at least, I was too cool. I mean, they pulled my site from the list. how do I know this? because I used to own that list! there are sites up there simply because Macker put them on the map, fer.cryin.out.loud. but enough about me ... how cool do you think I am?
anyway, I got the mojo back. and wouldn't you like to know how?
first, let's define cool: slang a : very good : EXCELLENT; also : ALL RIGHT b : FASHIONABLE 1 cool -- Celestine Sibley>
taken from the faq: "Cool site" is determined by the number of hits to a blog. Only the intrepid web servant knows how many hits it takes. We've had so many visitors the hit number had to be raised.
this got me to thinking ... why should the moderator have to decide what is cool? don't you, the intrepid visitor, decide that?
turns out, you do. sorta. there are a number of ratings by which one can rank one's blog in the blogs4Godsphere:
nepotism, wherein you must be a moderator or else a very good friend or relative, given the abundance of (which means, "we like you the most")
who gets hit the most (which means, "we see your links the most, because we like you the most")
the coolest blogs (which means, "we give you a chance to let everyone else like you the most")
keyword search (which means, "I'm not entering 'pray naked' enough -- and neither are you")
newbies(which means, "we don't know you enough to like you the most")
as for the "cool" ranking, here's how it works: you hit my details page, and my "hits here" count goes up. this is key, because the number of hits I get on the site jacks up my coolness rating. so the more you hit, say, josh claybourn, the more his coolness factor rises, the more you see him in the other rankings.
so here's how I juryrigged the system: I voted for myself about three dozen times. and you know what? I'm cool again! I am so the man.
don't forget, too, that the moderators decide who gets airtime on the front page with their "must read" linkages. surprised then to see their sites splattered all over the place?
putting my sneakers on one at a time will never feel the same. nor will snapping my fingers, playing in the land of make-believe, or singing "won't you be my neighbor?" to my kids. my cardigan sweater may never leave the closet now.
mr. rogers and I go waaaay back. if you're my age, you can probably say the same for yourself. he was a role model without peer. to the average six-year-old, he genuinely cared about us. he smiled, never got angry, was as consistent as the clock on the wall. he was friendly, genuine, and eager to hear from his neighbors, even if we were not on the sound stage with him.
looking back, it is fair to say he was total cornball. and growing up in a single-parent home, I'll tell you this: I needed the cornball he so willing dished out with a smile and a wink. I needed to know someone was there for me twice a day, for 30 minutes at a stretch, to devote himself just to me. how refreshing a concept is that?
fast forward 29 years. suddenly it all makes sense: why my kids like to be with me, not just have me around the house. why they crave a moment of individual attention. a warm hug. an even tone of voice, a smile, and a steady gaze that shows I am paying attention.
thank you, fred. you are a worthy rolemodel. you embodied every trueism of learning that robert fulghum could possibly enumerate.
"Every Word You Said" by This Train:
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood Always been that way for a neighbor Would you be mine? Could you be mine? And I'm sure that you don't have much time But heroes are so hard to find Would you be mine? Could you be mine?
'Cause I believed every word you said, Mister Rogers, or can I call you Fred?
Well, the older I get, man, the less I believe In all those wonderful things I used to see with those young eyes What could've happened? So am I growing old or is something else wrong? Is the land of make believe all gone? Old King Friday, just looks like a puppet, still
I believed every word you said, Mister Rogers, or can I call you Fred?
Can you say jaded? Or misunderstood? Can you say hatred? Sure, I knew you could. I knew you could.
'Cause I believed every word you said, Mister Rogers, or can I call you Fred? Mister Rogers, I could use a friend Mister Rogers, have we reached the end?
then I read a this very long piece on why we are compelled to act, militarily, against saddam hussein. it is a serious piece of writing, and deserves a serious amount of time and attention to give it its due. a fast reader, even when not skimming, it took me 15 minutes or more to tackle it.
naturally, I am still digesting it, but the punchline for me is this: I have more reason to support the use of force than to not. my questions about hussein's linkage with bin laden is lessened, though certainly not answered, in this piece. in fact, the author takes great pains to point out the flaws in the conservative arguments before tackling the liberal litanies against attacking iraq.
perhaps my bent, being what it is, preconditioned me to be sympathetic to a hawkish stance on this topic. so be it. I still do not understand the liberal argument for avoiding war at all costs. I still wonder what it would take for some to say 'enough is enough.' and as fanatical as I am about dr. martin luther king jr., I cannot understand how anyone can see nonviolence as a rational course of action at this point in time, against such aggressors as bin laden and hussein.
