The Economy of God - Sermon, Pentecost 4B

(btw...An alternate title for this post could have been "Has It Really Been Over Two Months Since I Last Posted Anything? I'm Quite The Sucky Blogger!")

Based on 2 Corinthians 8:7-15:

The Economy of God
June 28, 2009
Pentecost 4B

I spent this last week with our congregation’s soon-to-be eighth graders at Confirmation camp. It was a HOT week, but an incredible opportunity to reflect, learn together, and grow closer together as the body of Christ in a 317 acre outdoor sanctuary. Each morning, we had 2 ½ hours of Confirmation instruction time, then each afternoon and evening they had the chance to do so many of the traditional camp activities—boating, swimming, hiking, cookouts, that sort of thing. Waterfights were especially popular last week. Anyway, during our Confirmation time, we’d spend the first hour and a half discussing the five promises they will be affirming when they are confirmed (feel free to quiz them if you see them!), and the last hour or so of our time together was spent doing co-op activities. Co-op is a series of challenges that forces kids to think outside the box and work together as a team in order to accomplish something, and is a wonderful illustration of what it means to be the body of Christ on earth.

One of our co-op activities was called “Insanity.” The kids were divided into three teams, and three hula hoops were set on the ground forming a large triangle maybe 30 feet wide. In the middle of the triangle was placed a crate full of tennis balls. The object was to get all the tennis balls into one hula hoop, but there was a catch. You could only carry one ball at a time, and other teams were allowed to steal balls out of your hoop and bring them to theirs. The game started, and true to the name, insanity ensued. Kids were running back and forth, taking balls from the crate, taking balls from other hoops, yelling when balls were being taken from their hoop, over and over and over running back and forth like crazed chickens. The counselor let this go on for about ten minutes, as the campers ran themselves ragged trying to get the most balls in their hoop.

I have never seen a better picture of the way the world works. The economy of the world.

Those tennis balls…maybe they represent money. Or maybe they represent food. Power. Sex. Jobs. Security. Acceptance. Those things that we as individuals spend our lives clawing and scratching and running like crazed chickens trying to get, and spend the time that we’re not doing that trying to protect what we’ve gotten or worried that it’s going to be taken from us.

Remember the name of the game? It’s Insanity. And insanity is an apt description both of what happens at first in the game, and how the world teaches us we should live our lives.

So after about 10 minutes of watching this insanity, Scott, the counselor, told the kids to stop and return to their corners. He asked them if what they were trying was working. The answer of course was no. One team bragged that they had the most tennis balls so far, but they were reminded that the object was to get ALL the tennis balls into one hoop, and according to the rules of the game, they had failed just as much as the other two teams. Scott told them to think about the object of the game and try to figure out how they could accomplish it, because there WAS a way.

It took a while, but eventually, the campers discovered that if they put all the balls in one pile, then picked up all three hula hoops and placed them around the balls, not only could you win the game, but EVERYBODY could win the game.

The world teaches us the economy of insanity. What these campers discovered last week was the economy of God. The economy that teaches that we all have something to give for the good of others, that when we quit worrying about holding on to what’s mine, to what I’ve rightfully earned, to what’s coming to me…when I die to myself I gain the greatest treasure of all—living as the body of Christ. That’s cross-centered. That’s living as Christ did.

In our second lesson today, Paul was teaching the church in Corinth a little something about the economy of God. This church had begun a collection for the church in Jerusalem, which was quite poor. It seems things had started okay, but after some time had gone by they had quit supporting them. The Corinthians as a church body were pretty well-off financially, but they had gone lax in their support of another part of God’s body that was struggling financially.

In the world’s economy, you need to run for more tennis balls, while others try to take yours. In God’s economy, Paul reminds the Corinthians (and us) that we have the example of Christ, as he says in verse 9, “that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.”

Let me stop here for a moment. While Paul’s appeal certainly was about money, beginning here he turns this into MUCH more than just a plea for dollars. God’s economy may include how we approach money, but in stark contrast to the world’s economy, it’s certainly not all about money. In fact, money is just a small part of God’s economy as presented here by Paul. In a way, it would be easier if it were only about money. But as Paul said in Philippians, Christ did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.

In God’s economy, Christ emptied his entire being so that through him we might become, not financially rich, but holistically rich. Authentically rich. Rich in spirit, with those riches that moth and rust do not destroy. Luther had a term for God’s economy—he called it the “happy exchange.” Lutheran pastor and theologian Lisa Dahill explains it this way: "In this exchange, Luther said, Jesus on the cross takes on our poverty, receiving our uncleanness, bearing in his own body our need and our sin, and in exchange he pours out all his holiest, most precious divine gifts to us: his power flowing forth, his heart poured out, his love and mercy, his body and blood, his breath and Spirit and life. He becomes poor to make us rich; and we the impoverished, the weak, the unclean, the unworthy, the desperate – we receive all that is his and are beloved, washed, fed, cherished, and showered with riches. Even our most wretched sinfulness can’t separate us from him. He bears our sins in his own body; we are united with him and held in him in a love that doesn’t defile him but transforms us completely, making exiles and outcasts into daughters and sons."

And so we are called as well to participate in God’s economy along with the Corinthians in verses 13 and 14 of our second lesson. Paul says, “I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance.” In our own happy exchange, we have been blessed with gifts that others need. And others have been blessed with gifts that we need. And we as the church, we as the body of Christ, are called upon for the good of the world to empty ourselves, to become servants for each other, to use those gifts that we have been blessed with for others, all the while being blessed by others with those gifts that they have but we need.

We see a glimpse of that at work in our downtown ministry at The Table. That’s the whole philosophy behind what we do—bring what you have, give what you can, minister to others, and be ministered to through food and relationships. It’s really a very simple thing, but theologically it’s very profound. Some folks come able to share more than their fair share of money, but maybe they’re in need of something else. Some come with no money at all, but are able to bring gifts of listening, caring, love. Some come completely empty and leave filled…filled with food, and filled with the idea that there ARE people out there who want to know them as a person and who genuinely care about them through conversation.

God’s economy.

Shane Claiborne, in his book “The Irresistible Revolution,” described a conversation he had with a friend. He had asked his friend “if you could ask God one question, what would it be.” The friend hesitated. Shane could tell that he wanted to say something, but was unsure about it, so he pressed him. “Well,” the friend said, “I’d really like to ask God why there’s so much pain and hunger and suffering in the world…but I’m afraid God would turn around and ask me the same question.”

God’s economy asks why, in a world where there’s enough food for everyone, one in six of his children, over a billion people, go to bed hungry every night, according to a recent study by the World Health Organization.

God’s economy asks why one country with 6% of the world’s population uses 40% of the world’s resources.

God’s economy asks why millions of people die every year from completely preventable or easily curable diseases.

God’s economy asks why cheap clothes or coffee are more important than justice for those who work in unbearable conditions for little to no pay.

God’s economy asks why celebrity deaths are more important than those everyday people who are lonely, or struggling, or hurting.

God’s economy asks some hard questions, especially for those of us who in the eyes of the world are affluent.

We could debate all day on what the government’s role ought to be in the redistribution of resources. But there’s no question whatsoever as to what the church’s role ought to be. “As it is written,” Paul writes in verse 15, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little.”

Again, this isn’t just about money. It isn’t just about material resources. Although it includes both of those things, we’re talking about so much more than that. It’s our whole selves. It’s a complete attitude of servanthood.

Back to camp. The camp’s theme this summer is “Love to serve.” Each day focuses on a different aspect: freed to serve, created to serve, saved to serve, called to serve, and sent to serve. God’s economy calls us to see our relationship to the world as one of service, always looking for those gifts we may have been given that the world needs. Is it money? Is it time? Is it our talents? Is it love? Compassion? Skills? What part do you have to play in the economy of God?

You do have gifts. You have been uniquely gifted by God. You have something that the world needs.

And we, together, as the body of Christ, working together in lives of service, sharing the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, are called to reject the insanity of the world and the way it values people and material goods as things to be grasped, not given. Let’s stop running around like crazed chickens and instead allow God to transform us into saved servants, participants in God’s economy of healing, wholeness, and life.

The economy of the world says your value is based on what you can accumulate. The economy of God says your value is found in being a child of God.

The economy of the world says you are an owner, and need to hold on to what you have earned for yourself. The economy of God says you are a steward, and the gifts you have been given are for the sake of others.

The economy of the world says self-sacrificial giving for the sake of the world is insanity. The economy of God calls it the way of the cross.

The economy of the world says you need to get what’s coming to you. The economy of God says you get precisely what you don’t deserve and could never earn: love, forgiveness, salvation, and eternal life.

Thanks be to God!

Amen.

LH

Kiddo says the 10 Commandments

With the Apostles' Creed under his belt, Kiddo decided he wanted to tackle memorizing the 10 Commandments next. When we started, I did a little bit of re-writing from the traditional wording to make it a little more understandable for a 5 year old. I tried to stay faithful to the original meaning, and while he had some clarifying questions at first about some of the wording (for example, I had to explain that "faithful" in the context of the 6th Commandment meant that husbands and wives loved and supported each other, and didn't do things that would hurt each other), I think he grasped the meaning of what he was learning. Here he is:



For the record, here's the list:

The 10 Commandments (traditional wording in italics, 5 year old paraphrase in bold)

1. You shall have no other gods before me.
Nothing should be more important than God.

2. Do not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.
Don't use God's name in bad ways.

3. Remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy.
Take a day each week to remember and worship God.

4. Honor your father and mother.
Honor your father and mother.

5. Do not kill.
Do not kill.

6. Do not commit adultery.
Husbands and wives should be faithful to each other.

7. Do not steal.
Do not steal.

8. Do not bear false witness against your neighbor.
Do not lie about other people.

9. Do not covet your neighbor's house.
Do not try to take your neighbor's house from them.

10. Do not covet your neighbor's wife, or cattle, or male or female slave, or ox or donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor.
Do not try to take anything else that belongs to your neighbor.

LH

Ever had one of "those" days?

Before Easter, I was doing a Google Image search for "regret" as part of a worship PowerPoint presentation I was preparing. This didn't make it into the PowerPoint, but I did bookmark it because it was just too good:

LH

The Night Before...

I meant to post this last night, but never got to it. A couple of years ago, I wrote a dramatized account of what might have happened the night before the events of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, from the perspective of Jesus. Since in our church year last night would have been the commemoration of that night, I thought I'd post it. May it spur some thoughts.

The Night Before
by Matt Schur
(c) 2006

Jesus sighed.

He had laid down hours ago, but there he still was, eyes wide open, laying on his side and staring blankly at dark nothingness. He rolled on to his back, eyes gazing upward, sighing again. Then, as a thought crossed his mind, the edges of his mouth curled up almost imperceptibly into an ironic half-smile. "So this is what they call 'the sleep of the just,'" he thought.

He turned his head to the left--there, not too far away, he could make out Peter's silhouette. Jesus chuckled softly. Peter was easy to pick out in the crowd of sleeping disciples. Yes, he was a big, broad, burly, hairy man. But what made it even easier to identify Petros, even if it had been pitch-black where they were, was the snore. Yes, in the daytime, James and John may have been the Sons of Thunder, but Peter's snoring definitely qualified him for that distinction when it came time to sleep. Jesus made a mental note to find a good time tomorrow to tell Peter that joke. He'd appreciate it.

But it had to be tomorrow.

That thought erased his smile, bringing him back to where he was and why he couldn't sleep in the first place. Rolling to his side, Jesus propped up his head with his left hand and looked around. There, sleeping on the dirt, were James and John, and Andrew, Thomas, Phillip, Judas...

Judas.

Jesus sighed heavily as he found where Judas was sleeping. Running his heart's hand over the pages of the day now ended, it was all he could do to keep from groaning out loud. The whispers had already started amongst the disciples. They had started even before the woman had come with the perfume. Jesus smiled again as he remembered the faith of that woman, the tears, that beautifully scented perfume, her hair brushing his feet...

...and Judas' rebuke.

His words were intended to sting, and they hit their mark, as the woman had stood there, stunned, speechless. "What a waste! That money for that perfume could have gone to help the poor!"

Judas was right, of course, but he had said the right thing for the wrong reason. Judas knew it. The disciples knew it. Jesus knew it.

And yes, the whispers had begun. "Judas doesn't care about the poor...he just wanted more money in our purse that he could skim off the top!" Judas was the keeper of what little money the disciples had. For some time a few of the others had suspected Judas of taking his own personal "tithe" for himself.

Yes, Jesus thought, the other disciples were right to distrust Judas, but not for the reasons they thought. Jesus sighed again. Judas wasn't stealing from the communal purse. In fact, Jesus had noticed in the past few days that there seemed to be more silver jangling in the purse than there had been before they had arrived in Jerusalem. Before they had arrived, the treasury had been down to almost nothing. Jesus had privately wondered how they were going to be able to afford the supplies to celebrate the Passover. But not long after the cries of "Hosanna!" died away, the purse had suddenly become a bit fuller.

Thirty pieces of silver would be more than enough to take care of things.

He knew that the Jewish authorities were looking for a way to have him killed, and as such he'd have to find a way for him to celebrate the Passover with his disciples in secret. It was of utmost importance that he wasn't found before the Passover. So much was riding on that detail.

So why had he sent Judas out to make the initial preparations?

Oh, Judas! Common sense dictated that anyone but Judas should be in charge of arranging a safe place for them to meet, but Jesus knew it was right. Judas was good with logistics, with detail--that's how he had ended up in charge of the communal purse in the first place. Who else in the group would have come up with the idea of having an anonymous man, easily identifiable by the fact that he was doing woman's work--carrying a jug of water--lead them to a "safe house" where they would give a code sentence to the owner, who would lead them to a room where everything would be set up in advance for the Passover feast? Jesus smiled. Judas could have had a career as a Roman spy, and he had told Judas as much when Judas explained all the preparations to him earlier that day.

But Judas hadn't smiled back when Jesus had said that, nor had he been able to make eye contact. He had just mumbled a quick "thank you," uncomfortably shifting his feet, and walked away.

The other disciples had no idea of the errand Jesus had sent Judas on that afternoon. Tomorrow, Peter and John would be amazed when Jesus would have them go and find the man with the jug of water, and the safe house, and the furnished room. But such things do not just happen on their own. There must be preparation. And there's always a cost.

Always a price to be paid.

Jesus let his eyes wander again, finding each of his sleeping disciples one by one. He momentarily held his breath, listening. There was no sign of restlessness in any of them, no squirming in their sleep, no movement at all, and no sound save that of heavy sleep breathing and Peter's snoring.

He stood up, and carefully made his way over to where Judas lay. Gazing down, he watched Judas sleep. In the moonlight, he saw Judas' eyelids twitch--"he must be dreaming," Jesus thought. Then he knelt.

And prayed.

It was a short prayer, but one that came from the very depths of his being. "Father, forgive him, for he knows not what he does."

He knows not what he does. How could he? How could he have even the slightest inkling that with his precious thirty pieces of silver he had begun a chain of events that would change the world? How could he know that the money he had received for Jesus' blood he had that very day used to purchase Jesus' blood? That he had purchased a Passover lamb with the money he had received for betraying the true Passover Lamb?

How could he know that the betrayal of one man would lead to the redemption of the whole world?

Jesus sighed.

He leaned over and kissed Judas on the cheek.

Then he silently stood up, returned to where he had earlier been laying so restlessly, and laid back down.

Almost immediately, Jesus fell asleep.

LH

Christian Rock Star Kiddo

Last summer, Kiddo took part in our church's Vacation Bible School. He loved all of it, but the music especially made a big impact. Each child received a CD of the music they sang that week, and he pulls that CD out whenever anyone comes to visit so he can put on a show.

He LOVES that music.

So a few weeks ago, he felt like rockin' out in the living room. He grabbed a play microphone, cranked up the VBS CD on the stereo, and just started jumping and dancing and yelling out song after song for Sweetie, myself, and the tens of thousands of imaginary fans that suddenly filled our house. After the second or third song, he became the announcer as well as the rock star, and shouted in his best "rock" voice:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...IT'S THE MONSTERS OF JESUS!!!!"

He then launched into his next song, but I'll admit I couldn't hear a note because I was laughing too hard.

It's tough trying to be a rock star when your parents think you're so freakin' cute.

LH

The Tiny Pellet of Concentrated Evil

So a couple of mornings ago, I walked into Pumpkin's room, only to be greeted by a wall of stench. The "extremely ripe overnight diaper" smell. Holding her at arm's length, I carried her over to the changing table and removed the offending diaper, ready for the gigantic poop that surely awaited me inside.

I kid you not, the poop was no bigger than a small marble.

By the time I had finished the diaper change, the smell had permeated our entire upstairs level. It was everywhere.

All from one of the tiniest poopies I have ever seen in a diaper.

It shall go down in LutheranHusker history as The Tiny Pellet of Concentrated Evil.

LH

Sermon For 2/22/09 Transfiguration Sunday: Love's True Form

Mark 9:2-9 (NRSV):

2Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. 4And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” 8Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
9As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.


