If a tree falls in the forest....

...and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

A few nights ago I had a dream in which I was a rock star. I don't remember cheering crowds, but I do remember playing an awesome Fender Stratocaster with an adjustable 12 saddle hardtail bridge and a Maple neck with a Rosewood fingerboard.

In my dream I was playing this incredible riff, my fingers were dancing on the frets like a duck on a June bug. Faster and faster I played, scaling new heights of musical mastery while sweat flung off my brow and my wrists became cramped under the intensity of the movements. My calloused fingers flew dear friend, as a melody escaped the strings like a steam from a vintage Rambler's radiator on a 110 degree desert day.

The tune I was playing was clearly the work of genius, and as I began to wake I still had wisps of it in my mind. I think the influence for my dream may have been last weekend when we had our first service in our new church building. We are blessed to have some of Portland's most talented musicians in our midst, including guitar players Tim Ellis, Chad & Rachel Hamar, and Rob Stroup (former frontman for the Baseboard Heaters and now with the Imprints). The service was incredible not only for the music which was fantastic, but for the message as well. I had some of the songs in my mind for days and I think that precipitated the dream.

Anyway, when I woke I wondered if there had truly been music in my dream - was there something tangible or just a fig newton of my imagination? It made me think of the old question

"If a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it, does it really make a sound?"

Well, imagine to my suprise that it does make a sound, but a different sound if somebody is nearby! According to my reliable sources (that would be, er ahem...the internet):

Apparently, when a tree is about to fall, if it senses a human nearby the biological stresses of human presence cause the cell walls in the plant to become brittle and it is the cell brittleness responsible for the familiar sound we know as that of a tree fall. The cell brittleness also has significant effects to the quality of the lumber, making it much more suitable for use in construction.

Okay then...well, we've probably all heard the noise of a tree falling, but again the miracle of science has provided us with a tape recording of a tree falling in the forest without the presence of human beings in the vicinity. Enjoy!

Calvinism is Cool

I had a delightful conversation recently with a friend, Joey; whom I had not spoken with in several years. I saw his sister one day in Starbucks, and she gave me his contact information which I promptly lost - but then google of all things turned him up for me! Anyway, we both had a good chuckle at the fact that we are theology wonks. You may be wondering, what pray tell is a theology wonk? Well, you might just be a theology wonk if you understand this list - and like it!

Calvinism is cool because:

1. Calvinists tend to wear wool and cotton. Dispensationalists tend to wear lime-green polyester leisure suits.
2. John Calvin was French...being French is very chic.
3. Calvin sounds like Calvin Klein...and his clothes are very chic.
4. Calvinists can drink.
5. Calvinists can smoke.
6. Dispensationalists are into prophecy conferences where they talk about Star-Trek eschatology and the mark of the Beast. Calvinists have conferences on "life and culture", art, social justice, and other high- brow things like that. Afterwards, we go to the local pub and talk about philosophy over a pint of Bass ale.
7. Calvinists have close ties with Scotland and Scotland is very cool: you know --Sean Connery, the movie Highlander, Bagpipes, the Loch Ness Monster, Glenlivet 18 year old Scotch, the movie Train Spotting, Brave Heart, etc.
8. Calvinists think we are smarter than anybody else.
9. It is more socially acceptable to say, "I go to Grace Presbyterian Church" than to say, "I go to Washed In The Blood Worship Center", "I go to Sonlife Charismatic Believers Assembly", or to say "I go to Boston Berean Bible Believing Baptist Bethel", or to say "I go to the Latter-Day- Rain Deliverance Tabernacle Prophecy Center, Inc.", or to say "I go to the Philadelphia Church of the Majority Text", or to say "I go to the Lithuanian Apostolic Orthodox Autocephalic Church of the Baltic union of 1838".
10. Ultimately, I am a Calvinist because I had no choice in the matter.

Credits - I have forgotten where I came across this, but I think it was at the Boar's Head Tavern.

