Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of The Day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_K0F2RJk/

5:43. Awakened by flocks of screeching parrots. It’s autumn in Pomona.

5:57. Awakened by, “Ow! You’re on my hair!” Daughter has wedged herself into our bed. Reset alarm from 6:00 to 7:00

6:47. Awakened by anxiety.

7:32. Looking at my Bullet Journal for the first time in three days. Making to do’s for tomorrow. Today? Sunday asks no to do’s; only begs reaction.

7:44. Deliver coffee to wife, still in bed, watching replay of SNL with daughter.

8:11. Picking up coffee traveler for Family Focus group, run into mom of junior high student. Remember how much I love living in a place where I just run into people like this.

8:46. En route to hang signs and set up iPad in sanctuary, stop to help a Sunday School teacher with a paper jam in the copier (by “help” I mean stand by with my hands on my hips and mumbling, “Hmm” before moving on).

9:49. Listening to a mother of four describing her family’s sojourn from Korea to Texas to Ohio to California. Marvel.

10:06. Heading to sanctuary to make final preparations before annual 10:30 World Communion service with our partner Hispanic and Indonesian congregations. Stopped by new family with baby. Decide to walk them to the nursery.

10:11. Heading to sanctuary again. Stopped by woman with four small children I’ve never seen before. Two of these kids are toddlers, running circles around the courtyard and causing their mother incalculable anxiety. Decide to walk them to the nursery.

10:13. Introduce new mom to nursery staff with lots of reassurances about children’s programs.

10:22. Acolytes are ready. Now stealing two shiny new hymnals from the front pew for colleague and I to sing from.

10:32. Multi-lingual welcome underway. New mom’s kids are squirrely.

10:36. High school student is making an announcement about our charity walk in a couple weeks. She’s killing it. She’s great.

10:41. During the Call to Worship, new mom stands from her pew and scampers down the center aisle out the back door with two of her kids. The third stays behind a moment, then bolts after them. Die a little from the certainty that we won’t see them again.

11:22. Daughter executing her debut liturgical dance with the help of two magic women. Watching in wonder and pride and just the slightest bit of self conscious guilt over my pride.

11:36. Enjoying taking communion with wife in the front pew, since the other churches’ pastors are serving with my colleague. I could get used to this.

11:47. On the patio after worship, lots of people telling me they were watching my expression during Daughter’s liturgical dance and not the dance itself. Note to self: show. no. emotion.

12:09. With Head of Staff and Youth Choir Director, performing the annual ritual wringing-of-the-hands over the lack of youth interest in choir.

12:47. I am the grocery shopper, shopping for groceries. Anything bearing the descriptor, “Pumpkin” is in my cart. There is, however, no actual pumpkin.

1:51. Groceries put away. Bok Choy and Tempeh on for lunch. Wife napping. Daughter suing to watch “Oliver!” Ask her to wait. Whines. Assure her that it’s worth the waiting for/if she lives til 84. She’s not amused.

2:11. Watching “Oliver!” with Daughter.

2:44. Daughter absent mindedly tickling her fingers on my beard stubble. It’s putting me to sleep.

4:10. College-aged Junior high youth group volunteer calls. “Um, it’s almost 4:30 and there’s nobody here yet.” Dude, relax. Love the enthusiasm. But relax.

4:27. Arrive at youth group without my outline and not having prepared the telling of the Good Shepherd and World Communion Godly Play story I’d planned. Check the Godly Play room to find the sheep from the story missing. Five wooden sheep, gone. Change plan.

5:12. Jr. high kids OUT OF CONTROL during my mini talk on communion. Intern takes two of them outside for a tongue lashing. This is a first.

5:28. Showing students a clip from Top Chef to set up their activity: design a one-night restaurant, complete with name, decor, menu, and guest list. It’s Restaurant Wars for youth group!

5:42. My Restaurant Wars group puts the finishing touches on their idea: a restaurant called “+ Bacon” (pronounced with a French accent, Plus Bacon) that serves classic dishes with bacon added. Oh, and the plates are made of woven bacon. Also, the cream puffs are topped with bacon florets.

5:59. Turn Jr. high students loose on the snacks. Cheese puffs flying everywhere. And there’s a kid drinking directly out of the lemonade container.

6:08. Shoveling spicy cheese curls into my mouth.

7:09. High school student arrives with maple cookies, spiced cider, and candy corn for youth group. This is trouble.

7:22. Candy corn sickness setting in.

7:47. Playing The Game of Things with high schoolers, get text from wife: “Joleesa [our hamster of three years] is dying.” Gulp.

7:52. Texts about the hamster still coming. Let the high schoolers in on it, so as to not seem rude checking my phone every 60 seconds.

7:53. The first dead hamster joke appears.

7:54. We’ve moved on to “hamster cancer” jokes.

