When we, as the church, are discussing the key issues that people in this world talk about, there's a certain way we should approach any conversation. And if at any point during such a discussion should you be curious as to whether or not you're on the right path, just ask yourself a simple question: 'Is what I'm doing the exact opposite of the comic above?' If the answer to that is 'yes,' chances are solid that you're doing precisely as you should.

The internet is a wonderful place for countless reasons. But when it comes to theological pursuits, far too often we're given the type of analysis that the above cartoon gives us. When it was first passed around Facebook yesterday by, seemingly, 75% of my friends, I was initially irritated. The more I got to thinking about it, however, my irritation turned into something much more.

If we went into all the reasons why you and I and everyone you know should be offended by it, we'd be here all day. So let's forget for a moment that commenting on abortion in a cartoon is much too flippant for such serious subject matter. And let's forget that the 'God' of said comment has the attitude of a teenager who's trying to convince his parents that he really did try on that test he got an 'F' on. And for the moment, let's ignore that the message that the comic conveys is somewhere between idiotic and un-provable, depending on your theological bent. Instead, let's simply deal with what seems to be the most pressing issue at hand:

Stuff like this doesn't work. At all.

Let's say, for a moment, that you, like me, believe that God values the sanctity of life, even of the unborn. And let's assume that you take seriously Jesus' instructions to love those around you in the same way that He loves you, and in doing so, it is your sincere hope that you can share the gospel of peace and hope with the world around you, inspiring others to become disciples of Jesus as well. If that's you (and by the way, if you're a Christian and the previous sentences don't describe you, it's time to re-evaluate what you think it means to follow Jesus), then I have an honest question:

How does this cartoon help you succeed in any part of what you're trying to accomplish?

It doesn't promote God's view of the sanctity of life; the God of this comic has thrown up His hands and decided the best approach to communicating this truth is to mouth off to someone who has an honest question about His ways. And it doesn't help spark a conversation with non-believers about why abortion may be wrong; instead, it's simply a zinger that makes Christians give each other digital high-fives and makes non-Christians either seethe or roll their eyes. And most of all, it in no way, shape, or form conveys that we love those people who have made choices in this world that we disagree with. In fact, it conveys the opposite - that we, as Christians, think so little of others that our time is best spent mocking them.

I think that's what Christians miss so often when we discuss something like abortion - we forget that the people we disagree with are human beings with thoughts and feelings and emotions. We pretend like we're the only ones who understand the gravity of what it means to have an abortion, and we portray ourselves as having all the answers to a question that, if only they would accept Jesus would magically become easy. The reason we feel like this, I'd imagine, is simple: we've never taken the time to actually have a real, honest conversation with those who have been faced with such a decision. Instead, we've created a caricature of what we think they must be like (foolish, unfeeling, selfish, etc.), and we've spent our time spreading the word to everyone who can pat us on the back for our observations.

It's time we stopped the nonsense. And when we stop doing things that divide us and, instead, realize that to love our neighbor we must love both the woman who chooses an abortion as well as her unborn child, maybe we can make some real progress. Maybe we can figure out real ways to help, support, and guide those who have made the serious, life-changing decision to carry their unexpected pregnancy to full-term, and maybe we can figure out real ways to share forgiveness, restoration, and redemption with those who have made the serious, life-changing decision to terminate their unexpected pregnancy. Maybe, if we could see that those on the other side of the aisle are people just like us whom God loves and sent Jesus for, we could realize that God's heart is broken not just for the loss of one life, but of two. And then, perhaps we could admit that God's heart breaks for our arrogance, flippancy and hard-heartedness as well.

Or, we can keep making and passing along cartoons. Either way.

It's up to you.

I was appalled. Judging from the standing ovation from the audience, however, I was in the minority.

That, of course, was not surprising - after all, I HAD chosen to go to a concert that I knew going in I would do anything but enjoy. I was invited by a dear friend and church member last week to see Rascal Flatts, a country music 'band' at Mizzou Arena in Columbia. And even though I feel for country music in general what I feel for vegetables (distaste bordering on disgust, even if most people my age don't agree), I chose to go because I like spending time with friends and church members.

