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The Pop-Fast

May 17, 2014

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                May 17, 2014

 

                                              

 

To be honest I’ve already cut back in recent weeks!

But I’m going cold turkey for a week. No soda pop, soda water, Coke, water with sugared fizz…whatever the term is that you use to describe that can in your hand that you just popped the top on.

A week doesn’t seem like much…when you are on Hour #1 of Day #1!

Day #4 in the evening when my wife has just popped some popcorn is a different matter. I was raised with the idea that popcorn could not be eaten without having a cold Pepsi at the same time. It’s the difference between eating a plain hot dog, or a dog with mustard, ketchup, and relish on it.

Hot dogs…there’s another item that I probably need to fast from!

In recent weeks I’ve been thinking more about what I eat and drink. I have a coupon for a free chicken salad at Chick-fil-A to be used this month. I think about that each day at lunch time. It would be a lot healthier for me to have for lunch than some other choices.

What did I proceed to do last week? Used a “buy a Whopper, get one free” coupon one day. Take a year off my lifespan right there! I did get the “Satisfries!” They are “less bad” for you! Notice the terminology we use to justify our bad choices.

The next day I did Panda Express. For some reason Panda seems healthier than Burger King. I’m not sure it is, but I rationalized, and I was hungry when I was rationalizing.

I did penance the next morning and had yogurt with a “cutie”…the orange kind, noy my wife!

Choices! I make them every day. Some days the choice that helps the health of my body is easy. Other days I’m humming the McDonald’s jingle more and more as lunch approaches.

Back to “the pop!” I’m laying off!

I know that it will be a item on sale this coming Memorial Day weekend at the supermarket. I’m even laying off filling my shopping cart with eight cartons each time I go. My daughters remember a Thanksgiving weekend when pop was on sale at K-Mart and I went about ten times during the weekend and got five cartons each time.

I’m going on a “pop-on-sale fast” as well!

I heard one of those statistics on how much sugar we put in our bodies, and the fact that in a few years one out of every three children will end up being diabetic. Perhaps I heard it wrong. It WAS in the midst of the promoting of a new “Wake Up” kind of documentary film. It did, however, catch my ear.

I’ll start with pop. The test for me is whether I can stop putting sugar in my coffee. When I started drinking coffee back in seminary during a semester I was taking Hebrew (An agonizing experience that resulted with my learning how to drink coffee much more than knowing the Hebrew alphabet) I retrieved from my memory bank how a person drinks coffee. My parents drank it each morning with cream and sugar. Thus, that’s how I began drinking it. Perhaps I should go back to drinking Folger’s black. It’s a fairly weak coffee experience anyway!

This week, however, I’m pushing the Sprite to the side. A benefit will be a reduction in the bill when Carol and I go out to eat. I’m so used to getting a Coke or a Sprite that I have barely noticed that most restaurants now secretly take you for two and a half to three dollars. Good Lord! Sheltered Bill still thinks that’s how much a beer is in a restaurant.

For those who are wondering, I dislike beer as much as I love soda pop! I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a Baptist, the son of Baptists, a Baptist minister, or because I simply abhor its taste. 

If you see me in the next few days and I’m looking ragged you’ll know why. I’m coming off a “sugared lifestyle.”

But one question! If I’m fasting from soda pop is it okay to drink something different out of my Coca-Cola glasses, A&W mug, or Orange Crush tumbler?

Categories: children, Christianity, Freedom, Humor, Jesus, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
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A Brown-Haired Pastor Turned Redhead

February 25, 2014

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                         February 25, 2014

 

                         

Needless to say, it wasn’t my idea! Some might say I was the victim!

But sometimes you willingly become the victim to help secure a different kinds of victory.

It was a contest. The head leader of our church’s Awana program pitted against me! I was hoping for a free throw shooting contest, maybe even one-on-one foosball, or which one of us could drink the most coffee in one day. I felt pretty good about my chances if we had competed in any of those events.

But…those were not options. The competition was between kids and adults. Whoever brought the most food for our church’s food pantry would be the victor.

But victory meant either a rainbow mohawk for our head leader or red hair for me. If the kids brought more food I was safe. If the adults brought more food I would be brighter than Red Skelton.

