October 2006 Archives

My district has a fine Congressman in Mark Souder. He's a true-blue genuine Christian, and he even attends a United Brethren church (Emmanuel Community, which I attended before Anchor started). I've been amazed at how refreshingly candid, non-talking-pointish, he is about what's happening in Washington, even when his words are negative toward persons and causes which he, as a Republican, should champion. I trust him. I like him.

But I'm not voting for him this year. I won't necessarily vote for his opponent, either. I just won't vote to re-elect Mark Souder. There's a principle involved which, on the one hand, can be labeled politically naive, but on the other hand could be labeled...well...principled.

I'm perturbed when blacks give a pass to the indiscretions of their leaders, such as Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton and that crazy-lady congresswoman who doesn't like metal detectors. I get perturbed when sports fans give a pass to the shenanigans of their favorite team or player. I get perturbed when society in general gives a pass to the charades of immoral Hollywood celebs. If we have some affinity for a person or team or cause, we look the other way. When actually, we should be holding our own to higher standards.

Google, whose motto has been "Don't be Evil," has hired lawyers who are concerned about how we commoners ignorantly use the term Google as a verb. They want to protect the Google brand, so that it doesn't go the way of cellophane, thermos, and other products that have become totally generic. But their me-centric concerns encroach on evilness, and they'll fully embrace evilness if they take legal action.

We're told that it's okay to say you "googled" somebody or something, but only if you did it using the Google search engine. You cannot "google" someone on Yahoo or MSN or Lycos or any other search engine. You can "search" on Ask.com. You can only "google" on Google. This is a matter of cosmic importance.

Google has been a cool company with cool products and services. Now, with this pettiness, they risk losing their street cred and becoming just another bunch of corporate schmucks. Like Microsoft.

On Friday and Saturday I attended a meeting with some United Brethren church planters. A fellow named Tim Roehl, from the Evangelical Church, was brought in as the resource person. Altogether, this was a group of about ten guys who sat around in a living room setting learning and discussing. An intimate setting.

I liked Roehl. He had a lot of good stuff for the guys, and I wrote down some neat insights. Here's one.

Roehl said church planters often go into an area thinking, "We're gonna win this place for Christ." But really, he said, what we're doing is coming to be part of a team God has already assembled to reach that area--that town, that neighborhood, that city. Church planters need to start by getting acquainted with the other team members already there--the other pastors, churches, and Christian organizations working to extend the Kingdom. And then, as they become acquainted with the other pieces already in place, they can determine what their unique contribution to the team will be. What essential ministries they will develop.

I like that. A lot.

In starting Anchor in 1998, we certainly didn't take this approach. We were one church coming to impact a neighborhood, and it all came about rapidly; a month after the core team came together, we were on the ground running full speed. But there were already churches--"partners"--ministering in that neighborhood: Wesleyan, Mennonite, Church of God, Presbyterian, others. And we properly need to view them as teammates. I guess it's not too late.

I read a definition of injustice as "people with power taking something from people who lack power.” I like that. The context involved helping to free women and young girls in south Asia who are forced into prostitution. That's a rather obvious case of injustice. So was American slavery, and our treatment of native Indians. So is the way cities seize private homes, via imminent domain, to satisfy the greed of wealthy businessmen wanting to build expensive condos.

Injustice also arises in very small ways. I think of Josh, a young man who showed up at our church a few months ago after having been out of state for a few years. He had gotten his life in order, and was excited about going back to school to get his GED. After getting his GED, he planned to join the Marines. So he had purpose in his life.

But he didn't have a car. He planned to get his GED at North Side High School in Fort Wayne. But when he met with an administrator there, he was told that he would need to attend Elmhurst High School. Most of the kids in our neighborhood are bused to Elmhurst, located many miles away on the south side of the city. North Side is closer, and Josh told me he could walk there.

But because of some rigid rule and an equally rigid administrator, Josh's plans were dashed. He told me this one Sunday in August. I decided that the next time I saw Josh, I would offer to go with him to North Side, to plead his case for a reasonable exception. But that was the last time I saw Josh, and I wonder what has happened to him.

