Zen and Yard Work

Attention women: For all the women who are tempted to click away from this post, put the mouse down. NOW.  I promise, this has a happy ending for you. Please continue reading.

Being a guy has it's advantages.  I mean where do I start? Allow me to give you my top ten eight (only partially true, sort of the same way Howie Mandel is partially bald, and extremely biased) list.

1. We typically age better than women and if we don't, we don't care, gray is fine if you're a guy.

2. Cooler toys.  Let's not even argue this point, you'll only embarrass yourselves.

3. We can drive with the windows rolled down and NOT worry about our hair.

4.  No lines at stadium restrooms.

5. We can do stupid things, like mow the lawn barefoot, poke sticks into hornet's nests, or jump railroad track "ramps" with our trucks...and it's just "boys being boys."  Have you ever heard of a girl walk outside wearing her underwear on the outside of her pants and someone retort, "Oh, that's just a girl being a girl."  Of course you haven't, because it does not exist.  It's like a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card for being an idiot.  For men only.

6. No drama. 

7. A meaningful conversation can have less than 25 words.

8. 15 minutes with a gas-powered leaf blower is better than an hour on a psychologists couch.  And cheaper.

It's this last point I want to highlight.  I don't know how to explain it properly, and I can't prove it, but every guy needs a little "quiet" time behind a power tool once in a while.  For me personally I prefer my gas-powered Poulan leaf blower.  First off, it's a tool, and one of my favorites for the sole reason that within seconds of firing her up I see results.  Instant gratification, baby!

Secondly, there's something to be said about the lone chore of blowing leaves. No one to talk to you, no TV, phone, or internet to distract you. Just you, your blower, and nature. Give me some ear muffs, safety glasses, and a yard full of leaves, and I have just found an oasis from the tensions of life, that outside of a football game, Swedish massage, or sunny beach is without peer.
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Give me some ear muffs, safety glasses, and a yard full of leaves, and I have just found an oasis from the tensions of life

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The gentle hum of the engine, the dizzying march of the leaves off my now clean driveway, is an escape.  From life. From the argument I just had with my wife, my boy's leaving little pieces of duct tape on the carpet, work with all its stress, not to mention in-laws, and lost bills, the annoying neighbors, politicians, natural disasters, and the hornets nest...all just float away in a cloud of leaves.  Fifteen minutes later.  A new man emerges.  

Ladies, you heard it first here.  Buy your man a leaf blower.  Administer once or twice weekly.  No exceptions (except in the winter of course, but then there's football).  Earmuffs required.

 

Gideon Riding A Dinosaur - Cooler Than Fleece

One of the most oft-prayed requests we make (don't any of you even try to wiggle out of this either.  Busted!) is "God, help me do X" or "Lord, help me accomplish Y."  And I'm sure there is a "Please" thrown in there too (especially by us Southerners - we want to pray politely now, don't  we).  "So, what's wrong with that?", you must be asking yourself.  We'll I'll tell you what's "wrong wit' dat".  But allow me first to completely twist around an old Bible story to fit the topic of this admonition.  The story of Gideon.

Gideon, if you recall, was the smallest man, in the smallest family, in the smallest tribe of Israel (which was possibly the smallest country in ancient times - but I really don't know for sure). God sent an angel to Gideon to tell him he was about to have a huge career change.  Farmer to Army general.  (And I can't even get promoted to Assistant to the Manager!)  So Gideon, who is very suspicious of this enormous promotion...and clearly is not afraid enough of this angel, decides to get cute. And test God by asking Him to make some fleece wet (If more angels looked like this there would be way less fleece-wetting...maybe more pants-wetting...actually, I think angels probably DO resemble this.)

