and I won't say this is for Chris, but...
this one's for Chris:
let every bird sing its own note.
(disclaimer: the previous proverb is not meant to imply that Chris at any time supresses the unique songs eminating from any individual bird at any given time. Any inference to that end would be erroneous in nature, and should be disregarded)
6/20/2003
this week on extreme makeover
we took a blog that was full of content, but not much to look at.
After six weeks in a clandestine spa, subjected to the poking, prodding, cutting and reshaping of renown artists (note: or just maystar's template), given an extreme regimen of exercise and diet
I now present the new look of Clarity amidst Chaos.
Seriously...
please tell me what you think...
does the masthead look too Christmas-y?
any other criticisms?
After six weeks in a clandestine spa, subjected to the poking, prodding, cutting and reshaping of renown artists (
I now present the new look of Clarity amidst Chaos.
Seriously...
please tell me what you think...
does the masthead look too Christmas-y?
any other criticisms?
rather than tell you the whole story
I can just assure you Kelsi won't be getting heartburn for a looonng time.
and, no, Poison Control didn't need to be alerted.
and, no, Poison Control didn't need to be alerted.
tallies from the big board
at the midway point of day 1 (of 2) we've brought in approximately $40.
and we should easily be able to double it with a well-placed wager on tomorrow night's prize fight between Lewis & Klitschko.
(that was a joke)
and we should easily be able to double it with a well-placed wager on tomorrow night's prize fight between Lewis & Klitschko.
(that was a joke)
what does this say about me?
yes...I actually laughed upon reading this.
What's dangerous and swings from trees?
A monkey with a chainsaw!
What's dangerous and swings from trees?
A monkey with a chainsaw!
blogging lite
because I've been preparing for today's execution of a moving sale. more coments to ensue later, post sunburn and haggling over a computer game that was once valueless enough to add to the pile 'o junk, but suddenly priceless when somebody wants to insult me by only offering 97 cents for it instead of the posted $1!
prayer update
steve shelton was taken off life support and died yesterday. please pray for his wife and children.
6/19/2003
two from tony
a time waster (but lots of fun).
and a new reference site on Israel (which I'll link to permanently when I get the time)
and a new reference site on Israel (which I'll link to permanently when I get the time)
prayer needs
steve shelton & family-- fell from his roof, broke his neck, not expected to live.
dennis heinrich -- full recovery from boating injury to his face
thanks
dennis heinrich -- full recovery from boating injury to his face
thanks
6/17/2003
This horse looks dead, but I'm goint to beat it one more time to make certain
I will once again posit that Saddam Hussein was Iraq's worst WMD.
This man would likely agree.
Whether or not we find him, or other less verbose variations of WMD is inconsequential to me. The sheer absence of such a threat because of our sheer presence there resolves the issue nicely. We've not had to worry one iota for a couple months now that Iraq had any potential whatsoever to threaten global harmony.
Iran....Saudi Arabia....are you taking notes?
Coming Soon to a terrorist-harboring nation near you: Operation ODOP (Overwhelming Display Of Peace)!
God bless America
This man would likely agree.
Whether or not we find him, or other less verbose variations of WMD is inconsequential to me. The sheer absence of such a threat because of our sheer presence there resolves the issue nicely. We've not had to worry one iota for a couple months now that Iraq had any potential whatsoever to threaten global harmony.
Iran....Saudi Arabia....are you taking notes?
Coming Soon to a terrorist-harboring nation near you: Operation ODOP (Overwhelming Display Of Peace)!
God bless America
disturbing factoid of the day
From the Rocky Mountain News:
Hillary makes a $4.20 royalty for every bookduped sold to the public.
That means she's made over 2.5 million so far, if estimates are correct.
who knew it could be so lucrative being a living martyr?
Hillary makes a $4.20 royalty for every book
That means she's made over 2.5 million so far, if estimates are correct.
who knew it could be so lucrative being a living martyr?
sung to the tune of here comes peter cottontail
This article made half my hair fall out.
instaneously.
And the other turn gray.
simultaneously.
What troubled me the most is not that we've got teenage girls wanting to wear the Playboy bunny. We shouldn't be surprised when girls are inspired to be the next playmate, when we live in a society that sexualizes teens by putting Britney Spears in a school girl outfit and telling her to go out shake her moneymaker, Christina Aguilera gets *Dirrty* and we posterize the next group of teens by plastering them on Vanity Fair in body-hugging, cleavage revealing attire.
No, as the the dad of two girls who will one day be teens searching for self-identity and having to co-exist with boys who will someday be just like the little weasel I once was, what troubled me was this revelatory snippet, shared candidly by 16 year old Cassie:
So unless I'm reading this precocious lass wrong, she's basically stating that she wants guys to check her out. Thinks she's a hottie. or maybe even a little bit naughty. Then she can really impress them with her good grades and goalie skills.
I'm just becoming more and more aware that my time to influence my children (particularly my daughters) so that they will be stand above the crowd because of who they really are -- and not noticed simply by body parts that stand out from the crowd -- is a small window, and every day is a opportunity to shape and influence them that cannot be recaptured once it is put to bed.
tangient alert:
And don't think that the rabbit head symbol is not without consequence...remember that the bunny is a well-deserved symbol of fertility. When we were growing up, my dad tried to breed rabbits for a brief time. The venture failed because it was exceedingly successful.
what he didn't know was that my brother and I were constantly letting the buck bunny into the does' pens for clandestine encounters. We were boys. We'd bring out a boombox with Barry White or Marvin Gaye playing to set the mood, then we'd laugh giddily as the fireworks exploded, so to speak. Whenever the union was consummated, the buck "celebrated" by performing what I now believe to be an involuntary back flip (note: I realize as I type this that I will soon be lectured about being inappropriate in my blog).
This feat was quite impressive, and we were compelled to show it to all our friends five or six times apeice.
So, faster than you can say Watership Down, my dad had more supply than he had demand.
But I digress...
Does this mean that boys (and men who will behave like boys) see the bunny symbol on a teenage girl and accordingly make some gutteral, basic connection resembling sumptin like:
I suppose its possible, but I doubt it gets that deep, or gutteral. It's likely very simple, very basic, and very shallow.
It probably has a lot more to do with the reality that in 50 years the Playboy bunny has established pervasive brand awareness that identifies girls who bear the bunny will likely be bearing little else.
and it concerns me that we've got young girls thinking this is the way to attract boys to "come and get to know the real them."
instaneously.
And the other turn gray.
simultaneously.
What troubled me the most is not that we've got teenage girls wanting to wear the Playboy bunny. We shouldn't be surprised when girls are inspired to be the next playmate, when we live in a society that sexualizes teens by putting Britney Spears in a school girl outfit and telling her to go out shake her moneymaker, Christina Aguilera gets *Dirrty* and we posterize the next group of teens by plastering them on Vanity Fair in body-hugging, cleavage revealing attire.
No, as the the dad of two girls who will one day be teens searching for self-identity and having to co-exist with boys who will someday be just like the little weasel I once was, what troubled me was this revelatory snippet, shared candidly by 16 year old Cassie:
“I want guys to notice me,” Cassie admits, while a few feet away a miniature carousel spins 3- and 4-year-olds around. “Once boys notice, they can get to know the real me.” Which, she elaborates later, includes being a fierce field hockey goalie, a tutor in D.C. schools and a decent student.
So unless I'm reading this precocious lass wrong, she's basically stating that she wants guys to check her out. Thinks she's a hottie. or maybe even a little bit naughty. Then she can really impress them with her good grades and goalie skills.
I'm just becoming more and more aware that my time to influence my children (particularly my daughters) so that they will be stand above the crowd because of who they really are -- and not noticed simply by body parts that stand out from the crowd -- is a small window, and every day is a opportunity to shape and influence them that cannot be recaptured once it is put to bed.
tangient alert:
And don't think that the rabbit head symbol is not without consequence...remember that the bunny is a well-deserved symbol of fertility. When we were growing up, my dad tried to breed rabbits for a brief time. The venture failed because it was exceedingly successful.
what he didn't know was that my brother and I were constantly letting the buck bunny into the does' pens for clandestine encounters. We were boys. We'd bring out a boombox with Barry White or Marvin Gaye playing to set the mood, then we'd laugh giddily as the fireworks exploded, so to speak. Whenever the union was consummated, the buck "celebrated" by performing what I now believe to be an involuntary back flip (note: I realize as I type this that I will soon be lectured about being inappropriate in my blog).
This feat was quite impressive, and we were compelled to show it to all our friends five or six times apeice.
So, faster than you can say Watership Down, my dad had more supply than he had demand.
But I digress...
Does this mean that boys (and men who will behave like boys) see the bunny symbol on a teenage girl and accordingly make some gutteral, basic connection resembling sumptin like:
ug. she wear bunny. she good for making babies. I, Lothar, must have baby-making girl. ug.
I suppose its possible, but I doubt it gets that deep, or gutteral. It's likely very simple, very basic, and very shallow.
It probably has a lot more to do with the reality that in 50 years the Playboy bunny has established pervasive brand awareness that identifies girls who bear the bunny will likely be bearing little else.
and it concerns me that we've got young girls thinking this is the way to attract boys to "come and get to know the real them."
That Mikey sure is funny
I laughed at this....
DOGS' PET PEEVES
~ Yelling at me for barking...HEY, I'M A DOG!!
~ Taking me for a walk, then not letting me check stuff out. Exactly whose walk is this anyway?
~ Any trick that involves balancing food on my nose...stop it.
~ Blaming your farts on me...not funny...not funny at all.
~ Yelling at me for rubbing my bottom on your carpet. Why'd you buy carpet?
~ Dog sweaters. Hello...have you noticed the fur?
~ Any haircut that involves bows or ribbons. Now you know why we chew your stuff up when you're not home.
~ Taking me to the vet for "the big snip," then acting surprised when I freak out every time we go back.
~ The slight of hand, fake-fetch-throw. You fooled a dog! What a proud moment for the top of the food chain.
DOGS' PET PEEVES
~ Yelling at me for barking...HEY, I'M A DOG!!
~ Taking me for a walk, then not letting me check stuff out. Exactly whose walk is this anyway?
~ Any trick that involves balancing food on my nose...stop it.
~ Blaming your farts on me...not funny...not funny at all.
~ Yelling at me for rubbing my bottom on your carpet. Why'd you buy carpet?
~ Dog sweaters. Hello...have you noticed the fur?
~ Any haircut that involves bows or ribbons. Now you know why we chew your stuff up when you're not home.
~ Taking me to the vet for "the big snip," then acting surprised when I freak out every time we go back.
~ The slight of hand, fake-fetch-throw. You fooled a dog! What a proud moment for the top of the food chain.
speaking of....
Hume Cronyn died yesterday. He was 91.
Interesting things from his obit...
1. He was an heir to the Labatt Brewery family
2. He was a pugilist who turned down the chance to box for the Canadian Olympic team.
3. Jessica Tandy was his second wife.
4. He remarried after she died.
5. Apparently, Caccoon was just a movie and he did not find the fountain of youth supplied by benevolent aliens.
Interesting things from his obit...
1. He was an heir to the Labatt Brewery family
2. He was a pugilist who turned down the chance to box for the Canadian Olympic team.
3. Jessica Tandy was his second wife.
4. He remarried after she died.
5. Apparently, Caccoon was just a movie and he did not find the fountain of youth supplied by benevolent aliens.
two great tastes that taste great together
my friend Jay Badry, who is a pastor in Colorado Springs, recently wrote an article on guilt that was phenomenal. If any of the editors to whom he sends it are smart, they'll publish it and publicize it.
anyway, without stealing any of the thunder of the article, he gave these two definitions...
grace: when God gives us what we do not deserve
mercy: when God does not give us what we do deserve
I don't know if these are original thoughts, or merely the recorded thoughts of someone else. I didn't check footnotes that closely.
I just know that I needed these two terms simply presented in juxtaposition to one another. I think to see them side by side, or piggybag (or whatever your browser does to them here) helps you understand the magnificence of God justalittletinybit more clearly.
I've come to the opinion (which likely means I'm right, right?) that you can't have grace without mercy. This is a fresh opinion, as I just deleted a line of text which declared otherwise. But the sheer notion that God has extended a grace to me that I do not deserve implies that I did deserve something else in its stead that was mercifully withheld from me.
I'm soooo much more thankful and appreciative of the grace He has bestowed on me, when I view it in the revelatory light of His mercy. From the grandiose to the sublime, that which He extends to me undeservedly and that which he buffers from me unexplainedly causes me to freshly understand that His love is incomprehensible in its depth and breadth for a wretch like me, and how I cling to its moorings -- the grace and mercy of God through the sacrifice of Jesus-- the foundation of my faith.
If this be so, then (in my own life) the mercy of God tends to be the underappreciated blessing. It's common for me to praise God for what He has released to me. But too often, I fail to voice what the great theologian Garth Brooks has said when he crooned, "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers."
Smartypants McGenius once said, "Only God knows every potential of every potential." Somewhere amidst protecting us from all those potentials that would just eat our lunch should they be realized is the unquantifiable expression of God's mercy.
protecting myself and others from....myself.
and as the unbreakable dam of mercy holds back the unforgiving floodwaters of carnality, the Holy Spirit instead releases through its spillway, the quenching, perfect flow of grace.
Goodness.
God's pretty cool.
If you can't praise God after this post, you better check your pulse, because I think you just might be dead.
anyway, without stealing any of the thunder of the article, he gave these two definitions...
grace: when God gives us what we do not deserve
mercy: when God does not give us what we do deserve
I don't know if these are original thoughts, or merely the recorded thoughts of someone else. I didn't check footnotes that closely.
I just know that I needed these two terms simply presented in juxtaposition to one another. I think to see them side by side, or piggybag (or whatever your browser does to them here) helps you understand the magnificence of God justalittletinybit more clearly.
I've come to the opinion (which likely means I'm right, right?) that you can't have grace without mercy. This is a fresh opinion, as I just deleted a line of text which declared otherwise. But the sheer notion that God has extended a grace to me that I do not deserve implies that I did deserve something else in its stead that was mercifully withheld from me.
