POEM POWER #3 - "THE SEASONS"

The colors of the falling leaves, 

Remind us one and all,

How Adam and his good wife Eve, 

Dinged us with "The Fall".

Winter's cold and crunchy snow,  
It's dark and lonely days,
Bring to mind the poor man Job, God's chip for gambling ways.

Back to life the birds and bees, The blooming of the Spring,

With alergies to choke and sneeze, 

Hey look!  Your head can ring! 

Then blinding, never-ending heat, 

Means the days of Summer,

An illustration from above, 

Hell will be a bummer.

Behold the seasons of the year, Each with it's special truth

Straighten up and listen here, Repent or get the boot.

by BP, circa 6/29/11

Powerful words.  

Powerful ryhme scheme.  

Weird (but effective) allergy line.

As together we stand and sing.


BP

TOUGH PREACHERS

As so often is my custom, I found myself this morning sittin' around  thinkin' about Preachers.  

This is Lectureship season.  It is a time when all us Preachers shine up our best stuff, tie our tightest Windsors and get ready to strut our sermon stuff in front of each other - while at the same time trying to not appear too show-offy and still have our hearts in the right place (by the way, I'm NOT doing the Lectureships this week because I'm Preachin with Ricky Skaggs this Thursday at the Ryman - I don't say that to be braggy, just letting people know, in case they are expecting THEIR Preacher to be there too.  You're Preacher will NOT be there - just me).

Lectureships are sorta like the Rose Bowl Parade for Preachers. We spend weeks getting ready for them - rehearsing, cutting and  pasting, re-checking texts, sharpening illustrations and mending any flannel graph stuff that was damaged in the last public debate.  Lectureships are big time.

But while I love the Lectureship season - especially when I'm Preaching at the Ryman, like I am this Thursday with Ricky Skaggs - I can't help but wonder what the "Preachers of Old" would think about all this primpin' and pontificating.

I don't mean the "New Testament Preachers of Old"; they'd probably love it.  I think Peter and Paul probably did the first 2 keynotes.

I'm talkin' about the "Old Testament Preachers of Old".  The REAL Preachers.  The guys who are the reason I became a Preacher in the first place.  "The Wildmen of Worship".  Those guys were serious.  Those guys took no lip from anybody.  Those guys would just preach at you and if you didn't repent, they'd just kill ya, right on the spot, before you even got out of your pew. 

Talk about "an altar call".

Talk about  "Evangel-cool."

Imagine THAT Lectureship, and what THAT schedule of speakers looked like:

Tough Guys Lectureship Series: 

"Letting Loose The Killer Prophet In You"; 

Woman at The Well Auditorium, Hebron, 2023 B.C.

9:30am - Samson; "How To Bring The House Down Without Using Power Point OR Steroids."

11:15am - Elisha: "Dealing With The Mouthy Teen: The Care and Feeding of She-bears."

12:30pm - Preacher's Fellowship Lunch; lentils, figs, manna and Elder Casserole.

1:30pm - Moses: "10 Plagues That Will Drive Your Elders Nuts (And Get You What You Want)."

2:30pm - Eve: "What And What NOT To Feed Your Husband."

2:30pm - Esther: "Why Women Prophets Will Beat You Every Time."

3:30pm - David: "Slingshots Won't Grow a Church But Can Kill A Pretty Mouthy Giant."

4:30pm - Elijah: "How To Wipe Out 500 Prophets of Baal While Making A Bar-B-Que."

4:30pm - Jonah: "The Preacher's Quite Time: What 3 Days Inside A Whale Can Do For Your Preaching Ideas."

5:00pm - Amos: "How To Keep On Preaching When Nobody Can Find Your Book In The Bible (or even knows for sure what you did)."   (NOTE: the location for this lecture is yet to be located.  Participants may wanna just skip this one and go to dinner early.). 

6:00pm - Preacher Lifetime Achievement Award Banquet: Honoring Brother Noah; who preached for 200 years, got exactly NO converts but DID end up baptizing and simultaneously killing the entire world - whether they liked it or not.   

7:30pm  - Entertainment; The New Ammonite Singers, singing their hit, "You Killed 'Em All But You Didn't Get Me!"

7:35pm - Kill remaining Ammonites.

8:00pm - Congregational singing and Fellowship Fisticuffs.  Followed by a special Philistine foreskin collection for The New NEW Ammonite Singers.

10:00pm - Campfire Sing-A-Long with a "Nothin' in my hands" fire from heaven igniting of the campfire demonstration by Elijah and 500 prophets of Baal.  (Note: Elijah wins).

As together we stand and sing.

BP.

MAILBAG #2

 Well, it's time once again to reach into the 'ole mailbag and see what the BlembersTM (blog-members) of this BlongregationTM (blog-congregation) have been saying recently in the comments section of this BlurchTM (blog-church).  So, it's not REALLY a mailbag.  Everybody understand?  Be cool.  Here we go.