8:37. Intern leading a really nice bread-and-juice discussion of communion. Students engaged. I live for this.

9:02. Youth group over. Call home and learn that the hamster’s death bed is . . . my bed.

9:23. Return home to find wife in bed with hamster, breathing intermittently, wrapped in a dish towel on her chest. Wife is crying.

9:53. After watching Joleesa struggle for 30 minutes, go downstairs to clean her cage, planning to place her in it for the night.

9:59. Time of Death: 9:59. R.I.P. Joleesa The Hamster.

10:01. Wife informs me of her plan to bury Joleesa in the garden tomorrow.

10:30. Wife goes to sleep and I take the deceased hamster to the garage in her cage. Then turn on the replay of today’s Broncos/Cowboys game.

12:02. Through with game. Begin Monday Morning Quarterback.

12:39. Monday Morning Quarterback . . . done.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of The Day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_K0J_ne8/

4:00: “Mommy! I wet my bed!” Wife and I changing sheets in Daughter’s room as the newest member of our household, a seven week-old kitten, looks on with alarm.

4:14. Sheets changed but now I’m awake. Consider getting up.

6:00. Alarm. Step out of bed and remember again yesterday’s adventure in fitness: a Crossfit class Wife compelled me to try. The ache I feel with each step indicates that it was either the best or the worst thing I’ve ever done to my body.

6:23. Coffee made. Sitting down to prepare youth Sunday school. Find an email from the Children’s Director detailing the excruciating pain she’s in and explaining that she will be absent from the morning’s activities. Start to prepare other things.

6:42. Daughter up with the kitten. Wife calling for coffee. Give her my cup, confident she won’t be able to tell it’s only 2/3 full.

7:17. For no good reason at all, creating Dropbox and Google Drive folders for sharing things with youth ministry volunteers. Youth groups ended last week.

8:07. On the church walkway, discover a slick of dog diarrhea. Spot a nearby traffic cone to place in front of it. Reflect on the oddness of a readily available traffic cone.

8:36. Headed out to pick up the coffee for our Sunday School class. If it’s not there as people arrive at 9:00, I’ve found, people don’t drink it. They literally refuse to get up for coffee after the class has started.

9:14. Staring down a chocolate cake donut. Win.

9:37. Sicking a 9th grader on the Oxford Dictionary of World Religions: “Dude, find ‘Justification’ in there.”

10:06. Student pulls me up before the church with no warning to complete his announcement about the youth fundraiser. I did just throw a dictionary at him, though, so I guess we’re even.

10:18. Asserting to the children, by way of explaining “Blessed are those who mourn,” that it’s okay if some of the things Jesus taught don’t make sense to us. Blank stares. Yeah, I think they get it.

10:42. Helping lead the summer kids program now, coloring an image of God picture on sandpaper.

11:17. Committee meeting in the same room as the youth Sunday school class. Chocolate cake donut still there. Stare it into submission. Win again.

11:23. Adult Education Committee endorses idea to spend six weeks next fall with our denomination’s recently published study of Christian Marriage. Score one for the company man.

12:04. The donut wins.

12:38. Return home to find picnic blanket spread on living room floor. Daughter yells, “Surprise! Happy Father’s Day!” Blubber something about a donut.

1:38. Wife invites me to take a Father’s Day nap, adding that she doesn’t believe I’ll allow myself to actually do it. Head upstairs to prove her wrong.

1:40. Check score of the Royals/Rays game first. Then send an email. And a couple texts.

1:42. Turn 9th inning of game on with my phone. Sleep through the last out.

2:00. Wake up. Try hard for more nap time to prove Wife wrong.

2:30. Still awake. Get up and go downstairs. Wife asleep on the couch. Daughter prancing around the kitten.

3:43. Take Daughter with me to store to get drinks for tomorrow’s big Junior High Work Week activity, with a planned stop at the coffee shop.

4:17. Coffee cake.

4:30. Heading for the opening night of VBS.

4:32. Using the drive to return a reference call for a former student. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she walks on water.”

5:09. Properly start my VBS job: holding one of the Director’s newborns. Best. Gig. Ever.

5:59. Doing some vowel sound exercises with the newborn. Female VBS volunteers look on in amazement. Note: tomorrow night bring Dickens.

6:08. Newborn is crying. Hand him off to formerly admiring female volunteer and head for the kitchen for pudding.

8:12. Return home. Wife has packed everybody’s lunch for tomorrow. Gangsta.

8:15. Sit down to compose a quick email to the Office Manager to find in the morning. Suddenly remember I never called my dad. Text Mom, “You guys still up?

8:16. Check Facebook while I wait for Mom’s reply. Find this and curse:

8:20. Friend pings me to say he’s looking forward to reading in Monday Morning Quarterback about how my Mom called me out on Facebook for not calling my dad on Father’s Day.