I'm soooo much more thankful and appreciative of the grace He has bestowed on me, when I view it in the revelatory light of His mercy. From the grandiose to the sublime, that which He extends to me undeservedly and that which he buffers from me unexplainedly causes me to freshly understand that His love is incomprehensible in its depth and breadth for a wretch like me, and how I cling to its moorings -- the grace and mercy of God through the sacrifice of Jesus-- the foundation of my faith.
If this be so, then (in my own life) the mercy of God tends to be the underappreciated blessing. It's common for me to praise God for what He has released to me. But too often, I fail to voice what the great theologian Garth Brooks has said when he crooned, "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers."
Smartypants McGenius once said, "Only God knows every potential of every potential." Somewhere amidst protecting us from all those potentials that would just eat our lunch should they be realized is the unquantifiable expression of God's mercy.
protecting myself and others from....myself.
and as the unbreakable dam of mercy holds back the unforgiving floodwaters of carnality, the Holy Spirit instead releases through its spillway, the quenching, perfect flow of grace.
Goodness.
God's pretty cool.
If you can't praise God after this post, you better check your pulse, because I think you just might be dead.
hoobielaala jailiikkia fflimzimibukoo
which translated means:
beliefnet is asking if you've ever spoken in tongues
as you can guess from my irreverent tone of my header, I have not spoken in tongues, and don't believe that the vast majority of the expression of this "gift" is legitimate.
If you disagree with me and I've ticked you off, then all I have to say to you is, "I'm sorry, I didn't undersand you. Could you repeat that?"
Interesting in this article is the author's retelling of his tongues experience. Not only did the Lord gift him with the speaking of tongues, but apparently also with the phonetically correct spelling of "the divine language" as well. He musta got a double dose of the Holy Spirit when he got saved. Now he gets to go to Heaven 2.0!
maybe if I just practice...
relaxing
relaxing
relaxing
mele kaliki maka
farfegnugen der weinerschnitzel
caveat emptor
donde esta el bibliotecha, por favor
j'aime la maison internationale de frais tooty de crêpes et fruité rooty
domo morigato mr. roboto
Chef Boyardee dice che è una buona polpetta
bummer....I guess the verbiage of the angels continues to elude me.
I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with the plain ol' indwelling of the Holy Spirit -- full to the point of overflowing. Sufficient for my every need. Simply sealed and protected, guaranteed until my day of redemption.
heaven 1.0 is good enough for me!
Here is Jim Cymbala's well-reasoned address to the issue.
beliefnet is asking if you've ever spoken in tongues
as you can guess from my irreverent tone of my header, I have not spoken in tongues, and don't believe that the vast majority of the expression of this "gift" is legitimate.
If you disagree with me and I've ticked you off, then all I have to say to you is, "I'm sorry, I didn't undersand you. Could you repeat that?"
Interesting in this article is the author's retelling of his tongues experience. Not only did the Lord gift him with the speaking of tongues, but apparently also with the phonetically correct spelling of "the divine language" as well. He musta got a double dose of the Holy Spirit when he got saved. Now he gets to go to Heaven 2.0!
maybe if I just practice...
relaxing
relaxing
relaxing
mele kaliki maka
farfegnugen der weinerschnitzel
caveat emptor
donde esta el bibliotecha, por favor
j'aime la maison internationale de frais tooty de crêpes et fruité rooty
domo morigato mr. roboto
Chef Boyardee dice che è una buona polpetta
bummer....I guess the verbiage of the angels continues to elude me.
I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with the plain ol' indwelling of the Holy Spirit -- full to the point of overflowing. Sufficient for my every need. Simply sealed and protected, guaranteed until my day of redemption.
heaven 1.0 is good enough for me!
Here is Jim Cymbala's well-reasoned address to the issue.
from Ken's Perspective
from the June 13, 2003 Pastor's Weekly Briefing
For the third year in a row, President Bush declined to issue a proclamation recognizing June as Gay and Lesbian Pride month. "The president believes every person should be treated with dignity and respect, but he doesn't believe in politicizing people's sexual orientation," said White House spokesman Scott McClellan.
Despite earlier reports that cabinet officials such as Attorney General John Ashcroft were nixing the celebration, the Department of Justice is taking an ambiguous position, allowing the event, but requiring DOJ employees to fund it themselves. The agency wants it to be clear that it will not be sponsoring Gay and Lesbian Pride galas as it did last year.
David Smith, spokesman for the Human Rights Campaign, and other activists are up in arms, criticizing both Bush and Ashcroft and claiming that their "callous" indifference to Gay Pride Month is an enormous setback for human rights. "Sponsorship sends an important message to the employee group that their work is valued." What? Isn't that what a salary is for? The fact is, and John Ashcroft would confirm it, the work of homosexuals is valued exactly the same as heterosexuals. What the activists are obviously seeking are special recognition and privileges.
The DOJ doesn't set aside other months to affirm married people or mothers or singles. Besides, one would think that, with the ongoing war against terrorism, homeland security concerns and plain old street crime, the government would have better things to do with taxpayer dollars and federal employees' time than to celebrate personal sexual preferences.
(Ken Connor is the president of the Family Research Council in Washington, D.C.)
sung to the tune of raindrops keep fallin on my head
This Six Feet Under-Esque story of a blue ice lawsuit.
I've been curious to know if murderous blue ice was really a problem. I suppose I'm still wondering. But don't call me chicken little just because I'll be looking up a little more frequently.
I've been curious to know if murderous blue ice was really a problem. I suppose I'm still wondering. But don't call me chicken little just because I'll be looking up a little more frequently.
< announcer > and McAnally fumbles the ball again! < /announcer >
Today, while filling my gasoline tank at the Craig Kum & Go, I was approached by a young man who wanted a moment of my time.
I noticed he was wearing a name tag bearing the words "Unification Church" across the top.
I could have engaged him in conversation. I could have seized a moment and shared the truth with him.
yeah...
I sure could have.
But I didn't.
I brushed him off with a curt, "I'm sorry, we don't support the Unification Church."
He was very cordial and approached the guy on the other side of the gas island, who said, "buddy, I'm on the clock here. "
I didn't even see which way he went down the road.
God was polite enough to wait until I was about 20 miles down the road to convict me of this colossal blunder.
I am so sorry.
I noticed he was wearing a name tag bearing the words "Unification Church" across the top.
I could have engaged him in conversation. I could have seized a moment and shared the truth with him.
yeah...
I sure could have.
But I didn't.
I brushed him off with a curt, "I'm sorry, we don't support the Unification Church."
He was very cordial and approached the guy on the other side of the gas island, who said, "buddy, I'm on the clock here. "
I didn't even see which way he went down the road.
God was polite enough to wait until I was about 20 miles down the road to convict me of this colossal blunder.
I am so sorry.
if it walks like a duck...
more c&p humor from Mikey:
BECAUSE I'M A DAD...
...I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I'll miss a whole show looking for it, though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator.
...when I lock my keys in the car, I will fiddle with a wire clothes hanger and ignore your suggestions that we call road service until long after hypothermia has set in. Oh, and when the car isn't running very well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I'm looking at. If another guy shows up, one of us will say to the other, "I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn't know where to start."
...when I catch a cold I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You never get as sick as I do, so for you this isn't an issue.
...I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like milk, or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like "Cumin" or "Tofu." For all I know these are the same thing. And never, under any circumstances, expect me to pick up a copy of "Cosmo" or "Better Homes & Gardens."
...when one of our appliances stops working, I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.
...I don't think we're all that lost, and no, I don't think we should stop and ask someone. Why would you listen to a complete stranger--how could HE know where we're going?
...you don't have to ask me if I liked the movie. Chances are, if you're crying at the end of it, I didn't.
...I think what you're wearing is fine. I thought what you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine. With the belt or without it looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine. Can we just go now?
BECAUSE I'M A DAD...
...I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I'll miss a whole show looking for it, though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator.
...when I lock my keys in the car, I will fiddle with a wire clothes hanger and ignore your suggestions that we call road service until long after hypothermia has set in. Oh, and when the car isn't running very well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I'm looking at. If another guy shows up, one of us will say to the other, "I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn't know where to start."
...when I catch a cold I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You never get as sick as I do, so for you this isn't an issue.
...I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like milk, or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like "Cumin" or "Tofu." For all I know these are the same thing. And never, under any circumstances, expect me to pick up a copy of "Cosmo" or "Better Homes & Gardens."
...when one of our appliances stops working, I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.
...I don't think we're all that lost, and no, I don't think we should stop and ask someone. Why would you listen to a complete stranger--how could HE know where we're going?
...you don't have to ask me if I liked the movie. Chances are, if you're crying at the end of it, I didn't.
...I think what you're wearing is fine. I thought what you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine. With the belt or without it looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine. Can we just go now?
reason 8178 why I hate the media
this is not a news story.
< liberal, pompous, self-righteous sarcasm > obviously, because Mr. Bush cannot keep his balance on a simple two-wheeled device that is designed to be piloted by chimpanzees with inner-ear imbalances, he is not qualified to lead our nation. He's probably choking on a pretzel as he fell. < /liberal, pompous, self-righteous sarcasm >
< liberal, pompous, self-righteous sarcasm > obviously, because Mr. Bush cannot keep his balance on a simple two-wheeled device that is designed to be piloted by chimpanzees with inner-ear imbalances, he is not qualified to lead our nation. He's probably choking on a pretzel as he fell. < /liberal, pompous, self-righteous sarcasm >
the world from Cotter's perspective
Things recently uttered from Cotter's mouth:
-- This scab looks like meat.
-- When we get home, will you read me some scriptures?
-- Do these shoes make me look fast?
-- My two favorite cities are Mexico and Texaco.
-- My bike's name is Tornado!
-- Daddy, what's a tornado?
-- Are Skittles good for me?
-- Kelsi, come give Bruh-bruh a kiss.
-- Mommy, Kelsi won't kiss me!
-- But Kelsi, I'm just trying to cuddle with you!
-- Uh oh.... Mommy....Kelsi hurt herself!
-- I'm going to ride with Papa and Daddy. The boys in one car. The girls in the other.
-- < Amazing Grace > When we've been saved 10,000 years, bright shining as the SUUUNNNN.... < /Amazing Grace >
-- My three favorite days of the week?....Tuesday....Sunday.....and....Thursday. They just are.
-- When I'm 6, GDad will be 66.
-- Oh! Does your sunburn really hurt?
-- ROOAAARRR! Did I scare you?
-- Don't forget...when we get home, you and I are going to play lightsabers!
-- I've got to tell you something bad. The Rockies have one run. The other team has 4.
-- I think I'm just going to take a break for a few whiles.
-- This scab looks like meat.
-- When we get home, will you read me some scriptures?
-- Do these shoes make me look fast?
-- My two favorite cities are Mexico and Texaco.
-- My bike's name is Tornado!
-- Daddy, what's a tornado?
-- Are Skittles good for me?
-- Kelsi, come give Bruh-bruh a kiss.
-- Mommy, Kelsi won't kiss me!
-- But Kelsi, I'm just trying to cuddle with you!
-- Uh oh.... Mommy....Kelsi hurt herself!
-- I'm going to ride with Papa and Daddy. The boys in one car. The girls in the other.
-- < Amazing Grace > When we've been saved 10,000 years, bright shining as the SUUUNNNN.... < /Amazing Grace >
-- My three favorite days of the week?....Tuesday....Sunday.....and....Thursday. They just are.
-- When I'm 6, GDad will be 66.
-- Oh! Does your sunburn really hurt?
-- ROOAAARRR! Did I scare you?
-- Don't forget...when we get home, you and I are going to play lightsabers!
-- I've got to tell you something bad. The Rockies have one run. The other team has 4.
-- I think I'm just going to take a break for a few whiles.
6/15/2003
sung to the tune of wrap it up
We have to stick around one extra day in Craig to tie up loose ends with the car. We tried to pay off our old car using the autopay by phone feature. We received a confirmation amount, but then when Kelli called to check on the transaction, it had only recorded a normal month's payment. Long story short, we have to wait until tomorrow before full payment is confirmed. And we have to have full payment before the salvage yard will take the Rodeo and deliver it to its deserved end in the scrapyard.
While we were getting our new car, Kelli went to clean out the Rodeo that was at the repair shop next door. The engine was in the back seat. Things didn't look too good for restoration of that vehicle. That's okay. It served us for 5 years and 60,000 miles. Now it can clutter a trash heap as we drive east and south toward new opportunities and challenges.
While we were getting our new car, Kelli went to clean out the Rodeo that was at the repair shop next door. The engine was in the back seat. Things didn't look too good for restoration of that vehicle. That's okay. It served us for 5 years and 60,000 miles. Now it can clutter a trash heap as we drive east and south toward new opportunities and challenges.
and on the topic of answered prayers
God has met our need for a different automobile far above and beyond our expectations. We praise Him for using some incredibly giving and wonderful people in our lives to selflessly and sacrificially assist us.
You know who you are, and we love you and thank the Lord for you. Words will never express the depth and breadth of our appreciation.
You know who you are, and we love you and thank the Lord for you. Words will never express the depth and breadth of our appreciation.
Cotter update
Apologies for the delay in communicating, but my non-cyber life has been quite full recently. We took Cotter in for his procedure on Thursday and to be succinct, everything went well. Without being too graphic, I'll relate to you that the doc thought Cotter's troubles are definitely allergy-related. Sooooo...we will meet with a new allergist, and also with a dietician in the next two weeks.
The procedure was quite painless for Cotter. In fact, before it all began, the anesthesiologist gave him a tranquilizer through some cough syrup. This is where we entered into the "yes, I'm laughing at my drugged-up son" phase. I really didn't want to laugh at him, but he was so loopy that it was impossible not to laugh. About ten minutes after he downed the medicine, his legs got wobbly. Then he started to reach for things that simply didn't exist beyond his altered mind's imagination. Then, after a brief lull where we thought he was going to drop off to sleep, he broke into a goofy grin and said quite sincerely (and slurringly), "Momma, it looks like you've got four eyes."
The procedure itself only took about 10 minutes, I suppose because he's just a little guy. He took an additional 20 minutes to come out of the anesthesia, and he was altogether unhappy that we aroused him from his deep slumber. But on the way home, he piped up and said, "Hey! I thought they were going to stick a camera down my throat and take pictures." We informed him that they already did, and his reply was a very understated, "Oh. Can I have Baskin Robbins now?"
