Sex and the Church in the City May 31, 2007
A Predicament of Forgiveness Proportions
by Brian Thomas
“At that point Peter got up the nerve to ask, “Master, how many times do I forgive a brother or sister who hurts me? Seven?” Jesus replied, “Seven! Hardly. Try seventy times seven.”
Matthew 18:21-23 (Message)
Question for church leaders? What do you do if a formerly convicted child molester tells you he would like to start attending your church? How do you break it to your congregation? Do you let him in? Do you send him packing? Do you trust him? Do you set specific security guidelines for him, or trust that he is a changed man through Jesus? This is the predicament a local San Diego church has found itself struggling with over the past couple months, and it has reached the attention of local and national media outlets. I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened, and it certainly will not be the last, but it has found its way into my backyard and got me thinking about the nature of forgiveness.
The March 17th issue of the San Diego Union Tribune tells the story of Mark Pliska. When he moved to the area last December, he told the pastor of a church that he hoped to attend that he was a registered sex offender. Pliska said in an interview, “My reason for doing this was to keep myself safe and the church safe. I didn’t want to go to church keeping secrets. It takes too much energy to hide the past.”
Pliska hoped to find support, but found himself embroiled in a battle that have Christians asking the same question Peter asked Jesus: “How many times do I forgive someone who sins against me?” or in other words, “How deep should our forgiveness go?” Pliska believes the Lord has forgiven him and he wants the church to forgive him, too. In late January of this year, after visiting this particular church for a few Sundays, the pastor introduced Pliska to the congregation and asked him to tell his story. The response was so emotional and varied that Pliska agreed not to return until the church came to some consensus on the difficult issue.
Here are some of the responses:
“They don’t break the law while they’re here, and they show themselves off the property after they’re done – sure, I have no problem with it,” said one congregant who asked not to be identified.
“I would oppose that strongly,” said another local. “I would do anything within my power as a church member to make that not happen.”
“I think Jesus said we have to forgive everyone, and I would certainly welcome him into my church, but we have to be aware that he’s there,” said Julie Villano.
I’m not a member of this church, and I’m sure there are some particulars not open to the public, so I will not pass judgment. I sympathize with their concerns over safety and children, and applaud them for at least taking some measurable steps forward. After all, Mr. Pliska has been rejected outright by other churches in which he has sought refuge.
A predicament like this does, however, say much to a watching world that is quick to lay the “hypocrisy” verdict upon us whenever we act contrary to Jesus’ own ministry of reconciliation. After all, most of them are okay with Jesus, they just don’t care for his followers when we are unforgiving. I think sometimes we forget that Jesus died for sinners! The same Peter that struggled with this forgiveness question in his early ministry found comfort in the fact that the entire Bible testifies about the forgiveness found in Jesus Christ. “All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name” (Acts 10:43).
I recently wrote a review of the book, Stripped: Uncensored Grace on the Streets of Vegas, by Pastor Jud Wilhite. In it he tells many stories of God’s transforming grace that have reached people like Mr. Pliska. Jud says, “Uncensored grace is what you get from a loving God when all the religious types have gone home, and every last hope for your own effort has blown up in your face. Uncensored means that as wide and deep and high as your mountain of personal ruin might get, God’s transforming grace is always wider and deeper and higher.”
I’m not saying it is easy to forgive and forget the past. But Jesus sat and celebrated life with many not unlike Mr. Pliska, and the religious members of his day were none too happy with that fact. He let a whore wash his feet. He held a profound mid-day healing conversation with a Samaritan adulteress no one else liked. He ordained a tax collector to the ministry. To these and more, he said, “Friends, your sins are forgiven” (Luke 5:20), which includes you and me.
Mr. Pliska is an older man that has served his time, sought therapy, feels profound guilt and remorse for his sins, and is a member of a weekly support group. “I’m just looking for a fair shake and a chance to start a new life,” he said. “That’s all I’m looking for. I hope the community is willing to do that.” I don’t have all the answers, and I’m sure I haven’t thought through all the implications of this matter, but I hope that if someone like Mr. Pliska were to call me on the phone and ask if they could worship with me on Sunday, my church could pray with Jesus: “Father, forgive us our trespasses, as we also have forgiven our trespassers” (Matt. 6:12).
