I ran across the JesusPets website, and it gave me some laughs. The line at the top asks: "If Jesus returns tonight, who will feed your pets tomorrow?"

Well, that got my attention. I clicked on the "About" link to learn more.

Who is going to care for your pets after you are raptured into heaven?

If you have a non-Christian family member, they might take care of your pet, but if not, have you made any plans? Imagine being taken to streets of gold while your dog starves to death walking around in his own feces trapped in your small house or apartment, subject to fire and earthquakes or even being eaten by heathens searching for any remaining morsel of food. Do you want that to happen?

That’s what JesusPets is for. We are assembling a community of heathen pet-lovers to care for pets that are “left-behind.” We are coordinating with feed mills and kennels in preparation for your post-apocalyptic pet care needs.

And I'm wondering: who will take care of Jordi and Molly if we're raptured?

Posted at 03:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Actually, the first baby step came last spring, when Pastor Tim sent a letter to these pastors inquiring about working together. We held a joint Vacation Bible School last summer. And now, we're going further during Lent.

For five Sunday nights, starting last night, we are holding a joint service at a different church. Anchor got things started last night. With the icy weather, the Oscars, and the big Chris Tomlin-Matt Redmon concert at Blackhawk Baptist Church, we didn't have high hopes. We figured 50 would be a good number. But we ended up pretty much filling our basement fellowship hall with 75-80 people.

Grace Presbyterian, led by the delightful Pastor Barb (that's her on the right, taking photos, beside Pastor Tim), sent a big contingent. I spent a lot of time with them, and thoroughly enjoyed them. One young man, Steve, is a former atheist who became a Christian and, this summer, is headed for seminary. He hopes to eventually work in campus ministry, perhaps with Campus Crusade or InterVarsity.

Honestly, I don't know much about Presbyterians. Haven't had much contact with them during my 50 years, and have heard labels like "mainline" and "liberal" thrown their way (as if all Presbyterian groups are alike). We conservative evangelicals are adept at creating labels to separate us from other groups (though fundamentalists can be downright diabolical at it). We want to avoid contaminating our pure theology, I guess. I don't think Jesus is too crazy about separatist attitudes.

The pastors agreed on a format for each evening. So last night, we started with a soup and dessert meal. Then we sang three songs which come out of our church's tradition--in our case, "Take My Life and Let it Be" (though we Anchorized it with the Chris Tomlin version), "I'll Fly Away," and "This Little Light of Mine." For the latter, when we got to the verse which says, "Shine all over Third Street" (where Anchor is located), we had each church insert their own church's street. That was neat. Tim and Terry played guitars and sang, I played the piano, and Marsha sang.

After those three songs, Tim spoke informally and with lots of humor about Anchor and our denomination--theology, ministries, history, etc. It set a great tone.

Next week we're at North Highlands Church of Christ. I can hardly wait. In reaching our neighborhood, the most strategic relationships we can develop are not with other United Brethren churches in Fort Wayne, but with other churches, regardless of affiliation, located in our neighborhood. We'll discover which ones share our heart for really making an impact. This can only lead to good things.

The United Brethren church began when a Mennonite minister and a German Reformed minister, discovering that they shared the same spiritual passions, declared, "We are brethren." I think they'd be pleased with what happened last night at Anchor.

Posted at 09:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Time for an American Idol fluff post. Yes, Pam and I watch the show. Started last year, got hooked, and now we're back. I will be posting about American Idol, but as far as I can tell, the show in no way contributes to the ministry of my church or to world evangelization in general (though I'm sure numerous contestants will find reason to thank God for something). In short, the path to heaven does not pass in front of Randy, Paula, and certainly not Simon. And yet, I am compelled to obsess over the show.

I find this year's contestants pretty boring, especially compared to last year. Most of the guys sound alike. Only Blake Lewis, Chris Sligh, and the too-young Sanjayah are interesting. But it's early, and I can see Sundance and Phil breaking from the pack. I liked Rudy, who was dismissed from the show last night; a good performer.

The women are similarly boring, though a bit more diverse. Melinda Doolittle is my favorite, and I like Sabrina. Beyond that--I don't really care. We desperately need a Kelly Pickler.

