High and dry, for now

This was the scene Wednesday in Findlay, OH, where sister Sandy lives (Sandy's the one I don't live with). She works for Marathon Oil, whose headquarters were shut down Tuesday through today due to the flooding of the Blanchard River.

This next photo is the scene on Tuesday on I-75 southbound near Bluffton, OH, which I pass through every other week going south to Van Wert for DeMolay. Tuesday, it was blocked for 8 hours - yesterday, it was open for most of the day. I'm very glad that the road has (as of now, anyway) dried out - although more rain is forecast for this evening and tomorrow...

(If Bluffton, Ohio sounds familiar, it's probably from the Bluffton University baseball team bus tragedy earlier this year.)

Sandy and her family are safe and sound, though there were a number of rescue trips involved in the process. We here in Waterville are on the Maumee River, which has a huge flood plain and empties into Lake Erie, so we have no flood issues. We are struggling with power and internet connectivity as a result both of local construction and the water, but we are high and dry, so far.

There is much to be thankful for in that simple truth, even as I mourn with so many others in Findlay, Ottawa and other surrounding Ohio communities which are struggling with the aftermath of the Blanchard River flooding. For more photos, check out the Toledo Blade photo series here and the related article here.

Watch, O Lord, with all those awake this night
Watch, O Lord, with all those who weep,
Give your angels and saints
Charge over all who sleep...
Hold your grieving ones...in your love, Lord...
Raise your fallen ones...in your love, Lord...
Mend your broken ones...in your love, O Lord of all...
(Marty Haugen, "Watch O Lord," from the CD Turn My Heart)

A rallying cry

OK, I blatantly stole this from this post by Wayward Drifter, which I found quite by accident following a Sitemeter link. Sheer genius. (Forgive me, Lord, for not finding this when it's almost 4 months old, already...)

It's a quiz. I promise you, it will be time well spent.

Watch these two YouTube videos in full (yes, all the way to the end), and then decide who is calling the Church Universal forward in leadership. Select:

a) Bono, an unordained musician


or
b) Dr.Nina Gunter, Nazarene General Superintendent


Here's a clue: if you choose (b), go read this until you can choose differently...

This is not a slam at this one denomination; they are not alone here. My own denomination has been known to fiddle while Rome burned, too. It's the fundamental question we must address - can we become "fundamentalists" about what's really important, here?

The world is sleeping in the dark
That the church just can't fight
'Cause it's asleep in the light
How can you be so dead,
When you've been so well fed?
Jesus rose from the grave - and you! -
You can't even get out of bed!
(Keith Green, "Asleep in the Light")

I'm sorry, I need to go pray and confess my selfishness...

Monday moanin'

Catching up, in the time-honored tradition of the southern-boy turned Detroit Free Press columnist, the late great Bob Talbert...

Good moanin' - actually got caught up on sleep and fluids this weekend. I had gotten quite dehydrated, just by not being intentional about water and other liquid intake. Not a good thing for this boy, so I am starting Monday feeling a bit better than I have in a while. Made for some scary times over the last two weekends, though...made me very weak, sluggish. When I'm near 90% on the sloth scale, that ain't a good thing. So it's good to be past that.

Good moanin' - the joy of living on the rural edge of a small city is that fresh produce is a short jaunt away. I went to The Andersons in Maumee, and picked up unbelievably fresh bi-color sweet corn, huge tomatoes, cukes, and asparagus, and we had a summer feast that absolutely couldn't be beat! Summer sweet corn here in the corn belt is one of life's great summer pleasures... small, sweet kernels bursting with flavor. Hosannas and alleluias rise up from the plains...

One of the truly sinful pleasures of the summer is what we call tomato bread, although the process has grown over the years. Our version now starts with Cole's frozen garlic bread, a sprinkle of mozzarella cheese, a thin slice of Krakus Polish ham, another sprinkle of mozzarella, then a layer of thinly-sliced beefsteak tomatoes, with a layer of mozzarella and liberal sprinkles of Parmesan cheese and Italian seasoning. Bake for 10 minutes, until the garlic bread is done and the cheese is brown and bubbly. Is it healthy? Not hardly. Is it one more proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy, on occasion? You betcha!

Good moanin' - I can't remember if I posted this, but I will be headed to Kansas City September 13-16 for a very happy event. My dear friend Norma, who started seminary at St. Paul School of Theology in KC with me way back in 1997, has found love and companionship and all good things with a man from the town where she's ministering. She and he will be married on September 15th, and (as all of Norma's parents and siblings are gone) she has asked me to give her away. I'm honored to be asked, and it will be a great time to visit old friends (although it will be tough to shoehorn visits around the wedding events). So I am looking forward to that! (After all, I'm almost out of my Oklahoma Joe's BBQ "Night of the Living BBQ" sauce...)

Moanin' - all the rain we prayed for in June and July has evidently piled up and has been deluging the Great Lakes for two weeks. We got about an inch of rain yesterday, and at 11:00 we are at almost 2 inches for today. Needless to say, it's not doing my brother-in-law's work schedule any good (he is a groundskeeper for a country club), and there's a bazillion acres of corn that need to be harvested, if things ever dry out enough to get into the fields...

Moanin' - we will try to get Sue's car fixed this week. I'm still not convinced that it's worth putting nearly $1000 into - but it's probably cheaper to do that than try to get another car, with problems we don't even know about. Being behind the 8-ball financially may be spiritually enlightening, but it sure sucks, sometimes. It would be much nicer to sell the condo, scrap the two cars, and start over with something new (or less heavily used). But the market here sucks - there are about 8 condos in our neighborhood for sale already, and Ohio is now #2 in mortgage defaults in the nation (behind Florida). So our goal is to try to just ride out the storm, for however long that takes...

This week will be a busy one, as I will have three trips with the DeMolay youth - their stated meeting in Van Wert on Thursday, a visit to Fort Wayne on Friday, and a trip to Columbus all day Saturday. Fun times...

For now, it's back to the rock-pile, making little digital rocks out of big ones. That's a whole 'nuther topic, but we'll leave it on an upbeat note for now!

Be strong, and do the work

David also said to Solomon his son, "Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid of the size of the task, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the LORD is finished. (1st Chronicles 28:20)

One the ways I spend my time is working with recovering alcoholics. It can be a powerfully rewarding and yet maddening task...

I was talking with a guy last night who has been absolutely unable to get more than 7 days sober in a row. He and I were sitting in Wendy's after the meeting last night, and he talked about how useless and hopeless he felt, and how easy it would be to just steal a gun and end his life.

I know the feeling.

I gave him the very best I had - the very best God has given me to share. I talked to him of God's love - how God loves the ones who are otherwise unlovable, how God manages to use scrap material to build mighty tools for his Kingdom. I shared what was shared with me by loving and caring believers and people in recovery.

