A (mostly) wonderful weekend at the beach

We had a weekend at the beach! Friends Reed and Andrea tied the knot at the Flying Dutchman winery in Depoe Bay, and we thought it would be a great way to have a getaway, wish them well and watch the nupitals, and enjoy the beauty of the Oregon coast.

Sherry was talking with some friends prior to the trip, and somehow it came out that Jim and Julie also were spending the weekend at the coast, right in Depoe Bay where the wedding was! At their encouragement (it didn't take much) we abandoned the hotel we had secured (thankfully at not cost to us) and joined them in Julie's cousin's home. Right above the ocean, it sleeps twelve so it was very roomy.

We got to the coast early on Friday, and had several hours to kill before meeting up with them. There was a state park perched right on top of a bluff over the ocean with a big grassy area. We threw the ball for Kadie and then played a game of acey deucey (Sherry barely won, but I actually let her) while enjoying a warm, sunny afternoon - at the Oregon coast! In fact, the weather was awesome the entire weekend.

We went crabbing! I had no idea how it worked, thinking maybe you just dug them up out of the sand. Nope, we went out on a boat and threw crab pots overboard, baited with thawed chicken breasts. We'd wait a while and then haul the pot up and grab the crabs. Even though I was wearing gloves I was still a bit discomfited rooting around and grabbing these scrambling little clawed creatures. We would measure them to see if they were of proper length, and if not pitch right back into the bay. Turned out that we had only two that met the requirements, so we decided to go out for dinner.

We went to a restuarant called April's, and it was wonderful. I'm not a big seafood fan, so I usually default to the lone steak offering to pacify the landlubbers like me. They served a New York steak with an apricot glaze that was to die for. The only disappointment was that they didn't have onion rings. I really like a few onion rings with my steak. They were a bit offended and responded that "there is no need to deep fry anything in this establishment". I had to forgive them as the steak was that good. We were acting goofy and laughing so hard I thought they would kick us out, but we were ringing up a pretty hefty tab and that seemed to have mitigated our good natured obnoxiousness.

Reed and Andrea's wedding was a great experience. They are adventure racers, and you can read a great article about their romance here (don't miss the part about them being "mushy gushy in love"!). Reed is tall, and everyone said that for some reason his tuxedo seemed to add a few inches to his height! Andrea looked beautiful in her dress, and Sherry said to me "I want us to look like them", in a reference to their obvious fit appearance. I guess that a fit appearance doesn't fit me! The ceremony was personal, moving and unique as the children were involved too. It was very windy (it was outdoors) but the location at the Flying Dutchman winery could not have been better as they had a private little garden/reception area with a patio deck right at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Reed's friend Colin officiated, and he was eloquent and fun all at the same time.

Well, as you noticed I prefaced the word "wonderful" in the title with a disclaimer of "mostly". On Sunday, we left around 1:00 PM and drove north to Lincoln City. Intending to return to Tigard (suburb of Portland) by going through Grand Ronde and then McMinnville on Highway 18. I have to be honest, about 6 miles out of Lincoln City I saw a sign that said "Road Closed" ahead. I was a bit puzzled and I should have turned around at that instant. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. About another 2 miles we ran into a wall of cars. We sat there for about 10 minutes and didn't move atll. Then, we began creeping. And stopping. And creeping. And stopping. It soon became apparent that our (slow) progress was due to cars turning around somewhere up the road. We had rounded a bend, and had enough view to see scores of cars down the road, without exaggeration I believe we could see about a hundred vehicles from where we were.

Later we found that it turned out to be a multiple fatality accident right at Grand Ronde, and investigators were recreating the scene, transporting the victims, interviewing witnesses, clearing the road, etc etc. Horrible loss due to a truck crossing the centerline and hurtling directly into two motorcycles, then veering back into traffic and sideswiping two other cars.

Well, eventually we turned around too. The rest of the day went like this:

1. We returned to 101, and headed north. We had a high level (not detailed) map, and saw that Highway 22 appeared to take us east to the extent that we believed we would miss whatever was happening on 18. We drove about half an hour and then hit a dead stop with cars lined up for at least a half mile we could see. I knew from the milepost signs that there was still about 5 miles to go until it intersected with 18, so it was not unreasonable to estimate that there was a 4 mile traffic jam.
2. We returned to 101, and headed north. Looking at the map, we saw back roads leading out of Cloverdale that appeared to go directly east toward Yamhill, from which we could have dropped into Sherwood and then home. After consulting with some helpful locals who asked if we had sleeping bags and food for what would likely be an overnight stay because one wrong turn would get us lost for hours, we abandoned that idea.
3. We returned to 101, and headed north. We were hungry, so we stopped for an early dinner in Tillamook and intended to take Highway 6 to Banks and then to 26 and return home. A tow truck driver was also stopping for lunch, and we began talking about the wreck on 18 which he had been monitoring from his radio. He mentioned that Highway 6 had also just reported a bad accident with traffic backed up and only one lane getting through. Sigh.
4. We returned to 101, and headed north, intending to go to Seaside and then take 26 back to Portland and then home. Out of Nehalem we remembered Highway 53, which cut about 11 miles off of 26 and would allow us to avoid Seaside. We traveled 53 without incident, and then hit a wall of cars on 26.
5. We considered returning to 101 and going to Astoria and taking Highway 30 down to Portland, but then decided after numerous attempts that day at going east to just stick it out on Highway 26. It took us almost two hours to get from milepost 11 to 24, and we thought there had been a big wreck on 26 (which is not uncommon unfortuneately). At milepost 24 though the traffic opened up like sunrise after a dark night and we made it home without further delay.

All in all, it took us TEN HOURS to get home from what should have been a three hour tour, a three...hour....tour. Was the weekend worth it? It was!

When good baptisms go bad

At the church I attend, we practice baptism by immersion typically for someone who has grasped, at least in a fundamental aspect; the meaning of the ritual. The person can actually be quite young, but we don't baptize babies (although we do dedicate them).

Well, I came across this footage of a baby baptism by sprinkling holy water on the infant. I hope that the child has no repressed anxiety that will show up later in his/her life, but it appears that the church lost a member...and possibly it's priest. Maybe even it's reputation. You can view it here.

Purse Snatcher Snatched

As reported in Spiegel, on Sunday June 18:

A thief who stole a woman's handbag in Munich struck lucky on Sunday when he found it contained a ticket to the World Cup match between Brazil and Australia. His fortunes quickly changed, however, when he took his seat and found he was sitting next to her husband. Police arrested him in the stadium.

You gotta love it.

This is Dave's Brain. This is Dave's Brain on Drugs

I switched to a new neurologist recently. My former one is inconveniently located, and after my first seizure when I was living in fear and uncertainty, perhaps even terror about what was going on in my head I had a visit with her. Right in the middle of my appointment, her phone rang and while Sherry and I sat there in shock she took a patient call! Hello, this is about ME right now! Additionally, her treatment was to simply throw a bunch of Dilantin into me. I asked why she picked Dilantin, and how she new how much to prescribe, and it pretty much boiled down to "industry standards" and a drug that has been in use since the phrase "I like Ike" meant something to Americans.

Well, brains are complicated little things and as I've begun to research I've realized why we make jokes that theme around "brain surgeon". Why, oh why; did I have to have a seizure? Why couldn't my malady just have been a mangling of the metatarsals or something so much simpler? But no, I have been handed lemons and will make lemonade.

Right from the start I knew the new neurologist was, as they say in Hawaiin Pidgin, "da kine". He's this wiry little guy with a big shock of Albert Einstein hair, and his office was plastered with enough diplomas to paper a King Kong sized parakeet's cage (culminating with a PhD from Harvard).

Additionally, although the rest of his garb was professional, he had on this tie that said "I am confident in my self worth and therefore I can wear this ugly tie". You can read your own meaning into that! I loved the guy within 10 minutes. As we reviewed my EEG and MRI, he pointed out to me a little squiggle and said "there's your problem". I looked and it wasn't apparent to me. He gave a little description and pointed out how the other side of my brain was void of the squiggle in the opposite and corresponding section. Suddenly, like when you are watching House or ER or CSI the squiggle emerged and was visible to me. It made sense. He explained how this scar or lesion was smack dab in the place where seizures are triggered. I asked if the scar was a result of, or the cause of seizures. He said it was the cause and he asked if I had ever suffered head trauma. Not that I can recall, and in a subsequent conversation with Mom I asked her if there had ever been an event in my childhood that might have precipated serious trauma, like dropping me as a baby.

She laughed and said "do you think I would tell you?". Love you Mom! Seriously though there was nothing that she could think of. Then, I asked how come the other neurologist passed me with flying colors. He said that it is a matter of interpretation and he could not speak for the other doctor, but to him there was a clear and present cause of the seizures. It made a little sense to me working in the software world - what's FAD (functions as designed) to some may be a defect to others.

Well, truth be told I was very discouraged about finding the cause. Because the Dilantin is working, and I live an absolutely normal life other than a few minor side effects, I had slipped back to a Pollyannish view that I'm OK. But I'm not. I'll have to take drugs for the rest of my life which threw me into a mild depression for a few days. But then, realities pushed their way back into my selfish worldview. I feel great, I'm living the same lifestyle that I was before the seizures. I just have to take pills every day of my life. Many, many people are in far greater daily physical pain and problems than I am.

