Fire Photos

The brush fires continue to burn. The one closest to us, in Palos Verdes, seems to be under control. A number of houses were damaged, but none destroyed. However, other fires continue to burn--and threaten homes. The smoke can be easily seen from Long Beach:

And here's the view from the Harbor Freeway, heading north toward downtown L.A.:

No Pretending, No Excuses

It's time to stop pretending. Ever since I became pastor at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, I've walked or ridden my bike to the church most weekdays. This, I figured, was good for the environment, and made up for the fact that I was no longer running.

Well, there's no doubt that it is good for the environment. However, a one-mile bike ride that--at a leisurely pace--takes just five minutes, doesn't quite equal the three-mile runs I was doing before coming here.

I stopped running because where I live now--on Signal Hill's northern border with Long Beach--just isn't as pretty as where I used to run. The rice fields of the Sacramento Valley, with their flat dirt roads and calming agricultural scenery, were perfect. I'd bring the dog, and she'd chase rabbits, and I'd chase her, and all was good. But here, in the city, it's a world of hard pavement, car exhaust fumes, and too many red lights and don't walk signals. Plus, it's just not as pretty.

Well, as I say, it's time to stop pretending. It's time to stop making excuses.... A few weeks ago, I plotted out a running path that crossed the fewest major streets as possible. I was surprised to discover a 2.5 mile loop that only crosses one major street, although I do have to cross it a second time to return home. Heading south, my route goes a few blocks through a quiet, residential neighborhood with tree-lined streets. Nice. Then it leads to a bridge that crosses the busy and noisy San Diego freeway ("the 405," as we locals call it), and up to Spring Street. Busy street crossing #1.

After Spring Street, my route goes a full 1.25 miles before it crosses another street of any size. Not bad!

After plotting it all out, I grabbed my running shoes and took off. I figured that 2.5 miles would be a good run, even though I used to run 3 miles; having not run a whole lot over the past year, I didn't want to overdo it.

I headed through the residential area, crossed the freeway, and headed up the hill to Spring Street. Then it was downhill, then uphill again, to the cemetery at Willow Street. I turned left, running along the edge of the cemetery until I reached Orange Street. I turned left again, and headed up the steepest hill of the route. They call it Signal Hill for a reason, and I gave myself permission to walk this short stretch. Then, on the gradual downhill back to Spring Street (busy street crossing #2), I resumed running, and kept running all the way home, crying "wee wee wee wee."

OK, maybe I didn't cry all the way home, but I very nearly did the next day, when my leg muscles told me I should have taken it even easier for my first run, or at least done a better job stretching. It was almost a week before I ran again. I needed that time to recover.

I have run that route several times since, with little or no pain afterward. And, I have discovered a number of pleasant surprises: 1. Much of the land I run past is leased to oil companies, and aside from a number of oil wells, is largely undeveloped. Parts of it contain native and wild plants, and there's this one spot, near the crest on California Street, where the aroma of some of these plants is wonderfully intoxicating, and instantly transports me to some of the places I went camping as a kid. 2. Because the land is undeveloped, there are stretches without sidewalks where I get to run on dirt. 3. The crests of the hills afford some wonderful views. Heading south, I see the port of Long Beach and the ocean. Heading north, the San Gabriel Mountains rise up in the distance (although this week, the mountains are hidden behind a blanket of thick smoke from a large brush fire that's burning near the Bridge to Nowhere, which is unfortunate).

Of course, there are some drawbacks to running in the city. I'm limited by summer smog to running only in the morning. Even then, a passing truck or bus sometimes leaves me choking on its exhaust. Another drawback is that the dog doesn't get to come.

What motivated my return to running? A desire to stay healthy, of course. Also, a noticeable increase in anxiety; some difficulty getting a good night's sleep; and, yes, vanity. Vanity is always a motivator, is it not?

However, I'm sure that having my palm read (reluctantly) by an elderly lady on the occasion of her eleventy-first birthday a few weeks ago and being told that I had better take care of my heart had nothing to do with my return to running.

