Engine Light On? Stay Calm and Drive Fast

I picked up an old Jeep in which to tool around. What can I say? It helps me feel young in my dotage.

The Jeep, which one of my readers so eloquently named Meggie, is fifteen11128095_10153228973655479_169513890950714517_o years old (that’s sixty in auto years). That makes her almost as old as I am. Her saving grace is she has fewer miles on her than I have on me. She had a tad over 80,000 on the odometer when I picked her up. We make a great team.

When I bought Meggie, the salesman mentioned the engine light might come on. He gave me technical reasons for that and said if that happened, “Just bring her in and we’ll rectify the situation.” Oh joy…

Meggie and I tooled around for two thousand miles without incident. Awesome! I figured I was home free. Then one day, I had to travel about 120 miles to do a wedding.

I showered, shaved, and jumped into my Jeep. As I backed out of the driveway, I glanced down and saw the engine light pop on. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel so well. I had 120 miles to go, much of it interstate, and no time to get the situation checked out. I sure couldn’t let down the couple to be married in a few, short hours.

Soooo… I prayed (the first of many that day) and took off for marriage-land. It was, indeed, a stressful ride. To make matters worse, it poured down rain for much of the trip. I tried to console myself with the dealer’s technical explanation. That’s really all I had.

Then, for some reason, I remembered all 11781780_10153459508994631_8937820042308412817_nthe t-shirts, bumper stickers, and placards that everywhere suggest we “Stay Calm…” You’ve seen them. “Stay calm and watch baseball.” Stay calm and eat salad.” I recently saw one that said, “Stay calm and be Italian.” That fits considering my heritage (but frankly, I don’t know all that many calm Italians).

Stay calm and drive fast!

So I began to “stay calm and drive fast.” Before I arrived at the scene of the ceremony, it occurred to me that there is a verse of Scripture that applies here. Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.”

During the ensuing wedding ceremony, I related my little story to the bride, groom, and the company “gathered together” there “in the sight of God.” I added that God is love. So what this Psalm is saying in 21st Century vernacular is, “Stay calm and know that God loves you.”

I further suggested that there would be days when their engine light would pop on—not the one in their car, but the one in their brain, their heart, or their soul. I asked them to keep this verse in mind as they faced trials together in the future. Great advice, even if I do say so myself.11151022_10153226997195479_6860139656632105076_n

By the way, my engine light then went out. Thank you Jesus!



Beer Goggles: Five New Ways to View Your Neighbor

DSC_0283Many of you have undoubtedly heard the expression “beer goggles.” It emanates from the experience of being out on the town, having one too many beers, and suddenly finding that every woman (or man) in the joint is gorgeous. They’re beautiful (or handsome) because you’re looking at them through beer goggles.

While I don’t highly recommend this sort of activity, it seems to me we could make good use of this. In other words, I don’t think we have to get juiced up to view people in a different light.

As a matter of fact, I think we in the church need to start wearing beer goggles. (If you don’t have a pair, get you some!). We need to begin looking at our neighbors differently. Here are five ways we can do that.

Beer Goggles

Look at people in the best possible way. We often see them in the worst possible way. They’re cheap… They’re mean… They’re messy…(ad nauseum). Get to know them, and emphasize their best traits in your mind rather than their worst.

He’s My Friend

Look upon people as someone you want to get to know. Find out what makes them tick. Get to know them on a different level.

C’mon Over for Dinner

Read the gospels. Jesus got to know people over dinner. He ate with everybody…disciples, Pharisees, sinners of all sorts. Invite at least one person to your next backyard BBQ that you normally wouldn’t include. Talk to them with a mouthful.

What Can I Do For You?

Extend a helping hand. Shovel a neighbor’s snowy sidewalk. Help them rake and bag their leaves. Before you head to the grocery store, see if you can pick anything up for them to save them a trip. Even if they don’t want your help, they’ll probably say thanks and give you a quick opportunity to know them a tad better.

I Found This Great Deal!

When you stumble across an absolute bargain, pick up an extra one and give it to someone you don’t know that well. Mention that you thought of them when you saw this. You picked one up for yourself and you thought maybe they could use one as well. Even if it turns out they don’t need it, it will give you a small opportunity to get to know them on a somewhat deeper level.

These suggestions are not rocket science, I know. They’re just small, practical ideas that will break a little ice here and there.

You may have noticed something each of these five suggestions has in common. In each, the central idea is this—get to know them better. We are made for DSC_0090community. And, in my view, what we lack in this world is community.

Imagine the change that would take place in our world if each of us did this with one person. Why not give it a try?