Seizure Story Number Three - 9/10/2005

Wow! I want to thank you all for your prayers, support, and the anonymous batch of fresh chocolate chip cookies that were left on our porch. Oh wait! That hasn’t happened yet! J Truly, I am blessed and humbled by your friendship. You have all been faithful with emails, phone calls, encouragement, post-church poker games, and even rides. Before my update, I want to mention that my issues pale next to many, even on this distribution there are families that have suffered far more than I have. Just this morning I was talking with my friend who has terminal cancer, chemo is not working, and he has been given a timeframe of little more than a year to live. Yet, he is joking, focused on God and his family, and is loving life (we even shared a laugh that with a terminal illness he is still a better baseball player than I’ll ever be!). Maybe the only reason that I’ll ever have this side of heaven for my seizures is that it has given me compassion and a little bit more understanding for those who are suffering.

Well, there she was – beautiful and elegant, sophisticated and sexy, clean, attractive and alluring. Behind her stood my wife – smiling as she presented me with my birthday present – she had had my 98 Ford Ranger detailed! The black paint sparkled and everything was washed, waxed, polished, shampooed or shining with Armor All. We knew that the next day’s blood test would confirm MY FREEDOM TO DRIVE AGAIN and I would resume it with one nice ride.

Alas, ‘twas not to be! My friend who shall remain anonymous but whose name rhymes with ‘pill heaven’ (kind of sounds like ‘Jill Blevins’, doesn’t it?) gave me a ride to the clinic. It was a sterile, dry place that had – you guessed it – Highlights magazines! Oh, those childhood memories of Goofus and Gallant (Gallant lights the fire in the barbecue for dad, Goofus burns the garage down with dad in it). Well, when my name was called I didn’t want Jill to be bored so I advised the technician that due to legal circumstances surrounding my illness my lawyer needed to accompany me for the test. The lab tech looked at me kind of odd for a moment (perhaps it was indigestion) and then said sure, that would be fine. As the tech stuck me with a horrendously long needle and began to draw a little vial of blood she mentioned that she would need to draw another one. I looked at Jill and said ‘is that permissible’? Jill bit her lip to keep from laughing and managed to choke out that she didn’t have any issues with that. The tech rolled her eyes and I’m not sure but as she withdrew the needle I think she wiggled it just a little bit to teach me a lesson. Ouch.

The next day the doc called and laid down the law – no driving for ANOTHER THREE WEEKS. Sigh, I am probably the only guy you know who is required to take tests to ensure that I have enough drugs in me to drive! And, to dispel the rumors at work I am not applying for medical marijuana (where do people get these ideas?!?). Apparently the Dilantin level needs to be between 10-20, and even after 2 weeks of taking 400 mg a day it’s only at 7. Now, I sprinkle Dilantin on my cereal, put one in my mocha, and jam a few underneath my fingernails – anything to get enough of it into my system.

I had my MRI with contrast and it was cool. They injected me with some kind of metallic fluid (I think the tech said gallanium (sp?) but it might have been decommissioned cooling water from the Hanford nuclear reservation for all I know. Apparently the metallic properties ‘fill in’ some of the gaps between nerve endings temporarily with the net result being my head became a receiver for radio waves. By moving my tongue to different parts of my mouth and pulling simultaneously on my earlobes I could actually scan the FM dial. OK, I’m just making that up! It went really fast and when I got home I logged on to my work email and sent my boss a note. She replied and said “are you done with your brain scan already?” I couldn’t resist the opening and replied “well when you only have half a brain it doesn’t take long”. Badump dump bang!

The good news is that both my MRI and the EEG are absolutely fine. So, there is still no medical explanation for what is happening (Sherry is willing to share her psychological explanation though with anyone who will listen! J). I feel fine, and am getting over the initial side effects from taking the drug. I am a bit discouraged about another 3 weeks of no driving, and being potential tied to a drug for the rest of my life; but I pause now and then and think about the horrors of hurricane Katrina, the difficulties many families face with loved ones in Iraq and Afghanistan and elsewhere, the fact that I have a job and a home and a wife to come home to every night, a wonderful church to find eternal truth and relationships in, and my only conclusion is….I am blessed.

