He dates my daughter.  And justifiably so, I do not like him.  Given another circumstance, any circumstance, and we would get along fine.  He is a smart enough guy.  But his heart is not focused very meaningfully upon his College studies, which would be o.k., except that he dates my daughter.  He is not overly religious.  Although, I see potential and think he would be worth the effort.  So I would be diligently seeking to draw him into the faith if he were dating the daughter of someone else.  He's soft-spoken, and seems genuinely humble.  But I just wish he would leave my little girl of 23 years alone.  Alas, the guy still hangs around even after two years of my somber treatment.

This Christmas, he gained my respect as a formidable foe in this battle for my daughter's heart.

On Christmas morning we exchanged gifts.  Once again my daughter insisted upon inviting the guy over.  I've grown accustomed to him hanging out in the shadows.  I'm not mean to him.  Just, a bit cool.  Cool, with a smile, and oh-so-brief conversation.  The morning went quite well.  All the gifts and pleasantries made for a good time.  Then, the guy brought out his gift for my wife and I.  What?  And it was not some inane, quite forgettable, last-second throw-in.  Instead, he produced a handsomely framed and matted reproduction of the Salvador Dali masterpiece, Christ Of St. John Of The Cross.  Immediately my attention was riveted upon such a thoughtful gift.  From this guy!  I scanned the painting, the muscles of the shoulders, the engulfing darkness, the brilliant statement of utter despair as our Lord made the ultimate sacrifice.  The guy talked a bit about Dali, and of his own interpretation of the work.  Again, he did so with that annoying humility and kindness toward which I just can't grasp a good and solid dislike.

We hung it upon the wall, and there I sat in my recliner, contemplating such a fine gift.  Yep, the guy pulled one over on me this time.  He didn't fight fair.

Later, on my way to a family get-together, I stopped at a local drugstore and bought the guy a $25 gift card to Red Lobster.  I instructed my daughter to pass it along, and tell him I had it in my pocket all along and just forgot.  Yes, it was a low and transparent lie that fooled no one.

And I just know, absolutely know, the guy carries it in his pocket as a trophy.  So he will reach into that pocket, and feel of that card, and just smile.  I can picture the smile.  Soft, reserved, a smile I have not liked.  So he will know, this time, he won.  And I give him credit.  He is a most worthy opponent.

In the course of general interaction while at church, a teenage girl asked me twice to visit at her home.  She and her family are new to our fellowship, and church is a new matter in their lives, and so I truly intended to make the connection.  However time has been short and I’ve found myself with lots of reasons to do other things.  And so the news hit me like a brick when I learned this same young lady had attempted suicide.

I am not a therapist.  I am not a Bible scholar.  I try to love people and lead our church to reflect Christ to the world around.  And I think this time I messed up.  Necessary is a sensitivity to be able to distinguish what is most important from the rest, which may call for our attention but still can wait.  This girl has a very tough life at home.  She is loved by her family, but there is so very much that has been dysfunctional for so very long.  And so she reached the breaking point.  How very sad.

Later today her mom and I will go to the hospital to give her a ride home.  Her father, whom I suspect to be an abusive man, wanted to take her far away.  I think we put a stop to that.  We will do some talking.  And I will seek to work hard to be a presence for love and goodness in the life of this family.  Surely professional therapy is needed, and I am thankful we live in a place where such is made available.  But, again, so many conflicting dynamics are at play- family, social, religious- and just plain ole’ ignorance, embedded and enforced.  But I do believe that the love of Christ breaks through all such devices and works miracles.

Life is hard.  This little girl deserves better.  I’m glad to have another chance.

Rick Warren gets plenty of attention through his books and media appearances and has every right to promote his religious views. But he doesn't need or deserve a position of honor at the inauguration of a president who has given hope to so many Americans by rejecting the politics of division and emphasizing his commitment to constitutional values.