Each week the cans and boxes came in…cases of canned corn, bags of macaroni noodles, soup, peanut butter, and on and on. Last Wednesday the contest ended. Shannon( the head leader) and I were sitting on stools on the platform awaiting the outcome. I was confident, but not cocky! Actually I was apprehensive and fearful.

I had reason to be. The results were announced! It was a tie! How convenient! That must mean that neither of us would get our hair changed! Wrong! In the world of dyed-hair contests a tie means both contestants are sunk.

So Sunday morning I preached a sermon on “What I Believe About Healing” with red hair. It seemed a little awkward. My head felt like I was wearing a bomb shelter helmet. In my Bible reading just a couple of days before that I had been reading in Leviticus about the unclean state of a man with a reddish-white sore on his head. I thought God showed his sense of humor in bringing me to that passage in my reading at this time.

In the end our food pantry got restocked. Many families will be helped who are in need of food. What is probably excess groceries in many cupboards now becomes staples for a family on the edge.

So for that I willingly went red, and Shannon willingly went rainbow mohawk.

Funny thing! Later on that day my wife showed me a picture on her cell phone. I misunderstood what she said, and as I looked at the picture I asked “Who is that?”

“That’s you, dear!”

“Whattttt?”

Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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The Grinch at Starbucks

December 26, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                   December 25, 2013

The elderly gentleman arrived at the entry door of Starbucks just ahead of a forty-something man with a serious look on his face and a cell phone attached to his ear. The senior opened the door and invited the other visitor to enter ahead of him. He did and gave his doorman a half-nod.

This was the second visit to the store that morning for the wiser of the two. The second cup of coffee was free for him, so he had taken a morning drive as he sipped on the first cup and then stopped back on his way home. His wife knew his routine, and knew how long it took him to drink twenty-four ounces of the dark roast.

The forty-something hadn’t changed out of his flannel pants, presumably the ones he had worn to bed the night before. He stepped up to the counter and gave no reply to the barista who greeted him.

Harry, the elderly gent, took his time moving from the entrance to his place in line behind the man. He stood there with his coffee cup in hand patiently waiting. The man in the flannel pants in front of him began giving his order…”Latte with skim milk…three shot mocha cappuccino…vanilla latte skim extra shot…americano…medium roast coffee…caramel macciato…three sausage breakfast sandwiches…and a pumpkin spice latte skim.”

     “What size on those drinks, sir?”

      The customer looked perturbed to even have the question be asked. “All talls!”

       “Yes, sir! That will be $31.55.”

       “$31.55! Good Lord! Are you sure about that?”

      The young woman with the patience of Job printed out a copy of the bill. “Yes, sir! Here’s the breakdown on each purchase.”

      The agitated mid-life crisis grabbed it and scanned the figures.

“Cash or credit, sir?”

      “Credit!” bellowed her challenger. The wallet was whipped out of his back pocket to show his disgust. He peered into the pockets of the fake leather, hesitated, and then searched again more frantically.

       “Is there a problem, sir?”

       “I’m missing my credit card,” replied the embarrassed adversary. “I must have pulled it out of my wallet at home and…”

       “Allow me to take care of it, my friend.” The voice of the elderly gentleman was friendly and understanding. “Amanda, would you put this gentleman’s purchases on my bill?”

       “I can’t let you do that. I don’t even know you,” said the man.

“No, but Amanda here does, and she knows that I’m going to get a refill on the dark roast before I even order, and leave me a little room for cream. Isn’t that right, Amanda?”

      “That’s right, Wally.”

      “Sir, I don’t know if…”

      “Let me ask you something, friend. I take it that you aren’t going to drink all of those lattes and drinks, and eat all of those breakfast sandwiches yourself. And I’m guessing that since you are wearing those flannel pants that you are returning home to a place where a few other people close to you are waiting to get caffeinated. This is just my opinion, but I would say it would be better for you to accept my gift here than to disappoint a houseful of people there.”

       The man glanced back and forth for a few moments pondering his dilemma, and then said, “Okay!”

