The Shilohman

WHERE IS ANNE OF THE HOUSE?

2007-05-03T17:32:00.000-04:00

I'm sure many of you readers, fans of the writing and art work of Anne of the House, have been wondering where she has been for the last month or so. Well, she WASN'T in rehab! She has a whole new art jones going on. Anne decided to become proficient in oil painting! She's been reading about it and trying to learn everything she can about it for about a month. Then last week she bought an easel and some canvases and started applying oil paint to canvas. It has taken up almost all of her creative time so she has set aside her writing and watercolors for her book for the time being.

Well, I just wanted you to know what was going on with her. The top picture is her first effort and the bottom picture is her second. She is not happy that I am posting her work but I told her that people need to know what she is up to. She can't just take a month off and expect people to not be worried about her. So here is the evidence of her new avocation.

Thanks for stopping by. We value your jaundiced, I mean, artistic eyes!

(Original artwork by Mia Moorhead)

FIGHT GLOBAL WARMING WITH JAZZYCAT CARBON CREDITS

2007-05-01T17:01:00.000-04:00

Whereas Al Gore, Sheryl Crow, and other activists have warned that CO2 emissions are causing global warming, hurricanes, breast cancer, and are going to cause flooding of the whole state of Florida.

Whereas we human beings are causing this crisis and should feel very guilty.

Whereas some global warming internet sites warn that we only have about ten years to fix the problem.

Whereas we only have to spend several trillion dollars and ruin our economy to lower the temperature of the earth 0.2 of one degree.

Whereas the predictions of the global cooling and the coming ice age of the 1970’s did not offer any socialistic solutions and the “experts” had to re-load.

Whereas global warming will offer all kinds of opportunities for new taxes such as the proposed carbon tax.Whereas it is estimated that “concerned” Americans will spend billions of dollars purchasing carbon credits.

Whereas trees take evil ole carbon dioxide and turn it into oxygen which takes green-house carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere.

Whereas Jazzycat Farms has several thousand trees……………..

We hereby announce that Jazzycat Farms will remove its acreage from the real estate market for housing development. Instead we will preserve all the carbon dioxide eating trees and offer them for sale as carbon offsets so guilty feeling American liberals can keep on using huge amounts of energy for their homes, autos, and airplanes. You can be just like Al Gore and consume obscene amounts of energy and rest assured that you have covered your carbon foot-print by purchasing your very own tree or trees.

For only $100.00 per each inch of tree diameter, you can purchase your own tree. For only $50.00 per year extra, you can name your tree and receive a photo of your tree every year to document its growth. The bigger it gets the more CO2 it eats. What an uplifting and rewarding feeling it will be to see your tree grow and produce more oxygen. For a one-time fee of $500.00 you can a purchase a lifetime ticket to personally come and visit Jazzycat Farms and hug your tree. If you come to visit your tree in a carbon free manner (walk or ride bike) we will give you all the natural spring bottled water you can drink. While we do not allow idol or creation worship at Jazzycat Farms, we will provide maps to all the missional emergent village churches within 25 miles of Jazzycat Farms.

In an effort to “make a difference,” Jazzycat Farms also plans to use part of the proceeds from the sale of carbon credit offsets to open the Jazzycat Institute for Guilt Free Mental Health. Our Institute will have two courses of study and therapy:

(1) If you are a secular humanist liberal and feel guilty about your prosperity, wealth, injustice caused by your ancestors and you blame everything on America, then our “Help Save the Planet” course will be just right for you. While a complete cure from this condition is unlikely, you can significantly reduce your guilt with courses that will teach you how to be a better activist for causes you probably have never considered.

(2) If you are a professing Christian or a basically conservative thinking person and have bought into the never ending barrage of propaganda from the left-wing news and entertainment media, then our“Truth Through Discernment and Common Sense” course will be right for you. A complete cure is possible and probable from this course.

For more information contact:

Jazzycat Farms, Inc.#1 Sucker Street

Cashcow, MS 39299-$$$$

Tel: 1-800-buytree

Website: jazzygreen.com

(This post was boldly stolen without permission from my good friend at Jazzycat. You can visit him at http://sweetjazzycat.blogspot.com/)

STARBUCKS QUIZ

2007-04-28T10:22:00.000-04:00

You Are a Frappacino

At your best, you are: fun loving, sweet, and modern

At your worst, you are: childish and over indulgent

You drink coffee when: you're craving something sweet

Your caffeine addiction level: low

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

Hi Guys.

I see no one is blogging anymore. I feel like I am falling out of touch with you. How are you doing? Anything happening in your lives? I've been really busy putting up a series at Shiloh Guy. I'm also simulposting at Bluecollar which has a link in the sidebar at Shiloh Guy.

I found this Starbucks thing on another blog and tried it. Made me think of all of you and thought it might make an interesting conversation starter.

Have a good day!

(Hey, Dave, how do you know if anyone is still looking at this blog?)

THOUGHTS FROM THE INSIDE

2007-04-16T15:24:00.000-04:00

My prayers are for the families and friends of the students and others who were killed or wounded at Virginia Tech University this morning. It is tragic when our kids have to become terrified on their own college campuses. My heart goes out to all of them.

But…

I spent much of this morning watching both Fox News and CNN as they covered the events on the VTU campus in southwestern Virginia. Each new bit of news increased the shock and horror. One wonders what goes on in the head of a person who would do such a thing. I was very sobered.

But…

Then one of the networks flashed to a scene in the House of Representatives as Nancy Pelosi made weighty comments about the campus shootings and then called the House members to stand for a moment of silence. (Of course, one also wonders what good a “moment of silence” will do. Since we’re not allowed to ask for a “moment of prayer” I guess that’s all we have left…silence!) I really don’t mind a moment of silence,

But…

Why doesn’t Nancy Pelosi just put an end to all of this senseless violence, hatred, and killing? Why doesn’t she call on her friends in Syria to come and show us all the better way? Why doesn’t she bring them over here so they can show us the way to peace?

After all, Madame Speaker…

“The road to Damascus is the road to peace!”

I'M CONCERNED!

2007-04-04T23:48:00.000-04:00

I’m concerned. At the risk of beating an overheated dead horse, what ARE we going to do about this global warming thing? I’m hearing very few serious suggestions even though our tree-hugging friend up in the Great Northwest has logged in with his newfound left-wing, bleeding heart stuff. My other reader was almost burned out of his home as a result of global warming induced brushfires and he hasn’t made a donation or anything. I’ve tried hard to raise awareness but it seems that my evangelistic gifts are limited to the parish. It’s like putting a frog into a pot of water and turning on the heat! We’re just going to pretend that nothing is wrong while our globe warms and we slowly boil to death.

Or….

I’m getting ready for bed. It’s 26 degrees outside and we have a brand new blanket of snow covering beautiful, suburban Caledonia. I drove through a blinding snowstorm this evening which was worse than anything we had during the winter! The forecast is for freezing temperatures and snow for the next four days up through Easter Sunday. (Let me tell you this…I’m sure glad we don’t have an outdoor sunrise service planned for this year!) Snow in April is not uncommon here in the Mitten State. Maybe that’s the point? Maybe everything is going on just as it usually does? Maybe things aren’t really getting warmer at all? Maybe our Anaheim Hills reader can keep his donations? Maybe our Great Northwesterner can still plan on skiing a little longer? Maybe…

Other totally uninteresting news:

I finished “1776” on Monday, my day off. I really like the way McCullough writes history. Where was he when I was taking history classes at the H of E? I can’t remember reading a work of history when I came to really care about the characters in the story! I’m going to take your advice, Yak, and try and find his other book you recommended.

I was working on my Easter Sunday sermon today. You know what? When you’ve been preaching Easter sermons for as long as I have it sometimes seems like there is no new way to go about it! Don’t get me wrong. The resurrection is still the fulcrum upon which our faith rests. I love preaching the resurrection! But I’ve come to this conclusion and I think it is really important. It’s not about being creative in approaching the resurrection; it’s about the resurrection itself! Just tell the truth and thank God that he’s given me the privilege of telling it another year!

If I don’t see you before Sunday, have a blessed celebration of Christ’s resurrection!

GLOBAL WARMING QUIZ NIGHT

2007-03-31T21:43:00.000-04:00

LOOK OVER THE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE FOLLOWING TWO HOUSES AND SEE IF YOU CAN TELL WHICH BELONGS TO AN ENVIRONMENTALIST.

HOUSE # 1 A 20-room mansion (not including 8 bathrooms) heated by natural gas. Add on a pool (and a pool house) and a separate guest house all heated by gas. In ONE MONTH ALONE this mansion consumes more energy than the average American household in an ENTIRE YEAR. The average bill for electricity and natural gas runs over $2,400.00 per month. In natural gas alone, this property consumes more than 20 times the national average for an American home. This house is not in a northern or Midwestern "snow belt" either. It's in the South.

HOUSE # 2: Designed by an architecture professor at a leading national university, this house incorporates every "green" feature current home construction can provide. The house contains only 4,000 square feet (4 bedrooms) and is nestled on arid high prairie in the American southwest. A central closet in the house holds geothermal heat pumps which draw ground water through pipes sunk 300 feet into the ground. The water (usually 67 degrees F.) heats the house in winter and cools it in summer. The system uses no fossil fuels such as oil or natural gas, and it consumes 25% of the electricity required for a conventional heating/cooling system. Rainwater from the roof is collected and funneled into a 25,000 gallon underground cistern. Wastewater from showers, sinks and toilets goes into underground purifying tanks and then into the cistern. Thecollected water then irrigates the land surrounding the house. Flowers and shrubs native to the area blend the property into the surrounding rural landscape.

HOUSE # 1 (20 room energy guzzling mansion) is outside of Nashville, Tennessee. It is the abode of that renowned environmentalist (and filmmaker) Al Gore.

HOUSE # 2 (model eco-friendly house) is on a ranch near Crawford, Texas. Also known as "the Texas White House," it is the private residence of the President of the United States, George W. Bush.

MY NAME IS MUD

2007-03-27T23:22:00.000-04:00

They tried to warn me that if I wasn't careful my name would be mud. Now, I see, it has come to pass.

HEALING THE EARTH?

2007-03-27T22:59:00.000-04:00

Just in case...

It hit 75 degrees here in lovely, suburban Caledonia yesterday. I took out all the storm windows and put up the screens without hurting myself one little bit. Got the whole house fan going and there was a comfortable breeze scented with Spring wafting through the old Wooden House. I walked around in shorts all day and in my spare time read "1776" by David McCullough.

(If you haven't McCullough you should! I am very impressed with the way he writes history. This is my first book by him and I'm loving it!)

Anne of the House asked me if I wanted to barbeque burgers and pork chops for dinner. What a delightful idea! I found the charcoal out in the shed. (I didn't have to pull out the Weber grill because we leave it out all winter just in case.) I got my utensils ready, lit the fire, spread the Kingsford and began grilling.

As I sat out on the back stoop enjoying the warm evening I had a creeping chill run up my spine. What if the Religious Witness for the Earth people are right? I mean, I know that all creation is groaning waiting for the revelation of the sons of God. But what if, by some weird chance, they are right? What to do?

I decided to try and lay hands on the earth. You know, just in case. But what kind of prayer does one pray for the spiritual healing of the earth? I'm not sure I ever learned that at the Harvard of Evangelicalism or in seminary. I puzzled as I crouched in my backyard with my hands on the moist ground. Pretty soon the neighbors were sneaking peeks at me and I began to feel self-conscious. My dogs started sniffing around me, wondering why I was squatting in their bathroom. Still nothing came to mind. It was becoming awkward.

So, just like we used to do when we got caught praying over a meal at The Big Banjo, I pretended I was looking for something in the grass, shook my head disappointedly, and stood up to check the burgers.

I just hope Al Gore doesn't find out I chickened out. Then he'll be able to blame George Bush and that Shiloh Guy in Michigan.

Sorry, you guys.

THIS IS A RECORDING...

2007-03-23T16:04:00.000-04:00

Hi, I'm Molly, the receptionist at Shilohman International. The Shilohman is sorry that he can't keep his appointment with you right now. He is busy trying to resolve some knotty question in Ephesians 5:25-33 for Sunday's sermon. If you would like to leave a brief message including the time of your visit and a number where one of his people can get back to you, Shilohman will give you his compassionate listening ear if time permits. Thank you for understanding.

(Pssssst, don't let him know I told you, but Anne of the House is writing again! Those of us here at Shiloh headquarters think she's better than he is anyway! Check out The Wooden House!)

SPRING HAS SPRUNG!

2007-03-20T18:28:00.000-04:00

This post will be nothing more than a series of ramblings to keep you up to date on life in the Wooden House located near the west coast of the Mitten State.

At the moment of this writing, we are exactly two hours away from the Vernal Equinox, aka, the arrival of Spring. (Be sure to balance an egg on its end!) Today’s high was 44. It is currently 38 but the sky is cloudless and as blue as you could want. I hope the Yakimaniac notifies Al Gore about the raging heat we are feeling here in lovely, suburban, Caledonia.

Airman John was home for two weeks. He was supposed to help the local Air Force recruiter. Ricky the Recruiter sent him to the mall twice and told him to get him a total of four contacts which Airman John did in a matter of minutes. I can hear the conversation now, “Hey, buddy! Come here a sec. I have to get four names and phone numbers for Ricky the Recruiter and then I can go home. Come on. Gimme a break. You don’t have to listen to him. Just let him call.” We put Airman John on the bus for Florida yesterday morning which is supposed to be home for him for the next two years. I think maybe we should start planning a trip for January, 2008. (Unless global warming puts Florida under water by that time.)

Mark the Worship Guy has fallen in love. His beloved lives up in Minnesota, north of the Cities. He’s moving up there tomorrow so Anne of the House and I went to lunch with the two of them today. It was almost too much for Anne, saying goodbye to two of her kids on consecutive days. (Yes, Mark the Worship Guy was like one of our kids.) Minnesota, huh? I tried to encourage him by telling him that, thanks to global warming, it was soon to be an ocean-front retirement area.

I see YB of the SC is hoping the Anaheim Hills become the source for a reemergence of surf and car music. That would make the Matterhorn the new Catalina Island, I think. YB, if you can just keep your whole neighborhood from burning down in the Santa Ana windblown fires you may be in luck!

Son #2, Caleb, is thinking about heading out to Lake Tahoe this summer to live with his big brother who is now running a pizza restaurant out there. Aaron says he can help Caleb get a job fighting the forest fires out west. I think Caleb would be better off preparing to be a Pacific Ocean lifeguard at Tahoe Beach.

Thanks for listening.

AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

2007-03-14T12:17:00.000-04:00

You guys all know I’m not Mr. Science. When I was at the Harvard of Evangelicalism, the most difficult science class I took was “The Botany of Economic Plants,” aka, “Lunch with Leedy.” I wrote my term paper on “The Care of Putting Greens on Municipal Golf Courses.” In that class I was surrounded by athletes of all shapes and sizes.

My major was Communications. Minors in Bible, Spanish, and Education. Nothing there should vaguely resemble science.

I have spent nearly every day since college (with a few brief interruptions) in ministry. No call for scientific knowledge there.

Hopefully I have established my non-scientific credentials. So if I am wrong about this you will know that I am coming at it honestly.

I don’t know what Al Gore’s scientific credentials are. I know he thinks he invented the internet but I don’t know what he studied in college. I don’t even know what advanced degrees he holds. He now has an Academy Award but I don’t think that is like Nobel Prize for science.

Allegedly, there is a hole in the ozone layer. Allegedly, this contributes to global warming. Allegedly, global warming is melting the polar ice caps, the Greenland ice shelf, and all the glaciers in the world. Allegedly, southern Florida will be under water by 2100.

Here’s my question. If there is a hole in the ozone layer, how does Al Gore know that it isn’t allowing the heat to ESCAPE from our atmosphere? I do know that heat rises. The hole in my chimney allows the heat to escape from my house. Maybe if we got far enough away we would be able to see the heat escaping from the hole in the ozone layer!

And if the sun is so hot, why is it so cold in space?

Maybe we should look for another explanation for why the temperatures are rising!

Thanks for listening!

"IN GOD WE TRUST?"

2007-03-09T20:00:00.000-05:00

Have you received the irate emails from Christian people who are all ticked off that the United States mint took the words “In God We Trust” off the new Presidential One Dollar Coins? I was swamped with these emails. I can’t begin to guess how many I received. “How dare they take ‘In God We Trust’ off the coins!! Don’t use the new dollar coins! Just another example of the direction our government is going! We have to fight this! Let your congressman hear about it! We can’t just sit here and do nothing while our country goes to hell!”

A few days later it came out that the coins which were sent out without the “In God We Trust” were actually sent out on accident. They never intended to delete “In God We Trust” from the coins. The words are imprinted on the edge of the new dollars. Of course I got another email complaining that by putting “In God We Trust” on the edge of the coin it is just another sign that America is pushing God to the edge of our lives.

I want to start another protest. I hope you will all join me in this one. I want all Christians to stop using American currency until the US Mint takes “In God We Trust” off of it! I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life! How can the US government sleep at night? How can the guys at the mint keep a straight face? “In God We Trust?” And it’s printed on MONEY? You have to be kidding! “In God We Trust” has to be one of the biggest lies I’ve ever heard! It’s about time they took it off the money! The phrase on our money ought to be “In This We Trust.” Or we could print it on the weapons we give to our military and on all our bombs, “In This We Trust.”

What’s this talk about “pushing God to the edge of our society?” Our society kicked God out years and years ago! There is no pushing going on. I find it astonishing that God hasn’t simply stomped us out of existence! What grace and mercy is this that he has been so patient with us? I think God would be pleased if we took the lie off our currency! Maybe our currency should read, “Thank God for Mercy.” Or, “God, Please Forgive Us.”

Please, please don’t come after me with the “unpatriotic” thing. This really has nothing to do with patriotism or whether or not I love America. I am begging for realism and honesty. Our country doesn’t trust in God and it hasn’t for a couple of hundred years. Why should we be upset if they did take “In God We Trust” off the coins. It might be a sign that they are starting to listen to their consciences after all!

Christian friends, instead of getting all lathered up about our American currency, let’s do this: Let us faithfully and fervently pray for the people around us and seek out ways to invest in their lives and share the gospel of the love of God with them. We can’t change our country, but God really can! One person at a time!

WHEATON SHOOTS AND SCORES!

2007-03-07T17:26:00.000-05:00

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the list you have all been waiting for has been published! We welcome the 2007 version of the Princeton Review’s College Rankings. Yes, your alma mater, The Harvard of Evangelical Christendom, The Oxford of Midwestern Conservatism, The Yale of Christian Academia, has scored very high on eleven, count ‘em, eleven (11) of the PR’s lists. Oh, where to begin?

Why put off the good stuff? This is what you really want to know anyway. How did Wheaton, dear old Wheaton score on the partying lists? With all due respect to our venerable Smoking Christian who for some reason or other seems to think Wheaton turns out a very high percentage of alcoholics, I submit the PR’s assessment.

In answer to the question, “How widely used is beer?” we came in second only to Brigham Young University as the least “hopped up” college.

“How about hard liquor?” you ask. We won that one, coming in first as the least (not yeast) users over, yes, you guessed it, BYU! (UCSB gets a #14 on the other side of the list!)

What about the wicked weed? I can’t seem to explain this one except that the United States academies must have very stringent rules about hemp. Of course, BYU is first, followed by the Naval Academy, the Air Force Academy, the Coast Guard Academy, and the Merchant Marine Academy. The Orange and the Blue gets smoked and comes in #6 behind them. (I wonder about Army?)

How do you get an overall rating for party schools? You combine questions having to do with the use of drugs and alcohol, number of hours spent studying, and the popularity of Greek frats and sororities. Wheaton parties on at #2, again trailing BYU. (UCSB is #10 and you might guess they aren’t studying a whole lot there.)

Let’s move to some of the less “interesting” categories. Speaking of parties, among schools that long for the “good old Reagan days,” we are #7. Of colleges that are least accepting of alternative lifestyles we rank #4. In the category of “Future Rotarians and Daughters of the American Revolution” we climb all the way to #3. (Makes me so darn proud!)

“So what could be left?” asks the curious alumnus. Ah, food! Wheaton’s food is ranked #3 among all the colleges. (Remember getting a beat up piece of beef and calling it “steak night” every other weekend? I guess that is routine now except the beef is USDA prime!) Then there is the “Town and Gown” category. How well do college students get along with the townies? We are #8! And in overall quality of life, alma mater checks in at #16!

Why, you may wonder, does Wheaton score so well in all these areas? How could it be such a generally outstanding place to spend one’s college years? I could refer you to the pictures Peter’s Ashtray and suggest it is because of the studly guys on campus, but that would be too shallow. Here is your answer. In the category of percentage of students on campus who pray, Wheaton is #2, behind, yep, you guessed it, BYU!

“Wheaton, dear old Wheaton, live forever!”

ADVENTURES IN DRIVING

2007-03-02T23:20:00.000-05:00

Caleb, son #2, finished up his finals and headed home from Lake State University last night. It’s spring break here in blizzard world! He had two guys riding with him. One had to be dropped off over in Alma which is rather northeast of us. The other had to be dropped in Holland which is 45 minutes straight west. It’s a lot of driving but they pay for his gas!

The weather was very bad last night. It had warmed up during the day and the roads had become quite slushy. Of course, when it got cold last night, all the water and slush turned to ice. Some of you know how that is. I had cautioned him to take his time and drive slowly.

Around 9:30 last night he called. The conversation went like this:
“Dad, I’m ten feet off the highway.”
“You’re what? Ten feet off the highway?”
“Yeah, ten feet off the highway.”
(Confused) “That’s nice. What are you doing ten feet off the highway?”
“I got sucked off the road.”
“You what?”
“I got sucked off the road.”
“So are you trying to tell my you lost control of the car and went off the highway?”
“Yeah. What am I supposed to do?”
“Are you all ok?”
“Yeah”
“Is the car ok?”
“I think so.”
“Do you want me to come up and get you?”
“No. I’m 21 years old and I’ve never spun out on the highway before and I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m 53 years old and I haven’t spun out on the highway before.”
“One of the guys has a AAA card.”
“OK. Call AAA. If they won’t help you then call information for the number for the state police and they’ll help you.”
“OK. I’ll call you back.”

A half hour later he called. AAA wouldn’t send a wrecker until the cops were there. So Caleb called the cops but before he could hang up the phone the wrecker was there anyway. Caleb sat in the squad and chatted with the cop while the wrecker pulled out the car. No charge! Praise the Lord! All’s well.

He finally got home around 5:30 tonight. (Had to go straight to see the girlfriend!) I told him how glad I was he was home safely. I mentioned how nice it was that he didn’t have to pay a lot of money to get pulled out. Then he told me that he spun out off the highway a second time and went through the same process again. This time it cost him $60.

I asked him what he thought the problem was. He knew the roads were icy and that he would have to drive slowly. What happened? How could he spin out twice?

Caleb looked at me and said…

Are you ready? This is worth it! Wait for it now…

“Well, Dad, when I hit the ice I couldn’t get the CRUISE CONTROL OFF FAST ENOUGH!”

Amazing!

Good night!

WHAT'S WRONG WITH US?

2007-03-01T19:43:00.000-05:00

I have been watching Fox News in the mornings for several years now. CNN finally wore me out with the way the make the news and although the morning hosts on Fox can be silly sometimes I prefer their honest approach to watching the news. When the tea or coffee is ready and the porridge is made I sit down and catch the headlines and see what’s going on in the world.

I quit watching the news last week. “Why?” you ask. Good question. I’m angry and I’m not going to take it any more. I am so sick and tired of seeing hour after hour of coverage of Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Spears that if I see one more story about them I might do damage to my TV set and then how could I watch USC beat some SEC team in the BCS Bowl Championship game next January?

Now, let me get serious. This national infatuation we have with Anna Nicole Smith and the men who claim to have gotten her pregnant out of wedlock disgusts me. This morning, before I could change the channel, I saw a crowd of people across from the morgue waiting to see the hearse carrying her body drive away. There were families waiting. People with cameras. What’s going on? Will those children someday tell their grandchildren they saw Anna Nicole’s hearse drive away? Is some proud photographer going to flash his prints at the local pub and point and say, “There! That’s the hearse with her body!” Anna Nicole Smith got famous because she took her clothes off for Playboy. In our society that makes someone a celebrity! What is wrong with us?

Britney Spears is a spoiled little brat who thinks the world revolves around her and there doesn’t seem to be one person around her to tell her how wrong she is. She makes a joke out of marriage and parenthood. She drinks and drugs herself unconscious. She shaves her head and then in a blind rage attacks a car with an umbrella. And America waits breathlessly to see if she is going to stay in rehab. What is wrong with us?

What is wrong with us? We have young men and women dying every day in wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. We have wounded and broken bodies being sent home every day to parents, wives, sons and daughters and we have the gall to be entertained by information about a dead addict and a living addict who seems to be trying to kill herself? Please don’t ask me where my Christian compassion is. I’m venting here. It’s not Anna and Britney that upset me. It’s our society! It’s us!

We should be ashamed! We should be disgusted! Someone should say something! Maybe I should say something! Certainly I should say something! We better be careful what we are watching on TV and what we are talking about in our coffee shops. It’s not honoring to God to even mention the things they do in secret. America will be called to answer for her entertainments and idolatries and if I (we) do not warn her I (we) will be culpable. Perhaps we will not be able to change a society that is already so damaged but maybe a few people will hear us. Maybe there are people out there who are ready to hear some real Good News for a change. God help us.

Thanks for listening.