I pass along this revealing quote from Kathryn Kolbert, president of People For The American Way, concerning her opinion about Rick Warren giving an invocation at the inauguration ceremony of Barack Obama.  There will be more for me to say in coming days as I gather my thoughts and try to put them together in understandable format.  But it just seems obvious to me this person has no understanding of inclusion or toleration of those who see things differently than yourself.  Her approach?  Accept only those who are like you, but viciously attack, self-righteously judge, and at-all-costs exclude those who differ.  In other words, she displays exactly what she claims to oppose.

I do hold out a glimmer of hope that, perhaps by choosing Warren, our new President is making the statement that indeed he intends a refreshingly new approach to such things.  Perhaps political liberalism is not bad, but only such cynical and exclusivist self-supremacy as displayed by Ms. Kolbert?  He said he intends to change the politics of hate.  Indeed, there is Hope.

In the next couple of weeks I will be spending some personal time with each of my three kids.  They are now adults, which makes the relationships in many ways rich but also challenging.  Here is how things appear to be working out:

Brock is home from the Marines for a few weeks.  We will go to an art museum in Atlanta to see a traveling display called Bodies.  It is a presentation of real human bodies, sans skin, in various poses and with differing features of their inner workings exposed.  Sounds bizarre, which means it is exactly the kind of thing my son will like.  The bodies have been saturated in some type of plasticized mixture, leaving them suspended and highly life-like.  I understand they additionally feature a human intestine, stretched to all its length and glory. 

As a needed note, certainly controversy goes with this exhibit.  Some question if this is an improper, undignified treatment of something which should be held more sacred.  To me they are but bodies, shells if you will, on their way back to where they came- dust.  That which is sacred- the spirits- departed at the times of death.  I do not place much value or time with visiting gravesides for the same reason, and only do so out of respect for those around me who see things differently.  Another controversy has to do with the source of these bodies.  They are from China.  Some surmise them to be executed criminals whose bodies have been sold without permission, perhaps even from the outlawed Falun Gong religious cult.  This cannot be verified.  I’m pretty sure such is not beyond the context of the “thugocracy” which appears to rule the country.  But at this time is just seems to be speculation.

Well, as I read the previous paragraphs, it seems I’ve put a damper on the matter.  You know, I hate that tendency of my personality!  I tend to reason and think, and rethink, until I’ve battered out most of the fun and leave things too dry.  I am going online in a few minutes to order the tickets with the intention of having a memorable time.  Of course… it could be horrible, and haunt me for the next several years.  Oops, there I go again.

I’ll pass along what I’ll be doing with the other kids in the next two posts.  They are also strange and interesting.  The excursions, not the kids…

An alien from another world comes to earth with a message of judgment and hope.  Mankind does not listen and instead seeks his destruction.  He has within his power the justifiable execution of judgment.  In an amazing act of sacrificial love, he gives his life to bring about the possibility of salvation for all of humanity.  Yet, he is not really dead, but returned from whence he came.  The remaining question is will humanity accept this amazing opportunity and truly change?

Hmmm...  Seems I've read this story before...

A lady called the Baptist Pastor to ask if he would consider conducting the funeral for her dog that just died.  Said the dignified clergy: "Absolutely not.  What an insult to the dignity of the funeral, sacredness of the office of the Minister, and especially to the gospel of our Lord."

Later that day he shared his insult at the weekly Minister's Meeting.  
Replied the Episcopal Priest: "Perhaps you should have.  It would have been a great opportunity to affirm how we experience the love of God through our pets."
Replied the Methodist Bishop:  "Perhaps you should have.  You could have ministered to a grieving family."
Replied the Pentecostal Preacher:  "Perhaps you should have.  Then you could have shared the Plan of Salvation, and gotten the whole family saved!"

With umbrage and equal injury of conscience, the good Pastor bowed his head in the midst of challenge, and solemnly prayed, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Quickly, with sorrow and repentance, his fellow ministers asked forgiveness and pledged solemn support.

That evening, the lady again called.