I don't know if he heard it, though. (I hope he did, obviously.) But that little voice in the back of my head started talking, saying things like, "So why do you even bother? You keep talkin', and people keep getting drunk. And you aren't any richer, or more physically fit, and you have no permanent relationship with anyone and nothing to show. So why even try?"

That's why I keep this passage from 1st Chronicles close by my desk. It was given to us on bookmarks when I started school four years ago, and it's meant the world to me over the years.

The best ministry advice I ever got came from an old coot who told me, "Steve, there are days when the only thing you can do is keep on keepin' on. Not because we're gonna succeed against the darkness, but because we are called to be light that others can seek out. We just never know which kindness we do will end up changing a life forever. So we gotta keep doin' it..."

What he was telling me was simply another way of saying, "Be strong and courageous, and do the work."

Then this morning, an email came to tell the rest of the story. A number of years ago, I met two young men, both aged 24. One was getting out of prison after 7 years for being an accessory to an alcohol-fueled shooting; the other was a just someone that the bottle had washed up, chewed up and spit out. I took a lot of late-night phone calls, drank a lot of late-night coffee, and talked endlessly about God's love and God's claim on their lives. And then I moved away, and never knew the rest of the story.

This morning's email was from the ex-convict - who passed his sixteen-year sobriety anniversary in April. His sober friend will celebrate ten years of continuous sobriety at the end of July, and they will both be speaking to other recovering folks this Friday. Both are fathers, husbands, friends, and loving children of God.

Now, I can't take any credit for that. That's not my doing - that's God's doing. But it reminded me why I keep working with folks, keep giving my life and heart away, even when it seems hopeless.

I'm called to do this, because for a few short weeks or months, I might be the person that someone can hold onto until they can find the inspiration they really need to get the understanding of God's love that can keep them sober. Because someone just might get sober and stay sober, if I can be a light in the darkness for a couple 24-hours. Because I might be one of the paving stones in the road that leads to a ten-year sobriety anniversary for a guy.

I'm not called by God to be successful, or have a 90% conversion rate. I'm called to "be strong and courageous, and do the work." Period.

If I died tomorrow, I would not be a success in the eyes of the world. Financially, materially, in terms of career or family or relationships, I have not done nearly as well as I could have. I am not a vision of physical beauty or desire. All my belongings would fit in a 17-foot rent-a-truck with room to spare - and most of them would mean nothing to anyone but me.

But I'd pray that my epitaph would be in the lives God has allowed me to touch, the love God has given me to share. Love for the outsider, love for the stranger, love for the unlovable. And for so long as I still have breath, dear God, let me "be strong and courageous, and do the work." There's so much of it left to do...

Happy 16th, Jason. Happy 1st decade, Jimmy Lee...

The image is from the Multicultural Mission Resource Center (MMRC) at the Lutheran School of Theology at Philadelphia (LTSP)

A busy week behind, another one ahead

I am writing to you from the 7th floor of Offenhauer West dorm at Bowling Green State University, the site of the state conference for the youth group I advise. And, as with many things, it has been a rather mixed experience.

My friend Ted K. frequently uses the "Great Lakes freighter" analogy. Most freighter ships are imperfectly watertight - so there are a series of bilge pumps which constantly pump seeping water out of the "keel" (the bottom of the hull). If the pumps shut off, eventually, the water continues seeping in, and what appears to be a massive lake-going freighter will slowly settle to the bottom, never to rise again.

The state organization for our youth group has been through a series of ups and downs, and the general hope is that we are coming off one of the "troughs" in activity. It has been seventeen years since I have been to this event - and both the organization and I are definite in the need of restoration and revitalization. We both need to have the pumps turned back on...

In August of 1989 and 1990, I was an advisor when the Toledo area was proud of one of our own "native sons," a handsome young man who was the state presiding officer for the group. The chapter I was advising was active, making progress, and we were definitely at a "peak" in the organization's life cycle. There were three or four hundred young men involved at the state conferences that year, and it was a great time.

In August 2007, I returned to BGSU as part of a much different organization. To be kind, it's a "rebuilding season" - and while I know it's do-able, even potentially enjoyable, it's going to be a long haul. And I also know that 98% of it will come down to the attitude I bring to the tasks ahead...

I started off the weekend with mechanical problems coming back from Van Wert yesterday - tire problems that required repairs to my car (while my sister's is still waiting for repairs), so it just threw monkey wrenches into almost everything schedule-wise this weekend. I was way the hell behind schedule, and managed to leave some important things behind - like the fan I wanted to bring to help out with the dorm's failing A/C units, the pop, the extra towels. So there is certainly the possibilitiy that it's going to be a rather uncomfortable night.

Of course, in other days, if I'd left a fan or the case of pop or cooler or whatever behind, I'd just hop in the car and run to Wal-Mart and grab a replacement. But my sister needed my car to go to work tonight - and her husband is going to need his car in the morning to go to HIS job - so they dropped me off here, stranded. So it's just not as easy as it could be...

Now, before you say it...I know - really, I do. After all, on the way to the TireMan shop, we passed someone who was walking her dog down our country road in a motorized wheelchair. Things could be much, much worse than thy are. I know I'm blessed, and that these are all inconveniences - not critical issues.

And I trust the gratitude will come back. But right now, it just seems a little elusive...

The real deal that's underlying all this is that a week ago Thursday morning I went to St. Luke's Hospital for an outpatient Doppler ultrasound scan of my left armpit. On the surface, this seems pretty benign - and for most people, it would be.

But in the fall of 1972, as we moved from Niantic, Connecticut to Syracuse, NY, my father was finally diagnosed with lymphatic cancer. He had a radical lymphectomy, which bought him 5 years. But from the spring of 1977 on, he was essentially already dead. When he died, on August 14, 1979, he essentially looked like a concentration-camp survivor.

It was not a pretty way to die.

So whenever I've had swelling in my armpits, over the last 30 years, the routine has been the same:

- I go to the doctor's office;
- I tell him what I've found;
- The good doctor tells me it's nothing;
- I tell him about Dad dying at 54;
- I use the words "aggressive approach" in a sentence;
- Ye olde Doc says, "Yes, I agree;" and
- I go for an ultrasound, followed by a biopsy.

So this was the ultrasound stage of the game. Sadly, my obsession level has been pretty high, and I pretty much shut down other than showing up at work, and committing to go to the test and get it over with.

The bad part is, ultrasound is a "strong positive" and a "weak negative." If it's bad enough to show up on ultrasound, it definitely requires additional action (biopsy). If not (as was the case for me), it just shows that the test didn't detect anything - not that there isn't a problem. So for now, it's just going back to the doctor, taking the next action, and waiting for the next set of threats to deal with.

And this has been coloring more of my world than I've been willing to admit.