       “Each one of us has found ourselves in awkward situations such as this. It is at those times that I pray that God would put someone behind me to pick me up from my mistake and let me know it will be okay. Perhaps some day soon you’ll be that person

next in line.”

        The man nodded with a look of partial appreciation and he slowly moved down a few feet to the counter where his drinks and food would appear. A few minutes later, with drink carrier and bag in hand, he stepped towards the door to depart. As he opened the door he hesitated and then looked back at his Starbucks savior.

“Wally…thank you!”

         Wally’s wrinkled face broke into a warm smile. He raised his coffee cup to the man and nodded “You’re welcome.”

Categories: Christianity, Christmas, Community, Freedom, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Coffeed Out!

September 26, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                        September 25, 2013

 

 

     My office does not have Folger’s in it, but it does have a mountain of other caffeinated aromas. I could supply a finals week for a whole college campus. My office is so caffeinated I’m thinking of putting in barista stand. I’ll call it a “Baptrista stand!”

I’m starting to feel like a coffee-hoarder. I can’t even go to a hotel and not put the little in-room personal coffee packs into my suitcase before I leave. I have some still from when Jimmy Carter was president.

Today I finally finished the Starbucks Christmas Blend bag! That might give you an idea of how many bags of coffee beans I ordered last Advent.

Lo and behold, just when I thought I saw an opening on the coffee shelf my nephew and his wife from Baltimore sent me a pound of Zeke’s Coffee beans, a special blend called “How ‘Bout Dem O’s!” His message to me written on the back of the bag was, “Uncle Bill, thought you could use a little pick me up. Enjoy this playoff push blend!”

     The Orioles were eliminated from the picture the day after I received the gift. Do I return the bag to him? Do I keep it until they make the playoffs? Will Jesus return sooner than that happens?

Right before the bag of Zeke’s showed up I had a two-pound bag of Guatemala blend coffee beans from Starbucks given me as a gift from someone who borrowed something. I’m thinking of starting a Central American section in my office. Besides Guatemala, I’ve got coffee bag flags from the Dominican Republic, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Mexico. I need an entry from Panama to start a Coffee Fantasy League.

I have a four-cup coffeemaker in my office, sitting right beside the latest Keurig. I’m thinking of getting an espresso machine so it could be like a Java trinity- a cappuccino between two coffees.

Each one of us has those areas in our lives that could be classified as “EXCESS.” We seldom like to come clean and admit it, but truth is truth. Coffee and books are my excesses. My cholesterol is high, but not excess.

Recently we got water in our basement and realized that we have a lot of meaningless excessive junk downstairs. A wet basement sometimes gives you new perspective! Does anyone really need that many Christmas ornaments? Do we really need the treadmill that now has thirty shirts and blousers hanging on it like…Christmas ornaments?

I’ve committed myself to not buying any more bags of coffee beans or Keurig pods until my mountain has been shaved down to a hill. It might take a while, but I invested in a huge box of “Sugar In the Raw” to help me conquer.

Meanwhile, I’m wondering if we should bring the coffee ministry of the church to a new level. Maybe get some t-shirts and personalized coffee cups. I have to be specific in the purpose, however, because some might interpret being a part of “The Brew Crew” to mean something different.

Categories: Freedom, Humor, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Drinking Coffee With A Bad Tongue

June 14, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 June 14, 2013

This morning has its challenges! I’m trying to drink my first cup of coffee. That’s not usually a challenge, but today each sip does not have that soothing effect.

I got drilled yesterday in the mouth! No, it wasn’t a bar fight, or…bringing back some bad memories…I didn’t take a softball in the jaw.

I went to the dentist, and before she drilled me she gave me about eighty shots to numb the back of my mouth and close to my tongue. Even though that was yesterday mid-afternoon, this morning my tongue is still feeling the effects. It feels like it laid out in the beach in the sun all afternoon, and now anything that touches it gets a reaction.

Let me take another sip! (pause)

Ouch! Still sensitive.

I feel like Napoleon Dynamite whining about Chapstick.

A friend called me after I got home from the dentist yesterday. I sounded like Sylvester the Cat trying to properly pronunciate. “T’s” are hard to pronoun when you have a bad “t’hongue!” Sufferin succotash!

