Throw a Flag on That!

If you have read any of my blogs you know what a fan I am of proper planning.  I am also a huge fan of planning gone bad, with good intentions, but just for a good laugh.  It happens every day.  Yesterday as I was filling my car with gas I noticed a sign above the pump that says Americans waste 700,000 gallons of gas every year because of under-inflated tires. The sign goes on to say that in response to this crisis Exxon/Mobil has developed a product to put into tires to prolong the life of the tire pressure.  I have many issues with this. First of all, the company that sells the gas is telling us they are trying to get us to use less.  There is the first flag.  Not a good business plan, but someone was smart. They figure what better way to help us than to offer another product we can buy from them that will help to save us from buying less of the product we are already buying.  Follow me so far? Probably not. Right about now you are probably thinking this is way too much ranting and not enough interesting which equals boring. I agree. So really as I saw the sign about wasting gas because tire pressure is too low I immediately looked at my tires.  Then I looked around the pump. It seems years ago gas stations had air lines right there at the pump to keep your tires full.  I wonder who made that decision to take the free air away from the pumps, leaving us with under-inflated tires to buy more gas.  Some stations have moved the air next to the vacuum, and for .75 if you act as fast as a NASCAR pit crew you can fill all your tires before the money runs out. Throw a flag on that.
But speaking of flags, we recently put up a flag pole, complete with an American flag on our church property.  A bunch of well-intended veterans pushed for this, and being a veteran myself, I wound up on the committee to make it happen.  My favorite suggestion during those meetings came from one of our more vocal military retiree parishioners.  While discussing the "ceremony" which was to take place on the sunday following Veteran's day, he wondered who we could get to play taps while they put the flag up.  A real bugle player? One of our band members?  I was staying away from this one until they looked at me, the music director, and asked "can you arrange for someone to play taps?"  I looked at all the 20+ years of service to our country people sitting with me and thought, I am thankful for their service and dedication, but didn't you ever go to a flag raising? "Taps is for funerals and taking the flag down at night" I said.  "Maybe even Memorial Day, but as sure as John McCain won't come to our ceremony," (yes that was another suggestion...to ask him by email to come), "we won't be playing taps to put a flag up."  I didn't ask for a moment of silence, but it was a nice touch. As a mere 8 year veteran of the Navy, I suddenly felt like a 30 year military hero in front of these well-intended retired heroes.
The flag went up on Veteran's Day, so it was there already raised for that Sunday. We said a short blessing from the prayer book after our normal services.  We ate lunch.  Everyone was happy.

That's Even More Alarming!

Of the many things I have done, one I am very proud of is my service in the Navy. I am sure you are familiar with the term "cuss like a sailor".  Well let's just say I have those tools in my belt, but I just choose not to use them on a daily basis. And yet, every now and then when I reach for a pair of pliers I grab the wire cutters.  Such was the case last week as I was trying to sight-sing a part for our Christmas Cantata. That means I had not rehearsed the part but was reading the music and trying to sing based on my reading.  Our Bass singers were having a difficult time hearing their part so I decided to sing their part on a CD so they could study it. With great technology I can fix all my mistakes so I sang the entire piece then went back to fix bad notes. I did this upstairs in the production room at church. A quiet small room with a microphone, headphones, and the music in front of me. Frustration set it as a couple lines were a bit out of my range but I plowed through with several takes of the same sentence.

If a tree falls and nobody is there to hear it....Oh yes it makes the noise.   I figure I am in my own little world recording.  Here is an approximate transcript of a few parts. Sung: "O come, O come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel".  Mumbled: "oh dammit, ugh, crap...alright this time I will get it..." 

As you can see, I have removed all the tools from my belt that can hurt someone. All that is left are a few common sharp objects, nothing alarming in every day usage, but when a church music director uses them; well, I was a sailor again.  On this particular day, our fire alarm installers were working throughout the building. No big deal, I am in the production room on headphones. On a break I hear our assistant Pastor say to me; "The alarm guys like your version of those songs, especially the cussing." That's right. The speakers were on downstairs very loud, blaring my singing and mumbling for all to hear.

That pastor always signs his emails "with grace and certain hope." In this time of holiday cheer, there is great hope.  I hope God smiles at my stories. I hope His grace for the human race extends to me.  With grace and certain hope!

Herbie Doesn't Like to Make Toys!

One of my favorite Christmas memories is watching Rudolph back in the day when our only choice was to see specials like that on regular television. Now we have DVDs and on-demand programming and I can watch Rudolph any time of the year. I think this is both good and bad. It kind of takes the "special" out of the show, but network stations probably did that years ago when they began to air Rudolph a week after Thanksgiving.
Anyway, lately I have been feeling a lot like Herbie, the guy who is making toys with the elves but really wants to be a dentist. I don't really want to be a dentist, but sometimes I feel like I could wind up on the island of misfit church workers.  Take for instance this blog.  I am sure that many people probably judge me for writing about situations that should be kept in those places we ask God's forgiveness for in private.  I always ask the questions in a Bible study that get glances with expressions my parents would make when I embarrassed them.  For example, in a recent reading of Isaiah, "a voice cries in the wilderness make straight in the desert a highway for the Lord".  So how did that guy Isaiah know what a highway is?  I mean, I know he was a prophet, but really?  Ok, so before I get more of those looks from the people reading this, you have to understand I know it is a translation. I get that.  My question is not actually how did he know about highways.  I am really asking the person who decided to create this translation; A Highway? Years of education in linguistics and that is the best you could come up with?  When everyone else takes those words at face value, I am distracted by details.  I listened as John the Baptist sent his disciples to Jesus to ask him if He was the one. Jesus replies to them, "go and tell John what you have seen".  And then they go.  Everyone seems okay with this. I couldn't help but think if I were one of those guys I would have said to Jesus, "Ok, we will go back and tell him what we have seen, but are you the One? We came all this way to ask that question and I am pretty sure John will want to know."
I can relate to Herbie. Herbie always looked at toy-making a bit different.  Why not fix the doll's teeth?  It can be a good doll and have good teeth.