A SADLY SOGGY STORY

2007-02-23T00:41:00.000-05:00

BEN AND CALEB SNOWBLOW OUR DRIVE

Monday evening I was sitting on the couch in the living room of our lovely 1920 Arts and Crafts bungalow watching “24” with Ben, son #4. Suddenly I noticed that my pants were feeling a little wet. I moved a little bit and reached down to touch the couch and found a puddle of some sort of fluid there. Rats! Had old age caught up with me at last? Had my bladder finally failed me? I was suddenly stricken with a far worse thought. Was I bleeding rectally? At that moment, God reassured me as a falling drop of water hit my hand. At least I wasn’t bleeding out right then and there. Still, my stomach dropped and put a new pressure on my bladder! Where was the water coming from?

There is attic space immediately above the living room. Ben and I dashed upstairs and ran into the attic and flipped on the light. I looked over to the left side of the attic and there it was, a big pool of water surrounding the boxes containing my still packed up library! Panic struck! I dove through all the other boxes and started pitching boxes of books to Ben like I was a younger me. My socks were soaked and soon my pants were soaked as well. Ben ran down to the basement and started collecting buckets, plastic storage bins and old towels. We arranged the water receptacles and soaked up as much water as possible. It seemed like we caught it in time.

Yesterday afternoon Anne of the House and I were sitting in the dining room when one of the tiles from the drop ceiling in the living room (that drop ceiling has to be removed soon!) came crashing down on the Persian rug along with a large volume of water and the plaster from the original ceiling. Anne, who comes from a long line of blue collar type folks, started laughing at the mishap while I, a completely non-handy type of white collar guy, felt sick to my stomach. She chuckled the whole time she was up on the ladder poking holes in the plaster to relieve the water pressure. My stomach churned. All I could see were dollar signs. Sadly, all I have are dollar signs. No dollars to go along with them!

We knew we needed a new roof when we bought the place. I had just hoped to get through one more winter. Guess we didn’t make it. The culprit was ice dams on the roof. It warmed up this week. All the snow on the roof started to melt but before it could come off the roof it refroze during the night. Thus, all the new melting snow had no place to go except through my aged roof, attic, and living room ceiling. Ah, the adventures of buying an old house! Can you identify with me, OG? I refer you to Anne’s post of January 13.

I know there’s nothing you can do so thanks for listening.

NEWS FROM FINCHWORLD

2007-02-19T15:53:00.000-05:00

It’s been awhile since I have updated you on the flock of finches at the Wooden House. You may remember that we were having babies like crazy around here for awhile. We had two clutches of four birds, one of which was Charlie, the hand-raised finch who kept falling out (getting kicked out?) of the nest.

I tried hard to sell off the babies as Christmas presents. I thought maybe our friends would like to buy them as unique gifts for their kids or something. Boy, was I wrong about that! We finally resorted to giving them away. One Shiloh family, the Williams, took four, two males and two females. (We know what’s going on at their house about now!) Aunt Bonnie took two. That left us with two, a male, and Charlie, the human finch.

I guess the big news is that Charlie isn’t a “he.” Charlie turned out to be Charlene. We kept her in a separate cage with the leftover male. As she matured we came to the realization that all her coloring was female. At first I just thought it was because she was a “late bloomer.” Then I noticed he cage companion was spending a lot of time cuddling with her. I finally had to admit it, he’s a she!

More big news. Charlene is laying eggs. The two of them are acting very parental, taking turns sitting in the nest and sharing the nest at night. I guess it won’t be long now. I’m kind of hoping these first eggs are just duds. She seems too young to be having baby birds already. She just hatched in November herself! But she turned out to be a lovely finch and her partner may be the most handsome male in our entire flock!

Oh, by the way, Charlene won’t come out of the cage and sit on our hands anymore. She’s lost all her human characteristics and has regressed to being all bird all the time. I know you’ll all be holding your breath waiting to hear the glad tidings of great joy. I’ll be sure to let you know. Little tiny finch cigars for everyone!

THE LITTLE RED SHOES (CONCLUSION)

2007-02-04T16:15:00.000-05:00

Having arrived in New York, William Guiler commenced his search for his wife Elizabeth and their young daughter. He walked the streets before and after work every day. He visited a different church every Sunday. New York had no bureau of missing persons in 1806 so he was entirely on his own. He went to the markets. He frequented the docks. He walked into hundreds of shops hoping to find Elizabeth in one of them. No one had heard of a woman who was looking for her husband who had been left behind on the dock in Liverpool.

Spring and summer passed. It was autumn in New York and the leaves were already falling as William walked the streets of the city. One evening he was shuffling through the fallen leaves, kicking the leaves out ahead of him, and lost in thought. He almost collided with another pedestrian who passed him. He walked on a few more paces before something caused him to stop and turn around. Astonishingly, the other person had also turned to look back! William’s eyes rested on a woman leading a little girl by the hand! Incredulous with delight, William and Elizabeth flew into one another’s arms! The long and cruel separation was over!

What had happened to Elizabeth and little Elizabeth Margaret? They had arrived in New York with no money because William had kept their travel money on his person. Elizabeth found employment with a milliner near the harbor where the ships from Britain arrived. Month after month she went to the docks every day to see if a ship arrived. She carefully watched every passenger disembark hoping to spy her husband. In the meantime she heard stories of ships lost at sea in storms and ships destroyed in combat. She heard about young men being impressed into British naval service. She feared her William had been lost at sea but she never gave up hope.

That evening that she met William she had set out with little Elizabeth Margaret, just as she did every evening, hoping to hear some news or find someone who might be able to help her in her search. By God’s providence she met her long-lost William walking on the streets of New York.

William and Elizabeth had more children together. Their great-great granddaughter was Eliza Faye Guiler. She was born in 1899 and married William Bright Moorhead. Their son is Charles David Moorhead and he is my father.

THE LITTLE RED SHOES (PART FOUR)

2007-02-03T15:43:00.000-05:00

William Guiler, following a light from a window, barely made it to the cabin before collapsing unconscious against the door. The family heard him fall and carried him inside their home. They used all the medical knowledge they had to try to bring William back from the brink of death. He was delirious for a number of days. He continually asked, “Where are the others?” William clung to life and after a long time he recovered to tell his story.

By this time it was the dead of winter. Travel was impossible. William was stranded for the rest of the season with the family that had saved his life. The man of the house was a lumberman. There were other cabins and other families scattered across the countryside. Occasionally these families visited in one another’s cabins for some social respite. William’s host owned a violin and William would entertain the families with his playing. He was a well-known fiddler back in Ireland who used to play at county fairs. He even tried to pay for some of his stay by teaching the lumberman’s daughter violin lessons!

Eventually the Nova Scotian winter broke and the weather changed. William was anxious to travel south and resume his search for his lost wife and daughter. He checked the coastline for boats and finally found one bound for Boston. He was able to get aboard that boat and bid his new friends a fond farewell.

William sailed to Boston and then finally made his way down to New York. He was able to secure work at a tailor shop. He began his search for Elizabeth and his daughter. He walked the streets every morning and every evening. He asked everywhere he could think of. Every Sunday he attended a different church hoping to find Elizabeth in the congregation. But there was no word of a young woman with a small daughter waiting for a husband from Northern Ireland.

THE LITTLE RED SHOES (PART THREE)

2007-02-02T09:53:00.000-05:00

William Guiler and five young Irishmen stood on the shore of Nova Scotia. They had escaped from a British man-of-war onto which they had been impressed into service months before. Much to their surprise and chagrin they discovered neither town nor people. The dock at which the ship had taken on supplies was a lone naval supply dock to which goods had to be shipped a long distance. The six men had no idea where they were or which direction they should go. They had to do something! Their clothes were fast freezing solid on their bodies and they were in danger of dying quickly.

The group split up. Four men went in one direction while two went in another. William was one of the two. After walking a long distance they had still found nothing. William’s partner began to weaken. He refused to hurry as they sought shelter. Soon he began to complain of exhaustion and insisted that they lie down to rest for awhile. William urged him to keep moving. He tried to carry his friend but soon realized he was too weak to do so. William rubbed the man’s face and hands trying to keep him from freezing to death. Nothing worked. Finally, the man would go no further. William knew he had to leave him.

He pressed on, looking in every direction and calling out, hoping someone might hear him. His clothes were now rigid on his arms and legs and he was having difficulty moving. Suddenly, he saw a light in the distance. He had heard rumors about Indians and knew they hated white men. He wondered if the light he saw was an Indian campfire. But William was freezing to death and he was convinced the light was his only hope to survive. If he was ever to find his wife and daughter who had sailed to New York many months before, he would have to risk it.

William made his way toward the distant light. He stumbled and fell many times. Over and over he struggled to his feet. He was calling and crawling, trying to reach safety and warmth. He struggled as far as he could and then collapsed and lost consciousness.

The light William had seen came from a cabin window. The family inside the cabin heard a dull thud against their door and went to investigate. When they opened the door they were astonished to find a man, apparently frozen to death, lying on their threshold.

THE LITTLE RED SHOES (PART TWO)

2007-01-31T12:32:00.000-05:00

The ship bearing William Guiler’s wife and daughter sailed off to America without him. He had to wait a full week before he was able to board another ship sailing from Liverpool to New York. There was always hope that his ship might pick up some time on the ship carrying his family during the crossing. William desperately willed his ship to go faster.

William noticed that there were many young Irishmen on his ship. They were leaving home and country in the hope of starting a new and better life on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. They were not many days at sea before William’s ship was overtaken by a British man-of-war and forced to stop. Marines boarded the ship and impressed every man on board who seemed physically capable of being a seaman. (It is a known fact that due to a strong prejudice against the Irish, some English shipping firms notified the Royal Navy when a ship departed England with a large number of Irishmen aboard. Whether this happened in William’s case is unknown.)

William served aboard the man-of-war for many months. This particular ship spent most of its time waylaying ships sailing to or from the United States. Some ships were seized and taken over while others were stripped of men or cargo.

Early the following winter a rumor was passed around the ship that it were going to dock in Nova Scotia to take on cargo and supplies. Several of the Irishmen hatched a plan to jump ship if at all possible. Sure enough, the day arrived when land appeared ahead of them. One of the Irishmen lashed a rope to the stern of the ship and allowed it to slip into the water unnoticed.

Night fell early in December and the loading of cargo was still going on. In the confusion of the moving and stowing of the cargo the plotters slipped into the galley and each of them stole a loaf of bread which they tucked under their jackets. As the ship began to slip away from the dock the six young men slid down the rope and into the water where they waited silently until the ship was far enough away that they could swim to shore unnoticed.

The six stumbled ashore, soaking wet in the frigid December night. Much to their surprise, amazement, and distress, they realized they were not at a port. There was no city. There were no lights. There was no sign of any people living anywhere near where they came ashore. Their clothes began to freeze solid on their bodies and they had no idea where they were. What were they to do?

THE LITTLE RED SHOES (PART ONE)

2007-01-27T19:44:00.000-05:00

I have always considered myself very fortunate that my ancestors kept such good records of our family history. The following story (in several parts) has been passed down in writing for more than six generations. It is a true story that took place between 1804 and 1806. The main character, William Guiler, was my father’s mother’s great-great grandfather; my great-great-great-great grandfather.

Shipping on the Atlantic Ocean was a dodgy business in the early 1800s. Great Britain and France were engaged in fierce naval warfare. Both nations attacked ships of neutral countries, boarding them and “impressing” the young men into naval service. The Barbary Pirates captured ships and demanded ransom.

During these years there was great poverty in Northern Ireland. There had been a succession of crop failures causing widespread unrest. Starvation was a very real threat for many families.

William Guiler and his wife, Elizabeth, decided to leave Ireland with their small daughter and go to America. All their assets were turned into cash. They purchased passage on a ship which was sailing from Liverpool to New York. William carried the precious remainder of their money safely in his inside pocket.

When they had boarded the ship, Elizabeth remembered that a pair of little red shoes which had been given to their daughter had been left on the window sill in the room where they had slept that last night. William found the ship’s captain, told him of his eagerness to retrieve the shoes, and was assured he would have plenty of time to get them before the ship sailed.

As William was hurrying back to the docks he saw the ship pulling away. He called and waved his arms in a frenzy, desperate to be noticed. He jumped into a small boat at the dock and with two other men tried to catch up with the ship, calling and waving all the time. It was no use. The wind and tide had shifted and the ship carrying his wife and little daughter had left for America.

THE WEDNESDAY MORNING QUARTERBACK

2007-01-25T11:28:00.000-05:00

So were you able to catch the State of the Union address Tuesday evening? Youngest daughter, Mary, had a choir cabaret concert that night and it hit the two-hour mark at 9:00 when Anne of the House leaned over and whispered, “If you want to walk home to see the speech it would be ok.” I was out the door and hustling the mile to our house as fast as my short, aging legs would carry me through the snow. I only missed the first four minutes when the President was talking about the budget.

I was impressed with his new sense of humility. I’m not sure he has a lot of choice since the Congress has moved to the left side of the aisle, but I was afraid he would still come across as if he was trying to pick a fight. He seemed to be trying to reason with his audience more than in the past. Just a few comments on the subjects he addressed:

Tax breaks for health insurance: I think everyone should have health insurance. I also think many people don’t agree with me. Give people money to buy health insurance and many of them will choose to buy something else with it. I seriously doubt federal health care will make many people happy. (See: Great Britain)

No Child Left Behind: Nice sentiment. I don’t want to leave a kid behind if he wants to work and study. But our educational system is fast becoming one big international joke and if we don’t start leaving some kids behind we’ll all be stuck behind. Nations that realize college isn’t for everybody (See: Japan) have long since passed us. I think competition has a place in education.

Alternative fuels: It’s about time!

Immigration reform: It seems like a good idea to tighten up the borders and give temporary work permits. As it is now it is just too easy for anyone to get across the borders and I seem to recall we’re fighting a war against terror. Step 1: keep terrorists out of your own country.

Iraq: I don’t see any good solution and I’m tired of people saying, “Well, if you don’t like what the President is doing, what would you do?” Don’t stick this on me! If I was president we wouldn’t be in this situation. We had a number of alternatives before we invaded Iraq. It’s too easy to say, “Don’t criticize unless you have an alternative to offer.” It’s possible for a person to create a lose/lose situation without good alternatives and to require alternatives as currency for criticism is ridiculous. Some people say, “Just let the military deal with it!” No, I don’t think so. The military has a solution but I’m not sure I’m willing to see women and children blown up in their solution. I agree with the President’s statement that it is time for the Iraqi government to step up. Maybe I think they should step up even more than he does. It’s time for some multinational talks and I don’t mean the UN.

Did you hear the same interviews I heard after the speech? John McCain seemed to be struggling to be supportive of the President. Hillary could do nothing more than criticize. Barak Obama was scary good. Thoughtful, cooperative, creative.

Finally, how about Jim Webb’s Democratic response to the speech? Watch out for this guy! My prediction: potential vice-presidential timber or a presidential run. Was he smooth or what? Here’s my biggest complaint of the night. This may not be a perfect quote but it is close, “The majority of our nation does not support the way the war is being run.” This is where the Democrats really make me angry. Since when do they concern themselves with what the majority of our nation thinks? Let me tell you this, if I may, the majority of our nation does not support abortion either and the Democrats don’t seem too concerned about that!

Thanks for listening. You’re too kind.

A FRACTURED FAIRY TALE

2007-01-12T17:36:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time there was a mighty nation that had ruled unimpeded for over two hundred years. It grew to be a superpower and it spread its style of government throughout the regions where it had influence. The leader of this nation believed with all his heart that every people and nation wanted to have the same kind of government and the same kind of lifestyle as he and his people enjoyed in their land.

Everything was good in the mighty nation. The people enjoyed a previously unknown degree of freedom and wealth. But while they were living their happy lives a power was rising in the East, in the land once known as Persia. A powerful leader arose and united many peoples against the mighty superpower. There were attacks against the mighty nation and many were killed. Something had to be done.

The leader of the superpower nation decided he had to build up his armies. This decision was to create both fiscal and political disaster at home. He issued new tax laws requiring people to cut back on their comfortable lifestyles. The people were not happy. The larger armies continued to fail in their effort to put down the new, powerful movement in the East. The citizens of the mighty nation began to feel like their leader might be wasting their resources. Their freedoms were being curtailed. Larger and larger armies were required and more and more of their men were being killed.

It seemed like the war with the people of the East might never be won. But the leader of the mighty nation would never give up. He sent more armies and more commanders to the East while things began to fall apart in the homeland. Eventually, after two generations of sending armies against the people of the East, there was peace. But the mighty nation had invested so much in the battle that it was weakened beyond repair. A new enemy arose and within a matter of years the mighty nation fell to this enemy.

Does this story sound familiar to you? It should. It is the account of the beginning of the fall of the Roman Empire. Emperor Valerian fell to the King Shapur I of Persia beginning a long struggle between Rome and Persia which resulted in the division of the Empire into its two parts, East and West. Finally, Constantine and Diocletian subdued Persia only to find the barbarians (Huns, Vandals, Goths, Visigoths, and Alans) swarming across their northern borders.

Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

HELP! PICTURE TROUBLE!

2007-01-04T17:46:00.000-05:00

Is anyone out there having any trouble posting pictures with their blogs? My accounts seem to have gone beserk.

I posted two blogs on Shilohman today. The first one worked with no problem; the one about LSU. The picture posted in the old fashioned way. The second, about Gerald Ford, won't let me post a picture. It keeps asking me to sign in with my Google account even though I am using my old blog and not the updated Beta version. I do have a Google account but it won't accept my sign in or my password. None of the Help links do a thing for me.

I posted on Shilohguy today also. When I went to post a picture it was just like the good old days, no Google prompt. But it won't post the pictures I'm choosing! What's the deal?

Is anyone else having trouble?

GERALD R. FORD

2007-01-04T12:22:00.000-05:00

I think Gerald R. Ford was a good man. I believe he was very honest. He was evidently a good father and a loving husband. He was very intelligent and a hard worker. He was an excellent athlete and he had a very good sense of humor. I’ve always admired a man who can laugh at himself and not take himself too seriously. As a person, I would have enjoyed knowing Gerald Ford.

I spent a great portion of yesterday watching the funeral here in Grand Rapids. The service was held at Grace Episcopal Church. I was very impressed by the service. It was a traditional, liturgical service, full of the gospel and traditional expressions of Christian faith. I was deeply moved by the service itself. I was particularly touched by the obvious love and respect shown to President Ford by President Carter. Carter’s comments about the mutual faith they shared were powerful.

Gerald Ford was not a perfect man, but he was a brother in Christ and his faith guided him in a very difficult time for our country. Here is something I find very interesting. Ford was the first president I remember who made no apology for being a Christian and every president since has also made a clear profession of faith in Christ. Carter is a Southern Baptist. Reagan was a Presbyterian. George H.W. Bush is Episcopalian. Clinton is a Southern Baptist. And George W Bush is a Methodist. All flawed men. You may disagree with many or all of them. All have made very bad decisions both personally and politically. But I think all of them are genuine Christians.

Nixon was responsible for pushing me away from my Republican upbringing. By the time I was in college and thinking on my own I had begun to identify with the ideals of the Kennedys. I was unhappy with the way Johnson and Nixon handled the Viet Nam war.

Then came Watergate. Watergate was the end for me. The only hope the Republican party had with me was a proper prosecution of Nixon. He needed to be held responsible for his involvement. Ford pardoned him and I was gone. In my opinion, the office of president has never recovered from that decision. I don’t think a president has been respected trusted in the same way since Nixon abused the office and got away with it.

Nevertheless, President Ford was a good man and he did what he thought was right. I’m confident we will have a chance to discuss it in the future.

PROPS TO LSU!

2007-01-04T09:32:00.000-05:00

To the fans of southern football, Jonathan Moorhead, et al,

Jamarcus Russell may well be the most NFL-ready quarterback I have ever seen and that includes my USC guys, Carson Palmer and Matt Leinart. He is astonishing! Brady Quinn looked like a boy playing against a man last night. Poor Brady saw his draft day status slide way, way down. Russell's arm is phenomenal and his footspeed and view of the field is amazing.

LSU also has a tremendous running back in that Williams, #5, the true freshman. If Russell comes back (which I doubt) they should be ranked #1 or #2 preseason.

Notre Dame? They had no business in a BCS bowl game anyway. I'm sick of seeing Notre Dame given bowl games every year. They've now lost 9 bowl games in a row. They never beat a ranked team all year. I think the BCS should tell them they have to join a conference or there will be no more BCS bowl games.

USC? Yes, they played flat against both Oregon St. and UCLA. Every team has a flat game or two and USC had their flat games when OSU and UCLA played well. National champions can't do that. No, I don't think they deserve to be in the championship game this year. But I honestly think Ohio St. should be glad they're not playing USC!

What would I like to see? I'd like to see USC and LSU play. Or USC and Florida. Who beat LSU this year? Did Florida beat them? Must have. I've forgotten. Who else beat them?

I just want to give props to LSU. They deserve them. But I never really thought ND could stay with them as well as they did in the first half.

I WAS WRONG!

2006-12-30T00:46:00.000-05:00

Ok, everyone. All of you people out there with whom I have had conversations about the situation in Iraq. All of you folks who asked me what I thought was going to happen in Iraq. All my friends with whom I sounded so certain, so positive. All together now in a sing-songy voice, “You were wrong. You were wrong.”

Yes, I was wrong. I said it over and over again. They would never kill Saddam. The trial would go on and on and on. We would be long gone from Iraq before they finally finished all the appeals. Baathists and Sunnis would rescue Saddam and he would return to power. He would prove that everything America did was a waste of time, money, and human life.

Yes, I was wrong. About two and a half hours ago they hanged Saddam. I haven’t seen the films or pictures yet. There is still just a little bit of the conspiracy theorist in me that makes we wonder if it was really Saddam they hanged. After all, remember all the look-alikes he had?

What happens now? Good question. I’m so busy backpedaling that I haven’t really had a chance to think about it. My guess is that a message has been sent that the Iraqi courts aren’t going to mess around. The leaders of the insurgents might just decide to lay low for awhile. The Iraqi government might actually have a chance to get organized and gain some semblance of control. Certainly the withdrawal of American troops is a big step nearer this morning. In no way do I think that the problems are over but there seems to be a ray of hope that the majority in Iraq might just exert enough effort to stabilize things.

It would be awesome to see peace in Iraq. It would be awesome to see many people come to faith in Christ. After all, he shall be called Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace.

Yes. I was wrong.

2006-12-25T19:18:00.000-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

THE SHILOHMAN

AND

ANNE OF THE HOUSE

CHARLIE AND JUSTIN

2006-12-22T12:59:00.000-05:00

Just want to keep you all appraised of the progress of our baby finch. By the way, he has undergone a name change. Anne of the House has decided he is a Charlie. As you can see, he is growing very well. He has moved into his own cage now. This makes the third cage that is sitting across from me in my study! You can see the "mother cage" behind Charlie and the "juvenile cage" to its right. Charlie's cage is to the right of that one! The view out of my windows isn't what I expected it to be!

You may have read about the desire of Anne of the House for more children. Well, this week her prayers were answered! Caleb came home from Lake State on Wednesday night. He brought a friend with him, Justin, who lives in Oregon. Justin was scheduled to fly out of Grand Rapids this morning and we agreed he could sleep over until Caleb took him to the airport. Oh, did I mention that he was supposed to change planes in....wait for it....it's coming....oh, you already guessed? Denver!

"So Justin, when are you going to be able to get home to your family?"

"They cancelled my flight."

"Until when"

"Christmas Day. 4:00."

Anne of the House was absolutely thrilled! Another kid for Christmas! Another miracle Christmas child! Welcome to the Wooden House, Justin!

ASK MR. CHRISTMAS

2006-12-21T17:03:00.000-05:00

There have been questions raised in the comment section of Peter’s Ashtray about the circumstances surrounding the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. They are excellent questions, Yakimaniac, and I hope I can answer them to your general satisfaction.

First, Luke does not state that Bethlehem was the birthplace of either Joseph or Mary. He does say Joseph went to Bethlehem “the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.” The reason for the journey in the first place was the census taken by Caesar Augustus. The reason for the census? Taxation. The Romans practiced what is referred to as “tax farming.” They contracted taxation to individuals/companies who then hired tax collectors. This “census” was very similar to William I’s Domesday Book. Basically, Caesar wanted to know what he owned so he could set the tax requirements for the tax collectors.

The census was being done on a tribe and clan basis. The Jews had to return to their tribal territory and then to the village/town of their clan seat. Joseph went to Judea (Latin for Judah) because he was of the tribe of Judah and then to Bethlehem, the city of David, because he was of the clan of David. It is not stated where Joseph or Mary were born. Their families may have been living in Galilee for generations!

The translation “inn” is somewhat unfortunate because it conjures up a picture of a lovely, snow-covered, English or New England B & B or tavern. The more appropriate word would be “caravansary.” I.e. A stopping off place for caravans, frequently built around oases. By Roman times, the towns surrounding major trade cities all had caravansaries. Maybe a better picture would be a modern truck stop. They were generally rather large, walled areas surrounding a common source of water. Originally, travelers would camp around the inner wall and string up blankets or something for a little privacy. As time passed, the better caravansaries actually had small rooms lining the inner walls. These were tough places. Caravan drivers were the wagoneers or teamsters of their time. There was usually a lot of drinking and prostitution connected with the caravansary.

Did Joseph or Mary have relatives in Bethlehem? Perhaps. We don’t know. Even if they did, they would have had limited space. Consider, all the members of the tribe of Judah were returning to Judea and all the members of the line of David were coming to Bethlehem. It is not a stretch to think that all of the guestrooms available in the town were already taken by family members or renters. The natural place to go then would be to the caravansary.

