Some [Un]Important Notes

What am I going to do when I come home from work now that the never-aging Bob Costas has stopped complaining about China on NBC? He brilliantly weaved his disdain for being there with the victory of the USA in those games. I miss it all.

But I had the Democratic National Convention to laugh at this week. Politicians are so fun to watch at times. They are almost as funny as the commentators. Quick note: Is it not crass to compare Barack Obama to John Kennedy, Abraham Lincoln, and Henry V...? Seems a bit morbid, but those are not my comparisons, talk to Al Gore and Chris Matthews about that.


Also, does anyone see McCain making a great ventriloquist (OMG I spelled that word correctly on my first try!) and Biden sitting on his lap as the puppet?

Better ticket huh? The campaign stops would be a hit.

I also need to tell you that the people who put all their hope and aspiration for greatness into one politician are just stupid. Ok, that was harsh, but they're just searching. And it's so plain in this arena I guess. The race is just about the best of two crap shoots in my opinion.

I hit a bird today...with my car...that has never happened to me before.

I think it was a crow.

Frightening.

The American Dream

Putting gold around your neck. Twelve times. I'm so excited for this season.


In case you're stupid, the man in the middle wearing all the gold around his neck is assistant Team USA basketball coach Nate McMillan, who is also the head coach of the Portland Trail Blazers, the basketball team which resides in my hometown.

[Thanks to trailblazerscentercourt.blogspot.com for pointing to the picture.]

The Bank of Opprotunity

I just had to deposit a check.

I turned my car off and placed my hand into the crevasse between the door handle and the door itself, and as I pushed I heard a bird. No, never mind not a bird, a man laughing. It was a raspy laugh, like that of an old drunk, and lo and behold that's exactly what it was. 8:23 AM. A drunk. Lovely.

I rotated to see where the sound was coming from because within all of these small seconds I was still having the bird vs. man debate pumping through my head. My overall conclusion was right as I finished rotating all the way to the right to see an old man laughing. But not just that, he was pointing. And he wasn't lazily pointing as you might imagine a drunk this early in the morning would do, but he had a firm point, like a beak. His nostrils were flared and his mouth was wide with delight. I quickly looked around to see if I saw anything laughable. That telephone pole behind me is sort of fun-

His laugh is loud.

"What's up bro?" I asked cordially. Don't startle him, he may become agitated.

"Your car got shat on!" he yelled.

Oh my.

I looked at my car, and I guess one could use that terminology to describe the situation that sat atop my car. I had parked under a tree that apparently didn't care for my taste in a black two-door from '95. I looked at my car for a while and then back at the bum, his eyes slowly shutting and then opening while his laugh faded.

"Oh...yeah," I said with a lackluster voice. I wasn't sure what to do, I sort of laughed a bit.

"You think that's bad..." he started to say. This never ends well..."you should see what that crap does to your face."

I wasn't sure how to take that. Was this a joke or an insult? I laughed because I figured that would suffice as a response to both.

"I slept under one of those trees one night and woke up covered!" He exclaimed. As he was saying this sentence he was getting closer to me and making a face that I suppose was reenacting the morning of his awaking, covered in tree shaz. I can't really use words to do that face justice.

By now, I was standing at the ATM and putting my check in as he and his shopping cart were trying to keep up with my pace. As he came over he began talking of switchboards. When I caught that word I started paying attention. How did we get from the tree's crap on my car to switchboards? I didn't get much out of it except the words, "My mother...the Chinese...two timing" and "good hickory" or something like that. I was sort of getting tired of playing this game (as I always do after a while) so I decided to go with an enduring closing statement:

"Well, stay away from those trees man."

As he heard this he looked at me like I was crazy. And he slowly bent over a bit and stuck his head out and forward and his arms wide open as he said, "I have been staying away from them, I'm telling YOU to stay away from them."

Touche. And then I decided that would be the last time I'm outsmarted by a drunk bum.