8:41. Mom replies, “Call in about 20 minutes.” Start composing Monday Morning Quarterback. Struggling to spell, “Diarrhea.”

9:00. Call Dad. Feel a little less terrible. He’s eager to tell me about the bass that swallowed the trout that had gulped down his fly. It’s a whole thing, trust me.

9:23. Put Daughter and kitten in bed.

9:51. Monday Morning Quarterback . . . done.

Graduation As A Marker of Youth Convention

Last night was the local high school commencement, and I was in attendance at the invitation of the parents of two of the graduates. To anyone who was paying attention to the nearly hour-long program of speeches and performances that preceded the awarding of diplomas, on display was a dizzying spectacle of cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, the event trumpeted the kind of change and creativity that we all associate with youth and youth culture. But change was ruled by convention, and I came away slightly worried.

A quick scan of the nearly 600 graduates’ names showed “Lopez” outnumbering “Smith” five to two. Names like “Rambhatla” and “Matzavinos” were common. The diversity of the class didn’t go unnoticed by the family seated behind me. They had a snicker and snide comment for each name that didn’t rhyme with “Anderson.” The makeup of the class was a telling indicator of the multicultural reality that these graduates have grown up with. It was beautiful.

[sidenote: mainline churchgoers still needing convincing that the culture has left them behind would do well to note that only three of the over 500 graduates belong to the local Presbyterian church.]

Yet for all that diversity, the speeches and songs proclaimed a surprising uniformity and conservatism. More than one student speaker rehearsed for their peers a pre-graduation conflict with school administrators who had proposed changes to the program. “We made our voices heard,” they proclaimed, “To keep graduation the way it’s always been!”

A defiant teen defense of . . . tradition.

And the music? Most of it would have fit nicely into my high school graduation. In 1994. I’m talkin’ “Landslide,” and “For Good” (sung to a tape). The most contemporary performance was of Adele’s “Hometown Glory” (again to a tape), and even that graduate couldn’t muster enough adolescent rebellion to sing the single obscenity in the lyrics.

Most telling was a performance of Soulpancake favorite Casey Abrams’ “Simple Life,” a song that pronounces, “Don’t need no TV/ I don’t need no phone/Don’t need a speedy car to get me home/Don’t need no nothing/All I need is time for the simple life.”

Now, am I encouraged by young peoples’ embrace of simplicity and tradition? Absolutely. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if such an embrace isn’t the most meaningful form youth rebellion can take these days.

Yet if graduation is an indicator of a generation’s ethos, this one seems more suited to the PTA than the Occupy Movement. That may well be a good thing. It’s just not what I expected. It reminded me yet again of how much I have to learn about the young people in my community.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of The Day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_KxTJmw/

6:17. Up to put together a youth Sunday school lesson.

6:19. Watching the condensed game of the Royals Saturday win over the Astros first.

6:33. Using Wikipedia to bone up on Galatians. You know, for the teens.

7:12. I don’t need to get dressed yet, but I got a new suit yesterday and I’m eager to put it on.

7:43. Saying goodbye to Wife and Daughter for the day. They’re spending it at the Pride Parade in West Hollywood. LIttle baby’s all grows up.

7:44. Bump into neighbor out front. He compliments the suit but insults the shoes. Come this close to going back inside and changing them.

8:09. Placing Graduate Recognition gifts on the communion table while I’m thinking about it, lest I forget them.

8:19. Printing youth Sunday School lesson. Second guessing exegetical exercise for Greek euangellion. Also this: “introduce Apostle Paul’s life story (2 minutes).”

8:24. CE Director’s baby smiles at me. Day=made.

8:51. With the church nursery dislocated due to preschool building flooding, advising the Nursery Director on the best place to change diapers.

8:58. Making copies for adult education leader who agreed to fill in on two days’ notice. Copies? I’ll make you a cake right now if you ask me to.

9:34. Discussion with teens of Paul’s “zeal” relative to theirs. At this hour, they’re zealous only for donuts.

10:09. As the Introit wanes, acolyte lights three candles in 1.8 seconds, then races to lectern to lead the Call to Worship. Then spikes the snuffer on the chancel in celebration.

10:18. My lapel mic has come unclipped from my belt. Using the Children’s Time to stealthily unzip my robe and retrieve it. Assuming the worst about how this looks.

10:23. Guest preacher (whose wife and three kids have worshiped with us since the fall) thanking the congregation for welcoming his family these several months. Choking up.

10:41. Leading a recognition of our high school graduates. Choking up.

10:45. Concluding the Graduate Recognition. Someone calls out from the pews, “What are their names?!” Pounding my head and exclaiming, “Idiot!”

11:49. Post-church prospective officer discernment gathering. Participant shares that, while there’s lots of “top down” opportunities for leadership, he’d like to see more “bottom up opportunities.” Elder next to me suggests under her breath, “Well, maybe not.” Giggles.

