Reflections on Moldova

I've finally settled back into a normal sleep cycle; awakening at 3:30 am feeling like-I'm-late-for- something was wearisome (Moldova time is 8 hours ahead... 3:30am would be lunch time there.) The main thing I carry with me from Moldova is the people I've met while helping with Operation Mobilization.
I think of Dana, our Romanian guide who tirelessly poured out herself to the children of the poverty-stricken villages; through singing, playing field games and even illusions/tricks she let those children know they were special... precious. Her gentleness and humility were a great asset to her leadership on our trip. She was also hopelessly in love with Eugen, and was constantly texting him during her down time... ah, young love.
Nate Sloan was the energetic catalyst of our team. Nate is a Houston guy, postponing his junior year at Baylor to explore a calling to experience world missions and ending up in Moldova. He was at the end of his term and had become fluent in the language. I love how God used his love of sports and child-like impulsiveness to melt the hearts of the children we met. A classic memory is in the village of Antoneşti-- Nate, the hairy football linebacker is crawling and scrambling all over the playground equipment, much to their delight, evidenced by the squeals of his 'prey'! Or the rough and tumble wrestling match with Iosef. Or the US v. Moldova soccer match in the OM courtyard. Or standing there at the sink in the OM kitchen, washing the dishes of a group that just came in from Canada-- a gracious service to weary brethren and to the kitchen staff who already left for the evening. Or awakening again (roosters start crowing at 4:30 am, dogs never stop barking) at 7 am to the sound of Nate playing his guitar downstairs and singing worship songs to start his day. Inspirational blessing.
I think of Claudia, the OM missionary from Switzerland who also served as translator. Claudia has the heart of a pastor, taking time to listen one-to-one to the children that were lonely, or sensing an opportunity and leading a child to pray to receive Christ. Or taking a moment to listen to the grieving story of a Moldovan woman who is dealing with the scars of breast cancer. Claudia's quiet strength and humility never raised herself up to be recognized; instead she quietly served others and let others experience popularity whose personalities were more atuned to such delicacies.
I am reminded of Brother ("Frate") Nicolai and his wife, Nina, and their seven children. Nicolai has the heart of an apostle, starting 7 churches already and raising up local leaders to tend the first 5. Nicolai often spoke in scriptural metaphor.. if only I knew his language! He started a greenhouse for raising tomatoes and cucumbers, which were served at every meal in all the homes we visited. He took me to visit a retired school master, a mathematics teacher who survived the soviet purges and was hungry to learn about the Bible and things formerly forbidden. Claudia came and interpreted; I don't know what was expected of the encounter, but I know that Nicolai has been praying for the spiritual transformation of this faithful member of his congregation in Antonesch. Nicolai also had a playful spirit, but I'm afraid much was lost in translation. Memories of Nicolai include him stopping off at homes in his little cargo van, delivering food to the needy; going to pick up the children in the second village, Tegheci, fearful that the local authorities would persecute them for playing soccer in the town field because they were from the Bible church (the Orthodox Church is politically connected with the communists in Moldova); practicing English words as earnestly as I was trying out my poor attempts at Moldovan. His children were: Ina,Vera, Iulia, Iosef, Samuel, Abram, and little Valerica.
Other OM friends we met were Eugen, a dear friend of Nates who used his soccer skills to reach the local boys in the village. Also Barb, who was the staff leader there, a Canadian grandmother who has faithfully served there for years, yet longed to return to see her grandchildren in Canada.
Our local contingency from Houston included Dave and Kate Sloan (father and sister of Nate), Bryan and Julian Tantzen (father and son team with soccer skills), and big ol' Jason Roberts. Jason was a favorite target of Abram and Samuel's ninja skills, sometimes reenacting the rise of the Lilliputians on Gulliver! Kate was great at holding and cherishing and loving on the children.
Last of all were the villagers we met in Moldova. I am reminded of Veleri and wife Angelica, faithful Followers who persevere in the last village visited, threatened with death or being burned out of home, and constantly being interrogated by city officials because of their faith in Christ. (God, please heal Angelica, and encourage their 2 boys.) I think of our hosts in Antonesht, Sora ("sister") Maria and husband George, and their precious granddaughter Gabriela-- who like so many children are left behind as parents go off to foreign countries to find some form of employment. I think of how the countenance of the children changed over time, from stoic reservation at our initial coming to the giggling joy they had by the time we left the villages, from trying to encourage the children to come to VBS at first, to have groups of children waiting in the streets to accompany us to VBS in the following days... the smiles that erupted when we called them by name: Ion, Sasha, Roman, Alina, ...God, please remember your children in Moldova.
I encourage each of you to consider some kind of cross-cultural mission experience; it will stretch you! Memorable moments on this trip include: how to use the Moldovan toilet; how to bathe in a foot tub; how to get used to mineral water; how to get by without language skills; how to trust God because of limitations; how much greater love is than knowledge.
ps- thanks to Jason Roberts for the awesome pic of the "white house" at Sora Maria's home. (note: every villager had an outhouse, AND a water well... we didn't drink the water!)

