the post-karmic stream

Deep Impact

2011-10-19T14:40:00.002-05:00

The final installment of our Into the Deep series.

Deep Impact from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

Family Friday: San Antonio Zoo

2011-10-14T16:20:00.002-05:00

Friday is for a Pastor what Saturday is for everyone else. It is the first day of my weekend (since Sunday is the first day of my work week).

Stef and I try to get out when the weather is nice and enjoy Bella at her awesome age. For Bella, everything is worth talking about and everything is very exciting - we even had a spontaneous dance party at the Zoo this week.

Fridays hold some of my favorite family memories and this week was no exception.

Focused

2011-10-11T08:36:00.001-05:00

Focused from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

Deeper Into "40": A Sunday Morning Metaphor

2011-10-10T18:08:00.000-05:00

When planning out a church service at Grace Point, we often add songs, video clips, or other elements to help raise key themes or hammer home the message of the day. It is hardly edgy in the American church in 2011 to play a movie clip or a pop song, yet there are often little surprises hidden in those elements, little messages within the messages.

This past Sunday, I had the band play U2's "40" after my sermon as a way to close out the day and reiterate the main idea of the day - we have to focus on God and push out all of the distractions offered by the world. U2 asked the closing question for me: "How long?".

How long will we sing the song of distracted, discouraged and disengaged people? When will we sing the new song that he has put on our lips, the song of redemption referenced in Pslam 40:3.

As part of the "punch" of the song, I had each of the musicians peel off one by one during the song. First, our Worship Pastor finished singing and exited, then the electric guitarist played a few final licks and walked off. Finally the bassist made his way off the stage, leaving only the drummer, playing starkly by himself, isolated as the only point of action, the sole area of focus in a dark and static room.

For an idea of how this worked (and where I plainly stole the inspiration) check the below video - the walkout begins about 9:00 into the clip.

I think most people caught the main message. After all, "How long?" was sung and plastered on the screens, which then silently dismissed the crowd as the final drumbeat sounded, leaving a moment of absolute silence before the lights came back up.

I wonder, though, how many people caught the deeper symbolism.

Notice the way that the musicians slowly peel away in the video above? They were (as ours were Sunday morning) metaphoric distractions and distortions that distract us from the "main thing" in our lives. As they leave the stage, the sound becomes simpler and our focus is narrowed, until it is finally honed in on a sole musician. The drummer is the final resting place for our attention.

As in life, less can be more, and focus is easier as we sweep away distractions. Did you catch that on Sunday? We artistically (and hopefully very subtly) tried to illustrate the whole point of the morning in the final 6 minutes. "Keep your eyes on the MAIN THING...peel away the layers and learn to focus." If the drummer was the "main thing", we only began to really notice him and pay attention to him as all of the other parts (some much flashier and more prominent) disappeared.

What would those parts, those layers, be in our lives? What obfuscates your view of God? What steals attention from Him?

There aren't always so many layers to what is going on during a given Sunday morning. Sometimes a song is just a song - and usually that is all it needs to be. This Sunday, however, our "Into the Deep" series took us just a bit deeper...even if we didn't notice it the first time around.

What Would Make Jesus Wear This...?

2011-10-07T11:13:00.001-05:00

Seize the Day

2011-10-06T19:34:00.000-05:00

Seize The Day from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

Austin Pedestrian Crossings?

2011-09-30T08:53:00.000-05:00

Entangled: Deepak Chopra, Appointment TV, and Pumpkin Spice Lattes

2011-09-27T06:41:00.004-05:00

Deepak Chopra was in San Antonio this week, speaking at a fundraiser for the Battered Women's and Children's Shelter of Bexar County. People paid money to a great cause to hear the famous "well-being expert" give his thoughts on the future of health and wellness.

I am not sure what qualifies someone as an expert on well-being and I am not intending to hate on what Chopra brings to the table. I just don't get it.

What I am sure about is that 1200 people came to listen to Chopra, hoping to be inspired, stretched, and enlightened. Here is an excerpt from a San Antonio Express-News story on the event:

Chopra began with the basics of his views on mind-body, spirituality and consciousness, “the true nature of being.”