Ever since Kiddo has been able (in theory at least) to sleep through the night, it has been my job when either of the kids do wake up at night to go to their room and comfort them. The reason for this is more utilitarian than it is chivalrous—I am a much lighter sleeper than Sweetie. When one of the kids makes noise, I’m going to wake up either way, so it makes more sense for only one person to wake up than both of us. So we’ve got the baby monitor on my side of the bed, and I keep it at a level where it will wake me up but usually not Sweetie.

The spring after Kiddo turned two, he had been waking up with night terrors. It was completely normal for his age, but when you are woken up at 3 in the morning by the most inhuman and inconsolable screaming, it can be a bit disconcerting, to say the least. When it first started, we got him a nightlight, and made a really big deal about how he has a “special light” in his room so he can see that there’s nothing to be afraid of. After that, when the night terrors came, I’d go into his room, sit down next to his bed, rub his back and help settle him down. Then we’d talk about his special light and how he doesn’t have to be scared. I’d ask him, “Does mommy have a special light?”

“No.”

“Does daddy have a special light?”

“No, only me.”

“That’s right, only you have a special light. So you don’t have to be scared.” (Don’t ask me why that made sense, but for some reason it was a big comfort to his 2 year old mind.)

Then, usually, he’d be comforted enough to lie back down and go to sleep.

After he had had the nightlight for a couple of weeks, I was pretty proud of how well our discussions about the nightlight were working in helping him go back to sleep. So one night, I decided to take the discussion one step further. We went through our usual litany, and then I asked him another question, to see how well he understood what we were talking about: “so why don't you have to be scared?”

His answer surprised me.

“Because Daddy comes.”

The "theology" or even the light behind the nightlight meant nothing to him. What mattered was that in the middle of the night, Daddy comes. To his two year-old mind, Daddy doesn’t come because he ate his dinner or because he put away his toys or because he went poopy in the potty—Daddy just comes. When he is so terrified that all he can do is cry out, he knows that Daddy comes.

That, I think, is a good introduction to our Transfiguration gospel lesson.

What stands out when we read today’s gospel? It’s the light. The blinding light, Jesus’ robes shining white as snow, the glory and splendor of the King of the World suddenly walking around with Moses, bringer of the law, and Elijah, the great prophet…the one for whom a place is always saved at Passover, the one whose reappearance is said to mean that the Messiah can’t be far behind. And the voice of God, reminding Peter James and John of who Jesus is—“this is my son, the beloved,” –and following with a command, “listen to him!”

Powerful stuff. Powerful story.

But my friends in Christ, if that’s where our focus is, I think we end up missing the point.

If we take this literal mountaintop experience and leave it merely as an example of Christ’s power and glory, then all we’ve done is the same thing poor Peter did. “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here;” he said. “Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” By the way, did you catch the author of Mark’s little editorial comment after that? It’s almost as though he felt he ought to apologize for Peter. Verse 6 reads, “He did not know what to say, for they were terrified.” It’s like he was saying, “yeah, Peter’s idea was dumb, but let’s not be too hard on the guy. He was terrified, and just didn’t know what to say!”

At any rate, if all we see this experience as is a demonstration of divine power and glory, then we’re essentially making these nice little dwelling-places, these little boxes for the story to fit in. Jesus’ transfiguration did not happen merely to allow these three disciples to say “wow! What an amazing trick! That was great! Surely, you MUST be the Son of God.” Just like the miracles Jesus performed weren’t simply divine parlor tricks so that those around him would say “wow! What an amazing trick! Surely you MUST be the Son of God.” N.T. Wright said in his book “Simply Christian” that God doesn’t send the Holy Spirit to give Christians the spiritual equivalent of a day at Disneyland. I’d argue that The Transfiguration event falls much into the same category. There’s more to it than just an amazing light show.

There are three ideas around Jesus’ transfiguration that I want to look at today.

1. Jesus’ transfiguration reminds us that God has come to us.
2. Jesus’ transfiguration was a “foretaste of the feast to come.”
3. Jesus’ transfiguration calls us to participate in building for the Kingdom of God.

First, Jesus’ transfiguration reminds us that God has come to us. Think back to the story of Kiddo and the nightlight. There were two very important things that needed to happen for Tyler to be comforted. First, someone had to come to him. It would have done him no good whatsoever if I had heard him crying over the monitor, turned the volume down, then rolled over and gone back to sleep. He needed me THERE. With him. Second, not just anyone could have done the trick. If some stranger had walked into his room and tried to tell him everything was going to be okay, chances are it would have just made things worse. He needed his mommy or daddy. It needed to be us. We’re the ones he looked to for protection, for guidance, for help and comfort.

So what does that have to do with the Transfiguration? It reminds us that this Jesus person isn’t just some guy off the street who could do amazing things. This was God. This was God in human form, come down to us. Peter, James and John were given a glimpse of Jesus’ divinity. Yes, he was their Rabbi. Yes, he was the carpenter’s son from Nazareth. But as the voice from the heavens reminded them, this was also the very Son of God, the messiah, the one sent to reconcile all of creation. As a favorite hymn of mine goes, God isn’t in some heaven, light years away. God came to us in the person of Jesus, and God comes to us today. The same God who created the universe, who created the earth and stars and all creatures and everything that ever was or is or will be—that same God came to earth.

The light of the Transfiguration, while dazzling, wasn’t the point of the event. Just as Kiddo wasn’t comforted by the nightlight, but rather by the presence of one of his parents, so too the light of the Transfiguration points to Jesus as our Emmanuel—our “God With Us.” The one who has come to us in the darkness of our sin, our pain, and our brokenness, and who has begun the process of making all things new through his death and resurrection.

I’m reminded of the final scene from the movie Shrek. In case you haven’t seen the movie, Shrek is the story of an ogre, a big, green, fat, belching, crude creature, who rescues the Princess Fiona, who looks a lot like Cameron Diaz animated digitally and given red hair. Princess Fiona is under a curse; “By day one thing, by night another, until true love’s kiss restores love’s true form.” Every night, she becomes an ogre, every bit as green and fat as Shrek. Every day, she becomes Cameron Diaz with red hair again, and the cycle will repeat until she finally experiences true love and takes love’s true form. At the end of the movie, Shrek finally sees Fiona’s ogre persona (she had been hiding it from him) for the first time. But he loves her and kisses her anyway. Watch what happens in the clip.

(NOTE: Here I showed the Shrek "transfiguration" scene at the end of the movie--I tried to find it on Youtube to post here, but didn't see anything online. Sorry!) =)

The makers of the movie do a skillful job of guiding our expectations. After all the light and glory, we expect to see the Cameron Diaz lookalike there. But what is love’s true form? The princess wants to be like the one she loves. She takes on HIS form.

Philippians 2:5-8 reads, “5Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 6who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.” Christ emptied himself, was born as a human, and came not to be served, but to serve. Love’s true form shows its face by giving for the good of others, and God demonstrated love’s true form to us by coming TO us through Jesus.

Jesus comes to you.

And Jesus comes FOR you.

Which brings me to my second thought, that Jesus’ transfiguration was a foretaste of the feast to come. Do those words sound familiar? They’re part of the communion liturgy. When we participate in Holy Communion, we proclaim that we are receiving a foretaste of the feast to come. So what does that mean? We believe that Jesus is truly present in, with, and under the bread and the wine. The bread and the wine don’t change form…they remain what they are, but when we eat and drink, we experience in a very real way the presence of Christ in our lives. Holy Communion becomes, in the words of N.T. Wright, an intersection of heaven and earth. It’s a place and a time where a little piece of the Kingdom of God breaks into our everyday world, and it transforms us. It changes us. It transfigures us. Christ comes TO us, right where we are, and right AS we are.

And so we see the transfiguration of Jesus, as an intersection of heaven and earth. We receive, in the very human form of Jesus, a glimpse of the glory of the divine. And if the point wasn’t made strongly enough, God tells us “this is my son, the beloved.” There is to be no doubt as to whom Jesus is. And perhaps, for those of us who proclaim our belief in “the resurrection of the body” in the Apostles Creed, we see something of what that might look like. As Christ comes to us through the bread and wine and transfigures us through his presence, giving us a glimpse of the glory that awaits us in an eternity spent with the God who loves us, so too the disciples are given that same sort of glimpse on the mountain.

My third thought is that Jesus’ transfiguration calls us to participate in building for the Kingdom of God. And this is where the real meat for our daily lives is. We’ve seen that God comes to us, that God gives us this intersection of heaven and earth, but what difference does that make? What does it look like when God comes, when heaven and earth intersect?

The answers to that come directly before, and directly after, our gospel lesson. Mark 8:34 reads, “34He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” I think it’s no accident that Jesus goes from “take up your cross” to the Transfiguration in the very next few verses. Remember--the transfiguration is a reminder that God has come to us through Jesus, and is a foretaste of the Kingdom of God. So what does it look like when God comes to us, what does the kingdom of God look like?

It’s cross-shaped.

It looks like self-giving love for the sake of the world.

It looks like what happens immediately when Jesus goes back down the mountain. He re-enters the brokenness of humanity. He’s immediately met by the sick and demon-possessed, and he goes right back to the work of building for the kingdom of God. He goes about the work of healing, of making whole, of restoring relationships, of taking away division, and brokenness, pain and suffering.

In other words, he goes about doing the work of the church. He gives of himself for the good of creation.

And later, on a very real cross, he doesn’t give OF himself. He gives himself.

Through the Transfiguration, we too are called to that same work. We’re called to be peacemakers, to feed the poor, clothe the naked, visit those in prison, heal the sick. N.T. Wright puts it this way in his book Surprised By Hope: "The resurrection of Jesus and the gift of the Spirit mean that we are called to bring real and effective signs of God's renewed creation to birth even in the midst of the present age." God’s at work making all things new, work that began at the cross and in the empty Easter tomb, and our call is to be a part of that.

We like to speak of mountaintop experiences, of those times in our lives that are life-changing, the highest of the high points. But be careful—mountaintop experiences change you. Are you sure you want to go up the mountain with Jesus? Your transfiguration doesn’t end when you come back down. It’s not easy having your life changed. Often, it means you feel a need to live differently than you did before. It means you see things in a different light than you did before. It may mean sensing a call from God that takes you out of a place of comfort and security, and leads you to places you never dreamed you’d go. It means that like Jesus, you become willing to enter the pain and brokenness of creation, bringing with you the promise of life and hope and restoration. That kind of change in our lives can be difficult, and scary.

But it’s oh so exciting. And it’s the very definition of what it means to live in grace. During confirmation a couple of weeks ago, Pastoral Intern Ben made a point that’s stuck with me. He said, “we’re not saved BY service, but we’re saved FOR service.” We’re not saved BY what we do when we go back down the mountain, but Christ comes to us in all his power and glory to enable, empower, and inspire us to serve others.

We spend today on the mountaintop. But like Jesus, James, John, and Peter, we can’t stay there. In fact, on Wednesday, our church calendar does exactly what Jesus does, leaves the mountain, and descends to the valley of Ash Wednesday and Lent, where we begin the journey toward the cross, the journey through our own sin and brokenness, the journey that Christ made for us and that he calls each of us to make for the sake of the world. “Take up your cross and follow.” Give of yourselves. Bring hope to the hopeless, healing to the suffering, food to the hungry, and the promise of new life to a world gripped by the fear of death.

That, my friends, is kingdom-building in its most basic and Biblical sense.

So, for the sake of our Confirmation students trying to do sermon notes, let’s summarize:

1. Jesus’ transfiguration reminds us that God has come to us.
2. Jesus’ transfiguration was a “foretaste of the feast to come.”
3. Jesus’ transfiguration calls us to participate in building for the Kingdom of God.

May you experience, through the power and the glory of the transfiguration, your own transfiguration. May you experience in a very real way Christ’s coming to you, and for you. May you participate in this foretaste of the feast to come. And may you hear and heed the call to participate in building for the Kingdom of God.

What's Opera, Doc?

Thanks to a lunchtime conversation, I haven't been able to get this cartoon out of my head.

Best cartoon ever, and many a child's introduction to Wagner's Die Walkure, The Flying Dutchman, and Tannhauser.

Man how I wish the Bugs Bunny Road Runner Show was still on Saturdays. Kids these days just don't know what they're missing.

Did that just make me sound old? =)



LH

"The Community of Saints..."

The last few weeks, Kiddo and I have been working on learning the Apostles Creed--it's become part of his bedtime routine. Last night, he asked if I could record him saying it.

Of course, proud dad that I am, I was more than willing to oblige. =)

I realize he doesn't understand more than a few words of what he's saying--but just like when he was learning the Lord's Prayer, the comprehension can come later. For now, I'm happy to take advantage of the fact that his brain is a big ol' memorizing sponge. Funny thing--near the end of the creed, instead of proclaiming his belief in the communion of saints, he professes belief in the community of saints.

I'm not gonna correct him. True community is what that line of the creed is referring to anyway.

The video's a little dark...sorry about that. Here goes:


LH

25 Random Things Meme

Well, I guess all the cool kids are doing it, so here goes...if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged. =)

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you.

1. Sweetie's and my first date was on Valentine's Day. By accident. All I knew when I asked her out was that it was a Friday and I wasn't doing anything.

2. Moxie is by far my favorite soft drink. Unfortunately, it's also only available in New England.

3. I think bacon can make pretty much anything taste better.

4. In the 17 years between 1990 and 2007, I gained 10 pounds. During Sweetie's last pregnancy in 2007-08, I gained 15. I'm still working to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Item #3 in this list isn't helping with that goal, however. =)

5. Game 6 of the 1986 World Series was the first time a sporting event made me cry. I still carry the scars today.

6. I'm still waiting to get the memo that there was some horrible mistake and the Red Sox didn't actually win the 2004 World Series.

7. I was named "Most Improved Runner" on my 9th grade track team. Which meant that I sucked, but worked really hard during the track season.

8. I tried out for the Jeopardy Teen Tournament twice. Both times I passed the initial test and got to meet Alex Trebek for the second round of tryouts. Never made it on the show, though.

9. All Christians should be required to work at least one summer at a church camp. The eleventh commandment, perhaps?

10. When I was in elementary school, I was secretly disappointed in my pastor because he needed the book in order to lead the liturgy, and I had the whole thing memorized.

11. Also in elementary school, I used to lead entire worship services in my room for an imaginary congregation. I used checkers for communion wafers.

12. I used to drive a van to pick up kids and drop them off at daycare. 5-9 AM every day. My last day at that job was the Friday before the great October snowfall of 1997.

13. I also used to work at the Cliffs Notes headquarters. My former supervisor is now a member of the congregation where I serve.

14. I think I've learned more from the teenagers I work with than they'll ever learn from me.

15. The story of the Prodigal Son is my favorite parable, I think. Mostly because I've lived it, and have experienced the forgiving love of a father when I came home.

16. I was once engaged to someone before Sweetie. I think my former fiancee and I are much happier now than we would have been if things had worked out.

17. I've played on Vladimir Horowitz's piano.

18. Some of the best advice ever given me was this: "If you turn 30 and you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up, chances are you belong in ministry."

19. I always knew my parents loved me unconditionally and would do anything for me, but I never truly understood the depth of that love until I became a parent myself.

20. "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today" on a big ol' pipe organ with brass accompaniment never fails to bring me to tears.

21. In the last couple of years, I've discovered that I have three goals in life: to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. Everything else is basically an extension of those three things.

22. In May, I'll be seeing Billy Joel in concert for the 6th time. He is SO much better in concert than his recordings.

23. I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible for me to show or tell Sweetie exactly how much I love her, but that's not going to stop me from trying.

24. The youth I work with at church are pretty much some of the coolest people (in the best sense of the word) that I've run across. I mean that sincerely. And some of them (you know who you are) REALLY need to be thinking about ministry. =)

25. While I don't really believe that God has a specific plan for our lives, I DO think God creates us with specific gifts and abilities and says, "I can't WAIT to see what you do with this!"

LH

Jesus Wants to Save Christians

That's the title of the book I finished reading tonight after the kids got to bed. Some very compelling, thought-provoking stuff in there. Rob Bell, the author, tends to get a little cutesy for my taste in trying to make his points sometimes, but that doesn't diminish the very real value that can be found in these pages.

One sidenote--earlier in the book, the author pointed out that the word Eucharist, a word many Christians use for the bread and wine of communion, comes from two greek words that literally mean "good gift." He then goes on to use the word "Eucharist" liberally through the rest of the book in reference to the "good gift" we as Christians are called to be to the world, in an intentional double entendre. That might clear up some initial confusion in a couple of the quotes.

