Today’s word: Faction. (More on this later)

Have you ever wondered what you would be like if you were born into a family with an entirely different set of beliefs? This is the hook that seems to have baited a host of readers. Consider a line from Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code". "Almost everything our fathers taught us about Christ is false." I half expected the Catholics to riot over this book, but then I remembered that they’re not Muslims and there are no cartoons in Da Vinci. Either way, there are scores of religious leaders taking up the crusade against the ideas presented in this book, as if it were a textbook from a university. I’m not interested in those of us who are defending ourselves, for that is expected. I want to know what the learned liberal thinks. Among more liberal thinkers, Harold Attridge, dean of Yale's Divinity School, says Brown has "wildly misinterpreted" early Christianity. Ehrman details Brown's "numerous mistakes" in "Truth and Fiction in the Da Vinci Code" and asks: "Why didn't he simply get his facts straight?" The whole issue with this book is that "Da Vinci" is billed as more than mere fiction. Brown's opening page begins with the word "FACT" and asserts that all descriptions of documents "are accurate."

MSNBC quotes Brown as saying, "It's a book about big ideas, you can love them or you can hate them," Brown said in a speech last week. "But we're all talking about them, and that's really the point." Brown told National Public Radio's "Weekend Edition" during a 2003 publicity tour — he declines interviews now — that his characters and action are fictional but "the ancient history, the secret documents, the rituals, all of this is factual." Around the same time, on CNN he said that "the background is all true."

Of course I beg to differ. Since it’s good to get your ducks in a row with the questions and conversations that are likely to ensue, here are some points to consider. Get your ducks ready. Among the key issues:

Jesus' divinity-
Brown's version in "Da Vinci": Christians viewed Jesus as a mere mortal until A.D. 325 when the Emperor Constantine "turned Jesus into a deity" by getting the Council of Nicaea to endorse divine status by "a relatively close vote."

His critics' version: Larry Hurtado of Scotland's University of Edinburgh, whose "Lord Jesus Christ" examines first century belief in Jesus' divinity, says that "on chronology, issues, developments, and all the matters asserted, Brown strikes out; he doesn't even get on base."

He and others cite the worship of Jesus in epistles that Paul wrote in the 50s A.D. One passage teaches that Jesus, "though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped" and became a man (Philippians 2:6).

Historians also say the bishops summoned to Nicaea by Constantine never questioned the long-held belief in Jesus' divinity. Rather, they debated technicalities of how he could be both divine and human and approved a new formulation by a lopsided vote, not a close one.

The New Testament-
Brown's version: "More than 80 gospels were considered for the New Testament" but Constantine chose only four. His new Bible "omitted those gospels that spoke of Christ's human traits and embellished those gospels that made him godlike. The earlier gospels were outlawed, gathered up and burned." The Dead Sea Scrolls and manuscripts from Nag Hammadi, Egypt, were "the earliest Christian records," not the four Gospels.

Critics: Historians say Christians reached consensus on the authority of the first century's four Gospels and letters of Paul during the second century. But some of the 27 New Testament books weren't universally accepted until after Constantine's day. Constantine himself had nothing to do with these decisions.

Some rejected writings are called gospels, though they lack the narrative histories that characterize the New Testament's four. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John were earlier and won wide consensus as memories and beliefs from Jesus' apostles and their successors.

The rejected books often portrayed an ethereal Jesus lacking the human qualities depicted in the New Testament Gospels — the exact opposite of Brown's scenario. Gnostic gospels purported to contain secret spiritual knowledge from Jesus as the means by which an elite could escape the material world, which they saw as corrupt. They often spurned Judaism's creator God and the Old Testament.

On the question of mass burning of texts deemed heretical, Ehrman of North Carolina says there's little evidence to support that claim. Rejected books simply disappeared because people stopped using them, and nobody bothered to make new copies in an age long before the printing press.

The Dead Sea Scrolls? These were Jewish documents, not Christian ones. The Nag Hammadi manuscripts? With one possible exception, these came considerably later than the New Testament Gospels.

Jesus as married-
Brown's version: Jesus must have wed because Jewish decorum would "virtually forbid" an unmarried man. His spouse was Mary Magdalene and their daughter inaugurated a royal bloodline in France.

Critics: First century Jewish historian Josephus said most Jews married but Essene holy men did not. The Magdalene myth only emerged in medieval times.

Brown cites the Nag Hammadi "Gospel of Philip" as evidence of a marriage, but words are missing from a critical passage in the tattered manuscript: "Mary Magdalene (missing) her more than (missing) the disciples (missing) kiss her (missing) on her (missing)."

Did Jesus kiss Mary on the lips, or cheek or forehead? Whatever, Gnostics would have seen the relationship as platonic and spiritual, scholars say.

James M. Robinson of Claremont (Calif.) Graduate School, a leading specialist, thinks the current popularity of Mary Magdalene "says more about the sex life (or lack thereof) of those who participate in this fantasy than it does about Mary Magdalene or Jesus."

So what about these errors? British Justice Peter Smith, who recently backed Brown against plagiarism charges, said in his decision: "Merely because an author describes matters as being factually correct does not mean that they are factually correct. It is a way of blending fact and fiction together to create that well known model 'faction.' The lure of apparent genuineness makes the books and the films more receptive to the readers/audiences. The danger of course is that the faction is all that large parts of the audience read, and they accept it as truth."

But he and others also see a chance to inform people about the beliefs of Christianity through the "Da Vinci" controversy. The question is whether or not the regular churchgoer can do that. Ben Witherington III of Asbury Theological Seminary summed up the entire situation well when he said, “The whole "Da Vinci" hubbub shows that we are a Jesus-haunted culture that's biblically illiterate."

Now that’s a fact.

I've got a question for you. It's not a question I want to ask you, but instead a question that I want you to ask someone this week. The question is powerful, dangerous, revealing, and honest. It's weight is as brutal to the hearer as the answer is likely to be to the one who dares to ask. The question is this.

"Do I love you?"