When we arrived at Kelli's folks house about 30 minutes after it was all said and done, he slept for another two hours, and when he awoke, you never would have known that he had given the first half of his day to drugs, scopes, and recovery.
Thanks everyone (and you, too, Ms. Shirley!) for your prayers. The presence of the Holy Spirit was a comfort to us during the day, calming our worries and protecting our son.
The procedure was quite painless for Cotter. In fact, before it all began, the anesthesiologist gave him a tranquilizer through some cough syrup. This is where we entered into the "yes, I'm laughing at my drugged-up son" phase. I really didn't want to laugh at him, but he was so loopy that it was impossible not to laugh. About ten minutes after he downed the medicine, his legs got wobbly. Then he started to reach for things that simply didn't exist beyond his altered mind's imagination. Then, after a brief lull where we thought he was going to drop off to sleep, he broke into a goofy grin and said quite sincerely (and slurringly), "Momma, it looks like you've got four eyes."
The procedure itself only took about 10 minutes, I suppose because he's just a little guy. He took an additional 20 minutes to come out of the anesthesia, and he was altogether unhappy that we aroused him from his deep slumber. But on the way home, he piped up and said, "Hey! I thought they were going to stick a camera down my throat and take pictures." We informed him that they already did, and his reply was a very understated, "Oh. Can I have Baskin Robbins now?"
When we arrived at Kelli's folks house about 30 minutes after it was all said and done, he slept for another two hours, and when he awoke, you never would have known that he had given the first half of his day to drugs, scopes, and recovery.
Thanks everyone (and you, too, Ms. Shirley!) for your prayers. The presence of the Holy Spirit was a comfort to us during the day, calming our worries and protecting our son.
6/12/2003
getting on my soap box
The other day, I noticed that our shower soap was getting communion-wafer thin, so I found a replacement bar. We are big supporters of the Irish Spring brand of soap. For what reason this is so, I have no idea. Anyway, we had heretofore been using some variety that I think was known as "Mountain Fresh." It may have been augmented with aloe, but again, I'm just not certain. And while I never felt taken away to the bubbling oxbows of a cool mountain stream, I liked that it seemed to do an adequate job of washing away bodily grime and accumulated odors that may cause me to be confused with a flatulent goat.
However...
the last time we needed to go soap shopping (though it was not a specific excursion just for this function), I eyed a new "Sport Scent" by Irish Spring. "I like sports," I thought to myself. This, in my male logic, was reason enough to jump off my Mountain Stream fidelity and take my daily body perfumed scent in a completely different direction. Kelli looked with a skeptic's eye, perhaps remembering all too well what a "sporty guy" really smells like, but acquiesed nonetheless. This bar of soap, unlike the soothing marbled cream and leafy green of the Mountain Fresh variety, is an industrialized lockerroom-friendly blue-on-blue. And, as my beloved bride noted with chagrin, it smells "masculine."
Well, when the new bar was introduced to the friendly shower environs of the McAnally household, I had to first undergird the important task of melding the old wafer of Mountain Fresh into the new block of Sport Scent. This is an extremely important process, accomplished by the vice-like squeezing of the two products between my hands. There are many risks associated with this irregularly regular event (which is necessary, because -- God forbid -- I waste that last 1/32nd of an inch of soap). First, if the wafer be too thick, it could break in half while adhering it to the surface of the other bar. This would result in what is technically known as "lumpy bar" and causes an untold number of irritating soapings. The other main risk is squeezing too hard, causing the the bar of soap to torpedo from between my hands like a lubricated projectile, ricocheting off the walls, and striking me in the head, knocking me unconscious, or worse. I have pledged to my wife that if tragedy ever befalls me, I will do my level best to be completely dressed when it occurs, so she is not assuming the added burden of clothing me before the paramedics arrive.
On this particular day, the docking procedure went particularly well. The old sliver melded perfectly with the concaved arch of the new bar. the edges of the old bar adhered completely to the embracing surface of the new.
It was at this moment, appreciating my fine work, that I doubt is even fully appreciated to this day, when I had one of my profound theological discoveries.
This is how my life in Christ is to be.
When I am adopted by the Father, I am covered by the Son.
My identity is consumed by His.
My characteristics are overwhelmed by His.
And as time passes, there should be less and less of me, until only He is to be found.
John, he of locust and honey-eating fame, once said, "I must decrease and He must increase." Clearly, he got the point.
Another John, this one of Abbey Road Yellow Submarine fame, once said, "We are going to be bigger than Jesus." Clearly, he did not get it.
Paul -- the apostle, not the Beatle -- weighed in with his two cents when he said, "for me, to live is Christ." For him, life wasn't even fully realized if it was lived apart from the Christ.
Lord....may this too be so in my own life...for the sake of your glory.
However...
the last time we needed to go soap shopping (though it was not a specific excursion just for this function), I eyed a new "Sport Scent" by Irish Spring. "I like sports," I thought to myself. This, in my male logic, was reason enough to jump off my Mountain Stream fidelity and take my daily body perfumed scent in a completely different direction. Kelli looked with a skeptic's eye, perhaps remembering all too well what a "sporty guy" really smells like, but acquiesed nonetheless. This bar of soap, unlike the soothing marbled cream and leafy green of the Mountain Fresh variety, is an industrialized lockerroom-friendly blue-on-blue. And, as my beloved bride noted with chagrin, it smells "masculine."
Well, when the new bar was introduced to the friendly shower environs of the McAnally household, I had to first undergird the important task of melding the old wafer of Mountain Fresh into the new block of Sport Scent. This is an extremely important process, accomplished by the vice-like squeezing of the two products between my hands. There are many risks associated with this irregularly regular event (which is necessary, because -- God forbid -- I waste that last 1/32nd of an inch of soap). First, if the wafer be too thick, it could break in half while adhering it to the surface of the other bar. This would result in what is technically known as "lumpy bar" and causes an untold number of irritating soapings. The other main risk is squeezing too hard, causing the the bar of soap to torpedo from between my hands like a lubricated projectile, ricocheting off the walls, and striking me in the head, knocking me unconscious, or worse. I have pledged to my wife that if tragedy ever befalls me, I will do my level best to be completely dressed when it occurs, so she is not assuming the added burden of clothing me before the paramedics arrive.
On this particular day, the docking procedure went particularly well. The old sliver melded perfectly with the concaved arch of the new bar. the edges of the old bar adhered completely to the embracing surface of the new.
It was at this moment, appreciating my fine work, that I doubt is even fully appreciated to this day, when I had one of my profound theological discoveries.
This is how my life in Christ is to be.
When I am adopted by the Father, I am covered by the Son.
My identity is consumed by His.
My characteristics are overwhelmed by His.
And as time passes, there should be less and less of me, until only He is to be found.
John, he of locust and honey-eating fame, once said, "I must decrease and He must increase." Clearly, he got the point.
Another John, this one of Abbey Road Yellow Submarine fame, once said, "We are going to be bigger than Jesus." Clearly, he did not get it.
Paul -- the apostle, not the Beatle -- weighed in with his two cents when he said, "for me, to live is Christ." For him, life wasn't even fully realized if it was lived apart from the Christ.
Lord....may this too be so in my own life...for the sake of your glory.
fyi
blogging will be light today...
we're taking Cotter to the hospital for a scope procedure on his GI tract.
they'll put him under anesthetic, which always makes me a little nervous.
We've promised him lots of jello and ice cream after its over (they're going in from the throat).
pray for him today, if you will.
thanks
we're taking Cotter to the hospital for a scope procedure on his GI tract.
they'll put him under anesthetic, which always makes me a little nervous.
We've promised him lots of jello and ice cream after its over (they're going in from the throat).
pray for him today, if you will.
thanks
6/11/2003
the streak is over
After three children and countless diapers (not many of which I applied or removed from the three children) I was today, for the first time, peed upon.
By Kelsi, just to clear things up.
I don't know how she did it, either.
She was standing between my legs, on the office chair upon which I sat. She was leaning forward, reaching for some forbidden object, most likely my cell phone. That's when I felt a warm liquid hit my right thigh, just above my knee.
"Why are you drooling on me?" I asked it a cutesy-wootsy voice. Then I looked down to discover that's not drool!
Some how, her pee came out of the top of her Huggies....I don't understand the physics of this phenomenom.
This event, while requiring immediate attention, was not nearly as alarming as when Kaylyn, as an infant, spit up into my mouth.
While I understood the physics of that one a lot better (read: gravity), it was a lot nastier to experience.
By Kelsi, just to clear things up.
I don't know how she did it, either.
She was standing between my legs, on the office chair upon which I sat. She was leaning forward, reaching for some forbidden object, most likely my cell phone. That's when I felt a warm liquid hit my right thigh, just above my knee.
"Why are you drooling on me?" I asked it a cutesy-wootsy voice. Then I looked down to discover that's not drool!
Some how, her pee came out of the top of her Huggies....I don't understand the physics of this phenomenom.
This event, while requiring immediate attention, was not nearly as alarming as when Kaylyn, as an infant, spit up into my mouth.
While I understood the physics of that one a lot better (read: gravity), it was a lot nastier to experience.
check my blogroll
I've added Upward Way Press, Jen and (at Jen's urgings) Fluid pudding to my blogroll.
I've also updated Tony's link, and removed a couple dead links.
And I'm wondering, is it time for a new look?
I've also updated Tony's link, and removed a couple dead links.
And I'm wondering, is it time for a new look?
quote-a-licious
I don't mean to be so quote-filled today, but so many good ones are coming across my screen today I just have to share 'em
"There is but one straight course, and that is to seek truth and pursue it steadily." --George Washington
"There is but one straight course, and that is to seek truth and pursue it steadily." --George Washington
the next time you're hosting a get together
use e-vite. Though I'm not being paid for this advertisement, I think it's really cool. Ironically, I learned of e-vite through a party to which I was not directly invited. I was forwarded the invitation, which is kinda a "oh-yeah-you-can-come-too, if-you-want" gesture. Actually, the friend who forwarded it made a very genuine invitation, so that helps.
Look at me being defensive about not being remembered.
Ok, I'm over it.
Look at me being defensive about not being remembered.
Ok, I'm over it.
I can't smile without you
From the Jewish Weekly Review (that comes to my inbox almost daily -- this confuses me)...
a heart-warming story about how Barry Manilow has been able to reach an autistic boy.
Barry's the man!
(boy, talk about being surprised by seeing things I never thought I'd type, much less publish!)
a heart-warming story about how Barry Manilow has been able to reach an autistic boy.
Barry's the man!
(boy, talk about being surprised by seeing things I never thought I'd type, much less publish!)
another reason why I'll vote for Bush again
He said, "Life and history bring tragedies that often cannot be explained, but they can be redeemed. They can be redeemed by dispensing justice," exactly two years ago, upon the execution of Timothy McVeigh.
TOP 10 THINGS YOU'LL NEVER HEAR DAD SAY
C&P from Mikey's Funnies
10. Well, how 'bout that? I'm lost! Looks like we'll have to stop and ask for directions.
9. You know Pumpkin, now that you're thirteen, you'll be ready for unchaperoned car dates. Won't that be fun?
8. I noticed that all your friends have a certain hostile attitude. I like that.
7. Here's a credit card and the keys to my new car. GO CRAZY!!
6. What do you mean you wanna play football? Figure skating's not good enough for you, son?
5. Your mother and I are going away for the weekend. You might want to consider throwing a party.
4. Well, I don't know what's wrong with your car. Probably one of those doo-hickey thingies--ya know--that makes it run or something. Just have it towed to a mechanic and pay whatever he asks.
3. No son of mine is going to live under this roof without an earring. Now quit your belly-aching, and let's go to the mall.
2. Whaddya wanna go and get a job for? I make plenty of money for you to spend.
1. What do I want for my birthday? Aahh, don't worry about that. It's no big deal. (Okay, they might say it. But they don't mean it)
10. Well, how 'bout that? I'm lost! Looks like we'll have to stop and ask for directions.
9. You know Pumpkin, now that you're thirteen, you'll be ready for unchaperoned car dates. Won't that be fun?
8. I noticed that all your friends have a certain hostile attitude. I like that.
7. Here's a credit card and the keys to my new car. GO CRAZY!!
6. What do you mean you wanna play football? Figure skating's not good enough for you, son?
5. Your mother and I are going away for the weekend. You might want to consider throwing a party.
4. Well, I don't know what's wrong with your car. Probably one of those doo-hickey thingies--ya know--that makes it run or something. Just have it towed to a mechanic and pay whatever he asks.
3. No son of mine is going to live under this roof without an earring. Now quit your belly-aching, and let's go to the mall.
2. Whaddya wanna go and get a job for? I make plenty of money for you to spend.
1. What do I want for my birthday? Aahh, don't worry about that. It's no big deal. (Okay, they might say it. But they don't mean it)
WIT has come through again!
THis time, linking us back to a quiz that tells you what book of the Bible "you are."
I'm quite happy with my results. Just how wrong is it to be pride-filled over it? Oh, but for the grace of God....
You are Ephesians.
Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Now you take the quiz and tell me your results.
I'm quite happy with my results. Just how wrong is it to be pride-filled over it? Oh, but for the grace of God....
You are Ephesians.
Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Now you take the quiz and tell me your results.
quote o' the day
"The Bible was not given to increase our knowledge but to change our lives."
-- DL Moody
(via Rick Warren's Ministry Tool Box)
-- DL Moody
(via Rick Warren's Ministry Tool Box)
6/10/2003
help me out here
I overheard this on Entertainment Tonight...
Now, I'm no Mr. Blackwell, but I understand in the fashion world when they ask, "Is blue the next black?"
But this I don't understand.
Even so, I'm looking forward to re-celebrating my 30th in 10 years.
Unless of course, by then 40 becomes the next 50. Or worse yet, the next 16.
Is 40 the next 30?"
Now, I'm no Mr. Blackwell, but I understand in the fashion world when they ask, "Is blue the next black?"
But this I don't understand.
Even so, I'm looking forward to re-celebrating my 30th in 10 years.
Unless of course, by then 40 becomes the next 50. Or worse yet, the next 16.
and you thought they were just playing tennis over there
an extremely interesting post by One Hand Clapping on the namesake of the French Open tennis arena.
rpd thought #3
Is Saddam Hussein alive?
and if so, will he ever be welcome in any Baghdad restaurant ever again?
and if so, will he ever be welcome in any Baghdad restaurant ever again?
