the postmodern pop pastor

Yesterday we watched king fishers soar in the wind and then dive quickly into the lake for its prey. It reminded me of this old poem.

AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.

Í say móre: the just man justices;
Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

Labels: holiday, photos, poetry

We Campbells made a quick drive to the Grand Canyon on our way to Grandma and Grandpa's house.

Labels: holiday, photos

I enjoy listening to the rants of James Howard Kunstler on the Kunstlercast. His is often irreverent, which I enjoy, sometimes uses colorful language to make his point, which I could do without, and always makes me think about what he calls the "tragic comedy of suburban sprawl."

Here is one podcast where he talks about the mentality of the Evangelical Church towards sprawl, consumerism and fossil fuels. He is a complete outsider, which makes his opinion interesting.

Religious activists are praying at Washington DC gas stations for cheaper fuel. James Howard Kunstler says that type of neurotic behavior isn't much different than the behavior of cargo cults in the South Pacific. The concept of getting something for nothing is widely accepted by American culture, and religion, too. But Jim feels spirituality in America might one day evolve into something worthy of more respect than the Jiminy Cricket, consumerist culture of today's suburban mega churches.

http://media.libsyn.com/media/kunstlercast/KunstlerCast_19.mp3

Labels: audio, suburbia

These flowers, planted to hide the ugliness of a suburban strip mall, seem to forget where they live. When viewed up close they bloom as if they play a small but significant part in a Monet painting.

Labels: art, beauty, photos, suburbia

Today I went out with my camera looking for beauty in suburbia. I call the act and the poem, guerilla photography.

Guerilla Photography
Arming myself with the necessary paraphernalia
I march courageously toward the suburban citadel
intent on scouting beauty out the shopping center
with new and creative eyes.

Perhaps the flowers planted to hide
parking barricades will shine
in the golden hue and long shadows
of the evening sun.

Perhaps the brick façade on that chain
store will appear with aged strength
when photographed at just the right angle
and a little help from Photoshop.

Seeking beauty in suburbia
is like surviving a tragic battle
in which your buddies lose life and limb.
Nothing is at it should be.
The shapes, shadows and synchronicity
of the created order
are besieged by utilitarian sidewalks
big box fortresses and
coffee shops that close early on Sunday
leaving the sole living poet
to drink his cup of tea in the car.

Labels: art, beauty, photos, poetry, suburbia

For years I served the Lord as a solo church pastor. These last 5 years I have shared the work of ministry with several good brothers. The way that I practice the craft has been shaped and changed by their partnership. It is both difficult and beautiful.

Today, one of those brothers leaves for a new ministry. When I was alone I longed for partnership, but had no idea how difficult it would be to say goodbye.

Goodbye brother Mark, God be with you. Do the work of a shepherd!

Labels: church, community, leadership, pastor, shepherd, team

G.K. Chesterton wrote this essay On Lying in Bed. It is winsome, quirky and a bit cavalier. Life should be like this. Here is a short section, take time to read the rest and begin to enjoy the small, mundane parts of your life and forever fight the growth of "good habits" of "mere culture."

The essay starts with him lamenting that wallpaper, with meaningless repitition of designs, and other wall decorations have left no white wall space to draw upon...then, when lying in bed, he noticed an all white ceiling.

Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling. This, however, is not generally a part of the domestic apparatus on the premises. I think myself that the thing might be managed with several pails of Aspinall and a broom. Only if one worked in a really sweeping and masterly way, and laid on the color in great washes, it might drip down again on one's face in floods of rich and mingled color like some strange fairy rain; and that would have its disadvantages. I am afraid it would be necessary to stick to black and white in this form of artistic composition. To that purpose, indeed, the white ceiling would be of the greatest possible use; in fact, it is the only use I think of a white ceiling being put to.

Read more for the good of your soul
And more Chesterton from CCEL
The American Chesterton Society

And a few Chesteron quotes:
"One of the great disadvantages of hurry is that it takes such a long time. "
"I believe in getting into hot water. I think it keeps you clean."
"To be clever enough to get all the money, one must be stupid enough to want it."
"Truth is sacred; and if you tell the truth too often nobody will believe it."

Labels: art, beauty, experience