Anyway, read, digest, and enjoy:

from pp. 165-166:
"The Eucharist is not fair.
Giving to those who can’t give in return, that’s not fair.
Serving those who have no way to serve in return, that’s not fair.
Breaking yourself open and pouring yourself out for people who may never say thank you, that’s not fair.
Because God is not fair. This is a God who is defined by action on behalf of the oppressed. God is about giving the good gift. Jesus is God’s good gift for the healing of the world. The Church is Jesus’ body, a good gift for the healing of the world. It's for the benefit of others. For the good of those who look different from us.
A church is an organization that exists for the benefit of nonmembers."

from pp. 177-178:
"The Eucharist always costs. It isn’t just about trying to save the world. It’s about saving ourselves.
From the kingdom of comfort.
From the priority of preservation
From the empire of indifference
From the exile of irrelevance.
Jesus wants to save our church from thinking that the priests are someone else."

from p. 179:
"Jesus wants to save us from making the good news about another world and not this one.
Jesus wants to save us from preaching a gospel that is only about individuals and not about the systems that enslave them.
Jesus wants to save us from shrinking the gospel down to a transaction about the removal of sin and not about every single molecule of creation being reconciled to its maker.
Jesus wants to save us from religiously sanctioned despair, the kind that doesn’t believe we can make the world a better place, the kind that either blatantly or subtly teaches people to just be quiet and behave and wait for something big to happen ‘someday’.
The Bible begins with Abel’s blood crying out from the ground. The Bible ends with God wiping away every tear. No more death, or mourning, or crying, or pain.
Hope…The church is always about this hope."

LH

The Week of Vomit

My family is currently in the middle of what shall go down in history as The Week of Vomit.

Note to the queasy-stomached: proceed at your own risk.

And I'm currently taking care of 2 sick kids and a sick wife, so this will be short...MUCH shorter than it deserves.

The pukes started Tuesday morning with Pumpkin and continued into Wednesday.

Thursday morning she was mostly better, but then I got it (pukes and diarrhea every 2 hours ON THE DOT from 5 AM until 3 PM...it was actually kinda weird...the furthest away from on the hour any of them got was the 9:00 episode, which actually hit at 8:56. Freaky.), then Kiddo came down with it Thursday afternoon, and into the evening.

Friday I was still sick, my son was feeling better, and my daughter started throwing up again in the afternoon. 9 times total between 2 PM and 8 PM.

8 changes of clothes for her, and 4 changes each for Sweetie and I.

Yesterday we did 12 hrs of 2 tsp. of pedialyte every 10 minutes with Pumpkin, she did well so we put her back on half strength bottles...then in the evening Kiddo threw up again and at 10 pm Sweetie started.

Now Sweetie's full blown sick, Kiddo's thrown up once this morning and Pumpkin twice...so we're back to the pedialyte every 10 minutes. And nothing but gatorade, water and toast for Sweetie and Kiddo.

I'm about to go out of my freaking mind. And I'm tired of getting puked on.

LH

Hop on Pop

Earlier this afternoon, Kiddo and I were rolling a ball to each other, when he decided to come tackle me. Pumpkin, not to be outdone, joined in.

Hilarity ensued. =)



LH

Pizza God

So on Christmas Eve my family decided to attend the 5:30 PM service at church, for basically 3 reasons. First, the next service started at 7, which is typically when Pumpkin gets her bedtime bottle and lays down, and we wanted to keep things as close to schedule as possible for her. Second, the 7 PM service was a candlelight service, and Pumpkin's arms are usually about 10 inches long UNTIL she sees something she wants, then they turn to rubber and can stretch nearly a quarter of a mile.

You think I'm joking. I'm not.

Sweetie and I didn't want her getting in her head that the pretty fire would be something she wanted to grab. There were no candles in the pews at the service we attended.

The third reason was that the 5:30 service was specifically geared toward kids, and we thought Kiddo might get a little more out of it.

As part of worship, there were 3 wrapped "Christmas gifts from God" at the front of the sanctuary. At different times in the service, the pastoral intern would ask for a child volunteer to open one, then he'd do a little sermonette on what was inside. The three gifts were actually words--Joy, Hope, and Peace.

Kiddo thought it was all quite cool, though when the intern finished his talk on "the peace of God," Kiddo looked puzzled.

He turned to me and whispered, "why was he talking about the Pizza God?"

It was all I could do to keep from guffawing right there.

But wait, the story continues.

This past Sunday morning, we were back in church. For any non-Lutherans reading this, most Lutheran worship services end with a call and response between the pastor and congregation. The pastor says, "Go in peace, serve the Lord" (or a variation thereof), and the congregation responds with a rousing "THANKS BE TO GOD!" Supposedly as an affirmation of the joy of serving God out in the world, but when I was a kid it was mostly out of the joy of knowing I was about to eat lunch.

So this past Sunday, Kiddo started laughing after we all said "thanks be to God" at the end of the service. That cute, uncontrollable 5 year old belly laugh. I asked him what was funny, and he responded:

"I said, 'THANKS PIZZA GOD!'"

It's too bad I couldn't tell him how funny I thought that was, because if he had ANY idea, he'd do it every time and I don't want that.

But it was pretty freakin' funny.

LH

Words I needed

You know how sometimes you hear (or read) exactly what you needed to hear (or read) at a given time, and the person doing the talking (or writing) has no idea that's exactly what you needed to hear?

Some call it coincidence, others call it serendipity, and others the still, small voice of God.

Call it what you will. A couple of days ago, I had one of those experiences thanks to Gordon Atkinson over at RealLivePreacher.com. Exactly what I needed to hear/read, and wanted to share it, in case these words were some that somebody else needed to hear or read.

Exegesis
by Gordon Atkinson

So here’s what you do. You take a phrase or a word or a short teaching out of the Bible. Something like “The book of life,” or “The Son of Man,” or “The Light of the World,” or “No one comes to the Father but by me.” These phrases could mean anything. They meant something in their day, surely, but the deepest and most scholarly study in the world cannot unravel exactly what they meant.

But you. You somehow know the truth. You take these phrases with no study at all, and you fill them with your theology, like someone filling helium balloons at a carnival. Then you hang a little basket below your balloons and float away, so delighted in the complex theological construct that you’ve put together. And from your elevated position you lay burdens on people that you could never keep yourself. Lightning bolts thrown down from the sky. Zeus never wielded as much power.

You are going to hell for your lack of faith or for your participation in a religious life or non-religious life that I don’t understand and therefore don’t approve of.

You may not be a sexual person, but must live in strict, celibate loneliness. You will fall in love many times over the years, but you must deny your love and break your own heart over and over and over again, all the days of your life. (And this from a preacher who can’t say no to a second bowl of ice cream.)

You must believe the things I tell you about the world, the earth, the sky, the stars, and God. You must give intellectual consent to all parts of my message. And if you cannot believe what I say, SHAME on you! Shame on you even if you tried very hard to believe but could not.

Give me your life; give me your money; give me your mind; give me your time. Give me all of these things, and I shall take them from you and use them to fill up more balloons so that I can fly higher and throw my lightning bolts down on more people.

And the hard thing for me is that you think this is the right way to treat the Bible and the mysterious phrases found within it. In your mind, you are the great Bible scholar, while I am a little weak in this regard. Weak and liberal and not very serious about the Bible.

For I, in my weakness, can hardly stand before the mystery of the ancient scriptures. I am hurt by them, filled with joy by them, angered by them, and sometimes inspired by them. And I often can do nothing more than confess my own confusion and brokenness.

You shake your head at me and say, “What kind of a minister are you? Don’t you believe the Bible?”

And I look back at you, just as puzzled. “Believe the Bible?” What does that even mean? I say it over and over to myself.

“Believe the Bible. Believe the Bible. Believe the Bible. Believe the Bible.”

Eventually the word “believe” starts to sound like something you do with your hands. Like punching something or pushing a vacuum cleaner around. Like you could believe the Bible all over the house and then out into the front yard, where you could believe it around in little circles while waving to the neighbors. Then you could believe the Bible back into your house and store it in the closet, where you keep it until you feel like believing it out in public again.

Do I believe the Bible? I’m trying to know the Bible. And by knowing, I mean the way that Adam knew Eve, and the way that the Creator knows us. I mean the kind of knowing that is like falling in love. I’m trying to love/know the Bible. And I will always struggle with how I can love/know the scriptures when some parts are so hard and mean and awful that you feel bad for even reading them. And then some parts are so beautiful that you can’t stop crying when they whisper little hints of truth and mystery to you.

So that’s all I’ve got. Whatever that says about me is what I am. I’m less sophisticated and more unsure than when I began years ago as a young minister. I’m tired and fairly broken myself. I just turned 47, so I’m half dead if I live to be an old man, and more than half dead if I don’t. So there’s just no time left, really. No time for talking or fighting or judging.

It seems like it is the time for listening and loving and accepting all who seek truth in peace and are open-minded enough to confess that they are simply not up to the task.

LH

The Inverted Kingdom of God

Every day during Advent, Diana Butler Bass is sharing her reflections on her Advent Calendar over at the Sojourners website. I found her comments yesterday particularly impactful, especially in light of the lesson I heard last night at church, from Luke 1:46-55:

46And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, 47and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; 53he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 54He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

It's a hymn of praise to the God who works in unexpected ways, and who breaks into our world to turn everything upside down.

Here's Dr. Butler Bass' thoughts:

A set of double doors marked “17″ on my Advent calendar opened to a charming image of a minister surrounded by children.

My first thought was of one of the most famous passages in the New Testament:

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the
disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them,
“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of
God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive
the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the
children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them (Mark 10:13-16).

This biblical story inspired a picture that hung in my childhood Sunday school room. I remember children all around Jesus—sitting on his lap, hanging over his shoulder, sitting at his feet—with him smiling and hugging them, obviously enjoying their company. As a child, the scene was warm and reassuring to me, an invitation from Jesus himself.
The same passage was also the subject for the major paper in my first college New Testament course. Sitting in the college library, surrounded by commentaries, I was surprised to discover that children were not considered cute or lovable in ancient society. Instead of being cherished and coddled in the ways we treat our children, our ancestors assigned children one of the lowest rungs on the social scale. Their worth was equal to that of women, dogs, and servants. They had no status, no rights, and were not understood to be fully human. Children were essentially the possessions of their parents to be used as those parents wished.

For the first time, I realized that Jesus did not welcome children because ancient people liked them. He welcomed them to make a political point—those who are least in this world will be first in the kingdom. God’s reign embraces the outcast, the lowly, the unacceptable, and strangers. Jesus is acting the role of the social revolutionary, the tender prophet who upsets the status quo. Mark’s story was not of a cozy, homey Jesus. It was a story of the wild, unpredictable Jesus who offered God’s radical hospitality to those whom society marginalized.
Thus, the passage from Mark became for me part of my passage to adult faith. The Sunday school wall art moved to the space of sacred memory, and the Jesus of scripture called me to leave comfort behind to receive the inverted kingdom of God.

LH

The gift that keeps giving...

About a month or so ago, Sweetie and I were discussing what to get the other for Christmas this year. We really couldn't think of anything all that important, and we really didn't feel the need to add to the ever-growing pile of crap/junk that tends to pile up when one has a couple of young kids in the house.

So instead of giving each other gifts this year, we're pooling the money we would have spent and we're going to lend it at www.kiva.org.

Kiva's tagline on their website is "Loans that change lives." They act as the middleman between organizations in third-world countries who want to make micro-loans to people in extreme poverty, and individuals like you and me who want to fund those loans. It's really a pretty cool concept, and it's very well run.

Take this example--Mrs. Yi Thy is a married 35-year-old woman that grows rice and raises pigs to earn a living. Her husband is Ngeng Vanna, age 38, who works on the farm along with his wife. They are the parents of two children and live in the Kompong Cham Province. Yi's goal is to provide her children with a higher education. She has applied for a loan to purchase more piglets, feed, and a cow for her family's business activities. Mrs. Thy Has applied for a $150 loan to be repaid over the course of 10 months through Hattha Kaksekar Limited (HKL), a partner of Save the Children. There's already 3 people...one from the United States, one from Japan, and one from Australia, who have given a total of $75. So when $75 more is given, the loan will be funded.

Let's say Sweetie and I provide the other $75 through Kiva. Mrs. Thy will get the loan through Hattha Kaksekar, and as she repays them, the $150 principal eventually comes back to Kiva, and our $75 share comes back to the Kiva account Sweetie and I set up. We then will be free to loan it to someone else on Kiva's site.

They have hundreds of people from all over the world who have applied for loans from anywhere between $100 and $2000 dollars. Many of these people are women, all are small entrepeneurs trying to provide for their families, and these microloans are for them very real ways to break the cycle of extreme poverty. Reading through the lists of individual situations and business plans from so many parts of the world--it's eye opening.

As these are loans to real people, there's always the chance of default. But Kiva's default rate is only about 3%, which is very impressive when one considers some of the places these loans are made.

It's giving a hand-up to hard working people who want to provide for themselves and their families. And personally, I think it's a really cool way to serve our neighbor, affirm their dignity, and give a gift that literally keeps on giving.

Check them out. www.kiva.org. Good stuff there.

LH

To Kiddo on his 5th birthday

Dear Kiddo,

I know you can't read yet, and you probably wouldn't be all that interested if I tried reading this letter to you, since there won't be references to Spiderman or LazyTown or Moxie. But I'm going to write it anyway, because I'm your dad and this is the kind of sappy thing parents do when their kids have birthdays. You'll understand someday.

Mommy and I try every day to tell you how much we love you and how proud we are of you. You're growing up into such a cool person--even if you weren't my son, you'd still be one of my favorite kids. You love to make people laugh...you've always had a way of doing that. But you're caring and sensitive, too. You genuinely care about others, and are sensitive to their thoughts and feelings. I hope you continue to develop and nurture those two traits especially, because as you get older, other boys might not see them in the same positive light that your parents do. There will come a time in your life (maybe not too long from now) when being caring and sensitive hurts, and you'll be tempted to grow that same shell of cynicism and selfishness that so many other people have. It will protect you, yes, but it will come at a cost.

It will come at the cost of being able to feel anything--even joy, or love. And once it's grown, it's so hard to crack. And even harder to shed. Some people carry that shell around with them their entire lives, and its tremendous weight eventually distorts them almost beyond recognition. May you continue to remain caring and sensitive, even though that means being vulnerable and sometimes unprotected.

What an incredible big brother you are, too. Pumpkin is very lucky to have someone like you to watch out for her and who loves her the way you do. Already, Mommy and I can see that she's starting to look up to you, and that's only going to grow. The bond between siblings is a special one.

And your faith. My son, your faith in God is a sight to behold, and an inspiration to your dear old dad. I just love our conversations in the car to and from preschool--just yesterday, you told me that God must really like to joke, because he keeps fooling all the weather forecasters. You know that Jesus is your friend, and he's always the first thing you say you're thankful for, followed usually by your family and the world. As you get older, your questions will become more complicated, your thoughts will be more in-depth, your faith will be more mature. But your love for God...my prayer is that your love for God and your assurance of God's love for you may be as strong as it is today.

Five years ago this morning, Mommy and I were checking into the labor and delivery floor of the hospital. Little did we know that we still had 14 hours to wait until we got to meet you (your birthday was ALMOST tomorrow!). It seems like so long ago, but yet not so much. Time flies...and it doesn't. All at the same time. I know that sounds weird, but that's the way things get when you become an adult. Someday you'll be feeling the same way.

I love you SO much, Kiddo. As you like to say, I love you all the way to heaven and back. And I'm so proud of you, and who you are becoming. You are an articulate, compassionate, funny, curious, confident, and intelligent young man. May God bless you on this special day, and on all the rest of the days to come.

You'll be getting plenty of gifts, but I want to leave you with two special gifts right now.

The first is a song. My mom--your grandmother--gave me a gift of a song many years ago. It wasn't her song...it was originally written by Bob Dylan, in fact. But it may well could have been her song. I want to give you that song, too. It's called Forever Young, and is Mommy's and my prayer for you. Our favorite rendition is by Joan Baez:


And here's the lyrics:

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

My second gift is this: I know you like to look at pictures--here's a very small sampling of pictures of you from the last five years:

Love,
Daddy

LH

Christmas is Waiting

Yesterday, I posted a critique of a piece of poetry that I've received via email on more than one occasion. In case I wasn't abundantly clear in that post, I thought the poem got it all wrong and was more hurtful to rescuing the meaning of Christmas than it was helpful.

Today, I'd like to post a different poem. I think it does a good job of reflecting the tension we live in everyday--Christmas has already come, Christ has already entered the world...but at the same time we still live in a state of Advent. Preparing. Waiting. God's kingdom has come, but at the same time it has not yet come. And for some, that sense of waiting and longing for a savior means much more than making sure the house is properly decorated and presents are bought and wrapped. How are we called to serve those for whom, in a different but very real sense, Christmas has not yet come?

Christmas is Waiting
by Gerard Kelley

Christmas is waiting to happen.
Outside, a vacant hillside
Lies silent, strangely empty
Of any angel’s choir.
A stable waits
For bookings at the inn to multiply.
Distant Kings study charts
And keep gifts in cold storage,
While shepherds plan their memoirs
In expectancy of unexpected fame
And keep a chapter free
For miracles
A small velvet patch
In the black night sky
Stands ready to hold a new born star,
And oppressed peoples everywhere
Cling wildly to prophecy and song,
And whisper the word: Messiah.