How I Learned to Love Disco in 100 Easy Lessons

????????????????????????????????????I was always a rocker. As a little kid, I used to mimic Elvis and Ricky. I would grab anything that resembled a guitar and could pantomime with the best of them. I even cut strips of paper, colored them brown, licked them and stuck them on the sides of my head to look like sideburns. Fortunately, there are no pictures.

In my late teens, I played in a rock band. My record collection (yes, records) was a reflection of that. The mother lode included Jimi Hendrix, Cream, and the Doors.

I was a rock snob. If it wasn’t rock, I didn’t listen to it. I certainly didn’t own it. Other music genres just didn’t cut it.

Then along came disco. To my friends and me, that was a bastardization of all things music. We had t-shirts that announced, “Disco Sucks.” Pardon me for getting a tad crass, but that’s what they said.

Fast-forward about a hundred years. I’m now a gray haired, bearded, old man traveling to a gym every other day to stay alive. Guess what they play—that’s right…disco. I guess they think the beat is good for working out. So I used my iPod and ear buds.

Somewhere along the way, however, I realized I could use that workout time to read and study. So I stopped with the iPod and began taking my iPad. (I know, I could actually do both. But that would be too much like multi-tasking.) I’m getting a lot of reading in, but I’m also hearing a lot of disco.

What I’m discovering is, I can get used to almost anything. After hearing this stuff week in and week out, it’s becoming more and more tolerable. And while it will never become my favorite musical style, I can now hear it in the background and not cringe…even when it’s blasting my eardrums. (And please don’t tell any of my friends, but there are actually a few of these melodic ditties that I’ve grown to like.)

????????????????????????????????????I guess what all of this proves to me is that I can be a whole lot more tolerant of things than I had ever realized. And trust me, I can be quite intolerant. I try not to show it, but it’s buried in there somewhere.

That of course, leads me to the church (doesn’t everything?). I’ve noticed over the years that my intolerance surfaces more in my churchianity than it does anywhere else.

Down and Dirty Sinning

I’m not talking about down and dirty sinning here. I’m talking about where the candles are placed, how the ushering is done, people showing up during the sermon, yada-yada-yada. You know—the really important stuff (not).

It suddenly occurs to me that if I can learn to love disco, I should be able to love my brothers and sisters despite the fact they are not always like me. We are a community after all. Are we not?



Tastee Freez–A Cold Blast From My Hot Past

conekidMy lovely bride and I recently made a brief, four-day incursion into the American Southland. We went there to visit our granddaughter at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. She’s our little soldier girl (I hope it’s okay to call her that—she’s twenty, but she was our first grandchild and will always be my little girl).

On the way home, I saw something I hadn’t seen in years—a Tastee Freez. This is probably not a big deal to many, and you’re wondering why I even mention it. But frankly, it was a big deal to me. When I saw it, I got all excited.

I can’t remember the last time I saw one. Growing up in Western Pennsylvania, the big treat was to take a trip to the local Tastee Freez. For a dime, you could get a wonderfully delicious, soft-serve, ice cream cone. If you were extra rich that day, a banana split could be landed for fifty cents (yes…fifty cents—I’m that old).

The words, Tastee Freez, conjure up fabulous memories. They also remind me of a love for ice cream that has never abated in all these years. It still remains one of my biggest weaknesses. Fortunately for me (and my never ending battle of the bulge), no Tastee Freez units can be found within shouting distance of my gas tank (although I do live within walking distance of a Dairy Queen—but that’s a story for another day).

I checked their website and discoveredtastee_freez_banana-split-main many of them still exist, but they’re located primarily in the southwest. California is loaded with them. We may have to plan our next vacation along the west coast. Vineyards and sundaes…what a combo!

I’m not sure why these little coveys of culinary delight have all but disappeared from the Northeastern section of our country. There could be a lot of reasons for this, but all I know is they’re few and far between.

In stark contrast, there seems to be a church on every street corner—at least that’s the impression one gets when taking a drive around this groovy nation. That’s why I was so surprised recently to discover that churches are going the way of the Tastee Freez.

7000 churches close every year…

I recently read a statistic reporting that 7000 churches close every year. I’m acutely aware, as are you, that statistics can be manipulated, misleading, and misused. However, this is amazing to me. Seven thousand… How can that be? Is it even possible?

I have, for a long time, had a belief that (when it comes to all things church) “no _________ is better than a bad _________.” In my belief system, those blanks can be filled in with numerous nouns—Sunday School, Bible Study, Youth Group, and even Church. There I’ve said it. No church is better than a bad church.

