Monkey Business ... Its All Relative

I just read this on yahoo.com. Ok, without getting into an evolution debate here, can I just say that I really don't want to be referred to as "the cousin" of a stinkin' ape.

Check this out:

By LISA SCHENCKER, Associated Press Writer

CHICAGO - The apes at Lincoln Park Zoo are finally getting a chance to take their revenge on people who for years have been pounding their palms against the glass walls of the primates' old home.

At the zoo's new Regenstein Center for African Apes, chimpanzees can touch a panel hidden from public view that will shoot harmless bursts of air at unsuspecting visitors.

"You often hear about chimps spitting or throwing," said Steve Ross, a behaviorist at the zoo. "They do that to get a rise out of the public. This gives them that opportunity but in a safe way."

The feature is one of many in the 55,000-square-foot habitat meant to help people connect with their primate cousins.

You can read the rest of this highly evolved "science" here.

Can you believe it? Well I'll be a monkey's uncle...

"I Miss My Daddy"

I've just returned from taking a friend of Emily's home. She was supposed to be staying the night but after a few minutes in the dark and the realization of "bedtime" sinking in, Emily's seven year old friend had had enough. Emily came around the corner from the hall and into the living room where I was and announced that "________ wants to go home." to which I replied with a typical fatherly (let's get to the bottom of this and fix it)- "why?" Emily's next words were telling, "because she misses her daddy."

How do you fix that? How do you argue with that?

We made a last ditch effort and called her dad but her mind was made up. She wanted to be where her dad was and it became obvious to her that dad wasn't at our house.

My son John and I drove her home (about a 4 iron) to her daddy. She opened the door of my car and ran straight into her daddy's arms. It was a splendid scene to behold.

John and I took the long way home (about a long par 5) so I could show off my new car (15 years old, but new to me) that he hadn't yet seen. As I drove I remembered the times that John wouldn't want me to leave his room and asked me to come be a counselor at Outdoor Ed Camp. I remembered when John "missed his daddy."

John now lives in an apartment less than a mile from us. He is ultra responsible - holds three jobs, is completely on his own financially, gets himself up at 3:30am for work, etc. He is everything I could ask for in a son. I doubt he still "misses his daddy."

Someday Emily and her friend will too grow up and no longer "miss their daddys"

I find that sad. Probably because I'm a dad. I also see a spiritual lesson in that truth:

May we never get so old that we stop missing our "heavenly" dad. May we always realize that wherever our dad is ... that's the place we want to be!

The Voice of An Angel

Last night I received my real father's day present. After church I asked my daughter Laura if she was interested in going up to ACU's Kadesh Camp (a leadership camp for 10 -12 grades) to the evening devotional. She said yes and off we went like little praise junkies to get our second "fix" of the night. We arrived at the devotional and made our way to the top (where guests have to sit) and overlooked a group of 400+ students singing their hearts out to God. The volume and the harmony of the crowd was great. Seeing the expression on the faces of the other worshippers was just plain cool. Watching as hands were lifted and heads were bowed was touching. But there was one voice that rang out above the others. There was one worshipper that completely captivated my attention more than that of all the others. As we began to sing "All Praises Be" I heard the voice of an angel cover over me. My entire body got chills and despite the temperature of that hot summer evening, I had to wrap my arms around myself just to get warm. This voice surrounded me and filled me and penetrated my soul.

As I glanced over my shoulder I saw the tender face of this worshipper lost in wonder as she beautifully sang praises to her Savior. She stood only one step above me yet it looked as if she was in heaven against the black of the star-filled sky. Each note contained passion and each word emotion. I was as awestruck with the purity and holiness of the moment as this girl was with the purity and holiness of the God she was praising. As I turned my focus back to the crowd, I realized that, although this encounter with that angel only lasted a moment, it was a memory that I will cherish for a lifetime. For you see, that angel who was the worshipper who sang "All Praises Be" more beautifully than I had ever heard it was my very own daughter Laura.

Thank you Laura for loving Jesus so much. It is the best gift a dad could ever receive.

HE IS WONDERFUL

Soprano:
All praises be
To the Lord and King
And the Lord our God
He is wonderful

Alto:
Hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah
He is wonderful

Tenor:
Hallelujah
Salvation and glory
Honor and power
He is wonderful

Bass:
For the Lord our God is mighty
The Lord our God is omnipotent
Our God is wonderful

Yes friends, our God is wonderful!

We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For

Here is a recent baccalaureate address given by Jim Wallis at Stanford on June 12 that Mike Cope linked in his blog that I thought was totally amazing. This is a must read. Thanks Mike.

The Love of God

I've been preaching and teaching often these days. More than I have the past 9 months. Less than I did the last 9 years. I love to speak about God for God's glory.