I've found a cure!
Surely, this recent discovery that cannabis de-motivates rats can only serve as good news in the fight against monkeypox.
If we supply the infected rats with a large supply of Columbia Gold, then they'll invite their groundhog buddies over for a few tokes on the bong. Then they'll spend all their time together in their rodential filthy domiciles munching on Bugles and playing X-Box, ruminating over the clomplexity of the university (maybe they're just a flea on a bigger rodent, which is a flea on a bigger rodent...) thus being unavailable to contaminate the human race.
+ 
= 
= 
You don't need to thank me. Just send in my name for nomination for the Nobel Prize -- that'll be gratitude enough.
If we supply the infected rats with a large supply of Columbia Gold, then they'll invite their groundhog buddies over for a few tokes on the bong. Then they'll spend all their time together in their rodential filthy domiciles munching on Bugles and playing X-Box, ruminating over the clomplexity of the university (maybe they're just a flea on a bigger rodent, which is a flea on a bigger rodent...) thus being unavailable to contaminate the human race.
+ = =
You don't need to thank me. Just send in my name for nomination for the Nobel Prize -- that'll be gratitude enough.
cinderella's revenge
other's have waxed eloquently and not so on the brutish woman who beat her beau to death with her size 12 high heel. So I'll keep my thoughts brief, lest they be recategorized to an rpd.
what a horrible way to die.
and I don't know much, but I learned from my daddy not to get in fights that you think you might lose. Especially if you're going up against a gal bigger than yourself and she's wielding her pumps like a dangerous weapon. That's just askin' for trouble.
what a horrible way to die.
and I don't know much, but I learned from my daddy not to get in fights that you think you might lose. Especially if you're going up against a gal bigger than yourself and she's wielding her pumps like a dangerous weapon. That's just askin' for trouble.
rpd thought #2
today's blogs have contained an inordinate amount of compound (thus, hyphenated) adjectives.
This causes the author some unnecessarily-consuming stress and anxiety.
This causes the author some unnecessarily-consuming stress and anxiety.
rpd thought #1
I'm beginning another series here....
rpd thoughts
rpd stands for 'random productivity-derailing'
the number of stated rpd thoughts in a given day will have an directly inverse relationship to the actual accomplishment of daily goals and objectives, represented variating quantities of times pontificating on themes, items, objects, and ideologies that are in no way whatsoever related to said goals and objectives.
so, without further ado, I give you rpd thought #1
rpd thoughts
rpd stands for 'random productivity-derailing'
the number of stated rpd thoughts in a given day will have an directly inverse relationship to the actual accomplishment of daily goals and objectives, represented variating quantities of times pontificating on themes, items, objects, and ideologies that are in no way whatsoever related to said goals and objectives.
so, without further ado, I give you rpd thought #1
our recently-purchased magazine holder for the bathroom is much too large for the bathrooms in our rently-purchased people holder known as a home.
There is no "I" in Team.
But there is me, at, meat, mate, mat, tame, met, and probably a lot of other words.
I sent this link to lots of friends yesterday. And not that y'all aren't my friends, but I just wasn't able to get this to the rest of you.
So here you go.
This came to me from my father-in-law, who got it from his boss, who got it from a bigwig in the Southern Baptist Convention.
Here's the message:
I sent this link to lots of friends yesterday. And not that y'all aren't my friends, but I just wasn't able to get this to the rest of you.
So here you go.
This came to me from my father-in-law, who got it from his boss, who got it from a bigwig in the Southern Baptist Convention.
Here's the message:
This is a great illustration of cooperation...and, the ad is worth viewing! Read about the TV ad FIRST and then click on the link below.
New Honda commercial in the UK. Very important that you understand: There are no computer graphics or digital tricks in the film. Everything you see really happened in real time exactly as you see it.
The film took 606 takes. On the first 605 takes, something, usually very minor, didn't work. They would then have to set the whole thing up again.
The crew spent weeks shooting night and day. By the time it was over, they were ready to change professions. The film cost six million dollars and took three months to complete including a full engineering the sequence.
In addition, it's two minutes long so every time Honda airs the film on British television, they're shelling out enough dough to keep any one of us in clover for a lifetime. However, it is fast becoming the most downloaded advertisement in Internet history.
Honda executives figure the ad will soon pay for itself simply in "free" viewings (Honda isn't paying a dime to have you watch this commercial!). When the ad was pitched to senior executives, they signed off on it immediately without any hesitation-including the costs.
There are six and only six hand-made Accords in the world. To the horror of Honda engineers, the filmmakers disassembled two of them to make the film.
Everything you see in the film (aside from the walls, floor, ramp, and complete Honda Accord) are parts from those two cars. The voiceover is Garrison Keillor.
When the ad was shown to Honda executives, they liked it and commented on how amazing computer graphics have gotten. They fell off their chairs when
they found out it was for real.
Oh. And about those funky windshield wipers. On the new Accords, the windshield wipers have water sensors and are designed to start doing their thing automatically as soon as they become wet. It looks a bit weird in the commercial.
View the commercial.
and speaking of runny-eyed coughing Gambian giant rats
Hillary has released her book.
I wish I could come up with something smarmy and clever to address this self-serving tripe.
But instead, you can drop 30 duckets and read about her brave decision to not breach her legal contract with an adulterer, thus allowing her to gain notoriety to be inappropriately used to fill a seat in our nation's legislative branch, thus inappropriately enabling her to self-fully promote herself to hopefully return to her previous Washington DC-address residence, so she can steal the rest of the furniture that she left behind.
I actually hope she'll run in '08 (or even '04 for that matter), because there's nothing like a nationwide trouncing that helps one regain an accurate sense of self. Just ask Al Gore, Michael Dukakis, Jimmy Carter, Walter Mondale, et al.
(note: I know there are some liberals who would say that Gore not only did not get trounced, but "actually won." To those, I need to tell you, its time to take the red pill and experience reality. He's not in the white house. And he did such a good job at "winning," that he new he wouldn't be able to stand out from a pack of nine other monkeypox-carrying whistlepigs vying for the top spot.)
I wish I could come up with something smarmy and clever to address this self-serving tripe.
But instead, you can drop 30 duckets and read about her brave decision to not breach her legal contract with an adulterer, thus allowing her to gain notoriety to be inappropriately used to fill a seat in our nation's legislative branch, thus inappropriately enabling her to self-fully promote herself to hopefully return to her previous Washington DC-address residence, so she can steal the rest of the furniture that she left behind.
I actually hope she'll run in '08 (or even '04 for that matter), because there's nothing like a nationwide trouncing that helps one regain an accurate sense of self. Just ask Al Gore, Michael Dukakis, Jimmy Carter, Walter Mondale, et al.
(note: I know there are some liberals who would say that Gore not only did not get trounced, but "actually won." To those, I need to tell you, its time to take the red pill and experience reality. He's not in the white house. And he did such a good job at "winning," that he new he wouldn't be able to stand out from a pack of nine other monkeypox-carrying whistlepigs vying for the top spot.)
weathering the storm
and as I checked in at blogshares today (net worth $2.53 million -- not that I'm talking about it, though), I was surprised to discover that the 21 monkey-related blogs have not been adversely affected by news of the monkeypox outbreak.
whew
whew
don't put your hand in an blender set on puree....and other sage wisdom
nineteen people in three states have come down with the most unappealing-sounding malady since necrotitis fasciitis (better known as the 'flesh-eating bacteria').
monkeypox.
monkeypox.
as chimps are to hens, so is monkeypox to chickenpox. The aviary pox is herpes virus-related, while the primate pox is a derivative of a tropical-virus. You can get chickenpox from playing with a snot-nosed, rash-covered child. You get monkeypox from playing with a runny-eyed, patches-of-fur-missing pet prairie dog.
who keeps prairie dogs as pets? where I came from, we didn't call them prairie dogs. They had another name. We called them "moving targets."
Actually, according to this story, the prairie dogs (aka 'rockchucks', 'woodchucks', 'whistlepigs', 'varmits', 'cropkillers', and 'living proof of God's curse upon the earth') acquired their gift that keeps on giving by hanging out with an infected Gambian rat, at a Wisconsin pet swap meet.
So I guess this proves true the axiom that one bad rat corrupts the whole bushel of good pet prairie rodents.
I don't mean to be so critical, but I think that centuries of conventional wisdom has to be wantonly abandoned to take a rodent as a pet. This is why these animals have acquired the class name 'rodent.' Because they are gross, nasty, disease-carrying, plague-spreading vermin. If they were designed to be pets, we would have given them cute names like 'puppy,' or 'kitty' or 'king cobra.'
And the whole other question that has to be raised here is the existence of a sub-culture that actually co-ordinates rodent swap meets. I bet that mother of three in Wisconsin is seriously re-thinking the wisdom of planning her day around that fun event, as she watches the white pustules on her sons crust over, hoping that they don't fall within the 10% who pay life's full fee for hosting this nasty little bug.
I can let you in on a secret. There's a big rodent swap meet going on right now. It's called "your local sewer system."
Let me tell you about our pet.
Actually, Cotter will tell you that this is his pet.
And, as he replied to girl from Ouf of the Box yesterday, it is also his best friend.
It is his horse.
Bullseye.
Bullseye was born at the Hedstrom manufacturing plant.
He lives in a small corral, penned in by four restrictive springs.
We feed him nothing.
We don't clean up after him.
We keep him in the garage.
He is the perfect pet.
But please, don't call PETA. They just wouldn't understand.
And I'd have a real hard time explaining my free-range kitty farm/exotic fur mittensweat shop factory.
monkeypox.
monkeypox.
as chimps are to hens, so is monkeypox to chickenpox. The aviary pox is herpes virus-related, while the primate pox is a derivative of a tropical-virus. You can get chickenpox from playing with a snot-nosed, rash-covered child. You get monkeypox from playing with a runny-eyed, patches-of-fur-missing pet prairie dog.
who keeps prairie dogs as pets? where I came from, we didn't call them prairie dogs. They had another name. We called them "moving targets."
Actually, according to this story, the prairie dogs (aka 'rockchucks', 'woodchucks', 'whistlepigs', 'varmits', 'cropkillers', and 'living proof of God's curse upon the earth') acquired their gift that keeps on giving by hanging out with an infected Gambian rat, at a Wisconsin pet swap meet.
So I guess this proves true the axiom that one bad rat corrupts the whole bushel of good pet prairie rodents.
I don't mean to be so critical, but I think that centuries of conventional wisdom has to be wantonly abandoned to take a rodent as a pet. This is why these animals have acquired the class name 'rodent.' Because they are gross, nasty, disease-carrying, plague-spreading vermin. If they were designed to be pets, we would have given them cute names like 'puppy,' or 'kitty' or 'king cobra.'
And the whole other question that has to be raised here is the existence of a sub-culture that actually co-ordinates rodent swap meets. I bet that mother of three in Wisconsin is seriously re-thinking the wisdom of planning her day around that fun event, as she watches the white pustules on her sons crust over, hoping that they don't fall within the 10% who pay life's full fee for hosting this nasty little bug.
I can let you in on a secret. There's a big rodent swap meet going on right now. It's called "your local sewer system."
Let me tell you about our pet.
Actually, Cotter will tell you that this is his pet.
And, as he replied to girl from Ouf of the Box yesterday, it is also his best friend.
It is his horse.
Bullseye.
Bullseye was born at the Hedstrom manufacturing plant.
He lives in a small corral, penned in by four restrictive springs.
We feed him nothing.
We don't clean up after him.
We keep him in the garage.
He is the perfect pet.
But please, don't call PETA. They just wouldn't understand.
And I'd have a real hard time explaining my free-range kitty farm/exotic fur mitten
6/08/2003
I'm a multimillionaire
this is my last announcement of my fake wealth through blogshares, until I reach $10 million.
I've doubled my pretend fortune in just a few short days.
aaahhhh....
if only....
I've doubled my pretend fortune in just a few short days.
aaahhhh....
if only....
another clue I'm aging
we recently caught a bit of the premiere episode for MTV's 13th season of "The Real World."
This year, they've gathered seven young adults, flew them to Paris (which is reason enough to despise it), and forced them to live in a mansion, undeservedly employed writing travel reviews that mandates that cavort around Europe.
poor kids.
Of course, there's an exciting mix of "cast members:" The virginal coed who abandoned a full soccer scholarship to enjoy her already-ticking fifteen minutes, a cocky Las Vegas gal with fake boobs who swears she's not a stripper, a gay Irish lad (and I don't mean gay as in merry) who's afraid how the other people perceive him, a black guy who likes to 'work on his music' (though he does get some credentials as being a son of a Commadore [the 70s music group, not the old PC] -- but watch out -- he's got a temper!, another NY-native girl who's cause is breast cancer awareness and she'll tell you all about it as she puffs incessantly on her Marlboro, and finally, there's Ace, the hunky Georgia Boy who's just looking for a good time.
We used to watch this show as our guilty pleasure, voyeuristically laughing at the contrived cattiness and strained pseudo angst. But as we watched this episode, let me re-enact for you the conversation Kelli and I shared repeatedly:
Me: What'd he say?
She: He said that he thought he was infatuated with Mallory.
Me: which one is Mallory?
She: She's the brunette.
Me: Then who's the dark haired girl?
She: Christine.
Me: Then who's Tina.
She: That's Christine. You know, Chris-TINA?
Me: Oh....wait....what'd she say?
This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is exhibit 74-C in the overwheming evidence proving that I am no longer cool.
This year, they've gathered seven young adults, flew them to Paris (which is reason enough to despise it), and forced them to live in a mansion, undeservedly employed writing travel reviews that mandates that cavort around Europe.
poor kids.
Of course, there's an exciting mix of "cast members:" The virginal coed who abandoned a full soccer scholarship to enjoy her already-ticking fifteen minutes, a cocky Las Vegas gal with fake boobs who swears she's not a stripper, a gay Irish lad (and I don't mean gay as in merry) who's afraid how the other people perceive him, a black guy who likes to 'work on his music' (though he does get some credentials as being a son of a Commadore [the 70s music group, not the old PC] -- but watch out -- he's got a temper!, another NY-native girl who's cause is breast cancer awareness and she'll tell you all about it as she puffs incessantly on her Marlboro, and finally, there's Ace, the hunky Georgia Boy who's just looking for a good time.
