Labor Day...

Enjoy this Labor Day, remembering that many people pick our fruits and vegetables, pack our beef and chicken, drive our food to market, bake our bread, and care for our children who have no voice, make minimum wages, are without health care, and live below the poverty line.

An open letter...

Dear Penny,

You have been asking what is God doing with us and I have been putting it off for a couple of reasons. First, I am not sure that it is the Creator or me and second, I do not want to speak for anyone else but I can try to give you my perspective.

My heart is tired of being disappointed by leadership so I might have a bit of a chip on my shoulder and I am trying not to let that influence what I think God is saying. I am also very conflicted about what I think God is doing in the US, in California, in a little town called Oakhurst, and in a fat, bald guy who is at a camp, VERSUS what I see going on with many in the world who are suffering terribly. So when I compare that our number of campers are small, gas is at an all time high and rising, I am gaining weight, etc. I have to weigh that against what is going on to many, many in the world who are starving, malnourished, drinking polluted water, government troops are killing many, if they aren't rebel troops are and many flee their homes and leave behind family and friends who may be dead or missing. It seems that my inconvenience is being perceived as life threatening, which it is not by any stretch of the imagination.

But what I am hearing God say to me is about me returning to the first love, relight the fire, only this time with truth and not emotions. Allow the truth to set me free instead of being on the rollercoaster of feelings and conflicts. I asked what does that mean, to relight the fire of truth and I was led to study Genesis and begin there. I began to ask myself, do I believe what it says in just the first verse, that God created the heavens and the earth? I think I do but then I am asking what would my life look like if I truly believe that it is about what God had intended rather than what I want it to be.

Do I give things time for the Spirit of God to hover over and begin to see things in the spirit as well as in the rational mind? It is hard to wait for the Spirit to finish hovering before I take over and rationally get 'er done. I pray for God's blessing instead of waiting for instruction. When God begins to speak am I listening for The Voice or listening to fear's loud voice?

Do I watch with eyes of the Craftsman who sees that it is good-measuring against the intention? Do I let The Voice define what is good or am I more concerned about people with influence and intimidation or do I play it safe so I don't lose my job or standing in the community? I know this should be how we do everything but I have a sense that I need to go back and check the foundation before I concern myself with the ascetics of how it looks.

I tend to follow cultural shifts instead of being a steward of that which God has give me responsibility. I can be concerned with the environment if it is prudent or I can be responsible because I called to be a steward. I tend to get wrapped up in being caring about the poor and oppressed because there are some cool graphics or bracelets instead of hear God say that "...it is not good for man to be alone..." and that I become a friend to those who do not have one while being a steward of the Kingdom.

I have been given instructions and freedom to choose what I consume from a bounty of trees in the garden, yet I end up eyeing and rationalizing my way into a stomach full of consequences of a life that is outside of the beautiful place that God created for me. I tend to then complain that a loving God wouldn't give me the consequence of my choices instead of taking full responsibility and then looking to pay for my choice. My choices are what I think is best for me aside from what The Creator planned for me. It wasn't the fruit that caused my eyes to be open it was looking to places that weren't intended for me to gaze. I became intimate with the outsider, and ended up moving into his neighborhood.

I think what God is telling me and showing me is really what is going on in my life...

Hope this makes sense.

I still remember...

When I was in eighth grade, my teacher, Mr. Stone, gave us an assignment as part of our U.S. government curriculum, to research those men (there were not any women running for President in 1968) who are the candidates with who we most identify. There were many who were running that year:
Democrates:
Roger D. Branigin, Governor of Indiana
John G. Crommelin, retired US Navy Admiral from Alabama
Paul C. Fisher, businessman and candidate for the 1960 nomination from Pennsylvania
Hubert H. Humphrey, Vice President of the United States and former senator and candidate for the 1952 and 1960 nominations from Minnesota
Robert F. Kennedy, U.S. senator from New York and former Attorney General
Lyndon B. Johnson, President of the United States from Texas
Thomas C. Lynch, Attorney General of California
Eugene J. McCarthy, U.S. senator from Minnesota
George S. McGovern, U.S. senator from South Dakota
Daniel K. Moore, Governor of North Carolina
George A. Smathers, U.S. senator and candidate for the 1960 nomination from Florida
Stephen M. Young, U.S. senator from Ohio