Well That's Alarming

During the holidays there are many things that happen at a church.  This is one that has happened over the course of many months, unrelated to the holidays. 
The fire marshall has been hard at work in our church.  Well, hard at work is really a metaphor, or really not a metaphor but what I mean is he doesn't actually work hard. He spends time trying to make his job seem useful. He write reports and has to justify his existence to the county by bringing local businesses up to code.  Churches make good targets for this sort of thing. We never want to offend anyone and of course we want to be in compliance with anything the general public would have to comply with, except taxes of course.
During a recent inspection it finally became obvious that in our 25 years of existing in this location, we did not have a voice evacuation system. Now I have to be honest, I had no idea what this was or that anyone actually had one, but all of a sudden we needed this. Not like when you go to get your oil changed and the guy tells you your car needs new winshield wipers. This is code.  Now of course the exact code details are a bit fuzzy. Kind of an oxymoron to say fuzzy details. Semi-related side bar: I was at a grocery store this week and saw a bag of "giant popcorn shrimp"...enough said there.
So we had a consulting company come to give an estimate. $20,000 to install this voice evacuation system in our sanctuary. Wow. Now we are interested in details. What the heck is this sytem and why do we need it today?
First part. Apparently the strobe lights and loud buzzing alarm are not enough of a warning to get people out of a burning building. Neither is the rushing mass of people exiting the building on instinct. This has to be accompanied by a loud voice instructing people to leave the building. Really? I asked the inspector the obvious question. Are you telling me that when the church is on fire and everyone is leaving because the recently updated sprinkler system is spraying water over the people holding their ears for the recently updated loud fire alarm buzzing and recently added strobe lights directing them to our new and improved GREEN fire EXIT signs, some people will remain seated until a voice asks them to leave? They wouldn't think to follow the other people out or listen to other people telling them to go. "No thanks, I am waiting for the loud official voice to tell me to go." (I hope you noticed all the "recently added" items I listed. That fire marshall has done great work here at the church.)
Well our story doesn't end here. I really thought there must be some common sense in this procedure. We have a great PA system already in place. What if I, or anyone really, yells over a microphone the instruction for people to leave. Certainly since every sunday people complain about the volume of our music, the system must have the decibel levels to get everyone out. Well, that got us a test. In comes the inspector with a decibel meter and piece of paper to write his readings. I got to shout "get out of the building" over our super-loud PA until people's ears were sore. The inspector told me we may or may not be loud enough in the bathrooms, but other rooms seemed alright.  Then came the final question. "Do you have a battery back-up system?" "Yes" I replied. "On the whole PA system?" "Yes again", I said proudly, with the knowledge our system is well protected and safe from the common summer power outages. "How long is the battery back-up good for?" "At least 3 hours", I replied. Well, the code requires 24 hour back-up.  I was speechless...but only for a few seconds. "How long do you think the building will be standing after a fire starts?" I asked. Why would anyone need a 24 hour back-up on a system that starts when the building is on fire? And here come the supposes....suppose there is a hurricane. Yes? And suppose power is knocked out in the area. Yes? Well then you are in the building with no power, no battery back-up, and a fire starts.  "Ok, so why would anyone meet at a building that had no power and just how would that fire start?" was my last question. "Well you are a church, and people come to church. And I can see that you use candles."
We spent the $20,000.

I Did It My Way

You know, working as a musician at a church comes with it's wonderful tasks, like playing music for an Ordination service or a wedding.  It also comes with obligatory duties like playing music at a funeral for someone you didn't know.  Normally I participate with full attention to every detail as if they were a family member.  Most of the services I do for people I don't know are a close relative of a parishioner. But every now and again, there is an exception to the rule. A person who comes to our church in despair and wants a service for their recently deceased loved one, to which we normally acquiesce.
In this particular case, the person who came to us had one time attended our church several years ago and thought it was nice. She went so far as to say the music at our church was by far the best she had heard in many years. Great. It really made me wonder if she thought our church was so great and the music was great, why had she not returned? I guess we all get busy on the weekends, and we probably mean to come to church.
I was asked to play a few songs, mostly hymns, as usual. People who have not been in a church in many years think this is the only music the church has, or it is the only church music they are familiar with.  Then I was told a young man would come play a song as well. Ok.
The day of the funeral is at hand, the church begins to fill with people I have never met. The young man who is to sing a song at the time of the start of the service is a no-show.  As the service gets underway, I see him arrive with his friends. He has an electric guitar and amp. He carries it to the front of the church and sets it down. Then he sits down without setting anything up.
Flashback. Right before the service started the woman approached me and the Pastor and wanted to make sure we would handle all the "religious stuff".  It was here I realized they really had no hope for the service they asked for. Despite the fact the young man, who I let use my acoustic guitar to save time, played a very strange version of "Let it Be" using a harmonica attached to his neck like a not-so-talented Bob Dylan. There was no hope for good music. There was no hope for any of them participating in the service.  Can I get an Amen? Uh, that would be a NO.
The service ended with a great song. Elvis Presley singing "I Did it My Way".  I looked over at my Pastor who was staring down at his Bible, probably praying the song would end soon.
Not exactly what the church has in store for us is what I thought. If you really did it your way, what hope is there to meet God in your finest moment and have Him say "Well Done!" Why do people who never trusted God in their living years come to a church when it is over? I really wanted to ask them why they felt it was important to have a church service, but figured it wouldn't help anyone. Hopefully God has grace for the human race, but I sure wont be taunting Him when I meet Him by saying I did it MY way.

An Offer I Can't Refuse

I spent the last week working with some missionaries from around the world.  There is a missions organization whose goal is to see the heart of Jesus in the skin of every culture. Ok. I am on board with that. The way they accomplish this is really a great idea. Instead of sending Americans everywhere to be the only missionaries, they recruit from other countries to visit neighboring countries. For example, they train people in Kenya, Africa to visit people in Uganda, Africa. There goes my summer vacation (I mean missions trip) to Africa.  At one event this past week the Asian director stood before the people to tell what he does. This is a kind man from Korea who probably thought he would honor our culture by giving credit to missionaries of the past. He started by showing a picture of a British missionary that came to Korea many years ago, then he showed his grave site in Korea to tell us he is buried there. Yes, honored by the Koreans. Then he showed us a young woman in her early twenties who lived only 9 months in Korea before being killed, and showed us her grave site as well.
Oh yes, there is a trend. Next we saw the graves of many missionary children that died in Korea, and pictures of their private cemetery.  He followed all this with a request. "We need more missionaries from America to come to Korea."
The funny part is that everyone I talked to actually caught his intent of honoring past missionaries. I guess I was the only one who thought "What the heck happened to all those other guys that we sent to you? They didn't fare so well did they? Why would I want my tombstone to be in your next slide show?" I thought his presentation would have been better if he had said, "come to Asia, we have good food" and showed pictures of cuddly panda bears instead.