[ let us note for the record that most who denounce war do so from a philosophy of pacifism, not nonviolence. - ed. ]
I can certainly buy into the notion that we have been safe, globally speaking, from hussein for over ten years. and yet, I know hussein has not been idle. the fact that we need to continue the weapons inspections, an opinion shared by all political stripes as far as I can tell, should tell us that he has much to gain (and we to lose) from actively pursuing the development and/or acquisition of weapons of mass destruction.
deep down, I'm a peace loving guy. of all those I know who own guns or support the use of force against iraq, up to and including some very scarily reactionary folks who once talked of fusing iran into glass, they all have this in common as well: they do not relish war. they do not like sending our troops into harm's way to fight an aggressor some tens of thousands of miles away.
as a Jesus freak and Christ follower, I know well the story of Jesus telling peter to put up his sword; his admonishment to turn the other cheek; his own willingness to suffer unspeakable horrors and then to beg forgiveness for humanity for their ignorance.
I also know that the 2000 years leading up to that moment, God used war as a means to protect israel, His chosen nation; and that he told king david, the only "man after God's own heart," the sword would never depart from his lineage. I also know Jesus predicted wars and rumors of wars (sound familiar?) right up until his second coming. and I know of his scourge of the temple, his righteous indignation apparent as he upended the tables without attacking the merchants. finally, I know that the dynamic of reaping what we sow is a very real thing even at the nation-state level.
so I do not say lightly that I support a war with iraq. I do not look forward to it, nor will I rejoice in battle. I will rejoice when it is over, when our troops are brought back home, when saddam hussein is brought to justice -- whether temporal or Ultimate -- and we are able to breathe, globally, just a little bit easier that a madman is no longer fomenting worldwide cataclysm.
and though I wish it more, I do not say lightly that we ought not need to be in this position. it should not have had to come to this.
except in agreeing, I may have misled some into thinking I support the use of violence as a means to a peaceful end.
well, I do. and I don't.
and although that's about the best answer I can give (at the moment or otherwise), another will follow. but first, this little break from my own reality.
devotional devotee in reading from psalms yesterday, I read the passage from the message "version" and it sums it up like this: God is a safe house for the battered, a sanctuary during bad times. The moment you enter, you relax; you're never sorry you knocked.
I wonder how many say that of me . . . ?
cogent thought at
12:39 courtesy of Macker [
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tuesday, february 18
narc-o-leptic we saw narc tonight. it was that or daredevil. I realized, once more at the tail end of a crime drama, that I am not cut out for these dark 'slices of life' films.
once upon a time, I pretended to be one of the down and out detectives I loved so much back in the 70's -- starsky & hutch, most notably. good guys with bad hair and cheap apartments, taking down the bad guys one bust at a time, and trying not to let the stench attach itself to them. I would watch the shows, and lust for a plastic baretta .45 to pretend I was an undercover cop. they were so cool; so ... glamorous.
and watching the gritty realism now makes me wonder if the people doing it are entirely sane to want to be doing what they do. clearly I am not of the sort that can stomach it; I can't watch a pretend cop sift through the personal effects of a slain colleague, only to pull out drawings made by his 4-year-old, and not find my eyes welling up as I think of my own children.
I belong to several email lists devoted to faith and film; and I have yet to understand the need or purpose, from a Christian standpoint, of repeatedly opening myself up to realism that neither promotes compassion, grace or charity, or even leaves me with a sense of thematic purpose. films like training day, mesmerizing as they are when the principal actor(s) is (are) that good, leave me with no sense of redeeming value. so the kid decided he had had enough of tagging along with a dirty cop. did I need to subject myself to the realities of south central that I would otherwise never know, and would walk away feeling powerless to help or change things or make a difference? why should I repeatedly watch films with sensual content that cause my thought processes to digress to the impure? because it is a realistic representation of someone else's life, somewhere that I will likely never go?
to say such thematic content opens me up to worlds I will never experience is a noble quest indeed; and as the scientists in jurassic park said of the notion of cloning dinosaurs: we are so quick to to say we can do it, we fail to take stock of the ramifications of diving headlong into it.