First off, we go to an old favorite The Wolfman; who wrote this comment in response to my BlermonTM entitled "Blishionary JourneyTM", where I referenced the WWF.  Wolfman howls:

"If you are going to reference a wrestling organization, be sure and update your database. It is no longer the WWF (unless you means the World Wildlife Fund...may still apply to your comment anyway). it is now the WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment. As a BlishionaryTM, you should keep up to date with current cultural collaborations of cataclysmic character."

As always, Wolfman can come off just a little "know-it-all-look-I-just-got-my-braces off-my-teeth-straight-A student-y" on his comments (C students make the best  Preachers, by the way). I think it has to do with him bein' a Wolfman.   Still, he makes a valid point.  WWF does indeed stand for World Wildlife Fund - which was exactly what I was referring to.  So...there.


Rose (who has a fantastic blog of her own - check out) had this to say about Gidget's movie boyfriend, Daniel Craig in response to my BlermonTM: Ain't A That Good News, Yes, It Is:

"Daniel Craig? No, thanks; he has not captured my attention in the slightest. I'm on your side for this one; I certainly wouldn't be goo-gooing over him."

If I gave out prizes for comments, this comment would be getting a washer and dryer.  I think I will sew it onto a quilt and put it on Gidget's side of the bed.

Next, we have a comment from a frequent and vocal BlemberTM of this BlongregationTM, Aesaint; who had this to say about my Thought Of The Day #6 where I wrote: "I wonder if I'll ever think of another Blermon."  Aesaint writes: 

"My husband is the 'urologist to the stars' AND gives discounts to clergy." 

I have no idea why Aesaint felt the need to tell me that information considering I was yakkin' about BlermonTM topics, - but it's always good to know a capable Urologist as well as where I can get a discount.  So, thanks.  I'll be by later this week.

Another frequent BlemberTM, Rcorely wrote this in response to my BlermonTM, "Happy Muesday":

"Another instant, miraculous transformation: reading this blog makes me feel smart! That is amazing"

I agree, it IS amazing that this blog does ANYthing at all.  By the way, those of you NOT mentioned in this week's mailbag - take note: compliments will get you everywhere. 

In "The Parable Of 2 Pizzas" I wrote something...though  I really cant remember what it was right now...that prompted new BlemberTM Hamzdad to reply:   

"Thank you Lord for Pizza Hut!"

Between you and me, I don't think Hamzdad even read my BlermonTM that day.  But I have to agree - PH makes a pretty mean thin crust.  So, no foul.

In response to my award-winning BlermonTM, "When Dad Caught Bonnie and Clyde", Deacon Giff wrote

"Great story BP. Love, love, loved it!"

As I said before: compliments...everywhere.

New Blember Lisa M read "Gidget: Marriage Guru" and wrote:

Rough feet are one thing, but singing to sleep? Who are you kidding. We know you were snoring to beat the band. Come on BP, confession is good for the soul,and you have got to clear your conscience. Fess up. Gidget was threatening to stuff those sweat socks in your mouth if you didn't stop your supposed 'singing'! You are driving her nuts. We know the truth. She is only letting you think that she's driving you nuts. Goodness. We all know, you were like that as a teen.

Keep living in your lala land though. We wives know the real story.

Wow.  I don't know about you, but I feel like I've been in the losing side of a street fight.  Clearly, Gidget got to Lisa and promised to make her President of her fan club, "Mouthy Friends of Gidget".  I'm doomed.

Finally, we have something from new BlemberTM, CS in response to "The Smart Guys" blermon:

 "Brother Preacher!! Why did I not know about the Malibu Fight Night? I, of all people -- I who witnessed your first miracle, The Wiping Up Of Coffee With a Plastic Bag during Moonshine rehearsal." 

I haven't thought about that miracle in years.  I was fantastic.  Wish you ALL could have been there.

as together we stand and sing

BP

GIDGET: MARRIAGE GURU

Sometimes Gidget scares me to death.  

The other day my wife, Gidget, started tellin' me about this time, a few years ago, when the two of us went on a vacation to Peru.  We met some friends there, went hiking, saw Machu Picchu, and then later ate some fried bananas on a beach.  

While we were there, she got food poisoning, and I got a pretty bad sunburn that landed both of us in the Emergency Room.  

It all ended OK though, when the Doctor who treated us both, offered to let us stay at his Villa that overlooked the ocean for nothing for 2 weeks.  Despite the 2 days of illness, it was without a doubt, a trip of a lifetime.

Unfortunately, I had absolutely NO memory of this trip whatsoever.  I was terrified.  Naturally, I assumed I was experiencing early stages of something terrible.  

So I started popping vitamin C and fish pills like they were Skittles.  Then I started making "sticky" notes to remind me who Gidget was and who I was and where I lived and then slapped the notes all over the house.  

I was devastated.

Then a couple of weeks later, I was telling a friend the sad tale of how I had absolutely NO memory of this clearly fantastic trip to Peru with my wife, when Gidget walked in.

"What are you talking about?"  she said.

"I'm telling Bruce about that trip to Peru I can't remember being on."