One thing though I thought of was the impact of Katrina displacing thousands of people in a sudden, irrevocable way. If I were to stop taking my meds cold turkey, it could actually induce a seizure. I now carry a few days supply with me every where I go "just in case" I'm separated from home involunatrily.

Well, as mentioned I have a few minor side effects with Dilantin. Nothing of great importance, but the doctor is switching me from Dilantin to Lamictal. He said it is a much newer and advanced drug than Dilantin and will have less side effects, although he said that if a rash develops I should seek medical treatment immediately as I might die. No kidding, I'm not making that up. Otherwise I should see a marked improvement. Here is a picture of how my brain operates:

It's hard to see but there's a little electrician goes around plugging in various outlets and receptacles the conscious and unconscious workings of my body. Sometimes he goes on a lunch break and the circuits get overloaded and pop a breaker. Dilantin is like a bologna sandwich on Wonder bread to this guy, solid, reliable and dependable - his wife's been packing his lunch with these for 35+ years. Add a few Cheezits and pickles, and he's gonna make it through the day. Lamictal though is like the energy drink RockStar - it's hip, it's sexy and it will give my little electrician a jolt (no pun intended against Jolt cola) that's gonna have him plugging and unplugging and watching those circuit breakers like foam on a latte.

I like the following description of what Lamictal does. I plan to memorize this so I can repeat it at parties and appear to be very smart (remember, appearances are deceiving). I particularly like the part about lightly brushing receptors, it invokes the image of Lamictal being Leonarda Da Vinci, and my brain being Mona Lisa. The master and the canvas, Michael Jordan and a basketball, Lance Armstrong and a bicycle, Dick Cheney and a shotgun - these are the partnerships that make life worth living. This is how Lamictal Works in Your Brain:

Lamictal (lamotrigine) works on binding to voltage sensitive sodium and maybe calcium channels in the brain. The calcium bit is a matter for debate. It also invokes glutamate which is a major excitatory neurotransmitter in the brain which is responsible for sending messages from neuron to neuron in 85% of the brain. It also lightly brushes the 5-HT3 serotonin receptor and the sigma opioid receptors, which probably account for its lovely antidepressant properties. Nothing like a combined serotonin and opiate reaction. As to precisely where in your brain Lamictal does its sodium and calcium channel magic, that's a mystery.

And likewise, my brain is ultimately a mystery to me, although after a hard day at work there's nothing like having my 5-HT3 receptors lightly brushed.

Jesus Cartoons - Blasphemous or Benign?

In the Sunday, May 21, 2006 columnist Steve Duin writes about Jesus cartoons:

"In a culture fueled by the endless friction of provocation and outrage, the "Jesus cartoons" were inevitable. Eager to cause a stir, a student newspaper at the University of Oregon, The Insurgent, published a series of inflammatory cartoons in March lampooning -- or worse -- Jesus Christ and the Resurrection. The cartoons, most of which are gleefully obscene, were apparently unleashed in response to the decision by a competitor, The Oregon Commentator, to publish the Muhammad caricatures unveiled last September by the Danish newspaper, Jyllands-Posten. "

I'm sure you have heard about the Muhammad caricatures and the uprising they caused. Should Christians react the same way? Some did, throwing comments out according to Duin such as "These blasphemers and those who support this nonsense will be judged. . . . Mark my words, when their flesh is burning and the devil is laughing they will cry out to the very man they mocked" and "We trust in a real, living God to exact his vengeance. . . . For that day, we can wait patiently.."

Yes, there can even be temporal judgment for insulting Jesus - an unnamed blogger in Singapore faces charges of sedition and possibly up to three years in prison and a $5,000 fine for posting cartoons depicting Jesus as a zombie for biting a boy's head and other unflattering depictions.

But there is a significant difference in Muslim reactions to the Muhammad cartoons and Christian reactions to the Jesus cartoons. Daniel Pipes asks What if a cartoon of Jesus had been published by the Danish paper instead? Could you imagine Christians:

1. Calling for the cartoonists to be beheaded?
2. Firebombing a mosque?
3. Rioting in the streets?
4. Retaliating by publishing vile cartoons about Muslims?

Cartoonist Johnny Hart (B.C) certainly knows how Jesus cartoons can offend. In 2001 he drew a cartoon with a menorah and the words of Jesus in a positive, respectful way and a huge furor ensued. It seems to be OK to denigrate Jesus, but don't dare to honor Him in a public forum!

Well Duin goes on to reports that:

But now and then, between the bursts of brimstone, you'll see this: "As a Christian, I am -- yawn -- very upset. Actually, He can defend Himself quite well. He asked that my defense of Him is to love my enemies and forgive others. And the secret is I can't do it, so He does it through me!"

Those are the posts that change hearts, swing the debate, and put a cool towel on the fever of the moment. Those are the posts that put rage and outrage in their place and give love its everlasting due.

Now I haven't seen either sets of cartoons, but have read descriptions of both. From what I've read, the Jesus cartoons are patently and blatently offensive, and yeah - I woud definitely classify them as offensive and without doubt are blasphemous. But I don't have any desire to extract fiery vengeance on the artist. I think this person said it best:

"As a Christian, I'm deeply offended by this obscene mockery of my Lord and Savior. So in response, I'm going to unleash my religion's most powerful weapon: I forgive Them."

Tigard Festival of Balloons

It's time for the Tigard Festival of balloons, or "TFOB" (thank God it's the Friday of Balloons)! We live about a mile away from this event and it's very cool - this isn't a troop of professionals who tie long skinny ballons into Giraffes, this is giant hot air balloons filling the sky right above our house. As dusk dawns down in Cook Park they have an event called "nightglow" as the climbing fires that heat the air cast a translucent glow like this:

Sometimes we call this the Tigard Festival of Baboons as we watch the inebriated inhabitants of nearby homes frolicking in the sun. OK, maybe it's not quite that bad but it's a great opportunity to people watch.

Well, our dog Kadie is a mellow German Shepherd mix (politically correct term for "mutt") that we got from the pound for companionship and protection for Sherry when I used to travel for business very often. She did not turn out to be very aggressive and mostly sleeps a lot (I'm referring to the dog not my wife). Occasionally Kadie gets a little upset over a raccoon, but that's about the extent of her viciousness. Until the balloons filled the sky:

As a few balloons floated above us, Kadie went nuts - hair raised on her back, barking furiously and showing fang. Wow! I didn't know she had it in her. She hardly ever barks so I was actually pleased with this protective behavior (well, that's my interpretaion). She actually reminded me of that scene in Signs where the dog goes nuts about the alien invasion. Kadie would probably let the aliens even do their er, ah "medical experiments" as long as they through a ball for her.

But this time, I rue the horrible experience should one of those balloons deflate and land in our driveway.

Teenagers thwart adults - again

In an amazing scientific discovery picked up by the Associated Press, students are using a new ring tone to receive messages in class — and many teachers can't even hear the ring. Some students are downloading a ring tone off the Internet that is too high-pitched to be heard by most adults. Apparently, with the typical hearling loss that comes with agong, it is a high pitched whine like a mosquito and is usually undectable. With it, high schoolers can receive text message alerts on their cell phones without the teacher knowing.

You can read more about it here, but think of the implications. Imagine teenagers communicating right under the noses of adults. With that kind of subterfuge, who knows how many parties are being planned, cheating going in classrooms, and various nefarious plots to heinous to even be described here.

Well teenagers - I got news for you! Yes you clever little rascals, we adults have ringtones that you can't hear either. Yeah, who's your daddy now?!? Here's a sample of ringtones that teenagers are oblivious to:

1. Be home by ten.
2. Make your bed.
3. Mow the lawn.
4. Call your grandma.
5. Take out the trash.
6. Clean your room.

The saga of Daisy

So here I am, working on the blog when the phone rings - the caller ID told me it was "AIM". I was in the mood for a little mystery and clicked talk and said hello. I heard a voice say "Daisy" and then a hang up.

OK, you don't know who you are fooling with! A quick Google search on "AIM Daisy" brought back a hit on how I could change my AIM (America Online Instant Messaging) "buddy" icon to Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard. Hmm, no joy there.

I pressed *69 out of futility, every telemarketer knows to block that feature, correct? HAH! I got a recording providing the phone number, and selected the option for the automated dialback. I received an error message indicating the phone number was marked private and the call could not be completed.

I almost gave up then figured hey why not try a manual redial. Bingo! The call was picked up by a person who identified them as "American Independent Mortgage". OK, the AIM mystery solved. I asked if Daisy was there. After being put on hold shortly, the operator came back on and said that Daisy was not there and could she take a message for her? "Nope", I replied; "I'll try back later". Game on!

Then, I typed the phone number into Google (Google also returns phone number information if it is publicly listed). You'll never believe what I found. Seriously. There were two hits, one was for a local (Portland) mortgage office with the address of the business.

But the other was gold - I kid you not, an excel worksheet of 6,559 licensed mortgage companies posted to a Washington state government website. There was contact information (personal name), physical addresses, office phone numbers, fax numbers, etc. All at my fingertips.

