Posted tagged ‘Starbucks’
March 18, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. March 18, 2017
I needed Carol…but she had departed the house early for a day of being a para-professional with middle school students who have special needs.
Unfortunately, I had a special need also! It was St. Patrick’s Day and I didn’t know what to wear. Being color blind I couldn’t figure out what I could wear that had green in it. I was scheduled for an interview that morning at a school, so I couldn’t wear one of my Michigan State tee shirts. They were the only shirts I owned that I was sure had green because the Spartan’s colors are green and white.
I faced a closet full of mixed-up hues and vague hints of color schemes. They looked like a color calculus problem with no clear solution.
People don’t quite understand the effects of color blindness. They ask me what is it I see? I see what I see, but am often confused by what it is. As I approach a stoplight on a foggy morning I have to slow down to see which of the three lights is shining. If it is the bottom one I know I can go.
I remember when I was first diagnosed as color blind when I was in fourth grade. I was given a group of circles, each filled with dots, and asked to say the number that was inside the circle. A couple of the numbers were as clear as day, but a few of the others…in my view!…had no number in the middle. In fact, I thought it was some cheap school prank made to make me look silly!
I drive a white car! I can figure out white usually! But white is not green, and my granddaughter has informed me that people will pinch me if I don’t wear green on St. Patrick’s Day. She had a smile on her face as she said it, like she was choosing the body part to grab hold of.
I settled on a new Roundtree & York shirt that looked like it could possibly have some green in the crossing pattern of lines and designs. There had to be some green in it! If I would have thought about it a little more I could have taken a selfie picture and sent it to Carol. Hopefully she would have a moment to view it before I headed out into a world obsessed with greenness.
At Starbucks I got looks! I checked my zipper! I was okay. My dense brain figured the looks were because of my favorite Starbucks cup, which is starting to look a little weathered in its whiteness.
Or maybe it was because I was a good-looking 62 year old man!
I thought I noticed one elderly lady looking at me and positioning two of her fingers into a tight position. I wondered if she was having a stroke! She wasn’t! I remembered my granddaughter’s words. This lady was ready to pounce…or, pinch my arm! I scurried to my white car!
But I had my new Roundtree & York green, brown, red, and blue shirt on! Perhaps this lady had a distorted kind of color blindness, like a color blind psycho…seeing things that aren’t there and not seeing things that are there!
St. Patrick’s Day is torturous!
After my interview, in which I got concerned looks at my color attire, I stopped at Carol’s school to check on something else with the athletic office secretary.
“You’re not wearing green today!”
“I’m not!”
“No!”
I flinched like she was about to pinch me. “This shirt isn’t green?”
She laughed deeply at my tainted tintness! I scurried home to the safety of my vacated residence…and changed shirts!
Categories: children, Humor, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: color blind, color-blindness, colors, hues, Michigan State, Michigan State Spartans, middle school, pinching, red-green color blind, Spartans, St. Patrick's Day, Starbucks, tints, vision
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February 19, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. February 19, 2017
It had been one of those weeks! You know the kind…where you go a thousand miles a minute and never seem to get anywhere. It had been a week filled with always getting behind the person driving twenty miles under the speed limit; a week of dealing with a cold, and speaking of that, a week of dealing with snotty-nosed middle school students who seemed to think Valentine’s Day entitled them to hallway intimate embraces; a week of dealing with belligerent basketball coaches and fans; a week of neck pain, backaches, and throbbing knees.
And then our granddaughter got sick Friday night!
Both Carol and I were free on Friday, and I was looking forward to some early morning writing time perched on my Starbucks stool, but our daughter and granddaughter needed us. Admittedly, I agreed to come over early in the morning and sit with Reagan, who just turned six the week before, but I was muttering to myself!
I arrived at 7:40 so our oldest daughter, Kecia, could head to school, where she would face a full day of fourth grade parent-teacher conferences. Reagan was half laying and half sitting on the couch watching TV. We greeted one another and then I sat down at the kitchen table to do an evaluation for a friend. I thought it might take an hour, but, instead, took only about ten minutes. I went over to the couch and sat down by my oldest granddaughter.
On the TV was a kid’s show called Mia and Me. I started watching it with her, not realizing that it was a Netflix season series! After the first episode, seeing that the next episode would start in twenty seconds, I asked a few questions to the recovering sick one.
“So is that lady the bad guy?”