The concert itself went roughly the way I assumed it would - the music was not my cup of tea, but everyone else seemed to be having fun and it was a neat experience, music aside. And then, with the final song, everything changed. The song itself was actually quite nice - it was called 'He Ain't The Leavin' Kind,' and while it was certainly cheesy, it was also clearly a song about God's faithfulness, even towards those who don't place their faith in Him. During the song, they projected scenes of churches and crosses and other religious imagery behind them, and while I won't be downloading it anytime soon, I appreciated the message that ended the night.

My appreciation turned into something else entirely, however, when at the very end, they changed the word 'He' (to denote God) in the song to 'they.' The imagery behind them changed from a church to an American Flag, and out trotted six U.S. Marines in full uniform. As the crowd went wild, their song extolling God turned into a song praising the faithfulness of the United States Military.

This was, sadly, not something that surprised me. After all, for many Americans, this country is God's country, and therefore, the people therein are 'God's people.' We are a Christian nation, and therefore, our military exploits must be God-inspired, and our soldiers must be God's servants. To so many people - good people, well-intentioned people - changing the words of a song praising God to praise the military was a nice gesture, instead of the insanity that it clearly was.

Now, please don't misunderstand me: I have zero -ZERO - issue with honoring our troops, both at home and abroad. Our veterans should be given the utmost respect for making the ultimate sacrifice for our way of life, especially when they may not agree with their leaders' politics. And between you and me, it makes me terribly upset to hear stories of veterans who go without medical care or homes or help adjusting when they return home after their active duty. If there's ANYONE our government should help, it's our soldiers who have risked everything to protect and promote its policies. 

But to place a United States Marine on an equal level with God is idolatry. And it's dangerous. When we think that America is a Christian nation and than Americans are God's people is not just wrong (America is a religiously free and neutral nation and God's people are those who are in God's kingdom through Jesus' grace and sacrifice), but it causes us to see the world in a way we were never meant to see it. If America is God's nation, that means other nations aren't, and it gives us 'permission' to fail to show compassion, mercy, and kindness to people of other countries. It breeds within us the arrogance that comes from believing that we've won the cosmic lottery by being born into God's 'chosen' borders, and it stops us from rightfully seeing Jesus as a king of a kingdom that is not bound by time or space or political parties.

And more than anything, it blinds us to the inherent danger that comes from mixing God and government. That's a mistake that so many people over the years have made, including not so inconsequentially, a group of Jewish faithful who pledged allegiance to Rome in order to nail God's Son to two pieces of wood.

It's fine to be a patriotic, proud American. But know this: belonging to the United States has never meant that we belong to God, no matter how much we try to marry the two ideas into one.

And no matter how many people cheer when we do. 

Logically thinking, he should have known better. Of all the mistakes that he could have made, this should have been at the top of the 'do not do' list.

The reason is simple: no other event in the history of his people had been more significant than the Exodus. It was at this point that a group of slaves re-connected with their God and became a nation; it was at this point that they adopted the constitution of laws that would define who they were; it was at this point that the Jewish people became the Jewish people. And the events surrounding the Exodus became their most famous legends and stories: the crossing of the Red Sea. The Passover. The Plagues. Every Israelite knew that the Exodus was to Jewish history what the Revolutionary War is to Americans: a sacred, beloved piece of history that should be celebrated and remembered.

But for King Solomon, something apparently got lost in translation, because the one thing you would think he wouldn't do - enslaving a people group to build massive buildings for his empire - was the one thing he ended up doing. And he didn't just use slaves to build any old structure; he used them to build his temple for God. That's right - he forced other people to re-live his ancestors' darkest moments, and he did so in the name of God. That's as illogical as a group of Americans flying planes into a European skyscraper or a group of modern day Jews attempting to create a master race by exterminating everyone who didn't have brown hair. It wouldn't be just horrifying; it would also show a complete lack of self-awareness.

The truth is, whether Solomon realized it or not, he had become what he hated. Having been blessed with riches and power, he succumbed to the same temptations that his forefathers' enemies had when they were blessed with with riches and power. And so it shouldn't surprise us that this was just the tip of the iceberg of Solomon's corruption, and eventually, he didn't just make poor decisions; he made decisions that severed his relationship with God.

The sobering truth is this: we are all capable of becoming what we hate. All of us - Christian or otherwise - make decisions in our lives to become the people we want to be. But along the way, we're faced with the same temptations that confront all of mankind - even those whom we desperately want to avoid emulating.