Building the Kingdom Through Socks and Cigarettes January 5, 2007
As missional people, we are all familiar with the term contextualization. It is one of those words that we embrace and hang our ecclesiastical hat on but, as is often the case, we may have difficulty defining it. As an exercise, quickly jot down your definition of contextualization. It is harder than you think. The best definition I have found is:
“Contextualization is the work of presenting and practicing the Christian faith in such a way that it is relevant within the surrounding cultural context” (read the full article here)
Once it is defined, one must make an effort to be contextual. This is less black and white. Being contextual means adapting. It means to live in a constant state of tension. The more I meditate on what it means to be contextual, the more I am willing to let the term remain full of question. Let it remain in the spiritual gray area, while the unyielding, so-called orthodox theologians draw their lines in the sand and forcing the kingdom of God into a neat and tidy little box—a box which unfortunately never allows any one out or, even worse, in.
I read this great passage recently in Rick McKinley’s excellent book This Beautiful Mess. Beginning to see the world around him through the lens of the Kingdom of God, McKinley describes a paradigm shift experienced by he and his friends in their ministry to the lost and broken. God worked in their heart to show them a way to bring the gospel to the forgotten: God taught them to be contextual. McKinley writes:
“…no flashy programs. But with God’s help, we were beginning to embark
on a new way of being and seeing the world. A new way like socks and cigarettes for example.
Our group started passing out socks and cigarettes to the street youth of Portland. Hundreds of kids living on the streets were confronted with the kingdom through socks and cigarettes. The socks and cigarettes met needs, spoke their language, announced that someone cared and showed them that in the kingdom of heaven, no one is a throwaway.” (p. 52)
I understand that you are reading this passage out of context (no pun intended) but what is your gut feeling about their approach? Do you feel a little strange about it? What if next Sunday your pastor announced that your church was going to start a ministry to homeless street youth and the tool they were going to use to gain credibility and trust was to hand out cigarettes? Would you feel self-righteous indignation (after all, we know that Jesus doesn’t want us to smoke right?!) or would you see a bigger picture? The bigger picture of the story of God’s redemption that He wants to tell through you in a context that, in McKinley’s words, speaks the language of the culture.
As I sit and write this, I am at a Boys and Girls Club sponsored skate park sitting at a picnic table. Along with my 8-year old son, there are about 50 kids, all seemingly 12 and under, skating the ramps and rails…and as I look around I am the only parent here. Not an adult in sight. I can have two responses—I can shake my head in disgust and curse that my city is falling apart because our youth are lost and have no parental guidance. Or I can use this as an opportunity to be a glimpse of the kingdom, if even to just one of these kids. I won’t hand them a tract, invite them to my church (yet) or take them down the Romans road. No, I will meet them here on their turf and talk about skateboarding. I’ll talk to them about their music. I’ll talk to them about whatever they want to talk about. I can get to know them and their names. I can learn about their families, where they go to school, and what level of Tony Hawk Project 8 they have reached. Maybe it will all lead to nothing (in my eyes at least)…Yet my heart knows that even if none of these kids ever darken the doorway of a church, God loves them and created them. I know that there is a Savior who died and has taken away the sins of the world. Will they ever taste the sweetness of the gospel and be a participant in His kingdom like my son and I have the privilege of doing? I can pray for that. I can pray for God to use me in making that a reality. I can pray for God to show me what my socks and cigarettes will be, not just here at the skate park but wherever I go.
What about you? Take a look around you—the kingdom is happening. Don’t be a bystander and watch it go by. Grab whatever the socks and cigarettes are in your context and start handing them out.
Book Review: This Beautiful Mess January 4, 2007
In his timely book This Beautiful Mess, Rick McKinley, pastor of Imago Dei Community in Portland, Oregon, clarifies our many misunderstandings of this thing called The Kingdom of God. McKinley hypothesizes that much of the church today has forgotten the true meaning of the gospel message.