"Peru?" she said.  "You were never on a trip to Peru!  That was me and my SISTER!  I got food poisoning and she got this really bad sunburn.  Terrible.  Why on earth would you think you went on that trip?"

She's going to drive me nuts.

She does the same thing with movies I've never seen, books I've never read, and dogs we've either had or not had.

"What do you MEAN you don't remember Fluffy? He went to Peru with us!  Fluffy LOVED Machu Picchu."

Sometimes Gidget will suddenly rearrange everything in the kitchen cupboards for no reason, making me feel like I'm visiting an old friend's house for the first time.  I recognize the dishes, but have NO idea where I found them or what they're for.  

She'll put the bath towels where we used to keep the drill.  The drill ends up in the freezer next to the frozen peas.

One time I went to get the checkbook and found a drawer full of yarn.  You can't pay bills with yarn.

Then last night I crawled into bed next to her and she said, 

"You're feet are so ROUGH!  They feel like sweat socks!  You have GOT to start using some lotion, or get a pedicure, or BOTH!"

I felt terrible, apologized profusely and then sang her to sleep.  

Then I reached down and took off my SOCKS, revealing my perfectly smooth, gorgeous feet.

I was so confused I couldn't sleep for 2 hours.

The good news is this kind of thing can be great for a marriage.  Makes you feel like a newlywed and an Alzheimer's patient all at the same time.  Either way, you really start paying attention to each other again.  You HAVE to, otherwise you'll never find the towels.  

Its kinda like dating again - if you dated somebody who kept hiding your coffee mug from you, and told you that you used to work on an alligator farm.  Every day is a new day to be spent trying to figure out who the heck you're married to now.

I love Gidget.

She's going to drive me NUTS, but I love her.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THOUGHT OF THE DAY #7:

Thought of the Day:

"I wonder exactly how many people know what a 'Tract Rack' is?"

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE DUNKER

I love to baptize.

I mean REAL baptize not that hootie tootie stuff some Preachers do these days.  

I mean REAL baptize.  The kind John The Baptist did.  The kind Charlton Heston did while PLAYING John the Baptist in that movie.   

I mean baptize from the Greek word: Baptizo.  Which means to dip, to plunge, to immerse. 

I mean the DUNKIN'-GO Baptizin'. Like a strawberry in chocolate.

I love it.

There is something about the whole process that I find thrilling.  Of course, there's the spiritual aspect, but let's face it: it just feels good to do.  Especially in the summertime.  Or after a tough game of Capture The Flag.

I'm talking about how it feels to have those waders on, dip somebody backwards into the water, then just hold them down there for a while, as that cool, refreshing baptismal water slowly funnels over the edge of your waders and down into your shoes then slowly filling everything up to just above your clip-on cell phone.  

Talk about refreshing.  Talk about exciting.  Talk about wet.  And they say church is no fun.

What other activity slowly douses every part of your body on the way down so perfectly - shirt, tie, pants, underwear, even my pocket flannel graph Disciples can't escape the "Baptismal Flood" that unleashes itself in my waders.  I come out lookin' like I've been skinny dippin' in my Preachin' clothes and SOUNDING like I'm stompin' grapes.  

Accountants have no idea what I'm talkin' about.  And movie stars?  Please.  This is a "Preacher Thing," girlfriend.  And by "girlfriend" I mean Gidget before we were married, of course.

Most Preachers foolishly try to avoid this "situation".  They think it's undignified.  That somehow if you come out of a baptism lookin' like a rain-soaked groundhog you did something wrong.  Not me. I welcome it.  To me, it feels like a summer storm on parched ground - in waders. To see a Preacher wetter than the person he just baptized means he really LOVES being a Preacher.  And playin' in water.

Over the years I've had a number of baptizing adventures.  I got hypothermia baptizin' in a frozen lake in Colorado.  I nearly drowned a lady who refused to put her hands over her nose so that I'd have an "arm-handle" to pull her back up with (so I was forced to just grab her by the throat and body-dunk her.  It wasn't pretty). I lost a "big guy" on a river one time right as I laid him onto his back.  Big guys WILL float on ya.  He nearly made it all the way to St. Louis.

I used to preach in a Car Wash.  You'd think that'd be GREAT for baptizing.  It is not.  Oh, you might get a nice sprinkling in.  Maybe a light waxing.  But a good, old-fashioned "dunk the drunk baptize" is tough to pull off.

When I baptize I like to hold 'em down there for a while.  Make sure I get full coverage.  Oh sure, they struggle for a little bit, at the beginning - that's natural.  They're usually a little skittish 'cause they think they're gonna die.  Or that you are TRYING to kill them.  But they calm down once they start to lose consciousness.  

There IS a danger of holding them down there too long though - in which case - they get to heaven quicker.  I guess.  So...no harm, no foul.

The biggest trouble with baptizing is that you never really get enough of them to do.  It's kinda like Snipe huntin'.  Everybody talks about HAVING DONE it, and HAVING SEEN it, but most of the time I just end up runnin' around in a cornfield, twirlin' a flashlight in my pillowcase over my head and yellin' "Whoop!  Whoop!  Whoopy- whoop!  Snipe-y, snipe-y, Whoop, whoop!"

