Toast Goes South on Vacation

It seemed like a great idea. My daughter had been wanting to get a dog for several months. We, on the other hand, had been gently counseling her on what a dog would actually require of her in her young adult, on-the-go life.

So when MJ and I had the chance to get away to the Sunshine State for a week in January (part-business, part-pleasure), we had only one big hurdle to jump: what to do with our dog “Toast” for seven days? One of us put two-and-two together and decided that Toast would go south on vacation too—to our daughter’s house in Chicago! (Hey—Toast loves the snow and cold weather, okay? She doesn’t need to know that no one goes “south” to Chicago on vacation.)

Okay, got the picture? Have dog, will travel (for a visit). A win-win deal.

So when I drove half-way to Chicago today to pick up Toast at the end of her two-week “vacation”… well, let’s just say that Janna has decided that she won’t be getting a dog anytime soon after all. It’s not that she hates dogs. Or Toast. It’s just that, well… dogs require a little more attention than what one might first think. Basically, they come into your house with one motto: “It’s all about me.”

What happened? Maybe the best way to describe it is to let you read the “Thank You” card that Toast gave to Janna today. It reads…

“Thank you for taking care of me when Mom and Dad went somewhere without me. I enjoyed almost everything—the curtains, shades, towels, toilet paper, Kleenex, the wallet (including the credit cards, dollar bills and pictures), and the chicken nuggets you laid out for me on the counter to defrost. Thanks again for all the walks, games of fetch and cuddle-time on the couch. I was on my best behavior, but if I wasn’t perfect, just remember that bad dogs have more fun! P.S. I was disappointed that I didn’t get a better look at your boyfriend’s new cell phone, since his old one was so fun to chew on last summer!”

Mob Hysteria at Sunset

At first we didn’t take much notice. Just an older couple dawdling along toward the direction of the beach. Then another couple. But as we strolled along, scoping out this unfamiliar neighborhood of tiny houses just a half a block from the beach, the street quickly and strangely filled with more and more people. So much so that it was un-nerving! But there was something that wasn’t quite right either… it took me a minute to decipher what it was.

That’s it! They were all walking in the same direction. Scary. Like one of those mass hysteria scenes that you see on movies when news comes over the TV that an impending asteroid is about to hit the earth, and everyone comes streaming out of their homes into the streets with blank bewildered looks in their eyes, resigned to face their own death within the next half hour!

Well, ok. Maybe it wasn’t quite that much mass hysteria. But it was strangely similar! Merlajean and I both wondered, “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Maybe a plane just went down in the ocean, like in New York.”

So we joined the panic-stricken mob and scurried down to the beach.

We headed toward a little park. Through palm trees. Over the grass. Around flowering bushes. And out into an opening. And there they all were. Dozens of people. Just standing around. Many were looking in the same direction. We quickly glanced in that direction and saw—the setting sun. It was a big, bright firey-orange ball, just hanging on the horizon. Hmmm. We quickly looked out to sea for signs of a tall black plumage of smoke. We scanned the horizon for rescue choppers. For cop cars. For panic-stricken dads and moms. Nothing.

So I struck up a conversation with the elderly couple six feet in front of us and asked them what was going on. “Just watchin’ the sun set,” they said. They could tell we were from out of town, so they let us in on their secret. “When you get to be our age, this is the most exciting thing that happens each day! Everyone comes out for it.”

We looked around. Sure enough, most of the crowd was 60 years-old-plus folks. Walter, the husband, told us that tonight wouldn’t be too spectacular since the sky was so clear. But last night—wow! It was something else! We struck up a warm conversation, and kidded and joked about coming down here to Florida from the Snowy North.

The sun had now set. Like clock-work, everyone all turned and began streaming off the beach, out of the park, back toward their homes. One more day had yet again slipped away from the people in the Sunshine State. They had come to pay their daily homage to this god. And in another twelve hours it would begin all over again. God willing.

20 Fun Facts to lighten your day

Mj and I picked up a copy of FUN FACTS, by David Letterman. I collected a few to share with you:

1. When it was introduced in 2001, the iPod was the size of a refrigerator and held two songs.

2. After you die, your tongue continues to grow.

3. The French Dip is consistently voted the world’s dampest sandwich.

4. At any given moment, 20 million men don’t realize that their fly is down.

5. In the days before limousines people flaunted their wealth by riding very long horses.

6. When a U.S. president dies, it is customary for his secret service agent to be executed and buried in an adjacent plot.