The Gospel

I was preparing for a sermon I'm giving tomorrow for the International Medical Team chapel service when I ran across this summation of the gospel I did for a member of our church. Any issues? I need to give it another good look, but here it is:

There is one God, and he existed before existence. He created heaven and earth and everything in it that is good. He created us, man and woman, in his likeness to worship him. He did not create you for a good job, to make money, or be healthy. He designed you to worship. The question is not, “Do I worship?” but rather, “What do I worship?” In designing us to worship and also crafting us in His image, our purpose is to worship the Creator.

However, we chose not to worship him, but to worship things he created. Everything from ourselves to trees to romance to violence. This is rebellion. We knew what we were designed to do, and we do not do it. The Bible calls it sin. You love yourself more than God and you look to you more than to the One who made you. This separates us from this Holy God. Sin is ultimately destructive and leads to death, and since heaven and God are full of life and perfection, we cannot enter and live with God in harmony.

So God sent his Son Jesus Christ, who was fully God and fully man. He was born from a virgin, Mary. He lived a 33 yearlong perfect life, even though he was tempted in every way. He was accused of our accusation. They said he claimed to be God. That’s what we’ve been doing all along, but when he claimed to be God, we killed him to God's ultimate plan.

He was killed. He died by crucifixion on a cross. When he died he substituted in our place. The wrath of God we were supposed to experience because of our sin was thrown on Christ. On his shoulders were all the sins of the world for those who called on him. That’s my idolatry. Your lust. Her anger. Our pride. Past, present, and future. He paid the debt you were supposed to pay a perfect and Holy God.

Christ’s dead body, his carcass, was laid in a tomb for three days. On a Sunday, Jesus was raised from the grave and claimed victory over Satan, sin, demons, and hell. He walked with those who were witnesses to this for forty days and then, before he left, he commissioned all of them through the Holy Spirit to tell everyone what I just told you. That there is a big God who can do mighty things, but the same God that passionately and relentlessly pursues those who are wicked, who sin, and who fall away from Him. Why? Because it is what will give him the most glory and us the most joy.

And now Jesus is still alive. He did not die again. He rules and reigns over every nation and authority there was is and will be. And one day, when the Father commands, he will return to judge those who ignored the greatest message on the planet: that you can be rescued from death.

I just have to add this little fact along with this: One thing C.S. Lewis and D. Martin Lloyd Jones and others always wrote about what the genre of "the gospel." Duh, it means "good news." So therefore, its genre is "news." The above isn't instruction, song, or fiction. It is news. And within news there is history, narrative, and so forth. So it is important to know that in communicating such "news" it will be proclaimed. News is always proclaimed. Instruction is demonstrated, song is performed, and so on. But news is always proclaimed. Just look at the newspaper. The last headline I saw was this weekend in the Oregonian, "Phelps does it!" There's proclamation. It's telling you the news. Christians tell you the good news because it's news. It's not conversation or instruction, if it were, it would be communicated differently, but it's not. So if "the gospel" sounds a little strong, it is because it is designed that way. This is Good News.

Breaking News: Phelps is a Glutton

This just makes him all the more American. From the New York Post:

"Phelps lends a new spin to the phrase "Breakfast of Champions" by starting off his day by eating three fried-egg sandwiches loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions and mayonnaise.

He follows that up with two cups of coffee, a five-egg omelet, a bowl of grits, three slices of French toast topped with powdered sugar and three chocolate-chip pancakes.

At lunch, Phelps gobbles up a pound of enriched pasta and two large ham and cheese sandwiches slathered with mayo on white bread - capping off the meal by chugging about 1,000 calories worth of energy drinks.

For dinner, Phelps really loads up on the carbs - what he needs to give him plenty of energy for his five-hours-a-day, six-days-a-week regimen - with a pound of pasta and an entire pizza.

He washes all that down with another 1,000 calories worth of energy drinks."

Just so you know, the average man should not eat more than 2,000 calories in one day. Phelps does 12,000. The dude swims 17 times in nine days. He literally eats, sleeps, and swims.
My question: how often is he in the bathroom?