An injustice occurred. Josh needed an advocate to go up against persons of power--in this case, an uncaring school administrator hiding behind a policy. It was a little thing to that person, a simple matter of saying, "Sorry, we can't do that." But to Josh, the ramifications were huge.

Tonight was our prayer meeting. This is totally unlike prayer meetings I grew up with. It's more like a small group, with lots of koinonia happening, yet we're focused around prayer. And it's not attended by the "church faithful," as were all the prayer meetings of my childhood, but by an interesting assortment of folks whom I've really come to cherish. Since we started in June, we've seen a lot of prayers answered. Pretty neat.

Last week Dan, one of our resident felons, came halfway through the meeting and stayed. Tonight he was the first one there. Alan and Carolyn came tonight for the first time (my heart leaped when they came through the door), along with their newborn son, Conner. They aren't married yet, and live in a house with a lot of smokers, most of whom have consented to restrict their smoking to the outdoors, out of concern for Conner. Alan, who also has a felony conviction, told us he finally landed a job and starts next week. He's had a tough time finding work. I hope this one pans out. Alan referred to it as an answer to prayer.

We had 13 people there tonight. I think that might be our largest group yet.

We met in the youth center, which is a house next to the church, because a concert was going on at the church. I hadn't been to one of our concerts (held at least once or twice a month) in quite a while, so I decided to stroll inside and see what was happening. Just under 200 teens and young adults came; at least, that's how many wrist-bands they had given out. I'm not sure band members get wristbands, and there were four bands, one hailing all the way from California. They were charging $10 per person tonight, so I think they did pretty well.

Lots of kids were on the church steps smoking, so I walked through the haze to enter and exit the church. That would upset the saints in many UB churches. Me--it made me proud. Proud that my church doesn't get in a snit about it.

Here are tips for extracting yourself from the maze of customer service "help" lines. I found these precious ideas in Wired magazine.

• Press 0 (zero) repeatedly, or use combinations of 0, *, and #. If you're told it's not a valid entry, ignore it and keep punching. A real person may come to your rescue.
• Punch in the number for the Spanish operator. This person is probably bilingual and can help you, or at least transfer you.
• Call the sales line. Sales lines get quicker attention than run-of-the-mill customer service lines. A sales rep can at least transfer you.
• If you find yourself in a voice recognition system, try saying words like these: agent, operator, representative, I don't know, get human, and help.
• As a last resort, shout profanity into the phone. Some systems, according to Wired, will rush angry callers to an operator. If you decide to use the profanity route, I suggest you close your office door, especially if you work at the United Brethren denominational office, as I do.

Erinn, one of my coworkers, taught English in Japan for two years. She pointed out that some of the first words students pick up when learning a new language (though not because she taught them) tend to be swear words. But here, she noted, was a practical reason for learning English profanity. That's a marvelous insight that would make her father proud.

Today I am 50. Half a century. I hereby claim the right to be unrepentantly crotchety and cranky.

Also 50 years ago, the Hungarian Revolution broke out. So in Hungary, they are celebrating my birthday with fireworks and other raucous behavior. The Soviets crushed the revolution 12 days later. Yet I, safe in my Indiana crib, lived to fight another day.

Kalvin is bummed out. He initially enrolled at Taylor University-Fort Wayne right after graduating from high school, majoring in Pastoral Studies. But the finances weren't there, and even before school started, he had to back out.

So Kalvin waited two more years, saved up, and this fall was excited to enroll at Taylor. But a week ago, he had to drop out--again, for financial reasons. He was doing very well in his classes and was thoroughly enjoying college life. He was working for pennies in the college kitchen and tried to get work elsewhere (hard to do without a car, often a fact of life with poorer people). But in the end, he had no choice. Taylor no doubt bent over backwards to help him, but costs are costs.

Pam and I care deeply about Kalvin. He began attending Anchor as a youngster, became a Christian and was baptized at Anchor, and we've watched him grow over the years. We've invested a good portion of ourselves in him. On Saturday, yesterday, we spent about six hours with Kalvin, as he helped us move Pam's sister from one house to another. He explained the whole sad situation to me yesterday. He had no other option but to drop out. I wonder if he'll ever get another shot at a Christian college. If maybe he has crossed this dream off in his own mind.