Rules We Never Live By

Well it's football season again. I really do like football and have season tickets to UCF. I feel I have a pretty good understanding of the game and the rules. We even have a bunch of guys running around enforcing these rules. Guys we can clearly identify by their uniform, and they even have a card issued by the league that says they met all the qualifications to enforce the rules. Now in these modern times we have instant replay to ensure the ruling is accurate. As I watched another game, I wondered, who enforces our rules, the rules of Christians? It seems we have a rule book, but just like in football there are many leagues. Canada has a league, but when we host the NFL Superbowl, the winner is called the "world champion", even though it's just teams from the U.S. And within each league there are different teams. The teams wear different uniforms and from watching college football, I can tell you they are funded differently as well.  When the University of Texas came to UCF, they had state-of-the-art wireless radios in the helmets, a fancy cooling system that plugged into the pads of the players, and really nice looking benches for their players to sit. Last week when the University of South Dakota came, they had a couple students handing cups of water to players on folding chairs as the coaches yelled from the sidelines. I think the Catholic church is a lot like Texas, and the Anglican Mission is like South Dakota, but we want to be like Texas, we just don't have the money.
So who enforces our rule book? The Anglican church has additional rules outside the Bible, particular to the Anglican church. These 39 articles are helpful to explain the rules we already have. I am curious about some of the rules. What about women wearing hats in church? Who said it was okay not to? Don't get mad at me for asking, it's in the Bible. I am just wondering who decided that particular rule doesn't count.
Its no different than that stupid rule in football...you know the one. If the quarterback is about to get tackled and he throws the ball away to avoid losing yards, he is subject to the penalty of "Intentional grounding". Just the name of the penalty says it all right? The intention of putting the football to the ground to avoid a less favorable outcome. However, if the quarterback is running out of time he can immediately throw the ball intentionally to the ground without a penalty because some clever person has called this "spiking the ball". Way different than intentional grounding. And spiking the ball has no penalty.
I have heard the rules or laws of the Bible explained in all sorts of clever ways I am not educated enough in to argue, but have my doubts. I keep looking for the refs to come in and throw the flag. It seems now-a-days it is too easy to call yourself a referee in Christianity. There are too many under-funded leagues with new rules and crazy players who wanted to play a certain way... so they made their own team.  Youtube has become life's instant replay but it seems all we can do is watch them spike our ball and then we say to our friends... "look at that."  My new closer....good thing God has grace for the human race.

United We Stand

I bet you thought this was a patriotic message. Nope. Sorry to disappoint you if you wanted that. In church I observed two Pastors talking. Two guys with different ministries from different walks of life uncomfortably making small talk. Normally when people talk, they face each other, but not these two. It was like they were on a TV show. They stood side by side facing an imaginary congregation to make pleasantries. It reminded me of how many people on sunday mornings at church talk to one another. One of my favorite people to observe is the close talker. I have encountered many close talkers on sunday morning and have developed a system to keep my personal space sacred. One of the tactics is the aforementioned side-stance. I try to put a shoulder between their face and mine, ensuring at least 8-10 inches of space. My other favorite is the obstacle insertion method. This is where you walk around a table pretending to need a place to lean, placing a large object between you and the close talker. Now a good close talker will do their best to counter your strategy, usually unknowingly. They can't help it, but because of their casual nature to close the gap, my deliberate attempt to escape will usually win out.
I also try to avoid the huggers on sunday. This is usually accomplished by extending the left-arm-greeting-block combined with the right-hand shake-my-hand move. This combination thwarts the efforts of most huggers, but is sometimes countered with the pull-the-hand-in-close-to-lean-in-for-the-light-hug move.
Ah yes, the dynamics of how people greet one another that they don't really know but because they know someone that knows them, they are obligated to the customs of the people the ones we know happen to know. This is why I like blogs. No such thing as a close blogger...yet.

9/11

On this day of remembering one of our nation's greatest tragedies, I am also reminded of the complexity of our times, the international media we did not have almost 70 years ago on Dec 7, Pearl Harbor Day.  I wonder what that event would have looked like with the media coverage of today. Would some cult leader in Gainesville Florida with 50 members be ready to burn a bunch of fortune cookies unless they move the sushi restaurant away from the harbor? Ok I know fortune cookies are Chinese and not Japanese but it really was to show the stupidity of the current situation.
Anyway, I tuned in this morning to catch a bit of the memorial service in New York. As I watched, I wondered if the guys who planned this event had worked with me to plan church events in the past. Some of my favorite moments came in the opening remarks by the mayor.  "We are gathered here today on this day we have come to call 9/11..." Really? What did we call it before?  Next he listed the numerous times we would be observing moments of silence. I pictured a meeting where people all sat together in discussion and it started with an idea for a moment of silence at the time of the first plane crash. Then came the suggestion... well what about when the second plane hit? And then when the buildings fell? And how about the Pentagon? And the plane crash in the field of Pennsylvania? Then begins the priority setting. Well we can do the time when the buildings fell but not sure about the Pennsylvania crash or Pentagon because we are in New York. And so it goes until they settle on the 4 or so times for the moment of silence. I listened as the mayor asked the people to observe the first moment of silence. And then a bell rings. Great idea! During the moment of silence we should ring a bell. Hey wait, if we ring a bell is it still a moment of silence? Yep, this brings back great memories of planning special events.  Good thing God has lots of grace for the human race.

Wine Expert Part II

On the subject of wine, I am reminded of the time during one of our church coaching sessions, it was decided that every area of the church should have a full-time staff person as advisor or over-seer. Somehow as they divided up the tasks, Altar Guild fell under my management. Altar Guild is normally a job the older ladies of the church do. It involves cleaning the brass candlesticks, the brass offering plates, and the communion cups. It also involves putting the wafers and wine out for sunday and ensuring all the supplies are enough for each week.  Well if I am going to over-see a job, I better know a thing or two about it, so I jumped in with both feet.  My first question was, where do we get the wine from? I figure there is some holy wine store somewhere or at least a place online where we order the wine from. How about Publix, I was told. What? The local grocery store sells special holy wine for communion? It was then I learned that we buy ordinary wine and then the priest prepares it, God blesses it and it becomes communion wine. Now the wheels are spinning. Are you telling me we buy an ordinary wine from the grocery store and use it on Sunday? Why do we buy such awful tasting wine? "Buy what you want, you are in charge" is what I am pretty sure I heard from our senior Pastor's mouth, although he denies it to this day. So off I went to Publix to do a bit of a wine tasting which they were offering on Wednesdays. I came back with a nice fruity red wine, in our price budget and certainly I was going to be the hero on Sunday.  The 8 am service comes and I stand by proudly to watch the first customers sample our new wine. By watching their faces I knew someone had put salt or something bitter in the wine. There were no faces of joy. Someone had replaced their church wine with an after dinner wine.  Well they were just older traditional people I said to myself. Certainly the rest of the church will catch on to the trend. One week. My fifteen minutes of fame were over. My plans to radically change the taste of communion had ended before I could try to replace the styrofoam communion wafers with delicious flat bread from Subway. Sure, I am still in charge of the altar guild and have budget oversight and all that, but wine purchasing stays with the older ladies that know a decent port wine is what you serve for communion on Sundays.