Now, let me just say, that for the record, Gideon could have done a lot better in the "Test God" department.  Really, you want God to wet some fleece.  This is what it will take to convince you to leave your farm and go fight an enormous army of Midianites with 300 men.  Lovely.  This is God of all Creation, right? The Beginning and the End, right?  What about ripping a hole in the time-space continuum, send me back through time and let me ride a Tyrannosaurus Rex whilst screaming like a wild Israelite barbarian. Maybe throw in a wild barbarian babe (who would of course be my wife) to ogle my huge muscles as I rip through the Cretaceous rain forest on my crazy man-eating T-Rex. Then maybe let that dinosaur come back with me (the girl has to stay, because I'm already married on this side of the time warp) and I'll ride that reptilian beast all over some stinkin' Midianites.  I bet they don't got no dinosaur!  Now, THAT would convince me to fight an army with 300 men. Well, at least it would have been more interesting.  But fleece it is. 

So, the story goes that God whittles Gideon's army from about 30,000 to a lean 300.  And off they go.  With trumpets and lanterns.  And of course they defeat the Midianites.  I say "of course" because it was not Gideon and his men that did it.  It was God.  It was God's fight.  God's war. It was God that defeated the army.  To be quite honest, God really didn't need Gideon or his 300 men.  But you already knew that. And it's the same way with us.

When we ask God to help us accomplish His will, I wonder if he snickers or gets offended or maybe He is so surprised He spews His water all over heaven.  Maybe what we should be asking is for Him to include us in accomplishing His will.  You know He wants to. He loves us. He loved Gideon. He wants to include us in his plans. His adventures. His accomplishments. His battles.  And we get to be part of something much larger than ourselves, something greater then we could ever ask or imagine.  (Maybe even riding a dinosaur? Probably not).  

So instead of deluding ourselves into thinking that we are so important to the kingdom of God and that the work we do is so high and mighty and holy, let's humble ourselves before our King.  And remember that, in the words of the song by John Mark McMillan and covered by the David Crowder band, [God]" loves like a hurricane and I am the tree. Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy."  Let's never forget how small we really are in His amazing Presence.  And be honored that He actually desires us to help Him.

How Many Christians Does It take To Change A Lightbulb?

Quick blog business before the actual stuff.  To all who look for my posts via Facebook, I am going to stop sending to FB.  There are still multiple ways to satisfy your craving for the perfect marriage of sarcasm and reverence...OK...I was talking about me...never mind.  This is something I stumbled on...I don't know who to give credit for this, but it is not mine.  But still funny.  Enjoy

~ Keith  

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Charismatic: Only one. Hands already in the air.

Pentecostals: Ten. One to change the bulb and nine to pray against the spirit of darkness.

Presbyterians: None. Lights will go off and on at predestined times.

Roman Catholic: None. Candles only.

Baptists: At least 15. One to change the light bulb and three committees to approve the change and decide who brings the potato salad.

Episcopalians: Three. One to call the electrician, one to mix the drinks and one to talk about how much better the old bulb was.

Mormons: Five. One man to change the bulb and four wives to tell him how to do it.

Unitarians: We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, if in your own journey you have found that light bulbs work for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your light bulb for the next Sunday service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence.

Methodists: Undetermined. Whether your light bulb is bright, dull, or completely out, you are loved. You can be a light bulb, turnip bulb or tulip bulb. A church-wide lighting service is planned for Sunday. Bring a bulb of your choice and a covered dish.

Nazarene: Six. One woman to replace the bulb while five men review the church lighting policy.

Lutherans: None. Lutherans don’t believe in change.

Amish: What’s a light bulb?

The Awkward Ex-Church Member Reunion

Have you ever run into someone from a former church in the store and the Awkward-O'-Meter goes through the roof?  Yeah, well that just happened to me and of course I was mostly to blame. More on that in a minute.

As much as I'm not proud of this fact - it's true. In the 11 years that my wife and I have lived in Richmond, we've gone to 3 churches and have been at our current (3rd) church for 5 years.  So go ahead...I know that you are right this second as you read this relegating me to an infamous sub-faction of Christianity…the church-hopper.  But you'd be wrong.  So allow me to defend myself my spiritual brethren and sistren (??)  I think I just made up a word. 

