CHURCH SHOPPING

 I’ve always been amused by the idea of people “church shopping.” Ask somebody, “So where do you go to church?”

They say, “We’re not anywhere right now.  Just kinda shopping around.”

Shopping around?  Really?  What a great concept.  Shopping is different that “searching” or “seeking” or “thirsting” for some truth that makes sense.  Shopping is...something else. 

Whenever somebody says they’re “shopping around for churches” I always imagine them suckin’ on a big fruit smoothie, walking through a huge mall filled with churches.  Each “mall church” has a wall-sized mall store window in the front with signs in them advertising their latest and greatest spiritual feature:

“Try Our Padded Pews!  Now With Massage Rollers!”

“Join Now, No Tithing Till 2014!”

“Cool Music, Easy Sermons, Great Food...Why Pray Anywhere Else?!”

They shop til they find something they like, something they’re comfortable with.  Others kinda mix and match: some music from this one, some teaching from that, maybe a little decorating from that one - those types NEVER really land anywhere, but are forever “shopping”.

Yes, shopping is different from searching or seeking or thirsting...it’s more casual, pickier, more consumer-friendly.  Shopping says, “What’dya got?  Make me laugh.  Entertain me.  If I like what I see, maybe we can make a deal.  If not, I'll move on till something strikes my fancy.”

But searching, seeking, thirsting...that’s... different.

As together we stand and sing.  

BP

CHRISTMAS AND THE PREACHER

 

Whew!  Well, THAT was a close one!  But hey!  You made it!   So take some time and give yourself a nice, well-deserved pat on the back!  You made it through another Christmas and you aren’t in jail OR the looney bin! 

Considering what the Holiday season has become in recent years - this is actually quite an accomplishment.

The presents, the mounds of honey-baked whatever-it-is, and the full-contact shop-a-mania are finally over and done with for another year.  You are FREE!  All that pressure about who’s going to who’s house, and what to get Aunt Tiddler has also past. 

So live it up!  Pull the over-flowing trashcans filled with once-used wrapping paper and discarded worthless packaging to the street, get those lights off the house, and the reindeer out of the yard and for once in 2 months let’s order some pizza for dinner instead of turkey. 

Why not? Look, Christmas is OVER, let’s try to enjoy ourselves again.  It’s the LEAST we can do. 

Let’s lose of the “Happy Holidays” greeting and get back to the more comfortable:  “HEYYY!” or “THERE he is!” or  “HEYYY...there he is...YOU!” 

Let’s wear sweaters we’d LOVE to be caught dead in - instead the ones with all the snowflakes and snowmen and bells on ‘em.  Let’s play some Springteen and Pavorotti in the stores again for cryin’ out loud.

Christmas is over!  So we can lose the crowded, silly, mindless, worried, guilty, stressed out schedule we’ve been on the last few months and get back to living and treating each other like human beings again!

After all...it IS Christmas.  

Well...it WAS anyway.  You get it.

As together we stand and sing.           

BP

CHECK THIS OUT (ex-shite-ing):

BIBLE FLIP SCIPT: RED STUFF

 

Well, it’s time once again for another episode of Bible Flip Script! 

This is when I just flip my Bible open, fling my finger down on a verse and then just preach whatever verse my finger happens to land on.  It is considered by many to be some of the most exciting preaching I do.  Personally, I think the MOST exciting preaching I do is whenever I tie myself to the back of a wild boar and do a power point on the book of Leviticus.  But...to each his own.

OK, I am flipping...and flinging....and BOOM!

OK, today’s Bible Flip Script comes to us from the book of Genesis chapter 25, verse 30 where it says, “He said to Jacob, ‘Let me eat some of that red stuff, because I am exhausted.’”

You know it’s not too often that I am given the opportunity to preach on the subject of Bible hot sauce.  Not that I shy away from food preaching.  Far from it.  As many of you know I’ve preached on Splenda many times, and I have been known to throw down a little lesson or two on the spiritual power of waffles.  But hot sauce doesn’t come along nearly as often as I’d like.

And yet, here we have a specific Biblical text for it!  The story of Jacob and Esau! 

Feeling tired like Esau?  Worn down?  Had a rough day?  Have a couple spoonfuls of “the red stuff” like they did in Bible times and you’ll be feeling like yourself in no time! 