So today, I have been working hard to keep rebooting the "gratitude routine" in my internal thought processes. It's important for me to do this - because I know in my heart that my attitude will color much more than my own experience of this weekend. My roommate and fellow advisor, the couple of young men from my chapter who are here, and their brothers and friends from around the state, will all be colored by what I "bring to the table" this weekend.

So pray for me, if you will, that I can work hard to see all the blessings, the beauty and the possibilities in this weekend, rather than all the niggling details and crankiness.

Because it will be the joy, and the beauty, and the possibilities in this weekend, that will make the difference between enduring these three days and being "an instrument of God's peace" in it.

Blessings and cursings, life and death

This day...
You set life, you set death right before us,
This day...
Every blessing and curse is a choice now,
And we will
Choose to be a blessing for life...
(John Waller, The Blessing)

Choices...lots of them, ahead.

For about a month now, I have been where Renee' Altson once described as "between death and resurrection." Not wanting to make any changes, not wanting to move forward, but not wanting to stay where I've been, either.

The photo above, which I found for some other topic entirely, is a picture of just where I am these days. I can see that there is a place to go - but I can't see where, and I can't be sure that the other end of the bridge isn't a sheer drop (or even if the bridge itself will hold).

At certain times, I would give up important (if not-often-used) body parts to be free of this malaise. There have been a couple times when despair has just washed over me, and I've been ready to just throw in the towel. There have been days when I just can't see any way out of the mess in which my family and I find ourselves....even, God help me, a couple days when the value of my life-insurance policy briefly seemed far in excess of my value in day-to-day life.

Those are sucky days, let me tell you. Thank God, they do not come often, and they do not stay long. But I often wonder, "How is it that you can be a man of faith, a man touched by God, a blessing to others, and yet experience such failures of faith, hope, and love so spectacularly from time to time?" It can be quite maddening...

I can't deny that at least a part of my struggles, especially in the last two weeks, have been prompted by the arrival of the summer issue of Epistle, the magazine of the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago (LSTC). This was the issue where many of my former classmates graduated - and many who didn't make it in 4 years were headed off to internships. In fact, one former prospective student, who I hosted for a Seminary Sampler visit while in school myself, is on his way to internship in Egypt this summer...

I hate to admit it, but it was really tough to see the photos of what would have been my graduating class, and to read the notices of ordination...

Bijou Simon...who Laila Barr, Mike Willis and I helped nurse through Greek class. Ian Reid, who was in several classes with me. Preston Hoffman. Erik Allen. All already ordained. Lisa Parker, Ben Ingelson, Patrick Shebeck...so many others, all graduated and awaiting calls.

Just about the time I would have told you I'd buried all those regrets, they came bursting back up out of the ground like something ugly and undead. I know, in my heart of hearts, that I'm in the right place. I know, beyond all doubt, that what I have been doing for the last two years has ministered to people in powerful ways. I know, I know....

So why does this still hurt so freaking much, at times like this?...

I suppose it would help more if things in the here-and-now were going better. Yet even with my presence and contributing to my sister and brother-in-law's situation, we continue to skate on the thin edge of disaster. And on Friday (my twin sisters' birthday), it sure seemed like the ice had started to crack beneath us. Sue's car had been running badly for a while - and when we took the car over to the repair shop, they wanted almost $2,000 to fix it - a 2000 Ford Taurus with 80K miles on it.

Somehow, there didn't seem much sanity in sinking $2k into a car that BlueBook.com says is worth between $2,800 and $4,000. On the surface, it just didn't seem like much sense. But by the same token, trying to get a car to replace it for $3k or $4k didn't seem like we'd get much of a better car than we had, to be honest. And either way, they'd have to tap into their 401k savings - which are meager to begin with. The picture was clear - "happy freakin' birthday," eh?

My sister's mental health took kind of a nose-dive after that. The birthday dinner at Biaggi's in Perrysburg was mostly good - but it was because of time with Sandy and Sue, and not because of the setting. The meal was the first time we had less than stellar food and service, which kind of sucked, given that we don't get to treat ourselves to a "good" meal all that often...

Sue kind of had a mini-meltdown this afternoon, and once she got past that, I kind of had my own later on. Sue's really been one of the buttresses of this situation, and when I saw her crack, I have to admit that I kind of lost hope for a bit. I kept thinking of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour" skit, where one of the comics was on a plane which lost one engine on their approach to the airport. The comic's seat-mate, in a panic, asked him, "So how far will one engine carry us??..." to which the comic replied, "...all the way to the crash scene..."

It's at times like this that every sin, every time one has turned left and should have turned right, seem to stand out in sharp relief. If I'd only done thus-and-so, the logic goes, we wouldn't be here, we'd have more money, I'd be better looking, in better health, blah blah blah. In the language of recovery, this is called "regretting the past," and I can be a past grand master at it...

But it seems that almost every time I am in the car, the local K-LOVE Christian radio outlet has been playing the song by John Waller (whose chorus appears at the top of this post). And within minutes of hearing the song, I will invariably hear from my sister, or a sponsee, or any one of a variety of church and recovery friends from Kansas, Chicago, or Toledo.

And the day just seems better after that. That doesn't mean that the situation isn't bleak, or that somehow some angel is going to buy us a lottery ticket and make it a winner in the same week (though that fantasy flits through my brain a lot, at times). It just means that grace sufficient for the day's troubles is delivered, when and how I need it (even if it's not how I want it).

And then tonight, when I brought the topic of the car and losing faith up at the Monday Night Mens' AA meeting, within minutes two different people suggested a fellow AA guy who has "is a miracle worker with cars." So I will call him tomorrow, and we will see what we can see. Perhaps, there is hope after all...

Of course, part of the daily surrender in this deal means that we may yet end up car-less, or on the street, or in some apartment somewhere. We may yet become one of the thousands of foreclosures sweeping across Ohio (and the nation) and need to walk away from this home and this life.

But for today, God has set before me life or death, blessing or cursing. And today, at least, I "will choose to be a blessing for life."

My life, and my family, are valued more than just by our possessions or our address or whatever. All I have to do is read the comments on so many of these postings to know that. When I hear the voices of people whose lives are enriched by my presence, my words, my writings, I know that the old UCC ads are right, and "God is still speaking..." Still speaking, and still using broken people and broken tools to build the Kingdom.

For tonight, that's good enough...

No surprise here...

I knew I was in trouble when they asked me, "Do you know your IP address?"...

Recovering, and waiting...

I would love to tell you that I've been gone from these spaces for 15 days because I've been on a spiritual retreat. That would be a good reason, I suppose.

The real reason would be closer to being a spirit in retreat. It would also have more than a little to do with having trouble sitting up. Literally.