They’ve switched on the lights
In Oxford Street,
Counting off the buying days
Like Guardsmen on parade
Shops are stocked and standing by
Revving up the engines
Of their debt-powered swiping machines
And history watchers mark another year
To start the slow count to 3000.

But here, an old man lies
In the stairwell where he fell three days ago
And no one knows.
And here a young girl loiters
In a streetlight’s unholy halo
To sell the only thing she owns
That men will pay for
And here an infant sleeps
On a sack on the hard earth floor
Where even a mother’s hand
Is empty
And there are places where Christmas
Is still waiting
To happen

LH

And to all a whiny night...

***SIGH***
Every year, the same recycled pieces make their rounds of the internet. Some are of better quality than others. I received the following Christmas poem--one that I've received many times before--in my email inbox the other day. For the record, this is one of the *ahem* "lesser quality" pieces:

Twas the month before Christmas
When all through our land,
Not a Christian was praying
Nor taking a stand.
The politically correct police had taken away,
The reason for Christmas - no one could say.
The children were told by their schools not to sing,
About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.
It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say
December 25th is just a " Holiday ".

Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit
Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!
CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-pod
Something was changing, something quite odd!
Retailers promoted Rama dan and Kwanzaa
In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.
As Targets were hanging their trees upside down
At Lowe's the word Christmas - was nowhere to be found.
At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears
You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.

Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty
Are words that were used to intimidate me.
Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen
On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton!
At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter
To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.
And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith
Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace
The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded
The reason for the season, stopped before it started.

So as you celebrate "Winter Break" under your "Dream Tree"
Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.
Choose your words carefully, choose what you say
Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS, not Happy Holiday!

It is time, as my favorite English teacher used to say, to "explicate and analyze."

Twas the month before Christmas
When all through our land,
Not a Christian was praying
Nor taking a stand.
If that is indeed the case, we Christians have nobody to blame but ourselves. Time to look in the mirror, point the finger inward (no, not THAT finger...the index finger!), repent of of the flippant way we often approach our faith and the Christmas celebration, and be renewed by the hope of the Christ child.

The politically correct police had taken away,
The reason for Christmas - no one could say.
The children were told by their schools not to sing,
About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.
It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say
December 25th is just a " Holiday ".
Um...nobody can take away the reason for Christmas. The reason is still there. Maybe it's been covered up or forgotten, but if that's the case, then again we (Christians) have nobody to blame but ourselves. The "reason for the season" can never be taken away...it can only be given away by those who have been entrusted with the story and the good news that the story brings. As for no pageants in the public schools...public school has never done a very good job of telling the Christmas story anyway, has it? Or should it? The creator of the universe showing ultimate, unconditional love for humankind by entering humankind's story as a helpless, vulnerable baby born to an unwed teenage mother in Palestine? I'd much rather have the church be telling that story anyway.

Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit
Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!
CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-pod
Something was changing, something quite odd!
How many of those pushy shoppers do you think would identify themselves as Christians? We can't accuse others of taking away our celebration's meaning when we have so willingly given it away. Christmas has been sacrificed on the altar of consumerism, and it's not just the rest of the world that's to blame.

Retailers promoted Rama dan and Kwanzaa
In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.
As Targets were hanging their trees upside down
At Lowe's the word Christmas - was nowhere to be found.
At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears
You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.
May God have mercy on the church if we depend on big box retailers for evangelism. Don't blame the stores--their bottom line is to do whatever it takes to sell stuff. If that means saying "Merry Christmas," then they'll do it. If it means saying "May a reindeer spike your eggnog," then they'll do it. With very few exceptions (Hobby Lobby and Chick Fil-A are two I can think of off the bat) big chains don't do things like that solely for principle. I'll take a genuine "Happy Holidays" over a prostituted "Merry Christmas," said just in the hopes of keeping my business, any day.

Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty
Are words that were used to intimidate me.
Really? Christians intimidated by inclusiveness? Sensitivity? Diversity? If our faith system can't stand on its own when placed side by side with others, then maybe we need to examine the validity of our faith system. Those words shouldn't be intimidating. They should be challenging, exciting, and incredible opportunities for witness.

Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen
On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton!
At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter
To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.
Jesus never became part of the "establishment," religious OR governmental. He was too busy working on the edges of society. The de-centering of Christianity from public life may well end up being one of the best things that ever happened to the faith, as it forces Christians out of a position of comfort and into the big, murky questions of faith. We're called to be counter-cultural. When religion buddies up with politics, each helps make the other fat and lazy. Give me a church on the fringes, a church more comfortable showing the love of Christ than complaining about the language politicians use.

And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith
Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace
The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded
The reason for the season, stopped before it started.
Come on. Seriously. Nobody's taking away anybody's faith. Faith is a gift that can never be taken away...it can only be willingly given. We're called to be in the world, but not of the world...but for some reason we expect the world to be "of us?" There's not much more unbecoming than a whiny Christian. Instead of complaining that the world's not hearing our message, and that they're not doing things our way, maybe we ought to be working to make sure the message the world's hearing (and seeing) is a worthwhile one. To make them wonder in a positive way instead of a negative way, "why do they act the way they do? What is it that compels them to love and serve like that? And where can I get me some of that?" Of course, the gospel, the true message of Christmas, IS a worthwhile message, but too often along the way much gets lost in the telling, by both our words and deeds.

So as you celebrate "Winter Break" under your "Dream Tree"
Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.
Choose your words carefully, choose what you say
Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS, not Happy Holiday!
This Christmas, may you be filled with the wonder of Mary, the obedience of Joseph, the joy of the angels, the eagerness of the shepherds, the determination of the magi, and the peace of the Christ child. Almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit bless you all now and forever.

LH

Turner Gill--Coach of the 2008 MAC Champion Buffalo Bulls

Turner Gill just led the Buffalo Bulls football team to their first MAC title ever. And in doing so they'll be going to their first bowl game. Ever.

And they did it by beating Ball State--the 12th ranked team in the country. Which, as someone on HuskerPedia pointed out, gives them exactly one more win over a top-15 team in the past six seasons than my beloved Huskers.

Buffalo was invited to the Tangerine Bowl in 1958, but they declined the invitation because the bowl didn't allow black players to play. And the Bulls had 3 black players on their roster that they refused to leave behind.

And now, with a black coach, they're going to their first bowl game.

Coach Gill is a man who just EXUDES character, class, and faith. He doesn't see himself as a coach as much as a campus minister who works with football players. But he does a heckuva job of coaching, too. Check out these stats:

* Buffalo has won 8 games this season....in 12. Prior to Gill's arrival at Buffalo, it had taken Buffalo 54 games to win 7.

* Gill has coached Buffalo now for 36 games (not including tonights contest). Buffalo is 14-22 in those 36 games. Prior to showing up in Buffalo, you have to go back 92 games to count Buffalo's prior 14 wins.

* Gill was 5-7 last season. Buffalo hadn't won 5 games in a season since 1996 when they were 8-3. You have to go back to 1986 to find the next 5+ win season.

* Buffalo has now put up 13 wins over the past 2 seasons. You have to go back to 1985-86 to find the last 13 wins over 2 seasons.

* In the nine seasons before this one, Buffalo was 17-89 in Division 1...with only Duke having a worse overall record.


And in the postgame interview, he was the very picture of humility. He told the interviewer at first that he was "speechless." I think he was trying to find the words to describe the enormity of what had just happened, and of his own struggle and journey...and they just weren't there. His voice cracked and he shed some tears when talking about how proud he was of his players, and afterwards, when his athletic director came over to hug him, Turner broke down completely, sobbing in his arms.

Gotta admit, my own eyes got a little sweaty, too... =)

(Here's the YouTube clip of the end of the game, including the postgame interview. Amazing.)


I've written about Turner Gill before. Here and here. The man is my hero.

Congratulations, Turner. You deserve every bit of success that comes to you and your teams. God bless you for doing what you do and for being someone who helps show young men what it means to be part of something larger than yourself, what it means to love sacrifically, what it means to lead by serving...and for pointing to God as the source of your strength and your example for service and love.

9-9-08 EDIT--I found the following nugget about Turner Gill on KLIN's website. John Bishop (one of my fave Husker radio guys, btw) put into words much better the thoughts that I was struggling to express. Here's the link, and here's the text of what he had to say (pay close attention to what I bolded near the end...that, I think is the key to understanding who Turner Gill is and what he's about):

JOHN BISHOP'S SUNDAY SCHOOL
Buffalo 42, Ball State 24
Welcome to a special MAC Championship edition of Sunday School.
I am going to admit, I sometimes find writing this column to be tedious. After a long week at work and a long day at the game, all I want to do is lay down and do nothing. But tonight is different...oh, so different.

If you call yourself a Husker fan and didn't get excited for Turner Gill and the University of Buffalo Friday night, then please turn your Husker fan card in at the door. We not only saw a program go from irrelevant to relevant, we saw a Husker legend solidify right before our eyes.

Turner Gill as a player and an assistant for the better part of the years 1980 to 2004 had already established a permanent place in Husker lore. But with his Buffalo program becoming MAC champs in three short years under his tenure, Gill just took "the Nebraska way" and planted its flag in upstate New York.

But did you see the postgame interview? If not, then you need to. You Tube. ESPN. Buffalo Bulls website. Find it. Because in two minutes of national TV airtime, Turner Gill went from Husker legend and U. of Buffalo savior to Husker icon and the epitome; the definition of what a leader of young people should be.

Again, go find the tape. It was on SportsCenter, I'm sure you can find it somewhere. If there was any recruit sitting on the fence about going to UB, they probably fell right off. There had to be other coaches watching, some of them tired of the long grind, ready to take a break, frustrated by the rigors of the job of herding young boys-to-men who might just have received a wake up call about why they do this job in the first place. Why they wanted to make a career working 18-20 hour days and living on the edge every gameday with their careers and livelihood hanging in the balance. Turner just showed us all in two minutes what motivates men to excel, to push harder, to work for something and someone greater than ourselves. And then give all the credit to the right people and give all the thanks to his Maker.

I know it got me off the couch and on this computer to write this column.

Way to go, Turner! A Buffalo Bulls nation and a Husker nation are very proud of you.


LH

A couple of Kiddo updates

Two stories:

Thing #1: A couple of evenings ago, Kiddo was watching the TV show LazyTown (which Sweetie hates...not that it's a bad show, just very annoying to her). Sweetie told him, "I bet your perfect day would be to curl up on the couch with your blankets and Mr. Bear, watch LazyTown, and drink Moxie" (a soft drink that I've let him have a few sips of and he loves...and Sweetie hates. Almost as much as she hates LazyTown. She thinks it tastes like Robitussin. Poor, misguided Sweetie...).

Kiddo thought that sounded like fun...so he announced that he was going to tell US what OUR perfect days would be.

"Daddy, your perfect day would be to sit on the couch, watch The Office, and drink Moxie."

I laughed. "Pretty good, Kiddo."

Then he turned to Sweetie with a mischevious gleam. "And YOU...YOUR perfect day would be to go to work..."

*pause for effect*

*giggle*

"watch LAZYTOWN and YO GABBA GABBA..." (even more annoying than LazyTown, btw)

*pause*

*giggle*

"and drink LOTS OF MOXIE ALL DAY LONG!!!!!!"

He seriously could not have picked anything worse for Sweetie's "perfect day." And he knew it. The kid's got quite the teasing sense of humor.

Yep, he's a big brother all right.

Thing #2: Next Thursday, December 11th, will be Kiddo's fifth birthday. Be prepared for the obligatory sappy "I can't believe my little baby is growing up" post next week.

Today, I've gotta tell you what we'll be having for supper that night. We told him he could have whatever he wanted. So here's what he came up with for the menu:

pancakes,

sausage patties,

sweet potatoes,

corn,

and...






Moxie.

Sweetie can't wait. Heh heh...

LH

Advent Conspiracy

This is one of the best little videos I've seen in a long time...what could happen in Christians stopped focusing on what our consumer society has turned Christmas into and turned Advent...a time of preparation for the coming of Christ...into a time for remembering Christ's call to love and serve our neighbor? How much more meaningful would Christmas be, rather than a relief to just get through the season? And how much more of a witness could we be as Christians to God's love for humanity by being counter-cultural in this kind of way?

The video's only 2 and a half minutes long. But its impact will stay with you much longer, I promise:



Check out http://www.adventconspiracy.org/ for more ideas on restoring the scandal of Christmas by substituting compassion for consumption.

LH

Is this the way to Bethlehem????

Kiddo's in his second year at a church-sponsored preschool. Every year, they have a Christmas program where they sing songs and re-tell the Christmas story.

This is a picture of Kiddo at last year's program:

Yes, he's the one in brown standing off to the side next to one of the teachers, holding his lower lip. That's pretty much how he spent the entire program last year. Poor kid was just scared out of his wits in front of all those parents.

This year's program is Friday night the 7th. When I picked Kiddo up from preschool today, there was a note attached to the weekly newsletter with a piece of news that I never would have expected last year at this time.

The teachers picked Kiddo to play Joseph.

That's right, the biggest, most central male role (other than the doll that will be representing Jesus). My son. Joseph. The kid who cried and wouldn't even get on the stage last year. Joseph.

For me, this isn't about "my kid needs to have the biggest and best parts" or anything like that. Yes, I'm proud, but the biggest source of pride for me is just seeing the change in him. His self-confidence has just soared...he used to be timid and quiet around new people and new situations, he used to be afraid to try new things. And now...Sweetie and I were at church last Sunday, talking to someone after the service was done, when we realized Kiddo wasn't with us. After scanning the atrium, we noticed him over in the middle of a crowd of 7 or 8 high school kids, just being part of the conversation. Now remember, he's all of four years old.

My son is starting to spread his wings before my eyes, and I just couldn't be any prouder of the human being he's becoming.

Joseph. I still can't believe it.

LH

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Yes, the annual Nebraska-Colorado game is nearly upon us. A very creative poster on HuskerPedia.com created the following ode to the game, so with a couple of minor edits, and with deepest apologies to Andy Williams and Johnny Mathis I give you The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (Go Big Red Version):


It's the most wonderful time of the year.
When the Buffs visit Lincoln
And NU Fan’s thinkin'
"I'm glad the game's here!"
It's the most wonderful time of the year.

It's the hap-happiest season of all.
No health hazards like Folsom,
It’s usually wholesome
If refs blow a call!
It's the hap-happiest season of all!

There's no batteries for throwing,
or reefer for smoking,
or rocks inside balls made of snow.
There'll be no lasers flashing or
car tire slashings or tales of '01,
long ago.

It's the most wonderful time of the year.
It’s a failed CU season,
Hawk might be the reason
the team's not in gear!
It's the most wonderful time of the year.

There'll be no field of debris,
Or effing eff bombs heaved
at old folks you see dressed in red.
There'll be no vehicle keyings,
Or whole sections leaving
Before the game has reached an end!

It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Enjoying Buff fan bashing
(Yes their teeth are gnashing)
No pee bombs to fear!
It's the most wonderful time,
It's the most wonderful time,
It's the most wonderful time of the year!

LH

Thanksgiving

In the presidential proclamation for Thanksgiving Day in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln had this to say:

"It is the duty of nations as well as of citizens to owe their dependence upon the overruling power of God; to confess their sins and transgressions in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord....

"We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us.

"It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of Thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens."


And a Thanksgiving prayer for the day, found elsewhere on the web:

Our Father in Heaven,
We give thanks for the pleasure
Of gathering together for this occasion.
We give thanks for this food
Prepared by loving hands.
We give thanks for life,
The freedom to enjoy it all
And all other blessings.
As we partake of this food,
We pray for health and strength
To carry on and try to live as You would have us.
This we ask in the name of Christ,
Our Heavenly Father.

Amen.

LH

And I Feel Fine...

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving home with Kiddo after his swimming lesson. The lesson had gone well, we were both in a great mood, and as we approached home, one of my favorite songs of all time came on the radio.

So I cranked it up, and Kiddo and I sang It's The End of the World As We Know It by R.E.M.

Well, we sang the chorus...all seventeen or so times it came around. And "Leonard Bernstein." I don't think even Michael Stipe knows the rest of the words.

Happiness is yelling "LEONARD BERNSTEIN!" in the car with your four year-old son at the top of your collective lungs on the way home from swimming lessons.

And I felt fine. =)

For any interested in the actual lyrics, here's the song (with subtitles):




(As a quick postscript, Kiddo was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when I found the YouTube clip for this post. He stopped watching "Curious George," a big smile came across his face, and he said, "I LOVE this song!!!" So of course we both had to sing along again.)

LH

This is an awareness test...

Watch the video--how many passes does the team in white make? Pay attention...the video makes a good point:



(Scroll down for a few further thoughts after watching the video)
.

.

.

.

.

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It's easy to miss something you're not looking for...how many of us fail to see God at work in our day-to-day lives simply because we aren't looking?

As Thanksgiving Day approaches, may we all be aware of our blessings. May we be looking to see where God is meeting us in the "stuff" of our lives, and may we be looking to find where and how God is calling us to serve our neighbor. It's there, and sometimes even obvious, if we simply look.