[Serious aside] Contrary to what you are thinking (at least what I think you're thinking) I am a huge advocate of NOT choosing a church the way you choose a gym or a club or your favorite restaurant.  No, I believe that the church is a living thing, a holy thing, and while we should seek God in all our decisions, I believe He cares deeply about where we choose to fellowship.  Because church is more than just a place to break bread, it is a place where we become a part of the Body, the Body of Christ.  We get it. So believe me when I tell you that we did not take our decision lightly when we decided to leave our first church. Suffice it to say we feel now that we are right where God wants us. OK...now to back to awkward reunions. [End of serious aside]

So, I run into this old former church acquaintance and it's been 5 years so I figure the conversation will be easy, cordial banter and then back to shopping for baseball helmets.  Until he pops the question.  You know the one.  THE BIG QUESTION.  "So Keith...what happened?" (clearly referring to me tearing out his heart and stomping on it).  WHAT HAPPENED???!!!  Really?  You want to go there?  OK, I was not prepared for this, sort of in the same way you aren't prepared for that huge piece of truck re-tread in the middle of the highway because you're jamming to some David Crowder song...by the time you see it, it's too late.  You just brace yourself....and BAM!!...hit it and pray a tire doesn't fall off.  

So, figuratively speaking, I had just hit the re-tread.  Well, not only did the tire come off...the window cracked, my fan belt broke..it got ugly quick.  To my horror, I heard myself begin to utter things like "didn't agree with the theology" and "failed leadership"..."not happy with the Sunday School program".  I could not make myself shut up. And to make matters worse (yes, it gets worse) after my monologue of death his response was "Well, I still go there..."  Wonderful.  Amazing.  Fabulous.  I am officially the worst ex-church member ever.

The last thing I remember I was staggering away, my confidence in my own humanity a little tarnished…a little humbled.  On to the baseball helmets.   

Has a similar awkward experience ever happened to any of you?  Any funny stories to share? 

How Annoying Things Remind Me of God (Sorry, Lord )

Note regarding my last post.  Due to the apparent disinterest in Demotivational posters based on the fact that only 10% of you cared to read, I promise to never do that again unless at least 10 people beg me to...and I still might say "No."  I'll just post them on the timeout wall to torture my kids. 
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If you could look in the back of my '99 Nissan SUV (pushing 200,000 miles thank you very much) you would see an assortment of items ranging from a battered box of tissues, a child's car seat with no less than 6 months of cookie crumbs in the crease, gum wrappers (those that haven't been sucked out the window- I do feel bad for that), my Ipod (which is not the real Apple product, but a suitable knockoff) because I'd rather listen to it, then have to endure my CD's skipping to the beat of the potholes on Rt 288, sunglasses, of course, and a pile of receipts that I really don't know why I haven't thrown away.  And that's just the backseat.

In the very back is the good stuff.  Tools, chairs, (trash...but not much), a football, a box of shirts, a Frisbee, and baseball equipment.  And this leads us to the subject of my gripe. Bats. Not the little flying ones, the long ones made out of metal that hate me.  That roll around incessantly while I'm in stop-and-go traffic all the way home.  The ones that roll back and forth and back and forth and BACK AND FORTH, like a  clanking, crashing, wave, of screaming metal trying to make...me....lose...my...MIND!  Until I finally get home and throw them in the trash can.  Then take them out because my kids are crying (OK...I just made up that part, they're still [secured nicely] in the back of my SUV.)

OK, so how does this remind me of God?  How can this make me a better Christian? Because all the way home with every bang of the bat against my wheel well, for some odd reason, instead of getting angry, it made me think of how God, like those bats, is trying to get my attention, over and over, using any method at his disposal (and let's face it - He's Almighty God - He has a lot of methods), saying look at me, pay attention to me, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!!!  Until I finally get it. And realize that I was made to love Him back.  For some of us it takes God's clanking bats throughout our life to keep us from forgetting Him.  His insane, perfect, crazy, Jesus-died-on-the-cross-for-me, love. The love that would go to bat for you (sorry I know that was lame), that promised to never leave you, or abandon you, or betray you, or gossip about you, or call you stupid, or lie to you...I just hope God doesn't have to hit me with that bat.  That would really hurt. 

