June 2006 Archives

My first real exposure to the Jesus Revolution came in 1972, sometime during my 9th grade year. That experience also taught me that sometimes, even the wisest adults don’t know squat.

I lived in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., and attended a vibrant, growing UB church that was doing most things right. I loved the youth group, and loved my youth pastor, Jack Wade, a former Campus Crusade worker who influenced me significantly.

One night we all bundled into cars and traveled the 40 miles to Needles, Calif., where a Christian rally was being held. That's Needles as in, "Well I headed for Las Vegas / Only made it out to Needles." Pastor Marvin Price, Jack Wade, my dad, and probably several other adults accompanied us to Needles High School, where a bunch of sound and music equipment occupied the middle of the football field.

The music was loud Christian rock music, something new to Sheltered Stevie. Our church was progressive in many ways, but not in music. But it was not a concert. It was more of a worship service. For probably the first time in my life, I sang worship songs to the accompaniment of a full rock band. I tell you—it really grabbed my heart, like nothing I had experienced before. It connected. The preacher, probably just another hippie who found Christ, spoke not necessarily with eloquence, but with conviction and urgency. Again, my heart leaped with something I couldn't explain. I caught glimpses into a whole new level of Christian living, and my heart yearned for it.

We've all heard about the slaves who fought against the British during our War for Independence. But since victors write the history books, we haven't heard much about the thousands of slaves who fought for the British. Slaves were well aware that slavery had been outlawed in England; if they could just reach the British Isles, they would be free at last.

The British offered freedom to any slaves who came to their side to fight against the American revolutionaries. An estimated 100,000 slaves (one out of five) fled the US by the end of the revolution. One was George Washington's slave, Harry Washington, who ended up dying outside of Freetown, Sierra Leone. When the defeated British departed after losing at Yorktown, 15,000 former slaves went with them. Two new books, one by an English historian and one by an Australian historian, tell this forgotten piece of America's story and what happened to these slaves, who were dispersed to England, Africa, Australia, and elsewhere.

So here's what's interesting. We celebrate our forefathers for fighting for freedom. They were not exactly "unfree," but did have grievances about taxes and other issues. Meanwhile, here were these thousands of slaves who were, absolutely, fighting for freedom. And when the British lost, thousands were returned to a life of slavery (while their masters could celebrate the lower cost of tea).

But there are other interesting twists. Why were they slaves to begin with? Because of the British slave trade. While slavery was illegal in England itself, they hadn't outlawed the slave trade on the high seas. The US, in 1808, outlawed the overseas slave trade, but still permitted slavery on US soil. Ah, what a web. Thomas Jefferson originally wrote about this in an early draft of the Declaration of Independence, criticizing King George for violating the "sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating and carrying them into slavery." In addition, he said King George had vetoed efforts in the colonies to abolish or restrain slavery, and was now offering these slaves the "liberty of which he has deprived them, by murdering the people on whom he also obtruded [imposed] them."

Alas, some signers felt that paragraph was too harsh, some felt it was too soft, and so they struck it from the final document which landed on King George's desk.

Ironically, at war's end, five of Jefferson's own slaves were recaptured as they tried to flee behind British lines. Now who was imposing slavery on whom? Don't ya just love this stuff?

I liked this. Someone on the ChurchMedia.net forum uses this as a signature:

God is good, all the time
Sometimes it's obvious

This is a reminder that sometimes, God's goodness is not obvious...but he's still good.

One of my seminars at the Church Media conference last week dealt with web design. Frankly, I didn't learn a whole lot; after all, this is something I do professionally. But I did get a kick out of the leader's "Six Things Never To Use in Web Design." I agreed with all six, and added three of my own. So that's nine items. I've been trying, hard, to come up with a tenth thing, but though I've had some good candidates, nothing has surfaced as a rock solid "definitely don't do this."

So, I'll run with the nine. Most of these were popular in the 1990s, and should have died in the 1990s, the early days of the web. And most of these are very common on local church websites, a fact of life which pains me greatly.

1. Frames. Don't design web pages with frames. It is so 1990s. Some browsers have trouble with frames. And if you care about Google rankings, definitely avoid frames. (I've never designed with frames.)

2. Scrolling banner text. This comes under the heading "Don't do it just because you can." Designers see that their program enables them to scroll text, so they do it. It's just annoying. Like the similar FX in Powerpoint, where letters come flying across one at a time to form words. Don't do it just because you can.

