Phantom of the Opera. The movie "Phantom of the Opera" was very good, but could have been outstanding except for two things:

• The lip-synching was off, and it was very distracting. I'm glad that the actors did their own singing, rather than having other person's voices dubbed over them. But they just did a poor job of dubbing in their own voices after the acting was done.
• I wasn't all that crazy about the guy who played the Phantom. His voice was nothing special. Or maybe I just had Michael Crawford's voice too firmly in my head.

Newsboys. Pam got me the Newsboys "Adoration" worship CD for Christmas. I love it. The song "Presence" is especially outstanding. It's been playing on the local Christian radio stations for quite a while now. The Newsboys may just be my favorite Christian group at this point, narrowly edging out Third Day (whose last album was very poor). Our worship team does "He Reigns," and the congregation loves it. I'm hoping we can do "It is You" and "Presence" in the months ahead. The Newsboys are putting out some really great stuff.

Tsunami. ABC and CNN had superb specials last night on the tsunami, which is probably the worst natural disaster of my lifetime. Amazing stuff. I'm fascinated by some of the video which is coming now of the waves actually approaching. I always assumed a tsunami featured a tidal wave. I guess it can include a tidal wave, but not necessarily. In this case, it looked like a regular wave breaking on the beach...except that it didn't break and recede, but just kept going inland, pushed by masses of water behind it.

At work today, I sent out two emails to our church constituency reporting on the tsunami. Our missionary couple in India live in a town back from the coast, so they are fine. But about 5000 people from coastal villages, which were struck hard, descended on their town, and they were able to provide help.

Posted at 06:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I got hit in the gut just before lunch, and I'm still feeling it. I learned that our best friends are separating. She wanted out.

Pam and I never saw this one coming. Great people, great friends, great kids.

I called him a couple hours ago. He's devastated, a "basketcase," he told me. She told him just last night that she was leaving, and her mind was made up. I told him to call me anytime he needed to talk, and that I would drop whatever I was doing if he wanted to get together. I meant it.

I love these people. I know reconciliation is possible. And I know that God is sovereign. Pam and I will be spending a lot of time in prayer over this one (she and Pam have been quite close). My friendship will go a long way, as will that of other persons. There is a middle-schooler at home, great kid.

Pastors deal with situations like this often. I've heard other people tell of friends who separated or divorced, and, "I didn't think it would ever happen to them." But it does. That's our world.

I think my friend was happy to talk to me, glad to hear a voice of acceptance and assurance, after he had been dealt a blow of rejection. He'll need more of that. And I think of someone else at church whose husband left her a year-and-a-half ago for another woman. I'll bet she's still dealing with a lot of pain even after all this time, and I've not shown her the concern and support and encouragement that I did in those early months. I need to pay more attention to the people around me.

Posted at 06:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday, Pam and I had our last Christmas gathering. Things started last Thursday, when we had supper at Smokey Bones with Pam’s biological father and stepmom, Jim and Ann, and then went to see the movie version of "Phantom of the Opera." They had seen the stage play four times, including the Michael Crawford/Sara Brightman version.

My parents, along with my brother Rick's family, came to the Christmas Eve service at Anchor. We arranged the sanctuary seats in a circle, with the grand piano in the middle, and mostly sang carols. I played the piano. Dorene had told me that their two-year-old son, Cameron, is fascinated by piano playing. I would occasionally look in his direction and see him staring intently at me. It always made me smile. Pastor Hallman gave a nice Christmas devotional. At one point, he asked the congregation to name their favorite Christmas movie. My smart-aleck brother Rick said, "Die Hard." We all laughed.

After the service, we went back to our house, and Stu and Joyce and their four kids, along with assorted friends/girlfriends/boyfriends, soon arrived. It was a fun evening. Mom made her famous noodles. Christmas Day itself was rather uneventful, except that I watched the Lakers/Heat and Pistons/Pacers games.

Then yesterday, after church, we went to Pam’s brother’s place around South Whitley. We had a gift exchange. But the main event was watching the Colts game, where Peyton Manning beat the touchdown record in what was truly a thrilling game. Jim had a big-screen TV, so that was nice. Pam’s Mom is in California, so the only contact with her was by phone. I'm sure she missed getting together with her family over the holidays.

For my first nine years, when we lived in Indiana, we always went to Elgin, Ohio, to spend a day at Grandpa and Grandma’s place on Christmas. My aunt and two uncles and their families would be there, along with my best friend in the world, my cousin Mike. Those were great times. Of course, Grandma always had great food. But then there were the presents we always received from Grandpa and Grandma.

