Fast forward a couple decades to last week.

After a particularly crazy day of thunderstorms my wife and I were cruising the town getting together last minute details for our firstborn’s ‘monkey birthday party.’  I looked up into the sky for no reason at all and,

“Holy Crap!  What’s that!?”  I had never seen anything like it before.  “Honey, look at that!”  Above us, stretching as far as the eye could see, was the strangest thing I had ever seen.  Clouds that stretched for miles and were as smooth as silk.  Waves and waves stretched lazily across the sky like billows of fabric or, as my mind immediately thought, cotton candy.

“That’s just plain weird,” was all I could say.  I was so dumbfounded at what I was seeing that I never considered the importance of getting a picture of it.

I didn’t think much more about it until two days later when USA Today and the Birmingham News ran this article:

IOWA WOMAN’S PHOTO SPARKS PUSH FOR NEW CLOUD TYPE

DES MOINES, Iowa - Looking out the 11th floor window of her law office, Jane Wiggins did a double take and grabbed her camera. The dark, undulating clouds hovering outside were unlike anything she’d seen before. “It looked like Armageddon,” said Wiggins, a paralegal and amateur photographer in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. “The shadows of the clouds, the lights and the darks, and the greenish-yellow backdrop. They seemed to change.”

They dissipated within 15 minutes, but the photo Wiggins captured in June 2006 intrigued - and stumped - a group of dedicated weather watchers who now are pushing weather authorities to create a new cloud category, something that hasn’t been done since 1951.

Breaking into the cloud family would require surviving layers of skeptical international review. Still, Gavin Pretor-Pinney and his England-based Cloud Appreciation Society are determined to establish a new variety. They’ve given Wiggins’ photo and similar pictures taken in different parts of the world to experts in England, and are discussing the subject fervently online. 

“They (the clouds) were the first ones that I noted of this type and I was unsure which category to put them under,” said Pretor-Pinney, author of “The Cloudspotter’s Guide.”"When we put pictures up online we list the category, and I wasn’t sure how to categorize it.”

Some scientists are skeptical. They argue that researchers who have long watched the sky haven’t seen anything distinctly new for decades.

There are three main groups of clouds: cumulous, cirrus and stratus. Each has various sub-classifications built on other details of the formation.

Brant Foote, a longtime scientist at the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colo., said the clouds photographed by Wiggins already fit into the existing cumulous classification.

But Pretor-Pinney, who never studied meteorology, believes the clouds merit their own cumulus sub-classification. He proposes they be called altocumulus undulatus asperatus. The last word - Latin for roughen or agitate - is a reference to the clouds’ undulating surface.

“Not necessarily gentle or steady, but quite violent-looking, turbulent, almost twisted in its appearance,” he said.

The group has compiled several photographs documenting the formations from the billowy, rolling clouds shot by Wiggins in Iowa to ones from New Zealand that were much more menacing, hanging lava-like in the sky.

Foote said it would be “very unusual” for such a formation to be recognized as a new variety of cloud.

“People have been looking at clouds for hundreds of years and the general cloud classification is well defined,” Foote said. “It’s not as if someone discovered a new plant in the Amazon. It’s what you’ve seen every day. There was no atmospheric condition that caused a new kind of cloud to form.”

Pretor-Pinney is working with the Royal Meteorological Society in Reading, England, to prepare his case. If that group signs off, the proposal will go to the United Nation’s World Meteorological Organization in Geneva.

Society executive director Paul Hardaker said a small panel within the society is gathering evidence to review. Their efforts include talking with those who took the submitted photos to determinine when, where and amid what weather they were taken. Hardaker said meteorologists tend to be skeptical of such proposals.

“We like to believe that just about everything that can be seen has been, but you do get caught once in a while with the odd, new, interesting thing,” Hardaker said. “By this stage we think it’s sufficiently interesting to explore it further and we’re optimistic about the information we’ve got.”

Written By MICHAEL J. CRUMB

Am I the only one in Birmingham who noticed the occurance on June 12 and realized its significance?

“Essentially, I believe the world needs more, better sermons.  And I’m passionate about this.  I do not think a sermon should be boring; I think it should be electric.  I do not think that it should be something people sit through so they can go to lunch.  I think it should be something that rattles your cage, and disturbs you, and comforts you, and inspires you, and provokes you.  And it should be SOMETHING.  This is an ancient, primal art form.  It’s the original gorilla theatre.  When you look through the prophets and look through Jesus’ sermons:  Whatever you did, you didn’t sit back and just evaluate them.  You were caught up in something, because the communicator was caught up in something.”

