Choir...

The singing was incredible. Women who were raised in the church, knew the hymns, remembered the harmonies, lifting their voices in praise like a choir of angels.

Except one.

She was out of tune, off rhythm, not blended, and clashing against the three part harmonies of the others. She sang at full volume. On Friday night when we first started singing, women kept turning around to see who was it that was singing so out of tune and causing the harmony to dissonant. All except the women at her table. They all drove together. She was a part of their body. It wasn't that they didn't hear her or care if it sounded good, they knew her and knew she was singing her part... and yes, out of tune.

Each time we gathered to worship and sing, There was this one singing in the midst of such harmony. I started thinking, it sure would be nice to hear the women without her so that I could enjoy the beauty. It became about the music and not the worship for me.

In the afternoon, from 1:30p to 5:00p, we had freetime for the women, when we opened the boats, had crafts, food demonstrations, hikes, games, and the giant swing for them to do. Near the end of the afternoon, the woman who was the off key singer decided to give the giant swing a shot. The giant swing is about 34 feet in a tree that you have to climb, using the "staples", which are about 4" wide and sticking out of the tree 3" or so, which makes it pretty hard to climb, especially for a first tryer.

After putting on her harness and standing in line for 30 minutes or so, it was her turn. "On belay!" "Climb on!" She started out climbing the 7' rope ladder and had a hard time doing that, but was encouraged by those around her and the staff. The people who had her on belay where helping her by pulling her a bit on the rope to get her up instead of stuck. It was very hard for her to muster the strength but she did not back down. She was asked a couple of times if she wanted to come down, but she refused.

30 minutes pass, then 45. More women started lining up waiting for their turn. We could see the encouragement turn from support to frustration. Then one woman angrily said what many were thinking "Why don't you just bring her down so the rest of us could get our turns in before it is time for dinner." It is hard to hear out loud what we are thinking in our hearts.

The staff asked her if she wanted to quit, she said no and they continued. One of the staff told the woman who spoke out, that we are here to support her make it through her fear just as we would anyone else. Which just frustrated the woman even more. Responding in love is not what is wanted when we deal with the flesh. Compliance is sought. Sure pull her down. Humiliate her. End our discomfort and satisfy our desires, so we can go on to the next desire. Been there, done that, need the next thing to consume. Damn the people, full speed ahead!

When dinner came I was told of the story by the staff who got chewed up a bit and usually I would have been uneasy that we didn't accommodate the woman who was impatient because she paid as much as the other woman and should have gotten her turn without feeling put out... But then a peace came over me in a different way than ever before. And it became about ministry not accommodation. The woman who was frustrated experienced the love of Jesus through our staff for the woman on the swing. She saw people who were loving and patient (and were probably as frustrated as the inpatient woman but found love for the woman for whom they were responsible). Love confronted her impatience and those around her, and isn't that why we have Christian retreats.

Are Christian retreats and conferences about accommodations or spiritual transformation into the image of Jesus Christ?

During worship that night the singing was sweeter than before with the woman still singing her part in full voice and adding to 3 part harmony to make it 3.1 part harmony.

Potluck...

One of my favorite times at church when I was growing up was the once-a-quarter Potluck dinners. Sometimes there would be a speaker, a missionary or a pastor visiting; a special event like a talent show, christmas pageant, game night, hymn sing, etc. No matter what the program it would be kicked off with a potluck.

I was talking to a high school student the other day and he had never gone to a potluck and didn't know what it was, so here is a definition, A potluck is a gathering of people where each person is expected to bring a dish of food to be shared among the group.

Of course you never had a potluck because that would mean that you were contributing rather than just showing up and consuming what was furnished for you. Then after it was over you probably criticized the meal instead of talking about which dish was your favorite and aren't you glad that Mrs. Seeley makes her award winning casserole and brings it each time.

Potlucks gave individuals more value because they contributed instead of just consumed. Mrs. Seeley took pride in her gift to the supper as many would coo as they were tasting it. Sometimes a new member would show up with their specialty dish and they were immediately welcomed, as people were trying to find out who made the new lasagna. Yes, there was a bit of competition and Mrs. Seeley was beat out by Mrs. Ray's chinese chicken salad, but usually a few potlucks later we were cooing again the new casserole Mrs. Seeley brought and people reminisced about how good her other casseroles had been. Mrs. Bell's chocolate cake was to die for as the ratio of frosting to cake was almost 1 to 1.

