Nacho Libre is the movie of our life. If you haven't seen it, go now, so we can talk of holy things.
Saturday, we were reminiscing about how the boys called Jessie "Sister Encarnacion."
About a month ago, we had a discussion. What are we going to call her? Not just Jessie. Or other names they have for her. Joe has called her "Mommy" quite a bit. John has been hesitant. For the longest time we thought it was about divided loyalties. But he kind of broke down and said that if he called her "mom" he was afraid something bad would happen to her, too.
He got that out, and now he and Joe both call her "mom," and keep "Mommy" for Melissa.
So back to Saturday. They started singing Jack Black's Encarnacion song, but changed it to "encarnaci-mom."
I had to fight back some tears through hilarious laughter when John said, "Orphans, smile and be happy..."
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Slowing Down
Michael and Becca Hughes came over to the Friday night dinner. They are moving into the neighborhood, just down the street, so we are very happy to have them with us. But they also came over because Michael and I are doing some music tomorrow in worship: “He Reached Down,” an Iris Dement song; “Moses Put Your Shoes On,” a kind of fast bluegrass number; and Kris Kristofferson’s “Why Me, Lord?” I am playing mandolin on the first and last, which is an instrument I am really getting to love. Luckily, Michael can carry a lot of the load, so I just show up and play a few chords—cause that’s all I know…
Around the dinner table, Michael, Rebecca, Melissa, Jessie and I got into a discussion that started out on how if you love the medieval period (and Michael and Becca did some architecture studies in Italy), this “postmodern” thing is no surprise. They may be nothing more postmodern, Michael said, than a baptistery he saw in… and I can’t remember the city! I agree; the cathedral of Notre Dame—postmodern. James Joyce knew that the Pearl-poem was more “modern” than his novel, Ulysses.
We got into crop biodiversity. And the slow food movement. And why the slow food movement has not necessarily invaded other aspects of our lives—such as relationships, or work. Michael opined that it’s because of a perfect storm that happened in urban planning and house development: cars, air conditioning, and t.v. Cars have us going all over, abandoning the “places” of our lives for significant stretches. AC means no more big porches. And t.v. means you look at the box, and you don’t have to talk to anyone.
Can technology aid the slowing down? So far it doesn’t look good. My Blackberry does if I make it—that is, I get more done during the day and turn it off at night. Otherwise, I ended up doing stuff I did not finish at home. Michael and I were on youtube looking up Bob Dylan and Bill Monroe. So there’s a chance to use it for a purpose besides something that is just done alone.
It will take some real thinking about how to slow down.
Around the dinner table, Michael, Rebecca, Melissa, Jessie and I got into a discussion that started out on how if you love the medieval period (and Michael and Becca did some architecture studies in Italy), this “postmodern” thing is no surprise. They may be nothing more postmodern, Michael said, than a baptistery he saw in… and I can’t remember the city! I agree; the cathedral of Notre Dame—postmodern. James Joyce knew that the Pearl-poem was more “modern” than his novel, Ulysses.
We got into crop biodiversity. And the slow food movement. And why the slow food movement has not necessarily invaded other aspects of our lives—such as relationships, or work. Michael opined that it’s because of a perfect storm that happened in urban planning and house development: cars, air conditioning, and t.v. Cars have us going all over, abandoning the “places” of our lives for significant stretches. AC means no more big porches. And t.v. means you look at the box, and you don’t have to talk to anyone.
Can technology aid the slowing down? So far it doesn’t look good. My Blackberry does if I make it—that is, I get more done during the day and turn it off at night. Otherwise, I ended up doing stuff I did not finish at home. Michael and I were on youtube looking up Bob Dylan and Bill Monroe. So there’s a chance to use it for a purpose besides something that is just done alone.
It will take some real thinking about how to slow down.