Of course, you’ll also end up losing the blessing from your father and selling your birthright to your deceitful, conniving little brother, and in pretty much screw up a lot of your life, but hey -  at least you won’t feel groggy.

Hot sauce...it’s in the Bible...I think. 

As together we stand and sing.

BP

I like to watch this once a day...don't you?

HEAVEN'S DOWNSIDE

 

I was sittin’ around thinkin’ about Heaven the other day...

...this is not unusual for Preachers, by the way.  It’s kinda like bein a Librarian and sittin' around thinkin’ about books, or bein’ an astronaut and eatin’ peanut butter out of a tube...some things you do just because of your job.  Anyhow...

I was sittin’ around thinkin’ about Heaven: the golden streets, the pearly gates, the mountains and mountains of never-ending edible chocolate church buildings (hey a guy can DREAM, can’t he?  I love Willie Wonka) when I remembered what I heard a preacher say one time about Heaven.

He said that one of the great things about Heaven would be the fact that it would be a place where we could year after year, eon after eon, for ever and ever spend time with our family.

Our family.  For all eternity.  Together.  At last.  ForEVER. Just us.  Wow.  That is...quite a concept. Are you kiddin’?

Look, between you and me - I don’t know that the thought of spending an ETERNITY with THE FAMILY - and by that I mean MY family is necessarily what I would call a “motivator” as far as the Heaven thing goes for ANY of us.  And anybody who says it IS a motivator, clearly hasn’t met certain members of my family.

I’m not sayin’ they’re bad people, or that I don’t want to see them IN Heaven - I’m just saying that there are SOME of us IN the family who have discovered that there are SOME family functions that are often enjoyed better when SOME members of the family fail to come to SOME of the family functions - and I’m ASSUMING Heaven might be the same way, that’s all.

Now that I think of it - maybe  that's how it should be anyhow.  Maybe the "family reunion aspect" we often place on the idea of Heaven wasn't ever supposed to be the reason we wanted to "go to Heaven".  Maybe there was a "bigger" point to the whole thing.

That being said...Cousin Carl...Heaven or not, that restraining order is still in effect.  Stay away from me.

Merry Christmas, everybody! 

As together we stand and sing.

BP 

AND DON'T FORGET...it's not too late to get your Preacher a copy of my new CD.  My guess is, your Preacher could really use some new material to steal from.   He do it for you.  If they HAD CDs for Blurches.

DIRTY GLASSES

 

You know...hold on.  Just gimme a second.  My glasses are just filthy.  It’s drivin’ me nuts.

For those of you who are not Preachers or do not wear glasses - or both...you probably aren’t gonna understand why having dirty glasses is so frustrating and frankly...dangerous when it comes to preaching.  To say nothing of Bleaching.

So in the interest of professional, big-time preaching, I’m gonna take some time right now to clean these glasses before I continue - so gimme just a minute.

To see clearly, is to preach clearly.  To preach with fingerprints and French Fry residue all over the place is to preach...whatever...what is this on here?!

Lucky for me, I always have a travel glasses cleaner kit tucked inside my travel Bible, which I keep in my travel preachin’ suit, which kinda slides into my Portable Pulpit.  I’m what you call a “Prepared Preacher” - except when it comes to my sermons.  I pretty much just wing those.

Give a little spray there.  And another little spray there.  And...well, gettin’ better.  Not quite there yet, but gettin’ better.

This kinda reminds me of the story in the Bible when the blind man came to Jesus asking for healing.  Jesus spit in the ground, made some mud, rubbed the mud on the man’s eyes and said, “How do you see now?”  “Looks like a bunch of trees walkin’ around,” said the man.

So Jesus repeated the process and THIS time...the man could see clearly.

You see, first you have to KNOW you aren’t seeing, and then you have to do whatever it takes to correct the situation.  Be it miracle, spray or Lasik surgery.

In THIS case...it's spray.  

And now that we can all see...CHECK THIS OUT:

As together we stand and sing.     

BP

HOMILY AND GRITS

HELLO, BLURCH!

Today I submit to you what I like to call the...

"INSTANT BLERMON"

I hardly have to type at all for this one.