- Rob Bell
“Have They Had Too Much Wine”, Sermon Audio, Mars Hill Bible Church, 5/9/2009

Look at Maude, which premiered in 1972 as a spin-off from All In The Family. Its best episodes play out in front of the studio audience like complete little plays; the laughter is frequently so explosive, Arthur has to do that stage-freeze thing, standing motionless until her next line can be heard. A force of intimidation, Arthur made upper-middle-class liberal Maude brayingly noisy. She towered over her TV husband Walter (Bill Macy) and daughter Carol (Adrienne Barbeau). The show’s humor was often rooted in seriousness (the revolutionary 1972 Maude-gets-an-abortion episode) and anger (countless tantrums directed at anyone Maude thought stupid), and Arthur’s innate gravity was her greatest comic weapon: she was fearless about being unlikable, and we liked her all the more for exactly that quality.

On Golden Girls, as Dorothy, Arthur ruled the aging hen house with caustic slashes of sarcasm. For Arthur, Golden Girls was a further refinement of everything she did in Maude. The second series demonstrated how she could modulate her talent to fit into an ensemble of equals… even though she made you know that Dorothy considered herself superior to all she surveyed.

Because we live in a pop culture that thrives on parody and irreverence, Bea Arthur existed in the popular imagination during her final years as the punchline to jokes about her deep voice and her Amazonian stature (try Googling her name and “mannish” and you’ll see what I mean). She had a huge gay following, yet never became a figure of camp ridicule. Whether playing a character or being herself — she was a delightfully clever, articulate, self-deprecating guest on talk and variety shows — Arthur allowed you to both identify with her and to admire her. There was a lot to admire.

reprinted from Entertainment Weekly

Personally, I will never forget watching Bea on the Golden Girls during its original run, and then often in rerun.  It was a show that I was not allowed to watch at home, assumedly because of PG humor and sassyness of the women.  But as happens with all good grandparents, the rules were more lax at their house and my grandmother, bless her heart, loved the Golden Girls.  I loved the sarcasm, wit, and delivery even at a young age.  Only later in life did I learn of Bea’s groundbreaking role in Maude and see many of those episodes in rerun as well.  As a student of television and a lover of the culture surrounding it, I have an appreciation for the role this show played in the formative years of television.  Bea, you’ll be missed.

I headed home, hoping I could make it. The discomfort continuing to grow and the pain intensifying in waves that brought initial false comfort and then intense pain. Nearly passing out twice on the short five-minute drive, I arrived home in what probably looked to be a drunken stupor. I sat in the car for awhile after throwing it into park, exited the vehicle without closing the door, crawled up the steps, and fell into my wife’s arms. Pain. Severe discomfort. Nausea.

It was difficult to discern who was in worse shape, my wife or I. Looking back it is difficult to believe that at this point we were still trying to decide between a doctor or an emergency room and while I was beginning to wonder if it was a kidney stone I had yet to fully embrace the thought. We packed up the girls, ourselves, and headed to the car. I stopped short, emptying my breakfast on the ground in front of my 20-month old. Not my finest moment. It is interesting to note that in this moment of personal misery and humilty my foremost thought is to sheild my child from her father’s agony. It was soon apparent I had failed at that venture.

“Daddy feel better?”

Yes Baby, Daddy feel better.

… it was short-lived comfort. From that moment I knew I was headed to the ER and I knew the road ahead was not going to be easy. Things were getting progressively more intense on all fronts.

What followed is partially blurred in my mind. I was lucid and rational, but primal instinct took over and my only priority was a selfish one: manage the pain. Short breaths. Squirming. Sweat. Please hurry, Honey. Relax. Puke. Squirm. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I’m OK, I know it doesn’t seem that way Honey, it just hurts really bad. Radiating pain. Cramp. Release. Searing hurt. Release. Shock. Release. Family history. No kidney stones before.

Kidney stones. Finally someone agrees with my fear. In the moments I am lucid I wonder if I will endure this. I never thought I would die, but I never imagined living through it.

“On a scale from one to ten where ten is the worst pain imaginable, what is your level of pain?”

10.

I was soon to realize I did not know what a “10″ really was.