De-Motivational Posters Rock

OK...my day job puts me in the path of a lot of people and interesting places, most normal, but some...not so much.  So I am beginning to create some (De) Motivational posters in honor of some of the weirdness and hilarity I encounter while at work.  Enjoy. Courtesy laughs welcome. (These are my first try at these so be gracious).

The Ice Cream Truck Is Voodoo

In our world where so much has become plastic and predictable, where the amazing leaps in technology make our lives easy, filled with entertainment, and, well, not very much like the world most of us knew when we were kids, it gives me pause. To reflect.  The (once yearly now monthly) advances in our world are a blessing no doubt...but as I revel in this computerized, Fantasia-like debauchery in all this "new" stuff, I find myself missing the "old" stuff just a little.  Simplicity had it's advantages.

So imagine my delight when, the other day, I heard the faint sound of the ice cream truck.  That jing-a-ling, nursery rhyme musical loop that is welcomed by every kid who is forced to play outside in the wet heat by weary moms or babysitters all across the country.  This, I thought, is one piece of my childhood that Bill Gates, Google, or even Obama has not yet changed.  So, I listened and remembered.  Until a terrible thought crossed my mind.  My mind does this to me all the time. Stupid mind.

What do we really know about the ice cream truck or the goodly 'ol driver in the ice cream truck?  I have some questions that need answers...like, Where does the ice cream truck come from?  Have you ever been on the highway and passed an ice cream truck?  Have you ever stopped at a stoplight and looked out your window and noticed you were idling beside an ice cream truck? No and no!  The ice cream truck just magically appears in a neighborhood filled with little kids.  Another word for magic is voodoo! Got your attention now, don't I?

And how do they know there are kids in these neighborhoods?  And how can we be sure that they don't have an evil ulterior motive (we've all watched in horror the Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, right?)...just saying.

Do these kindly, well-intentioned drivers have background checks?  I mean who in their right mind would want to listen to "Pop Goes The Weasel" all...day...long.  A felon parolee who has no other job options, that's who! Or perhaps the CHILD CATCHER!!!  AUGHHHHH!

Well there goes another piece of childhood nostalgia, ruined by a paranoid, overactive mind and a children's movie.

Can I Get An ETA On That Promise, Lord?

In Scripture, we are given a myriad of amazing promises from God.  He promises to provide all our needs (remember the verse about us being worth more than the birds and flowers...so not to worry?),  God promises us life filled with purpose and meaning (John 10:10), We are promised authority to overcome the power of Satan (Luke 10:19),  He promises never to leave us or forsake us, promises that we can get close to Him, promises to do more than we can "ask or imagine" ( ...and I can imagine a lot!).  He even comments on the promises themselves in 2 Peter 1:4, saying that by his "great and precious" promises we can participate in the divine nature (!!).  That sounds pretty awesome.

And when God makes a promise, it is money.  Done deal. As good as gold. God takes his word very seriously.  And he (rightly) should expect us to trust that when He makes a promise it will come to pass. 'Cus bad things can happen if we don't trust God that He will keep his promise.  

  God never says WHEN he will fulfill His promises

There's only one small problem.  He never says WHEN he will fulfill His promises. And according to Psalm 90:4, a thousand years are like a day to God.  So we are in for some waiting...and, I hate waiting.  So unfortunately for me and you we are trapped by the clock.  In a way, this really penalizes believers these days, because everything we do comes with an Estimated Time of Arrival (ETA) meter.  We have calendars and clocks and timers on our watches, apps on our phones, we have an apple in New York so we even know the precise second the New Year has started.  Even when we download something on the computer we get the little bar that shows our progress.  Our flight might be delayed, but at least we know.  We aren't in the dark.