We used to watch this show as our guilty pleasure, voyeuristically laughing at the contrived cattiness and strained pseudo angst. But as we watched this episode, let me re-enact for you the conversation Kelli and I shared repeatedly:
Me: What'd he say?
She: He said that he thought he was infatuated with Mallory.
Me: which one is Mallory?
She: She's the brunette.
Me: Then who's the dark haired girl?
She: Christine.
Me: Then who's Tina.
She: That's Christine. You know, Chris-TINA?
Me: Oh....wait....what'd she say?
This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is exhibit 74-C in the overwheming evidence proving that I am no longer cool.
c'mon...daddy needs a new suede jacket
from Presurfer....another good reason not to gamble.
surely you don't believe those slot machines would cheat you, do ya?
naaahh, it's all just random chance, right?
of course it is...
just keep pumping those quarters in the machine.
what're the odds that this problem isn't just in the UK? Why don't you flip a coin to see?
surely you don't believe those slot machines would cheat you, do ya?
naaahh, it's all just random chance, right?
of course it is...
just keep pumping those quarters in the machine.
what're the odds that this problem isn't just in the UK? Why don't you flip a coin to see?
signs of the impending apocalypse #41
6/06/2003
dispelling the rumors
contrary to popular belief, I want to confront the gossip and declare openly today:
I am not blogging with a corked keyboard.
yes, I do have one in my possession, but I only use it for exhibitions for the fans. I have willingly submitted all my keyboards to the league office for examination, which has verified that my keyboards are legitimate and up to normal specifications.
I hope this declaration accomplishes my aim to clear my image and encourage the public's beliefs in my abilities.
thank you.
I am not blogging with a corked keyboard.
yes, I do have one in my possession, but I only use it for exhibitions for the fans. I have willingly submitted all my keyboards to the league office for examination, which has verified that my keyboards are legitimate and up to normal specifications.
I hope this declaration accomplishes my aim to clear my image and encourage the public's beliefs in my abilities.
thank you.
maybe its just me
but I think its very cool that I've been added to the presurfer's blog roll. Click on him on my list to the right. He's got daily doses of yummy internet fun. He's also listed on blogshares, and will be one of the few in which I invest, simply because I like his content, as compared to having good P/E ratios (Avoiding Evil & I am Always Right are the others I have purchased in the past because of content).
I was just wondering
should I be considered anal retentive (which is about the most offensive term I can imagine, as I reluctantly type it out), just because I go back into my blog editor to change an incorrect your to a correct you're?
cleared for take-off
Today, at the end of the work day, I will return home to my family in Colorado, via Delta Air Lines.
On my last flight, I was unexplainedly (is that a word?) seated in First Class. This was my maiden voyage with the upper crust.
It's amazing how pleasant the flight is when you're not bothered by the riff-raff.
They took exquisite care of me. They provided a lovely petite steak for me to satiate my hunger.
Kelli and I reclined luxuriously and laughed at not having to be seated amongst the have-nots.
Actually, prior to the flight, we had a bit of an exciting time going through airport security.
First, I -- a moron -- thought I had left my laptop at home, and was merely transporting the case.
Why? Because I unzipped the wrong zipper and didn't see it and panicked.
Yes. The computer was in the case.
It did go through the scanner, unnanounced.
Yes. They treated it like it was dangerous.
Oddly, though, I had little trouble explaining it all by my apparent stupidity.
Meanwhile, while this was all going along, my softside briefcase went through the scanner, and they asked if they could examine its contents. Of course, I said, "sure, if you disregard the small cache of plastic explosives stored in the front panel."
Anyway, Kelli accompanied the guard to the end of the row so he could rifle through my belongings. There, he extracted my small 1-inch pocket knife that I had placed in the case earlier in the week, with the intent of transferring it to my suitcase. I had purchased the knife from Wal-Mart for $1. The officer questioned Kelli extensively, and she was only able to answer her interogater with her "I'm with Stupid" T-shirt, which, of course, pointed back to me.
I don't think Kelli knows how dangerously close she was to a full body cavity search. It probably didn't help when I said, "I don't know who this lady is, she just asked me if I'd carry this strange package for her, to avenge her ancestors against the Zionist Pigs of America. I don't know what that means, but I thought it was a good way to meet someone new."
Well, it's time to head off for work. I'm looking forward to my return flight across the country. And this time, I'm scheduled to sit in....
seat 39B.
Bummer.
Back with the riff-raff.
I take back everything I said earlier.
And this time, I've stowed my machete in my luggage to be checked.
On my last flight, I was unexplainedly (is that a word?) seated in First Class. This was my maiden voyage with the upper crust.
It's amazing how pleasant the flight is when you're not bothered by the riff-raff.
They took exquisite care of me. They provided a lovely petite steak for me to satiate my hunger.
Kelli and I reclined luxuriously and laughed at not having to be seated amongst the have-nots.
Actually, prior to the flight, we had a bit of an exciting time going through airport security.
First, I -- a moron -- thought I had left my laptop at home, and was merely transporting the case.
Why? Because I unzipped the wrong zipper and didn't see it and panicked.
Yes. The computer was in the case.
It did go through the scanner, unnanounced.
Yes. They treated it like it was dangerous.
Oddly, though, I had little trouble explaining it all by my apparent stupidity.
Meanwhile, while this was all going along, my softside briefcase went through the scanner, and they asked if they could examine its contents. Of course, I said, "sure, if you disregard the small cache of plastic explosives stored in the front panel."
Anyway, Kelli accompanied the guard to the end of the row so he could rifle through my belongings. There, he extracted my small 1-inch pocket knife that I had placed in the case earlier in the week, with the intent of transferring it to my suitcase. I had purchased the knife from Wal-Mart for $1. The officer questioned Kelli extensively, and she was only able to answer her interogater with her "I'm with Stupid" T-shirt, which, of course, pointed back to me.
I don't think Kelli knows how dangerously close she was to a full body cavity search. It probably didn't help when I said, "I don't know who this lady is, she just asked me if I'd carry this strange package for her, to avenge her ancestors against the Zionist Pigs of America. I don't know what that means, but I thought it was a good way to meet someone new."
Well, it's time to head off for work. I'm looking forward to my return flight across the country. And this time, I'm scheduled to sit in....
seat 39B.
Bummer.
Back with the riff-raff.
I take back everything I said earlier.
And this time, I've stowed my machete in my luggage to be checked.
all caught up
this week, I've seen X Men 2, The Matrix Reloaded, and Bruce Almighty.
They were all worth watching. The first two, especially if you're a dork like me.
The Matrix will require multiple viewings (most likely when it comes on DVD), so I can pause, restart, and still ask myself "huh?"
Now, on to Bruce.
I will say this simply....
this movie is one of the most intentionally spiritually-focused movies I have ever seen.
It is not necessarily a "Christian" movie.
But there is much in it to laud.
Some want to gripe that Bruce uses all his "God-ability" to do naughty things like...well, go catch the movie. But the point is, he did what any of us would do if we had God's abilities. We'd (mis)use them on ourselves. That's what makes God God, and us, not God.
But the "submission scene" is one of the finest I've seen from Hollywood in recent memory, and much of this movie is c&p fodder for sermon powerpoint illustrations for years and years to come.
anyway....I still need to see Chicago and Down with Love, but those are movies I'll likely catch on DVD with my lovely bride. My next "big screen" must see is The Hulk, because, once again, I am a dork.
They were all worth watching. The first two, especially if you're a dork like me.
The Matrix will require multiple viewings (most likely when it comes on DVD), so I can pause, restart, and still ask myself "huh?"
Now, on to Bruce.
I will say this simply....
this movie is one of the most intentionally spiritually-focused movies I have ever seen.
It is not necessarily a "Christian" movie.
But there is much in it to laud.
Some want to gripe that Bruce uses all his "God-ability" to do naughty things like...well, go catch the movie. But the point is, he did what any of us would do if we had God's abilities. We'd (mis)use them on ourselves. That's what makes God God, and us, not God.
But the "submission scene" is one of the finest I've seen from Hollywood in recent memory, and much of this movie is c&p fodder for sermon powerpoint illustrations for years and years to come.
anyway....I still need to see Chicago and Down with Love, but those are movies I'll likely catch on DVD with my lovely bride. My next "big screen" must see is The Hulk, because, once again, I am a dork.
driving on a provisional
I once preached on this issue, so you may have seen something similar to what I'm about to share, so if this looks familiar, that's why. But there's something about putting one of those 4-inch tires on a car and hoping it drives just like one of the regular tires that gets a person thinking about going to meet God, and other theological matters.
It seems like most car manufacturers nowadays include as the spare for their products what is commonly known as "a provisional tire." It is about half the width of a normal tire, and is only meant to get you to the tire repair shop. Top speed is 45 miles per hour. Anything above that, and you are likely risking your own life, as well as the lives of anyone silly enough to get on the road with you.
But today, there I was, driving on that provisional tire, down highway 400, down I-85. I was doing about 65 mph average. Once, while in the left lane, I got "sucked into" the left shoulder and it was just a bit frightening.
But here's the real deal -- I wasn't the only one out there on a provisional. There were others out there driving on spare tires, racing by me (still going 65) like I was in neutral or even going backward, doing things dangerously on equipment that was never designed for the stresses under which it was being subjected.
Living a life apart from God is like driving through life on a provisional tire. When we were created, we were created to live our lives in close fellowship with God. We were designed with the equipment to hear from God, to respond to His leading. When we go out on life's proverbial interstates without God, we find ourselves careening wildly from lane to lane, out of control, unable to master that which we originally thought was under our control. The results of living a provisional life has a bunch of different names -- addictions, compulsions, obsessions, bad habits, weaknesses, tendencies, indulgences, indiscretions. Whatever you want to call it, the provisional life wears bare over time. It leads to a life of inbalance. It damages the rest of you -- that which makes you whole. And before long, this little "tire" that you thought would take you from one point in life to the next while the normal tires provided to you by God are being repaired (which I'll address in a moment), has traveled more miles than you ever thought possible, and you're worse off than when you first started driving on the provisional.
So, what are the "tires" that God has supplied you? Can I be so bold as to suggest that God has equipped every person with a complete set? Of course I can, this is my scenic tour through a theological landscape. The tires supplied to us are known simply by the five-letter word "faith."
Faith is the set of tires given by God for each of us to reach life's final destination.
My premise is that we are designed -- hard-wired, if you will -- to live the faith life. Everybody believes in something. Even if they claim that they believe in nothing. They're very belief in the absoluteness of nothing requires faith. God's Word has recorded this -- that without faith it is impossible to please God.
So what is it? Well, we have cute little acronyms that remind us, "Forsaking All, I Trust Him." Okay, but what does THAT mean? Of course, we've got the great Hebrews definition that says "faith the substance of what we hope for, the evidence of what we cannot see." Hmmmm.....that just makes my head hurt, unless I try to break it down.
SOOOOO...let's take it in parts. Faith is the substance of what I hope for. Let me reword that. Faith is the substantiating (changing the noun to a verb) of what I hope for. Faith is the "making real" of what I hope for, or expect. Okay, I can deal with this now, especially when I had the second part -- "evidence of what I cannot see." So here's what faith is to me. It is the reality of my life built around the expectation that all of God's promises will be fulfilled. The dangerous potential of this definition occurs when I mistakenly believe that I am the author of faith. The Bible says that God is actually the author and also completer of my faith. The fact that I can expect any (much less all) of God's promises to be fulfilled is because God has ordained it to be so. So God is the originator of my faith. When do I experience the birth of faith?
I dare to say that faith is born, in the human experience, at salvation. True faith. Saving faith (see James). Any faith prior to salvation is merely a precursor to faith. It is more a hope, a want, a desire than it is an expectation. It is only when a person comes to the end of their selves and places their faith -- their expectation of salvation -- in the hands of God through Jesus Christ, than one can truly experience that which is known as faith.
And it is this salvation that serves as the bedrock for all other faith-building moments in life. How can I have faith that God will hear my prayer? Well, I recalled that He heard and answered my prayer for salvation. He was trustworthy and reliable for my salvation, and that establishes the ability to "make real" the faith that He will hear my subsequent prayers. My faith in what God has already done in my life is the evidence in my expectation of what He will still do in my future.
So this is one of the tires given to me by God to navigate the journey of my life. I was designed to trust God. I was designed to rely on Him. For everything. I was not designed to go out on my own. I was not designed to exchange my tire of faith with a provisional tire of "self." I was not designed to exchange God's wisdom for my own, God's omniscience for my own limited understanding, God's perfect plan for my own flawed life strategy.
How does one live the faith life? How do you, as the Bible says, "walk by faith and not by sight?"
It's not as hard as we make it, yet it is at the same time, life's most tumultuous struggle. But here are the simple truths that may assist in keeping us between the white lines, so to speak.
1. Plant a stake -- remember that moment that you first believed in the saving grace of God. Plant a stake, build a spiritual altar there to which you can return. It was common practice in the Old Testament that believers would build a monument where God interceded in the lives of men. It was a place of worship, and it was a commemoration that God is real, and He is worthy of trust, honor, and glory. We need to do that. Our lives must be a series of living monuments built to honor Him. They stand as signifiers to the world that God is real, and that He is worthy of trust, honor, and glory. But planting a stake also serves the essential purpose of giving us a reference point of God's reliability. When my faith wavers, I always go back to the last time I called upon Him and He answered and provided. It builds my faith and restores my confidence in Him.
2. Keep the lines clear -- actively seek God's forgiveness and restoration. Now, I certainly believe in eternal security. I believe that once you are truly saved, you are eternally saved. Nothing can separate you from the love of God. However, unconfessed sin obstructs the fellowship God desires with you. Another way to look at it is to understand that sin -- any sin -- is an act of faithlessness. The faith life cannot co-exist with the faithless life. Repentance is the acknowledgment of what God already knows. It is the agreement that faithlessness is wrong. It is the heart's cry to return to the faith life. God will restore faith to those who turn from it, even though their salvation be secure and undeniable.
3. Pursue grace. Faith is a grace gift. You didn't earn it. You didn't deserve it. If God has given you the blessing of faith, demonstrate your proof of it, as well as your gratitude for it by being graceful to others. For you to exist gracelessly is to exist faithlessly, which takes you back to point #2.