"I've tried everywhere to secure a minister for my dog's funeral.  I called every church in town and they all agreed with you."
Said the Pastor, "The Lord moves in mysterious ways."
Replied the lady: "I tell you what-  I really want to honor my beloved pet with a good Christian funeral.  For the minister who conducts the service, I will pay him $10,000."

Quickly responded the energized Pastor:  "Well, why didn't you tell me the dearly beloved was a Baptist?"

Yesterday I took Oreo to be euthanized. He has been my pet and friend and a big chunk of my heart for 16 years.

Quite well I remember coming home late one evening, from a long day of work, to find this strange, frisky dog on the carport.  I assumed him to be a stray or to belong to a neighbor, so a couple of times I shooed him away.  As soon as my back was turned, he would return with a slink, almost crawling, insistent that he belonged.  The porch light came on and my wife came out to inform me that we now have a new dog.  She and the kids drove across town to answer a classified ad in the newspaper.  A friendly and frisky border collie mix needs a good home.  Free!  And so Oreo was now part of our family.

Somewhere along the way he became my dog.  Oh, he belonged to the family, helped us to raise three kids, and kind-of/sort-of liked my wife.  We played.  We took walks together.  And we had lots of conversations.  Well, I pronounced the words while he wagged the tail.  I think he appreciated that I considered him as an equal, which might say a bit about my self-image, but I think mostly states the value I have for pets. As a young boy I came to understand the importance of friendship with a dog.  Life at home was sometimes rough.  No dad around.  But we lived next to what seemed to be an endless forest, and I had two mutts that loved to roam the woods with me.  Thus Blackie, George, and I spent our summers and evenings after school.  I learned lots of things, like how to enjoy my own company, and how to appreciate God’s creation, and especially that a good dog makes a mighty fine friend.

Oreo has tolerated a lot from this highly imperfect owner.  We’ve lived at several different places.  Along the way he has been snake bitten- right on the nose!  And it seems he has been beaten-up by every dog in every neighborhood.  He likes the ladies, but he is a terrible fighter.  Anyways, it was all in vain, for long ago we saw the wisdom of having him neutered.  And he forgave me even that indiscretion, a reminder of the unconditional love of such a companion.  Moving to our present home was a radical change from the rural settings of the past.  Oreo was confined within a chain link fence, and such proved a difficult adjustment to his carefree living.  One day I noticed he had licked bare the tops of his front paws, an obvious sign that he was unhappy.  So the next day we began what would prove a rewarding regimen of many years, our morning and evening walks.  Very much he enjoyed these times, and all seemed well again.

About two years ago he ceased the walks, in spite of prodding from our younger dog and myself.  No longer could his old bones and joints tolerate the pounding.  Thus he confined himself to what I thought to be a pampered life in the backyard.  Most days he would laze under the shrubbery.  And he grew older.  His demise was consistent and I’m sure common to all, whether dog or human.  Cataracts.  Soft food.  Short temper.  And, a noticeable change of personality.  Family and friends began to tell me it was time to consider “putting him down”.  But this was my friend, my pal, and in my estimation he had earned the right to love and grace.  So I was stubborn about the matter.  But, time can be rather cruel.

Three months ago we agreed he could no longer come into the house, because either he could not or would not control his bowels.  He never seemed to understand, and would stand at the patio door for hours, longingly and pleadingly looking into the house.  Sometimes I would relent, and usually it was not a good thing.  He would awaken me at night with a sad bark, his plea to come into the house.  I would go out to scold him, and then feel badly, knowing he simply was sad about the whole matter.

One night last week he barked again, several times.  I went out to find him in a sitting position, unable to stand because of the combination of arthritis and a dislocated hip.  And, thus I knew it was time.  Still, I waited another week.  The finality of the matter was not easy for me to admit.  Maybe he would get better… Perhaps he would die in his sleep…  And it became obvious.  For whatever reasons, Oreo's body was not ready to die.  But it was time.  It was the right thing to do.  And, as the person who loved and knew him the most, it was my responsibility and privilege to take care of the matter.  My old friend had always counted on me to do what was good and right.  And this time I would not let him down.