One year, they got each of us three older grandsons--me, Mike, and Brad--a "Johnny Seven." That was an awesome, and bulky, toy gun that fired seven different things (grenades, missiles, etc.). The two middle grandkids, Stu and Trent, each got what was called a Monkey Gun. It only shot one thing, a yellow missile, but it shot it hard. Our Johnny Sevens, by comparison, merely lobbed missiles, and you could take a hit fairly well. But if you got hit by a Monkey Gun, it really really stung. We had raging battles in Grandpa's utility room (I can’t believe we didn’t break something), but we older kids were deathly afraid of the Monkey Guns wielded by the young pipsqueaks. How humiliating!

I loved those Christmases. But we moved 500 miles away to Pennsylvania in 1966, and four years later we moved to Arizona, so those special Christmas gatherings with relatives came to an end.

Stu’s kids, now all out of high school, were fortunate. Every Christmas, they were together with their two uncles and grandparents. I, likewise, cherish those get-togethers, the latest version of which occurred on Christmas Eve. It won’t last forever, because Stu’s kids will eventually marry and move to parts yet unknown. But for now, things are as they should be. Especially since I'm able to spend Christmas with Mom and Dad, who remain healthy. What a blessing!

Posted at 06:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Rodney, a twenty-something young man, has been attending Anchor for a year or so. I haven’t gotten to know him well, and I regret that. Last week he was involved in a terrible accident--a semi truck ran over and crushed part of his body. He’ll survive, but his body will undoubtedly never be the same, and he’ll be hospitalized for around three weeks or so, followed by much rehab.

Through this, I discovered that another fellow in the church had given Rodney a Bible about a year ago. I wouldn’t have expected such an act from this particular person, but was delighted to hear about it. It was an act of Christian outreach which went unnoticed, but which demonstrates the Church in action--as it should be.

This morning, Melissa told me that she and her mother, Lori, have been volunteering at a city homeless ministry on Sunday mornings. They had gone there this morning prior to church. I don’t know how long they’ve been doing this. Both Melissa and Lori are fairly new converts; both were baptized at Anchor about 18 months ago. I still remember Melissa springing up out of the water, arms raised, yelling, “Yeah!” I didn’t know they were involved with this homeless ministry. Just something they felt led to do. It’s another example of the body of Christ at Anchor involved in being the Body.

Karen is a new Christian. She has been coming with Sandy, and both of them are bringing their mothers. Now, I understand, they are inviting other coworkers to come to Anchor. Terry invited a young black man, who has come a number of times. He and Laura have reached out to other neighbors.

Annie and Kelly have been coming for less than two years, probably more like a year. I joke with them a lot before the service. They’ll come with a whole truckload of kids from their neighborhood, up to ten people piled into the cab and bed of Kelly’s pickup. Kelly and one of the teen girls were both baptized during our annual picnic and baptismal service over the Labor Day weekend. A couple months ago, I talked to a friend of theirs whom Kelly brought to our monthly adult coffeehouse, who had recently moved up from Florida. Anita said that Annie and Kelly are known around their community for doing things for people, particularly taking care of elderly people.

More examples of the Body being the Body.

I love hearing stuff like this. It’s not something we organize or program at Anchor. It just happens as people encounter Christ and reach out in love. I’m sure much more is happening that I’m not aware of, and may never hear about. That's okay. I know this stuff brings applause in heaven.

Posted at 06:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Woke up this morning to about eight inches of white stuff. Knew it was coming. Hoped it was just a bad dream. The good news: we closed the UB offices, so I didn't have to go in to work today. And then Pam stayed home, too. The bad bad news: had lots of time to shovel lots and lots of snow. I got the snow blower running last night, but it's just a little thing suited mostly for just a few inches of snow, not the deluge we got last night. Might as well run a blow dryer on a long extension cord.

When I hear the song "White Christmas," I groan. My parents like to have a white Christmas. Dad, after all, grew up in Michigan. I'm sure they're happy today. And I must admit--it's very pretty outside. But I can do without.

And, in fact, I did do without for a number of years. We moved to Arizona in 1970, and in the desert, all Christmases are brown or tan. I liked that. I liked going outside in December in a T-shirt. The lake in Lake Havasu City was too cold at that time of year, but you can't have everything (unless you live in the Caribbean, I guess, which is something to consider). We moved to California in 1974, and there, we could at least see snow up in the Sierra Madres, but it kept its distance. Out there, we talked about "going to the snow." If we wanted to sled or throw snowballs, we piled into the car and drove into the mountains. That's the way to do it. Snow by invitation only.

