On Sunday, Pam and I attended church at a United Methodist retreat center/camp called Epworth something, in Ludington, Mich. Every Sunday they have speakers from across the country. It was an enjoyable service.

But as we sang one hymn, I found myself cracking a smile. It was "The Lord's My Shepherd," a hymn I hadn't heard before. It uses the text of Psalm 23, but contorts sentence structure in the an obsessive and sadly desperate search for a rhyme. It's like a Pennsylvania Dutch version of Yoda.

Here the first two verses are:

The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want;
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green; He leadeth me
The quiet waters by.

My soul He doth restore again,
And me to walk doth make
Within the paths of righteousness,
E’en for His own name’s sake.

Isn't that precious? "He makes me down to lie."

I'm sorry, but as we sang, I restrain from cracking a smile had to. Not worshipful was it. This unusual with hymns is not. Many hymns I up with grew similarly mangle sentence structure to a rhyme find.

Modern songs do that don't. They like people actually talk sound, and much prefer I that. And that's yet another reason why miss hymns I don't particularly.

While everyone else was going to see "The Dark Knight," Pam and I saw "Mama Mia," the musical based entirely on Abba songs. I was a huge Abba fan (particularly of Agnetha--hey, I was a college student), back when they were the biggest band in the world. "Take a Chance on Me" and "Dancing Queen" were my favorites, and both appeared in the movie. However, I didn't recognize several songs.

I suspect "Mama Mia" will do great, particularly with us folks in the older demographics who remember Abba. It was not as good a musical as "Hairspray," and certainly not as good as "Phantom of the Opera." But it was very enjoyable--fun, funny, tear-jerking in places, a happy ending.

Two observations:

• Mery Streep can really sing.
• Pierce Brosnan can't, but gets an A for effort.

Anyway, go see it. You'll enjoy it. And you'll be humming Abba songs the rest of the day.

Pastor Tim started a series on Revelation, the first time he's tackled that subject at Anchor. He's not an "End is Near" kind of guy. Neither am I. Doomsdayers and gloomsayers abound, but really, the world is in remarkable shape.

Paul Collier, in his fascinating book The Bottom Billion, notes that relief agencies used to think of the world consisting of:

• one billion rich people
• five billion poor people.

• one billion rich people
• one billion poor people
• four billion up-and-coming.

Certainly the world isn't ready to hand the reigns to one guy, the AntiChrist. Things would need to be desperate for that to happen. And right now, desperate describes Zimbabwe and a smattering of other countries (among the bottom billion), but not much else. So I think Christ's return is a long way off.

Besides, in Acts 2:17 God says, "In the last days, your sons and your daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, and your old men will dream dreams." Is that happening?

People point to the Scripture, "You will hear of wars and rumors of wars." Well, I guess that's pretty accurate--we do hear about them. We, at least in America, don't really experience them. We just hear about them on the news. The rest of Matthew 24:6, which we forget, says, "These things must take place, but the end hasn't come yet."

I forgot to alert the world to the fact that Pam and I watched "No Country for Old Men." That was a strange movie. In places, it skipped over entire scenes, letting you guess or assume what happened (and it was usually at least somewhat apparent).

I was okay with it right up until the end. And then...it just ended. The Coen brothers decided, "Okay, we've filmed enough, got our two-hours' worth. Let's stop here." At that point, the movie became very unsatisfying. And that last Tommy Lee Jones scene: I have no idea what that was about, but I'm sure it was artistically relevant in some high-Hollywoodish way.

Pam and I watched Will Smith's latest July 4 blockbuster, "Hancock," this weekend. It was a pleasant surprise. Very good. Knowing Hancock was a superhero, I expected some villainous superhero to come along to do climactic battle with Hancock. That never happened. The movie was actually all about the back-story, and that made it very interesting. Good job, Hollywood, for actually pulling some punches in order to present a satisfying story.

I always liked Sen. John Danforth. He was a humble man, an Episcopolian priest, a man of strong moral convictions. But unlike today's Republicans--self-righteous defenders of God's will as determined by the Elephant platform--Danforth was a true statesman. He prided himself on being a reconciler, a man who worked with Democrats to produce meaningful legislation, and who treated everyone with respect. His behavior emerged from deep-seated Christian character, not from the urgings of political consultants carrying the latest poll results.

So when Danforth wrote a book called Faith and Politics, I quickly snapped it up. I suggest you do the same.

Danforth presents a strong indictment of "the takeover of the Republican Party by the Christian Right." He is particularly contemptuous of "wedge" politics, the specialty of Karl Rove and the Bush Administration (and before them, Tom Delay and Newt Gingrich). Examples: abortion, gay marriage, and stem cell research. He devotes a chapter to various wedge issues, with conclusions that Dobson, Limbaugh, Gingrich, Delay, Bush, et al might not consider politically expedient for Republicans.

"In each case," Danforth writes, "the issue energizes the base by pitting the 'people of faith' against their enemies. The Christian Right's strategy of splitting apart the American people has worked." It was worked to win elections by getting conservative Christians riled up against what they view as the godless enemy (rather than merely as fellow Americans holding opposing views). It has not worked to improve our country. Rather, it has produced a more deeply polarized nation than we've seen for many decades.