As obvious as a freakin' moonwalking bear.

LH

A Prayer of Thomas Merton

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Amen.

LH

A Birthday Gift of Sorts

Well, today would have been Pastor Larry Meyer's 62nd birthday. He was my friend and mentor, and basically the person who dragged me kicking and screaming into ministry. I've written about him a couple of times.

To keep a promise I made on Facebook, as I write this I'm finishing up a beer in his honor. Yes, it's just after 10 AM, but that was the designated Facebook remembrance time...and if today were a Saturday and there was college football on TV, it wouldn't be TOO horribly early, right? Larry loved his beer (and college football, for that matter). Mostly Schlitz, because it was cheap, but still was (sort of) beer. I didn't have any Schlitz available, but Bud Light will just have to suffice. Forgive me, Larry, for purchasing a 24-pack of Bud Light for 5 dollars more than a 30-pack of Schlitz would have cost me.

Larry, you would have called that bad stewardship.

But the beer isn't the gift.

No Larry, my gift to you today, as well as to the family who loved you and supported your ministry for so long, is this: my public announcement that, about ten years after you first made the suggestion, and about five years after you began the process of hounding me mercilessly, I've finally given in and have submitted an application for seminary. That's right, the M.Div. program. Ordination track. At Luther in St. Paul.

Damn it Larry, you win. Happy?

I know what your gut reaction would be. Bad stewardship. For about the same investment, the church could have had me already ordained, and next year I could be looking at a 5 year ordination anniversary instead of fretting over how I'm supposed to pass Koine Greek. But you never would have said that...to me at least. Or at least, not seriously. You would have said something to the effect of "better late than never," and then would have put me on a preaching and ministry schedule designed to give me a better first-hand education than I'd ever receive through lecture and discussion in a classroom.

Oh, about the classroom. Larry, you knew that one of my big hangups concerning seminary was the relocation part of it. Picking up my family for two years of classes, picking up again for internship, a third time for classes again, and then finally for first call. Luther Seminary now has what they call the Distributive Learning program for the M.Div. That means that I can stay in Lincoln, take about 2/3 of my classes online, take the other 1/3 on campus in St. Paul in short week-long intensives, and do my internship, CPE, and contextual education all here at home. Without that program, no way would I be doing this. I know it's a new program, and I know you were never all that hot on all this internet crap. But I also know that you were big on finding ways for folks who had the tools and the calling to pursue that call, and I can't help but think that you'd be telling me, "Well, I'd rather have you on campus, but if this is what it takes, then what the hell are you waiting for."

I'm not doing this for you, Larry. I'm not chasing ghosts here. But I do recognize that you were the one who got me back on the road that eventually led me to where I am now. There have been so many other twists along the way, so many other folks who have enabled the journey to continue. But today, this is my gift to you.

Happy birthday, my good friend. Soli deo gloria. And thanks for giving me an excuse to have a beer at 10 in the morning.

LH

Sounds Like Love 2008--"Twinkle, You Little Lutherans, Twinkle!"

It was about 9:30 Saturday night at the Sounds Like Love festival in the Twin Cities a couple of weekends ago. 500 high school youth had been rehearsing for over 6 ½ hours, singing songs, learning choreography, turning notes on a page into music for people’s hearts, and everyone was tired. Voices were straining, movements weren’t as crisp as they had been hours earlier, and it was getting hard to stay in focus and on task. There was a section of a Christmas song where different groups of youth were supposed to shine their mini-flashlights at different times, and it just wasn’t working the way it was supposed to. Finally, in a fit of directorial frustration, conductor John Jacobson cried out, “Twinkle, you little Lutherans, twinkle!!!”

I heard this exhortation of John’s and immediately thought two things: first, that is SO going to be on my church's Sounds Like Love t-shirts next year. Second, and this is more of a sign that I’m just a theology nerd than anything else—I thought, what a great take on that passage from Matthew 5, verses 14-16, which reads: “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” The last part of that we hear as part of the baptism service, a reminder that a life in Christ is not merely an adoption, but also a calling. Can’t you just imagine Jesus standing in front of us? Sometimes in encouragement, sometimes in frustration, but always in love, crying out “Let your light shine! Twinkle, you little Lutherans, twinkle!”

I had the pleasure of accompanying 24 of our high school youth and 7 other adults to the Sounds Like Love music festival in the Twin Cities last weekend. Sounds Like Love is, in a nutshell, an annual gathering of about 500 high school students who sing and learn choreography for 7 Christian choral songs, and then put on two concerts. Really, on the surface, that’s it. Pretty simple. But I’d be selling the work of the Holy Spirit short if I left it there. Because so many kids arrive expecting that surface stuff, but along the way something surprising happens. The Spirit shows up. The Holy Spirit, who as we profess in the Small Catechism calls, enlightens, and sanctifies us, makes an appearance, transforming the weekend from just a fun time of singing into a call into relationship, a call into mission, a call into participation in the act of opening hearts and lives to the goodness of the gospel. If you were one of the youth who went and are reading this, know that in the midst of geckos and “moosh moosh moosh moosh,” in the middle of trying to dig your flashlight out of your pocket while still trying to sing AND do the choreography with one hand, in the middle of the games, the silliness, the hard work…through ALL of it, YOU were missionaries in the truest and best sense of the word. You were on a mission: twinkle, you little Lutherans, twinkle!

During the weekend, the theme passage was Ephesians 4:4-6: “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” For the purposes of the weekend, it was boiled down into three thoughts: One Lord. One Body. One Hope. Our large group study time, guest speaker, and small group study all focused on what that means. What does it mean to proclaim one Lord who is over all and through all and in all? How does it transform the way we see those around us when we see them as fellow children of God, part of the same body, fellow travelers on the journey of life and faith? What IS the hope that we proclaim in Christ? Is it only for the next life? Or are we called as beacons of hope to shine the light of God’s love in the dark places in THIS life? Twinkle, you little Lutherans, twinkle!

Sounds Like Love. All weekend, we heard those sounds. We heard it through the laughter of friends, old and new, from 6 states and 23 churches. We heard it through worship and our worship leaders. We heard it through the welcoming hospitality of over 100 host families. We heard it through the adult sponsors who gave a weekend to allow our youth an amazing experience. We heard it through families and friends who drove 7 hours to be a part of the weekend and be at the concerts on Sunday. And yes, we heard it through the music itself. God’s amazing, unconditional, life-giving love for all was proclaimed through beautiful, life-giving music. Sometimes upbeat, sometimes awe-inspiring, sometimes tear-jerking, but always powerful and always the gospel. The message is this: you have a God who loves you so much that he didn’t allow death to have the final word. He didn’t allow sin to hold us captive. God loves you so much that he sent Jesus to die and defeat death through his resurrection FOR YOU. This isn’t because of anything you’ve done to deserve it. It’s through Christ alone. Through grace alone. And as the question asks, now that you know you don’t have to do anything, what are you going to do? Now that you’ve been freed from having to live for yourself, how are you going to live for others?

The answer? Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your father in heaven.

Or, in the words of that great theologian John Jacobson: Twinkle, you little Lutherans, twinkle!

LH

What if Santa was one of us...just a stranger on a bus...

"Why believe in a God? Just be good for goodness' sake." So reads the series of ads appearing on Washington D.C. buses, courtesy of the American Humanist Association.

I gotta give the AHA some props here. Running the campaign in November and December is good timing, as it's one of the two times of year that even the "Christmas and Easter" Christians turn their thoughts toward faith. And as a lover of puns, their take on "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" is witty.

But am I the only one who sees the irony here?

They're questioning belief in God...using not a religious symbol, but the very symbol most Christians associate with the commercialism, greed, and well...secularism...that has overtaken Christmas. They're using a secular symbol to represent a religious entity.

Yes, yes, I know that Saint Nicholas was a real person and so on and so forth. But the guy in the picture isn't dressed in the gear of a bishop. He's ready to hang out on some housetops with flying reindeer, or at least sit on a throne in your local mall.

Maybe I'm overthinking this, but in my humble opinion, by using the admittedly catchy double entendre of "be good for goodness' sake," they screwed up their message.

On top of that, their play on words is also taking advantage of some pretty bad theology. After all, they're implying that Christians don't just try to be and do good for the sake of being and doing good, but rather for some other reason. Maybe so God won't get mad at us ("us" being Christians). Or because the Bible says so and we're incapable of doing our own thinking on the subject. Or maybe because we need to live up to some sort of standard for salvation.

All of that, to be perfectly frank, is horse puckey.

Why do Christians try to be and do good? Precisely for the sake of being and doing good. Because Christ's death and resurrection has freed us from having to live up to any sort of standard, because we're free from needing to live for ourselves, we are empowered to live for others. That's the good news of the gospel--the good news isn't something that we have to wait for after we die (contrary to what many Christians would have you believe), the good news isn't that we no longer get to think for ourselves because the Bible does all our thinking for us (also contrary to what you'll hear from many Christians), the good news is that we have been freed from the power of sin, death, and all that seeks and serves to enslave.

We can live for the sake of our neighbor. Not out of fear, but out of love. That's a life worth living, and it unfortunately is what the AHA's ad campaign has distorted. I don't blame 'em. I honestly doubt it was through any malicious intent. The theology they're putting in our mouths is a theology that is often proclaimed, and loudly, wrong as it may be. It's just too bad that so many non-Christians have a distorted view of what Christian faith and life can be about.

We Christians need to re-frame the story we're telling. Because if we don't do it ourselves, others (like the AHA, or even other Christian groups) will do it for us. And we might not like the story they have to tell about us.

LH

Memory Walk 2008

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve written here…I’ve been a very bad blogger. As usual, it’s not been for want of things to write about, but the time, opportunity, and inspiration just haven’t been there all at the same time.

I still haven’t written about the Alzheimer’s Association Memory Walk back in September. Thanks to the generous support of friends, family, and even complete strangers, I raised $2,626 to help support Alzheimer’s research, treatment, and support programs.

The day itself was amazing. Gorgeous, sunny day, no wind, warm but not hot…and about 1,000 people came out to enjoy the sun and walk for a great cause. Sweetie and I arrived at Antelope Park after church, registered, got our t-shirts, and wandered around the booths that were set up, listening to the live music playing in the bandshell. Many of the folks there were wearing the official walk t-shirts, but many teams had made their own shirts—some with the name of the organization they were with, and others celebrating the life of someone they knew that they were walking for.

After a moment of silence in remembrance of those who had been affected by Alzheimer’s and a big countdown, the walk began. It wasn’t too long—maybe a mile and a half, but the experience of being in the midst of so many who for a myriad of reasons were united in the same cause as we were…just so incredibly powerful, AND empowering. There’s nothing like the experience of knowing that you’re a part of something bigger than yourself, and that’s exactly what the day was.

Thank you again, so many of you, through your contributions and prayers, through your thoughts and well-wishes, through your obvious care and concern, for helping make the day so special and for giving me and Sweetie the chance to feel as though we were able to DO something for my mom. Because of you, we raised more money than any other individual in the state of Nebraska for the 2008 Memory Walk. That’s something for each of you to be proud of.

I’m including some pictures here to give you a general idea of what the day was like:

LH

Pumpkin

Not much to say tonight but this one thing: as a dad, it really doesn't get much better than this...

LH

Oh Boy Oh Boy...Oh Danny...Boy.

I'm part Irish. Therefore, by definition, Londonderry Air brings me to tears. (Paired with the beautiful words of the hymn O Christ The Same, I can get downright inconsolable. But in a good way.)

Today, however, I was brought to tears of laughter by my beloved song. Have you ever wondered what it would sound like if The Swedish Chef, Animal, and Beaker from The Muppet Show sang "Oh Danny Boy?"

Neither have I.

But, in their typical ridiculously sublime fashion, the Muppets pulled it off. Watch and enjoy:



LH

Kiddo's Husker Experience

Saturday, my beloved Nebraska Cornhuskers took on the Virginia Tech Hokies in a highly anticipated game that was supposed to be the first real test for the Huskers (and their new coaching staff) this season.

Nebraska lost, 35-30. At times, they didn't look very good at all. As a fan, it was a disappointing night.

But as a dad, it was freakin' AWESOME.

My parents had tickets to the game, and as it turned out they were going to be out of town for the weekend. Sweetie had access to a ticket with her parents, so that meant I was able to take Kiddo with me. Section 16-B1, Row 85. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay up in South Stadium.

It's amazing how being with a 4 year-old can help mellow out even the most rabid fan (me).

Our day started well before kickoff, though. We left the house about 4:15, getting to our usual parking spot by 4:30. On our way to the stadium, we stopped by the HuskerPedia tailgate. HuskerPedia is probably the best online source in existence for Husker related news and bulletin board chat. I've been posting there for a few years now--one of the perks of being a member is that you can stop by the tailgate tent before each game and enjoy some great food, great beer and great company. Saturday, the great company included the Husker Elvises (I had my picture taken with them, but haven't gotten a copy of it yet) and Joe Orduna, who played for the 1970 Husker National Championship team. Joe was kind enough to sign Kiddo's hat, and he and I spent about 5 minutes talking about family, football, and just life in general. Good guy.

After having our fill of food (and an adult beverage), we made our way to the Husker Nation Pavillion, which is located right next to the stadium and has live music, facepainting, balloons, games for kids, and televised football on a gigantic screen. Kiddo got his face duly painted, and had someone make a balloon sword for him.

After finding our seats in the stadium, Kiddo just soaked in the atmosphere. He clapped along with the band's pregame show, delighting the fans around us by singing along to There Is No Place Like Nebraska. He was enraptured by the spectacle of the Tunnel Walk, even telling me afterward, "Daddy, during the Tunnel Walk I almost had tears in my eyes because it was just SO COOL!" and by kickoff, he was yelling right along with the crowd.

Until the second play of the game. Which was when he informed me that he REALLY had to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW.

Remember, we were in row 85...AND right in the middle of our row. I apologetically excused myself past the 8 people to my left, Kiddo and I walked down 20 rows worth of stairs until we got to the exit, then down a series of LONG ramps until we finally were at street level.

I found the men's room, took Kiddo in, waited patiently while trying to discern what the crowd noise above me meant (turns out VT had scored on a safety), had Kiddo wash his hands, then got ready to head back up to our seats.

It was then that Kiddo informed me that he was REALLY hungry.

No problem. We were down by the concession stands...we'd just stop real quick and grab something....

....hmmmm....funny. Where's my money?

I slapped my forehead as I realized Sweetie had it all.

For some perspective, I was in the south endzone. Sweetie was on the west side of the field, right on the north 10 yard line.

And apparently Kiddo was about to melt into a pile of nothingness without something to eat NOW.

SO...we went down another flight of stairs to get to field level, went around the corner to get into West Stadium, walked in front of the VT visitor section, and down the entire length of the field until we got to the north 10 yard line. Then up 17 rows...until finally Kiddo saw his mommy, grandma and grandpa.

Retrieving the money, we kept going up the stairs until we were at the concourse level in West Stadium, stopped by a stand for a couple of hot dogs and a big ol' lemonade, back down to field level, back to South Stadium, up the series of ramps, out to the stands, up 20 rows of stairs, over 8 people, and back to our seats.

Phew.

We watched the rest of the first half while enjoying our dogs and sharing our drink. After our first touchdown, Kiddo let go of the 3 red balloons we had been holding on to, and we marveled at the thousands of balloons that floated away (a truly COOL tradition, letting the balloons go after the first score).

At halftime, we had promised grandpa that we'd come down to visit, so we made the trek back to their West Stadium seats. by this time it was almost 9:00, and Kiddo, while enjoying the game, had started to get tired and ask when it was going to be done. In an attempt to hold him off, Sweetie suggested maybe we should get him some ice cream.

So we did...after standing in line for 20 minutes. Then came the trek back to North Stadium, Row 85. I was amazed the kid was still standing after all the walking he did.

Speaking of standing, we stood for the majority of the game, which was something I was ready for, but hadn't considered when bringing Kiddo with me. But he was a trooper, standing on the bench in front of us and watching the game through his binoculars.

The 20-something year old guy in front of us taught Kiddo how to cross his arms to "throw the bones" for the defense, and Kiddo led our section in the "Goooooooooooo Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig Reddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd...GO BIG RED!" cheer, which the fans around us got a BIG kick out of. Kiddo almost became our section's mascot--whenever the Huskers scored, everyone around us gave him high fives--and he just ate it all up.

Finally, when the game ended, I had the opportunity to teach him a little about sportsmanship. He asked why all the players were kneeling in the middle of the field, so I explained that they were saying a prayer together, and that even though they were on opposite teams, they could still say a prayer to God together. As the players finished praying, the Virginia Tech section started chanting--when Kiddo asked why, I said that they were happy that they won, just like we'd be happy if we won, and that it was okay to be happy for them.

"In fact, you know what?" I asked him. "Something that Husker fans do that I think is REALLY cool is this--whether we win or lose, after the game we clap for the other team when they leave the field, and tell them that they did a good job." So as we made our way to the stairs, we clapped for Virginia Tech as the players ran off.