According to McKinley, at the center of the gospel message is something not so tidy, not so neat, not so perfect. Building upon Jesus words in the Beatitudes, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” the conclusion is that the kingdom is for those who lack and those who are broken. Unfortunately, most of us are too busy involved in other matters to see the beauty (i.e. The Beautiful Mess) that is the kingdom around us.
Jesus’ teaching of the kingdom being something here and now is something missed by most theologians—and therefore most Christians. In most eyes, the kingdom has been reduced, spiritualized or something future. That combined with the individualist mindset of our American culture empties the power and usefulness of the gospel. Shying away from such things as pain, suffering and poverty, what remains is an impotent shell of what the kingdom is supposed to be: an anchor of hope rooted in Christ’s sacrifice, mercy and grace.
McKinley challenges us to re-imagine our life and our service with the Jesus and His kingdom at the center. Building upon anecdotes of his own journey and experience, McKinley paints a beautiful picture of what the kingdom should be. Laboring side by side with the members of his church, Imago dei Community, they have seen their life and their city changed. He is clear that God is the one building his kingdom and they are only privileged participants—he is not promoting a social gospel.
Selflessly responding to the needs of the broken and suffering in our midst, the gift the church ultimately offers is found in Jesus. Practicing the presence of the kingdom (the books’ subtitle) is not a one-shot deal—it is organic, time consuming, and long-term. The examples McKinley writes about are rich with grace, mercy and unconditional love.
McKinley never claims to be a theologian himself. However, the result of “This Beautiful Mess” is more powerful than any theology textbook can offer. He possesses credibility because he and his church are actually living out their theology. James chapter 2 states “Faith without works is dead.” It is clear that McKinley, Imago dei Community and their friends have faith. Let’s hope that the church at large re-discovers its faith as well. If they do, they will find a beautiful mess waiting for them.
Pastoral Confession
Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Washington, recently wrote an interesting piece about the fall of Ted Haggard. Driscoll, in his usual pull-no-punches style, outlined 6 things we can all learn from his situation. (read the complete piece here).
All 6 points are powerful; however, it is the first point that should intrigue the most:
“Like 1 Timothy 5:24 says, some mens sins are out ahead of them in plain sight while others trail behind them. In this instance, Haggards sin finally caught up with him after his admittedly many years of battling in shame and secrecy. This is a wake-up call for all Christian leaders to be open and honest about sin and temptation before it ends up in a similar scandalous scenario.”
In this day and age, pastors are living increasingly in the fishbowl under the microscope of not only their congregations but, through media, the entire world. Let’s face it—the world loves it when a Christian falls. And, as the old adage says, the bigger they come—the harder they fall. The Haggard story provided great fodder for the late-night talk shows and cable news outlets.
Driscolls’ wake-up call for pastors to be open and honest about sin should be heeded. But how does that happen? What does it look like? The most important question is what accountability structure do we have for our pastors to do that?
Being a pastor has to be a lonely place. Imagine everyone looking at you for spiritual guidance and comfort. Everyone is looking to you for the biblical answers for their problems. Everyone is looking at you to be the example of the perfect Christian. Everyone expects you to be the perfect pastor, the perfect husband, the perfect father.
Do we really want our pastors do be open and honest about their sin? Every unrealistic image of who are pastors are will be shattered. Craig Groeschel, pastor of the mega-church Lifechurch.tv, recently wrote a book called Confessions of a Pastor: Adventures in Dropping the Pose and Getting Real With God. Written before the Haggard scandal, Groeschel writes with sobering honesty about the many struggles he has as a follower of Christ. While the many challenges he faces are serious, they pale in comparison to the severity of Haggard’s fall. Yet, the fact that he is a pastor may be unnerving to some. There may even be some who think that he should not be a pastor. Many find it unnerving to know that their pastor struggles with lust. Some would be shocked to learn that their pastor really doesn’t like prayer meetings. Maybe your pastor doesn’t like some people. Would that upset you? Groeschel’s book gives us great insight into how our pastors are just normal men with all the same struggles, sins and weaknesses that we all have.