Eat your heart out Joel.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

HEATING PAD PREACHER

As I sit here this morning, bangin’ out yet another awarding-winning Blermon (blog-sermon), coffee at the ready, cartoons soothingly playing in the background, agonizing back pain shooting down my leg and up through the bottom of my neck (not to worry, it’s just an old baptizing injury - it happens to us Preachers), it occurs to me that all that is missing from this idyllic and creative scene is my trusty heating pad.

(PREACHER'S NOTE: was gonna drop a little clip art in here of a heating pad but it just seemed too condescending.  Look, if you don't know what a heating pad is by now you have no business being on a computer reading a Blermon).

Depending on the time of year, I am never far from my heating pad.  I call him “Paddywack”.  If I could figure out how to keep Paddywack plugged in while I went about my daily Preacher duties I would not only be a happier Preacher, I would also be a rich one.  There’s not a Preacher on the planet who wouldn’t put up big bucks for an electric “Preacher Pad”.  Baptizing injuries are everywhere.

Little Paddywack calms me.  Keeps me warm.  Eases my recurring, ever-present, imaginary psychosomatic pains like a summertime gospel meeting.   He is my electric, adjustable “blankie” buddy in a very real sense. Paddywack makes me feel good about myself and my world in a way that most Elders simply do not. 

I am TOLD that there is a secret army of “Paddywackies” out there who know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.  My wife Gidget is one.  From November to May Gidget is never seen without Paddy at her side, or often under her side, around her side, over her feet.  That girl can hog a heating pad, lemme tell ya.

But remember not all heating pads are created equal.  Some are just flat out mean.  So beware.  They will lull you into a cozy coma of goodness then as soon as you’ve forgotten about them they just...OW!  What in the world?  OW!  OK, I’m not kiddin’ around.  This heating pad just went koo koo.  It just burned a hole through my Preachin’ pajamas!  Can you believe that?  My body again, offered up as a sacrificial, living illustration.  I hope this helped. 

As together we stand and sing.  BP

PREACHER PRESENTS

Well, it’s that time again.  Time to get that Preacher in your life the perfect Christmas gift.

I know many of you have been agonizing over this for months now.  Getting the perfect Preacher Present can be tough.  Buying for a Preacher is like buying for a super hero.  What do they really need?  They’ve already got heaven, a pulpit and a 3-piece suit.  Still, you’ve gotta try.

For some of you - you’re thinking that it’s already too late to get your presents to your Preacher in time for Christmas.  Not to worry.  The good news is MOST Preachers accept Christmas gifts well into the month of April.  As for me - I’ve been known to bust open a package from Santa as late as June.  Deadlines for presents are just silly in my book.

The most important thing is to try to get the Preacher in your life something that is unique and cool, but also somewhat pricey and yet spiritual.  Don’t buy something SO pricey that it can’t be presented at an Elders meeting humble and spiritual.  The one exception here is to make the gift SO expensive and awesome, that all the Preacher can do is shrug and say, “I would’ve never gotten such a materialistic, earthly thing for myself but...it was a gift.  What can I do?”

If your gift LOOKS homemade but can also download 10,000 podcasts or hit 80 mph in 40 seconds you’re really operating in the sweet spot. 

In general I would steer clear of giving any Bible-based gifts.  Figs tend to go bad after a couple of days, and Preachers have very little use for either Frankincense or Myrrh.  Gold, on the other hand looks good with whatever I’m wearing.  When in doubt...go with my new CD available now.  They’ll love it, and many will steal from it.   

As together we stand and sing.

BP

GOOD IS GOOD

It’s a complicated world out there.

And I’m not just referring to Facebook and Twitter.  I’m still not sure how to work Facebook or why anybody would want to be on there passing out pictures to strangers, and the purpose behind twipping on Twitter is as mysterious to me as the book of Deuteronomy. 

But even without those two things, the world can still be a pretty complicated place to try to maneuver.  Every day there are challenges set before us that ask us to make important decisions fast. 

Yellow light: slow down and stop, or blaze through?

Stressed out: go for a walk, or eat an entire pizza?

Fight with your wife: apologize and try to understand, or eat an entire pizza?