12:02. Someone tells me I look good, “healthy.” Thank them, but ask what they think of my shoes.

12:09. Invited to lunch. Don’t mind if I do . . .

1:33. Home. Set timer for one hour and 30 minute nap.

2:12. Phone rings. Nap officially over.

3:01. Heading out to get supplies for Junior High Youth Group Year-End Party. Frisbee: check. Pool noodle: check. Oreos: check. Water balloons: check.

3:39. Filling water balloons. In my new suit.

4:39. Students arriving for party. Nobody mentioning the suit. Baffled.

5:01. Toilet paper games in the wind don’t work. File that one away.

5:23. Water balloon pops on my new suit.

5:34. Milk spills on my new suit.

5:45. Ducking out of party for community baccalaureate service. Why do I smell like milk?

6:48. Sweating the organist for the baccalaureate. She sent me an irate email the other day, owing to the fact that nobody told her about the service til Friday but promising to be there. Composing alternate processional in my head.

6:52. Organ prelude begins playing. Fall to my knees in gratitude. Gonna stash that processional away for a rainy day, though.

7:04. Processing in with graduates. Everybody has their cameras out, but nobody’s taking my picture. Don’t they know I’m wearing a new suit?

7:09. Calling the congregation to worship. “Peace be with you . . . ” “Who are you?! And where did you get that suit?!”

7:33. Beaming as one of my students gives a baccalaureate talk. Nudging the adult leader next to me. “That one’s mine.”

8:10. Local Pastor giving the Baccalaureate Address should be done by now. Instead, he’s transitioning with, “You know what? Lemme go here . . . ”

8:12. Local Pastor: “And another thing . . . ”

8:16. Local Pastor: “And what about this?”

8:20. Local Pastor holds his iPhone to the pulpit microphone and plays a country song. People passing out in the aisles.

8:22. Lament to the adult leader next to me that my new suit has become wrinkled. He observes, “It wasn’t wrinkled when this guy started preaching.”

8:35. Students singing a Bruno Mars benediction. All is well.

9:19. Home. Daughter tells me that she went to a parade today for “The gees!”

10:12 Monday Morning Quarterback=done; suit=hung.

Playing My iPod at Youth Group: Lessons in Participatory Learning

The 7th and 8th graders I work with can’t leave my iPod alone. I play it to add to the atmosphere–relaxed, welcoming, familiar. But it takes mere seconds before one of them–and then several of them–are fiddling with it: switching songs, turning up the volume, and then finally plugging in their own music player.

Yesterday I had a “Back-in-My-Day” moment over this and exclaimed, “When I was your age, if someone played some music, you listened to it. You couldn’t just hijack what they were playing for your own music.” Actually, when I was their age we did take control of the music people played in public, only by changing the radio dial. Your frequency of choice was an important marker of identity in my teen years, and any car outing I take with students shows that it still is.

But this is way different. These students have entire radio stations in their pockets, and it’s nothing for them to plug it in and dj the youth group. That is, until someone else takes over. Honestly, the likelihood that any one song will get played in its entirety is very, very low.

I want to celebrate this and to say that these junior high students are comfortable taking control of their experience (read: church) without waiting for instructions. But I don’t see this tendency extending very far beyond the iPod. Ask them what questions they’d like to explore in youth group and you get blank stares. Invite them to take some ownership of the Biblical narrative–to rework stories or to pick and choose content for study–and . . . nothing.

What’s up with that?

Does their musical mastery presage something constructive? Or is it simply a loyal consumer reflex?

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of the day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_KzOFYw/

6:00. Walk Me Up alarm sounds and is uncharacteristically pacified by a desperate wave of the hand. Throat is scratchy and I feel like a sack of bricks. Climb out of the cavern that is my mattress and head for the shower.

6:39. Ibuprofen and coffee.

6:43. Working on an outline for the adult education forum this morning on bullying. Local high school student was supposed to be the centerpiece, but he was felled by a previously scheduled lifeguard exam. Now it’s me and whatever shreds of danah boyd’s research I can piece together. That’s a lot actually. She’s amazing.

7:37. Consulting with Wife a about the coordination of my awesome shoes with my black pants. Uh uh. Don’t work. Gotta go with khaki.

8:13. Arrive to find the Children’s Center Director entering her office, a novel sight for a Sunday morning. Saturday brought bad news about last week’s bathroom flood and the consequent inspection; the words “asbestos” and “preschool” pass heavily between us as we do a quick back-of-the-napkin game plan for a preschool evicted from its building for four weeks.

8:43. Distributing 20 copies of the adult education handout on a perfect circle of chairs.

8:56. Greet a 7th grader with the news that he’s one of the morning’s acolytes. “No I’m not,” he answers. “My mom said I didn’t have to anymore.” Adolescent development, Luther, and The Doctrine of Vocation would make a great seminary paper title.