An Armenian family moved in and they brought some new kind of dishes, baklava, hummus, and peda bread, and people were talking with their mouth full. A Japanese family brought a sweet chicken, called teriyaki which was new to us. Enchiladas by the Martinez family were always a hit and if you weren't there early you would be ticked all night as people were remarking how she made the sauce taste better than the kind you get from a can. People started asking for the recipe from these new families. We would bring bread that my father made and people were glad we did. It was always better with butter instead of that new stuff that comes in a plastic tub.

We ate well, but better yet, we knew each other better. The program afterwards was really insignificant compared to the life of the body that sat and enjoyed the lingering fragrances of community.

Commerce and the cross...

My old school chum Mas Masumoto is a farmer and a writer, living on his farm in Del Rey, California, just outside of Fresno. In his book, Epitaph for a Peach, Mas wrote about how he was going to need to pull up some of his peach trees, the Sun Crest, to make way for a new variety that has a longer shelf life at the market, but does not taste as well. Let me just share a little from Mas' website...

As pleasurable as a perfect peach, Epitaph for a Peach tells the passionate story of one farmer's attempt to rescue one of the last truly sweet and juicy fruits from becoming obsolete in a world that increasingly values commerciality over quality. The story of Mas Masumoto's Sun Crest peaches begins on the day he turns the bulldozers away from his orchards and vows to give himself four seasons to find a home for the fruits of his labor.

What does one do when their livelihood depends on producing a product that someone needs to give money to keep one in the vocation? Most of my friends who sell insurance says that is what commerce is, someone has to buy what you produce or you will no longer be producing. There has to be value from the buyer for the product in order for them to purchase it. They must have a felt need for it or they will not buy it.

But what if the product is truth? What if the presentation of that truth is love?

What happens when the consumer is more concerned about what makes them feel good than what will bring them life? Does the truth then get compromised just so that the truth can be told in smaller quantities? Do we start diminishing truth for added ingredients just so that it has a longer shelf life. Soon it becomes more about the added ingredients than about the truth. We start defending the need for the MSG, guar gum, binders, fillers, emulsifiers, processed sweeteners, added juices, caffeine, Red dye no. 2, and other nontruth ingredients that are only there to put the item on the shelf so some unsuspecting goof sees on the label 100% pure and begins towards the "check-out line," thinking he's got the real deal...

Note: My dear friends, I am not sure I have much more to say.

Popi Update

Jack and Ben

Part One...

Called...

A friend of mine and I were talking about being called into ministry. I was still thinking about that even a day or two later. "Being called into ministry." Was I called into ministry? Was there a setting apart this life and time to do ministry? Can you even do ministry or do you just minister. It is more than doing but more of ministering.

I have been thinking about my friends Nancy Donat, Phil Skei, and Beth Eckloff. They moved themselves, and in Phil's case his family, into an area to minister. They don't do ministry, they minister. They raise their own funding, buy their own home in the high crime neighborhood of Fresno where they minister. To the neighbors they minister. They don't go to do ministry, they just minister. They talk to people about whom they are ministering and people support them. Their homes are set up to minister. Backyards turned into places people can come to and play. Living rooms turned into homework rooms.

They don't punch out and leave the ministry, they live in it. 24/7/365 (this year it is 366).

I ask myself a lot these days, "would I still do what I do, if I didn't get paid to do it?" Would I start this which I do, if it hadn't been started? Is my identity tied into the organization or into the Savior?

Then I ask myself, "Am I called?"

Sitting with heroes...

Last Saturday night I attended the fundraising dessert for Fresno Institute for Urban Leadership. The guest speaker was John Perkins who spoke on being the righteous who effect change in the community. I have heard him many times in the past 30 years, and he is still a very powerful speaker.