That's why it's so important that we embrace the truth that we aren't just going through life with God's help, but that we go through life only because of what God has done on our behalf. We don't overcome the world because Jesus has; He has overcome the world for us. As human beings, we're flawed, weak, and in many ways, helpless.

Logically thinking, we should know better. But the truth is, just like Solomon, we will all, at one time or another, become the very thing that we hate. And it's times like that that we'll be forced to either try to recover on our own, or trust in the one who has earned our recovery for us.

As for me? I'll choose the one who's already done all the heavy lifting, the one who never succumbed to the temptations of man, and never partook in the actions that He so despised. I'll trust in Jesus. 

And that's because I know that I can be Solomon.

For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law. - Romans 3:28

You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. - James 2:24


The above two sentences are taken from the Bible, the Holy Scriptures of Christianity. They were written at roughly the same time, by individuals who held similar positions in the early church, and they were written to the roughly equivalent audiences of ancient Christians. If we are to believe mainstream Christian dogma, they also just so happen to be divinely-inspired thoughts from the one, true God of the universe.

So if all of that is true, why does it seem like they teach opposite truths?

Paul's letter to the Romans appears, at face value, to teach that being right with God (i.e. 'justification') comes via our faith and NOT the things we do - even adherence to God's explicit instructions. And James' letter from Jerusalem, at face value, seems to teach the opposite: that being right with God comes from both what we believe AND what we do about those beliefs. What's a person in the church to do when faced with such a conundrum?

If you're like most Christians, you'll simply ask people like me. We are, after all, the 'clergy' of the church, and as educated theologians, we are all armed to the teeth with explanations that answer any and every theological question in a neat, tidy way so that no one - questioning church-goer or atheist antagonist alike - can rightfully say the bible contradicts itself. Maybe they're talking about different 'works,' or a different 'law,' or, perhaps, their definition of 'faith' is different. But regardless, ask any Reverend or Father or preacher worth his or her salt, and you'll come away with a nice, easy answer that places these two passages in a nice, tidy theological box. Having all the answers makes us all sleep better at night, after all.

But what if it's not as easy as all that? What if, instead of trying to find the 'right' Christian theological system, God never intended for us to try to harmonize every bible verse? What if, instead of seeing theology as a box to cram every idea into, God is perfectly comfortable with the tension of competing ideas?

Sound crazy? A little.

But it's no crazier than a teenage virgin giving birth to a Holy Spirit-conceived Son of God.

It's no crazier than a man who walked on water, turned water into wine, and brought the dead back to life teaching that in order to follow Him and be a part of God's kingdom, we will all need to 'pick up our crosses' and 'die' to ourselves.

And it's certainly not crazier than that man dying on a cross as a sacrifice for the sins of mankind and then, three days later, getting up and living again.

As much as we try to rationalize every difficulty in God's word, it seems that there is an awful lot in there that seems impossible that we simply take at face value. And we do so for a whole host of reasons that don't include fitting every theological idea into a box.

When it comes to the tension between so-called 'faith alone' and 'faith plus works,' I can give you all sorts of ways to make them fit together. But maybe God put these different notions in His word on purpose. Maybe a church that believes in Jesus but needs a reminder to care for the orphans and widows outside of their windows would need to hear that God wants their faith to impact their actions. And maybe a church that knows that trusting God means trusting Jesus' words, but is haunted by the specters of their Jewish neighbors who attempt to earn God's favor via the Mosaic Law need to be reminded that there's nothing we can do to make God love us any more than He already does.

Maybe, just maybe, God understands that people are different and need to be treated in different ways at different times.

Or maybe not. I don't know. All I do know is that there's one thing that a Christian - ANY Christian - can hang their hats on: the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

And when we do that, the theological boxes seem a whole lot less important.

God loves you.

Those three words have been uttered so many times by so many people that it's become, for many, a meaningless cliche. And it's come, so often, with so many strings attached that it's become, if not a bald-face lie, then something that evokes feelings that are anything but warm and fuzzy. But when we're faced with just how scandalous God's universal, unfailing love really is, we're forced to deal with emotions much more complex than those that lies and cliches bring out in us.

The truth is, the New Testament teaches us one overarching, dominant concept about God: that not only does He love each and every person that has ever walked the face of this planet, but He loves them enough to send Jesus Christ, His Son, to die so that each of them have the opportunity to spend eternity with Him. In other words, God loves absolutely everyone.