9:11. Over 30 people now crowding into the adult education forum. Introductory question: “why does this matter to you.” Stunned by adults relating experiences, not only of their kids being bullied, but of their own absorption of bullying at work. Didn’t count on that.

9:52. Flee the forum late for worship and deputize an unsuspecting participant. “Take over.”

9:59. Donning my newest stole for the first time. It’s a five year anniversary gift made by a dear church member back in February, at the start of Lent. I’ve looked forward to Ordinary Time more eagerly than normal this year. Also, it matches my shoes.

10:01. Two acolytes materialize providentially. They’re on the small size, and last week’s candles gave us some trouble, so we do a quick lighting practice. All six candles light. We even replace one of the tapers, just to be safe.

10:07. Brand new taper failing its maiden voyage. Two chancel candles won’t light. As high school student plays and sings a delicate introit, the entire congregation watches the acolyte and Head of Staff strain at the candles before finally accepting defeat.

10:13. As the saints of God pass the peace of Christ, I claim my victory over the two holdout candles.

10:14. Head of Staff has gone missing while Children’s Director conducts the Children’s Time. After several minutes of scanning the sanctuary, I locate her: in the choir loft holding one of the Children’s Director’s babies. Sneaky.

10:19. Reading Galatians 1 through sniffles.

10:49. As Head of Staff invites the congregation to communion in between me and the Parish Associate behind the Table, a sneeze is coming. I successfully contain it, though I’m sure both my feet left the floor.

11:06. Greeting folks on the patio, recruit former student and recent college graduate to give Daughter swim lessons–starting tomorrow. Girl’s gotta learn, like, yesterday.

11:21. Making my way to Teacher Appreciation reception. Stopped by one of the bullying forum participants who offers helpful advice for the next one.

11:25. Advice still coming . . .

11:26. Break away from advise to chase down some reception cake (I skipped breakfast). Intercepted by 6th grader who launches into a nuanced recitation of a Zelda YouTube video.

11:29. Zelda, Zelda, Zelda, Zelda . . . cake only feet away. Getting woozy.

11:33. More Zelda. This has to stop.

11:34. Crash the cake table. Enjoy first bite as Wife informs me that I’ll be taking daughter to her classmate’s Birthday pool party by myself. In 20 minutes.

11:44. Escaping reception to head for Birthday party with Daughter. Nabbed by church member with a book recommendation for the church library. It’s her sister’s book, a compilation of weekly advise columns for a Christian newspaper. Would I like to see it? Of course. Of course.

12:43. Declining a can of Tecate as politely as I can.

1:01. Devouring burger with mustard. Then another. Then wrinkled remains of Daughter’s hot dog.

1:39. Baking on a lawn chair as Daughter lays on the concrete next to me, wrapped in a towel. Didn’t bring a hat. Or sunglasses. Still, dozing.

2:00. Wife mercifully arrives to relieve me, so I can go home and put away the groceries she just bought.

2:23. Finish putting groceries away just in time to watch Royals put the finishing touches on another loss.

3:30. Head out for the store to get snacks for the Junior High Youth Group and a dinner item for the High School Youth Group year-end party. Lemonade, Cheese Puffs, Cookies, Taffy, and . . . salad?

5:12. Junior high game involves teams of three huddling together with their heads touching as they keep a balloon in the center of their feet. I tap out of my team of two 7th grade girls and offer the female adult volunteer a crack at it.

5:51. Urge students, ala Joshua 1, to be strong and courageous. Feeling weak.

7:06. Looking at a terrific spread for the high school party. Pizza, fried chicken, homemade bundt cake, enchiladas, spaghetti. And my salad.

8:42. The game is Name That Movie, where you try to get your team to guess the title by naming isolated features of it. Breathless student thus describes Star Wars: “Little green guy. Big black guy. Glowing sticks.” The real kicker comes with her explanation of the “Big black guy”: “I didn’t mean Darth Vader. I meant Samuel L. Jackson.”

9:01. Thanking volunteers for all their time. Telling students I love them, blessing them, and sending them into the summer.

9:32. Dropping student off. Heading home.

10:32. Working on Monday Morning Quarterback, suspiciously eyeing Daughter’s Antworks Ant Farm. The sides are covered in condensation, and they look mad. Plus, they seem to be eating the sealant on the lid. Contemplating consequences of ant jail break.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of the day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_K-66jQ/

Unknown time. Eyes open to darkened living room. Look out the window at an eastern sky that is grudgingly lightening. Check watch. 4:30. Parents visiting from Denver: asleep in my bed. Wife and daughter: asleep in daughter’s room. Me: awake on the couch.

5:00. Give up trying to sleep. Coffee on.