But then I looked around the room to the listeners and there were just as powerful people, who have responded to his messages over the years, and are doing the very thing that he started back in the early 70's. People who relocated into the high crime, high poverty areas of Fresno to be light to neighbors. People who started after-school reading and homework programs in their homes. In their homes, not in their church buildings. Phil and Ricci Skei, put a basketball court and playground in their backyard so the neighbors could have a place to play. Nancy Donat, is a parish nurse, who relocated into this neighborhood who has kids all over her home and has turned rooms into studyroom.

A woman, who's table I was sitting at brought her 4 daughters to hear Perkins speak just because her pastor told the congregation this was a good thing and he was a good speaker. She had never heard him before. Exposing her daughters to righteous speakers instead of taking them to another movie.

I was told the other day that I am a "the glass is half empty" kind of guy, and he and another pastor were "the glass is half full" kind of guys. Sitting in this room with "full glass people" filled me up again to see the power of a full gospel.

Why I did not...

PLEASE NOTE: This is not directed at Michael (I have much love and respect for him as someone who is sincerely and deeply trying to follow after the way, truth, and life of Christ) or any particular way of viewing scripture with which I might disagree.

I told the story instead of using scripture to fight scripture because I was sickened by the use of scripture to put people in their place. Yes, it is scripture that gives us place, but it is also the misuse of scripture, over the many years, which gives people power, oppressive power over others. One of the things that she said was, "give me scripture to fight this battle." I will never do that. I love scripture, I love the story of faith and the truth of creation, the fall, the journey of those chosen of captivity and freedom and back into captivity, the prophets, the kings, the poems and wisdom, the words, the rejection of the words, the virgin, the shepherds, the birth, the wise men, the life, the sermon, the selection of the disciplined, the betrayal, the garden, the trial, the cross, the tomb, the stone, the fingers in the wound, the ascension, the power and authority, the persecution, the letters of correction and instruction, the story of what was, what is, and what is to come, the Amen... that have set people free for years but it's intention was not for battle.

This blog was not about a woman's place or role but about the use of scripture as weapons for arguing a point.

I have close friends that are wrapped up in apologetics, so they can argue with the heathens. Instead of practicing patience and love, they may win the argument but they always lose the battle. People walk away, they rarely are attracted towards this method of "evangelism." I am sure that is not what scripture was intended for. I have a Latter Day Saint friend who use to want to argue with me about "protestantism" and I told him if he could tell me why I chose Christel to be my wife and not the millions of other women in the world then we could discuss Truth. He thought he had the truth. I met a follower of Mohammed while I was waiting in the doctor's office and we started up a conversation about truth, he used his scriptures to discuss his, as I used my scriptures to discuss mine. We didn't agree nor was there much disagreement. Nor was there any bloodshed. We shook hands and I went in to find out I am overweight and don't have a thyroid.

I don't think love is the opposite of scripture but the fulfillment of it. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13: 1-3
If I speak in the tongues[a] of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. I know that we like to save this chapter for weddings, but it is not for that event, but I think it is for those who use scripture, gifting, wealth, martyrdom, etc for self purpose instead of Kingdom purpose.

I didn't hear that Kingdom purpose when the young woman was asking me for scripture so she could win this battle. She needed a children's story. And when we make scripture anything more than a children's story, I think we miss the point big time. Again, please don't think that I am speaking small of scripture, rather I am elevating children's stories.

This cult has been missing the point since before Jesus.

PART TWO Guns don't kill people, stupid people kills people...

A year went by and Sophia never brought her dog to worship. No one did. The memo was successful.

Or was it. Was the intent of the memo to not bring dogs to worship or was it to train up a dog in the way that they should go and when they are old they will not depart from it?

I asked Sophia into my office, which freaked her out, because she thought she did something wrong and was going to be reprimanded. That is a typical reaction for the staff. If I was initiating the conversation, something must be wrong.

She walked in with a timid look on her face. "Have a seat on the couch." I said.

"I haven't seen Hendrix around lately. Is he alright?"

"Well you told us that we could not bring our dogs to worship anymore." Sophia said with a bit of an edge.

"Did you understand why I was saying that?"

"Yeah, dogs don't belong in worship!" She snapped.

"That is not what I said. What if dogs could understand, be educated, contribute, and even teach, would my memo still be valid?" I asked.