Some might ask why I’m drinking coffee if it is painful? Because it is a part of my daily routine. It’s what I do! It is a little weird tilting my head to the right and trying to swallow with the caffeine avoiding the left side of my tongue, but I’m halfway through my mug and I’ve only screamed like a baby once.

My fear is that I’ll still be talking this way on Sunday. My message will have so many “thou, thine, and thy’s” in it that I may start talking that way out of habit. It’s “thertainty” a possibility.

What happens when it’s hard for a preacher to preach? What happens when it’s painful? You preach carefully.

This coming Sunday will be an experience of that, not because of my “thongue”, but because of the week we have had here. Hundreds of homes destroyed in the Black Forest fire…memories of the Waldo Canyon fire from one year ago almost to the day…lives altered. When it is hard for a preacher to preach you preach slowly and carefully. Sometimes the preacher doesn’t even need to speak and his words are heard.

The lesson that I’m experiencing this morning of a sensitive tongue may be a personal teaching moment. I long for a little comfort in my mouth. There will be people gathered in worship on Sunday who will long for a little comfort from my mouth. Words that are felt as they are preached become a cool drink of water on parched souls.

I need a “thrink.”

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Thirty Days of Writing

June 2, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                         June 1, 2013

 

People have often told me that I write good…I mean, well!

Although I have a hard time remembering when to use “it’s” and when to use “its”, I seem to be able to peck on my laptop…well.

Thus I’m beginning a challenge that may cure me from ever wanting to write again, or give me the urge, like I have for a cup of dark roast coffee in the morning that now seems strangely natural.

The challenge is to write a post for my blog each and every day for a month. Thirty days…from the first to the last, or thirtieth.

To do that will require creativity on days when creation seems to have disappeared; and discipline on days when I hate the thought of the word.

It will require that someone cares.

That would be you.

To help me out a little bit I encourage you…I beg you…to send me some ideas as to what you would want me to write about. I don’t care whether it’s (there’s that word again) about peanut butter, or dental floss, or the New Orleans Zephyrs. (Google it!)

Whatever you ask me to write about I will try my utmost for his highest to bring in a spiritual principle.

I will, however, not surrender editorial powers of veto, knowing that some people are already thinking of something that would make me cringe just sitting in front of the computer and writing about.

Perhaps you have a spiritual question…or concern…or confusion…or even a confusing question that is a concern.

Let the challenge begin! I need coffee!

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Coffee Follower

April 29, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                April 29, 2013

 

It started when I was in seminary. One semester I made the foolish decision to sign up for Hebrew. I knew how to say “Shalom” and “Kosher” already, but thought I would be more spiritual if I could say a complete sentence in the Hebrew language. Hebrew agreed with me about as much as a late night taco pack from Jack-In-The-Box. In the midst of trying to figure out how the weird looking letters I started going out to a 24 hour restaurant near campus with two of my classmates, Steve Wamberg and Steve Shafer. We studied our Hebrew flash cards and drank coffee.

The coffee stayed with me, but the Hebrew didn’t.

The coffee began slowly…cream, sugar, and a little coffee with it. I was an Folgers follower, which is kind of like being a Chicago Cub’s fan…the flavorful moments are few and far between, but the person doesn’t know any better. Folgers was it!

I followed Folgers for a number of years, accumulating coffee mugs to wrap around the product. Once in a while there would be a cup of Maxwell House thrown in, but not often.

Then I discovered Nescafe Instant coffee, and my commitment to Folgers was compromised.  There was something about putting those glimmering coffee crystals into my mug and seeing them disappear, unlike the unsightly coffee grounds, as the hot water filled the cup. Nescafe was the bomb!

But bombs don’t last! My caffeinated spirit soon was enticed by Gevalia, which offered a free coffeemaker when you became a new customer. I was drawn in like a Black Friday slobbering shopaholic waiting outside of Best Buy for a half-price blu ray player.

Gevalia may have forced me to grow as a coffee follower more than anything else, because a new shipment was coming to my office every two months. If I didn’t drink it fast enough I was going to have to build a coffee warehouse for my excess. Sometimes commitment comes because we’re forced to go to a deeper level of consumption.

