully as they are able to in worship (yeah, I probably get some flak about that - but this is one case where I'm glad that people would rather talk ABOUT me than TO me...heh). Often, because they're 3 and 6 (yep, Rachel's birthday was last Friday), I'm not sure they really pay much attention to what is going on. But last night was something different for Elie. Three years old and taking on the world. She took her piece of bread, dipped it in the juice (JuicyJuice, of course) and took a small bite. Sh

The other day the garbage truck came to pick up my garbage - which is no unusual event (what IS unusual is that I remembered to put the garbage out that morning). I happened to pull up just after they left my house. When they pulled away, there was a small bag of garbage left on the street. I parked and got out of my car and picked up the bag and put it in our big garbage can that was still at the side of the street. I heard the garbage truck backing up down the street - apparently, they had seen the bag and were going to come back to get it. The guy on the back saw me pick it up, I waved them on - and he smiled and waved back and the truck went the other way down the street. Not a big event, I realize. But I got to thinking. How much garbage trails after me in my life? How many people have had to come in and clean up after me? (Heh - not just my office, which is a disgrace, but REAL messes - life messes - spiritual messes...). How many times have I not even looked in the rea