don’t it always seem to go… that you don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone.  They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

Epilogue:
What’s the deal with raspberry filled Paczki’s?  I’ll take the Bavarian filling every time.

Sure, Driscoll would drop the f bomb every once in a while.  I e-mailed him once and said something like “Mark, you’re such a solid preacher and you have a great grasp of doctrine, but I wonder if people ever challenge you on your language.”  He never wrote back, but he did clean up his language soon after, so I guess it worked.  Curiously, Donald Miller’s book Blue Like Jazz referred to Driscoll as “the cussing pastor”.  Donald heard it,too: the irony of solid, biblical preaching that you could never listen to around your kids, parents, in-laws, neighbors, etc.

Today, Mark leads a church of nearly 1 million — when you count his local/franchise sites and his podcast listeners.  90% of what he does is simply outstanding, gospel-centered, Christ extolling and relevant.  It’s that pesky 10% that keeps getting in the way.  I won’t use this space to go into detail (for the google will provide all the mud you’re looking for), but I will say that a man is a man and Jesus is the Savior.  Key: follow the right one.

I like to remember what Mark did for me as a young pastor: showed me that you can love the world (John 3:16) without loving the world (1 John 2:15), and that it’s okay to believe something and (lovingly) say it out loud.  Learn from humans.  Live like Jesus.

You might say they’re the best songs lyrics ever. They are inspired, after all.

Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God.

What a silly lyric! I was already doing that! It would be like a cookbook saying “Step 1: Purchase cookbook from store.” If you’re reading that, you already have the cookbook!*

The Psalmist tells us to sing these words because we need to be reminded that it’s good.

How many love songs are wonderfully redundant? “I love you, doo be doo, I love you… I love you be do be doo” etc.
How many tunes state the obvious? “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Plankton, happy birthday to you.” We get it.

Psalmist: sing and praise. praise and sing. sing sing sing. praise praise praise.

Why do you keep saying that, psalmist?

Because you keep forgetting.

Oh.

Thanks.

————————————-
*Unless you’re one of those people who go to the bookstore with no intention of buying a book, only to memorize recipes.

An older lady in my seminary class was getting ready to take a break with the rest of us. She said “Adam, I need help.” We had been sitting for a good 90 minutes and her knees needed some convincing before unbending. “As long as you guys can get me on my feet, I’ll be fine.” Me and another guy helped our classmate up. She thanked us and said “I’ve got cancer”. “Where?” “All over.” She shrugged her shoulders and said “Eh.”

Helping her to stand reminded me of the final days when we’d help Mom get from point to point in the house, the same house that she transformed from a dirty bungalow into a gorgeous estate. Hearing that she had cancer felt very different than it would have a few years ago. Back then, I’d tsk and say something mundane like “Well, God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” or “you’re very strong” or “cancer rhymes with dancer”. I never actually said the last thing, but I’m sure I thought it at least once.

Today, I felt like crying for her.

I didn’t. It would have been strange for her and scary to the rest of the class. In the movies, if a big guy is crying, he’s about to 1) break every table and person in the room or 2) turn green and break every table and person in the room. I’m okay with emotions, but I’m still learning what to do with the feelings of losing my mom. Unless you’ve been there, you may not know what I’m saying.

Tonight I called my Dad and asked him the kind of question I would have normally reserved for my Mom. I learned early on that there are Mom questions, and there are Dad questions. Different categories are ok. Though I can’t be sure, I think that what he said is exactly what my Mom would have said.

This, too, reminded me of how much I miss my Mom.

I’ll never really know what she would have said to the issue I raised with Dad. I can only guess at what she might have said, based on what she’s said in the past. Oh, I’ve got a good pile of data there. She was no stranger to my big questions. Dad was spot on, just as I would have expected. It was good. It is good.

But it makes me wonder. Can people in heaven see what we’re doing? Does God keep those who’ve gone before us in the loop? Do they have reason to know or care?

Yet again, one of those questions I would have asked Mom. Even with all the classes, all the books, all the doctrines and theologies I’ve studied, I’d still want to know what she thought.

She would have said “I don’t know”.
And I would have been very satisfied with that answer.

My mind often drifts to unfinished projects, like how the truck needs a new distributor cap or the spot in our ceiling needs to be patched up. My to do list comes to mind quite a bit. I’m good at remembering what needs to be done, and even better at putting it off for another day. Yet, I don’t remember what I’ve already accomplished — the checks that I’ve put in the boxes after getting the drain tile trenched or kicking the air conditioner hard enough that it didn’t break all summer. Remembering what’s been done is good. High five, etc. But that doesn’t fix what’s broken today. Right?

Maybe that’s why the scripture calls us to remember — to ponder — what God has done (past tense) before we start asking Him to do (future tense). We’re very “to do list” oriented in our prayers and very forgetful about the “done” list. Why would remembering the deeds of the Lord be helpful for us? Like a pastor, I’ve come up with three benefits of pondering the deeds of the Lord.

