“…They don’t look like church boys, wearing sweater vests, walking around singing love songs to Jesus… guys like David”

Mr. Driscoll, I’d like to introduce you to the book of Psalms. Psalms, Mr. Driscoll.

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If this doesn’t break your heart… you might want to check and make
sure you have one.

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There are times when I don’t realize that I live in Tennessee. Times I when I get so caught up in what I am doing with work and life, and friends and forget where it is that I actually live. Then there are days like today, that remind me I live in Tennessee.
Today a notary came to our house to sign papers for a re-finance that we are doing. After getting a call and trying for thirty minutes to give the lady directions, I ended up getting in the car and driving out to find her. She was down the street facing the wrong way. I directed her back to the house she parked in the drive way and came inside.

The next several things are actual comments and bits of wisdom the woman that was in charge of us signing several, important, life altering, legal documents said.

- She mentioned five times that her twenty-three year old totaled her “beautiful 2007 Jeep Cherokee, and the insurance isn’t going to pay for it because he wasn’t on the insurance”.

- Kristin asked her if she would like a glass of water, to which she replied, “You got any vodka?”

- Told us to get life insurance on our kids so it can pay for college. “Even if they aren’t Einstien’s.”

- Told me that she tries really hard to not like Ellen DeGeneres but when she heard that she called Bob Barker a “quitter” she couldn’t help but like her.

- Mid-signing she stopped and was staring at the papers in front of her, and said that for two years she lost her memory and didn’t even know she had a granddaughter. Then said it was no wonder she didn’t recognize anything in her house.

- Advised us to “Make sure to turn on The Andy Griffith Show for people in coma’s and not watch the daily news.”

- Her other son went to college but “lost an arm, and couldn’t be a cop with fake parts.”

After about forty-five minutes of signing papers and scratching our heads in disbelief, Rita May started to pack up her things. She grabbed her notary stamps first, collected them and the pens that we were using and placed them neatly in her plush, purple pouch, with the golden letters spelling “Crown Royal” on the side. She pulled the golden rope tight to close the top and packed it in her purse.

“Well it was great to meet you Rita May. You need directions out of here?”

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You know what I wish?

I wish I could live my life, pointing fingers at anyone who disagreed with me. I wish I could verbally attack anyone with “Christian” accusations, that didn’t treat me the way I felt I deserved. I wish nothing I ever said or did to hurt anyone, in my mind, reflected my spiritual appearance. That’s what I wish.

I wish I could turn away from people asking for help, and flip it in my mind to accuse them of selfishness. I wish manipulating situations to make others look bad came easily. I wish bitterness and greed would swell inside me so great that I hate those around me whose lives seem whole. I wish I could spout a Bible verse about forgiveness, but in the next breath attack them for something done in the past. That’s what I wish.

I wish I could join a church. A church where appearance is king. Where divorce rates are low, and faithfulness is a show. I want to dress the part. I wish I could lease a Lexus and pretend I’m successful. I wish I could only focus on myself, and disregard my neighbors, and fellow human beings. That’s what I wish.

I wish living like Christ was something I could accuse others of not doing, but not really have to do myself. I could send them Bible verses about love and then call them names. Slander them to mutual acquaintances, and accuse them of being too sensitive. I wish poverty didn’t bother me. That I could ignore suffering in the world and only think of myself. That’s what I wish.

This whole “Christian Life” thing is hard. Loving God and loving people is hard. I wish I had a puppet Jesus. One that I could maneuver and make do what I want… for me.. and only me.

That’s what I wish.

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Rich Mullins - The Color Green
[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=BbW4xwkQOLQ]

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My employer and friend has now joined the long list of celebrities and rock stars that become so overwhelmed with the art within them, that they feel the need to trash a hotel room. Around 2:30, Friday morning, the passion for art swelled up inside Shaun so much that he could do nothing but begin pulling the lamp and alarm clock out of the wall. His troubled artistic mind could no longer handle the pressures of waking up at eleven, messing around on the computer for a few hours and then playing music. He snapped.

I’ve heard it starts with the sound of classical music waking you from a deep sleep. The kind that sounds like it’s being played from a small clock radio. With an excess of mid’s and high’s. After the music jolts you awake, causing you to be disoriented, and angry. It starts to get louder and louder until you begin to realize that your precious fourteen hours of sleep is in jeopardy. The artistic mind then begins to panic. “What’s going on in my head?”, it says. “How can I escape this torture?” The artistic mind takes control over a sub-consciense body. Eyes closed, brows furrowed, arms swinging violently.

Then it happens. The artistic mind identifies it’s enemies. The enemies that are hotel room amenities. First the side table. Then the small note pad and pen are thrown across the room. Drawers are opened, pillows are thrown. Then the lamp. The lamp contains both the power to be turned on and end this mental torture, but in doing so, inflict an equal amount of torture on the eyes. This decision angers the artists mind and the lamp becomes the focus of rage. Pulled from the wall and set on the floor.

Then the final stages of the artistic minds wrath. The center of all that is causing their pain. The radio alarm clock.

“Grab it.”, the mind whispers. “Pull the cord from the wall”, it screams. “Now throw it. Throw it hard.”

At this point anyone staying in the same room as the artistic mind, has been awakened. In this case it was me. Woken up, and now with complete logic watching on as the artistic mind, controlling the artist body, and then understanding the struggle that these human beings have. A life-long battle with their minds. Waking them up, taking over their bodies and attacking their senses.

This important truth is what I learned this weekend.

**In related news Shaun also learned and important truth. Check and make sure hotel alarm clocks aren’t set for 2:30 AM before going to bed.**

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“This pain we feel, when we begin to see all the ugly realities of the world, is the moment when we decide to look to the heavens and blame God for this mess, to disregard their pain, to look away, or we choose to take His hand and his hope, and become his hand and his hope. This is when beauty evolves from the pain…

Our world changes with each generation, and for this reason I believe that we need to raise our children to be compassionate children. They need to grow up caring about others around them. They need to be giving, they need to be loving, and kind…”

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“Evan Almighty” could be the first big-budget bomb of the summer after opening to $32.1 million in U.S. and Canadian weekend ticket sales, based on Sunday’s estimate from Universal Pictures.

The modern-day Noah’s Ark tale, starring Steve Carell, cost more than $250 million to produce and market.”

(Not to mention all the cash it cost to sponsor every Christian music festival for the whole summer, in an attempt to convince Christians that it’s a “Christian” movie.)

“Universal had been counting on the PG-rated movie — its most expensive production this year and one of the priciest Hollywood comedies ever — to be its summer “tent pole.” Now the studio and its financing partner, Relativity Media, are hoping it holds up well enough that they can come out unscathed. More broadly, the film’s poor opening could temper any enthusiasm in Hollywood for making expensive, overtly Christian films.

At least one box-office analyst called the opening “a disaster of biblical proportions,” but Universal kept faith.”

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I was thinking today. I’ve decided that our blender is my favorite appliance. I make smoothies every day that I am in town. Frozen fruit, yogurt, juice, that’s all. At least one, if not two, smoothies a day. And I blend them using my awesome blender. There’s nothing amazing about my blender, it’s just a normal blender, but it’s awesome.

We also have made adult beverages… you know for date nights.

So now you have it. What’s your favorite appliance?

And it turns out wisdom comes before holiness, then sovereignty, and finally goodness. Not sure if I know the context of that, but it’s on the wall in front of me.

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