What about the livestock? My reading tells me that caravan animals were usually kept inside the caravansary to protect from bandits or robbers. There would have been a feeding area for animals outside the walls of the caravansary, often built alongside the wall. No, animals would not usually be stabled there. It would be a place where caravans would feed their animals if they were not staying the night. Kind of a drive-thru for caravan animals. If all of the places on the inside of the caravansary were filled by travelers then the next best place for Joseph and Mary would have been the feeding shed attached to the outside of the walls.

It doesn’t really seem that finances were an issue for Joseph and Mary. They apparently could afford to rent a place in the caravansary but there just wasn’t enough room. Also, the Magi finally found the Holy Family living in a house (Matthew 2:10). Either Joseph had some money or else he began working after his arrival in Bethlehem. The general practice of hospitality among those people would require family to do their best to help. We don’t know that they didn’t. They just aren’t mentioned.

I hope this helps. Please feel free to comment and ask more questions if I haven’t quite covered the topic. Merry Christmas to all!

(I have some great photos to go with this post but for some reason Blogger isn't uploading them at this time. Sorry!)

DOING MY PART

2006-12-13T23:26:00.000-05:00

I would like to add my congratulations to The Smoking Christian for his obvious success in blogworld. He is now his own dot com which lifts him higher and higher above his adoring masses. I would also like to note that I figured out how to fix the link on Shilohman all by myself. That is a frightening thought. Perhaps I'm spending far too much time in the blogosphere?

Just a brief report on Harry the Finch. We've figured out that Harry was probably being pitched out of the nest by his three siblings. In the last couple of days all three of his siblings have voluntarily ventured out of the nest and they are far more developed than Harry. We guess Harry was the runt and never got as much food as his siblings. However, much to their fratricidal frustration, Harry is doing great and his mom is way bigger than their mom! When we take the lid off Harry's box he flies right to Anne of the House now. I was holding him this afternoon when she walked into the room and he dumped me like a bag of rotten potatoes and flew right to her! I'd say he's coming right along. More authorized pictures to come!

Oh, and by the way, John the Air Force son finally called this evening. He was allowed to tell us he would be calling again on Sunday and then he had to read off his mailing address. He was able to slip in that he was doing fine.

ANNE OF THE HOUSE TO THE RESCUE!

2006-12-07T20:37:00.000-05:00

TRUST THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THE ONLY AUTHENTIC PICTURES OF HARRY THE FINCH…ALL OTHER PHOTOS ARE STUNT DOUBLES

There was a great deal of discussion about whether or not we would have children together. I mean A LOT of discussion. The final decision was for the Big V which does not stand for Victory. But that was only the beginning…

The lovely wife, aka Anne of the House, may have agreed fully with the decision but that did not mean her mothering instinct was gone. It happened everywhere! Grocery stores, church, on the street, in malls. Whenever she saw a fresh baby she went all goo-goo. Our younger friends loved it because they could come over to our house with their new baby and not have to worry about the infant for hours on end. I have so many pictures with her holding someone’s baby. And then would come the question, “Now wouldn’t you like to have one of these?” I would smile…

And say nothing! I’m not as stupid as I look!

Well, the problem has been temporarily solved. It all has to do with my flock of finches.

As you know, Anne of the House gave me a dozen finches for my birthday in September. They have been introduced to you in previous postings. The little flitters have really been at it. Two pair have produced two young each. They are approximately the same age. I have been watching them closely for the last couple of weeks to see if they are actually eating on their own. Just yesterday I decided it was time for them to be transferred to their own cage. (If you leave them in with the adults too long they apparently get on their nerves and the adults will attack them. You know, just like human kids!) So I transferred the four teenagers and they are doing just great.

Back to our story. Apartment #6 hatched a large clutch a couple of weeks ago. I finally figured out there were four hatchlings in there. Several days ago I found one of the little fellas lying on the bottom of the cage. He was what they call a nestling, the stage after hatchling. I called Anne of the House and she very maternally picked the guy up and put him back into the nest. Then two days ago I found another guy out of the nest. I wasn’t sure if he was so sick that his parents were kicking him out or if the apartment was so small that he kept falling out. But this time I put him back myself.

Yesterday, after transferring the teenagers (fledglings/juveniles) I found yet another nestling on the bottom of the cage. Whatever the reason for his exit from the nest, I figured he wasn’t going to make it at home. He needed foster parents. I asked Anne of the House what she thought and we were off to the pet store. We bought bird baby formula, syringes, a thermometer, a heating pad, and everything we thought we would need to raise this bird. It was taking too long! We had been gone over two hours! The kid had to eat! We hurried around like ER docs trying to save a life!

When we got home the whole family kicked into overdrive. Bring me a bowl! Microwave this formula! Where is the syringe? The little guy looked like he was almost gone! I was getting the defib paddles ready. Boy, are they small! Clear! Wait a minute…back to reality…Anne of the House filled the syringe, picked up the tiny bird and held it to its beak. The thing opened his beak and took off on the formula like crazy. He ate a bunch of the gunk and looked as good as new. No, better than new! He was standing up and looking around like he owned the place.

The emergency was over. The lovely wife had her baby. She sat there all night waiting for the next feeding time. She was up at 3:30 to feed him again. He’s doing just great and I don’t see why he won’t be able to join the other teenagers in a week or two.

What did I just say? He’s been named! Harry the Finch. Anne of the House is imprinting herself on Harry and Harry thinks she’s his mom! This bird will never join the flock again! He’ll have a favored place in her pocket and at her table. As for me? At least she has a baby to take care of!

Please find the only authorized photo of Harry the Finch below!

ROSA VERSUS MICHAEL

2006-12-01T20:01:00.000-05:00

Welcome to December! December 1 is a remarkable day. There have been a number of historic events take place on the first day of December. One of them played a very important role in my life. On December 1, 1969 the draft lottery was restored. I know that little piece of American history caused a great deal of stress to a lot of young men my age!

But there are two other important events in history that took place on December 1. The Civil Rights movement won an important battle when a heroic African-American woman by the name of Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat and move to the back of the bus in Montgomery, Alabama in 1955. Also in African-American history, Michael Jackson released Thriller on December 1, 1982. Could two famous African-Americans be more different?

Rosa Parks was proud to be a black woman; Michael Jackson turned white.

Rosa Parks sat in the front of a bus; Michael Jackson just bought a fleet of buses and limos.

Rosa Parks was used to being treated like an animal; Michael Jackson bought a zoo full of animals.

Rosa’s name was Parks; Michael turned his estate into an amusement park.

Rosa Parks proudly lived out her long life in America; Michael Jackson fled the country.

Rosa Parks was a lady; Michael Jackson made a fortune grabbing his crotch.

Rosa Parks’ name will live on in history; people are already asking whatever happened to Michael Jackson.

Rosa Parks babysat young boys; Michael Jackson had sleepovers for young boys.

Thanks for stopping by.

MERRY ANDREWMAS!

2006-11-30T11:48:00.000-05:00

Saint Andrew is the Patron Saint of Scotland, and St. Andrew's Day is celebrated by Scots around the world on the 30th November. The flag of Scotland is the Cross of St. Andrew, and this is widely displayed as a symbol of national identity.

The "Order of Saint Andrew" or the "Most Ancient Order of the Thistle" is an order of Knighthood which is restricted to the King or Queen and sixteen others. It was established by James VII of Scotland in 1687.

St. Andrew is said to have been responsible for spreading the tenets of the Christian religion though Asia Minor and Greece. Tradition suggests that St. Andrew was put to death by the Romans in Patras, Southern Greece by being crucified. The diagonal shape of this cross is said to be the basis for the Cross of St. Andrew which appears on the Scottish Flag.

St. Andrews bones were entombed, and around 300 years later were moved by Emperor Constantine to his new capital Constantinople. Legend suggests that a Greek Monk called St. Regulus was warned in a dream that St. Andrew's remains were to be moved and was directed by an angel to take those of the remains which he could to the "ends of the earth" for safe-keeping. St. Regulus dutifully followed these directions, removing a tooth, an arm bone, a kneecap and some fingers from St. Andrew's tomb and transporting these as far away as he could. Scotland was close to the extremities of the know world at that time and it was here that St. Regulus was shipwrecked with his precious cargo.

St. Regulus is said to have come ashore at a Pictish settlement on the East Coast of Scotland and this later became St. Andrews. Thus the association of St. Andrew with Scotland was said to have begun.

Perhaps more likely than the tale of St. Regulus' journey is that Acca, the Bishop of Hexham, who was a reknown collector of relics, brought the relics of St. Andrew to St. Andrews in 733. There certainly seems to have been a religious centre at St. Andrews at that time, either founded by St. Rule in the 6th century or by a Pictish King, Ungus, who reigned from 731 - 761.

Whichever tale is true, the relics were placed in a specially constructed chapel. This chapel was replaced by the Cathedral of St. Andrews in 1160, and St. Andrews became the religious capital of Scotland and a great centre for Medieval pilgrims who came to view the relics.

It is not known what happened to the relics of St. Andrew which were stored in St. Andrews Cathedral, although it is most likely that these were destroyed during the Scottish Reformation. The Protestant cause, propounded by Knox, Wishart and others, won out over Roman Catholism during the Reformation and the "idolatry of catholism", that is the Saints, relics, decoration of churches, were expunged during the process of converting the Roman Catholic churches of Scotland to the harsh simplicity of Knox's brand of Calvanism.

The place where these relics were kept within the Cathedral at St. Andrews is now marked by a plaque, amongst the ruins, for visitors to see.

The larger part of St. Andrew's remains were stolen from Constantinople in 1210 and are now to be found in Amalfi in Southern Italy. In 1879 the Archbishop of Amalfi sent a small piece of the Saint's shoulder blade to the re-established Roman Catholic community in Scotland.

PLEASE WELCOME A NEW MEMBER

2006-11-29T23:52:00.000-05:00

Brethren of the blogosphere,

It is my privilege to introduce you to the newest member of our blogworld, Anne of the House. She has just created a new blog and posted for the first time. Please visit her at The Wooden House. I have created a link for you in the sidebar. I would be grateful if you would make her feel welcome. I'm certain her thoughts and writing will bring some real literary class to our fraternity.

Thank you!

IT'S CALLED THANKSGIVING!

2006-11-24T00:02:00.000-05:00

Some people get really upset about the commercialization of holidays. I try not to let it bother me too much. I can celebrate the holidays any way I want to and their personal preferences don’t get to me…much.

It really doesn’t bother me that the schools have almost all gone to “Holiday Concerts” and the music that is played and sung has nothing whatsoever to do with the birth of Jesus. Looking at Christmas decorations in early November doesn’t annoy me. I love Christmas and it just can’t last too long for me. I’m thrilled when two of our local radio stations go to all Christmas music all the time the week before Thanksgiving. The Easter Bunny doesn’t hinder my celebration of the resurrection of Jesus. And I’m not an enemy of Halloween when children dress up and get free candy.

I guess I’m either incredibly lax in my convictions or just really laid back. I don’t know.

But I got rather peeved the other day. I’m tired of hearing people on television wish me a happy Turkey Day. Turkey Day? When did it become Turkey Day? This is just over the top for me. No, I don’t feel like the Pilgrims are getting cheated. Our Thanksgiving celebrations don’t really go back to the Pilgrims. Thanksgiving goes back to President Lincoln who declared the day to be a national day of prayer and thanksgiving to God for bringing us most of the way through the bloodiest conflict our nation has ever known. The very name of the holiday begs the question. Thanksgiving! If we are going to celebrate Thanksgiving then there has to be Someone to whom we are giving thanks and to call it Turkey Day really bugs me.

I think I’m somewhat inconsistent here. I admit it. I should probably be more offended about Christmas and Resurrection Day too. Go ahead and point out my logical fallacies. For some reason, this really touched a sore spot for me.

We celebrated our first Thanksgiving in our new home today. Aaron wasn’t able to join us because he lives too far away. Caleb came down from university for the weekend. Today is also John’s 20th birthday. This may be our last Thanksgiving with these six kids around the table. John leaves for the Air Force in twelve days. Who knows how many years it will be until he can rejoin us for Thanksgiving? I’m grateful for my family, both here and in California. I’m thankful for God’s gracious provision, both spiritually and materially. I’m thankful to God. It’s not just Turkey Day here!

WHERE WERE YOU WHEN...?

2006-11-22T18:27:00.000-05:00

Where were you when you heard?

I was sitting at the lunch benches at George Washington Carver Elementary School in Long Beach, California. There was an announcement that came out from those gigantic bell-shaped outdoor speakers all the school used to have. The announcement was simple. “President Kennedy has been shot in Dallas, Texas. Please remember him in your prayers.” (Times sure have changed, haven’t they?) I was sitting with my friend, Seth Kravitz. Seth was very smart and pretty politically savvy. He took the announcement very seriously. Soon the bell rang for us to return to our classrooms.

I was in Mrs. McKee’s fifth grade class. We met in one of those mobile bungalow classrooms that the Long Beach schools put in the playgrounds when the Boomers exploded the capacity of the school buildings. As I went up the four steps into the classroom I could see that Mrs. McKee had been crying. Her eyes were all red and puffy. The regular schedule was being suspended while we awaited word from the office. Mrs. McKee began reading a Readers Digest version of PT 109. We didn’t have long to wait. She got about half way through the article when the intercom speaker buzzed and the voice said, “President Kennedy has died of wounds received from an assassin’s bullet.” Mrs. McKee broke down in tears. She couldn’t go on. She asked me to come to the front and sit on the stool and finish the story for my classmates.

What do you remember? These are the things that stick in my mind. Walter Cronkite choking up. Endless new commentary. The backwards boots in the black horse’s stirrups. John John’s salute. Sobbing crowds of people.

I look back on that day and think that it was all over before I really had a chance to take part. Yes, Viet Nam was still to come and there was still a lot to do in the Civil Rights movement. But that was the beginning of the end. With Bobby and Teddy and Martin still around there was still hope. They got Bobby and Martin and Teddy never could live up to his brothers anyway. The party would never again stand for the things it once stood for no matter how hard we tried to pretend. Camelot closed for business. Those who came after could only say, “I knew Jack Kennedy” or “You’re no Jack Kennedy.”

No, John Kennedy was not a perfect man. As a result of investigative reporting and the opening of sealed documents, we know that. In fact, he may not have qualified as a good man. He was an unfaithful husband. He consorted with mobsters. He was an immoral man. But something bigger than John Kennedy died on this date, 43 years ago. I always wonder what might have been.

I just wish we would have had a chance to find out.

Thanks for stopping by.

IN MEMORY: EDMUND FITZGERALD

2006-11-10T10:53:00.000-05:00

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee"

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the skys of november turn gloomy

With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more

Then the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty

That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed

When the "Gales of November" came early

The ship was the pride of the American side

Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin

As the big freighters go, it was bigger then most

With a crew and good captain well seasoned

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms

When they left fully loaded for Cleveland

And later that night when the ship's bell rang

Could it be the north wind they been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound

And a wave broke over the railing

And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too

'twas the witch of November come stealin'

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait

When the Gales of November came slashin'

When afternoon came it was freezin' rain

in the face of a hurricane west wind

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'

"Fellas, it's been too rough to feed ya"

At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said,

"Fellas, it's been good t'know ya"

The captain wired in he had water comin' in

And the good ship and crew was in peril

And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight

Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Does anyone know where the love of God goes

When the waves turn the minutes to hours?

The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay

If they put fifteen more miles behind 'er

They might have split up or they might have capsized

They may have broke deep and took water

And all that remains is the faces and the names

Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings

In the rooms for her ice-water mansion

Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams

The islands and bays are for sportsmen

And farther below Lake Ontario

Takes in what Lake Erie can send her

And the iron boats go as the mariners all know

With the Gales of November remembered

In the musty old hall in Detroit they prayed

in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral"

The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee"

"Superior" they said, "never gives up her dead

When the gales of November come early!"

November 10, 1975. Thirty-one years ago today.

In the last couple of years I have had the privilege of spending a good deal of time vacationing in Sault Ste. Marie, MI. Our good friends, Tom and Brenda Benedict have a cabin up on the Saint Mary’s River and they have had us up there several times. One of the things I really enjoy about their spot is that the ships upbound and downbound from the Soo Locks go right past. With a good set of binoculars you can see the men on the ships and watch them as they steam past. It rather personalizes the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald to see the descendants of her sailors doing the same things they once did.

Today is bright and sunny in Michigan.

There is a storm scheduled to hit the Great Lakes tomorrow.

(Lyrics by Gordon Lightfoot)

MEMO TO: THE SMOKING CHRISTIAN

2006-11-04T21:22:00.000-05:00

RE: JOHN KERRY

I must have seen the video clip of John Kerry's "joke" twenty times. I also heard his original explanation of his words as a "botched joke." I'll tell you what I think although it is very difficult to judge a person's intent.

I believe him. I think he botched a joke. It was pretty clear that when he finished his comment he looked around with a little smirk on his face waiting for laughter that never came.

When I told my lovely wife that I believed it was a joke she responded, "But it wasn't even funny!"

I told her I didn't think it was funny either but that doesn't mean it wasn't intended as a joke. For example, when someone tells a racist joke it is only funny to racists. We don't think it is funny but the teller does. He reveals that he is a racist and we learn what is really deep down in his heart and mind.

When someone tells a "joke" about how people with bad grades end up in the army it reveals something to us about what is really in his heart and mind. I think it is very clear what John Kerry thinks about the army.

Yes, he intended to take a shot at President Bush.

The only thing he succeeded in shooting was his future as a presidential candidate or even a senator with any credibility.

SC, you may have been a poor student in college; I don't know. But the reason neither you nor I ended up in Viet Nam had more to do with our lottery numbers than our grades!

Let's be honest here even though honesty seems to be a lost commodity in politics. I'm a registered Democrat and have voted Democratic in every presidential election up to the last one. That statement of Kerry's had to be one of the stupidest political snafus I have ever heard! Is there no one on his staff to keep him from destroying his own career?

WELL, HE ASKED FOR IT!

2006-11-02T21:03:00.000-05:00

I'M A GRANDPA!

2006-11-01T15:35:00.000-05:00

Cigars all around! I’m a grandfather!

While at the Harvard of Christendom last week I had a brief chat with the Yaks about my finches. They are experienced finch breeders. They told me so when I posted in September about my birthday gift of a dozen finches from my lovely wife.

My finches have been laying eggs like crazy. I’m not kidding. Each apartment has at least ten eggs in it. This has been going on for well over a month. The first eggs appeared well before our move three and a half weeks ago. The birds started doing the dad and mom thing; hanging around in the apartments, sitting on the eggs, and acting all protective.

I was starting to worry. I have been unable to identify any actual “couples” among the birds. What? Am I going to have to do DNA tests to see which eggs belong to which birds?

But that was the least of my worries. Nothing was hatching. So last weekend I raised the subject with the Yaks. I was pretty sure all my eggs were duds. They seemed to confirm my suspicions. The first batch of eggs is often infertile.

I decided that when I got back to lovely, suburban, Caledonia, I would take out the apartments and empty out all the dud eggs. We could start over. It wasn’t really an emotional decision for me.

I didn’t get around to looking into the apartments until Tuesday. We had bought a bunch of white, cottony stuff for the birds to use as nesting material. They had taken a bunch of it and almost filled the apartments with it. Just as I was about to reach into the cage one of the female birds went into apartment number five and lifted up the cotton and there, under all that cotton, were at least two newly hatched chicks!

I puffed out my chest and walked out into the living room and proudly announced that I was a grandfather. That’s when all the excitement began. Quick, the internet said to boil some eggs for them and give them the eggs with the shells too! Quick, boil some carrots! They need fruit! I had triggered a veritable flurry of bird chefs, anxious to prepare delicacies for the finches!

Honestly, I don’t know what to do now. I suppose the parents birds will know. Do finches eat their young? I was just wondering.

Yes, of course I have pictures. It's just that for some reason Blogger won't let me upload them right now! Hmmm....

MONOTONY

2006-10-30T15:49:00.000-05:00

A SAD STORY OF COLLEGE STUDENTS TAKING ON A BIG CORPORATION

I can't believe I forgot to bring these infamous relics into the restaurant on Friday night! I got them out and planned for months to bring them along and then I left them out in the car.

When I was a student at the Harvard of Christendom some very creative guys cleverly created a rip off of Parker Brothers' Monopoly game. It was called Monotony. All the properties where other Christian colleges. Jail was Hell. Just Visiting was Purgatory.

These orange cards were the Predestination cards. They, of course, took the place of Chance cards in the original game.

Go was the Jordan River. So of course there was a card that said "Go to Hell. Go directly to Hell. Do not cross the Jordan River. Do not collect 200 shekels."

The blue cards replaced Community Chest and were appropriately called "Abraham's Bosom."

This was before the day when Parker Bros. lost their lawsuit for copyright infringement and every college, town and resort in the world produced their own form of monopoly.

I really don't know how in the world a big company like Parker Bros. found out about our little project. It still makes no sense to me.

The long and the short of it is that one day we received a letter from the giant game company notifying us that if we persisted in the publication of our little game that we would be faced with a copyright infringement lawsuit which they promised us we would never be able to win. There was some discussion about going to court and defending ourselves but, at the end of the day, we figured it would be a colossal waste of time.

Also, Moody and Bob Jones might not have been too happy about being assigned to Baltic and Mediterranean. Wheaton was Boardwalk and Westmont was Park Place. Ultimately, the games were consigned to the court-ordered flames. Heroically (and somewhat illegally) I rescued as much as I could before the destruction. I have always regretted that I did not get an entire game. I still think there could be some money made on this!

GOING TO THE DOGS

2006-10-21T23:08:00.000-04:00

We have a new dog. We already had one indoor dog. Caspian is a nine-year-old, white, giant standard poodle. Mia bought him when her husband died. He’s a great watchdog. That means he barks at every sound at the door and every kid who walks by the house. His bark is terrifying. He is a coward.

We had another dog up until Christmas. He was my dog. Dundee never came into the house. Roz bought him 16 years ago because he was newborn and so cute. He was inside for about two months when she decided she didn’t want a dog in the house. That was how Dundee became an outdoor dog. He was ok with it. He was half Australian sheepdog and half golden retriever. Very furry. Eventually he couldn’t stand to be inside because he got too warm. Dundee went to doggy heaven during Christmas break.

Honestly, that was kind of a relief. The neighbors in our old fancy neighborhood didn’t like seeing him outside in his dog run. Sometimes he would bark at animals he saw (or imagined he saw) in the field before they built all the houses behind ours. We were down to one dog. And Caspian is a pretty big piece of furniture in this smaller house we’ve moved into!

But now we have another dog. Mia decided a couple of months ago that Mary, our youngest, would really benefit from having a little dog to take care of. It would be good for her. You know, help develop responsibility, increase her self-confidence, etc. I agreed. After we got settled in our new house we could get Mary a little dog. Caspian would probably enjoy having the company.

Earlier this week Mia was looking through the paper to see what was available. Just looking, you know. But then she saw her! A pedigree black standard poodle, ten months old. She called the lady just to find out some details about her. She was available for less than half the price these dogs usually command. The lady sent pictures via email. I have to admit it, she was gorgeous!

To make a long story a little shorter, she is now ours. She’s a wonderful dog. She’s a standard poodle so she’s not small. Mary loves her to death. She’s adjusted wonderfully. Caspian is like a toddler when you bring home the new baby. I actually found him lying on our leather couch yesterday morning. What is that all about? At least he’s not peeing all over our new floors!

Mary named her Chloe!

QUADBLOG T-SHIRTS

2006-10-11T17:29:00.000-04:00

By the way, one of the Shiloh guys who helped us move was wearing a t-shirt that I think we should have made for our reunion. It is the perfect t-shirt for the quadbloggers. It said...

"WHAT HAPPENS IN THE GARAGE STAYS IN THE GARAGE!"

What do you guys think?

WE MOVED!

2006-10-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

STOP BY FOR COFFEE!

The closings on both houses took place on Wednesday, October 4. It was relatively painless. My hand began to hurt because of all the papers I had to sign and initial. But there it was! Sold one house and bought another.

If you have been wondering what happened to me for a week or so, let me tell you. Our cable company, through whom we also have internet service, is very quick to turn off one’s service when one moves and very slow to start it in the new house. I did everything I could to ensure uninterrupted service but they were still able to mess it up. In fact, my dad (my folks are here from Temecula, CA) and I missed the Michigan-Michigan State football game on Saturday because of our cable company! I just got them out here yesterday to give me internet service again! We still have no home phone!

The move was Saturday, October 7. It was so great! One of those perfect autumn days in the Midwest with seventy degree weather, a cloudless blue sky, and magnificent colors on the deciduous trees. The Shilohfolks came out in force and had almost everything moved by noon! They were awesome! My back was killing me so I was relegated to unhooking TV wires and stereo speakers and trying to look busy. We moved 1.2 miles so it went quickly. I’m so thankful for the Shilohfolks.

I failed to finish the drywalling in the upstairs. The upstairs rooms were only used for attic space in the previous 86 years of the life of this house. I knew I could tear down the old wallboard, insulate, and put up the new in two days. No problem! Even with Caleb home from Sault Ste. Marie, John and Ben (sons numbers 3, 4), Tom the elder, Steve the doctor, and my dad, we couldn’t do it. We got it insulated but we only got about one quarter of the drywall up. That means three of our kids have no bedrooms. The lovely wife and I decided yesterday morning to hire a professional to come out and do it quickly. My failure was pretty discouraging!