One of the inherent challenges of the messenger is to try and describe the majesty of the Message. How does one stick the camel of the big love of God into the eye of the needle of small words?

F.M. Lehman tried in 1917 and did a pretty good job.

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell
It goes beyond the highest star
And reaches to the lowest hell
The guilty pair, bowed down with care
God gave His Son to win
His erring child He reconciled
And pardoned from his sin

Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade

To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky

Hallelujah [3x]

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints' and angels' song

May our limited language, constrained communicators or measurable minds ever keep us from trying to grasp the love of God.

Friends Like "Fella"

Today I will be blogging a response to an e-mail comment that I received from Ronnie Washington. Ronnie doesn't have e-mail so this is the only way he will know that I received it.

Ronnie,

It is great to hear from you! I've always kept a framed letter that you, Jeff, and Sam wrote to me on my desk. I think of you often and it is always with a smile. We had so many good times didn't we? I could never forget you! Who else do I know that named himself "Fella" and who else do I know would wear my white t-shirts even though they were frappin 18 sizes to big for you? Dude, every time I drive by a Captain D's I think of that dumb game we used to play where you and Jeff would slug the crap out of me.

So what's up? Tell me about your marriage. How is Jeff? What is he up to? What about Sam? How is your grandma? Ya'll still in Huffsmith?

So, Ronnie, I know you don't have e-mail and this is the only way that you're going to know I received your e-mail - Well I did. And I praise God that you found me. Of course, the only thing I really ever wanted for you and Jeff and Sam was to find Jesus. I know you started that journey when I baptized you all but I don't know if you're still on the road with Him.

I am ... it is an amazing life!


For my Joy & King,

- Joel

Joel G. Quile
Crosswind Ministries
Director of Ministry Development
joel@jeffberry.org
325.673.7729 ext 14
-----Original Message-----
From: ronnie "washington" carroll [mailto:noreply-comment@blogger.com]
Sent: Thursday, June 03, 2004 10:59 PM
To: jgq03a@acu.edu
Subject: [Joel Quile's Blog] 6/3/2004 08:58:55 PM


Joel,it's being a long time.And you might not remember exactly who I am,so let me refresh your memory.Me and my brother Jeff,used to be in the youth group,at Tomball Church Of Christ.We were the only black kids in the youth group.We stayed over in Huffsmith,with our grandmother.We also stayed with you,when you were staying in the brick house! Right across from the washerteria,not to far from the police station.You remember Tyron,he was the one who actually,brought us to Tomball Church Of Christ.This might help also,can you remember the time we went to astroworld,and sam put the church van in reverse and almost hit another car, or what about the time we went to"ACU"and seen that group accupella.So any way I had seen"Andy Chastein".And I ask him have he heard from you,and he told me that he email you,told me how to go and search for you.He also told me that your were back at"ACU".So hows the family.Tell"Kim"I said hello.As for me,I also got married in"April".Me,and my wife had our one year anniversare.Every thing is"a"okay.I want to say thanks for always being their,when we needed it the most.What can I say,you was like a father to us.You took us in,as though we were one of your own.And thanks you I am,the man "God want me to be.Not only did you show,me and my brother what life really means.But what it takes to live a life.Thank You.I don't have an email at this time.But what I can do is check your email just to see if you got this meaasge. Ronnie Washington.

--
Posted by ronnie "washington" carroll to Joel Quile's Blog at 6/3/2004 08:58:55 PM

Da Da Dunt - Da Da Dunt!

I woke up early this morning and made my way into the Stevens den to check out Sports Center. However, I was lead to read from the passage I will be sharing tomorrow morning (Matthew 14) and was convicted of what a day Jesus had just been through when he walked on the water. Check this - he had just come from his hometown where he couldn't do any (Mark's translation) miracles except (get this) heal a few sick people. Then he gets word that the man who announced him and baptized him lost his life by brutal beheading. He gets away to ponder the news and the crowds follow him there. He spends the entire day preaching, not in an air conditioned auditorium, but in the desert. He has to prepare dinner for a small intimate gathering of roughly 15,000. The crowds repay him by wanting to force him to be a king he can't (and shouldn't) be. He spends the evening praying (does the guy ever sleep) and then gets in his exercise for the day by walking 5 miles on a storm tossed sea at (this is crazy!) 3:00am.
Talk about an amazing athlete...If that doesn't make Sports Center I don't what would.

