Deleted Scene

On most DVDs, among the bonus features, are "deleted scenes." Here, then, is a "deleted scene" from the sermon I'm working on for Sunday. I like it, but it just didn't fit. To find out what did make it into the sermon... come to church on Sunday!

In the Old Star Trek television series, when the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise was contemplating whether or not to engage in a risky mission for the sake of rescuing a stranded member of their crew, Mr. Spock, the logical Vulcan, would always argue that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few. To his logical way of thinking, that meant that the entire starship crew should not be put in danger for the life of one man. The community is more important than the individual.

But, darn it! Captain Kirk always decided to engage the rescue mission anyway! Was it because he believed that the life of one person was more important than the lives of his entire crew, which he was willing to risk? I don't think so. I think he put his crew at risk because he saw the situation a little differently. He saw the individual who was lost as being a part of the crew, a part of their community. And he was willing to risk the lives of his crew for the sake of a lost crew member, because without that crew member, the crew was incomplete. He decided that the community should be willing to give up a little of its comfort, a little of its safety, so that it could be reunited with its lost member. After all, without that crew member, his starship community wasn't whole.

Community Sharing

It was just a typical trip to the grocery store. After filling my cart, I made my way to the checkout counter. As the clerk was scanning the groceries of the customer in front of me, I overheard bits and pieces of their conversation. The customer's daughter has celiac disease, and he was happy to find good bread made without gluten. The clerk mentioned that she had been tested for celiac disease, and was awaiting the results.

When he finished paying, the customer left, and I moved into place. I mentioned to the clerk that I've been concerned about celiac disease, because my son has type-1 diabetes which increases his chances for celiac. The clerk mentioned that she also has type-1 diabetes. We talked some more, and then I mentioned that, as a pastor, there have been times when I've searched for gluten-free bread to use for communion, since there was a time when I had several parishioners who couldn't have gluten. This caught the attention of the shopper behind me, who joined in the conversation ... and the conversation continued as I pushed my cart out the door and into the parking lot.

Anyway, that was yesterday. I wondered how long that conversation went on, as each successive customer carried it along, sharing bits and pieces of their lives, listening to others share bits and pieces of theirs. It seemed that we were all part of one community. If the store were open 24 hours, I wouldn't doubt that the conversation would continue into today, tomorrow, next week; each person in line picking up where the previous person left off.

There seems to be a touch of holiness to it all.

Weather Report

It's been nice. Even when the forecast is for rain, the rain never shows up. It's been a time for walking along the beach or visiting the park or going camping. Ah, to live in southern California.

However, all those beachgoers and picknickers can't help but feel just a slight bit uneasy while they enjoy themselves. January is supposed to be the wettest month in southern California, and the snowiest month for California's mountains. A decent snowpack now ensures that we'll have water to drink next summer. January is almost over, and so far this month, Long Beach has received 0.17 inches of precipitation.

Monday was my birthday; it was also a day on which rain was forecast. I had plans to spend my birthday at Disneyland, and the night before, contemplated what sort of rain gear to bring: umbrella or rain jacket/rain pants? When I woke up Monday morning, I still hadn't decided. Then I opened the door, and realized the answer: neither.

A picture taken Monday morning, at Disneyland:

Dreams from the Past

This week, I've been thinking about a former church of mine. When I was there, I worked with the congregation on ways it could allow God to transform it into a congregation that would reach out to the community, especially the youth of the community, among whom there was a great need. Perhaps the changes were too much--and yes, there were some theological differences (although the majority of the congregation had no problem with that)--and soon I felt God calling me elsewhere.

Once I left, I didn't think much about my former congregation, and didn't hear much from it, other than one or two members who have kept in touch. Then one day I got an email from my former regional minister/mentor, in which he advised me to not be overly concerned with what was happening to my former congregation, that I had done all I could to help them. Which, of course, made me wonder: what was happening?

