A Beautiful Sermon

Pam and I visited another church yesterday. It was a mixed bag. The music was uninspired. The congregation was whiter than a Chamber of Commerce picnic in Des Moines, Iowa. But, I heard one of the most intelligent and beautiful sermons I've heard in years.

First, the music. Pam says that I'm always going to hate the music in any church unless it features the thirty hymns my mother loved. This is a pernicious lie! While it is true that I dearly love many selections from the Broadman hymnal, as a musician myself, I have no problem with any church music genre if it is performed well and the lyrics have some discernible theological message. Yesterday was practically a textbook example of everything that makes me cringe in church. The worship leader, strummed his stratocaster gently while asking us to join him in worship. This dude was movie star handsome in his skin tight t-shirt, bulging biceps sporting not one but two tattoos...suggesting perhaps an edgy past! In all, four songs were performed by his tight band, none of which I knew...which is fine. Pam rightly points out that one of the reasons I don't know any of these songs is because I don't listen to Christian radio. Point taken. She does. She knew one of them. Anyway, all four of them seemed to be churned out by the same songwriter, minor keys dominating, with Hallmark card lyrics like..."My soul will dance on the wings of freedom"... not exactly "a mighty fortress is our God" but this place didn't have a pipe organ either so... Bicep Guy bayed out lots of ocean metaphors. Life is like an ocean apparently, lots of scary waves and what not. But, the musicians involved were talented and performed each selection flawlessly. As I looked around at the people around me, only a handful were singing. Maybe they don't listen to Christian radio either.

Then the pastor stepped forward and blew me away.

The topic of his thirty minute sermon was...the Trinity, not exactly stem winder material. But towards the end of his wonderfully reasoned and presented message he used an illustration that I have been thinking about a lot since. He told us about when he spent a summer in Japan. While there he became fascinated with the culture of this ancient civilization, in particular a form of art there called Kintsugi, which translated means making beautiful art from broken things. Kintsugi artists take broken pottery and solder it with gold. The results are quite stunning:

Then the pastor observed that this is exactly the opposite of what we Christians do with broken things. If we attempt to fix them at all, it is with clear epoxy so when finished nobody will be able to tell it was broken in the first place. In other words we try our best to hide our imperfections. We plaster on a fake smile to hide our own brokenness, no place more so than at church. Then he made the beautiful point that Jesus Christ is the gold that mends us and makes us greater, more valuable than we were before. It was brilliant and made a lasting impression on me.

When we return from Maine, we will go there again.

Donald Trump Prays the Sinners Prayer?

Ok. Yesterday a reader of this blog sent me a private message informing me that Donald Trump has in recent months experienced a religious conversion. Apparently, an unnamed "evangelical leader" led the presumptive Republican nominee to Christ. This was all reported to the world from the lips of none other than James Dobson himself. Later in the afternoon, my daughter sent me a link to the story with the snarky aside, "Well, that's a relief!"

Now...I suppose there is the possibility that this news is actually true, that Donald Trump has actually accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior. If so, there is also the chance that he did so for truly spiritual reasons, not merely as a sop to evangelicals in a brazen attempt to get their votes. If so, I am truly happy for him and wish him the best as he embarks on his chosen spiritual walk with the Lord.

However...and life is always about the howevers, this news practically begs for my particular brand of humor, a trait that for good or ill I have passed down to my son. Yes, I am aware that making jokes about someone's faith is fraught with danger. Some of you might very well be offended by what follows, others hopefully...will get a kick out of it. But writing a blog is about self expression and fun, and last night while going back and forth with my children about this...we had lots of fun:

Me: Can you guys imagine Donald Trump praying the sinners prayer??..."God, even though most of my life has been fabulous and I have done many great things, the best things, I can maybe understand how I may have actually sinned on occasion. And, believe me, I'm very sorry/not sorry about that. I would hope that you would have the class to forgive me. So, I would like at this time to issue you an exclusive invitation to come and live in the world class accommodation of my heart...where there will never, I promise you, be a dull moment. God, actually you are going to love living in my heart, that I can promise you...

Patrick: He has the most luxurious heart...right next to the stomach that eats the best Mexican food, which is made at Trump Tower. He loves the Hispanics. He's going to be the best Christian. He's gonna follow Jesus so closely, so closely. Closer than anyone's ever followed Jesus. It's gonna be fantastic. He might even become a missionary to CHIIIIIINAAAA.

Kaitlin: 😂😂😂😂😂

Pam: You guys are too much!! So, I can't get any of you to respond to my Our Month in Maine posts, but Trump gets multiple reactions?! 😔

Dreams

Had a lovely dinner out with my two sisters last night. I'm lucky to have sisters. Linda told us about a dream she had a couple months ago, her first dream about Mom since she passed. I have yet to have a dream about Mom or Dad since they've been gone. I was envious of her visions.