Together in Jesus

This link goes to the FOM website to a recent lesson I gave on Ephesians.
It's amazing how relevant Moldava's growing church is like the early church.
The lesson is about 25 minutes.
If you listen to it, I'd love to read your comments on what stands out to you, especially in light of the church today, including your life here and now.
Cheers,
jim

I'm going to Moldova

I'm going to Moldova today. Number one response: "Where's that?"
Best answer: "Between Romania and Ukraine."
Second common response: "Why?"
Best answer: "I'm not really sure; it was just an opportunity for me to get out of my comfortable little rut, and explore what perhaps God had for me in a world bigger than west Houston."
Second best answer: "I wanted to meet the people of Moldova, experience Christ's church in a different culture, and make myself available for God, however He might use me."
Q? "What are the challenges?"
A. I don't know the language, it costs thousands of bucks to get to a poor country (better stewardship to support a local missionary), poor sanitation, political unrest, I don't know the customs or the culture, I don't really know anybody who is over there, and it's very short term.
Q? "What are the positives?"
A. I will be travelling with friends for most of the journey, they have a contact in Moldova, we are serving a mission agency who will provide an interpreter, I will come away with radically new experiences and relationships, I will need to trust God more, and I have a return ticket.

vandalism

Vandalism. The deliberate action to damage or destroy property belonging to another.
If it does not belong to you, you have no rights to alter it. That's why tagging rail cars is wrong... not because of the art (sometimes awesome work), but because of the ownership.
If someone commissions a tagger to paint a mural, it is not vandalism.
This is not a hard concept.
So what kind of person alters another's property without their authority?
Is a person who does not respect the boundaries of another a trustworth person?
I am reminded yesterday of renting a movie at the local Redbox machine; I'm waiting for my DVD to come out of the machine, and this lady brushes by me to try to jam her DVD into the machine to return it... are you serious? She's reaching AROUND me, in front of her kid, to bypass the international construct of "waiting in line". BTW, I don't want her kid in my science class; sorry...he's already been trained by her to step on others to please herself.
So how much would YOU trust this lady?
Or how much would you trust a stock broker that made unauthorized trades with your account?
The point is not about the isolated actions, it's about the social context within which the action takes place: some lady using a Redbox is not wrong for simply using a Redbox. And a broker investing money is not wrong, that's what they do for a living. It's that when a person demonstrates callous disregard for the wishes of another, their narcissism disqualifies them from relationship. Like a vandal.
So is Jesus a vandal?
What is the character of Jesus?
Will he alter that which is not his?
Or, is it possible that Jesus can be Savior but NOT Lord??
So how is it possible that the Christ who desires intimate relationship with us is denigrated as being impotent, when you or I have yet to fully surrender our lives over to his care?
How can he be transformational, when we leave him outside, still knocking at our door?
And what exactly are we afraid that he'll do??
Is he a vandal?
I think not.