“It's all entangled,” he said.

The founder of the Chopra Foundation and the Chopra Center for Wellbeing, in Carlsbad, Calif., opened by talking about the human body's “dynamic exchanges with forces of the universe.”

On the atomic and subatomic level, he said the human body is constantly recycled — and not a fixed structure. “The human body is a process,” he said, “a biosphere that recycles itself.”

Human genes “are the memory, the record of evolution.”

Chopra went deeper, tapping “the mystery of consciousness.” For him, consciousness equals the soul. But just as often, he was light and playful, offering ways to increase happiness, as well as simple meditation to reach “the space between your thoughts.”

The space between my thoughts is confused.

I can't tell if Chopra is really incredibly profound or merely poetic. I start to break down the words he uses and wonder if "dynamic exchanges with the forces of the universe" is any different that saying that Cletus "got himself a sunburn by sleeping in the truck stop parking lot again". The sun ("a force of the universe") has a "dynamic exchange" (UV rays piercing skin) with Cletus. Right?

I am sure Chopra has great wisdom, so I don't want to act as if he is some hack and that I've got all the answers. I just get the sense that we're so incredibly anxious to be sold something that we'll buy whatever is presented in the prettiest package.

So speaking of pretty packages...

--

Ever been hooked on something?

Welcome to the fall, home of Pumpkin Spice Lattes and new television programming. Warm sugar and caffeine flows through your body (your "biosphere", remember?) and beautiful people are paraded through your television screen at an ever-increasing rate.

As a former barista, I cannot tell you how many times people would tell me how they were "hooked" on Pumpkin Spice Lattes.

As a human being in 2011, I am also a bit embarrassed to admit that I think I'd like to get "hooked" on a television program.

The fall brings new shows and new chances for us to bond with characters, empathize with fictional people, and admire the Utopian beauty of a place where every woman is 5'8", 27 years old, and nicely toned and every man is 6'2", 32 years old, and obviously sporting a regular workout regimen. She eats salads (dry) and he actually rotates between upper body and lower body at the gym. "You watching this, honey?"

We want to buy into this world and I can only surmise that it helps us escape ours.

We eagerly await something to "hook" us. Please. Anything.

My wife and I sometimes watch The Office on the internet weeks after the episode airs, but probably wouldn't notice for a few months if the show was pulled. We try to watch Survivor (the shame I bear in the shadows...) but it appears at the confluence of evil known as 7pm - not early enough to avoid toddler bath-time and night-time rituals and not late enough to actually allow us to conclude those rituals and sit on the couch.

So we remain unhooked. But, secretly, we wish we had "a show" together, a space in the week where we could meet transcendence. I believe this would be called "appointment television".

I don't know why we want so badly to consume something so breathlessly. We know that the show will get canceled or moved to a crummy time slot or will just become stale. We've been burned before and we've seen the rise and fall of so many likely lures. And yet, we yearn to join the masses who tell the masses on Facebook about the new show that has absolutely "hooked" them.

Almost like getting in early on a hot stock...except the return on the investment is, well, a lot of missing hours and maybe a reflection of reality that can be recognized through looking backwards. Maybe.

--

We want so badly to catch the wave of the larger truth or the movement that will bind us with all of the billions of others who feel as listless and empty as we do.

We cheer on our sports teams of highly paid men in matching spandex trousers (or worse, highly paid college "students" that we pretend are not paid). We fall head over heels into television, our mental lives becoming indecipherable from those on our 42" flat-screen. We attend lectures and read books of the finest minds vocabulary can create, hoping that some magic phrase, some perfect poetry, will unlock the knot in our souls and allow us peaceful sleep at night.

I don't really know how to resolve this tension inside of myself. Maybe I should say that we're just chasing interaction with the dynamic forces of the universe and that, perhaps, it's all entangled.

Bourbon Chicken is Our Enemy

2011-09-24T13:13:00.003-05:00

"Bourbon Chicken!" one yells out.

"Sample, sample - two entree four dollar," cries another.

"Gyro? Gyro?," asks yet another.