Wheelchair. Ouch. Breakfast again. Stretcher. IV. That didn’t hurt. 11. 12. Where is your pain now? 13 or 14. Dilauded. No effect. Dilauded again. Better. Better. OUCH. Worse. Fetal position. Crying. Moaning. Tears. Screaming. I’m OK Honey, I really am, it just hurts really bad. OUCH! Clutch wife’s hand. Breathe. Pain. Breathe. Moan. Breathe. Breathe. Yell…

Demorol. Ouch. Pain. 7 or 8. More breakfast. Off to CT Scan. Nausea. Wait. Pain. Ouch. Moan. Moan. “Can I help you?” Please let my nurse know I am in pain again. Pain. Breathe. Pain. No one around. Pain. Scream. My phone’s in my pocket. Try to focus. Call wife. No answer. Aaaaargh. It hurts. Breathe. Call wife again. No answer. Call father-in-law. No answer. Breathe. Time for X-Ray. Moan. Scream. “You need to be quiet right now Sir.” I would if I could. Please call my nurse and tell her I am in pain. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Wait. Candy striper. Boy, am I glad to see you. Transport. Nausea. Demorol. Mild relief. Rest. Discomfort. Breathe. Rest. Rest. Relief. Rest. Relief. Relief.

Discharge.

Calvinism is back, and not just musically. John Calvin’s 16th century reply to medieval Catholicism’s buy-your-way-out-of-purgatory excesses is Evangelicalism’s latest success story, complete with an utterly sovereign and micromanaging deity, sinful and puny humanity, and the combination’s logical consequence, predestination: the belief that before time’s dawn, God decided whom he would save (or not), unaffected by any subsequent human action or decision.

Calvinism, cousin to the Reformation’s other pillar, Lutheranism, is a bit less dour than its critics claim: it offers a rock-steady deity who orchestrates absolutely everything, including illness (or home foreclosure!), by a logic we may not understand but don’t have to second-guess. Our satisfaction — and our purpose — is fulfilled simply by “glorifying” him. In the 1700s, Puritan preacher Jonathan Edwards invested Calvinism with a rapturous near mysticism. Yet it was soon overtaken in the U.S. by movements like Methodism that were more impressed with human will. Calvinist-descended liberal bodies like the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) discovered other emphases, while Evangelicalism’s loss of appetite for rigid doctrine — and the triumph of that friendly, fuzzy Jesus — seemed to relegate hard-core Reformed preaching (Reformed operates as a loose synonym for Calvinist) to a few crotchety Southern churches.

No more. Neo-Calvinist ministers and authors don’t operate quite on a Rick Warren scale. But, notes Ted Olsen, a managing editor at Christianity Today, “everyone knows where the energy and the passion are in the Evangelical world” — with the pioneering new-Calvinist John Piper of Minneapolis, Seattle’s pugnacious Mark Driscoll and Albert Mohler, head of the Southern Seminary of the huge Southern Baptist Convention. The Calvinist-flavored ESV Study Bible sold out its first printing, and Reformed blogs like Between Two Worlds are among cyber-Christendom’s hottest links.

Like the Calvinists, more moderate Evangelicals are exploring cures for the movement’s doctrinal drift, but can’t offer the same blanket assurance. “A lot of young people grew up in a culture of brokenness, divorce, drugs or sexual temptation,” says Collin Hansen, author of Young, Restless, Reformed: A Journalist’s Journey with the New Calvinists. “They have plenty of friends: what they need is a God.” Mohler says, “The moment someone begins to define God’s [being or actions] biblically, that person is drawn to conclusions that are traditionally classified as Calvinist.” Of course, that presumption of inevitability has drawn accusations of arrogance and divisiveness since Calvin’s time. Indeed, some of today’s enthusiasts imply that non-Calvinists may actually not be Christians. Skirmishes among the Southern Baptists (who have a competing non-Calvinist camp) and online “flame wars” bode badly.

Calvin’s 500th birthday will be this July. It will be interesting to see whether Calvin’s latest legacy will be classic Protestant backbiting or whether, during these hard times, more Christians searching for security will submit their wills to the austerely demanding God of their country’s infancy.

[ taken from Time magazine, "10 Ideas Changing the World Now", #3. The New Calvinism ]

“So what is your vision for the future of the music ministry?”

Six months ago our Music Minister told me he was leaving.  It was a late summer evening and we were in the building alone.

“I know.” 

The surprise was clearly evident on his face.  He had tried so hard to keep it under cover but ultimately had failed.  I’d actually known for months.  The reality is, most people have a hard time hiding a job search from employers and coworkers.  He’d done admirably, but like most of us, the truth soon catches up to us.  It would be nice in church work if we could be more honest and open about these things, but the reality is that typical church climate doesn’t really allow for such unabashed honesty… so we hide such things for as long as we can. 