Republicans:

Frank Carlson, U.S. senator from Kansas
Clifford P. Case, U.S. senator from New Jersey
Hiram L. Fong, U.S. senator from Hawaii
John V. Lindsay, Mayor of New York City
Richard M. Nixon, former Vice President and 1960 presidential nominee from California
Ronald W. Reagan, Governor of California
James A. Rhodes, Governor of Ohio and candidate for the 1964 nomination
Nelson A. Rockefeller, Governor of New York and candidate for the 1960 and 1964 nominations
Winthrop A. Rockefeller, Governor of Arkansas
George W. Romney, Governor of Michigan and candidate 1964 nomination
Harold E. Stassen, former Governor of Minnesota and candidate for the 1944, 1948, 1952 and 1964 nominations
John A. Volpe, Governor of Massachusetts
William C. Westmoreland, US Army General and Commander of US Forces in South Vietnam from South Carolina

I chose Robert Kennedy. I was fascinated by JFK, I remembered coming home from school for lunch and seeing my mom in front of the television crying and heard that the president was assassinated. I had never heard that word before. It then became a very common word throughout my life. JFK, RFK, & MLK.

Robert Kennedy seemed to bring those without voice into the light. Farm workers, rural poor, urban poor, etc. He brought to the forefront that the USA has been a strong nation for those in other countries and now we should do the same for those who live here. I lived in farm country and many of my friends were children of farm workers as well as farmers. I knew the people he was talking about. The very day and hour Dr. King was shot, Robert Kennedy gave an eloquent speech to the african-american people of Indianapolis, Indiana. He was speaking in the very poor section of the city and many told him not to go in there, not tonight. Here is what he said:

Ladies and Gentlemen - I'm only going to talk to you just for a minute or so this evening. Because...

I have some very sad news for all of you, and I think sad news for all of our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world, and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis, Tennessee.

Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause of that effort. In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it's perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in.

For those of you who are black - considering the evidence evidently is that there were white people who were responsible - you can be filled with bitterness, and with hatred, and a desire for revenge.

We can move in that direction as a country, in greater polarization - black people amongst blacks, and white amongst whites, filled with hatred toward one another. Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand, compassion and love.

For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and mistrust of the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I would only say that I can also feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man.

But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to get beyond these rather difficult times.

My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He once wrote: "Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."

What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black.

(Interrupted by applause)

So I ask you tonight to return home, to say a prayer for the family of Martin Luther King, yeah that's true, but more importantly to say a prayer for our own country, which all of us love - a prayer for understanding and that compassion of which I spoke. We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times. We've had difficult times in the past. And we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; and it's not the end of disorder.

But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings that abide in our land.

(Interrupted by applause)

Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.

Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and say a prayer for our country and for our people. Thank you very much. (Applause)

That was impressive, even for an eighth grader.

Robert Kennedy flew into Fresno and my father, an avid Nixon supporter, took me to see him speak. Even more impressive. Then on the night of the California primary, I couldn't stay up for the results of the elections, it was a school night, I asked my dad if he would tell me the results in the morning. He then woke me in the morning and told me the terrible news, "Robert Kennedy won, but was assassinated in Los Angeles after his victory speech."

I can still feel the fear, shock, dismay, lostness, and hopelessness of that moment...

My dear friend Spinner sent me this link: CLICK HERE

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.

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?"

Phantom pain...

There are days I forget that I am bald and fill my hand with shampoo.

My dear friend...

Your last letter poised a great question and one that held me accountable for my critical nature. I do not try to be critical, I didn't have a critical nature when I was in college, in fact, I was quite the optimist. I enjoyed the diversity and insight of many, even the ones that I didn't agree with. I felt they had something to teach me and give another facet to this stoney heart of mine. I think I became critical when I became a part of the problem and not the solution. I got my card to the club and somehow that made me need to fit into the image of the club instead of the image of the One. Let me explain...