My Name is Joel Quile ... and I'm a Bloggaholic

This just in...I spend way too much time reading other people's blogs. I don't know why it is so fascinating to me either. I mean - is their life that much more exciting than mine? OK, so maybe it is. But here is the bottom line - I find myself not blogging because of lack of time but yet I always find time to read the blogs of others. What's the deal with that? (insert your own Jerry Seinfeld accent here) Perhaps, I dunno, if I actually spent less time reading the blogs of others I would have a few extra minutes to actually write my own blog. And now with the ability to comment on the blogs of others...goodnight...that is like "crack" to the blogging junkie. Serious, I used to check Cope's blog once every few days - now I check it after lunch. I know, I'm sick. I don't even care what Cope writes anymore (I don't think he does either) but it's the comments that lure you in. Can I get a witness? Some of my friends post prayer requests on their blogs. Prayer requests for others and the tragedies that they are going through. I am asking for prayers also. But not for others, no. Pray for me. I'm a bloggaholic. I'm a blatant blunk. A blino. Pray that I don't lose my job, develop carpal tunnel, or suffer vision loss. Pray that ...

I've got to run real quick - my computer just told me that this Eskimo guy in Anchorage just posted about ice fishing. I don't know this guy - but boy - what a life! I can't wait to read his blog.

A Hull of a lot of Hydrophobics

Unless I find myself a convention for sarcastic sermon writers, I probably won't use the above title. On June 6th I'm preaching in Redwood City at the church we were at for over 8 years. I wanted to go with the above title of "A Hull of a lot of Hydrophobics" but cautiously (and wisely) went with the title of "A Hull of Hydrophobics" but the above title is the one that floated my boat (pardon the pun) Anyway, back to work.

I Got My "Phil"

Just returned from Northern California from doing a wedding in Marysville. Flew out to Sacramento on Friday compliments of my son, John and arrived at 11:40am. Without checked baggage I arrived in the "express" line at a rental car company that shall remain nameless (hint: OJ) at about 11:50. With less than a handful of people in front of me I was sure that I would be in my car with in 10 minutes. I was surely wrong! By the time I approached "Phil" (going out on a limb and guessing that was not his real name as he was from India/Pakistan and spoke perhaps 20 - 30 words of English) at 12:31pm. I politely but persuasively told "Phil" that I had just waited in line over 40 minutes and that while it was not his fault that he would have to upgrade my $19.99 a day Kia/Neon reservation to something a bit higher as a way to satisfy my frustration. "Phil" said what would you like? I respectfully replied, something better than a Kia but for not a penny more than $19.99. "Phil" then responded with the words that would turn a good trip throughout the Sierra Foothills into a great trip: "How about a Mustang convertible?" Not wanting to show my hand I said with a classic poker face, "that would be ok."

"Phil" handed the keys to a brand new 2004 white convertible Mustang (white leather seats, kickin stereo, blah, blah, blah) and off I went into the windy and wonderful highways of the mountains that meet Tahoe. It was awesome. I got to see mom, pappy, dad, Garron, Ali, & baby Kaili. California is beautiful and I had forgotten how much I loved that state. The wedding went great and the driving was pretty good too.

Thanks "Phil". You turned a Kia of a weekend into a Mustang of a trip.

Wise Guys

I just returned from a meeting with my board. I call them a mock board because it doesn't seem right that a guy like me should have a board. In my mind, important people function under a board. Grant calls it a mock board because he says that they just sit around and mock me. There is a tad truth to that theory. My board consists of Bob Strader (Coach), Grant Boone (Boonedog), Phil Schubert (Schubs), and Kent Smith (Kent Smith). We meet about once or twice a month for the sole purpose of keeping me focused on my purpose here in Abilene - to prepare to plant a church. The bible says that plans fail for lack of wise counsel. I've had many plans succeed as well as many that have failed. I have no doubt that our vision for church planting will be a success and these four Godly men are a chief cause for my confidence. I've been called a lot of things in my life - "wise guy" being one of the more common characterizations. I may not be the wisest guy around but setting myself and my dreams under the collective wisdom of this board is nothing to be mocked. In fact, its down right smart.

Scared of Sixty

I'm scared of getting older. No, it's not the fear of failing health or a deteriorating world that scares me, but rather it is Time's cruel joke of exposing the ignorance of our youth. If you had sat me down at 16 (many tried - none succeed) for a talk about "life" I would have venomously fought it with every fiber of my body. Why - because I didn't want to hear such wise answers? No - in truth it would have been because I honestly thought I knew all the answers. Today in my mid thirties I find myself looking back at my "youth" with a jaw-dropping awe of all that I didn't have figured out. That is all fine and good until you take such a propensity to realize just how 20/20 hindsight really is to it's logical extreme: If by God's grace I am granted life into my sixties then I assume that I am going to look back at my life today with the same, "what was I thinking?" awe that I view my adolescence today.

And that my friends, scares me to death.
And to pour salt in the wounds of such realization...I don't have much tangible history from my teens (thank the Lord) but with today's technology there is a good chance that that much of what I do and think could actually be preserved digitally for another 30 years.

Like this blog.