“Yes, she’s trying to get the unicorns.”
“Why does she want the unicorns?”
“To take their horns so that Queen Panthea can stay young.”
To myself. “Huh?”
“Who are the two kids flying around in the air?”
“Those are elves. They are trying to keep the unicorns safe.”
“Oh!”
We sat there for a couple of hours watching six episodes. Reagan leaned into me, like I used to do with my dad in church when I was her age. She settled into my side as Mia faced another riddle to solve in Episode 4.
We journeyed through the land of Centopia together that morning, the old guy asking questions and the young one providing the answers.
It was a morning that we both needed. A morning where a six year old got me grounded again, with some moments of quiet and togetherness. Sitting on the couch with my granddaughter was without a doubt the most meaningful experience I had all week.
Sometimes the inconveniences of life lead us to the moments that God most desires for us. They are moments that won’t make headlines, but are moments that plant the treasure of life within our hearts.
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Grandchildren, Humor, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Centopia, grandchildren, granddaughters, grandfather, grandkids, grandma, grandparenting, grandparents, Mia and Me, Queen Panthea, sick kids, sickness, six year olds, Starbucks, watching TV
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November 21, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. November 21, 2016
I went to Walgreen’s a few days ago to buy a bag of cough drops. I located the aisle they were displayed in and scanned the selections. The Walgreen’s brand had a couple of flavors to offer, but the first bag I found only had thirty cough drops in it. Knowing that I was going through about six a day I thought the next size up would be a better choice. At the other end of the shelf was a bag of two hundred.
“There must be a size in-between”, I thought to myself. I searched back and forth, and I slowed down my gaze trying to locate the in-between. To my amazement there was no in-between. It was either 30 or 200. It was either five days of relief or five years of taking up cabinet space.
Where was the in-between? And another question, where is the in-between?
Even Starbucks calls their in-between size drink “Grande!”
But the in-between is about more than just food and drink. It’s also about position and value. The American middle class has shrunk in the last few decades. During the last decade of the 20th Century it shrank because more people were moving upwards in economic class, but in the first two decades of this century it has shrunk because more people are moving down to being lower in economic status. The importance of that can be seen in nations where there is a very small middle class. Also, without exception those countries are impoverished and unstable. People recognize that there are the “haves” and the “have-nots”, and there is a ripple effect of unrest, hopelessness, and social anger. The in-between holds the extremes together. When there is no in-between division and dissension define the culture.
I’m an in-betweener politically. I’m not sure when I settled in that position. Perhaps it is simply a part of who I am. Back in the 1990’s when I won an election for a seat on the Board of Education for the Mason, Michigan school system I ran as an in-betweener. The community was divided between those who did not want to pass the school bond issue and those who saw the increasing need for it. I ran as one who could help bring the community together, won the election, and helped in the effort to pass the school bond issue the next fall. Sometimes it takes an in-betweener to help end the tug-of-war in a community.
Even in this past presidential election I was an in-betweener! But the in-between has not been a popular place to be. It’s too rational in a time of sniping polarization. I feel like the marriage counselor in the midst of two adults screaming at each other and telling them that I’m not on the side of either one of them.
People think the in-between doesn’t stand for anything, that it’s fickle and uncommitted! Contrary to what liberals and conservatives think, the in-between is a place that looks at the long-term possibilities and direction. To use a word picture, it looks out from the top of Pike’s Peak through the clouds and haze and sees Kansas. The in-betweener is the optimist in a scuffle where everyone else is determined to be the winner.
The other night Carol and I were babysitting for our three grandkids. Reagan, our five year old granddaughter, likes to have me tell her stories. She has gotten into the habit of draping her feet across my lap and asking me to tell her a story that includes the participation of her feet. So I told her about a worm named “Squiggly” who was looking for a nice warm place to sleep that night, a place of protection and coziness. Squiggly found that place in-between her toes, and I tickled the inside spot to pinpoint where this story was going. Reagan squealed with delight and laughter, and quickly removed her feet from my lap. Fifteen seconds later she placed them back across my legs and said, “Tell me the rest of the story!” That finding of the in-between spot and laughter continued for several minutes. It humored each of its participants.
The in-between is a place of delight, a giggling warm spot that is delightfully good. It’s the place of peace in the troubling spirit of population. It’s the disappearing place where harmony can be seeded and flourish.