3. Animated GIFS. I hate sites that are plastered with cutesy animations that the designer stole from somewhere else.

4. Hit counters. Don't put these on your website. They look amateurish (from a design standpoint), and "hits" are not like the more accurate "visits" (by accessing my blog homepage, I got probably a dozen "hits" as you accessed pieces of artwork, plus my javascript and CSS pages).

5. Patterned backgrounds. You can download gobs of square patterns to use as backgrounds for your pages. In general, avoid them. They look cheap.

6. Template buttons and art. You can buy a CD with thousands of graphic buttons; you just add your words to it. Plus lines, shapes, stars, symbols, and all kinds of other things. All of which look cheap. They also take extra time to load, as opposed to using textual links and buttons, which is the current standard (in tandem with Cascading Style Sheets).

7. Midi music. If I come across a site with music playing on it—that's the quickest way to get me to close the page. Especially if I'm at work. Music is especially annoying on ebay.

8. Splash screens. This is a page you're forced to endure before getting to the actual page you want. You certainly don't want to see it every time you visit that site. Instead of directly entering the store, it's like being forced to come through another entrance with a special waiting room. Splash screens kill you on Google rankings, and studies show that up to a third of people never go beyond the splash screen. I click out of them as fast as possible.

9. Under Construction pages. I constantly have pages under construction—but I don't advertise that fact. I only link to a page or a section when it's done. Nobody wants to be taken to an "under construction" page. It just wastes your time. When you have something there, then give me a link. I'm not interested in your master plan or good intentions.

Any candidates for a 10th item?

I put up a bunch of photos from this Saturday's wedding of my niece, Paula Jo Dennie. There are three pages on my Mac.com account.

Wedding Photos - Page 1
Wedding Photos - Page 2
Wedding Photos - Page 3

Tabatha Lamb spoke briefly at Anchor this morning. That's her on the left. Anchor supports three Taylor University-Fort Wayne graduates, all girls, who now serve on the mission field--in Azerbaijan, Haiti, and Vietnam. Tabatha spent a lot of time at Anchor doing volunteer work during her college days. Last summer, she went to Vietnam--to Hanoi. Tabatha is one of my heroes.

The work is very difficult--very few Christians, deep cultural opposition to converting to Christianity. She told me of one young woman who had become a Christian and was involved in Bible studies, growing in her faith. But because of opposition from family and friends, she gave it up, renounced everything, and will now state sincerely that while she used to be a Christian, she is not anymore. Stuff like that must be highly discouraging.

Tabatha spoke for only a couple of minutes, and then showed a nine-minute DVD, a collage of photos from her time in Vietnam (she's going back, by the way). I viewed those photos through two filters, which I should explain first.

1. I grew up during the Vietnam War, and the constant barrage of information from the government and media implanted, deeply, certain impressions of the Vietnamese, especially those in the North with whom we were at war. They were barbaric, psychotic even. No regard for human life. Cruel, primitive, fearless. No hint of being civilized. Attacking with reckless, wild-eyed frenzy. As an adult I know those descriptions aren't accurate. But that's what I picked up as an impressionable, patriotic kid.

Paula got married today. That's my brother Stu's daughter, the second of four kids (the others all guys). Of my six nephews and nieces on my side of the family, Paula Jo is the first to get married. Now she's Paula Merkle, wife of Tom. And this new guy, Tom, has now invaded our family. Fortunately, Tom is a great guy; I liked him from Day One. He and Paula have dated for a couple years now. Tom's a solid guy--talented, hardworking, a great sense of humor, smiles easily. He's far more than a welcome addition to the family. And he'll take real good care of Paula.

My Dad and my brother, Stu, both conducted the ceremony. Mostly Stu. That's him on the left, with his wife, Joyce. Stu walked Paula down the aisle, and when Dad asked who's giving away Paula, Stu did the usual "Her mother and I." Then Stu walked around the groomsmen (five of them) and took the center place while Dad moved aside. Tom then brought Paula onto the stage, and the ceremony continued.

Stu did a great job. Others said they thought he struggled in a couple places, but I didn't detect it. He joked later that the trick was to not look at Paula. He would look down, up, between them, around them, but knew that if he looked at Paula and their eyes met, that it would be all over.

So this was a big day in the Dennie family.

