I was watching a Speedy Gonzales cartoon the other day (for research purposes, of course). It was the very first Speedy (MCMLV) and it was every bit as funny as I remember it from my youth. But there were some things present that would, in today’s climate, best be described as politically incorrect.

A welded wire border fence with starving Mexicans (mice) in big hats on one side, and an unthinking, uncaring Acme Cheese Factory on the American side of the fence. Almost every Mexican stereotype imaginable. Clothes, accents, lifestyle everything poked fun at Hispanics.

There was violence, even death in this cartoon, and perhaps worst of all land mines.

And I enjoyed every minute of it. I must admit growing up I never asked any of my Hispanic friends what they thought of Speedy, I just laughed. I didn’t think less of Mexico or its people. I just laughed. That would label me insensitive and bigoted, no doubt.

And I am…I really don’t care how many cartoon characters get blown to smithereenies.

That’s all folks.

The title of today’s post is a chapter title from Steven Pressfield’s fascinating book the War of Art.  The end of the chapter is so thought provoking that I felt I must share it.

“What I call Professionalism someone else might call the Artist’s Code or the Warrior’s Way.  It’s an attitude of egolessness and service.  The Knights of the Round Table were chaste and self-effacing.  Yet the dueled dragons.

We’re facing dragons too.  Fire-breathing griffins of the  soul, whom we must outfight and outwit to reach the treasure of our self-in-potential and to release the maiden who is God’s plan and destiny for ourselves and the answer to why we were put on this planet.”

Page 108-109 The War of Art Copyright 2002 by Steven Pressfield. Grand Central Publishing, NewYork.

I’ve been ruminating a bit more about the idea of a church on a slippery pole.  Trying to differentiate between churches who are on solid ground and those stuck out of reach.  Why and how do they get where they are, in either case.

Recently I attended a Christmas Eve Mass…a service at a Roman Catholic Church.  I stopped attending Catholic Mass 37 years ago because the church I was at did not even attempt to communicate with me.  (I am being a bit unfair, but that is how I saw it at the time.)  But this year’s Christmas Eve service was one of the most worshipful events I have been to in a year.  Not only the service, with it’s choir and ancient language, but the very architecture of the building was pointing heavenward and saying “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty!”

But does that draw or repel someone far away from God?  I would say it draws, if  the rest of what this church says and does speaks the same language.  I was only there for one service so I really don’t know.  I just know that the building is pointing in the right direction.

I have also worshiped in a gymnasium that said nothing at all about the nature of God…but the people did.  That gym was eventually turned into a space that, it is hoped, would tell it’s worshipers that God is loving and approachable.

So it’s not the ancient hymns, in and of themselves that pull or push.  It’s not an organ or a Stratocaster that draws or deters.  It is the heart and spirit of the congregation.  It is the desires and the dreams of the people, from pastor to parishioner.

If we speak, believe, and live out God’s command to exalt Him, love others and share the good news, we will be attractive, even if we meet in a hollowed out tree.  And conversely if we are more concerned about appearance than attitude, (to obey is better than sacrifice) if we are more worried about alcohol consumption than we are about famine, (love mercy, do justly, walk humbly) if we are more concerned about coffee stains than soul stains, than even in the most magnificent edifice, our words will sound hollow. 

People will drive miles to attend one, and miles to avoid the other.

Neither birds nor squirrels will eat at your feeder if you have the wrong kind of food. 

We have a bird feeder that has a squirrel guard on it to keep squirrels off the feeder.  Some people put grease or oil on the pole for the same reason.  We only want birds on our bird feeders. 

Sometimes I think churches do something similar.  We build churches on slippery poles so we only get the kind of people we want at our feeders, er churches.

I know some churches who make everyone feel welcome and some churches that accept people where ever they are in the spiritual journey, including those running from God as fast as they can.  But the majority of churches that I have seen are looking for an homogenized congregation, they only want people of a certain flavor and texture.

Many don’t do this on purpose.  They simply limit their congregation by doing church in a way that would alienate or scare off the “wrong kind of people.”  Sometimes without even knowing it.  We get so comfortable with our way of doing church that we fail to notice that everyone else is uncomfortable. Some churches are very deliberate in their approach, and will go so far as to say, “If you don’t like what we are doing you can go someplace else.”  

I want to make it very clear I am not talking about teaching and speaking the Truth, I am talking about the style and the culture in which that truth is communicated.  It doesn’t matter how relevant and helpful the Word is if it is spoken in a totally irrelevant manner, or with condescension, or with constricting language (language that only club members will understand).  When we do that we are telling people very clearly, “thank you for visiting, but we don’t really want you here.”