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: 2016 Presidential Campaign, compromise, cough drops, election, Grande, hands and have nots, in-between, in-between size, middle class, middle class citizens, optimism, optimist, Starbucks
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August 2, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. August 2, 2016
It’s the morning after supervising the three grandchildren for ten hours. I’m feeling the effects!
First of all, there’s my speech pattern! I’m talking in one and two word phrases, and repeating them two or three times. For instance, I stood in front of the refrigerator this morning looking at the containers of orange and apple juice and saying to myself “Juice! Juice! Juice!” I said it non-audibly to my inner self, but I said it with the voice of my sixteen month old granddaughter.
The morning proceeded.
“Waffle! Waffle! Waffle!”
“Keys! Keys! Keys!”
“Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!”
I’m afraid I’ll carry this toddler stream of repetitive verbiage too far. How will Carol react when she comes home from an errand and I greet her with “Hi Wife! Hi Wife!”? Or what if I discover the Half-and-Half container at Starbucks is empty and I carry the container to the counter shouting “Cream! Cream! Cream!”? I may never be able to go back to that Starbucks where I’ve been seen as a responsible adult for the last several years.
Really! Really! Really!
I’m looking at Pike’s Peak right now and saying to myself “Big! Big! Big!” This afternoon when I lay down for a nap I just hope I don’t whine “Pac-i!” Pac-i! Pac-i!”, as in “pacifier!”
The second after effect is my body whining to me. My lower back is reminding me that I’m not a young man anymore. Every time the grand baby looked up at me and said “Up! Up! Up!”, I obliged. Is there rehab therapy for grandparents? My arm muscles feel like I’ve done a full weight training workout at the Y.M.C.A. Actually, it has just been a day of squat thrusts and arm curls with a twenty-two pound weight! I thought I would sleep soundly last night out of exhaustion, but instead I tossed and turned in pain. I’m hoping I have the strength to fix lunch!, lunch!, lunch! I’m now speaking to myself again and thinking of my massage therapist, Jackie Landers. “Massage! Massage! Massage!”
Finally, the third after effect is a different kind of feeling whatsoever. It’s a feeling…a realization of blessedness! In the midst of one word demands and tried muscles I know without a doubt that I am a blessed man, a graced granddad! As I wrote in a blog post a few days ago, I am in marvel of the little ones! They make me feel young at heart even as I feel the age of my body. I actually get a little emotional thinking about them.
Today is our five year old granddaughter Reagan’s first day of kindergarten. Jesse, our eight year old grandson starts third grade. They amaze me even as they cause me to need a nap. They have amazing parents who keep them grounded in the Word, on-course with figuring out what is appropriate and what isn’t, and immersed in unconditional love.
So even as my speech pattern has changed today and my body has gone south I wouldn’t change anything. To my heavenly Father I say the two words that the toddler does not repeat, but rather only says once as I hand her the sip cup full of juice.
“Thank you!”
Categories: children, Christianity, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: baby-sitting, being a grandfather, blessed, body ache, carrying kids, feeling blessed, grandchildren, granddad, grandfather, grandkids, grandparents, lower back pain, massage, nap time, napping, Old age, pacifier, Starbucks, toddlers, watching toddlers
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July 8, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. July 8, 2016
Today I’m writing my 600th Words from WW blog post. It’s been an adventure! The first post emerged on December 30, 2008. There have been times of writing frenzy, like in June of 2014 when I took on a challenge that wordpress.Com presented of writing a blog post each day for the entire month. Plus, they gave you the subject matter.
I’ve written about death…greatly on my mind when my mom passed away Labor Day weekend of 2013.
I’ve written about grace…and how it so often is lacking, oddly enough, in the church.
I’ve written imagined coffee conversations with Jesus…stressing that things are not always so cut and dried as people think.
I’ve written about personalities…people who have greatly influenced my life in various ways.
I’ve written about how weird people are…or should I say we all are!
I’ve written about stories in Scripture and what they teach me.
I’ve written about the church…my hope for it, and my frustration with it.
I’ve written about life…normal life and life moments that have a sense of sacredness to them, like my daughter’s wedding and car rides with my granddaughter.
I’ve written from a stool at Starbucks, my home study, and a cubicle at the public library. There’s been many occasions where I’ve sat on my Starbuck’s stool, looking out at Pike’s Peak, with no idea what I would write about and then God gives me a thought, an idea, a moment of remembering something from the past…and the words tumble out. With my earbuds in, tuned to the Coldplay station on Spotify, I go at it.
