Ok I realize that I haven’t posted for over a week but I have a good excuse.  I’ve converted.  Switched over. Gone to the other side.  Yes, I am now officially a Mac user.  It took a while to get my files transferred and my email and contact information converted while maintaining some level of work productivity.  But, oh, was it worth it.

I have heard Mac users in the past tell me about the wonders of a Mac vs. PC.  I would walk through an airport and see the clusters of stylish cases with their little fruit logos that would light up like a beacon of hope for a new world order.  These Macinites would even seem to huddle together like nesting penguins and speak in strange tongues or “Mac-speak.”  I thought they were evil.  Part of a fraternity of devil spawn meant to suck me into their embittered web of Steve Jobs propaganda and deceit.  Well, maybe that’s a little over the top . . . but I did think it was a lot of biased hype.  You see, I was raised on PC and when I was doing database programming, PC was the only viable platform.  But that was 6 years ago and things have changed.  My wife will tell you that I can be a sucker for marketing so I have to admit the Apple commercials became intriguing to me.  I would find myself peering over the shoulders of Mac worshipers and become entranced with things that were foreign to me such as speed and simplified menus.  Finally the frustration of missing .dll files, error messages, constant start-ups and shut-downs, viruses, and program speeds that I could have rivaled with a chisel and stone pushed me over the edge.  As my last PC began to take it’s last steps into the bright light, I said the words, “I___want___a___Mac.”

I powered up the strange little machine and what would follow would alter me forever.  There are colors I’ve never seen and a screen so vivid I had to look away at first.  All of my programs are waiting for me in a neat little line ecstatically wanting to be used as I briefly acknowledge their existence with the pass of my mouse.  Then I’m introduced to “Spaces” and “Expose’.”  I practically squeal with glee.  Even my Office programs had features I never knew could exist.  You close the monitor and it goes to sleep.  You open it and it instantly wakes up!  The list goes on and on.

But then I began to think of my life for the past 14 years.  The pain, the suffering, the endless calls to tech support.  I felt my heart grow cold.  I could taste a bitter acidity as I realized . . .

I’d been lied to . . . . . . . . . brainwashed.

Bill Gates and his minions in their Seattle compound were one step away from having me selling roses at an intersection.

I had become a Microsoft Moonie.

Never again!  Today, I apologize to Mac users everywhere for the intolerance and persecution you have endured.  I am one of you and have always been at heart.  You are my tribe.  You are my people.

I’m sorry but I thought this was hilarious.  Someone sent this to me saying it was an actual homework assignment.  I don’t know if that’s true but it still cracked me up!

Dear Mrs. Jones,
I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. 
I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit.  I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it.    Her picture doesn’t show me dancing around a pole.  It’s supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot.
From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.
Sincerely,
Mrs.  Smith

Ever have one of those weeks where it seems that if it can go wrong it will?  Well, welcome to my week.  It’s like attending a cow pie skeet-shoot and everyone yells “pull” at the same time and you’re left without an umbrella (get the picture?).  I’m talking about situations that range from the usual daily drama to the legitimately justified crisis all the way to the “you’ve got to be kidding me” ridiculous scenarios that can only be resolved by pharmaceutical intervention (and no, I don’t mean me). 

I certainly don’t want to make light of legitimate situations that are truly unavoidable and unintentional, it’s just the things that are unnecessary and can be prevented that are most challenging.  But these things do happen and believe it or not, they have a purpose. 

A few weeks ago, I felt that God was telling me to get ready for some stormy days ahead.  Not exactly what I typically like to hear.  But I realized that He was telling me so that I could focus and not become distracted.  As I was considering all of this, I was reminded of the potential benefits that storms can bring (I realize I’m changing metaphors but this is a little . . . ahem . . . less delicate to work around). 