Driscoll’s call for pastoral honesty and openness made needs to be heeded by every church. No pastor should stand alone. Every pastor should have a group of men (elders, deacons, leaders) in the church who surround, protect and encourage him. As a normal practice, our pastors should have the liberty to confess their sins with these men. What is needed is not some hokey, Oprah-like appearance of transparency where our pastors get in touch with their “more sensitive side” and cry like babies. But down and dirty confession and repentance with men who will pray with and for their pastor.
In hindsight, maybe that’s what Ted Haggard needed. Let’s hope that all churches will learn this lesson and strive to give their pastor the liberty to be weak. When we do this, maybe the days of the fallen pastor will be a thing of the past.
Book Review: Confessions of a Pastor January 2, 2007
Confessions of a Pastor: Adventures in Dropping the Pose and Getting Real With God is the perfect title for Craig Groeschel’s brutally honest story of his struggles as the founder and pastor of Lifechurch.tv. From the early days as a church plant to its growth into a mega-church, Groeschel chronicles not only the corporate struggles of the church but also his many failings and inadequacies as the pastor. Not for the squeamish, the book candidly explores the spiritual walk of a man through the challenges of planting a church, weathering the storms that come, and emerging on the other side not necessarily victorious-but having a sense of God’s strength despite his own weaknesses. Transparency and honesty are buzzwords that are commonplace in the market of ideas of spiritual discipline and growth. As laymen, we are encouraged to explore these ideas. But do we expect or desire the same from our pastors? Seemingly not. More than ever, the current climate is a distrust and suspicion of the men who are called to be the leaders of the church. Our foolish expectation of these men of God is to be men of strength, unflinching in their steadfastness and perfect examples of integrity. Should we be surprised when they are not?
Some may choose to continue to live in a state of denial. After all, aren’t pastors supposed to be above reproach? Readers of Groeschel’s book will find that they are far from it. Any person who reads this book will see a mirror of himself on each page-and, more importantly, we will see our pastors. This can be either a relief or terrifying-depending on what side of the fence they are on.
Groeschel opens the Pandora’s box of lust and sexual purity dealing with it tastefully with a sense of sobriety without being titillating or shocking. Pride and arrogance also rear their ugly head. Marriage and parenting failures also litter the path of Groeschel’s journey. How refreshing to hear that pastors do not necessarily always love their wives as Christ loved the church. What about raising their kids in the fear of the Lord? Inconsistently. In other words, they are just like you and me. Occasionally victorious-more often than not, falling short.
Written in a quick-paced narrative style, Groeschel riddles his story with the lessons he has learned along the way. Ever the pastor, his lessons resonate with application not just for pastors but anyone seeking to grow in their faith.
Groeschel should be commended for being at the forefront of tearing down the stereotypes and unrealistic expectations we place upon our pastors. With his Confesssions let’s pray that other pastors, and all believers for that matter, will follow his lead and be fearless in admitting their faults and weaknesses. Our churches can only be better as we all learn to “drop the pose and get real with God.”
Wired: For A Life of Worship December 10, 2006
Author: Louie Giglio with Stuart Hall 
One of the first things I struggled with when I first became a Christian was worship. Because I had never been exposed to any sort of church tradition or practice, I pigeon-holed the practice of worship as being the 15-20 minutes of music and singing before the sermon. (The on-going debates around me about contemporary vs. traditional, praise choruses vs. hymns did not help my struggle–it only reinforced my immature misconception of worship being only about singing.) I don’t think I was alone in that struggle in the early days of my faith. Looking back, a book such as Wired: For A Life Of Worship, by Louie Giglio, would have been an invaluable resource. In eleven succinct, easy-to-read chapters, Giglio gives the reader a complete snapshot of what true worship is. Both anthropological and theological, the result is challenging and life-changing to any reader regardless of where they are on their spiritual journey. Sleekly presented with simple text interspersed with bold color, assorted font styles and wide margins, the book itself is aesthetically pleasing. However, the old adage about not judging a book by its cover rings true. In a day and age where style is emphasized over substance, it is refreshing to find a solid combination of both. Within the pages of Giglio’s book, the reader is systematically taught a full-orbed perspective of worship beginning with a general analysis of all of mankind. Using scriptures along with anecdotal stories and practical experience, Giglio hypothesizes that every person is born with a God-given desire to worship; i.e. we are “wired” for worship. Even after the fall of man, the need and drive to worship something remains. However, stained by sin the human heart resorts to worshipping anything but God. From here, Giglio skillfully builds one point upon the other painting a beautiful picture of creation, fall, grace and redemption.Perusing many other books written on the subject work of worship, I have found that many of them erred on the side of being overly self-centered, individualistic, mind-numbingly mystical and theologically muddy. Giglio, on the other hand, emphasizes the work of Christ on the cross, the importance of sacrificial living with others in community, and a Christ-centered love of God out of response for what He has done. The result is a good balance of theological and practical applications. The headings for each chapter illustrate how the theme of each builds upon the other:
- Chapter One: That Thing We do–Everybody worships something.·
- Chapter Two: Something More–We are made to worship God.