Yesterday I called the vet and made the appointment.  3:30 p.m.  Would I want the ashes and a memorial urn?  No, I don’t think so.

I called him into the house, one last time to sleep in his beloved spot, sprawled out on the floor with sun streaming upon him from the window, oblivious to the rest of the day.  And several times I sat next to him, just to scratch his ears and say some stupid things.  He’s almost deaf, so it did not matter what I said.  And he has come to the point that all he really wants is to be left alone.  But these moments were more for myself than him.  Once again I thought about this fine friend and loyal companion.  In the quietness of the moment it seemed we confirmed, together, that the timing was right and the issue settled.  There was peace.

I did not feel much like working for the rest of the day.  And I am sure such would seem silly to anyone that has never loved an old dog.  So I sat in my easy chair and listened to my mp3 player.  I did not want conversation- just reflection.  And in just a brief moment it was time to go.

Debbie went in to say goodbye.  She did not say much, but there were tears in her eyes.  She took a photo.  But I will not see it.  I do not want to remember Oreo as an old, worn-out dog, lying upon the carpet.  He was an energetic and frisky fellow who loved to play fetch and go for long walks, and bounced with joy when his friends came along.  Yeah, that's what I will remember, and with a smile. Carefully I picked him up and carried him to the car.  He seemed lighter than before, and later the vet would confirm that he was dehydrated and likely suffering from early kidney failure.  He felt so frail.  And yet, characteristically, he submitted to whatever I was doing, although surely he was confused.  Or, just tired.  He simply lay in my arms.  And when I sat him in the car, he just stayed.

By the time we arrived at the vet, I was pretty much an emotional mess.  I was determined to do my best not to be a crybaby- who wants to deal with this 52-year-old man bawling over an old dog?  But, it was certainly a somber time as I walked into the lobby.  The receptionist seemed to understand for there was little small talk.  She ushered us into an exam room where the vet would soon come.  And so we sat for about twenty minutes.  I am glad there was a delay.  It allowed me to gain composure and assurance this was the right .  At first I was telling myself, Get control.  It's just an old dog!  But I set aside that strategy, and found much more comfort by repeatedly telling myself, This is the most loving thing to do.

The vet and his assistant entered the room and right away it was obvious this was not an enjoyable task for them.  They were professional of demeanor, which I really needed at that moment.  Clinically he explained the process.  He would give Oreo a shot to relax him, and thus within five minutes he would fall into a deep sleep.  Then he would be placed upon the table and administered a dose of phenylbarbital.  And quickly his heart would cease.  He mentioned complications which could arise, but assured these were very unlikely.  The lady sensed my distress and asked if I was sure that I wanted to be present?  This was my friend.  There was no way I would abandon him at this moment.

With the first shot, which seemed painless, quickly he lay down and slept like a baby.  I have not seen Oreo at such rest in quite some time.  The pain of his ancient body no longer seemed a hindrance.  I stroked his dry and matted fur,and thought of how it once felt so silky.  In my mind I pictured him running through green and rolling fields, with that big and broad smile, leaping with unbounding energy.  Ahh, that would be nice!  And I was at his side as the last shot was administered.  My hand was upon his chest as his breathing became light.  Then it was over.  The doctor checked with his stethoscope.  Oreo was gone.  The nurse asked if I would like a few moments alone.  I said no.  It was over.  My heart was not heavy, and I was able to walk from the room with composure and peace.

For many years I have believed that life is much more than the physical.  Do dogs go to heaven?  I am not sure.  But I am convinced that a loving and gracious God has immensely gifted my life with this amazing friend.  He has promised that He has gone to prepare a place for me, and that one day He will come again and take me to be with Him in that place, forever.  And since that place will filled with amazing happiness and joy--- maybe there will be room for a little dog that has proven to be my gift from God?