"That is impossible! THEY ARE DOGS!" She yelled and she got up and left the room and the conversation.

Sophia walked out to the parking lot and got in her car and left. And then she drove, no where in particular, just drove. She found herself, after an hour or so, in front of Mrs. Huppotasso's house. She didn't want to go in, so she just sat. Confused, angry, frustrated, ...and lost.

Just then a car drove up as the front door opened and out walked a golden retriever, who turned and as if to say something to the older woman at the door. Mrs. Huppo smiled and said something back, that Sophia couldn't hear.

The retriever walked over to the car and the man got out and opened the car door, the front door, while greeting the dog. He yelled out to Mrs. Huppo, "Thank you, I will see you next week for my time with you." Mrs. Huppotasso, waved and nodded in agreement, "See you then. Be on time."

"I know, I will." With that he got in his car and drove off.

"Oh no," Sophia said, as she saw Mrs. Huppotasso walking towards her car.

"Well, hello Sophia, it has been a while. How are you and Hendrix these days?"

Sophia just sat in her car. She couldn't open her mouth because she wasn't sure what was going to come out.

Mrs. Huppotasso, opened the passenger side door and sat down. Sophia didn't anticipate that she would be so bold to sit down when not invited.

All Sophia could do was stare at Mrs. Huppo. Who was this woman who could make dogs talk? Was she a witch?

Finally, Mrs. Huppo said, "You are not the only one who doesn't come back when their dogs begin to talk. Most don't. It is too much too comprehend for people. They don't see how this is possible because they don't think what IS possible. They only see what is and not what was intended.

"We like to keep our dogs in their place. They are pets, not equals. Roles are the safest way to think. Because it seems to limit the possibilities instead of imagining what could happen. It is easiest to classify humans, animals, trees, rocks, fungus, etc. because then we can see what things aren't instead of what they are.

"This isn't magic, and no dear, I am not a witch. The only thing I do is talk about forgiveness and break the lie that has bound God's creatures into roles instead of worshippers. True worshippers don't stay in roles, they stay in truth. And it is this truth that sets them free to be that which God had originally intended them to be. It brings them to the spirit of the garden instead of the flesh outside the gate.

"When we think with 'outside the gate' minds, we limit that which was the original purpose of creation. We were formed to be in fellowship, conversation, intimacy, and have fun with God. It is not unbelievable for a dog to talk, but it does take belief and then faith to talk to a dog. We say the same thing about God. I hear many people say that God doesn't talk. But the truth is the Creator spoke and speaks everything into life. The sin is we don't hear because we don't believe.

"'Outside the gate' thinking can have its benefits. If you are good at OTG think, you can have control and power over those who are not as good at it. OTG is limiting, oppressing, corrupting, etc. It thrives on fear. Because when you are in control in this way of thinking, you are always afraid that someone will come and take it away from you. Someone can come with more abilities, better looking, smarter (by this I mean that they have more words at their disposal to intimidate), greater force, and steal it away from them. They cannot see anything unless it is concrete and limited to three dimensions. It is easy to control three dimensions.

"But when you introduce 'garden thinking' you are aware of the Spirit as well as the material, they are not separated. You see the truth as far more than academic, but poetic. Poetry that resonates with all of creation not just within a very limited space of three dimensions. It affects the way you see, hear, taste, touch, know, understand, walk, speak, breathe, etc. Fragrances have as much place in understanding as words. Colors have sound as well as weight.

"Garden thinking brings power through service not might. Might is the lowest form of communication, it is the easiest. But loving others through serving is the highest form of communication because it does not rely on words. It is pure. Those who rely on words, study words, master words but never get to the heart are only one step up from the barbarian, the conquerer. Those simple souls that we call "retarded" really understand more than the "gifted in academics" because they have to communicate without words and causes us to go back to 'garden thinking' to communicate effectively to them.

"So you see, my dear one, it is nothing for a dog to talk. Rocks and trees shout out the glory of God all day long. The real issues is the training that has to come to those who only talk and have relied on it these many years to send forth a message which is still woefully short of intimacy with The Creator. Deep intimacy is not limited in spoken words. The Word spoken by the Creator was not with the mouth of God but through the spirit and life of God.