I went for a week, starting Sunday the 8th, with unbelievable pain in my lower back, such that it was nearly impossible to sit for any period of time. I mean, not at the desk, not at the PC, not watching TV, or driving. It was pretty damn tough sitting down in the lavatory, let alone standing. It just wasn't any fun at all.

And I'm not entirely back from there. The time I do spend sitting up, I'm doing either at work, or in recovery meetings. So blogging and responding to email has been the least of my concerns. Losing my job (or at least running out of paid-time-off, or PTO) or having to end up having surgery were probably concerns number 1, 2 and 3...

But Tim's "where are you?" comment made me realize that no matter what, it was time to at least send up a flare. So I am here, "just as I am," so to speak.

I am way the hell behind in laundry, cleaning, everything. And, on top of it all, I went through a period where my 10-month-old Linksys wireless router went completely kerflooey. I had to keep manually releasing/renewing my DHCP connection about, oh, eight to twelve times a day. For someone whose livelihood is based on internet connectivity via VPN, this just wasn't a good condition to have...

So we are $50 poorer, but we have Son of Linksys in place, and the virtual world seems fractionally stable, again. I am giving thanks for a good chiropractor, for non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, and for having accumulated a goodly amount of PTO prior to this little adventure. Even if I am resentful enough at my physical condition to wish I could "trade this body in on a model that works," to quote my late lamented mother...

In amongst all this, there is good news. Sister Sue seems to be doing reasonably well, for a while - my being down has corresponded to her being OK, for a bit. That is always good news.

My dear friend Norma - whose friendship I have treasured since we began trudging the seminarian's road together at St. Paul School of Theology back in 1997 - has found love and friendship with a gentleman from the town where she is ministering. He has proposed; she has accepted. And (having no living parents or elder relatives) she has asked me to give her away for her September 15th wedding. I am delighted for her, and am trying to save my sheckels for the 765-mile drive into the Heart of America.

There seems to be a renewed burst of interest among some of the inactive members of my DeMolay chapter. The young men are having an overnight gathering at the Temple Friday night, and I am praying for inspiration to share with them.

I have so far managed to avoid any spoilers about the ending of the soon-to-arrive Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. Amazon will be delivering my copy via next-day delivery on Saturday (so I can avoid the insanity of lines at the stores). Not sure how much reading I will get done after being up all night with the kids, but we shall persevere...of all the tasks I have ahead of me, that will be one worth working through!

And, just as gentle frosting on the cake, a few dribs and drabs of rain have pushed the local sweet corn crop near to fruition. And when there is fresh sweet corn and fresh strawberries in northwest Ohio, life gets pretty damn good.

No matter how slowly one must walk to get to the table...

A blind man searching for a black cat...

Rules. Who's "in" and who's "out." Who's going to hell and/or heaven. Have you said "the sinner's prayer" - just right? Are you holding your hands just so, in order to bless the communion elements (because the epiklesis, the pouring down of the Holy Spirit on the elements, just won't happen if all the parts aren't arranged just so. The Spirit of God is rather particular about how the Table is set before He/She/It appears, you know....).

Bleaugh.

All the rules and conditions and exceptions and moronicity of organized religion reminds me very much of a blind man, searching in a dark room for a black cat that isn't there. I've been listening to variants on this nonsense since I was old enough to understand English, and it makes less and less sense with each passing day.

I'm not sure when this particular bit on spiritual indigestion started. One piece started at an AA meeting last Monday - a guy brought up the fact that he's been sober a while, and a girlfriend sounds like a good idea. Actually, a night of even lukewarm sex sounded like a good idea, but that was a sin. Actually, he's an inactive Catholic who's divorced, so now we've got issues of companionship, love, sex, religious rules, confession and reconciliation, and salvation on the table. And fifty untrained theologians and psychologists realize they probably aren't going to resolve this before the hour's up...

Then there was a section in Sara Miles' wonderful book, Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion, where she is praying with people who are coming to their church's food pantry. A church Pharisee sees her laying hands on one of the customers, and starts into a rave about whether the pastors have duly authorized Sara to pray or anoint "these people," and whether the bishop should be involved, and what does she think she's doing?

That kind of nonsense makes me crazy.

And then, a Lutheran discussion thread on the GCN discussion boards talked about apostolic succession. For you non-theology-junkies, apostolic succession is a concept that says

• The doctrine of apostolic succession is the belief that the 12 apostles passed on their authority to successors, who then passed the apostolic authority on to their successors, continuing throughout the centuries, even unto today.
  
• The Roman Catholic Church sees Peter as the leader of the apostles, with the greatest authority, and therefore his successors carry on the greatest authority.
• Other churches who want to get in on this "line of succession" try to see where their branch of Christendom (not Christianity - there is a difference) split off from "the main line," and claim authority based on this "line of succession."

Now, anyone who has studied church history for more than, oh, a week and who has not had a frontal lobotomy can see that this whole idea is more shot-full-of-holes than a block of Gruyere swiss.

• I find very little evidence that Peter was the pre-eminent apostle, and that all authority comes sliding down from his hands. (Saying "you are petros (rock), and upon this 'rock' I will build my church" doesn't mean "you are the rock of ages, and since you were here first, all authority and power devolves from your hands.")
  
• In fact, there are strong arguments that Paul should be seen as the numero uno guy in the church, because he is the one who has authored so much of the New Testament. But he wasn't one of "the first twelve," so he's not one of the cool kids. Hence, no il Papa, baby. Even if he did write a whole bunch of the book we call God's word....
  
• At a couple different points in the church history timeline, there were multiple Popes and/or anti-Popes, in different cities, fighting to the death to remain Pope. So, any pretense that the "line" remained intact during the various sunderings of the Papacy would have easily shattered in those places (and there were several).
  
• It doesn't take a great mind to see that there is a big, big difference between spiritual authority and temporal, political authority. Thanks to Emperor Constantine and his conversion in 312 AD, however, the Church and State became one in his person, and people who are in power rarely choose to relinquish it. So there was a large justification for retaining the temporal authority of the Popes, and it worked that way for a long time.

The online Catholic Encyclopedia points out that "In the third century the popes claim authority from the fact that they are St. Peter's successors, and no one objects to this claim, no one raises a counter-claim." This is perhaps the weakest logical support for any statement - "I've made a statement, and no one has objected to it; hence, it is true." It completely ignores the fact that in the third century, there was little opportunity for resistance by anyone who would object, and that afterwards, the Church had the support of the State (including their military) which tended to suppress debate a bit.

Now, please, please understand this - this is not another anti-Catholic polemic. I am so past that, boys'n'girls. Just because the Catholic curia says stupid things, that is not any reason to discount the faith (and good works) of millions of observant Catholics. I hang around with a good number of Catholics these days, and I honor their faith in Christ and their service to the world.