Last year's crew was so much more interesting. Where is this year's Taylor Hicks? There are no country reps this year, like Kelly and Bucky Covington. No Elliott Yamin. Chris Sligh can only pretend to be Chris Daughtrey's succesor. Several women could perhaps take Kat McPhee's place, potentially. Lakisha is certainly Mandisa, and Stephanie Edwards can stand in for Paris Bennett and Lisa Tucker. A couple guys can do a lesser version (complete with lesser falsetto) of Ace Young. And where, oh where, is this year's Kevin Covais? Overall, the calibre definitely took a hit this year. At least, that's my early diagnosis as a highly trained evaluator of vocal talent...not!

I find myself despising Antonella Barba, simply because of her friend who got dismissed in Hollywood. An early feature showed them as two pretty, stuck-on-themselves, aren't-we-beautiful dilettantes, like so many Valley-Girlites I knew in high school. Now that Antonella is by herself, she actually comes across as likable, and she's certainly pretty. But I still hate her because of baggage I still carry from my adolescent years. Interesting that I can muster up such strong emotions over this TV show. Such is the state of my shallowness.

Now I need to go see what's happening with Anna Nicole.

Posted at 10:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The third Monday in February is always Presidents Day. That means it must occur somewhere between February 15 and 21. We think of it as a combination of the birthdays of Washington and Lincoln.

But--this is interesting--their birthdays don't fall in that span. Washington was born on either February 11 (according to the old-style Julian calendar, still being used) or February 22 (the newly-adopted Gregorian calendar). Lincoln's birthday is February 12. Two other presidents were born in February: William Henry Harrison on February 6, and Ronald Reagan on February 9. So Presidents Day will never occur on an actual president's birthday.

Posted at 06:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One morning last week, while snowed in, I watched a History Channel feature about Bolivia's North Yungus Road, a 70km horror that connects the capital city, La Paz, with the city of Coroica. It is hands-down the world's most dangerous road, claiming 100-200 lives every year. I'm fascinated by this road. A History Channel reporter drove the entire road with a film crew. Incredibly, I found this more interesting than the Anna Nicole Smith saga.

I came across a web article about the five most dangerous roads in the world. The Bolivian road heads the list, but the others are quite interesting, too. Lots of pictures.

Posted at 01:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A few weeks ago, Sports Illustrated let two guys debate who was the better athlete: Tiger Woods or Roger Federer. Both are probably the greatest to ever play their sport. But who is the better athlete?.

The pro-Federer writer (I don't remember the guys' names) pointed out that Tiger's physical demands don't go beyond walking and swinging your arms (though swinging with great practiced precision). Federer, on the other hand, must actually run, jump, spin, fight fatigue, and draw deeply from gutsy reserves when things aren't going well. He must swing his arms hundreds of times more than Tiger does. And he must adjust for and out-think each opponent (whereas Tiger competes against the course, not an opponent).

So I don't think there's any doubt that Federer is the better athlete. But if you start playing this game, you could argue that many mediocre NBA players are better pure athletes than Federer. But I don't want to go there.

Are Jeff Gordon and Daryl Waltrip athletes? Auto racing has all the trappings of a sport--competition, big crowds, Vegas betting. But I have trouble seeing these guys as athletes any more than I see video-gamers, chess players, and archers as athletes. To be an athlete, you need to do something that truly taxes you physically. So, does that mean ballroom dancers and synchronized swimmers are athletes, but Jeff Gordon isn't?

Okay, I need to think about this some more. Or maybe not. I don't know why I'm even writing about this. I should go outside and do something physically demanding and therefore athletic, like shoveling snow. On the other hand, considering all the finger movement necessary to type, how about advancing blogging as a sport?

Posted at 11:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Every time I check, MSNBC, Headline News, and Fox are all talking about Anna Nicole Smith. Meanwhile, CNN is always doing something worthwhile. Like tonight, Anderson Cooper is in the Brazilian rain forest doing a report on the climate. I've noticed this night after night--three channels lazily doing fluff, while CNN tackles substance. It's not a difficult choice deciding which channel to watch, even though James Dobson and the other Christian-culture elites would be terribly disappointed with me.