One day, that Word, came to those who only spoke with their mouths and a few heard it, not just with their ears, but with their spirit and life, which was breathed into them, from the Life of God. They heard more than the syllables articulated but heard the truth. And they found themselves free. Free to experience the intimacy of the Voice

"The freedom wasn't of this world, because those who only speak with their mouths, had them arrested, tortured, and killed. This was tragic but the great tragedy was that soon those leaders who could hear were being replaced with those who could only speak. After a time, those who only spoke, redefined The Voice into not what could be heard, but to what could only be read. Reading became the standard and hearing became lunacy. For those who hear were relegated to standing outside of the buildings because those who read could not validate those who hear. Authenticity was only given to letters of the word instead of the intention of what was said.

"Faith was changed to a reading understanding instead of a living understanding. Reading is measurable: number of volumes read, number of papers written, then number of papers published so more people could read and write. Walking became obsolete, listening became heresy and intimacy became institutional. Intimacy was replaced by compliance, submission was replaced by subjugation. Worship became an hour long event with only the speakers and readers in charge."

Mrs. Huppotasso, stopped speaking and looked at her front door for a few moments. She was remembering how many dogs entered that doorway barking and exited talking. And how few of their 'masters' ever entered...

Guns don't kill people, stupid people kills people...

I haven't let off some steam lately and thought I would this morning.

I was interviewing a dear friend's daughter the other day and I asked her about what it was like to be the daughter of a mom who was a pastor. And she said that she hadn't thought about it until she came this year to the christian university where she is a student. I asked her to explain.

She said that when she was a kid growing up, her mom was well liked by her friends and the adults in the church really respected her and would talk with her about their lives. She was proud of her mom, but didn't think it was a big deal that she was a pastor she was just a working mom. Her dad is highly respected in his line of business.

But when she got to this university, a place of great minds and thinking, she encountered people who said her mother was doing things that were against God and scripture. This was really confusing for her and she was looking for scripture to back up her mom in this argument and asked if I knew of any.

I told her a story...

Not too many years ago, I wrote a memo to the staff stating that their dogs could not be brought to worship anymore because they were causing a lot of problems. They were barking in the middle of my preaching, howling during praise singing (off key), scratching and licking themselves in places only Michael Jackson and Madonna grabbed while performing on stage, and the kicker, they were lifting a leg on the pews. The dogs were not allowed to be in worship anymore!

One of the staff members with one of the dogs, Sophia, was unhappy with my decision. She came and talked to me. I told her that her dog was the worst. This hurt her feelings and said that she loved this dog and said it wasn't fair. I said, it is not about being fair but about being able to behave in worship. I said that she was not able to control her dog and that the dog was not adding to the service but distracting everyone from the reason we were there. The dog needed to be training to behave wherever he was.

She thought about this and she decided would take her dog to obedience school. She looked in the yellow pages and found a school nearby, Mrs. Huppotasso's Canine School, and placed a phone call to the school. Mrs. Huppotasso answered the phone. Sophia asked if she had any openings for her dog to begin classes.

The woman said yes they were starting a class on Mondays and Wednesdays next week. Then she asked Sophia a question, "What do you want to accomplish by taking the dog to my school?"

"Well, I would like to get him to behave and do some tricks and not crap in church." Sophia said.

Mrs. Huppotasso laughed and said, "Alright, then bring the dog on Monday. What is the dog's name?"

"Hendrix" she said.

"Great, see you next Monday. Drop Hendrix off at 5:30p sharp and pick him up at 7:00p."

"Pick him up? Don't I get to be a part of the training?" asked Sophia.

"Yes you do, but this class Hendrix will be trained, and the next class you will be." the instructor said.

"Oh..., alright, see you then." the staff member said a little confused.

Monday arrives and Sophia drives up to the front of the school, which is really a small home with a small yard on the side. She is prompt to drop the dog off at the school at 5:28p, where Mrs. Huppotasso is waiting expectantly in the driveway to meet her. Sophia gets out of the car, opens the hatch, puts the leash on Hendrix, and lets him out of the back of the Subaru. Introduces Hendrix and herself to Mrs. Huppotasso and said she would see her in an hour and a half. Mrs. Huppotasso turns and says, "Remember, 7:00p, sharp."