Gasoline2

LOL! I just read the latest newsletter from our Government's "FreedomCar" group, and found the following quote-worthy:

"...between DOE and the U.S. Council for Automotive Research (USCAR), which includes Chrysler LLC, Ford Motor Company, and General Motors Corporation. In 2003, it was expanded to form the FreedomCAR and Fuel Partnership by adding five major energy producers: BP, Chevron, ConocoPhillips, ExxonMobil, and Shell. The new expansion to include utilities..."
Lemme seeeeee... we put Ford, Chrysler and GM in partnership with Exxon, BP, Chevron, Conoco and Shell in order to develop a vehicle that does not use much petroleum?
Are you serious?
Just how important is it for major corperations that make billions of dollars from petroleum and old technology to be catalysts of change away from petroleum and old technology?
It's crunk like this that makes me wanna vote for the Obaminator... we've lost our minds.

gasoline

In May 2008 the Big 3 domestic automobile manufacturers posted double-digit losses in car sales. They claim it is the cost of gasoline that is destroying their sales.
Ba-a-a-d gasoline.
Honda Motor Corporation, home of the Civic, posted a double digit increase in US sales for the same time. Hmmmmm. Gasoline didn't destroy their sales, too?
Maybe the gasoline that is bought for a Civic is different than the gasoline that is bought for a 19-mpg F-150?
Surely it has nothing to do with the persistent attitude among US Execs about moving behind the lines of innovation, letting other companies do the cutting-edge R&D, then gobbling them up or purchasing their patents... surely not that.
I mean, that would be bad business, to spend that much money developing a product that people might want, in fact... selling the first few years at a loss instead of marketing bucks, to get your vehicle on the road? What does Toyota know about hybrids, anyway? Nobody's gonna want a Prius, not when we can change the cupholders on our new Chevy Silverado truck, right? I mean... trucks are cool... trucks are good... for God's sake-- trucks are American! (except that Japan truck sales are capturing even more market-share here, too). Besides, how else am I going to haul all that hay and saddles and engine blocks to my downtown, high-rise, air-conditioned office ?
Surely current economics has nothing to do with Corporate Elites upping their proxy-validated share of the pie so they can buy more resort properties for their multiple families, while the working wage of most Americans has not changed in the last few decades. Surely it has nothing to do with protecting the current unspoken caste system, right?
And I haven't even started on the tactics perpetuated by Oil America to keep our culture petroleum-dependent. Energy ExecutivEs would never fleecE their EmployEes and sharEholdErs for the sakE of cooking thEir books and making a bundlE for thEir offshorE accounts, right?
I live in a culture that has at its core an "entitlement to excesses". My President repeatedly uttered his war-cry, "...to protect the American WAY OF LIFE." And we sheep still click our red heels and chant "there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
We are spoiled consumer/sheep!
If a family member cannot find a Wii at BestBuy, well, SOMEBODY's gonna hear about this!!
If a cell phone cannot text, play a movie and serve as a GPS simultaneously, then it must be a piece of crunk and unworthy of consumption.
Unworthy of consumption...?
Is that where we are? doing others favors by using them up?
Is that what "american" means to Corporate USA?
That smacks of suggesting bread-less people eat cake; and the leaders lost more than their minds. No wonder "change" is a winning platform so far.
For the near-term, I predict the Congress and President Obama will perpetuate the madness of "burning the furniture" (aka, tapping Strategic Reserve and drilling in fragile ecosystems) in order to protect Detroit, all the while spinning it as "for the little guy who can't afford gas." It will be a beautiful fiction... stay tuned as we once again lose another window to better our long-term society for the sake of short term stupidity.
So the next time you fill your personal vehicle with $5 gasoline, with all those empty seats and hay-less truck beds, internal combustion engines and non-regenerative brakes, just remember... we have satellites still exploring our solar system and universe with technology developed when they launched decades ago.
There is no gasoline in space.
This is not a stupid statement; it is an accusation.