And that scares me even more.
(How can you get scared past death?)

See, I have so much to learn.

It is Like . . .

I got the privilege of speaking at Grace last night. What an amazing experience Grace is! Hundreds of college students from many backgrounds, three different universities, with one purpose: Give God glory through biblical unity. Powerful.

The usual speaker, Luke Norsworthy, was a former intern for Kim and I at U-turn. He spoke last night after I did (I was the opening act - you know, the no name band from North Dakota that screams a lot and breaks their guitars?) and was amazing! God used him to passionately challenge his peers to not be content with the "sit and watch" approach to living Kingdom lives. Luke was a man possessed with the Spirit. It was so cool to watch. I felt proud to be his friend.

The following is a transcript of my notes. I concluded my message (only about 6 minutes - some of you are saying, "no way, Quile only spoke for 6 minutes! Ain't no way!) with a prayer of commissioning for God to show himself to us, convict us of times that we place a lower value on the Kingdom than we should (apathetic living); cause us to repent, and send us out. I prayed specifically that our adoration would grow up into proclamation. Anyway, here are the notes:

• It is like the 1 yr old baby girl whose parents say “show ‘em how you can bounce!” and the little girl smiles and bounces up and down in delight of her new talent!

• It is like the two yr old boy whose older sister affectionately ask in front of her friends “how old are you? How many years are you?” The little boy proudly holds up two fingers as if he was the wisest man in the world.

• It is like the 3 yr old girl who learns how to write her name and writes it on every piece of paper in sight.

• It is like the 4 yr old boy who learns, latter than the girl, how to write his name and he proudly pens it on his bedroom wall with a big black marker he found in dad’s desk.

• It is like the 5 yr old who pulls out his new spider man lunch box at lunch on the first day of pre-school and yells, “check this out!” to his best friend that he just met on the playground at recess.

• It is like the 6 yr old girl who can’t wait to show her kindergarten teacher her missing tooth.

• It’s like the 7 year old boy who can’t wait to show teacher and entire class his cool new shoes that make him jump higher and run faster.

• It is like the second grade girl, who at 8 yrs old is so proud of her broken arm she gets a neon green cast so that no one will miss it!

• It is like the 9 yr old girl who returns to the third grade after Christmas break riding her brand her new Barbie Bike, couldn’t be prouder! The boys on the other hand plot to pull off those dumb pink & purple streamers from her handle bars at lunch.

• It is like the 10yr old boy in the fourth grade who brings his puppy for show and tell but really its just to show off to doubters in the class.

• It is like the boy who at 11, gets his first “real” baseball glove and takes it to practice with pride.

• It is like the girl who at 12, gets her first “real” bra and gleefully displays it to every 6th grade girl in the PE locker room. The boys know about it before schools out.

• It is like the 7th grader girl who dawns her cheerleading uniform down the halls on the first Friday of the fall at school.

• It is like the 8th grade stud of a boy, who rips up his sleeves and announces to anybody who will look, “Check out these guns! And notice the arm pit hair while you’re at it!”

• It is like the high school freshman girl, who at 15 is wearing the sweatshirt of her “senior” boyfriend in front of everyone but her parents.

• It is like the sophomore girl, who on her sixteenth birthday, runs into class after lunch and yells, “I got it! I got my drivers liscence ya’ll!”

• It is like the dude who is rolling hard to the first day of junior year, in a rust bucket of a truck that put the “ghe” in “ghetto”, his arm out the window, beats bustin from the 89.00 K-mart cd player, dude is proud ya’ll. He is proud!

• It is like the senior linebacker on the football team who wears his letterman’s jacket. Everywhere. Seriously, you’ve seen this. Shower, Prom, Grandma’s funeral, first week of college!

• It is like the 19 year old freshman girl who wears her “college” sweatshirt back into youth class during Christmas break as if to proclaim, “I’m so mature, so mature.” Of course the freshman dude who is now working at Dairy Queen is sitting there in the same class going, “check out my letterman jacket yo!”

• It is like the 20 yr old sophomore girl calling her mom seconds after receiving a bid from the same social club her mom was in! You can imagine it. Loud shrieking, jumping up and down, crying, it’s sickening. But it is like that.

• It is like the junior guy calling his dad up in May, and proudly declaring, hey dad, good news, I pulled a C- minus in Economics – I’m a senior now!”

• It is like the 22 year old senior sweetheart of a girl who is showing to her girlfriends the monster of a diamond ring she just got from her boyfriend turned “fiancé” Again, more hysterical screaming, jumping, hugging, crying, loss of brain activity, blah, blah, blah.

• It is like the 32 year old brand new dad whose wallet is constantly opened as he is pridefully producing pictures of his “new baby boy”

• It is like the 42 year old dad who is actually proud of their new minivan. “Check it out Frank, see how easy the seats fold down?”