Mia is attacking this new house with a passion. She has finished off one room after another until the main floor is almost done. She’s been a magician. The main floor is almost a home already!

The neighbors have proved to be very friendly. Many have been by to introduce themselves. I’m looking forward to getting to know them all. That’s one nice thing about moving into an older neighborhood. People have lived here for a long time and there is a sense of belonging here.

Well, I’m back in blogspace again. I’ll be visiting your blogs soon. Right now I have to get back to writing for this Sunday. The title? “What About Spiritual Gifts?” Could be interesting!

Thanks for stopping by. I missed you!

THIS AND THAT AND NOTHING MORE

2006-09-29T23:15:00.000-04:00

I’ve been so busy over the last ten days that I haven’t had a minute to stop and think about writing here at The Shilohman. There hasn’t been much in the news to make me stop and criticize. I don’t have a creative bone in my body and the Smoking Christian has been on such a roll that I feel completely intimidated. How does he do it? It’s been a tough week.

The buyers of our house took us to the cleaners. Somehow they found out we already had money down on another house and that we had already started refinishing the floors in that house. What do you know? They sent an addendum to the buy-sell agreement with the clear message that they would simply walk away from their earnest money if we didn’t go along with it. They wanted $2,500 for repairs on our four-year-old house! I’m so tired of all this. My lovely wife just wants out so we just signed it and walked.

(But let me tell you, the floors in the new house look absolutely gorgeous! To tell you the truth, the money we put into the floors probably increased the value of the house way beyond our imagination!)

Mia and I went out and picked out the new appliances last night…washer, dryer, frig, and water softener. Ouch! (But the refinished floors are beautiful!)

My friend, the electrician, is coming up tomorrow to put some outlets in the upstairs which has been attic space. It’s going to be two large bedrooms for us! Eventually he will have to replace the whole service but for now we’ll just get it up to code. (The floors up there were never, ever finished! They’re the loveliest pine floors you’ve ever seen!)

Tomorrow Mia and I celebrate our sixth anniversary. Needless to say, she’s a saint! She has made life an adventure! And she brought me these five great kids too! It’s been a great six years and I hope God gives us many more. She’s made me a better person.

Is everyone still planning on Parents’ Weekend at the Harvard of Evangelicalism? When will you be arriving? I had planned on getting that Sunday off but it’s not going to work out that way so I have to get back to Michigan Saturday night. Let me know what you’re thinking.

Oh, by the way, you should really come and see my floors!

BREEDING FINCHES 101

2006-09-20T23:14:00.000-04:00

PARENTAL GUIDANCE SUGGESTED

My birthday finches are really happy up here in my study. (Those pictured are not mine. I’ll try to get a picture of mine before long.) The cage takes up about half of one wall and they fly happily about all day. We bought six nests like the one in the picture for them to lay their eggs. We lined them up along the back wall of the cage and it looks like a dorm hallway. In fact, with everything that’s going on in those nests it is exactly like a dorm!

This has been quite an education. Watching the six males and the six females pair up reminded me way too much of my dating days. The bigger males got all the cute females and the littler guys are either too shy to invite a female up to their place or the females that are left have rejected them! Can you imagine being rejected by the rejects?

Four of our apartments are currently in use. One couple got busy right away and they are sitting on six eggs in apartment number one. Yes, both the mom and dad are sitting on the eggs. In fact, they spend a lot of time sitting in there together. Apartments 2, 5, and 6 are also occupied and are incubating eggs.

The zebra finches have refused to marry within their own race. They have chosen women from the light colored finches. However, it appears that the zebra females have not been chosen by the white guys.

My lovely wife has demanded that I put little marriage certificates above each of the breeding apartments. She doesn’t want anyone to think we are endorsing free sex. I asked her if she wanted me to do little weddings for them too.

They make a lot of noise. No, not just then; all the time. They sound like little squeaky toys or something. Mia says they sound like a bunch of miniature seagulls. That’s a pretty good description. It’s a good thing I have pretty good powers of concentration or they would drive me nuts.

My question is, what do I do when these eggs start hatching? I’ve been researching this problem on the internet and I’m just not sure I want to get too deeply involved in the results of finchy romance! What kind of grandfather am I? At this rate I’ll be overrun with little finches in just a few weeks! Oh well, we’ll see what happens. Casa la parrot has offered to give me $5 for each baby finch. Something feels really wrong about that! Doesn’t that seem kind of sleazy to you?

WHEN I'M SIXTY FOUR

2006-09-19T22:55:00.000-04:00

I wonder if you guys saw this news item on AOL last week.

Among six of the best places to retire in America were three sites that are rather closely connected to the Quadblog.

Allow me to proudly begin with the Michigan site. Holland, Michigan. A mere thirty minute drive from beautiful suburban Caledonia on Lake Michigan. Home of the annual Tulip Festival where you can see countless tow-headed youngsters in authentic Dutch costumes dancing around the streets in wooden shoes. Also home of the historic, landmark windmill from the Netherlands which attracts hundreds of tourists every summer. Home of Hope College where the Harvard of Evangelicalism will come this Saturday to struggle on the gridiron and gain victory over the Flying Dutchmen. I never thought of Holland as a retirement spot because the winters can be rather cold and snowy but I suppose the good old Dutch folk probably have a place in our second wonderful retirement site…

St. Simons Island, Georgia! Yes, my dear friends, former home of our beloved founder, the Smoking Christian himself. One advantage to retired people is that they can climb the highest peak on the island without even becoming slightly winded. It stands no more than twenty feet above sea level at any point. Another advantage is that there are very few actual southerners living on St. Simons Island. The vast majority of the population are Yankees who have migrated for the benevolent winters. The golf is excellent. The pace of life is slower. However, summers are so miserably hot and mosquito-infested that most of the people would like to have a summer home in our third lovely retirement site…

Walla Walla, Washington! Believe it or not, one of America’s finest retirement towns lies only about 130 miles from the home of our friends, the Yakimaniacs! Just two short hours (100 minutes is the Yakster himself is driving) through Wapato, Toppenish, and gorgeous Wallula. Don’t miss Frontier Days or the wineries! I know absolutely nothing about Walla Walla. In fact, I thought it was a joke, like Kalamazoo. I think it is a native name meaning “old people, old people,” but I’m not sure. Perhaps our local reporters can tell us some of the wonders of Walla Walla just in case we might like to retire there. I’m sure the cost of living is cheaper than say, Fullerton or Anaheim.

I just found it interesting that so many of us have close connections to the blue-hair wonderlands of America. It’s never too early to start planning!

SOLD!

2006-09-14T19:15:00.000-04:00

Well, it’s done. The people came through the house one more time last night and signed off on the last counter offer we sent them. We close on October 4 and move on the 7th. For all of you who offered prayers on our behalf, thanks! I am particularly grateful that the Lord didn’t take this sale down to the very last minute. We had three months to sell and he sold it in two. I think God knew just how much stress we could handle and he didn’t push us one day past it!

The house we are buying is not occupied. We contacted the owner and asked if she would let us get in and do some work before closing. All the floors are wood and they need to be refinished. We would really like to do that before we move in. Also, we need to add a second bathroom in the basement. We need to update some of the electrical. She said she didn’t think that would be a problem. So now I am busy trying to contract guys to do these jobs for us. I have to tell them we will pay them upon closing because the money is tied up in this house we’re selling!

All the kids seem pretty excited. At dinner tonight they started asking what we are going to do with the extra money now that we will have a much lower mortgage payment. “Are we going to get another car?” (We have two cars and two drivers in the family. Why would we get another car?) Can we go to Disney World now? (No. I’m from Southern California and it is considered blasphemy to go to Disney World. It’s only a cheap reproduction of the original in Orange County!) Will we be able to go on vacations now? (Yes!) It was actually a very enjoyable meal time!

As you already know if you’ve been with me for several months, most of our stuff is already crammed into two storage units which leaves us with skeletal furnishings in the house. I don’t think the move will be very difficult. The Shiloh Guys will come over with the Shiloh Trailer and we’ll try to get everything done in one day, Amish style. Then we’ll put on a big feed for them to express our appreciation. It will be like a giant church party!

My folks are arriving on October 3. It is a long-planned trip. We had no idea what would be happening when they were here but now we know! We’ll be grateful for the extra sets of hands around here. Of course my library will have to be packed up. I’m hoping the Yakmeister will be able to get Dennis Rodman and Mariah back here to help out with that chore.

I want the Smoking Christian to know that the house to which we are moving has a really nice garage with a heater and everything. You are always welcome. In fact, you are all welcome. We’ll have a big housewarming party where we can all meet the neighbors together! That should be something!

AS THE HOUSE SELLS: A SOAP OPERA

2006-09-11T22:39:00.000-04:00

Just to keep you up to date...

That same family came through the house again last evening. This is the fourth time they have been through.

Mary Kay (of Smith-Diamond Realty, free adspace) called us this morning because she received an offer sheet from them. Mia and I ran over to the office and we looked it over. It was a real lowball.

We decided we didn't want to scare these people away so we countered very kindly and inoffensively. (At least we tried to!)

Mary Kay called this evening and the buyers' agent is optimistic. He said we can expect their counter offer tomorrow afternoon.

Just trying to give you the play-by-play. (I wish God would give me a peek at tomorrow's play-by-play!)

By the way, all my finches want me to say "hi" to you guys and thank you for stopping by!

REMEMBERING 9/11

2006-09-11T20:28:00.000-04:00

I’ve spent a lot of time today watching CNN and their reminiscences of the events of 9/11/01. For those of us old enough to remember November 22, 1963 there is at least one parallel. I don’t think any of us will forget where we were when we first heard what was happening in New York City and Washington DC that day.

I was unemployed five years ago today and was sound asleep in my safe little bed when the phone rang and shocked me awake. It was Son #1, Aaron, calling from Michigan State University. He fairly shouted over the phone, “Dad! Turn on the TV. A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center. You won’t believe it!”

I jumped out of bed, just a little embarrassed to have been caught asleep at that time, and turned on Peter Jennings. There were the Twin Towers and one of them had a big hole in it near the top. There wasn’t much smoke yet but the image riveted me to the TV. The news was still confusing. Some said it was a small private plane. Some said it was a plane in distress that couldn’t avoid the giant tower. No one was really saying anything about a terrorist attack yet.

Then as I sat there watching I saw the second jet fly into the other tower right before my eyes! I couldn’t believe it! It happened so fast that I didn’t even notice what kind of plane it was! I had to wait along with everyone else for the slow motion replays to realize that it was a full-sized passenger jet!

Being unemployed at the time, I had the luxury of not having to go anywhere. In fact, I didn’t go ANYWHERE! Except for trips to the frig and the bathroom, I stayed glued to that TV for two days. It was so weird because it was apparent that this was a well-orchestrated attack against the United States and no one knew when or where it would end. How many other cities were targeted? I was living in far southwestern Michigan on the shores of Lake Michigan. It seemed so far away from us. Except for the fears that something was in store for the Sears Tower or Hancock Building in Chicago.

I remember getting pretty nervous when the plane crashed into the Pentagon. It was all too easy! Why WOULDN’T these people have targeted scores of buildings around the country? I was wondering what Peter Jennings was going to tell me next. I couldn’t come to grips with the feeling of detachment I was experiencing. Why was I feeling so darn safe in my little house in the dunes?

So much has happened since that day. I saw a survey report on CNN this morning. There has been a huge rise in the number of Americans who blame George Bush for the events of 9/11. Can you help me out with this? What are they thinking? Didn’t the government of South Africa have Osama in custody and offer him to the United States when Clinton was president? I heard Hillary Clinton say that the way this has been handled has put us in greater danger today than we were in on 9/11.

I’m really getting sick of politics. (I know, I just said that in my last post.) This five year anniversary is being used for political advantage all over the place. Do these people have no shame? Does anyone really care about what is right and wrong anymore? Good or bad? Beneficial to the people? Our two political parties need to get down off their high horses and quit finger pointing and start doing something so that this “government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

FIFTY THREE TODAY!

2006-09-09T14:16:00.000-04:00

Today I join the Smoking Christian in the ranks of those who have recently turned fifty three years old. My spirit still feels 33. I’d love to hit the waves at Huntington pier this afternoon. Of course, sometimes my body feels 73; usually in the morning when I step out of bed and my feet and ankles hurt so bad I think I might fall over.

The entire Moorhead Manse is all atwitter over the birthday celebrations. My lovely wife went out and bought me ten (count ‘em, ten!) of the cutest little finches you have ever seen. They are tan, brown, and black and have bright orange beaks. She also bought a giant cage that will go in the corner of my study (where Mariah Carey usually sits). These birds are the most ADHD animals in the history of the world. They never sit still or shut up. Back and forth, flitting and squeaking and chirping. I think I’ll get used to them pretty soon.

I was talking with one of the Shiloh elders yesterday about how much we have seen in our lifetimes. It’s a sobering thought. My grandparents went from horse and buggy to space flight. I actually believe we have seen much more. It seems to multiply exponentially from generation to generation.

Speaking of generations…I was talking to another friend the other day about Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation.” I don’t know about that. What do you think? If people say our generation was the most messed up generation in the history of American generations, whose fault is that? Who raised this generation to be so self-centered and materialistic? (My parents are of course excluded from this. We were taught not to be selfish or materialistic.) We are the first American generation to lose a war and we’ve survived. Isn’t it tougher to lose a war and come back than to win a war and come back to cheers and celebrations?

As I celebrate this birthday, once again our soldiers are fighting and dying thousands of miles away. It’s the war against terror. In two days we will observe the fifth anniversary of the worst terrorist attack on American soil. We will watch the towers come down again and again. I will probably have tears in my eyes again. But are we doing what needs to be done to try to avoid such things in the future?

This is an election year. The two parties are attacking each other in what has become an American tradition. The effort is only to gain power, not to do what is right for the American people. I’m feeling disenchanted. To think I once wanted to go into politics!

Enough ravings of a doddering 53-year-old! Somebody bring in my milquetoast and tea. I’m going out to the garage to celebrate!

SELLING THE MOORHEAD MANSE UPDATE

2006-09-04T22:29:00.000-04:00

Happy Labor Day! Hope you all had a safe and sane holiday. It was very quiet here in lovely suburban Caledonia. I thought I might just take a minute to update you on the progress of the marketing and sale of the Moorhead Manse.

As you know, we are in the midst of one of the deepest and longest buyers’ markets in many years. Precisely the time not to sell you home. Our real estate agent, Mary Kay McCleeve of Smith Diamond reality, has been doing a fantastic job of managing the marketing of the house. (I don’t get any discounts for advertising!) She has worked hard to get our house in front of as many people as possible. Each week (except one) there has been an open house.

There has been very little interest until last Sunday (27 August). A family came through and they were very interested. In fact, the husband wanted to sign papers on the spot. The wife wanted to sleep on it. (She should have been reminded to submit to her husband’s wisdom!) They are very motivated buyers, almost as motivated as we are!

Mary Kay followed up with them last week and they asked to come through the house for a second time this past Saturday. Unfortunately, they had a family issue and had to cancel that visit. But they asked to see it today. So we vacated the house today at 11:00 so they could spend some time in it. (Mia commented on how weird it is that we have this practice of selling one of the most important things we own to people we never even get to see!)

Anyway, we got to visit with Mary Kay afterwards and they are really interested. They hope to have their loan approved yet this week and she thinks they will make an offer. There are a couple of things I have to do to the house to make them really happy. I’m afraid my do-it-yourself skills might not measure up. If only OG could come up and help me out with them! I’m sure they would be easy for him! I need to hang a couple of bi-fold closet doors and fix something on the garage door.

I decided to share this entire process with the people at Shiloh. I’ve tried to be very open about how I feel and how difficult it has been for me to trust God with this. I thought it might be good for them to know that I struggle with commonplace things just like they do. Also, I wanted to give them the chance to see what God will do with our situation. Maybe it will help them some day when they have something similar. Now every time I talk to one of the Shiloh folks they anxiously ask how things are going with the sale. I think that’s a good thing!

The kids start school tomorrow. I have mixed feelings about that. I’ll get a lot more done during the day while they’re in school but I’ll miss seeing them around. If these folks don’t buy the house, keeping it in “showing condition” will be more difficult with them in school!

September 5 is my parents’ 54th wedding anniversary. Congratulations, Dad and Mom!

GUESS WHO SPENT THE SUMMER IN THE SUN

2006-08-31T23:50:00.000-04:00

THE SMOKING CHRISTIAN GOES FISHING

2006-08-21T21:08:00.000-04:00

SAN BLAS, Mexico. Three Mexican fishermen have been rescued after drifting for about nine months across thousands of miles of the Pacific Ocean in a small boat, an ordeal they survived by eating raw birds and fish and drinking rain water.

The shark fishermen said on Wednesday they left their home town of San Blas on Mexico's Pacific coast in November and were blown 5,000 miles off course after their 25-foot fiberglass boat ran out of gas and they were left to the mercy of the winds and the tides.

Their families had given them up for dead, but they found a way to survive in what appeared to be one of the most impressive feats of endurance on the high seas.

The news stunned friends and relatives.

"It's truly a miracle. Everyone is very happy," said Jose Guadalupe Guerra, a town hall official in San Blas.

The three men were sunburned but otherwise in good health. Vidana said they always believed they would be found.

They were lucky to be picked up in the end because they were fast asleep and only noticed the rescue boat was coming for them when they heard its engine.

Details of the extraordinary journey were sketchy. First reports said they were lost for three months but relatives confirmed Vidana's version that they left nine months ago.

Vidana also said five passengers set sail that day for a three hour tour. The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew their boat would be lost. He added that his lovely wife had gone to visit her parents for awhile and he thought it would be a good time to go for a short trip.

Vidana, also known around San Blas as El Cristiano Fumando, stated, “I’m just glad to be back. I need to get back into my garage and check the status of my blog. I haven’t had a smoke in nine months and the garage is almost completely aired out.

People had been concerned about the whereabouts of the former adman but neighbors said they had noticed nothing at all unusual around the house.

HARVARD OF EVANGELICALISM TAKES A DIVE

2006-08-20T22:28:00.000-04:00

All of you alumni of the Harvard of Evangelicalism, you better sit down. Are you sitting? If you need a bracer, I suggest you go to the fridge or the cabinet and pour a tall one. OK. Are you back? All right then. Here we go.

The U.S. News and World Report has come out with their annual ratings of American universities and colleges.

Wheaton is listed under “Top Liberal Arts Colleges.” It is ranked number 61.

Ahead of Wheaton are colleges like Oberlin (22), Macalester (23), Wabash (51), and Wheaton (MA) (55). We are tied with Illinois Wesleyan. (We’re not even first in our conference!) Thank goodness we beat out Hope, Lake Forest, and Transylvania (KY) who came in tied at 95!

Does this call for a day of mourning or introspection?

And they think things have gotten so much better since they got us out of there!

On second thought, maybe it still is the Harvard of Evangelicalism because Harvard came in third behind Princeton and Yale!

QUALITY FATHER-SON TIME

2006-08-20T19:56:00.000-04:00

It was with a certain amount of jealousy that I read the Yakimaniac’s post about going skiing in August with his son. I thought to myself, “Now there is a man who knows how important it is to have quality father-son time! That’s a good thing!”

My best father-son time with Aaron and Caleb came when they were younger; before college. I coached both of them in baseball and football. We spent a lot of time together in sports activities. Back in those days we used to take at least one really good vacation together every summer. When I was pastoring in the Baptist General Conference we tied our family vacations to the denominational annual meetings and got to see a great deal of the United States. They were really good days.

But with Aaron living in Lake Tahoe and Caleb at university up in Sault Ste. Marie, we haven’t had a lot of good father-son time in recent years. True, Caleb and I spent a lot of time together this summer working on the basement. He was a huge help when it came to hanging the drywall. And he practically put up all the trim himself. We probably spent more time together this summer than we have in quite awhile.

Still, I kept wishing we had more fun things we could do together. So, last week we went nuts and had some really good, quality, father-son time. You need a little background information.

I got really involved in doing Moorhead genealogy a number of years ago. Before my paternal grandmother died, I sat with her and asked her all the questions I could think of and then wrote down her answers. One time when I was in Scotland I had a great break and found a Moorhead who had done a huge amount of work on the genealogy. In fact, he had traced us back into the 900’s. To all appearances, we were a lowland family that had settled in the Strathclyde district southeast of Glasgow. Most Scots-Americans want to find out which highlands clan they are related to so they can find a coat of arms and a clan tartan. It seemed there would be none of that for us. We were a lowland family with no connections to any clan.

Then last year I found a website run by Clan Muirhead (Scots spelling of our name). I began to look into it and discovered that the Muirheads really were a clan; a lowlands clan! There are a number of interesting technicalities about being a lowlands clan which I don’t need to go into here. The point is, there is a petition before the Scots Parliament to recognize the Muirheads as an official clan of Scotland. A coat of arms and a clan tartan have been discovered after much research.

Well this information filled the Moorhead men with a great deal of Scots pride. We were together in California for Christmas and we were all talking about it. We wanted to express our Scots pride in some way. What to do?

Well, last Wednesday Caleb and I took the first step and spent some really quality father-son time together. We took the artwork (pictured above) for the Clan Muirhead badge up to the tattoo parlor in Grand Rapids and had it tattooed on our shoulder/biceps. We made quite a hit at Mos Eisley’s (the tattoo parlor). They were very impressed that a father and son came in together to get family tattoos. They were even more impressed when they found out I was a pastor! The artist (his name is Aaron!) kept saying he’d never worked on a pastor before!

Mos Eisley’s is a very reputable place, nothing like I expected. The smell of disinfectant was everywhere! They had nice private booths that looked more like doctors’ examination rooms than anything else. I was happily impressed that it wasn’t some back alley joint with a bunch of bikers hanging out there.

I had heard there is some pain involved in getting a tattoo. I went first. The outlining part was a breeze! In fact, I almost fell asleep! But when he got down to doing the details and the shading I woke up right away! The skin had already been stressed out where he was working and the needle was moving much slower with the lettering and the shading. I thought the guy was trying to drill a hole in my shoulder! I tried to keep the smile on my face while I talked to Caleb. You know, good old father-son time; but it was hard to do!

So I’m now tattooed! My Scots pride is flowing out everywhere. Elizabeth, daughter #1, thinks it’s the coolest thing in the world and keeps coming up and pulling up my sleeve just to gawk at it. At church this morning she kept bringing her friends around to see it. I was a little embarrassed and a little proud at the same time.

By the way, the motto on the badge says, “By the help of God.” Good motto!

I-FEEL-LIKE-I'M-FIXIN'-TO-DIE-RAG

2006-08-15T22:51:00.000-04:00

This post has been deleted.

A SIGNIFICANT 41ST ANNIVERSARY

2006-08-14T23:48:00.000-04:00

August 15, 1965…

They brought the mask close to my face and the last thing I remember was someone saying, “Count backwards from 100…”

Just short of my twelfth birthday I was about to have my chest cracked open, my ribcage spread apart, and a lung temporarily removed so the heart surgeon could correct a recently discovered birth defect…a coarc in my aorta.

Spring, 1965

All the sixth graders in the Long Beach Unified School District were going through the usual tradition of having physicals in preparation for going to school camp. It was something we looked forward to all through sixth grade. Soon our class would go up to a camp in the mountains for a week of nature and science studies. For most of us it would be our first time going away to camp. But first, all the kids needed to have a physical which was administered by some kindly doctor the school brought in. He couldn’t really do much because he had so many kids to look at. In my case, he didn’t need to do much at all.

Summer, 1965

I was taken to the family doctor. I couldn’t figure it out. I felt fine. What I didn’t know was that the school physical had revealed a blood pressure reading of 220/180. Something wasn’t right. They needed to find out why my blood pressure was so high. What really bothered me at that point was that they wouldn’t let me play baseball all summer. I had made the major division of our Little League and was supposed to play for Douglas Aircraft. Had to sit out the whole summer.

Our family doctor sent me on to a heart specialist who started a battery of tests that were rather scary. First, I had to save all my urine for a week. Those were the days when milk was delivered to the house in glass bottles. I peed in one of those milk bottles for a whole week. If you think carrying a urine sample through the waiting room is embarrassing, how do you think I felt walking into the office with a whole milk bottle full of urine?

They seemed to have some trouble figuring out what my problem was. One day I had to go to the hospital and have a bunch of heart specialists examine me individually. I guess they were hoping to come up with a common diagnosis without consulting with each other. By the end of that day I was so sick of being poked and groped that I never wanted to see the inside of a hospital again!

Finally they decided to do a heart catheterization. I had to be admitted to the hospital for that one. It was way worse than the surgery itself! I had to be awake for this test. They made about a one inch incision on the inside of my right arm just above the elbow and slipped the tube into the artery. They shoved that tube all the way up and then down to my heart and then injected radioactive dye into it. There was a nurse standing by my head talking to me and trying to distract me the whole time. It still hurt like crazy! It just burned and burned and I didn’t think it would ever be over!

That test did it. They were able to see the dye backing up at the aorta. It seems I was born with a coarc (pinch) in my aorta right near where the aorta attaches to the heart. My heart was working way too hard trying to pump the blood to my lower extremities. The doctors all nodded at each other and agreed that this was the reason they couldn’t find a pulse in my groin or feet. Not enough blood was getting down there. It had to be fixed.

They decided to go through my left ribcage. They could pry my ribs far enough apart to take out a lung and do the surgery that way.

It was a tough summer. The Dodgers were on their way to winning the National League pennant. (They would beat the Minnesota Twins in the World Series that October.) The Dodgers sponsored a contest for kids who would keep a scorecard for every game that summer. With all my appointments and hospital visits I missed a few games. The Watts riots were in full swing. As for me, I was going into Long Beach Memorial Hospital for heart surgery!