Seizure Story Number Two - 8/27/2005

I had the EEG on Wednesday, and it was fascinating – the technician pasted about 30 electrodes all over my head and looked at my brain waves as they were being displayed on the computer screen and being recorded for a neurologist to ‘read’. I watched the waves scroll across the screen, then in utter fascination watched them spell out the words ‘mene, mene tekel upsharin’ which I believe is Sanskrit for “bring me some cookie dough ice cream – stat!”. Oh wait, that was just my imagination. The technician was a lot of fun, and part of my test was to flash a strobe light at various intervals onto my closed eyelids. It was bright as day, even with my eyes closed. The purpose was to stimulate some stress and see how my brain reacted. She (the tech) mentioned that at Cher’s 513 th farewell concert they had 2 people brought into their ER due to strobe light induced seizure (Personally, I think a Cher concert alone would be enough to induce a seizure – THIEVES, THIEVES, TRAMPS AND THIEVES – AUUUUGH!). The technician said that my brain waves looked good; she didn’t see any abnormalities – hopefully the neurologist would say the same thing.

Thursday - who could tell that a seemingly normal day would end up (as Bert says) crazier than a peach orchard boar? I got good nights sleep and was feeling relaxed and confident going into the day. About 8:45, I felt like I had some flu symptoms – almost like an out of body experience (later on I would find this is called an aura and commonly precedes a seizure). Next thing I knew I was in an ambulance enroute to the ER, having had a massive seizure and flopping around the carpet at work like a duck on a June bug. I came to a little bit and remember asking the paramedic “what is happening to me, I don’t understand?” and then lapsing again into unconsciousness. There was a danger in that a seizure victim’s muscles typically contract very hard, and in my case the ER personnel were concerned that my bicep contractions, due to their large size; would create a mini-shock wave as they displaced the air around some of the sensitive instruments. Oh wait, I guess that was still part of my unconscious fantasy….

So now, I’m not in denial anymore! And as you all have been aware for many years and that I’m just coming to grips with, there is something definitely wrong with my brain. I’m still very sore all over from the muscle contractions, I feel like a human piñata. I’m on medication to prevent seizures, and see the neurologist again on Tuesday. I want to thank all of you for your calls, prayers and emails. I have truly felt an outpouring of love and concern that humbles me. I don’t know what’s down this road for me, but I know I don’t go it alone – and I’m grateful to God and all of you! So, here are my prayer requests:

1. It’s now a very real possibility that my license will be revoked, and my ability to do triathlons (or swim, bike and run). Please pray that the doctors will find the suitable treatment that will allow me to resume a normal life!
2. Please pray that I will resist the temptation to ‘fake’ a seizure in front of Sherry for a practical joke – I’ve already been tempted and I think she would kill me if the seizure didn’t.
3. Kip, a special request – if I go down in church, would you perhaps just let everyone know that this isn’t an Ananias/Sapphira type of judgment? Thanks!

Seizure Story Number One - 8/18/2005

There have been some rumors circulating about me for a few weeks that I wanted to bring some clarification to in the interest of the pursuit of truth:

1. Dave Mundt has been cloned in a secret lab in North Korea: Not True!
2. An extensive genealogical study has discovered that Dave Mundt is third in line to sit on the British throne: Not True!
3. Dave Mundt had a seizure: True!
   
   

On Wednesday July 20 I suffered a seizure at home early in the morning (Sherry was walking the dog). I went from sitting on the couch working on my laptop to regaining consciousness about an hour later, in bed; with horrible confusion and terrible pain. I had thrown my back out, chewed my tongue raw, and had a few significant bruises. Apparently all my major muscle groups had flooded with lactic acid as my legs and arms were very sore. I have no memory of that lost hour and have no idea what was happening. The good news is that I saved a bunch of money by switching…just kidding! The good news is that the MRI came back clean, I don’t have a brain tumor and I didn’t have a stroke.

I’ve had a few emotional ups and downs about all this, with the most significant being anger – feeling violated and lost for an hour thrashing around and being injured without the ability to stop whatever was going on (actually, that’s a pretty good description of my typical mornings before coffee). I was praying about the whole episode and as clear as I’ve ever heard the Lord speak, I heard him say softly to my spirit that during the episode He was cradling me and protecting me from more extensive damage. Brought tears to my eyes, let me tell you!

