Church Proceedings

I have posted this for several reasons. One being that a 7 year old conversation regarding such deep topics is always bound for something profound, two the kid asks some really good questions, and the father corrects his son's use of the english language during the conversation. I hope all 7 year olds are thinking this clearly.

Here is the web address--http://date-dabitur.com/?page_id=290

Enjoy

The Man Hug

A friend of mine showed me this video that describes the complexity of giving and receiving an appropriate man-to-man hug. It is well done and hits all the most important points, and throughout all this it remains quite funny. Which is extremely important when dealing with such questionable behavior. We don't want to be homophobic but if we embrace (no pun intended) a too liberal usage of this particular display of affection then we run the risk of really looking like a homo indeed. Neither of which are that appealing. This video gives a great guide to how to ride that fence. Enjoy

www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUdWApwbudQ

Big Dead Place

I don't get the opportunity to write much anymore, you know with the school stuff and all. But the guy at Big Dead Place wrote a really funny deal about Penguins. He has written some other stuff that I can't fully endorse but he has a unique grasp of the ongoings of Antarctica from a typical workers perspective. And this deal on penguins is a nice cynical look at those cute little creatures, and if I had the time an imagination it sounds much I like what I would love to have originated. Go to www.bigdeadplace.com and enjoy his deal on "March of the Penguins and Happy Feet".

Oriental

I have learned that the term “oriental”, in reference to the people group, is offensive to those whom I’m directing to. Apparently those people, and others, I have the understanding that the term ‘oriental’ refers to the food and not the people group and that the people group prefer to be called “Asian”. So I’m wondering, if a cannibal is wanting to order some food do they ask for “oriental” or “Asian” food. I’ve used both and gotten chicken both times . . . what will they get?

Sensible

SENSIBLE

Living alone one can think they are the most humble, respectable and considerate Christian that is currently living. Couple that with a person who is theologically factual and you have some great ingredients for a very pietistic and pugnacious person. This attitude is particularly true if that person works a goodly portion of their time around people who are more uncouth than themselves. This is one reason why the church is so important. Like a good smelter who brings all the dross to the top to be scrapped away and discarded, so the faithful members of the church are there to call a brother/sister to repentance or wisdom and thus discard any behavior that is weakening to the life of the individual and ultimately damaging to the gospel. I’ve been reading Titus lately and I’ve noticed that Paul spends all of chapter two talking about being sensible. Displaying good, sound, wise judgment is encouraged and expected from old men and women to young men and women. No one is left out. This is something that we obviously grow in throughout our lives, but the bible makes it clear that God uses means to accomplish this end, and it is clear that one of those means is the local church just read Titus and you will see admonishment being expected by those in the local church. The church is an integral factor in developing this sensible behavior that God sees as necessary to adequately display the Christian life. The behavior doesn’t have to be necessarily sinful, but just unwise. This is important to remember because the theologically factual guy will state that the behavior isn’t ‘technically’ wrong, and he will most likely be correct, yet the behavior or attitude may not be wise and still be ‘technically’ lawful. And sin and or immaturity are insidious. It creeps along and infects all other areas of life and doesn’t remain compartmentalized within one area of life.

I was thinking about bathroom humor and realized that it really isn’t that funny. Watch the movie Shrek and you will see what I mean. Then I think of Leslie Nelson and he is funny when he appeals to bathroom humor (with the whoopee cushions and what-not). Well it’s funny to me. And I think this way only because here is a man who is old enough to know better. He ought to be wiser than this yet he shows himself as immature and the paradox is laughable . . . to a point. Now fast forward 30 years from now and the entire culture has lost this older-folks-don’t-laugh-at-bathroom-humor mentality and we might have more people taking the stairs and less standing in line for the elevator. You know with the free expression on flatulence in the public sector.

The concept that “he is older to know better”; at what point did he put down the G.I. Joes and Hotwheels and begin to act older? There is a transition here that really to me is unperceivable. I know there was a time when I stopped playing with these toys but I couldn’t give you a date, but I could tell you that if I saw a 20 year old playing with them (and not entertaining his sibling) then I would encourage him to grow up. And although he could technically play with them it isn’t very wise. And isn’t that the direction that we desire to go? We not only want to be technically right but attain the discernment to use our freedom in a way that communicates wisdom and respect. Is not the complete lack of maturity one criticism of the current evangelical movement? Isn’t the rules against dancing a criticism of “conservative” churches? And isn’t the rampant flag waving of “Christian liberty” a criticism of current Reformed churches? Maybe that last one is a tempest in a teapot kind of debate.

I thank God for the local church that I am a part of because as my faults and imperfections manifest themselves there are several concerned brothers and sisters who are interested not only in my sanctification but are also concerned that the gospel be displayed in accordance with the word of God.