I think we throw around 'I love you' way to flippantly as if it were a way to do a quick patch job on the leaky relationships we all struggle to keep afloat. We know it's barely going to last as long as the person's memory but at least it's good for about 10 minutes. A lot of southern folk don't go get the mail without saying, 'love you' which was weird to me 15 years ago and still is. I think it's a less painful substitute for good bye or perhaps it just makes for better final words than, "Tell Herb to warm the Preparation H in the microwave before he applies it next time." But because it gets so much use it's like a bald set of tires or a politician's promise. It will hold up as long as the road is smooth but hit a pothole or wet spot and you're swapping it out for the spare in the rain on I35. After a few thousand of those, who cares if you say, "I love you." Maybe you do, maybe you don't. Maybe they believe you. Maybe they don't. So what? Instead of bringing you closer, it typically brings communication to a close with an awkward reply (or silence on a bad night). Next time you get a chance to talk to someone you love, ask them, "Do I love you?" I know I'm writing in a humorous style here but allow me to shift gears for a minute.

When Jesus asked Peter multiple times, "Do you love me?" Peter replied, "You know I do." Since Jesus knew all things Peter figured Jesus must have known his heart. So then why was Jesus pressing the issue? Perhaps Peter didn't love like he thought he did. Peter would have done well to ask Jesus, "Do I love you?" It would have been a revealing answer to be sure. So why didn't he? Probably because he knew what the answer would be. Why don't we ask those close to us, "Do I love you?" Maybe because we know what the answer will be. Maybe you love your spouse internally but have done so little on the outside to express it that you're afraid of what their answer would be. They may say, "I don't think so." Let's take it a step further. Since all good Christians know that you're supposed to love both enemies and spouses (sometimes the same people) it's not Christ like to say, "I don't love you." So we say it because we're supposed to right? We don’t mean it but if we say it enough we might mean it one day. Or maybe we loved them once upon a time but now that emotional response is just a memory faded with time. For the sake of the children we say we love them 'deep down inside' which is just to say that you can't remember what it's like to love but you know you did once.

Whatever your state, whatever your emotional response to the presence of those closest to you, there is a tie to the soul found in relationship. This question is the drill that will see how deep that tie goes. It's not for the faint of heart. I don't guarantee the results will make you feel fuzzy. I do believe that the results will be as I said at first. Powerful, dangerous, revealing, and honest. Yet when it comes to love, isn't that what we all want?

There is a priority in the dynamic of ministry to God and service to His people. I always felt as though service to His people was the best way to draw close to God, since we are encouraged to minister to the least of these and, in doing so, minister to Christ. Further study has prompted me to expand the idea that there may be, in fact, a separation between the ministry to man and ministry to God.

In Ezekiel 44 we're told that there are a good number of Levitical priests who have ticked God off. They defiled the sanctuary or to quote, "And ye have not kept the charge of mine holy things: but ye have set keepers of my charge in my sanctuary for yourselves." So they did this that and the other and it made God angry. He begins to set out some punitive measures and in verse 11 he seems to relent somewhat and tells them that they can still be priests and minister to the people. Seems odd, since we place such a high priority on doing just that. When people fall or fail or, as in this case, desecrate the sanctuary, the first thing to go is their ministry for certainly God wouldn't want a habitual heathen to fill the ranks of those in authority in the church. Yet here is God Himself telling these detestable fellows that they get to keep their job. Here, I believe, is how many in ministry can live lives that fill the nostrils of God with the stench of rotten works and how foolish darkened hearts can still retain some semblance of anointing.

If they don't lose their anointing to minister to God's people, where then is the punishment? Verse 13 tells it plainly. "...they shall not come near unto me, to do the office of a priest unto me, nor to come near to any of my holy things, in the most holy [place]: but they shall bear their shame, and their abominations which they have committed."
Now look at that. There is obviously a difference in the anointing to minister to man and the ability to draw close to God. We erroneously believe that one can't exist without the other but I believe Scripture is plain in saying that God can use anyone to touch the life of another and even fulfill the anointed calling of a priest (or pastor). Yet the price to pay for squandering that anointing is that they are hindered from ministering to God or even drawing close to Him.

Look at the next verse. "But I will make them keepers of the charge of the house, for all the service thereof, and for all that shall be done therein." Now try this on for size. You can sit under anointed preaching and teaching delivered by a minister whose words and insight touch you deeply but whose life has been lived at a distance from the heart of the Father. Pastors, there's a difference between your anointing to minister to your people and your anointing to draw into a deeper walk with God. In this day I fear that many have placed more emphasis on their status in the eyes of their congregation while neglecting their own walk.

In the next verses God says to the sons of Zadok, "They shall enter into my sanctuary, and they shall come near to my table, to minister unto me, and they shall keep my charge." He then proceeds to give them some interesting uniform requirements. That they don't wear anything that causes sweat and that whatever they wear that they change it before they go out to mingle with the people so that, "they shall not sanctify the people with their garments." Old Testament only? Not so, for pre crucifixion there was a woman who was healed by touching the garment of Jesus and post crucifixion there were those who were healed by touching clothes that were handled by Paul (Acts 19:11-12). Keep in mind that it's not the cloth that does the healing but an apparent combined effort of the faith of the wearer and the faith of the one in need. Moving on...

Other things required of the sons of Zadok were some basic grooming, to stay off the wine in the sanctuary, to skip marrying widows unless she had been a widow of another priest, to teach the people about what's holy and what's not, to do some judging, to keep the Sabbath (all of them), and to avoid handling the dead (unless it's an immediate family member). Ok you could read this on your own. Why point it out? There are so many points that could be made here. I want to stick with one. How are you in your proximity to the presence of God? Under grace, we all have the ability to minister to God as well as to His people. Yet under grace we have taken it so lightly, and it's not a small thing. Some people avoid praise and worship because it 'doesn't minister to them'. I would contend that this is a selfish and arrogant stance. Praise and worship is for God. The preaching of the Word is for you. Both together are how we grow. Now if you worship on your own before you come together to hear the Word, fine, but you're missing out on the assembled collective worship of God together. Let's say you've got a bunch of friends and it's your birthday. You could get a visit from each one in turn but how much more effective is the group of friends who get together to throw you a surprise party? What if you weren't on the planning committee? You still go because it's not about you. It's about them. Don't avoid worship just because you weren't on the planning committee. It's not about you anyway. Come together and worship God because He's worthy of it. Why is He worthy? Is your heart still beating? Then He's really worthy.

My word for the day is 'Pilgrimage'. Websters dic defines the word as [A long journey or search, especially one of exalted purpose or moral significance.] Have you ever been on a pilgrimage? Have you ever felt as though you were on a journey and moving each day according to the direction of another or being guided by a hand you can't see? I was watching the Amazing Race this week and noticed how intensely these people moved from instruction to instruction and where that movement took them. From old to young, those who are set on pilgrimage are blessed with energy and strength to the point that it's exciting to watch. How much more exciting the journey that is directed by God? I believe that from birth to death, God has set us on a journey. We're all on a pilgrimage and when a man's heart realizes that, we move from strength to strength. God help the man who believes he has arrived and settles in the valley rather than passing through it. If you're in a valley today, keep moving, for it's not the journey that takes away your strength. It's in the journey that you'll find strength.