Even with all the walking, even with the standing in line, even with the Huskers losing, even with the completely pointless unsportsmanlike conduct penalty against Bo Pelini in the 4th quarter, I had an incredible night.

Because I was with my son.

On our way from the parking lot

Kiddo and Sweetie at the HuskerPedia tailgate

Watching the game...check out Joe Orduna's autograph on his hat!



Cheering from Row 85

In Mommy's seats at halftime

Kiddo takes in the Tunnel Walk

Gooooooooooooooooo Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig Redddddddddddddddddddd...GO BIG RED!

LH

Coventry Health Care Doesn't Care About Babies!

Okay, that's a little strong, but I just got off the phone with their customer service folks earlier today and had promised myself that if I got the answer I thought I was going to get, that I'd be sure to let the world know.

This is a good place to start.

Here's the deal. Our health insurance is through Coventry Health Care of Nebraska. Our plan covers preventative care at 100%, up to $500 per person annually...after which there is no preventative coverage at all.

So far, not MUCH of a problem. I'd rather see it be subject to deductible and coinsurance after hitting the $500 limit, but okay. I'll deal.

Here's my problem. Unlike EVERY other health care plan I've been on, the $500 limit ALSO INCLUDES CHILDREN UNDER A YEAR OLD. When you consider that just setting foot in the doctor's office runs over $100, not to mention all the vaccinations they receive...that's a hell of a lot of uncovered care.

My kids' pediatrician sees children about a week after coming home from the hospital, then at a month, 2 months, 3 months, 6, months, 9 months, and a year. Each time we've gone in since the one month point, there's been at least one immunization, and usually more like 3 or 4. Some of these vaccines run over $100 a pop.

I don't want this to turn into a debate over immunization safety, so please don't go there. The point is that subjecting children under a year old to the same $500 limit WITH NO COVERAGE AFTERWARDS makes it real tempting for parents to not get the kind of preventative care their child ought to have. Basically, you use up your entire year's allowance by the second visit, then you're stuck paying the rest out of pocket.

Not only is it not in the best interest of the kids, I'd think from a business standpoint if you're responsible for paying claims if kids get sick, that you'd want to encourage parents to do everything they could to have their kids NOT GET SICK. And those first year checkups are vital...not just for the immunizations, but also for catching problems early that could grow into bigger ones later. Not covering those first year appointments just doesn't make sense to me either from a care standpoint OR a business standpoint.

I'm going to be writing a letter to Coventry, and this way when I tell them that I've started informing people what their stance is on early childhood health care, I'll be telling the truth.

LH

Nashville

I had the privilege of spending this past Thursday through Saturday at the Foundations youth ministry conference in Nashville, Tennessee. It was sponsored jointly by Youth Ministry Architects, an outfit headed by Mark DeVries (whose articles in Group magazine are some of the few worth reading, IMO), and the Center for Youth Ministry Training.

Unlike most youth ministry conferences, this wasn't about the latest and greatest programming. All of the workshops, speakers, and presenters revolved around the structure of ministry. It was a crash course in systems analysis...and I took more useful information away from those three days than I ever have for any professional conference. Ever.

The weekend wasn't all work, though. Here's a few non-ministry tidbits that I found interesting. You may not find them quite as interesting, but this is my blog, so read on. Or don't.

First, I flew down to Nashville by way of Memphis, which is about an hour's drive from where I was born in Blytheville, Arkansas. When I was a little kid, we used to meet my grandparents at the Memphis airport when they'd come to visit...it was also where we'd fly out of when we'd visit extended family. So, in a strange little way, my hour-long Memphis layover was kind of a homecoming for me. I hadn't been there in about 30 years, after all. Pretty cool.

Second, while I was in Memphis waiting for my plane, a familiar bald head walked past me. For those who don't know (or remember), one of my dirty little secrets is that I'm an American Idol junkie. I quickly ruffled through my mental roladex, and realized that Phil Stacey, one of the American Idol finalists from a couple of years ago, was sitting about 20 feet away. Phil used to be in the Navy, and came off as a really decent human being on the show. Good guy, totally in love with his wife and kids, and committed to his faith. I wanted to respect his privacy, so I left him alone until about 5 minutes before our plane was ready to board, then I walked over to wish him well and ask for a picture. Turns out he was heading back to Nashville (on my flight) after doing some shows in various casinos and clubs across the midwest. We talked about life and family for a few minutes, and he did end up posing for a picture with me:

Third, my conference was held at Brentwood United Methodist Church in suburban Brentwood. There's a Christian musician named Mark Schultz who most folks don't realize got his start as a youth minister at Mark DeVries' church a few blocks away. At Mark's invitation, he came back to do a mini-concert in the BUMC youth area for the 80 or so of us in attendance. One of the songs he sang is called Walking Her Home, which follows a couple from their first date through their last night together in a nursing home. I had heard the song one other time before the concert, and like that first time, I was left a sniffling mess afterwards. Here's a video of that performance:

There's a couple more things I'd like to write about, but it's bedtime. Those will wait for another time.

Goodnight.

LH

ESPN Hates You

I saw this elsewhere...good stuff. And it's so true, too...although ESPN really DOES hate the Huskers. And I bet it loves anchovies on its pizza. Because I hate 'em. =)


ESPN hates you.

And more importantly, ESPN hates your team.

ESPN will go to any length to diss your team. Any length. You know that LSU coozie you used to have but can’t seem to find? ESPN took it. Because ESPN hates LSU. That is, if LSU is your team.

It has nothing to do with you being too passionately involved in both liking your team and hating other teams. ESPN just likes to mess with your head. That's why when Mark May says something like 'LSU has question marks at quarterback. Watch out for Florida in this one' you get mad. Sure, you just read the same thing in the Times Picayune. But the Times Picayune isn't ESPN - who clearly is having a love affair with Urban Meyer and the Gators while simultaneously throwing the LSU Bengal Tigers under the bus every chance they get.

Unless you're a Florida fan. In which case the time that Chris Fowler made that dig about Urban Meyer's 28-point loss to Alabama is clear evidence of an ESPN-wide plan to, in fact, shut the UF football program down.

Remember that time ESPN ran a story about your favorite player getting arrested? Nevermind that he actually did get arrested. That's bull. ESPN is bull. And it is obvious that, by running timely stories about factual events, ESPN is biased against your team.

It doesn't matter who you pull for.

Whoever your favorite team is, ESPN hates it. ESPN hates anything you love, and loves anything you hate.

ESPN hates your dad. Unless you hate your dad. In which case ESPN loves your dad.

If you love bread, ESPN is 'anti-sandwich.' If you hate end-pieces, ESPN will run a special about end pieces. Mark May will hold up two hard, crusty end pieces and hype the hell out of them all year long. Bob Ley will run a special called ‘Outside The Loaf.’ Ivan Maisel will write a column with a pun-filled headline like 'The piece to the end puzzle' and mind-force you to read it and then email him in anger about it.

If you were for the Union, ESPN was for the Confederacy.

If you had a Sega Genesis, ESPN had a Super Nintendo. If you had a Super Nintendo, ESPN had Sega Genesis.

If you liked like Tombstone, ESPN liked Wyatt Earp.

If you preferred Use Your Illusion I, ESPN preferred Use Your Illusion II.

If you pulled for Dan, ESPN pulled for Dave.

If you think OJ is guilty, ESPN is black.

ESPN hates everything you stand for. Unless you stand for something else. Then ESPN hates that too.



LH (who ESPN hates)

2 Days!!!!

Only 2 more days, and the long, dark time of waiting known as the offseason will be over. Husker football begins again, and hope springs eternal!!!

GO BIG RED!!!!!

Memorial Stadium in the fall...the band is on the field, the jets are doing a flyover, and football is about to be unleashed!!!

LH

Memory Walk Update

The more time that's gone by, the more amazed, touched, and downright humbled I've been at the response to my request for donations for the Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk. The walk itself is just under four weeks away, and with the help of friends, family, and even relative internet strangers, we've raised...

$2,165.

Over twenty-one hundred bucks that will be going toward Alzheimer's research, treatment, and support for families with loved ones who suffer from this evil disease. What a wonderful tribute you all have paid to my mom, who many of you know, but even more of you do not. She, my dad, and I are deeply grateful.

I've gotta admit, though--when it comes to this cause, I'm greedy. Not for myself...not on my own behalf...but because I want so much for this very worthwhile organization to have as many resources at its disposal as possible.

Alzheimers--you've made this personal. And I'm gonna be part of the collective butt-kicking I expect you to receive as we find out more about you, the way you operate, and how to put you away once and for all.

A HUGE thanks once again to all of you out there who have helped in this fight.

If you want to read more, my initial post about all of this is here.

And the donation link is here.

UPDATE (to the update):

My mom will be participating in an Alzheimer's drug study. I just got more info on the study last night. The drug is called Bapineuzumab. Here's what clinicaltrials.gov has to say about this study:

This is a multicenter, double-blind, placebo controlled, randomized, outpatient
multiple dose study in male and female patients aged 50 to 89 years with mild to
moderate AD. Approximately 200 study sites in the US and Canada will be
involved. Patients will be randomized to receive either bapineuzumab or placebo.
Each patient's participation will last approximately 1.5 years.Bapineuzumab is a
humanized monoclonal antibody, which binds to and clears beta amyloid peptide,
and is designed to provide antibodies to beta amyloid directly to the patient.

It's beta amyloid peptide that causes the "brain tangles" that most scientists think cause Alzheimers. So the hope is that the drug will bind to, clear out, and prevent the return of that stuff. According to the site, 3/4 of the participants will receive the drug, while 1/4 will receive the placebo--and neither the participant nor their doctor will know what they're getting during the trial.

I know my mom's excited both to be able to help in the fight against Alzheimers AND at the possibility that in the process, this drug may be of benefit to her as well. It's this kind of study that the money from the Memory Walk helps to support.

So, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, thanks again, and God bless.

LH

"That's one funny sheep you've got there..."

Tonight after dinner, we were playing with Pumpkin on the floor while Kiddo was upstairs getting ready for bed. Sweetie took this little soft rattle that's shaped like a multicolored sheep and pretended like it was running toward Pumpkin.

This was quite possibly the most hilarious thing that Pumpkin has seen in her 5 1/2 months of existence. At least, judging by her reaction.

I mean, we've heard little giggles from her before. We've heard her scream happily when she's doing something she enjoys. But tonight was the first full-out no-holds-barred belly laughing that we've heard from our daughter.

It was beautiful.

Enjoy the video:



LH

Odds and Ends

Odd and End #1:

This will be the one item that is non-chronological, BUT it must be Item The First in terms of importance--today is Sweetie's *mumble mumble* anniversary of her 29th birthday!!!! Happy birthday, Sweetie, and thank you for making me the luckiest guy on earth. I love you!

Odd and End #2:

Going back a few days, now...Friday, I took a group of high school kids from the church out to Camp Carol Joy Holling for a "last weekend before school starts" retreat. We played paper charades (AWESOME game, btw), did a couple of Nooma Bible studies (also AWESOME, btw), played Capture the Flag in the dark as well as a couple of games of hide and seek, had a campfire with smores, did a series of trust-building games and activities...you know, starting with human knots, going to trust leans and trust lifts and trust falls...that sort of thing. We cooked out hot dogs, and then spent 3 hours in the afternoon on this:

The Camp Carol Joy Holling Commitment Course. To give the picture some perspective, it's a bit over 50 feet high, with two levels of high ropes elements, most of which involve finding very difficult ways of getting yourself and 4-5 other people across what amount to tightrope wires with various things in the way while being held up by nothing but a tether. Then, when you've gone through the 10 or so elements, ending it with a couple of hundred foot zip line back down to the ground.

It ROCKED. Seriously, incredibly rocked. I have a pretty tight-knit high school group, but I saw these kids working together in ways I never would have thought possible. And I got to participate with them, which was great for me. Well, mostly great. The course itself was amazing, but the non-amazing part brings us to:

Odd and End #3:

I came down with strep throat. And I'm pretty sure it started Friday night, while I was out at camp. Yeah, with the kids. About 3 hours after arriving, I suddenly got this horribly sore throat, and had the hardest time sleeping that night because I didn't want to swallow. Overnight, I started to get congested, so much so that by mid-morning I was convinced that I had a really bad case of allergies. I borrowed some allergy meds from the other adult sponsor which helped me feel a little better and get through the day, but I seriously was considering still not going on the commitment course. I told myself, "okay, come on...it's for the kids," and pushed on through, but by the time we got back to Lincoln Saturday evening, I was exhausted and had a definite case of the chills. Took me unil Monday (and a 103.3 fever) to get to the doctor, but sure enough, strep it was. But now, after two days on antibiotics, life is MUCH better. Much, much much much better. I still have a freakishly annoying cough and some decent congestion, but I'm finally feeling like a human again.

I still have yet to unpack my van from the weekend, though. Gotta get to that soon.

Odd and End #4:

More pics (and a video!) of the kids to share:

Yes, that's Kiddo going down the freakishly large blow-up slide and riding on the fast turny-thing carnival ride from the family day at his grandparents' church here in Lincoln. Sweetie was there with both kids by herself because I was shivering at home in a strep-induced haze, so that meant anything Kiddo wanted to do he had to do it alone. For those that know him (he's always been a little...shall we say...timid about these sorts of things), these pictures will be a much bigger deal than perhaps to the average viewer. But they're cute nonetheless:



And Pumpkin continues to grow--in the video below this picture, you can see how much she enjoys bouncing in her ExerSaucer. Fun times!!!!

Odd and End #5:

Last one, I promise. About a month ago, I announced that I was raising money for the Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk in honor of my mom. Well, today we passed a milestone that I never thought was possible...we've raised over $2,000. I can't say enough thanks for all who have been a part of this--on behalf of my parents, as well as my own thankfulness. This whole experience has been incredibly overwhelming.

FWIW, the original post with the donation link is here.

LH

Like Father, Like Son...Like Daughter?

Um, not much to write here. Just a few captions.

This is me, in 1974:

This is Kiddo, in 2004:

Aaaaaand...this is Pumpkin, in 2008 (last night, actually):

'Nuff said.

LH

The Many Faces of Pumpkin

Tonight, while I was busy at church leading a high school Bible study, Sweetie was busy with the kids and the camera. And she got some great shots. Kiddo has a very expressive face, and it appears as though his sister may be following in his footsteps.

May I present to you, The Many Faces of Pumpkin:

Ain't she a beauty? =)

LH

An update

I can't believe it. I really, truly, can't believe it.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted about my mom's early-onset Alzheimer's, and how I'm walking in the Lincoln Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk in September. The link to that post is here.

Thanks to the generosity of so many, as I type this we've raised $1,430 for the Alzheimer's Association in honor of and in support for my mom.

And many of these gifts have come from complete strangers. Maybe I know some of your names, maybe we've commented on each other's blogs or been engaged in an online conversation over at HuskerPedia...but for all practical purposes, we're still strangers. We wouldn't know each other if we bumped into each other on the street.

I'm amazed. Touched.

I've sent out thank you emails to most folks who have donated (I think there's a couple that came in yesterday that I need to get emails out to still), but I have to admit that it's been a big struggle to come up with words that adequately describe the deep sense of gratitude I feel for every dollar that has come in, and for every prayer that I know has been said.

Like I mentioned in the initial post, this is something intensely personal for me--it's not just another good cause that I want to support. It's one of the few opportunities I have to actually do something, instead of sitting around feeling sorry or sad or angry or hopeful (yes, sometimes hopeful) about the whole situation.

So thank you. Thank you for helping make a difference. Thank you for enabling me to actively fight against this evil disease that robs so many of their mind and spirit way too early.

Thank you.

If you're interested in donating, here's the donation link again. You can donate online with a credit card, or you can print out a form and send it in with a check (the link for the form is on the donation page, underneath the "donation thermometer"):

http://lincolnmw2008.kintera.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=269890&u=269890-226978816&e=1807203036

God bless.

LH

Called to (and through) South Dakota

Check out this transcript of a Facebook conversation with a student that I had Tuesday afternoon after returning from the high school mission trip we took to the Pine Ridge reservation in South Dakota:

ME: My mind has just been swimming ever since we got back from SD...I think God began something special last week, and I'm trying to wrap my brain around exactly what it may be.

THEM: Yeah... I've had this feeling like something is different.. I just haven't been able to figure out what exactly it is though... Though I will say... I don't find myself wanting a new phone or a new laptop as much as I used to... every time I think of wanting something that I don't really need... I find myself thinking about how fortunate I am to have what I've got already. This trip has helped me in so many ways... My faith had been dwindling and a lot of confusion in what I was meant to do in life.... I now find myself stronger in my faith then ever... That and I will never forget the kids in Wanblee...

