Newspaper Update

1. Someone last week viewed my blog after doing a search for "Press-Telegram Sucks." FieldofDandelions.com is the #1 return for such searches.

2. We received the paper again this past Sunday.

To know what this is all about, read this post and this one.

Evening on the Patio

I am pretty sure that, when it comes to doing new things in ministry, one has to try about ten different things in order to find one that works. In other words, nine out of ten events that one plans fail.

But that tenth one seems to make it all worthwhile.

I had an idea which began at my last church: have an informal evening of outdoor music at the church. My previous church had this huge porch that would have made a great stage, with a lawn in front of it perfect for blankets and lawn chairs. I often thought that it would be a great venue for a community gathering of music. Unfortunately, I was never able to implement my plan there.

When I arrived at Bixby Knolls Christian Church a little over a year ago, one of the first things I noticed was a wonderful courtyard patio, which also seemed like a great place for evening events in the summer. Last night, thanks to the help and encouragement of so many people, we had our first "Evening on the Patio." 46 people showed up to enjoy fellowship, coffee and dessert, and (most of all) to hear Michael Morton play his flute.

We have two more "Evenings on the Patio" planned for this summer. We're currently looking for musicians who might want to come play for us.

More photos of Evening on the Patio are in my photo album.

Ministry and the Internet (With a Little More Press-Telegram Bashing)

Perhaps I should start off by explaining that there was more to my previous post about my frustration with the Long Beach Press-Telegram than meets the eye. Last week I went to the library (how very old-school of me) and checked out the book What Would Google Do? by Jeff Jarvis. A few years back, Jarvis wrote on his blog about his problems with a new Dell computer he'd bought, and Dell's failure to deliver the customer service it had promised him. Dell initially ignored his post, but thousands of other disgruntled Dell customers did not, and they rallied around Jarvis, eventually forming a sort of anti-Dell movement online. Dell eventually refunded Jarvis the cost of his computer, and has since greatly improved their customer service. Dell has also stopped ignoring online conversations about its products, and has joined those conversations instead.

Jarvis titled his post, "Dell Sucks," because (as he puts it in his book), "if you search Google for any brand followed by the word 'sucks,' you will find the Consumer Reports of the people." I had thought about titling my post "The Press-Telegram Sucks," to make it easier for others who may want to share my misery to find. It wouldn't be the first time such a title has appeared on this blog. (Type "Verizon sucks" into the search box at the top of the page to know more about that.)

Perhaps I should have titled it "The Press-Telegram Sucks," but I didn't. I didn't want to sound too "juvenile." Of course, now that I've used that phrase twice in this post, any searches for "The Press-Telegram Sucks" will direct to this post, not that other one. (Oops, that's three times.) Well, if that's what brought you here, I'd love to hear your comments.

Really, though, this is an experiment for me, as I learn more about how the internet works, as well as the readership of my blog. When I began this blog four and a half years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. For the most part, I still don't. Originally, this blog was about me, for me. I didn't expect many people to be interested in what I had to say. I even doubted my own interest in it, and am surprised I've kept it up this long.

I know that this is still a very small blog. A couple dozen people read what's here in any given week, plus some others who read it via my facebook page, where it is cross-posted. In some ways, the blog is still for me, as it continues to help me learn about information technology and the internet. But in other ways, it's become very public. I've enjoyed watching it evolve.

One of the things I've learned is that a blog can open up a conversation that is two-way. This week, I have press releases appearing in local newspapers about some church events happening this summer, and today and tomorrow I'll be hanging door knob flyers advertising our upcoming Vacation Bible School. Those are examples of information travelling one way. But one-way conversations aren't always effective or even appreciated. (Take my ongoing, one-way conversation with the Press-Telegram, for example.)

The internet, on the other hand, allows for two-way conversation. On Facebook, folks are talking about our church's upcoming "Evening on the Patio" event (it's this Sunday at 6:30, and includes Michael Morton playing the flute), and that conversation is generating more interest than any other publicity we've done. We may have some folks show up after all, despite the fact that it seems that half of our members are out of town this week.

Obviously, I'm still learning. I'm twittering now, as you can see from the right-hand column. I'm still figuring out the value of twitter, and how to make the most use of it. I expect twittering to be an interesting part of next month's General Assembly, and I'm looking forward to experiencing that.