This event catapulted our church into a nationwide search for God’s next man. 

And here I was, several months later, interviewing the young man we’d chosen out of an overwhelming number of applicants as the most promising candidate.  The question hung loosely in the air between us.

“So what is your vision for the future of the music ministry?”

It was one of the easiest questions I’ve answered in a long time.  I’d been asked that question a lot lately by those with a vested interest in our music search, and it is a great question.  It drives directly to the core issues that need considered in a staff search such as this.  While staff transitions offer an opportunity to make changes to the status quo, it also opens a church up to the possibility of straying from morings that should instead be held fast.

Often, it is the best of times and the worst of times.

Yet, I dream…

I dream of a music ministry that is less interested in leading in worship and more interested in being lead worshippers.  I dream of music that creates a vibrancy in the church, drawing all those who hear it closer to the God who can be known.  I dream of a music minister who’s references speak of his character and heart above all else.  I dream of music that is both cutting edge yet rooted in the rich history of church tradition.  I dream of a worship experience where I lose myself in the message of Christ and the overwhelming love of the father, a place where the prodigal is always welcome and the older brother is softened to repentance.  I dream of a music ministry that doesn’t take itself too seriously but is willing to open itself up for guidance and direction.  I dream of a music ministry understands it is ‘one of many’ in the ministries of the church.  I dream of a music ministry that other churches look to and long to model themselves after.

In short, I dream of a church music experience led by those who would rather follow, but allow God to use their talents to be a part of crafted worship experiences that bring people closer to the transcendant Father in Heaven who is always seeking to redeem and repair his fallen creation, drawing them ever closer unto Himself.

THAT is my dream.

So I broke the silence with the young man who would soon accept the offer we were about to make, “Funny you should ask that question… I’ve been getting it a lot lately…”

Was I crazy? What would the next step be? Where would I go? I have a great job and a family that is growing by leaps and bounds. What am I thinking? Is the timing right? How can we ever make it work?

I thought. I prayed. I discussed with my wife. I sought wise counsel. I prayed again. But mostly…

I dreamed.

Pieces quickly began falling into place and I soon found myself in an empty classroom on a bitterly cold January morning awaiting the start of my first class.

De’ja vu…

Students (several by far my junior) began filing in. Bookbags. Notebooks. Laptops. Finally a professor.

“Welcome to class. Let’s begin with devotions. Open to Matthew chapter five….”

My mind immediately trailed off. I knew I was in the right place. I knew I was home.

I leaped thirteen years into my past to the first class of the first day in undergrad. 1996. An unknown Professor who was destined to become a great friend, Jim Leightenheimer, opened the class by saying simply, “Let’s pray,” and then actually doing so.

To a boy who grew up in the public school system, those are defining words.

I was instantly and insatiably hooked.

Back to reality.

So here I am: Doing quizzes, writing papers, attending study sessions, and subjecting myself to the educational system again. And I am loving it…

I’m loving it because I’ve had an epiphany. I finally understand why I continue to find myself behind a wooden desk.

I am a lifelong learner.
No. I am compelled to be a lifelong learner, in both media AND biblical studies.

The fields of media and communications are always changing. I must always be a student of them to remain effective in the practice of them.

The Bible is never changing, but it is a pursuit that I will never master. The more I learn the more aware I am of how little I truly know.

So as that friend of mine aptly closed, “I hope the first day back on your continued journey is fantastic,” I’ve realized that is a journey that will not end.

If you ever need to find me, now or decades hence, … look in a classroom.

Hi, my name is Kevin Young.  And I have Psoriasis.

There, I’ve said it.

Psoriasis is probably one of the longest known illnesses of humans and simultaneously one of the most misunderstood.  Some scholars believe psoriasis to have been included among the skin conditions called tzaraat in the Bible. In more recent times psoriasis has been frequently described as a variety of leprosy (though it not). The Greeks used the term lepra (λεπρα) for scaly skin conditions. They used the term psora to describe itchy skin conditions.  Psoriasis is a non-contagious disorder which affects the skin and joints by causing itchy red, scaly patches which rapidly accumulate.  It is chronic and recurring… and most often, lifelong.

So why am I telling you all of this, many of whom I do not know and will never meet?

Society tells us we should hide the ups and downs of our personal lives, or at least the downs.  So we try to hide our problems in order to fool those around us.  Why?  Perhaps we wish to be seen as strong and viral - something more than human.  Or perhaps we don’t want the attention.  Often, I am afraid, we don’t want the stares and concern - the misunderstanding that comes from lack of knowledge.