My introduction into technology was the use of a predictive dialer for past due loans at a bank I worked for. I still know enough to think I could have found a used dialer on eBay, hook it up to a PBX and call everyone of those mortgage companies over and over and over finally crashing their phone switch and grinding the economy to a halt with a recorded message that says something like this:

Hello, thanks for calling. We're not interested in your crummy products and even lousier service. We know that you are going to sell our loan to an even lousier service provider. Furthermore, we're annoyed that even though we're on a do not call list you still persist in pestering us.

Well, I'm not really that malovent or mischevious. But still, it would be fun!

The story had a good ending though. A few days later good old AIM showed up again on my phone. Snatching it up, I answered before the telemarketer could even speak:

Hi, is Daisy there?

The telemarketing was derailed from her script and stammered a bit. I said, "this is Dave, is Daisy there? She was still a bit rattled so I asked if there was a Daisy in her office. She said no, and plaintively bleated out "I called YOU" I replied, "then please take me off of your calling list. I'm not interested in your calls and I'm happy with my interest rate. She recovered a bit and tried to sell me, but I pushed right back and said "did you hear what I said? I'm not interested and take me off of your calling list" She said OK and hung up. Goodbye Daisy!

Methodist Squirrels

An oldie but a goodie, with a modern update:

There were five country churches in a small midwest town: The Presbyterian church , the Baptist church, a seeker-sensitive church, the Methodist church and the Catholic church. Each church was overrun with pesky squirrels.

One day, the Presbyterian church called a meeting to decide what to do about the squirrels. After much prayer and consideration they determined that the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn't interfere with God's divine will.

In the Baptist church the squirrels had taken up habitation in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a cover on the baptistery and drown the squirrels in it. The squirrels escaped somehow and there were twice as many there the next week.

The seeker-sensitive church decided to take a purpose driven approach to the squirrels, and put out bushels of acorns and embraced them just as they were.

The Catholic group got together and decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God's creation. So, they humanely trapped the squirrels and set them free a few miles outside of town. Three days later, the squirrels were back.

But -- the Methodist church came up with the best and most effective solution. They baptized the squirrels and registered them as members of the church. Now they only see them on Christmas and Easter.

From Samaria to Everest

In the Saturday May 27 Oregonian the story began with this headline:

A low point near Everest's summit.

As reported by Binaj Gurubacharya and picked up by Associated Press, Binaj tells us that a British mountaineer (David Sharp, 34 years old) desparate for oxygen had collapsed along a well-traveled route to the summit. Dozens (emphasis mine) of people walked right past him, unwilling to risk their own ascents. Within hours, he was dead.

As Marlon Brando whispers in the last lines of the movie Apocalypse Now, "the horror. The horror."

It made me think of the parable of the Good Samaritan (LK 25:37 NIV):

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

Now, what we don't know is who the victim was, but we do know that a priest (whom we would have expected compassion from) and a Levite (from the tribe of Levi, one of the 12 tribes of Israel) rejected the opportunity to be of assistance. Then, a Samaritan offered help at a personal cost to himself. Samaritans were of mixed ethnic backgrounds and were racially mistreated by Jews as second class citizens. However, in this story it is a despised person who displays the loving your neighbor principle.

Sherry and I had some interesting conversation as we read the Everest account. We asked each other a series of questions that went something like this (for context, we are weekend warrior middle aged athletes):

1. If you were out for a leisure walk with the dog, and came across someone who had been hurt; would you help him? No hesitation, of course.
2. If you were pressured for time to get your walk done and get to work, would you help him? No hesitation, of course.
3. If you were training for a race, would you stop and help him? No hesitation, of course.
4. If you were in the race, but placing high was not your priority, would you stop and help him? No hesitation, of course.
5. If you were training for a race, and you knew you would be in the top ten of all finishers, but this training run was very important to achieve that goal, would you stop and help him? A little hesitation, then of course.
6. If you were in the race, and new you would place in the top ten, would you stop and help him, jeapordizing your place? Some hesitation, then a somewhat shallow yes.
7. If you were in the race, and new you would place in the top three or even first place would you stop and help him? Now we had some equivocation and theorizing that someone else may stop, or the race officials would respond, or that paramedics just happened to be around the corner. I'm not sure if we ever got to yes. In other words, probably not.
8. Now, what if you had paid thousands of dollars for a once in a lifetime shot to be able to say that you had ascended Mount Everest? Would you risk those bragging rights and fulfillment of perhaps a lifetime goal to help someone? WOULD YOU? WOULD I?
   

Well the story goes on to provide some interesting context:

"...many of today's Everest climbers are on commercial expeditions, some paying tens of thousands of dollars to guides who are under fierce pressure to get their clients to the summit. But, the story continues "In Sharp's case about 40 people are thought to have walk past him...the few that did stop to check on him - and at least one team did give him oxygen - said he was so near death there was nothing that could be done."

It's hard to make judgments like that when I'm removed and looking in as an outsider, but all things considered, I hope that I would have stopped to give him aid, and above that try to keep him alive or support a rescue attempt.

It's a nice day for a white wedding

World views in conflict - I have a confession. My morning commute typically has me listening to R.C. Sproul, who I think is one of the most articulate & brilliant theologians of our century.

Sometimes, I'm almost moved to tears not only with his intelligence and the power of his lectures, but his love and heart for God. The force of his arguments and tendered with compassion have led to classic works of literature and lectures.

Although I wouldn't say that I agree with evertything that R.C, teaches (I'm in a season of exploration of TULIP as my theology has been largely Arminian in nature) but I also cannot denly that my life is actually different because of him!

Here's my confession: when Sproul finishes typically about 6:15 AM, I flip over to a classic rock station and listen to Mark & Brian. Talk about a juxtaposition of worldviews!

They were talking about weddings, and asked the question why does the bride wear white anyway? They made a reference to the tradition of purity/virginity and then laughed about the scarcity of such a woman anymore, which I thought was a sad but accurate commentary on our culture today. Not that I'm being judgmental, in my pre-marital counseling it is not unusual for issues from one or more partners pre-marriage and the difficulties that can present and I approach the topic with grace and forgiveness.

Anyway, one of them said that they thought the bride wore white because it's in the Bible. They moved on but I thought that was an interesting position and it made me wonder about the origins of wearing white dresses at weddings. Although he doesn't specifically mention the dress, even Billy Idol acknowledges the concept from his song White Wedding:

There is nothin' fair in this world

There is nothin' safe in this world

And there's nothin' sure in this world

And there's nothin' pure in this world

Look for something left in this world

Start again

Come on

It's a nice day for a white wedding

It's a nice day to start again.

It's a nice day for a white wedding

It's a nice day to start again

According to weddingmanor.com, a bride wears white because...

In Colonial times a bride often wore her "Sunday best" to her wedding. It was not until the 1840's, when Queen Victoria was married in a white wedding gown, that "white gowns" became the rage. White is also a symbol of affluence, purity, joy and virginity. Today, brides can choose many shades of white, from bright white to champagne.

A quick word study of the word "white" in the New Testament shows us references to Jesus and Angels by the gospel authors (including one reference by Luke) , and then to the people of God in Revelation in reference to their purity and holiness made possible by Jesus. But, no reference to white wedding dresses.

I wonder what kind fun Mark and Brian would have had if they had known that Jesus' first miracle was at a wedding, turning water into wine. That would have given them a field day I'm sure.

What goes up, must come down.

There was a big event today at 7:00 AM Pacific Daylight Time. A landmark that had existed ever since I moved to Portland, the Trojan nuclear power plant cooling tower in Rainier OR finally went the way of all things. Rather than a decomposition over time, a little help from 2,800 pounds of dynamite hastened its demise. Whether you considered it to be benign or malignant, there was no mistaking its presence:

What took over a year to build was destroyed in six seconds as the explosives weakened the 499 foot (why couldn't they have added just one stinking foot to make it 500?) structure causing it to implode and collapse upon itself. Allegedly this is one of the promotional photos when the Trojan nuclear plant was built in the early 1970's (I'm the one seated behind the desk):

OK, just kidding. But you have to ask - did those styles precede connection to the grid, or were they the RESULT of the radiation?!?! Well, the plant was always marred by controversy culminating with a mere 16 years of service (you can read about it here).

What I really like is this slow motion video of the explosion/implosion. Why can I watch this over and over? Look carefully. It's about the bird. That's really the reason for this whole post. Here he is, a beautiful Sunday morning after a hard week. He might have slept in, wandered north to the Kelso Starbucks to pick up a few blueberry scone crumbs, snagged a fat earthworm for the kids on the way back to his home on the tower. He's getting drowsy, maybe time for a nap when KABOOM! Surely, it's the end of the world - no tower, no nest. Well, it appears that the instinct to flight save his little bird butt, but I have to wonder if he suffered any hearing problems.

Now boarding at gate whatever...

There was an interesting article in the June edition (2006) of Wired magazine that had to do with how airlines are analyzing and strategizing the most efficient ways to board airplanes. How could you NOT read an article that leads off like this:

When Einstein first pondered the mysteries of space-time, he presumably wasn't trying to figure out how to quickly cram hundreds of cranky travelers into a 737. But the math that scientists use to explain the the master's theory of relativity actually does help. A team of Israeli researchers, armed with Lorentzian geometry, has reached the same conclusion as many others: the standard back-to-front boarding procedure sucks.