However, I have a thirst for knowledge and understanding when it comes to how churches like mine can use modern information technology to their advantage. I'm hoping that there will be workshops, resource groups, and/or exhibitors at the General Assembly that will focus on helping churches do that.

Father's Day

I suppose some people, when they think of fathers and Father's Day, they think of golf. However, the only golfer in our family is my seven year-old son.

When asked what I wanted to do for Father's Day, I replied that I wanted to walk on a trail by the beach. It just so happens that, nearby, there is a trail that passes through an exclusive Trump National Golf Course. On our way down to the sea, my son tested out the putting green. He'll have to wait to play the course, though; the $400 fee will take some saving up.

Another Reason the Press-Telegram is in Trouble

The Long Beach Press-Telegram is the major daily newspaper in Long Beach. Like most major newspapers, the Press-Telegram is struggling, although it seems to be struggling even more than most. It has greatly reduced its staff, including laying off many of its reporters. Plus, MediaNews Group, which owns the Press-Telegram, has announced that it plans to start charging for access to online content, to help its sagging finances.

Last year, shortly after we moved to the Long Beach area, a kid selling newspaper subscriptions as a fund-raiser knocked on our door, and we signed up for daily delivery. After several months (and at least one renewal), we decided to stop our subscription. I called the paper and spoke to a representative, who said she would stop our paper and send out a "final bill." A few days later, the bill arrived. It was around five dollars. On March 9, 2009, I paid the bill, and figured that was that.

Strangely, the paper kept coming, but only on Sundays. After a few weeks, I called the Press-Telegram and asked them to stop delivering the paper; the customer service representative said that our account had been closed, and that we shouldn't be receiving the paper, but that she'd make a note and inform the delivery person just in case.

But the Sunday papers kept coming.

I called again. This time, after about fifteen minutes of confusion, the customer service representative figured out that, for some reason, we were listed under two different account numbers, one of which was still active. I said I didn't know why there were two account numbers for the same address, and explained to her that I had cancelled my subscription and had paid my "final payment." She promised that she would take care of things.

But the Sunday papers kept coming.

A few weeks after that, I got a bill in the mail. This time, instead of calling, I wrote a note, and mailed it to the billing address, explaining that I had cancelled our subscription and had paid the "final payment," and therefore we should not be receiving any papers, nor getting billed for papers we did not want. I also mentioned in that note that I was told previously that there were two different account numbers, and that all accounts for my address should be closed.

But the Sunday papers kept coming.

Today, I received a new notice: "We are unable to continue your subscription to the Long Beach Press-Telegram due to non-payment. Your account is past due by $20.25. Please remit payment within ten days. If you have any questions, or if we did not meet your expectations, please contact customer service."

It doesn't seem right to make a second "final payment," especially since it's for papers that we did not want. I am tempted, though, to pay it just to be done with it all. (I'm also considering sending a copy of this blog post as a letter to the editor; surely the editor of a dying newspaper would want to know how his company's own customer service is upsetting its readers.)

One thing I do know: we won't be resubscribing, and we won't pay for any online content, should the Press-Telegram follow through on its plans to charge.

It's such a difficult time for newspapers. Now, more than ever, it is essential to build good relationships with customers and potential customers. In this, the Press-Telegram has failed.

The Mystery of Camp

I was working on my sermon for Sunday, when the idea came to me to include a story from my childhood which I think will help illustrate my topic.

I was in grade school at the time. The story involves a time when my family drove up to Santa Maria to visit some relatives that had just moved there. After driving for about three hours, we saw the sign that said "Santa Maria, next eight exits." It was at that point that my parents realized that the piece of paper that had the directions, map, and phone number to my relatives' new home was still on our refrigerator door, where my parents had posted it so that they wouldn't forget it.

Without any of this contact information, my parents didn't know what to do. However, I had noticed the map as I took out some milk to pour over my Cheerios. The map was still in my mind as we entered Santa Maria. I told my parents where to go, and we arrived at my relatives' house without getting lost.

If only I could remember things like people's names, which would be really helpful for me as a pastor.