I just hope the 7000 that go away this year fall into the “bad church” category (however we define “bad”).Tastee Freez

Remembering 911 (or The Empty Stadium Syndrome)

Empty StadiumIt’s hard to believe that infamous day was fourteen years ago. We used to call nine-one-one when there were emergencies. We still do, but now those three numbers have become a byword. All one has to do is utter that nondescript, three numeral password to evoke a torrent of emotions.

For the most part, those emotions lie beneath the surface. If you say 911 to me, I’m not going to fly into a rage, panic, or glare at you like you’re some kind of menacing freak. But underneath it all, I’m a boiling caldron of mixed emotions.

Even as I write this, I’m getting a little tense. I can’t even explain it, really. But like most of you, I remember where I was, whom I was with, and how I felt on that agonizing day. I’ll have to refer to my psychologist buddies to analyze that one.

The silence was deafening…

So many odd and eerie things happened that day and around that event. I live near Dulles Airport. The planes, which were constantly taking off and landing overhead, were suddenly gone. The silence was deafening. A few days later, when I saw my first airplane again, it was almost scary. It was an ominous feeling to have the silence broken.

Earlier this year, there was an event that harkened back to that silence. It was during the riots in Baltimore (which were not at all quiet, of course). Because of the unrest and danger in the situation, no fans were allowed to attend the Orioles game. Everything was so quiet, players could hear the play-by-play announcers up in the booth. They say silence is golden. I say, not always.

If you walk into a large cathedral these days, you can often find that same eerie hush . For the most part, it’s not because everyone there is in reverent silence. It’s because no one is there at all.

Camden Gate

In stark contrast, immediately after 911 the buildings we call churches were full. There were services of remembrance, prayer meetings, and candlelight vigils. People got together in places that reminded them of the hope we have in God. The sense of community was on a sudden uptick—for a while. The only quiet was the intentional moment of silence.

Today, there will be many moments of silence observed across our nation. In addition, however, there will be many hushed cathedrals silenced by the absence of their community. That community, which was rediscovered fourteen years ago, seems to have dissipated as quickly as it was formed.

We still have all the theology, doctrine, and tradition we need. What we don’t have is community. Even the so-called churchgoers are strangely absent much of the time. We’ve lost our sense of community and we need to reclaim it. But the only way to do that is to get together—and not just on Sunday mornings.

It’s time to wake up church. The silence is deafening.

Ron Edgar: A Gift to the Living

Ron & Lynnette 2Recently an old acquaintance of mine passed away. I use the word, acquaintance, very loosely because I didn’t really know him well. We were only together on a few occasions, and never spent a lot of time together. We were separated by distance, time, and circumstances for much of our lives.

Yet I knew who he was. I knew his name well. I knew his reputation even better. We had many mutual friends and relationships including some of his relatives. He was, by all accounts, one of the good guys.

A Chance Encounter…  Shortly after his death, I had a chance encounter with his sister. When I passed along my condolences, she began to tell me about his last days.

I had been watching the family’s Facebook postings and had been given a heads up concerning his physical condition. What I noticed seemed a little unusual, and his sister’s story made sense of it all.

What I saw was a man who was enjoying his life, his friends, and his family. Among other things, I saw several videos of him making music with other musician friends of his. He seemed to be really enjoying himself in many ways, despite the diagnosis that hovered over him.

His sister confirmed all of that. She relayed the message that he was the glue that held them together. He joked and made them laugh when laughter was undoubtedly the last thing on their minds and in their hearts. In other words, his last few days here on this earth were quite incredible.11828794_10204106052881145_6683017485612303337_n copy

I once read a piece by Rev. Billy Graham where he stated the belief that many people receive a special grace as they die. If I remember correctly, he also added that only the dying receive the grace to die. That sounds a bit simplistic, but I certainly can’t argue the point.

As a pastor, I’ve had the privilege from time to be with various people as they die—in some cases in their dying moments. I have seen that grace in action. It is, indeed, a gift as every grace is.

A Gift to the Living…                                                                                            However, it’s not merely a gift to the dying. It seems to be a gift that someone like Ron can receive and share with the rest of us. Someone in that position can give a gift that no one else can give.

When we experience the end of a person’s life with them, it can frequently be excruciating. The surrounding circumstances can seem unbearable. But every so often, we receive a gracious gift that reminds us we are not alone. We receive a gift from the one who is preparing to depart that puts an exclamation point on1908115_10203969012855230_1162852452219850545_n life and prepares us for our own death.

When we are there to receive such a gift, we are blessed. We are graced with a knowledge that is otherwise unknowable. Death is not the end. It is merely a new beginning.

Thanks be to God! 