Until 1988, I spent most of my Christmases in California or Arizona (my parents moved back to Arizona, the Phoenix area this time, in 1983 or thereabouts). I would fly out there for a couple of weeks during the holidays, often leaving--or more accurately, fleeing from--a white Christmas. But alas, everyone moved back to Indiana or Ohio in 1989, and fleeing is no longer an option. If it snows, we have a white Christmas. It comes to us, unbidden. On Saturday, we will have a white Christmas, unless there is an unusually strong solar flare.

Give me the desert any day. I wonder if Jesus ever had a white Christmas? Jesus, of course, was unfortunate to have his birthday on the same day as Christmas, which meant one less day for presents. But even divinity couldn't solve that dilemma, I guess.

Posted at 06:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

We had a big surprise at work on Monday, and it was a very cool thing. Mark Beers and Wes Kuntzman, two United Brethren ministers (Decatur and Monroe, Ind.), delivered a big box of goodies to each us at the United Brethren Headquarters. That's ten boxes of goodies. LOTS of goodies. We're talkin' a full turkey, a half-ham, a sack of potatoes, two litres of pop, a box of Stovetop Stuffing, a jar of gravy, a bunch of oranges (very sweet!), a bag of M&Ms, and probably some other stuff I can't remember offhand.

These care packages actually came courtesy of the United Brethren church in Daytona, Florida, where Chuck McKeown is the pastor. Wes Kuntzman is from down there, and that's probably the connection. Daytona is really passionate about doing "random acts of kindness," and this was just an example. They probably figured maybe we were feeling somewhat blue as a result of the October UB election (and we are), so this was a wonderful bit of affirmation. They've been doing creative acts of kindness for people in their community for years--merchants, civil servants, neighbors, anyone. Reach out in love without expecting anything in return.

Mark and Wes had fun delivering the goodies (Wes wore a little Santa hat), and had two helpers (college students, I think). We're talking big, heavy boxes. Pam and I are going to do the ham tonight; I'm not sure when we'll get around to the turkey. We didn't need any of this. But I'm still shaking my head at the thoughtfulness of the people in Daytona. Thanks, Pastor Chuck!

Posted at 06:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

On Saturday, Pam and I grabbed a quick lunch at Panera Bread, beating the crowd by a good half hour. As I ate my excellent baked potato soup (Panera has some of the best soups in town), I noticed a thirtyish man, short and balding and with lively eyes, eating lunch with a boy I figured to be about a fourth-grader. His son, I safely assumed. They were having a good time, talking easily. The father leaned down and forward somewhat as he talked, as if trying to get on his son's level.

What was their story?

Were they out searching for a Christmas present for Mom? For siblings? Was this just something they did regularly, going out to eat together, like I've heard that other parents do? Or was it a divorced father spending his weekend, or every-other-weekend, time with his boy? I didn't think it was the latter. I'd seen other parent-child combos in restaurants who I guessed were in the broken-home box. Together, but distant. Talking, but not easily, not naturally, not like it's something they do daily. Sitting in uncomfortable silence with occasional breaks for words, focusing unduly on their meal as an excuse to avoid awkward conversation.

Back in the 1980s, I read an article with one of my all-time favorite titles, "Uncle Dad." A divorced father told about going to the airport once a month to pick up his daughter, who was flying in from a distant city where she lived with her mother and stepdad. The writer told about the awkwardness of those court-appointed meetings, how his daughter didn't always like being there--torn away for the weekend from friends and other activities--and how they often found little to talk about or do together. They endured those weekends as much as anything. He always hoped they would go well, but they never did.

Then one time his daughter came to stay for two weeks, and during that period, there were some breakthroughs. Just sitting around the house, watching TV or reading or doing nothing in particular, the daughter would suddenly make a remark which revealed something of her soul--a problem she was struggling with, an issue at school, hopes and dreams for the future, a question or comment that showed that she did, indeed, like her father. The writer said many Uncle Dads fool themselves by saying that though they don't have a large quantity of time together, they do have "quality" time. But, he said, "quality" time is a byproduct of "quantity" time, of being around each other for an extended period of time. It's not something you can just turn on for the weekend.

I think of the times I would come home from school and just sit in the living room while mom ironed, and things would come out. Though we weren't focused on each other--maybe I was reading Newsweek or doing homework--she might ask questions or I might suddenly volunteer information, and valuable interaction would occur. Not every day, but many days.

I had lots of quality time with my parents, and it was not only because they're great parents, but because I had constant access to them. I never, ever, felt neglected or slighted. Even when Dad worked three jobs--teaching during the day, the Sears hardware department several nights a week, and selling Book of Life door-to-door when he could--and mom worked at the newspaper, I don't remember feeling a sense of absence. I should probably give that more thought, because I'm sure Mom and Dad look back at various times during my growing-up years and think they were horrible, neglectful parents who should have spent more time with their kids. But I just never felt that way. I should tell them that. And I should thank them for staying together, even though there were undoubtedly times (I know of two) when their relationship hit bumps. I had a blessed childhood. I don't want them to have any doubts about that.