• It is like the same dude a year later whom at 43, has just traded in the family minivan for a red 2005 mustang. Mr. Midlife is so proud!

• It is like the 50 year old grandma at the beauty salon who is passing out pictures of her new baby granddaughter. She says, oh look at this one, isn’t it just the cutest? It’s a picture of her bouncing!”

• Pause, open my bible and read passionately:

• The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.

• The kingdom of heaven at its core is good, great, glorious. That’s why we call it good news. The nature of good news is that it is so good that it is shared, spread, and sacrificed for.

• We began last fall praying that everyone of us would gain an Appreciation about the Kingdom of Heaven this school year. It is our prayer that this summer our appreciation grows up into proclamation. Grab a hand of someone close, and let’s talk with the Father:

• God,


It was the last Grace of the year. When it starts back up next fall I really encourage everyone to check it out. It is like . . . well it is like grace.

Graduate School of Me-ology

I've learned something really important about grad school. It doesn't care if you have a family. In fact, it doesn't care if you have a wife. Heck, grad school doesn't care if you have a life!

Don't get me wrong, ACU graduate school of theology is a blessing and I absolutely love it. It just demands so much time.

This terrible feeling of being robbed of free time probably has to do with the fact that I'm desperately trying to finish up a 25 -30 page paper on the date of Revelation and that I'm a student on a mission, trying to make up for a bad undergraduate GPA by making a 4.0 in grad school (won't happen - that's ok too) but I just feel so "me" focused these past few weeks. Let me clarify: More "me" focused than usual.

I live at the library during the day, come home at 5:45pm and wolf down dinner that I didn't lift a finger to help prepare, kiss my kids and wife goodnight at 6:20pm and then head back up to the life-sucking library until midnight. I come home to a dark, quiet house where I'm the only one awake (barely). This has been my schedule for the past two weeks. It will be for the next two.

I do have the unspiritual gift of embellishment. I have had a little free time. Not much though. It just seems as though my world is orbiting around me instead of others these days.

I'll sure be grateful when class is over in a few weeks so I can go back to being the amazing servant of others that I was before.

Okay, at least I can kiss my kids goodnight when they are going to bed and my wife when she is awake.

Oh grad school . . .this too shall pass.

My Easter Sermon

I'm in Houston (Woodlands/Conroe area) for Easter this year. This is the first time we've been in Texas for Easter in over 8 years. This is one of Kim's favorite holidays as she has fond memories of big family gatherings, fun-filled children's activities and a massive egg hunt. Suffice it to say, I was glad that we got to come down. Yesterday, Saturday, John asked if we missed being in Redwood City and specifically the Redwood Church to which I replied, "I do, I especially miss preaching." This eventually lead to the topic of church and to where and when (and why in some adolescent minds) we were going to church for Easter Sunday. I had heard of The Fellowship of the Woodlands and was determined to lead the family there today (Sunday) for church. I can't speak for the remainder of the clan (could, but won't) but I was really excited to "hear" an Easter Sermon by a pastor of a large "successful" church. We are, in fact about 20 minutes away from leaving to go to church there but I am not as anxious to "hear" the sermon. I already have "seen" an Easter sermon. Let me explain.

Last night at about 6:00pm Houston was hit by a nasty thunderstorm. Softball size hail, deadly lightning, a tornado or two, and a Niagara of rain beat down on the area. My brother in law, Keith (Kim's older sister's husband), the guru of the grill, was in the middle of grilling our grub when the call came. One of his friend's home fell victim to a falling tree. The tree had crushed through the roof of their child's room and rain was filling the room. Keith's heart was immediately filled with compassion and he told the caller that "he'd be right over." I witnessed this act of kindness as I witness most others - oblivious of the spiritual significance and unmoved myself to action. Kim, as usual, opened my eyes to the opportunity to participate in the Samaritan situation. She said, "Joel, you should go with him to help those people" and then she gave me that look. (All the husbands say "Amen") To which I replied ever-so-spirit-filled, "What about my shoes?" You see, I had only brought one pair of shoes with me on this quick trip and they, ironically enough, were my "church shoes" as in the shoes that I would wear into the Lord's "house" tomorrow (today). The combination of Kim's face and the Spirit's filling forced me into a commitment. Together, they are an almost unstoppable force! We loaded up in Keith's wrecker (a tow truck - not a junkie car) and headed for a nice drive into a little place I've affectionately dubbed, "Vortexville" as we drove into the storm. We safely arrived at the home and entered the room that looked like it could fit in the Rainforrest Cafe. While waiting for the lightning to subside we cautiously cleared out the room of priceless pieces of memorabilia, more than mindful of the roof completely caving in on top of us. We finally decided that the lightning was not going to go away, we moved outside to remove the rogue tree from its unwanted nesting in the roof.