When they bring up doctrines like apostolic succession, my eyes glaze over, and I simply agree to disagree with them. Though The Church doesn't see it this way, I see it as adiaphora - it may well be important to some, but this concept is not central to my Christian identity.

I bring this up because the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) bought into the whole apostolic-succession concept as part of their agreement with the Episcopal Church in the sunnily-titled agreement Called To Common Mission. And while I am all for "may we all be one," I thought this was one of the stupidest agreements ever forged between two denominations. The key features of the agreement seem to be:

1. We Episcopal folk agree that you Lutherans can be part of the "cool kids."
2. You Lutherans can't have a valid and legal ordination to the priesthood unless one of our Episcopal bishops lay hands on him/her, so they are included in this "unbroken chain of apostlery."
3. None of the other kids, who still won't agree to this, get to be in our club.

Like I said, it makes me crazy. This ain't what Jesus was talkin' about when he said, "Feed my lambs," folks.

Martin Luther (himself an ordained, then defrocked, member of the apostolic succession) would tell me that if I'm on a desert island (or a youth retreat in the Rockies) and there's no ordained priest around, that if I sat on a log, took a box of Ritz Crackers and a glass of Dr. Pepper, and said the words of institution over them in the presence of believers and the Word of God, then what I did would result in as valid and efficacious Eucharist as if we were at Rosary Cathedral with the robes and linen and the gold-plated tableware. I don't need to have anything else - no holy orders, no robes, no nuthin'. (Especially no stinkin' succession....)

It's a lot of the reason I became a Lutheran. It seemed like Outback Steakhouse - "no rules...just right." (Of course, I was later disabused of that notion, but the rulebook seemed less bulky, somehow. The fact that the Lutheran church didn't seem to have a position titled canon lawyer seemed a good sign...)

I guess what this boils down to are issues of rights, authority and power. Do I, as a non-ordained lay person, have the right or authority to pray with people, let alone anoint them with oil? Do I have the right or authority to speak the Words of Institution - or are those words only legitimate of they are spoken by someone who's had good Catholic or Episcopal hands laid on them in ordination?

I keep coming back to Communion - Eucharist - because it's what I have most experience with. As a seminarian, I was leading worship on a Saturday night at Faith Lutheran in Prairie Village, KS. I'd been hired on as a lay preacher while we were searching for a new pastor, and the interim pastor would show up to bless the Communion elements on the every-other-Saturday service. But here it was, time to start the service, and no Pastor. "What are we going to DO?" cried one of the church-ladies.

"Well, dearie, what we're going to do is I'm going to go in and lead worship. And when we get to the Words of Institution, if the Pastor's not there, then I'll say them. And I'll trust that if God wants these people communed, then His Spirit will descend on the bread and the wine, despite the fact that I'm an untrained, unordained sinner. If God could forgive me all the rest of the things that I've done, I'm sure He will find it in His heart to forgive me this, too." (Because I'd been sober 7 or 8 years at the time, I chose not to add, "At least I'll be sober, and will keep my clothes on, for this particular sin...")

Once, after I'd started seminary, one of my AA sponsees wanted me to marry him to his fiancee'. Neither one had use for a church; neither one believed in Christ - but both of them were absolutely sure that God had let the two of them together, and wanted someone who knew their story, and knew their understanding of God, to bless their union. I told them I had no legal ability to marry them - but if they went to the Justice of the Peace on Friday afternoon, I would be able to craft for them a celebration of their marriage which would incorporate every aspect of their life.

And it was great. I believe with all my heart that God was no less present, and God blessed those two no less, than if it had happened in a church by a pastor with all the requisite pomp and circumstance.

For my own mind, there is no action by another human being that is going to determine my suitability as a member of the body of Christ. As I wrote about a few days ago, I am not interested in rituals of flame-proofing; I have already been to Hell, and choose not to go back over the rules of men (none of THESE were ever agreed on by women!). I happen to believe that Roman 8:38-39 happens to be true - that no one gets to stand between me and the love of God.

I have no quarrel with ordination; I believe it fulfills a necessary requirement in the orderly way of the world for churches. Just don't tell me that an ordained priest or minister is the only one who - spiritually (not legally) - can perform the rites of priesthood. Because it just ain't so.

I don't need to be a trained minister or pastoral counselor to pray with those who are hurting. My Ritz-n-Dr.-Pepper Eucharist will not condemn anyone to burn. And it doesn't matter who's laid hands on who - because the authority and the Spirit comes from God, not from the hands of man. I've seen many instances where the man was duly consecrated and anointed - yet destroyed a congregation. And I've seen many instances where the person who I'd have bet was closest to God was the person least-qualified in the eyes of the world to speak for the Almighty.

Even looking back on what I've written, I know that folks can and will argue about differing standards of what is holy or sacred or whatever, and how certain practices make things "right" for them. And they, of course, are welcome to it. For me, my "holiness" or "sacredness" has nothing to do with what I've done - because my "garments of white" were rather soiled from my prior and current life. It is only "Jesus' love and righteousness" that gives me a hope of escaping hell. Nothing I do is gonna influence that one iota.

So my friends can argue about this or that theological tidbit, concept or nuance. I'm gonna leave 'em to it, and try to go be about my Master's business.

Unable to buy the insanity of church culture

Once again, my virtual friend [rhymes with kerouac] has hit a home run with a posting. It hit home, especially, because my friend and former pastor Joe Crowther (from Atonement Lutheran in Overland Park, KS) leaves today on a sabbatical to study "missional leadership." So I decided to share some struggles I'd had with church life and supposedly "missional" leadership in church. This is from my email to Joe:
---
...I really, really want you to take the time to read this powerful blog entry. (Make sure you read the comments as well - there are some powerful recognitions there.)

Now, here's why this is important...this quote from the post:

In the last few years I've been surprised at the number of mature, faith-filled Christ followers I've met who have stopped going to church altogether. All of them are simply unable to buy into the insanity of the church culture anymore.

Those lines hit home - because I'm afraid I'm becoming one of them.

Over the last several months, I have been struggling to attend a nearby Lutheran church. I mean, really, really struggling. I can find just about any excuse to not go to church - just about anything makes it OK to skip Sunday worship.

Now, I have to confess: if I should be having this feeling, it shouldn't be with this church. Because this isn't your everyday Lutheran church; this is not a congregation of "the frozen chosen." They have a mission; they have a mission statement; they have contemporary worship. They have been through a building program that transformed their "shotgun" sanctuary into a more welcoming "fan-style" worship center. The pews are gone, the movable seating is in. They have an outreach congregation specifically focused on people who don't want to go to church. It is, in short, everything that I was desperately searching for when I found Atonement; in fact, it is everything I wished Atonement was when I got to Atonement! On the surface, it's everything that I hoped a congregation that I pastored could have been.