Largest Black Methodist Church in Kentucky
A few weeks ago, Dwight Ashley came to the Rock. He has a music ministry that is really something. He just has a powerful voice and testimony and praise. He sings across all styles it seems, but he has a decidedly black flavor. It’s soul music in every sense of the word!
That Sunday morning, Michael Hughes said he had thought about going to a black church, but came to the Rock… you just never know what it’s going to be!
We are within striking distance of being the largest black United Methodist Church in Kentucky. But we’re not black. Not white. Not Hispanic.
Tomorrow, Anthony Everett is coming to preach. He is the director for African American church development for the Kentucky United Methodists.
Can we dream that we will worship, not according to the color of our skin, but the confession of our souls?
That Sunday morning, Michael Hughes said he had thought about going to a black church, but came to the Rock… you just never know what it’s going to be!
We are within striking distance of being the largest black United Methodist Church in Kentucky. But we’re not black. Not white. Not Hispanic.
Tomorrow, Anthony Everett is coming to preach. He is the director for African American church development for the Kentucky United Methodists.
Can we dream that we will worship, not according to the color of our skin, but the confession of our souls?
Friday, June 26, 2009
They peed in my baptismal
It is a Lebowski moment. Andres points out that someone peed in our watering trough that we use for baptisms.
Whose hide do I take this out of?
Who is the Jackie Treehorn behind this. The nihilists, I can find them easily enough...
Whose hide do I take this out of?
Who is the Jackie Treehorn behind this. The nihilists, I can find them easily enough...
I'm an Uncle
My brother Nate and my sister-In-law Heather, have had their baby girl, Emersen.
Click on the link to their blog under "my peeps" to see that sweet little baby
Click on the link to their blog under "my peeps" to see that sweet little baby
Science Fiction Church
I grew up around Air Force personnel, on Air Force bases, and I spent a lot of time in the library. Air Force libraries have pretty decent science fiction sections, because so may of the airmen are in such high tech jobs, that science fiction is not far off from their day to day. Radar technicians, jet fuel labs, weapons/payload masters, jet engine mechanics, you name it. Occasionally I would meet them in the library and they would point me to the classics. I spent a lot of time reading Philip K. Dick, Robert Heinlein, Frank Herbert, Poul Anderson. In a lot of ways science fiction did not seem far off to me, either. Part of sci-fi is a kind of mind-numbing and exciting diversity of cultures. On some days I woke up, went to my neighbor Urban’s house, had good German bread with hot chocolate made from fresh sheep’s milk, then I’d go to the base where it was little America, but still a little tweaked. We moved a lot, made friends with all kinds of people.
Some days I would wonder, “will it be like Stranger in A Strange Land? What will it be like to interact with completely different people and mindsets?” And then I came to The Rock. It’s hard to tell what drives things. Have we accreted the groups we have—White and Hispanic to begin with, then African, then seeing class as culture in the white population, then African American, now possibly an outreach to refugees from Nepal—have we become this and it looks like Ensign Flandry’s world, or the court of Shaddam IV? Or is it something in our imagination, something embedded-- a kind of speculative anthropology—pulsating, in the Gospel?
Some days I would wonder, “will it be like Stranger in A Strange Land? What will it be like to interact with completely different people and mindsets?” And then I came to The Rock. It’s hard to tell what drives things. Have we accreted the groups we have—White and Hispanic to begin with, then African, then seeing class as culture in the white population, then African American, now possibly an outreach to refugees from Nepal—have we become this and it looks like Ensign Flandry’s world, or the court of Shaddam IV? Or is it something in our imagination, something embedded-- a kind of speculative anthropology—pulsating, in the Gospel?
Saturday, June 20, 2009
more of the good, the bad and the ugly
Friday was a huge evangelism day. I mean, that’s all it was, and I needed it. There is a part of doing evangelism that is therapeutic, something the Lord provides. Any time I start complaining, my friend Steve says, “who have you shared Christ with today?” Usually the answer is nobody! So I go out and find someone. Pretty soon, you realize that there is great need out there for the salvation that is found in no one else but Jesus, and what was bugging you while it may still be there, doesn’t seem so important.