And the thing is, I write and trust that God will take it from there. He’s like the paperboy for my blog. I trust that he hits the driveway to whomever he sends it to, and it doesn’t end up underneath the shrubbery.
A couple of weeks ago someone I least expected told me that she really enjoyed my “Words.” “It is so where I live!” she exclaimed. I greatly appreciated that. I’ve never been one for high academia, as my college grades would attest to! I’m more like “The Hardy Boys”, rather than “The Brothers Karamazov!”
One of my best friends suggested that I try to get money for my blog. He knows someone who does. My mind can’t fathom that. My writing is kind of like my baseball card collection. It keeps getting bigger, but I never sell any. I’m just thrilled that people seem to enjoy reading it. According to WordPress I have 128 followers. I’m not sure what that means, and, quite honestly, I don’t know ninety percent of them. How closely do they follow? Are they more like stalkers who are following me, or readers who are looking for a chuckle in the midst of a ho-hum day?
And so I write as I sip on my Pike Place brew. Perhaps someday I’ll be on The Today Show…not!
What or whom might be the subject for #601?
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Blog posts, blogging, creating, creative writing, followers, life events, living each day, Pike Place, readers, Starbucks, writing
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July 4, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. July 4, 2016
I was sitting at Starbucks this morning doing some writing. There was a man sitting in my seat! I had to sit in a different seat and try to write. The words weren’t coming in spite of the coffee. Then the man left…and I moved like a 5:00 A.M. Black Friday shopper at the doors of Best Buy as it opens.
And it hits me that I’m quirky!
“Quirky” is defined as “characterized by peculiar or unexpected traits.” Rushing to get a specific seat at Starbucks- the one at the end of the counter that faces out towards Pike’s Peak- is a little quirky.
There are preferences and there are quirks. Quirks are those things that are a little bizarre that we try to convince ourselves are simply preferences. I prefer to use a certain pillow to sleep with. That’s a preference. The “blankie” I prefer, that is becoming a little threadbare, is quirky. When a 62 year old takes his blanket with him on road trips…that’s quirky! Call me Linus!
I reuse my dental floss. That’s quirky! However, my wife disagrees. She says it is simply disgusting…so I hide it from her. That’s quirkiness spiced with deception!
There are certain brands of clothing that I wear, and no other. I buy my underwear and socks at J.C. Penney’s because…because that’s where my mom would buy them when I was a kid. She worked there! One time I got some underwear from a different store. It was suppose to be more manly. Instead, it kept pinching the twins! Soon after that Goodwill got a package of items that were almost new!
If I go to a rummage sale that happens to have jigsaw puzzles, watch out! Even though I have about thirty of them already that I haven’t put together, when I see another it’s like I see gold! I’m a borderline hoarder. I grieved the recent loss of my carrying case of cassette tapes, even though we no longer have a cassette player.
I’ve got my quirks!
We all do! Churches are the quirkiest of all! Most churches have to have a Sunday bulletin with the order of worship in it, even though the worship order hasn’t changed since the Day of Pentecost…the original Day of Pentecost!
Eighty percent of regular Sunday worship attenders sit in the same seat each Sunday. My Starbuck’s seat preference would seem to be normal behavior!
Churches put quirky things on their outdoor signs, like “All Are Welcome!” What other business or public place puts “All Are Welcome” on their sign? For some reason, however, churches seem to have to state it. Of course, sometimes some people discover a little later on that all aren’t welcome, but that’s another issue entirely.
Churches are quirky about change. “If it was good enough for Jesus…” Sometimes it is almost like entering into a time warp. One church did not allow any translation of the Bible except the King James Version. All other versions were seen as being tainted and worldly. “If it was good for Jesus…” It couldn’t even be the New King James, because the New King James did not talk in Jesus’ language, using “Thy’s” and “Thou’s”, and other verbiage that sounded extra spiritual.
Churches are quirky!
It is what it is! In my act of looking normal I am shadowed by my quirkiness. Sometimes, however, quirkiness is a good thing. For example, if someone had been sitting in my seat at Starbucks I would never have been able to write this blog.