How do churches get to be this way?  They fill themselves up with people who think that way; in other words they invite us  to be a part.  Church is only a reflection of the people, mostly Christians, who attend.  So if I don’t like Chinese people, rock music, or people who smell funny, chances are my church will be a reflection of those values.

When you and I as a followers of Jesus take the Great Commission and the Greatest Commandment seriously we will become better neighbors, better co-workers, and better churches.  Then we can take our churches down from the slippery poles upon which we built them.

I think it is significant to note that everyone on the winning Super Bowl team will get a ring.  Even the player who never played a single down all season.  He showed up for practice, ran the drills, but never got on the field once.  He was a contributor, so he deserves a ring.

Spectators, however, do not get a ring, except for the one left on the coffee table because someone forgot to use a coaster.  Watching sports on television does not qualify for participation.  Jumping up when your team scores does not count as exercise.   Paying way too much for a team jersey does not count as earning the uniform.

Then there is the contests that really matter.  These contests are not games, they are battles for the hearts, minds and souls of our neighbors, our families, our friends.

Are you a spectator or a player where it really counts?  Do you get in the game of changing the world or are you content to watch from the comfort of an aptly named Lazy Boy.  Or are you so engrossed in the pretend battles on a field nicely marked off with white paint, that you never notice the real battle for the lives and souls of your neighbors.  There are no convenient lines of demarcation, it’s not always easy to choose sides, and if you and I don’t get in the game, there might be no winner.  Everyone looses, when Grace is not shared with hands and feet, when Truth is not spoken with love and involvement, when Justice is not defended and demanded with as much energy and passion as the home town crowd on Sunday afternoon.

Was it a winning season for you this year?  How about for the guy next door?

As a child, when we were allowed to wander freely in the vast wildness near our home, it was thrilling. (We lived in the boondocks, so there was plenty of wilderness to explore.) Near our home was a dense dark wind-swept forest that gave way to a deep rugged valley with a wild river wending its way through forbidding marshland. We would fight our way through thick underbrush to the edge of the river, ford it with great trepidation and wander through wild lands no one had ever been before, where wart hogs were surely hiding, waiting to trample us to death. I never understood how my mother would let us wander this pathless wild.

I didn’t know that she could see us from the living room window…hmmm.

Of course the wilderness looks different from the safety of a home. The dark forest was a stand of tall red pines with the breeze whispering through the boughs. Our trudging through thick underbrush was nothing more than a field of Deer Fern one hundred yards from the back door; the deep ravine would not conceal a fully grown man, and the raging river was a creek (pronounced crick) a yard wide and less than a foot deep.

Everything, it seems, depends on perspective, upon the direction and the height from which we are looking, or being looked upon.

Sad Sundays could easily turn into melancholy Mondays. Faithful friends I thought would always be there haven’t been; but new true friends have steeped in at just their right moment, even when they didn’t know how their presence had answered a prayer. We have experienced God’s Grace and Love through many acts of kindness; and the greatest present has been the presence of true partners in life, not just ministry.

We have been humbled, and reminded almost daily of our obligation to return the favor and pay it forward as financial fortune someday comes our way. No! We will pay if forward in grace, love, justice and mercy regardless of fortune of famine.

Looking away from that which we were called can be painful even as we look forward  to which we are now called. Not for the first time we are heading into uncharted territory.  The path is not always clear, but it is always guarded. We could see a deep, dark, deadly journey ahead of us. Or we could see a new adventure right around the corner. We go forward excitedly because we know who goes before us, and we know who goes alongside us;  it helps us gear up for our new adventure with God.

Why is it the only time we see Christian terrorists is in works of fiction? And why is it when popular media needs a murderous religious zealot they never use a Jewish fundamentalist, a Buddhist fundamentalist (I am not kidding, these guys are seriously dangerous and we hear nothing about them.) or Muslim Fundamentalists. We only see gross exaggerations of Christian Fundamentalism. What’s up with that?

I wrote the paragraph above and got stuck with the big “so what” and couldn’t finish. Then last night I went the see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and came away with at least part of the answer.

One reason that so many have the wrong idea is simply because followers of Christ make such an easy target. We allow crackpots to be our public spokesmen and wonder why we are ridiculed. I won’t mention any names in case your favorite TV preacher is a crackpot, but I think we all know some who represent that label well, and instead of telling them, “sit down, you are embarrassing us,” we send them money. And Christians so become an easy target.