The fact is in every situation there is ultimately a “good for all of us” scenario present.  Most of the time we already know what that scenario is but because of fear, or self-interest or whatever passing feelings we might be experiencing at the time, we often don’t see it clearly and instead fall back to the good ‘ole, “what’s best for ME” scenario.

The weird thing is, what’s “good for all of us” IS usually, ultimately good for each of us.  Good medicine is good for you and for me; so is clean air, a speed limit, sharing, fences, leftovers, taking turns a 4-way stops, not stealing from each other.

To finding the ultimate good for all of us may not always be easy, or initially apparent, but it does exist.  “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” works.  Twitter and Deuteronomy...I’ll have to get back to you in those...

As together we stand and sing.  

 BP

THEY CALL HIM FLIPPER

I have been accused on various occasions by various and sundry critics of mine that I have periodically indulged in the viewing of particularly bad television.

In response to what many would call “slanderous blah blah blah”  - whatever - lemme just say this: Yes, I have on occasion watched some bad TV.  So what? 

Look, bad TV can be some of the best stuff ON TV these days.  Back in the old days you had to go OUTSIDE to see drug addicts resisting arrest and people eating worms.  Now they camp out right in your house.

The problem is watching too much bad TV can make it hard to sleep.  There are some images on some of those shows that will stick in your brain for the next 5 years and just won’t let go.  It can be quite disturbing.

“Flippers” on little beauty pageant kids is one of those images.  Flippers are what they call the fake adult teeth they put over the little kids' baby teeth so the kids don’t look like a Snaggletooth Tiger.  Instead, they look like Jerry Lewis circa 1964.  It’s terrifying.  

Well, THAT isn't terrifying.  But THIS is...

So is this, but for an entirely different reason...

What’s wrong with these parents?  They willingly dress up their poor, little 4-year-olds in too-expensive-for-them-to-afford sparkly cowboy hats and boots, then stick ‘em out on a stage in a hotel conference room in front of 12 other ridiculous parents and judge them on something called “poise”.  I didn’t know a 4-year-old even HAD poise, or could win a fake diamond CROWN for it.  And who knew you could do ANYthing with  a FLIPPER in their mouth! 

It reminded me of when I was a kid participating in Preaching Pageants.  I was voted “Best Bible Waver” four years in a row.  They didn’t have crowns, but I DID get a shiny silver communion tray with my name on it - which beats a FLIPPER.  


No, trust me.  It does.

As together we stand and sing.    

BP

MIRACLE PREACHING

I was recently asked the question: “Brother Preacher, have you ever worked any miracles on your own?”

It’s a great question.  It hurts my feelings a little bit, but still - it’s a good enough question to give me a topic to preach on today so - who’s complaining?

The reason I say that question hurts my feelings is because I have to admit I have never had the privilege of pullin’ off what might be considered a real “Bible type” miracle on my own.  We all have our talents, and turning water to wine or curing somebody’s earache, just isn’t one of mine.  I’m just not that kind of a Preacher.  I’m more of the preaching type of preacher - and I’m fine with that.  Look, if we ALL walked on water and turned sticks into snakes who would run the flannel graphs?

That’s not to say that I haven’t pulled off some miraculous things in my day.  Are you kiddin’?  Be serious.  Pullin’ off three sermons a week and a Ladies Bible Class isn’t as easy as it looks.  Plus that, I have somehow escaped countless Elder’s meetings virtually unscathed.  And there aren’t a lot of guys my age who can get away with preaching with 2 Bible Hour puppets at an old folks home withOUT the use of a microphone and call it “Tag Team Guest Preaching”. 

But I guess if I HAD to say when I was at my MOST miraculous it would have to be the time I was baptizing a guy in a frozen lake in Colorado WHILE making announcements and then performed CPR on him once the hypothermia kicked in. 

You see, most Preachers make their announcements BEFORE they baptize people and if the “baptizee” then happens to go into hypothermia, most Preachers hardly EVER do CPR.  I do. 

Well, I don’t really know HOW to do CPR but it looked right at the time and it worked for a while at least.  Look, I'm not an EMT guy, I'm a Preacher...who doesn't do miracles.  Lighten up out there.

As together we stand and sing.  