I'm playing a lot of Amateur Psychologist here, I realize. But as I watched that father and son in Panera Bread, I was confident that this was no Uncle Dad. This was a father who saw his son every day, and laughing and conversing with him and sharing a meal with him was as natural as breathing. And that kid probably doesn't realize, yet, just how fortunate he is.

Posted at 06:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wow, what a whirlwind day. Spent 90 minutes at Starbucks working on my novel while downing a Peppermint mocha and then a coffee, venti both. Shopped til I wanted to drop--what a madhouse Jefferson Pointe was! More writing at home. Saw “Forgotten” at the Coventry dollar theatres with Pam--a pretty decent movie, but the theatre is dingy and the seats are crammed closely together. I guess we’re spoiled with the stadium seating at The Rave. We lived in the Willows apartments next to the Coventry theatre back in 1989 after we got married, and watched them build the theatre complex--at the time, the nicest cinema in Fort Wayne. My, how fortunes change! More shopping at Kohl’s 5:00 -- midnight madness sale, tonite only. And now we’re back home at 10:45.

My, I love my Fridays—my “freelance” day, as I call it. Didn’t do much freelancing today, though. But hey, it’s the Christmas season!

That’s all I have to report today. And to all a goodnight.

Posted at 06:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The local media in Huntington and Fort Wayne have said it, and now the Associated Press has relayed the word around the country: the United Brethren church has said it won't unite with the Missionary Church. I just saw the AP story in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Our groups seemed like a near-perfect match--in doctrinal and behavioral standards, geographic location, mindset, types of churches, etc. The MCs, with much more happening in their midst than is happening in the UB church, were nonetheless willing to view us as equals. But the UBs, rather resoundingly, turned down the idea. Sorry, but no. We're not interested.

Did this bring applause in heaven? Did the angels rejoice that the UBs decided to remain a separate entity? Did God breathe a sigh of relief, saying, "Now I can accomplish my special purpose for those 25,000 UB people"?

I wish the AP story could have told about this denomination, the one with the rich heritage in the 1700s and 1800s, that gave itself up for something better. It would have been a great example to the larger body of Christ. Other denominations would have looked at what the United Brethren did, found it admirable, and pondered issues of unity and partnership and self-sacrifice and Kingdom-building. "If the UBs could give themselves up in the interests of Christian unity and greater effectiveness, why can't we?" In that way, we would have made a distinctive contribution to the larger Church.

But we rejected that in favor of...well, we don't know what. But apparently, from what some people are saying, God has something special in mind for us. My view is that we said "No!" to the "special" thing, and he's frustrated that we now expect him to provide an alternative. But I don't really know. What I do know, or feel confident about, is that saying "No!" didn't prompt any partying in heaven, and it's not drawing the admiration of anyone who reads the AP story. And that continues to sadden me.

Posted at 06:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The US is funding a fleet of planes in Columbia that spray cocaine plants. The thing is, it kinda works against us. A few mutant plants aren’t killed. The farmers make cuttings from those plants and distribute them, resulting in whole fields of cocaine plants resistant to spraying. Since the spraying kills all other plants too, the result is that our planes actually do the weeding for the farmers, eliminating other plants competing for soil nutrients. We enable the cocaine plants to grow stronger.

Not only that, but the spraying often ends up killing legitimate crops. So, to earn a living, farmers turn to the only crop that is resistant to spraying--the "Roundup Ready" cocaine.

It just shows that problems aren't always as easy to solve as we think.

I just finished a little Newsweek article about John Kerry urging Democrats to moderate their pro-abortion views. Hardly anybody agrees with partial-birth abortion; most people view it as an extreme and unreasonable procedure. If the Democrats had come out against partial-birth abortion, more undecided voters might have swung their way. But the Planned Parenthood hardliners won’t allow that, citing Slippery Slope arguments: if they give in on this admittedly extreme position, they'll next be asked to compromise on something less extreme, and then something else--until, eventually, abortion is outlawed altogether. It’s the same reason the National Rifle Association adamantly defends the right of hunters to bear bazookas. And so, apparently, the pro-abortion hard-liners, in a most unpragmatic fashion, would seemingly rather lose an election than moderate their agenda.

But people on the right can be just as unpragmatic. I think it was Charles Colson that I heard speak about this some years ago. He said that during the 1980s, Congress could have passed legislation banning abortion in many cases. However, the legislation was deemed soft, compromising, by Religious Right hardliners who insisted on banning all abortions. They took an "all or nothing" position--and got nothing. Colson said (I’m making up numbers, because I don’t know the real ones), "If there are now two million abortions a year, and we could have prevented one million of them--wouldn’t that have been a good thing? But by refusing to take what we could get, at that time, we effectively gave our permission for a million more babies to be aborted each year."