No duh. I barely passed geometry, and I don't know Lorentz (it's probably not Mike Lorentz who I got a in a fight with over marijauna in high school) but it makes sense, doesn't it?

Let's see, we've got a schedule to keep and 230 people standing here with their carry on luggage and one little door leading to one skinny aisle (not including DC-10s in this illustration!) and the gate agents are trying to rush this one out because flight 317 Dallas to Cleveland has been waiting for 20 minutes for this gate to open up...and planes stack up for gates like pancakes at IHOP.

Add surly passengers and now you've got a gate agent popping prilosec like Tom Cruise on Oprah's couch (sorry, I've been waiting to use that.) Gate Agent, Gate Agent, wattcha' gonna' do when they come for you?

Well, there are interesting strategies being employed to ensure expedient boarding. Let's look at some examples (quoted from the article):

1. United Airlines: seats all of the window seats first, followed by the middles seats, then last are the aisle seats. Where it fails: Upsets clingy couples and families. When middle seaters board late, it roadblocks the aisle group.
2. Alaska Airlines: free boarding. Just get on. Where it fails: trades the frustration of the departure lounge for onboard chaos. Just one dawdler can gum up the whole process.
3. Southwest: group unassigned. Passengers are grouped and then allowed to board by their group. Where it fails: too much freedom - has kind of a weird hippie vibe. Also: Group C?!? Do you know WHO I AM?!?

Well, having goine through a stint as a frequent flyer I learned quite a few tips and had some memorable moments. Too many to share here, but one of my favorites was catching a cat on an airplane. I was seated right behind the bulkhead separating first class from steerage, and as people were getting settled I heard a commotion in the cabin. I looked back to see a very strange sight - just like people would do a wave at a sporting event, a ripple was moving around the cabin, back and forth. Quite bizarre actually. The bulkhead had a little cutout that passengers could stretch their feet or tuck a briefcase into. I had a briefcase on my lap, when suddenly a cat darted right between my feet into the cutout. Reflexively, without any thought; I put my breifcase over the cutout like a cupboard door. Hello Kitty! The very embarrassed passenger came up and retrieved her feline amidst gestures of either amusement or annoyance. As for me, for saving the cat and getting us out of the gate on time, I got a first class meal (but no upgrade though!).

Tales from work.

We went through an interesting time recently at my employer. Like many software companies, we enjoy perks such as all the coffee and soda we can consume, we can wear shorts to work (I enjoy tormenting my colleagues by wearing socks and sandals, but at least they are not black socks!), an Xbox room, once a month cake celebrations for all the birthdays that month, BFA (beer Friday afternoons), etc.

Well, the coffee isn't all that great. A few months ago we had a few new employees join our happy family, and they lamented how bad the coffee was. In mock seriousness I said "yeah, I had to stop drinking it because it was making my eyes bleed". They were incredulous! I elaborated that apparently the coffee had sufficient blood thinning qualities that if I yawned and my eyes watered up, the tears contained trace elements of blood. They were aghast. I started laughing. They no longer talk to me (not really!).

I'm trying to cut down on bad calories, specifically when they attach themselves to chocolate. I'm a simple guy, so I use the Rule of the Circle. It goes like this - inside the circle are items that I can justify such as chocolate powerbars or goo, chocolate in a mocha, maybe even Count Chocula in a pinch. My arguments may be weak but they work for me. Outside the circle are clear violators such as cake, cookies, candy. So I really try not to partake in the birthday celebrations (they buy some awesome cakes).

And further, due to the medication I'm taking I can't consume alcohol! Yup, they will bring in all of these microbrews that I used to truly enjoy sampling - lagers and ales oh my! I stand weeping and sometimes guzzle one of those nasty non-alcoholic beers with bloody tears streaming down my face.

Well, recently there was some corporate "decisions" made about our soda fountains. Apparently sufficient justification was made that removing the fountains and replacing with soda machines would save money. Some of us think it's just a plot to begin the long slide down toward purchasing our own drinks, as the machines now dispense a can at the press of a button but that little slot to put you dollar in forcing us to pay beckons a revenue stream like a CEO on stock options. But for now it's free. We used to have water dispensed by the fountain, and many of us made frequent use of this healthy opportunity. When the machines came in, one of the selections was water. Cool! I think management envisioned us becoming young, healthy, carefree and dedicated with an image like this in their minds:

What really happened though is that we ended up looking like this:

Well, even though we had water it dispensed these ridicuously tiny little bottles of water (I think they were 6 ounces). Seriously, hamsters typically have more water in their little watering devices. So, we would push the button 4-5 times and carry all these tiny bottles back to our desk. That lasted one day. Then, no water! We were up in arms, but were told that the tap water was filtered exactly the same as the water that came out of the fountain, so we can drink tap water. Mutiny almost occurred, but eventually we were wore down.

Well, one day as I went into the break room there were 3-4 of our QA (Quality Assurance) engineers standing around the machine. On top of the machine were several cans of different brands of soda. I started laughing and asked them if they were running test cases - pushing the button and seeing if the can that was returned met the 'specification' that the button provided. We all got a good chuckle and then I asked if they were actually opening the cans to ensure that not only the proper can was returned but the liquid inside matched the can that matched the button. Even more laughter ensued when when of the engineers responded that what's inside the can is the responsibility of product engineering, not QA!

We all shared a hearty laugh and then filled up our plastic bottles from the tap.

DrOwning in Da Vinci

I tried. I really, honestly tried. In the end however, I could just NOT resist posting about the Da Vinci code! I therefore join the legions of people posting and pondering a preposterous plot. So there. Well, if I had been more prepared I probably could have joined the ranks of books, seminars, essays, DVDs, etc and made a small fortune. But I did not. What I will give you though is a list of my 'coulda woulda shoulda' Da Vinci rebuttal headings. You've see similar, but to my knowledge these are all mine and I'm gonna run out and trademark them:

1. DeRiding the Da Vinci Code
2. DeNying the Da Vinci Code
3. DeSecrating the Da Vinci Code
4. DeStroying the Da Vinci Code
5. DoUbting the Da Vinci Code
6. DeEp Frying the Da Vinci Code
7. The DoOfus and the Da Vinci Code
8. DoCtoring the Da Vinci Code
9. DaMning the Da Vinci Code
10. The Da Vinci DeLusion
    

Poor Leonardo. He's got to be spinning like a helicopter over all this (hey, the edits are necessary as this is a family blog):

This is going to be a fun post. Even though it was panned at Cannes, the criticism had little to do with the book's actual message than it did taking a difficult book and attempting to make a movie out of it. So, the question is why DoEs it DeServe such heaping criticism? I'll admit that I DoWnloaded and read the book. I'll also admit that I couldn't put it down. It took me two days to read in between work and sleep. Will I see the movie? Probably not, only for the reason that some books are just going to be better than any screen adaptation. Should you read the book or see the movie?

For a while I was on a kick reading novels about Jesus and His disciples. Not anything that was blatantly blasphemous, but curious and interesting. I was not moved to rend my garmens and throw ashes over my head, or to burn stock shares in a public demonstration on the steps of the publisher. What I would respond if someone asked is: Why do you want to? I look at like I look at TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network). For the most part, it is a ghastly representation of what Christianity truly is. However, even in saying that I recognize and admit that not all of TBN is wrong. When people ask me about TBN I respond that only a mature believer should watch TBN, but then if you are mature why would you want to?

It's kind of like that with the Da Vinci code. DoEs it DeServe the criticism and media attention? In some ways, yes! It's DePiction of Christian history is DeVestatingly untrue. False. Riddled with inaccuracy. Let's DeConstruct the Da Vinci code to it's elementary underpinnings. It's a work of fiction. DaVe's DiCtionary DeFines fiction as: stuff that is made up. It's not true! But, DanBrown's interesting DiSclaimer warrants a moment of thought:

"All descriptions of artwork, architecture, documents and secret rituals in this novel are accurate"

It is important to notice, even intriguing; that Brown did not mention history. Was Brown implying then, by omission of history; that people would know that there is not a historical basis for the novel?

David Reinhold uses the word "truthiness", as coined by Comedy Central's Stephen Colbert; as the best way to describe the Da Vinci code. Truthiness is the appearance of truth that will not stand up when presented with facts. Now we all know (or you should!) what really happened at Nicea in 325 A.D. Brown takes such great liberties though twist the truth into truthiness that there is a danger that a non-Christian will take the book as fact and be led into a heretical view of Christianity.

I think there has actually been one very good result of the book. Many Christians are being introduced to the importance of church history and development of the canon. Many people who had not been able to previously defend their faith when confronted with concepts such as Brown purports are now able to converse with conviction founded on historical accuracy. And that's a good thing!

So, should you read the book? Well, I suppose ultimately I can't say! What I can say though is that if you do, be prepared for a great reading, historically innacurate presentation of facts. And if you really want to know about Christianity, the Bible is a better source than Brown!

So close...