August 15, 1965

Actually, I don’t know what the date was when I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit. I don’t remember much, really. My parents were there. Our pastor came in once and prayed over me. I had a drainage tube in my left side. The nurses kept trying to get me to cough. They told me that if I couldn’t clear my own lungs I would have to stay in ICU. There was a girl in the next bed who coughed better than I did. She got out first. My chest just hurt too bad.

I was on some serious painkillers. I don’t know what they were, but I hated them. I was having horrible dreams and time seemed to stop. I remember one dream I had. The hospital maintenance guys came into the ICU to paint it while I was lying there. They covered everything up except for my bed. Then they proceeded to paint the unit with all kinds of psychedelic colors. I kept asking what time it was and the nurse got sick of telling me. Seems I was asking the time about every minute. That was my first and only experience with hard drugs.

I finally got out of ICU and into a room. The one thing I really remember clearly is that my feet always felt hot. I couldn’t figure it out. Finally a doctor told me that I was getting strong circulation in my feet for the first time and my feet felt hot because of that.

I think I was in the hospital for about seven or eight days. I really can’t remember now. I got a lot of attention and everyone was really nice to me when I got home.

September 9, 1965

My twelfth birthday. My dad wanted to treat me to something really special so he took my Grandpa Larson and me up to Dodger Stadium to see the Dodgers play the Cubs. That was the night Sandy Koufax pitched his perfect game. Yes, I was there.

I started 7th grade at Leland Stanford Junior High. Amazingly, I played football that fall. All of my post op check ups were fine. Now my high blood pressure must be due to stress!

Forty one years ago tomorrow. I remember the date every year and thank God for the years he has given me.

Thanks for stopping by. You guys are all great!

FUN IN THE SUN!

2006-08-08T10:05:00.000-04:00

We just returned from a very nice week away up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Friends from Shiloh have a cabin up on the St. Mary's River and they invited us up for several days.

Ben had to go to band camp all week and Caleb and John had to work so we took our first trip with only the three girls. Let me tell you, I love the boys but the girls are just so much easier!

It was a great getaway. The cabin is ideally located with a gorgeous view of the river where it is about a mile across. It’s actually called Lake Nicollet at that location. I love watching the huge ships going by on their way up to or down from the Soo Locks. It was a very relaxing time away. I did a lot of reading. We had a big bonfire one evening out beside the river.

We left on Friday morning and drove down to St. Ignace and took the ferry across to Mackinac Island. What a gorgeous day that was! It may have been the prettiest day I have ever spent on the island.

The highlight of the week was by far the wave runners. The kids always look forward to going for rides on the wave runners when we go up north. Tom has a couple of really nice machines. We took them out for awhile on Wednesday evening. Tom takes one of the girls on his machine and I take another. (Mary doesn’t like them so she stayed in the cabin.) I was driving Elizabeth (15) on my wave runner. Turns out she likes to go fast. When I climbed in back and let her drive she had the thing up to 60 in no time! (I decided drivers’ training could wait at least another year!)

On Thursday a couple of huge freighters went by the cabin and we jumped on the wave runners and started following them up the river toward the locks. We passed the first ship and I was stunned by the size of it! You get up close to one of those 1,000-footers and you feel like an ant. I had a pang of nervousness as I rode by with my daughter on the back. What if I did something wrong and we fell off? I pressed on heroically and all was well.

We passed the second freighter and continued up toward the locks. We stopped the wave runners in the channel and looked at Canada there on the right, the International Bridge from the US to Canada, and Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan on the left. It was just beautiful! The second ship we had passed was beginning to approach so Tom said we should probably fire up the wave runners, cross the channel and head back. Sounded good to me. I didn’t want to sit in the channel with those ships coming up.

Tom started his machine and took off across the channel. I started mine and gave it a little gas as I turned around. Just as I began my turn a one foot rogue wave hit the side of the wave runner. It felt like the Poseidon Adventure! I was caught completely off guard and was pitched right into the channel. Catch this picture: I’m in the water looking up at Elizabeth on the wave runner and behind her is a 1,000 foot freighter. OK, no problem. Just climb up on the back, start the machine, and calmly move out of the way. Plenty of time!

I succeeded in climbing onto the machine. Then Elizabeth and I had to change places. I told her to go left while I go right. Needless to say, I am much heavier than she is. The machine started to tip dangerously in my direction. I looked up at the ship as I fell headlong into the river a second time. By this time, Tom had looked back and observed this comedy of errors. He was riding to the rescue.

I climbed aboard a second time. I kept taking little glances down at the approaching freighter, trying to act calm, cool, and collected while wondering what the headlines would say. Since I am here writing this, you know that Elizabeth and I were able to change places and escape the tragic disaster that was bearing down on us.

We all laughed about it at dinner but it was something I’ll never forget. Isn’t that what vacations are supposed to be all about? Making memories?

Welcome back, OG. Thanks for stopping by. You guys are great!

HOUSE FOR SALE! 2

2006-07-30T23:55:00.000-04:00

The Moorhead Manse has been on the market for two weeks now. This continues to be a rather difficult trial; a test of faith. Humanly speaking, it hasn’t gone well.

We had our first open house last Sunday, 23 July. Our realtor told us not to come home from church until after 3:00. It was a miserably hot day. We couldn’t just go into a restaurant and sit because we had to have the dog with us. He wasn’t allowed in the house during the open time. Caspian is a white standard poodle. (My wife’s!) He would turn into some French fricassee if we left in him the family minivan on such a hot day. The realtor said she had five families go through. We never heard from any of them again.

Then last Wednesday she called a said another realtor had a client who wanted to see our house that evening between 7:00 and 8:00. Perfect! I was teaching that night and it wouldn’t be hard to get everyone out of the house. That realtor told our realtor that ours was the shabbiest house he showed this family. He had a list of complaints as long as my hand! Picky, picky, picky! I was suspicious that this family was setting us up to make a low bid. I decided on the spot that I wouldn’t sell it to them even if they offered our price. “No. I would hate for you to have to live in such a dump. I’ll save you that humiliation.”

We had our second open house this afternoon. Today was even hotter than last Sunday! I thought, “No one is going out house hunting in this heat!” Well, I didn’t have to worry. Around 1:00 the skies opened up and it rained until about 2:00! The temperature dropped 15 degrees in about 10 minutes! But no one would want to go out in a downpour! Our realtor reported that a lot of people went through the house but she thinks they were all our neighbors on our cul-de-sac. Too bad they never wanted to come over when we were home! No nibbles.

The realtor wants to lower the asking price before the next open house. This is killing me!

Can God arrange for the sale of my house? Yes, of course. Can he do it this week? Yes, of course. Would I be happy? Yes, of course. If he doesn’t arrange the sale of the house for a month, or two, or three, is he still good? Yes, of course. If we lose the house we put a bid on is God still good? Yes, of course. So what’s the struggle? Good question. Thanks for asking. I think I’m pretty stuck on having things go my way. The struggle is telling God to do what is best for us and really meaning it.

I have preached for years, “It’s not about you; it’s about God.” Preacher, hear thyself!

Thanks for listening. You guys are really great!

"HEY! PASTOR DAVE!"

2006-07-20T14:07:00.000-04:00

“Hey, Pastor Dave! When will you schedule a trip to the Holy Land for our church people?” I can’t tell you how many times over the last 22 years I’ve heard that question. Here’s my answer, yes, my final answer: “Never!” You would have to be nuts to voluntarily go to Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, et al, these days. I really don’t care if you have relatives over there or not. Stay away. Why? Because there is going to be a war! When? Anytime now! And then when the war that we all knew was going to happen actually starts, Americans in Lebanon start complaining that the US government didn’t have a good enough plan to get them out of there. You guys know I’m not a flag-waving, patriotic, America-love-it-or-leave-it kind of guy, but if you’re going to go to Lebanon or Israel or Palestine you better have a plan B to get out! I just don’t think you should expect the government to come to the rescue of the terminally stupid!

“Hey, Pastor Dave! Don’t hold back! Tell us what you really think!” OK. The Lebanese government knew Hezbollah was using their country as a base. They knew Hezbollah is committed to the destruction of Israel. They knew Israel would never put up with that. They knew Israel’s history of dealing with countries that threatened them or that gave aid to groups that threatened them. I’m sorry but the government of Lebanon saw this coming and didn’t do anything about it. They had plenty of warnings from Israel. I doubt they are surprised.

“Hey, Pastor Dave! Does that mean you support Israel and what they’re doing?” No. I’m just saying it was inevitable. It’s just a fact. When you have a group of terrorists openly threatening Israel and the Israelis find out where they are, what do you think is going to happen? They never asked for my support or my opinion. You know whom I feel sorry for? The Lebanese citizens. Thousands of them are homeless today because their government was stupid. They have no airport because their government was stupid. They have no power or water because their government was stupid. I feel so bad for the common person in Lebanon that I would like to send a bunch of cruise liners over there and just say, “Hey! You guys want to get out of here? We’ll drop you off in France if you want.” I read a quote from an American fleeing Lebanon. She said, “This war is unfair! It’s unfair if you see buildings fall and there are people inside.” Sorry. I’m sure Israel intended to fight a fair war.

“Hey, Pastor Dave! What’s the answer to stopping war?” This is really a lot easier than you might think. War will come to an end when all the nations of the earth sit down together and promise never to take any land that belongs to another nation. War will come to an end when they all promise not to hate people because of their religion or cultural differences. War will come to an end when people promise not to pursue personal power anymore. Got it? Not complicated. Just impossible! I, for one, decided over thirty years ago that I would never have any part of it. The governments of this world can do what they want but they’re going to have to do it without me! I’m too busy with assignments from my King to mess around with their squabbles.

My heart really goes out to the people who are suffering as a result of this war. Either side of the border over there. I wish I could do something for them. They are the ones my King is concerned about.

I look forward to hearing from you. Thanks for stopping by.

(Written from the Essential Bean coffee shop in lovely, suburban Caledonia. I am identifying with the homeless right now. My realtor kicked me out of the house while she takes pictures and shows it to her colleagues from her office. I prefer my version of homelessness.)

HOUSE FOR SALE!

2006-07-15T22:00:00.000-04:00

We bought our house on July 18, 2002. The sign went up in the front yard today, July 15, 2006. Interesting providence, isn’t it?

We have been working like maniacs for the last month. Almost every inch of the interior has been painted. The basement was officially finished today. There is so little furniture left in our house that it is sparser (is that a word? more sparse?) than a model home. It looks spacious and clean.

I was supposed to be at a men’s seminar today. Mia called me just as it began and said our realtor was coming at 1:00 to get the house listed and there was too much for her to do at the last minute to get it done. So I left just minutes after the seminar began. I hope the presenters didn’t think I got offended so quickly! (Actually, I wrote a long note of explanation and gave it to them so they wouldn’t feel I just walked out on them.) Mia’s had a three-day migraine and there was no way she could get everything ready in time. I figured my place was to help her so I went home.

We dashed around the house putting all the finishing touches on cleaning and straightening. I sat down mere minutes before our realtor walked in. We took her around the house. I was so proud! Then she started… “You better touch this up. Is this fingernail polish? What are you going to do about this wall? (She didn’t like my taping job in the basement!) You need to put some beadboard over it! (Beadboard? Where the heck do you buy beadboard?) What about that hornet’s nest?” I guess we’re not quite finished.

Nevertheless, she loved what we had done to the house. She has an open house scheduled already for next Sunday (the 23rd). She is optimistic that the house will move quickly. (We have until October 10 to close on the Arts and Crafts house.) The price and the selling strategy were agreed upon and the sign went up in the yard! Elizabeth got so excited! She said, “Dad! It’s even a cool looking sign!”

So, now we are already feeling like we are living in someone else’s house. I’ve turned into the “Neat Dragon.” Anybody leaves anything out and I’m on them like flies on manure. Mia and I think it would be best if we just got out of here for a month or so. You know, just load up the old family van and take off. Do any of you have a hankering to host a family of eight for a week or two? Look at it this way, I have an associate pastor, a worship guy who can preach, and an intern. I’m sure they could handle things even better than I could!

It’s 9:50 pm and the sky is orange out of the window of my study. I’m glad I’m not out in my garage! It’s still 88 degrees outside and I’m sure the garage has to be around 100. And you know Michigan, it’s not a dry heat! I’m going to go over my sermon notes and then sleep the sleep of the dead. Perhaps the stress will be gone in the morning!

You guys are great! Thanks for stopping by!

PRAYING FOR A HOUSE

2006-07-08T23:35:00.000-04:00

In my previous post, Moving Blues Part 2, June 28, I mentioned that we found another very promising home. I said it was an Arts and Crafts bungalow built in the ‘30s. Turns out it was built in 1920. We’ve been through it three times now. Last Monday we had a good friend who is a contractor go through it with us. He pronounced it very solid and said we could move into it just like it is. It will take some work. For example, it only has one bathroom; but we can add one in the basement easily enough. Back in the ‘50s and ‘60s there was little appreciation for the beauty of the Mission style of architecture so the owner put in drop ceilings and paneled the entire interior of the house. Pretty soon we will want to fix that up. Also, we should put a new electrical service in and get rid of the old fuses and stuff. But this is almost all cosmetic and we can take our time doing it. (Except for the bathroom! We need that yesterday!)

The house is for sale by owner. We met with the owner’s daughter-in-law who is handling the sale on Friday and made an offer on the house. It was significantly less than their asking price but there is a lot that has to be done and we don’t think we can pay their price. We offered a generous earnest money payment. The lady said she would stop showing it and give us six months to sell our house. I thought that was generous and fair.

She called us Friday night to let us know what her mother-in-law said. She accepted our price with the condition that they be allowed to continue to show the house and give us a chance to match an offer. Also, they only wanted to hold the house for three months. I was just a little disappointed but I honestly think this is still pretty fair. After all, we don’t even have our home on the market yet!

Well, here’s my point. I’m having an interesting time praying about this. I really want this house. I want it for Mia most of all. It’s like her dream house. It’s in a nicer neighborhood than the Victorian we were looking at and this house would fit our family much better. Yes, I really want this house. I keep telling the Lord that I would really like it if he would work it out for us to have it. He keeps NOT promising it to me. I’m happy she accepted our offer but she didn’t TOTALLY accept it.

I tell the Lord that most of all I want to be in the house he wants us in. If this isn’t the one then I don’t want it. After all, our personal comfort may not be the most important thing to him. He may want us in another house for completely different reasons than what we like. He may want us to meet other neighbors in another neighborhood completely.

I tell the Lord that things are out of my hands and I am entrusting the whole matter to him. I don’t have the energy to keep trying to figure out all the various possibilities and what we should do in each of them.

I find it takes a lot of effort to not take matters into my own hands. I find it consumes energy to not worry. I find it physically exhausting to intentionally yield my own will to his. It actually reminds me of how I was feeling so tired when Roz was dying. Waiting just wore me out and it’s wearing me out now!

So, my friends, do you have any advice for me? I’m excited to see what the Lord is going to do for us. At the same time, we’re going through an interesting period of the testing of our faith. If you know how to pray for us, I invite you to do so.

Lord, the truth is, I really want this house!

You’re all great! Thanks for stopping by!

POWER TOOLS!

2006-07-04T23:14:00.000-04:00

Well, gentle readers, it’s about time we finished up that basement project, wouldn’t you say? Seems it’s been dragging on long enough. Problems galore! If you refer back to my blog on May 11 I sarcastically said I hate do-it-yourself jobs because three day jobs turn into three month jobs. It looks like it might come in at just under two months. Should I be glad?

After taping and mudding and sanding and mudding and sanding and mudding the floor looked like a flock of 500 pigeons had flown in and taken up housekeeping. That’s when the real disaster hit. My lovely wife decided that a drop ceiling was really unnecessary, and for this I will always be grateful. She said, “Hey! I’ve got an idea! Let’s just spray paint the joists and pipes and wires and ductwork all black like a coffee house!” I thought this was a wonderful idea! So we got some black paint at Home Depot and went to rent the sprayer. They didn’t have the regular old domestic sprayers, only the industrial strength, heavy duty sprayers. I didn’t care. I was hot to trot to get this job done! So I took the high test sprayer. To make a long, miserable story short and miserable, the darn thing was so powerful that it sprayed way too much paint everywhere and the floor suddenly looked like all my pigeons had some terrible form of rectal cancer! That sprayer was so strong that I could have painted a 747 from the ground!

OK. No problem. We just put Kilz all over the walls and started painting. It started to look like a real room! Sadly, an amateur taping job can look absolutely wonderful until you start putting color on the walls! I was mortified! Places leaped out at me where it appeared no one had sanded at all! Pock marks! I thought I might be sick.

Press on! The lovely wife rescued me again. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! Instead of trying to trim this with the usual white trim, let’s do it like a coffee house! You know, four-inch strips of composite board around the ceiling, floor, doors, and windows!” Great idea! That would be easy!

Here’s where the power tools come in! Remember Tim Allen’s show, Home Improvement? Remember the manly sounds he used to make whenever he was showing off his power tools? They started emerging from my inner soul! What I needed was a skil saw! Caleb said, “No, Dad, you need a circular saw.” I said, “Don’t tell me what I need! I need a skil saw!” “No, Dad. Skil is a brand name, like Kleenex. There are lots of circular saws.” “Oh.”

So off we went to Lowes again. Caleb worked in construction last summer so he knew what we were looking for. He picked out a circular saw, a brand I had never heard of. A Porter something or other. Remember how my Black and Decker drill battery or charger had died on me? I thought I could get a new battery for it. The tool dude just laughed at me! They don’t make that kind of battery anymore. Just like Detroit. Planned obsolescence! Oh well. I was on a roll. I bought another drill too. I needed just one more thing…a tool belt! I tried one on but I couldn’t figure out what I would do with all the pockets. I ended up buying a nice leather belt with attachable hammer hanger and leather nail pouch. Oo-oo-oo!

Caleb and I set up in the garage. (Yes, Mr. Smoking Christian, there is something else you can do in your garage!) Got the saw horses set up. Put a sheet of composite board on them and fired up the old Porter something or other! Caleb cut the strips at four inches each. I started rounding off the edges with my power sander. The testosterone was flying all over the place! I worked until 10:00 last night putting the polyurethane on the trim strips.

Today was the day! Caleb and I got a good start. Those strips of trim were going up so fast I was amazed! They looked good! Mia was thrilled. I felt manly. My friends are all teasing me about my tool belt. They’re just jealous, I think. I’m pretty proud of myself. But deep down inside I just love to say, “Yeah, I got a new circular saw and drill the other day.” But it’s hard not to smile just a little bit when I say it!

Happy Fourth of July! Thanks for dropping by!

CANADA DAY IN LOVELY CALEDONIA!

2006-07-03T00:17:00.000-04:00

Last night Caledonia celebrated Canada Day with a magnificent show of fireworks. It was July 1, Canada Day. We must have been celebrating Canada Day because I’m pretty sure American Independence Day is July 4. I was on the phone to my folks in Temecula, CA and they were chuckling at the fact that we were having our fireworks on the 1st. I told them I just figured that since we live so far north, so near to Canada, that we were just supporting our neighbors to the north. “O Canada, we stand on guard for thee…”

It was really a wonderful fireworks display. Unfortunately, I missed the 4th of July parade in beautiful, downtown Caledonia on Saturday afternoon. I could hear the sirens of the fire trucks leading the parade. I understand this parade lasted nine minutes; one minute longer than the Memorial Day parade.

Anyway, they shoot the fireworks from the Caledonia High School football stadium. (Home of the 2005 State Champion Fighting Scots!) The stadium is just on the other side of the water tower from our home in lovely Glen Valley Estates which was very recently a farmer’s field and therefore is treeless. We are able to go out and set up our lawn chairs in the driveway and get a perfect view of the fireworks. It’s very convenient if you need to run in for a beverage or ice cream or to use the facilities.

We ventured outside at 10:00. The first warning fireworks had just gone up. They give you several warning shots so you can get your drinks and snacks and be ready for the real show. It was strange weather. Very hot. Very humid. And very windy! The heat and humidity are not usually accompanied by such wind. My lovely wife covered her feet and ankles with mosquito repellent because of a recent unfortunate evening in a friend’s garden where she got bitten over fifteen times on each foot! No need for the Off! The wind was so strong that I don’t think a fighter jet could have maneuvered in it, let alone a mosquito.

The real fireworks show started at 10:15. (It stays light very late up north!) It really was outstanding! We pay good tax money for our patriotism and we want a good show! But the wind was wreaking havoc with the fireworks! Instead of being big, huge, round, blooms of fireworks, they quickly morphed into a kind of ovate shape because the wind was blowing so hard! Some of the rockets couldn’t get as high as they were supposed to because of the wind which created somewhat of a fire hazard for the homes in lovely Glen Valley Estates! In fact, we were watching large chunks of burning paper being blown long distances. Mia promptly dubbed them “floaties” and we found ourselves watching them more than the fireworks! I suspected that some farmer’s silo was going to go up in flames because of some of the floaties!

It started to rain right before the grand finale. We hurried up onto the porch to watch it. When it was over you could hear a rousing cheer from all the people sitting in the grocery store parking lot, half a mile away. Must have been a bunch of Canadians, eh?

You guys are great! Thanks for stopping by!

THE MOVING BLUES PART TWO

2006-06-28T21:56:00.000-04:00

I just want to keep you up to date on the daily stresses and woes of trying to get one’s house ready to go on the market. I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I don’t even need your understanding. Just love me the way I am.

I have three strong sons living at home right now. They are 21, 19, and 17. It should be no challenge to empty the stuff out of our house that we don’t really need and take it over to the storage units, right? One of them can’t drive our van because he was dropped from our insurance a couple of years ago due to too many points on his license. One of them drops everything he touches. He dropped a box of Mia’s china the other day. One of them has perfected the art of disappearing. I get him to carry a box out to the van. I put it in the van and turn around and he’s gone. When I find him it’s, “Oh. There’s more?” Then try to juggle their work schedules so there are a couple of them around at the same time to help. The boxes around my house have been driving me nuts. Why are they still here?

We bought paint for the newly completed basement. Our friend, the realtor, nixed it. “Too bright to put on the market,” she said. Over $60 of paint and this Scotsman is going to throw it away? Think again. Took it to Home Depot, pulled my Civil War revolver on the paint guy (who is a really good friend and understands my stress) and told him to make it lighter somehow. “But Dave, you can’t make paint lighter! Only darker!” “You’re the paint genius! Make it happen!” So he sold me two gallons of white for each gallon of “too bright” and told me to mix it at home.

I went into the garage to see what was ready to go to the storage unit. Mia had told two of the boys to clean out the basement. So there was the TV and DVD player sitting in the garage. There was one’s dresser. All this stuff from the basement. “What are you putting your clothes in if your dresser is down here?” “Dunno.” “People are coming to look at the house. Where will your clothes be?” “Dunno.” “Take it back downstairs. And if the TV is up here, what are you going to watch while we’re still living here?” “Dunno.” “Take it back.” Are you feeling my pain?

Daughter #1 wanted to help today. She can carry more boxes faster than a couple of the boys and she’s still smiling. All you sexist, macho, pigs, take that!

Found another very promising house today. It’s an Arts and Crafts model from the ‘30s. Price is even better. More bedrooms. We’d need to add a bathroom and family room right away but the price is so good that we probably could do that. It’s even in a nicer part of the village. We’re going to look at it tomorrow morning. Mia loves it from the outside. If we could only get this house on the market!

Thanks for listening. You guys are all great!

KILLER CHICKENS!

2006-06-26T23:35:00.000-04:00

You guys know I’m a city guy. I grew up in the city. Went to college near the Windy City. When we moved to beautiful suburban Caledonia I had the chance to buy out in the country but I chose a subdivision that reminded me of the city. City guy through and through.

But some of my ShilohFriends are not city guys. Tom the Elder is not a city guy. He grew up on a farm. He lives outside of Lowell, in the country. Their garden is bigger than our entire lot. They have more lawn than I could mow in a month. They have a barn. They have a tractor. They have a bunch of chickens that run all over the place.

Well Tom the Elder and his wife invited us all out for dinner last Saturday night. May I say that Mrs. Tom the Elder made a fish dinner that rates right up there with the best fish I have ever tasted? We sat around the living room and visited for the rest of the evening. Around 8:30 Tom suggested we go out back and shoot some clay pigeons. (It doesn’t get dark here until almost 10:00 these days.) So he got the ol’ shotgun and we went out to blast stuff.

You might ask, “How could you, a Democrat, anti-gun guy, go out shooting?" Well, I’m a hypocrite. I love to shoot guns. I don’t know if I could really kill anything but I love to shoot guns. This was a beautiful, foreign-made, automatic shotgun. I’m a dead eye with a rifle but I’ve never shot at anything moving before. I’d yell, “Pull,” and the clay pigeon would fly and I would fire away and they would land safely. Every time. Never hit one clay pigeon. Tom never missed one. So he hung some on the fence and let me blow them to smithereens just to make me feel better. (By the way, it did a lot for the stress of the moving blues!)

After shooting we walked around the yard. The chickens were all over the place and one big huge studly looking rooster. So I asked Tom the Elder a question I have been wondering about all my life. Just how often does a rooster have to, well, you know, um, uh, service, an egg-laying hen? (You need to be sensitive with these questions when you’re talking to an elder!) I figured a couple times a week ought to keep them laying. I was shocked at what he told me. That rooster does his job…are you ready for this?... about every FIVE TO TEN MINUTES!