Yesterday at the ChurchMedia.Net conference, I heard an amazing message which, even now, chokes me up. A guy named Paul Clifford, a techie who says he speaks in public probably three times a year, talked about developing a passion for evangelism. Paul is a skinny guy with long gray hair and sincere eyes. I sat in an earlier seminar in which he spoke for a bit, and I glimpsed a man with a real heart for God. As Paul began this keynote, I shot up a quick prayer, asking God to inspire me through Paul. My goodness, did God deliver on this one.

Paul mentioned that he spends Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights at the church or doing church-related things, and then comes to church on Sunday at 6 am and doesn't leave until 2 pm. He's working behind the scenes. That's where you find the techies. The "Men in Back."

Paul said, "People ask why I follow this kind of schedule, why I give so much time to my church." He said he produced a little video which explained why.

The video was entirely text, no pictures. It began with a brief message saying that Quest church, during its seven years, had seen 1300 people come to Christ. Then the screen changed, and all you saw was the month. I think it started at "June 1999." Then it switched to "July 1999." Then "August 1999." At some point--I don't remember the month--a name flashed horizontally across the screen. That was a person who had found Christ. This continued, month by month, and while there were still months with no names, they became infrequent, and the number of names in a single month might be 20, 30, or more. The names would quickly cross the screen, both left-to-right and right-to-left. Month by month, year by year, we watched—spellbound, in my case—as we saw the names of people who had come to Christ. Sometimes it was just a first name, usually a whole name.

By the time we came to 2006, scores of names were flashing across the screen every month—just a big blur of names. In March, during two Sundays, over 100 people found Christ. We finally came to "June 2006," and the video ended. We all looked at Paul. He was choked up, but after a few seconds he got control of his voice and told us, "That's why I do what I do. It's such an honor to be part of something like that." Paul told us that 89% of their converts are adults. Wow.

Even as I write this, my eyes are watering up, and I could probably just start bawling without much effort. Who wouldn't want to give everything they had to be part of something like that?

FYI, this is Quest Community Church, in Lexington, Kent. They describe their passion as "transforming unconvinced people into wholehearted followers of Jesus." The website says, "Today at Quest you'll find people at all points along their spiritual journeys: cynics, skeptics, seekers, and followers of Jesus. Most are attracted by several things: authentic relationships, people who live beyond themselves, creative communication, and a 'come as you are' spirit. Do these things appeal to you as well? Welcome to Quest."

This Church Media conference can be a crack-up. It was supposed to begin at 10 am with a worship band, but the event leader said, "In true media ministry fashion, we'll start a little late because some new songs are being added at the last minute."

This is a conference of techies, guys who really know their stuff. But they had sound hiccups, some video issues, a guitar that didn't want to connect with the sound system. I even spotted a misspelling on a PowerPoint slide.

But I tell you--we had a great time of worship. I loved it. The bass guitarist reminded me a bit of Adam Clayton, the way he moved. And speaking of moved--I was. Moved, that is. It's nice, occasionally, to be in the audience.

Pam and I both love this conference. Today was superb. I heard three messages dealing with using metaphor in worship. Just outstanding. We'll head back down to Indy in the morning for the final day. Again, it'll start with worship, and I'm really really looking forward to it. The band wasn't anything special--I've heard better. But there's something about it....

A thread I've heard several times from speakers concerns servanthood. These tech guys serve behind the scenes, out of the limelight (unlike us musicians, whom they make sound good). They emphasize having the right attitude, doing it for the ministry, not for recognition. Several have told about how they get to church at 6 am and don't leave until 2 pm. And hardly anyone is aware of the time they put in. These are extremely capable people, volunteering gobs of time out of passion, and not caring about getting credit. What a wonderful example.

Yesterday Pam and I ate at Skyline Chili before leaving Indianapolis. Today, we stopped in Anderson on the way home from Indy and got a ten-pack of White Castles. Life doesn't get any better than this.

This week Pam and I are attending a church media conference in Indianapolis, sponsored by ChurchMedia.net. Pam runs the sound at Anchor, handles DVDs, and often pinch-hits with song slides. I do our websites and Powerpoint slides. The idea of spending time together in a learning environment, particularly when the learning will benefit our church, appealed to us.

The discussion forum at ChurchMedia.net, henceforth to be known as CMN, is known as being technical oriented. This sure came through in their seminars today. The presenters threw around techie lingo with reckless abandon. It's kind of amusing when people do that. Do they feel a need to impress, or are they just oblivious to the fact that they're speaking above people's heads? (In this case, an innocent case of the latter.) They flaunted acronyms, referenced web technologies without explanation, used technical terms as if everybody knew what they meant...you get the idea. My coworkers contend that I do exactly the same thing, with equal oblivion, around them.