My friends, God was at work last week! Two adult sponsors and I drove three minivans with thirteen students to Kadoka, SD on Sunday. We were there with three other church groups—from Iowa, Minnesota, and New York City. From Monday through Thursday, these youth (and adult sponsors) painted over gang graffiti; picked up entire vanloads of garbage; led the children of Wanblee, a reservation town, in Kid’s Club; visited a nursing home; refinished a deck; and built relationships with the residents of the reservation; all while sleeping on a church basement floor; taking turns making meals for the whole group of 72; worshipping together; having 45 minutes of daily devotion time each morning; and making new friends from all around the country!

In short, it was an amazing experience, and God’s hand was everywhere throughout the week:

• We saw the face of Jesus in kids like Marguerite, who was 4, had fetal alcohol syndrome, and could barely talk or control her bladder. She had fits of rage and liked to run away…but she craved attention and love. And the reward of her smile, when it came…it was beautiful.
• We saw the face of Jesus in the grandmother whose house we painted, who had raised 3 kids of her own and now had taken in 3 foster children whose parents were in jail for meth distribution. She makes gorgeous quilts, and lots of clothes for her neighbors, family, and friends…but told us she’s too busy making it all to have time to actually sell any of it. She gives it all away.
• We saw the face of Jesus in Brian, Y-Vo, Evan, and Kaylene, the college-aged YouthWorks staff who gave their summer to stay in South Dakota and minister to both the people there, and the high schoolers who come in week after week.
• We saw the face of Jesus in the other groups who served alongside us—people from different cultural, geographical, and denominational backgrounds, but who became close friends through our time together during the week.

And I saw the face of Jesus in the youth of the church I serve. Day after day, these high school youth worked hard, gave of themselves without regard for what they might get out of it, and showed selfless love for a community and a people desperately in need of it. To the people they encountered, there is no doubt in my mind that they were the face of Jesus. They preached the good news of God’s love through every blister, every paint splatter, every kick or punch from a kid, every drop of sweat and sunburn, every act of love that they showed. They lived out, in many unexpected but exciting ways, God’s call to them through their baptisms. I was proud to be there with them.

Why Pine Ridge? Why were we there? Here are some sobering statistics. On the reservation, the unemployment rate is 85%. 97% live below the poverty level. 22% of homes have no telephone. Per capita income is $3,700 per year. The adolescent suicide rate is 4 times the national average. With the kids we saw at Kid’s Club, easily 1 in 4 had some measure of fetal alcohol syndrome or developmental delay due to in utero drug use. The town of Wanblee, where we served, is best described as an urban inner-city experience in the middle of a rural setting. Gang graffiti, boarded-up houses, and vacant lots make up much of the town, and there’s very little in the way of infrastructure. This is a place in desperate need of God’s hope and God’s healing, where those who follow Christ are called to “do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God,” in the words of Micah 6:8.

Before we left, I had four different people come to me individually to tell me that they thought this might be the beginning of something bigger than just a one week service trip. While we were there, I challenged our youth to look for ways to bring this week of service home. God’s got some ideas brewing in our youth right now…and so I've passed the same invitation and challenge on to the rest of my congregation. Are there ways that we are being called to live out Matthew 25 (“when you did it to the least of these…”) or Micah 6:8 on the Pine Ridge reservation?

I can't wait to see what God's up to!!!

LH

A Franciscan Blessing

Finding the face of Jesus in the kids of Wamblee, SD

I just got back from leading a high school mission and service trip to Wanblee, SD in the heart of the Pine Ridge reservation (more on that another time). While I was there, one of the leaders read the following blessing at the end of a worship service. It really spoke to me, and I thought it would serve as a good introduction to what I anticipate will be a series of blog entries about my time there...we experienced so much in that short week, it will honestly take a bit of processing for me. So much pain and hopelessness--and yet, so much of God's face at the same time.

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you forever.

Amen.

LH

2008 Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk

My mom, with Kiddo...about 2 years ago.

In my almost 2 years of blogging, I think this is the first time I will have used the blog for an appeal. But there's always a first time for everything, right? And this is for a cause that especially hits home for me.

This is where the "confession" part of my blog title comes in, because there's something that's been a big part of my life for the last three years that I haven't mentioned in this little online forum up to this point. Most of you probably don't know that my mom was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's 3 years ago, at age 55. She's a lifelong nurse, a former caseworker for the Eastern Nebraska Office on Aging, a Stephen Minister at her church, a smart, loving, and caring woman, and the best mom (and grandmother!) a person could ask for. I want to do my part to help end this disease not only for her, but for the millions of others who have been and will be affected by Alzheimer's.

To that end, I'll be walking in the 2008 Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk, which raises money for Alzheimer's research and treatment. The walk here in Lincoln will be on September 21st at 1 PM.

I had originally set a goal of raising $500 for walking, but here's where I ran into a most wonderful problem. The generosity of folks, many of whom I've never met, has been more than I ever could have imagined! 2 days ago was when I first started soliciting donations...and in less than 48 hours, I've raised more than $600!!!!

SO...I've set a NEW goal of raising $1500. A couple of days ago, I would have figured that would be impossible, but now...I think we can not only meet that, but exceed it.

Together, I know we can do this!

Here's a link where you can make a donation. They have buttons for specific donation amounts, but if you click "other" you can make a donation for any amount. Even a dollar will help!!! (btw...if you're not comfortable making an online donation, or would rather just not use a credit card, there's a donation form that you can print out and send in with a check. The link for the form is on the donation page, right underneath the little donation thermometer thingy.)

http://lincolnmw2008.kintera.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=269890&u=269890-226978816&e=1807203036

If you have any questions, feel free to comment or send me an email: lutheranhusker at yahoo dot com (thanks to spambots, I can't type out the full address). Also, if you know of anyone who you think might be willing to help out, don't hesitate to send them a link to either this page or my donation page.

And thanks. From the bottom of my heart, thanks. I promise not to turn my blog into a "cause of the month" type of thing, but this is so incredibly important...and personal.

God be with you.

LH

"We're walking, we're walking...we're stopping."

A couple of days ago, Kiddo and I had the chance to go on a guided tour of Memorial Stadium, where the University of Nebraska Cornhusker football team plays. A former colleague of my father-in-law had set up a tour for his family and friends, and had invited my father-in-law, who had then invited us. (Thanks, Bruce!!!)

So of course we went. I wouldn't want to let my son down, right?

Had to do it for my child. Uh, yeah. I really didn't want to go, but I had to do it for him. I mean...the chance to be on the field, to go into the pressbox, to see the new weight room, the training table, the wall of fame with the portraits of the academic all-Americans...I wished I didn't have to be there, in all of these awesome places, in the home of my favorite college football team...but in the end, I decided I'd make the sacrifice.

For Kiddo.

Oh, the things we do for our children. =)

There were about 10-12 adults and about 10-12 kids of varying ages on the tour, which lasted about an hour. Kiddo just took it all in, even asking me a couple of questions about things he saw along the way.

It was a phenomenal afternoon, one that I'll never forget with my son, and perhaps one described better through pictures than words:

Grandpa points out the championship trophies

Kiddo: "I remember that these are important trophies, but I can't remember why."

Kiddo: "Hey! Those look like real footballs, except they're shiny!"

The pillars have the names of every player to ever earn a football letter at Nebraska.
The portraits on the wall are of all the Academic All-Americans.

Kiddo and I in the south endzone

"Daddy! I'm gonna make a touchdown!"

The horseshoe that the players hit on their way out to the field

In the pressbox: "Look, Daddy...I can see the State Capitol!" (Just not in this picture...) =)

"Yes, I'm proud to have been named the Huskers' starting QB for the 2022 season. Next question?"

LH

Up, Up, and Away!!!

This is the sight that greeted me upon my return home from work yesterday evening.

No, the trampoline doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to the folks who live behind us.

That’s right…the ones on the other side of the 6 foot privacy fence.

I had left work at about 4:35…by about 4:40, I had driven into some light sprinkles. By the time I reached downtown Lincoln, it was raining pretty steadily and the wind had started to come up. Heading up I-180 past Memorial Stadium, the rain became torrential and the wind whipped so hard I had trouble driving in a straight line. Traffic slowed down to 25 MPH or so (the speed limit is 60) as wave after wave of water fell sideways.

1 ½ miles later, when I got to my exit, it had all died into a light sprinkle.

And by the time I got home…nothing. (It started up again a little bit later, but this time just a good steady rain…nothing like it had been before.)

Except there was this monstrosity of a trampoline in our backyard. With a little piece of our fence missing. And our barbeque grill had tipped over and slid halfway across the deck. And all the deck furniture was crumpled in a corner.

It was a quick, wicked storm.

Our backyard neighbors were home last night. We kept waiting for the inevitable ring of the doorbell or phone call with the apology for the broken fence slat and an offer to help fix it and take the trampoline back.

It never happened.

So, being the passive-aggressive Midwesterner that I am, I decided to wait. I had just mowed the lawn the day before, I was busy and tired and frankly had better things to do than worry about what to do with a broken, upside-down trampoline that didn’t belong to me.

It was still there this morning. And when I got home after work this afternoon.

I had a Bible study to lead this evening, and Sweetie stayed home with the kids. When I got back, the trampoline was gone. No phone call, no knock on the door, no asking to come into our backyard to retrieve their stuff.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not really all that big of a deal. But I’m still mildly annoyed.

On a less annoying note…cool quote from Bible Study tonight. One of the kids was talking about those folks who claim being a Christian made their lives all happy and rainbows and puppies and such. She didn’t put much stock in such claims, saying, “if nothing bad ever happens to you, then you don’t need faith. Your life is just one big pile of yay.”

One big pile of yay. I love it.

LH

Parenthood In Any Language

A couple of days ago, my family was walking into IHOP to meet some friends for brunch. As we made our way through the parking lot, we passed a family of four on their way out. As they approached their car, the mother said something in Spanish to the kids, who were probably about eight and five years old. The kids replied, opened the back door to the car and the five year old climbed in.

The eight year old remained outside. By this time, I was at an angle where I couldn’t really see what he was up to…but I knew he hadn’t yet gotten in the car.

The mom said something else in Spanish, this time a bit more sharply. Then, in a tone of warning that every parent knows and I suspect just about every child has heard, she began counting. Slowly.

“Uno…”

(Pause)

(with a bit more emphasis) “DOS…….”

And, as most children do, the child waited until about "dos and a half" to jump in the car, just in the nick of time.

Just goes to show—no matter the culture, no matter the language, parents will be parents…and kids will be kids.

LH

Friends

Yesterday, I was granted a glimpse of what friendship means.

Kiddo was playing with his best friend Z and Z's younger cousin A (RevScott's daughter).

They were playing with rakes. Yes, that's right, rakes. There's an empty patch of land in the yard at Z's house that in previous years has been home to a garden, but since the house is on the market this summer, they decided not to plant anything.

Kiddo and Z wanted to rake it. and generally make a lot of noise and a little bit of a mess.

The moms were inside talking, so we dads put our heads together and figured, sure--why not. Rake away, kids.

They were having a grand time of it, when A decided to toddle over and ask to play with one of the rakes:



Z's dad asked Z if he would give the rake he was using to A so she could play with it for a few minutes. Z dutifully listened to dad and handed it over without a complaint.

Then he watched Kiddo and A happily raking away, and decided he didn't like the situation after all. Running a few feet away, he flopped on the ground and held his chin in his hands, pouting. (Which actually showed a good deal of maturity on his behalf...not many 5 year-olds immediately agree to something they know they don't want to do...like giving up his "toy.")

Kiddo noticed this, dropped his rake, and came over to ask Z what was wrong:

Z didn't answer.

Kiddo looked at Z, looked back at his rake, looked at Z again, and decided to lay there with Z:

And there they lay for about two minutes...which was about the time it took A to decide she was bored with the rake.

Sometimes the greatest act of friendship (or love) consists of just making the decision to be there...to come alongside another person, lay down in the grass, and hold your chin in your hands next to them until things get better.

There's a lot to be learned from watching our kids.

LH

Blessings

Kiddo had a haircut appointment this evening at 6, which meant I picked him and Pumpkin up from daycare, I stuffed a bottle in Pumpkin's mouth so she'd have a little something to tide her over, we all loaded up in the van and headed out.

I told Kiddo that if he was a really good boy at his haircut and sat really still, we could stop at McDonalds afterwards for supper. In reality, we just didn't have time for supper ahead of time so we would've been stopping at Mickey-D's anyway, but when one has the chance to dangle perceived rewards in front of a 4 year-old, one always takes advantage of the opportunity.

So one did.

Sweetie had a long day at work, so she wasn't able to join us until after we had arrived at McDonalds. True to his word, Kiddo had been great at his haircut, so we all ordered, then Sweetie took the kids to find a table while I brought the food over.

I got back up to get ketchup and napkins, and apparently Kiddo wouldn't let Sweetie start eating until I got back so we could all say prayers together. So we said our usual mealtime prayer ("come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let these gifts to us be blessed. Amen."), and Kiddo added his usual postscript petitions concerning Pumpkin and the world and rocketships and Ellie and Aunt C.

And then we ate.

While we were in the middle of our meal, the two ladies in the booth behind me got up to leave. Before they did, they came over to fawn over Pumpkin (I mean, who wouldn't?). =) They asked how old she was, and Kiddo offered them the information that he was four and she was four months.

The older of the two ladies said "you are so blessed. God has blessed your family, and it's wonderful to see."

We agreed, of course.

She continued, "I'm 96 years old and get around just fine. God has blessed me, too. God is good."

The other woman (who HAD to be her daughter...she looked like a clone who was 25 or so years younger) helped her up and complimented our kids. They both said their goodbyes and left.

I looked at Kiddo, Pumpkin and Sweetie, and just thought, "ma'am, you don't even know the half of it."

God has blessed our family so richly. I don't know why...we certainly haven't done anything to deserve it. But we are blessed. That doesn't mean life's a big ol' bowl of cherries or that nothing ever goes wrong or that we live in this happy la-la land. But because of the strength we have as a family, because of the mutual love and support, because God has placed himself at the center of who we are and what we're about, when the bad times do come we can remain joyful and thankful.

That is the true blessing of my family.

LH

Because I KNOW you haven't seen enough pics of the kids!

I've had this tension in my life the last month or so...I've been in an extremely creative mood, but at the same time I've felt extremely tired.

And based on my posting, you can guess which has won out pretty much every time. Yup. That's right, I haven't exactly displayed a whole lot of creative writing in my posts.

And tonight, that's not gonna change one bit.

Pumpkin is 4 months old now...she's 14 lbs 4 oz. and 24 3/4 inches long, and still cute as a button (which thankfully comes from her mother). And Kiddo's still the proud big brother. It's fun to see the bond the two kids are developing--Kiddo can make Pumpkin smile like nobody else can, and he just loves her to pieces.

I'm just a lucky guy. No two ways about it.

Here's some updated pics:

Happy little girl!!!

Smiling at Big Brother

Kiddo as the Hungry Caterpillar

Sure wish I knew where my kids got their silly streak from... =)

LH

The Difference Between Cats and Dogs

Saw this elsewhere. Made me laugh hysterically. Decided to share. =)

The Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!



The Cat's Diary

Day 983 of My Captivity

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously mentally challenged. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...

LH

Confirmation Camp...or, who's the REAL turkey here?

I'm out at Camp Carol Joy Holling this week with 8 soon-to-be 8th graders enjoying the wonder that is known as Confirmation Camp. Good kids, looks like good weather, and even air-conditioning in the cush-camp quarters for us adults who don't feel like "roughing it" at night anymore!!!! (Wireless internet, even!!!!)

I have the kids for 2 1/2 hours of Confirmation instruction in the morning, and they get to do the regular "camp thing" with their counselors for the rest of the day, which gives me the freedom to travel from group to group and sit in on what my kids are doing with their counselors, or just find my own bed and take a little rest time if I need it.

It amazes me that I used to be able to do this for a whole summer...one full day here, and I'm already beat. But happy. The staff is great, the kids are having fun, learning, and acclimating, and I got a sweet picture of a group of turkeys at a worship site around 6:45 this morning!!!

I'll check in again. Until then...

LH

My Church Kids

I love my church kids. They rock. And no, this isn't just an attempt to brownnose them, even though I know a number of them venture over here from time to time--I'd be writing this post even if that wasn't the case. =)

Two examples:

1) We just finished a week of Vacation Bible School. About 150 kids, with about 80 helpers. Of the helpers, about 40 of them were middle or high school kids.

That, by itself, just totally rocks.

There's a longstanding tradition that once the VBS week is over, the middle and high school kids stay to help clean up and tear stuff down, and once that's done...then comes The Mother Of All Waterfights in the parking lot. Today's lasted about 2 hours, in 90 degree heat. Aside from the actual waterfight (which was fun AND refreshing), the really cool thing was that there was really no need for me to be there.

I mean, I needed to be there to spend time with them. I needed to be there just because there really ought to be an adult around...just in case. But I didn't have to play Mr. Policeman--they just had fun throwing water at each other and then drying out and eating freeze-pops when it seemed like it was time to settle down. I was there as the "responsible adult" (no snickering, please) but I didn't have to act the part. I could just enjoy my time in fellowship with them.