Categories: Christianity, Community, Freedom, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Blankie, Goodwill, J.C. Penney's, King James Version, peculiar, Pentecost, preferences, quirk, quirkiness, quirks, quirky, Starbucks, Sunday bulletins, unexpected traits, weird
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June 23, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. June 24, 2016
As I was driving along yesterday and listening to the radio an interesting statistic was shared by the radio host. He said that a recent study revealed that the typical American family now spends more money in restaurants than it does at the grocery store. In other words, we eat out a lot and spend more of our food budget on a bacon cheeseburger at Applebee’s than packages of ground beef and buns at Safeway.
It also indicates that we are accustomed to being served by others. My driving destination was the car wash to have the layers of Midwest bugs cleaned off my car. It occurred to me that I was served by the man who welcomed me and took the order of what I wanted done; I was then served by the hospitable lady at the register who took my payment and chatted me up for a moment, and then I was served by the man who did the finishing wipe down. In the simple task of getting my car washed three people had directly served me.
After that I went to Sam’s Club to buy some items that I didn’t really need. I almost always use the “self-checkout” lane at Sam’s Club, but even in that lane an employee came up to me and asked if I had found everything I was looking for.
Earlier that morning I had been at Starbucks. No surprise to those who know me! The employees there served and engaged me in conversation. Once in a while I get an email from Starbucks asking me how my recent visit was. There is a short survey that pointedly focuses its questions on how the service was in my visit.
In other words, my morning was punctuated with various people in different locations whose mission was to serve me.
Yes, they were being compensated for their service, but the point is that “being served” is now a major part of the fabric of our lives. When we receive poor service we usually react in negative ways. During our recent cross-country road trip from Colorado to Ohio and back, Carol and I were on the receiving end of great service and really, really…I mean, really bad service. We stopped at several McDonald’s along the way. Most of them had adequate or good service, but one of them stood out with the lack of service. I don’t usually do customer reviews, except when Starbucks offers me a reward for feedback, but I felt compelled to evaluate the experience at this McDonald’s. It was an on-line evaluation, and at the end of it there was a question asking if it was okay if a McDonald’s management person called me on the phone. Surprisingly, a few days later a lady named Nancy called me and asked me about the poor service I had received. She was extremely apologetic and promised me that she would be addressing the issue.
When bad service is given people are concerned. Bad service is an indication that the customer isn’t that important, and customers expect to be served.
I think there’s a lesson for the church in all of that. Our roots are firmly planted in servanthood. Jesus is known as “the servant king.” The early church was about serving. The first restructuring of the first church was because certain people weren’t being served (Acts 6). Deacons came about because of the need for people to be served. The Christians in Rome around AD 250 took charge of people who were infected with smallpox. Families would turn their backs on the sick, but the Christ-followers cared for them in their last days, even to the point of laying down their own lives. Serving was part of their DNA.
We live in a time when many people come to church to be served, which is okay…but they’ve missed part of the message. As followers of Christ we serve and are served. The church is not a gathering of consumers. We’ve been consumed by the love of Christ. That realization changes us!
Carol and I are fixing dinner tonight for two of our children and one son-in-law. It would be easier to go out to a restaurant and be waited upon, but that “food budget stat” has stuck in my gut. I’ll grill, Carol will make a squash casserole and another side dish, and, I guess, we will serve!
I think it will be a good evening!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Grace, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Christ the servant, church service, Community service, consumers, deacons, expectations of service, good service, helping one another, McDonald's, poor service, servanthood, serving, serving one another, Starbucks, the early church
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May 25, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. May 25, 2016
Just when life seems to be less complicated, procedures dot the schedule that make me bite my fingernails. I’m sitting in a waiting room of a medical building where Carol is having a colonoscopy. Oh joy!
She has informed me that I’m next! I heard it kind of like when the school secretary at Victory Heights Elementary In Winchester, Kentucky, told me I was next in the line of condemned students to see Mr. Sterling, the school principal with a strong forehand. I had thrown wet paper towels in the school restroom the previous day…and been caught! A night of no sleep had preceded my waiting room experience. I had tried to feign sickness that morning at home to no avail, kind of like trying to find a reason for canceling a colonoscopy!
Now Carol was looking at me like I had late homework that i was trying to turn in.
“You’re next!” her eyes shouted.
“ But what if I don’t wanta’!”
Not a safe and healthy response. As Carol goes through her procedure, refusing to have one myself is not an option.