With

Reading the NT I am struck with Jesus' passionate fixation about togetherness. When he speaks to his disciples, it's not about the mansion, it's about who is there, WITH him.
I think it is fascinating how we, in the US, mistranslate the Greek to read, "there are many mansions...", when a better rendering would be "many quarters..."; the NIV does a better job with: "are many rooms...".
So it's about being together in the Father's House, not streets of gold; it's not about getting some fancy mansion, one for each...
How many Americans would fall away from their idea of faith if it were revealed that heaven is really just one big youth hostel where everybody shares what they have with their roommates, and everybody eats rice, beans and corn tortillas?
Or better, how many would flock to the loving, passionate embrace of Jesus when they found out it wasn't about marble alters, red carpet and golden candleholders? :)
That the streets of gold have nothing to do with the inhabitants? that all present are simple sharecroppers of faith, humbly and simply living in borrowed space, paid for by Another?
Would it matter?
Would we get it?
Or do we just like the "jesus" thing because he makes bread happen?

crepusculance

I seem to be most Aware when God's Creation seems most active.
It is the mid of day or the nigh of night that I become cloaked with some creeping form of distraction and/or self-absorption.
My scariest dreams are those that do not involve God, but instead pit my natural complement of forces against any Nemesis. I am doomed.
Perhaps my day becomes clouded with caffeination, a process not unlike the childhood experience of simultaneously striking several keys from an manual typewriter, causing a tinny coagulation of typeface at the ribbon.
Perhaps my crepuscular freedom is simply being loosened of expectation, to be able to focus on something, or worse, comprehend during the initial reading of some form of written word. (Seriously; how many times do I have to read a phrase to understand what the #&$%! I'm reading. My poor biology students...)
I think is has something to do with peace in the natural order of things-- I see birds gleaning berries in the morning dew, not concerned with what they might have to do come this summer; squirrels playing in trees openly, uncompressed by the fear of predation.
If God cares for the birds, how much more would he care for me, right?
Except I know me; you don't.
I can see how God cherishes you, and will take care of you and tend you and love on you, because you are not like me. I know me, and God knows me.
That is why I am comfortable in the servants' quarters, not so much the Big House. The prodigal has come home, but never entered the banquet room.
Pitiful.
So perhaps the beginning of the morning or the beginning of the evening is a window of hope for things to change?
Perhaps I won't say something stupid or hurtful today?
Perhaps I won't be mean-spirited today?
Think brutal thoughts today?
Barricade myself in with fear-induced mental constructs and strategies today?
Nope... screwed that one up already.

Maybe this evening?
Father forgive me, for I have sinned.

Cornel West and the Yellow-Breasted Chat

I miss most of it.
Sitting in a room, or at a computer, or in traffic, I miss most of what life offers.
Even now, a half-full cup of coffee grows cold on my back porch as I sit here in this darkened room, listening to car alarms, and trying to gather my thoughts, thankful that my 1040 is in on time but mindful that I'm a day behind on my OYB.
I remember seeing the bird a year ago, but never taking the time to research it's handle.
Yellow-breasted chat. This year my annual mulberry visitor has been visually and vocally verified. And now I wonder... how many years has he been visiting my backyard when the mulberry tree shares its fruits to my avian friends? How many of its generations have partaken of this arboreal banquet, and I'm just now getting a clue?
Eddie Carson is a valued friend and colleague at HCHS.
Eddie is not normal.
Praise God.
Eddie is constantly challenging me to expand my awareness of my world.
And my dingy little construct of "normal" bears some expanding.
Carson yesterday shared with me a text, Race Matters, by Cornel West, and I am just starting to peruse his pensively penned piece, increasingly aware that I have no idea how many parts of my surrounding environs live each day.
What would it be like to wait on a corner downtown for a taxi, watching said conveyance pass me bye repeatedly, for an hour, yet stopping for those who have less melanin?
How would that mark me?
Would I allow it?
Would it make me stronger or wear me down?
How have I been the taxi driver?
Am I even aware?
Do I even know if I change my behaviors upon cognition of plumage, or do I operate on some unconscious or subconscious plan?
God, help me be a better man.