Despite our occasional cluelessness, Pam and I enjoyed ourselves and learned some things which may prove useful at Anchor. We attended the same seminar at the end of the afternoon, on "Blogging and Podcasting." Pam's been turning Tim's sermons into MP3 files, and I'm administering five blogs at present. That was a good session. Pam attended sessions on Easyworship and using projectors. My other seminars were on digital photography (a very poor start) and doing websites (ah, now we're talking my language!).

We'll go back down tomorrow. The afternoon features two seminars on running sound, so that's where Pam will be. I'll take a seminar on using metaphors in worship (try to make that technical!), and I forget what the other two are about. But it'll be fun. These techies are good guys (and let me repeat: guys). And may I add that they are cheap. They don't like to spend money, but always recommend open-source software which they can get free. My experience is that open-source software is rarely easy to get up and running unless you're a techie. Me--I go for user-friendly. I can figure things out, but I'd just as soon not have to.

Meanwhile, some of you are wondering, "What's open-source software? Why doesn't Steve explain what he's talking about?" In my case, I'm just trying to impress.

I ate at Dairy Queen today. Haven't been there in many months. I like their chicken strips basket...and the Pecan Cluster Blizzard. I thought I could muster resistance, but alas, I succumbed and must now repent in dust and ashes (preferably with a cherry on top).

About five people--one adult, the rest teens--were working. As I waited for my order, I watched them with some amusement. Everyone wore a bored expression. They even looked a bit grumpy. It was obvious that none of them enjoyed working there. It was just a job--a summer job, probably. They were just going through the motions, and forcing a smile as they said "Have a nice day," since they obviously weren't having one.

I realize it's Monday. But hey--perk up! Working around ice cream can't be that bad!

Jordi has an insatiable appetite for being outside. If we are home, and there is an ounce of daylight, he believes he is entitled to be outside. And he meows incessantly until we (usually I--Pam's tougher than me) give in. Jordi cannot be allowed outside unattended, because he will wander into neighbors' yards, or run full-speed into them in pursuit of a rabbit or chipmunk. So we put a purple collar on him, with a bell which alerts us to his movements, and then go sit on the patio or in the grass to watch him while he stalks innocent animals, occasionally ushering him back within the boundaries of our property.

Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, we spend enormous chunks of time outside watching Jordi. A thunderstorm is a welcome treat, because he detests getting wet and shows no desire to go outside. But those are rare treats, it seems. And besides, I actually enjoy watching him. I grab a book and pen and go lay in the grass out back.

I spent a big piece of Friday outside with Jordi. Pam gets off at noon on Friday and I get off at 1 pm, so that's nice. The temperature was in the 90s, too hot to do yardwork. So, with Jordi following me around the house, meowing and rubbing against me--not so much marking his territory as trying to subjugate it--I chose a new book, located a pen, and headed outside. And whiled away much of the rest of the day there, just laying in the grass. (Jordi, by the way, raced into the neighbor's yard and caught a robin, which we convinced him to release after he had proudly carried it into our yard. It appeared unharmed.)

One of the great surprises of my life is that my country has become a champion of state-sponsored torture. I know my wording makes you grimace. But the USA is a world state, we do commit or allow torture (while denying it), and our top leaders oppose legal restrictions on torture, so what can I say? Our wimpy allies in other Western nations are disturbed and dismayed, failing to see the redeeming qualities of torture, a practice with a long and distinguished history. I'm proud to belong to a country unafraid to buck world opinion and do what it feels is right.

But at the same time, I'm having bouts of guilt, inexplicable difficulty accepting the obvious merits of torturing foreigners. As much as I fight these impulses, desperately trying to follow the moral leadership of Cheney and Rummy, I find myself too often succumbing to feelings which can only be described as those of a bleeding-heart, raghead-loving, weak-kneed, misguided moralist. So many of our great religious figures, like Jerry Falwell and Tom Delay, fully support the application of torture. And where are the Christian voices speaking out against torture? Nada. My misgivings obviously betray a faulty conscience.

I remember a quote from one military officer who said, "After 9/11 we opened the door to a little torture, and a whole lot of torture walked through."