BP

TAPE COLLECTION

I’ve got a tape collection in my church office behind my favorite Bible Concordances that is so huge and so cool, it would make a grown man cry.

If this were still 1988. As it is, it only makes ME cry.  Every time I look at it.

I’ve got about 1,000 cassette tapes, 23,000 8-tracks, some reel to reels and of course 1/2 a million 1/2 inch video tapes, and 1/4 million...are you ready...3/4 inch video tapes.

The GREAT news is, that these tapes are from many of my early days working as a preacher and log ride operator.  I even got some and movie ideas on a lot of them. 

The NOT-SO-GREAT news is that I haven’t had the equipment to play ANY of these ancient “scroll-like” devices in 25 years.  

Still I hold onto them because I “might need them someday” or because “I think there’s some really good stuff on some of that stuff”.  Stuffy stuff.  Oh really?  Pipe down! 

Of course I’m only ASSUMING there’s good stuff on some of those tapes because most of them lost there content labels long ago.

Now before you get all A & E HOARDERS on me - you should know this is the only pile of irrelevant useless junk I possess.  I don’t have stacks and stacks of Precious Memories Angels in my living room or boxes of tin can pull tops in my fireplace.  The only thing that I have too much of and can’t seem to release without causing severe discomfort and distress to my phychie is...my tape collection.  My stupid, pointless, unable to play, pointless...yet possibly worth millions...ancient tape collection.

It that so bad?  I say no. But I always say that about stuff that’s about me and have the possibility of hurting.

There’s a great sermon I preached one time on this very topic back in 1987.  Thank goodness I recorded it.  Now if I only knew which tape it’s on...and somebody who can pay 3/4 inch videotape that hasn’t been opened since George Herbert Walker Bush made all those remarks about...Oh who cares?  I’ve gotta get rid of this stuff.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

FREE LUNCH

A friend of mine bought me lunch the other day. Which really kinda threw me for a loop. 

It’s not that people don’t buy me lunch every once in a while.  On the contrary, people LOVE buying Preacher’s lunch - and getting us hockey tickets...not sure why that is.  I think it may be left over from when us Preacher’s used to preach for fried chicken. 

Oh man...THOSE were the days.  Lemme tell ya - you shoulda heard some of my fried chicken sermons back in the day!   They were short, crispy and delicious...my sermons, I mean, not the chicken. 

Oh man!  I have completely forgotten what it was I was talkin’ about.  What was it?  Let’s see...lunch, chicken and a....well, it’s gone now.  No wait!  I got it!  Lunch, chicken...and uh...oh MAN what was that 3rd thing?!  Oh well, it’s gone now...OOPS!  Anyhow...

It wasn’t the fact that my friend bought me lunch the other day that threw me off, what made my head spin was the fact that it was MY FRIEND buying me lunch. 

This dude NEVER buys me lunch.  Ever.  Not only that but he has never even one time in 35 years ever even gotten close to taking out cash, or a credit card or even a handful of seashells and tried to pay for even as much as a fried cheese stick.  This guy is CHEAP! 

He’s the kind of guy that never QUITE gets his wallet out of his back pocket before someone else has already grabbed the check - which then causes him to say, “OH, really?  Are you sure?  Let’s split it!  No?  OK, well thanks man!”

And of course when we ARE going to split the bill, somehow this guy is always in the bathroom. 

Pathetic.

But maybe I should feel hopeful.  Maybe after all these years, my friend is finally getting what it means to be a responsible, contributing member of society.  That once in a while it;s OK to pay for lunch with a friend.  Maybe this really is a sign of good things to come.

Or maybe he knows I’ve got some deadly disease and should be dead in another 6 months and wants to get on my good side in time for the treading of the will.

I know I shouldn’t but somehow...I’m goin’ with the will reading theory

Pathetic.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

CROSS WORDS

My wife Giget is a crossword puzzle freak.

I know what you’re thinking and no...it’s worse than that.  Really.  Worse.

She does crossword puzzles all the time, everywhere.  On Sundays she even does them on Skype with her family.  It can go on for 4 hours.  The woman is obsessed.

The puzzles can be from anywhere too.  She’ll do the ones in the newspaper, or from a book.  She’ll even do the kid’s crossword puzzle on the back of a paper placemat at pizza joints. If you’re ever on a plane and look in those in-flight magazines with the crossword puzzles in there, and notice that someone has already completed it...in ink...just think: “Gidget Was Here!”