Friday was visiting in the neighborhood and then helping Rosario do some evangelism downtown.
First house I met someone home, I knew it was a mistake to knock. I remembered the house as my hand was knocking. It’s a family where the two sons like to get drunk and grope women and the mom will cuss you in a heartbeat. Well, after I knocked, I hear a hard, woman’s voice (close your eyes if you’re of delicate sensibilities): “God damn it! If that’s Mike, I’ll run his ass off! That son of a bitch!” For information purposes: Mike is her son…
She flings the door open, I smile sweetly and say, “it’s not Mike, it’s worse. It’s the preacher.”
She came out kind of sheepish, but then was right back at it. “I know you, you’re that preacher at the church with that woman from the Bottoms!” I know she means Martina, our administrator. Martina used to be the pastor at the Nathaniel Mission in Irishtown, sometimes called Davis Bottom, or simply “the Bottoms.”
“That woman was hateful to me! Ran me off from the Mission, and I was born and raised there!”
“Well, to tell the truth, I have known Martina for 12-13 years, and that doesn’t sound like her. She must have had a reason.”
“She didn’t have no reason…”
“Do you remember what you were saying when I knocked on the door?” I repeated what she said. “You were jacked up before you even knew who was here. I bet she did have a reason.”
She said something about never coming to my church. That’s fine, it wouldn’t do her much good in that state anyway.
So I ambled on down the street, but she went right behind me to every house and said who knows what. I figured the day would be a wash with her hot on my tail, so I went to the only place on that street I knew a crazed preacher could be treated right: there’s a porch full of drunks in various stages of recovery and sobriety, so I sat with them until I figured mean old lady was back in her house and it was safe to go home…
____________________________
Kingsford Competition Briquets are some good charcoal. Last night, I smoked some ribs, and that charcoal burned long and hot enough to keep the smoke from the applewood rolling. A kid we know came by and asked nonchalantly if he could spend the night. Jessie knew right away what was up and why he did not want to go home. So we let him stay. We talked about what was going on and how for a couple of days he has thought about banging on the door late at night to see if he could stay. He said we ought to put one of those yellow Safe Place signs on the house. When you work with the poor, when you do evangelism, there is a never-ending line of people ready to kick your butt. But if you do the work, you’ll know why you do it, and why you’ll take the beating. So we stayed up late, smoking more ribs, an aroma pleasing to the Lord.
___________________________________
Roz is having a series of 3 welcoming services building up to a big service in the Fall, hoping to increase visibility, let people know about the church. So we have been passing out ice-cold water this week downtown, along with information about Embrace, his church. Couldn’t have asked for better days—hot, so people want the cold water.
Most folks are receptive, a few don’t want to be bothered, one hates church, one said he won’t come, but wants the water.
____________________________________
A word about the future. The church in America will be on hard times by the end of my life. It’s not just about declining numbers, or the secularization of the Church. It’s not even about the attack on the church by ACLU-type legal activity. It’s more about being a minority. When you are a minority, you can guarantee that your rights will be trampled, and beyond that, what you do will become more difficult. While we may like to think that the society and justice work on ideals, they really operate on what’s popular. So while taking prayer out of schools and ten commandments out of courthouses is a problem, it’s only a symptom. An example, the reason smoking is being “phased out” is not so much because of health, but because fewer people smoke. Alcohol is a serious problem, but there’s not near the effort put into stamping it out because enough people want to drink that they’re willing to put up with billions in lost productivity, death, serious health problems and dysfunctional families.
It won’t matter that people believe in the ideal of freedom of religion. When people are more secular, when Christians become more and more of a minority, no one will care. We might ought to hasten this along. I say let’s lose as many “rights” and privileges as we can. Then what we’ll have left is serious Christians, because the lukewarm people won’t want to be marginalized. Then maybe we can have a real revival.