Sometimes storms leave behind damage and destruction along with heavy rain.  In the midst and aftermath of a storm, you can feel disoriented, confused, and depending on the situation, a sense of loss.  However have you also noticed how clean the air is afterwards and how months of filth and dirt that have accumulated have been washed away?  You often see on the evening news how, in the midst of wreckage and debris, people begin to come together to provide relief and assistance.  There is a sense of unity that begins to form between people who were once strangers.  There is a common purpose that moves beyond people’s preferences and provides an opportunity for their character to be revealed.  It is during the rescue and rebuilding that heroes are made or discovered.  Challenging situations that seem insurmountable can give us some of our greatest stories of faithfulness, loyalty, provision and friendship.  No one likes going through a storm and having to wait it out.  But you have to remember, they don’t last forever.  They can just seem like they do.  Next time you see storm clouds on the horizon, just remember that they can also bring great opportunities with them. 

And as for things hitting the fan, . . . well . . . I’ll just leave it at that.

I don’t like flying.   I guess you could call it a fear.  It’s not enough to stop me from getting on a plane or enjoying traveling.  It’s just a low-grade unease that sets in.  A couple of years ago it was worse.  I think I believed that I could actually steer the plane by clawing the armrests as hard as I possibly could.  When we hit turbulence, it would take my prayer-life to a whole new level.  I would tell the person next to me how much I loved them and ask them to hold me.  I guess I would have gotten a better response if I knew them. 

These days, I’m more used to it since I ‘ve had to do more traveling.  I’m no longer dousing the plane with holy water and reciting the entire Book of Common Prayer.  I find that I love airports and enjoy the experience of travel.  A lot of it had to do with facing my fear rather than ignoring it or running from it.  I knew that if I was going to be able to continue with what God has called me to do, I would have to deal with it.  I remember praying one trip for a smooth ride and immediately I heard God say “Jeff, when have I ever promised you a smooth ride in anything?  I only promised that I would give you the grace for whatever you come against.”  Ouch!  Good point, God.  I should know better.  Strangely, once I accepted that fact, my fear began to diminish with each trip I took.  My faith was readjusted to be focused on the right things and as a result, my fears were in a process of being defeated. 

So the other night, I turned on the TV to find this on the screen -

I think I may have soiled myself . . .

I can only imagine what those poor people experienced during that ordeal.  Apparently, everyone remained calm and escaped without incident.  I definitely consider the crew of that flight all to be heroes and they should be commended!  As I continued to watch the news coverage and felt some old feelings begin to surface, I heard the Lord quietly remind me “I won’t always prevent you from enduring trials because that is where you are tested and grow, but I will always give you the grace for whatever comes your way.”  “You’re right, Lord.  Good reminder,”  I said.    I got my tea and sat down to listen to the accounts of heroism and rested with a fresh sense of confidence.

There are many commercials on TV right now that I find annoying:  the bearded man that yells incessantly about fabric glue or bleach alternative;  the “after 10″ advertisements for singles chat lines; and let’s not forget . . . five . . . five dollar . . . five dollar foot . . FOR THE LOVE OF  – - – - !! I’m sure that these have been used as interrogation resources in terrorists training camps.  However, these pale compared to the latest commercial for a sterling silver, brilliant genuine crystal, cross necklace. This isn’t just any regular crystal cross; oh no . . . it has the Lord’s Prayer embedded in a “secret” center stone.  Once you hold it up to the light, it magically reveals the entire prayer.

Why . . . .why is this necessary in life?

Is there a possible scenario that could warrant such a ghastly trinket?

What?  Am I going to be at a prayer meeting and have someone ask me to close the meeting with the Lord’s Prayer?

“Our Father, who is in heaven” . . .  I draw a blank . . . people are staring!  I start to break into a flop-sweat . . . but wait!

I have my Genuine Brilliant Crystal Lord’s Prayer Cross ($19.95 plus shipping and handling.  Call right now and we’ll double your order!) In a quick move I clasp the cross between my hands and lift it desperately into the air just a couple of inches from my face.  I squint with strained intensity as I begin to read the microscopic print.  (Everyone thinks that I’m being moved by the Spirit a probably just a little closer to Jesus.)  Like James Earl Jones, I recite each word with an apocalyptic voice as people begin to weep.  Lives are changed . . . things will never be the same again.