But that's just the way my mind works. Sometimes I wonder if I have a mild form of Asperger's. I'm currently reading a book by Daniel Tammet, a man with Asperger's. It's the second book of his that I've read. In his first book, he wrote about how he "sees" numbers in color, and how sometimes different numbers have their own personality. I remember thinking, "Well, doesn't everyone see numbers in color?"

I asked my wife if she saw numbers in color, and she looked at me funny and said, "What are you talking about?" That was my introduction to synesthesia.

Anyway, last Sunday evening I attended a meeting of some of the counselors who I'll be working with when I counsel a week of church camp, which takes place a few weeks from now. I love church camp, but I hate these types of meetings, because meeting new people is always difficult for me. Plus, there's a certain informal craziness to camp, but a meeting isn't quite camp; it's a gathering of church folks who are preparing for camp. This leaves me wondering what the proper behavior and attitude is: the fun informality of camp, or a somewhat more reserved manner appropriate to church gatherings?

I came home from the meeting feeling exhausted. I'm also an introvert, and a morning of church, followed by an evening among people I didn't know, wiped me out.

I don't really understand why I feel called to counsel camp. I also don't understand how it doesn't wear me out the way gatherings of people usually do. I actually become more energized at camp. I suspect that people who meet me might wonder how I could possibly have enough enthusiasm to counsel kids at camp, but the truth is, as part of a camp staff, I thrive. No doubt, there's some sort of mystery to it.

At the end of the meeting, things felt awkward. I'm sure it was just me. Fortunately, I have the experience to know that at camp, that awkwardness will somehow disappear. All the weeks of camp counseling and directing that I've done add up to 52 weeks of my life. That's one full year of my life, spent counseling kids at camp. So I know that the awkwardness will disappear. I know that camp will be great. I know that young people will have their lives changed by the power of the Spirit, as we live, work, study, and play together at church camp.

Bridge to Nowhere

It was built in 1936: a road up the San Gabriel River, including a magnificent bridge crossing a deep, narrow part of the canyon.

The following year, floodwaters washed the road away.

But the bridge remains, accessible only by a four mile hike. The bridge is not completely useless; it is now one of the few spots in southern California (maybe the only? I don't know) where you can bungee jump. As you hike up the canyon, be sure to keep an eye out for wild sheep.

Today, a cool, drizzly day in southern California, David and I hiked to the bridge to nowhere. More pictures are in my photo album.

Looking Around the World

I have a new t-shirt. It has an image on it of one wing--just one. Half of a dove.

Across the world, there is a youth wearing a t-shirt with the other half of the image. If we were together and stood side-by-side, you'd see the whole dove.

Often, I feel isolated in the sense that what I do has very little affect on people I never see, and vice versa. Then I am reminded that this is not the case.

Last week at church, Nancy Fowler, who was an interim before I arrived, shared a presentation on Palestine. I'd heard the story before, when I was a student at Chapman University and took a class on "Peace and Conflict in the Middle East;" and also, when I heard Elias Chacour, a Palestinian priest, speak at the Earl Lectures in Berkeley some eight or nine years ago.

But that was, well, eight or nine years ago. It's easy to forget.

Whether I forget or remember, money from my taxes is flowing into the middle east in general, and to Israel in particular. Israel has tons of support, money, and power. And Israel is using it.

Nancy Fowler showed a map of Israel and Palestine at several points in history. The map was startling, as it showed how much territory Israel has taken over in the past 60 years. The Palestinians are forced to live in crowded villages, some of which are surrounded by walls and fences and feel very much like prisons. (One of the books Nancy had showed a similar map of the United States, with the decreasing amount of Native American land.)

What is often heard in the news about Palestine is so often only one side of the story.

I'm not sure how to talk about this in a way that is eloquent, and I don't know what the answers are. I know that many will disagree with the implications of what I've written, and all I can say is, look at the map. The map does not lie. Unless things change, the Palestinians will soon be eradicated.

The person who wears the t-shirt with the other half of my t-shirt's image is not in Palestine. That person is in the Congo, and was once a child soldier. When I bought it, I was told:

There is a saying in eastern Congo: 'qui veut la paix prepare la guerre' (whowants peace prepares for war). This mantra represents the thinking that has fueled the violence that has enslaved children to fight in a war they should never be fighting in. Our Congolese friend Francois proclaims instead: 'qui veutla mort prepare la guerre mais qui veut la paix offre le pardon' (who wants death prepares for war, but who wants peace offers forgiveness).

