But note how subtly we are lured away from being "living sacrifices" in any fasting we might do, and back to being the dependably dupable consumers we usually are. McDonalds has no interest in a Lenten dip in Big Mac sales, so they try to hook Catholics into super-sizing their Friday diet. Which is not a disciplined diet at all. It is so obviously the opposite of fasting.

So are the "fasting for weight loss" books in Protestant book stores. Here's a rule: whatever you fast for, that's what you'll get. If for weight loss, then weight loss; if for a saintly reputation, then a saintly reputation; if for closeness to God, then closeness to God. In the last instance, you should jealously guard your motivations from the inevitable outside attack.

Isaiah and Jesus both warned us about the slide to superficiality inherent in fasting. It's hard to do. The powers that be are not satisfied with less, not even our making due with less, because the dominant spirit of our age is called MORE or MAMMON. We can't serve the Spirit of God and the spirit of mammon, so there is usally a fight going on in times of fasting.

What are you lured by when you fast? Have you ever fasted at all?

Lord, help me to seek you and find you by cleaning house in my heart.

I'm learning in Lent the difference between big and little desires. In my ordinary pattern of life, it's the little desires I'm in touch with. If unchecked, these little desires become by biggest desires and that leaves me with little desire at all.

What am I hungry for?
Where will I get my next caffeine fix?
What's in my Twitter feed?
What was so-and-so's comment on my Facebook page?
What do I need to be doing for my church right now?

But what if I learned to live into bigger and deeper desires? What if I asked questions like:

Who do I need to be for my church right now?
Is my time better spent on Facebook or in prayer?
Am I edified by Twitter or Scripture (or even silence!)?
What does our constant need for coffee say about the American lifestyle?
Where is hunger in my community? Can I help? Can I enter into it?

Richard Rohr reminds me of the importance of all this in a devotion on 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:2:

So today you must pray for the desire to desire! Even if you do not feel it yet, ask for new and unknown desires. For you will eventually get what you desire! I promise you. It is the Holy Spirit doing the desiring at your deepest level. Therefore you will get nothing less that what you really desire, and almost surely nothing more.

God, bring my little desires back down into a proper perspective. I don't want to spend my life swatting flies when I could soar with the wings of an eagle.

Today we set out on a journey. I began my journey this morning in a devotion from Richard Rohr's book Wondrous Encounters. Now I have ash on my head and, I hope, repentance in my heart.

I want to do better. I want to do better by not trying to be better. I want to trust God to make of my life whatever God will. I am a pilgrim and not an expert, an amateur and not a pro. Being a pastor makes me a professional in many religious areas, but when it comes to the heart there's no amount any one could pay you to do the work of dying daily to self and rising to live in Christ. I need God's help in that.

Here are some words God used to help me today:

There are two moments that matter. One is when you know that your one and only life is absolutely valuable and alive. The other is when you know your life, as presently lived, is entirely pointless and empty. You need both of them to keep you going in the right direction. Lent is about both. The first such moment gives you energy and joy by connecting you with your ultimate Source and Ground. The second gives you limits and boundaries, so you keep seeking the Source and Ground and not just your small self.

The paradox, of course, is that you find yourself anyway: your Big Self in God and your little self in you. God loves them both.

The artwork above debuted in our Ash Wednesday service tonight. I'm grateful for how it helps me see the tension between my desires--more on that tomorrow.

Thank you, God, for the good beginning and good ending of this day. And all the wonder in between. My eyes got opened a lot today.

"A good name is more desirable than great riches," Proverbs 22:1 tells us, "to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. (NIV)

A recent article in the Christian Century reminded me of this verse's truth. The writer, Clay Oglesbee, stopped at Author's Ridge, a graveyard in Concord, MA. You may have heard of some of the ridge's "inhabitants": Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorne. These are good names in American literature.

"At the gravesite of Ralph Waldo Emerson, probably the best-known and most widely read philosopher of his day, is an immense boulder of white quartz with a bronze plaque stating his name and his words: 'passive Master in the hands of the Over-Soul.' To me both the stone and the quote seem outsized.

