And a Little Off the Top

And a Little Off the Top

While my head of hair is nothing to brag about, I am, all things considering, fairly easy going regarding my haircut. My “stylist” (stop laughing) does not have to ask me how I want my hair cut on any given day that I show up. It is always a little off the top, thin on the sides, and do something with that cowlick.   Before moving to Augusta my last barber took it upon himself to clip (I can hardly say this) my ear hair! Can nose hair be that far away? This dilemma has puzzled mankind (you women have other issues) as long as we have been stepping over dirty laundry: why is it that as we grow older we lose hair from the top, but grow more hair in our ears and nose? And while I am asking deep philosophical questions, if you break a cookie up into small pieces, does it have fewer calories? Where does the other sock go from the wash? Can a dog smile and if so, what is he (or she) smiling about? When one of my sons was a little boy he asked me what toenails were made of? I still don’t have an answer.   I guess I will have to deal with these questions another day. Still, it never hurts to ask. That’s how we grow. In fact growing in the faith is all about asking questions. The “whys”, “wheres”, and “hows” are how we deepen our relationship with God because it takes God serious enough to ask. Like smiling dogs, we may not get the answer right away,...
Recall Notice

Recall Notice

  A few Sundays ago I had what can delicately be described as a “wardrobe malfunction.” It was not nearly as sensational as the infamous episode a decade ago during the half-time of the Super Bowl, but it was nevertheless inconvenient. The right arm (or is it a leg?) of my eye glasses fell off and despite all my efforts it would not reassemble. In ten minutes I would be preaching and unless something changed I would be preaching in the dark. Actually, it would be more like preaching in the blur. I trotted in a stumbling, woozy, nearsighted-kind-of way to my car which now seemed to be inconveniently parked on the upper lot to retrieve an old pair of glasses that would see me through the day (get the pun?). By the time I returned to the worship service in progress it was five minutes before the sermon and I was rumpled, ruffled and not a little bit sweaty. I imagine you think that preachers are in a blissful state of prayer and union with God right before the sermon, but on that particular day I was just trying to survive.   That afternoon with some crazy glue I temporarily repaired my glasses and was able to enjoy the Sunday paper without much squinting. The following week I returned to the optical store to have my glasses repaired and it was there I learned that there was a recall notice on my glasses – a recall! I have been wearing glasses since I was seven and have never once had a pair that was later recalled. Whoever heard...
Seen at the Movies

Seen at the Movies

Many years ago on a Saturday morning I was up in the attic changing air filters in the heating & air units. Yes, I know that you expected that I live the glamorous life on Saturdays, spending my time engaging in intellectual conversations with world-renowned scholars at local bookstores. Alas, more often than not, my Saturdays are not particularly glamorous, unless you count running into church members at the Waffle House as exotic. Anyway, while up in the attic I brought down a shoebox full of old 8mm reels. They dated from the mid 60s to the 70s. Amy salvaged these tapes from her mother’s house and had remained undisturbed in the attic. Not having an 8mm projector to enjoy its hidden contents, I took it upon myself to have many of them converted to DVD and surprised Amy with it on her birthday.   Watching those old clips of Amy’s early childhood was like traveling back in time. We saw many of her family members who have since passed away. She was reminded of favorite dresses, special vacations, and cherished Christmas presents. We both took delight in viewing scenes of the great snowfall of 1973 (remember that one?). By the way, Amy has not changed a bit; still has that great mischievous smile. It made me wish that we had old home movies of my childhood. I would give anything to see my G.I. Joes, or my grandfather, or my old room.   There are a few things, however, that I would like to forget. That terrible crew cut, for example, that all boys were wearing when I...
Wrestling is Real!

Wrestling is Real!

Last Sunday I shared with the church family that one of my fondest memories as a child with my grandfather was watching wrestling on television on Saturday afternoons. I know that is not very “high-brow”, but come on, have you met me? Tony Atlas, Abdullah the Butcher, Andre the Giant, Mr. Wrestling II, Dusty Rhodes, Ric Flair – these were the men of legends. People told me it was fake but it sure seemed real to me. And when our weekly hour of entertainment was over we would head down to the barn, breathless from this cosmic struggle between good and evil.   I want to invite you to wrestle with me. That is, wrestle alongside me. Together we are going to take on the Bible. The Bible itself does not tell us much about wrestling. The only genuine wrestling story we have in the Bible is the famous story from Genesis 32. There we read where Jacob wrestles with a man who is some angel or manifestation of God or something like that. That is when Jacob gets his name changed to Israel – the one who strives with God and mortals and prevails.   Which is why that story is one of my favorites – it is a metaphor for life with God, as well as life with these words of God we call the Bible.   I am inviting you and me to wrestle because it is out of laboring and striving that we grow, mature, and get stronger. The Bible is too important, too influential, too confusing and confounding to just take passively, flippantly or thoughtlessly....
Hearing Voices One Afternoon

Hearing Voices One Afternoon

I am surrounded each day by old and new friends. They are from all over the world, but mostly North America. Many are Christian, but a few speak from the point of view of other faiths and some have no religious faith at all. They are the books in my study.   I have a few text books from college. There are books I bought on a meager income while trying to build my own library. A few books were given to me when I was ordained nearly 27 years ago – this morning I am looking at a woefully outdated concordance that was at the time a precious and useful gift. Most of my books, however, I simply acquired over the years: commentaries, devotional guides, church administration manuals, theology texts, collections of sermons, poems, essays, etc.   Yesterday I was browsing over the shelves looking for a book I read a couple of years ago. I recalled that this author might have something to say towards the subject I was planning to preach about this Sunday. I eventually found the book – my filing system is not bad but it is undecipherable to most anyone else – but not before being reminded of so many other books I have read in the recent past.   For some reason it felt like those books were taunting me with ideas that I should have acted upon or issues that I still do not quite understand or pathways I should have taken. For the briefest of moments my quiet study at church seemed loud with the voices of scholars and practitioners...