Airport Security

Traveling by an airplane can always be an adventure and this latest trip was no exception. The best kind of air travel is if you do it with only a carry-on bag. Otherwise you run the risk of loosing all your “good” stuff in some distant land when you need it most. Remember that the airport people check not only the size of your carry-on but also the weight. I once traveled for 6 weeks, couple days here then fly there for a few days and so on, with my only possession being a backpack filled with my essentials. Well, I was 5 lbs. overweight and they had to check it on under the plane. The last thing said to me in regards to this bag was “You’ll see it again in Geneva.”. He was right but 2 days late. Therefore, armed with this experience in mind and with all the hullabaloo about whether or not a person can bring baby formula on board the plane I thought it would be prudent to do some investigating and see what I would and would not be allowed to bring on board the aircraft.

Here are some selected items that you are not permitted to bring on board an airplane in a carry-on bag as found on an official government approved website called www.tsa.gov:
Hand grenades
Dynamite
Billy Clubs
Axes and Hatchets
Cattle Prods

It’s not that I object to these items not being allowed I’m just imagining the line of people waiting to get on board the plane holding these items in hand one after another, and the look of innocent disappointment at the realization of not being allowed to bring them along their travels.

Ch'lirul

In the mists of the ancient world - where great beasts lumbered across cracked, dusty plains where every scenery is set in the tone of sepia - where the seas foamed with unmanageable waves and where those same seas writhed with every form of tentacled horror - Nature produced a creature so unquestionably bizarre, so lacking in self-preservation, that only tales of it exist today.

It was serpentine, but not a serpent. It possessed no physiological symmetry. It had no mode of locomotion. It had no visible modes of sensory perception, yet were it not for its ability to scream in terror whenever threatened, it could almost be regarded as some form of vegetation (although it was neither green nor leafy).

The natives called it a ch'lirul.

Its flesh was warm and tender, its blood sweet and syrupy. And every creature that encountered it found it to be the perfect form of sustenance. Except for the parakeet who preferred the sweet nectar of small children’s eyes.

It would exist today if not for a curious difficulty in its reproduction, depending on fairies for transport of its genome. As industrialization, and the necessary rationalization, encroached on the ch'lirul's territory, fairies vanished. And with them vanished this remarkably tasty beast.

This has led to a curious phrase - "If you love ch'lirul, clap your hands" - intended to reclaim the native lands for the fairies in the hopes that they might return and start the new race of ch’lirul once again.

Centuries later, all that remain of the ch'lirul is a pale shadow, a culinary attempt to capture the sweetness and warmth of days gone by.

Weep for the ch'lirul. Weep for its passing. Clap your hands and pray for its return.




This was written with the help of some man I have never met, and it truely a reminder of what great stuff could be written with the bizarre thoughts of two committed individuals.

Lego of my Lego

I'm not sure why, but I have received word from Estaban that the toy company called Lego wants to and has created an "Estaban" charactor. They have taken some artistic license with the wardrobe but all in all Estaban is quite happy with the look. I have been assured that the Paco line is soon to follow, provided the sales of the "Estaban" line is a big seller. Here is what he looks like.

A Parable

I thought I would share a parable and in doing so I thought I would spice it up with a photo of the author so I did a web search for Douglas Wilson, since this is the man who said these words. While searching I found this guy


This is Wilson Douglas and not the man who I remember seeing in Monroe just last year. I don't remember seeing that button. Therefore, I kept searching and landed upon this man next




This man is actually Douglas Wilson, but the man who I am quoting has more facial hair, and to my knowledge does not play the trumpet. Finally, after much searching I found this lovely, the man who actally made the quote later to be . . . quoted.






Douglas Wilson creates little parables before the call for his congregation on each Sunday. I have been blessed with the opportunity to listen to most of these sermons. His parables are generally fantastic and this one is no exception, and to be honest made me laugh out loud when I heard it. I thought that the laughter creating dialouge could not go on living in a bag in my truck so I have typed it out and put it on my page. I’m sure portions of it will make onto his blog at sometime, but until then I will do this much. To the best of my ability it is word for word what he said at the pulpit, yet without the back laughter from the congregation. Enjoy, like I did.

Wilson’s parable on “Courtship”

Once there was a young woman who came home from church one day and she had a question for her father.

“Dad,” she said, “you know how Cindy’s father gave John permission for him to court her?”

“Yes,” he said, “I heard about that one, which in my mind, was the first sign of trouble. Why would I know about that?”

“Well I was standing with Cindy after church and three of the older church ladies came up and effusively congratulated her. Cindy was really embarrassed, I could tell, but I couldn’t tell what was wrong with it. They were all really sweet.”

“So you’re asking what the problem was if there was one?”

“Right.”

“Well I suppose John has been getting himself congratulated too?”

“Oh yes, even more.”

“Suppose John came up to me and said that he had mailed off his application to Harvard Law School, would I respond with ‘congratulations’?”

“Well, no because he didn’t get in yet, and just between us he wouldn’t get in either.”

“And if he filed the papers in city hall to enter the race for mayor?”

“Well the same, he just filed he didn’t win anything.”

“So it is with this. Courtship, rightly understood, is an application and congratulations are not in order. The people involved are deciding what they are going to do but nobody has done anything yet.”