So, I was thinking...what if God's promises came with some sort of supernatural ETA meter.  We pray for something, or a promise kicks in, and POOF...instantly a "countdown to when the promise is fulfilled" appears.  I don't need anything fancy, it would just be nice to know that the trial I'm in is going to end in 18 days, 3 hours, and 15 seconds.  Yeah, that would be sweet to know.  Or that the full life...it won't start for at least another 7 years. Good to know. Thanks for the ETA, Lord.  And as long as I'm dreaming here I guess could ask for a time machine, a freeze-frame function for my kids (so I could actually get some things done), and about 4 more inches in height.  Yeah, I told you I can imagine a lot!     

Friday Fun

Because I can't be pithy and original all the time, here are a few items to get you ready for the weekend.  Enjoy.     - Keith

 Unverified True Story 

• Lawyer: "Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?"
• Witness: "No."
• Lawyer: "Did you check for blood pressure?"
• Witness: "No."
• Lawyer: "Did you check for breathing?"
• Witness: "No."
• Lawyer: "So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"
• Witness: "No."
• Lawyer: "How can you be so sure, Doctor?"
• Witness: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."
• Lawyer: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"
• Witness: "Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere."

Worlds Worst Metaphors (or Similes)

        "She clung to him like the wax paper thingy in the deli meat package"

        "She punched holes in his argument like a clown on an ice pick pogo stick"

 Time Travel Anyone?

Things I Wish Were In The Bible

I know I'm treading a dark and sordid path, by even suggesting this topic.  But it's too late to turn back now.  Have you ever thought what life would be like if certain things were in the Bible?  I swear I remember my Mom telling me, when I didn't want to brush my teeth, that I had to because "it was in the Bible." ..."Really?", so off I ran to brush my teeth so I wouldn't go to hell.  (My suspicions  about dentists was correct!).  Of course this is NOT true....but what if it was.  (Boy, would it make parenting easier.)

What if, say, the Bible said, "Thou shall not jump on your Dad's stomach to wake him up" or how about, "Do NOT flush your toothbrush down the toilet...nothing but TP."  A few words about courteous driving, mandatory raises (greater than the cost of living raise),  people being required to respond to your email within 24 hours, and in somewhere in big bold letters "PETA...Lay Off.  I Created Animals, I Think They're Great.  But People Are More Important Than Animals Because People Are Created In My Image" - God.  One can dream, right?

If you read Leviticus and Numbers, there are commands about  tassels on garments, hair loss, mold in your house, and a host of other rules in regard to everyday living.  Surely, a few words about farting at the dinner table, on your brothers head (although I think that's OK...it is hilarious), keeping the Lego's out of Dad's path when barefoot, or eating all your vegetables would have been nice.

Of course, what makes me think we would obey those rules, when we have such a hard time obeying what God DID write about.  Maybe I'll read more about that hair loss part. 

Why Did Jesus Not Invent A/C?

I sometimes get into fits of insanity.  Like when people drive 55 in the left lane, Have 50 items in the 20 item or less checkout line at the grocery store, or when I sit next the "loudtalker" on the airplane at midnight, and they still insist on talking...loudly.

Other times are when the temperature shoots over 100 °F (or 156 °F if you count the heat index, which really is the temperature our liberal friends want to tell us so to foist the global warming myth on us...but I digress).

It's during these times that I am not responsible for the thoughts that go through my head and out the big fat hole in it, ergo, my mouth.  So I'm cutting grass on the hottest day of the year, about to risk dehydration just so I can have a nice(ish) lawn when this thought occurs: 

How impressive it was that Jesus, God in flesh, Creator of everything,  

Alpha and Omega, Son of God, lived in Israel....HOT Israel...and did NOT invent air conditioning.  

He could have.  I think.  

And as long as I'm on this slippery blasphemous slope there are a lot of things he could've invented had He not been so unselfish as I would have not have been in his sandals. Ice Cream comes to mind.  Coffee, running water, Tylenol.  Q-Tips!!!  Well, considering there are places that don't have most of these things I'll shut up now and be thankful.  But I still wonder. Anyway, like I said.  I take no responsibility for this rant.  Now, I have to leave the A/C and go out and finish cutting grass.