Being faced with my own mortality has given me pause to think that should I be called home and my ticket is punched for that train to Chicago, that I wouldn’t want my service to SouthLake and the people I love so much be interrupted so:

1. If I pass out during a wedding - Steve, Cammie and Diane have heard me officiate enough that they can drag me aside and finish up.
2. Kelli is more than capable of continuing Foundations with me ‘in absentia’. If a question comes up that you can’t answer, just tell ‘em we’ll discuss that when we talk about supralapsarianism in the context of the pre-millennial Trinitarian eschaton.
3. There are many wonderful teachers at Southlake who can partner with Barb for the weekend sermon notes (I finally met Andy Cramer Saturday night!).
4. Reid can take over doing circumcisions.
5. Bill, I’m not sure who can replace me on the Worship Team – oh wait, I’m not on the Worship Team – just a wannabee!

I’ve also given thought to my memorial service:

1. I’d like Ken Belden, Brad Eller, Charlie Blevins and Daryl Stewart to do a barbershop quartet a cappella version of Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven. I’d like Wilson Smith to choreograph.
2. I’d like Todd Hing and Len Winkler to light a candle for each year I lived.
3. I’d like Reid Smith and Scott Trumbo to deliver the eulogy. To the tune of ‘The Brady Bunch’.
4. I’d like my dear wife Sherry to serve my favorite food, weenie wraps.
5. I’d like my good friend Dan Riley to tell a few stories about our adventures in life.
6. I’d like Jill Blevins, Cheri Harris, Liz Martin and Sherry Mundt to do a salon quartet and sing Amazing Grace. Wilson to choreograph.
7. Finally, I thought I’d ask Charlie Blevins and Steve Abrew to scatter my ashes from a speeding patrol car doing about 110 mph going down I-5 with the lights and siren flashing. But then, because of my belief in a physical resurrection I don’t think I want to be cremated. So Charlie and Steve, again with lights and siren flashing at a high rate of speed just chuck my body out the window.
   

Won’t that be fun! I have an EEG coming up next week where they will look for abnormalities in my brain waves (yeah, yeah go ahead and insert Dave Mundt joke here). From what the neurologist tells me, the worst case scenario is that they find something and revoke my driver’s license and make me take medication for the rest of my life. The best case scenario, and this is what the doctors believe, is that we’ll never know what happened and life goes on. Guess which way I’m praying! Because I have no other physical symptoms (headaches, dizziness, vision problems) that can accompany a seizure I’m probably still in a little bit of denial.

Anyway, that’s the scoop on what’s going on with me. And that’s the truth!

Cain's Wife

An interesting question came to me a few days ago, and it went like this:

A co-worker brought up a question regarding creation/evolution yesterday. I was looking for the answer and was a little puzzled as to where Cain's wife came from (Gen. 4:17). My co-worker once was told that Adam & Eve were created by God and had Cain and Abel. She knew that Cain killed Abel (and thought that there were no other children by Adam & Eve, which is clearly not true according to the Bible) but then the speaker - whomever she was listening to - said that was where evolution came in and the rest of the human race came
from.

Here's my reply:

That’s a great question, and is very important to answer appropriately for three primary reasons:

1. The authority and inerrancy of the Bible.
2. Who is eligible for salvation?
3. Doesn't the Bible teach against family intermarriage, thus this would be an internal contradiction and undermine scripture?
   
   
   Let’s look at the first point – the authority and inerrancy (without error) of the Bible. As you pointed out your friend thought that there were no other children by Adam and Eve which as you correctly stated is wrong (see Genesis 5:4,5 - After he begot Seth, the days of Adam were eight hundred years; and he had sons and daughters. So all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years; and he died.). So first of all we have an issue with the authority of scripture where the speaker now is at conflict with what the Bible teaches. We know the Bible is true for several reasons, but a short answer is the acronym MAPS – the M is for manuscript evidence, more than any document in antiquity the ancient manuscripts prove themselves to be in agreement and have an amazing degree of accuracy. The A is for archeological discovery, where the Bible talks about locations archeology and history are in agreement not conflict. The P is for prophecies fulfilled, where statements recorded in the Bible prior to the event actually happening occur just as prophesied. The S stands for statistical probability, which relates to the vast period of time over which the Bible was written, in palaces and prisons, by kings and shepherds, yet there is a singular message and theme that weaves the books of the Bible together. So, if there is an opinion or statement that contradicts the Bible, we would hold the Bible to be the truth.
   