Wine Expert

This post would have been Wine Connoisseur but I didn't know how to spell it until I put the word in the body of the post so spell check could correct it.  Some time ago, during an Anglican church convention, I stayed with some folks in Alabama. A bit of explaining here. Anglican has nothing to do with fishing, other than the proverbial fishers of men, it is the denomination our church is affiliated with. The convention happens every year and this particular year it was held in Birmingham, Alabama. My co-worker knew some people from that area and asked if we could stay at a local home instead of a hotel to save some money and it is usually a better experience than a hotel. We were placed in the home of an older couple who met us at the airport and drove us to their home. Upon arrival, I was amazed.  It was one of the larger houses I have ever seen or been inside. We took the service elevator (thats right, service elevator) to the third floor where our private suites were located, complete with a library and workout room in the middle of the suites. A house like this needs to be investigated I thought. The elevator went to the basement. What was in the basement I asked? The wine cellar of course. I wanted to see a true wine cellar so the man of the house took us down to give us a tour. When we arrived at the basement, the door opens to a sitting area where wine tasting and such takes place. Adjacent to the sitting area the wine cooler is a large room of stone walls and ceiling set apart by sliding glass doors. We entered into the humidity and climate controlled room to look at the several hundreds of bottles of wine all nicely laid in wooden racks.  As we walked around and looked, we were told how some bottles had been there to age for many years. About this time I noticed a group of bottles of white wine. Curiously there was a sediment at the bottom of the bottle. I picked up the bottle and began to shake it around a bit to see what the sediment was. I was interrupted by our elder statesman in an urgent voice saying "Uh... sir, you ought not to do that please!" I was then schooled on how wine is set on its side to allow for settling of impurities, and how this process sometimes takes decades to achieve the finest of wines. He was a kind and gracious host to help me understand why wine gets better with age, but that didn't go so well I thought. The bottle I shook up had been sitting for 35 years and our host was 85 years old..whoops.

Not Sure You Understand That

This post is dedicated to my daughter Alyssa. I am not sure dedicating a post is something people do, like dedicating a song, or a book, but just the same, I thought of her when this story happened. Coming in October I am going on a cruise. I have been on many cruises before, including a 6 month cruise on the USS America of the Navy cruise lines. This will be my first on Norwegian Cruise Lines, and it looks to be a great ship. The Epic, a brand new ship, has Vegas entertainment on board including a Cirque de Soleil show and Blue Man Group.  I love spontaneity, but I also like to know my choices for what I can be spontaneous with.  I visited a web site with cruise reviews and found the reviews for the ship we will set sail on.  I was quite fond of this lady's review as she went on about the quality of each show in detail. Then she came to write about the Murder Mystery show they have on the ship. She said she did not enjoy the show at all. The show is put on by the Second City Improv group who does comedy some nights and then this show other nights. In her words, she said the Murder Mystery Show was run by the improv group and it was not good at all because in fact, it was if they were making everything up as they went.  Yes and.

My Trip to a Mosque

Well if the title didn't get you, this story may not be that interesting. Through some local contacts in Central Florida our Missions Pastor developed a contact with the Central Florida Islamic Society. I had an invitation to go and meet the public relations director and since I have never had a conversation about religion with a Muslim I thought it might be a great opportunity to have some questions answered, such as "what is the significance of those cool hats you wear?" (No significance by the way, just a fashion statement of the traditional dress of your native country)  We were greeted at the front desk by a blonde woman who spoke something in Arabic to us as we came in, but I am pretty sure by the look on our faces she figured we had no idea what she said. This was like a test I thought. If we knew what she said we were in the club, otherwise we were put in a special"waiting room". I knew the person we were there to meet was already there so I asked if we could go to the meeting room, and she arranged an escort for us to take us there. After some brief exchanges of names, I learned that our Muslim friend had quite a bit in common with me as far as education. He was born in Lebanon and moved to the U.S. when he was 13. Ok, that part is not really like me, but the next is. He graduated from Lake Brantley High School (go Patriots), got an AA degree from Seminole State College (go Raiders) and then graduated from UCF (go Knights). As we listened to him explain the difference in Muslim religions, it was clear that the director of public relations was doing all he could to reverse the damage done by the media. As members of the KKK claim Christianity for their faith, and many cult groups who live on compounds with 30 wives and other strange practices with whacked ideology say they are Christian, the Muslims that we hear about on the news are the ones who depart from the true faith but claim they are the true faith. I could relate to what he was saying. As he tried to outline the common ground between us, he began by telling us we pray to the same God, and God sent many prophets to the earth, with Jesus being one of those prophets. But because he knew we believe Jesus to be the Son of God and not just a prophet, he consoled us with this comment; "of all the prophets, Jesus is in the top 5", he said with a smile. How nice I thought. I immediately looked around the room to see if there was a listing of top prophets and their rankings but didn't see one published. I then realized how the government has helped our church define our faith by officially designating us a non-prophet organization.

Idaho Potatoes

I was recently in Idaho. We stayed in a cabin in the mountains. I was with 3 other guys and one lady. We were having guests come join us for dinner one night, about 12 guests. We thought it would be a great idea to grill some steak. Yummy. Let's go to the store. (side note) On arrival at the store a young lady ran out of gas in the parking lot and I helped to push the car to the gas station, not realizing it was a half mile away, at 3000 ft above sea level...wow was I not prepared for that! (end of side note) We bought steak, lots of it. The one female with us asked what else we would be serving. That sort of question always perplexes men on a grilling mission. Should not the steak be enough? But ok, we will get some frozen veggies in a bag to put in the microwave and some other stuff.  When we reached the cabin we reviewed the bounty. Lots of steak. Some veggies in a bag. Tater-tots. (sound of record scratching inserted here) Tater-tots? Frozen pieces of potato stuck together and cooked in oil. In Idaho....the state known for potatoes. Just for the record it was not my idea. In fact, I had no such knowledge of the faux potato purchase. So we were about to serve tater-tots to Idaho people. Nice. Nothing a return trip to the grocery store (one hour and 15 minutes away) didn't fix. Real Idaho baking potatoes plus some salad greens and a couple portabella mushrooms to grill for the person who was a vegetarian. Good meal, good friends, great time! By the way, I learned that the name Oreida, the brand of tater-tots we bought, comes from the area where the potatoes are grown, on the border of Oregon and Idaho, thus combining the names of two states into a well known company brand.