There are child soldiers in the Congo. There are oppressed children in Palestine. I don't know much about either. I need to know more.

Learn more about my t-shirt and child soldiers.

Learn more about Palestine.

Palestine Blog

Nancy Fowler, who spent three months at Bixby Knolls Christian Church as interim pastor before I arrived, gave a presentation about the situation in Palestine yesterday afternoon, following worship. A number of BKCC members attended, as well as some folks from other area congregations.

I'm thinking I'll write about this, and share my thoughts on Thursday. However, inspired by yesterday's presentation, I did a quick search for blogs from Palestine, and so far I found one that has some wonderful and informative stories: Read "Ordinary People" here.

Rock Wall

At today's "Scout-o-rama," Ethan climbs the rock wall before sailing down the zip line. I never would have guessed that this would be the type of thing he'd find fun; usually he's hesitant when it comes to new & daring activities. But like my younger son's interest in golf (where did that come from?), it's a surprise that I welcome.

Rancho Los Cerritos

We went searching for the rumored munchkin homes in Bixby Knolls, a legend that may in fact have some basis in fact, but instead we ended up at Rancho Los Cerritos, a historic adobe house with beautiful gardens. Actually, I've been wanting to go to Rancho Los Cerritos for some time, and today it finally happened.

Rancho Los Cerritos website

Encounter With Jesus

I had a strange thought come to me the other day. Before I tell you what it was, though, I should mention that God has not been very personal for me. Some people talk about Jesus as if he was their best friend, a buddy whom they hang out with. Some people really do walk and talk with God, like in The Shack. They often pray directly to Jesus, which I never do, although I suppose it's okay since Jesus and God are one.

I think part of it has to do with my seminary training, which taught me well how to study God and talk about God, but not so much how to have a relationship with God that is personal and intimate. And part of it is my own reflections and my own experiences, which have led me to think of God as more like the Force in Star Wars than a person.

The strange thought came to me as I was sitting in the chair by the window, where I often read my Bible and pray in the morning before anyone else is awake. (Well, except for the neighbor who's always up early, warming up his full-size pickup for twenty minutes in his driveway right outside my window.) There are actually two chairs by this window, and the other day, when I looked at the empty chair, I wondered what it would be like if Jesus came in and sat down there.

I imagine that, first of all, I would be startled to have my present yet impersonal God appear in such a personal, tangible way. I'm pretty sure that, at first, I wouldn't know what to say. This, despite the fact that I do pray to God often. So probably, Jesus would speak first: "Good morning."

"Um... Good morning."

Silence...

"You could offer me a glass of water ... or a beer."

"Um, yeah. Okay. I'll get you some water, we don't have any beer."

"Look again."

It would probably take awhile to get past the awkwardness, but I don't think Jesus would mind. In fact, he'd probably chuckle. After all, he would know--he does know--how socially awkward I am at times.

I imagine that I would ask Jesus to talk to me, to teach me, but that Jesus would instead ask me to talk to him, to tell him what's been going on with me. "What's your story," he'd say to me. I'd tell him, and he'd respond by confirming what I say, or simply raising one eyebrow, if he could tell I was holding something back. I'd realize that he already knew everything I was telling him, and yet he would keep encouraging me to talk, and I'd keep talking to him, because it would feel good to talk. Somehow, he'd even get me to talk about the stuff that I would want to hold back; and I'd be surprised, because one, I'd find it hard to believe I was spilling my guts so openly, and two, I'd find his lack of judgment so refreshing and liberating.

Eventually, being a seminary-trained pastor, I'd ask Jesus questions about christology. "Did my professors get it right?" I'd wonder. However, I think Jesus would dismiss the question, insisting that there are more important things to be concerned with. He'd continue asking me about me, and I'd continue to talk. And somehow, even though he wouldn't say a whole lot, I'd become aware of the life that I have through him, and the gift he gave me.

I'm not sure where the conversation would end up, but when Jesus would get up to leave, I'd realize that most of my questions were still unanswered; especially the questions about christology. But I'd be okay with that. Having had this personal encounter with Jesus, I'd be more convinced than ever of my role in life, my calling, and I'd know that I could live and even celebrate the questions.