It turns out that conflict was happening, to a greater degree than I had realized. Arguments broke out, even in the middle of worship, something that I never experienced personally. Some members wanted to cut the umbilical cord, the lifeline, that connected them to the denomination, while others did not. Eventually those who wanted to cut the cord succeeded, although without any consensus.

I continue to focus on how blessed I am now to be a part of the congregation to which God has called me most recently. However, this week I had two dreams about my former congregation. In one, I was running to get to the church, urgently running, but could not run fast enough. It was as if my legs were in a slow-motion replay, or that they were moving as if I were trying to run in a swimming pool, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not get them up to speed. I could not get to the church fast enough.

In the other dream, which took place a few nights later, I had gone back to visit my former congregation, only to discover that the building was no longer there. A handful of members had gathered for worship--sitting on folding chairs on clumps of grass where the church building used to be, on a pleasantly cool, partly cloudy day. I suppose this dream reflects, at least in part, an actual comment one of the church's elders made to me once, that "if it came to having to choose between the building and the pastor, I'd take the building." In the dream, they had neither.

I pray for God's peace to come to that congregation. However, I have the sense that they're adrift at sea--and they've just cut the rope that connected them to the mother ship.

National Prayer Service

I had really wanted to watch today's National Prayer Service live on the internet, but the live stream wasn't working too well. Two hours later, I watched it, and encourage you to do so. One place where it is available is www.c-span.org.

The service includes a sermon by the General Minister and President of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Sharon Watkins.

Also, here is the text of Joseph Lowery's inaguration prayer...
And Elizabeth Alexander's poem.

A New Class

I am currently planning a baptism class ("pastor's class") for a group of young people in my congregation. Is it wrong that, as I plan, I get visions like this in my head?

"Their Jedi training is complete. I present to you the newest class of padawans..."
(cue the John Williams music...)

Still Christmas

I took advantage of the unseasonally warm weather and the new light my sister gave me for my bike, and bicycled to church for youth group. When it was over, I hopped on my bike, flipped on the light, and headed home.

I took a slight detour; one of the youth was using his skateboard to get home, so I rode with him. As we rode, we passed by a house that still had its Christmas lights up. Not only were they up, but they had them turned on. And the Christmas tree in their window was lit as well.

It's a little late for Christmas, people, I thought. I'm not one of those people who rush to take down the decorations the day after Christmas; but once Epiphany passes, it's time.

However, as I glanced over my left shoulder to gaze upon the house, I had a change of heart. Most of us seem so eager to ditch the decorations as soon as we can, and move on to whatever's next on the calendar. That's certainly what the stores do, with their shelves of Valentine's Day cards and gifts and decorations already on display. But the residents of this house--could it be that they just weren't ready yet to end their Christmas celebration? Could it be possible that they wanted to hold on to that Christmas spirit just a little longer?

And, like the Grinch, whose heart grew three sizes, I decided to see how much of the Christmas spirit I could keep with me, today, tomorrow, all year long.

Guys' Night Out

Over the years, "Guys Night Out" has evolved. When I was younger, it involved a Friday night playing basketball with my best friends. When we divided up into teams, we usually discovered that we were pretty evenly matched, since none of us were any good. And sometimes, if we wanted to really live it up, we went out for a coke and a pizza.

My most recent "Guys Night Out" was a little different. It didn't take place on a basketball court or a pizza place, but at one of the wildest, craziest places one could imagine: Toontown. And it wasn't even supposed to be a Guys' Night Out, except that my sisters had invited Ginger to a "Girls' Night Out" at Disneyland, and I graciously offered to drive her there, and our sons graciously offered to come along.

There are two things essential to a Guys (or Girls) Night Out at Disneyland. One, everyone needs to have their own ticket or annual pass. We bought our annual passes last spring, and now it's the only place we go. Our home is only 15 miles from Sleeping Beauty's Castle, and since admission to the happiest place on earth is now paid-for (until May 11), it's our destination of choice. When we think that the kids have been inside too long, watching TV, we head out to Tom Sawyer's Island. When my wife asks if we can go out for dinner, I say: "Sure! Do you want hamburgers in Fantasyland or pizza in Tomorrowland?"