5:16. Leafing through The Powers That Be in an attempt to solidify the Adult Education program I’m leading in a few hours. Not looking good.

6:02. Drain coffee cup and close my eyes for a few more moments of jittery sleep.

6:15. The L.A. Times on my Kindle. Comprehending nothing.

7:11. Daughter coming downstairs so I throw a blanket over my head. You know, to hide. She pulls the blanket off and screams, “Found you!”

7:12. Wife descends the stairs with a gift bag full of children’s books for a baby shower after church.

7:15. Explaining to daughter that leaving for church by myself in about 20 minutes. She’ll come later with Grandma and Grandpa. Mommy is staying home to set up for this afternoon’s Egyptian Birthday Party Bonanza.

7:45. Wife prevails upon me to take Daughter, Grandma, and Grandpa to church with me so she can finish party preparations uninterrupted.

8:01. Dressed for church, setting up folding tables on the lawn. And moving a lawn umbrella. And taking out trash. Stress mounting.

8:04. Wife to Daughter: don’t let Daddy forget the books for the baby shower. Insulted.

8:05. Neighbor to me. “On your way home from church get about 30 lbs of ice for the party.” I got this.

8:07. Pleading with Daughter to brush her teeth. My dad’s sitting and smiling, watching me struggle at the basics of child rearing.

8:12. Off to church with Grandpa, Grandma, and Daughter. Daughter is rocking a purple scarf she got as a birthday present.

8:17. Arrive at church to the realization that I forgot the bag of books for the baby shower. Curse.

8:23. Making the rounds: youth room, adult Sunday school room, office, sanctuary. Everything is as it should be, but something feels off.

8:42. Former student who just finished her freshman year in college shows up. Much rejoicing.

9:07. Trying to condense reams of research on the effects of media violence on behavior by saying, “nobody really knows.”

9:40. 10 minutes left in the adult education forum, and I’m about a third of the way through what I had planned. Fail.

9:52. Acolyte comes to retrieve me from Sunday school. Now that’s a reversal.

10:13. Daughter and her playmate processing down the center aisle with orange, red, and yellow pom poms they made in Sunday school for Pentecost. Playmate stops halfway down the aisle and performs some left and right elbow jabs. Impressive.

10:34. It’s a special service focusing on music, so most prayers replaced with hymns. Deciding against singing the Scripture lesson. Then, deciding against joking about having decided against singing the Scripture lesson.

12:17. Return home from church without the ice I was told to get. Curse. Shoving leftover party sandwiches in my mouth on my way to the store.

12:53. Return from store. Wife has transformed condo complex courtyard to into an Egyptian tableau: tables, decorations, a painted backdrop, a tent. It’s impressive, to say the least.

1:39. Trying on Wife’s best party decoration: a “full-figured” adult Pharaoh costume. Man, I look good.

3:06. Guests arriving for party. Nobody else wearing a Pharaoh costume.

3:39. Enjoy an afternoon and evening of great food, family, lovely weather, and Daughter. Top that, universe.

10:10. Truncate the end of Monday Morning Quarterback. Toooo trred t’finsh.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of The Day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_K0ITuYU/

6:21. Eyes open to unfamiliar surroundings. Body aching. Lips chapped. Throat raw. Clarity returning now . . . rock climbing wall . . . wind-blown games of H-O-R-S-E . . . late night convulsions of laughter over The Game of Things . . . All Church Camp.

7:02. Bathroom greeting with church member. Is that ever not weird?

7:35. Daughter and her playmate are up. They’re scaling the bunk beds as Wife groans below.

8:11. Stumble down to join the rest of the church in the camp’s main lodge. Head of Staff’s husband has brought Starbucks travelers for everyone. Ask, “Is it cool if I kiss you right now?”

8:18. Reviewing with students the best Game of Things answers from the night before. Consensus quickly emerges that the best answer came in response to the prompt, “Things you shouldn’t say to a police officer to get out of a speeding ticket.” Answer from 7th grader: “I knew you were trouble when you walked in.” Now lamenting the fact that, for the prompt, “Things you would have said to Eve after she gave you the apple,” I didn’t answer, “We are never ever ever getting back together.”

8:28. Breakfast. Daughter is protesting the apple juice, which, she says, is not as dark as the apple juice her playmate had at lunch the day before.

9:44. Planning worship in teams around the Man of Macedonia story. 5th grader on my team wants only to perform a play where he’s a ghost who emerges from behind a bath towel.

10:34. Daughter’s playmate and her family leave. Prolonged hugs. And kisses. And hugs.

10:43. At the lake with Wife and Daughter. Didn’t pack a jacket, and it’s cold. Wife: “You never pack a jacket. I don’t feel bad for you.” She’s wearing a fleece and a sweater.

10:46. Daughter is machine gunning Cheeze-Its at the ducks.