Posted at 10:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Eighteen years since I proposed. Nothing special about 18, I guess. Except that we're still together, so we seem to be fighting the odds just fine. I proposed the day after Valentines Day. I refused to be stereotypical. I was ready to propose on Valentines Day, but I stubbornly waited an extra day.

Tonight we went to Bandidos after music practice and shared a medium nachos, just the meats and cheeses (no beans). Pretty boring for an anniversary meal, I suppose, but it suited us.

After 18 years, we could have a kid ready to graduate from high school. Instead, we've got a 20-year-old and a 20-something, and their baby. Went straight to Grandpa and Grandma. That's what people are calling us. I never minded. Pam wasn't sure about it at first, but now she has embraced her Grandmahood.

Posted at 10:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

This just in: a Congressional hearing on Global Warming was postponed because of an ice storm in Washington DC.

Posted at 11:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For many years now, "worship" has been the in thing in churchdom, the thing we do which is supposed to be paramount, more important than anything else. Evangelism, obedience, faithfulness, discipleship, missions, spiritual gifts--they had their day. But today's United States church says it's all about worship.

I confess that I'm totally confused when it comes to worship. I've heard so many definitions and general proclamations about worship, with so many contradictions and inconsistencies, that I've given up. I think I helped craft one definition, as part of a music team exercise, along the line of, "Worship is giving all of myself to an infinite God." Or something like that (am I close, Chris?). It was profound, as everything about worship must be.

We hear that worship isn't what we do on Sunday morning, but how we live throughout the week. That worship is a lifestyle. I've heard that everything we do is an act of worship. That we worship by teaching Sunday school, by eating right, by driving within the speed limit. That world missions is, in fact, an act of worship (rather than an act of obedience to the Great Commission, which I was errantly taught as a kid by non-worship-minded adults). When I send my wife flowers or do the dishes or get to work on time--more acts of worship.

But then, we do some kind of elevated worship on Sunday, when we hold worship services. But what part of the morning is worship? When people say, "I really worshipped this morning," they're usually talking about the songs. Nobody says, "I really worshipped in listening to that sermon," or when the offering was taken, or during announcements.

As a worship team, we lead the congregation in worship. But if it's a lifestyle, and not something we do on Sunday morning, then what exactly is our role? If what we do inspires positive emotion, people will say it was good worship. If the pastor gives a knock-em-dead sermon, people will say it was a great sermon, not a great act of worship.

I read today someone's thought that, "Quite often worship is simply a baptized version of our culture. In our worship we simply mirror what is all around us--worship of self." Wow, there's something to think about. But that person is confining worship to what happens in worship services.

Our new Christian rock stars are worship leaders like Matt Redman, Chris Tomlin, Darlene Zschech, and Tommy Walker. Instead of going to hear them "in concert," we go to hear them conduct musical worship. During my childhood years we had fulltime evangelists, and they emphasized that winning the lost is more important than anything else we do. Well, few fulltime evangelists are still around; it's just not a marketable skill, I guess. But we do have thousands of worship leaders who tell us that worship is, of course, more important than anything else we do. Since I'm a Communications Director, I'd like to tell people that nothing is more important than communicating clearly, but you can't pack an auditorium with that message.

So anyway, I'm confused, and I've been blissfully confused for many years now. And I wonder how many other people share my confusion, but don't want to admit it and thereby show themselves to be spiritually unenlightened. When I hear new definitions or profound pronouncements about worship, I just nod my head with severe understanding and privately look forward to the day when some other Christian concept becomes in vogue, something that people can explain with a little more consensus and less starry-eyed abstract prose.

To me, it's not all about worship. It's all about obedience and faithfulness. Those are concepts I can wrap my mind around. Is God pleased with what happens at my church on Sunday morning? If he's pleased, then I'm pleased, and I don't get my shorts bunched up about whether or not worship occurred.

(This is what happens when I'm snowed in.)

Posted at 11:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Just checked the news stations. MSNBC, Headline News, and Fox News were all covering Anna Nicole Smith. Only CNN was doing something substantive (an interview with Bill Richardson, who I really like). My read is that Fox and Headline News are drifting increasingly into fluff and general cheapness. MSNBC is on the rise, and CNN leads the way in doing real news. Yeah, I know, our Republican puppetmasters claim that CNN is liberal and that only Fox can be trusted. Baloney. Who can I trust? I'll take CNN over Fox any day of the week.