Friday was visiting in the neighborhood and then helping Rosario do some evangelism downtown.
First house I met someone home, I knew it was a mistake to knock. I remembered the house as my hand was knocking. It’s a family where the two sons like to get drunk and grope women and the mom will cuss you in a heartbeat. Well, after I knocked, I hear a hard, woman’s voice (close your eyes if you’re of delicate sensibilities): “God damn it! If that’s Mike, I’ll run his ass off! That son of a bitch!” For information purposes: Mike is her son…
She flings the door open, I smile sweetly and say, “it’s not Mike, it’s worse. It’s the preacher.”
She came out kind of sheepish, but then was right back at it. “I know you, you’re that preacher at the church with that woman from the Bottoms!” I know she means Martina, our administrator. Martina used to be the pastor at the Nathaniel Mission in Irishtown, sometimes called Davis Bottom, or simply “the Bottoms.”
“That woman was hateful to me! Ran me off from the Mission, and I was born and raised there!”
“Well, to tell the truth, I have known Martina for 12-13 years, and that doesn’t sound like her. She must have had a reason.”
“She didn’t have no reason…”
“Do you remember what you were saying when I knocked on the door?” I repeated what she said. “You were jacked up before you even knew who was here. I bet she did have a reason.”
She said something about never coming to my church. That’s fine, it wouldn’t do her much good in that state anyway.
So I ambled on down the street, but she went right behind me to every house and said who knows what. I figured the day would be a wash with her hot on my tail, so I went to the only place on that street I knew a crazed preacher could be treated right: there’s a porch full of drunks in various stages of recovery and sobriety, so I sat with them until I figured mean old lady was back in her house and it was safe to go home…
____________________________
Kingsford Competition Briquets are some good charcoal. Last night, I smoked some ribs, and that charcoal burned long and hot enough to keep the smoke from the applewood rolling. A kid we know came by and asked nonchalantly if he could spend the night. Jessie knew right away what was up and why he did not want to go home. So we let him stay. We talked about what was going on and how for a couple of days he has thought about banging on the door late at night to see if he could stay. He said we ought to put one of those yellow Safe Place signs on the house. When you work with the poor, when you do evangelism, there is a never-ending line of people ready to kick your butt. But if you do the work, you’ll know why you do it, and why you’ll take the beating. So we stayed up late, smoking more ribs, an aroma pleasing to the Lord.
___________________________________
Roz is having a series of 3 welcoming services building up to a big service in the Fall, hoping to increase visibility, let people know about the church. So we have been passing out ice-cold water this week downtown, along with information about Embrace, his church. Couldn’t have asked for better days—hot, so people want the cold water.
Most folks are receptive, a few don’t want to be bothered, one hates church, one said he won’t come, but wants the water.
____________________________________
A word about the future. The church in America will be on hard times by the end of my life. It’s not just about declining numbers, or the secularization of the Church. It’s not even about the attack on the church by ACLU-type legal activity. It’s more about being a minority. When you are a minority, you can guarantee that your rights will be trampled, and beyond that, what you do will become more difficult. While we may like to think that the society and justice work on ideals, they really operate on what’s popular. So while taking prayer out of schools and ten commandments out of courthouses is a problem, it’s only a symptom. An example, the reason smoking is being “phased out” is not so much because of health, but because fewer people smoke. Alcohol is a serious problem, but there’s not near the effort put into stamping it out because enough people want to drink that they’re willing to put up with billions in lost productivity, death, serious health problems and dysfunctional families.
It won’t matter that people believe in the ideal of freedom of religion. When people are more secular, when Christians become more and more of a minority, no one will care. We might ought to hasten this along. I say let’s lose as many “rights” and privileges as we can. Then what we’ll have left is serious Christians, because the lukewarm people won’t want to be marginalized. Then maybe we can have a real revival.
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