These are the sample people at the mall food court. They are at the the mall I go to and the mall you go to, both the one you grew up going to which is now too ghetto for you and the one you go to now that is, admittedly, a bit too pricey for you.

These sample people, poor wretched souls hawking fatty hunks of sugared meat on toothpicks for $7 an hour, may just be one of the defining pictures of our society.

You see, they've figured us out. We can't help ourselves. We have to consume things. Give me a taste and I will almost surely want to own my own corner of the sugared fatty meat commodities trade.

I see this everywhere. And we are getting duped by this all of the time.

Let me smell the cologne. Yes, I'll take four bottles, please. Give me a ride in your car. I would like a car like that. Hear a song I like...then race to "own" that song (you know, just in case the modern world falls apart, I have a copy of the song on my hard drive...and cloud storage drive in case that fails...and in my external hard drive in case the cloud breaks down...and backed up onto CD in case we regress technologically). Get the point?

In leading a mission team to South Africa this May, we had a running joke about the American need to consume. We were feeding starving children, delivering the Gospel to prisoners, and giving 10 days of our lives to see the local church of Johannesburg encouraged. And around every corner, the team was asking me if there were souvenirs for each event in which we took part.

Can we buy a South African prison jumpsuit? Where did those street kids get that scarf? Can we stop there? Can we eat that? Can I own one? We laughed at how pathetic we were. Secretly, though, we cried.

We couldn't escape our American (human?) need to consume. We had traveled all the way around the world, sacrificed so much to do humble ministry, and then succumbed to the siren song of our modern lives.

Bourbon Chicken?

Rich, Sad Clowns?

2011-09-15T11:30:00.001-05:00

“The United States is the wealthiest nation in the history of the world, yet its inhabitants are strikingly unhappy. Accordingly, we present to the rest of mankind, on a planet rife with suffering and tragedy, the spectacle of a clown civilization. Sustained on a clown diet rich in sugar and fat, we have developed a clown physiognomy. We dress like clowns. We move about a landscape filled with cartoon buildings in clownmobiles, absorbed in clownish activities. We fill our idle hours enjoying the canned antics of professional clowns... Death, when we acknowledge it, is just another pratfall on the boob tube. Bang! You're dead!”

― James Howard Kunstler

Euro No More: Or How We Can Learn to Stop Hating and Love Major League Soccer

2011-06-24T20:05:00.010-05:00

Over ninety-thousand spectators gathered in the Rose Bowl to watch a US sporting event.

Nine. Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.

That is a lot of people to attend anything. Especially anything not named the Super Bowl. When many hear that the throngs showed up for soccer, for the Gold Cup final, they will be very surprised indeed. They would not be so shocked, however, had they been paying attention recently.

Soccer is legitimate in America. Forget legitimate, actually. It is BOOMING.

Attendance is up yet again and MLS is playing at levels previously unseen on this continent. The quality of the product, on and off the field, is at an all-time high, the league is growing in every direction, and, unlike the NFL and NBA, the sport lacks all of the drama of lockouts and handbags between millionaires.

Soccer is on in America. And it is time to join the party.

America actually has a ton of soccer fans. Unfortunately, too many of these folks fit the label of "Eurosnob". You know this guy. Maybe you are this guy. This is the guy who drones on and on about how if MLS had any decent players or anywhere near the quality of the Premiership or La Liga, well then maybe he would watch. This guy talks about "Total Football" and UEFA and steers every American soccer conversation to Alexi Lalas to avoid revealing that he hasn't paid much attention domestically since, oh, 1996.

I actually don't argue with this soccer fan. He is knowledgeable and passionate and loves a good product. He appreciates the European atmosphere and the skill of the players who ply their trade overseas. Good for him.

Our friend the Eurosnob probably loves American soccer, if only in the form of the US Men's National Team. He sports a Landon Donovan jersey during the World Cup and waxes eloquently about craft beers and Lionel Messi. Really...good for him.

I sat my Eurosnob friend down recently. It had to stop. More than anything, my friend was missing out on the birth of something amazing.