I stopped by Tony Morgan's blog this afternoon and saw an interview with Guy Kawasaki, the original "Apple evangelist." I've read several of Guy's books and regularly check his blog, Signal Without Noise, which mostly deals with issues related to technology, marketing, and business in general.

Here is an exchange between Tony and Guy that cracked me up.

Tony: I don't own an Apple computer. I feel like I'm missing out. Am I?

Guy: This is like me asking you, "I don't believe in God. Am I missing out?"

Later, Tony asked Guy what makes a good evangelist. Guy responded, "90% is having a good cause. It's very easy to evangelize a good cause. It's hard to evangelize crap."

It's easy to evangelize the Macintosh, because it is so obviously superior to anything else on the market, except to the unfortunate lemming masses. The Mac is most definitely a good--yes, noble--cause, which is why I've been evangelizing it since 1988, when I joined the Enlightened Minority.

Evangelizing for Christ is certainly a good cause (not to mention a requirement of disciples). If we could just point people to Christ, that would be fine. But Christ is all wrapped up in Christianity, Christians, and the church, and that muddies the cause with, uh, crap. When you talk about Christ with people, sometimes all they see is condemning attitudes, boring services, legalism, Sunday Christians who engage in office lewd jokes during the week, the Bush Administration, and Trinity Broadcasting Network idiots with big hair and makeup so thick it requires a putty knife and chisel to remove.

Here's a quote from Kawasaki's wonderful book Selling the Dream. "Evangelists are usually ordinary people. Their passion for a cause makes them special. Gifted people can make good evangelists, but they often fail because they concentrate on selling themselves and not the cause."

I guess in the church we often err by selling ourselves--our church, our music, our okayness with bluejeans, our friendliness, our pastor--rather than selling Christ.

Last night at our little prayer meeting, we spent some time looking at Romans 12:9-21. Verse 16 says, "Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position."

Nicolette offered what, to me, is a fascinating observation. She wondered if you could read that verse in the opposite way, meaning, "Be willing to associate with people of high position."

So we talked about that. Nicolette said she felt uncomfortable, in particular, being around wealthy people. (In that regard, Anchor is definitely a low-position church.) We might view someone as a high-position person because of their education, important job, or wealth. Especially wealth. We agreed that we don't like being around snootie people. People who regard themselves as better than you. People who use their intellect/position/money to assert their superiority, to intimidate others, or to wield power and influence.

No, it's not fun being around such people. But perhaps the Bible is saying we shouldn't avoid them. Maybe the spirit of the verse is, "Be willing to associate with anyone who isn't like you. Don't let your differences separate you."

[Okay, amateur theologian on the premises.]

I love great movie writing. And there are some lines, some speeches, that I never get tired of watching. If I stumble across that movie on TV, I'll stick around just to watch that one scene. Here are some movie speeches that are classics in at least my mind. These are all longer than some of the best-known classics, like "I'll be back" or "Rosebud."

Blues Brothers. Elwood's classic line, "It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."

A Few Good Men. Lots of great writing here, with the legendary line, "You can't handle the truth." But my favorite line comes from Demi Moore's character. When asked why she's defending these two Marines, she says, "Because they stand on a wall, and they say ‘nothing is going to hurt you tonight, not on my watch'.' It seems terribly bland, just reading it. But the context and Moore's delivery (you hear in her voice an insecure little girl needing protection) make it great.

Gladiator. I loved the early line, "At my signal, unleash hell." But the for-the-ages speech comes from Maximus (Russell Crowe) when he removes his helmet and tells his foe Commodus, with gradually building intensity, "My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next."

Last night was a great, even euphoric, night for Arizona Cardinals fans...right up until the last half of the last quarter. When it all tumbled end-over-end into the toilet. That was excrutiatingly painful to watch.