As we age life takes on a different kind of “complicated” to it. I played basketball with the boys on my seventh grade team a couple of days ago. As I climbed the steps from the school gym on the lower level back to the man floor my right knee protested. “Protests” by various parts of my body seem to be as numerous as protestors at Trump and Clinton rallies. Acid reflux protests against the spaghetti with meat sauce I ate for lunch; my back protests at the bags of weed and feed I carried in; my teeth protest against the Enstrom’s almond toffee candy that I love to bite down on; and my bladder protests the amount of coffee I consumed, but then I’m the victim of a conspiracy protest as I stand at the urinal and can’t…you know!
Life is going down a different aisle of crowded and congested nowadays. When I was pastoring it seemed that each day was filled with appointments, deadlines, visits, meetings, and mad rushes. I longed for quiet moments and an empty schedule. Now many of my days are filled with…the complication of no complications. That means, I have so many possibilities of how the day might proceed, so many books that could be read, people that I’’m thinking about seeing, projects that I’m thinking about beginning…that I sometimes get frustrated for not achieving any of the possibilities. Dinnertime arrives and I shake my head over the fact that I wasted the day.
Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy the freedom of retirement, but I’m still adjusting to the life schedule changes. When you pastor for a long, long time everything revolves around it. Transitioning from ministry, many days, feels like trading in our Honda for a Schwinn (Do they still makes Schwinn bikes?). It’s a different pace that requires a different kind of energy.
Mondays used to be my day off. Now Monday is the day after Sunday, which has been the day…twice a month, I’ve preached at a small church forty-five minutes away from us. It used to be that Monday was my day of recovery from a week of ministry before starting the next week of ministry. Now Monday is the day I don’t need to recover. It’s the day I go to Starbucks at 7:15 in the morning, sit in my favorite seat at the end of the counter that looks out at Pike’s Peak, and write for a couple of hours as I drink a few cups of Pike Place…and then endure the protests at the urinal!
The complications of an uncomplicated life!
Carol is now out of her procedure and is giving me the look…the “You’re next look!” Ugh!
Categories: children, Christianity, Death, Freedom, Humor, marriage, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: aced reflux, aching body parts, aching joints, Aging, back problems, colonoscopy, complications, conspiracy, Engstrom's almond coffee, Kentucky, life transitions, medical procedures, Mondays, Old age, Pike Place coffee, protests, school principal, Schwinn, Starbucks, Starbucks coffee, Victory Heights Elementary, Winchester
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January 27, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. January 27, 2016
Sunday evening, around 7:00, Carol and I entered the Target store a mile from where we live. We went there to find a certain item, but left with five…none of which qualified to be the one item we were looking for. As we entered the store, squarely in the middle of the aisle was an enormous rack of Denver Broncos t-shirts. Less than three hours after the team’s AFC title game victory Target latched on to a fan frenzy. I doubt that Target stores in the other 31 NFL cities had Broncos shirts front and center on Sunday. Lord knows Boston didn’t!
Target identified a trend…”Bronco-mania”…and made it a part of their store identity, at least for a few weeks. Most assuredly, they will sell hundreds of shirts to people who are drawn to orange and blue color combinations like bugs to a zapper!
Trends are a part of our culture. Remember bell bottom jeans? Remember eight-track tapes? Those of us who are old enough…bought into those trends. Many of us, although we begrudgingly admit it now, had “pet rocks!” Every Sunday morning when I open the newspaper there is a thick pile of advertisements that trumpet what the trends are.
People look for trends and follow. I’m sitting in a Starbucks right now writing this. When I think of coffee I now think of Starbucks, because I’m a “coffee snob.” I walk right past the Folger’s in the supermarket, even though it is much cheaper, and head for the Pike Place. Folger’s is an antiquated trend from my parents’ day.
In essence, trends come and go like the wind. Trends lead us, but also mis-lead us.
How often has the church bought into a trend? Although most churches have bought into the trend of brewing better coffee, I’m not really talking about dark roast, lattes’, and decaf now.
For instance, we bought into the trend of convenience and started having worship services on Saturday night. I’ve got nothing against Saturday night services, but the idea behind them was to give people more choices in order to get them in church. Interestingly enough, despite more options worship attendance has dropped. That is, the typical church member attends less often than he/she did a few years ago. Making it convenient does not necessarily make it a driven need for a person’s life.