(If this all seems too sappy for you...get over it!)

Looks like my son will be stationed in Hawaii.  And I sense that a visit from his dad is in order.

Although I cannot carry a tune, I will be singing in the upcoming Christmas Cantata.  And I'll be playing King Uzziah.  He was a pompous king who was struck with leprosy.

I just spent a week's salary on new brakes for the car.  These guys who advertise brake jobs for $79.95 are liars.  I would like to hear from anyone- just one person- who has ever taken their car to the shop and paid only $79.95 for brakes.  Anyone? - Complete silence -

I have a Shitzu.  Let me clarify- she technically is my wife's dog.  And she is a sweet little pet.  Even as I type on the keyboard, she is sleeping happily ontop my feet.  We give her special treats and otherwise pamper her in all kinds of ways.  Anyhow, a few minutes ago she came out of the back room with a "special toy" clutched in her cute little mouth.  She went into the back and did the bad thing, and brought it out as a toy.  We humans are rather silly with the way we humanize our pets.  And then, regularly, they do things like this to remind us they stupid animals.  Cute.  Usually adorable.  But, animals nonetheless.

And, even with their foibles, many times I prefer the company of animals.

Big Dog, my adopted German Shepherd, has learned to climb the fence.  Both ways.  He's a good and harmless dog filled with love and slobber, who happens to be all muscle and weigh about 70 pounds.  He will gallup up to someone, at full-speed, and you will think you are about to be run over by a freight train.  The effect is a bit harrowing to the little-old-ladies from church.

Today I'll visit with mom.  We will go out to eat, and once again I'll try to convice her to come spend a few days at my house.  In the midst of her talk about how very much she dislikes her living arrangement, she will tell me once again that she is just too busy to come over.  Moms- who can understand?

It's back to the polls today.  Surely most of us are quite tired of politics for the moment.  But, here in Georgia we are having a runoff election for U.S. Senate between incumbent Chambliss and challenger Martin.  I'll be voting for Chambliss.  And, not with enthusiasm because of the person, but nonetheless with resolve because of political and social convictions.

I feel quite strongly about elections, and did what I could in the general elections to bring about a win for my side.  Certainly I voted.  And I registered others to vote.  Within proper context- never in the pulpit and never in my public position as pastor- I sought to vigorously and persuasively convince others of the rightness of my cause.  And in many ways I was on the winning side.  In just about every demographic category that I represent, my side won.  My district, county, state, and region of the country voted my way.  My age group, gender, and religious category all supported the conservative candidate, although none in overwhelming numbers.  My family voted McCain, except for one stubborn daughter who just wanted to show her dad her independence.  So, I did my best.

But, alas, Obama won the election.  It was not really close, although certainly I do not interpret a mandate in garnering 52% of the vote when the other side has performed so poorly in office and waged such a bad campaign.  Still, Obama won.  And as I have inferred previously in this blog and personally to those who wished to discuss the matter, I want to give the guy a chance.  There seems to be much to like.  He comes across so very well in an interview- smart, sensible, interesting.  So far I like his Cabinet selections- the guy has confidence and courage, and magnaminity, to appoint Hilliary Clinton as Secretary of State!  And he is sounding more reasonable about the economy, and more conservative about foreign policy, that I would have imagined.  So, who knows?  This man may prove to be just the President we need for these complicated times.  Besides, the GOP was long overdue for a good and swift kick in the rear.

Today I will be voting for Saxby Chambliss for the Senate.  The other side already has 58 in the U.S. Senate, and I am sadly sure they will find a way to win the disputed election in Minnesota, in spite of the fact they lost the election and the recount.  So, for the health of the political process, these guys do not need a filibuster-proof super majority.  I do not know much about the personal lives or characters of Chambliss or his opponent, Jim Martin.  I do know that Chambliss has proven to be a reliable, conservative representative.

The liberals have taken over the country.  Well, most of it.  I'd like to keep them out of my little corner of the woods.

So, I'm off to vote!