I nicely explained that he needed to check out MLS one more time. He chuckled. I explained how 2011 is not 2005 and that if he would be so patient as to wake up to the new reality, he might just enjoy the ride.

Let me introduce you, I said, to Eric Hassli. He's a French dude. He plays for Vancouver. He scores unbelievable goals in front of 36,000 screaming fans.

Um, ya. My friend sat with his jaw on the floor. Ok, well...

"But what about the atmosphere," Eurosnob wondered? Is that just Seattle?

It's a good question, really. Half of the fun of any live sporting event is the atmosphere. Many still remember when every MLS match was seemingly played in a 60s era football stadium with 9,000 people in the stands. Oh, how times have changed.

New soccer-specific stadiums filled with incredible supporters' groups all over the country have made the beautiful game really beautiful in America. Fans pack stadiums in Toronto and Philadelphia, in New York and Los Angeles, in Kansas City and Salt Lake. And Portland. How to explain what is happening in Portland...

That should do.

Well, unless the argument is that there isn't some brilliant play happening in America. The entire league has risen in stature, but one player in particular has upped the class of MLS entirely. Thierry Henry is still very much a force. And Thierry Henry is worth watching all by himself.

Soccer in America is quickly catching up to the elite leagues of the world. Cities around the country are being lit on fire by the excitement that comes with a real club to support and a real stadium to capture the atmosphere. Incredible talents are finding their way to American clubs more and more. Incredible buildings are showcasing captivating skill. Incredible storylines are being written every week.

It is simply a matter of exposure. My Eurosnob friend downloaded the MLS iPhone app right there and then and has been catching up on 2011 highlights since. My neophyte friends are beginning to see that the beautiful game possesses an allure not found in other sports. My fellow Americans are waking up to a new reality.

Soccer is legitimate...and it is legitimately crushing the American sports scene.

A Rush of Blood to the Head: Of Brian Mullan, Broken Legs, and Forgiveness

2011-04-23T10:31:00.003-05:00

"A rush of blood to the head"... Before it was a Coldplay album title, it was an English idiom. Still is an idiom, I suppose. Silly rock stars hijacking our popular phrases. Anyway, a "rush of blood to the head" basically describes when one gets overexcited or angry and, in a quick reactionary burst, does something silly (and oftentimes regrettable).

Colorado Rapids player Brian Mullan had a rush of blood to the head on Friday night. And it certainly led to regrettable behavior.

Upset that a foul was not called during the MLS match he was playing in, Mullan reacted by making a foolish, reckless, and altogether malicious tackle on a fellow player (who happened to be uninvolved in the original incident).

The photo above shows the result as it happened. The young, talented Steve Zakuani suffered a broken tibia and fibula as his teammates looked on in horror.

Immediately, the internet exploded in rage against Mullan's actions. The calls for punishment were swift and severe, with fans calling for anything from lengthy suspensions to formal criminal charges being filed.

The outburst is understandable, as we imagine that somehow our games, our sport, is safe from the nonsensical violence that plagues our society. And yet every so often we are reminded that the human condition doesn't politely remain outside of the chalk lines of a football pitch.

Fitting, I suppose, that it is Easter weekend. It is a weekend for forgiveness and remembrance that we all fall short of the standard and that we need Jesus to bring us back to wholeness. Steve Zakuani is a follower of Christ and I imagine that he will forgive his offender. Whether the rest of us will is another question entirely.

What is certain is that we all occasionally suffer a rush of blood to the head. Luckily, ours aren't placed on national TV for all to see and judge.

**Below is the video of the play. It is not for the squeamish. You've been warned.**

The Passion of the Christ

2011-04-23T10:29:00.000-05:00

It is All About Jesus, Part 2: The Passion of Jesus

2011-04-23T10:22:00.004-05:00

It is All About Jesus: The Mind-Blowing Beauty of Scripture

2011-04-14T20:47:00.002-05:00

I preached on the night of 4/10/2011. All about how all of Scripture is about Jesus and not us...and how incredibly, mind-blowingly beautiful it is... Enjoy.