11:23. Ping pong. For, like, an hour.

1:43. Closing worship service. Somehow, Head of Staff and her team have parlayed the Man of Macedonia into an acapella hip-shaking rendition of Paul Davis’s “Cool Night.” Yeah, okay. I can see that.

2:02. Time to go. Trouble brewing for daughter. She’s demanding more playground time.

2:04. Playground-gate escalates to a full-blown spectacle. Trying to get Daughter in the car before entire camp hears her screams (subsequent text from student asking “What’s wrong with her?” will reveal utter failure).

2:12. Daughter still screeching as we descend the mountain. Church Intern who rode with us getting a valuable lesson in parenting–the what-not-to-do kind.

2:24. Daughter pacified by a pan dulce.

2:25. Daughter slumped over asleep, pan dulce falling from her hand.

2:32. Wife turning green. “I’m trying not to puke,” she says. Foot off the gas.

2:47. Daughter jolts awake. “Are we off the mountain yet?” No. Slumps back over and sleeps.

2:52. “Are we off the mountain yet?”

2:44. “Are we off the mountain yet?

2:45. “Are we off the mountain yet?” Yes. “Oh, that was fast.”

3:01. Home. Dropping bags in the doorway, wife (still green) trudges upstairs and collapses on bed.

3:44. Answering Daughter’s critical questions about “Tinkerbell And The Great Fairy Rescue.” It’s not really that believable.

5:02. Leaving for Youth Sunday Planning Pizza party. Pay for the pizza, set up the room, print off instructions and old worship bulletins . . .

5:12. Arrive at church to discover I’ve left my laptop at home. Doh! Improvising.

6:39. Whirlwind presentation of Presbyterian principles for ordering worship. “The preaching of the Word of God IS the Word of God!” Students leap to their feet with thunderous applause and gasps of “Amazing!”

7:22. Volunteers working with teams of students to plan an entire worship service. Marvelling. Doing nothing but marvelling.

8:01. Youth Sunday planned. Dismiss students with a benediction of “Waving Flag.”

8:12. Stopping at grocery store on the way home to pick up flowers for Wife. Well, not for her. For her nurses. It’s nurses week and she forgot.

8:24. End the day with with the day’s only play of the iPod.

9:01. Contemplating writing Monday Morning Quarterback. Nope. It’ll wait for the morning.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.

Song of The Day:

http://rd.io/x/QEq_K0KWpbc/

6:00. Alarm going off. Snooze not working. Remember alarm clock app I downloaded that rings until you’ve taken 10 steps with it in hand. What if I throw it?

6:01. Downstairs, finger over phone speaker, walking hurried circles around the living room. Alarm not stopping. Power down.

6:11. Coffee in hand. Phone back on. Quiet.

6:48. Finish agenda for Triennium Delegation meeting this afternoon. What’s the statute of limitations on your go-to ice breaker, anyway?

7:04. Daughter protests, “Daddy!” from her bunk as I top the stairs outside her room. She thinks it’s a school day and that I’ve come to retrieve her. “Shhh. It’s a church day.” Silence.

7:58. Take wife a cup of coffee in bed and head out the door.

8:11. Greeted by ceramic elk head on my desk. What the?!

8:15. Head of Staff arrives. Ask her, “Do you know anything about this?” hoisting the grisly elk head. She looks at the ground. “I didn’t put it there.” Awkward pause. “Do you know anything about it?” She walks away. Blurg! Pastors’ kids!

8:22. Finessing the formatting on the sign listing Christian Formation Hour room assignments is surely a sign of a poor understanding of the relationship between causes and effects (“Coffee And A Good Book” is in Room 1, by the way).

8:47. Laptop and projector assembled in sanctuary, ready to show slideshow of 30 Hour Famine pics before worship.

8:53. Frantic. Can’t find Jr. High youth group curriculum for the afternoon. I’ll be gone. Volunteers need it. Failing them. Noooooo!

9:14. Final confirmation class with students who joined as Active Members during last week’s session meeting: brief history of the Protestant Reformation. Making a point to mention Servetus. Glad we saved that til after they joined.

9:47. I just said, “vocare.” I’ve lost them.

10:08. Acolyte trying to light all six candles solo before the end of the Introit. Not . . . gonna . . . make . . . . it . . . . run over and light the last one so he can lead the Call To Worship.

10:19. Student uses Peace-passing time to narrate something for Monday Morning Quarterback. “10:19,” he says . . . wait. What was the rest of it?

10:21. Commissioning a mission volunteer during Children’s Time. Ask the kids to lay hands on his shoes. Much giggling, but I learned my lesson the last time I asked a group of children to press their palms onto an unsuspecting commissionee. Never again.

10:23. Kids singing with much clapping and west African drumming, piano and organ accompanying a pop song. Dizzy from happiness.