We suspended our Wednesday night activities for the summer, but Mark and Tami, two of the original core group members at Anchor, felt led to start a Wednesday night prayer time. We started last night. Pam and I joined them.

A young single mom with a difficult story I don't know yet joined us, along with her baby son. She moved up from Florida a year ago, sometime recently walked over to the Friday night youth center to see what was going on, and found community. I don't know that she's a Christian yet. One of the teen guys was there. He really wants to grow. I appreciated the chance to get more acquainted. Good guy.

Eight of us total. We talked around a table in the sanctuary for a while, then broke up to pray individually for ten minutes, and then regrouped for some corporate prayer. It was a quality time. Pam and I will be in Indy next Wednesday, but on the way home, Pam said she felt it would be important for us to be there, so we'll make sure we get back in time.

I'm no prayer warrior. I stink at prayer. As an elder I should be setting this wonderfully disciplined example, but I don't. There, I said it. I'm tired of acting more spiritual than I am (and let me tell you--I'm good at it). But last night...that was really special. Pam and I both felt it. We connected with God, but also connected in community with some other neat people.

Last night at the table tennis club, I talked for a while with a United Methodist minister named Dave, a tall, gregarious fellow you have to like. I've known for months that he was a minister, but I hadn't yet outed myself as another fulltime ministry guy. So after I gave him a 3-1 whooping, we sat down and launched into an interesting discussion. I explained our common roots, how we split off in 1889 with a group that later merged with the Methodists to become today's United Methodist Church.

Dave admitted that the UMCs have been losing members regularly for a long time. He said the same was true of many other denominations, and he assumed we were probably experiencing the same thing.

"Actually, we haven't been losing members," I told him. "We've just been staying at the same basic level for way too long."

Dave asked how many members we have in the United States. "Probably less than you have just in Indiana," I told him.

"Well, how many?"

"About 23,000 members," I said.

"Oh, wow, you are small," he said. He actually grimaced. "We have 200,000 members just in Indiana."

For the record, at that point I felt like I was part of something that was excruciatingly small. A carnal, pride-driven feeling, I know.

Dave mentioned something about a large Missionary Church near him. I told him that we had recently considered merging with the Missionary Church denomination, but our group voted against it.

"What was the issue that stopped it?" he asked. "Ordination of women? Homosexuality?"

I chuckled. "No, there was no big issue," I said. "On just about everything, we line up almost perfectly."

"Then what stopped it?" he persisted.

And I had to think. What did stop it? It seems like the distant past at this point. I honestly drew a complete blank. I couldn't articulate anything, and even now, I can't identify any Overarching Prevailing Objection why the thing failed. I guess I've moved on. Don't want to think about it.

Instead, I began telling Dave about the whole "joining" thing--that we proposed to the Missionary Church that our group disband and become part of the Missionary Church. "Rather than have both groups dissolve and form something completely new to both groups, with study committees and strict attention to proportional representation and all that stuff, we wanted to just give ourselves up and become part of them. We would merge into what they already have in place, so there would be as little disruption as possible."

Dave thought that was really cool. Imagine that--a United Methodist admiring us for something. But you would expect that from a United Methodist. You know how they are, all ecumenical and stuff. "So why did your members vote against that?" It seemed to him like such a great idea, and he wouldn't quit until I provided an answer.

Fortunately, someone came along and challenged him to a match, and our conversation ended.

For the record, Dave and I have played many times, and he has beaten me only once. So I can hold my nose high.

I'm a big NBA fan. The purists prefer NCAA basketball, decrying the NBA as too commercial. Yeah, it is. But I still like it because, as Richard Gere says in "Pretty Woman," "It's the best." The best players in the world, the Olympics notwithstanding.

I was fascinated when, in 1996, the NBA published its list of the 50 greatest players of all time. I put that list on a separate page for your viewing pleasure. This being ten years later, a few players need to be added--five of them, by my estimation: Duncan, Iverson, Kobe, Garnett, and Payton. I'm not definite about Payton.

Tonight the Mavs will deal Miami their third defeat. I hope. You see, I'm also a Mark Cuban fan.

I went to Taco Bell for lunch today. It was freezing in the dining area. Being astute and thin of skin, I've noticed that this is common of many fast food restaurants. Why do they keep the temperature so cold for diners? My theory, formed many years ago, is that the thermostat is housed in the kitchen area. To the teens who dwell there amidst griddles and fryers, it's uncomfortably hot. Since they hold dominion over the thermostat, and the last thing on their minds is customer comfort, they crank up the A/C. It's not about us; it's about them. This has been my theory about Fast Food Frigidity. I believe it with all my heart.