4. Be prepared to live outrageously. Confessionally, this is the most frightening one for me. But God has proven Himself that He likes to put His children "out on a limb" looking dangerously stupid, silly, or out of control. He does this so there's no confusing who is responsible for the miraculous provision. He put Abraham in a strange country, he put Israel between a rock and hard place before parting the red sea. He used a whore to bring victory to Moses' armies. He used a shepherd boy to slay a pagan giant. And He let the Savior of the world's people die pathetically, shamefully on a cross.
That kinda makes your step of faith a little less frightening, doesn't it? It does mine. I tell you the truth. I've been sweatin the details lately about our home and car. Yesterday, I bought a home with no way to get to and from that home to work. I have no explanation on how this problem is going to be solved. I wish I could tell you I've handled it like a champion.
But that would be a lie.
I bit Kelli's head off about something trivial. Our real estate agent shared lunch with us and told of how her son was killed in an accident. Rather than sharing encouragement, I was off in "Bryan land" having another "what about Bob?" moment.
But the long and the short of it is that we absolutely believe that God has called me to this position at NAMB.
we absolutely believe that this is the home that God has ordained for us. It is His provision.
So, despite my flawed proof up to this point, I'm claiming by faith that God will provide everything necessary to bring Himself glory through this.
I think I need a car. It doesn't have to be a Buick LeSabre, but that would be okay, too.
But God may determine that I need something else.
I pray I'm able to recognize His provision, in whatever form it comes, and be filled with gratitude for it. I pray I'm able to glorify Him through it.
I pray I'll be just as praise-filled if His provisions don't match my expectations.
In the Bible, my faith is described as a shield, used to thwart the fiery darts of the enemy.
The trick to using this weapon of defense (that doubles as a tire), is that I've got to pick it up.
There's the catch. I've got to use the faith God has given me.
God has designed for me to return to my faith repeatedly through life, constantly relying upon God's past faithfulness for my present needs.
This is how faith grows.
It's the only way.
God has never let me down.
So...
.....by faith....
I'm going to "lean not on my own understanding," and I will trust Him to accomplish far above and beyond that which I expect, for the glory of His names sake.
It seems like most car manufacturers nowadays include as the spare for their products what is commonly known as "a provisional tire." It is about half the width of a normal tire, and is only meant to get you to the tire repair shop. Top speed is 45 miles per hour. Anything above that, and you are likely risking your own life, as well as the lives of anyone silly enough to get on the road with you.
But today, there I was, driving on that provisional tire, down highway 400, down I-85. I was doing about 65 mph average. Once, while in the left lane, I got "sucked into" the left shoulder and it was just a bit frightening.
But here's the real deal -- I wasn't the only one out there on a provisional. There were others out there driving on spare tires, racing by me (still going 65) like I was in neutral or even going backward, doing things dangerously on equipment that was never designed for the stresses under which it was being subjected.
Living a life apart from God is like driving through life on a provisional tire. When we were created, we were created to live our lives in close fellowship with God. We were designed with the equipment to hear from God, to respond to His leading. When we go out on life's proverbial interstates without God, we find ourselves careening wildly from lane to lane, out of control, unable to master that which we originally thought was under our control. The results of living a provisional life has a bunch of different names -- addictions, compulsions, obsessions, bad habits, weaknesses, tendencies, indulgences, indiscretions. Whatever you want to call it, the provisional life wears bare over time. It leads to a life of inbalance. It damages the rest of you -- that which makes you whole. And before long, this little "tire" that you thought would take you from one point in life to the next while the normal tires provided to you by God are being repaired (which I'll address in a moment), has traveled more miles than you ever thought possible, and you're worse off than when you first started driving on the provisional.
So, what are the "tires" that God has supplied you? Can I be so bold as to suggest that God has equipped every person with a complete set? Of course I can, this is my scenic tour through a theological landscape. The tires supplied to us are known simply by the five-letter word "faith."
Faith is the set of tires given by God for each of us to reach life's final destination.
My premise is that we are designed -- hard-wired, if you will -- to live the faith life. Everybody believes in something. Even if they claim that they believe in nothing. They're very belief in the absoluteness of nothing requires faith. God's Word has recorded this -- that without faith it is impossible to please God.
So what is it? Well, we have cute little acronyms that remind us, "Forsaking All, I Trust Him." Okay, but what does THAT mean? Of course, we've got the great Hebrews definition that says "faith the substance of what we hope for, the evidence of what we cannot see." Hmmmm.....that just makes my head hurt, unless I try to break it down.
SOOOOO...let's take it in parts. Faith is the substance of what I hope for. Let me reword that. Faith is the substantiating (changing the noun to a verb) of what I hope for. Faith is the "making real" of what I hope for, or expect. Okay, I can deal with this now, especially when I had the second part -- "evidence of what I cannot see." So here's what faith is to me. It is the reality of my life built around the expectation that all of God's promises will be fulfilled. The dangerous potential of this definition occurs when I mistakenly believe that I am the author of faith. The Bible says that God is actually the author and also completer of my faith. The fact that I can expect any (much less all) of God's promises to be fulfilled is because God has ordained it to be so. So God is the originator of my faith. When do I experience the birth of faith?
I dare to say that faith is born, in the human experience, at salvation. True faith. Saving faith (see James). Any faith prior to salvation is merely a precursor to faith. It is more a hope, a want, a desire than it is an expectation. It is only when a person comes to the end of their selves and places their faith -- their expectation of salvation -- in the hands of God through Jesus Christ, than one can truly experience that which is known as faith.
And it is this salvation that serves as the bedrock for all other faith-building moments in life. How can I have faith that God will hear my prayer? Well, I recalled that He heard and answered my prayer for salvation. He was trustworthy and reliable for my salvation, and that establishes the ability to "make real" the faith that He will hear my subsequent prayers. My faith in what God has already done in my life is the evidence in my expectation of what He will still do in my future.
So this is one of the tires given to me by God to navigate the journey of my life. I was designed to trust God. I was designed to rely on Him. For everything. I was not designed to go out on my own. I was not designed to exchange my tire of faith with a provisional tire of "self." I was not designed to exchange God's wisdom for my own, God's omniscience for my own limited understanding, God's perfect plan for my own flawed life strategy.
How does one live the faith life? How do you, as the Bible says, "walk by faith and not by sight?"
It's not as hard as we make it, yet it is at the same time, life's most tumultuous struggle. But here are the simple truths that may assist in keeping us between the white lines, so to speak.
1. Plant a stake -- remember that moment that you first believed in the saving grace of God. Plant a stake, build a spiritual altar there to which you can return. It was common practice in the Old Testament that believers would build a monument where God interceded in the lives of men. It was a place of worship, and it was a commemoration that God is real, and He is worthy of trust, honor, and glory. We need to do that. Our lives must be a series of living monuments built to honor Him. They stand as signifiers to the world that God is real, and that He is worthy of trust, honor, and glory. But planting a stake also serves the essential purpose of giving us a reference point of God's reliability. When my faith wavers, I always go back to the last time I called upon Him and He answered and provided. It builds my faith and restores my confidence in Him.
2. Keep the lines clear -- actively seek God's forgiveness and restoration. Now, I certainly believe in eternal security. I believe that once you are truly saved, you are eternally saved. Nothing can separate you from the love of God. However, unconfessed sin obstructs the fellowship God desires with you. Another way to look at it is to understand that sin -- any sin -- is an act of faithlessness. The faith life cannot co-exist with the faithless life. Repentance is the acknowledgment of what God already knows. It is the agreement that faithlessness is wrong. It is the heart's cry to return to the faith life. God will restore faith to those who turn from it, even though their salvation be secure and undeniable.
3. Pursue grace. Faith is a grace gift. You didn't earn it. You didn't deserve it. If God has given you the blessing of faith, demonstrate your proof of it, as well as your gratitude for it by being graceful to others. For you to exist gracelessly is to exist faithlessly, which takes you back to point #2.
4. Be prepared to live outrageously. Confessionally, this is the most frightening one for me. But God has proven Himself that He likes to put His children "out on a limb" looking dangerously stupid, silly, or out of control. He does this so there's no confusing who is responsible for the miraculous provision. He put Abraham in a strange country, he put Israel between a rock and hard place before parting the red sea. He used a whore to bring victory to Moses' armies. He used a shepherd boy to slay a pagan giant. And He let the Savior of the world's people die pathetically, shamefully on a cross.
That kinda makes your step of faith a little less frightening, doesn't it? It does mine. I tell you the truth. I've been sweatin the details lately about our home and car. Yesterday, I bought a home with no way to get to and from that home to work. I have no explanation on how this problem is going to be solved. I wish I could tell you I've handled it like a champion.
But that would be a lie.
I bit Kelli's head off about something trivial. Our real estate agent shared lunch with us and told of how her son was killed in an accident. Rather than sharing encouragement, I was off in "Bryan land" having another "what about Bob?" moment.
I need I need I need. gimme gimme gimme.
But the long and the short of it is that we absolutely believe that God has called me to this position at NAMB.
we absolutely believe that this is the home that God has ordained for us. It is His provision.
So, despite my flawed proof up to this point, I'm claiming by faith that God will provide everything necessary to bring Himself glory through this.
I think I need a car. It doesn't have to be a Buick LeSabre, but that would be okay, too.
But God may determine that I need something else.
I pray I'm able to recognize His provision, in whatever form it comes, and be filled with gratitude for it. I pray I'm able to glorify Him through it.
I pray I'll be just as praise-filled if His provisions don't match my expectations.
In the Bible, my faith is described as a shield, used to thwart the fiery darts of the enemy.
The trick to using this weapon of defense (that doubles as a tire), is that I've got to pick it up.
There's the catch. I've got to use the faith God has given me.
God has designed for me to return to my faith repeatedly through life, constantly relying upon God's past faithfulness for my present needs.
This is how faith grows.
It's the only way.
God has never let me down.
So...
.....by faith....
I'm going to "lean not on my own understanding," and I will trust Him to accomplish far above and beyond that which I expect, for the glory of His names sake.
6/05/2003
sung to the tune of cruisin' up and down that road
last night when we got out of the movies, we found that a tire on our lovely rented Alero had gone flat. I changed the tire to one of those splendid provisionals that looks like it belongs on a Schwinn rather than on an auto.
Today, when I dropped Kelli off at the airport, I exchanged the Alero for a Buick LeSabre. This car is cool.
Its coolest features are the radio buttons on the steering wheel. I was able to seek additional stations and adjust the volume without leaving 10 & 2.
I'm much less dangerous in this automobile.
Today, when I dropped Kelli off at the airport, I exchanged the Alero for a Buick LeSabre. This car is cool.
Its coolest features are the radio buttons on the steering wheel. I was able to seek additional stations and adjust the volume without leaving 10 & 2.
I'm much less dangerous in this automobile.
stat o' the day
heard from Dr. Bob Reccord, NAMB president, at today's chapel in preparation for the upcoming SBC annual convention, this year in Phoenix:
every hour in the United States, 219 people die apart from a saving relationship with Jesus Christ.
there's no place like....
that's right.
we've found a home.
All of a sudden, we've become country folk. we're the proud new mortgage holders on a lovely 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom home in north Cumming, Georgia. The home has a partially-finished basement, which will serve as an adequate corral for our small children.
You can, for a short time, find the home here.
we've found a home.
All of a sudden, we've become country folk. we're the proud new mortgage holders on a lovely 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom home in north Cumming, Georgia. The home has a partially-finished basement, which will serve as an adequate corral for our small children.
You can, for a short time, find the home here.
6/03/2003
prayer needs
please pray for Pam K., who has been diagnosed with cancer and does not have a faith relationship with God through Jesus.
and please continue to pray for me for an automobile.
thanks.
and please continue to pray for me for an automobile.
thanks.
I'm rich
I'm now a millionaire.
my blogshares portfolio has surpassed 1.1 million fake dollars.
I'm going to eventually divest myself of my fake fortune by buying a fake house, a fake car, and a multitude of other fake toys.
what does all this really mean?
simple...I'm a doofus.
my blogshares portfolio has surpassed 1.1 million fake dollars.
I'm going to eventually divest myself of my fake fortune by buying a fake house, a fake car, and a multitude of other fake toys.
what does all this really mean?
simple...I'm a doofus.
just a quick check in
we're in Atlanta.
looking for houses.
there's lots of them.
but only one that God has chosen for us.
we're looking forward to discovering it.
looking for houses.
there's lots of them.
but only one that God has chosen for us.
we're looking forward to discovering it.
6/01/2003
hmm. didn't see this one coming
You are Agent Smith, from "The Matrix."
No one would ever want to run into you in a
dark alley. Cold as steel, tough as a rock,
things are your way or the highway.
What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
of course, I wanted to be Neo.
who wouldn't?
Thanks WIT
It's difficult for me...
...to be "one of the least of these."
I find tremendous fulfillment in being able to be a person who can bring a cup of water or a bit of food or some much-needed clothing to someone in need. I enjoy the peace-bringing satisfaction of bringing hope to someone in despair. I cherish the biblical principal that when I do something for those in need, it is as though I do it unto the Lord Himself.
Yet, here I am finding myself in need, and I can't hardly stand it. I feel like a user, a taker. I feel helpless and I don't like it. I have to rely on others for my needs, and my needs are causing others to re-orient their lives around my schedule.
This struggle can be reduced to a single word. Probably the biggest five-letter four-letter word in my life.
pride.
The paradox of my life is that I want to be the person who "has it all" so I can declare, "The Lord has given everything and to Him I give my praise." It's as though I fail to recognize when I have very little that this which I do have I only possess because of God, as well. But I do recognize it. I just don't seem to appreciate it as much.
I hate this about me.
In the theological, ideological, theorhetical, philosophical sense, I appreciate God's gifts amidst these circumstances even more, because I am so much in need. My very livelihood, my very future is dependent upon the sacrifice and generosity of others right now. But in the practical sense, I think my tepid joy is the result of not wanting to sully the name of Christ by being in need.
Isn't that just silly?
I think of Job. This man lost everything. No home. No family. No Possessions. No prosperity. Nothing. He didn't even have a network of supportive friends to give him wise counsel. And he was able to praise God and be content with nothing because he had God.
More appropriately, God had him.
And to Job, that was sufficient.
I desperately want that to be sufficient in my own life. But all my fleshly insecurities get in the way.