But, had pro-life legislators backed such partial measures, they would have reaped the wrath of the all-or-nothing crowd, their key supporters, and possibly been committing political suicide. Interesting, the choices politicians must make.

Posted at 06:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I don’t expect to see any particularly noteworthy movies during these last two weeks of December, so I’ll go ahead and name my favorite movies of 2004. As if anyone cares.

There are three movies, all of them totally different, and I refuse to rank them. It would be like choosing between Steak and Shake French fries and the New England clam chowder at Red River Steakhouse—both tops in their genres, but definitely different genres. Anyways, my favorite movies, in the order in which they came out, are:

- The Passion of the Christ
- The Notebook
- Friday Night Lights
- With a very very honorable mention to “The Incredibles.”

“The Notebook” choked me up, more times, than nearly any movie I’ve seen since “Field of Dreams.” I go to extraordinary lengths to avoid crying, whether in the theatre or watching a DVD at home. A guy thing, obviously.

“Friday Night Lights” is just a great sports movie, filmed in a creative way. I love sports movies. Saw “Miracle,” about the Olympic hockey team, on DVD this year and loved it, too.

But nothing left a lasting impression like “The Passion of the Christ.” Pam and I saw it with a bunch of our teens on a Friday night. We watched the movie together, then went back to the youth center and discussed it. Mark and Tami Solak, two other volunteers, were also there, and our director, Traci Slager, led the discussion.

Being an urban church, we have some pretty rough-cut kids. One of them is Dan, who is actually in his 20s but still seems (and functions) like a teen. He has spent time in jail. Dan became a Christian during a mission trip this summer, but he wasn’t a Christian when we saw the movie. During the flogging scene, he couldn’t keep watching. If I remember right, he actually left his seat and went into the exit-way. He told us, “They just kept hitting and hitting and hitting and hitting, and I couldn’t take it.” He didn't say they kept "whipping" him or "lashing," but used the word "hitting." I wondered what in his background, perhaps his home life, prompted that reaction. I was troubled by the scene, but I certainly couldn’t connect it with any personal experience. I’ve never even been in a fight my entire life.

With a felony on his record, Dan has had great trouble finding a job. We all rejoiced with him when he finally landed a job working in a restaurant about a year ago. He’s paid under the table, and gets no benefits, but it’s something. It’s work, it’s income, it’s identity.

I’m glad we’re the type of church that attracts someone like Dan. He wouldn’t “fit” in most youth groups, I’m afraid, and maybe too many Christian adults wouldn’t want him around their kids. I remember my own suspicions when he first started coming around a couple years ago, and was soon picking fist-fights (over a girl) with one of our other young Christians. But God loves Dan, and since we exist to reach people like him, we love him, too. Over these years, I’ve seen him soften and become a totally different person. It seemed only natural on that Friday night a couple months ago when, sitting around on the floor at the youth center, Dan told us how he had accepted Christ.

Posted at 06:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In my continued bummed-out state, I don't exactly draw encouragement from the UBHope discussion forum. Lately, posts there have revolved around removing from leadership, and banning from future leadership, persons who were in favor of the referendum to join the Missionary Church. I, quite obviously, am one target of that. So are the Bishop and the ELT members.

Taking it further, as one person seems to, would exclude the pastors of 11 of the 12 largest UB churches (maybe all 12--I’m not sure where one of the pastors stood). The ministers with the strongest track record in knowing how to grow a church tended to be in favor of the referendum. So, who will next hold the reigns of the denomination? Will it be proven church-builders? I think not. They wanted to do away with the denomination. They lost. As it is written online, "How will those who were lead advocates of the 'dissolution' movement and who made substantive negative comment(s) about the denomination, regain the trust of those who had, and continue to have, respect and regard for the denomination?...Can the laity re-establish trust with its current denominational leadership?"

One person wrote, "I don't think you have to fear the current leaders relinquishing power. I think you have to worry about a dearth of people ready to take over leadership." That was countered by someone who responded, "The 'dearth of people ready to take over leadership' will be hard challenged to do worse that the current leadership." Thanks for the affirmation.

This brings to the forefront something which is new to the UB church, and which has bothered me for several months now: the severe criticism--even mockery--of persons in leadership. I've not seen this before in my days in the UB church (all 48 years of them). It's a door that has been opened, and which the UBHope mailings over the course of the past six months have exacerbated. It's open season on the leadership.