I'm basically an all-things-Arizona fan, which goes back to my days actually living there (in Lake Havasu City). That means I like the Arizona Wildcats, the Phoenix Suns...and the Cardinals, despite my memories of them in St. Louis. I rooted for the Diamondbacks when they reached (and won) the World Series. I draw the line at hockey. Sorry, but I just can't cheer for a hockey team in the desert (or anywhere, for that matter).

I figured the Cardinals would get blown away last night. I was interested in the game for three reasons. One: the aforementioned Arizona infatuation. Two: I've been a USC football fan since my high school days, and Arizona now has a USC quarterback, Matt Leinart, who did quite well last night. And three: I'm definitely a Colts fan, and the Cards have a former Colt in Edgerrin James.

It was a sad, sad way to go to bed last night.

Today was Anchor's 8th anniversary. Nothing special about 8. But we recognized the day. Seems so long ago, that morning when we wondered if anybody would show up. Well over 100 people came. Closer to 150. It was an exciting, even giddy, day. A real adrenaline rush.

Lots of people have come through our doors. Lots of ministry has occurred. But our attendance hasn't changed much. That concerns me to an extent. And yet, I know that many lives have been touched, whether or not that translates into the numerical growth which evangelical Christianity worships. I, personally, have done more ministry this year than I did in nine years at my previous booming church.

So, praise the Lord for Anchor--what it has meant to me personally, and what it has meant to the scores of people who, in some way, Christ has touched through our hands.

Today I went to my first service at a Lutheran church. I've obviously lived an ecumenically sheltered life. This happened to be the funeral for the elderly mother of one of Pam's coworkers. It was a small church, and when I walked into the sanctuary, my initial thought was, "This looks like a typical United Brethren church." Long and narrow sanctuary. Hardwood pews spaced close together. Hymnal racks. An attendance board (sans white numbers) hanging up front.

Then I started really noticing. The dual podiums (one big, one small). That slender pole thing between the podiums (probably had something to do with communion, I guessed). The beautiful quilted banners hanging along the sides of the sanctuary. The organ in the balcony. And the minister wearing a white robe with green symbols. Don't see that every day in United Brethren churches.

They're changing the dimensions of mass-market paperback novels. Taller and thinner. I don't like it. Reading is a lifelong sacred habit for me. This represents a capricious change made without my approval. So I'm against it.

Right now I'm reading my first book in this "Premium" format, John Sandford's Broken Prey. Book publishers must be getting some resistance, because a page inside the back cover goes to great lengths to convince me that this is a Eureka-class change intended solely for my benefit. That's bunk. Somewhere along the line, this design makes money for Berkeley Books--in paper production, the printing process, how books are packed and shipped or arranged on shelves, or something. This drastic change requires a bottom-line benefit. Call me a cynic.

Joe Leatherman, Anchor's drummer, is a 7th grader and sometimes sports a Mohawk. This week he also sported something else which drew unfavorable reviews from school administrators. He went to school wearing shorts made entirely of duct tape. They had pockets and everything. Joe's Dad, Terry, was quite impressed, though he says the house is now littered with scraps of duct tape.

This is a magnet school focused on drawing youngsters interested in the arts. Don't duct-tape shorts demonstrate a definite sense of artistry? I think so. Joe insists they are comfortable, though I have difficulty imagining that, with the chaffing and general inflexibility, and I didn't think to inquire about zipper-related accomodations. But much of what youngsters wear (such as jeans magically held in place below butt level) don't appear to my untrained eye to be particularly comfy.

Anyway, Joe was asked to remove his duct-tape shorts and don the spare shorts he brought for just such an occasion. Which he anticipated, since a friend got the same treatment a day or two previous.

Joe was told that the shorts were a distraction, to which Joe responded in a most reasonable and respectful tone, "Isn't my Mohawk a distraction?" He was told, "If kids talk about your Mohawk more than they talk about school, then I'll deal with that." Or something along that line. The reasoning doesn't quite track with me, especially when I consider all the other teen-culture fashion accessorizing that could conceivably qualify as distracting--chains and colored hair and prolific piercings, and pants with pockets around shin level.