Remember this: remember. It will be to His delight. And yours.

Moments after reading that article on Slate, I watched an episode of Mad Men, the one where Don Draper says that advertising is all about making us feel good about what we’re already doing. When they came up with PlastiFace Burger King, their utmost desire was to sell hamburgers and to make us feel good about eating 1,900 calories of DoubleCheezeBac’n TripleBurger.

Moments after reading the article and watching Mad Men, I went to Panera Bread to catch some dinner. Lo and behold, both principles are at work. They aim to sell me fresh, seemingly healthy food (though anyone on Atkins would call this purgatory). Also, the shellac they spray on the bakery bread is the same kind used to keep BurgerKingShellacFace in the proper shape and frightening smiley expression. When I eat at Panera, I feel like I’m making a better choice about calorie intake i.e. the principle of feeling good about what I’m doing. In reality, I’m exchanging a TripleQuadrupleBac’nBurger (1) for processed chicken, tons of bread (have you seen the “bread bowl?”) and some chips (they’re out of apples). On the surface, it looks like I’m eating healthy. In reality, I’m still eating fast food.

Emily buys apples, oranges, grapes and carrots from our our grocer. His name is Fred(2). He sells good, non-processed food. He also sells organic bananas, which means that they are already rotted to the center. I wonder if we’ll get back to fresh food again, like in (what I call) Farmer Times. C’mon. Hipsters can’t be the only ones who get to eat granola (and smell like hemp).

Mmm… hollowed out bread filled with cream of potato soup. Take that, Burger King.

——
(1) It’s neat that a hamburger and bypass surgery can have the same name.
(2) Fred Meijer, that is.

——

When Uncle Mike was little
I was there
And he was a skeleton who got hurt
But the skeleton was a good guy.

——

Is that your leg?
(Yes)
Is it good to you?

——

When we go outside
When we get sleds
When we slide downstairs.
That’s my favorite thing to… those are the zeros.

——-

I’m not Zac. I’m jammies. Hi. I’m jammies. (Pulls jammies up over his head, then back down)
Oh, sorry. I’m not jammies. I’m just Zac.

——-

Daddy, Hi. Hi Daddy. (Hi, Zac).
Gotta wait. I was saying Hi.
You’re not saying what I said to you.
Daddy, you funny.

——-

You don’t be silly. You’re reading your bible.
Your bible is about Jesus.
You’re reading about Jesus.
Jesus rode on a shark.

——–

It was saying I was a shay.
Look – the stairs. The steps.
Daddy? Are those stairs that we don’t slide down?
I’m creatures.
There’s a creatures.
Hi, I’m a creatures.
I’m Tory.
But I’m not Tory.

——–
(Zac, can you eat more of your cereal?)
Yes, I can. But it’s done.
You don’t eat bad cereal, you eat good cereal.
(is that bad cereal?)
No, it’s good cereal. But it’s done.

——–

He made Jesus, just like he made me.

——–

Once upon a time, Elmo was in the door.
And he saw a megamind and Miss richie and minion.
He saw them. And he was… and Bert saw flowers with Elmo and he talks to Elmo.
And Elmo say “Hi” and Bert looks with him. Another Bert looks with him.
A other Bert looks with him… Daddy, we’re all looking.

———

Daddy, you be a door and I’ll be a bear pearacter (character?)
(Ok)
Can you sing I am Micky Mouse and say I am a deck robot?
Say “I’m a tin tin robot?” Do what your teacher said, Daddy.
Hi, I’m Dorie. Do do do do do do do do.
(pokes self in eye).

———

End transcript.

Last semester was comprised of two classes, one being a basic training course which equipped me to write a term paper and put definition to key theological terms; the other was a class called Constructive Theology, which, as I discovered, has nothing to do with construction.

This semester will feature a class in Old Testament and another Constructive Theology class. That’ll do just fine. The Old Testament is a massive compendium of God’s faithfulness. I feel like I barely even know it. Construction of theology is a good idea, too.

Here’s to another semester of challenge, growth, development, and worship.

1. Working on service orders for Sunday (my primary responsibility)
2. Working on e-mails and heads up for volunteers (which affects my primary responsibility)
3. Reading something — today, it’s The Seven Pillars of Creation: The Bible, Science, and the Ecology of Wonder. So far, so good.
4. Listening to a record that I listen to almost every Tuesday Afternoon: “Days of Future Passed” by The Moody Blues. The album includes the song “Tuesday Afternoon” and is much warmer on vinyl.

Here’s a thought that enters my mind while I stir on everything else: I think my ears are getting tired of hearing MP3′s. I was listening to a 196k bit rate song yesterday and could hear the cymbals going wah wah wah wah wah wah the whole time. I didn’t like it.

Another thought: music in heaven will be perfect. We spend so much money on recording, playback, speakers, headphones, etc… in heaven, we will have 1) perfect sonic quality and 2) perfect hearing. Some glad morning…