I recognize every Christ follower has a responsibility, and a certain liberty, to entertain oneself in whatever forms, variety and frequency one cares to. this is not a general denunciation of films or of hollywood. this is a personal reflection on my standards for film-watching. for I know it is altogether hypocritical of me to suggest that gratutious sexuality has more of an adverse effect on me than does gratuitous violence. for those who have made this claim against me, I have no argument.
I see the themes of moral high ground lost and integrity compromised and the ever waged war of good vs. best, and I am challenged in my own life. the question I must ask myself, every time the credits roll on a film that leave me feeling as dirty as the characters portrayed, remains thus:
was there any virtue in it, any praiseworthy moments? was there nobility? excellence? right triumphing over wrong? what things did it leave me with to dwell upon?
a refrain I used to hear often, even when not coming from my own lips, was the complaint that people were not "being fed" at church. this from any number of Christ followers who had undergone a spiritual paradigm shift in their own right: they recognized God's desire to reach them, moreso even than their own desire to reach back.
the subtle undertones in a most valid criticism of the modern-day megachurch that go mostly unnoticed are the one's the pope effectively highlighted: too many Christ followers view their faith as the cherry atop the proverbial ice cream sundae that is the American Dream. there once was a great move in toronto that stressed entering into the joy of the Lord. I have no doubt it was an effective move in its heyday, nor would I ever argue the biblical logic of letting the joy of the Lord be our strength.
what I would argue is the subconcious -- and sometimes quite vocal -- sentiment that as a born again Jesus freak, I have done my part. it is now up to God to do His, or worse, to go on with life without regard to God's continued desire to reach out to me. that is, until I need a tax break, an SUV, a healing, or a problem overcome without suffering through the effects of a carnal nature exerting its will. it is in those most needy times I seem to come to God, hat in hand, begging Him to bail me out. yet again. I came and got what was rightfully mine, because God's desire is to bless me, but without regard to the great responsibility inherent in accepting the gift of grace in my life. as if I were the prodigal child of a wealthy parent, only ever returning for another monthly stipend while tossing it away like dice on a craps table.
ever get prayed for and not receive healing? every wonder why? ever been told you didn't have enough faith? what if God just wanted to listen to you pour out your heart over a cup of coffee? what if that was the point of God's dogged pursuit of us?
God does not want automatons, or cleaned up white folk with luxury vehicles as a testament to their faith. God wants to work in us, not through us. oh sure, there is that ever present great commission trip that Jesus laid on us; no doubt. and yet, God's desire for us to reach others it through our desire to know Him first. it boggles the mind how we Jesus freaks miss the point and repeatedly fail to connect the dots for ourselves. for it is here we reach the crux of the argument that we have not been fed, or that others in the mainline church failed to reach out to us: God's desire is to live in us. when we give up the chase, and allow God to have our hearts, we find the things that we were pursuing for ourselves do not measure up. we find that what God wants for us is better than what we want for us. and inevitably, we find the things we wanted get tacked on after the fact.
pop quiz: when you do not walk in the authority Christ gave you by overcoming death, how effective is your faith? where is the grace you received that made you want to accept Christ lo those many epochs of time ago? how many people beat a path to your door and say, 'your life is different from mine; how do I get a piece of that action?' very few people line up at my door with any sense of regularity. to which I would ask, do you see a pattern in this non-pattern?
satisfaction with a job well done (back in the frippin' 40's and 50's), followed by complacency, followed by legalism, is the death knell of the church in the postmodern era. my anecdotal evidence suggests to me we have failed to understand the times, and in doing so, failed to reach the very people we claim to be wooing.