   The second point is who is eligible to receive salvation. As you related, your friend said that the speaker she heard mentioned that after Adam and Eve evolution started (my assumption is to then propagate the rest of the human race). Wow! That creates a huge problem. The Bible is very explicit that just as sin entered the human race through Adam and Eve, salvation will be provided to the human race through Jesus – the second Adam (see Romans chapter 5 and 1 Corinthians 15). If the speaker’s assertions are true, we would have not two different races, but two different SPECIES – mankind created by God, and other “people” (but then they couldn’t even be called “people”!) created by evolution. The Bible is clear that the descendants of Adam are eligible for salvation. How could these other creatures be saved then? It would require some pretty wild conjecture to try to bridge that gap!
   
   Finally, doesn’t the Bible teach against marrying within one’s family? It does (see Leviticus 20) but it is important to note that was many years (likely 2,000+) after Adam and Eve that the law was given. By that time, there was good reason as just as sin spread through every human post Adam (again see Romans 5), the effects of sin began to spread including (we believe) genetic imperfection that make it important to not marry or birth defects would and would occur.
   
   To summarize, we believe that Cain did marry a sister or cousin, but it is important to recognize that with Adam’s long life (hundreds of years) there were likely to be many, many of his children that began to inhabit the earth. Due to time and geography, it is entirely plausible that Cain did not even know (as a child or teen) his wife and met her well into adulthood.

2005 Pole Peddle Paddle

One of the races that I enjoy every year is the Pole Peddle Paddle held in Bend, Oregon. It starts at the top of Mt. Bachelor and finishes in the city of Bend. Consisting of six separate events, it starts with a downhill ski, then transitions to a cross country ski, cycling leg, running leg, kayaking leg and then finally a 200 yard dash to the finish line. The team consists of a core trio of myself on the bike leg, Gordon doing the cross country and kayak, and Sam on the 8K run (we rotate people in for the downhill and 200 yard dash).

I changed my training this year, realizing finally that I'm not Lance Armstrong, and focused on pedaling on a higher gear at a slower RPM, utilizing leg strength more than aerobic capacity. This worked very well for the bodytype I am, and I shaved about 3 full minutes off of last year's time pretty much at the same bodyweight just be changing my training. I had a mid-life crisis 4 years ago and bought my dream bike - a Trek Hilo 2000. It is awesome for short races and triathlons I do, but not a real comfortable bike. The bike leg from Bachelor to Bend is about 22 miles, with one short, hard uphill, approximately 7 miles of rollers/flat, and then the remainder various degress of downhill - including a section where I've gotten up to 54 MPH! That, dear reader; is a rush. Here's a pic of my bike:

In 1999 we actually got third (I think in our category (business/service teams), but as the race became more competitive and we have gotten older, we lost some focus and have been finishing out of the top ten. It's been interesting to look at our previous results, check out how close the times have been 2002-2004:

2002: 2:30:14

2003: 2:30:45

2004: 2:30:28

2005: 2:24:15

Yup, 2002-2004 we were literally within seconds of the same time. This year, about 5.5 minutes faster! We would have broken the top ten this year but there was a blown exchange and that approximately 45 seconds was just enough to bump us to 13th in our division. Oh well, there's always next year!

Don't Mess with Texas

So I've made a few business trips to Texas lately. San Antonio, home of the Alamo. On a return flight to Portland one day, there was a guy standing next to me in the boarding line dressed in camo, sporting a hat with some kind of hunting insignia. I said the only logical thing - so, you're a hunter, eh? He looked at me and smiled and said (I am not making this up):

"ah kilt everthin ah kin legally kill in Texas and now ah'm goint to orygun"

Wow. I wonder if I had just met John Lockwood?

Nuclear Church Accounting Systems Terrorism

Disclaimer: The events you are about to read are not real. Resemblances to living persons, except where otherwise noted, are fictitious. Under Federal Regulation AMB-324d of the Code of Justice, the author cannot be held liable for any actions or mental health issues as a result of reading this post.

Perhaps it was the pizza, possibly the peanuts, maybe the mocha - but for whatever reasons I had a dream. My mind seems to operate like a food processor at night - taking whatever tangled thoughts were resident during the day and building a tableau of tantalizing scenarios, where reason collides with fantasy - welcome to the Dave Zone.

So our church is in a building program. It's a great thing, we believe in the vision, and are giving sacrificially not out of compulsion but out of a great desire to partner in bringing the good news to the hearts of many. That is reality, now the dream.