Knowing this about her, it explains Gidget’s animal-like attraction to ME.  As they say, “Opposites attract.”  So it’s little wonder why our love affair is so heated.  I hate crossword puzzles.  Crossword puzzles make me mad.  I feel like they are mocking me; call me stupid behind my back.  I often punch crossword puzzles right in the face.  It’s all I can do.

Whenever Gidget gets lost in her obsession, forgetting both time and place - there is only one defense I can employ to try to get her back in the real world.  I immediately feign interest and attempt to play along.  This is a cruel thing to do but one must be cruel sometimes.  Especially if you want dinner.

As she reads a clue I simply yell out several random words all in a row and with great earnest.  Then she begins to write my bogus suggestions into the evil little boxes; realizing only too late that I was merely saying nonsense. 

“Ottoman Empire” is one of my favorite fake answers.  That and “The Apostle Frank”.  She falls for both of these on a regular basis.

Yes, it’s true - this technique can often lead to other “cross” “words”, but I find that it’s worth it if I am able to get her attention long enough to get her in the car and to dinner.  She would starve without me and my cruel ways.

By the way - my Marriage Seminar has been temporarily put on hold until further notice.  Still working out some kinks. 

As together we stand and sing.

BP

SHOWDOWN

I think most people would agree: Preachers are the modern day version of Gunslingers.

We’re tough.  We’re fearless.  We’re awesome. We are the Wyatt Earp’s of our time. 

Well, I’M Wyatt Earp, and other preachers are more like my posse.  My Deputies.  I’m the MAIN gunslinger, is what I’m sayin’.  The leader.  The best one.  The fast draw.

I’m Wyatt Earp, TD Jakes is Doc Holiday and Joel Olsteen is the grocery store clerk who never joins the posse and gets robbed all the time and gets hits on the head with the butt of a gun.  Anyhow...

Just look at the similarities between a Gunslinger of the Old West and a modern day Preacher like me:  the Gunslinger has a horse, I have a pulpit.  The Gunslinger has at least two guns and a knife with him wherever he goes; I always have my Preachin’/Wavin’ Around Bible, my Back-up Study Bible and either a Greek Lexicon, or my “Big Book of Dog Illustrations” book with me.

The Gunslinger is always stylishly dressed; NObody wears a 3-piece corduroy suit like I do.

The Gunslinger comes to town to rid it of evil and menace; the Preacher comes to church ready to baptize or disfellowship whoever needs it and whichever clears out the saloon faster.

The Gunslinger calls for a posse; the Preacher puts together the potluck steering committee.

The Gunslinger is fearless in the face of insurmountable odds, ultimately facing down and defeating the main bad guy in the middle of main street in a final showdown; the Preacher is calm when called to an Emergency Grumpy Elder’s Meeting about last Sunday’s sermon, and ultimately faces down and defeats the lead Grumpy Elder in a one on one Bible Bowl Extravaganza.

Well, that last one doesn’t always work out that way.  In truth, Grumpy Elders are known for killing preachers off without breakin’ a sweat.

OK - Gunslingers and Preachers was a bad example.

How ‘bout this one:  have you ever noticed how much Preachers Zoo Keepers have in common?

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THANKSGIVING FAKE OUT

OK - you DO realize that this is Thanksgiving, right?

This is the ONE day a year you’re supposed to be with your family and friends, celebrating, making thankful and merry, singing Thanksgiving Day songs (OK, song) around the piano; not locked in your room reading some amazingly, earth-shattering Preacher Blermon (blog-sermon) while everybody else is downstairs busy bangin’ out the dishes. 

You oughtta be ashamed of yourself.

Just as everybody was getting up from Thanksgiving Dinner, you boldly lied to your poor, unsuspecting family and said, “I’ll be right in to scrub those pans in a second, Aunt Verna.  I just need to check on some email from work first.   Been waiting for a VERY important...um...THINGY to come in from work.  And yesterday we were traveling and my computer’s been weird since we got here.  By the way, the connection is weird here.  Not really sure what that’s about.  Anyhow - I’ll be right in to help with those dishes in a minute or two.”