Christ followers who have committed to engaging themselves in an organized religious (faith) institution fail to break the strongholds of legalism and tradition when they fail to accept God's still, small voice calling them to live differently than they "always have"; to do it better than "that's just the way it is." when we realize the church is meant to be a place of refuge and acceptance, but only if we, the collective church going members, are protective and accepting of others.
ask yourself, fellow churchgoer and Christ follower, the following:
what made church engaging to me, once upon a time?
what keeps me coming back?
am I making a difference in my local circle of spiritual influence?
would I know excellence in the church if it walked up and slapped me in the face?
am I living a life of transparency that people can still see Jesus in me, even through all the crap?
am I spiritually, emotionally, mentally healed, or am I one of the walking wounded?
if I'm not healed, how am I reaching out to God and others to help me?
if I am healed, how am I reaching out to others to help them?
and to the non-churchgoer and/or non-Jesus freak:
what would it take to come (back) to church?
if I truly am a spiritual seeker, how will I know when the void is filled?
what is the limiting factor for me in "organized" religion?
am I paying lip service to true spiritual fulfillment, or am I really looking for a place my beliefs can call home?
do I know what I believe?
do I know why I believe it?
this formula sums it up nicely: hurt people tend to hurt people; but healed people inevitably heal people. until we are willing to receive the healing we need in our own lives, we are largely ineffective in seeing others find a place of belonging and fulfillment in the church of the postmodern era.
cogent thought at
12:11 courtesy of Macker [
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bardavonian salome was a treat. I left the theater wondering what the point of the story was, much like I did with fargo, in that it was highly engaging yet thematically ... inconclusive. salome, loved by servants who cannot have her, loves one she cannot have (john the baptist), and turns his rejection of her into contempt for the only one with any sort of leverage to have her (herod the tetrarch). she turns this leverage to her own gain, and scorns the man she would have but who would not have her by having him killed.
so is the point that we can't always get what we want? or that when we can't, our nature is to despise the thing we once desired? the real reason john the baptist was beheaded? perhaps now we know why herod had it out for Jesus from the beginning ...
I have always wondered if I have it in me to write a piece of fiction, a creative writing style that has ever eluded me. I even have the main plot element, provided to me by william goldman. but a play .... that's a worthy endeavor. can one really learn such a craft? I contend we are all creative, and yet I wonder if we all have the capacity to learn to drive new vehicles of creativity.
salome I love al pacino. ditto robert de niro. from their moments in godfather part II (though they never shared the screen) to heat, where they shared more emotion with the imperceptible shift of an eyebrow, these two are masters of the craft.
it may be my own worshipfulness of their talent (or aura), but to see pacino and de niro, facing off, opposite one another in a coffee shop booth, and the tension is just as palpable as the final gun scene. there is an unspoken respect that shows in the eyes. there is a wistful feeling that once upon a time these two might have been friends. they share intimate things about themselves, as only men are wont to do, that they will not (or seem unable to) share with their closest friends and lovers.
for they are comrades.
so now that you know my passion for these actors, you should know how excited I would be to find out pacino is starring in salome in a theatre near me. of course, I could not be excited because I did not know; mrs. macker was going to surprise me with tickets, but they were sold out.
she relented and told me anyway. I tried not to be crushed.
last night, as we watched godfather, I decided to try ticketmaster. you'd think they would be fresh out too, right? so did I. turns out they had seats.
I admire michael moore's desire to right wrong, to seek out justice wherever it might be found ... even if it means exploiting victims of the columbine shooting by putting them in front of cameras as they show their wounds to the executives of k-mart, the sellers of the bullets used by eric harris and dylan klebold.
beyond that, the documentary was an entertaining, thought-provoking, assessment-driving, engaging, walking slew of contradictions.
with other visitors, the welcome of a salacious URL such as "praynaked.com" is worn the moment they arrive and notice the nudity on this site is in one's mind and soul. the referral links are occasionally hilarious, some downright scary and possibly illegal. but mostly I am just not their virtual cup of tea. I can only suspect what many a mind conjures up when I show up in their list of search results. clearly their expectations are lost quickly, based on the dearth of "0:00" elapsed time records.
the 
God is a safe house for the battered,
