Take one stat holiday.
Add one baby.
Throw in a Mac with Photo Booth.
Shake out a couple series of shots, and voila…
You have my cute little sea elephant…
My small, rubber-faced girl…
Monday Photo Booth (7/28)
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Redirected (6/28)
I confess to slacking off. This February-post-a-day thing isn’t flying yet. But it’s not lack of desire;it’s lack of quality blog thoughts.
Sometimes I’m in deep-thoughts-everyday mode like Chelsey. But I’ve got other times too. These are those times.
So I redirect you to the thoughts of two others that caught me recently…
“We must put away all effort to impress and come with the guileless candor of childhood.” (A.W. Tozer)
Put away my efforts to impress… do I do that? How much of my coming to God is about trying to look however it is that I think I’m supposed to? How often do I just come as unassuming as a child? Sigh. I need to do that.
“If you are hungry for the fire to fall in your church, then you need to just crawl up on the altar and say, ‘God, whatever it takes. I lay myself on the altar and ask You to consume me with Your fire, Lord.’ Then you can follow the lead of John Wesley, who explained how he drew such large crowds during the First Great Awakening: ‘I set myself on fire, and the people come to see me burn.'” (Tommy Tenney)
Set myself on fire? Hmm. Not sure that’s the most inviting imagery, but I know what he’s getting at. Sounds like that living sacrifice idea–and I know that’s the call for anyone who’s paying attention. God, teach me how this works.
Horse No More (5/28)
Anyone who ever played basketball or wanted to play basketball has been part of a game of Horse at some point in time.
Yes, that’s the game that does absolutely nothing good for one’s basketball game, but still strangely resembles the real thing. At least one friend of mine may have a story of over-horsing leading to extra time on the pine.
Anyway, the NBA has adopted this gym classic as a part of its upcoming All-Star Weekend. Could be fun to watch except…
They changed the name.
Horse, once spelled H-O-R-S-E will now be spelled G-E-I-C-O.
Not a word of a lie.
A voice from my childhood echoes on, “Everybody’s got a price for the Million-dollar Man.”
Even if that man is now a lizard, it appears.
Desert (4/28)
I’m reading a memoir right now by an author who decided to live for forty days out in the Judean desert.
He did it because he felt led there.
He did it because he knew the silence and solitude would offer him cleansing and healing.
He did it because Jesus did it.
He did it because authors do stuff like this to earn their livings.
Much of the book is mundane–it’s about simply surviving in the wilderness by yourself. It’s about weather and bugs and passing thoughts.
But bits are profound. There’s a lot of us that might feel like those last three sentences are themselves accurate describers of prayer and other such spiritual pursuits.
My favourite parts though have been his reflections on the desert:
I carried some of the wood back to camp and began making a fire. After I threw the wood on a pile of branches I had collected, I heard a short, shrill animal scream. Then it was quiet. I imagined that a predator had just sneaked up on some unsuspecting prey, and just like that! Only time enough for one last scream.
In the desert, God can sneak up on you. In the cities and towns, people are so armoured, so fearful of one another–even those they love–that God doesn’t have a chance. Our guard is up. We’re so skeptical. When we see God coming, we turn away as we might when we see a vacuum-cleaner or encyclopedia salesman coming and say, “Sorry, I’m not buying any today.”
Or we stand waiting for God to do something different, something new.
“Show me your stuff,” we say. “Show me something I haven’t seen before.”
God doesn’t have anything new to show us. He’s shown us everything. It’s staring us in the face. That’s what “we were made in God’s image” means. We were shown the whole kit and caboodle, shown it in the very way we’re made!
“But I don’t see nuthin’!” you say. Well, I’ve got news for you. It isn’t about what you see–it’s about who is doing the seeing.”
In another place, he notes that the desert has taught him that the desert does not change. It is timeless and eternal (in a sense), and if you wish to be at home with it, it is YOU who must change.
Sounds like a certain Being I know, eager to lead me to places where I am humbled and quieted, intent on “jumping me” and tuning my eyes so that my stubborn soul also sees that when it comes to dealing with Him, there is one of us who must learn to adapt.
The desert makes the identity of that one abundantly clear.
Don’t (3/28)
Johnny and Chachi… my favourite cheesy-80’s-imitating-Christian-artists have put out this relationship-rescuing piece.
If it strengthens even one marriage, I’ll have done my Valentine’s Day duty for this year.