..but I managed to refrain. Went to the gym this afternoon, and no one was at the front desk so I scanned my card and went about my workout. As I was leaving, the counter staff was there and looking at the computer and reader and I thought perhaps I had messed something up.

I was about to confess, "hey I checked myself in - do you want to check me out?" and then thought a little bit about how that would sound. And refrained!

Life don't mean a thing unless you also got the bling

The Portland Oregonian (4/19) quotes Mary J. Blige from an interview in Blender Magazine, apparently finding religion but making no apologies for earthly materialism. The quote attributed to Blige has her saying that:

My God is a God who wants me to have things. He wants me to bling. He wants me to be the hottest thing on the block.

Wow! Me too, me too! I want a God like that! Pick me! Pick me! Well, I'm not sure which God Blige found, but if there is one thing we know it is how much materialism affects our lives. Consider this bedtime prayer (not sure where I came across it but i've udpated it a bit) that is probably offered multiple times each night in Lake Oswego (a very affluent suburb of Portland), OR:

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray my Cuisinart to keep
I pray my stocks are on the rise
And that my analyst is wise
That all the wine I sip is white
And that my hot tub is watertight
That lacrosse won’t get too tough
That all my sushi’s fresh enough
I pray my razr cell phone works
That my career won’t lose its perks
My microwave won’t radiate
My condo won’t depreciate
I pray my health club doesn’t close
And that my iPod songlist grows and grows
If I go broke before I wake
I pray my Hummer they won’t take

It is said that Jesus spoke of the dangers of materialism more than any other subject. As I write this my wife is holding a garage sale (which in and of itself is symptomatic of too much stuff), and she told me that a lady in a Lexus SUV drove up, looked around; picked up a .50 cent trinket and counted her pocket change and said "will you take .39 cents?" For cryin' out loud! She's driving a car that she probably paid more than $40,000.00 for! And as soon as a Ron Sider authors a book called "Rich Christians in an age of hunger" you get a Gary North responding with a book called "Productive Christians in an age of guilt-manipulators".

Well, if you have taken the time to read this post, may I ask you to do this one thing for me? Please, PLEASE add just a little more time - 5-7 minutes - and read this post by RLP. His dramatized scripture readings touch me deeply, and I hope that as you read this you too will think about Jesus' words about materialism. And say a prayer for Mary J. Blige too.

Rethinking the rapture

This cartoon appeared in the Portland, Oregonian today:

The guy looking at the "remains of the rapture" (the newspaper stand says "the end times" brought to mind a bumper sticker seen by Tom Austin:

In case of the Rapture, this car will be pulled to the side of the road while I rapidly reconsider my formerly postmillenial eschatology.

When the reformed speak in tongues

Ha! Gotcha with the classic "bait and switch" tactic. You may have thought this was a post on cessation, but this was so funny (to me) that I had to acknowledge it here. Doug Wilson, who writes a most excellent blog called (appropriately enough); Blog and Mablog - gives us this cartoon. Anyone who knows me would recognize my predilection to segue into unintelligible dialogue leading only to obfuscation - hence the name of my blog, "blah blah blahg".

Doug, you are a master at the trade!

He's big, he's bad and he's very, very mad...

Saw this cartoon and was reminded of the popular notion that the God of the Old Testament is an angry old man on a cloud hurling bolts of lightning:

This illustrates a point made recently by Sproul who was discussing worldviews, and made the assertion that the word "university" has its etymology in combing the words "universal" and "diversity". Sproul notes that these seem to be conflicting terms and to munge them into one word seems at odds, but he goes on to explain that in the academy the separation of facts and philosophy has produced distorted views of life.

I think that happens with our view of God as well. The cartoon illustrates what most of us (myself included) want to believe about God - that he is loving, merciful and that my most egregious sin will always fall one footstep short of the extent of his forgiveness. But God cannot be compartmentalized, although the Shema proclaims His unity, His diversity (just like ours) is clearly revealed as well. Consider Eze 33:11 & Hosea 11:8-9:

1. I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.
2. How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I treat you like Admah? How can I make you like Zeboiim? My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused. I will not carry out my fierce anger, nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim. For I am God, and not man - the Holy One among you. I will not come in wrath.

Yes, God does punish sin - and yes, God does forgive sin. If we take either side in too much liberty, imbalance is sure to result in the way that we perceive God. The bottom line? We never want to take God's grace for granted, but bend our knee to the knowledge of what we (me too) truly deserve...

Tattoo you...and you and you and you..

I've been thinking about getting a tattoo for years. I've been talking about it enough that I've socialized the message to my wife, and I think she's OK with it if I trip the hammer, but even as I typed those words I've realized how little prayer I've devoted to the topic. Why should I even pray about it at all, and as Phil Knight would say; just do it? Indeed, tattoos are growing in popularity among Christians.

There is much controversy though about Christians having tattoos, primarily stemming from Leviticus 19:28:

Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves. I am the LORD.

Wayne Jackson has written a balanced article in the Christian Courier that I have copied and posted here verbatim:

One must be very careful about trying to use Old Testament passages as proof-texts for what one may or may not practice in the Christian age. It is a fundamental aspect of Bible doctrine that the Mosaic system was abrogated by the death of Christ (Eph. 2:14ff; Col. 2:14ff). The law of Moses, therefore, is not the Christian’s standard by which to measure conduct.

The following observations are in order:

1. This same chapter (Leviticus 19) also provides instruction for appropriate
   conduct in conjunction with offering animal sacrifices.
2. It requires leaving certain portions of one’s crops unharvested (in the interest of the poor).
3. The sowing of two types of seed in the same field is prohibited.
4. The Hebrews were not to wear a garment with two different fabrics combined
   (e.g., wool and linen).
5. When new fruit trees were planted, none of the fruit was to be eaten for the
   first three years. There are restrictions about how the man’s hair was to be cut, and the manner in which his beard might not be trimmed.
6. Keeping the Sabbath is enjoined, etc.
   

Why should we focus on one of these injunctions to the exclusion of the others? The immediate context of Leviticus 19:27-28 suggests that Moses was attempting to inoculate Israel against the emulation of certain heathen practices related to idolatry. For example, the prophet forbids “cutting the flesh” in the passage under consideration; yet no one contends that medical surgery is being condemned. Rather, “cuttings” in the flesh “for the dead” are in view (cf. also 1 Kgs. 18:28). This was an idolatrous practice.

Ancient archaeological evidence indicates that some of the Canaanites would tattoo themselves with the names or symbols of their favorite “gods.” This appears to be what the prophet is condemning, not the modern custom of “esthetic” tattooing - regardless of how distasteful such a practice may be to many people.

Since the New Testament does not address the issue of tattooing specifically, one must be guided by principle. Any practice that is vulgar, gaudy, or a distraction to one’s Christian influence should be avoided. But, to some extent, this is a matter of taste and judgment.

No one can presume to prescribe conduct for everyone else in matters of this nature. Is it appropriate for women to wear make-up? How about permanent eye-liner? May men and women adorn themselves with jewelry? May they pierce their ears?

Christians must attempt to employ sound judgment in such matters, and give no occasion to the adversary for reviling (1 Tim. 5:14). Moreover, a Christian’s personal privacy and right of choice must be respected in ambiguous areas of judgment. This is the most a wise Bible instructor can say.

Well, what is my motivation for wanting a tattoo? At first, I wanted one to be cool - to fit in. I really dug those tribal tattoos that I see around biceps. However, due to the large size of my biceps it would probably be impractical and non-cost effective. One time in the gym, I flexed my guns and the sudden expansion of the muscle caused a mini-shock wave as the air was displaced by my biceps. A young teenage kid was knocked aside, and a mirror on the wall cracked. And if you believe that I've got this great bridge, hardly used that I'll sell ya!

OK, seriously though I've realized, that like all things; tribal patterns will gradually be out of style (I think back to the 70's where I wore enormous bell bottom jeans and waffle stompers. Oh wait, they're coming back into style). Having said that though here's a tat that I like:

This one is probably a little too extravagant for my taste:

And this one is over the top (Latin for Father, Son and Holy Spirit):

As I think about tattoos about a cross, I'm reminded of one of my Bible College professors who had strong feelings about the cross. Rather than seeing it as an identification of our union with Christ, he viewed it as a symbol of death by execution. He would say (not in a self righteous way) that we may as just tattoo electric chairs on our chests. I often think though of Paul's confession that he had been "crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me..(2 Cor 5:17). Therefore, it would be with great humility and recognition that I ever would have a cross tattoo. Hmmm - I wonder what Jesus thinks about all his children marking their bodies with the instrument of a terrifying and excruciating death?

Well, on a lighter side there are two other tattoos that I am considering. One would be a biceps tattoo similar to one I saw at a race years ago. This guy had an elegant triathlon tattoo of athletes swimming, running and biking around his bicep. I kind of like that, and have thought of starting it with one set, and then for each triathlon I do adding another. At two -three triathlons a year at the most at 48 years old I don't envision running out of biceps soon!

Related to that, when I do a triathlon I take off my wedding ring. Sometimes early in the morning that water can be cold and even with a wetsuit on cause a little, shall we say; shrinkage. Often my fingers contract and the ring becomes vulnerable to being lost at the bottom of a lake or river. It's weird though, I don't feel right without my ring on, that's the way I say to the world "someone loves me and has chosen me". I'm thinking that under the ring I could carry a small tattoo on my ring finger that simply says "Sherry".

