Whipped like a buggy horse

Man am I tired.

Three on the 24th, one in the morning, lots of singing, two different sermons on the heels of the flu. Nice to have had yesterday off.

now back to the reminders of the frailty of the flesh. I arrive dressed to remove the old carpet from one of the halls (a member of one of the groups that uses this hall is re-carpeting it at a steep discount tomorrow) and find that two members (husband and wife) are in the hospital and that their kids cannot make it because they have the ame flu that I had. Debbie's Grandmother is also in the Hospital so she's on the other side of town with the car.

Ah the joys of the season indeed.

In the midst of the constant puling from all sides, Lord, give us the vision to see a brighter day. Give us the faith to see that no matter how hard the road may seem, the ones we reach will find their ways smoother for the coming of Your Word and may that knowledge remind us of how smooth our roads truly are compared to those around us. Strengthen in us the knowledge that tomorrow will always be bright enough when it is lived in the light of your love.

Joys of the season

I love Christmas Carols. Not just the ones in the Green Book, or in the Blue Book or even (gasp) in the Red Book. I love the odd little ones, I saw Three Ships, Good King Wenceslas, and even Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. When else do we sing out in utter silliness, utter joy and reverence in succession?

But even in caroling groups there seems to occasionally be a kind of pandering going on. Our church, like many in this area, carols to those who live in assisted circumstances. One one of the visits (our last) we bumped into a group from a larger church downtown and instead of competing, they lent us their spare caroling books and we joined forces. We joined them on each secular carol until I was going to say something (at Jingle-bell rock) when they relented and sang what child is this.

Now I think Bill O'Reily is as much of an ass as the next rational person, but are we surrendering Christmas, just a little, when we decline the opportunity to proclaim in joyous song the coming of Christ? And frankly, we put on a pretty good show, having practiced quite a bit. I didn't get the same sense of dedication from the other group (could be pride, I confess that I am in bondage . . .) and so when they did switch to a Christo-centric hymn, they didn't seem to have their hearts in it and it came off flat.

Maybe we don't need custom-made caroling books so much as we need to remember how much we have been given, and how much it cost.

I spent about three minutes that evening chatting with a lovely resident of one of the complexes. I see her in chapel which I hold there once a month (in rotation with other local clergy so it's well covered). She was so pleased to come down and enjoy the singing and the gift of someone coming to visit that I remembered that is not often what we say that speaks the Gospel, but what we do.

But we can still put a little more thought into it, I think.

Newborn babe, smile up at us from the position you have chosen so that we might learn from you what Lordship truly is. ALl of our preparation and all of our practice are less that simply showing up with a kind hearts and a willing hand to help out those who suffer, those who fear and those who feel the sting of lonliness. Guide our feet Lord, to those places where we might be infants of grace, children of light to those whose lives hold darkness.

And STAY OUT!

What is WITH these fundawhackadoodle youth groups? They have been hounding me to gather up my underage flock and take them to one of these stadium-sized hand-waving festivals starring charismatic ding-dong's one two and three from the less forgiving side of the body of Christ. Not just inviting, not just allowing for the possibility of participation, but calling once or twice a week for the last three months, ignoring protestations of disorganization and disunity, offering possibilities and strategies so that I can come to their event.

Why the hell are these things so successful? Are the rest of you (nothing personal, more the global "you") just caving to the temptation to bring your kids to a ready-made event so you'll be off of the hook? What about the questionable theology that is prevalent at these things?

And how does the whole thing pay for itself? I have been called by three separate people who are clearly working in some kind of boiler-room with ten other "happy white (like you can't hear the suburbs on these people!) Christians." Who pays for all of that? Rick Warren?

But more to the point, are we so bereft of ideas, or creativity or connection with our children that we need to have these people filling in the gaps? If we leave our children ithe hands of these folks (well meaning all of them) even if we haven't lost them in the body-of-Christ sense have we risked losing them to a less grace-oriented manifestation of faith?

I won't lie to you. I think that the biggest detriment to honest communication with youth today is having grown up in youth groups. It may make you comfortable in the milieu, but seriously, how many of you have memories other than playing spoons and happy-clappy songs? There are islands of meaningful exchange but so much of what I hear about is trying to keep them off of the streets and occupied for a few hours. I don't even know how to lie to kids and so while I may not be as comfortable as others in their midst, we get along because I am not full of shit. (mostly)

Upside the head, Lord. Upside the head. That's where we need to be smacked every once in a while when we start falling into grooves of comfort and least resistance. This teaching is difficult; who can accept it? were the words written in John and they are true for us today. Make us bold to proclaim that word, that difficult word to all who can hear, and then to climg up upon the mountaintop and proclaim for all who cannot hear, missing not a word, losing not an ounce of the love that drives us ever onward.

Now get back to work!

Delightful Advent service. I'll post the sermon on the pericope study page and see who salutes.

Trying to remember what the devil I'm supposed to do now. Maybe go home and snuggle with the cats or something. Maybe just bring home a bible and read up, randomly, about whatever strikes my fancy. How odd that it would come to this, to being so excited about the coming of Christ that I'd actually try and read up on it.

It's like the stock market. I had a wonderful service today, but attendance was a little off. You know that you cannot look at the numbers each day and try to make adjustments or you become a slave to the polls, but there is this weird little voice in your head that says "where are they? What do they think is more important than listening to you speak the word of God?"

We do our annual meetings in two halves here, the first half ws today and it entailed approving the budget and electing next year's council. It all went smoothly but I wonder if that's why people stayed away. In any case, I am happy and finally geting over my cold so I could sing out this week and be reasonably sure of my pitch. It feels remarkably good to do as the Hebrews taught us Sing praises cuz that's what Hallelujah means.

Open our mouths and strengthen our voices, Lord as we sing your praises in the light of your Christ. Let our songs be a beacon in the darkness that shows the way to everlasting peace in your love. Grant that we may be fed in this praise with the food that will sustain us as we venture out of the choir and into the streets to meet the people who are you in each day and in each hour.

New additions

Well, we decided that for Caitlyn's birthday
(and not for any selfish reasons, of course)
it would be nice to get kittens.

The one on the left (all black) is Vincent (Vinnie)

and the one on the right (tuxedo) is Theo

no significance to the names, that's what they were when we got them.

They've been with us since the evening of the 28th and they seem to be adjusting fine, except that they tend to run around ALL NIGHT chasing each other and playing. It could certainly be worse.