(Psalms 84:4-7 NKJV) Blessed are those who dwell in Your house; They will still be praising You. Selah {5} Blessed is the man whose strength is in You, Whose heart is set on pilgrimage. {6} As they pass through the Valley of Baca, They make it a spring; The rain also covers it with pools. {7} They go from strength to strength; Each one appears before God in Zion.

Psa 119: 54 Thy statutes have been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage.
Psa 119:55 I have remembered Thy name, O LORD, in the night, and have kept Thy law.
Psa 119:56 This I had, because I kept Thy precepts.
Psa 119:57 [Thou art] my portion, O LORD: I have said that I would keep Thy words.
Psa 119:58 I entreated Thy favor with [my] whole heart: be merciful unto me according to Thy Word.
Psa 119:59 I thought on my ways, and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies.
Psa 119:60 I made haste, and delayed not to keep Thy commandments.
Psa 119:61 The bands of the wicked have robbed me: [but] I have not forgotten Thy law.
Psa 119:62 At midnight I will rise to give thanks unto Thee because of Thy righteous judgments.

The Parable of the Cook

Let's pretend that you're a cook who feeds the same people every week. You
go to the store, pay for the ingredients, work hard cooking the meal, open
the doors, and the usual patrons wander in. Many of them are actually out of shape,
lazy as a dog, and picky as a two year old. Some things are too
hot, some are too cold. Some simply go through the line and take what they
want. Others complain about everything that's on the menu that they don't
like. "Why do they even have squash? I hate squash." Or, "How come they
don't have sweet potatoes? Every other decent restaurant in town has sweet
potatoes." Sometimes they'll say, "We have the best fried chicken in town.
It's better than every other diner out there."

You begin to notice that most of the patrons aren't really that hungry. They just come to
inspect the food. They load up anyway, though most of the food on the
plates will go unconsumed. When they go through the line there is a
donation box at the end to offset the cost of the food and perhaps to tip
the cook. Most pay. Some even leave a tip, smile, and say thank you. It's
this appreciation that will often make the difference between whether or not
the cook keeps cooking for some days it can get discouraging to be a cook.

On a rare occasion, the usual customers will see a hungry person in the
marketplace and tell him where he can go to get a good meal and become
healthy again. Most of the time the hungry go unnoticed because they're
everywhere, and so are the diners. When a starving person wanders in,
everyone gets excited. They share their meal and even save the newcomer a
place at the table. It's a happy time when you get to see someone enjoy a
hot meal for the first time.

It happens one day that the critique of the food turns to criticism of the
cook. What once was delicious is now boring. Eventually the criticism of
the cook digs into criticism of his motives and character. "Why does he
really cook?" some say. There are some who start talking about the donation
box. "If he really cares about us, he'll do it without needing to put that
offensive donation box at the end of the line." They begin to sit at
various tables and tell people that we don't need to give the cook any money
for the food. They say, "Don't tell the cook that he's doing a good job
because then he won't try harder and will never become a better cook. By
not encouraging him we're actually helping him." They use every angle
possible to convince people that the cook is greedy and only cares about the
money in the donation box. "He's just a hireling" they say. "He needs to
be taught a lesson in how to cook for the sake of cooking alone. That's
true culinary perfection."

The cook begins to go broke. He needs to pay the bills and so he gets
another job, and another job, and another job, and eventually, he doesn't
have energy to cook anymore. He still does, but he's just not as excited
about it as he used to be. In weeks to come people gather, go through the
line, load up, and when they get to the end of the line, they not only don't
tip anymore, they don't even pay for the food. That would be fine with the
cook because sometimes they're not able to and that's ok. The cook is just
glad they're there, that they're eating something, and
that they're sharing with others.

The problem is that they don't even say thank you anymore. They just load
up and walk away. They still criticize what they don't like and compare the
food to the other diners. They never take the time to tell the cook that
the food is good, decent, hot, or fresh. After some months pass, the cook
begins to wonder if these people aren't trying to tell him something.
The fact that they come and load up and most of it goes
uneaten begins to make him think, "Perhaps they need, not just a new dish,
but a new cook." Secretly a few individual patrons encourage the cook and
bless his family but it seems as thought they have to hide their efforts from
the rest of the patrons. The cook gets it. He realizes that there is a
attitude that has taken over the restaurant that will never allow the
patrons to express appreciation as a collective group. These patrons wish
to take over the cooking for themselves. He announces that he's hanging up
his apron, but fear not, the diner will still stay open under new
management. Some patrons organize a dinner and invite him and his family to attend a meal in his honor.
He attends. One last time, everybody loads up, walks away,
eats, and goes home. And that's it. The cook says, "I'm done with the restaurant business. I'm better off doing something else."
So he goes away, cooks for his family and a few genuinely hungry people he comes across,
works in peace, and lives happily every after.

The end.
--------------------------------------------

Epilogue

In the months following his departure, the former cook questions his calling to actually be a cook. Some say that everyone is a cook. Is there really a 'calling' to cook? As he wrestles with the question, he finds new strength in a deeper friendship with the Farmer from whom all the ingredients flowed. Turns out He's quite the merciful fellow. The Farmer assures the cook that he'll be fine and that He will take care of him as well as the patrons in the diner, and He does.
The diner goes through many cooks. Each one taking a turn at preparing the meal. One week it's
Chinese, the next week it's Mexican. There's some meat and potatoes on
occasion, and even some thick pasta dishes while others make up hot fudge
sundaes. The patrons seem to like the variety. What happens next? To be continued...

There are writers who think for you, and writers who provoke you to think. I pray that in this post, I may be the latter. What doesn't God know? Is there anything that is beyond His understanding? Is there any detail upon which mankind may illuminate Him? Can we possibly say anything that would clear up some confusion He might have? I say this to draw you to ponder. Have you ever noticed how many questions God asks in the Scriptures? Now there's some who may say that all that is simply rhetorical communication. That God asks questions to get us to think about the answer and experience the joy of discovery, after all, that's what a good teacher does. I believe, in some cases, that's true. Like the list of questions to Job to which Job replies, "I place my hand on my mouth." That was God asking a man, "Do you know who you're messing with?" After all, when it comes to size, proportion, and relative greatness, we're pretty stupid.