She remembers that we were on vacation, only not at the beach. Instead we had rented some grand Victorian house in the middle of nowhere. Her dream started in the upstairs of the house where Linda, dressed in her labor and delivery uniform was comforting a crying baby. Then her favorite Doctor shows up to inquire about the child. So far, sounds like a rocking vacation!!

Then she walks downstairs where she sees Mom sitting at the elegant dining room table dressed in her customary morning house coat having a rapturous conversation with my other sister, Paula. Mom had her elbows on the table with her coffee cup cradled in her hands like she always did. Everyone smiled when Linda recounted this detail because we could all picture it in our mind's eye. Only weird thing was that Mom's house coat was fire engine red! As Linda approached, she could see that the two of them were chattering away enthusiastically about something. Her dream never allowed her to eavesdrop, so the subject matter was a mystery. But Linda said that the entire scene filled her with an overwhelming sense of happiness. 

After a while Linda made her way through a doorway into the kitchen, which she described in amazing detail, every nook and cranny as clear as a painting. She saw Patrick sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, dressed in a white t-shirt and black rimmed glasses. Then Sarah appeared at the counter preparing English muffins. She turned to Patrick to ask if he wanted butter. It was the only discernible words spoken in the entire dream.

Of course, all of us immediately became amateur psychologists, offering instantaneous interpretations. Hmmm...perhaps the baby belonged to Patrick and Sarah!!! We all laughed. Why were you working on your vacation??? Thanks, OBAMA!!!

Still, I was so envious. I haven't had any sort of dream about my parents, which is better than having a nightmare about them I suppose. But, I would love to be able to see them again, even in an ephemeral dream. Mom told stories and she was great at it...a gift. I would love to hear one more.

I dream about squirrels. It's not the same.

Brexit!!!!!

I don't pretend to be an expert on the Brexit campaign in Great Britian, moreover as an American I would think that most citizens of the United Kingdom wouldn't welcome my opinion anyway...a lesson President Obama recently learned. However, while we slept, the good people of the U.K. voted to leave the European Union by roughly 52% to 48%. All I know is...this map tells me that the Scotts were having none of it! 

I have been following this issue for months now because of the impact it might have on my business, so I'm not completely ignorant of the basic issues involved. But reading a dozen articles and watching a dozen videos of David Cameron's town hall events doesn't make me an expert. Still, my reading of the thing boils down to it being a contest between the elites and the working stiffs...a fight for the soul of  Great Britian between the proud nationalists and the more cosmopolitan, urbane, smart set. Yes, yes...it's much more complicated than this, but although generalizations are not often fully accurate, they are instructive. I had a feeling in my bones that the leave side was going to win when in the last week or so leading up to the vote, the remain side resorted to a fear of the unknown strategy. The Mirror had a cover photo of a giant black hole with the warning, "Don't take a leap into the unknown" or some such thing. When your closing argument turns negative....usually a bad sign. It was as if they 

were admitting, Look, we know the EU stinks, but if we leave it might be much worse.

There are similarities between the Brexit campaign and our own Presidential contest. For one thing, there's this guy...

Look fimiliar? I think they have the same barber. Anyway, this is Boris Johnson, former MP and mayor of London who was a big supporter of the Leave campaign. There's also this guy...

Nigel Farage, a former commodities trader turned political gadfly, heads up the UKIP or United Kingdom Independance Party, a group steadfastly opposed to the EU. He has all the makings of a jerk...but I kinda like the cigar.

Listen, I'm not sure whether the UK made a mistake yesterday or not. Maybe the nationalism of the Leave movement winds up being nothing more than dangerous nostalgia. Maybe its stance against immigration finds its roots in simple racism. Maybe the economic fallout from their decision ends up hurting the country. But I know this...if I lived in a nation where rules were made for me by a parliament in a foreign capital...I wouldn't like it very much. We Americans are famous for our sometimes belligerent Independance in matters of sovereignty...just ask the UN. Well, from the looks of things this morning...we got it honest!

Why We Are In Debt.

Big storm rolling through Short Pump this morning which means that Lucy is a panting, exasperated mess, pacing around the house with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, ears pinned back, bracing for the apocalypse. Meanwhile, a bunch of politicians are lounging around on the literal floor of the House of Representatives in a fit of...something, eating donuts and singing songs. It's like summer camp for grown ups, Congress. Hillary Clinton would be right there with them except for the fact that she hasn't actually sat on the floor since that midnight seance back at Wellesley when her Fabian Society group tried to make contact with Che Guevara. Nobody on Hillary's advance team is quite sure  about the optics involved of getting her back on her feet...a chance that they were unwilling to take what with Instagram and all...

Yesterday was difficult. Every once in a while something happens which causes you to doubt yourself. We develope over time our own personal narrative. It's how we see ourselves, what we think our strengths and weaknesses are. Then something happens which calls into question a part of that narrative. Am I really as good at that as I thought I was? Do people really see me the way I think they do? It can be disorienting. But, I only allow a day or so to ponder such things, then I move on. Otherwise, I would live my life marinating in a stew of self doubt. Still, when failure comes, I suppose it is right and proper to step back and examine what went wrong. What did I miss? What incorrect assumptions did I make? 