And it leaves me cold.
And I don't know why.

You see, I need this "community" you talked about in your newsletter to the congregation. I need people to draw me in, to involve me, to welcome me. I need someplace where they know my name. Someplace where I am needed and wanted and able to make a difference. Some place where it would matter if I'm sick; where it would matter if I'm well. Someplace that would miss me if I died.

This place has that, seemingly. They have the energy; there are things happening there.

But somehow, I don't feel the invitation.

In the summer of 2000, when I (and the other members of the Faith Lutheran diaspora) landed on the shores at 99th and Metcalf, it might have been that things were broken and needy enough at Atonement Lutheran that we felt needed. There were things to do - places to fill, songs to sing, children's sermons to do, a class to teach, Alpha to start, etc...and there were places where a hand was needed. Maybe I don't perceive the need, here. Maybe what I'm feeling is that the expectation at this place is to sit down, do the worship drill, hand in the check, have some coffee, and leave. And maybe I want, or need, something more than that.

I actually wondered if I'd just forgotten how to be "just a member"? Had I, by virtue of being on worship teams and vision boards and leadership and church councils - not to mention two years at seminary - become so codependent that I only know how to be a part of an organization if it's in crisis? Had I somehow caught a bad case of Dudley Do-Right Syndrome - always starting off my membership with "I'll save you, Nell!" ?

I don't think that's it. Otherwise, I would have done that very same thing with my AA membership. I would have instantly leapt into saving all the newbies when the came in, and getting into the service organization (intergroup committees and the like). At AA meetings around the city, I feel welcome, I feel engaged and "a part of," so somehow it's different at church.

I also asked myself the other obvious question - am I feeling uncomfortable about going into a church now that I'm "out"? - but I really don't think it has anything to do with it. I don't get a homophobic vibe from this place. I don't feel the need to don a rainbow-flag patch and start demonstrating a' la "Queer Nation," shouting We're here, we're queer, get used to it! I believe I'm quite capable of confronting the church if the fact that I'm gay gets out - I understand my faith enough to do that. But I'm not going into this place as "a gay Christian." I'm just Steve, looking for a place to land. So I just don't find that it's an issue here.

I do know this: I'd really, really, really encourage you to pick up a copy of Take This Bread, by Sara Miles, and read it cover to cover. It takes a bit for her to get going - but every word is setting her up for an amazing conversion of an admitted church outsider.

You will find a story of an admittedly fringe liberal church who encounters someone who learned missional out in the world - who then heard the message of the communion table, and thought (somehow) that God really meant what he said. There are a whole bunch of folks who are hearing, in Sara Miles' expereince at St. Gregory's, the call of what they want to see the church look like. I know I am.

You're in my thoughts and prayers for a powerful, transforming time away, brother. May it be everything you've prayed for!

What I wish straight Christians knew...

It's the very last day of what the gay community call Pride Month - recalling the Stonewall Riots of 1969, when gays and lesbians revolted rather than continue to be harrassed and persecuted by police and authorities. In Pride parades and celebrations around the country, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered (GLBT) individuals continue to make the statement that our community is part of "the greater community," and is not about to go away.

I am not one to wear rainbow-flag patches, or march in parades - I am not a gay activist by any means. In fact, I don't talk much about being gay here - primarily because I have another whole blog devoted to my fairly recent journey coming out as gay in late middle age. It will probably be a sign of healing and recovery when the two blogs merge (now there's an image - two becoming one...), but for now, I'm content with a mild case of split personality.

On this blog, however, I've spoken a great deal about my faith journey - and how many aspects of my life have affected that journey. So tonight, as the last minutes of Pride tick away, I've been thinking...

A couple months ago, Peterson Toscano (a new friend I met through the Gay Christian Network) asked the question of fellow GCN members: As GLBT Christians, what would you want straight Christians to know about your experience and your identity?

There are dozens upon dozens of answers - my fellow GCN'ers spilled a lot of bits-n-bytes on this topic. In responding to that question, I'm going use a lot of what I wrote, but also to steal some of their words - the ones that felt like "they were reading my mail," so to speak. In their voices, they were definitely "killing me softly with their song..."

I'd like straight Christians to know that I love God as much as I used to before I came out. In some circles, saying I'm gay is tantamount to saying that I'm an infidel - that I've turned my back on God. I'd want straight Christians to know that I've only made this choice because I believe that I can have both God and my sexual orientation.

Back when I believed that I had to choose, I chose God - which is why I spent so many years hiding in church closets. God is at the heart of my life and I knew that, as integral to my existence as my sexuality is, my relationship with God is even more central. It's only as I've studied the scriptures that I've become convinced.

I would like people to know that I am the same person I was when I was trying to live a hetero life. The fact that I came out of the closet does not change anything about me, except I am more honest. I didn't have to make the choice to either be gay or be a Christian. I am both and I have never felt closer to God than I do now living an authentic life.

I also am grateful that so far, none of my Christian friends have questioned my faith, nor have they rejected me for coming out. Compared to many, many gay Christians, I have had an extremely positive, affirming experience. I believe that this is because those people love me - whatever the hell I am - and knew my faith, regardless of my orientation. (That may very well end tomorrow, of course - but today, at least, I'm grateful for acceptance.)

I'm very grateful for the man who said I want it to be understood that I never quit taking my faith seriously. It's been a long and rough road to this point - but God is still very much on the throne, and many people have continued to affirm the call I heard a decade ago to "lay down your nets and and follow."

I would want straight Christians to know that I didn't choose this. The process to come to terms with my orientation has been agonizing and painful. I was never abused and I had a father who did his very best to have his son turn out right. It wasn't a choice...no matter what you've been told, or by whom. It's just not.

I would want Christians to know that the act of accepting gays isn't a moral breakdown or a failure of faith on their part. For gays there is a right and wrong way to live just as with straight people, and their is a striving for holiness, and there can be such thing as sexual purity and committed relationships.

I would love straight Christians to know how much I've tried to "straight-en out." How much I've prayed to God to make me love football and Baywatch babes. And I'd love them to know how desperately I wish that straight people didn't need those 5 stylish gay guys to make ugly straight men attractive....so they could come over HERE and work on making ME attractive! ('cuz honey, I need WORK done...)

I'd love the other advisors in my all-guys youth group to know that I don't desire their sons any more than they desire each others' daughters. I'd want them to know that advising their sons is as much an honor and a privilege for me as it is for them. And I'd want the church to know that there is a vast majority of gay men who are JUST as disgusted by child sexual abuse (regardless of the orientation of the perpetrator) as church folk are.

I'd love people at church to know that the one thing I'd love to see (almost as much as Jesus himself) is for the church to be as worried about Matthew 25 (the whole sheep-n-goats, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, visit the prisoners thing) as they are about Leviticus. Now there would be a real miracle!