That's only worked twice.  For snipes, not baptizing.  

I love baptizing.  

As together we stand and sing.

BP

AIN'T A THAT GOOD NEWS? YES, IT IS.

World's Greatest

Philippians 4:8 says this:

Finally, brethren, 

whatsoever things are true, 

whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, 

whatsoever things are pure, 

whatsoever things are lovely, 

whatsoever things are of good report; 

if there be any virtue, 

and if there be any praise, 

think on these things.

Let's face it, some days life just stinks.  

But I have found over the years that even in the stinkiest of times (which is the working title of my next book, by the way: Stinky Times, Smelly People - What The World Needs Less Of), even in the stinkiest times, I have noticed there is always a little sliver of "Good Things Car Wash Deodorizer" to hang on the rear view mirror of life. 

There are always good things mixed in with the bad.  All we have to do is simply extract the good thing from the pile of stinky-ness, rinse it off (or in some cases sterilize it), hang it, and begin sniffing in the calming, flowery odors.

So let's start with me.

Good Thing #1: Wife is returned!

I know many of you were concerned about Gidget's recent semi-sudden disappearance from a couple of days ago. I appreciated all the comments of support I received here and on Facebook.  Though I have to say, I wasn't CRAZY about all the "goo-gooin'" some of you did over Daniel Craig.  Really coulda done without that.  It's bad enough Gidget has his poster in the bathroom, now I have to read all that mess from you?  Please.

By the way, thanks for the heads up on the news that Daniel Craig may be doing a movie where he plays a PREACHER.  I have already notified the proper authorities to have that film boycotted before it even comes out.

Anyhow...

Gidget is back home safe and sound.  Actually she was here the whole time.  Apparently, I was not.  After our trip to California, I had accidentally returned to our neighbor's house instead of ours and set up shop.  Gidget was in our house lookin' for me.  

Imagine our neighbor's surprise when THEY got home last night and found ME there eating left over chicken in his pajamas and watching TV Land.  

We all had a good laugh over it.  Well, I laughed.  They were kinda steamed.

Our neighbors have a great pool table, by the way.  Though I liked it better when I thought it was ours.  


Anyhow...WIFE NOT DEAD OR RUN OFF WITH MOVIE STAR is a GOOD thing.


Good thing #2: I will be preaching next week at the world-famous Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee right before the great Ricky Skaggs performs.  Here's a link to the show...I mean sermon:

http://www.ryman.com/event/detail/BG_RickySkaggs.html

As you know, anytime I can "get my preach on" it's a good day.  I hope the Ryman is set up for multiple baptisms.  That place holds about 2000 people.  So, we're probably gonna need a filter of some kind on whatever portable baptistery they come up with.  2000 people can leave quite a "ring" if you know what I mean.  

I'm pretty sure everyone will wanna be baptized that night.  I will be preaching on the topic: Get Baptized, Win $10,000."  It's a VERY effective sermon.  Hope Skaggs can spring for the dough.

Ricky.  Also pictured: his guitar.

Finally, Good Thing #3:

I just finished my BlermonTM! 

Wow.  That was easy.  Got some free time now.

I may go see a Daniel Craig flick this afternoon...and boycott it.

As together we stand and sing.

BP.

GIDGET, TWIZZLERS AND DANIEL CRAIG

Well this is embarrassing.  Apparently, I have lost my wife.

I don't mean that she's left me or anything like that. I mean, I can't physically find her.

She was with me when we left Malibu (after I destroyed the scholars with my superior preaching at that conference).   

I know she was with me when we played Caveman and Cave Wife on those big, cement dinosaurs in Arizona.  

And I'm pretty sure she was still with me at the mall in Colorado when we stopped for Twizzlers.  I'm SURE of that one because I  would have NEVER stopped for Twizzlers on my own.  I'm a fig guy.  Like they say, "Figs: The Bible-y snack."

But then when I woke up this morning I realized that she was NOT here.  Anywhere.  I guess this explains why my private eye business went nowhere.  

Then it dawned on me, that she was not  here yesterday or the day before either.

Now let's not all get excited.  I don't suspect foul play or that Gidget has suddenly decided to run off with the Dinosaur Keeper. My assumption is that this has something to do with Twizzlers.  And Daniel Craig.

She loves those Twizzler things and will do almost anything to have them. She also loves that Daniel Craig guy.  You know, the new James Bond guy?  Funny, I always thought he was the fat guy in the Austin Powers movies.  She assures me he was not.  I know she's wrong.  That Daniel Craig can eat.

Anyhow, so my guess is that when we stopped at that mall for the Twizzlers, she went to the movie place in the mall to get some, then saw that DC was starring in something there,  went in to see both DC and the Twizzlers, and has been trapped by movie love and red dye #2 for the last 3 days.

Let's put it this way...it wouldn't be the first time. 