"Wow, I say to Dave H. (our project manager), this is some control room". Banks of multi colored displays with switches and meters, network monitoring devices, cables laid straight and true in their racks, a mini-server farm - we're talking geek paradise. "Yeah", chimes in Steve F. (our operations manager), "this baby rocks". I looked down at the floor and saw the most curious thing - what looked to be like a gutter from a bowling alley traced a path around the room, banking at the corners, and exiting through what looked like a doggie door cut in the wall providing an egress to the outside. Curious now, I opened the facility door and peered out into the waning twilight. Sure enough, the gutter went through the doggie door and then banked into a literal hole in the ground.

Utterly baffled, I turned to Dave and said "what is this? I have no idea what it could be". Dave replied that due to the increased electrical requirements for the bigger building and sound board it became apparent that it would be cheaper in the long run to build a nuclear powered generator than it would be to pay the city of West Linn for electricity. It turns out that OSHA regulations specify that any public area where a significant amount of people gather must have commensurate safety features. I was closer to the truth than I realized, it was indeed a standard bowling alley gutter. It turns out that our nuclear core, in case of an imminent meltdown; will pop out of the reactor in it's bowling ball form, be deposited in the gutter where it will rapidly egress the building through the doggie door and into a 50 foot hole in the ground where it's unleashed energy can dissipate safely.

A little bit later, I happened to notice an unfamiliar face in the Control Room. This young lady was sifting through our files that were being used to update our church accounting software database. I challenged her and said, who are you and what are you doing here? She said let me show you my ID - and somehow managed to produce a switchblade knife from a $20.00 bill she pulled from her purse. At just that time Steve came into the room and subdued her. And then I woke up.

Seeker Sensitive and VBS - the connection nobody wants you to know

We're all familiar with the seeker sensitive movement popularized by Bill Hybels. In a quote attributed to John MacArthur the definition is:

"... the push within churches across the country to make worship services more "relevant" and therefore more attractive to the world. It's the driving force behind the marketing ploys and high-tech entertainment gimmicks churches use to promote growth".

Mark Mittelberg provides a more positive explanation:

"These churches are central players in the so-called seeker-church movement. The concept of seeker-sensitivity, properly understood, is not new and not controversial — because it’s biblical. In fact, the apostle Paul said, "Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity" (Col. 4:5). He also said, "I have become all things to all people . . . for the sake of the gospel" (1 Cor. 9:22-23)".

It's not my purpose in this entry to engage the vitriolic sides of the debate pro and con for the seeker sensitive model (although we'll have fun at the expense of both sides in future entries!) but to reveal the roots of seeker sensitive thinking.

So I'm at work the other day and in the late afternoon my energy was waning. This kind of dilemma called for only one solution - carbohydrates, and the more inline with pure sugar the better. If I could just ride the rush through the remainder of the afternoon, and avoid the crash as I'm making my way home through rush hour traffice (yes, a pun wherein I refer to the recession of sugar induced energy followed by the potential for drowsy driving) victory would be mine. Scanning the contents of the Pandora's Box we call a vending machine, I saw a treat laden with potential - M&M's Bite Size Cookies.

One bite was all it took - the taste brought long buried memories to again see the light of consciousness. I was transported into my past, where I was being served treats at that bastion of Baptist subterfuge, that intersection of spirituality and childhood - Vacation Bible School.

Yes, the taste of those shortbread cookies brought it all back. In that moment revelation came - this was seeker sensitive. Make no mistake, the music - catchy to kids, annoying to adults (deep and wide, deep and wide there's a fountain flowing deep and wide...aaugh!), the treats - cookies and punch to break down our resolve and allow indoctrination to occur, and the predecessor to Powerpoint - oh yesss, I'm talking about the flannelgraph. I loved to see those great Bible stories reenacted with little cutout cartoon characters placed carefully on the flannelgraph:

Dear reader, can you see the incontrovertible evidence binding the roots of seeker sensitive ministry deeper and further than we ever imagined? Let us postpone the pro/con argument for now and return to the carefree days of watching our VBS teachers cultivate our theology with a piece of felt and some paper cutouts. As we close this post let's consider a few other Biblical candidates for flannelgraph presentations:

• Jesus throwing the moneychangers out of the temple
• Simeon and Levi wreaking their sharp (pun intended) revenge against Hamar and Shechem
• Jehu stomping on Jezebel's corpse after it is thrown from the tower

Well, maybe we should just stick with Jesus, clouds and bunnies!