Small Group Dynamics

Well I just returned from a trip to Idaho. A very interesting state I have not been to before. I was surprised to find the Boise area to look like the southwest, kind of like Arizona or Nevada. Flat and dry. The area we stayed in was north of there and looked like New Hampshire. My mission; not really sure, but it had something to do with worship training and missions training. The first day we met with a great group of church people, very diverse in background and area of ministry. They came from all over, but it seemed like mostly from Utah. I have never been to Utah either. On our first day, we did the ceremonial introductions, and here I noticed you learn a good deal about the people you are about to work with.
When asked your name, most people feel satisfied giving the name their parents gave them. However, in certain situations, I have learned it seems to be necessary to also give rank and title, like we are in a game of Stratego. That way if you come upon a General, you will know how important they are.  For example, a conversation may have gone like this; "Hello, my name is David." (this is me talking) "Hello David, what is your last name?" Now I can pause for a second to think, why are they asking me this? Do they think they may know me or a relative of mine? Perhaps I am like Madonna or Usher and only have one name. Is the knowledge of my last name going to make a difference in our time together? Will they call me by my full name? Oh well, anyway...they proceed to introduce themselves.  As we move around the room I begin to see how this goes. Each person casually labeling their rank, (I am Pastor, or Doctor, or something leader so-and-so) while submitting a portion of their resume as evidence for rank, not really for my benefit, but for the others in the room.
The first session was great because I was in the role of observer. I can honestly say I did not sit there thinking how this would wind up in my blog, until I saw the characters of a sitcom in front of me evolve from the small group. These same characters exist in just about every small group I have ever been in, but they came to life and I was able to identify them because of my role as observer.
First we have "the fisherman". This person can sit still for quite some time, and then will cast an idea out into the middle and let it float.  If nobody bites on his idea, he reels it back in and will toss another out there soon enough when he feels the bait is good.  If they take his idea, he gives it some slack so they get hooked on and then reels in enough slack to let you know he floated the idea and you liked it.
Next is "the interpreter". This kind person explains to everyone in the room the very thing you thought you just said, but they are a spokesperson for the group and make everything you say more easily understandable for the group. Very helpful.
Also we have "the court stenographer". This person will never say a word but take notes like, well... like a court stenographer. You are never sure if they agree or disagree with your points, but that really doesn't matter. They will be able to provide a written transcript of your talk if you should need one.
Not always in the mix, but in this case we did have one, "the terrorist". This person sits quietly listening and seems quite innocent, until they stand up, open their shirt to reveal a large explosive strapped to their body which will tear apart the group. An example of the terrorist in action might be a person who listens to your teaching quietly and without expression, then suddenly stands and declares to the whole group "we tried that before and it didn't work! What else do you have?" Booom!
A few more characters in the mix are "the game show host" and "the hypochondriac". The game show host includes everyone in the group by asking questions that require input from everyone. They may even interview other guests for you.  The hypochondriac has every problem known to ministry and is usually a master in the art of hypothetical questions, completing the hypo theme.
Finally rounding out the group is "the mediator". This person sometimes plays the role of interpreter, but only by mistake. The mediator is the one in the group who feels tension and makes sure everyone is happy. This is done with the giving of verbal flowers. "Oh Steve, that was really great! I think you are saying what we all think, just like David just said!"
The session actually went quite well. Maybe you know of a few characters I left out. Feel free to comment and tell me your favorites!

Never A Good Sermon

The subtitle for this would be "bad sermons part two, or the sequel".  I was reminded tonight of one of my favorite bad sermons preached by a pastor we nicknamed Cab. Cab stands for "crash and burn" because no matter when or what topic he spoke on, he crashed and burned in front of his audience. Now I know what most of you cynical people are thinking because I am one of you. This poor guy was bad EVERY time? The answer is yes, he was, but allow me to explain. The stage...Rwanda Africa. The audience...a few thousand conference attendees eager to hear an American preacher. The star...Cab, an American preacher from the south U.S. who probably was great in front of American congregations. A bit of background info...this is a renewal conference for several thousand people in northern Rwanda. Rwandan preachers are very animated and excitable when they preach. Lots of yelling and excitement! I was there as one of the worship leaders for the conference, and had a front row seat on the stage for all of the events. Ok so now back to our hero. All the English speaking people had a rwandan translator and it was exciting to watch the translator take the words of the Americans and make them sound really exciting and dynamic. I don't speak kinyarwandan so I can't be sure if they translated everything verbatim, but you sure could tell when they stumbled on a word they did not know the meaning of.  So Cab begins his sermon with the story of the Captain of a naval vessel. Rwanda is a land-locked country and does not have a navy, so the translator immediately has to explain the Navy and figure out that a vessel is a boat, not an object used to carry perfume as they would think. "So the captain sees a blip on his radar screen"....hmm. He didn't see anything wrong with that as he begins to mime what appears to be windshield wipers, trying to explain a "radar blip" to a crowd of people that have no electricity at home. Not really sure what the translator is telling the crowd at this point, but as the story goes on, the captain "radios" the blip to tell them to change course. Explain radio, not the same as the object they get their news from; explain what change course means and why they need to do that. (story falling apart pretty fast now) The blip radios back and tells the captain he should change his course. Back and forth this goes, but in translator time it is in slow motion, very slow.  Finally the punchline...the captain says "change your course immediately, we are a Naval Vessel!" The reply comes back, "no sir, you need to change your course, we are a lighthouse" Cab immediately smiles having delivered a great story, as the crowd roars in laughter...no wait, that was his fantasy. Despite the big smile of Cab, his audience stares deadpan at him. The translator stares at him in bewilderment and asks "what happened?" Cab replies laughing, it was a lighthouse! Ignorance is funny sometimes. Perhaps the people of the small country of Rwanda, with no oceans or large bodies of water near fog may not know what a lighthouse is. Nah, thinks Cab as he begins to mime a police siren trying to explain the lighthouse. Now as I said I don't understand Kinyarwandan, but some words that are particular to English do not get translated and we all understand those. The translator turns to the crowd, and with a semi-puzzeled look on his face says some words I didn't catch then says clearly "it's the Whitehouse!" Great illustration Cab, now they think the Americans hate windshield wipers.

Almost a Good Sermon

Well tonight I went to a youth event at a Baptist Church. I love a good Baptist preacher.  Plenty of Amens mixed in with lots of repetition, and lots of repetition. Let me say that again...no, it's ok, we heard it the first time.  So the young guy was doing alright really. Lets get right into the book of John. He was pacing, he was letting us know that Jesus was in real trouble talking with church leaders. The preacher said that because of what Jesus was answering, if he wasn't careful, he would be stoned to death right there. I couldn't help but wonder; if Jesus already knew how he would die, and we know that as well, the whole "in grave danger" bit wasn't working for me. And what about the image of the cross? Think of how all our churches would look with a stone on top of them. But ok, we move forward.  Jesus tells the Jews that if we sin we may as well cut off our arm (paraphrased of course). To drive this point home he (the preacher) tells the story of the rock climber that found his arm trapped under a rock and used his pocket knife to cut his arm off so he would escape with his life and not die. This was going somewhere. The rock is sin, holding us down...ok. The knife is the word of God, otherwise known as the sword of the Spirit, so we use the word of God to escape sin by cutting it out. I think it works, but uh-oh; he has one last question. He turns to the high schoolers, the people he has been repeatedly been calling children, and asks them, "so what is your rock? Is it sin or is it Jesus?" What? What? Maybe you should ask again and re-phrase. Nope, he didn't rephrase, he just asked again. SO the image he left us with is was either sin crushing your arm or Jesus crushing your arm. He went on to say that our arm would be comfortable under the rock because it is a safe place. Really? Then why did the guy have to cut it off? And I'm not sure but my guess is your arm crushed under a rock may not be that comfortable. His now mixed-metaphor went horribly wrong at that point, but he had no way out. So he prayed that the rock in our lives would be Jesus, not exactly a great ending, but I gave him points for a good start.

What did you say?