YOLO, IKTR, LOL–Do You Follow?

If you’re a text-er of the first degree (or even a latecomer to the texting scene), you probably know what I just said in the title of this blog. In case you’re not numbered among the texting gurus (text-ually challenged, as it were), allow me to translate.

The title of this blog simply says, “You only live once—I know that’s right—laugh out loud.” When texting, these little shortcuts really come in handy (especially if you have fat fingers).IMG_1035

For example, HBD means Happy Birthday. Why type it out when everyone knows what the abbreviation means? LMBO means, “Laugh my butt off.” This comes in handy when someone texts you something really funny. WTF means, “Why the face?” I heard that on TV, so it must be true.

Well, I think I’ve reached the end of my texting lexicon. I’m still learning (usually the hard way). But I’ve noticed something significant.

  • The text-er has the advantage. When you’re texting a shortcut, you know what you mean. When you’re on the other end, not so much. I’ve discovered the Urban Dictionary can be my best friend. Who knew?

This whole shortcut business has gone viral. We have a shortcut for everything now. I saw a commercial the other day for an icon in the shape of a pizza slice. If you have that on your cell phone, all you have to do is press it, and Domino’s (or someone) will deliver a pizza to your door. That’s way too easy (and hard on my stomach and wallet).

My fear as a Christian is this whole smartphone-569076_1280shortcut thing will invade the church. Maybe it already has. Many denominations are shrinking (for good or ill) and, along with losing members, they’re losing leaders. Why that is can be a great topic for another day (or maybe a book). But my focus here is how church leaders, elders, pastors, etc. are being replaced (or reproduced).

  • I received notice from a bishop recently that a once popular discipleship course of study was being abbreviated—ostensibly to make it more palatable to the masses. The time of each session was being cut back and the total length of the program curtailed.

I’m not all that familiar with the program, so I can’t comment on its specific worth or its newfound relevance in brevity. It does seem to be a harbinger of things to come, however. Maybe tomorrow has arrived.

I may be an alarmist here, but it seems to me that discipleship has no shortcuts. Discipleship is accomplished line upon line, experience upon experience, and precept upon precept. When the church attempts to short circuit the process, there can only be Hell to pay (HTP?).

I hate to be a wet blanket. Normally I’m very positive about most things. In this area, however, I think I have to draw a line in the sand.

  • If you want to be a true disciple of Christ, put in the time…YKWIM?

It’s a Dog’s Life (or Can We Say Arf?)

As I was growing up, I often heard the expression, “It’s a dog’s life.” For some reason, I always thought that was referring to a life that was hard. I think I actually got it mixed up with another expression that referred to the “dog days of summer” (which was also something I heard a lot while I was growing up).

I’ve been set straight, however. Dogs get to lie around and eat. They devour two or three squares and sleep twenty hours a day (or something like that). Most of them aren’t required to do much except for a few stupid pet tricks (when they feel like it).

KenyaPupThere are the obvious exceptions like guard dogs, Seeing Eye dogs, and police dogs. But I suspect even most of these furry friends are treated quite well. Hence, a dog’s life…

If human beings lived like this, they would be reviled. They would be called all sorts of names like ne’er-do-well, idler, bum, or a drag on society. Since I have often heard these expressions as well, I guess there must be a few of those around.

But dogs, on the other hand, never seem to be called these names. When they lie around and do nothing, they are called cute, cuddly fur balls and are spoken to in baby talk. How can this be?

Well, I’ll tell you how this can be. This can be because dogs provide us with unconditional love. When we walk in the door, they wag their tails so hard their rear ends shake. Even dogs that aren’t treated so well seem to love their masters. It’s an amazing phenomenon.

What ever happened to I love you…period?

It seems to me that we of the human race could learn a couple of things from “man’s best friend” (by the way—what would the politically correct term for that be?). We could use a fresh dose of that unconditional love. We seem to be much better at unconditional apathy and unconditional hatred.

The best example we have of unconditional love does not come from dogs, however. Our best example is Jesus. Yet we in the church don’t seem to get it any more than your average pagan. Any love we can muster up has strings attached. I love you if… I love you when… I love you because… You can fill in the blanks as you wish.

What ever happened to I love you…period? Unconditional love. I Corinthians 13 love. Everything with us is so conditional it’s pathetic. Even among believers.

I guess we can chalk all that up to the human condition. We are deficient in the love department. We have been tried and found wanting. We have discovered the enemy, and it’s us.

