by Greg | Nov 17, 2010 | Blog Posts
A week ago Amy and I visited the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. For months I have wanted to see the special exhibit of Salvador Dali’s paintings, so I was excited when the opportunity finally arrived. Amy has devotedly indulged me over the years. She attended her first (and last) opera with me; backpacked (again, her first and last time) with me in the mountains; and traipsed with me through many, many museums. On this particular sojourn she went primarily to give me company. “Dali,” she confidently exclaims, “is just too weird for me.” Dali is many things: eccentric, ostentatious, showy, and, I will give Amy this one, weird. Yet his paintings are technically good and a marvel to view. Some of them are layered with meanings and others, I am convinced, are just…odd. Dali’s work is often classified as surrealism. In Dali’s case, his paintings were an expression of philosophical, religious, and scientific beliefs juxtaposing striking images. I suppose one of the reasons I like Dali is that he helps me look at the world differently and things are not always what they seem to be. There is more than meets they eye. When we finished walking through the many galleries, carefully reading along the way the explanations of certain paintings as well as background material on Dali, I asked Amy with a grin, “What did you think?” She gave a one word reply, “Weird.” The things we do for love. Love underlines all our gratitudes: Love for family, neighbors and friends Love for church, members, and mission Love for this country’s freedoms and those who serve...
by Greg | Nov 10, 2010 | Blog Posts
A month or so ago we had a “small” construction project at our house. We replaced our front wooden steps with brick ones. The wooden ones had a distinct slant southward, with narrow steps. Structurally and aesthetically they needed to go. Now that all the bricks have been placed we have in our possession about a ton or so of leftover sand. My boys are too old for a sandbox and Amy finds it unbecoming when I play in the large pile with my Tonka trucks so I am in the midst of relocating the sand pile from the front yard to the back. I do not own a backhoe, a trailer, or a tractor. I do, however, own a wheelbarrow. A couple of weekends ago I decided to take on the pile, one wheelbarrow load at a time. Twenty-six loads later, the pile looks pretty much the same as when I started. I am not sure when I will reach the bottom of the sandbox, but all I can do is focus on this one wheelbarrow load at a time. Do you ever face anything in your life that is, at least at first glance, overwhelming? There will always be the sink full of dirty dishes or the basket overflowing with laundry, but there are also bigger “chores” before us that are far more ominous. It is the drip of an IV delivering a cocktail of chemotherapy; it is the mounting anxiety of a diminished paycheck and escalating expenses; it is caring for an aging parent or raising a rebellious child. There are many days I just do...
by Greg | Oct 6, 2010 | Blog Posts
Since the end of summer I have waited and watched for the telling signs of fall. For me it comes not on a calendar or from the turning of leaves, but the steady drop in temperatures. The morning air is now far less humid and definitely chillier. Now is the time to lug down the backpack from the attic and clean out last spring’s debris. I have restocked it with appropriate food, gear, and the like. Tomorrow I am heading up to the north Georgia Mountains and meet a friend to hike and camp for a few days along a short section of the Appalachian Trail. Sometimes when I backpack I blaze along clicking off miles and making good “progress” but failing to really see what is around me. There are other times, however, when I am more obedient to the pleasures of faithful watching. Faithful watching comes by staring hard at something until your neck aches. We see sacredness when we faithfully watch and abide. Many of the beautiful displays in this universe are only rewarded by our vigilant watching. Some years ago I was out backpacking with a few other friends and we ended up one evening on the top of Mt. Laconte in North Carolina. The temperatures had dropped once the sun set but the skies were crystal clear. Someone mentioned among the four of us that there was suppose to be a meteor shower that night, so all four of us sprawled on our backs on the top of an open rock face and stared deep into the night sky. Only through faithful gazing did...
by Greg | Sep 28, 2010 | Blog Posts
I know that it is now officially Fall, but it has been a while since I updated my reading list so I thought I would share a list of the books I read this summer. As with all other such post lists, some of these books I intensely enjoyed and others, well, I probably will not read again. Non-Fiction 52 Loaves: One Man’s Relentless Pursuit of Truth, Meaning, and a Perfect Crust by William Alexander. As a bread baker I was intrigued with the title of this book and was entertained from beginning to end with the author’s near obsessive interest in baking the perfect loaf of peasant bread. This was certainly no “how to” book, yet I learned much more about the art of bread baking including yeasts, flour, and a good oven. A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams, Michael Pollan. I read this during my sabbatical leave it coincidently complimented by visual journey it Rome. Part memoir and part journalistic, Pollan reflects on the purpose and aesthetics of a shelter. The Snow Leopard, by Peter Matthiessen. This is a classic piece of modern nature writing first written in the 1970s. It is the interior reflection of one man’s journey – sojourn? – in the foot of the Himalayas for the snow leopard as well as the search for the self. Iron John, by Robert Bly. Minnesotan poet Robert Bly wrote this insightful text which literally fueled a “men’s movement” in the 1990s. I first read this book twenty years ago and picked it up again this summer. What a difference it is to read...
by Greg | Sep 21, 2010 | Blog Posts
Last week I shared with the congregation in worship about my most recent whitewater rafting trip. I went rafting with the guys’ 9th and 10th grade Sunday School class. They have terrific teachers who do fun things like this to bring the class together and they were thoughtful enough to invite me to tag along. The day was beautiful and the Ocoee River was churning. In these trips we are in a boat of six, heading for a common destination, guided around hazards as well as right through rapids. We work together and sometimes we capsize together. At our very first rapid – a powerful class IV I might add – one of the rafts belonging to another group hit the rapid at an awkward angle ejecting three in the boat, one of which was the guide. The end result was the guide broke an ankle and the two other paddlers were too shook up to complete the trip. Still, we all paddled on eventually making it wearily to our destination safe and sound. Every time I raft I am reminded that this is a beautiful picture of the church, particularly the shared unity. The bigger the church the greater the complexity and therefore the greater the dispersion. On any given day there are numerous ministries taking place, mission endeavors being developed, and services being provided. On Sunday, the day when most churches around the world gather to worship the One Lord, we joyfully gather to 3500 Walton Way ext. to one of three morning worship services as well as one of 62 Sunday School classes. I believe our...
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