So there you are. No more pretending, no more excuses. And yes, I'm still riding my bike to church, and on Labor Day, will be participating in a 25-mile Unity Bike Ride. I welcome you to join me, or at least sponsor me as I raise money for my church and the South Coast Interfaith Council.

In the meantime, I'll be running.

Tuesday Photo: SoCal Sunset

We were already on our way when the email arrived in my inbox letting me know that this past weekend was "I love California State Parks" weekend, an event organized to help protect our state parks. The state government has announced that many state parks will be closing due to California's ongoing financial problems.

Side note: because they are, in fact, ongoing problems, an increasing number of people (including the editors of the L.A. Times) are calling for an entirely new state constitution. Sounds like a good idea to me.

I don't know if the state park we stayed at will be on the closure list. It could be that we were one of the last to enjoy watching the sun set at Point Mugu State Park's Thornhill Broome campground.

Affirmation

In my most recent sermon, I mentioned how people are hungering for "healing, wholeness, and affirmation." Healing and wholeness, I had talked about in other recent sermons, but affirmation--I'm not really sure where that came from. Things in sermons always sound better in threes, and I think I just needed a third word to follow "healing, wholeness, ..." and affirmation sounded good when I said it.

Now I can't stop thinking about it, and about how wonderful it is to be part of a community or family that affirms you for who you are. How often do we find such a place? Some people never do. I am fortunate to have grown up in a family where, even when there were arguments, even when I, as a child, was punished for something I did, I was still affirmed for who I was. My church was also a place where I was affirmed for who I was. Even though I didn't always care for the old ladies who pinched my cheeks and admired my curly hair, I have to admit, it felt good to be affirmed.

The church I'm part of now is extremely affirming. I'm their pastor, and they hold me accountable to my calling as they should, even as I try to hold them accountable to their mission. But they have yet to require me to defend myself, defend my dignity as a person, as a follower of Jesus. They have always welcomed me as a child of God ... and that feels good. It feels great! Especially since not every church I've been a part of has been so affirming.

At church, the importance of extending a warm and sincere welcome to both visitors and long-time members cannot be overstated. I've always recognized this, although there was a time when I thought of the welcome as something that needed to take place in order to get to the more important parts of the church's mission. In other words, welcoming others was a tool, a means to an end. You welcome someone so that they would feel apart of the community, which would then encourage them to help the community fulfill its mission.

But with so many people and institutions which deny the life that is within us, affirming one another is an important part of the church's mission all by itself.

I think that nowhere is this affirmation better expressed than at church camp. Teenagers, especially, are used to living in a world where they must constantly prove themselves, defend themselves, in order to fit in. It's a world of who's "in" and who's "out," and most kids aren't "in" for very long. Except at church camp.

Now, there are camps out there that have waterskiing and rockclimbing and celebrity rock stars. But the kids I know keep coming back to church camp because there, they are affirmed for who they are. There, they are recognized as children of God.

I keep going to camp as a counselor, in part because I need this reminder of what the church is called to be and do.

The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) has a new identity statement: "We are a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world. As part of the one body of Christ, we welcome all to the Lord's table as God has welcomed us." I and many others have been focusing on the first half of that statement; but the second half is important, too. Everyone needs to be welcomed. Everyone needs to be affirmed.

Tuesday Photo: Sunset at Thornhill Broome

Well, I've been posting essays on Thursdays, updates/miscellaneous articles randomly, and a picture now and then. I do have quite a few pictures that I really like, some old, some more recent, and think that perhaps I'll share one every Tuesday.

So, pictures on Tuesday, essays on Thursdays, and random updates ... randomly.

Some of the pictures will be old, some will be new. This is a picture I took last year at Thornhill Broome State Beach. I'll be heading there with my family later this week for a few days of camping. We'll be pitching our tent on the sand, and enjoying some time with cousins and other relatives.

Perhaps They Come From God

Good things in the pastor's office. Relationships are nurtured through phone calls and emails. Counseling is given. Sermons and newsletter articles are written on the office computer while--often simultaneously--facebook and twitter are kept up to date. There are often four or five windows open on the computer at any given time.