And everyone, logically speaking, includes Michael Plumadore.

If you clicked that link and the read the article, your first thought probably wasn't concerning love, be it God's or anyone else's. According to reports, last week in Fort Wayne, Indiana, Michael Plumadore was babysitting a family friend, a nine year old girl. For reasons that aren't entirely clear, he decided to beat the girl to death, cut her body up with a hacksaw, and decided to keep her head, hands and feet in his home. He threw away the rest of the remains at a local business, and kept his trophies in Ziplock bags in his freezer.

Now, I've seen more horror movies than I can count. I own nearly the entire Saw series, I've been watching Stephen King's stories since I was the tragically dead girl's age, and have become so numb to most of the world's atrocities that most of what we see on the news barely makes me flinch. And yet, when I read this story, I could immediately think of nothing else than how much worse this true event is than what Hollywood writers ever come up with, and how it's infinitely worse than the vast majority of what we see on the evening news.

And, apparently, I'm not alone. Taking a quick perusal of the reader comments reveals a predictable consensus of opinion:

- Put a 25 cent bullet in this guy head and be done with it, no court, no attorneys, no prison, done!!!!

- OK, so... I'm a Liberal from Liberalville but I say kill this guy. He's useless on this planet. Kill him.

- This sick F needs to be extinguished immediately.

- No reason for this mutt to keep living. Kill him.

- torture this piece of crap, cut him up piece by piece while he is still alive and dispose of the crap in the garbage.

- I don't usually comment on these forums but they need to cut this piece of craps head off, stick it on a pole and stand it up in town square.

Without fail, each person who decided to comment on this article felt a sense of outrage, demanded justice, and thought of creative ways to enact it. And yet, if we're to believe the gospel, that's not how God feels about Michael Plumadore. As horrific as his actions have been, God made Him; Jesus died for Him; the Holy Spirit wants to live inside of Him. This man has dignity, value and worth; He is loved by the Creator of this, and every universe.

That is an absolutely mind-blowing fact, and it should give us pause before we condemn and attack those around us whose lifestyles don't align with our sense of morality and ethics, not to mention before we look in the mirror and see ourselves and useless and unworthy as well.

When tragedies in our world happen, there's a God of love who weeps right alongside of us, mourning and grieving for every person who suffers. But that goes for everyone - not just the ones we deem worthy. No matter who you are, God loves you.

Even if you're Michael Plumadore.

There are lots of conceivable reasons that someone might visit Disneyworld. Perhaps a couple in honeymooning or a family is vacationing; maybe someone lives near Orlando, Florida and has a season pass to the happiest place on earth; or, it might just be that like Stephanie and I, two people in love are celebrating their anniversary with Mickey, Minnie and the rest of Walt Disney's creations. But no matter why someone might go to Disneyworld, one thing is for sure: there's only one reason that makes me want to physically assault tween girls in the face with my foot:

Justin Bieber.

We had spent two of the most perfect, relaxing days at the Epcot Center and Animal Kingdom, and we couldn't have been happier. The vacation felt like it had just begun, and yet, it was already the best that we had ever had. The third day of our vacation had the makings of the best day yet, as we were going to Disney's signature park, the Magic Kingdom, and while we were there, we had reservations to eat with the Disney princesses in Cinderella's castle (note: there are few words to describe how awkward in-character Disney princesses can make a 27 year old guy with no kids. But that's a subject for another blog...). All in all, it would be hard to wipe the smile from our faces.

But then came the news that would stop us - and everyone else in the Disney parks - in our tracks: Justin Bieber was at Disneyworld. Apparently, without giving any park goers or even employees any heads-up, Disney had chosen this particular day to film its Christmas Special, with a special guest that would make every girl between the ages of 9 and 15 swoon. And as the cherry on top of the crap sundae that was this news, there was this: the Bieb had told his fans precisely where to find him on this particular Saturday.  

To say that the Magic Kingdom was unseasonably busy would be an understatement; everywhere you turned, you were swarmed by an army of giggling schoolgirls wearing shirts with this face on it, all of them so excited you would think he arose from the fires of their passion as a golden calf to worship. And for the December crowd that had specificallly come to Disneyworld at a non-peak season, this was less than exciting news. I believe that a man in the crowd behind me said it best when, in his thick Northeaster accent, he succinctly said, 'It's just not right. We didn't come to Disney to see Justin Biebah.'