And its only through the process of writing out this self-disclosure that I realize that I've missed the only opinion that really matters...
God ordains circumstances in my life for one reason.
That I will bring glory to Him.
Anything else, everything else is subordinate.
I must cease compromising God's greatest purpose for my life for lesser ones.
I do have so much more than what Job had. So why do I focus on that which I do not have?
Because I need things?
In one sense, I do.
But to even say so, am I saying that I need something other, apart from God?
My prayer is to know what God knows I need. To be satisfied with what God says should satisfy me. To have the wisdom to discern what I need from what I only think I need. And to praise God in all times in all ways for the glory of His name's sake.
I find tremendous fulfillment in being able to be a person who can bring a cup of water or a bit of food or some much-needed clothing to someone in need. I enjoy the peace-bringing satisfaction of bringing hope to someone in despair. I cherish the biblical principal that when I do something for those in need, it is as though I do it unto the Lord Himself.
Yet, here I am finding myself in need, and I can't hardly stand it. I feel like a user, a taker. I feel helpless and I don't like it. I have to rely on others for my needs, and my needs are causing others to re-orient their lives around my schedule.
This struggle can be reduced to a single word. Probably the biggest five-letter four-letter word in my life.
pride.
The paradox of my life is that I want to be the person who "has it all" so I can declare, "The Lord has given everything and to Him I give my praise." It's as though I fail to recognize when I have very little that this which I do have I only possess because of God, as well. But I do recognize it. I just don't seem to appreciate it as much.
I hate this about me.
In the theological, ideological, theorhetical, philosophical sense, I appreciate God's gifts amidst these circumstances even more, because I am so much in need. My very livelihood, my very future is dependent upon the sacrifice and generosity of others right now. But in the practical sense, I think my tepid joy is the result of not wanting to sully the name of Christ by being in need.
Isn't that just silly?
I think of Job. This man lost everything. No home. No family. No Possessions. No prosperity. Nothing. He didn't even have a network of supportive friends to give him wise counsel. And he was able to praise God and be content with nothing because he had God.
More appropriately, God had him.
And to Job, that was sufficient.
I desperately want that to be sufficient in my own life. But all my fleshly insecurities get in the way.
what will my wife think?
what will my children think?
what will our parents think?
what will nonbelievers think?
what will believers think?
And its only through the process of writing out this self-disclosure that I realize that I've missed the only opinion that really matters...
what does God think?
God ordains circumstances in my life for one reason.
That I will bring glory to Him.
Anything else, everything else is subordinate.
I must cease compromising God's greatest purpose for my life for lesser ones.
I do have so much more than what Job had. So why do I focus on that which I do not have?
Because I need things?
In one sense, I do.
But to even say so, am I saying that I need something other, apart from God?
My prayer is to know what God knows I need. To be satisfied with what God says should satisfy me. To have the wisdom to discern what I need from what I only think I need. And to praise God in all times in all ways for the glory of His name's sake.
5/30/2003
sung to the tune of Summer in the City
I'm proud of myself.
I hooked up our swamp cooler.
A minor technical feat, no doubt. But for someone who (to my dad's chagrin, I'm sure) is mechanically deficient, this was a pretty impressive accomplishment.
And don't think I wasn't soaking up the accolades either.
All last night, I kept telling my children, "You better do what I say, I'm the one who brings you cool air. Come cuddle with me, I am Swamp Cooler man."
And then it got cold.
So we turned it off. And my glory escaped me.
I hooked up our swamp cooler.
A minor technical feat, no doubt. But for someone who (to my dad's chagrin, I'm sure) is mechanically deficient, this was a pretty impressive accomplishment.
And don't think I wasn't soaking up the accolades either.
All last night, I kept telling my children, "You better do what I say, I'm the one who brings you cool air. Come cuddle with me, I am Swamp Cooler man."
And then it got cold.
So we turned it off. And my glory escaped me.
no, the earth is round?
okay, this is a fresh revelation for me. I know most of you will say, "well, duh." But its what the Lord spoke to me today, because I needed to be reminded of it.
The Lord loves His church.
For me, I think its been a matter of being so "cant-see-the-forest-for-the-trees" lately. Getting caught up in personalities and conflict and struggle and trial.
Kelli and I have been married for almost eight years. In that time, she has loved me through my own insecurities, my (many) shortcomings, my countless doubts, worries, mistakes, and foibles. She has seen me at my worst. She has seen me be petty, trite, unreasonable, illogical (irony of ironies), and just downright wrong (only once or twice, though). And she's loved me through it.
I believe that this is how God loves His church. His Word says that I'm supposed to love her the same way. And I hope I have. But today in my time with the Lord, I was just reminded that God in His grace loves His church so sacrificially.
He loves us when we bicker over whether or not curtains should be opened or closed during worship.
He loves us when we are griping that there were three praise songs and two hymns, rather than two praise songs and three hymns.
He loves us when even though we continuously, day after day after day, misuse the word worship.
He loves us when we shortchange our missions offering so we can recarpet the kitchen for the third time.
He loves us when we get upset at the pastor for not wearing a tie, even though its 100 degrees in the sanctuary because it's too early in the summer to turn on the AC.
He loves us when we'd rather catch a baseball game than go out with the guys from the church and do repairs on the widows' homes.
I'm not saying God likes it when we do any of these things, and so many others. But He loves us through it. The love of God is nearly incomprehensible to me. The only way I can slightly begin to fathom it is to compare it to the love I have for my wife and children (which is such a discredit to God -- but, He loves me for trying).
Take for example:
Kelsi -- only 15 months old. She can have her back to me and I can call her name 1833 times in a row, and if she's not interested in what I'm interested in, she won't turn around (and yes, her hearing is fine -- we've checked). I can sound stern or silly or syrupy or sanguine or any other adjective starting with s, and she'll completely ignore me. And when it's trivial, I think its cute. But when it's important, I think its infuriating. But my love for her isn't dependent upon her response to me.
Cotter -- 4 years old. The boy hasn't had a healthy day in his life, in terms of his bowels. At 18 months he had an endoscopy and barium enema. We're taking him back to the doctor later today. I could count on one hand the number of times he's had a solid bowel movement. And trying to train him to use the toilet has been one of life's biggest challenges -- no joke. At times I'm extremely sympathetic and at times I'm incredibly angry. But goodness, I love that boy with all my heart and thank God I've been given such a boy to be able to be a daddy for. (please excuse the prepositional conclusion, I'm getting emotional here).
And Kaylyn -- my sweet six-year old. Daddy's "perfect" girl. I've spanked her twice in the past six months. She's apologetic if she even thinks she's done wrong. She is such an easy child to parent. But she's not perfect. She's got friends who "bring her down." She's got the neighbor girl who I overheard saying (again -- no joke) "My dog like to lick my butt when I take off my underwear before baths." yeah, that statement ended playtime that day.
My point is this -- My love for my children, as imperfect as it is, is unwavering regardless of their shortcomings, their obstinances, their influences. How much more so is God's love unwavering for His church, despite our shortcomings, our obstinances, and that which influences us. He doesn't like everything we do. Sometimes He is incredibly heart-broken for us and sometimes He is incredibly angry at us. Sometimes He just shakes His head at the things we allow to influence us. But He loves us with the perfect, holy love of the divine Father.
I'm so thankful He adopted me.
The Lord loves His church.
For me, I think its been a matter of being so "cant-see-the-forest-for-the-trees" lately. Getting caught up in personalities and conflict and struggle and trial.
Kelli and I have been married for almost eight years. In that time, she has loved me through my own insecurities, my (many) shortcomings, my countless doubts, worries, mistakes, and foibles. She has seen me at my worst. She has seen me be petty, trite, unreasonable, illogical (irony of ironies), and just downright wrong (only once or twice, though). And she's loved me through it.
I believe that this is how God loves His church. His Word says that I'm supposed to love her the same way. And I hope I have. But today in my time with the Lord, I was just reminded that God in His grace loves His church so sacrificially.
He loves us when we bicker over whether or not curtains should be opened or closed during worship.
He loves us when we are griping that there were three praise songs and two hymns, rather than two praise songs and three hymns.
He loves us when even though we continuously, day after day after day, misuse the word worship.
He loves us when we shortchange our missions offering so we can recarpet the kitchen for the third time.
He loves us when we get upset at the pastor for not wearing a tie, even though its 100 degrees in the sanctuary because it's too early in the summer to turn on the AC.
He loves us when we'd rather catch a baseball game than go out with the guys from the church and do repairs on the widows' homes.
I'm not saying God likes it when we do any of these things, and so many others. But He loves us through it. The love of God is nearly incomprehensible to me. The only way I can slightly begin to fathom it is to compare it to the love I have for my wife and children (which is such a discredit to God -- but, He loves me for trying).
Take for example:
Kelsi -- only 15 months old. She can have her back to me and I can call her name 1833 times in a row, and if she's not interested in what I'm interested in, she won't turn around (and yes, her hearing is fine -- we've checked). I can sound stern or silly or syrupy or sanguine or any other adjective starting with s, and she'll completely ignore me. And when it's trivial, I think its cute. But when it's important, I think its infuriating. But my love for her isn't dependent upon her response to me.
Cotter -- 4 years old. The boy hasn't had a healthy day in his life, in terms of his bowels. At 18 months he had an endoscopy and barium enema. We're taking him back to the doctor later today. I could count on one hand the number of times he's had a solid bowel movement. And trying to train him to use the toilet has been one of life's biggest challenges -- no joke. At times I'm extremely sympathetic and at times I'm incredibly angry. But goodness, I love that boy with all my heart and thank God I've been given such a boy to be able to be a daddy for. (please excuse the prepositional conclusion, I'm getting emotional here).
And Kaylyn -- my sweet six-year old. Daddy's "perfect" girl. I've spanked her twice in the past six months. She's apologetic if she even thinks she's done wrong. She is such an easy child to parent. But she's not perfect. She's got friends who "bring her down." She's got the neighbor girl who I overheard saying (again -- no joke) "My dog like to lick my butt when I take off my underwear before baths." yeah, that statement ended playtime that day.
My point is this -- My love for my children, as imperfect as it is, is unwavering regardless of their shortcomings, their obstinances, their influences. How much more so is God's love unwavering for His church, despite our shortcomings, our obstinances, and that which influences us. He doesn't like everything we do. Sometimes He is incredibly heart-broken for us and sometimes He is incredibly angry at us. Sometimes He just shakes His head at the things we allow to influence us. But He loves us with the perfect, holy love of the divine Father.
I'm so thankful He adopted me.
if it were only this easy
my net worth on Blogshares is approaching $500,000. I'll be there by the end of the day.
Kelli continuously reminds me that it is just pretend money.
I know this.
No, really.
It's just pretend.
Crud.
Kelli continuously reminds me that it is just pretend money.
I know this.
No, really.
It's just pretend.
Crud.
pull over!
a good site for language dorks like myself: The Grammar Police. Read it. Then obey the laws. They're established to protect you.
5/29/2003
meanwhile, this just in
Kelli is accompanying me to Atlanta next week.
we're going house hunting.
we're excited about these developments.
what's going to be interesting is having a job and finding a home, but not having a car that is able to get me from one to the other.
I really do trust God in this.
Really.
I do have a peace about this. He is daily working out important details that have probably been part of my life's most testing walk of faith. And even as He reveals one step, another challenge becomes presented. In many ways, this is a painful adventure, but in every recaptured thought, I discover it pales in what Christ gave to redeem me. I just wish I wasn't so shortsighted all the time and given to the need for recaptured thoughts.
we're going house hunting.
we're excited about these developments.
what's going to be interesting is having a job and finding a home, but not having a car that is able to get me from one to the other.
I really do trust God in this.
Really.
I do have a peace about this. He is daily working out important details that have probably been part of my life's most testing walk of faith. And even as He reveals one step, another challenge becomes presented. In many ways, this is a painful adventure, but in every recaptured thought, I discover it pales in what Christ gave to redeem me. I just wish I wasn't so shortsighted all the time and given to the need for recaptured thoughts.
when life hands you a lemon
drive it for a few years, put two engines in it, and throw thousands of dollars into the air....
this is my subtle way of saying our Izuzu Rodeo just died.
again.
We were coming home over Rabbit Ears on Monday when the engine ("Reloaded" -- it was the sequel) went into cardiac arrest.
The mechanic pronounced it dead with a phone call on Wednesday.
So, today we're looking at a $6700 repair bill on a car we still owe $6500. This means our only car is a 1979 Cadillac DeVille that you can't drive over 40 miles per hour. To say the least, I'm quite reluctant to pump that money into another engine ("Revolutions") that won't even be guaranteed because the little Rodeo is such a piece of....work.
Pray for us.
Seriously.
We need much wisdom in what to do next.
this is my subtle way of saying our Izuzu Rodeo just died.
again.
We were coming home over Rabbit Ears on Monday when the engine ("Reloaded" -- it was the sequel) went into cardiac arrest.
The mechanic pronounced it dead with a phone call on Wednesday.
So, today we're looking at a $6700 repair bill on a car we still owe $6500. This means our only car is a 1979 Cadillac DeVille that you can't drive over 40 miles per hour. To say the least, I'm quite reluctant to pump that money into another engine ("Revolutions") that won't even be guaranteed because the little Rodeo is such a piece of....work.
Pray for us.
Seriously.
We need much wisdom in what to do next.
5/28/2003
a good word
from The Federalist:
"He who provides for this life, but takes no care for eternity, is wise for a moment, but a fool forever." --Tillotson
"He who provides for this life, but takes no care for eternity, is wise for a moment, but a fool forever." --Tillotson
just a thought
from Time Magazine, via Rick Warren's ministry toolbox:
Untapped wealth - U.S. merchants sold approximately $36 billion dollars worth of those little plastic gift cards in 2002. It is estimated that at least $2 billion of those will go unspent! Why not ask church members to give their unused cards for ministry work?
does this trouble you?
From newsmax (full article here), Maureen Dowd has been caught misquoting the President.
Now, I know most conservatives know and understand she's a mouthpiece for the left and can't be taken seriously. We know she commonly uses the tired tactics of pompously attempting to make the president look like a nitwit, thus "discrediting" his policy. But if she's guilty of actually purposely misquoting him in order to advance her dogma....
why, she's proven that she fits right in and should be eligible for Media Buffoon of the Year. She'll likely be up for a high-ranking post at the New York Times.