Ok, a little over-the-top, I know . . . but while I certainly have no problem with the wearing of a cross as a symbol of authentic faith, I begin to draw the line when it is suffocating in the cavernous cleavage of some pop diva who, while receiving her MTV award in her studded dog collar and clear heels, blurts out, “I wanna giva holla out to Jesus fer makin’ this possible!  Aw-rite!?  Yeh.”  I’m sorry; it just lacks a little something.

But just as bad, if not worse, is the Christian sub-culture that has retail marketers and corporations foaming at the mouth in an anticipatory frenzy.  Just go to any convention, bookstore, or trade show and you can find almost anything.  From myrrh perfume (have you smelled myrrh, by the way?) to Jesus action figures.  It’s there!

But there is something about what we have done with the cross.  In the first century church, the cross was a frightening representation of execution.  In fact, the early Christians rarely used it in iconography because of its painful and gruesome method of execution.  The closest example we would have today would be the electric chair.  Now while I am not a huge fan of making this over-simplified comparison, it does make a point.  It was a method of torturous execution.  There is something dangerous about taking the cross and making it into a keepsake or trendy symbol or trinket.  It makes it too safe.  It makes it familiar and diminishes its ability to remind us of the terrible sacrifice that Christ made for us.  It makes us forget that we too must make a sacrifice to truly follow Him.  It becomes just another pop-culture icon lost in a sea of everything relevant.  Like I said, I have no problem with people wearing a cross or having it tattooed on their body, just as long as they understand what it represents and much like everything else with our faith, it has to mean something to them.  That’s where the power is.

It’s that time of year again where gluttony is considered vice chic and everyone expects the day to be reminiscent of the front cover of the 1953 Thanksgiving issue of “The Saturday Evening Post.”  Hosts and Hostess have spent days preparing the menu, decorating, and coordinating guests lists and responsibilities for this most significant of days.  We seek out the perfect recipes for the most important menu item; the turkey.  The turkey has become iconic with this festive holiday and therefore it is crucial that the host/hostess must ensure it’s perfection.  For days we have envisioned carrying this majestic bird on a elegant platter worthy enough to serve royalty.  Guests are overcome with emotion as they realize they are in a moment in time that will be captured in their hearts and likely become a keepsake in their portfolio of memories.  For that moment, the world becomes a better place.  All thanks to the expertise of world-renowned mentors of cooking that coach us, encourage us, and give us delightful visual aids, such as the one above, that serve as the finish line to an exhausting culinary journey.  With this inspired confidence, we know that we can’t fail.

However . . . .

For the past four hours I have been on a basting schedule that was obviously written by someone with OCD.  Helpful note:  open the roasting pan lid away from your face when attempting to baste.  Otherwise, you will receive a searing herbal facial that will make your guests think you have rosacea.  Which each basting, I had a growing concern regarding the “ascetic” of my bird.  It began to look more and more like an argument against the lab testing of animals.  Me being the cock-eyed optimist that I am chose to believe the end result would be what the all-wise yoda of Cooking Light promised me.  Finally the time had arrived . . .

I pull the roaster from the oven

open the lid (opposing direction)

the steam clears

I ask you . . . does this look ANYTHING like the picture above . . . I think not!  I obviously bought the edition written by a chef from the Hannibal Lector Culinary Institute.

I can hear it know

“Oh I see Jeff is a supporter of the Tennessee Road Kill legislation.”

The last time I saw something like this was in 8th grade biology class and I was holding a scalpel.  My only chance is to hurl this bird carcass at my guests as they come in because that is the only way this neanderthal pigeon autopsy is going to make an impression.

(Sigh)

Oh well, I guess I should start hacking away at this animal so it can be presented in a way that doesn’t induce vomiting.

There’s always next year . . .

I’m ordering out.

Strengths Finder 2.0

I’m usually not big on personality or assessment tests.  But I have to say I’m impressed with this one.  I love the premise of this book as it states that you can’t be whatever you want to be.  Rather, you are supposed to become the best that you were created to be.  We are always working on our weaknesses rather than capitalizing on our strengths.  While this concept is not new to me, I sure wish I had learned about it before I spent 10 years pursuing a classical music career.  I spent so many years developing and training a skill that had significant limitations.  Had I realized earlier what my true strengths were, I could have saved a whole lot of money and been a little further down the road doing what I was supposed to be doing.  But God has a way of redeeming the time and correcting our course when we take our little trips down crackpipe lane.  