Joe was telling us about this experience tonight at music practice. I asked Pastor Tim what he would think of someone coming to church wearing shorts made of duct tape. He thought that would be awesome. So maybe Joe will wear them to church Sunday. I, personally, would like to see this example of 21st Century postmodern creative expression. Maybe Joe will sit down on the drum seat and get stuck. Alas, the cost of being an artist.

I was going through a box containing notes from seminars I've done in the past, and came upon a handout called "Creative Lead Sentences," which I had used in a writing seminar once upon a time. These are not renowned classics, like "Call me Ishmael" and "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," or even "In the beginning God created...", but creative leads from contemporary writing.

The best lead sentence of all time (that I've seen) was written by Ed Lahey in the Chicago Daily News. The article was about an intellectual who was in prison for murder, and who was killed after he made a homosexual pass at a fellow inmate. Here is Lahey's lead, which no doubt caused him to laugh out loud at his desk when it popped into his head:

"Despite his fine college education, Richard Loeb ended his sentence yesterday with a proposition."

Isn't that great? Here are some other leads I collected for that handout.

• "First, let me say that I am not a candidate, but if I were, I would never insult my fascist, obnoxious opponents" (Mark Russell in a TV Guide article).
• "Given the choice between Carter and Reagan, I would rather be sick" (John Alexander in The Other Side).
• "Because of the seriousness of our national and international situations, I'd like to say some things about ice cream" (Andy Rooney in a column).
• "I have written this small book because a thousand times in my career I have groped for it and come up empty-handed" (Arthur Plotnik, The Elements of Editing).
• "There are two schools of thought on tape-recording an interview: Yes and No" (John Brady, starting a chapter in his book The Craft of Interviewing).
• "Does television make you sick? Then this is for you: there will soon be at last three entire television networks you can watch only in the hospital" (a Newsweek article).
• "Your body is like a superbly engineered luxury automobile: if you use it wisely and maintain it properly, it will eventually break down, most likely in a bad neighborhood" (Dave Barry).

That's me sitting down, surrounded by Dad and Jonathan. My theory was that if you're sitting down, you won't lose your balance and fall off the roof.

On Saturday, we reshingled Mom and Dad's roof. Pam and I went, ostensibly to help. Pam actually did help. I mostly stayed on solid ground. Heights don't work well for me. Standing on a chair doesn't work well for me.

My brother Stu brought quite a crew. There were his sons Benjamin and Jonathan, his daughter Paula and her husband Tom, and then Brian, a friend of Tom and Benjamin. Benjamin was clearly the boss, because he knew what he was doing. When anyone encountered a problem, they called for Benjamin. A few weeks earlier, this whole crew reshingled Benjamin's fixer-upper house in Willshire, Ohio, which made Dad's house seem like a cake-walk. In Willshire, Paula was suspended along the side of the house by a rope, which went over the top of the two-story house and was tied, on the other side, to Benjamin's Jeep. She was scared to death, yet game.

The hope was to keep Dad off the roof. We'd just as soon that he not spend his senior years in a full-body cast. But we knew, deep down, that he'd inevitably climb topside. That came very early, when the truck was lifting shingles onto the roof, which was still frost-covered at that point. Dad climbed the ladder, crept up to the crest, stood, and walked--a bit shakily--over to Jonathan and Stu. Oh well. That's Dad.

I was also able to hide behind my Miniere's Disease, which had been acting up all week. It affects your balance, which affords an airtight argument against traversing rooftops. But when a call went out in the afternoon for someone to distribute shingles, I headed up, feeling like I should justify my existance. The first obstacle, of course, was moving from the ladder to the roof. I conquered that one with bravado. I then found myself on a small portion of the roof, above an add-on room, which is not slanted much. Alas, they needed me elsewhere, where the slope was much greater. I moved over there, feeling like I was wearing aluminum shoes on loose gravel. I stood there a bit, considering my balance anxieties. Paula noticed.

"How about if you take my place helping Brian, and I work over here?"