The second reason came to me during one of TSOs refrences to drinking. Often times we spend too much time telling people what not to do that we forget to talk about Grace and Forgiveness, two things that the world needs very much right now.

The third reason is because so few of us act like we really believe this talk about love, mercy and justice.

I think the biggest reason came to me one of the last songs TSO did. I don’t know the lyrics word for word, but they are something like:

“Don’t turn away
Just take my hand
And when you make your final stand

I’ll be right there
I’ll never leave
And all I ask of you
Believe.”*

We sometimes make it too hard for people to meet Jesus and to just believe.
The reason many make fun and miss the joy of following Christ is that they have never met the Prince of Peace.

Because we have been too busy to introduce Him.

*From the song Believe, from the album, Night Castle, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

One nice thing about living where we do is that the weather is constantly changing. Living this close to a large body of water there are almost always cool cloud formations lurking about. There are very few clear, cloudless days. And although I like blue, especially sky blue, the interruption of all that blue with a bit of whit or gray is rather nice. And sunsets are always more spectacular with a few clouds around.

So as I have been looking at clouds lately, I’ve been thinking of the silver linings a bit. So in no particular order, here are just a few.

My faith is not theoretical.

My friends are true friends and not fair-weather friends.

I have spent more time with those I love than any season in my life.

I have been prayed for more than any time in my life.

I have been told, “I love you. ” by more people than I can count.

I have learned how to receive.

I have spent more time out doors than I have in years.

I have developed empathy for the unemployed.

I have discovered new gifts and abilities.

I have had more time to write, think, and pray then ever.

I am still working alongside my best friend and wife.

This is just the start of something new and bigger than ever. I can’t imagine it being better, but God has a bigger imagination than I.

We had a yard full of grackles yesterday morning…at least fifty of them trying to get something to eat. And we kept trying to scare them out of our yard. The cats didn’t help much.

These ugly, noisy birds didn’t realize that we put up a bird feeder for the cute and pretty birds…the ones with pleasant songs and bright feathers.

Maybe it was because Shreck was on the other evening, but it made me stop and think, is the law of attraction as strong as gravity? I’m not talking about quantum mechanics here. Yet even as I write that sentence I wonder if perhaps I am. There is something beyond our understanding that makes certain things pretty and others ugly. Why do we only like pretty birds, pretty girls, pretty fish, even? (I say that only in the broadest sense of course; readers and writers of this blog are surely not that insensitive.)

I mean, I understand evolutionists would say we are attracted to certain other people in order to keep our species alive, but that wouldn’t explain my disdain for grackles or anarrhichthys ocellatus. (Even the name of this poor fellow is ugly.) A lack of symmetry or supposed beauty in my perception of fish doesn’t seem to serve any purpose.

Could it be that this is something that God has placed in us? Like the need to see order and patterns in chaos, we have an innate desire for attractive things. I understand, as Hill would say, we can think and grow rich; and I get it that a similar “law” is at work in us that makes us believe that the pretty kids are popular. But why do I like ugly fish?

I suppose it’s because our creator gave us the ability to distinguish between a supposedly ugly creature and an attractive one so that we would recognize the true beauty of our creation. That even as we are repelled from one we are drawn to another. As opposed to seeing everything as equal in beauty, in value, in usefulness, we see variety. God wants us to see his creativity, his imagination. So even as God made the Cyclostome he made the Pterophyllum scalare. Even as there are grackles there are juncos.

So look around you, ugly is everywhere, and it’s beautiful.

When I was a kid I sometimes watched as my dad worked on his cars.
He used simple tools; a pair of vice grips, a screw driver and a hammer. Sometimes he sent me for his saw.

My dad didn’t teach me how to fix cars. He didn’t know how to. Car repair was almost always an emergency and an experiment for him. He never said things like “The flux capacitor is shot so were going to have to transmogrify the thing. My dad mostly just said things I can’t repeat in polite company. I didn’t learn about cars from my dad because he didn’t have anything to teach.

What I did learn from my dad is you go to church every week. And while “choosing to follow Christ” wasn’t part of his vocabulary, I learned about God and about church, so when God called my name, it was a familiar voice I heard. And I chose to follow Christ.

Are your children learning to recognize the voice of God in your home? What are your children learning from you? You can’s say, “nothing” because even if you aren’t actively teaching them, they are watching and listening all the time, so they are learning from you.

So what are you teaching? Is it worth learning? Will your child be able to take their ability with a scroll saw, or a jackhammer or a pc or a paint brush or a football with them into eternity?

Will they be able to take it into life?

You are being watched. Make it count.