So, I guess I'll head back there to find her.  Though I feel like Daniel Craig should probably do it.  After all, it's his fault. I have never seen a guy who just can't seem to keep his shirt on for 5 minutes.  

It'd never work between Daniel and Gidget anyhow.  He'd never appreciate Gidget the way I do, for one.  And secondly, while she might be happier running around the world with an international movie star and spy, instead of with me in a portable pulpit/van playin' on cement dinosaurs, I know that SHE knows I can preach Daniel Craig under the Communion Table any day of the week.  And I WILL too.  

And THAT, my friends, is Gidget's soft, white underbelly.  The woman is koo koo krazy for good preachin'.  Who isn't?

So watch yourself, Craig.  

PS - I'd take Roger Moore ANY day of the week.  THAT guy knew how to keep his shirt on.

In the meantime, do me a favor and don't let Gidget know that I didn't notice she was missing  the last couple of days.  I just thought she was doin' a crossword puzzle.

And as far as this particluar BlermonTM (blog-sermon) goes, let's just file it under "announcements" for now.  

I don't recall any Bible stories about Twizzlers right off hand.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

Something else DC can't do better than me...in a suit!

A TIME TO BE MOODY

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, says this... 

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: 

a time to be born and a time to die, 

a time to plant and a time to uproot, 

a time to kill and a time to heal, 

a time to tear down and a time to build, 

a time to weep and a time to laugh..."

Blah blah, blah...you get it. This one goes one for a while, and for some reason I just don't feel like readin' the whole thing right now.  Trust me.  You'll thank me later.  Anyhow...


When I DO have the time and desire to actually read this whole passage, I must say, it is one of my favorites.  What a wonderful thought it is to realize that there is "a time" for everything.  To know that everything eventually changes, that nothing in life ever stays exactly the same. 

I don't know about you but I find great comfort in that fact.  Well, when things are goin' BAD I do.  When things are goin' GREAT...this is a real DRAG of a verse. 

What's even weirder is when I'm havin' a day like today.  Today I seem to be havin' ALL the seasons at once.  It may be a medication problem.  By THAT I mean, I may NEED some medication, which I DON'T have and that is a PROBLEM.

I can't seem to stay focused on...

Anyhow...

Who?

I am so bored.  

Why is everyone lookin' at me?  Can't a guy have a nice, private cryin' jag in the middle of Starbucks without everybody gawkin' at him?!

I LOVE the Rifleman!  

Look!


OK, I'm back.  For a short time, anyhow.  

Whew.  This is exhausting.

The only guy I know who's had this experience in the Bible was probably the crazy, demon possessed guy.  Jesus took the demons out of him and put 'em into some unsuspecting pigs who promptly threw themselves off a cliff.

I'm not suggesting I'm demon-possessed, of course.  Let's just say I wouldn't be UNhappy if I suddenly came across a bunch of pigs and a cliff right now.

I think I had too much iced coffee.  

Why won't these pictures load onto this blog this morning?

Gotta make my Christmas list.

Personally, I kinda like speeding through all the seasons of life in one 5 minute period.  Saves time.

But makes my neck hurt.

Can't wait to see what happens next.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

ARMY GUYS BIBLE STORIES (#8)

The Army Guys Bible Theater presents...

The Army Guys

in...

Goliath Prepares For Battle,

The Big Guy

And A Power Outage.

The Big Candle

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE CRAFTY PREACHER

Emergency Preacher Crafts

Let's face it.  Preachers just don't do crafts like they used to.

Jesus was a woodworker.  
Paul made tents.  Peter mended nets.
Joseph's dad liked to tie-dye coats of many colors.

Nowadays, Preachers golf.  Or worse yet, bowl.  I know one Preacher in Omaha who is on a paintball team.  He isn't that good.  I know he isn't any good because whenever he  preaches he has a slight orange glow around his forehead and cheeks.  He's pretty bruised up too.  He may wanna try something else.  Like maybe a nice, safe Turner Classic Movies Marathon.

It's good for Preachers who spend most of their time reading and worrying and baptizing, to do something with their hands on occasion.  Helps keep the calluses up.  There's nothing worse than shakin' hands with a Preacher after church and getting the feeling that he just came from getting a manicure.  

For me, the craft of champions is probably Leathercraft.  

I like it because there's leather involved - which makes it easy to pretend like I'm Jesse James making a saddle in the Old West for a big, upcoming train robbery.  Or maybe a cave man makin' a hat.  Or a guy in prison makin' a billfold.  

Also, with Leathercraft, I can usually bang my thumb at least twice, which is always a good manly look,  as well as find a way to cut myself several times.  In short, it can tear up my hands pretty quickly, which with my tight preaching schedule is a must.

Also very few people (let alone Preachers) even DO Leathercraft anymore.  I love to see the look of surprise (some would misinterpret it as disgust) when I give someone a belt I made with their name and some ladybugs pounded into it.  I make 'em put it on right away and model it. That just doesn't happen anymore.

Most importantly Leathercraft provides me with some down time as well as an opportunity for sermon illustrations.  Some of the sermon illustrations and ideas I have had just this week as a result of working in leather include:

Christians: Tough as Leather, Cute as Butterflies.