The revelation first came while I was pursuing the love and attention of a woman who was moving away from me and on to more mature pastures. I don't blame her now, but my heart was deeply broken. It wasn't that Jesus rescued me from that heartache but gave me a true heartache, I began to see the ache from the perspective of the Sacred Heart instead of the polluted one. There was a cosmic ache for me everyone to know The Creator, The Savior, The One.

I didn't intend to become a christian, I really wanted to pursue the Relationship and allow it to create in me a mirror image of the Love. I was deeply and redemptively struck by the One who said that the Cosmos had a love for me and that I needed to realize the reality of that Love. It was fruitless to pursue the love of a woman who was pursuing the love of a man who was pursuing the love of a... It would never match the Cosmic love that pursued me and gave itself up for me. I had not known love like that before.

I tasted the difference between the imitation, generic brand immediately by being consumed by the reality of the Truth. The difference was not in a better or more than experience but in a trueness that was confirmed by my DNA and my eyes. I began to see the love coming from more than just one being. I saw it in the entirety of creation. It began to make sense. The landscape was not made up of individual parts but of one part of a whole. I saw the Creator and the Love.

When I met Christel I knew she was part of that love, she was part of the creation, instead of just looking great in a bikini, she was looking great in the Love. There was something, not different, but relevant about her. Yes, she was stunning, but she became a part of that which was stunning about the new growth in the vineyards in Spring. She was connected and she gave me a deeper perspective as to how I was connected to the Love.

I know I haven't answered your question but I really need to give you the understanding before I give you the ingredients.

I started hearing the Story from the very beginning. I had heard some of the stories in Sunday School but it was not necessarily The Story. I heard about different people but I didn't hear about The Love. That Story was in them but it wasn't given the light that I needed to see it. Maybe the Light comes from the Creator and not from storyteller, but when one who has seen and knows the Light tells the Story, they become a part of the Story instead of just the teller of the story. They become a part of the Flannel.

Well, my friend, I seem to have run out of time but I wanted to get this part off to you before I forget, I will write some more very soon. Thank you for the question, I hope you will trust me that you will get the Answer, I just hope that I am in the proximity when you hear it...

Waiting for the storm...

It started with speculations. No one really knew but they knew where to look to get some information.
The more others looked and spoke the truer it became.
There is going to be a storm. A big storm. Two feet in the higher elevations, maybe eight inches here within 24 hours or less.
We began to live as if there was a storm. Bryan and Jeremy prepared. The Plow was gassed up and so was the grader, pointed in the right direction. Dry run-throughs and routes decided.
For some this is the first time. How do I drive? What is better, chains or cables?
New clothes and boots purchased.
Plans were given options.
People became aware of the wind. Some looked up.
The first drops came...

Getting old...

It isn't that I am getting old (ok, I am but not old old) but I am starting to do and buy things that old people do and buy. I am getting hair cuts that are easy to maintain. I drive an old truck because I feel more manly because my manly isn't as. I have routines so I remember where I parked my car in the parking lot at Von's. I bought these sunglasses that you see in the picture, not because they makes me cool looking but because they fit over my glasses because I need to drive and read the speedometer. I bought a pair of suspenders. I am starting to like cardigans. I bought a Bible with large type.I also mute the commercials.

But I refuse to buy prunes, hats, magnifying glasses, metamucal, Grecian Formula, polyester slacks with elastic waste and stain resistant material...

This gives me a peaceful, easy feeling...

Not since 1979 has the Eagles come out with a new album with new materials. Yes, they wrote Hole in the World in 2003 but it was only a single release.

I think these guys have gotten better as they aged and quit doing drugs and alcohol. Now it seems the music is central.

Some of the greats are still great and still have a few years left in them. The number is dwindling...

Cos, I would see these guys in a large venue!

Is this a good thing?

In continuing the conversation started in, Jesus loves me this I know..., by showing the characters in the Bible as something other than real men and women that have predominate features that are characteristic of middle eastern men and women, are we creating an inadvertent form of racism that we are really not intentional about? (Or maybe we are intentional?)

I know there are a few out there that are saying, "Come on Tony, this is harmless stuff here, get off your high horse!" But in my hiring of 80 college age people, some who were raised on this stuff, I am finding that it is not developing disciples of Jesus like we were led to believe it would. It is almost deepening the myth instead of the truth.