Posted at 10:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Chris Kuntz, our former worship leader who now leads worship at another United Brethren church here in Fort Wayne, wrote on his blog about the hymn "There is Power in the Blood." As I voiced in a comment, I tend to shy away from the "blood" hymns as a bit morbid. Consider these:

• "There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel's veins. And sinners plunged beneath that flow lose all their guilty stain."
• "What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus."
• "Alas and did my Savior bleed and did my sovereign die."
• "For Jesus shed His precious blood, rich blessings to bestow. Plunge now into the crimson flood, that washes white as snow."
• "Down at the cross where my Saviour died, down where for cleansing from sin I cried. There to my heart was the blood applied...."
• "See from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down...."
• "Are you washed in the bood, in the soul-cleansing blood of the Lamb?"
• "What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus....Oh precious is the flow, that makes me white as snow."

Today's contemporary Christian songs talk about how much Christ loves us, and talk about the cross in sort of a shiny symbolic way, but avoid talking about what Jesus actually suffered on our behalf (which the film "The Passion of the Christ" portrays with morbid power).

Chris distilled the simple message of this old hymn with the questions asked at the beginning of each verse:

1. Do you want to be free from the burden or bondage of sin?
2. Do you want to win over evil?
3. Do you want to be so pure that you are whiter than snow?
4. Do you want to serve Jesus by doing His work here on earth?
5. Do you want to live every day praising God and singing to Him?

I wonder if, by sheltering our pew-sitters from the reality of what Christ suffered for us, we unintentionally promote a sort of wimpy Gospel. That the Christian life is all about love and hope and peace, not about (potentially) tremendous sacrifice and suffering. We certainly don't advertise, "If you become a Christian, you may be called to suffer more than you can imagine." No, we don't want to scare people away. So we promote the Christian life as happiness and having your needs (and wants) met. And as a result, we get wimpy Christians who buy into the American-dream consumeristic lifestyle, thinking that that's what Christ intended for us. "I have lots of things. Therefore, God is doing what I signed up for."

I'm still not anxious to inflict "blood" hymns on Sunday worshipers. But if people want "Yes" answers to those questions posed in "There is Power in the Blood," I guess we need to point them to the reason they can have "yes" answers.

Posted at 09:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I got up this morning and turned on the TV to watch some news, catch up on the headlines. But all I could learn about was Anna Nicole Smith, now dead for two days. MSNBC, CNN, and FOX are doing wall-to-wall coverage, for which intellectual viewers are grateful. Maybe somebody should just launch an Anna Nicole Smith Channel--All Anna, All the Time. Even in death, she continues to inspire the world.

With new alleged fathers falling from the sky, this thing will continue for some time. I'm sure Nancy Grace, Greta, and Paula will milk it for all it's worth. I see Geraldo is lending his journalistic gravitas to the mix with a special.

Somebody will eventually gain control of the baby, which means they got control of what they really wanted--the money. They'll pocket the money and turn the baby over to a nanny. I doubt that this baby will grow up feeling loved and wanted.

Posted at 01:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tim will preach about Samson in two weeks, so last night at music practice we discussed possible songs to accompany the message. I mentioned the 1960s song "Hair," from the musical by that name.

"Hair" was the first rock song I ever heard. Our family had gone to the Cook home, and their son Rodney and I went up to his room. "I want you to listen to something," he said. He then put on an album or .45 (I don't remember which; cassettes hadn't come out yet) and played the song "Hair." I was immediately drawn to it--the whole rowdy, rock sound. I had never heard anything like it before, and though entirely beyond my experience to that point, the sound connected with something in me.

And yet, at the same time, I felt like I was doing something naughty. That if my parents heard us listening to this music, they would be upset. They wouldn't have been, but something in my upbringing (not particularly strict by any means) told me we were listening to something forbidden.

And now, 40 years later, I might actually play that forbidden song in church. Talk about going liberal!