Then you locked yourself into your cousin’s old room at your Aunt’s house and are currently in the process of killing 2 hours reading this Blermon,  lookin’ at dopey Youtube videos of people with turkeys on their heads while playing “Words With Friends” on your phone, instead of helping scour the roaster.

Pathetic.

Well, I just want you to know - you aren’t fooling me.  I know what you’re up to. You are simply USING this award-winning, semi-international, semi-important Blurch (blog-church) as an escape hatch from your family.  I get it.

And I want you to know -  I’m glad I could help.  I hate doing dishes too.  It’s gross.  I wish there had been a Blurch like this when I was a kid. I wish there had been color TV when I was a kid.  And pre-washed jeans.

I only hope that, in light of today, you can find it in your heart to be THANKFUL...for a BLEACHER (blog-preacher) such as me.

And on a day like this...you need me.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

PEBBLE POWER

We’ve all known the surprising power of what I like to call, “The Pebble In The Shoe”.

Now that I think of it, I suppose I’m probably not the FIRST guy to CALL it that - but I’ll bet I AM the first one to type it up and try to pull it off as a sermon.  We all have our talents.  Anyhow... 

You can be having a great day, feeling terrific about yourself and your kids and the world; you can be in the middle of closing in on a multi-million dollar donut shop deal, when all of a sudden, right in mid-stride, right at the apex of the best day of your life, suddenly and without warning - WHAM! - It HITS.   The “Pebble In The Shoe” appears in your life and without permission or consideration for YOUR plans or schedule takes center stage. 

Suddenly, you go from a strutting, confident man about town to a limping, crawling, whimpering, mass of self-pitying putty.

It’s not a pretty sight. 

Suddenly all conversation stops, high-powered meetings come to a halt, smiles are gone, and laughter turns to anguish.  Whatever plans you had for your day and life have suddenly been put on hold while you are forced to deal with “The Pebble In The Shoe”.

At this point you can really do only one of two things: you can tough it out, ignore the pain of that little rock sticking you in the heel with every step you can take OR...you can stop, sit down, take off your shoe and address the problem “at foot”.

Here’s a hint: you WON’T be able to ignore the pebble for long, so you’d better just find somewhere to sit down and deal with it.

Here’s another hint: whenever possible...BE THE PEBBLE in someone ELSE’s shoe.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

WAITING ROOMS

Waiting Rooms have always fascinated me.  

I just love the idea that there is an entire room set aside for the express purpose of doing nothing in particular.

Most rooms that have been given their own names usually have those things they are named for actually HAPPEN in them.  You LIVE in a Living Room.  You DINE in a DINING ROOM.  You OPERATE in an OPERATING Room.  You RUMPUS in a Rumpus Room - whatever RUMPUSING is.  At least it’s contained to one room.

In a Waiting Room all you do is wait.  That’s the whole purpose of the place; to give you a physical area to simply pass time in, until you get the chance to finally DO whatever it was you were waiting to do while in the Waiting Room.

 

But waiting is one of those things people simply can’t stand doing, because when you wait you don’t really DO much.  It’s really just a lot of...NOT doing. 

Which is why Waiting Rooms are usually packed with all kinds things for people to DO to help them NOT do a little easier: stuff to read, TVs, aquariums, coloring stations, pamphlets on various diseases.

Unlike a lot of people, I tend to LIKE Waiting Rooms precisely because there ISN’T anything to do in them.  No one thinks you’re a lazy bum when you do nothing in a Waiting Room, because that’s kind of the whole point to the place.

The next time your in a Waiting Room - see how long you can just WAIT in it - no magazines, no cell phones, no emails, no coloring.  Just sit and wait.  You’ll be amazed at all that happens when nothing is happening; to say nothing of the hundreds of partial conversations you’ll be able to listen in on. 

Where do you think we Preachers get all our ideas from?

As together we stand and sing.

BP

BIBLE BAG

There has never been a better time to be a BIBLE!

For most of the time the Bible has been around it’s had kind of a tough go.  Back when the books of the Bible were first written, they were written on a bunch of different scrolls, which were then passed around one book at a time by whoever was passin’ through whatever town.