Now to the really distressing part, the thing that made me sit down to write tonight. As we walked around the yard, surrounded by hens, I actually SAW an egg come popping right out of one of the chickens! I couldn’t believe my eyes! And all this time I thought they were supposed to lay eggs in the barn! But that still isn’t the upsetting thing. It’s this: As soon as that egg hit the ground, about five hens attacked it and pecked it to pieces and ate the egg, yoke and all! It was cold-blooded, cannibalistic murder! I was stunned. It was like a scene from “Lord of the Flies!” I looked at Tom to see what he would say. In true, farm guy fashion, Elder Tom looked at me in return and said, “I think we have a problem.” Understatement of the year! I’m feeling rather emotionally abused. We city guys are completely opposed to cannibalism. We might bend the rules and shoot guns and all, but we draw the line at eating infants. I just don’t know if I can go back to the scene of the crime. I don’t care how good the fish was!

THE MOVING BLUES

2006-06-26T00:24:00.000-04:00

Well, it looks like we will be moving again soon. This could be a long story but I will just take a few moments to get some stress off my chest.

When we moved to beautiful suburban Caledonia it was because I was supposed to start a job as president of a newly started foundation designed to support international church planting. The people who were funding it had approached me and asked if I would be interested in taking a break from pastoral ministry and run the new foundation. To be honest, I was ready for a break and the generous salary looked very nice as I considered ways to support my new wife and five new children.

The house we bought was actually rather modest for the salary I’d been promised. It had to be large to hold all eight of us. It has six bedrooms on three levels of living space. But, as you know, the foundation job didn’t happen. Suddenly, the modest home was rather extravagant for my church/restaurant wages.

We’ve been able, by God’s grace, to meet all our bills. However, we haven’t had enough to put into savings. Let me say this briefly, we live from week to week and are grateful for God’s generosity. So the lovely wife and I decided we didn’t want to live this way anymore. Son #2 will be a junior in college so he will probably only be home one more summer. Son #3 is seriously considering entering military service this summer. We could downsize.

Mia ran into a girlfriend in town a couple of weeks ago. As they chatted she discovered that the girlfriend is planning on building a new home and selling theirs. They have a lovely late-Victorian near the not-yet-gentrified-downtown area of Caledonia. The price on the house would allow us to cut our mortgage payments literally in half. At first we were just dreaming. Then we decided, “Why not? It’s a good move all around!” So we entered into discussions with these nice folks and things are moving along slowly.

Of course, we need to sell our house now. Our friend, the realtor, told us to strip down the furniture and “stuff” as much as possible to get it ready to show well. We rented a storage unit and started filling it up with non-essentials. Mia has attacked this task with gusto. The three daughters have joined in the fray and have helped a great deal. The house is a wreck right now with boxes packed up and waiting to be delivered to storage. We have now rented storage unit #2. Why do we have so much stuff?

Stress levels ran high all last week. I still had to keep my appointments and write a sermon for today. I thought I felt a heart attack coming on several times during the week. I really hate this. But the thought of freeing up so much in house payments is a strong motivator.

I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for stopping by!

A FATHER'S TRIBUTE

2006-06-19T00:09:00.000-04:00

In about fifteen minutes another Father’s Day will be over. This was my 27th Father’s Day and it was as good as any of them. Things went well at Shiloh this morning. I had promised all the fathers Harley-Davidsons but Oprah didn’t come through. It did help attendance though. (Just kidding!) Then I came home and fell asleep for about and hour and a half while my lovely wife got dinner ready. Elizabeth baked my favorite dessert, a giant Toll House chocolate chip cookie. I got some nice gifts and spent the rest of the afternoon watching the US Open golf tournament and World Cup soccer.

I don’t know how good a dad I really am. If I’m not a great dad it’s sure not because I didn’t have a good example. My dad was and is one of the best dads I’ve ever seen. So was his dad. I guess I come from a long line of really good dads. I hope I can live up to the example they set for me.

On Father’s Day I feel like I need to say something about my kids. If it wasn’t for them…

Aaron is 26 and he runs a restaurant in Lake Tahoe, CA. He seems to be doing really well for himself out there. We sure miss him back here in Michigan.

Caleb turned 21 yesterday. I know because I was having a cold adult beverage tonight and he asked for one. Being the hard guy dad I am, I said no. He’s a hard worker and a big help around the house.

John is 19. He’s got a year of college under his belt. He spent much of today on the internet researching the armed forces. He’s thinking of the reserves. The lovely wife is trying to talk him out of the Army and into the Navy or Coast Guard. I think that’s a good idea. Not too many Navy or Coast Guard guys have gotten killed in Iraq.

Ben is 17. He’ll be a senior next year. He plays drums on our worship team and is very good. He’s also a talented artist. He has an artistic mentality, which means I don’t understand him very often. He’s also a computer genius and it’s always great to have one of those around the house.

Elizabeth is 14. She’ll be 15 on July 10. Lovely wife insists she was born on July 11 and the hospital made a mistake on the birth certificate. She has become daddy’s little girl. We love the same TV shows and sit and watch them together faithfully every week. I’m starting to feel very protective!

Anna is12. She’s the easiest kid in the world. She has some of the same artistic skill Ben has. Anna’s the serious one. She’s a thinker. She’s also amazingly responsible for a twelve year old. Anna always has her chores done first and then ends up helping all the other kids.

Mary is thirty minutes younger than Anna and is therefore our baby. Music courses through her veins. She has a fabulous voice. If music is on she can’t stand still. We’d love to get her voice lessons or dance lessons. She has eyes that just sparkle, literally!

My children have brought so much joy into my life. I’m glad I still have some years left with them. I just hope that someday they will write some nice things about their dear old dad when they’re blogging!

Happy Father’s Day, guys!

DON'T LET YOUR SONS MOVE TO COLORADO!

2006-06-18T08:49:00.000-04:00

Denver (June 15) AP A 15-year-old girl can enter into a common-law marriage in Colorado, and younger girls and boys possibly can, too, a state appeals court ruled Thursday.

While the three-judge panel stopped short of setting a specific minimum age for such marriages, it said they could be legal for girls at 12 and boys at 14 under English common law, which Colorado recognizes.
Colorado is one of 10 states, plus the District of Columbia, that recognize common-law marriage, which is based on English law dating back hundreds of years. "It appears that Colorado has adopted the common-law age of consent for marriage as 14 for a male and 12 for a female, which existed under English common law," the ruling said.

"Nevertheless, we need only hold here that a 15-year-old female may enter into a valid common-law marriage."

The appeal was filed by Willis Rouse, 38, who is serving time for escape and a parole violation. He argued that he and the girl began living together in April 2002 and applied for a marriage license a year later.

The girl had become legally independent by then, but her mother also consented to the marriage and accompanied the girl and Rouse to obtain a license, the ruling said.
A judge invalidated the marriage, saying anybody under age 16 needed judicial approval for either common-law or ceremonial marriage.

I was wondering why My Three Sons all want to move to Colorado!

WORLD CUP CONTROVERSY

2006-06-16T12:47:00.000-04:00

Are any of you guys soccer (football to the rest of the world) fans? Are you watching any of the World Cup matches? I guess not. Only the SC and I are home during the day when the games are being played in Germany which is six hours ahead of me and nine hours ahead of you all on the left coast.

I fell in love with soccer when I went to Wheaton. I never really understood it before I arrived at the Harvard of Evangelical Christendom. I happened to meet a number of guys on the team when I first got there and they persuaded me to come and watch a game. Once I did, I was hooked. It beats the heck out of watching American sports that move slower than molasses in January. Caleb, son #2, now plays rugby for the Grand Rapids team. There’s another great sport!

Anyway, I was watching one of the World Cup matches earlier this week when the commentators began talking about the major issue that had arisen in Mexico concerning citizenship. I was sure I was about to hear another discussion on the “illegal aliens” issue that has been boiling here for several months. I was wrong!

Perhaps you are aware that in the soccer (futbol) world, players go where the money is. Americans are playing in Britain, Brits are playing in Europe, South Americans are playing in Spain and Italy, and Europeans are playing in Central America. These players move to play for professional teams all over the world. Over the course of time, they earn either citizenship or become naturalized residents in their adopted countries. Thus, there are many Europeans playing professional futbol in Mexico. When Mexico chose their World Cup team, several of these Europeans made the team. Thus, the outrage among Mexican citizens.

Are you ready?

I’m not joking.

This is true.

The Mexicans are complaining that foreigners are coming in and taking jobs away from Mexicans!

Thanks for stopping by. You guys are great!

IT'S NOT THE ROSE PARADE!

2006-05-30T18:59:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day has come and gone. Good riddance! I attended my first small-town Memorial Day parade on Monday. Why did I do that? Simply because Anna, daughter #2 and Twin #1, is in the middle school band and they were marching in this parade. As a loving and doting father, I felt it was my duty to go and watch as she proudly marched past with her cymbals crashing to patriotic music.

The parade was scheduled to start at noon. Anna had to be at the school at 11:00. The temperature was already 90 degrees and rising when we dropped her off. We parked the family minivan at the school and walked downtown.

Downtown Caledonia is two blocks long. It has a tavern, a nice restaurant, a Laundromat, a couple of insurance agencies, a hardware store, a farm supply store, a Masonic lodge, and an old building that Alanon uses. Caledonia’s downtown has not yet experienced the gentrification that other old downtowns have.

We walked about six blocks in the blazing heat. This was the first moment that I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake. I found a nice niche along Sam’s Joint where we could sit. They were steps that led to a door that was no longer there and we could sit in the shade and wait for the parade to come by.

As you know, I grew up in Southern California. I think the only parade I have ever attended in my life is the Tournament of Roses Parade down Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena. That was a regular experience for me in my youth. For me, the Rose Parade is the definition of the word “parade.” Somebody should have warned me!

The Caledonia Memorial Day Parade started off with a bang! Two fighter jets flew over downtown at precisely noon. (How do they get the time so perfectly right?) It was downhill from there.

The VFW guys marched by and the crowd went wild. I just felt so proud that our boys are dying in yet another nation to “save our freedom.” Yes, that’s what the sign said. “Thank you to our armed forces for fighting for our freedom in Iraq.” Mia looked at me nervously. She’s always afraid that I will say something too loudly and get beaten up by VFW guys with their toy rifles. I just silently wondered how my freedom depends on what is happening in Iraq. Then there was a sign that said, “Thank you for your sacrifice.” I wondered, a little too loudly, if that wasn’t kind of a loose use of the word “sacrifice.” I turned to Mia and said, “By definition, doesn’t a sacrifice have to be something voluntary?” She shot that look at me and I shut up.

Enough of my left wing, commie, pinko ranting. Back to the parade. After the VFW heroes came the Boy Scouts and the Cub Scouts. Then there was the fire truck, the ambulance, and the search and rescue vehicle. Following these beautiful floats came the Harley Davidson guys. Six gorgeous motorcycles with big old fat guys with long hair and beards and bigger, fatter women sitting up behind them. Stirred my heart.

Next was a guy who has a hot air balloon business. He had one of his baskets in the back of a pick up truck and as they passed by he pulled the handle on the gas thingy and shot a flame twenty feet in the air. The crowd went nuts! The classic cars came next.

Finally! The middle school band!!!! I actually stood up to see Anna. I spotted her! She was on our side of the street! There she marched in the sweltering sun. That’s all she did. She marched. No cymbals. Nothing. She might have been humming along but I couldn’t tell for sure.

Three farm girls rode their horses behind the band and that was it. Eight minutes of riotous, patriotic fervor!

We’re all sunburned. Mia really got it bad on the tops of her legs. I’ve already had enough sun in my life to support thousands of carcinomas so it didn’t really bother me. I asked Mia if there was any other way I could demonstrate my love for Anna next year. She gave me that look and I shut up.

(After we picked Anna up she informed us that she was sharing the cymbals with the other girl because they were too heavy for one girl to carry during the entire parade route. I’m serious.)

THE DAVINCI LOAD

2006-05-30T18:17:00.000-04:00

I went to see the DaVinci Code on Sunday afternoon with a bunch of ShilohFolks. After worship we ordered in a stack of pizzas and had lunch together. Then we had a one hour seminar on the book by Dan Brown, The DaVinci Code. It was a very interesting conversation about the deity of Jesus, the Council of Nicea, and the establishing of the New Testament canon. Then we went to see the film.

First, Ron Howard and the screenwriters sure took a lot of artistic license with the book. You certainly could recognize that it was the same story but there were so many things changed that the story took on a very different emphasis.

Second, I came away feeling that if I had not read the book first the movie would not have made much sense. It felt very disjointed and it seemed to jump around so much that it was hard to follow.

Third, all the hullabaloo raised by evangelicals about the movie was pretty unnecessary. The attacks on Christianity are there all right but they are hard to take very seriously. I don’t feel particularly offended or attacked. The young guy who was sitting on my right is a brand new Christian and he was incensed at what they said about Jesus but that could have been expected. The movie comes off far more fictional than the book does. Opus Dei shouldn’t be so upset. But the Vatican and the French got nailed again!

I like Tom Hanks. I don’t think the critics’ criticisms are really fair. He was saddled with a weak script here. Maybe the best parts ended up on the cutting room floor, I don’t know. Paul Bettany is one of my favorites. I loved his work in A Beautiful Mind and Master and Commander. He was great in the DaVinci Code as the good/bad guy.

I guess that’s about all. I’m supposed to take another group to see it again next Sunday. I’m wondering if I might call in sick!

Thanks for stopping by! You guys are great!

A BASEBALL DIATRIBE

2006-05-21T23:49:00.000-04:00

Tonight I want to write about something that probably won’t interest anyone but me. I think it’s time I got this off my chest. It’s about baseball. If you want to stop reading right now, feel free. I won’t feel hurt and I wouldn’t blame you.

I’ve been a huge baseball fan all my life. I attended my first Major League baseball game in 1961 at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles. That’s right, Los Angeles, not Chicago. A brand new expansion team was playing its first season in that venerable old stadium which no longer exists. The Los Angeles Angels (formerly the Triple A minor league team of the Chicago Cubs) played the Detroit Tigers. My dad was still a big fan of the Tigers whom he had followed all his life in Michigan.

But it was the Dodgers that stole my heart. I used to sit and listen to the games on the radio and score them and save all the score sheets. I loved Maury Wills, Willie Davis, Tommie Davis, Jim Gilliam, Don Drysdale, Sandy Koufax, John Roseboro and all the old Dodgers. You could say I lived and breathed Dodgers baseball.

Then I started collecting Topps baseball cards when they were still just a nickel a pack. I saved up my allowance and lawn mowing money and rode my bike to the Seven Eleven to spend it all on baseball cards. I would go in my bedroom and close the door so I could open the packs of cards in private. The smell of the fresh cards and the hard bubble gum still bounces around in my brain somewhere. I collected full sets of Topps cards starting in 1964. (I still have them. Wonder what they’re worth?)

Throughout high school I was in the right centerfield bleachers with my buddies at least once or twice during every home stand. Five bucks used to get you into the bleachers with enough left over for a Dodger dog and a Coke. When I got to Wheaton I started going to Wrigley Field to watch the Cubs. I was truly happy when my beloved Dodgers came to town. I loved sitting in the left field bleachers in the sun. Sometimes when we felt adventurous we would go down to old Comiskey Park and catch a White Sox game. That was a thrill because I could imagine Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, and Joe DiMaggio patrolling that very outfield.

I still love the Dodgers. I check on them every day to see what they did the night before. Our local papers never cover the Dodgers. The sports page always says, “Dodgers-late game.” So I have to get their scores off the internet. But baseball has changed forever.

Steroids have all but ruined baseball for me. What really matters to a real baseball fan? I’ll tell you, all those tiny lines of print on the back of baseball cards that record all the records and statistics of a player. All the fun of debating with your buddies whether Willie Mays or Mickey Mantle was better. The biggest debate of my life, until recently, was whether Roger Maris’ 61 home runs in 162 games should be the home run record or Babe Ruth’s 60 home runs in 154 games. That debate was worth hours of good-natured arguing.

But what do statistics mean anymore? One could always argue about the fact that the Babe played before there were any black players or Latino players so he didn’t face the best. Or one could argue that massive expansion has so diluted pitching that today’s hitters don’t have to face pitchers as good as Babe faced. You could argue forever about the dead ball era and the juiced ball of modern times. But now the players themselves are juiced and the records seem to be nothing at all. Is Barry Bonds really better than Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Willie Mays, and Mickey Mantle? Were Sammy Sosa and Mark McGuire as great as their records show? We’ll never know.

It makes me sick. Barry should have been banned from playing another baseball game ever. So should any player who has used steroids. Track and field doesn’t tolerate cheaters. Why should baseball? Maybe I’m just old-fashioned. Or maybe I’m grieving the loss of one of the great joys of my childhood and youth. I just hope Barry Bonds is out of baseball before he passes a real gentleman, Henry Aaron, for the all time home run record.

Thanks for stopping by. You’re very kind.

SHILOHMAN THE SCIENCE GUY

2006-05-20T11:38:00.000-04:00

PUZZLED BY SCIENCE AGAIN!

I have some questions for my scientific friends out there. Perhaps you could help me figure out this problem.

Once again I find myself stumped by science. The geological scientists tell me that the world is billions of years old. From my understanding, this has to be true because it would take that long for the major geological features of our earth to develop. For example, it would take billions of years for the Alps or the Rockies to grow. Or, it would take at least millions of years for the Grand Canyon to be carved out. You know. You all studied this stuff in high school or college.

So I was reading the news a couple of weeks ago and there was a very interesting article about Mount St. Helens. It seems that a giant rock has started to rise out of the magma dome that has grown up in the crater of the volcano. I saw the photo. It’s really amazing! There’s this huge slab of stone climbing into the sky out of the ground! It’s very impressive!

But here’s the thing that caused me to start wondering. They say it is growing at the rate of between four and five feet A DAY! Now how could that be? I got out my trusty calculator and started doing some figuring. Mount Everest is 29,035 feet high. According to the rate of growth of the new peak in Mount St. Helens it would take less than sixteen years for Mount Everest to reach its current height! I didn’t take much math but I’m pretty sure that sixteen years is not nearly as long as billions of years.

I’m not hearing very much about this from the geologists. Could that be because this rate of growth in Mount St. Helens doesn’t fit with all their theories? Is it possible that the earth is not nearly as old as they think it is? I wonder what they would come up with if they did some tests to date the age of the rock in Mount St. Helens. Maybe you can’t really get accurate dates on rock? Do they have carbon in them for Carbon-14 dating? I mean, this is pretty new rock; five new feet of it every day!

I’m just a little suspicious, I know. But if you can solve this problem for me I would appreciate it. I’m losing confidence in modern “science” again!

Thanks for listening. You’re all great!

P.S. A LITERARY QUESTION

2006-05-15T23:25:00.000-04:00

By the way, have any of you dear friends on the Quadblog read any Patricia Cornwell? I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks!

SHILOHMAN'S NEWS AND COMMENT

2006-05-15T22:10:00.000-04:00

NEWS COVERAGE FOR THE QUADBLOG

Senator Ted Kennedy was flying home from North Adams, Mass. last Saturday afternoon when the Cessna jet in which he was flying was struck by lightning. All the electrical functions on the plane were blown out including the instruments. The pilot had to fly the plane manually and it landed safely in New Haven, CT. Wouldn’t you wonder if this was a warning? When will this guy ever get the message?

Speaking of Kennedys. U.S. Representative Patrick Kennedy, Teddie’s son, had a little traffic problem of his own in DC. Seems he leaped out of bed around 2:00 AM, jumped into his car and dashed off to the Capitol. He thought he was late for a vote. (Well I guess he WAS at 2:00AM!) Anyhow, a security barrier jumped in the way and he smashed up his ’97 Mustang and got pulled over by the Capitol Police. He swore he wasn’t drinking. Next day he revealed that he is entering rehab for addiction to prescription pain meds. (Wouldn’t it have been funny if Rush Limbaugh was his roommate?) Teddie said he was so proud of his son for recognizing he had a problem. Good thing there aren’t any rivers or bridges between Patrick’s townhouse and the Capitol!

Did you see this one in the news on Sunday? HARTFORD, Conn. U.S. military troops with sever psychological problems have been sent to Iraq or kept in combat, even when superiors have been aware of signs of mental illness. Doesn’t that make you stop and think? And you were wondering how the Smoking Christian passed his military psych screen?

Does anyone recognize the name Sheila Kuehl? You people in SoCal might have heard of her. She’s a California state senator representing West Los Angeles. If she isn’t famous as a politician you older readers might remember her because she played Zelda on the Doby Gillis Show. She was so cute the way she wrinkled her nose at Doby and aggravated Maynard G. Krebs (who later turned into Gilligan). I had a crush on her back in the 60s. Anyway, she has introduced a bill intended to insure that future history textbooks include gay and lesbian history. Turns out Zelda is gay! Say it ain’t so, Zelda! That's almost like finding out Christie Brinkley is a lesbian!

The Pope has excommunicated two Chinese bishops that were recently appointed by the Chinese government. Apparently, the Vatican just doesn’t appreciate the help of the politicians in an atheistic country. The church says it only recognizes the bishops they themselves appoint. Huh! I mean, who do they think they are? I just want all our loyal readers out there to know that the Church of the Smoking Christian reserves the right to appoint all its own church officials regardless of what the Vatican thinks. As Cardinal of the COTSCO I would like to say, and I’m sure my protonotary agrees with me, we will not be frightened away! We will fearlessly take our stand against any persecution or prosecution!

Finally, I give you a direct quote, dateline May 4 Budapest, Hungary. Hungarian builders who drank their way to the bottom of a huge barrel of rum while renovating a house got a nasty surprise when a pickled corpse tumbled out of the empty barrel, a police magazine website reported. According to online magazine www.zsaru.hu, workers in Szeged in the south of Hungary tried to move the barrel after they had drained it, only to find it was surprisingly heavy and were shocked when the body of a naked man fell out. The website said that the body of the man had been shipped back from Jamaica 20 years ago by his wife in the barrel of rum in order to avoid the cost and paperwork of an official return. According to the website, workers said the rum in the 300-liter barrel had a "special taste" so they even decanted a few bottles of the liquor to take home. The wife has since died and the man was buried in a proper grave.
There must be a lesson here somewhere!

You guys are all great! Thanks for stopping by!

TRAPPED!

2006-05-12T14:48:00.000-04:00

This is just to let you guys know I'm still in my basement taping and mudding my new drywall. All the boards are safely screwed up. (Yes, I said screwed up.) Now there is drywall compound all over the floor and all over my clothes. Don't worry. I'll be back. (If I don't suffocate from all the sanding!)

STOP! DON'T DO IT YOURSELF!

2006-05-11T00:11:00.000-04:00

IN SYMPATHY WITH TOOL-CHALLENGED PEOPLE EVERYWHERE

Go ahead. Ask me what I’ve been doing for the last three days. Especially you, Mr. Handyman OG. Go ahead, ask! I’ve been drywalling the basement with Son #2 and Son #3. We started taping and mudding today.

I hate Do It Yourself projects. I really do. First, I don’t know how to do it myself. I was raised in a tool-challenged environment. My dad was a college professor. We had two screwdrivers (slot and Philips), a hand saw (no one ever trusted a Moorhead with a power tool), a pipe wrench, a hammer, and a set of pliers. (I don’t even know how to spell Philips!) If my dad ever had to attempt a DIY project he had to go next door to Mr. Retired Blue-Collar Guy and borrow the tools.

Second, I don’t even know what tools I need. I put up drywall for several months in 1979 when I was between churches so I learned how to nail board onto studs. But they never let me measure or cut the board. Nor did they let me anywhere near the taping gun and mud. I have a Black & Decker battery-powered drill to use to put in the screws, so I can do that. I have a matte knife to cut the board. I have a T-square that belonged to my late wife. (I don’t know what she used it for.) I got on the internet and went to This Old House to see if I needed any more tools. I did.

Let me tell you a little about this job. We moved into this brand new house in July of ’02. We couldn’t afford to finish the basement even though we had two bedrooms put in there for Sons #2, #3, and #4. I offhandedly said to my lovely wife, “Oh, don’t worry Honey, I’ll do it with the boys someday soon.” (I was unemployed at the time.) “Someday soon” arrived on Monday! There is a 14 foot hip wall of solid concrete that I had to figure out what to do with. One of the guys at church told me to use a “ram set” (?) and attach two by fours to the wall and then just put on the drywall. I said, “Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of that!)

Caledonia Rent All has everything. “Hello, do you have one of those tool thingies that drives nails into concrete?” “You mean a ram set?” “Of course I mean a ram set! What else would I be talking about?” Rented the ramset this morning for $15 (including shells and ammo).

Third, something always goes wrong and the three day job takes three months. Son #2 was using the ram set. He worked construction last summer so he was elected to risk his life with the ram set. He finished up in plenty of time and Son #3 returned the ram set to Caledonia Rent All. I went over to look at the job Son #2 did and found most of the nails were sticking out about one eighth of an inch! “Caledonia Rent All? Do you have one of those tool thingies that cuts the heads off of nails that the thingy that drives nails into concrete…?” “Mr. Moorhead?” “No, why do you ask?” “Mr. Moorhead, you need a grinder.” “OK. Son #3 will be right there.” Five more bucks for the grinder.

Then my Black & Decker (Am I spelling that right? Why didn’t I get a DeWalt?) battery charger stopped charging. I still have a bunch of corner bead to put up. Off to Lowe’s for a new charger and or battery tomorrow morning.

Too many trips to Lowe’s. More putty knives. More mud trays. Another rotating head drywall sander on a pole. I hate this! My back hurts. My fingers hurt. Everything hurts! My lovely wife is so encouraging. “You’re doing such a great job! It looks like a real room now! It seems so much bigger! The joy is in the accomplishment!” She’s so good. But this is why I went to college. I didn’t want to have to do this!