7. Wayne Gretzky prefers his soda without ice.

8. In 1978, a man found two snowflakes that were exactly alike, but they melted before it could be verified by the Guinness Book of World Records.

9. There are only three documented cases of people juggling in their sleep.

10. Twenty-two percent of grooms secretly try on their bride’s wedding gown.

11. The nickel is only 25% nickel; the dime is only 15% dime.

12. Although a lobster’s claw is strong enough to crack a walnut, lobsters don’t really care for walnuts.

13. Due to a typographical error, Ohio law mandates a three-day waiting period before you can buy gum.

14. Historians believe Amelia Earhart’s final flight got lost because her navigator, like most men, wouldn’t ask for directions.

15. No one in the world has been found to have a birthday on March 16.

16. Before a budget cut, the Lincoln Memorial’s chair was supposed to come with a matching ottoman.

17. Few ranchers actually use ranch dressing.

18. Contrary to the popular slogan, 68% of what happens in Vegas leads to divorce and/or bankruptcy.

19. Matthew is the only gospel that mentions Jesus being ticklish.

20. Hearses carrying a body are eligible to drive in the carpool lane.

Houses That Change the World

So I've been really hitting this thought hard lately... how much do the lives of Western Christians—like me—really reflect the life, heart and presence of Jesus? Or do we just talk a great talk?

The thought hasn’t just come out of thin air. George Barna and others have revealed time and again in their surveys over the last few years that there's no discernable difference between Christians and non-Christians in America. So I’m trying to figure out—why is that? What’s the reason for that?

I was just reading more of Wolfgang Simpson's book, Houses That Change the World. Listen to what he says on p.34 (it's actually his key theme/ proposition of the book):

"The house church is an ideal setting to change values, transfer life and therefore transform lifestyles. An analysis of the western church shows that the congregational model is almost totally ineffective at changing basic values and lifestyles. Many Christians end up with the same lifestyle of people around them, and therefore become indistinguishable from society and lose their prophetic edge. House churches provide a place of radical transformation of values and reordering of life, offering mutual and organic accountability, where redeemed peer pressure is made to function for good, and not for bad."

This resonates with my experience. When I read the New Testament—Paul, Peter, John and others—following Jesus is shown to be more of a way of life, than simply acknowledging certain things or beliefs “to be true.” (The earliest Christians were first called followers of "the Way.") Acknowledging something as “true” (for example, “God exists” or “Jesus is the Christ”) does not have to have any real impact upon one’s life. People can hold certain truths or beliefs “to be true,” but if these truths aren’t embraced as life principles or seen as relevant to living life in the real world, they won’t define who we are deep down in our soul, or shape our character.

The Letter of James reveals that simply “believing that there is one God” in this world is no biggie. He writes, “Even the demons believe that—and shudder.” In other words, even the demons, or any opposing force, can “acknowledge something to be true,” but that doesn’t mean they follow it as a way of life, or embrace it as a life principle. They may believe something is “truth” but they don’t believe IN it.

Maybe this reflects more accurately the condition of Christianity in the West. Instead of being the church, we simply… go to church. It's easier to go to church than to be the church. (It's both, really.) Being the church is harder. In fact, it's impossible really, without being intimately connected to the Source of the church: Jesus himself. Which is why Wolfgang Simpson sees so much value in the house church model, and perhaps why he calls it a "supernatural communal life form" (p. 102).

It may be that the House Church setting provides easier access and intimacy to the “Presence of Jesus” than other forms of church meetings. I like where he's going. I'm wrestling hard on this one.... wondering how this can inform our current western ways of doing church.

A Wedding A Week

Do you like weddings? How about one every week... for a lifetime?