Sometime during my senior year of college I met Steve Charles, a new reporter for the Huntington Herald Press. I don't remember how we met, but our personalities clicked, we touched base a few more times, and I asked him if he'd be interested in getting an apartment together after I graduated in May 1979. He liked the idea.

We called around, checking possibilities. One lady kindly asked, in sort of a roundabout way, if we were white. Steve grinned at me, and then launched into a speech about federal housing laws and the inappropriateness of refusing to rent to blacks and that he might report her to the appropriate state commission (which he named; being a reporter, he knew that stuff). The poor lady backtracked, the conversation ended, and Steve and I had a good laugh. This, I knew, would be fun.

We found a second-level, two-bedroom apartment beside the river, behind Johnny's Drive-In. I enjoyed Steve's company. We talked about writing and sports and politics and all kinds of fascinating stuff. It was a continuation of my senior year, when I lived off-campus with Clyde and Rick. Steve and I had a great time together…for one week. Then he was offered the editorship of a newspaper in Wickenburg, Ariz., and quickly took off. Johnny let me move into one of his one-bedroom apartments. And thus began ten years alone. Ten years before I married Pam, in 1989.

Pam and I just returned from the church. Actually, from the little house next to the church, which serves as our Friday night youth center. They were having a little party for the two high school graduates. That meant food and cake and other goodies. We spent three hours there. The group has become a young adult group, rather than a purely high school group. Two of the girls are unwed and pregnant. Three of the guys have spent time in jail. The group, in general, seems to walk with God in shallow, stale water, though I've proven repeatedly that my evaluation of what God is actually doing in people's lives can run equally shallow.

I spent tonight trying to determine who God might be laying on my heart in some special way, persons God may want me to invest something extra in. Turns out it was pretty much all of them. And yet, there were two in particular. They're the ones I mentioned to Pam on the way to the car.

I'm really not sure what to do next. And in such situations, surrounded by other worthy causes and worldly distractions and my own uncertainty, I tend to fink out and not do anything.

Today we finally caught up with Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. A long time ago I watched the video of the beheading of Nick Berg--brutal stuff, made me sick. Al-Zarqawi wielded the knife. Now we can watch the video of the house where he died being blown up.

I'm not sorry to see him dead. By no means. But lately I've been reading some stuff by authors who also happen to be in the non-violence camp, and there's so much that they say that is resonating with me, a moderate-to-hard-liner. I'm still not sorry to see Al-Zarqawi dead. But I'm no longer able to rejoice in it, to feel gleeful. I don't know what's happening to me, but curiously, I feel good about my feelings. As if I'm catching a little bit of how Jesus might feel.

I'm a bit disturbed right now. I'm spending the morning at home, waiting for the water softener guy to come. And out back, behind the house to our south, two guys are chainsawing two perfectly good trees and grinding them up in a noisy wood chipper. This makes no sense to me. I almost went out and told them that. "Those are superb trees. Leave them alone."

But now only stumps remain, and all is quiet.

When we moved into this house, a field was in back of our property. That afforded privacy not always available in the suburbs. But during the past six years or so they've been building houses in the field. One of the few lots left is directly behind us. And it looks like they're getting ready to build.

We knew, years ago, that this day would come. So we've been planting trees and bushes at the back of our property, a privacy barrier between us and our eventual neighbor. We have bushes on the side of our house to shield us from those neighbors. They've planted similar bushes. This is the valuable function that plants provide. Welcome to the suburbs.

And now, some idiots have cut down two mature trees, two wonderful privacy barriers. What's with that?

Then I thought of a few paragraphs I read last night in The Irresistible Revolution, a highly subversive book by Shane Claiborne which I fear will chainsaw my conscience for a long time. He said that as our culture makes personal property "private" property--meaning, our home is a sanctuary, and we don't want to be disturbed there--then corporate meeting places become more important. Which is why we spend millions on our sacred shrines. The early church of Acts met in homes, they shared, they were hospitable. Lots of home-to-home stuff. No castle sanctuaries there. So they didn't need separate buildings. Homes sufficed.