- Chapter Three: Why Worship Matters–We need to worship God.
- Chapter Four: What God Wants Most for You–true worship begins at the cross of Christ.
- Chapter Five: Joining the Ranks of True Worshippers
- Chapter Six: For who He is and What He does
- Chapter Seven: Worship as a Way of Life
- Chapter Eight: Through Jesus, All the Time
- Chapter Nine: Lips and Lives–everything can be worship when it’s done for God’s glory.
- Chapter Ten: A Personal Path to Worship
- Chapter Eleven: Moving Beyond Me, to Us–community worship
Through each chapter I was challenged and convicted personally in all areas of life–how I think, how I serve, how I use my gifts and resources, how I work and even how I rest. Do I make every part of my life an opportunity to worship? Or do I compartmentalize them? Do I view the things that God has blessed me with as mine and that I somehow deserve them? Or are they gifts from God that I am to use for His glory alone? Do I view time as mine or a tool to use for His purpose? Tackling this book was a humbling endeavor and I doubt that I will be alone in that conclusion. Interspersed in the content of each chapter is a brief, devotional bible study which addresses the theme being discussed. This is an extremely helpful tool in supplementing the understanding of the chapter. Also, there are discussion questions at the end of each chapter which makes this a great resource for small groups or home bible studies. (Note: the book is also packaged with a devotional/bible study called “30-Day Worship Journey” which takes the reader through 30 different Psalms. With each Psalm the reader is taught how to note key phrases and words to capture the theme of each Psalm; essentially, you are taught how to study the Bible. By the end of the 30 days, the reader is able to do each exercise without any outline or instruction from Giglio. Again, this is a very effective resource especially for the newer Christian.)
Although Giglio gears his material for a younger audience in both its style and presentation, Wired: For a Life of Worship will surely challenge the most mature of reader. Having our preconceptions (which are often misconceptions) confronted, deconstructed and re-shaped is often times painful but ultimately necessary. Only when we view all of our life as worship will we be able to “offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God–this is your spiritual act of worship” (Romans 12:1).
Lent & Our American Style Fasting March 15, 2006
Now that Easter is approaching, a lot of people are observing Lent, and looking for something they can fast from that will feel like somewhat of a sacrifice, but whose absence won’t impact their lives too negatively. At the same time, there are those who are earnestly seeking God, and their fast serves the purpose of helping them focus on their need for redemption and their abhorrence of sin. Lately, I have been meditating on Isaiah 58, and thinking about what fasting ought and ought not to look like and what should flow from the practice of this spiritual discipline.
First and foremost, fasting is a way of humbling ourselves before God. Going without food for a more sustained period of time forces us to acknowledge that “man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” (Matt. 4:4) Isaiah wastes no time in pointing out that even this can be twisted into a selfish act:
Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure, and oppress all your workers. Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to hit with a wicked fist. Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day for a person to humble himself? Is it to bow down his head like a reed, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Will you call this a fast, and a day acceptable to the LORD?