10:40. Folks in the balcony are swatting at something. They notice I’m watching, and someone does the hand motions to “The Eentsy Weentsy Spider.”

11:09. Talking easily with a Deacon, resting my elbow atop the metal coffee percolator. Doh!

11:22. Gotta be in two places at once. Kiss wife and daughter as they head to a carnival.

11:31. Jr. High youth group volunteer calmly remembers where all the curriculum is. Weep tears of joy.

12:12. Grabbing lunch to go.

12:39. Eating lunch in the youth room, watching a couple innings of the Royals/Indians game. Get to see this.

1:38. Driving with students to Triennium delegation meeting. They’re rotating turns playing songs from their iPhones, having trouble finding music without profanity. Sigh.

2:30. Our Triennium delegation is awesome. That is all.

3:12. Students requesting food for commute home. I need gas, so I guarantee a chance for gas station food.

3:34. After passing two gas stations with insufficient convenience marts, finally find a satisfactory one. Students suddenly realize they brought no money. Blurg!

3:52. Something amazing happens on the drive home. I didn’t do it.

4:14. Back at church in time to check in with Junior High youth group volunteers before skipping out for a commitment for wife’s work. Tell them I love them and mean every ounce of it.

4:32. Return home to find wife ironing and daughter in bath in preparation for wife’s work commitment. Daughter: “Get away from me!” I’m wanted less and less.

5:35. In the car, playing bargain bin cd find for daughter, some story about a pure and spotless lamb named Judah who thinks he’s a lion.

5:39. Daughter is bored with the fable and protests, “I want a real Bible story!” Atta girl!

6:12. Daughter from the back seat: “When are we gonna be there?!”

6:22. Arrive. Daughter asleep, hunched over the arm of her booster seat. Wake her up. She exclaims, “Wow! That was fast!”

6:46. Sipping Pinot Noir on a Pasadena patio full of pediatricians. Wonder if they can tell I’m a dunce just by looking at me or if they need to hear me speak first.

7:12. Move to the front lawn with daughter, who is eager to prepare a “feast” on the unoccupied picnic table. She brings crackers, arranges them, then prays over them.

7:15. Daughter skipping through the garden singing the Celtic Alleluia chorus we use in worship.

8:27. Daughter has set up shop in hosts living room, performing somersaults on their couch.

9:43. Home. Check email to find message from a stranger questioning a blog post I wrote 15 months ago. Head to bed.

9:55. Come back downstairs to answer email about blog post.

11:20. Monday Morning Quarterback: done.

The Gospel of What We Don’t Know

I can never remember who, but some theologian of mission made the provocative suggestion that the best analogy the church has for evangelism is journalism. Telling the good news is a journalistic task: Christians are witnesses of real events that are unfolding in real time concerning the Kingdom of God and the salvation of the world. If anyone knows who that was, please tell me.

I heard that a decade ago, and it’s had a grip on my imagination since. It’s why I subscribe to the Columbia Journalism Review and listen to On The Media and read Jeff Jarvis’ blog.

Jarvis wrote yesterday that, in the aftermath of journalists’ coverage of last week’s Boston bombing and pursuant manhunt, he’s convinced that journalism’s value lies in telling the public what we *don’t* know. Here’s the money quote.

The key skill of journalism today is saying what we *don’t* know, issuing caveats and also inviting the public to tell us what they know. Note I didn’t say I want the public to tell us what they *think* or *guess.* I said *know*.

Yes. Yes. And . . . Yes.

Let’s try that quote again, but replace “journalism” with “evangelism.”

The key skill of evangelism today is saying what we *don’t* know, issuing caveats and also inviting the public to tell us what they know. Note I didn’t say I want the public to tell us what they *think* or *guess.* I said *know*.

Hmmmm . . .

Here’s why this excites me: In the same way that journalism is an enterprise transformed by the modern avalanche of information and channels for the public to share information, the church’s witness to the gospel is coping with a public that is swimming in religious “information” and sharing that information with ease. The church has competition now for reporting on The Meaning of Life. It ceased a while ago to be the Great Grey Lady of how to be a good person and live a fulfilling life. Now there a Pinterest board for that.

What if we took this analogy seriously? What if we shared the gospel by saying first what we don’t know?

“It’s being widely reported that faith is no longer relevant to modern people, but it is unclear at this hour how people are measuring relevance . . .”

“Witnesses describe widespread displeasure with the plight of the poor, but lived experience of poverty could not be confirmed . . . ”

“Sources say the Bible is anti-gay, but questions remain about the historical context of that stance, its literary function, and its effect on the lives of gay people today . . . ”

“We’re hearing that people are prosperous, autonomous, and happy, but at this hour we can’t account for the social isolation people are experiencing at the same time . . . ”

What do you think? Does the church have value to add to the world that consists in elevating what we *don’t* know?