I’ve been reading Wolfgang Simpson’s book, Houses That Change the World, the Return of the House Churches. He compares the weekly Sunday morning gathering in a conventional church to a wedding celebration. Listen to what he writes…

“Life in any culture has two aspects, the private and the public, everyday life and the special events—weddings, festivals, funerals, and traditional events…. Everyday life is usually expressed in the family, the basic cell unit of every society and culture. Families are usually very organic, informal, relational and consist of whatever it takes to share lives. Weddings and other functions are extraordinary events, for which everyone duly prepares; they are usually formal, need much organization and are often highly structured.

“Imagine if you had to attend a wedding every weekend. It follows the same basic pattern, has even the same bridegroom and bride; maybe even the food is the same. After some weeks the excitement would wear down. You would know what to expect, and you would know what’s going to happen next. It would still remain a nice thing, a beautiful tradition, but it would feel odd to have the same type of festival every week.

“We need to be careful not to do this with church. Jesus has shown us not only a way to celebrate, but a way to live…. If we allow church to take on only ‘celebration structures,’ we will start celebrating ‘a wedding a week,’ and our behavior will soon be far removed from real life and cease to make sense to ordinary people. It will become an artificial, weekly performance.”

Does any of this ring true for you? The last two lines especially hit me in the gut: "removed from real life"... "weekly performance." Hmmm. It feels to me like Simpson has hit one out of the park. We hire professionals (I've been one of them) who work each week to organize the weekly “wedding celebration” FOR us. We give a lot of money to make the Celebration flashy, creative, lively and interesting. And yet—

And yet, national research studies have revealed that the lives of those who attend these “weekly wedding celebrations” don’t look much different from those who don’t. So maybe we’ve gotten the celebration part of Jesus’ message down, but we’ve missed the equally important “way to live” part. Anyway you slice it there does appear to be a disconnect between what we do each week in the “weekly Celebration,” and real life.

Looking After a Pedophile

Should a church look after a pedophile? How about for $1,000 a day? Would your church do it?

An Australian Church is doing just that, according to the CourierMail website: "A church group is being paid $1000 a day to look after serial pedophile Dennis Ferguson after he was relocated to an isolated area in Queensland.” Police Minister Judy Spence said the 60-year-old was being housed on the church group-owned property after last week being run out of a remote community.

"A well-respected, Christian-based group has agreed to provide support to Ferguson and keep him settled. The group was being paid $1000 a day to provide support to Ferguson and keep him settled.... This is a group experienced in working with prisoners in general and also prisoners who are sex offenders.” Founder of child advocate group, Bravehearts, Hetty Johnston said she understood people did not want Ferguson in their community.

What would you do if your church was asked to look after a local pedophile for $1000 a day?

(You can read the whole article by clicking HERE.)

A Chat in the Woods

She appeared unexpectedly just 40 yards up the trail. My first instinct was to look between the trees to see if she had a dog before Toast could get a glimpse of it and yank me off my bike with one of her sudden lunges. No dog—so I loosened my grip on the leash as we approached.

As the woman in peach came into clear view I noticed that she was slowing down, just like friends do when they prepare to greet each other for a brief chat on the sidewalk. I didn’t know who she was, although I think I had seen her walking on this trail before.

Her eyes lit up and she spoke with a big smile as I braked to a stop. She focused completely on Toast… “Oh, aren’t you a lovely little puppy? What’s your name?” She reached out to pet Toast, which was always agreeable to Toast. I was impressed with how friendly she was, and so plainly delighted at her good fortune. She marveled to me at how well-behaved Toast was. (If she only knew the truth.) “I would love to have a Golden,” she confided. “But it’s only me at home and I work all day. That wouldn’t be good for the dog.”

For the next few minutes we chatted on the trail. Comparing brief notes about life, and kids, and work. Two strangers drawn together almost as if by some Great Design, by means of the animal kingdom. It’s silly, really, that it takes an animal to facilitate social intercourse between two of the same human species.

I climbed back on my bike with Toast at my side. “Thank you for stopping,” she said. Thank you for stopping? It had been a no-brainer for me. She acted like she wanted to stop and pet my dog. (A common occurrence on my neighborhood trails.) So I stopped. Turns out that simple action brought a little delight into her life that day. Toast seems to have a knack for that. And somehow… I think it brings delight to God as well.

Next time I see this woman in peach I’m going to ask her if she’d like to dog-sit for an afternoon.