I wonder if it is contributing to an intellect of short attention spans, "keep me entertained" sermons, vitamin deficiency (can you really eat a christian carrot?), make believe faith, but very clever marketing?

Storytelling is very important. The oral narrative is what evangelized the first century people before they could get down to the local Berean Scrollstore. But integrity was more important than entertainment and in a time of photoshop faith, I think it is important to tell the story in "living color" and context, so that when the way, the truth and the life is explained, people who are wanting authenticity and salvation will believe we are serious about this God who sent this man to save us and enjoy Him forever.

Jesus loves me this I know...

When I was in fourth grade, once a week I would go to Carol Reimer's house after school for a flannel presentation of the stories of Jesus. Two missionaries would come and tell us about Jesus and at the end, before the graham crackers with chocolate icing and punch were served, they would ask, "Who would like to invite Jesus into their hearts and go to heaven after they die?" They would have this very picture of Jesus and the lamb on the flannel board. Who wouldn't want to spend their time with this guy after they die? Loving, caring, gentle, a firm understanding of animal husbandry. He looked like one of us.

His costume was different. When I was in sixth grade my costume was white t-shirt, Levi's button up fly, black Converse sneakers, surfer hair. He was more historical so his costume would be different. We didn't have much of a concept of a different time, a different culture, a different people group. I just thought he was like me only older. God sent his son, who was white and middle-class, to take care of my middle-class sin on the cross. The flannel presentation showed Jesus, with very pale skin, reddish brown hair and blue eyes, walking on the water, healing a blind man, talking to Zacheus (who was a wee little man...), asleep in the boat, feeding the five thousand with fish and bread, etc. It was like one of us doing these things. Local boy make good.

Then in 1967, there was the six day Israeli war, that Walter Cronkite was covering on the six o'clock news, that showed these young Israeli men that did not look like Jesus but looked more like Mexicans, farm workers, gardeners, etc. (And please understand I am writing this as the eighth grader of 1967, not the 53 year old) Jesus wasn't white, middle class, he was Israeli.I felt a bit lied to. That began me thinking a bit about who did I ask into my heart? A Palestinian or someone in the neighborhood I could trust. Did they use that picture because I would not have allowed a darker skinned person in my heart let alone into the Reimer's living room?

I realized I had accepted more than Jesus into my heart but a kind of racism and segregational attitude with this image. If we paint Jesus to be like us aren't we also saying he isn't like them. He is our savior not theirs. They need to accept the white Jesus, the american Jesus, not the darker skinned, darker eyed one. That is missing the point completely for the reason God sent His son to a small group of people who were oppressed and marginalized to set them free not set them apart.

I began to reject the entire package. I didn't loose faith, I lost trust. Who did I accept in my heart? What else did I accept that carried a subliminal message. An air-brushed image. A sanitized, odorless, fresh as a daisy smelling Jesus. Where is the reality in that. Can a savior from another time and culture be relevant to a white middle class kid raised in the San Joaquin Valley during the sixties? It wasn't until the mid-seventies that I began to understand who I invited in. He made my life a bit messy as He rearranged my heart, my thinking, my life. He still is. He began to turn over tables that I thought were a part of my sanctuary and began to define it as a life of prayer, conversation and response in faithfulness.

I see why God tells us not to make any graven images. We fashion them to look more like us instead of Him. That has a huge affect on our faith. Our stories need to come from our cultures but about a Savior who is not from our culture but understands our culture and time and delivers us to His. The Kingdom is not american, or even just white, it is "red, and yellow, black and white" (and may I include brown), "we are precious in His sight..."

Love God...

I think about loving God and I do love God. But I am not sure what that is suppose to look like.

I think about worshipping God and I don't know what that is suppose to look like either. Is it something that I am suppose to do with music and what kind of music is best? Should the worship music be the kind of music I like or what God likes? After all we are worshipping the Creator. So if we don't like the kind of music that is being played, do we quit worshipping God? And is it really worship if I seem to like the song better if it makes me feel good? Isn't worship suppose to make God feel good instead of me?

A lot of the songs we sing tend to be about how God makes me feel instead of what is true about God. In worship, I will ask people to pray out loud and speak of the goodness or what are the attributes of God. And most times people don't pray anything. If they do pray it becomes about thanking Him for what He gave them. The weather, the friends, etc.

