Actual Conversation on 09/25/02

Me: (holding up Wodehouse's "Pigs Can Fly") Dude, I just can't get into it.
Dave P: (staring at me like I just grew donkey ears) Whaaaaaa?
Me: I mean, I get it, I get the dry English humor and all...It's just not working for me.
Dave: Wow...well how far are you into it?
Me: Ummmmm...64 pages.
Dave: Oh you've got to give it more time than that. Give it at least 100 pages.
Me: *sigh* Alright.

END SCENE

Dave, I'm into it now...good stuff.

Not much to blog about in the last couple of days, due to a relapse of sickness and a Sunday School lesson to be prepared. I'll probably have a lot more time to blog after Sunday.

At any rate those of you keeping up with the RPCUS/Auburn Four controversy may get a giggle out of this piece by Doug Wilson.

For those of you not familiar with it, you can get caught up to speed here.

Chirp Update

Well my bud Chirp is gone, finito, no more. Now I'd like to say that I had the last laugh as I brought the pain down on his exoskeleton but that would be untruthful.

No apparently either he naturally expired in my closet (which brings me to somewhat unsettling thoughts of a cricket corpse wasting away somewhere near my shorts) or he got a load of my Hawaiian shirt collection and said, "Nope, not for me" and got out of there as quickly as his little legs could take him. I couldn't blame him really if that was indeed the case.

Ewwwwww.

I can't believe that the watermelon & honeydew I bought on Sunday went bad...and I was looking forward to a little fruit salad too...bummer.

I break out the honeydew, cut it open and my heart fell. Instead of fresh, crisp, juicy honeydew, I saw a lucid green, jellylike substance.

Mortified but determined I cut open the watermelon and was relieved to see pale red flesh, but the smell...OH THE SMELL...like a hundred wet dogs rolling around in...well, I won't go there.

*sigh* Fresh produce and I have never been the best of friends.

Oh and lest I forget



Today in 1957, the Dodger played their last game in Ebbets Field, before moving to Los Angeles. They defeated the Pirates 2-0

BTW, 3 games back of the Giants now with 5 games left to play...I am going to be sick.

Why the Giants, why oh why the Giants?

On this day in 1936, Jim Henson was born.



To this day I remember waking up at like 6 in the morning on Saturdays to watch old reruns of the original Muppet Show. Couldn't be beat I tell you. When I watch it now I still laugh out loud at all the clever & corny jokes.

Maximum props to Henson for creating the Swedish Chef, my favorite character:


And let's not forget about the only reason to own HBO in the '80's...Fraggle Rock

Hmmm, this doesn't look promising.

My ol' buddy Chirp was back last night. Thankfully he's now holed up in my closet, which is soundproof but not by much.

Now I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact that the cricket's life expectancy can be up to 8-10 weeks under the right conditions or the fact that I got this info from an INTERNET CRICKET FARM.

Further proof that this whole internet thing has gotten way out of hand.

I AM HAVING ISSUES!!

Can anyone with a intermediate to advanced knowledge of HTML tell me how to scoot over my personal links and widen my blog text so it's not so scrunched up?

Mucho Thanko!

Kissing to the Glory of God

One of the many things that has rightfully inspired passionate debate in Christendom is the issue of kissing. Should two unmarried believers engage in romantic kissing (as separate from the holy kiss that Paul mentions). This was an issue that I wrestled a lot with in my Calvary Chapel days, going from the “absolutely no kissing, petting, hugging, being alone in a house together” position to the “OK go ahead, but watch yourself buddy” position as I left Calvary and some of it’s legalistic dogma. In these latter days, I’m starting to find the pendulum starting to swing the other way in my attitude back to a “hands and lips off pal”. I admit that a lot of that is (or was I should say) due to my own failures in attempting to keep an unspotted life before the eyes of Christ. It’s really hard for me to imagine two people being able to say “this far but no further” when it comes to things like kissing.

That’s why I find articles like this one by Patrick Hurd extremely helpful. Regardless of if you agree or disagree with his conclusions (which is premarital kissing should be an unacceptable option for Christians) he sets forth some honest observations that before couples decide what they should do, they should take some time to prayerfully consider.

It has been my experience that a laissez faire attitude toward kissing has led to permissiveness while an ultra conservative no-no attitude leads to unscriptural burning. Which leads me to the next article which I found to be refreshing called “Let’s Have More Teen Pregnancy”by Fredrica Mathewes-Green. Basically she argues that the problem today is not teen pregnancy but unwed teen pregnancy that is the problem. Aside from some Darwinesque sounding argumentation at the beginning of the article, it then goes into an impassioned defense for younger marriage as a cultural norm. She doesn’t sugarcoat it, nor does she say it will be easy financially, but in my opinion if the alternative is a perpetual “burning of the loins”, it’s worth it. I can say this from experience as well as one who married at the ripe old age of 21. It was hard and very humbling at some points, but it was fully worth it and I wish I had gotten married earlier.