Every once in a while, somebody might try to make a copy of whatever book they had handy.  Sometimes they’d make a good copy, sometimes not so great.  Sometimes, whoever was making the copy would help himself to making a couple of edits or additions.  I know the temptation there.  I always wanna do that to other Preacher’s sermons; usually WHILE they’re in the middle of preaching them.  Anyhow...

The copies would often get lost, or burned, or torn, or buried, or rained on.  But after a few centuries - all those books finally got put into one book, which most people couldn’t read because it was in a language they didn’t speak and...only about 3 people could read.

Another few centuries pass and there are better translations made, and more people learned how to read but there weren’t always a lot of copies available and the ones that WERE around were expensive and HUGE.

Fast forward a couple more centuries to today: Now Bibles are everywhere, available in a million different languages, inexpensive, compact, digital, online and they even include pictures, maps and commentaries.

And if you still prefer the “hard copy” version you can get a cool, specially made, hand sewn “BIBLE BAG” made out of leather, with pictures of fish and palm trees on them and a strap so you can carry it around with you. 

Which is why I say that there has never been a better time to be a BIBLE.  Now if only somebody would READ the bloomin’ thing.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

SOUPER SUNDAY

I love soup. 

It’s one of the main reasons I love the Fall.  It’s also one of the main reasons I love God, my wife, Gidget, and submersible mixers.  Soup gives me the strength to carry on when all of life turns against me - which is often.

Homemade soup, some crusty bread and a well-designed foreign policy could turn this country around in a heartbeat.  It could also make it feel better.

There aren’t a LOT of examples of BIBLE SOUPS - unless you count lentils (which I can personally do without).  The most famous Bible Soup is whatever the stew was that Jacob made fed to Esau back in Genesis, right before he stole his birthright, the family blessing and inheritance right from under his nose.  That must have been some soup.  I’m guessing Tomato...with a grilled cheese sandwich on the side.  Depending on how hungry I was, I’d give up half my furniture and a maybe a snow blower for THAT combo.

This is the time of year Gidget and I really get serious about making soups at home.  She laid a new Tortilla Chicken soup on me last night that made my head spin.  Just for that, I went out today and got the fixin's for a Barley Veggie that will teach her a lesson. 

I told you...we’re serious about this.

The best soups are the ones made at home.  The chopping, the stirring, the waiting can all be part of a very relaxing process.  And the soupy smells that kinda lay around in the house afterwards will make you never wanna leave.

It’s Sunday.  Church is over.  Get your soup on.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

KING PREACHER

At least once a week, my wife Gidget informs of the fact that I have become what is called in Preaching circles as “High Maintenance”.  Maybe you’ve heard of it.  Maybe I’ve seen you at the meeting.

According to Gidget, I can be a little “challenging” to deal with most days.  Apparently, she thinks I can be a little whinny, a bit needy, overly sensitive, selfish, moody, obsessive, and on BAD days a sore loser.

My response to these charges is always the same: So what’s you’re point, honey?

Of course, Gidget HATES it when I say that, but desperate times require stupid arguments.  Plus, I have found it to be a fairly effective way to put an break into the “high maintenance” discussion long enough for me to make my escape.

But I have to say, I think there IS a valid reason for a lot of my apparently unacceptable behavior - behavior which I must say, comes so very naturally to me.  I have recently begun to believe that I may very well have more than my fair share of ROYAL BLOOD coursing through my veins. 

No, I didn’t find a throne out in the barn or stumbled upon some royal link in the family genealogy chart. No, nothing like that.

I have simply come to realize that I find it virtually impossible to sleep through the night if there’s a pea under my mattress.

I don’t mean a REAL pea, of course.  Gidget doesn’t let me eat peas anywhere near the bed - I’m talking metaphorically.  I mean I can’t sleep if there’s the slightest thing off about my pillow, the covers, my pajamas, the temperature, the amount of light there is in the room, or...if there happens to be a pea under the mattress. (Sometimes I DO eat peas in bed when Gidget’s out of town.  Shhh...).

I can’t help it - I’m a KING!

Which in MY view would be GREAT for Gidget.  Who doesn’t want to be married to a KING?! Who also preaches?  We all have our personal dreams.

As together we stand and sing.

BP