To the right of the computer, one whole wall is given over to books. Commentaries, dictionaries, Bibles, biographies... books on everything from preaching to history to psychology fill shelves that rise up almost to the ceiling. Even a few favorite novels are there.

A few books are not on the shelves, but on the large desk; books I'm in the middle of, books I've just finished, and books I've yet to start. There's also one or two books loaned to me by well-meaning parishioners with the admonition, "you must read this." There is, next to the books, a candle and a ceramic skateboard, which was a gift from my son.

(After several painful occurrances that happened while cleaning my desk, the small potted cactus has been moved to the windowsill.)

Across the room are hymnals used for worship planning, a box of promotional items for this fall's boy scout popcorn fundraiser (wanna buy some popcorn?), a lava lamp that needs a new bulb, a guitar, the bike I rode to work, and a crate of supplies that I took to camp but haven't yet unpacked even though it's been over a month.

Many of these things call out to me. Some represent tasks that need to be done. Others distract my thoughts from whatever they had been focusing on. Is it any wonder that, every so often, I need to get out of the office for inspiration to come?

About once a week, I'll take a pen or pencil and some paper and head to the coffee shop; not even the laptop gets to go. There, I'll spend several hours writing a sermon, a newsletter article, or a blog post. The only distraction is my cup of green tea--hot in winter, iced in summer--which really isn't much of a distraction at all.

Sometimes, inspiration comes as I walk. That's one piece of advice they never give you in preaching class: go for a walk. One could also go for a drive with the radio off, but here in southern California, the roadways aren't often conducive to quiet, undistracted reflection. Besides, shelling out money for gas and polluting the atmosphere isn't very holy.

One final source of inspiration is the nap. As one lets go of consciousness, one also lets go of distractions. The mind begins to wander, dream, sometimes even before the body is fully asleep. Sometimes those dreams are history: events from the past mixing with the present in a strange warping of the time-space continuum. Sometimes those dreams are fantasy. I won't say anymore about that, except that you have yours, and I have mine.

Sometimes, those dreams and thoughts are pulled in new directions, pulled into unchartered territory; and in those new lands, new thoughts emerge. What agent is it that pulls the subconscious and semi-conscious? The landscape is so new and unfamiliar, nothing in your conscious living could have led you there. From where did these thoughts, ideas, and images come?

Perhaps they come from God.

More on Health Care Reform

Sojourners just published a guide to the health care reform, which dispels many of the myths and rumors surrounding the debate. As opposed to the many circulating emails with no author and no citations to back up their misleading statements, the guide presents the facts.

Some of the myths that are outright lies include claims that families would be forced to get approval from a government panel before receiving health care, or that the elderly would be left to die. These are false claims intended to create fear among Americans. The truth is that we have a moral obligation to care for our neighbors, and health care is an important way we can do that.

Get all the facts here.

A Sermon to Share

I have a separate blog on which I post my sermons. I do so mainly for my own benefit; it beats having to file them all in a file cabinet.

However, I thought you might be interested in today's sermon, in which I talk about my experience at the General Assembly, including the prayer vigil for health care reform I attended (along with 600 others). I also tell a story about a ten year-old girl I met, who was selling candy bars so she could pay for her own health care.

If you're interested, the sermon can be found here.

Press-Telegram Sucks

There, I did it. I stopped thinking about using that as a title for a post, and actually did it.

Last week, a friend of mine told me that, despite her repeated attempts to have the Press-Telegram stop delivering the paper to her house, the paper was still coming. She refused to pay for a paper she didn't want, and was then sent a collections notice.

I figured that I had won my own battle (chronicled here, here, and here), since we had stopped receiving the paper. However, today our own collections notice came.

It would be easy to just pay the $22 and be done with it. However, I can't seem to let this rest. According to the notice, I have thirty days to dispute this notice in writing.