Disneyland is seen as being a place that kids become starry-eyed about. A lot of churches bought into that trend and tried to make their children’s ministry a Disneyland with Jesus. I’m sure that there has been some success in various places with that, but there has also been places where kids who come each and every week come out of that time in their life still fairly ignorant of the Bible. As their parents sought meaning in the worship gathering their kids were being entertained and slightly discipled in their age group gatherings.
I sound like a cynic! In some ways I am. From my cold perch it seems that the church has great confusion when it tries to distinguish between a leading of God and a trend of culture. When Jesus taught his disciples how to pray he could have been paraphrased with the words “Lead us not into the temptations of being trendy, and deliver us from evil.” Scripture talks quite often about someone being led by the Spirit. Leadings are not always events that lead to happiness either. Jesus was led to the cross by the leading of his Father. Ultimately, that pain became our gain.
I’m wondering if there are more leadings outside of the church rather than inside the church. Let me rephrase that! Could it be that God is leading his people outside the walls more than leading them to do something trendy inside the walls?
Mission has always been grounded in the leadings of the Lord. Programs, however, get joined at the hip with trends.
Perhaps this year…2016…could be a year that we pray for leadings…and stirrings…even a whisper!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: being led by the Spirit, bell bottom jeans, Disneyland, eight-track tapes, Folgers, leadings, leadings of the Lord, Mission, Starbucks, Trends, worship attendance, worship attendance frequency
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April 27, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. April 27, 2015
I’m sitting in my usual Monday morning Starbuck’s seat looking out at Pike’s Peak…except I can’t see Pike’s Peak this morning because it is an overcast day, and there are flakes of snow coming down. Let me write that again. There are snow flakes coming down!!! It’s April 27! I’m going to petition God that there should be no snowfall after April 15!
We’ve had so much snow this winter that I’m starting to wonder if the Lord finds pleasure in it. I know snowboarders do! I’ve got a guy at church who actually gets all giddy at the possibility of a blizzard because he loves getting the snowblower out.
It makes me wonder if it snows in heaven? I can’t use “at the higher altitudes” as a reason for whether it does or not.
It’s one of a number of questions that I never ask anyone around me out of fear of the looks I’ll receive. A lot of my questions actually dance through my mind in this Starbuck’s seat around the end of my first cup of dark roast. By then I am neatly dangerous!
Imagine a safety umbrella above my head as I ask the following brain drains.
-Why doesn’t Old Navy make men’s jeans in size 35? I’m dealing with waist discrimination! If I spend a month at the Golden Corral buffet bar I could easily solve it. Conspiracy theory! Old Navy and Golden Corral plotting together…especially targeting me!
-Is there something I’m missing? Are sagging pants sexy? I just don’t get it! Of course, if I wear size 36 without a belt I could be sagging as well. Are sagging pants on a sixty year old man sexy or a sign of dementia? Just asking…while I still remember!
-Why is my vertical leap now about two inches?
-Why does high fiber cereal always have to look like rabbit droppings and taste like grass clippings? Is it to convince us that we are eating something that is healthy for us?
-Why do I still listen to the flight attendant give the pre-flight instructions? I’ve heard it a hundred times. Is it my Southern Baptist growing up years rising to the surface and shoveling guilt into my thoughts…or is it in case I’ve missed something during the previous times I’ve heard it?
-What are all the recent stories about various police officers shooting citizens, and other citizens rioting in protest telling us about our culture? This is not a slam on law enforcement, but rather a question that pertains to the rise of violence in our society. Video games…professional athletes beating up people…school shootings…crowded prisons…Two A.M. bar fights…will we ever be able to honestly admit that we have a problem…and will we ever, ever, ever be able to say that it is related to a diminished regard for life itself?
-Why does hair grow in my ears like weeds gone crazy?
-Why does the dog in the yard behind our house bark at all hours, and why can I hear it as clearly as a car alarm going off but his owners not seem to be able to?
-Why does a middle school boys’ locker room rival an overflowing rollaway dumpster in odor?
-Why are so many Christians as excited about their faith as I am about eating whole hominy?
I have other questions that take journeys through my mind every day. Questions that, for the most part, have no answers, but rather remain as puzzles in my head like a boatload of Rubik’s Cubes.
I’ll stop here! I’ve got to get a refill!
Categories: children, Christianity, Humor, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: barking dogs, coffee, Golden Corral, heaven, high fiber cereal, Old Navy, questions, Sixty, size 35 jeans, snow, Souther Baptists, Starbucks, violence
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Words from WW Blog 