But God does ask some genuine questions engaging mankind in a conversation in which information is exchanged in a give and take manner. After all that's the essence of relationship, and isn't relationship what God desires? Nobody is drawn, for long, to someone who knows everything. Matter of fact, we hate a know it all, for their knowledge exposes our ignorance and makes the whole idea of relationship with such a person as interesting as curling up with an encyclopedia Britannica. See questions seem to draw us into relationship because they humbly expose a person's intellectual limitation. The question boosts your ego for it's another person challenging you to expand their mental boundaries to include more information than they previously had been able to contain. So do we have the chance to expand God's mind? Or are his questions meant to expand ours?

Here's some examples in which God question sounds less rhetorical and seems to sincerely beg an answer. Take one of the first questions in the Bible. He asks Adam, "Where are you?" Why? A little later on in Gen. 3 He asks, "Who told you that you were naked?" Why? Move on a ways and He asks, "Have you eaten of the tree I told you not to eat from?" Again, why? There's one more question in this conversation that is the most disturbing of all? "What is this you have done?" I think, rather than offer more thoughts, this is setup enough. Meditate on this today and if you would like to share some insights, I would appreciate the interaction. While we're at it, consider Jesus' question to Peter. "Do you love me?" Whenever I encounter a question asked by the Divine in the Scriptures, it's a source of some discomfort, for somewhere in the depth of my soul, I can feel it directed at me. Look for some other questions, and place yourself in the position of the person to whom the question is directed. How would you answer?

It's a warm evening here in Texas. A stark contrast from a few nights ago when we lit up the fireplace, turned the lights off and sat in the living room listening to the musical comfort of crackling wood. I love nights like that. The yellow glow dances off the limestone making the tall living room walls look like the tapestry lined chambers in a castle. The deep amber reflection in the wood floor and ceiling adds to the warmth and each time the fire cracks, the sparks wind through the air curving upward into the air like gnats on fire. I cross my feet and sink deeper into the old leather chair letting my eyes close and capturing the peace of the moment. I watch the shadows of my children silhouetted near the hearth as they catch the light of the fire in their eyes. Traci's curled up on the couch nearby. I would go over there to get close to her except she's not alone. She's running her fingers through Sasha's thick brown coat as our German Shepherd lays beside her. TV is off. The sound of choice is silence. If I were to try to think of a single thing that I could ask God for to add to this moment, I could not. From Hollywood Blvd, to West Palm Beach, to the old world charm of Williamsburg, to Soggy soothing Seattle, to the upcountry of Maui, to the Jazz of Philly, to the dry chill of Flagstaff, to Pier 29 in San Francisco, to the Rockies of Salt Lake City, to Michigan Ave in Chicago, to the Lincoln Memorial at night, and back to Austin. The past year has been an amazing traveler's adventure. Yet, when it's all said and done, I would trade all of those moments for one of these. My family and our home and a cool night when all is well.

Some friends of mine are living in the far north and sharing heart breaking stories of dealing with the meteorological challenges forthwith. For them I offer these profound quotes to take away their winter depression. Hope it helps.

It's snowing still. And freezing. However, we haven't had an earthquake lately. - Winnie-the-Pooh

Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather. - John Ruskin

This dirty puddle used to be pure snow. I walk by it with respect. - Stanislaw Jerzy Lec

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it—the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show. - Andrew Wyeth

When winter first begins to bite
and stones crack in the frosty night,
when pools are black and trees are bare,
'tis evil in the Wild to fare. - J. R. R. Tolkien

Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face. - Victor Hugo

"I LOVE THIS STUFF!" Britain Douglas Vanderbush (skiing in Colorado - Winter 01)

It’s the middle of the night over the deep blue waters of the Pacific. I’ve spent nearly a week in paradise (Maui), looking at a job that could pay more than I’ve ever made in my life, while doing something I genuinely enjoy, and I’m considering not doing it. “Hey bill, you’ve won the lotto. How do you feel?” (Bill shrugs) “I dunno. Give it to someone else.” Seriously though, I’m kind of indifferent to the whole deal. So many reasons that I don’t want to go into. So let me shift to the trip.
When I travel somewhere, it’s not the common sights I look for, but the flavor that makes the location unique. In Maui I found Paia. A small town on the north side that’s caught in an amazing time warp. Here, it’s 1968, and the hippie culture is the real deal. On the corner is the fish market which features excellent and affordable seafood with such a laid back flair that you don’t mind sharing a table with someone with dreadlocks sitting next to a girl named Rose Blossom. Head to the grocery store next door where everything is organic and the fruit section has far more than the usual fare. Mangos fall off the trees like leaves in fall here and the Papaya and Guava are as fresh as they come. Head out to the beach and you’re likely to find circles of people with harps, drums, and guitars celebrating the sunset for the third time this week. Take a ride away from the water and you quickly ascend in elevation to what is known as the upcountry. Cold, crisp, mountain air makes for an entirely different climate zone that breeds such rich pastureland that you would swear that you were trekking the Scottish highlands. Keep on going over to the other side of the island and you’ll find a massive stretch of sand that could hold 100,000 people and you still wouldn’t feel crowded. It’s aptly named ‘big beach’. Clever Hawaiians. Sitting on the shore I counted a dozen or so whales breaching and blowing mist into the air. I stopped by Boss Frogs dive shop and paid a buck fifty to rent some snorkel gear. I drove my borrowed CRX a few miles past big beach til I got to this beautiful cove filled with people snorkeling. I headed in to the crystal clear water and I’m talking 100 ft visibility (they say 200 ft is possible) and suddenly I’m surrounded by fish everywhere! They’re large and colorful and have names I can’t pronounce. Anyway it was a good experience and my deepest thanks to the Finberg family, Robb, Nora, Ariel, and Ethan, and the folks at Grace church whose amazing hospitality and joy was refreshing and wonderful. A week with people like that could restore your faith in humanity. Mahalo.