Put On The Belt Of Righteousness And Blue Birds.

It's Hard To Sin When you're Name And Phone Number Is On Your Belt.

So come on, Preachers.  Get your hands a little dirty.  Tear up a table top.  Singe the ends of your fingers.  The whole golf thing is SO...Pre-Power Point. 

Dare To Be A Crafter!

As together we stand and sing.

BP

WHEN DAD CAUGHT BONNIE AND CLYDE

Maybe 4 years old was a bit young to have a girlfriend.

But 5 year old Suzie (yes, that was her REAL name) possessed all the qualities I have always found irresistible in a woman: she was cute, knew how to climb a tree and liked ME.  

You should see my wife Gidget climb a tree.  She's a regular Swiss Family Robinson.

When you're 4 years old in the 1960's, you tend to have a lot of free time on your hands.  In those days, kids were expected to set their own schedule and if possible get a job.  If the weather was good, it was not unusual to be kicked out of the house right after breakfast and told to "go play" for about 9 hours.  It wasn't neglectful, it was summer.  And when you're 4 years old, it's ALWAYS summer.

With that kind of freedom, it's a good idea to have a strong, idea-generating woman, who loves you, at the ready.  Not ALL the time, of course.  But after you've built your 5th cardboard box cowboy fort, stuck sticks in 300 ant holes, and poured about 9,000 gallons of hose water all over the back yard just so you can walk through it with your galoshes on, you need somebody to come up with something cool to do.  Enter Suzie.

It was about mid-morning when Suzie, along with this kid Brian and I were already fresh out of things to do.  Brian was this weird, little kid Suzie's Mom used to babysit.  He always had nasal issues.  His nose was either constantly running, or completely stuffed up, or both all at the same time.  He couldn't climb a tree if a man-eating wart hog was chasin' him.  But he always offered to be the guy that got killed first when we played cowboys, so he wasn't totally worthless.  

Anyhow,  we were standing on the side of my house trying to figure out what to do when Suzie had this great idea.

"Do you have any cookies at your house?" she whispered to me.  Suzie always smelled like grape Popsicles.


"Yes." I said, staring at Brian's runny, yet stuffed up nose.  


"OK," said Suzie, "Go into your house and ask your Dad for a cookie.  If he asks if it's just for you, say 'Yes,' then bring it outside and we'll all go run some place else and eat it."

"But I thought Brian wasn't supposed to have cookies," I said.

"He isn't. He's allergic.  If he eats the wrong kind of cookie, he could die."

Brian nodded his head and tried to breath.

"So if your Dad asks if it's just for you, just say 'Yes.'  Then bring it outside and we'll all go run someplace else and eat it."

Suzie knew I usually needed instructions twice. Especially when getting ready to poison another kid.

"OK, so go!" she said.  "We'll wait here."

Then Brian nodded and tried to sniff, as he and Suzie hid behind the rain pipe.

I went inside my house and back to the kitchen where my Dad was making our sandwiches for lunch.  When he was home and my mom wasn't, lunch was always an adventure.  He cut our sandwiches side to side.  Mom cut them diagonal. We all have our own idea of adventure.

I went right up to my father and said, "Can I have a cookie?"

He kept looking at the sandwich he was cutting wrong and said over his shoulder, "Is it just for you, or are you gonna share it with your friends?"

I thought, "Well, now what kinda of ridiculous, self-incriminating question is that?" 

My Dad was amazing.  He was my world.  He could do anything.  He had been in the Air Force, could throw a football the whole length of the front yard, and could set up Christmas trees.  

But it wasn't until that moment that I realized he also possessed some sort of magical power to ask just the RIGHT question at the WRONG time.  I started to panic.

I knew it was wrong to lie. But I also knew that it was wrong to not do as you were told.  And I had been TOLD to LIE from Suzie.  

I also liked cookies.  

After a split second of internal debate I said, "It's just for me. No one else.  And NOT for Suzie and Brian either." 


I thought that last bit was particularly genius move. But then, as he so often did,  Dad countered brilliantly.


"Are you SURE?" he said.


Oh, no. Am I sure?  What is THAT supposed to mean?  Sure of what?  That I am lying?  Yes.  That I'm a cookie-stealing Clyde in love with a Popsicle smellin' Bonnie? Yes, again!  That I'm going to probably kill Brian?  That goes without saying.

"Yes, I'm sure. It's just for me."  I lied as sweetly as I could.


Dad finally stopped with the sandwiches, reached over to the cookie jar and pulled out one of my mom's home-made chocolate chip sensations.


"OK, here ya go," he said, looking me straight in the eye and smiling.

I grabbed the cookie and high-tailed it out of the house, jumping off the porch and blazing around the corner where Suzie and Sniffles were waiting.


I handed the cookie over to Suzie who examined it for a split second then said, "OK, now let's run someplace else and eat it!"


Then as the three of us took off running like we'd just robbed the Union Pacific Bakery, I heard my Dad calling from  inside the house.