I doubt that this level of criticism has existed in our midst since the days of Milton Wright (who, arguably, set the pattern and then led a division in the church in 1889). We justify Milton Wright’s actions and attitude by pointing out that the church he departed from is now the United Methodist Church, and aren’t we glad we aren’t part of the UMC? But as I have read about Milton Wright, I have noticed a spirit about him which bothers me greatly. And I think that spirit has been revived during the past year.

The door is open--it’s okay to severely criticize our church leadership, to second-guess their decisions, to even ridicule them (as we've seen in emails and anecdotes which have made their way to the HQ offices). And that will make it extremely difficult for a new bishop and new leadership groups to lead. This, I’m afraid, will be part of the lasting legacy of UBHope.

Okay, I sound embittered. Actually, it's just frustration. Where will God lead us in the future? That's the question on everyone's mind.

Posted at 06:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

We didn’t have music practice last night, so I went back to the ping pong club. There were four other guys there, only one of whom I hadn’t met before, Mike. Mike held his paddle in an unusual way, kinda Chinese style but a little different, and he was able to hit shots in some (what appeared to me) very unorthodox ways. I started off playing him, and actually won one game (out of four).

Mike then proceeded to beat Rick, the Jamaican, and George, who had previously beaten me very badly. At the end of the night, I played Mike again, and won two out of five games, coming within reach on the final game. Go figure. Everyone’s game is a bit different, and I guess Mike doesn’t play as well against someone who plays like me. Max, the 80-year-old, can beat them all regularly.

I talked to my Mom the day before, and she mentioned a ping pong club in South Bend (where they pastor), and that one player there played on the Olympic ping pong team. I mentioned this to Max. “Oh yeah, I beat him when he was up-and-coming. He didn’t know what to do with me.”

Posted at 06:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My nephew, Curt, went to Chicago to audition for Fear Factor back in June. He works for a credit union, so he look pretty normal during the day. But for the audition, he spiked his hair and otherwise donned the full punk "uniform." And the Fear Factor people loved it. He got a call in September (I think it was) saying they wanted to use him on the show. Earlier this afternoon, my Mom called to say he had sent in a 45-page contract (in which he basically admitted that he could get killed, maimed, or otherwise severely abused).

So, it looks like a Dennie will be doing the reality-show thing. And if he makes $50,000 in the process, I guess we won't be so quick to denounce the bain of reality TV.

Curt is very active at Fellowship Missionary Church here in Fort Wayne. He's been involved in some very cutting edge evangelistic outreaches to the city's rave and punk community, and finds himself meeting to discuss his faith with people who are into witchcaft, homosexuality, and much more. I don't know of anything like it in the UB church.

The Missionary Church, like the UB church, has a strong traditional element. But at the same time, they have an exciting cutting edge element. That's one of the things the UB church lacks.

I was quoted in an article about the non-joining of the UB church and the Missionary Church that appeared in yesterday's Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette. Today, I talked to reporters from both the Fort Wayne News-Sentinel (the afternoon paper, which Pam and I take) and the Huntington Herald-Press. UBHope people were severely critical of the article which the News-Sentinel did last spring, and in particular of quotes provided by the bishop. The link on the UBHope website calls it, "When Interviews Go Bad," with a description mockingly saying, "Who said any publicity is good publicity?" That irks me. I was heavily involved in helping the reporter with that article, and felt the writer did a conscientous job. I don't know if they'll get on my case about these articles or not.

After the Huntington Herald-Press did an article about the merger talks last fall, the Bishop received an official letter from the New Hope UB church's board criticizing us for "allowing" the newspaper to do an article, even though it was public knowledge and we had been debating it actively on a discussion board. News flash: We don't control the media. When they decide to do a story, all you can do is try to be helpful and make the most of it. If you try to control or censor them, you're just asking for trouble. But I've been extremely pleased with the reporters I've worked with.

I was pleased to learn today that a mistake was made in counting votes for national conference delegates in Central Conference. Denny Miller, pastor of Emmanuel Community Church, had been listed as the first alternate (7th highest vote-getter). I was disgusted that, for the third time, he was apparently not elected by the conference as a delegate, even though he pastors the second-largest church in the denomination, has held various denominational leadership positions, and is probably our denomination's premier, proven church-builder. But, to my joy, it turns out some votes were overlooked, and Denny actually ended up third. Ah, something right for a change!

Pam and I continue our fascination with the TV show "Lost," which we watched again last night. I guess it won't be on for several weeks now. They keep dropping little tidbits that you know will be elaborated on at some future date. It's a great show.

Posted at 06:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last night, I went back to the Ping Pong club. It was a rainy night and there were only two guys there, both of them 60+ years old, and both of whom whipped my butt. Or cleaned my clock, a good Christian would say.