In other words, Paula was flat-out calling me a scaredy cat. But at age 49.94, I'm beyond the need to reaffirm pride. So I eagerly acknowledged Paula's youthful wisdom and consented to her suggestion. Working with Brian meant I could stay on the less-inclined part of the roof, where I did not feel, constantly, like I would keel over and tumble overboard.

One time I watched Benjamin, with a stack of shingles slung over his shoulder, jaunt along the edge of the roof and merge seemlessly onto the ladder. No more difficult than opening a car door and climbing in. He's my hero.

It was a fun day. And Mom fed us home-made noodles. Always a selling point for me.

The link below leads only to a bunch of pictures from the day's festivities.

Last week I noticed that Anderson Cooper, on CNN, was doing a series of reports on location in the Congo. I really didn't have time last week to pay much attention. Something going on every night. But tonight, as I surfed around during football commercials, I noticed that they were showing Cooper's CNN reports. Something in me wasn't interested. It was Africa, and everything is dismal in Africa. Whereas NFL games are fun. My urge was to surf on by, and eventually meander back to the NFL game.

But I stopped myself. Why wasn't I interested in this report on Africa? We criticize news media for acting like Africa doesn't exist. And here was CNN, pouring no doubt millions of dollars into reporting on the needs in Africa (Sonjay Gupta was also reporting from Chad for Anderson Cooper). And I wasn't interested? I preferred football?

So I told myself, "Steve, you need to be interested." And I stayed. And I watched the report. And I was fascinated. This was really great reporting, and I'm better for having watched it. So thanks, Anderson, for taking such an interest in something which, sadly, doesn't interest too many of your viewer and may have even been a ratings loser for you. Thanks for taking more of an interest than I usually take in Africa. And thanks for putting yourself at risk to inform complacent viewers about the enormous human needs in the Congo and elsewhere.

Ten of us meet every Wednesday night at the church for a prayer time. Been doing it all summer. Two of us are elders, plus our wives. None of the others hold any leadership positions in the church. But they are precious people, regular in coming to pray for the church. God doesn't view people the same way we do. He doesn't add up education and talents and IQ and articulateness and the size of your church, and assign worth. His scale is totally different.

Jennifer is a young girl, maybe 18, with a learning disability. Very poor family. She works at Taco Bell. She has difficulty reading. Every Wednesday we discuss prayer needs and praises, and then split up for about ten minutes of individual prayer, with the group scattering around the sanctuary. Afterwards, tonight, I asked each person to mention one matter of prayer that has been on their minds.

"How about it, Jennifer? What's something that's been on your mind for prayer?"

A little coaxing was needed. But finally she said very quietly, "The worship team." And it immediately choked me up. She said that ever since Chris Kuntz, our worship leader, left for a position in another church, she has been praying for the worship team. I type this with water-soaked eyes.

Chris has been gone six weeks, and we've struggled to adjust without a strong lead singer. It's not been easy. We've all had to make adjustments, and we acutely feel Chris's absence. We have definitely needed prayer. But how did Jennifer, who has nothing to do with the worship team, know that?

Prayer often arises out of a personal burden, out of some sense that this particular need requires sustained prayer. When God looked down at the Anchor congregation, wondering whom to give a special burden for the worship team, he passed over the elders. He passed over the board members. He passed over Sunday school teachers. And he went to Jennifer. Meek, timid Jennifer. For six weeks now, Jennifer has been praying for us. And I had no idea.