The premise of the book is there are 34 themes; patterns of thought, feeling, and behavior that can be usefully utilized.  Out of these themes, there are five that surface as being the strongest and most dominant.  Our pastoral team is in the process of taking the test to see how we compliment each other and better work together.  This should be interesting.  Apparently, mine turned out to be:  

1.  Responsibility

2.  Command

3.  Competition

4.  Activator

5.  Strategic

Now I must confess that I enjoy the hyper-masculine overtones of this list.  However No. 3 was a little bit of a surprise.  I never really considered myself competitive.  The only thing I’ve ever asked is for the slow and incompetent to do what I tell them and get out of my way.  The fact that this is on my list is a little concerning since I’m on pastoral team and categorically this is considered sin!  I’m sure this is just eluding to my commitment to compete against and defeat the forces of darkness.  That makes sense . . . right?

I don’t know what it is about mountain communities, but there is something that I’ve always felt a connection too.  It’s not necessarily the people with their natural fibers and vegan menus or the women looking like cast members of the Hallmark Channels “Sarah, Plain and Tall.”  I don’t mind their categorical protests to cosmetics and their desire for body hair to grow completely unhindered . . . really. . . I’ve always thought that rubbing a crystal under my armpit would accomplish the exact same effect as a solid stick of Right Guard.  It’s just that I’m very committed to conserving our natural resources so why waste a good crystal? 

 Driving around some of these towns you can see the eclectic mix of architecture as well as retail diversity.  Go into one store where you can peruse a wide assortment of tie-dyed hemp while experiencing incense-induced emphysema, then walk next door into a general store that will transport you back to 1943 with it’s wooden floors, Duncan yo-yos and Glen Miller playing in the background.  For lunch, you can find a meat-and-three or walk down the street and discover fusion cuisine that could only have been conceptualized with one’s head in a narcotic cloud. 

 Having lived in Boulder, CO for three years, I truly have an appreciation for all of this exaggeration.  The only place I know where you can eat in a Russian Team Room, walk outside to have your tarot cards read, wave at the Buddhist monk as he walks by chanting while banging a drum then grab dessert at Haagen Dazs before buying a pair of khakis at Banana Republic.  I wore the torn jeans with the Birkenstock clogs and was even a vegetarian for a year (a true feat for a carnivorous southern boy).  I love the elevated sense of being in the mountains with its connection to nature and commitment to simplicity.  I think that’s what I like about this culture; the diverse attempts to connect with simplicity in its most original form.  Each expressing their own view of simplicity whether it is through diet, clothing, homes, or business practices.  Each one very creative in their frugal approach to living. 

 However, what I’ve discovered in my journey is that we can’t achieve simplicity through cultural asceticism.  This, to me, is like worshiping the creation rather than the Creator.  Simplicity means “to be free from guile.”  Our attempts at achieving purity through diet, environmental awareness or any other means will not give us our desired results in the end.  There is an innocence that we are always seemingly trying to get back to.  These things that we abstain from or lay down should be for the purpose of seeing God with more clarity and not ourselves.

 I remember watching “Grizzly Adams” as a child (popular 70s TV program for the chronologically challenged).  My favorite part was the opening and closing credits.  There was this incredible view of a man on a mountain top looking into the horizon with John Denveresque theme music in the background (work with me . . . it was the 70s).  There was something free and majestic about him.  But there was something incredibly content as well.  I think that’s what is appealing.  A feeling of being connected to something much bigger than myself in its untainted form.  Pure to its original intent and design or at least to my understanding of it.  A simple appreciation of the value and beauty of something.  Worship. 

 So in the midst of this, I will find myself strangely feeling at home in this peculiar tie-dye, tofu world.  Look for me.  I’ll be the obvious SUV-driving, yuppie, suburbanite visitor looking on in fascination with a Starbucks in hand.