Although Danforth was an Episcopal priest, and actually carried out priestly duties in a low-key manner throughout his tenure in the Senate, Danforth insists, "Because the task of government is to hold together in one country a diverse public, my interjection of religion into politics would have been a profound disservice to my state and my country. It would have sown division where there should be unity." His theology certainly shaped his views and his character, but he wouldn't take it so far as to assume he was doing God's will.

It's a wonderful books, and tracks well with my own political leanings (and my total disaffection with the Christian Right). Some other comments:

• "Christians have a choice between reconciliation and divisiveness. Those who have chosen the latter course are getting all the attention."
• We are seekers of the truth, but we do not embody the truth."'
• "At the least, Christians should make it clear that church leaders do not speak for them if they advocate exclusivity and divisiveness."
• "Does any political agenda we create warrant our claim that it is the embodiment of God's will? No, it does not."
• "There is a difference between being a Christian in politics and having a Christian agenda for politics.... For the overwhelming majority of my time in public life, I had no certainty that my side was God's side."

I watched Larry King interview Ingrid Betancourt about her rescue after over six years as a hostage of Columbian guerrillas. It's a fascinating story. But I was thinking about viewers in other countries who watched this, wondering what they thought of Larry King. They knew Ingrid Betancourt would be interviewed by a popular American TV personality. But then they see this shriveled up old guy with big glasses, and probably couldn't help thinking, "What's with this guy? Why is he so popular?"

That would be a first impression. Those of us who grew up with Larry King recognize him as a masterful interviewer (who gets criticized for doing softball interviews, but get over it; softball is what he's good at). I wonder how long he'll still be around, or when he'll wear out his elbows from leaning on them. I rarely watch him anymore. Almost never, in fact. But he's still The King.

Over the weekend, Pam and I watched the entire season 2 of the TV show Jericho (which has now been cancelled). That was truly a compelling show, and I mourn its passing. But with such a large cast, I'm sure it was expensive.

The second season was just 7 episodes (2 DVDs via Netflix). Since they had to end the series early, I was wondering if it would be a satisfying ending, or just a never-to-be-resolved cliffhanger, like some other series that have been cancelled. It was satisfying. They did a good job.

The DVD included an alternate ending of the cliffhanger variety. If the show had been renewed, that would probably have been the ending aired on TV. But the one they aired was about as good as they could give viewers. Left lots of things up in the air, but told you that things were headed in the right direction.

Took Molly to the vet to get her teeth cleaned yesterday. Or what's left of her teeth, since half of her formerly-cancerous lower jaw was removed years ago. Molly, a skinny 9 pounds, is always eating, partly because it takes her twice as long to eat as Jordi. In this case, we couldn't feed her anything after midnight Wednesday. And boy, was she begging for food!

She meowed mournfully as I drove her to the vet; she knew where we were going. I felt like a parent taking a reluctant kid to his first day of school. Or maybe like my parents when they put me on that plane in California in August 1975, knowing I wouldn't return until May, after completing a year of college. At least I was mournful. Maybe they weren't.

The vet ended up removing two bad molars, so now Molly has even fewer teeth. But as a bonus, they removed all the rats from her hair, which mats up so easily. Pam spends a lot of time (photo, right) combing her out, and Molly cooperates well most of the time.

We retrieved her at 3:00, and she seems no worse for the wear.

Wednesday is trash pickup day in our neighborhood. Tuesday night, before going to bed, I opened the garage door and took some additional trash out to the road. Coming back in, I noticed that the door to the house, inside the garage, was ajar. I need to be careful about that, I reminded myself, because one of our cats could get out. I closed the garage door and headed to the bedroom.

Molly was on the bed. "Is Jordi in here?" I asked Pam. No, she hadn't seen Jordi.

And I realized he probably got into the garage during those few seconds when the door was open. He was probably still there, under the vehicles.

But he wasn't. Nor was he anywhere in the house--we searched up and down. Jordi had obviously escaped into the great outdoors. With just a few seconds of opportunity, he acted with swiftness and stealth.

This was 10:30. We searched the neighborhood until 1 a.m. I trekked miles, covering the same territory two or three times. I shined my flashlight into people's yards, searched through their bushes, looking for that errant yellow cat (expecting, anytime, a homeowner to emerge with a shotgun, or police cars to corner me in a culdesac).

Jordi gets into a wandering mode and just heads in a direction, oblivious. In 2.5 hours, he could be anywhere. Pam and I sat on the truck tailgate, not knowing what else to do.

Out of ideas, I decided to drive around. I backed the car down the driveway and headed north out of the addition. Then my cellphone rang. "I found him," Pam said.

Turns out that I passed Jordi on the road. He was just a few houses down, walking along the road toward our house. Pam spotted him in my headlights. The prodigal was returning.

But he was grounded. Couldn't go outside for a whole day. And he seemed to know that he did something very very wrong.

A strange thing happened this morning. I went to the McDonalds on Illinois Road, ordered a Sausage-Egg-and-Cheese McGriddle and a Sausage Burrito...and got exactly what I ordered.

This rarely happens at that McDonalds, or the one at Village of Coventry. Last Friday, Pam and I went through the Illlnois Road place. We both got McGriddles, and neither had the egg with it, as ordered. My orange juice tasted like water with a slice of orange floating in it--very weak. And we didn't get napkins. I've ordered stuff there, and the sack didn't come anywhere near what I ordered.

But today, they got it right. So I'm wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I did right. Because I'm sure it was my fault before. Certain a multinational corporation like McDonalds, staffed by kids with upwards of six years of public education, is beyond making mistakes.