Well, those are my thoughts. Will I get a tattoo? Dunno!

Public Office, Private Problems, Public Penalties

Well, maybe not public office in the sense of an elected official. Front page stories in the Portland Oregonian this morning included updates to the sad saga of Teresa Kaiser, who "resigned" from the Oregon Liquor Control Commission after being charged with drunk driving.

An embarrassed Oregon Liquor Control Commission appointed a new acting director Friday following the arrest of the agency's executive director in connection with a drunken-driving crash. Steve Pharo, director of the OLCC's distilled spirits program, will head the agency while the commission searches for a permanent replacement for Teresa L. Kaiser.

Kaiser submitted her resignation Wednesday after commissioners learned Portland police had arrested her on suspicion of driving under the influence and reckless driving Saturday night following a two-car crash. Police said a breath test showed her blood alcohol level was 0.16, twice the legal limit for adults. Her resignation is effective May 15.

Although there is such a rich vein of schadenfreudian irony to mine here, the bottom line is that it really does sadden me. Look at Proverbs 23:30-34 from the Message:

It's those who spend the night with a bottle, for whom drinking is serious business. Don't judge wine by its label, or its bouquet, or its full-bodied flavor. Judge it rather by the hangover it leaves you with-- the splitting headache, the queasy stomach. Do you really prefer seeing double, with your speech all slurred, Reeling and seasick, drunk as a sailor?

Well Teresa, but for the grace of God go I; and I'm sure many others. I doubt you'll ever read this but I paulsed and said a prayer for you, and I hope you get the help you need.

The grounds for a good day

Here in the northwest (I live in Tigard OR which is a suburb of Portland) we take our coffee very, very seriously. There's even an unsubstantiated rumor that there is a Starbucks in the Seattle area that is so large, it has a Starbucks kiosk inside of it. Wow.

It's not uncommon to hear something like the above cartoon expressed in a line at SBUX. In fact, recently I went in and ordered my usual: venti rasperry mocha extra shot extra hot no whip no foam. It's fun to just rattle this off as fast as a duck on a June bug and know that the barista is already halfway done with the drink. I threw a twist though, in this instance I added a blueberry scone. Well, there was some confusion with the clerk and I almost ended up with a no whip, extra hot raspberry scone and a blueberry mocha with an extra shot. But we worked it out.

Then, a few days later I was in a non-SBUX coffee shop and was standing in such a position that I could view the register display. The clerk was baffled and as I glanced over I saw this error message displayed to her:

Bad flow

Hmm - makes you rethink the whole coffee thing, doesn't it?

Well, the funniest thing happened when Sherry and I went through a drive through - Sherry looked at the menu and they had an item listed as a "Peppermint Patty". Sherry asked what that was and the clerk responded that it was a mocha with peppermint flavor. Sherry replied that that sounded really good, and could she have one without the chocolate? The clerk was a little confused and said "so, you want a peppermint latte?". Sherry said "no, I want a peppermint mocha but with no chocolate". The clerk looked at me, I looked at Sherry, and we all decided that Sherry would have a peppermint mocha but with no chocolate.

Joke of the Week

In the mid-eighties I once went to lunch with Tyler. Tyler was the epitome of cool, there was no one cooler than Tyler. He dressed in all black even before black was the new black. We went to some fast food joint and his tab was $3.34. He tossed a ten dollar bill on the counter, and the clerk counted out his change - six dollars and sixty six cents. Tyler was chillin' with his sunglasses on, black jeans, black shirt and black coat. The clerk started getting a little freaked out thinking he might have been the Antichrist.

Tyler was a lot of things, but the Antichrist wasn't one of them (as far as I know). He even came to the church I went to at the time, where worship was quite demonstrative. As everyone raised their hands in worship, Tyler stuck his hands straight up in the air like he was being robbed and looked around. I miss that guy. Anyway, for all you Left Behind fans out there:

"So, what's the significance of apartment 667 over there?" "That's the neighbor of the beast." "The neighbor of the beast?" "Yeah, sometimes he gets the beast's mail."

Still laughing out loud!

Pitiful, pathetic Christians - Happy Easter!

It comes down to this - I have staked my entire life - poured time and money into a theology degree and delaying a business degree, given much of my hard earned resources to the church I belong to, longed many times while being in a church service, performing a wedding, doing counseling, etc - when I really wanted to be riding my bike. I don't indulge myself in pity, and neither do I mention this to incur sympathy from you, gentle reader. Indeed, I do it cheerfully - hoping that one day I will hear these words, not in time, but in eternity: "well done, good and faithful servant - enter into the rest that I have prepared for you"

But what if I have done all this for a lie? Virtually all scholars, even those who do not profess Christianity and indeed those who are anti-Christian; admit that Jesus was a real man who lived, taught and had amazing influence in Palestine. But, what if He didn't really rise from the dead? What if He wasn't God after all? I like what Paul said in 1 Corinthians 15 (NLT):

Now let me remind you, dear brothers and sisters, of the Good News I preached to you before. You welcomed it then and still do now, for your faith is built on this wonderful message. And it is this Good News that saves you if you firmly believe it--unless, of course, you believed something that was never true in the first place.

I passed on to you what was most important and what had also been passed on to me--that Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and he was raised from the dead on the third day, as the Scriptures said. He was seen by Peter and then by the twelve apostles. After that, he was seen by more than five hundred of his followers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died by now. Then he was seen by James and later by all the apostles. Last of all, I saw him, too, long after the others, as though I had been born at the wrong time. For I am the least of all the apostles, and I am not worthy to be called an apostle after the way I persecuted the church of God.

But whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out his special favor on me--and not without results. For I have worked harder than all the other apostles, yet it was not I but God who was working through me by his grace. So it makes no difference whether I preach or they preach. The important thing is that you believed what we preached to you.

But tell me this--since we preach that Christ rose from the dead, why are some of you saying there will be no resurrection of the dead? For if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised either. And if Christ was not raised, then all our preaching is useless, and your trust in God is useless. And we apostles would all be lying about God, for we have said that God raised Christ from the grave, but that can't be true if there is no resurrection of the dead. If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then your faith is useless, and you are still under condemnation for your sins. In that case, all who have died believing in Christ have perished! And if we have hope in Christ only for this life, we are the most miserable people in the world.

But the fact is that Christ has been raised from the dead. He has become the first of a great harvest of those who will be raised to life again.

I'm gonna kick your a$$ for God...

Caution! This post will probably offend someone. Get over it!

In I Corinthians 9:22 Paul states that "I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.". There's been some interesting interpretations of that verse over the years to justify all kinds of activity but here's one I didn't see coming - professional wrestling for Jesus. Over here you can see the likes of Jesse "War Daddy" Stone, who's finishing move is appropriately called "the apocalyptic clutch."




Our local newspaper, the Portland Oregonian, reports that many such organizations are springing up all over, and a simple Google search brings up these fine individuals laying their lives on the line and going to the mat for the sake of the Gospel:

1. The Sermonater
2. The Ouchbishop
3. Painin' Abel
4. John the Whaptist
5. Stone Cold Moses
6. The Bible Thumper
7. Beelzebubba
8. Butterbean the Baptizer
9. The Abrahammer
10. Jerry Brawlwell
11. Yeeeoow!weh
12. Clouting Thomas
13. The Beatitudinator
14. Mary Manglin'
15. Apostle Creed
16. Wrathsheeba
17. The Ecclesiasskicker
18. The Bad Samaratin
19. Thomas the Tribulator
20. Jesus, that Hurt

My favorite is "John the Whaptist". If only I was making this stuff up.

When up on the rooftop...

...there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Along with 30 of my coworkers on the second floor. We work in a three story building, and the stairwell is always a highly trafficked area as we run up and down the floors. The stairwell is barren, concrete and every noise carrys.

One day, we heard an enormous crash, followed by high pitched chiming and ringing that went for probably another 5-10 seconds. Wow! Everyone was running around, and then it hit me - I knew exactly what happened.

I used to work as an automotive machinist, and every Tuesday the Snap-On tool truck would pull into our parking lot. Like kids to an ice cream truck, we would abandon adulthood and run squealing to look at the bright shiny tools. And he let us purchase on credit! Well, in my career I had dropped many a wrench on a concrete floor. That bright, ringing sound told me two things - that I had dropped my wrench, and by golly it was a professional, worthy tool. Take a look at this picture comparing two wrenches - yeah, the one on top might produce a chirply little ring, but that Snap-On wrench below - oh, it's gonna sing the music of angels:


Well, my supicions were correct - a maintenance worker was lifting a heavy toolbox up onto the roof from the third floor access panel, and dropped that toolbox about 12 feet where it burst open on the landing, and the wrenches danced their way down the stairs like a chrome waterfall. Wish I could have seen it!!

Time - a child's perspective

Our neighbors have a little boy who is adorable. Sherry and I have a rule we call the "First Kid Principle", or FKP for short. What this means is that the first kid in our neighborhood who hits us up for the class fundraiser - he/she gets the dough, and then we politely deny the other requests (we once had a kid camp on our doorstep for three weeks, you would have thought he was in line for U2 tickets - just kidding). Well, in this case I get the dough because that's what Riley was promoting - cookie dough.