Road Rage - now it's personal

A new marketing angle for car dealers - breakups lead to crackups! See why here.

All I want for Christmas

It's not too early! Every year Sherry asks what I want for Christmas. And then we both laugh because she knows exactly what I'm going to say next:

I have everything in life I need, and what I want
you can't possibly afford

With that in mind, honey - here's what Dave wants for Christmas. When fossil fuel is unlimited and a Hummer just isn't macho enough.

They once were lost

Sherry and I attended a wedding recently, and afterwards we could not locate the car keys anywhere. Sherry drove, and thought she may have left them on the table when she signed the guestbook. We searched everywhere, on the table, under the table, under our seats, in the car (although the doors were locked we could see that they had not been left in the ignition). We checked with the facility manager and wedding coordinator, no one had turned in any keys. She dumped her purse out and poked and prodded to the extent that would have done a proctologist proud. Nothing, nada, zip.

Fortunately, my buddy Reid and his wife were willing to give us a ride home so we could fetch the spare key and return in my truck to get Sherry's car. We headed out and instead of turning north toward our home, Reid passed the turn and continued south. He has been to our house several times so I knew he wasn't lost, hmm what could this mean? Our keys lost, Reid is lost - my sanity is...oh wait that went years ago. Sherry and I looked at each other and I said "Reid, I don't think this is the right way". He replied that it was a shortcut.

Now, I know shortcuts. A shortcut may take a little compassionate (that's a play on words, get it - turning 'compass' into an adjective) detour where you are going for example east, you may go a bit south east, or a bit north east, but you still are generally going east. Well, we were going dead south - and our home was dead north. Turns out that Reid assumed we were going to the reception, and we assumed he was taking us directly home so we could retrieve the spare keys.

I was reminded of an incident that happened while Sherry and I were dating. We had gone grocery shopping one night, went to her house and fixed a nice dinner, and then I left for home. The next day she paged me in a panic - she could not find her keys anywhere. She had torn her home upside down, looked in all the usual and unusual places, nothing. We had taken her car, and she wondered if somehow I had driven off with her keys. Ha! As if I would be so stupid. Of course not I replied. She got a ride to work and later in the day as I worked the scenario over in my mind I realized that indeed I DID HAVE HER KEYS! I had put them in my coat pocket.

Well, all of this got me to thinking about the story about the lost coin in Luke 15. Here something comes up missing, and great effort is expended until the lost object is found. The story of course is an illustration of God's love for all of us - and the effort and expense he initiates on our behalf. I love that picture, because when I was lost - God came looking for me. Well, of course we eventually found the car keys and had a happy ending.

The Rest of the Story

By the way, back to the dating experience and my pirating of Sherry's keys - rather than doing the smart thing and calling her with the good news, I thought I would be really clever and surprise her by driving her car to her. I got a ride from a pal to her house, picked up her car and drove to her office - only to find that she had left early and got a ride home. Now we switch to Sherry's view - her keys were missing, she had to leave her house unlocked, she comes home early, and now her car has been stolen! Enter boyfriend Dave, driving HER car into HER driveway where SHE is madder than a Democrat alleging a stolen election! All I can say is that due to forgiveness (and a dozen of the most beautiful roses you've ever seen) we're still laughing about that day!

One Sweet Ride

John's Impala - 3rd place finish in People's Choice at the 2004 Tualatin Crawfish festival and Car Show

Real Men love Poetry

I remember somewhere around the fifth grade being captured by the power of words. I came across a poem so vivid, so concise that the words lept off the page and created a virtual image that consumed my sight, to the extent that the line between reality and the poetic image became blurred. To this day I enjoy words - little containers that we pour immense, powerful, and sometimes even contradictory meanings into. I had great discussion with my English Lit professor in college, a man of great passion who was an ex-Jesuit priest who left his vows to marry and explore love. He actually wept in our last meeting, out of envy for me as I began to discover the world of literature and was seeing so much for the first time. I never moved much beyond English Literature, even though the world is full of great writers and poets (and I've read some of them) but fascination with the giants like Coleridge and Wordsworth have satiated my literary addicition for many years.