The whole ordeal got me thinking: who is it that people come to church to see? What is it that motivates people to get out of bed on a Sunday morning, get in their cars, and leave their houses on, potentially, the only day a week they don't have to?

The answer is obvious: Jesus. His life, death, and resurrection; His teachings of grace, love, commitment and sacrifice; His ministry of unconditional compassion to the poor, lost and downtrodden people of society. It's Jesus that should be our focus, and Jesus that we should be advertising to the world. And it's Jesus that people should be filling our pews for.

Unfortunately, there are many in today's modern church that come with an ulterior motive, and there are far too many pastors and teachers who are all too happy to oblige them with legalistic rules, political agenda, prosperity gospels and fancy shows that turn worship into American Idol. In other words, there are far too many people who are going to Disneyworld just to see Justin Bieber.

With all this outside pressure and temptation to cash in on what the masses demand, keeping the focus on Jesus, and Jesus alone is one of the most surprisingly difficult things to accomplish for any minister. And Jesus' message of the most difficult things any Christian can attempt to keep as the core focus of their lives. But at the end of the day, there's nothing that will last longer or mean more than Jesus, and there's no one else who's worth placing our trust, hope and faith in than Him. Week in and week out, there's no one else you should go to church to see.

Not even someone as idolized as the Bieb. 

I recently saw Jesus in a place I never expected.

Granted, my lack of expectancy is completely my fault. After all, there's absolutely no reason at all that I should have been surprised to see Jesus in such a place. Sure, there are many people who would claim that Jesus would never be caught dead in a tiny bar in Columbia, but those people are wrong. Having fun among the people is precisely where Jesus found Himself. Heck, His first miracle was replenishing the dwindling supply of booze at a party, and, if you pay attention, nearly all of Jesus' major events took place at Jewish festivals. So the truth is, it's my fault that I didn't think I'd see Jesus in a place like Mojo's.

I was there with a few friends to see a South Carolina band called All Get Out, who just so happen to have created a masterpiece in their new record, 'The Season.'Ordinarily I find that I'm well past the age where going to shows - even of bands I love - is fun, but this time was different. The venue was small, and the band wouldn't even play until after 11 P.M. on a school night, so I assumed that I wouldn't be overly jostled by teenagers (I'm well aware how this sounds; I'm absolutely an old man when it comes to some things). And after the show, I couldn't have been more happy that I had gone - All Get Out was absolutely mesmerizing to see live, putting on one of the best shows I've ever seen. But long after I forget what the concert was like, I'll remember what I saw earlier in the evening.

The local opening band was doing what every local opening band does: muddling through a setlist with around a dozen people paying attention. As they got to their final song though (universally a band's 'best' offering), something happened: the three piece band suddenly lost one of their members. The singer and guitar player had broken a string, and while trying to plug in and tune his backup guitar, he realized that something was wrong. He had burned through two working guitars in less than a minute, and now, stood helplessly on the stage sans instrument. The band wouldn't be able to play their last song without it, and the singer began to explain to the 'crowd' what had happened.

And that's when he was interrupted by a guy he'd never met. It was Mel, the lead guitar player for All Get Out, handing him HIS guitar so they could finish the show. Now, if you don't play guitar, you may not understand just how significant this is, so know this: guitar players NEVER let anyone else touch their guitars. And that goes double for quasi-famous touring bands. For this situation to go down like this - for a touring band to give an instrument to a random guy they'd never met, just for one song, after they'd shown an affinity for breaking guitars - can only be explained by one word: love.

I got an opportunity to talk to Mel after the show, and he refused to think that he had done anything special. Sure, he'd allowed a small struggling band to finish their set by making a sacrifice that literally 99% of musicians wouldn't make. But to him, it wasn't even a choice - as he said, he'd been in that spot before and it felt terrible. He wouldn't want anyone to go through that.

When we think about serving God, we rarely think of it in the terms that Jesus did:loving one another, whether we're 'friends' or not. And when we think about loving one another, we rearely think of it in the terms that Jesus did: in small actions that mean big things. It can be giving a man a glass of water or visiting someone when they're sick or offering your guitar to a tiny band in need; the smallest actions can be the biggest messages of love.