One might see the outward acts of contrition such as a dour, mopey face, and some other obvious tokens of sacrifice and self-abasement (“Oh, no, I’ve sworn off eating 5-course meals at my favorite expensive restaurants this month; I’m fasting, don’t you know”) and think a couple of different things about the nature of my humility. It’s possible that I might sincerely be offering those things as sacrifices to God, or I might be doing it so that others will take note of my elevated level of personal holiness. But if you were to see those things Isaiah mentions in my life before, during or after my time of fasting, you would be justified in wanting to see God lay the smackdown on me.
Smackdown is precisely what Isaiah lays on Israel. He says:
Cry aloud; do not hold back; lift up your voice like a trumpet; declare to my people their transgression, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet they seek me daily and delight to know my ways , as if they were a nation that did righteousness and did not forsake the judgement of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments; they delight to draw near to God. ‘Why have we fasted, and you see it not? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?
Of all the things that ought to make me stop to check, recheck, and recheck my motives again, one of them should certainly be the fact that even going through all of the motions of fasting and humbling ourselves, and seemingly delighting in God, it is still possible to not do righteousness and to forsake the judgement of my God. Even in the most intimate moments of worship, self can still rear its ugly head and refuse to relinquish anything to God, and find some way to turn everything to my benefit. This is kind of life looks no different than the unregenerate one, except that it has a veneer of Christian moralism obscuring the the true depth of my wickedness.
But compare this with the results of the kind of fasting that God told Isaiah he wanted to see:
Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
When fasting is done with closer communion with God as the goal, self is increasingly pushed aside, and we are now able to see those around us, their needs, and what we need to do to meet them; as Paul says in Philippians 2, “… in humility count others more significant than yourselves.”
In America, there will always be the tendency to find excuses for why the recipients of this kind of care don’t deserve what Isaiah proposes we should be giving. We have become more and more white-knuckled to “our” wealth, as though it wasn’t God who gave it to us, and God who continues to allow us to enjoy it, all the while forgetting that Christ died to give us something that not a single one of us deserves. Even the church can exemplify this stingy spirit; we spend millions on new church buildings, facilities and the latest pet ministry, yet we don’t seem to want to get them dirty by actually using them in the sometimes messy way that kingdom living requires of us. It’s not unlike the guitar collector who spends a couple hundred grand on a ’54 Strat, but won’t take it out of its climate-controlled box and play it, and letting anyone else even touch it is out of the question. In his book Under the Overpass, Mike Yankoski describes one such church where he and his homeless partner-in-crime Sam were asked to leave. The church was having a breakfast function of some sort, and despite having a tailor-made opportunity to share their bread with Mike and Sam, they threw them off the church grounds because “The fact is, they’re not for this…” The obvious question as to what they are for is never answered.
Thankfully, that particular man repented of his actions, but what is distressing is that given the fact that in evangelicalism the Word is supposed to be the final authority in our lives, we shouldn’t even have to argue for the idea of pursuing mercy ministries for the poor and the homeless. All it should take is one look at the many scriptures dealing directly with the issue, and people should be asking, “Where do I sign up?” Instead, living out a consistently merciful life is rationalized away in the interests of comfort. After all, dealing with the kind of dirty, disheveled, smelly, speed fiends that Yankoski did during his five months of living homeless is kind of scary, and not always very convenient.
But if we truly, humbly pursue God for his own sake, as someone valuable in and of himself, and perhaps even fast before him from time to time, so that we would learn to live by every word that comes out of his mouth, we will regain an eternal perspective on life and realize that when we are preoccupied with material blessing we are settling for far less than God can give us. Isaiah paints a compelling picture of what that would look like:
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in. If you turn back your foot from the Sabbath, from doing your pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight and the holy day of the LORD honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, or seeking your own pleasure, or talking idly; then you shall take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”
Does anything more need to be said?
AUTHOR: Jay has a bachelor’s degree in philosophy from San Diego State University, and is an aspiring school teacher, filmmaker, and all-around adventurist. He attends and plays guitar in the worship band at Kaleo Church, and occasionally blogs his travel stories and culture-related musings at www.thereandbackagain.blogware.com/blog.
I’ll be posting soon… January 23, 2006
I’ve launched the blog, I’m working on a bunch of writing which I’ll post soon…..