Keith and I began to chain saw the tree into sections. (For those of you wondering how two people can operate a chain saw . . . OK, Keith did the chain sawing while I stood in the storm and smiled. I did, however, get the saw 'unstuck' from the tree that Keith got it 'stuck' into . . . so I wasn't completely useless!) It was like a scene from a movie. My brother in law is standing on the top of a box blade lifted 10 feet in the air, rising up to the roof. Lightning crashing in around on every side and thunder booming so hard the ground shook in response. I watched in awe (at his servant heart and the fact that he was moving so quickly on a slippery roof) as he, for the next 20 minutes risked his life (lightning) and back (slip and hit the ground) for his friend.

As we loaded up the truck and drove home, lightning still popping, thunder still booming, God spoke to me about what I had just witnessed. My brother in law had just done the very thing that God has asked me to do countless times over and over again without thinking about it for one second. I realized that I had seen a great glimpse of the sacrifice that I wanted to go "celebrate" tomorrow (today). I became convicted about what being a "pastor" really means and what constitutes "success" after all. Keith, preached to me that night and the crazy thing is he didn't even know it.

So as I walk out the door to go "hear" the Easter sermon I am reminded that its better to have "dirty" shoes and a pure heart than the other way around.

Keith is not going to church with us. . .

He is outside cooking for about 50 of his family, neighbors and friends. In fact, he's been up since 4:30 am cooking.

What a sermon!

The Three Minute Mile Man

I re-realized today for the bazillionth time that I often (read: always) set standards that I can't quite (read: at all) reach. I want to do so much and I want to do more than I want - which really means that I not only get frustrated by the lack of what I accomplish or achieve but I can actually beat myself up for stuff I haven't even thought about yet; that I'm somehow (read: the devil) convinced I should be doing.

I want to pray, eat, sleep, workout, makeout (read: Kim is hot!), order takeout, and chillout 25 hours of each 24 hour day. I am a self-improvement junkie and can never get enough of the constant "high" (read: "low") of tyring to become, do, and experience more. I could have 5% body fat (my body fat at 3 weeks (read: 3 weeks of conception)) and I'd want to get to 2.8. I could blog every day and I'd want to start a second blog day for select Tuesdays or some idiotic idea like that. I could pray an hour and still feel like the universe might possibly come to a screeching halt if I don't stop and hit my knees for the injured bird that is hopping outside my window (read: really lame hypothetical example).

I make a law producing, guilt providing Pharisee look like a substitute teacher who is nicknamed "Pushover" by his middle school students.

Does this make sense?

Jesus offers me an easy yoke and I consistency decline it for the one made of the concrete of my unrealistic expectations.

I'd like to write more (read: really I would) but I have to go for a run. I haven't ran in a while (read: sophomore year of college) so I better not try and over do it. What do you think? A 4 minute mile sound attainable? Yeah, that's what I thought too. 3 minutes it is!

Arachnoid Arrogance

I saw a spider this morning in my kitchen. I decided I didn't want it in my kitchen. In fact I didn't want it alive. I grabbed a napkin and crushed it between my forefinger and thumb. I destroyed it's existence in an instant.

As I was chucking the napkin and the raw remains of the spider into the trash I thought, "man, I would never want to be a spider!" I began to ponder the spider's story. Maybe he was hunting for a place to spin a web in order to catch food for his family? (I know - too much time on my hands) Was he on his way home from "work" and a few feet from his family under the refrigerator? (I shouldn't have said that - now Kim's going to have me cleaning under the fridge) Surely he didn't wake up that morning expecting to die?

{Okay, now this is weird, spooky weird. As I am writing this my cell phone just rang. It was Kim and she told me that one of my favorite professors, Dr. Trevathan, had a heart attack in church two days ago and is in critical condition}

Was that not, is that not the point of this blog?

We don't know when or how it is going to end for us. The brutal fact is that God can look down on the floor of earth and see us crawling along, spinning our webs, and in an instant end our life.

We foolishly think that we are going to get tomorrow and the truth of the matter is that we might not get 10 more minutes.

"God, thank you for the 35 years, 169 days, 9 hours, and 30 minutes you have graciously given me so far. Please be with Dr. Trevathan. Through, Jesus I come asking, Amen"

Headlines Say Glass Empty - John 14 Says Glass Full

Here was the roller coaster that was my morning:

Step one- read the headlines on Foxnews.com. Here's a sample:

American Arrested as Iraqi Spy

Translators Killed in Basra Ambush

Bush to Visit New Sept. 11 Memorial

Human Remains May Be in Meat
Canadians worried killer's victims might have ended up in pork products

Salt, Butter, Toxic Chemicals?
EPA examining health hazards of microwaved popcorn

Teaming Up on Spam

Kerry: GOP Is 'Crooked'
Says his Republican critics are 'lying'; Bush aide demands apology

R. Kelly Photos Tossed OutJ

Bertuzzi Out for Breaking Neck
NHL suspends Canucks forward; player tearfully apologized last night

Kobe Ruling Appealed
DA says accuser will suffer irreparable harm if made to testify about sex history

And a host of other headlines including the Martha Stewart mess (lying), Megan's law (Rape of children), immigration problems, Terrorism, and Anti-Semitic graffiti in Denver.