Remember recess? It’s an old joke that’s new with every child the first time they’re asked by a sincere adult, “What’s your favorite class?” They cleverly answer, “Recess.” God forbid we should have any part of the school day that kid’s actually enjoy, so recess has been done away with. In it’s place is adult supervised, structured, and safe activity. In the minds of some current educators the term is akin to cursing. I’m convinced that this crop of educators who have killed recess are a collection of those to whom recess was torture. They were the ones in the corner of the playground. The ones who had an enemy who took full advantage of the free for all attitude of recess to unleash a 55 minute reign of terror.
The year is 1982 and I’m in the third grade at East Side Elementary in Marshall, MN. Mrs. Shultz (who bore a striking resemblance to the Hogan’s Heroes character of the same name) would direct us to, ‘walk until you get outside’ which meant that when we hit the door we were in another world. Kids scattered all over the asphalt playground and grassy field in a display of creative chaos, racing for the swings, heading for the see saw. During this hour each day, we learned to be a society. Governments were formed, alliances were created, enemies were avoided (or confronted), and an unwritten set of rules governed the world. Time was precious and so wasting it wasn’t an option. A game must be chosen and so on this day, kickball takes over the diamond. The athlete or the pretty girl has the red rubber ball and decides who the two captains will be. Some days a couple of equally ambitious popular kids are chosen and some days it’s a couple of equally inept and shy youngsters who don’t want to offend anybody. The choosing is a scary business as you waited for your name to be called. If you were called early it meant that you were in demand and expectations were high. You’d better not disappoint or your name might be called toward the back of the pack tomorrow. It didn’t matter who you were, you felt bad for the last kids chosen but you were glad that today it wasn’t you. Now positions are chosen and a lineup for kicker is determined. The whole process takes less than two minutes meaning that modern leaders could learn a thing or two about avoiding gridlock from kids who were determined not to waste time with paralysis by analysis.
My personal favorite was dodgeball in all of its primal violence. I remember like it was this morning, the dodgeball crowd was made up of the brave who bore the scars and scabs of tasting asphalt and picking it out of your knees and palms. The feeling of running the gauntlet between two sides who were throwing with the intent to kill, ducking under one and leaping over another before reaching the other side of the field without a scratch was intoxicating. My buddy Tanner had the accuracy and force to put an imprint in the side of your head if you weren’t watching. A cage rattling shot from a half inflated ball stung enough to make the nice kids cry. In the third grade, we had no time for girls, unless they played dodgeball. Erin Olsen, with her short brown hair, friendly smile, and new shoes, asked to play one day. We obliged. Erin hit the game with the grace and ferocity of a cute ninja. Watching to the left, she didn’t notice my shot from the right that took her legs out and she hit the ground with a crack. I ran out to make sure she was still alive and when she looked up blinking back tears, I looked at her face for the first time. I knew what she looked like before but now I really ‘saw’ her, and I fell in love. I was, after all responsible for her injury. It was a strange feeling that would lead to my first gift to a girl, an Erase a Mate pen (that had erasable ink). I ended up breaking my first heart at recess when I noticed the new girl, Holly. It was at recess that I learned that having two girlfriends at the same time is not a good thing. Is there a class in school that teaches that? I don’t think so.
Danger was a part of the world and it seemed that every day, somebody had a battle scar to show off. A black eye, goose egg on the forehead, ice pack on a wrist, or the common cut chin from not paying attention when walking by the swings. In the winter the snow would be piled up at the end of the playground in a mountain of ice that was about as exciting as Disneyland. Snow slides, king of the hill, and digging caves were activities that that snow pile would provide for a limited amount of time. As the sun warmed the land in spring, our precious mountain would shrink and so we learned to deal with disappointment and loss and the fact that new seasons bring some beautiful changes.
At recess, we learned things that sitting at a desk will never teach. We learned to laugh, organize, get along, deal with heartbreak and pain, create, survive, take care of ourselves and each other, build relationships, and enjoy life to the utmost.
Whether we like it or not, life is recess. God has let us loose on the playground, not to fend for ourselves, but to show us what is in us that we can’t see yet. It seems as though God believes in us more than we believe in ourselves or each other. Even though God calls us to grow, I wonder if we ever really grow up?

"And since you know you cannot see yourself,
so well as by reflection, I, your glass,
will modestly discover to yourself,
that of yourself which you yet know not of." William Shakespeare

Perception is an interesting thing. Physically speaking, I will never see my own face with my own eyes. I've seen my reflection in a mirror but that's a reversed image. I've seen myself on video and photograph but we all know that the camera adds about 35 lbs or so. Plainly put, I only think I know what I look like. What do others see when they see you? They certainly have an advantage physically for their eyes can see you in a way that your eyes cannot. So then we may be able to trust the perception of others and therefore if they are honest with us, they can describe what they see and our understanding of ourselves grows as a result. But in this day selfishness blinds our ability to do this effectively. When we look at another person and their eyes meet ours we usually judge their reaction and respond with, "What? Do I have something on my face?" So then we use their face as a mirror by which we judge whether or not we're accepted or rejected in their sight. Therein lies the self centered nature in us all. It's usually all about us and I'm no less guilty than you. Rare is the person who looks with the intent to discover the hidden treasure behind the windows of the soul to look past the stare of judgment, the shallow darkness of regret, or the face shadowed by shame, into the deep well of the spirit. To look and to see what we with our own eyes cannot see in ourselves. It seems as though God has made us to be less reliant on our own flawed perception of ourselves and instead to search for the gaze of one whose purity can see what we thought was lost forever. Perhaps Moses was asking too much when he asked God to look upon him for if no man can see God and live, what then would happen if fallen man invites the gaze of God to fall in his direction? Moses must have been thinking that he would rather die than live without grace in the eyes of God. So here's the simple conversation where Moses and God talk about the issue of perception and acceptance. Notice God's response and what He adds at the end. Wouldn't every person like to hear these words?

Exodus 33:16 For wherein shall it be known here that I and thy people have found grace in thy sight? Is it not in that Thou goest with us? So shall we be separated, I and thy people, from all the people that are upon the face of the earth.
17: And the LORD said unto Moses, I will do this thing also that thou hast spoken: for thou hast found grace in my sight, and I know thee by name.