You'd think that a newspaper that is struggling as it is would treat its customers better. Friendly service might even have persuaded me to resubscribe, at least on the weekends, if not daily. But I will certainly not give money to a company that has such poor customer service. (Are you listening, Press-Telegram? That's some free advice for you, from me.)

If you have a similar story, please comment. (If you are reading this as a facebook note, go to www.fieldofdandelions.com to comment.)

Growing Up

The plane flew over the camp as it began its descent. I waved out the window. I don't think he saw me.

The last time I saw Ethan was before I left for the General Assembly in Indianapolis. Two days before I left, we celebrated his 12th birthday. Two days before that, his doctor had said to me: "he's entered puberty."

When I pick him up from camp on Saturday, it will have been almost two weeks since I saw him last.

The General Assembly takes place every two years. My church sent me, the pastor, but neither the church nor I had enough money for my family to come along. All week long, I kept thinking that if we start saving now, the whole family will be able to go next time. After all, lots of families go to the Assembly. This year's assembly had over 600 youth in attendance.

Then it hit me: at the next General Assembly, Ethan will be old enough for the high school activities. High school!

When I pick him up on Saturday, I wonder if I will recognize him. Surely two weeks is too short a time for a voice to change, or a growth spurt to occur, or facial hair to sprout. Right? Then again, wasn't it just two weeks ago that he started kindergarten?

Saturday can't get here soon enough.

Health Care Reform: Fact and Fiction

I can't seem to stop thinking about the prayer vigil for health care reform that took place at the General Assembly. Actually, it's hard not to think about health care reform these days, since the issue is so prominent in the news right now. Unfortunately, so much of what is passed off as "news" these days actually consists of lies and rumors.

The God's Politics blog has been sorting out myth from fact on this issue, as it does on so many other issues of concern to people of faith. Many articles there discuss health care reform, and you can read them here.

Also, in case you missed it when I posted it before, here's a link to General Minister Sharon Watkins' letter to the church on health care.

General Assembly Reflections

I did not find many opportunities to blog at the Assembly. I was up every night past midnight as it was. Now, I am at home, having ended my time by enjoying yesterday's closing concert, and going out to dinner at a restaurant that had "So Cal Fish Tacos" ... but no churros.
I was impressed that this year's Assembly, with its theme of "For the Healing of the Nations," really encouraged participants to do God's work beyond our church (and convention center) walls. In fact, the Assembly itself modeled this. On Saturday night, there was an interfaith prayer vigil following the evening's worship. General Assembly participants were joined by a diverse group of religious leaders from the community to pray for a solution to this country's problematic and unjust health care system.

Then on Sunday afternoon, the Assembly concluded with a closing concert and communion service to which the whole community was invited. I don't know how successful the effort to welcome the surrounding community was, but I appreciated the model this presented as a way for us to be more welcoming churches in our own communities.
There was an effort this year to be a "green" assembly, which included sending out information on a CD format instead of the usual paper docket. Unfortunately, this resulted in a lot of people not knowing what was going on--and announcements during the assembly were few and far between. It was a good first attempt to use less paper, and I'm sure future assemblies will improve in this area.
Highlights for me included Sharon Watkins' State of the Church address, as well as her sermon during Friday night's worship. (I hope that the State of the Church video is made available online or through DVDs!) The music was spectacular, although I particularly enjoyed the band ImPerfect, a group of youth, several of whom I've counseled at summer camp.
Finally, one thing new about this assembly for me was tweeting. Tweeters were active at the assembly, posting over 1,000 tweets (which can be found on twitter by using the #ccdoc hashtag). I haven't yet figured how tweeting can benefit ministry, but at times tweeting and reading tweets during business sessions felt like a high-tech version of passing notes in class: fun, in a somewhat irreverent and subversive way. At least it kept the business sessions from being too boring!
News from this year's General Assembly can be found at the DisciplesWorld website. Videos from the worship services are available at the General Assembly website. The next General Assembly will take place in summer, 2011, in Nashville, Tennessee.
Update: I just noticed that I (or rather, my "twitter identity") got mentioned in this article about tweeting at the assembly...