I'd love Brian McLaren to write a new book about gay Christian faith based on Acts 10, and call it A New Kind of Gentile. (But I want credit for the title...)

I'd like straight people to know that being gay is not like being a vampire or a werewolf. Not only is it not infectious, but besides - we don't bite. (In fact, like playful puppies, we only nibble where we know it would be welcome. But in an immense advantage over puppies, of course, we don't piddle on the rug....)

One of my straight Christian blogging friends asked the question: Sometimes, I get the feeling that "being gay" is the most important thing in a gay person's life. Is it really that important?

I replied to him that it's like the red thread in a Tartan-plaid fabric - if it wasn't there, you'd still have fabric, but it wouldn't be Tartan-plaid. And, to quote Brendan Fraser's character from the movie Twilight of the Golds, "Every human being is a tapestry - if you pull one thread, or one undesirable color, then the whole thing falls apart and you end up staring at the walls."

I think it's important for straight folks to see is that for homosexuals, the revelation that we are gay puts us at odds with a significant portion of society - friends, family, church, and social structures. In that way, it's not the most important thing to us, but it can become "a" defining thing, if not "the" defining thing to those we care about.

I guess one thing that I really, really wish I could ask straight people of every flavor is this: when I tell you I'm gay, please don't automatically assume you know what that means. When I say I'm gay, it does NOT mean I am some flamboyant, club-hopping, drug-taking, promiscuous queen (though God DOES know that some or all of those things have sounded like a good idea, at various times). Please remember that you are still talking to a human being - not a stereotype.

Once I tell you I'm gay, all that is different about me is that you understand my same-sex attraction. Nothing else has changed. And I'm not telling anyone in order to further some mythical "gay agenda" - I'm telling you so I can be more honest about who I am with you. Being "out," in many ways, is about "not bearing false witness," which God seemed to think was a good thing.

A final thought: I wish Christians could realize some of the cause-and-effect of why some gay people live the lives they do. Christians look at the drug use, gay bars, and promiscuity and then think that being gay can never be holy - but in reality, the Christian church has to take some responsibility for that. The Church has told the world that God does not love someone if they are gay, and would not want a relationship with them "just as they are." Because they have been told they must choose between God and being gay, homosexuals are often led to lives of desperation and depression.

I'm grateful to my fellow GCN'ers for putting into words some of the ideas I've expressed here. And I'm grateful to be able to think about these things in context of a loving, caring, accepting God.

"We are your sons, your daughters, your mothers, your fathers, your neighbors, your coworkers, your friends. We are here to love - and we are here to stay."

• (Note: The image of the cross surrounded by the rainbow is the logo from Affirm United, a GLBT-welcoming ministry within the United Church of Canada. Thanks to Poor Mad Peter for the hat-tip!)
  

Sunshine, great art, great music

The weather this last weekend was absolutely beautiful - high of 80, low humidity, great breezes, partly sunny. It was a day when at just the moment when it felt like the sun was too much, it would duck behind a cloud, and everyone would say, "AHhhhhh..."

So it was that sister Sue, brother-in-law Jeff and I ventured out to the Crosby Festival of The Arts, at what the city calls The Toledo Botanical Gardens - but most of the locals know as Crosby Gardens. George P. Crosby created the park with a 20-acre gift - which has expanded to over 60 acres in the western suburban edge of Toledo. It's a delightful place, even if there weren't hundreds of artists and vendors there for the weekend.

I loved pieces like this - I guess I'm a closet liturgist at heart, because the idea of this as a communion goblet just really sounded like a good idea.

There was a lot of photography, a lot of glass work, pottery, fabrics, jewelry, you name it. It was amazing to see the pool of talent that had been assembled for this show.

Today, as it's 73 already (headed for 90-plus) I'm glad that the festival had such great weather. It was wonderful to get out and walk, although I saw how tragically out-of-shape I am (again).

Back to hump-day (Wednesday) - I have two deadlines that I'd rather eat ground glass than work on today. But it's like anything else - it won't get better if I don't work on them. So I'm off for my morning walk, and then into the day!

The Silence Around Indiana's Matthew Shepard

Click on the post header to follow the link to this unbelievable story. Why has there been media silence, outside a few blogs crying in the darkness? How the hell is it that it's the 4th week of June, and I'm just now hearing about this?

The victim in this new outrage wasn't called Aaron 'Shorty' Hall for nothing. Shorty was 5-foot-4 and weighed a mere 100 pounds. In beefy rural Indiana, that passes for almost invisible.

On April 12, Shorty was allegedly beaten to death by Coleman King, 18, and Garrett Gray, 19. They subsequently confessed to police that the beating began when Shorty allegedly made a gay pass at them while they were all drinking beer at Gray's home.

The description of what happened next is horrific, a savage assault that eerily echoes the tortuous death of Matthew Shepard. This time it took the form of a relentless beating that went on for several hours at Gray's house before Shorty was finally dragged down the wooden stairs, his head banging loudly on each step.

King and Gray told cops they beat Hall again at the bottom of the stairs, threw him into a pickup truck and continued beating him as they drove down a remote dirt road.

Once there, one of them had the audacity to send a friend a cellphone photo of the dying Shorty. Then they dumped him, naked but still alive, in a ditch. According to weather reports, it was 39 degrees that night.

The next morning they returned and found Shorty's broken and lifeless body in a field near the ditch. He had apparently crawled out for help, found none, and died alone in the dirt.

A few days later they returned, wrapped the body in a tarp and hid it in Gray's garage, where police found it after being alerted by the recipient of the cellphone photo.

A sensational torture/murder hate crime like this seems like a slam dunk for major media attention, but so far it has received almost none.

Perhaps part of the reason is one of the case's odd twists: Some have publicly suggested that in fact Shorty made no sexual advance on Gray and King and that he was not, in fact, gay.

Instead, it's been suggested that the two teens cooked up the gay angle because they believed that in homo-hating Indiana, it would help excuse their murder.

They beat him, stripped him naked, and took a cell-phone picture of him? Talk about "man's inhumanity to man..."

Seems there needs to be a hate-crimes law in Indiana after all, folks. And I'm gettin real, real tired of the media doing this selective-vision thing...

Other links:
Why Won't The Star Cover The Hate Crime Killing Of Aaron Hall?
Post details: Aaron Hall: killed twice, second time by media?

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$3 worth of God, please

I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please, not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine. I don’t want enough of him to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant. I want ecstasy, not transformation; I want warmth of the womb, not a new birth. I want a pound of the Eternal in a paper sack. I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.

Source: Wilbur Rees, Leadership, Vol. 4, No. 1

I originally found this quote on Erin's Biscotti Brain, where she had gotten the hat-tip from Inward/Outward. I've seen this quote spring up a number of places since then, and it's evidently pricked a number of consciences of their respective readers. I'm not entirely sure why, but I have, perhaps, an inkling.