This is a process that I wish our elected officials had the courage to undertake. "Hey guys..we are 19 freaking trillion dollars in debt. What did we miss? What incorrect assumptions did we make? Are we really as good at governing as we thought??" But, in Washington, self reflection is about as rare as humility. So all we get is doubling down on failed policies. Both sides do it. For the Republicans, the answer to every problem is tax cuts! For Democrats, it's always more spending! For Bill Clinton, it's always "let's get in the hot tub!!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we are 19 trillion dollars in debt.

You're welcomed.

The President and Loretta Lynch

The following is a transcript of a top secret conversation held in the Oval Office yesterday at 1:35 between Attorney General Loretta Lynch and the President of the United States...unfortunately, it too has been redacted...

LL: Mr. President, as you know, I did what you asked of me yesterday. Against my better judgement, I went on all of the Sunday shows and told them that we were planning to release heavily redacted transcripts of the 911 calls made by Omar Mateen during the Orlando workplace violence incident. I told them that the reason we omitted any reference to Islam and Allah was because we didn't want to further his hateful propaganda. I also told them that the reason we were releasing the transcripts in the first place was because of our commitment to transparency and accountability.

POTUS: Yes Loretta. I watched you on Meet the Press and thought you were amazing.

LL: Well...Mr. President, unfortunately we are getting hammered by the press today, and I mean HAMMERED. AND, it's not just Fox News, even our most reliable mouthpieces are turning on us. They're saying that by heavily redacting the man's words we look stupid. Everybody already knows what he said and the fact that we omitted key words just makes us look obsessed with political correctness and somehow disconnected from the reality of the situation.

POTUS: (inaudible clanging noise)...Well, I don't give a flying (omitted) what (omitted) thinks about (omitted)!! If we publish the man's actually words, every redneck (omitted) in America will try to make this perfectly fine crisis about (omitted) terrorism instead of (omitted) gun control!!

LL: You might be right about that Mr. President, but...if we've lost CNN, well, we have to think about some sort of in-course correction here.

POTUS: (omitted)!!!!!!!!!!!

(Inaudible crashing sounds)

POTUS: Ok, (omitted...omitted), here's what we do. We put out a statement saying that the press has made the redacted portions of the transcripts an unnecessary distraction. Then we lay blame for this whole thing on the State Department.

LL: But, Secretary Kerry didn't have anything to do with...

POTUS: I don't give a (omitted) about Secretary (omitted) Kerry. Just get it done!

LL: Yes Sir Mr. President. By the way, is there any particular reason why you are so fond of sending highly competent, professional African-American women from your administration out to be humiliated by the press? First, Susan Rice...and now me?

POTUS: (inaudible breaking of glass sound)

Father's Day Thoughts

Father's Day is weird without Dad. I have no one to call. Now, I'm the one who gets called. Weird.

I often wonder what the day is like for people who have or had really horrible fathers. After all, there are lots of men out there who don't fit neatly onto a Hallmark card. In this regard I am fortunate. For all of my life I have been surrounded by men for whom fatherhood was their crowning achievement. My Dad. My uncles. The men who married my two sisters. My father-in-law. And now I see Facebook pictures of young men from my Sunday School classes from years ago holding infants in their arms, delighted and amazed. Then there are the men I've known who never had kids of their own, but instead became surrogate fathers to hundreds of other people's kids, those sainted teachers, coaches and encouragers without whom parents would be lost. I think of them on this day too.

Yesterday, my wife had her family over for a Father's Day picnic in the back yard. Despite the calendar, it was a perfect day to be outside...blue skies and no humidity. Because it was Pam, there was a theme...western bandanas with Slim Jim party favors! I grilled up beef and chicken kabobs on the grill with some teriyaki chicken thrown in for good measure.

After everyone left, I get an email from my daughter. She sent me a Barnes & Noble gift certificate so I could buy some books for my month in Maine. Then my son called to inform me that I must drive over to Havana Connection before 7:00 o'clock to pick up a package that was waiting for me.

After all of this, Pam and I were both exhausted. We had made plans earlier in the day for the Forts to come over to teach us some games to play while we are in Maine...something called Farkle, and the indelicately named dominoes game called Mexican Train. We hadn't seen them in a while and they would be spending a couple of weeks in Africa soon, and we wanted to see them before they left. We were so tired, we almost cancelled, but...it was the Forts, the easiest people in the world to hang with. So glad we didn't wimp out. Had a great time!

Now begins the sprint to the finish. Our preparations for Maine are officially on the home stretch. The finish line looms. Lucy knows that something is in the air, an ill wind is blowing. She looks at us suspiciously as if to say...What is this Maine of which you speak? Will there be trash cans and ceiling fans? If so, I must protest!

I'll keep you posted...