"Preacher!  Stop RIGHT there."


I immediately dropped to my knees and began crying.  How did he know?


As I watched Suzie and Snuffle-up-agus disappearing around the garage to eat my cookie, I knew the rest of the afternoon for me was going to be filled with a spanking, a lecture, no cartoons and probably a forced nap. 

If you're gonna play you have to pay.

I could fill a book with all the times my Father corrected, instructed, encouraged, educated, and challenged me. I could fill another of all the bad roads and dark paths he helped me avoid just by being as vigilant as he was.  He did his "dad thing" every day, without fail, whether I liked it or not.  

To some parents it was just a cookie.  But he saw it as something else, and took the opportunity to make a big point on a little guy.  In my case, it worked.  I don't think I ever lied to him again.  At least not about cookies.

I often wonder what would have happened had he not intervened on that particular day - there is no telling the cookie stealing spree he helped prevent.

Every would-be Bonnie and Clyde should be so lucky.  I know I am.


I love you, Dad.


As together we stand and sing.


BP

PS - Brian didn't die.

WHY I LOVE THE OLD TESTAMENT (#2)

Deut. 25: 8-10 says this...

"At this, the elders of the town should summon him and reason with him. If he still stands his ground and says I refuse to take her, his brother's widow must go up to him in the presence of the elders, pull his sandal off his foot, spit in his face, and declare, 'Thus we requite the man who will not build up his brother's family. His family will be known in Israel as the house of the unsandalled man.'"

Let's face it: I love wearing sandals.  

I think they're comfortable, airy, stylish, and often make me feel like Jesus.  Especially when I wear my white Hilton Hotel robe and blue sash from the fabric store with them.  I can think of no  MORE first century fashion statement - except maybe a donkey.  Or a beard.

At the very least, when I wear sandals, I feel like Elijah.  And sometimes the Apostle Thomas, when I'm feeling "Doubt-y" at the time.

Here in this passage, we learn that there is the very real possibility for trouble if you happen to be a "sandal wearing guy with a dead brother who doesn't really dig your sister-in-law." 

Lucky for me, while I DO wear sandals, I do NOT have a brother (dead or otherwise).  So... I'm kinda in the clear on this one, I guess.  NO matter what I do, my family will not be known as a "house of a sandal-less" one.  

Whew.  That's a relief.  I tell ya, the Old Testament can be such a comfort.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE SMART GUYS AND ME

I don't wanna sound all braggy but, facts is facts...I destroyed the Bible Scholars last night with my superior preaching.  They never saw it comin'.

Of course, I ALSO simultaneously got myself dis-fellowshipped from about 9 different denominations, while tickin' off about a hundred big brained Bible guys and their wives but...these things happen. 

Francis Collins, the human genome/world famous scientist guy was there.  We chatted afterwards for a while and found that we have lots in common.  Apparently, he discovered the human genome a while ago.  I told him that I have also found stuff...usually in the backyard or my closet. I think he was impressed, though he seemed a bit skittish to see me.  He probably thought I was gonna try to baptize him right there on the spot.  Don't laugh.  I thought about it.  He probably noticed the "Pre-baptize Glaze" I get in my eye right before I dunk somebody.  He's a scientist, they notice that kind of stuff.

Anyhow, it occurred to me this morning that Francis will no doubt be bringing  my name up the next time he meets with Bill Gates or  President Obama.  

That's just gonna KILL Joel Olsteen.  Oh, well.    

Making my way back home today.  There's a pile of mail to sift through and a "Housewives of New Jersey" marathon on the DVR my wife Gidget has to catch up on, so have to get back.  

Meanwhile, I wanna personally thank all of the BlembersTM (blog-members) of this BlongregationTM (blog-congregation) for your support during this missionary trip to California.  You weren't a LOT of help (I did all the preachin' and most of the drivin'), but it was still good to know you there to pray and fast.  

I HATE fasting while I'm on the road.  And I get too dizzy when I fast while I'm tryin' to preach. Now that I think of it, I don't think I EVER fast.  

Why?  Because fasting stinks.  Thanks for doing it for me.  Now go have a donut.

I wonder if Francis Collins ever fasts?  

What I really wonder is if he has a microscope.  Or a trampoline. 

I'll ask him next time we're on a smart guy science panel in Washington together.

Can't WAIT for that.  I'll preach those guys into the ground.

Joel Olsteen will wanna jump off a bridge.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

BIBLE SCHOLARS: LAST WARNING

Ever wondered what it feels like to be a Preacher on the verge of taking Hollywood and a bunch of whiny Bible Scholars by storm?  Take a look at this picture and you'll know exactly what it feels like.

It feels cold, hard, and a little bit scummy. 

But it has to be done.

These are the tiles in my bathroom of my room in Malibu.  I've been staring at it for 3 hours.  It's called PPF:  

PRE-PREACH FOCUS.  