There is a medical term - prophylaxis - which (aside from the birth-control usage, which makes teenagers smirk) simply means preventative. If I step on a nail, I get a shot as a prophylactic for tetanus.

I think that many of us have had church training which presented church life - church membership, weekly worship, and other practices - as a prophylactic for Hell. Certainly I never saw my church life as "fire prevention," but more as "fire retardant." Especially in my youthful, legalistic (and wildly inaccurate) upbringing as a rule-bound Catholic, I saw everything I did - from crossing myself with holy water, to eating fish on Friday, to daily Mass, to weekly confession - as layers of fire retardant standing between me and Hell.

(I now know Catholicism differently, thankfully.)

I've come to see that somewhere between 50% and 90% of traditional American Christendom is precisely the same way. We want just enough God and just enough grace to qualify for the get-out-of-Hell-free card. I believe it's the reaction to this same minimalist idea of "$3 worth of God" that's driven every single act of renewal in the church - from the Protestant Reformation to the Wesleyan movement, to the Azusa Street revival, to Willow Creek and Saddleback, and the entire postmodern/emergent conversation.

Roaring over the mutterings of "$3 worth of God" religious minimalism is the sense of fully-on-fire, burning, sold-0ut faith. I've had that faith; I've lost it several times - and right now, I'm struggling back toward it.

I know that "on-fire" is where I want to be; not blazing and incinerating everyone around me - but burning brightly, letting "my light so shine before others that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven" (Matthew 5:17, NIV). I want my faith to be bigger than that prophylactic dose of grace and salvation. I want it not only because I know it feels better there, but because God calls me there, to be present there.

I can't speak for the others who have reacted to this quote as I have. But I suspect that they either see where they are, and want to be elsewhere - or see themselves where they were, and are grateful not to be there today. Or perhaps they see that their capacity for faith might well only hold $3 worth of God today, and they see the need to open wider, to grow in capacity for faith.

That, I hope, is where I am today - a large man with a small capacity for grace, seeking to be stretched and opened wider (in a spiritual sense only, please - I'm wide enough otherwise). I can hope, anyway...

Need one more reason to stop the war?

Happy Fathers' Day.

Sadly, the actual story here encourages us to continue on in the battle...

For myself, though, I just can't bring myself to believe that the slaughter over there is worthy of scenes like this.

I honor this man for his conviction, and the sacrifice he made. But I think the time for continuing that sacrifice is over. I hope to God that in 30 years, this boy's son is not weeping over his own loss in a war we never should have started.

Imagine this kind of world....

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - President George W. Bush would like to see a lengthy U.S. troop presence in Iraq like the one in South Korea to provide stability but not in a frontline combat role, the White House said on Wednesday.

The United States has had thousands of U.S. troops in South Korea to guard against a North Korean invasion for 50 years.

(See the rest of the article here.)

I'm sorry, but the idea of our soldiers - our sons and daughters - my neighbors - being shot at, blown up, and maimed for the next fifty years is absolutely unacceptable. I heard it last night on the BBC, I read it today on Reuters just to make sure I heard it right.

I heard it - but I won't accept it. This has to stop, and the people in Washington need to hear fro us that we care for, and support our troops - but not the mission they are being asked to lay their lives down for. Every report that I hear says that we are making things worse, instead of better. It's time for that nonsense to end.

There are several blogs who are featuring links to this article, asking for emails supporting the troops. I'm glad to post a link to it here. My problem, of course, is that I am proud of the men and women in uniform who are serving - but I can't support their mission, and I want them the hell out of there and back home safe. But I'll encourage anyone who has a mind to click on that link, read about the call for emails to the Marines, and add to the stream. If you're going to link to something, link to the original site, though...

If ever there was a need for a nation to be restored to sanity, now would be the time...

I dare you....

...to watch the video of this young man, and tell me that he shouldn't serve in our military.



Watch it again, and look at the list of nations that allow GLBT folks to serve. And then tell me that somehow, we're smarter and more secure than all of them, combined. I don't think so...

If you agree with him, follow the links. Do something. If we want a volunteer military, let's let 'em serve. All of 'em.

Why advisors get grey hair

Here's at least one reason why...

For the record, while I was down in the fellowship hall of the Masonic Temple taking tickets for our group's spaghetti supper, two of my young charges (who had said they were going out to walk the streets of the town promoting the meal) were, in fact, hanging their feet off the fourth-story roof of the building, holding up their sign for the crowds gathered for the parade to see. (The shot was captured by a photographer for the town newspaper.)

I never heard about it, of course - until the fellow on the right (a normally sane and rational young man) emailed me with a "see the cool picture in our local paper?" note.

Of course, I'm fifty - so my first thought was, Oh, my God - what if they fell? What if that 100-year-old mortar let loose, and dumped their brains onto the sidewalk? How the hell did they get up there, in the first place? How the hell does this happen? I'll kick their teenaged butts right into orbit!! Thoughts of funerals, police inquiries, and insurance adjusters raced through my head.

Then I thought, almost in the same instant, This is the stuff that memories are made of. Being crazy. Being wild. Taking risks. It's about being 15 and bulletproof. Just like you were. Relax. And I was reminded of a guy who regularly does things like parasailing and jumping out of airplanes that are still running, who said, "I'd much rather have a short and amazing life, than get to the end of my life and realize that I'd never actually lived."

So when I see them on Thursday, I will tell them that it was a nice photograph.

And that if they do it again, they won't have to worry about the fall killing them, because I will, first.

/sigh/

I am becoming my father and mother.

When you fall off that swing and break your arms and legs, don't come running to me. (Erma Bombeck's mother, to her as a child)

Still alive...

...if not particularly happy about it.

A triple witching hour meant that I ended up having most of a week of being sick - physically and mentally - at the same time that my sister and brother-in-law both were up-n-down with back problems. I had a bout with a devastating stomach bug, followed by combinations of ear-infection, eye infection, and way-elevated blood sugar conspired to keep me dizzy, unable to sit up, and basically unable to do much of anything. Needless to say, between the three of us we didn't manage to put one healthy adult together, and the wreckage of the week has been tough to clean up.

Today is yet another one of those "fresh start" days, and I keep trying hard not to beat up on myself for falling apart, but accept the old Phillips, Craig & Dean lyric that says "You make Your mercy new, every morning." So I am leaving in just a minute to go do the walking that I had abandoned some time ago, and try to do what the doctors are telling me.

Then I will face whatever wreckage I can at The Evil Empire, and try to pick up the pieces there. I dread even thinking of what that looks like, but I need to take care of first things first, and that evil will come when it does.

Ah, the joys of "trudging the road of happy destiny..."