Thanks for listening. You guys are all great!

A CALL TO BUFFET DINERS!

2006-05-07T00:04:00.000-04:00

I wonder if you saw the item on ABC News this morning about the family that was banished from their local buffet restaurant for wasting food. The mother of the family complained that the sign said “All You Can Eat.” The manager of the restaurant noted that the operative word in the sign was “Eat.” She stated that the family was taking far more food than they could possibly eat. This family is no longer allowed to eat in that restaurant.

A number of our readers are regulars at their local buffet restaurants. I’m concerned about the ramifications such behavior on the part of restaurant managers might bring about. All of us have had the experience of taking “food” from the hot table and then discovering it did not taste like anything familiar once we got it back to our tables. Could this really be considered wasting “food?”

I fear a buffet restaurant conspiracy. Are we now going to be considered criminals? I just want my children to know their dad is not a criminal! And what if these managers discover all the little plastic bags in my mother-in-law’s purse? Will she be carted off in handcuffs, have her picture taken, and be printed like a common thief? Something has to be done.

I’m considering calling for a “no bringo” to buffet restaurants day all over North America and Mexico. We have rights! We are just eating “food” no other Americans are willing to eat. Without us the buffet restaurant economy will collapse in upon itself. We need to boycott buffets. Make signs and march in front of the strip malls where these “restaurants” are located! After all, the land upon which they are built was ours before they came and took it away from us! We have children at home who depend on the food we put in our Baggies and send home to them.

Our children can get involved too by participating in the “no bringo” lunch money to school part of the boycott. After all, school cafeterias are no more than buffets with no choice! They should take their lunches to school that day and march off campus to eat them somewhere else.

I’m calling on the buffet diners of America to rise up and demand their rights. We should be allowed to take what we want and then belch and pass gas in any language we want, including Spanish! Jose can you see o’er the land of free food and the home of the Braves?

A BAPTIST AND A PRESBYTERIAN WENT INTO A BAR...

2006-05-05T23:51:00.000-04:00

IN AN EFFORT TO PROMOTE ECUMENISM

Two pastors were at a conference when a debate over baptism arose over lunch. The Baptist argued vehemently (as Baptists are wont to do) for his view of total immersion while the Presbyterian sat back, calmly puffing on his pipe, and smilingly stated simply that pouring or sprinkling water on the head was sufficient.

The debate began to wax hotter when the Presbyterian offered to prove his point. The Baptist defied him to do so.

“If the candidate was in water up to his ankles, would that be enough?” asked the Presbyterian.

“Absolutely not!” snapped the Baptist.

“Then how about up to his knees?”

“No. Not good enough,” the Baptist huffed.

“OK. Then how about up to his waist?” queried the patient Presbyterian.

“Nope!”

“Well, what if he was immersed in water up to his chest?”

“That would not be baptism!”

“Would you accept it if he was in water up to his neck?”

“NO!”

“Then how about if he was in water all the way up to his forehead? Would that be good enough?” smiled the Presbyterian?

“No. No. A thousand times no!” shouted the Baptist.

“Well then,” the Presbyterian responded, “It’s just as I said. It’s only the water that goes on top that really matters.”

(Note to Yakimaniac: No, you won’t have to be a very good swimmer. I haven’t lost one yet! But I have stories that ought to be told someday!)

FELIZ CINCO DE MAYO!

2006-05-05T18:10:00.000-04:00

I was driving north on the Dan Ryan into Chicago a few years ago when I saw this banner draped across the freeway near Soldier Field:

WELCOME TO CINCO DE MAYO! MAY 6, 7

WATCHING THE WORLD SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO!

2006-05-04T22:47:00.000-04:00

This item came off the Reuters newswire today. Byline, San Agustin, El Salvador.

“Friends and relatives of Cruz Hernandez gathered on Wednesday to celebrate her 128th birthday, a milestone that might make her the world’s oldest person.

“Hernandez, who relatives say spends most of her time dozing and no longer speaks, was surrounded by some 200 people at her party, some bearing a cake and others dressed as Salvadoran mythological heroes.”

What Reuters did not report is that her company is worried they will not be able to replace her if she should suddenly die. A spokesman said, “Where could we find another person who spends most of his time dozing and doesn’t speak?”

The Shilohman staff idly wondered if Cruz was able to blow out all the candles on her cake on one try. COTSCO is checking its membership records to see if she ever joined the church. If she did, it is doubted that she would have the lung capacity to succeed and see her wish granted. Rumor has it that the Smoking Christian himself is looking into beatifying Cruz immediately upon her death.

After the party, Cruz revealed to our investigative reporters that those guests were not Salvadoran mythological heroes but were actually some of her high school boyfriends.

When told that 104-year-old Wook Kundor of Malaysia recently married Muhamad Noor Che Musa, 33, Cruz reportedly giggled and wrote the following note: What's wrong with that girl? Why would she want to tie herself down to just one man? So many men, so little time!"

Reuters reports, “Guinness (Book of World Records) claims Ecuadorean Maria Esther de Capovilla is the world’s oldest living woman at age 116.”

When Cruz was informed of this she immediately signed through an interpreter that she was challenging de Capovilla to a cage match on live television immediately following American Idol as soon as the Unanimous show ends. She said, “You tell Capovilla that her nephew, Pancho Villa, was nothing more than a no good, punk, criminal illegal alien!”

COTSCO is allegedly looking further into this story. The church’s protonotary, a savvy linguist, noted that Cruz’ hometown and country is translated into English as, Saint Augustine, The Savior. Dan Brown of “DaVinci Code” fame theorized that this is not heresy because Mrs. Jesus, aka Mary Magdalene, was remarried to Augustine’s great-great-great-great grandfather and, by virtue of that fact, passed on some of the Holy Grail to his line making Augustine a kind of savior. COTSCO’s Holy Inquisition is poised, waiting for the order to initiate retributive action against the alleged heretics.

When asked about the apparent contradiction between beatifying Cruz and launching an inquisition, a COTSCO spokesman said, “Huh?”

(Note: Neither of the women in the picture above is Cruz Hernandez!)

THE IMPORTANCE OF TRUTH

2006-05-03T23:46:00.000-04:00

Acts 19:1-10

INTRODUCTION

Today we begin our new sermon series on Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. When we read Ephesians, we are reading someone else’s mail. If you were to read a letter from somebody you don’t know to somebody else you don’t know it wouldn’t make any sense. You would have to know something about the relationship between the two people. You would have to know something about them. It would help you to know the kind of people they are, their interests, and their concerns. In other words, it helps to know the context of the letter. You know how a real estate agent always talks about location, location, location. When you study one of Paul’s letters you need to know context, context, context. For that reason I would like to tell you a little bit about the city of Ephesus and how the church in Ephesus was planted.

Ephesus was located on the Aegean Sea in the far southwest corner of Asia Minor, which is now Turkey. It was the busiest seaport in Asia Minor. In fact, it was the greatest of the ancient Greek cities in Asia Minor, surpassing even Pergamum which was the capital of the province. Strabo, the great Greek historian and geographer who lived at the same time as Jesus, called Ephesus the greatest trading center of all the western Asian cities. Not only did it have the busy seaport but it was also the crossroads of three major overland trade routes. Ephesus had a massive amphitheater which sat over 25,000 people. The Celsus library was second only to the famous library in Alexandria, Egypt.

The native population of Ephesus consisted of Ionians, one of the three major tribes of Greeks who settled all the land surrounding the Aegean Sea. The Ionians were already there at the time we encounter Abraham in the Old Testament. Ephesus had always been dedicated to the worship of Artemis. The name “Artemis” is the Greek name which was given to the Mother goddess of paganism. Originally, she was always just the chief female deity. The Greeks came to see her as the goddess of fertility. The Romans called her Diana. Ephesus was the headquarters of the Artemis cult. In fact, the temple of Artemis was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It was four times the size of the Parthenon in Athens. The roof was supported by one hundred twenty-seven pillars, each of which stood sixty feet high.

The cult of Artemis spread throughout the Greek world and its frontiers. Pilgrims traveled from all over to come to Ephesus and participate in the rites at the temple of Artemis. This created a huge cult trade in Ephesus. Craftsmen made miniatures of the temple to be sold to the pilgrims. These would be similar to miniature replicas of the White House or the Capitol. They also created miniature copies of the idol of Artemis which they believed fell from heaven. This was a huge business at the time Paul arrived in Ephesus.

The church in Ephesus had probably been started just a few years before when Paul visited with his traveling companions on his second missionary journey. Acts 18:18, 19 says that Paul sailed from Corinth to Ephesus. He preached in the synagogue there but did not stay long. The people begged him to stay and he promised to return. Then he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus and returned home.

I. STAND FIRM ON GOD’S TRUTH

Paul was not home in Antioch long before setting out on his third missionary journey about 52 AD. He traveled overland through Asia Minor and ministered among the believers whom he had led to faith on previous trips.

Upon arriving in Ephesus he encountered twelve men who didn’t seem to fit into any religious categories. They are called “disciples” in Acts 19:1, but what kind of disciples they were is unclear. They were no longer following the Jewish way. They were not worshipers of Artemis. They had been baptized but there was something different about them. Paul asked them if they received the Holy Spirit when they were baptized but they reported that they knew nothing about the Holy Spirit. It turned out they had received the baptism of John the Baptist but had not heard the rest of the gospel that pointed to Jesus of Nazareth. Paul told them John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance; they needed to trust in Jesus and be baptized in his name! These were good men who had not yet received the whole truth. When they heard that John the Baptist pointed his followers to Jesus they willingly received Christian baptism. Paul laid his hands on them and they received the Holy Spirit.

Paul came to Ephesus to tell the truth of God. Those who worshiped Artemis did
not have the truth. The Jews did not have the truth. These followers of John the Baptist did not have the truth. Of course the people of the Artemis cult thought they had the truth. The Jews and the disciples of John both had part of the truth. The Jews had the truth of the old covenant right up to the time of Jesus the Messiah. The disciples of John had a little bit more truth because they understood the call to repentance. There were people in Ephesus who had no truth and there were people who had varying amounts of the truth. They all needed the truth and Paul had come to give it to them.

In our postmodern age there are people who would argue that Paul had no business coming to Ephesus and telling the people they did not have the truth. They would say the followers of Artemis had a truth that worked for them. The Jews and the disciples of John had truth that was good for them too. What right did Paul have to come to Ephesus and start telling the people they needed to accept his truth? These people say the same thing to us. What right do we have to say that our truth about Jesus is the only truth? They say that all world religions have truth and if it works for them then we should leave them alone.

Truth is not relative. That is worth saying twice! Truth is not relative! To say there is more than one truth is to say there is no truth! Man’s sin made it impossible for him to know truth on his own. Romans 1:18-25 explains this to us. “The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles.”

Understand what God is saying in this passage! Men once had knowledge of God but in their foolishness they threw away that knowledge and chose to worship idols which represented creatures or man-like beings! This is the very definition of paganism! This is idolatry! This is exactly what the Ephesians were doing when they worshiped Artemis, the goddess of fertility. They once had the truth but they exchanged it for foolishness!

All truth is God’s truth! Only the Creator is truth and has truth, so all truth must be revealed to humankind. The glorious message Paul took to Ephesus is that God came to earth to reveal the truth to men. Jesus said it over and over again, “I tell you the truth.” In John 8:31, 32 he said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 14:6 says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Pilate famously asked Jesus, “What is truth?” The answer is, “Jesus is truth.” Jesus is God come to earth to invite people back into right relationship with God. The truth is that people are lost because of their sin. They cannot find the truth. They cannot have life with God unless they embrace the truth. The truth is that sin bears an awful penalty. The penalty for sin is death. The truth is that only faith in Jesus who died to pay the penalty for our sins can bring us life.

This is the truth! Paul brought it to the Ephesians because they didn’t have it and they needed it! The worshipers of Artemis needed it. The Jews needed it. And the disciples of John the Baptist needed it. Being close to the truth isn’t good enough! Paul took his stand on the truth that was revealed by God and he accepted nothing else.

We need to stand firm on the truth of God. Why? Because if you ever talk about your faith with anybody; if you ever try to share the truth with somebody, you will be challenged to compromise. If you are a person who never talks about your faith then this part of the message won’t make sense to you. But if you do discuss faith and truth with people, our culture will criticize you for being so exclusive and so certain. Our church needs to find a way to communicate God’s message to our culture. When we do that we need to speak the truth. We will meet with the temptation of cutting out some of the truth and accepting some things that are not truth. We have to stand firm on the truth of God because it is literally a matter of spiritual life and spiritual death. If we do not tell the truth, people will die without it.

Some people will say I am being overly dramatic. A matter of life and death? Let me try to show you how important holding to the truth is. We talked about relative truth a little earlier. Relativism simply states that truth is relative. In other words, you have a truth that works for you and I have a truth that works for me. It doesn’t matter if they are utterly contradictory because each of us has the right to decide what truth is for ourselves. The concept of relative truth makes a person feel completely free. There are no rules they have to live up to. There is no truth by which they are going to be judged because they make up their own rules. But if there is no absolute truth, then there is no meaning. A person can feel completely free but he is robbed of meaning in his life. That may not matter to some people but, to those who think about it, a lack of meaning in life leads to hopelessness. If there is no meaning to my life then there is no significance. All is hopeless. Hopelessness leads to self-destruction. I believe there are a lot of people who are feeling a lack of meaning in their lives. I think there is a lot of hopelessness out there. We have the answer for them. We have the meaning and purpose that leads to hope. Truth gives us a hopeful and meaningful place to set out feet, a place to take a stand and the way to find significance in our lives.

How do we tell the truth? We tell the truth with love. We do not have to become hellfire and brimstone preachers. We do not have to become argumentative. We do not have to pick fights. The best way to tell the truth is to live it out in our daily lives. The best way to tell the truth is to love the people around us and then share it with them when God gives us opportunity. But we have to take a firm stand on the truth of God!

II. PRESS ON WHEN OPPOSED

It was always Paul’s practice to take the message of Jesus to the Jews first. Wherever he went, he first entered the synagogue and taught the message of the kingdom of God. He knew the message had to be preached to the children of Israel before it was taken to the Gentiles. He did this same thing in Ephesus. Acts 19:8 says he went into the synagogue and “spoke boldly there for three months, arguing persuasively about the kingdom of God.” For three months Paul taught the Jews the truth about the kingdom of God. The Jews’ understanding of God’s kingdom was skewed. They were expecting an earthly Messiah and an earthly kingdom. They did not have God’s truth about a lot of the things they believed. So Paul spent three months debating, discussing, and persuading the Jews to recognize Jesus as their Messiah and to realize the kingdom of God was a spiritual kingdom.

Then some of the Jews began to oppose Paul. Acts 19:9a says they began to speak evil of the way of Jesus in front of all the people of Ephesus. This seems to be the thing that finally motivated Paul to leave the synagogue. But the thing to notice here is that Paul moved; he didn’t quit! “He took the disciples with him and had discussions daily in the lecture hall of Tyrannus.” (Acts 19:9b) Tyrannus was some kind of professional teacher. We know nothing about him. Apparently he was successful enough to have his own school building. The usual practice in those days was that students would come to school early in the morning and stay until about 11:00 before taking an afternoon break. It was the practice to eat and then rest through the heat of the day. Then they would return for an evening session around 4:00. This made the school of Tyrannus available in the middle of the day. So Paul would work at his tent making trade all morning and then go and teach throughout the heat of the afternoon. This really says something about the dedication and commitment of both Paul and his disciples. Paul went on like this for over two years! Why? Because he believed in the importance of the truth! He knew he needed to spread the truth and build the kingdom of God. Opposition could not stop him. When he was opposed he pressed on and found a way to keep telling the truth!

We are focusing our attention this morning on the importance of the truth of God. We read about Paul and his commitment to the truth and his determination to press on with the truth in the face of opposition. How important is the truth to us? Do we really see it as a matter of life and death? Are we committed to doing whatever we can to find a way to successfully communicate the truth to the people and the culture around us? We will face opposition in our world. There is no question about that. The question is, what will we do when that opposition comes? Will we become discouraged and give up? Will we get angry and stalk off thinking that those who oppose us are just unworthy? What will we do when we have tried and tried for a year or two and there has been no visible progress? Will we get frustrated? Will we grow weary and quit? Will we just stop loving our family and friends? Or will we press on? Will it matter to you if people make fun of you? Will it matter if they think you’re foolish or naïve? Will it matter if they try to find ways to shut you up? Jesus pressed on. Paul pressed on. We must also press on because the truth of God is important and it is the only message of hope our world has today!

© Rev. David A. Moorhead

The picture at the top is the Temple of Artemis

SHILOHMAN'S NEWS AND COMMENT

2006-05-02T23:40:00.000-04:00

NEWS COVERAGE FOR THE QUADBLOG

So Paul Harvey refused to give us the news about the immigrants’ boycott. That’s fine. I’ve always liked Paul Harvey. I met him once in 1976 when he was a special speaker at a Youth For Christ fundraising banquet we did. He was very nice.

I read in the newspaper that an illegal immigrant mom wanted to make sure her kids knew she wasn’t a criminal. Isn’t that an oxymoron?

Did you see this headline? “Malvo Might Testify against Mentor.” He and John Allen Muhammad were the two guys who shot up the DC area from the trunk of a car four years ago. Can you imagine how heartbroken Muhammad must feel? He pours his life into this wayward youth trying to “mentor” him and the kid turns against him! What an ungrateful little punk!

I was stunned to see that 16,000 species of living things on our planet are in danger of being endangered. In the Mediterranean Sea there are 252 species of fish that are endangered now. Seven species are already extinct, including two relatives of the carp! No wonder the price of carp keeps going up!

The government has come up with a plan of action in case of a flu pandemic. I wonder if it is the same group that came up with a plan to evacuate New Orleans? Anyway, one of the plans is to have surgical masks on planes to give to coughing passengers. Can you imagine some flight attendant trying to force a large, overserved, businessman to put on a mask? Talk about traveler’s rage! And employers are going to be instructed to have their workers remain at least three feet apart to prevent passing on the bug. I’m trying to imagine how this would work. Can you picture a waitress walking around with a yardstick taped to each hip?

I saved the best for last. Muhamad Noor Che Musa, 33, just married Wook Kundur, 104, in Malaysia. Wook has been married 20 times before. Where are Herman’s Hermits when you need them? “I’m Muhamad the 21st, I am…” He’s going to teach her to read and write Roman script and she is going to teach him Islamic knowledge. I suppose she could teach him a few more things but we won’t go there.

You guys are all great! Thanks for stopping by!

A NEW STYLE OF CAMPUS EVANGELISM

2006-04-25T23:21:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow I drive 300 miles straight north to Sault Ste. Marie, MI to pick up Son #2 from Lake Superior State University. His finals end tomorrow and he’s anxious to get home.

Just before finals week they have a traditional celebration on campus up there. It’s the Best Man on Campus contest and it’s sponsored by the Greek sororities. Each fraternity enters a guy in the contest and the sorority girls vote on the Best Man.

Son #2 isn’t in a Greek. However, he is very active in Anchor House, the Christian house owned and operated by the Navigators just off campus. So one day he asked who they were entering in the BMOC contest and was told that Anchor House had never participated in it. That didn’t seem like a good answer so Son #2 asked if they would enter him in it. This they did.

The contest required the guys to walk a runway in a tuxedo, demonstrate a talent (ad lib harmonica), answer an interview question, (the answer is ALWAYS “World peace.”) and then walk the runway again in boxer shorts.

I wish I could have seen the faces of the Greek guys when they announced that the girls chose as the winner the representative of the Christian organization on campus, Anchor House! I’m just so dang proud, I had to tell you!

He clearly takes after his mom!

REVERSE THE CHARGES!

2006-04-24T23:30:00.000-04:00

Did you guys read about the guy in Malaysia who got nicked for a $218 trillion phone bill? Yes, TRILLION. How does that measure up to the national debt? Anyway, it seems the phone belonged to his father. His father died and the man dutifully took care of disconnecting the phone and settling the outstanding bill of $23. These are the kinds of things we all will have to do someday for our parents. You may want to start making a list so you don’t forget something and get hit with a massive bill. (My dad has very thoughtfully put together a list of things I have to do just in case something happens to both him and my mom as they jetset around the world.) Anyway, back to Kuala Lumpur. A few months go by after his dad has passed and this incredible phone bill arrives. No one seems to know whether there was a mistake in the billing process or if someone was using the number illegally.

I have a confession to make. I once rang up a phone bill that would probably make your jaw drop.

Mia and I were engaged just before I had to leave for Romania. This ministry trip had been scheduled for a number of months. It was an eight week trip. When it was planned I had no idea I would be newly engaged when it arrived. Let me just say, I had no interest in leaving my new fiancé behind for eight weeks!

I did everything I could think of to ensure that we would be able to stay in regular communication while I was away. I had just bought a brand new laptop. I took my older version over to her house and made sure she was all set up with a chat program so we could at least sit and type at one another. The eight hour time difference would prove a little difficult but at least we could write loving little notes to each other and work on our plans together.

When I arrived in Romania I immediately went and secured my own personal internet account. At that time, in Romania you had to pay for internet time by the minute so I couldn’t use anyone else’s service. It would just be too expensive for them and that would be rude. So I was all set to sit and chat with Mia and help pass the lonely hours. (I was living all by myself in an apartment.)

It turned out to be a disaster! It was almost impossible to maintain the connection for any period of time. The phone lines kept cutting out and I was always being dropped from the internet service. This was more than inconvenient. My beloved fiancé was also under a great deal of stress and she thought I kept signing off on her. She was becoming more than frustrated. She was getting angry! And it’s also very difficult to communicate one’s emotions over the internet. Joking and teasing are often misunderstood, especially when you get cut off right after the joke and you don’t get the chance to explain it.

Finally I had had enough. I could see that if something wasn’t done I wouldn’t be engaged anymore by the time I got home! I had to TALK to her and make sure everything was ok. I picked up the phone and got the international operator to connect me right to the phone in my dearest’s bedroom. We had a wonderful talk! Everything was all better. We made a phone date for the next morning and she called me back.

Well, this plan worked like magic. We fell even more deeply in love, if that were possible. We talked about everything and made all the plans we needed to make. We both felt better about things even though the distance between us made our hearts ache.

When I finally got home we just talked and talked and finished making all our plans. At some point she mentioned that the phone company had called to ask her if she was actually making all the phone calls to Romania. Mia told them yes, her fiancé was in Romania and she was indeed making the calls. Why did they want to know? They simply informed her that her bill was over the limit and she needed to send them $1,000 right away or they would have to cut off her long distance. I was shocked! A thousand dollars! I didn’t know it could be that expensive! Mia told me to sit down for a minute. Then she showed me the total bill. It was over $10,000!

We have often talked about that bill over the last few years. Sometimes I have wished I had the $10,000. But at the end of the day, we both believe it was money well-spent! The moral of the story is, don’t ever travel that far away from your girl for that long again!

You guys are great! Thanks for stopping by!

THE OL' SWITCHEROO!

2006-04-19T23:47:00.000-04:00

Quite awhile ago I told you that I had a couple of good stories that had to do with Dr. Clarence Wyngarten, our campus health center doctor at the Harvard of Evangelical Christianity. I posted the first story; now it’s time for the other. The reason for this is the link on The Occasional Glass of Wine Non-Denominationalist’s blog to the article about Big Lar in the New York Times. Larry Ross played a key role in this story.

For some unknown reason Big Lar and I played Masters of Ceremonies at the annual talent show at Alma Mater. I think Larry actually was asked to do it and since we were good buddies and he didn’t want to do it alone he brought me into it. Basically, we did comedy routines in between acts and then introduced the acts.

We rehearsed and rehearsed our routines. We got other people involved in the skits. We really worked hard on this because it had become a rather big event on campus. You might recall that it was at the talent show each year that we had the Billy Graham Impersonation Contest. I had a pretty decent impression of Dr. Graham myself but I never could have won that one! Some of these guys were really good!

Anyway, I began to feel ill just a day or two before the talent show. I was running a fever and it got worse and worse. On the day of the talent show I decided to go into the health center and see Doc Wyngarten and get a prescription for some antibiotics. That was a huge mistake! He took a look at me and slapped me into one of the beds in one of the little hospital rooms there. He told me I was too sick to go back to the dorm because I would just infect my roommates. I tried to tell him that I never saw my roommates but it didn’t do any good.

There I was, lying in a hospital bed on the afternoon of the talent show. What in the world was I going to do? Big Lar came in to visit me. He asked me if I thought I could still do the show and I told him I could but they wouldn’t let me out! He just laughed and told me to leave everything to him.

Just after dinner time Big Lar came back to visit me again with another guy. I don’t remember who the guy was but I do remember thinking, “Who in the heck is this guy and why is he wearing a long overcoat, fedora, and sunglasses at night?” Then it dawned on me. The little guy was just my size! Big Lar closed the door while I jumped up and put my clothes on. The other guy climbed into the bed and rolled over and faced the wall. I donned the overcoat, fedora, and sunglasses and walked right out the door to Pierce Chapel and my engagement at the talent show!

Everything went off just fine. I don’t know how. I felt worse and worse as the night went on but we made it through. I put the disguise back on and Big Lar and I headed back to the health center. To my horror, we found it was closed and locked for the night. We pounded on the door until a nurse came to tell us they were closed. We insisted that we had to see Moorhead and find out how he was. She told me that “I” was fine because “I” had been sleeping since dinner. Big Lar told her that he had promised to come back and tell “me” how the talent show went without “me.” Somehow he convinced her that he would only stay a minute and she actually let us in where we managed the switch one more time.