As I was writing the check, I asked Riley how school was going. "Fine", he replied. I then asked when he was finished with school. In my adult mind I'm thinking he is on a countdown, such as 4 weeks or 5 weeks or something like that. He looked at me with his big eyes, and said in all seriousness:

"Not until I'm in the fourth grade"

Riley, I know that it can't come quick enough! Hang in there buddy.

The Consequences of Ego

Ego. Such a little word, such big consequences.

I don't know why, but when I run, I can't just run; run if I see another runner. I must compete. I must beat them. I must conquer them unmercifully, reducing said runner to an abject object devoid of human value clinging to the despair of the only thing they have left in life - their defeat at my ruthless, Machiavellian, super-human display of fitness.

That's how my world is supposed to work. The reality is that it is usually I who have been reduced to an insecure, fragile, limping, gasping de-evolutionized remnant of the human race (pun intended, get it - race?).

Here's an example. Please take a few moments to examine this picture and then we'll discuss and interpret the sequence of events:

The red line represents my route, going north on SW 81st. I'm near the end of my run, I've pushed myself, I'm wheezing with a touch of asthma, but I'm going to finish good. For me. Which means I'm not going to die, at least not today.

As I approached SW Ross, a runner maybe 20 years my junior (I'm 48, she looked to in her 20's) turned left in front of me. She is represented by the blue line.

I kept my pace, she kept hers; and it was clear that I was gaining on her and would shortly pass her. All of a sudden, she threw down! What! This is just a Saturday morning run for crying out loud. But no, she clearly challenged me. Well, bring it on sister.

I picked my pace, and like a Indy car gathering speed the mitochondria kicked in, lactic acid was put on hold; and my body became a Kreb's cycle machine. Deep, satisfying breaths filled the lungs with a power source like avaiation gas in a top fuel dragster. I strode out, my powerful legs kicking up chunks of asphalt as the constraints of a physical universe began to wane under my dominion. As I ran, a noise like a machine gun filled the air. Puzzled for a moment, I realized that the air displaced by my expanding calves was creating small, subsonic shock waves - bangbangbangbangbangbang.

I knew within a few moments she would be in shock and awe of my athletic prowess. Suddenly, a new threat emerged - around the corner from 80th ave 3-4 sauntering teenage boys turned onto 81st (represented by the olive arrow). Now, I was beginning to fade just a bit from my energy expenditure to pass the runner. But, faced with teenage boys there was no way I could back off.

I stretched my powerful pectoral muscles and plunged into the wind. Like the bow of an aircraft carrier moving the ocean aside, the air parted before me not unlike the ripples you would see in the water. The green X then represents the convergence of events, where I passed the runner and the teenagers passed me.

Gentle reader, that's the fantasy I had in my mind. In reality, if we cut to the skycam; it probably went something like this:

Announcer 1 "Gene, what is that guy doing? A middle aged runner, belly swinging back and forth as he's trying to pass that gal who could squash him in a seconed?". Announcer 2 - "Well Tony, not only that but look at him gasping for breath - he's an asthma attack on wheels!" Announcer 1 - "look at him now! The emergence of those teenagers is making him crazy - I think he's trying to impress them!". Announcer 2 - "this doesn't look good at all - should I call 911 now?"

Yeah, it was pathetic. Thankfully though, I had an ace up my sleeve - the last corner to my house was coming up. If I just made it around the corner, I could slow to a walk and hopefully she would not witness my dismal appearance. I got to the corner still pumping hard, rounded the corner, and almost threw up.

But I beat her.

Rebellion & Redemption at Rite-Aid - a story of Restoration

I was picking up a few prescriptions at our local Rite-Aid and was standing at the STOP sign where you are instructed to NOT MOVE ANY CLOSER to the cashier in order to comply with HIIPA regulations. I think HIIPA stands for "helium induced interoffice playtime antics" or something like that when we get out the ballons & the tank and starting huffing and laughing at each other with those squeaky little voices you get - "we are, the lollipop kids, the lollipop kids...".

In any case, I was surreptiously moving closer and closer and then over so slightly PAST the sign. Visions of snarling German Shepherds quickly moved me back to the approved waiting area, fully respecting the right to patient privacy although we in line could hear every word of the exchange happening at the cashier 3 feet away from us. But by golly we were compliant.

Upon my turn the pharmacist mentioned that both my wife and I had "insurance issues" negating the ability to fulfill our prescriptions. Now in my case, I was two days early (oh my, ratchet up the Homeland Security status) to pick up mine. Slightly annoyed, but only slightly; and since there was no privacy anyway in the HIIPA zone, I turned to the customers behind me and said something like

"No problem, within two days I'll be blind from pain, bleeding out and suffer a horrific death because I can't get my Nasonex refilled today".

Everyone laughed, even the pharmacist; and we were able to rectify the issue with Sherry's prescription and he asked if I could wait about 10 minutes. Of course, no problem. I had come in with a SBUX raspberry mocha extra hot nonfat nowhip so I wandered over to the magazines, picked one up, and then saw a patio furniture display.

I plunked myself down and with great satisfaction began sipping my drink and perusing the pages. I got a few dirty looks from the cashiers, but then an elderly woman approached and asked if I could read the expiration date on the milk she retrieved from the cooler. "Of course Ma'am, it is April 4". "Oh my", she exclaimed, "that is too close for me". I returned to the magazine, and a few moments later she was back - well, now we were at April 1. A few moments later she was back, and I said "Ma'am, may I escort you to the milk cooler and we'll find you the absolutely freshest half gallon that ever came out of a cow"? OK, I'm embellishing but we did go to the cooler and I found her the freshest one in stock.

By that time it was time to go back to the pharmacist, and I was able to retrieve Sherry's meds. I actually felt a moment of sorrow for my snarky comment, and apologized to the pharmacist. He laughed and said "no problem Dave, I've heard much much worse than that".

I realized in that moment that I was forgiven! All was right again with Dave and Rite-Aid. This may be a poor representation of the Gospel (haven't figured out what the sacrificial atonment might be), but it made me think of the progression:

1. Didn't get what I wanted (instant servicing of my selfishness, the Human Condition)
2. Got what I didn't want (problems with insurance, i.e. "God")
3. Rebelled - acted out, became a general pain in the butt.
4. Attempted restoration by works - helped (literally) a little old lady.
5. Repented - realized how childish I had acted, apologized.
6. Restoration - Andy the pharmacist forgave me.

OK, it's a bit weak - but I'm still forgiven and can go into Rite-Aid with a clear conscience.

Cycling + Watermelon = Art

Now that's art! I love the creativity of using a watermelon as a canvas, and creating a cycling masterpiece such as this. But if you look closely, it looks like the artist began to run out of space and realized that in proportion, uh - it's not gonna fit. Hey no problem, let's just turn the front wheel - hmmm, a little more - there! That's it! Notice how the speeding cyclist is still going all out, body and handlebars forward, but the front tire is now 90 degrees to the bike. I smell disaster.

Nope, this is not going to work. I'm sure the artist in "rindsight" (get it - hindsight/rindsight, watermelon rind?) realized his/her egregious error. But hey, what are you going to do.

Well, looking at this brought to mind my own cycling, shall we say; "mishaps". As I recollect, I've only crashed about four times in my life. I recount them to you in chronological order:

1. Showing Off. It was a hot summer day, and on my old Trek 720 I was blasting down the bike trail parallel to 205 south, at Clackamas Town Center. I was zipping across Town Center Drive, crossing 6 lanes of traffic legally as the light turned green for me to enter Clackamas Promenade. I had my jersey off, and my huge muscular chest cast a shadow like an aircraft carrier as I entered the intersection and then slid out of the turn. I shredded a fair amount of exposed skin, and my bike banged into the curb with such force that it popped a tire. All six lanes of traffic stared as this bloody, limping form walked over to retrieve the maimed bicycle.
2. Clipless Pedals. Every cyclist I know does this at least once. I had moved to a 2120 all carbon frame with clipless pedals. On the same bike path, going north I stopped for traffic at Stark Street. I began to lean over as usual but instantly realized that there was NO WAY I could get clipped out in time. I didn't even try. I remember the face of a child in a passing station wagon watching me intenly as I just came to a stop and fell right over.
3. Car crash. It could have been a lot worse. Riding west on Marine Drive, I had the right of way in a bike path when a car making a right hand turn looked left, didn't check right; and drove right into me. I remained upright as the impact on my back wheel spun me exactly 90 degrees. I wasn't hurt, just shaken up. The driver was very sorry, and the only damage was that it put my rear wheel out of true to the extent that I had to open the brake caliper to ride. But it didn't even pop the tire.
4. Whiskeytown Wipeout. Gary and I were grinding up the last big hill before the descent into Whiskeytown Lake, west of Redding California. I made the classic cyclist mistake of following too close, and clipping his rear wheel. It spun me right off the shoulder of the road and I actually tumbled about 10 fee or so down the embankment. Got some nasty road rash and cuts on that one, we finished the ride but the blood had literally run down my leg and into my shoe. But I'm tough (or stupid, or perhaps both).