Max is the better of the two, and I can't tell how old he is. But I know he served in WW2, which means he's probably pushing 80. He's a thin fellow, who comes wearing sweat pants and Nikes and a sweatshirt. He's not quick laterally, like you need to be in tennis, but his reflexes are very good, and since in Ping Pong you can get away with not moving much, he does just fine. His strokes are beautiful. Having played competitive tennis for a number of years (high school and throughout college), I pay much attention to form, which is all-important in tennis. I learn a lot just by watching how Max hits that little white ball.

The other guy is George. He's still employed, but I'm guessing he's approaching retirement age. George and Max warm up together, and they really go at it. But in singles play, George rarely beats Max. Max just has too many shots. I enjoy warming up with George, because his style is more conducive to my bang-the-ball style, and he tends to respond to the other person's shots more than try to control the play. George and I played two games, and he beat me both of them. We played to just 11 points, taking two serves at a time. I think I got 8 points one game. But I'm sure George can still take it up a notch or two.

I played a lot more against Max. When we get in a slicing duel, I do extremely well, because my backhand slice stroke (thanks to tennis) is very good. I can at least stay with him, though he'll eventually win the point, most likely. But I'm pleased to discover that that's a strength of my game. When I play Kevin at church and things get tight, I can start slicing with the knowledge that he won't be able to keep up with me.

But Max has all kinds of spins. He'll serve the ball with a lot of spin, and when I return it, it might veer off to the far right or to the far left--I never know which. He has a forehand shot with lots of spin that sends the ball out wide to my right; I think I'm on it, but I swing and miss it. Very frustrating. But I'll get onto it eventually.

My backhand has always been a strength--thanks, again, to tennis--but it just doesn't measure up with these guys. I have felt real good about my forehand. But when I mentioned to Max that I needed work on my backhand, he said, "Actually, your backhand is better than your forehand." Which was a blow to me. But it's because I didn't know better. He explained that I was hitting the ball where you would in tennis, at waist level, whereas in ping pong you need to hit the ball at the top of its arc. I started doing that as I played Max--it's very tough to break decades of habit--and it was definitely an improvement. He taught me other things about how to stroke the ball. Too many things, actually--I'm overwhelmed! But if I keep going back, week after week, I'll be able to incorporate things into my game.

Max and I played three games. He beat me all three, and without much difficulty. I had my moments, and I'm not a pushover. But Max is the master. The previous night, he was playing full-court basketball with the youth. He also plays tennis, and who knows what else. Quite the athlete. Not as quick as I'm sure he used to be (he's about 80, for heaven's sakes!), but great reflexes and wonderful coordination.

I could have continued elevating my game just by playing at Anchor, improving on what I already know and struggling back to the level at which I played in college. But putting myself in a whole different situation will jump-start me to a new level. I can feel it. This ping pong club will be very good for me, and I'm extremely eager to learn. I think Max appreciates that.

I know there are correlations I can draw with the Missionary Church--putting ourselves among them, learning from people who are much better at church planting and missions than we are, discovering new spins and strokes that we'll never learn just playing among ourselves. But I'll let it go.

Posted at 06:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Today, we're announcing the results of the UB elections. Actually, I posted the results on the UB website yesterday, but without fanfare. The referendum intended to unite the United Brethren church with the Missionary Church failed, getting just 43% of the votes of UB members in the United States. I'm crushed. Have been for a week, actually, since I've known for that long that it would die.

The strongest opposition came from a group called UBHope, a group which I helped create (inadvertently) by launching a denominational discussion forum. That's where the UBHope people got acquainted. Stupid, stupid me.

Posting on the web was one of three parts of the plan to announce the results to the UB constituency, which is the responsibility of the bishop. But within hours of the results appearing on the website, UBHope sent an apparently already-prepared email newsletter to its own email list (which is pretty large). So, many UB people will hear the results first not from the Bishop, but from the group which fought so hard to defeat the referendum. It never crossed my mind that they would do that; otherwise, I would have waited to post the results on the web. Again, stupid, stupid, and terribly naive me.

The UBHope newsletter did a lot of preaching about kingdom-building and church growth and etc. The thing is, the churches that are fueling the bulk of the growth in our denomination are, for the most part, led by pastors who favored joining the Missionary Church--our larger churches, and our smaller progressive churches (like Anchor, my own church, which voted 35-0 in favor). And most of the people behind UBHope don't exactly come from cutting edge churches, though you wouldn't guess that by reading their progressive-sounding materials.