Here is the poem that impacted me in the fifth grade (author unknown):

Little Miss Muffet, sat on a tuffet;
eating her yogurt plain.
While vampire gangs, with flaming fangs;
were eyeing her jugular vein.

While I have produced little (ok, zero) writing that is likely ever to be remembered, I'd like to think that my contribution to poetry with this little ditty might inspire someone, somewhere (I think I wrote this when I was about 25):

I like socks.
I think they're neat, I like to wear them on my feet.
Roll 'em up or roll e'm down,
Wear them in the city, wear them in town.
I like socks.

Sin is kinda like that

So my buddy Reid and I had just finished facilitating a session at our church. Being hungry for a little snack, we raided the kitchen (ok, more like a kichen-ette) browsing for a left over a snack or two. Reid opened the freezer door, and in slo-mo I saw his face begin to change as a glint made it's way into his eyes and huge grin unfolded - I watched with anticipation as he put his hand into the freezer and pulled..out..an..(wait for it now!)..enormous See's Candy bag! As I drooled in anticipation; he opened the bag and pulled out frozen peas. Yup, you read correctly - frozen PEAS - the little round green vegetables. What kind of a sicko (well, it's someone in my church so I guess I shouldn't be so judgmental) would do that kind of transgression? How cruel is that? What were you thinking?

Well, it got me to thinking that sin is kinda like that. MMM, looks so good on the outside. The temptation phase - the desire to indulge, the anticipation of pleasure - but it's just stinkin' frozen peas on the inside.

If there is any lesson to learn from this, it's something like this - it's all on the outside. No matter what the temptation is, it's a hollow shell - a pinata with no prize; socks and underwear for Christmas. Reminds of me of 1 Timothy 5:6 (which I'm taking slightly out of context but I think it applies to men as well) "But she who gives herself to wanton pleasure is dead even while she lives". Ouch!

Bottom line - in the passage often erroneously called the Lord's Prayer, which is actually our model for prayer; we see these words - "lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil". And frozen peas too.

Aluminum Man Triathlon, September 11 2004

I love the Aluminum Man. My birthday is September 6 (there's a bad joke in there somewhere regarding my birth, my mom and Labor Day but we'll leave it for another day), and usually the race is held just after my birthday so once in a while I'm in a new age group. I should mention that I'm 47 as I write this, so my goal is to outlive my opponents and someday I'll win!

Well, this year started like any other. The race is held in The Dalles which is a WeIrD name for a city, but it's great fun to say it ten times fast with a bunch of friends. It was fairly windy even early in the morning as I set up my transition area and prepped for the swim, and the wind continued to increase in intensity. The Columbia river was whipped into near whitecap conditions, but as we shivered and waited for the starting gun I didn't really give it much thought. Suddenly, a few darts flashed across the sky in my peripheral vision and the pre race chatter was rent by a wall of noise as two F-15's split the sunrise like a dessert spoon into the sugary crust of a creme' brulee. Apparently there was a Patriot Day airshow somewhere in the area and the jets were enroute to entertain.

Exactly 2 minutes later the starting gun sounded, and we were off. The waves were the worst I've ever swum in (makes me wonder what an open water swim in the ocean would be like, never have done that) and although I found a good pace and rythm as I settled into my stroke I was bouncing around in my wetsuit like a plump seal tempting a sea lion. It's not uncommon for me to ingest some water as I'm breathing, but suddenly a squirt of rancid Columbia river water with all it's slime, toxins and heavy metals shot right down my throat into my stomach. Usually I can cough and spit as my head is underwater for the exhaling, but this time the volume was such that I started gagging and retching. For the first time ever in a race I actually had to stop and tread water as I struggled to recover. A safety boat started to make it's way to me, and there was an overwhelming temptation to abandon the race (if I accepted help I would have been DQ'd and that's disqualified not Dairy Queen!) but I waved the boat off and began to swim again. The river was so rough that a police boat was positioned at the last buoy. Nice and reassuring but the boat's exhaust fumes trailed right across the surface of the water into our faces! So now I'm gagging up rancid river water and choking on carbon monoxide as I'm tossed about like so much flotsam. Well, I ended up swimming breaststroke which hurt my time but allowed for survival. The rest of the race was uneventful but I'll never forget that swim!