I love conversations that wind up funny when they are not supposed to. Just today we were problem solving and so we were looking for a few people that could take over leadership of the event that was falling apart.  One of our staff commented on calling a woman in our church to ask for help and found out she was going through some tough times medically and was going to have foot surgery. So the quote was, "Jill is having foot surgery so she won't be able to step in to help." After a brief moment of realizing what was said, we had a good laugh.
Funny is fun. Not the same when another staff person who makes schedules commented that it is difficult to acquire volunteers for anything at the church, especially a church service that falls on a saturday. "Well what about getting some of the kids who are already in our rotation schedule to carry the candles and cross for this upcoming service?" was the question on the floor. The answer came back, "it's not like I have a pool of people to choose from." Nobody laughed...out loud that is.
And so I learned that apparently all the people that help on Sunday are randomly selected from the congregation. Join us this week for church.

Worship Leader's Retreat

Well you know how much I love a retreat! Actually, this was kind of fun. I got to hang out with a few friends and met some interesting people. I probably only stuck my foot in my mouth a few times but that really isn't important. One of our "excercises" had us break into two groups where one group would sing and the other would pray. Oh the irony of the prayers we had to pray. As they split us in two, one group was called to pray for unity.
Next as an illustration, our leader, a man I love and respect, had a difficult illustration to make. He was describing the energy that can build from the momentum of one person. He likened it to a "whirly" (he is from England) or a tornado as we call it here in the states. I recalled my book on tornadoes from my last post which I gave to my daughter (the book, not the post), now in Oklahoma. Anyway, he began to speak of how it starts small, builds momentum and carries a great energy gathering everything around it. This is so exciting! Sounds great...everyone gets involved. As I began to think how great this analogy was, my friend Marty beside me leaned over and reminded me that what happens next is the momentum goes on, destroys everything in it's path and kills people. Oh.

Celebration

Ok, so I have decided that no more than a few times each month I can write a post about something that I see outside my job that either entertains me or perplexes me, or maybe both, but still relates in a distant cousin kind of way to my job.  I watched the Celtics beat the Lakers last night. It was a pretty good game. The thing that really struck me was how intense these guys get.  2 guys surround Kobe Bryant as he gets off a shot. It goes in and the crowd goes wild. Kobe runs up and down the court letting out a shout of victory like he just killed an elephant with his bare hands. But he didn't.  He did what they pay him to do. He made the shot under pressure. No extra money, that was part of the deal. It seems to be a trend in sports to celebrate after making a great catch in football or making a good tackle, then running around the field by themselves so everyone knows who did it.  So you tackled the guy with the ball. Good. You know that paycheck you get every week in large amounts?
Imagine if we did that in our everyday lives. I am standing in a group of people to pray for a missionary going out to another country. I lead the prayer. Out of everyone in the group that could do it, it was me. I stepped up and made the play. Will everyone know it was me? Right after I lead the prayer for sending a missionary out I leave the group and run around the church yelling at the top of my lungs as my co-workers run after me and tackle me to celebrate.  Well, I guess that does happen in some churches.

Donating Stuff

Recently our church held a textbook drive for Africa. We had this idea that at the end of the school year we could collect un-wanted textbooks to send to Uganda and Rwanda where resources are more limited.  I did this a year ago on a trip to Rwanda. I collected music books from UCF students to take to Rwanda so they could begin a music study library.  We advertised well for our book drive, I thought. The city was behind us in helping promote an event at the towncenter where we collected textbooks. It was great. Our parishoners brought books. Mostly great. Here is the part I don't get. You sit at home thinking, "the church is looking for textbooks to Africa, what do I have that would help?" Then you look through your old books, the ones you thought you might refer back to later, but now we have the internet and it is faster, so you never do. Then you find the books next to those, the ones that make you think "When did I get that? I wonder if the church can use them?"

In sorting the books, we did not use all that were donated. Honest mistakes most of them. Rwandan students probably don't want to learn American History, or American Literature, or Florida science, but then there were the others. A few books from the "Left Behind" series, a few classics like "The Odyssey", and "Tom Sawyer". None of these made my favorite list. But these next ones made my top 3. Here they are.

Hello African students. The church in America wishes to send you a book about a scary statue protecting the people. Don't be scared, he's nice. (You had to see the cover on this one to appreciate it.)

To the school in Africa, we in America thought you might like this book about Eddie Bear. He is a detective and he is cute and cuddly. (This book is 580 pages in small type!)

For the science class in Rwanda. Here is a small book about big storms that destroy our homes in America. Enjoy!

And I dont have a picture of this last one so it gets honorable mention..."How to Live With Your Cat".

There is no mention of Lions or Cougars, the only cats people over there worry about living with.

911 Emergency

Our church has a preschool. It is a great preschool. Recently our preschool was named in the Orlando Sentinel one of only 11 preschools in the county with a perfect score. I am not really sure what the perfect score entails but it really isn't important to this story. Some years ago, before the perfect score, we had an incident. Our church boasts what could possibly be the largest fenced-in church playground on the east coast, maybe in the world. When the children need to use the rest room, they may go in twos, if they are four years old, into the fellowship hall where the rest rooms are. It is adjacent to the playground and mostly visible to the teachers. On one particular day, two curious children wanted to expand their learning experience by seeing what would happen if they dialed 911 from the phone inside. They immediately hung up when the operator answered. I am sure they were satisfied knowing somebody answered the phone, but were sadly mistaken in thinking hanging up ended the ordeal.
Thanks to the response of Winter Springs Police and Fire rescue, within 5 minutes we had several emergency trucks and vehicles in our parking lot. Most of us were worried wondering what had happened and who needed the services of this many vehicles. We soon found out they were responding to a caller who was unable to complete the call, so they sent everyone. Nice.
It didn't take a detective to discover who had made the call. All order was quickly restored to the preschool and snacks were served to all. The next day the director asked me to speak to the children at chapel and let them know of the importance of false alarms to the Fire or Police. It was agreed on that because I was a man it could come across a bit more stern. I prepared my talk. I knew I had to address the issue. Check. I knew I had to be on their level. Check. I knew I had to be brief. Check. I was ready for anything.
As I began the discussion, I was proud of how smart these little guys could be. I just needed to drive home the point so they would understand. I told them if they call 911 and the fire and police men come here to the church, it could be a problem for their homes. "Who will get the bad guys at their homes if all the firemen and policemen are somewhere else?" I asked them. Without hesitation a small voice from the front row says "Jesus."
Well played, I thought, I had no response for that.