Posted at 09:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am remiss for not having mentioned earlier an important milestone in my humdrum life. On Saturday afternoon, February 3, I changed my first diaper. Actually, it wasn't my diaper, but Connor's.

Since this was a momentous thing for which I feel, even five days later, an unusual sense of accomplishment, I am compelled to provide a play-by-play.

Allen was in the bedroom picking up in preparation for our Super Bowl party the next night. I'd been holding Connor, and it became obvious to me, as a person in whom God saw fit to install a nose, that all was not tidy in his nether regions. I could have called for Allen. But in an impulsive spat of self-confidence, probably caffeine-related, I convinced myself, "I've watched them do this enough. I can do this on my own."

And so, I unfolded his little pad, arranged a clean diaper and the wipes around it, placed Connor on the pad, and proceeded to unravel this smelly mystery. People have asked me if it was an easy one, if he was just wet. No, I'll have you know, it was not an easy one. He had soiled his onesie down his back. Which raises this question:

When it comes to babies, do you use a clinical euphemism like "soiled," or do you just come right out and say, "He had green poop squirted clear down his back?" You decide.

Anyway, I rose to the occasion, using upwards of 75 wipes and managing to keep his little yellow-socketed feet from falling into the aforementioned soil. Suddenly, he was clean. And I, Steve Dennie, age 50, had engineered this feat which restored balance to the universe.

The most difficult part was removing his onesie. I definitely need to practice, if not receive extended instruction in, the proper technique for removing from an outfit the arms and head of a baby who provides absolutely no help. Connor grew a bit impatient with me, since I clearly took longer at this part of the mission than his parents do. But I got the thing off and took it in to Allen, pointing out the existance of soil and suggesting that we substitute something fresh and clean, as if that was only an option.

At this point, I turned the operation over to Allen, who located a new outfit and did the honors. I, meanwhile, stood watching with a grin of self-satisfaction.

Now that I am a veteran at changing diapers, I am available to conduct workshops.

Posted at 09:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Had lunch with my Dad today. That was nice. He told me about the reception they've gotten at two churches they've been attending. This is always comedic stuff. When Mom and Dad took a year off from the ministry in the early 1980s, after ten years at their first church, they visited a lot of different churches and were always amused by the timidity of churchgoers when it comes to greeting visitors. They would often be ignored. Once, if I remember right, they sat down in a pew and some other people filed into the pew, and stacked up hymnals and Bibles between them, to create a barrier between them and these unknown people who had crashed their pew.

They've been attending one church in Fort Wayne fairly regularly for months, but still, nobody talks to them. The pastor greeted someone on either side of them, but ignored them. Mom and Dad find this intensely amusing.

At another church, Dad kindly (I'm assuming) refused the offer of a visitor badge. I can't believe any churches are still giving out visitor badges. That's so old school. The second time they visited, when it came to signing the guest register, Dad signed it, "Mr. and Mrs. Invisible," and gave their real address. He's still waiting on a letter sent to Mr. and Mrs. Invisible.

I've seen some of this kind of behavior in United Brethren churches. I remember one church in Ohio where I was pretty much ignored by the 100+ people attending, even when I went to Sunday school. Some years ago, when I attended the largest church in our denomination, I obviously took somebody's regular pew, because this older couple scooted in beside me and the lady shot me a highly disapproving look which told me I was trespassing. Inside, I guffawed.

Posted at 09:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I think we all get tired of celebrities spouting their political opinions, as if being famous makes them insightful. There are a few I do view as insightful. Not Sean Penn. Not Babs Streisand. Not Alec Baldwin. But George Clooney--there's a smart fellow who understands the media and the vanities of Celebrity Land. Yeah, I know, he's in the "liberal" camp. But I'll listen to what he has to say (just as I'd sooner listen to Al Franken than a self-absorbed, truth-twisting weasel like Bill O'Reilly).

Anyway, I read an online interview in which Clooney talked about foreign relations (he's been doing a lot of work on behalf of Darfur), and talked about how the rest of the world views us as unilateral bullies. Which we are.

But he also talked about the news (and he comes from a news background). He said this: "24-hour news does not mean that you get more news. It means you get the same news more."