• Little yappy dogs.
• Spicy hot food.
• Putting up Christmas lights.
• Hockey.
• Tank tops.
• Movies involving the occult.
• Stupid subdivision rules, like you can't have a shed.
• Prepositional phrases.
• Fussing over biblical prophecy.
• Winters with snow. I loved living in Arizona.
• FOX News (a wholly owned subsidiary of the Bush Administration).
• People who chew with their mouth open.
• Splash pages on websites.
• Upscale Christian colleges. Like the Bush Administration, they broaden the gap between the rich and poor, haves and have-nots.
• Drummers who try to sing (Ringo, Phil Collins, Don Henley...).
• Clams.
• Nancy Grace. Like fingernails on a blackboard.
• People who drive Hummers. They shouldn't be allowed to breed.
• Obnoxious ringtones. The cuteness factor wore off years ago.
• Mail-in rebates. Don't make me jump through hoops to get a discount.
• Dress shoes.
• Blood tests. I'm a wimp.
• Anything but the aisle seat on airplanes.
• Dress shoes.
• Singing choruses over and over.
• Tomato juice.
• Restrictions on how women can serve in a church.
• Choosing teams. Requires that someone get chosen last.
• Gas stations that make you pay inside. I won't use them.
• KMart and CVS Pharmacies.
• Hotels with outdoor access to rooms.
• Pipe organs.
• Email forwards which still contain all the header crap from previous senders.
• Call waiting. It's just plain rude.
• Taco pizza.
• Attending Sunday school in a church I'm visiting.
• People who talk on cell phones in restaurants.

Mark Batterson gave the opening keynote at the MinistryCOM conference I attended in August. He started National Community Church in Washington, D.C., a ministry that now includes three churches, all of which meet in two movie theaters and a coffeehouse. It's a very innovative church. Batterson had some great stuff for us.

He has written a book with what has got to be the best title ever: In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day. It will be released on October 1, and you can buy it at Amazon, which is something I recommend, based on reading the opening chapter (he sent it to me for review purposes).

The title is based on Banaiah who, according to 2 Samuel 23, "chased a lion down into a pit. Then, despite the snow and slippery ground, he caught the lion and killed it." Batterson fills out the story in a very entertaining way. Imagine Benaiah and the lion coming face to face, then the lion--not the human--turns tail and runs away. And Benaiah chases it. The lion falls into a pit with snow on the ground, and Benaiah stupidly jumps into the pit and kills the killer cat. This is not a story I learned in Sunday school, for some reason.

Batterson says we often equate holiness as the things we don't do--holiness by "subtracting something from our lives that shouldn't be there." But in what he calls "opportunity stewardship," he thinks God is more concerned with the things we don't do, but should have done. "You can do nothing wrong and still do nothing right. Those who simply run away from sin are half-Christians. Our calling is much higher than simply running away from what's wrong. We're called to chase lions."

He also points out that not every lion chaser kills the lion. Sometimes opportunities don't work out. But you were still chasing a lion. I think of some church planters and missionaries I know who gave up everything to pursue God's calling, and things went bust. But I still admire them. They jumped into a pit on a snowy day and at least tried to kill a lion.

So that's what Mark Batterson's book is about. And I'm looking forward to reading the whole thing.

Pastor Tim and I (sitting with our backs to the wall; I'm on the right with the white shirt) talking with a table filled with people who live near the church, but whom we had never met.

On Saturday, Anchor held a "block party." We sent invitations to over 100 homes on our street and on nearby streets, passed out flyers, and used a big banner out front to invite neighborhood people to a free chicken BBQ meal (Nelson's pit BBQ!). We also invented students from the Literacy Alliance, a group which meets at Anchor on Monday and Thursday nights to help people obtain their GED. We rented a Moonwalk outside for the kids. We didn't know how many would come, but it seemed like a good thing to try.

I consider it a huge success. I figure probably 40 people came. I got the chance to sit down and talk to all but two of them (the two in the picture that Pastor Tim is talking to). The people were very appreciative that we would do something like this. Some attended church, some didn't. We weren't intending to hit them with the gospel or some hard sell. It was just an chance to get acquainted, and to thank our neighbors for putting up with our very loud concerts (with concert-goers eating up all of the street parking).

I talked to one family yesterday that lived on our street. They had a junior high girl and a high school boy. Seemed like nice folks. This morning, the girl came, by herself, to the 9:00 (early) service. She was sitting by herself at one of our tables in the back of the sanctuary, so when the music was done, I made a point of sitting there with her. I even remembered her name, which is a rather stupendous accomplishment for me.

Perhaps more folks from the block party will trickle in now and then. I talked to two young boys, as they devoured the chicken, asked me when we would do this again. I told him we would probably do it again next year. One of them told me, "I think you should do it" (and he paused to think) "three times a year." So I guess he liked it.