"Good Morning!" After reading those headlines I just wanted to shlep back into bed and say, "Good night!"

Step Two: Read my Bible.

But then my mind hearkened back to Brad Gautney's message he spoke last night at Highland. Brad and his wife, Monica, and their two beautiful children, Hope and Emma, are missionaries in Haiti. Brad reminded us that John 14 says "Do not let your hearts be troubled."

"Do not let your hearts be troubled?"

Jesus must not have read the same headlines I read this morning.

How "disciple-like" is my thinking?

When the world is full of hurt Jesus says "let your hearts be full of hope." When every thing is falling apart around us Jesus (ever the carpenter) says "remember that I am building a place for you."

Glass Full.

The Passion of the Liberals

Usually, I don't get super polictical in my blog, however a good friend of mine, Bill Stevens, sent me this article that I thought was worth sharing with the entire free world (read: a handful of devoted friends).

The passion of the liberal
Ann Coulter (archive)


March 4, 2004 | Print | Send


In the dozens and dozens of panic-stricken articles the New York Times has run on Mel Gibson's movie, "The Passion of the Christ," the unavoidable conclusion is that liberals haven't the vaguest idea what Christianity is. The Times may have loopy ideas about a lot of things, but at least when they write about gay bathhouses and abortion clinics, you get the sense they know what they're talking about.

But Christianity just doesn't ring a bell. The religion that has transformed Western civilization for two millennia is a blank slate for liberals. Their closest reference point is "conservative Christians," meaning people you're not supposed to hire. And these are the people who carp about George Bush's alleged lack of "intellectual curiosity."

The most amazing complaint, championed by the Times and repeated by all the know-nothing secularists on television, is that Gibson insisted on "rubbing our faces in the grisly reality of Jesus' death." The Times was irked that Gibson "relentlessly focused on the savagery of Jesus' final hours" – at the expense of showing us the Happy Jesus. Yes, Gibson's movie is crying out for a car chase, a sex scene or maybe a wise-cracking orangutan.

The Times ought to send one of its crack investigative reporters to St. Patrick's Cathedral at 3 p.m. on Good Friday before leaping to the conclusion that "The Passion" is Gibson's idiosyncratic take on Christianity. In a standard ritual, Christians routinely eat the flesh and drink the blood of Jesus Christ, aka "the Lamb of God." The really serious Catholics do that blood- and flesh-eating thing every day, the sickos. The Times has just discovered the tip of a 2,000-year-old iceberg.

But the loony-left is testy with Gibson for spending so much time on Jesus' suffering and death while giving "short shrift to Jesus' ministry and ideas" – as another Times reviewer put it. According to liberals, the message of Jesus, which somehow Gibson missed, is something along the lines of "be nice to people" (which to them means "raise taxes on the productive").

You don't need a religion like Christianity, which is a rather large and complex endeavor, in order to flag that message. All you need is a moron driving around in a Volvo with a bumper sticker that says "be nice to people." Being nice to people is, in fact, one of the incidental tenets of Christianity (as opposed to other religions whose tenets are more along the lines of "kill everyone who doesn't smell bad and doesn't answer to the name Mohammed"). But to call it the "message" of Jesus requires ... well, the brain of Maureen Dowd.

In fact, Jesus' distinctive message was: People are sinful and need to be redeemed, and this is your lucky day because I'm here to redeem you even though you don't deserve it, and I have to get the crap kicked out of me to do it. That is the reason He is called "Christ the Redeemer" rather than "Christ the Moron Driving Around in a Volvo With a 'Be Nice to People' Bumper Sticker on It."

The other complaint from the know-nothing crowd is that "The Passion" will inspire anti-Semitic violence. If nothing else comes out of this movie, at least we finally have liberals on record opposing anti-Semitic violence. Perhaps they should broach that topic with their Muslim friends.

One Times review of "The Passion" said: "To be a Christian is to face the responsibility for one's own most treasured sacred texts being used to justify the deaths of innocents." At best, this is like blaming Jodie Foster for the shooting of Ronald Reagan. But the reviewer somberly warned that a Christian should "not take the risk that one's life or work might contribute to the continuation of a horror." So the only thing Christians can do is shut up about their religion. (And no more Jodie Foster movies!)