Deco Pizzeria

2011-04-08T12:17:00.005-05:00

Deco Pizzeria just opened in the Deco District. The food is superb, the service wonderful, and the friendliness of everyone involved refreshing.

The only problem one might discover is in the fact that the restaurant's name steers you to pizza...I am proposing a name change to "Deco Pizzeria, CheeseSteakeria, Saladeria, BuffaloWingeria, Meatballeria, and SweetPatioeria" so that the fullness of awesomeness might be known.

In the week leading up to the grand opening, we made sure to make several visits to our new local gathering spot. Some highlights...

- The pasta dishes, which were always solid and very reasonably priced, are a hit with everyone. Bella, for one, might have a meatball addiction.

- The wings are killer, served traditionally or naked with sauce on the side. The wings are meaty and have just enough kick to have you reaching for your drink.

- The Philly Cheese Steak was a surprise winner, peppery and stacked with fresh grilled onion and bell pepper.

- The wife reports that the salads are superb and that the fruit pizza was "amazing".

- And, finally, the pizza. Well put together, good proportions with regard to cheese/sauce/toppings and that fresh out of the oven crispiness in the crust make for a good foundation. Word from friends has it that the White Pizza, in particular, stands out.

So there you have it. Roll a ton of great food options, reasonable prices, and friendly staff into one place (and then add one of the best outdoor patios in the inner city) and what we have is a new place to call our own.

Deco Pizzeria, welcome to the neighborhood!!

The Illusion of Security: The Difference Between Blinking Lights and Jesus Christ

2011-04-04T14:48:00.004-05:00

Watch the YouTube clip first...It precedes the message below.

The Illusion of Security from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

On The Street (Outside of the Car)

2011-03-21T09:17:00.000-05:00

There is a value to being on the street that we don't know of until we actually get out of our protective Japanese/German/Detroit-built car-shells.

There is a connectedness found in pavement meeting the soles of shoes or the tread of skinny bicycle tires.

Suffering can be noticed while one is walking and one's gait is easier to adjust than the thousands of pounds of automobile that we pilot. A bicycle allows for noise and smell to penetrate the riders space, something no dual-climate auto-defrost motorcar would ever forcefully impose upon it's loving owner.

Occasionally, we actually meet people in such a manner, on the street, whether just for a passing conversation or in the midst of their time of need.

I ran into my friend/brother/leader/minister Ryan Callahan this way recently. He lives in our 78201 neighborhood and he was crossing the street walking to HEB as I was waiting on the traffic light to let my bicycle leave HEB.

He was carrying a bicycle wheel.

I pulled over to the sidewalk and we chatted about energy drinks and the tardiness of mass transit. And, somewhere in there, his tire revealed that he had a bicycle problem, a bum wheel.

I think he ended up borrowing my bike long enough to air up the tires and make it nicer for me to take back a day or two later. Still, what if his need had lingered and my surplus could have helped longer? On the street, my excess met his need. Back on the street, his generosity bettered my excess and it will now be ready for the next person who comes along.

He meets people like this all day, on the bus and on his bike. He reaches into his pockets and his heart and gives them bits of himself. And to think he would never know the need unless he sat on a bicycle saddle or a VIA bus...

This is not some call to guilty abandonment of efficient travel or some high-minded sermon on living among "the people".

This is simply a recognition of the tremendously beautiful way that the street can connect us - as long as we're willing to be connected to it.

God and Culture: Rob Bell, Martin Bashir and Universalism

2011-03-20T06:52:00.003-05:00

There has been a lot of talk (maybe too much talk) about Rob Bell's new book "Love Wins". He has been painted as a Universalist, which is a pretty serious charge against a supposedly evangelical Christian.

The nadir of the whole thing might have been Bell's interview with Martin Bashir. Bell is squirmy and evasive and Bashir is certainly much more prepared than all of the other national talking heads were during the book's media tour. Watch:

The interview created a new firestorm and elevated Martin Bashir into a bully or a hero depending on one's reading of Bell's theological shift. Here is a link to an incredibly frank interview Bashir did afterward:

http://www.godandculture.com/blog/msnbcs-martin-bashir-on-the-paul-edwards-program

The whole thing is fascinating. The hope here is that the importance of what we believe might be elevated to an appropriate place. What we think matters. How we articulate what we believe matters. And whether "Love Wins" in the way that Rob Bell says it does, it has been helpful in stirring up hearts and forcing folks to nail down what they really will claim as their faith.