The second thing that's required is a cell phone. Honestly, I don't know how families went to Disneyland before cell phones.

Because we live closest, we arrived at Disneyland before my sisters did. Driving up the ramps of the "parking garage that can be seen from space," my wife began sending Peggy, my youngest sister, text messages, asking when they would be arriving. I know that their plan was to meet up in the evening, watch Fantasmic, and do some other stuff that guys don't know and don't care about. She didn't get a response, so once we were in Disneyland itself, waiting in line for Autopia ("no, really son, you can drive; compared to the Santa Ana Freeway at rush hour, this is nothing"), she sent another text message. As we were riding, my older sister called to say that they had left home and were "on the freeway."

"You're what?" I yelled over the noise. Disneyland is a very noisy place. In fact, it's a rule that your cell phone has to be on vibrate, because you'll never hear it ring. And because it's hard to hear, text messaging is usually the preferred method of communication--except that Lisa's cell phone plan doesn't allow text messaging.

"WE'RE ON THE FREEWAY."

"ME TOO."

"WHAT?"

"NEVERMIND."

"ANYWAY, PEGGY DOESN'T HAVE HER CELL PHONE, SO DON'T TEXT HER. I'LL CALL YOU WHEN WE GET THERE." "OKAY." I wish she'd get a phone that could text. It would make communication so much easier.

After riding autopia, kid #1 wanted to ride Star Tours, while kid #2 wanted to ride the Astro Orbitor. So, we split up. "Where should we meet?" I asked Ginger.

"I'll text you when we're off the ride," she said. Of course, I thought.

She headed off to Star Tours, which rarely has a line, so I expected her and Ethan to be done first. When Tristan and I were about to board our rockets, I was surprised I hadn't received a text message from her. I sent her a message: "We are about to get on the ride." After flying our rocket in circles up to a dizzying altitude of fifteen feet, we descended, and I sent another text: "We will meet you at Space Mtn." When we arrived at the meeting location, I saw her and Ethan walking up. I said: "I'm surprised, I thought you would be done with your ride first."

"We were. We've been hanging out in the store. Didn't you get my text messages?" Just then I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate. I pulled it out. "Is it Lisa?" Ginger asked.

"No. It's your text messages." See how easy that was?

We went on Space Mountain (we just happened to be there, and just happened to have four "fastpasses" that got us through the line in about five minutes.) Then Lisa called. She and Peggy had arrived at the park, and Ginger went off to meet them.

The boys and I headed to Fantasyland. They wanted to walk through Sleeping Beauty's Castle, so we did, and as we navigated the narrow passageways and stairs, I noticed my cell phone vibrating. It was Lisa. I opened it up. "Hello?" No answer. I hung up and dialed her number. It rang, but she didn't answer. I closed it and put it in my pocket. A minute later, it vibrated again. I opened it up. "Hello?" No answer. "Can you hear me?" Nothing.

I called Ginger on her phone. "Have you found Lisa & Peggy yet?"

"Yes. Lisa says you tried to call her. What did you want?"

"I was trying to find out what she wanted. She called me."

"She was returning your call, because when she answered, she couldn't hear you."

Huh?

Ginger continued: "Well, I found her, and everything is fine."

"Okay. Have a good evening."

And then, after experiencing the "goat trick" on Big Thunder, the boys made their way to Toontown. We also tried to see Fantasmic, but it was cancelled due to strong winds.

There have been days when I've returned home from Disneyland and noticed that I've sent and received 60 text messages. And one time, I even used text messaging at Disneyland to "help save the muppets and the world." But that's a story for another time.

Waiting for a Turn on the Quad