By contrast, in the weeks after 9-11, the Times was rushing to assure its readers that "prominent Islamic scholars and theologians in the West say unequivocally that nothing in Islam countenances the Sept. 11 actions." (That's if you set aside Muhammad's many specific instructions to kill non-believers whenever possible.) Times columnists repeatedly extolled "the great majority of peaceful Muslims." Only a religion with millions of practitioners trying to kill Americans and Jews is axiomatically described as "peaceful" by liberals.

As I understand it, the dangerous religion is the one whose messiah instructs: "[I]f one strikes thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also" and "Love your enemies ... do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you." The peaceful religion instructs: "Slay the enemy where you find him." (Surah 9:92).

Imitating the ostrich-like posture of certain German Jews who ignored the growing danger during Hitler's rise to power, today's liberals are deliberately blind to the real threats of violence that surround us. Their narcissistic self-image requires absolute solicitude toward angry savages plotting acts of terrorism. The only people who scare them are the ones who worship a Jew.


Ann Coulter is host of AnnCoulter.org, a Townhall.com member group.

Some People Just Don't Get It

Check out the following review for the Passion. It is amazing and sad all at the same time. I've emboldened some of the text that is most interesting and frustrating.

This guy is not alone in his "swing and miss" understanding of the gospel. He represents much of the world today. And "back then" for that matter. It makes me want to condem the world on one hand, and call the world to Jesus on the other.

Of course God is working for good in all of this.

Look at this:

The Poisonous Legacy of 'The Passion'

Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" opens today following a lot of cheesy hoopla and cynical exploitation on the part of Gibson and his distributor, Newmarket Films. For Gibson's part, there isn't much of a surprise there. For Newmarket, which will release a film this fall starring Kevin Bacon as a pederast, well, we're just getting to know them, aren't we?

I saw "The Passion" at midnight last night in Los Angeles, since neither Newmarket nor Gibson's people would accommodate me with a press screening. Never mind, though, it was far more interesting to plunk down $11 at the Hollywood ArcLight and see "The Passion" with a big group.

Is the movie anti-Semitic? Several reviewers have already said it is. I can tell you this: Thanks to Gibson, when non-Jews around the world now see the Jewish prayer shawl, the tallis, on the heads of praying Jews, they will think, 'Oh yeah, those were worn by the angry crowds in "The Passion" who insisted that Jesus be killed and then patiently watched him be tortured to death.' Thanks to Gibson, we are reminded that Jesus' friend Judas — a Jew — was easily sold out for some gold that was thrown at him in exchange for his betrayal. It's the return of the money-grubbing Jew, straight out of the old anti-Semite playbook.

There's more, of course, but none of this is a revelation at this point. Gibson's Jews are caricatures with bulbous noses. To say they lack compassion is an understatement. They are almost always pictured as an angry, unrelenting mob that wants Jesus dead no matter what. It's so stupid that it's almost not anti-Semitic. It just makes Gibson look like an idiot.

But the real problem with "The Passion" is that it is graphic beyond belief, and unrelenting. How anyone will be able to sit through this thing is the real mystery. There is blood, blood, everywhere. The violence toward Jesus is sadistic and grotesque. Basically, the entire second half of the film is spent watching Jesus endure physical torture never before seen in a movie. By the time it's done, actor James Caviezel's body is a map of bloody rivers and lakes with craters of flesh excised from his torso.

Is this disgusting? You bet. It's also puzzling, because what Gibson hasn't done in "The Passion" is explain his love of Christ or his own passion or devotion. We have no idea why Christ is so reviled by the Jews, what he's done to earn their anger, or what he's done to earn Gibson's respect. From the moment the film begins, Jesus is simply a target for unbridled, unrestrained bloodlust. Yes, we get to see the nails driven through him, blood spurting in every direction, skin being torn in the process.

Is there anything that's learned by witnessing this enactment? I wish I could say there was, but there isn't. It's simple brutality, with a hard rock music track playing in the background. I'm not sure that it's so different from Gibson's character dislocating his shoulder on purpose in one of the "Lethal Weapon" movies.

So here's the problem. Since we don't know who Jesus was before the day of his death, and since all we see are rabid packs of Jews in shawls who want him dead, followed by the long merciless death itself, what is Gibson's point? That Christ died for our sins? Or that he was murdered by crazy, vicious mobs who didn't understand him? My question is, How will the Hollywood cognoscenti respond to "The Passion"? Will they remain silent and hope it goes away? Or will someone speak out? There is no end of voices when it comes to sex and violence in mainstream movies. Where are those voices now?

Wednesday, February 25, 2004
By Roger Friedman

This guy doesn't get it.

You can e-mail Roger at: foxlife@foxnews.com