Drinking coffee became a natural part of me, a part of my routine. Saturday nights as I put the finishing touches on the Sunday sermon, I would go through the McDonald’s drive-thru and get two large coffees…two creams and two sugars in each. If McDonald’s would have had a power outage I’m sure the Sundaty sermon would have been adversely effected. It was a sermon prep superstition- two large coffees from McDonald’s. Like the opening prayer in worship, McDonald’s coffee was required for the routine.

After a few years we moved to Colorado Springs and I was introduced to an actual coffeehouse called Pike’s Perk. I started paying close to two bucks for a large coffee, but every tenth cup was free! What a deal! When I didn’t think I could drink any more coffee I discovered that I had another coffee gear that I could crank my fluid intake to. The quicker I consumed the daily featured medium roast the faster I could get to my earthly reward of a freebie! Pike’s Perk took me to a new level of different types of coffee. My coffee education deepened. I learned about Kona and Blue Mountain. I couldn’t believe that I had let myself settle for Folgers all those years. I was now devout, experienced, someone who could tell the difference between bad coffee and heavenly brew.

But then I discovered Starbucks! To begin with it seemed that Starbucks was too bitter, too strong. I reacted against it, like an environmentalist protesting off-shore drilling. Then someone gave me a Starbucks gift card. Like a free ticket to a Dave Matthews Band concert, it had to be used. Saturday night McDonald’s became a distant memory, like a percolator.

I started using my GPS to find Starbucks in unfamiliar cities I happened to be passing through. Once I jumped over a fence to get to a Starbucks in Prince George, British Columbia.

I look at my journey from late night pretender to consuming follower. I’m reading Onward by Starbucks CEO, Howard Schultz, about how the coffee giant fought for its life without losing its soul. I’m sure it will bring some new kind of sustenance to my java journey. Perhaps I’ll be able to get back to the root of the different blends.

Who knows what the next step of my pilgrimage will be! I look at all the old mugs in my office that remind me of my past.

It’s interesting how coffee has infiltrated all of my life. It has enabled me to write sermons, keep me awake in the midst of dull conversations, given me something to hold on to as I drive to an appointment in Denver. What would I do without coffee?

STOP! Now I want you to ponder what I have just written, but replace coffee with Jesus. I am a Jesus follower, who happens to like coffee. I confess that I did jump over a fence in Prince George, but please know that I would climb a mountain for Jesus.

Sometimes there are things that we allow to take priority in my life. Interests become obsessions. Likes become imbalanced behavior. A liquid substance becomes a requirement.

I strive after a Jesus who is in love with me. Hard to believe, I know! Coffee stains and all, he still allows me to be identified as a follower.

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Losing Power At Starbucks

April 25, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          April 26, 2013

 

I was at Starbucks yesterday!

Not a surprise, for those who know me. But what happened while I was there was…interesting!

Starbucks lost power! Not one of those little momentary hiccups that we have all experienced. No, this was the loss of power that kept staying lost!

Of course, it happened while I was in the men’s restroom. And, of course, this restroom had no windows…just a while lot of darkness! It allowed me to find out one more reason to have a cell phone. Not to call from the restroom, but rather to shed a little light on the situation.

I emerged from the restroom to a coffee shop that was quiet. If you have been in a Starbucks you know how unusual that is. There is usually the sound of blenders, expresso machines, oven doors opening and closing, music being played from the ceiling speakers, orders being taken. But this time it was quiet and still.

Power that is lost stills the presence. Customers who were about to order waited for a few moments, before giving up and exiting. No frappuccinos…no cappuccinos…no lattes. Donuts were visible, but since there was no power to operate the register they couldn’t be sold. Things came to a halt. Employees stood around not knowing what to do. Losing power was not a chapter in their employee training manuals.

I stay for another twenty minutes or so, long enough to finish my tall coffee, and then made my exit. Several other people had already gathered their belongings, laptops, and workbooks, and preceded my departure. Several stayed.

Losing power leaves people in a quandary. Will it come back? How long before it returns?