I wonder what will worship be like in 2035? Will the songs we sing today be like Kumbaya and How Great Thou Art? Will Carmen still be singing? Will TBN have a cheesy show with Mac Powell of Third Day as host? Will his songs be boring to high schoolers? (It may already be.)

Is worship culturally influenced? Is the raising of one's hands a cultural thing or is it true worship? I think I am in a time of silent worship. I listen in worship now instead of sing. I agree with words of the songs instead of singing the words without thinking about them. I don't clap, it hurts my hands. Is that bad?

I started crossing myself as a sign of reverence and worship. I kneel in private prayers as a sign of respect and honor to God. I spend not enough time listening for The Voice to speak.

I am asking The Worshipped what and how is the best way for ME to worship Him. I don't think I want to be responsible for how we should worship. I did that for too long and heard too many people say hurtful things about how I led worship. Isn't that strange that people would say terrible things about a worship leader's way of leading people into worship. But then I also had some people who told me they liked it when I led worship. Then is that really worship? Is there a style to truth? Doesn't a worship leader just lead people in acknowledging the truth?

(Please excuse the masculine pronouns, but it makes it easier to write.)

Outside my window...

It is starting to rain.

The trees are in chorus with the wind to bring a conversation of hope to a dry and wanting earth and soul.
It brings an alertness to my skin as the shirtsleeves are inadequate to keep out the chill, but it is a welcomed message.

The dance begins as the manzanita moves with the oak and cedars in a rhythm that hasn't been heard in too long.
Leaves cling tightly until their release to give back to the soil from which they were nourished. They lived lives of collection of rays I took for granted.

Tiny droplets bring their song in harmony with the voice of the wind on my corrugated roof.
The earth releases its fragrance as the rain lies down to soothe the dusty path. Dry beds awake with a trickle as we anticipate the roar to come.

Hope arrived, dreams unpack, anticipation of the bow of many colors...

Last times...

What do we do with the breath God gives us? Was the last 10 weeks a good use of it? What about the next 42? Those are the ones that scare me. I don't do a good job breathing during the "off season." I want to be creative and design new programs for Calvin Crest with Nellie and Scott and the rest of the team, but I don't get as stimulated without the staff that is here during the summer.

I loved thinking this summer and asking, "what if we...?" and new ideas would come out which worked, by the way. Sitting with coordinators and Nellie under the "blue" and having light arguments which, I think, brought out the best of us. Arguments are good if they are directed at an outcome and not just masturbating our minds.

Being able to move people in new directions to solve the needs that weren't there a few years ago is a bit scary but at the same time a lot of fun. Scott Henderson, the new Executive Director, stretches me and questions me so that I want to come up with significant changes at CC for the program but more for the mission in which we endeavor.

"Who are we reaching and how are we doing that?" is causing us to make some significant changes. What if we did day camps in parks around the Valley so that people who cannot afford to go to camp could have the relative same experience as on the mountain. We could invite churches and be a mission for them to reach out to the parish around them so that they could become involved in the children's life after the day camp is over.

What if we are thinking the use of our property for things and programs that are more than camp? Educating those who are going off into missions, whether proclamational or social or health? What if the hotel was used for significant summit meetings between people in conflict and were able to resolve these differences in a Christ-like way?

What if we did internships for people who need to learn a skill, like cooking, and get them off governmental assistance.

What if part of the property became a solar field that started putting electricity back into the grid instead of just taking it and we became self-sustaining as well as help missionaries bring this training and supplies with them? We could partner with LifeWaters or Living Waters for the World as well.

What if people came to be quiet for a week, instead of more things to entertain them?

What if young couples came to spend time with a marriage counselor somewhere in the first year of marriage and shared issues that are not unique to their marriage but they were so convince they were and have been feeling like they are a failure and the marriage is doomed?

What if we had a staff that was trained and only worked with at-risk students and we ran camps that dealt with those ministries and organizations?

What if our AIM developed leaders but also gave the AIMer the opportunity to work on a Water Safety certificate so they could be the lifeguards the following summer?

What if...?

Friday, Week 7...