Things in the present look a lot different when they eventually move into the past. It's funny how the death of something makes you see it differently. How the passing of time warps your perspective. How your memories tend to edit themselves until the picture you see in your mind of what 'was' is brighter or more colorful than it actually was? When I go out of town for a week or so, my children reduce in size to the place they were about three or four years ago. So then when I come home they look as though they have grown in the five days I've been gone. Of course they haven't, but this is how slowly we come to accept the changes that come to us. We're all a few years behind and our memories are sprinting to catch up.
Consider change. Conservative thought says that if you just leave a thing alone it will stay the same. Progressive thought accepts the fact that change is inevitable and in order to either maintain the status quo or move forward you must do something either way. It's like this. Suppose a man says, "As long as I leave my house and yard alone it will stay the same." We know this isn't true because paint wears and grass grows so in order for my home to stay the way I found it, I need to work to maintain it and that's not even progression. So then in order for your life to remain as it is now, there's some work involved and you can tire yourself out without even making progress. Since we're bound to work either way, why not progress toward a better end than where you are now? If I'm going to paint the house from time to time, I may change the color or buy better quality paint. If I notice something missing in an area I'll add it on and increase the value of it. Now consider your spiritual state of being. With the things of God, you are moving, as the Scriptures state, from glory to glory. So then God's desire for you is progressive and not to just leave you alone to decay. If we submit to the changes and opportunities He brings we stand a chance to grow but it we refuse to 'follow hard' after Him, our state of spiritual decay is our own doing, for change is a process to be embraced or an enemy to be hindered. Let the weeds grow under your feet if you like, but as for me, no way. Let me interject a thought here. Do you ever feel like your just waiting for endings? By that I mean that you feel as though however pleasant or pleasurable your present state, you're 'getting it over with' so that you can move on to the next thing? This is the danger of progression. That you begin to progress so rapidly that you fail to enjoy the reality of now. We reach for the future, we reach for the past, and no matter what we have we reach for more. Desperate to discover what is just beyond our grasp. I believe progression is futile unless you discover the joy in the journey. Let the satisfaction of the present exist but in a slightly weaker state than the anticipation of what's to come. While at times I've found myself satisfied with the present, the satisfaction has never overwhelmed my appetite of curiosity for the possibility of things to come. Among Jesus' final words to humanity were, "Behold (look) I make all things new." What new things does God have in store for you this year?

"The Habit of Faith"
It's strange not to have a weekly platform as an outlet to speak about what I've studied and lived in regards to faith. So I've been doing all this reading and have no place to talk about it, except in this blog and to friends who likely wish I'd stop reading altogether. Since the Narnia film came out it's been a point of conversation to rediscover the mind of CS Lewis as it pertains to the topic of faith. One of my favorite excerpts from Mere Christianity speaks of that very thing and reads as follows:
"Now faith...is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods. For moods will change, whatever view your reason takes. I know that by experience. Now that I am a Christian I do have moods in which the whole thing looks very improbable: but when I was an atheist I had moods in which Christianity looked terribly probable. This rebellion of your moods against your real self is going to come anyway. That is why Faith is such a necessary virtue: unless you teach your moods "where they get off," you can never be either a sound Christian or a sound atheist, but just a creature dithering to and fro, with its beliefs really dependent on the weather and the state of its digestion. Consequently one must train the habit of faith."
I find it interesting that Lewis uses the phrase "where to get off" for it seems to be contrary to the dignity of his role at Oxford. Yet it demonstrates the level of frustration that anyone can reach when we realize that we are people seemingly at the mercy of moods. Ours as well as others. We would surely do ourselves and the world a lot of good if we would train the habit of faith in such a way that a thing as flippant as a mood would not be able to sway it.

I've been thinking on the subject of growth and human nature lately and I'd like to share some sober observations.
We make progress by a two step cycle of growth. One is comfort and the other is challenge. If you can picture one foot as comfort and the other as challenge, we can easily understand the need for both. One must leave one foot and rest on the other and in a balanced pattern of movement known as a walk we progress in physical movement. In the same way comfort and challenge move us through the process of personal growth. When we're overchallenged we fry and when we're heavy on the comfort we get bored and apathy sets in. This is why studies show that we are happier dreaming about what we would do with a wealthy person's wealth than the wealthy person is actually possessing it. In addition, this cycle of growth is why the almighty dollar has such an intense amount of power in the lives of people. Money represents both comfort and challenge wrapped up in one neat little package. Having the money is the comfort, while getting the money is the challenge. Have you ever wondered why some intensely wealthy people can lose millions in Vegas without any apparent regard for the loss? Subconsciously they have eliminated one of their feet for they can seemingly buy their way out of any challenge. In their insatiable appetite for growth they realize that the only way they can feed the need for challenge is to eliminate some of the comfort so they allow enormous chunks of money to simply drain away. Others who have intense wealth feed the need for challenge differently. They continue to work. Ever wonder why Bill Gates and Michael Dell still show up at work? One can only do nothing for so long. Some people who may be successful, but not exactly wealthy, feed the need for challenge with change. For example, a doctor or lawyer leaves a successful practice only to move to Oregon to open a bike shop because he simply "needs a change." I know some people who can't deal with the concept of change. But if there's anything I've learned it's that the only thing (besides God) that never changes is that everything changes. Those who refuse to deal with the changes are destined to go as mad as a man who would try to stop time.
This is just life but I have come to believe that we grow spiritually the same way. We ask God for comfort when we're facing a challenge and when we're comfortable we ask for more comfort. We typically want challenge but on our terms. God's challenge is far too unpredictable and dangerous to our plans. Since God seems interested in our growth, the challenge and changes are inevitable. Is it possible to grow lethargic in the faith? If you have to ask, you probably got saved a couple of hours ago. Consider where you are right now. Are you facing a challenge? The Bible tells us that God will not give you more to carry than the strength He's given you to carry it. On the other hand, perhaps you've reached a point of intense comfort (not necessarily wealth) and have simply grown bored or apathetic. It may be time for a challenge.

If you've ever read Chesterton you'll understand the fact that you can read his books in any order and they'll likely make just as much sense backward as forward. Most people who have attempted to read 'Orthodoxy' scrunch up their foreheads at the mere mention of the name and declare that they're not sure what in the world he was talking about. Perhaps his own work made little sense to Chesterton himself. And yet, maybe one in a thousand who read him are continually drawn to the way he takes you on a journey of spontaneous spiritual thought, and it's a journey worth taking. Below are some of my favorite quotes and each is a slice of prime ribeye to be savored and chewed on.
-On the smallness of man... "We sit in the starry chamber of silence while the laughter of the heavens is too loud for us to hear."
-On religion in general... "All the real argument about religion turns on the question of whether a man who was born upside down can tell when he comes right way up.
-On spiritual evolution... "The greatest disaster of the 19th century was this: that men began to use the word "spiritual" as the same as the word "good." They thought that to grow in refinement was to grow in virtue. When scientific evolution was announced, some feared that it would encourage mere animality. It did worse: it encouraged mere spirituality. It taught them to think that so long as they were passing from the ape they were going to be angels. But it has been found that you can pass from ape and go to the devil. Man may claim to be on the side of angels but most are on the side of fallen angels."
-On spiritual ignorance... "If a shade arose from the underworld, and stared at Piccadilly (famous intersection in London), it would quite not understand the idea of an ordinary closed carriage. He would suppose that the coachmen on the box was a triumphant conqueror, dragging behind him a kicking and imprisoned captive. So if we see spiritual facts for the first time, we may mistake who is uppermost. It is not enough to find the gods; they make themselves obvious; we must find God."