Sally and I are pregnant with our second child.  In a recent discussion about Downs Syndrome we both agreed that we would not mind for a moment having a child with it… but the hard part was thinking about the way others would look at us, most likely with pity.  Perhaps that is why our culture seeks to hide and avoid any physical abnormality.

My psoriasis IS a physical abnormality.  But I do not wish to hide it.  Of course, it would be easier to do so, but in so doing I would be hiding a part of who I am and for better or worse it IS a part of who I am.

Surely, some look at me with pity.  And surely I have looked with pity at others who are unable to hide their abnormality.  But that must not keep me from being honest and open.

I sit writing these thoughts from the Waiting Room of a doctor’s office.  I’ve spent a lot of time in this room over the last three years.  My treatments began with topical creams and solutions.  They progressed through UV Light-ray therapy that is not unlike standing in a tanning bed.  Eventually I moved to a much scarier regimen of oral medicine that could only be taken for a short period due its destructive effect on the liver and digestive system.  We chose this one over lesser treatments because of our desire to get pregnant.  A few months later we found out Libbie was on the way and we knew that we’d made the right decision, and that life goes on.

After I was forced to come off the oral treatments I went to a new therapy that required self-administered shots on a weekly basis.  That treatment had few side effects, but unfortunately did not adequately control the disease.

Now I’ve progressed to a more long-term, but no less scary, treatment called a biologic therapy.  It is basically chemotherapy, a drug used to treat autoimmune disorders.  While it is a drug originally approved to treat severe arthritis, one of its side effects is immune system suppression, which in turn helps Psoriasis.  So every 6 weeks I go to a treatment center and relax for several hours as the drug is administered through IV infusion.

It all sounds scarier than it really is.

The cause of Psoriasis is unknown and there is no cure.  One doesn’t die from it, but probably will die withit.  Since the treatments generally all suppress the immune system, there is a higher risk for cancer, heart disease, and lots of other terrifying problems.  But life is unsure for all of us and out of all the ‘crosses’ I could be required to bear, I do not think this one comes close to ones that many others are required to carry.

So I survive, and I thrive.

It is now a part of who I am, and to know me know means you should also know this part of me.  It changes who I am on the outside as well as on the inside.

Now you may begin to understand my desire to maintain a healthy bodyweight and active lifestyle.  By so doing, I help minimize the effects of my disorder and perhaps even one day overcome it. 

The phrase “the heartbreak of psoriasis” is often used both seriously and ironically to describe the emotional impact of the disease.  The term can be found in various advertisements treatments; conversely, it has been used to mock the tendency of advertisers to exaggerate (or even fabricate) aspects of a malady for financial gain.

Be assured.  There is no heartbreak here.  Sure, it’s not something I would choose to battle… but this world is not my home, I’m just passing through.  This too shall pass.

www.stophiding.org

That desire for growth is at the heart of what can go wrong for many companies. Growth is the by-product of doing things right. But in itself, it is not a worthy goal. In fact, growth is the culprit behind impossible goals.

People do damaging things to force unnecessary growth.

This also applies to churches. Great attendance is the by-product of doing things right. Your goal is your God-given mission. When attendance becomes your goal, you risk doing damaging things for growth’s sake.

Remember, God cares about changed lives not accumulated lives. As long as you are focused on your mission and continually getting better at fulfilling it, you should be content with the by-product of doing things right.

And if your church has been thrust into the spotlight because of your attendance, methods, or pastor, be extra careful that you do not swap your God-given mission with the pursuit of growth. Jack Trout continues:

Did you ever wonder why very successful, privately held companies, such as Milliken or Gore-Tex, rarely show up in the press? It’s because no one is staring at their numbers quarter after quarter. All they have to worry about is their business. And if they are happy with it, that’s all that matters.

When people start staring at your ministry to see what you do next, it can be tempting to do things to please them rather than to please God. It can be tempting to make the newspaper, the blog posts, and the “cool” church lists. But if you are being a good steward of your God-given calling, that’s all that matters. Do not be concerned what anyone but God thinks.

[originally posted on Church Relevance]

Which made me think… Boy, I’m sure glad America’s churches aren’t run like the state of Illinois. Seriously. Otherwise we’d have a ton of churches and pastors giving preferential treatment and bending over backward for people in the church who give the most money.

Oh, snap!

. . . .

[originally posted at Monday Morning Insight]