Little birdies

Some would consider me a bit of an outdoorsman. My favorite weapon is the bow and arrow. I've slain wild beasts with my bare hands and a knife. I cannot only kill 'em, I can clean 'em and cook 'em. I'm no stranger to hard work, especially if I'm helping someone else and it involves construction. And I like birdies.
Since I was a small child, I have been fascinated with wild creatures, from ants to dragonflies to whatever keeps digging in my trash. When I started studies at A&M, I learned there was a taxonomy for non-game birds beyond "some kinda cheechee bird".
Though I have SO much to learn about God's creation, I find birding a rewarding recreation. Perhaps it is because they are vocal, and I am attention deficit.
Perhaps it is because I know the common locals, so I feel some form of competence.
Or perhaps I'm just an over-grown kid who still gets lit up by some new bird call or some new species eating mulberries in my backyard.
So next hunting season, don't be surprised if my arrows never leave the quiver, and my field guide shows wear and tear.
That's how I roll.

Plant sperm

How weird is it that we talk about allergy season, about pollen, but we never make the connection: pollen is plant sperm.
Not that there's a huge awakening to be anticipated in this botanical epiphany; just a sober confession that it's not always about us.
The flash flood brings much needed sediments to the vegetation of the flood plane.
The hurricane and tornado trims back old growth and resets the seral timeline.
The plague serves the ambiant carrying capacity for all things K-strategic.
Even war (read your Old Testament) has a balancing role in Creation.
Unfortunately we continue to build cities in deserts, neighborhoods on new flood planes (the concrete/freeway/parkinglot-induced runoff has to flow somewhere), landscape our communities with specimens better served in jungles, and bulldoze our forests for ethanol or even... shrimp?
Once upon a time there was God, and He created a Garden.
And God created adam to tenderly work the Garden.
And adam sneezed, and it was good.

Apes with Wallets

I'm about done!
How long?
How long will media perpetuate the notion that we are brute beasts, locked into basic instincts that are beyond our self-control?
As a youthworker I first experienced this awakening when listening to the jargon associated with young people, sex and condoms. The argument went something like, "Well, teenagers are just dogs in heat, so you can't keep them pure, so make 'em use a condom... it's safe sex."
Which is a lie from the pit.
The students I worked with were intelligent, insightful and more disciplined than the political socialists that were polluting our times with their propoganda.
That's the problem.
Because if an impulsive teenager is able to discern, then they are less likely to spend Daddy's money on some shiney trinket from Apple or Motorola. So... create the notion in an inverted delivery that students are endangering themselves (faux concern), because they are not "taking precautions" (condom= safety belt?), and since they can't help themselves (the lie), society must educate them (propoganda).
Horse hockey.
Is it any wonder these last few generations of adolescents have felt betrayed and abandoned by their elders? Is it any wonder that piercings, tatoos, and self-mutilation are increasing geometrically with every year? The pain has to reside somewhere...
And the worst part is, this latest generation of youth don't even know it's happening (think A&F or Hollister).
When the social experiment is finished, and we've been reduced to apes with wallets, what happens when we lose our wallets? (How much Mandarin do YOU speak?)

Amazingly Faithless?

Mark 6:1-3 "...they were amazed. 'Where did this man get these things?' they asked. 'What's this wisdom that has been given to him, and he even does miracles.' Isn't this the carpenter? ...And they took offense at him."
They took offense at him.
They observed he had amazing insights and wisdom.
They took offense at him.
They knew he even healed the sick.
They took offense at him.
We take offense at him. "Who gives you the right...?"
"Your Jesus is not my jesus."
"...But, I don't want to." --What? Die to yourself?
They took offense at him.
v.6... and he was amazed at their lack of faith.

Confessions, part 1

Matthew 27:41-42 "In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. "He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself! He's the King of Israel! Let him come down from the cross...' "
So they acknowledge that He saved others.
They acknowledge that, yet they pressed for his illegal execution.
They put him on the cross, then challenged God, to His face, to dare bring him down-- so that THEN they would worship Him.
Right.

Texas Springtime?