A veteran minister gave me the following advice once. He said, “Never trust a person who doesn’t bring their Bible to church.” I tilted my head to the side in true contemplative fashion and gave a slight nod as if to say, “Hmmm, I got it.” He then said, “And never trust a person who does bring their Bible to church.” I understood, then, that he didn’t know people and had probably been burned a time or two and just needed to meet the right people in order to make a full recovery to that place where you trust implicitly with the sacrificial love of Jesus. Years later, I now understand, that he knew the things of which he spake. When people let you down, you tend to wonder if they knew what they were doing all along (insert evil laugh here) or if they simply got caught up in some emotional current and were swept away unawares (insert innocent blinking deer in headlights look here). Someone told me once that we tend to judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions. Some people have great intentions but simply can’t get their act together, and some people use outwardly righteous actions to disguise evil intentions. Either way, when things don’t go like we plan, we look for someone to blame. And blame never produces anything good in us. Consider the following. If we blame ourselves then we deal with guilt and shame. If we blame someone else it produces hate and bitterness. If we just blame the world as if that’s just the way things are, then we deal with depression and frustrated helplessness. So then, if we want to protect ourselves, we probably would do well to neither trust nor blame. Who do you really trust? I’ve found a precious few people in my life toward which I can trust. This leads to loyalty which is a lost virtue among humanity this day. Loyalty doesn’t mean that those around you agree with you or follow your leading blindly. Loyalty is a person who cares enough about you to protect you. If they see you falling, they run to catch you. If they see you in error, they care enough to attempt to open your eyes to it. It’s when they hear a rumor and defend you until they have uncovered all of the facts. It’s when you love people behind their back. Disloyalty is when you see someone falling and you point it out to those around you with no regard to reaching out to rescue them. It’s when you see someone in error and point the error out to others without ever caring enough about the individual to confront them, thus destroying your relationships from the inside out. It’s when you see a solution, but you fail to reveal it to those who need it most. It’s when you see someone who is dying and you fail to give them the medicine that you hold in your hand. When it comes down to it, loyalty is one of the finest traits in a friend. Those to whom you extend it, will never forget it. Those to whom you deny it, will likely do the same. Oscar Wilde said, “A true friend is someone who stabs you in the front.” The Bible puts it like this. Pro 17:17 A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. How many friends do you truly have? This would be a good time of the year to let them know what they mean to you.

Every now and then I spend a day or so pondering a single verse of scripture. The cogitation for today is "always be ready to give an answer to every man who asks, the reason for the hope you have within you." 1 Peter 3:15 Not to answer every question. But to have an explanation for the hope you have within you. Stands to reason then that if you have no hope within you, it doesn't really matter how many questions you can answer. I believe over the years we have taken this to mean that we ought to have all our ducks in a row as far as the apologetics are concerned. Come up with all of the answers before the questions are asked so that you appear to know what you're talking about. In doing this you will demonstrate the illusion of intelligence, appear to be the expert, intimidate the inquisitive, and relieve the skeptic of the need for personal study, after all, since you already have all of the answers you must have already asked the questions. But the second part of this verse gives the hint as to the question they should be prompted to ask. "What is the reason for the hope that you have?" So then, our lives ought to be lived in such a way as to display the kind of hope that provokes such a question. So then, your intimacy with Jesus Christ, from which flows the hope that lies within, is of paramount importance. You can't give what you don't have. This is why anyone, of any age, can witness to the reality that is the saving power of God in Jesus Christ. He doesn't extend hope to merely the crusty intellectual. He holds out hope to everyone.

At 4:30 am Traci and I were wide awake. The kids were sleeping over with friends. So we were doing the unthinkable. We were headed to WalMart. It's a military exercise of sorts and we were actually later than most. Some had camped out all night inside the store. The 398.00 laptop was the hot item this time out and the 50 or so people in the line to get them would soon riot when they found out shortly before 5am that there were only 15 at this store. We wisely went to the new WalMart close to our house and avoided the one that is sitting conveniently between I35 and Dell Computer, reportedly the busiest Walmart in Texas. That was the one that we scouted last night and if the crowd then was any indication, that was the place to go if you wanted to involuntarily donate blood while buying Barbies and video games. By 11pm last night those who had staked their claim had either purchased or brought those folding lawn chairs in a bag and were camped in circles all over, strategically planning out their attack once the magic moment arrived. Since the militia had all gathered there, we opted for the other one. Now normally I don't frequent Walmart because they squeezed out the mom and pops, they underpay their employees, and I don't want to contribute to their inevitable global domination. Besides, Target is much cooler. But this year they had a price on an item that simply couldn't be beat, and so I bit and decided that we would brave the beast that Sam Walton created. (I can't tell you what it is because it's a surprise for the kiddos...) We wandered by the crowd waiting for the 42" plasma tv for 999.00. Past the slab of DVDs for 3.88. Past the portable DVD players for 68.00. Past the All in One Printers for 39.00 (which is cheaper than the ink). Back to the automotive section where a palate wrapped in plastic sat surrounded by a group of people staring at it as if it just fell from space. I couldn't read where the end of the line was so I took my place next to this guy who had just moved here from New York. He told of a car dealer on Long Island who put in an add that he would take 1000.00 off any car in the lot for every inch it snowed on Thanksgiving Day. That year it snowed 12 inches and there was a run on the lot. He was forced to honor the add, sold his stock, and probably went and jumped off a bridge somewhere. Either way, it was an entertaining story and diverted our attention from the clock as well as how close I had inched toward the stack of goodies. The store manager's voice echoed throughout the store warning everyone to be civil and respect their fellow man, and then announced that it was 5am. I figured all heck would break loose, but to my everlasting surprise, in our corner of the store things were pretty tame. I didn't get near the electronics so whatever commotion or rioting broke out there, we were not a part of it. It was kind of like being in Baghdad. Some parts are safe, in others you take a substantial risk. We got our stuff, were the first ones to the check out line, and went home. Well it's Christmas time and nothing says, "Happy birthday, Jesus" like a riot at WalMart. Ahhh I love this time of year.