I am amazed at the rapid rate of chronological passing this summer.

I love this staff and the creativity and hard work that they have displayed. Their love and care for the guest has been evident throughout the summer.

I had to run to Fresno today for a doctor's appointment and a coffee break with my friend Sheri. I am always a bit sharper after these quick conversations with her. I am amazed at her perspective and how central Christ is in her work. When I grow up I want to be like her.

Scott Falk has been our speaker this week for Junior High and he has done a great job. We have been able to grab a breakfast here and there and those always draws me closer to the word of God and his friendship. It is great having him as a friend and a brother.

The Anonymous issue...

This guy or woman did not bother me and let me tell you why.

I have been asking myself those same questions as well as a few other people. I was not trying to be gracious I was trying to articulate my heart and thinking.

My reputation is now in the hands and heart of God, instead over the past few years it has been in the mouth of fools and it has caused me much pain. People who worked with me but never clearly asked if these things were true but continued the spewage really have hurt the worse.

I don't really care if they don't leave their name. I am glad they are asking the question. I would rather have the conversation with a non de plume and deal with their insecurities than with someone I trusted to never talk to me at all. I got rid of the security code on the comments because I really want the conversation.

I have appreciated the friendship with you all and the honesty with which you speak to me regarding the things I am thinking (writing) about. I love the conversation. I hope I provoke some thoughts and some new ideas to which the Kingdom of God would greatly be served. I am not about mental masturbation, I hope what would come out of these conversations would be more love, more power, and more of us in the life of Jesus.

There are many dying each day because of something that can be bought, thought, or created. We can do some amazing things for people who do not have the opportunity because of governmental and institutional corruption and oppression. I want to continue to think out loud with you and hope that you would think outside the box and out loud with me and then one day soon we will do something together again to make a difference in the lives of people who would love to meet you and me because we have come to set them free.

I hope that I am thought of more than just a camp guy who is giving the news of Calvin Crest. I cherish my place here and am thankful for the many people I know because of this place, but there is more to do than just remember what we once did here. Hopefully what we learned and did here will make a difference out there or it would have been for our own gluttony that we were privileged to be called for a season to be together and that would break my heart worse than these fools over the past few years...

The love of a grandmother...

I went to my friend, Jamie, grandmother's funeral today. It brought to mind in me of a lot of things as I sat there in this beautiful Catholic church in Madera.

I didn't know my grandmother and she didn't know me. I had visited her a couple of times, the last when I was a senior in high school. She lived in South Philadelphia with her sons and daughter, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren around her, I lived in Fresno without grandparents, aunts and uncles around me. I didn't learn my heritage from her or any relatives, we created our own.

I watched Jamie's grandfather sit and listen to his daughter and the priest talk of his wife, Hazel. He was surrounded by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, neighbors, parishioners, and friends. Her life was written in each of them, stories past on, wisdom embedded, community created. She was there in our midst through this wonderful life given to each of us - either directly or indirectly (as was in my case). Her body lay in state, but her life was passed on to each of us as she lived each day. I only met her once, at Jamie's wedding, but I knew of her through the words and the heart of her granddaughter. She loved her Savior, husband, family, friends... and because of that, I felt her love today...

Time to remember...

We heard yesterday that Dorothy Lyons, the wife of the first executive director Ted Lyons, passed away.

I have fond memories of Dorothy as she and Ted lived in the Ranch House, when I first came up in 1974 which was always open for conversation and maybe a little Armenian delicacies like basturma, lahmajoon, and baklava. It changed my life. She was the mom to many of us during the summer. She would have great concern for me as I pulled pranks and was a bit the rebel. But she always would find the time to talk and listen. I remember sitting in their living room watching television with them the day Nixon resigned. Dorothy was more than a wife of Ted's, she was a important quiet pillar in the history of Calvin Crest.

To Tedd, James, Diran, Candy, Jackie, and the rest of the Lyons family, thank you for sharing your mother and grandmother. Those were great years and her love and instructions helped shape me in many ways. We rise up and say with you,
"Many daughters have done nobly,
But you excel them all."
Psalms 31:29

Unrequited love...

I desire a relationship with my cat.


Now back to the revolution...