Some would say, “Eat, love, pray.” I say, “Eat, sleep, love.” It’s a dog’s life.JessGirls

Michael Vick and the Church Triumphant

Growing up (and to this very day), the Pittsburgh Steelers have been my favorite NFL team. That would be Picksburg Stillerz to yinz from the Steel City. And for you non-fans, NFL stands for National Football League (don’t want to leave anyone behind—this is really important stuff).

Recently their backup quarterback was injured. Their choice to replace him was the best guy left on the market at that late date. That guy was Michael Vick.dog-720906_1280

Even you non-fans probably know MV by reputation—not a very good one, I might add. He was arrested, prosecuted, and served time for his involvement with a dog-fighting ring. But you can look all that up on your Google Machine.

Now let me remind you. Vick’s malicious escapades were made public back in 2007. I’m not a big math guy, but according to my calculations, that was eight years ago. Yet it seems that, eight years later, all is not forgiven (let alone forgotten). I kinda hope I’ve been forgiven for stuff I did eight years ago. In fact, I hope I’ve been forgiven for stuff I did last week, for Heaven’s sake (see what I did there?).

The Steelers are normally known for their high moral standards as an organization. Unfortunately, the word, “high,” is a relative term. In the NFL, “high” places them somewhere between politicians and used car salesmen.


We have a star quarterback, a star running back, and a star linebacker who have been forgiven of various and sundry forms of gross misbehavior (to put it mildly). Could this be called selective forgiveness (as in selective hearing)? Or can we simply chalk this up to the fact that we are now a “dog nation” as someone once put it?

I’ve never been known as a big animal guy (although I was a college biology major). I’ve had two pet dogs  in my life. One of the reasons I don’t have one now is because my heart still aches when I think of those two (RIP guys). I really don’t want to go through losing another one.

dog-472071_1280So I really do understand when some Steeler fans pronounce that they are no longer fans. I understand the venomous comments spewed when the subject is broached. In a pre-season game, Vick’s first official pass as a Steeler was a 63 yard bomb. Someone tweeted, “Yeah, but how many dogs did he kill on the sidelines?”

I understand, but I can’t relate. I can’t relate because I’m a lousy, scumbag sinner just like the rest of humanity. I’m undoubtedly capable of doing much worse than Vick (although admittedly, I can’t imagine). If I don’t forgive him and allow him to improve his life and move on, how can I expect the same from others toward me?

So I say to you Michael Vick, for what it’s worth, “I forgive you.” Besides—anyone married to someone named Kijafa Frink can’t be all bad.

Spiritual Nudity (or Rated X Marks the Spot)

Adam and Eve were naked. Noah got drunk AND naked. King David danced half naked through the streets. King Saul wore his birthday suit to prophesy before Samuel prompting people to ask, “Is Saul among the prophets?” (Which would cause me to wonder if the prophets ran a nudist colony.)

paradise-146120_1280These are just a few of the Bible characters who were known to run around in the buff. The ones I just mentioned were quite significant, however—our first parents, the man who saved all the fauna on the planet, and the first two kings of Israel (depending upon how you count them).

These people could be the central cast in a new HBO series. They could call it Naked Before God, Naked We Ran, The Nude Dude…(I could go on, but I’ll spare you the groans). The point is… Well I’m not sure what the point is, but you get the picture—and it’s not a pretty one.

With all this gratuitous lewdity (is that a word?), I can’t figure out how we got to be so prudish in the church. I mean, some of the best people seemed to be comfortable going in the all together. What ever happened to us?

Now before you start judging me (although I’m sure some of you already have), I’m not advocating we start worshiping in various states of undress. In fact, I tend to be a little on the shy side myself. Modesty is the best policy as far as I’m concerned (especially with my own body—which is the only one I can control).

My objective here is to bring a salient point to your attention. Biblical nakedness is a symbolic condition. Adam and Eve, for example were naked for a long time before they even knew it (imagine that). Noah got stinking drunk and made a mockery of himself in front of his family. David’s wife got really ticked at him. And Saul…well, he was just nuts.

sin-146121_1280Biblical nudity has a central theme running all through it. When Adam and Eve finally noticed they were, shall we say, unprotected, it was because their eyes were opened by their own sin (always naked and now finally ashamed). Noah’s sons felt the need to cover him up, even though he was in the confines of his own tent. On and on it goes until we get to the sum of the evidence. There’s something unseemly about being uncovered.

That’s where God comes in. Adam and Eve couldn’t find anything that sufficed for a good cover-up. Like Noah’s sons did for him, God provided cover for our first parents. We’re always naked before God. We can either dance before Him like David, or attempt to run and hide like Adam & Eve.

It’s quite apparent that the best course of action is to look for God cover us up. He’s the only one with the know-how anyway.