She drives back home to get her dinner ready and then when it was time to go, she put the food in the oven on low and drives off to the school. Sophia is thinking she hopes this works, Hendrix has been a good companion for her and it would be great for him be obedient so that she could take him everywhere with her.

She arrives promptly at 7:00p and as she drives up, Mrs. Huppotasso and Hendrix are in the driveway waiting for her. But this time there wasn't a leash on the dog.

"You won't be needing this any more." as she hands her the leash.

"Wow, you are good."

"Well, yes but your dog is really smart."

"Um, thanks, see you Wednesday." the staff member says.

"Be prompt, 5:30p," the instructor says as she heads in the house.

"I will."

On the drive home, Sophia looked back at him in the rearview mirror and noticed that Hendrix was looking out the window and not doing anything but staring. He didn't do the usual hyper behavior of running back and forth between both side window, but just sitting and staring. It was as if he was thinking. She asked out loud, "Did you have a good time, boy?" and Hendrix turned and formed a smile and appeared to nod and then looked out the window.

That was odd, she thought.

Wednesday came, and again, Sophia promptly dropped the dog off to the instructor who was waiting in the driveway. The staff member put the leash on Hendrix and took the dog to the instructor, who said, "I told you, he does not need this anymore." and gave the leash back to her and said, "Be back promptly at 7:00p!"

"But just in case." and tried to hand it back to her. Sophia couldn't believe that the dog could be trained that fast to not need the leash.

The teacher paid no attention and turned with Hendrix by her side, to go in the building. The dog was looking up at the instructor as they walked as if he was listening to her.

This was the routine for the next few months. Each Monday and Wednesday Sophia would take Hendrix to Mrs. Huppo's (as she began to call her) promptly at 5:30 and just as promptly pick him up at 7:00. Hendrix was not peeing on the furniture anymore but was still not allowed to come to church. He even learned some great tricks. At first it was the usual, rolling over, sit up, walk on his hind feet, play frisbee,

One Wednesday, the staffer dropped her dog off to Mrs. Huppo, drove home concerned that Hendrix was liking the instructor more than her. She went home and again, prepared dinner and drove back to the school promptly at 7. Only this time, the instructor was not there to meet her, only Hendrix. He was sitting patiently in front of the school and walked over to the car as Sophia opened the rear car door to let him in. Only this time he didn't jump in but walked up to the front passenger door and waited there.

Sophia held the door up and called Hendrix over to her, "Come on boy, get in the car." Hendrix just looked at her. He had never done that before.

"Do you want to sit up front with me, boy?" she says as she walks toward him.

"Yes, please." Hendrix says quietly.

Sophia's jaw dropped and she stops dead in her tracks. "What did you say?"

"Yes, please. I would prefer to sit up front with you."

"Your a dog, you can't talk!"

"Well, yes and no. I am a dog, but I can talk. In fact, I can think, I can express my thoughts and even change my mind. I can be trained but even more wonderful, I can be taught as well as teach.

"Let's go home and we can talk about it over dinner."

That night over dinner, which instead of eating the dogfood, he asked for what she was eating. Sophia wasn't too happy with this idea but ended up giving Hendrix that which she had made for herself. Hendrix started telling her his perspective on some of the issues that he was concerned with such as what life was like for him, how violent people are to their pets and to each other. He told her things that went against some of the things she thought. Sophia didn't say much, except, "Dogs can't talk." Hendrix disagreed repeatedly, but was seeing something in Sophia's eyes. She needed him to be a dog, just a dog. It was going to affect who she was in her own house. Her identity, her place, her control. Later in the evening, she changed her words to "Dogs shouldn't talk."

Sophia didn't take him back to Mrs. Huppo's, she never took the second semester herself and ended up being a bit intimidated by Hendrix. She thought once about taking him to a talent scout because she thought she could make some money off of this trick but ended up just kind of keeping him at home. She quit taking him with her places. And after a while, Hendrix became less talkative, and eventually started barking... and ended up peeing on the furniture again.