Oh my, I'm sounding like a very sore, embittered loser. In the grief process, I guess I'm in the Anger stage. Somewhere far out ahead lies Acceptance. I wonder when I'll arrive there. I'm venting here, on this little blog designed for my own amusement. I think I feel better already.

Posted at 06:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As I predicted, big-name religious leaders are emerging, trying to become spokespersons for the persons who voted on the basis of moral values. Dobson, Falwell, Jim Wallis, and others are out there trying to speak for me. But they don’t speak for ME.

If anyone represents me, it would be persons like Rick Warren and Bill Hybels, and I hope they just stay off the airwaves.

The morals-based voters came as a surprise to nearly everyone. Nobody really tried to organize them in advance—they just showed up on their own. They were leaderless, but motivated. I think these voters will just be turned off by the religious opportunists seeking to become spokespersons for the morals-based voters. I know it turns me off.

There will undoubtedly be much attention on this audience in the 2008 election. And I’m sure, as with every election, people will tout this as “the most important election of our lifetime.” But will the conservative evangelicals turn out again? Who knows.

Posted at 06:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I’m a big NBA fan. Most people love the purity of college basketball, and I certainly do. But I’m more attracted to the NBA, where the best players in the world compete. The NBA has many flaws, and too many players are seriously flawed. But I still like it.

I finished reading “The Last Season,” Phil Jackson’s book about his final season with the LA Lakers. My goodness, he was hard on Kobe Bryant! But I’m sure he was fully justified. He describes Kobe as highly selfish, temperamental, aloof, and always trying to, basically, prove his manhood. Though he’s immensely talented, a team’s best player also needs to be the team leader, and I don’t think Kobe can rise to that responsibility. I imagine the goals at the top of his agenda right now are: to be the league MVP, and to be the league scoring champion. He’s too self-centered to think otherwise.

Shaq has a good situation in Miami. Duane Wade is also immensely talented, with many of the capabilities Kobe has. But he’s okay with being the “little brother,” the “sidekick.”

Jackson's book was truly fascinating, with great insights into the game and into many players from around the league.

For too many years, I've been rooting for Sacramento, but they keep disappointing me. Maybe this is their year. If not, they need to remake the team, I'm afraid.

Posted at 06:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Word on the street is that the referendum on joining the Missionary Church failed. The results from several conferences are floating around, and the Central Conference figures--just 44% in favor--were released on Wednesday and quickly made the rounds. I happen to have all of the results on my computer (except for Northwest Conference, which is counting their votes on Sunday). We'll probably be able to publish the results on Monday. I'm thinking, anyway.

I'm pretty bummed out. I fear that the United Brethren church will enter a period of "experimentation," trying this and that and finding nothing that works. I don't see any good scenarios out there for us as a denomination. This pains me, since I've served the denomination my entire working life, and have never attended anything but United Brethren churches. I love this denomination, but fear that some dark, directionless days lay ahead. I feel that a huge, huge opportunity for a bright future has been lost.

Yesterday was the funeral for Fred Bauman, father of my good friend Tim Bauman, one of the guitarists on the worship team. Tim asked four of us on the worship team to be pallbearers. Just shows how much of a "family" we are. Fred and Lena hadn't attended church for many years, but began about five years ago after Anchor started up (which is when Tim and Alice started attending). Anchor made a difference in Fred's life, and they were extremely faithful in attending. Whatever happens in the denomination, Anchor will move forward.

Posted at 06:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In light of my Sunday losses in Ping Pong to Kevin Kay, I realized I needed to get more practice. Otherwise, next time he returns from Ball State, it'll go even worse for me. I had heard about a Tuesday night ping pong club at the Aldersgate United Methodist church on my end of town, so last night I decided to check it out.

Soon after I arrived, around 7 pm, two guys older than me arrived--one in his 50s, the other in his 60s. I wondered if they would be much competition for me. Then they started playing against each other. Wow. Another guy arrived a little later, a black fellow with, I believe, a Jamaican accent. Named Rick. Great guy.

We didn't actually play any singles matches--just hit around. I could hold my own against the two older guys, especially when it came to just banging and returning. In an actual singles game, they would pull out some spins which I wouldn't know what to do with, but in a slugging match, I could do okay. I didn't get to play Rick, who is probably the best of the three. He's amazing at returning the hardest of slams.

We ended up playing nine games of doubles--2 out of 3 games, and rotating so that each of us was teamed once with each of the other three guys. I think my team won two of the three sets.

I had a great time, and got a pretty decent workout. I'll definitely be going back. It was a rainy night, which probably affected the number of people there, but I don't think they have many coming anyway. They seemed delighted that someone of my calibre showed up. I think they're used to newbies coming who can't hold a candle to them in ability. I could. That pleased them, and pleased me.

Posted at 06:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)