Isn't it ironic

I like a song by Alanis Morrisette called Ironic. Here's a sample of the lyrics:

An old man turned ninety-eight,

He won the lottery and died the next day,

It's a black fly in your Chardonnay,

It's a death row pardon two minutes too late. And isn't it ironic...dontcha think

OK, it may be a little dark but I still like it. I had a moment of irony that actually brought me to laughter a few days ago. Our neighbors were taking their very first vacation ever away from the kids (ages 19, 17 & 14 - or close to that!). Before they departed we were having a driveway chat and I emphasized that the kids could come over any time of the day or night should they have a problem or need some help.

Here's the irony - this from a guy who fell of his roof in January and whose wife caught the house on fire last year! I think they laughed all the way to Phoenix about that. But we're here for you, and isn't it ironic!

Joey's Question

Joey commented on an earlier post, and posed these questions:

So we do have a free will, that is without question. However when it comes to salvation, what do you see in scripture as to the progression of regeneration in the sinner? Do you believe that an unregenerate sinner can recognize his need for God? Or do you believe that God has to move on them with regeneration before they can recognizeit. How do you balance man's will with God's sovereignty? I think it is interesting that we have a free will and yet I am sure that my will cannot override the will of God, since I am finite and He is infinite and all the other incommunicable attributes. What's your take on this?

Joey, a short answer to your question(s) is: Yes.

(crickets chirping)

I'm going to give a somewhat rambling reply, as there are several themes that are involved here. And I will also admit humility - without formal training in Calvinism I am going to look stupid I'm sure on some points (pun unintended) - but I'm willing to explore and engage.

OK - first of all I believe that regeneration is a synergestic process. By that I mean that there is cooperation between man's soul and God's initiative. That of course leads right into the argument of total depravity, that man is sufficiently corrupt (dead in sin) that there is nothing extant within a human being to respond to God's initiative. Mongergism maintains that regeneration is solely the work of God. Here's a plagiarized and rewritten (for brevity's sake) illustration from "Why I am not a Calvinist" by Jerry Walls and Joseph Dongell:

A sinner is enslaved in a prison camp. Bound, gagged, blindfolded and drugged, the layers of distortion are so entrenched the prisoner cannot even begin to seek help. God then bursts through the gates, overpowers the guards, enters the prisoner's cell and injects faith into his/her veins. God has been the sole actor throughout, even as the former prisoner now lives a life of faith.

The classical Arminiast position would say that God penetetrates the defenses, gently lifts the blindfold and whispers - "I am hear to help you, I love you and have prepared a different life for you if you - if you trust me it will be alright". Perhaps the prisoner resists for a while, but eventually surrenders and accepts the offer of freedom. That scenario seems to follow the richness of the gospel and the interaction of God and the provisions He made for mankind.

In terms then of predistination, I believe that God predestines (every Christian believes in predestination, the differences of opinion come on discussion where and how it occurs) by looking down the corridor of time and predestinating according to how we will choose. The alternative (and this is where I will admit I need help from a Calvinist perspective) is a rigid, fixed life. I think this cartoon actually illustrates my point:

I think the foreknowledge of God is a crucial point as well - I'm not suggesting what I believe is an aberrant construct, open theology where God does not know the future. Propenents of this belief would be Rabbi Harold Kushner (When bad things happen to good people) and Gregory Boyd (God of the possible). In those streams, God can be caught off guard and thus predestination takes on a different form.

For example, I usually drive home from work going south on 217 to the 72nd Ave exit. Day after day. But what if, one day; I suddenly crank the wheel and cut across traffic to the Walker Road exit. Has God predestined me to take Walker Road after all? Did I surprise Him? What if I even, with tires squealing, engine roaring, cutting cars off with fingers flipping me off scream back off of Walker Road and back onto 217? Have a I caught God off guard and he goes "whoa' - better predestine Dave back onto 217 real quick or his future is going to be in a world of hurt and I'm going to look stupid".

I'm using extreme and ridiculous examples, but for me - there is a kernel of truth in them.

As for your last question - can my will override the will of God, uh - I dunno! It's the classical argument of:

If God is all powerful, can he create a rock so big that even he cannot move it?

If you say yes, then He is not omnipotent (all powerful) because by nature omnipotence can move anything. If you say no, then He is not omnipotent because if He WAS omnipotent He could do it! No win either way. But this illustration has been used to talk of the human will in relation to God's will where human will becomes 'the rock'.

I suppose then that I would say that my will can override God's will. Whoa! Heretic, take him outside the gates and stone him. But let me qualify - I believe that God can override my will, but chooses not to. If, on the way to work; I'm confronted with a pedestrian who will not move out of the crosswalk blocking my way. I have my will - to get to work. He has his will - to stay right in the middle of the intersection - I COULD run him over, but I CHOOSE not to.

Going further, you probably heard of the pastor's wife that murdered him and fled with their children. Was it God's will that she slay him? I don't think so. Yet it happened. That leads to a logical conclusion that God creates evil, as in this circumstance he COULD HAVE STOPPED HER but He didn't. Why? WHY? WHY?

Why does evil happen, good people get sick and die while bad people prosper, youth become disenfranchised and violent and their parents have affairs and divorce and create meth labs?

I'm not sure. But I believe it has something to do with free will.

Joey, I'm starting a journey into the five points (I'm trying not to say Calvinism vs. Arminianism in every post) and will continue to blog on these topics. Thanks for your questions!

The Theology of Fox - Part Two

The following takes place (CHINKcha, CHINKCha, CHINKcha)...As referenced in my previous post, Sherry and I are hooked on two shows and record them - American Idol and 24.

Note to reader: if you don't watch 24, there's a lot of inside references that may render the remainder of this post meaningless.

I was utterly shocked that they killed Edgar! Oh Edgar, thou of gentle spirit and undying devotion. I just knew that Chloe would eventually see into his heart rather than his girth. But I digress.

There are also some hilarious memes circulating about Jack's uh, shall we say; "tenacity":

1. When google can't find something, it asks Jack Bauer for help.
2. Every time the cops get an APB to arrest Jack Bauer, half the department mysteriously calls out sick. The fire department too, just in case.
3. Jack Bauer doesn't kill terrorists. The terrorists actually die from fear of being killed by Jack Bauer.
4. Upon hearing that he was played by Kiefer Sutherland, Jack Bauer killed Sutherland. Jack Bauer gets played by no man.
5. Jack Bauer once forgot where he put his keys. He then spent the next half-hour torturing himself until he gave up the location of the keys.
6. Jack Bauer doesn't miss. If he didn't hit you it's because he was shooting at another terrorist twelve miles away.
7. Killing Jack Bauer doesn't make him dead. It just makes him angry.
   

And my favorite:

• If Jack Bauer was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Nina Meyers, and he had a gun with 2 bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
  

Well, in all of this Jack seems to be acquiring God's incommunicable attributes - he's everywhere! He knows everything (and if he doesn't he'll find out), he's omnipotent (all powerful) etc etc. It has been suggested that Jack represents an OT God, bent on killing and vengeance. Yeah, Jack Bauer and his "bad days" permeate blogdom - some funny and some serious, such as this one.

So what is the theological theme (if any!) we can see in 24? It might be that:

If Jack Bauer were Moses, there would only need to be one tablet and five commandments.

Well, perhaps Jack is a figure of Moses, Joshua, God - or a composite of all three?

Personally, I think Jack Bauer is a representation of the OT judges. Who where these people and what did they do? I think Bratcher paints a perfect portrait the climate and roles that the judges of Israel played:

A "judge" (Heb: shophet) was primarily a military leader of a particular tribe, although they could serve the role of both military and legal administrator. The book of Judges is primarily the negative theological counterpart to the book of Joshua. In Joshua, Israel was faithful to God and stood unified around the single figure of Joshua. As a result of allowing God to lead them they were successful and settled into the land with a minimum of major battles. Theologically the book of Joshua presents the results of obedience and faithfulness to God, summarized by the statement "the land had rest from war" (Josh 11:23, 14:15; 21:44, etc.).

The book of Judges presents quite a different picture of Israel. As the book opens, the tribes are not at all unified, are barely holding onto small pieces of land independently of other tribes, and are continually at risk from surrounding people.

Yeah, I think that is a fairly accurate portrayal of the America seen in Jack's world. A country torn by division, you can't trust anyone, at risk by terrorists, and one man - Jack Bauer - is going to do whatever it takes to secure our freedoms and rid us of of evil. Wow.

So in the book of Judges, is there one who seems close to Jack Bauer? I think so. How about Gideon?

1. Gideon came from a poor tribe (Manasseh) and thus maintained he was not fit to be a leader. Jack Bauer wears his blue collar well, and is humble to boot around the president(s) he hangs with.
2. Gideon used his fleece to get direction from God. Jack Bauer uses his PDA to get direction from CTU.
3. Gideon used deception and misdirection to cause the Midianites to kill each other in confusion. Jack Bauer uses German intelligence agents and promises them the wet list and then burns their PDAs with a self destructing memory card.

I suppose then that the lines for Bauer were lifted from the OT judges, and Gideon especially!