I miss Big Lar! He’s so big now I wonder if he would even remember me!

You guys are great! Thanks for stopping by!

SHILOHMAN'S BOOK CORNER

2006-04-18T23:17:00.000-04:00

FOR THE SELECTIVE READER

Has anyone read “The DaVinci Code” yet? There is a lot of conversation out here in the Mecca of the Christian Reformed Church and the Reformed Church of America. With the movie, starring Tom Hanks, nearing its release date, the discussions are starting to get rather hot and heavy. Evangelical world seems to be panicking. If you listen to what is being said you might come to the conclusion that Christianity is about to be overwhelmed by a tsunami of heretical worshippers of the Mother goddess. Holy Grail, Batman! It’s Armageddon!

I am an avid reader. I love novels. Especially historical fiction. “The DaVinci Code” would seem to be right down my alley. But I have an issue. I never read the really “hot” titles. I don’t like to read what everyone is raving about. I don’t know what that says about me. I should probably see a therapist about it. For example, I have yet to meet anyone from my era who did not read at least one C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien book, or at least something by the Inklings, while they were at Wheaton. I was so sick of hearing about Modern Mythology that I refused to read any of it. (Let me admit how stupid that was and how much I regret it. If Dr. Kilby was still alive and teaching I would go back now just to take his classes!) The point is, I have refused to read “The DaVinci Code.”

But there’s something that bothers me more than the faddish libre du jour. It’s when the evangelicals go into a rage about something and start getting all up in arms. You know what I mean. Remember “The Last Temptation of Christ?” And there are all those frantic emails that fly around every couple of years about Madeline Murray O’Hare pushing a bill through Congress to outlaw religious broadcasting. (I just got one of those a month ago and the woman is dead!) And of course there was that outrage over Disney’s promotion of the New Age Movement in Pocahontas. Those are the kinds of things that made me decide I had to be something other than an evangelical. (Those things and Pat Robertson!) So I decided to read “The DaVinci Code” and see what the threat is all about.

I read it yesterday. Remember, Monday is my day off so I don’t have to do religious stuff on Mondays. (No, I’m not a super fast reader. The print is big and there are over 100 chapters with a lot of blank pages. By the way, that’s a good way to bulk up your manuscript and make your book look like an academic tome!) Here’s my review:

I LOVED IT! Dan Brown has written a real page-turner! He has obviously done his research into the history (mythology?) of the Grail. He picks up on the idea of Jesus marrying Magdalene and carries it to its logical conclusion. There is a lot of action and the book moves along very quickly. There is tension and mystery. He puts out all kinds of strands of information that he weaves together brilliantly to a not-so-surprising ending. His character development is excellent; you really begin to relate to the characters and I always think that is important to one’s enjoyment of a book.

But what about the heretical message the book is putting forward? First of all, I don’t know if Dan Brown even believes what he’s written about the divine feminine, the Mother Goddess, Jesus and Magdalene, or the descendants of Jesus. Bluntly, I don’t see how he could. One doesn’t need an advanced degree in textual criticism or even a Bible degree from Wheaton (which I don’t have) to see the huge holes in theory. It is so blatantly fictional that I find it hard to take seriously. Brown just seems too bright to ignore the non sequiturs. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I have heard the complaint that this book has been instrumental in shaking peoples’ faith. Well, I’m not really sure that having one’s faith shaken occasionally is a bad thing. I would also suggest that if a book like this can cause someone to doubt their faith then he should think through his faith very carefully and see what it was built upon in the first place!

Here’s what I think. Followers of Jesus should probably read “The DaVinci Code” because it will give them a great opportunity to do some thinking before the movie comes out. Once the movie hits the theaters I can almost guarantee you that it will be the topic of conversation at your favorite pub or coffee joint. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to discuss it intelligently? People will be asking questions, I want to be able to sit there and talk about them while we watch the evangelicals picket the theater across the street.

Thanks again! It’s so kind of you to stop by!

A RETIREMENT PLAN?

2006-04-16T22:59:00.000-04:00

So did all you guys out there on the Left Coast read about Arthur Winston last week? (With a name like that we ought to issue him honorary membership in the Church of the Smoking Christian!) He passed away less than a month after retiring from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority on his 100th birthday!

His co-workers had a big retirement celebration for him on his milestone birthday. He had missed only one day of work in over 70 years with the MTA and that was for his wife’s funeral back in 1988! At his retirement he said, “I’ll be on the move. I’m not going to sit and mope in the house.”

I think there is a lesson for us here. Retirement is a dangerous thing! Now retirement is not something I have to worry about. I’ll never get to retire no matter what. It takes money to retire. Or at least a retirement plan. At age 52 that is something I still don’t have. My plan is to keep working as long as I can speak and hopefully drop dead in the middle of preaching an inspiring sermon!

We’ve all known or heard of guys retiring after a long working life who drop dead within a few short months. It’s always very sad. I’ve heard their widows say things like, “We have tickets for a cruise next month.” Or, “We never got to do all the things we’ve been planning to do all our lives.”

There’s a lesson here too. Don’t wait until retirement to do those things! My parents have been the exception here. Since my dad retired they have traveled to so many countries that I think they have even lost count! My younger sisters and I have spent the last ten years watching our inheritance frittered away in Europe, Australia, Asia, and everywhere in between! My mom loves to say that we shouldn’t count on any inheritance because they are planning on spending it all. Have you heard this too?

There’s another lesson I think. Try to convince your parents that it’s really dangerous out there and they’d be much better off staying at home where it’s safe. (Unless they live in Fullerton.) If that doesn’t work, take your parents on very strenuous hiking trips and see if you can’t cut short the time they have to spend your inheritance. (That’s not even funny.)

Kudos to Arthur Winston. He’s my new hero! I’m just having trouble imagining a 95-year-old cutting edge, emergent pastor. I need to make sure that wherever I live when I’m forced into retirement that I have a nice garage.

You guys are all great! Thanks for stopping by!

SUNDAY NIGHT LIVE! 3

2006-04-16T22:55:00.000-04:00

A DEVOTIONAL ESPECIALLY CHOSEN FOR MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH OF THE SMOKING CHRISTIAN

This devotional is taken from the book “Searching for God Knows What” by Donald Miller. (Nelson Books, 2004)

I remember watching that television show I Dream of Jeannie when I was young, and I wondered at how great it would be to have a Jeannie of my own, complete with the sexy outfit, who could blink a grilled-cheese sandwich out of think air, all the while cleaning my room and doing my homework. I realize, of course, that is very silly and there is no such thing as a genie that lives in a lamp, but it makes me wonder if secretly we don’t wish God were a genie who could deliver a few wishes here and there. And that makes me wonder if what we really want from the formulas are the wishes, not God. It makes me wonder if what we really want is control, not a relationship.

Some would say formulas are how we interact with God, that going through motions and jumping through hoops are how a person acts out his spirituality. This method of interaction, however, seems odd to me, because if I want to hang out with my friend Tuck, I don’t stomp my foot three times, turn around, and say his name over and over like a mantra, lighting candles and getting myself in a certain mood. I just call him. In this way, formulas presuppose God is more a computer or a circus monkey than an intelligent Being. I realize that sounds harsh, but it is true.

So if the difference between Christian faith and all other forms of spirituality is that Christian faith offers a relational dynamic with God, why are we cloaking this relational dynamic in formulas? Are we jealous of the Mormons? And are the formulas getting us anywhere? Are modern forms of Christian spirituality producing better Christians than days long ago, when people didn’t use formulas and understood, intrinsically, that God is a Being with a personality and a will of His own? Martin Luther didn’t believe in formulas, and neither did John Calvin. Were they missing something, or are we?

The truth is there are a million steps, and we don’t even know what the steps are, and worse, at any given moment we may not be willing or even able to take them; and still worse, they are different for you and me and they are always changing. I have come to believe the sooner we find this truth beautiful, the sooner we will fall in love with the God who keeps shaking things up, keeps changing the path, keeps rocking the boat to test our faith in Him, teaching us to not rely on easy answers, bullet points, magic mantras, or genies in lamps, but rather in His guidance, His existence, His mercy, and His love.

BEHIND THE SCENES ON GOOD FRIDAY

2006-04-14T14:24:00.000-04:00

He had been arrested for participating in a revolt against Rome. Roman soldiers had been killed and he and his companions had been convicted of treason and murder. Now he and his friends waited in prison for their execution. They knew the kind of death they were condemned to die. It is said that men condemned to hang, constantly touch their throats in subconscious anticipation. Barabbas and his friends fingered their wrists absentmindedly and wondered what it was going to be like. They had seen crucifixions before. They were ugly scenes. Crucifixion was a long, painful death. Sometimes men had hung on Roman crosses for days before they died. The noises outside filtered into their cell. People sounded angry. Even a hardened fighter like himself began to feel a little uncomfortable.

The shouting outside grew louder and Barabbas heard his own name being shouted. Fear struck at his heart. His time must be growing near. He stood up and angrily cursed Rome. His head snapped up when there was the sound of a key in the lock. The jailer entered. “Barabbas. You have been released. You may go.” The other two looked up at the jailer with hope in their eyes. “No. Not you two. Just Barabbas.” They argued with the Roman, “Why just Barabbas? Why does he get to go free? He’s just as bad as we are!” Their arguments availed nothing. Barabbas, stunned and confused, walked out of the jail cell wondering what happened. “Why me?”

As he moved out into the huge crowd Barabbas felt strangely conspicuous. He wondered what would happen when all the people saw him. But the screaming mob was paying no attention to him. They didn’t care at all about him! Barabbas looked around in the crowd for some of his compatriots. “Hey! What’s going on here? Do you know why they let me go?” “They’re going to kill this guy Jesus instead of you!” Barabbas moved closer to see who was going to be crucified with the two friends he left behind in the cell. He was shocked when he caught sight of him. This man had been beaten beyond imagination! Barabbas wondered what he must have done wrong to deserve this!

The crowd began to move toward the gates of the city. The man, Jesus, was carrying a cross. Barabbas thought to himself, “I was the one who was supposed to be carrying that cross.” He moved along with the throng of people as if in a dream. Suddenly he found himself at the place of execution, a place they called Golgotha. Barabbas shuddered as heavy hammers crashed against iron spikes. He glanced down at his hands and knew that those spikes were meant for him. But instead of lying on a cross on the ground he stood among the crowd breathing in the fresh spring air. He looked up and noticed that a storm seemed to be gathering in very dark clouds on the horizon.

Barabbas’ cross was raised and dropped into the hole. All his friends were screaming things at the man on the cross. Then Jesus spoke, “Father, forgive them, they don’t realize what they are doing.” Barabbas looked carefully at Jesus, his substitute criminal. The storm clouds covered the sky with utter blackness. It didn’t take long. Jesus spoke again, “It is finished.” There was a powerful earthquake that shook the entire city. Jesus seemed to die on purpose, surrendering his spirit to God. Barabbas moved closer. The centurion was standing at the foot of the cross, looking up at Jesus when he said, “This man really was the Son of God!”

As Barabbas wandered home he was filled with mixed feelings. What a strange day it had been! He had watched an innocent man die at the will of the Jewish religious leaders and at the hands of the Romans. But everything seemed new and fresh to him. He had never expected to see these sights again. He realized the truth, “Jesus died in my place! I was released when I deserved to die and they killed him instead! He died instead of me!”

SHENANIGANS

2006-04-13T23:48:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned in an earlier posting, I lived on the seventh floor of Traber Hall during my junior year. We had this one guy on our floor who was really annoying. I think his name was Bill. He was from Philadelphia or something and he wanted to be a cop. He already had a nightstick, handcuffs, and various other cop paraphernalia in his dorm room. Why he was at Alma Mater to become a cop I’ll never know. But you know the type. He had a nose for care packages from home. I remember getting a box of brownies from some girl and I found him in my room wolfing them down. This happened repeatedly to the guys on the floor and we determined to get him.

Late one night one of the guys called the emergency room at Central DuPage Hospital and said his roommate had taken some over-the-counter sleeping pills and he was worried. After reporting his height and weight he was told that the guy could probably take six of them without hurting himself.

Another guy ran down to the A & W Root Beer stand and got two of those quart cartons of root beer. We ground up six or seven of the sleeping pills and put them into one of the quarts. I then walked off the elevator and meandered by his room, making sure he saw me with both quarts. I engaged him in conversation and sure enough, he asked me why I had two. I told him they were on sale for two for one so I just got two. He asked if he could have one. I told him he could have one if he would bet me. I bet him $5 that I could drink mine faster than he could drink his. Like taking candy from a baby!

Bill chugged that root beer like a champ. I gave him $5 and wished him nighty night as I turned to leave his room. Within 20 minutes he was snoring like a pastor with sleep apnea! I mean, this guy was dead to the world! We carried him into the elevator and sneaked him out to the car while a couple of guys carried the mattress from his bed.

We grabbed his own handcuffs and quietly transported him over to the dining hall clad in only his whitey tighties. Before you could say Hudson Taylor Armerding, Bill was cuffed to the railing at the bottom of the stairs in the lobby of the dining hall (which is now your bookstore, young bloggers). All I know is that he was still sleeping there when I went to breakfast at 7:15 the next morning. There was quite a crowd of people standing around wondering what the heck he was doing there and how he got there.

The moral of the story is…I guess there isn’t one.

Next time, boys and girls, I’ll tell you the story of the streaker from College of DuPage who we caught in the Fischer Dorm lobby late one night!

(These pranks are not copyrighted but the author denies any knowledge of such urban myths should they be repeated by any current students of Alma Mater)

THE LOVE OF MONEY...

2006-04-12T22:54:00.000-04:00

The article came from Associated Press and the byline was Grain Valley, MO.

Sarah (45) and Kris (33) Everson, told their local paper, The Examiner in Independence, that they had recently become the proud parents of sextuplets. Sarah said she could not tell the story of the births of her four sons and two daughters because a court order had been issued which forced her to be silent. Apparently, someone in Kris’ family was looking to kill Sarah and Kris and the six new babies.

The couple had turned one of their bedrooms into a nursery. Their house had a number of books and publications on multiple births. There was a photograph of Sarah and Kris holding up six little infant outfits. The newspaper reported that the Eversons were having serious financial difficulties and the Good Samaritans went to work right away. A website was started to help them. They were asking for a van, a washer and dryer, cash, and gift certificates.

The story started to come apart when someone bothered to check the hospitals to see where the babies were born. None of the hospitals reported being involved in the births. The police investigated and the Eversons admitted to fabricating the entire story. Sarah’s one quote was, “I’m not talking to anybody right now because nobody gets it.” (?)

This gave me another fundraising idea for the Church of the Smoking Christian.

We should all apply for federal monies due to the fact that our homes were severely damaged in Hurricane Katrina. Just call The Examiner and tell them that no one in the federal government will pay any attention to us. We’ve been living in our garages and we need money to repair our homes. The fact that we all live in the north or far west should have nothing to do with it.

We should all file suit against Duke University. It seems our wives and daughters are black exotic dancers and they were attacked at a frat party. We would be happy to settle this one out of court because one of the women and three of the daughters are part of a pastor’s family and he wants to avoid the negative publicity.

We should all demand property in Great Britain. I believe all of us have some form of British heritage and we were forced out of our lands by money-grubbing noblemen sometime back in the 14th Century. We should have remuneration and the right to establish a casino which would of course be tax exempt. (The more I think about it, the happier I am that we have not only a pastor whose word is above reproach but an attorney who can probably be a huge help in this process.)

Finally, all of us suffered irrevocable emotional and psychological damage as a result of the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco. This would be easy to prove if we just sent the right representatives to the hearing.

You guys are all great! Thanks for stopping by!

SOMEONE'S DNA IS LACROSSED!

2006-04-11T22:55:00.000-04:00

MAMAS, DON’T LET YOUR SONS GROW UP TO BE LACROSSE PLAYERS

So by now you’ve all heard about the case of the Duke University lacrosse team and the alleged rape of an exotic dancer who entertained at one of their parties. (Notice my use of the word “alleged” just in case any of our readers might be an attorney. I wouldn’t want to offend.) Now, what should we think about this case?

The defense attorneys for the lads complains, “The lacrosse team has been portrayed as a swaggering, elitist clique, prone to loutish, frat boy behavior.” Does that surprise any of you? Kind of reminds me of the women’s field hockey team at alma mater, doesn’t it? Or the men’s swim team? Isn’t lacrosse generally a rich boys’ sport? Aren’t they usually an elitist clique? And isn’t loutish, frat boy behavior characteristic of a high percentage of college boys anyway? Quit complaining, Mr. Defense Attorney. I expect that criticism is both accurate and irrelevant.

And what about the trace evidence that was gathered from the rape kits? It didn’t match any of the guys. Don’t worry, says the prosecutor, I don’t need DNA evidence to make a case. Of course you don’t. But you will have to explain where the DNA “deposits” came from if they didn’t come from the loutish, frat boys. I doubt the defense team will miss that point.

Then there is the exotic dancer. The feminists are saying that just because a woman is a stripper, she isn’t asking to be raped. That’s a good point. We should ask her pastor about her character. Or wasn’t that her pastor at the protest outside the house? If he isn’t her pastor, could someone tell me what Bishop John Bennett was doing there? Since he is a man of God I imagine he was trying to calm the racial tension in the community. Just like Rev. Al Sharpton used to do all the time.

Here’s one of my favorites. I’m hearing people say that if the tables were turned and this was a white lap dancer at a black athletes’ party the whole team would be in jail by now. It’s a sign of racism that rich white boys can get off scot free with this kind of thing. Are you sure you want to play that card? Does anyone remember O.J. Simpson?

I love this. There was a rally on the campus of North Carolina Central University. That is the school where the exotic dancer is a student. It was a show of support for their fellow coed. I saw this picture of all these students standing around with lighted candles. Can you tell me what the candles are all about? It seems like every time something happens there are all these people with candles. If someone was looking for a source of income I would suggest that he fill his trunk with hundreds, no thousands, of those ten cent candles and quickly head off to the next tragedy. I think you could make a fortune!

It’s never a good sign when I get cynical like this. It shows a lack of caring and concern for the hurting and I’m ashamed of myself. I hate it when I get like this.

Can’t we all just get along?

A SCOTSMAN'S EDUCATION

2006-04-10T22:00:00.000-04:00

Ministers fly coach. That’s just the way it seems to be. For years, all the flying I did was in the back of the plane. It’s not a big deal. I’m short and I have very short legs so I’m rarely inconvenienced by the absence of leg room. The great thing about flying coach is there are very few decisions to be made. You get no choice of meals on the flight. No choice of movie. And your choice of Scotch is usually Johnnie Walker or J & B. I want to tell you about my education.

I was flying to Romania and the first leg of my journey took me to Heathrow on British Air. Upon arriving at the ticket counter I discovered they had overbooked the flight. I fully expected to be bumped to a later flight and was about to make a complaint that I would miss my connection in London when the lady smiled at me and said in what was the most beautiful British accent I had ever heard, “Sir, would you be willing to be bumped up into First Class?” It couldn’t have sounded better if she sang it!

I couldn’t believe I was the recipient of such a kind providence! I had so much room! There was a personal video screen and the choice of about a dozen movies. My seat lay back almost horizontally. I was given a menu from which to choose any number of great entrees. As I giddily familiarized myself with my new surroundings I was startled by the arrival of an older gentleman dressed in formal wear.

He spoke in the most cultured of Scots accents, “Good evening, sir. Welcome to British Air. May I get you something to drink?”

“Who are you?”

“I, sir, am your bar steward this evening. I’ll be taking care of your beverage needs.”

Taking care of my beverage needs? You mean I wouldn’t have to flag down a flight attendant? I wouldn’t have to climb over people to get to the back of the plane and carry my little bottles back up to my seat? I could get used to this.

In my most cultured voice I said, “Yes, thank you. I’ll have Scotch.”

The steward acted like he didn’t hear me and he almost imperceptibly shook his head and said, “Would you like whisky, Sir?”

“No. I’ll have Scotch.”

“Yes sir. Which brand of whisky do you prefer?”

Which brand do I prefer? Heck if I know. I don’t usually get a choice and if I ask for Johnnie Walker, all they have is J & B! I was starting to perspire.

“Johnnie Walker?”

Again, the smooth steward quietly shook his head just once.
“J & B?”

Another shake of the head.

I asked him, “What kind of whisky do I want?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll be happy to get you a Glenfiddich.”

“Yes, a Glenfiddich, please. And could you make that a double?”

Head shake. “It will be my pleasure to bring you three fingers of Glenfiddich.”

“Yes. Three fingers of Glenfiddich. Thank you.”

“And how would you like your whisky, sir?”

Now I was really sweating. I was sure everyone was looking at me. I glanced around and could see that my steward was really very good at not embarrassing his customers. No one was watching.

“On the rocks,” I said confidently.

A slight shake of the head.

“Neat?” I wasn’t as confident this time.

Another negative head shake.

“How would I like my whisky tonight?”

“Yes sir. One Glenfiddich with a drop of water. Good choice sir.”

I don’t sleep on planes. I’m not sure why. I suspect I am subconsciously afraid that my mouth will drop open and I will drool all over my shirt. I’ve never been able to sleep. About half way across the Atlantic I got up and walked over to the steward where I received a first class education in Scotch whisky. It was a most enjoyable flight.

You guys are great! Thanks for stopping by!

SUNDAY NIGHT LIVE! 2

2006-04-10T00:21:00.000-04:00

A DEVOTIONAL ESPECIALLY CHOSEN FOR MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH OF THE SMOKING CHRISTIAN

In his book, The Easy Yoke, Doug Webster tells a story about an idealistic college student who ended up on a mission trip to one of the more dangerous housing projects in Philadelphia. A brand-new Christian, this wide-eyed urban missionary didn’t have a clue how to evangelize the inner city. Frightened and anxious to share his new faith, the young man approached a very large tenement house. Cautiously making his way through the dark, cluttered hallways, he gingerly climbed up one flight of stairs to an apartment. He knocked on the door, and a woman holding a naked, howling baby opened it. She was smoking and not in any mood to hear some white, idealistic college boy tell her about Jesus. She started cursing him and slammed the door in his face. The young man was devastated.

He walked out to the street, sat down on the curb, and wept. Look at me. How in the world could someone like me think I could tell anyone about Jesus? Then he remembered that the baby was naked and the woman was smoking. The plan forming in his head didn’t seem terribly spiritual, but…

He ran down the street to the local market and bought a box of diapers and a pack of cigarettes. When he knocked on the door again, he showed the woman his purchases. She hesitated and then invited him in. For the rest of the day, he played with the baby and changed its diapers (even though he had never changed diapers before). When the woman offered him a cigarette, even though he didn’t smoke, he smoked. He spent the entire day smoking and changing diapers. Never said a word about Jesus. Late in the afternoon, the woman asked him why he was doing all this, and finally he got to tell her everything he knew about Jesus. Took about five minutes. When he stopped talking, the woman looked at him and said softly, “Pray for me and my baby that we can make it out of here alive,” so he did.

Can you imagine this young man standing in front of his congregation talking about his new program of smoking evangelism? It certainly would be an interesting evening. Doesn’t sound much different than the day Jesus let a woman waste a bottle of expensive perfume on him.

Good night my friends! Sleep well. See you tomorrow!

Entire quote from, Mike Yaconelli, Messy Spirituality, Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002

Doug Webster, The Easy Yoke, Colorado Springs, NavPress, 1995

THE SHILOHMAN'S SAMPLER

2006-04-08T22:45:00.000-04:00

A Middle-Aged Man’s Choice of New Age Music

(Without asking for it, you asked for it!)

Constance Demby. Album: Aeterna.
This is a New Age symphony in six movements. Demby is an accomplished composer who is able to create atmospheric sound that reaches out and grabs the accomplished listener by the heart and soul. Aeterna has a rich bouquet and a naughty little aftertaste. Her previous work, Novus Magnificat is equally brilliant.

Eric Tingstad & Nancy Rumbel. Album: Acoustic Elegance
It is amazing how Tingstad is able to get such realistic guitar sounds out of his synthesizer! It sounds incredibly like finger-picking to me. And Rumbel’s oboe sounds! She must be the Milli Vanilli of the oboe. It looks like she’s actually playing! A phenomenal collection of acoustic music to soothe the manic pastor.

Secret Garden. Album: Dreamcatcher
Rolf Lovland on piano and keyboards. Fionnuala Sherry on violin. Lovland composed all the music on this album which has a distinctive Celtic flavor. His use of the Irish Whistle and Uilleann pipes is supported by Irish percussion and Sherry’s vocals are magnificent (unless they too are electronic). Annbjorg Lien’s work on the Hardanger Fiddle is unmatched.

Mediaeval Baebes. Album: Mirabilis
These eight women from Cornwall blend their vocals in a haunting reproduction of the sound of medieval music. For the uninitiated, the lyrics are translated in the album folder. Their pronounciation of Latin is spot on and they don’t stumble on the even more difficult Middle English. But what really catches the listener’s ear is their revival of the almost extinct Gaelic tunes, especially their rendition of Lhiannan Shee.

Libera. Album: Free
Can anyone really get enough of English Boys’ Choirs? This boys’ choir is from London and their juxtapositioning of perfectly pitched vocals and celestial orchestrations brings a tear to a middle-aged parson’s eye. The purity of voice! The angelic tonal qualities! One feels caught up into the heavenlies when listening to Adoramus and Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep.

Friends, if someone comes to your door with any one of these albums and insists on putting into your stereo immediately, let him do it! You won’t be sorry!

Pax eternum.