In response to inquiries as to the events of our last Sunday, I offer the following:

Sunday was a nice day as last days go. Worship service was intensely moving as Paul and the team led us in some of my favorites. At one point I sincerely felt what it must be like to witness your own funeral. Everything was ‘bill’s favorite’ this and that. It was an awkward but kind gesture and I truly appreciated it. He’s a fabulous worship leader, an excellent communicator, and though we haven’t always seen eye to eye, he has been a solid support to me and has been a pleasure to work with. Angela (Thomison) Jones had made a request to sing on my last day and I was thrilled to agree to it. She’ll likely never know how glad I was that she sang because, in a rare twist, I was not anxious to start preaching. Which is probably why I didn’t. When I stood behind the pulpit.....I felt somewhat overwhelmed at the gravity of the moment.
I recalled the afternoon when Mark and Slim and I were up at the church before the first service in the new sanctuary. We were hooking up the sound system and putting it through it’s paces. Rather than sit there and say ‘test’ for fifteen minutes, I quoted some scripture. This past Sunday, I started to do the same thing. For some reason, my prepared sermon seemed to fall far short of what the moment called for so rather than rely on my words, I went to the Scriptures. I don’t know how much I quoted or how long it lasted but after it was all said and done I had Mark, the elders, and deacons step to the edge of the stage and led the congregation in a prayer of blessing for him and his family. We finished it up with the whole church reciting the Lord’s Prayer during which I stepped down and swapped out the microphone with Mark who, without missing a beat, stepped behind the pulpit and finished it out. We went to the annual Thanksgiving dinner at the church that night. Entirely on their own, three youth group members put together a simple but hilarious human video about the ‘preacher man’. CWC truly has some thoughtful and wonderful teens and I really appreciate them. We stood in line, ate some good food, chatted with some good folks, and called it a night. No fanfare, no speeches, no sentiment, no matter, just done. When I arrived here in 1993 our first exposure to the people of CWC was over a meal. Appropriately enough, my tenure in ministry here ended with the same simplicity with which it began.
I woke up Monday morning, sat in my chair with my Bible, and something felt different. I’ve become so accustomed to studying for the sake of the message that I realized that I’ll have to get used to studying for the sake of study. I prayed for Mark, realizing that his study habits would be taking a shift too. I loaded the family up late in the morning and we headed up to the church where my kids helped me clean out my office. A final glance through the records displayed a good number of weddings and a greater number of baby dedications, one often being the result of the other. I realized that some of those I had dedicated were now old enough to have an intelligent conversation with. Some of them think my first name is Pastor and my last name is Bill. When I recently visited my buddy, Caleb Iversen (and his parents), at their new home in Phoenix, I was reminded that to him, this is who I will always be. When the Buford kids (every one of them beautiful) say “Pastor Bill, pick me up! Hold me!” I dare you not to. Those hugs are real. When Riley says in her broken 2 year old vocabulary, “I love you, Pastor Bill” it’s pure indescribable joy. Whatever love I have left in me, those kids have had a way of finding it.
When the office was finally empty, I stood in the doorway and scanned the shelves and walls, turned the lights off, and walked out. I found my son in the sanctuary, alone in the dark. “Ready to go?”, I said. He didn’t answer. After some silence he began to list all of the things he had helped me work on when we were building the church. The lifts, the framing, the smell of sawdust, the late nights. Finally I say, “It’s time to go?” No longer a question, it’s now a statement that I have come to accept as truth. I can see this is all beginning to sink in for him. This is the only church family he’s ever known and it’s all changing. I’m tempted to bring the whole family into the church and up to the altar to have a moment of prayer alone before we leave. I had, over the years, had an unwritten custom of praying over folks up at the altar when they were facing a transition. The thought of praying over ourselves was a little odd. So I decided to break with tradition, dispense with the self blessing, and call it a day. With that, it was over. A decade of ministry come and gone. What did I like best? It’s a toss up between preaching the word, Joan’s weekly hug, and Mom Reece’s éclairs. What would I do different next time? I may spend the next 10 years answering that question.

Tonight I sit in Orlando Intl airport amidst the clamoring throng heading to God knows where for Thanksgiving. Hard to believe people will go to this much trouble to eat turkey. I know that's not what it's all about. We also have the need to fulfill an obligation to 'see' some folks who for some reason need to be seen. "You need to come over and see so and so..." So we go over and have the customary viewing. A couple of smiles, hugs, and how are you's and we look around for the food. Why do I need to see them? We don't speak beyond the basic surface of things. We gather because family worries us. They know too much about us. We get to take a hayride on the gossip wagon about who's getting divorced, who's getting married, who's died, who is sick, and who is pregnant. God help you if you don't show up because then you get to be the center of attention, and it won't likely be positive. Unless you're dead. Maybe that's why people still show up. Because they don't want to be the one that everyone talks about. I think the purpose for the occasional viewing is simply to make sure we're all still cool and that nobody is itching to sell our soul to the National Enquirer. All families have their share of eccentrics. I'm the resident religious nut (preacher) which simply means that I get to pray anytime someone needs to eat or has the gout. Watch your purse cause cousin Clem has a hankering to steal to support his skoal habit. Did you know cousin Cecil is illegitimate? That's why his forehead looks that way. Did you know that aunt Eula is datin a guy who goes by the name of Babycakes? What about cousin Elsie? Did you know she's drunk everyday by 10am and she teaches second grade. Here's one that's real. "My wife left me. A week later I met my new wife. Now my ex comes over every day to do the laundry. We call her the oldest daughter. The other day we had the annual 'Squirrel Stew' and..." Wait a sec, I say to my uncle who is named after a certain alcoholic beverage. What in the name of bib overalls is that? "What? You mean to tell me you've never eaten squirrel? Fer sure you gotta round up a mess of em to fill a ladle but, dang, they're good eatin." All in all, God bless family. Who needs to watch strange folks on reality TV? You simply have to head home for the holidays to get the real thing. When it comes down to it, they bring a little color to your world. The food is always hot, the hugs are pretty genuine, the stories are entertaining, and hey, somebody's gotta be there to talk about you when you're gone. Happy Thanksgiving.