“Thanks Dad that makes sense.”

“But then there is another thing. Then there are those courting couples, who are for all intense and purposes are engaged, they are emotionally entangled and committed and when standing around after church she is all over him like ivy on the garden wall. You can congratulate people like that all you want. Somebody is getting something and so that somebody should be congratulated. Couples like that can’t have it both ways, the social protection of not having decided and the emotional comfort of having decided.”

The Joy of Sweating

The title may be a bit of a surprise but there is a strange comfort and joy in being able to sweat. Now, lets not get carried away here. This statement in no way means that I desire to do all the yard work for those in my church come summer time, however it does mean that sweating is good. I could bore you with all the scientific details of vasodilatation and heat exchange but that isn’t the purpose of this post. When I was in Antarctica I became acutely aware that I was unable to sweat. This was partly due to the extremely cold environment, which prevented me from rarely attaining the temperature at which point I began to excrete moisture, and that same environment was extremely dry which if I was able to sweat it nearly always evaporated before I was fully cognizant of this exchange of energy. Oh, I also did everything I could not to sweat as this only influenced the dreaded hypothermia exponentially.

At some point in my first season at McMurdo Station I realized that I couldn’t sweat. I worked out with minimal success. Worked hard while on the ice with moderate success, but not comfortable. I ran which did attain the desired sweat but also rapidly froze to the inside of my shirt and made the rest of the journey home not only uncomfortably chaffing but also dangerously hypothermic. I related my plight to one of my colleagues who had spent a few seasons on the ice and she informed me of a little cave located under some stairs. This cave would soon become my little haven from the frozen temperatures of this beautiful island.

The door to the cave was only 3-4 feet tall and the cave was normally called “Odie’s office” for a gentleman who was nicknamed Odie. This man was of a uniquely short stature and vaguely resembled the lovable cartoon character (if you had somehow managed to get a poppy seed derivative into your system). Once the door was opened there was the experience of stepping into an oven. The heat from this small little space hit you like the force of an overly aggressive two year old meeting an abandoned popsicle cart. It made you double over and drop to your knees like a bad frat party or some tainted Taco Bell. (The doubling over and knee dropping in this case is a good thing as the one performing the action is getting in an appropriate position for thanking God. The examples express more of a picture of someone preparing to meet Him).

This labyrinth that contained this powerful elixir was actually quite small. It was after all the space under some stairs, and really not that many stairs. To the left of the entryway were two stairs built so as to hold a seated person while they sweat profusely. I guess two people could in fact sit there but then you would be touching either the person directly or invading their personal space which when little clothing is worn is quite uncomfortable for any length of time. To the right of the entryway was the sun-mimicking heat source. Since McMurdo is a volcanic island there were some very appropriately placed lava rocks stacked upon the heat source.

The room itself was not tall enough for even me to stand up in but that did not matter, neither did it matter that the switch for the light was placed outside the “office”. The light switch was oddly placed in the middle of the wall of a rather large room used as an educational room. Those who hadn’t been there long generally did not know what that particular light switch operated and this is compounded when they never see the effect it produces. This made it interesting to be in the heat box when the new guy is trying to see what “this switch does”.

Interestingly enough, “Odie’s office” is located in a meeting room, which was infrequently used frequently. I never really knew when a meeting would be called in this room and not too many people wondered why there was a stack of clothes in the back of the room. I sat through several meetings that I was never invited to, nor known to be there. I once lost 20 lbs of water weight just from being in a meeting that “went long”.

To not be able to sweat is really a sad experience to have, but to not experience the odorific product of sweat was a pleasure. Now, some may say, “Hey, it’s wintertime and I don’t sweat I don’t understand what the big deal is.”. First, I would say, “Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.” Second, I would completely agree with that person, the time of the season is winter and they don’t understand. It’s like Phoenix Arizona in June as far as dryness is concerned and like Antarctica as far as temperature is concerned. It is vastly different than what most people have experienced and therefore can be hard to understand. The skin is rather dry and enclosed in this environment, but to get into Odie’s office, sit on wooden stairs that have had countless butts attached to it, and have every pore on your skin open up and expel its contents onto that wood makes you feel uniquely attached to hundreds of other butts who planted themselves in that little room to experience the true joy of sweating. In all truth I actually wore shorts and immediately washed off the unique connection to hundreds of other butts. There were just some things of McMurdo that I didn’t need to bring home.

That little place was just fantastic, it made myself, and many others, a new person—skin exercised and ready to meet the dry, bitter elements of an unforgiving climate. But, sadly, as when the bean counters and paper pushers realize that there is something that the underlings have that makes them happy they must either control it or take it away. And the later is what I have heard has happened to Odie’s office. They didn’t remove the stairs that created the little room but they did remove the portable sun. More than likely it has not left the island, but sits comfortably in building 125 or 137 (probably 137 it does have the nicer view) so the VIP’s can have their own little sauna when they stay there for a week.