Visiting the Elderly

Some time ago I went with our youth group to visit a nursing home. I was the elected musician, ready to accompany any and all Christmas songs. Obviously it was during a Christmas visit. Since we are in Florida nursing homes are as prevalent as gas stations. We have many within a 3 mile radius of the church and I'm not really sure how this particular one was selected but as usual, not an important part of the story.  Preparation is everything. We rehearsed the songs, we prepared wonderful bags of candy decorated with some small ornaments, and talked about how we would share stories with the wonderful folks we would meet. Upon arrival we noticed by the sign outside that it was a home for Alzheimer's patients. Not really knowing what that added to the thrill of our visit, we charged on in. The staff had been expecting us and gathered many of the residents in a main hall for us to visit with.  Some of them were quite happy to share stories with our youth, even claiming them as their own children. I was asked many times to play Elvis songs and "Roll Out the Barrel" was also quite popular. One sweet lady asked for her favorite Christmas song, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", obviously about the Star of Bethlehem.  A bit of dancing took place, and then the giving of the gifts. As we were about to leave, I heard some commotion in the corner of the room.  Actually it was more of a ruckus if I knew what a ruckus was, and I think I do. We watched as 2 or 3 attendants tackled a resident in his wheelchair as he screamed "Nooooo!" Ready to report elder abuse, we moved in closer. It seemed he was choking. Maybe. The staff had fingers in his mouth. Then I noticed in his hands he was trying to stuff all the candy in his mouth. Unwrapped.  No.  Wait.  That wasn't the candy. It was the ornaments. Little Christmas balls like you put on a tree but tiny that we brought as decoration tied neatly to each bag. For him it was like a hollow Easter Bunny with a funny metallic chocolate. He yelled at the staff that was taking away his candy as he bled from the mouth. There really was nothing much else to say from us. We left. "Merry Christmas" we shouted on our way out. He was okay. We checked back later.

Mission Impossible (Almost)

I love Missions trips. I like to travel. Sometimes the two go together. Well actually I travel and have traveled a bit without being on a mission. Ok, so I was on a mission, but not a church mission. I digress (as usual). Airport security. Enough said. These guys are at the top of their game in figuring out if you are a bad guy. They ask all the right questions and look for bad answers. One mission trip on our way to Guatemala I recall "an incident" at the luggage check. We were traveling with about 20 people. The procedure is pretty simple for team members. You can check 2 bags on international flights. Pack one bag with your stuff, and bring an empty bag for the church to put team supplies that we will need. We all packed the bags with things we would be bringing for our mission with children such as games, school supplies, toiletries that would be considered a luxury, etc.  Upon reaching the ticket counter to check the bags, the standard security question came up. "Did you pack your bags yourself?" Thank God for honest people. One of our sweet ladies decided "No, in fact, I have no idea what is in here." would be the proper response. Thank you for playing, what do we have as a prize for the 20 passengers with bags they didn't pack themselves? A long delay with a security and customs interrogation. We did make the flight with all of our newly labeled and inspected bags on board. If you travel with a mission team from our church today, you will be instructed as to how to talk to security as part of the team training. Nice.

Hopes and Dreams

When I was a bit younger, I loved to go on retreats. We always had guitar music, decent food, and a good dose of feeling like we could live on some sort of compound hearing about God and not working. I guess that pretty much describes a cult, but then I kind of understood the draw.  There were always a few different kinds of people on these retreats. The "super spiritual" people that loved everything we did and held arms and swayed to the out-of-tune guitar songs. You know them, the ones who put all the effort into making their name tags look pretty with some sort of cross or fish placed in plain view and with their name in all 7 colors of the rainbow. Then there are the "seemed to be court-ordered" attendees who didn't like anything we did and obviously came at the request of someone else. Never sang and never participated in group discussions. And lastly there are people like me. Kind of normal, but not quite; otherwise why would they be on this silly retreat.
Anyway, aside from songs and food and talks, there was always the one-upper. The one thing you did on a retreat that was like no other thing anyone else did. Maybe it was a "faith walk" in the middle of the night. Maybe it was a surprise visit from someone like Billy Graham or Amy Grant. Or perhaps it was some secret ceremony where nobody but God and the 47 other people with you would know about. I vote for secret ceremonies.  One of my favorite is when we write down something you want no one to know about.  The writing down is important because they leave you feeling as if someone might read it, probably anonymously.  Instead, they make a big fire outside and we burn them up. Cool.
So one year not so long ago I was leading worship at a retreat for 500 or so people in North Carolina. At a gathering before it started we had a strategic planning meeting with all the leaders. The keynote speaker was concerned with how many seats would be in the room. "If there are 500 people, I don't want 700 seats" said the speaker. I thought, smart man, makes sense. Keep 'em close, promotes unity. The next priest developed a plan for his talk.  His plan included the one-upper. "I would like all the people to write their hopes and dreams on a piece of paper" he says. "What will we do with that paper?" asks another administrative planning-type priest. "Oh, well maybe we could put them in a big basket, and on the last day take them outside and burn them as an offering to God" says the priest who obviously has been on one or two of the secret ceremony retreats. "Great idea" chimes in most of the group gathered there. One-upper solved. A bit of silence passes as they contemplate this great plan before my hero, the smart man, the speaker, clears his throat. "Ahem...." he continues, "So you are saying we should ask people to write down their greatest hopes and dreams, and then have them stand by and watch as their hopes and dreams go up in smoke?" "Umm" comes the reply. "We burn up their hopes and dreams, is that it?" he asks again. As I laughed out loud, I became remotely aware of two things. I was the only one laughing, and - some guys don't like being made to look like fools when planning a retreat, even if it is their fault.

Are You Talkin’ to Me?

When I travel to a foreign country, I always take the time to learn a few phrases in the native language. “Hello, how are you?”, “I am fine, thank you”, “The food is great!” are a few of the standard phrases. I always try to match the accent and speak as authentically as possible, sometimes being mistaken as a local, since I have a nice tan.

A few years ago I traveled to Uganda to teach music.  Uganda is a quaint, yet rustic country. Quaint because in a country named Uganda, in a Kingdom (yes they have a King) named Central Buganda, the language they speak is Lugandan. Quite creative with the names, and yet, easy to remember.  Anyway, Ugandan culture is quite formal, which seems somehow out of place in an area with no electricity or running water.  Even so, as a country founded and influenced by the British, they know more about and practice proper etiquette more than any city today in England.

Our job; to teach songs at a school in rural Uganda. Our team; 5 great musicians with instruments and can-do attitudes. The song; I can’t quite remember but that part wasn’t important to this story. The important part is that we had so many children, we split them into two sections and introduced an all-American aspect of our culture -- competition. One group was competing with the other to see who would sing the loudest. All we needed was the word for “louder”.  No problem. The word is nyo. Proper pronunciation is one syllable, kind of like a Japanese word.  “Yo” with an “n” sound at the beginning. 

Some people just don’t take their language arts seriously is what I have found. “Try to blend in” is my motto. So I am in the middle playing the guitar. Our two best singers are on either side of me getting their respective groups ready. One side is noticeably louder. I lean toward the right and the crowd goes wild. I lean to the left and the kids are staring at their newly appointed leader as she screams for them to be louder. Well, not really. She is yelling nee-oh at the kids, an obvious two syllable modification of a simple word. But we are American. Surely they understand. And yet, they stare, some in despair. 