I saw Jesus that night at Mojo's. I saw him in the hands of Mel, the guitar player for a band who poetically peppers their lyrics with profanity. I saw him in the face of the local band's guitar player, who was clearly the 'least' of the musicians that night who simply needed a little bit of help. And it caused me to pause and think: do people see Jesus in me? Do they see Jesus in you?

I hope so. And I hope when they do that it's something they can come to expect.

Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love. - 1 John 4:18

There are a great many things in this world that I am legitimately fearful. For example, bears. No, not the ones on unicycles or behind the cages in zoos. Or these ones. But in a dark alley? In the woods whilst my body is covered in honey and marshmallows and bits of Halloween candy wrappers? Then, yes. In those cases, I'm definitely afraid of bears.

Also, I'm afraid of heights. Or, rather, I'm afraid from falling from them. And if you've ever walked with me for a city block and realize just how clumsy I truly am, you know that falling is an every day part of my existence, whether on the ground or otherwise. So, I'd say this is a legitimate fear.

There are other things too. I'm afraid, for example, that I'll die before the Cincinnati Reds ever win another World Series; that one day whatever horrifying creature that lives under my neighbor's shed will get ahold of and vanquish the life of my six pound dog; of what exactly is contained in the Taco Bell taco meat that I've eaten so much of in my life. But for all of my fears, there's one that will never be in my list: God.

The reason is fairly simple - the whole message of the gospel hinges on the fact that we SHOULDN'T be afraid of God. Sure, we should have reverence and respect for the creator of the universe, but think about it: God became a man and came to this planet to die for the sins of mankind. He didn't do that because He hates us or wants to punish us or wants us to quiver at the mention of His name; instead, it's the opposite. The biblical record exists to explain how God loves us, and He wants to accept us and He wants us to rejoice when we talk about Him. And He wants us to love Him back.

And you know what can never produce love? Fear. When someone makes a decision based on fear, they do so not out of appreciation or gratitude, but instead, out of intimidation and guilt. To make a decision based on fear is to be manipulated and threatened and bullied, just as I am every time I think I should go into the woods looking for bears.

The fact is that you can't really love someone you're afraid of; at best, you can be glad you're not suffering at their hands (or, perhaps, their fur covered claws). That's why when Jesus was on earth, He didn't try to bully people into believing in Him or threaten them if they didn't. Sure, He talked about negative consequences from time to time, but that was truly only for those who had already made up their minds about Him. He spoke that way to people like the Jewish leaders, who - oh by the way - employed fear as a primary tactic to keep the people in line. In the face of Jesus' miraculous love, the only way they could keep people away from following Him was to via threats of judgement, rejection and condemnation.

That's not how Jesus operated then, and it's not how we should operate now. So, the next time you find yourself guilted into worshipping God or you hear someone try to bully you into 'repenting' (as if true repentance can come from anywhere other than love and appreciation for God), remember one simple fact:

God is not a bear.

Sometimes, things happen so fast that you barely have time to even think about a reaction. And that's true even when what happens is nothing.

It all started last week when my wife noticed something she hadn't before: on the right side of my ribs was a bump the size of a 25 cent bouncy ball you can get from a machine outside of every grocery store in America. It was bizarre, to say the least, since one would think that someone who's been with me for nine years would have noticed such a thing before. Odder still, I hadn't noticed it either, and I've been me for 27 years. Needless to say, we were curious.

That curiosity turned to a bit of apprehension when we called my doctor and he said he wanted to see me as soon as possible. A few hours later, he looked at it, seemed concerned, and said the following:

'That's not normal - we need an x-ray to see if it's a bone tumor.'

Now, I'm not a doctor; heck, I'm pretty sure I don't even follow the directions on the bottle when I take Tylenol. But I know enough to be pretty certain that the term 'bone tumor' isn't good news. My apprehension turned to fear, and before I knew it, I was asking a handful of my closest friends for prayers.

And then, almost as suddenly as the whole ordeal began, it was over - the next day, my doctor told me it wasn't a bone tumor, and while they didn't know exactly what it was, it's not a big deal. It could be an old injury or an alien life form or anything else for all they know; the important thing is, I'm not dying.

In basically 24 hours, I suppose I should have gone through a roller-coaster of emotions. After all, in just about a day, I went from thinking there was nothing wrong with me to being checked for a potentially life-threatening illness. But the truth is, everything happened so fast that I didn't really have a chance to react. Sure, I made a nervous joke or twelve about my life insurance and how I'd never see the Reds win a World Series again if I only have a few months to live, but the truth is, I simply didn't have time to process anything until the whole thing was already over.