Here's what Bush actually said:
"Al Qaeda is on the run. That group of terrorists who attacked our country is slowly but surely being decimated. Right now, about half of all the top Al Qaeda operatives are either jailed or dead. In either case, they're not a problem anymore."
But while Bush was clearly referring to the "top Al Qaeda operatives" who were "either jailed or dead" when he said they were no longer "a problem anymore," Dowd's truncated version made it sound as if Bush was boasting that he'd wiped out al Qaeda entirely.
Here's how the Times' Pulitzer Prize winner covered the president's remarks:
"'Al Qaeda is on the run,' President Bush said last week. 'That group of terrorists who attacked our country is slowly but surely being decimated ... they're not a problem anymore.'"
Now, I know most conservatives know and understand she's a mouthpiece for the left and can't be taken seriously. We know she commonly uses the tired tactics of pompously attempting to make the president look like a nitwit, thus "discrediting" his policy. But if she's guilty of actually purposely misquoting him in order to advance her dogma....
why, she's proven that she fits right in and should be eligible for Media Buffoon of the Year. She'll likely be up for a high-ranking post at the New York Times.
monkey business
Dennis Prager, in The Jewish World Review, comments on the recent event where the whole "if-an-unlimited-number-of-monkeys-had-an-unlimited-amount-of-time-at-typewriters-they'd-produce-Shakespearean(sic)-works' argument that is supposed to lend credence to evolutionary design of the universe.
He writes (full article here):
actually, this little pseudo-experiment has done more to prove evolution than anything other "discovery" in history. The monkeys -- with all the urination, defecation, choosing to play with each other instead of doing their job, and pounding out meaningless expressions of nonsensical drivel -- accomplished as much as have the atheistic, evolution-advocating "scientists," ever since the preposterous theory was advanced. So maybe their monkey theory is based on their own primate-like productivity in the past decades coming from the filled laboratories across the globe.
One more thing -- this is 10 to the 813th:
10, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000
That's a whole lotta monkeys to keep pent up in a room for 5 years, even if they were to manage to reproduce the entire New King James version of the Holy Bible. Does OSHA know about this? or the SPCA? Or the Department of Sanitation?
I want to know -- do they get weekends off? Paid medical, dental? a 401k? Overtime?
All I know is I'm not cleaning up after 'em.
But if they did manage to produce something comprehensible, I'd represent them for a 6% fee.
He writes (full article here):
According to news reports, instructors at Plymouth University put six Sulawesi crested macaque monkeys in a room with a computer and keyboards for four weeks. Though one of the monkeys frequently typed the letter "s", the other monkeys ignored the keyboard, preferring to play with one another and with the ropes and toys placed there. When they did pay attention to the keyboard, one smashed it with a stone and the others repeatedly urinated and defecated on it.
The instructors hastened to note the study was not scientific, given the short duration of time and the small number of monkeys, but some of us find this "study" to be a hilarious vindication of our view of the "enough monkeys for enough time" argument for random creation.
According to the science correspondent of Britain's Guardian newspaper, "assuming each monkey typed a steady 120 characters a minute (itself a preposterous assumption), mathematicians have calculated it would take 10 to the 813th power (10 followed by 813 zeros) monkeys about five years to knock out a decent version of Shakespeare's Sonnet 3 . . . "
To put 10 to the 813th power into perspective, remember that a billion is 10 to the ninth power.
There are many intellectually honest atheists, and there are many intellectually dishonest believers in the Divine. Nevertheless, I believe that any objective person would have to conclude that the belief that everything came about by itself and that randomness is the creator is infinitely less intellectually sound than the belief in a Creator/Designer.
actually, this little pseudo-experiment has done more to prove evolution than anything other "discovery" in history. The monkeys -- with all the urination, defecation, choosing to play with each other instead of doing their job, and pounding out meaningless expressions of nonsensical drivel -- accomplished as much as have the atheistic, evolution-advocating "scientists," ever since the preposterous theory was advanced. So maybe their monkey theory is based on their own primate-like productivity in the past decades coming from the filled laboratories across the globe.
One more thing -- this is 10 to the 813th:
10, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000
That's a whole lotta monkeys to keep pent up in a room for 5 years, even if they were to manage to reproduce the entire New King James version of the Holy Bible. Does OSHA know about this? or the SPCA? Or the Department of Sanitation?
I want to know -- do they get weekends off? Paid medical, dental? a 401k? Overtime?
All I know is I'm not cleaning up after 'em.
But if they did manage to produce something comprehensible, I'd represent them for a 6% fee.
fore!
I know I'm a few days late on this, but I've a life. So sue me. Or at least let me either take a mulligan or get a club's length of relief.
Annika missed the cut.
She finished 96th out of 111.
and one of the guys hadn't golfed on tour for 7 years.
Some want to say < testosterone > A HA! We knew a woman couldn't compete < /testosterone >
I say, "So what?"
I'm the last person to be confused as a NOW advocate, but I was intrigued that she was taking a hack at things, so to speak.
The facts:
She was only a few strokes over par. I've never been within20 okay 30 okay 35 okay 40 shots of par. So I'm impressed that she did quite well, under such conditions.
She was humble and gracious in her effort. By her own account, it wasn't about 'women-and-men-are-equal.' It was about kicking tail on the LPGA for so long that she just wanted to experience the next level of competition. I admire that in a competitor. She saw where she measured up, and she's returning to her place of dominance, bullying and taking the milk money of her oppononents on the LPGA. I predict she'll never sweat the competition again after having the recent experience she just did.
She brought publicity and interest to a Tiger-less PGA event, which is about as difficult as splitting the atom with a pair of salad tongs while wearing oven mitts. I'm sure it was the PGA accountant you kept hearing yell "You Go Girl!" at every tee box.
Last, and lets not forget this -- it.was.a.game.
in the whole scheme of things, does it really matter if the world's best female golfer plays a couple, or maybe even four, rounds of golf with the boys? About as much as if a man golfed with the ladies, or if Tiger hired an orangutan for his caddie, or if the opinion of a bunch of cheese-eating, wine-swilling surrender monkeys determined the course of global affairs.
Annika missed the cut.
She finished 96th out of 111.
and one of the guys hadn't golfed on tour for 7 years.
Some want to say < testosterone > A HA! We knew a woman couldn't compete < /testosterone >
I say, "So what?"
I'm the last person to be confused as a NOW advocate, but I was intrigued that she was taking a hack at things, so to speak.
The facts:
She was only a few strokes over par. I've never been within
She was humble and gracious in her effort. By her own account, it wasn't about 'women-and-men-are-equal.' It was about kicking tail on the LPGA for so long that she just wanted to experience the next level of competition. I admire that in a competitor. She saw where she measured up, and she's returning to her place of dominance, bullying and taking the milk money of her oppononents on the LPGA. I predict she'll never sweat the competition again after having the recent experience she just did.
She brought publicity and interest to a Tiger-less PGA event, which is about as difficult as splitting the atom with a pair of salad tongs while wearing oven mitts. I'm sure it was the PGA accountant you kept hearing yell "You Go Girl!" at every tee box.
Last, and lets not forget this -- it.was.a.game.
in the whole scheme of things, does it really matter if the world's best female golfer plays a couple, or maybe even four, rounds of golf with the boys? About as much as if a man golfed with the ladies, or if Tiger hired an orangutan for his caddie, or if the opinion of a bunch of cheese-eating, wine-swilling surrender monkeys determined the course of global affairs.
5/27/2003
you probably already knew this
but I'm a geek. Or so this test says.
all things considered, I'm pretty low on the geek scale (19.72387%). But as my wife has lovingly pointed out, I'm increasing in my geekiness as each year passes.
I knew things were going amiss when my mother-in-law gave me the combination ear/nose hair trimmer as a Christmas gift several years ago.
What's even sadder is that I've had to replace it from overuse.
twice.
Actually, this quiz was nice because it revealed the 80% of the geek world to which I have not been introduced.
So, I push up my horn-rimmed glasses taped at the bridge of the nose, and its off to explore I go (like -- how do you count to 31 on one hand?!?)
all things considered, I'm pretty low on the geek scale (19.72387%). But as my wife has lovingly pointed out, I'm increasing in my geekiness as each year passes.
I knew things were going amiss when my mother-in-law gave me the combination ear/nose hair trimmer as a Christmas gift several years ago.
What's even sadder is that I've had to replace it from overuse.
twice.
Actually, this quiz was nice because it revealed the 80% of the geek world to which I have not been introduced.
So, I push up my horn-rimmed glasses taped at the bridge of the nose, and its off to explore I go (like -- how do you count to 31 on one hand?!?)
something screwy is going on
with my blog.
I wanted to add a list of daily memes to my sidebar, but my template keeps coming up with an antiquated version, though my published template is current. I don't know why this is so, but I don't want to mess things up. So all there is for now is this link.
I wanted to add a list of daily memes to my sidebar, but my template keeps coming up with an antiquated version, though my published template is current. I don't know why this is so, but I don't want to mess things up. So all there is for now is this link.
5/23/2003
5/22/2003
c'mon, all the kewl kids are doing it
Sean has a good site called form and matter. He's inviting folks to get involved at the discussion board. It's a good place to talk about your beliefs, no matter how whacked and out of line they may be. check it out. often.
Sorenstamific
annika is done for today.
even par 71. 5 behind the leader.
in like 30th place.
will she make the cut?
even par 71. 5 behind the leader.
in like 30th place.
will she make the cut?
a cautionary tale
C&P from my pop....
So this woman walks into a pharmacy and asks the pharmacist for some arsenic. He asks "What for?"
She says "I want to kill my husband".
He says "Sorry, I can't do that."
She then reaches into her handbag and pulls out a photo of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife and hands it to him.
He says, "You didn't tell me you had a prescription..."
So this woman walks into a pharmacy and asks the pharmacist for some arsenic. He asks "What for?"
She says "I want to kill my husband".
He says "Sorry, I can't do that."
She then reaches into her handbag and pulls out a photo of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife and hands it to him.
He says, "You didn't tell me you had a prescription..."
KLM #35
April 4, 2003
Once upun a time ther
lived a meen bad and selfish
king. This king was allwas
roling the toun.
One day they foud a little
grill biy the casel.
Wen they foud her they
toled the king. The king toled
them to put her in the serkis.
Sens she dedit like the kings
wase she dedit go.
We the king saw she dedit
like hem he cald one of the
persis of his army to fite her.
They were fiteing with sost (editor: swords)
And a areplane was cuming
to get her. The kings toun
dedit see the aerplane. And
thy lived happuly ever afer.
they end.
Once upun a time ther
lived a meen bad and selfish
king. This king was allwas
roling the toun.
One day they foud a little
grill biy the casel.
Wen they foud her they
toled the king. The king toled
them to put her in the serkis.
Sens she dedit like the kings
wase she dedit go.
We the king saw she dedit
like hem he cald one of the
persis of his army to fite her.
They were fiteing with sost (editor: swords)
And a areplane was cuming
to get her. The kings toun
dedit see the aerplane. And
thy lived happuly ever afer.
they end.
KLM #34
March 27, 2003
Last week I went to Denver.
Wen we saw Gigi and Papa we
dsidid to go to the zoo becass
it was Papas bethday. Ferst we
saw two cis of der. Then we saw
two bufuloes. We saw a lots of
anamoles. My faverit were the
flumagos becass they are my
feravrit caler. They are rely
butufall. Flamagos look like
they are stading on both
legs but they are hideing one
of there legs. They are somistimes
stading on one leg.
Flumagos are pink. There bek
is black. There were a
lot of pepel ther. Mommy
and Gigi wint shoping.
We had fun.
Last week I went to Denver.
Wen we saw Gigi and Papa we
dsidid to go to the zoo becass
it was Papas bethday. Ferst we
saw two cis of der. Then we saw
two bufuloes. We saw a lots of
anamoles. My faverit were the
flumagos becass they are my
feravrit caler. They are rely
butufall. Flamagos look like
they are stading on both
legs but they are hideing one
of there legs. They are somistimes
stading on one leg.
Flumagos are pink. There bek
is black. There were a
lot of pepel ther. Mommy
and Gigi wint shoping.
We had fun.
KLM #33
March 26, 2003
Once upon a time a little berd
levd in the forist. The forist was
very cam becus not so much
anamals. The kide of berd
was a robin. Robins are red.
Wen berds flie in the skie it is
good exersis for them.
The berd levs in the tree.
The berd hads baby.
The berds best friend is
a fox. This fox is nice
to berds. Wen the fox coms
to see oether berd they
are a fade. But some berds
are not a fade of hem.
One day the fox came over
to vesit the berd.
And the next day the berd
weit to vesit th fox.
Once upon a time a little berd
levd in the forist. The forist was
very cam becus not so much
anamals. The kide of berd
was a robin. Robins are red.
Wen berds flie in the skie it is
good exersis for them.
The berd levs in the tree.
The berd hads baby.
The berds best friend is
a fox. This fox is nice
to berds. Wen the fox coms
to see oether berd they
are a fade. But some berds
are not a fade of hem.
One day the fox came over
to vesit the berd.
And the next day the berd
weit to vesit th fox.
KLM #32
March 25, 2003
I like moosik beuss it sous
like a rely perity soud.
I here moosik alot. Moosik is on
seedees, taps, moovevs, and Telavigin.
I hope I will be in a sog.
Moosik is cool.
I like moosik beuss it sous
like a rely perity soud.
I here moosik alot. Moosik is on
seedees, taps, moovevs, and Telavigin.
I hope I will be in a sog.
Moosik is cool.
KLM #31
March 24, 2003
Last nite, I watch a football game.
I watch it in denver. The game
was inside. Daddy bot me and my
brother cotton candy. My brother didint likit.
We had fun!
Last nite, I watch a football game.
I watch it in denver. The game
was inside. Daddy bot me and my
brother cotton candy. My brother didint likit.
We had fun!
annika-redible!
A. Sorenstam is even par after 11 holes in today's Colonial. She's had a birdie as well as a bogey. She should be 3 or 4 under, if she'da sunk her putts.
I'm impressed.
I'm impressed.
KLM update
Henceforth, I'll not be offering translations. Her writing, IMHO, has become coherent enough not to warrant it. And her writings are growing longer.
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