Claiborne writes, "So as congregations build larger buildings, gyms, and food courts, we find ourselves less likely to meet in homes and kitchens and around dinner tables. We end up centralizing worship on corporate space or 'on campus.' Hospitality becomes less of a necessity and more of an optional matter, a convenient privilege. On the other hand, as members open their homes and yards and share vehicles and recreation spaces, less and less corporate property is necessary."

I suspect that the early apostles would have chainsawed those trees, just to increase their access to the neighbors.

This morning at Starbucks I got the Guatemala Antigua coffee, a mild brew. The chalkboard described it as "elegant and complex." It tasted good. But now I feel like Angelina Jolie. Please make it stop.

As we surveyed the movie listings on Saturday, it came down to "The DaVinci Code" or "X-Men 3." We decided to save "DaVinci" for video, and went to "X-Men." Lots of fun. And yes, we stayed to the end of the closing credits for that final scene. And just what was that all about? Who's Moira?

A couple weeks ago we saw "United 93." At that point, Pam and I hadn't been to the theatre all year. Tax season pretty much takes Pam out of circulation. "United 93" was superb. I found that, from the beginning, I was tense. I knew what was coming, and the memory of the real thing was still fresh. When the movie ended, most people stuck around throughout the credits, all of them. We did. Don't know why. It just seemed appropriate.

Then we've seen a few movies on video recently.

• "A History of Violence." Wow, that was a good movie. And very violent, too, I should add for the kiddies. Aragorn (that's his real name, isn't it?) did a superb piece of acting.
• "Flightplan." This Jodie Foster flick was better than I expected. Or maybe not. I'm not sure what I expected. But it was above average.
• "Domino." Starting watching this Tony Scott movie last night. Fifteen minutes in, I said, "Okay, too much cussing," and we turned it off and put it back in the Netflix envelope.
• "Aeon Flux." A nice futuristic movie with Charlize Theron in an action role. Enjoyed it a lot.

Everyone in Fort Wayne has been talking about a tragedy which occurred five weeks ago, when a semi truck crossed the median on I-69 and struck a van carrying people from Taylor University, killing five of them. One girl was in a coma for five weeks, and she was identified as Laura VanRyn (left). But when she came out of the coma, she identified herself as Whitney Cerak (right)--a classmate who had been named among the dead. A case of mistaken identification.

What makes the story extra amazing is the response of the two families involved (especially the VanRyns, who had been keeping a bedside vigil over a girl who, it turns out, was not their daughter after all). I was going to write about this. It's such an unusual, compelling story. But now I see a post by Ed Gebert on his blog about the whole thing. No reason for me to plow the same ground.

I finally got around to reading George Barna's "Revolution," a controversial little tome. Our bishop sent a copy to all UB pastors, and it upset some of them. Which I can understand. The book upset me. Barna, in a passive-aggressive way, basically cheers for the demise of the local church. He predicts that in the next 20 years, today's churches will lose a huge percentage of their people, as those parishioners seek spiritual fulfillment outside of the church. This is his "Revolution," a fundamental change in the American religious landscape. In this new world, Barna seems to contend, the truly spiritual warriors will be the people who abandon the church. What a delightful theory.

This is not a new idea to me. In 1993 I read William Hendricks wonderful book "Exit Interviews: Revealing Stories of Why People are Leaving Church." The book told the stories of a number of actual people with real names (something Barna doesn't do), helping us understand their spiritual journey and why they left the church, and how they keep the flame alive. It greatly broadened my view of how God sometimes chooses to work.

[Warning: This is a long post. Excrutiatingly long. Full of half-baked opinions flavored with heaping tablespoons of ignorance, subjectivity, and general immaturity. You're advised to stop. Right now. Seriously.]

We've all met nonChristians who say, "I'm not interesting in becoming a Christian, because I've known so many Christians who are hypocrites." And we say, "Don't give up on Christianity because of Christians."

Barna basically affirms the thought, "I'm not interesting in being part of a local church, because too many local churches are ineffective." To which I say, "Find a good church. They exist everywhere."

I'm becoming an increasingly big fan of the Dilbert Blog. Scott Adams is truly a hilarious writer, and a great thinker (though twisted). He's not exactly a big fan of Christians or religion in general, and certainly not of Republicans (I love it when he writes about political issues), but I enjoy his stuff regardless. Especially today's post which he titles "Talking to God." It's really quite funny.

I'm not a fan of bloggers who just compile links to other places. I prefer creating my own havoc, rather than lazily recycling somebody else's. But every once in a while I can't help myself, and this is one of those times.