As I look outside at the blaring sunlight this February morning, it strikes me that Spring has sprung. Perhaps it is the flowers that are erupting; perhaps the temperature already in the 70's. Perhaps it's the singing of the mockingbird and the white-winged dove, not the casual winter ditty, but a heart-felt serenade; or maybe the 3 species of butterfly that just fluttered by my window. And even though the scarlet oak has clung to some of its plumage to this point, there is the tender pale green growth of my shrub's apical meristem.
It's the upper Texas Gulf Coast, where the saying goes, "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute." Even now clouds are shrouding what once was a clear morning. As my hot tea grows cold, I can see once again the Metaphors of God outside my window pane. Things change; people dye and die and are born and borne up. There is so much going on, most of which is simple distraction and mindlessness, that we miss the yodel of the blue jay, proclaiming his recent victory over the the recent plague which erased every jay in my neighborhood, killed by mosquitoes tracing their bloodline to a traveling Yankee. Crazy.
So things change in the midst of being the same.
The sun is shining again.
God, grant me the serenity to not miss it.

Haulin' Bones

Exodus 13:19—“Moses took the bones of Joseph with him, because Joseph had made the sons of Israel swear an oath.”
Picture this: Moses trying to herd the sheep of Israel through uncharted lands, constantly battling whining and mutiny in the ranks, and on top of that he’s having to haul the bones of a dead ancestor.
It’s 2008 AD and families are still doing this.
How much of the patterns of interaction between our families, the disputes, the alliances, have NOTHING to do with us personally, but are instead some sicko hand-me-down from a parent or grandparent to whom we feel an allegiance?
How often do we replace an opportunity for reconciliation with a response that perpetuates our role as pallbearers?
Contrast that with the command of Christ to die to ourselves, to take up our cross, and to follow Him; to consider family as strangers for the sake of cross; to return good for evil. No wonder our families cried out, “Crucify!” No wonder the churches of today often live out the insanity of our forefathers, deciding what families are in or out based on old history.
I wonder how our present families would be different, if we put old bones to rest and used that energy to nourish the living amongst us?

Take this job and...

Thessalonians 4:11... "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you,..."

I am amazed how many times the scriptures mention work of one's hands. And if you go to BibleGateway and do a search on "work", well you may as well pour yourself another cup of coffee because you have a lot of references to read through.

Work is obviously important; even the God of the universe spent the vast majority of what we call time in this mode. So why are some so unsatisfied in their jobs?

This morning I read an interesting piece by William C. Taylor about the four things that are correlated to job satisfaction: 1) Does your company make a difference in the world? 2) Do you like the people you work with? 3) Does your opinion count? and 4) are you challenged to learn new things in a changing world? The hidden fifth question, which has little bearing on actual satisfaction, is how much money it pays.

Which is sorta funny when we hear people say their job doesn't pay enough, or when the boss thinks solving employee satisfaction is to give them a raise. Sure it's nice to be rewarded ($) for hard work, but if you hate showing up on Monday morning, and you know you are going to die any day now, what's the point? How many miserable, empty-souled rich people are already out there? Consider our Christian missionaries...How many genuinely satisfied families are on the edge of poverty yet thankful to God for the simple meal before them? and why does our culture insist on perpetuating the notion that money = happiness? Is it the "emperor's new clothes"? Which makes me wonder, "What are we trying to hide?"

Our own emptiness?

Is that why some extremely wealthy people are soul-suckers? They derive pleasure in creating in others the same horrible feelings they hide behind their facade of austerity? Like the "apprentice of despair" cascading like dominoes of soul-death into some morbid fellowship? And minions flocking around their feet like so many pigeons in a park.

Crazy.

How many times do we say, "No thank you, I'm quite content," where we stare into the face of more-ness and shrug at it's impotent power? Perhaps that's why I love the apostle Paul's approach to each day: "I might live today and get to be with friends, or they may kill me and I get to be with Christ... either way, it's all good." Or the writer of Proverbs when he writes to put your own knife to your throat when the rich offer you delicacies, so that you don't develop cravings you can't afford.