Of Budweiser and the Bourgeoisie

2011-03-14T07:38:00.003-05:00

I haven't had a drink in 7 1/2 years. I don't mind if you have one, but I sort of disqualified myself back in the day. Trust me.

Anyway, I have to admit that it was an odd feeling buying beer this last weekend. Let me explain.

We had a small crew of dudes working on our house. They were laboring pretty much all day Saturday when one of the dudes (the only one who spoke English) asked Stefani if she could run to the convenience store and grab them some cigarettes. Their ride would only be back in a few hours and the guys could use the smokes.

After some explaining from me as to what exactly they had asked for, Stef grabbed her keys and headed for the door. And then I stopped her.

"Why don't you grab them some beer," I said.

She sort of stared blankly at me for a second, trying to process the words that had come from my mouth. I think I almost quoted Shawshank right there and then. "I think a man working outdoors feels more like a man if he can have a bottle of suds."

So away she went to buy two unfamiliar products for some dudes we didn't really know. I smiled as I thought of my pristine, West Texas wife buying sin-taxed contraband (what will the Baptists say?!?) that she'd probably never bought before in her life. When she came back with the cigarettes, they were thankful. When she pulled out the beer, they were stunned.

"We work really hard and do a lot of thankless work," said one of the workers. "You don't know what this means to us - to really feel appreciated."

Which was exactly the point.

If I were honest, I would say that Stef and I are pretty uncomfortable with the whole concept of people working "for us". She is always trying to help them and I am constantly trying to show them that we're equals. It is a strange cultural norm we have to break through, this concept that they are "laborers" and we are the white "employers" for the day.

I wanted them to see that we're both just humans, broken folks plugging away. I hope the beer, delivered with Stef's sincere smile, helped that. I hope they felt appreciated. Not as workers, but as men. I hope they felt respected and valued. I hope...

As Sunday wore down, they had finished their work and were waiting on their ride. I had to drag a bunch of brush from the backyard to the street (brush pick-up day is here!!). After I brought my first load forward, they just started walking to the backyard. Before I could refuse their help, all three of us were now dragging brush to the pile. Some part of me thinks that the dudes are just wired to work hard so they pitch in wherever there is need. And that's honorable. Another part of me hopes that they helped me because we were now closer to being partners than proletariat and bourgeoisie.

We finished and I just smiled. Since their ride was still late, we decided to help them gather their equipment and walk it back to their boss' house down the block. The picture must have been something. Two Mexican dudes with ponytails carrying the heavy equipment, followed by Stef, Jeff, and I...and Bella ambling along for the journey, little blonde curls bouncing in the evening breeze.

We dropped their stuff at the house down the block and shook hands...like men. We talked a bit about their lives. One dude had 7 boys. The other had my ice chest, which, after some intra-lingual stumbling, became his ice chest. "Feliz Cumpleanos", I told him.

I hope Bella sees all of this. Or maybe I hope she doesn't. I hope brown skin and Budweiser don't even register in her little brain. I hope she sees a soul and someone to love before she ever considers class or status. I hope she learns to speak the language of people unlike her, whether that is verbal or just in material gestures. I hope she doesn't fear others for their differences, but yearns to bridge them, even if it requires unconventional means.

Even if it requires bringing home ice cold, beechwood-aged Budweiser...for someone else to enjoy.

Shawshank Beer Scene

2011-03-14T07:14:00.008-05:00

We felt like free men...

This Map Makes Me Sad

2011-03-10T21:39:00.001-06:00

Preaching Jonah: You Can Run...

2011-03-07T17:24:00.000-06:00

You Can Run from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

Natural Gas and Polluted Air

2011-03-03T07:31:00.000-06:00

Gasland

2011-03-02T07:26:00.000-06:00