As it turns out, that's how life often goes - one moment everything is fine, and the next, everything has been turned upside down. In the blink of an eye, whether good or bad, everything can change, and that's bad news for those of us who want to take control of every aspect of our world.

I think that's why James cautioned his readers about making grand plans for the future. As he put it, life is like a morning fog - you're here one minute, and not the next. Because of that, we should simply turn each day over to God, and temper all of our expectations with a heavy dose of 'if God wills.' After all, it really doesn't take much at all to make the plans of our lives to go up in a puff of smoke. And, perhaps more importantly, if what we're set on fulfilling our plans, what God may want from us may get lost in the shuffle.

At the end of the day, then, we need to constantly be seeking God's will. In the big things and the little things, the short-term and long-term, God wants us to follow Him, and that looks different for each one of us. The only certainty is that when God plans something for our lives, it'll be different than what we could have come up with on our own.

Even if what He plans includes something that turns out to be nothing.

The lesson, as always: I'm a moron.

It should have been a simple task, and I assured my wife that it would be. For reasons that are much more boring than whatever you can concoct in your imagination, we needed to have two quilts washed at the laundromat, and so, trying to be a helpful sort of husband, I went to do the deed this afternoon. I figured there would be no harm in it; after all, most of my day would be spent studying for bible study this evening, and I can do that at a laundromat just as easily as I can in my office. Unfortunately, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into.

Things started out innocently enough: I found an empty washing machine, put my quilts in, deposited the appropriate amount of soap, and attempted to pay. As it turned out, though, paying was more difficult than it sounds. Each machine was equipped with a slot for a card that, at first glance, appeared to be a place for a debit card. After my 14th unsuccessful attempt at getting the machine to read my card, however, I discovered that this is not what the slot was for. Instead, it was there for their own laundry cards, which you apparently had to purchase.

With cash.

Which I didn't have.

After being not so pleased to discover this (note: me thinking that their machines took debit cards was, apparently, HILARIOUS in the eyes of the attendant on duty), I got in my car and rushed to an ATM, hoping that nothing would happen to my quilts and soap while I was gone. When I came back, I successfully figured out how to use the washing machine (my fears of the quilt bandits were unwarranted), and I sat back with my new friend Ghostrider (pictured above), optimistically assuming the worst was over.

I was wrong.

My laundry still needed to be dried.

The dryers were, and remain even after the fact, one of the biggest mysteries in the world. It's true - it's up there with the Loch Ness Monster and what exactly Velveeta is made of and why it tastes so much better than real cheese. There were several other dryers that were drying clothes for all sorts of times. One was on for 22 minutes, while another was going for more than a half an hour. Yet when I put my quilts in the dryer and inserted my card, all the machine would give me was 7 minutes of drying time. I pushed every button I could find and stood puzzlingly for several minutes while I considered my options.

Could I ask one of the other laundromat patrons, all of whom seemed to have the body language of an angry honey badger?

Should I ask the attendant, who already assumed I had an IQ of 70 after the unfortunate incident with my debit card?

Or, should I simply re-insert my card every seven minutes, restarting the only allotment of time my dryer would allow me.

Of course, I chose the latter, standing up and restarting the dryer every seven minutes, many of which a middle aged couple who spend the afternoon making out watched me with confused looks on their faces. Eight cycles (or, for those scoring at home, 56 minutes later), my quilts were finally finished, and I left with only one thought on my mind:

Laundromats are harder than they look.

The whole ordeal got me thinking: is this how people feel when they first come into church? I mean, from the outside looking in, I suppose things CAN look a little odd. We sing songs and drink grape juice and take people's money and then a guy like me tells weird stories that all somehow relate to a 2,000 year old Jew. To the uninitiated, I suppose it can be overwhelming.

I guess, then, it's of the utmost importance that we, as the initiated, make things easy for people who aren't. The apostle Paul seemed to think it was a good idea, and if we want people to be able to come to our churches and learn about Jesus, we do too.

After all, the truth is that anything that's new can be difficult - even something as seemingly simple as washing a couple quilts at a laundromat can seem like rocket scince to someone if they don't know what they're doing. And if there's anything that's more important than clean laundry, it's people knowing Jesus.

Even if they feel like morons.