Simple is good. I'd rather have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with friends, than lobster and champagne with people I don't trust.

As you walk into the rest of your day, may God grant you the serenity to slow down, cast your cares on Him, and see the beauty around you, whether in the face of a loved one or the simple flutter of a pigeon on the canvas of a wind-swept sky.

You are Beloved of Him.

True satisfaction.

Dog Sense

One of the great values of living with dogs is they reflect to us things about ourselves that we often do not see. Perhaps it is because they are pack animals, creatures tuned into a social context. They make us laugh; they can comfort us when no words can reach us; they help us understand ourselves. But they also lick their butts.

This early morning I was painfully aware of how distant I've grown from God, mainly from my own distractions and simply not spending time cultivating our Relationship. At this point in my journey I am aware what lack of discipline produces in my spiritual life, whether the discipline to read or pray, or especially the discipline Not to say it, look at it or dwell on it. It is this latter discipline, the intention to NOT, that anchors me from drifting away from my Lord.

Dogs have an issue that disgusts me, and though I'd like to think that we can't relate, I now see we share this struggle with discipline: to NOT roll in it. When I was much younger and would let the dogs out, they would occasionally disappear, leaving me distressed and worried. Upon seeing them return my immediate response was to run and embrace my furred friend, only to encounter the most horrid stench. What manner of prankster would do this to my dog? Which neighbor punk poured it all over my little mutt poodle?
And then one day while walking the dog, I saw the rite before my eyes... my dog ran over to a rotting corpse and did this wierd shoulder dive/roll thing, coating himself from neck to ribs in grossness. One mystery solved; another created: why? I soon read how wild dogs rub in a fresh kill or carcass to bring back its scent to the pack. Dogs still carry that instinctual behavior somewhere deep in their being. Unfortunately for all involved, my pack did not eat rotting road-kill.

And this morning I realized that I've been rolling in it again, right back to old, deep patterns. And I really need a bath.

Book Review: Donald Miller's "Searching for God (knows what)"

Rarely do I enjoy a book or written material to the point of repeatedly laughing out loud, but I did with this text, often annoying the students I was accompanying on a school trip.
Perhaps it is Miller's energetic run-on sentances, dripping with the self-reflective voice akin to a Woody Allen flick; or perhaps it the direct, blunt, in-your-face, I-calls-it-da-ways-I-sees-it attitude that drives his sarcasm and word play. I truly enjoy this text.
As an example of the genre of literature that tickles my soul, here Miller describes his first vague impression of the Christian scriptures, reflecting from a recently attended writer's workshop.
Miller writes:
"You would think some of the writers of the Bible would have gone to a Christian writers seminar to learn the magical formulas about how to dangle a carrot in front of a rabbit, but they didn't. Instead, the writers of the Bible tell a lot of stories and account for a lot of history and write down a lot of poems and recite a great deal of boring numbers and then conclude with various creepy hallucinations that, in some mysterious way, explain the future, in which, apparently, we all slip into Dungeons and Dragons outfits and fight the giant frog people. I forget how it goes exactly, and I mean no disrespect. But because it is so scatterbrained, and has virtually no charts and graphs, I am actually quite surprised the Bible sells." (p.49, Searching for God [knows what])

"I drove Daddy's car!"

I love the magical thinking of children.
Their ability to simplify and sythesize along the path of least resistance.
It's like nephew who proudly proclaims, "I drove Daddy's car," when I know this meter-long creature could not reach the peddles, much less see over the dash without a booster seat. Of course what they meant was, "I sat in Daddy's lap while he was driving, and I even touched the steering wheel when he wasn't looking." It just seems so much easier to proclaim the former; the latter only clogs up one's delivery.
I wonder how much we are just like these fantastic children, thinking we are running our own lives, making the big plans, accomplishing all those goals?
I wonder if perhaps we're just sitting in Daddy's lap, oblivious to the bigger picture but participating in the Adventure as best we can comprehend?
God, forgive our childish arrogance.