Any of you youth who may be reading this...you have no idea how absolutely awesome it is to just be able to spend time with you, without having to worry about so much of the crap that other youth directors I've talked to have had to deal with. Seriously--thank you. It really means a lot to me.

And how cool is it to have a job where I get paid to run around the parking lot throwing buckets of water at people?!?!?!

2) Our high school summer Bible study is one I'm creating from scratch. I've called it Faith on the Radio--The Gospel According to Hits From the 60's, 70's, and 80's. This past Tuesday was our first session, which was on faith and doubt, and how they relate. We looked at Show Me the Way by Styx and I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For by U2.

The discussion had been going great, and after looking at Hebrews 11:1, and the "doubting Thomas" story, we had sort of gotten to the point where we decided faith and doubt were two sides of the same coin. Here's the discussion that followed:

Me: So, I guess we could say that faith and doubt are two different sides of the same coin.

Youth#1: Yeah, they're pretty much opposites.

Me: Now, wait...is doubt the opposite of faith...or is it knowledge...experience...that kind of thing?

Youth#1 and Youth#2: Woah....

Youth#2: Hm. If faith and doubt are two sides to the same coin, then knowledge would be like having both sides of the coin as heads. Because you'd already know what was going to happen, and wouldn't need faith.

Youth#1: That should totally be a Facebook quote!!!!

Me (beaming inside, thinking to myself): This. Is. Fun.

LH

Before they were stars...

Okay, I have a confession to make. I've only recently begun to watch The Office on NBC. Before March, I only knew that it came on either before or after Scrubs on Thursdays (I can never remember which, and thanks to the magic that is the DVR, I never really have to worry about it).

It is, in fact, thanks to the magic of the DVR that I even began watching The Office at all. Desperately in need of something both new and interesting to keep my attention during late night feedings so I wouldn't nod off, one day I just started going through the channel guide on the DVR. When I got to the listing for The Office, I remembered that a couple of people had told me I'd really enjoy it...and a few others whose taste I respect really enjoyed it themselves.

And as a former resident in a "cubicle hell" environment, I figured I'd probably get a lot of the jokes.

Boy, was I right on all counts.

I love love LOVE LOVE LOVE this show. The writing is smart and hilarious, the cast of characters both quirky and recognizable (yes, most office environments have someone resembling even Dwight Schrute!). And the best part is that I have 3 1/2 seasons worth of episodes that for right now are brand new to me.

For me, even the reruns aren't reruns. Yet.

So anyway, there I was, watching my very first episode of The Office sometime in March while feeding Pumpkin at about 2 in the morning. I noticed the receptionist character, Pam Beesly (yeah, that's her in the picture above), and couldn't stop thinking that she looked awfully familiar. After the feeding was done and Pumpkin was tucked into bed, I came back downstairs and did a quick internet search. I found out the actress's name is Jenna Fischer, and went to wikipedia to see what else she might have been in that I'd recognize.

When the page came up, I was about to scroll down to find her filmography, but before I could, two things caught my eye. The first was her date of birth--March of 1974. "Hm," I thought. "She's a month older than me."

The second was this sentence: "She received a Bachelor of Arts in Theatre from Truman State University."

Um, that's where I went to college.

Now, I'm not trying to insinuate that Jenna Fischer and I were BFFs in college (best friends forever, for any dear readers who might be wondering), but I do know this much. I thought she looked familiar. I didn't recognize any of her work other than The Office. Truman State isn't tiny, but isn't exactly a gigantic school either (about 6,000 total undergrads). Based on our age, we would have been there at about the same time. AND, I did have some friends in the theatre department and went to a bunch of their shows to support them.

Somewhere along the line, I bet we crossed paths.

Nothing earth-shattering there, I guess...but still interesting to think about.

In mildly related news, I noticed in the closing credits that the Executive Producer of The Office is a guy named Michael Schur.

Um, that's my last name. And there sure (haha) aren't a lot of us around who share that name.

A quick search reveals that Michael is originally from Connecticut.

My folks are from Massachusetts. Their hometown is pretty much right on the border with Connecticut.

Anyone have a family tree handy???

LH

And the cat came back...

This week is Vacation Bible School week at my church, and Kiddo is participating. Monday, as I was driving him home after it was finished, I asked him about the Bible story he had learned. Here was his response:

"Well, Jesus healed ten...um...well Daddy, I can't remember if it was ten tigers...or cheetahs...or leopards. But Jesus healed all of them and then only one came back to say thank you."

Oh, the world of a four year-old, where it would be perfectly normal for a large jungle cat to come back and say "thanks" to Jesus.

LH

Fathers' Day

I have the coolest son ever.

Friday, we were sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner, when I told Sweetie that my parents were going to be coming over later.

"They'll be dropping off a weather radio and my Fathers' Day gift," I told her (my dad had gotten us one of those NOAA weather radios where you can program which counties you get the alerts for).

When he heard the words "Fathers' Day gift," Kiddo's ears perked up. You could almost literally see the lightbulb above his head.

"Mommy? I want to tell you a secret," he said. And he walked over to her. Looking at me, he said, "Daddy, don't hear this."

I immediately agreed and tried to look like I was paying attention to my salmon filet and rice.

Now Kiddo knows how to whisper, but his whispering is almost at stage-whisper level, where he really might as well just be talking. So I heard his side of the conversation clear as day.

"Mommy, I want to get Daddy a Fathers' Day present."

Sweetie must have whispered back that the mp3 player they got me for my birthday was also my Fathers' Day gift, because Kiddo whispered/whined "NO...I wanna get him another present."

Sweetie: (unintelligible whispering)

Kiddo: "What's a good present? what does Daddy like?"

Sweetie: (unintelligible whispering)

Kiddo: "He likes Junior Mints."

So later that evening they went out, presumably to pick me up some Junior Mints. As I put Kiddo to bed that night, he was excited. "Daddy, I picked out a present for you...you're gonna loooooove it!"

He kept talking about it yesterday, too--in fact, he couldn't get to sleep last night because he was afraid he was going to forget that today was Fathers' Day.

So this morning, I started to come downstairs. Kiddo and Sweetie were already in the living room. Kiddo said, "Wait...Daddy, stop!" I waited for a moment while I listened to some scurrying around. Finally, I got permission to enter my living room. Kiddo said, "wanna open your presents?" I said, sure, so he told me we were going to play "Hot and Cold" for me to find them.

He led me into the kitchen, and did a great job of guiding me to the corner where three wrapped presents awaited me.

Kiddo was so excited as I brought them into the living room. I opened the first one--it was a Mounds candy bar. "They didn't have Junior Mints," he said. "Do you like this kind as much as Junior Mints?" I assured him that I indeed did (which is true--dark chocolate and coconut goodness...mmmm....).

I opened the second one. It was a can of Moxie. "I know you really like pop," Kiddo said.

Then came the third one. It was like a little snow globe, only instead of white snow they were sparklies. And inside was a bear holding an American flag. "Do you like it?" Kiddo asked, expectantly. "I picked it out all by myself."

Here’s a picture of it:

A little context…we’re trying to watch our money, so Sweetie and I had decided to forego gifts for each other on Mothers’ and Fathers’ Day, and just stick to cards. Sweetie later told me that when they were at the store, Kiddo had seen this figurine on the shelf and had begged and pleaded with her to let him get it for me. She looked at the small, overpriced and...well, kitchy figurine and tried to explain that I had already gotten my present, but he wouldn't hear of it. Kiddo insisted that I’d “really, really like it” until finally, she relented. He just wanted to have something for me that was just from him. It was an act of pure giving, and pure love.

Pure love and pure giving through no deserving of my own, other than the fact that someone else has claimed me as their own? (Yes, I try to be the best dad I can be, but I labor under no pretense that I deserve the unconditional love Kiddo has for me. It is truly a gift--one that I cherish and cling to, but not one that I deserve.)

Leave it to my son to remind me of the wonder that is grace.

It will be many years before he realizes exactly how much that kitchy little teddy bear American flag snow globe figurine means to me.

Thanks, Kiddo. You're the best son a dad could ask for.

(And thanks, Sweetie for playing along and helping him make this such a special day. I love you.)
Some pictures from this last week of what makes me such a lucky dad:

Kiddo and Pumpkin on our back deck last week (while Daddy was mowing)

Kiddo's ready to run me down on his new "big boy" bike (with training wheels...)

Pumpkin "posing" by the posies (okay, they're not posies, but allow me some creative license here!)

LH

On camps and tornadoes and shelters

In the past 30 hours, I've gone from incredibly sad to incredibly angry.

From all accounts, the scouts and their leaders at the Little Sioux Scout Ranch Boy Scout camp in Iowa did everything they could yesterday when a tornado ripped through the camp. It sounds as though they handled the situation as well as they possibly could have. Many of them ought to be hailed as genuine heroes for their actions in helping take care of each other after a horrific event.

But they were let down by their facility.

From what I've read, all of their buildings had slab floors. There were no underground storm shelters.

None.

I know it's the Boy Scouts. I know they operate on shoestring budgets. Believe me, I understand. I work for the church. But I don't care how little money your organization has...if you're in the midwest, and you don't have the money to have an underground storm shelter, you don't build the camp. There's a reason they call it Tornado Alley in this part of the country, for crying out loud!

I was a camper and later a counselor and sorta "middle management" for Camp Carol Joy Holling, a Lutheran church camp near Ashland...all told I spent the entirety of 5 summers there on staff, and 6 other partial summers as a camper. I was a counselor during the infamous summer of 1993, with all the floods and severe weather. This camp depends on the church for its funding...not exactly a cash cow. But it does have underground storm shelters for all its campers on all its various sites. To hear of what happened in Iowa just absolutely rips my heart out, because it frickin' didn't have to happen.

The kids that were killed--and many of the kids that were injured--it wasn't because they were caught outside hiking. They were prepared. They had taken shelter. They were inside a building.

But their shelter let them down.

I love kids. I think the ministry that comes from camping can be some of the most life-changing stuff God has to offer. I don't get mad very often. But I'm hopping mad right now, because what should have been just a scary close call ended up killing and injuring kids. And it didn't have to be that way.

So, what to do?

If you're a parent, I urge you to make sure that any camp you send your kids to is ACA (American Camping Association) accredited. There's pretty stringent guidelines that camps have to follow to receive their accreditation, one of which is ensuring adequate underground storm shelters.

And if there's a camp that you support or send your kids to that isn't ACA-accredited, ask their board of directors why not. And then offer your support--whether it be in labor, money, or both. Even if you don't pick up a shovel to directly dig a shelter, any volunteering you do for them is money saved for them that they can spend in other places...like storm shelters.

As a camp staffer, you follow a hierarchy of needs similar to Maslow's. First and foremost, you ensure your campers' safety. If that's taken care of, then you can attend to their comfort. Once you've done that, then your campers are in a position where you can help them grow.

It's easy, and tempting, especially when budgets are tight and you rely on the giving and goodwill of others, to skimp or cut corners on the first and focus on the second two.

But that's unacceptable.

Lives change at camp. Camping has been a BIG part of my life for many years. I met Sweetie working at camp. I count many of the folks who run Camp Carol Joy Holling as close friends. I have supported that camp in many, many ways over a number of years.

But I still maintain...if as a camp, especially in the Midwest, you're not able to provide underground storm shelter, you ought not to be operating until you can.

Period.

LH

Camp Tornadoes

Last night, we had a number of tornadoes tear through the area. The sirens a few blocks away from our house went off four separate times between 7 and 10 PM, and at one point, based on what the weather guys were saying, I was fairly certain our part of town was going to get hit.

We're fine, thankfully. There's flooding in the area, but none at our house. And no confirmed tornado touchdowns in Lincoln, though a number of funnel clouds were spotted in the sky above the city last night.

One of last night's tornadoes made national headlines, as 4 Boy Scouts were killed and 48 injured at Little Sioux Scout Ranch, a camp in Iowa, north of Omaha off of I-29. Another tornado was reported near Greenwood Nebraska, and was reportedly headed toward Ashland, which put Camp Carol Joy Holling, the camp that Sweetie and I met at, right in its path. We haven't seen any news from that, so I suppose no news is good news right now...especially since there's a few of my youth group kids at camp right now. In the past, this also would have been the week that I would have been at camp with my confirmation kids, but I changed from the traditional week our church had been going because it always would have fallen over Sweetie's and my wedding anniversary (number 8 this year--woo hoo!!!).

And while I DO love camp, sorry...it's always gonna take a back seat to my anniversary.

But it did get me to thinking back to my days as a counselor and site manager. One night in particular. It was the summer of 1996, and I was the site manager at Main Site (now called Trailhead). Basically, what that meant was I was kind of in a "middle management" position. There are 5 sites at camp, each one with its own program. The site managers oversaw their team of counselors (anywhere from 5 to 15 counselors, depending on the site), and reported to the Program director, who oversaw everything.

On this particular evening, we were supposed to go to Inspiration Point for fun campfire, followed by evening worship. Inspiration Point is on top of a big hill, and offers a beautiful view of the surrounding Platte River valley. But the clouds had been doing funny things all afternoon, we were under a bunch of severe weather watches, and some nasty stuff apparently had started to form in the central part of the state, a couple of hundred miles away. I consulted with the Program Director by walkie talkie, and together we decided that it would be best to move fun campfire to a spot closer to the storm shelter. The kids (and counselors) were a little disappointed, but I told them we could do it there, or we could do it inside, or not at all.

Kinda like some of the "choices" I give Kiddo--my choice, or two choices I know he'll hate.

So anyway, campfire finished, smores were consumed in mass quantities, we moved a short way to an outdoor worship spot (even closer to the shelter), and began worship. Each day, a different group of kids (guided by their counselor) is responsible for planning evening worship. It's a great way for these kids to actually put some thought into what worship really is, how it's structured, what the different parts are...stuff that they may do over and over at home, but don't really think about what it is or why it's there. If there are pastors there with kids they've brought, often they'll be asked to speak at evening worship.

This particular night, it was Pastor Joe Marek giving the mini-sermon. I sat in the back row with my walkie-talkie glued to my ear as I half listened to Pastor Marek talk about grace in our lives, and half-listened to our program director give us site managers weather updates. There were severe thunderstorm warnings a county to the west of us, and while the existing storm looked as though it would pass to the north of us, they were worried that it was growing to the south at the same time as it was heading east, so we might not be out of the woods.

Suddenly, our program director said, "confirmed tornado near Greenwood, headed toward Ashland. Get your kids to shelter STAT and check in immediately after."

I froze for just a second.

Pastor Marek was still preaching.

How does one go about interrupting a preaching pastor? And when would I ever again have the excuse to do so?

So I stood up, and walked slowly to the front, where he was standing. "I'm so sorry to interrupt," I said, "but I need to talk for a minute." Pastor Marek stepped aside. Turning to the kids, I said, "we'll finish worship, but we need to do so inside. Kids, hold on to your songbooks, and I need you to find your counselor. Please don't talk unless your counselor is asking you to check in with them. Counselors, when all your kids are accounted for, come to the Holling House basement with them...do not go inside until you have told me your name and that you have all your kids AND I have told you to go in. We need to do this quickly. I'll see you in a minute."

In a matter of a minute or two, all fifteen counselors were with their kids and were checking in with me at the door to the basement. We squeezed everyone inside, on the floor of the basement, and I had each counselor do one last head count. In less than 5 minutes, we had about 100 kids, 15 counselors, a couple of pastors, and a site manager who was trying to look strong but was shaking inside all in the Holling House basement. I checked in with the Program Director, who was in her own tornado shelter in a different part of the camp.

Only then did I tell the counselors that our area was under a tornado warning.

And then we finished worship. In the middle of the storm, not knowing what was going to happen, we worshipped. And when we were done, we sang some more songs. songs of praise, songs of joy, some goofy camp songs...songs to remind us that God was good.

Everyone's pillows, sleeping bags, etc. were down in their tents, and the Program Director said that once this line of storms went through, things looked as though they were going to be relatively calm for the rest of the night, so I didn't worry about trying to force the kids to sleep. Instead, we continued to sing. As time went on, we moved into quieter music, more contemplative, more peaceful. A few kids leaned against the wall and started to snooze.

Finally, about two hours after we were initially called into the shelter, we were given the all-clear and I let everyone go back to their tents. The tornado ended up doing some damage to some fields--twisted trees, destroyed pivots, that sort of thing--but stayed away from our camp, as well as other populated areas.

So last night, when I was in the basement with my family, feeling fairly certain that at any moment a tornado would be bearing down on my house, I listened to the weather guy saying there was a tornado "near Greenwood, headed toward Ashland." Transported back twelve years, I re-lived worshipping in another basement, also fairly certain that at any moment a tornado would be bearing down on where we were.

And after the news of the camp in Iowa, I prayed. And to be honest, I cried a little bit.

It was a strange night of emotion and memories.

LH

***Quick update: After I posted, I checked my email...there was one from Camp Carol Joy Holling letting me know that all the kids are safe, and that as far as they could tell there was little to no damage from last night's storms. I can breathe a little easier now...