Ain't that the truth! At one time, The Latest Missing White Girl Story would get a minute on the evening news. Now it gets a whole evening, getting handed off from one talk show to another, each exploiting the story with nothing factual to add (though, thankfully, MSNBC and CNN are getting away from that cycle).

He mentions the recent story about the three hikers stuck on an Oregon mountain. "It was 24 hours of three guys stuck up on a mountain. A tragedy, but it is three guys who chose to go out on a mountain for sport and had a terrible accident. Yet there were hundreds and hundreds of people dying in vicious attacks in places all around the world; there were tons of news stories that day that were so much more important to what was going on in the world."

This is why I increasingly appreciate Keith Olberman (MSNBC), Lou Dobbs (CNN), and Anderson Cooper (CNN), all of whom avoid the "sensational" story in favor of other things that matter. Cooper, especially, gets out of the studio and does original stuff that people should care about. But for the most part, the national media gurus are lazy penny-pinchers, blanketing stories that cost little to cover, rather than venturing something new that might require airfare.

The three national broadcasts--CBS, ABC, and NBC--still do good stuff. But they're done in a half hour, and that's it. Then we must switch over to the cable channels, which run the latest sensational story into the ground while recklessly flinging around self-righteous pronouncements. But it's not as bad as it used to be, as long as you avoid Headline News, whose evening schedule is a wasteland of fluff.

Posted at 09:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Indiana is, of course, rejoicing over the Colts victory in the Super Bowl last night. We got off to a very depressing start with those runs by Devin Hester and Thomas Smith, not to mention the rain. But since God is sovereign and was on the side of the Colts, things worked out.

Yesterday, Super Bowl Sunday, lots of people followed Pastor Tim's instructions to come to church clad in Colts gear (like Mary, Rozal, Russ, and Pat). That included the entire worship team (except for Marsha Biard, a Chargers fan, who abstained). Pastor Tim, here with Allen Gibbs, preached in a Colts sweatshirt.

Pam got a cute outfit for Connor at Target (right), even though Connor's Mom, Carolyn, came to church wearing a Bears hoody, that being her favorite team. Perhaps the bravest soul was RJ, who came wearing a bright orange Bears jersey. RJ and Dan came to our house for our Super Bowl party. RJ picked up Dan for the party. I suggested that on the way home, he drop Dan off in the middle of nowhere, but RJ's not the type of person who would do that.

Connor slept through the second half of the Super Bowl. But in the first half, Mark helped Connor practice his refereeing in a pose I call Touchdown Connor.

A few other observations from the Super Bowl:

• The opening extravaganza, with all the acrobats and colorful inflatable animals and such, was tedious. Five minutes of watching cheerleaders launch into the air? Okay, I got the idea after the first few, and it was nothing I hadn't seen before.
• That was a sorry bunch of commercials. A huge disappointment. The Snickers and the mouse ads were among the very few that were truly Super Bowl-worthy.
• Prince was quite good. I liked how he did several different song styles. And he avoided launching into his falsetto, which is always annoying. I've never been a Prince fan, but he done good last night.
• Hey Adam--what's with missing a field goal? We hired you to be perfect.
• Now, will everybody please get off Peyton Manning's back? And onto Eli's back?
• Poor, poor Rex Grossman. Nuff said.
• I think the Super Bowl should always be played in a dome. Maybe that's just me. If the Colts had lost, I would have blamed it on the rain. A convenient excuse, I realize. But still.

Posted at 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

There is some good stuff about Christians on the Colts and Bears rosters at Beyond the Ultimate. At the bottom of the homepage are PDF files you can download, and they contain testimonies from players and coaches--one PDF for the Colts, one for the Bears.

The Bears version focused mostly on coaches, and they even pulled in Mike Singletary, a blast from the past. The Colts version, however, focused almost entirely on players (Jeff Saturday, Dallas Clark, Hunter Smith, Tarik Glenn). Both mini-booklets end with a clear presentation of the Gospel message.

I'm impressed with the materials I see, and commend Athletes in Action for putting together a quality witness around the Super Bowl.

I'm wondering: since both teams have Christian coaches, if the Bears win, will Colts owner Jim Irsay and Coach Tony Dungy give God credit for the Bears victory? Or do you only give God credit when you win?

Posted at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)