On Being Fed

Over the past few years I have seen a great deal many people leave Bible-believing churches in search for "greener pastures". This happens to occur a lot in So. Cal, the land of sun, surf and church hopping. Generally when people are asked why they left their church the reason usually given is not "bad doctrine", "abusive elders" or "church split" but rather the nebulous phrase "I wasn't being fed". Usually this comment goes by unchallenged and everyone kind of nods their head and the issue is dropped.

But why drop the issue? Why not question what they mean by not being fed. Does the church not have a strong preaching ministry, do they not administer the sacraments faithfully? Do they not have a strong eldership that keeps the wolves out of the body of Christ? Do they not minister to the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned? What? What does that mean, "not being fed"?

It seems that when you scratch beneath the surface, the attitude boils down to one of two things, both of them relating to self:

1. It's outside of my comfort zone.
2. What have you done for me lately?

Now certainly we must feel comfortable at our house of worship, I'm not denying that for a second. It's mostly with the second issue that I have a problem with, but nonetheless we must take an honest look at ourselves when we say that we're not comfortable in the church. Are we doing all we can to change that? Are we involving ourselves in ministry, are we willing to take the risk to open ourselves to other people in order to build trust and friendships? Are we willing to challenge ourselves to step out of the comfort zone (man I hate sounding like Phillip Yancey) and get involved in the life of the church? Are we making the effort to go to those who make us uncomfortable and say "I confess to you that I've been having some issues that involve you that have made me feel uncomfortable, can we talk and pray about it?" Do we desire to serve others with a heart of Christ-like fellowship without asking for anything in return? These are hard questions, but we need to give an honest answer to them.

The second reason is far more nefarious. These are the people who want to have nothing to do with the actual life or ministry of the church, all they want to do is get their ears tickled by the Preacher and listen to some semi-well performed music by the praise band. Then once that's done its that's all folks, they're gone. For them its "what can I get out of this?" What an antichrist attitude! When did Jesus ever demand to recieve? When He took time out for His needs it always ended up with Him giving more and more of Himself.

Over the last couple of years at my church, God has been teaching me the meaning of "It is more blessed to give, than to receive". I have found that despite any criticisms that I may have with my church, they have been quickly dispelled as I've gotten more and more involved with the various ministries there. I've found that by serving and feeding others, I've been fed. By giving more, I've recieved more. Do I wish we would get rid of the pedantic praise tunes? Sure, some of them at least. Do I wish that we would practice weekly communion? Well, yeah I do. I tell you though, in spite of all that I wouldn't trade it for the world, when I think about the people and the relationships I've made and how much I want to be a blessing to them. That is what counts, that is what being fed is all about.

Madness, pure madness.

We've had a visitor of sorts over the last couple of days. It seems that a cricket has found it's way up to the second floor of the apartment where it took residence somewhere in the walls of our bathroom. So from 10 PM to about 2 AM I was kept awake by a constant stream of chirping. Now I have learned a couple of things over the last few days and I think modern icthyological science will agree with me:

1. Crickets have the ability to turn invisible at any given time.
2. Crickets are all masters of ventriloquism.
3. Crickets are smarter than me.

These facts are undeniable and I will debate anybody who doubts the veracity of my observations.

Now on Saturday, I guess he needed to move to bigger and better things so while we were gone all day, I found that he moved to our bedroom, where? I couldn't tell you. Once I thought I had him cornered, his chirps seemed to come from the other side of the room. So up until 2 AM again playing the part of the Great White Cricket Hunter sweat dripping from my body as I moved slowly and stealthily (or so I imagined) with a can of Raid in one hand and a rolled up Tabletalk in the other. It reminded me of the whole movie cliche where I halfway expected an old Indian shaman to come by my side and utter overused lines like "To kill the beast, you must first earn it's respect" and "You must become the thing you desire to kill".

At any rate, I dropped exhausted, in bed at 2:30 AM to the maddening chirps of my persecutor. Oh by the way, my wife apparently goes deaf when she sleeps. She did not hear one freakin' chirp from that thing all night. My wife is immune to all sounds during the night except the following:

1. My gas
2. My (fill in the blank).

Well it is now Sunday night and no chirps so far. Perhaps it has expired, well that would be welcome news indeed. WHO'S DA MAN NOW CRICKET, HUH? WHO'S YO DADDY??

*chirp*