Our Ugandan escort quickly corrected the word to the one syllable version and off they went. Well, not really. Some probably sang louder from fear, others out of obedience, and there was that group who just kept the look of bewilderment. I had to ask. What was the problem, did they not understand our Lugandan? The reply; “oh yes David, they understood.” Oh, well what was the problem? Our friend would not repeat the word but gave us the translation by pointing at her rear end. Yes, our team leader called the elementary school children asses. And not just once. She kept yelling at the kids as they looked at her...”ASS, ASS, ASS”! A finer moment in church mission ministry there has not been.

Wearing the Uniform

As I drove to work today, I passed a bike rider waiting at a light to cross the street.  I wonder about these guys. Sometimes they are happy to have the rules of a car, wanting a full lane of traffic to drive in, but other times they decide not to stop at the traffic light and ride through.  So this guy was decked out in the aerodynamic helmet, tight shirt made to look like you are riding in the tour-de-france, and the trademark biker shorts. Oh, don’t forget the fancy shoes or peds or whatever you are supposed to call them. Anyway, I wondered what it would be like for me to go for a casual drive in my car and put on a NASCAR jumpsuit and helmet, kind of like Speed Racer. Why do some people go all out for the uniform when they are not really playing? Most professionals practice in a uniform that doesn’t look like what they perform in. To even carry this a bit further, when I wear a nice outfit to work at the church, the first question is “Do you have a performance today?” Even to visit people in the hospital I wear average clothes.  We all have our performance clothes, don’t we?  I question the people that wear performance clothes in a casual setting.  Why do some clergy wear the complete clerical outfit to come for a regular day of work? I recently attended the National Anglican conference and at the end of the day went to get a drink with friends. No services had been conducted that day, just seminars, workshops, meetings. And yet, in the bar, the bike riders of our denomination were there. Clergy, dressed in collar, black shirt, black pants, black shoes, pink drink in hand.  Looking a bit out of place kind of like Joe Bike Rider in my neighborhood.  Oh, did I mention I spent 8 years in the U.S. Navy and we also had those that dressed up in full uniform to go to the mall on saturday? I also should mention I own the complete Speed Racer series on DVD.  Next time you see a Mustang in Central Florida driven by a guy with a white helmet and jumpsuit, just know I am trying to fit in.

Stories of Baptism

Let me start by saying not only do I respect the sacrament of Baptism, I think Baptisms are one of the greatest celebrations of the church that aren’t a regular annual celebration like Easter or Christmas.  This past Sunday we baptized 9 people over two different services.  It was an awesome sunday but it reminded me of baptisms past.  I am reminded of the first service we had when our church departed from the Episcopal Church USA, and became an Anglican church in AMiA. Wow, thats a lot of organizations and while you may be wondering what does all that mean, don’t worry, it really doesn’t affect the outcome of this story.  So on the first sunday as a new church, we had a few teenager baptisms scheduled. It was to be a great day in June (a few years ago) and we even had a Bishop at the service. So the great idea was to use a backyard pool outside to do full immersion baptisms. Nice. One of those pools that you can buy that is about 4 feet tall and has a ladder.  We put it together a few days early so we could fill it and let the water warm up a bit in the Florida sun.  Nice. Well on sunday it was ready to go. Everyone in bathing suits and into the pool. Bishop first, protocol I guess. Pastor next, but as he climbs the ladder someone shouts “cannonball”!  Now I am no diving expert, but standing 4 feet above the ground looking at 3 feet of water in a pool sitting on a brick patio seems to be calling for one of those signs that says “no diving or jumping”.  Perhaps it was the celebration atmosphere or maybe the willingness to serve, either way, without hesitation he did it.  Great cannonball I might add; big splash and good waves.  His tailbone was not so great. He hit bottom...both his own and the pool.  We did finish the baptisms, but haven’t used the pool since.

On another occasion, a Pastor at our church decided to be creative with the anointing oil.  Following the baptism, the pastor is to anoint the person with oil.  Some holy oils have scent, but ours did not. Why not add a scent, and why not be cinnamon? Cinnamon is already an oil so it probably mixes well.  When Pastor Joe anointed the baby with the modified oil in the shape of a cross on her forehead, we really gave her a reminder. She cried immediately and it was then we noticed the cinnamon had burned the skin to leave a lasting mark. Not lasting like days or months, just minutes, but the crying went with the mark so that helped the parents remember as well. At least it was a cross I thought, it could be worse.

Today I Became an Organ Donor

We have had an organ in our church since I came there with my family nearly 16 years ago.  We also had a Grand Piano but that is another story.   The organ was played at the early service by an elderly man who went to the early service. I used to think he was kind of a quirky man and then I went to his home one day for a church party.  In his home he had not one, but two organs. IN HIS HOME. Now I thought that was a bit strange, especially when one of them was a true pipe organ, complete with a set of very loud pipes in the living room.  The Music Minister before me was an outstanding musician, a pianist especially.  He would play the organ on many Sundays.  Since I took over as Music Minister or Worship Pastor, or whatever title works for you, I have not played the organ in a service. We have had a few fill-in players but mostly it collected dust.  So after 10 years I did some research and found our Rodgers 3 tier organ was built in 1963.  With most instruments that would be great, but the new technology in organs is MIDI, and digital interfaces made our instrument obsolete. Not a problem I thought. We can list in on Craig’s List and sell it for $500.  Not the case.  Instead, I had a Haitian Pastor with a strong French accent call me to inquire about the organ. He told me they were buying a new building and had nothing.  He wanted a good deal. So, thanks to a generous church, we decided to give him the organ and speakers.  He came today in a U-Haul truck and we sent it off. We also threw in the old sanctuary cross that used to hang in the church until we got a new one. The Haitian church was so pleased to have these things and he promised me a CD of his choir singing French/Creole praise and worship music. When I get his CD I will post a sample on my website.

Easter Sunrise Service

What a great idea! A sunrise service for the community of Winter Springs. How many other churches would want to help us do this? A chance to share the Good News of Easter in the community with the City endorsing our service! Well, nobody. Okay, not a problem. We can do it. What time should we start? A better question would have been, “what time will the sun come up?” We answered the first question with 6:30am. God answered the second question at 7:16am. So what if there are 4 verses to the first song we sang and the print is in 10 font and it is pitch black outside. Not completely dark however, the moon was directly overhead providing enough light to see about 300 people gathered from around Winter Springs in lawn chairs. Now I am not sure if they came to see what on earth we were going to do in the dark at 6:30 but there actually was enough light to see by 6:55 and we ended the service as the sun was coming up. Just like we planned it. Sort of. Our music and equipment was soaked from condensation, but the volunteers were having a great time with free Starbucks coffee and a surprising turn-out for last minute advertising. We put out signs 5 days before Easter. Why not earlier you ask? The city permits take 3-4 weeks to get permission to hang a sign. Oh yes, for an event that who requested?  The City.  In their City Park.