It was an object lesson for me about the church. What happens to a church that loses power? Who notices? Who quickly exits, and who waits in hopeful anticipation of its return? What do we do when the power of God is absent? Do we stand around trying to find something to busy ourselves? Do we walk around in confusion?

Hard questions for the church. Harder questions because there are times when we are much more comfortable operating under our own power than we are operating under the power of the Spirit. When the Spirit is suddenly absent how aware are we that the lights have gone off?

Perhaps another relevant question is how urgently do we pray for the moving and empowering of the Holy Spirit in our churches? Every church has its times of delight and periods of desperation, green pastures and dry deserts. Consistent praying gets us through the desert journeys. It gets us through those times when the darkness is evident and we’re not sure when the light will return.

I was back at Starbucks this afternoon…go figure! One of the employees who was here yesterday told me that the power came back on after about forty-five minutes. I told him that I had been in the restroom when it happened. We were able to laugh about it, but if it happens again I’m heading to McDonald’s. Their coffee is just a buck anyway…although their restrooms are more suspect!

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Holy Spirit, Humor, Jesus, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Non-Traditionally Traditional or Traditionally Non-Traditional

May 8, 2009

We throw around the terms.

Traditional.

Non-traditional.

They carry extensive resume’s attached to them. When we say traditional visions of straight-lacedness dance…I mean…don’t dance in our heads. We think of orderliness and finishing on-time and the traditional Thanksgiving meal.

Conversely, when we say non-traditional we think of radical natures, “out-of-the-box,” differing processes.

Okay, I admit! I think that!

It occurs to me, however, that each one of us—every one of us—is a mixture of traditional and non-traditional. Both camps of people are ready to throw something at me at this moment, so hear me out.

I love to drink a good cup of coffee in the morning. Diana says that she could stand a straw up in the midst of a cup of the coffee I brew because it’s so strong. Wimp! (Smaller font so she doesn’t see it.) When it comes to coffee I’m a traditionalist. Recently I was at Pike’s Perk Coffeehouse to get my mug filled. There was light roast, medium roast, dark roast, de-caffeinated (“What’s the point?”), and French Vanilla flavored. I usually get medium roast. Flavored coffees just don’t appeal to me. That could be because I started drinking coffee back in my seminary days when “flavored” meant that you had dipped your donut in the cup. I learned to drink coffee a certain way, and French Vanilla, or Snickerdoodle, or Swiss Chocolate, or, Amaretto is just too outside of my tradition.

On the other side of my preferences, however, is my preference to drive a hybrid car. “This is not my dad’s Buick…or Ford…or Chrysler!” My parents have always driven cars that have traditionally been thought of as having been made in America. Call me a radical, but our family owns three Hondas and I’ve gone to the hybrid car. For right now it’s still seen as being non-traditional, although the day is coming….

Henry Ford was seen as being non-traditional at one point!

We bring those labels of “traditional” and “non-traditional” into our spiritual lives, and especially into our congregational lives. Depending on where you place yourself, it’s easy to see someone who is in a different place then you as being messed-up.

“Alex hates praise music. He’s very…traditional!”

It’s said like the person has an illness.

“Alex hates Pepsi. He’s…diabetic!”

Or “Alex does not care for our 10:30 worship service. He’s very…non-traditional.”

I’m a hybrid. I’m a mixture. We’re all hybrids. Just when I think I’m a non-traditionalist I make a batch of popcorn on Sunday night, because when I was growing up my family always made popcorn on Sunday nights and watched the Ed Sullivan show together on TV. Just when I think I’m a traditionalist I find myself reading a book by Leonard Sweet like The Gospel According to Starbucks or Thomas Friedman’s book The World Is Flat.

Just when I start thinking “normal,” I look at some of my “Far Side” cartoons.

We’re all messed-up, but we’re also all “mixed-together.” Christians more often than not use labels to create separation than a unique kind of unity. We allow our preferences to irritate us about someone who has a different preference.

After all, if everyone was like me there would be a lot less arguments!

And if you thought I was serious in that last sentence, you obviously haven’t realized that I am a non-traditional humorist!

Categories: Christianity, Community, Freedom, Grace, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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