PPF is mandatory when you are preparing to Preach at  a bunch of mouthy, braggy Bible Scholars in Malibu.  This isn't a job for just ANY preacher.  Olsteen would crumble under the pressure.  I'd like to see HIM stare at a bathroom wall for 2 hours.  Never happen.


I'm gonna tear 'em up.

I find that bathroom tiles have a way of helping me visualize the points of my sermon.  Each tile represents either a specific point, illustration, joke, or dog story. 

There's one tile in here that has what appears to be toothpaste on it.  That's my invitation song.

The plan is to stay in this bathroom and stare at these tiles til "go" time.  That's about...9 hours from now.  

By then, I'll be ready.  I'll be nice and hungry, thirsty, grumpy, mean, probably a little dizzy and if I'm lucky, babbling like a mad man.  I'll be a cross between John The Baptist and a crazed hamster.

Unstoppable.

Of course, if I get TOO hungry, I'll probably have some lunch and take a nap.  

Gotta always have a backup plan.

As together we stand and sing.


BP

PREACHING IS EASY

Lemme tell ya, if I preached here in San Francisco full time, I would have a never-ending supply of BlermonTM (blog-sermon) topics.  Which almost makes the whole "morning jog-dodgin' Sea Gull 'goo'-dance" worth it.

All I'd have to do it walk outside and I would be instantly transported into a living, breathing, Sermon Topic-teria.  For example...

Gull "Goo" Already In Progress

"Beware of Gull Goo."

From the Future, At the Park

"Dear Doubting Thomas: Martians are REAL!"

Giant Killer: Plan "B"

"What  David Would Have Done Next If The 5 Stones and The Slingshot Had Missed."

When Preachers Daydream

 "It's A Long Road To Heaven...And Back To My Hotel.".

Help

"Bus/Trolley Thingy Where I Think I Lost My Billfold."

Thanks for nothin', Eve.

 
"Don't Be An Adam!"





I just realized, the bus/trolley thingy really wasn't a BlermonTM idea,  so much as it was a call for help.  I mean REAL help in finding my billfold.  So if  anyone's on that particular bus/trolley thingy later today and finds my billfold please contact me immediately at this BlongregationTM (blog-congregation).

By the way, this is where I dropped my camera/phone.

The Ledge of Lost Things

Anyhow, you get it.  

I could preach all day here.  But I was MOST inspired when I stumbled upon the statue of none other than the Apostle Paul...

Paul In 'Frisco

I had no idea he even MADE it to California.  Have to take another look at that "Missionary Journey's" map. 

Headed to LA today to get my preach on for the Bible Scholar's Conference on the 16th in Malibu. I don't know about you but Bible Scholars tend to be a bit snooty for my tastes.  

I'm thinkin' of whippin' the Martian picture on 'em.  That oughtta shut 'em up.   

As together we stand and sing.  

BP

LITTLE FAITH? LITTLE TIME.

I know what many of you are thinking.  

"Is BP gonna make it today?  Will there be a BlermonTM?  Or has his luck finally run out."

Oh, ye of little faith...

Lets face it - I'm Preaching in San Francisco.  That...takes...time.  There are a LOT of things to preach against here.  Be serious.  I'm busy.

Maybe instead of complaining and doubting me, you could start praying for me or maybe getting out here for a little tag team preaching.  


Either way - I'm gonna keep goin'.  I've got my preach SERIOUSLY on - and I won't be turned off.


By the way, on my run this morning on the beach, I think I accidentally baptized a manatee in a tutu. 

At least I THINK it was a manatee.

Why I was in a tutu is anybody's guess.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE PARABLE OF THE BIRD FEEDER

And it came to pass that in a vineyard hangeth a feeder of birds.

And upon the morn the fowls of the air would come unto her and and eat of her seeds and feast upon her corn.  And in the evening they wouldst return and feast a second time.  

And the fowl of the air did love the Feeder of Birds, and the vineyard prospered.

And it came to pass, that unto the vineyard came another Feeder of Birds unto the vineyard, that the Master hangeth under the tree.  

And behold it was golden unto the eye and velvet unto the touch, and beautiful and filled with seeds more tasty than the Feeder of Birds.  And the Golden Feeder saith unto the Bird Feeder,

"Behold, thou art a feeder of birds and unto thine perch cometh the fowl of the air both in the morn and again at eve.  But see-est thou mine golden color and the shape of my figure and weep and wail for thine own self.  For now  the fowl of the air will reject thee fully and come unto me and eat my seed and feast upon my corn both in the evening and in the morn."

But the Feeder of Birds saith nothing unto the Golden Feeder.

"Did you not heareth my cry," saith the Golden Feeder again unto the Feeder of Birds.

"Will you not weep when the fowl of the air no longer cometh unto you in the morning and the evening?  Then will the Master  come and take you away and toss you unto the garbage pit and...HEY!  I'm talking-est to thou!"

"Are-est thou even listening unto me?"

"HEY!"

 "WAKEST THOU UP!"

But the Feeder of Birds saith nothing unto the Golden Feeder...

...for behold, she was a bird feeder.  

And bird feeders don't talk.

Behold.

As together we stand and sing.

BP