A few yards further on I found the headstone of Emerson's friend Henry David Thoreau, who found his calling at Walden Pond with the message: "Simplify, simplify." A white stone the size of a large brick marks his gravel the inscription reads "HENRY." There is humility in the headstone... I think that Thoreau came closer to the truth of life and human mortality than Emerson because he told a simpler story and rests under a lighter stone. I hope that may be true for you and me. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Another tombstone spotted by Oglesbee is even more audacious than any I've ever seen. (And growing up around the oil wealth of Houston, I've seen some tombs that looked like temples.) This one on Author's Ridge is massive and reads like a résumé. So many accomplishments to list, and obviously some wealth to display. That is one way to be remembered.

But some of the greatest moments I've never known around church have been the funerals of those around whom one can recite that verse from Proverbs without fliching. A good name is what matters. Not a perfect name. But a good name. A saintly name. Without having to put "St." in front. Just put Henry, and it would be enough.

What's your name? How will you be remembered when all but your name is gone?

What about the name of Christ we toss around so lightly in the title, "Christian" - Little Christ?

That's a pretty good name. By God's grace, I might even make it through the rest of the day without spoiling it. I'm trying to remember that this is more important than anything else I might do today.

Arriving at the checkout aisle of a local store, I again notice the racks of colorful tabloids and magazines. Much like the candy and sodas next to them, there is little of substance here.

Among the tabloids are those I’ve recognized since my childhood: Star, the Globe, the National Enquirer. In younger days of naïveté, these papers fascinated me with their sensational accounts of newly discovered bat-children, photographs of heaven, and one man’s 174 m.p.h. sneeze which allegedly blew his wife’s hair off. I marveled at such things, wondering if that poor wife responded with “bless you!”

“When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child,” (1 Cor 13:11) but now I know the difference between the gutter press and the actual work of journalism.

You say that line is getting finer every day—and I agree. Yet, we all know the bar is higher for the Florida Times-Union, the New York Times, or the Wall Street Journal than any tabloid. When they make an error, they own it. They print a correction. They also publish opposing points of view and perform fact-checking on their stories. Newspapers need to sell themselves, but they’re also after the truth.

According to Wikipedia, the oldest tabloid known to date is the Daily News begun in 1919. If the editors of that paper did not have any news at press time, they would simply make one up, complete with a staged photograph.

I fear sometimes the same is done with the Word of the Lord. If there is no Word, someone with a pulpit, a publisher, or a lot of free airtime is going to make one up.

Case in point: Harold Camping and his absurd prediction that the Rapture would occur last Saturday, ushering in the Last Judgment. “The Bible guarantees it!” bellowed the billboards.

Still very much with us here on earth, the Family Radio folks now claim that they misunderstood the “spiritual” and therefore invisible nature of the May 21 rapture. Nevertheless, the promised Judgment Day has begun. We have been assured that we all have five months left to live.

You and I and (hopefully now?) Harold Camping all know that “no one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son,” (Matt 24:36). But people will still follow false prophets. I know because I keep seeing all those tabloids at the supermarket.

"Who buys this stuff?" you may wonder with me."Who keeps these folks in business?" I'm not sure, but based on what I'm discovering they are people who are hurting and need some hope. Any hope. Even false hope. Some are so desperate they'll swallow camels without ever straining at the gnats.

I have no qualms about mocking the absurd theology many of these folks espouse. Camping's kooky viewpoints are unbiblical, unChristian and probably not worthy of the name "news." (Keep it in the tabloids! Christians don't believe this!) But his deluded followers are people worthy of our compassion and are hungry, I'm sure, for an introduction to the mystery that no minister can box up, date, and deliver to anyone: the living God.

"He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
-Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)

"Hannah Presents Samuel to Eli the Priest"
stained glass at St. Andrews Episcopal Church, State College, PA

Child dedications in church are an awesome occasion. They inspire such gratitude and hope in nearly everyone who attends. They also evoke a measure of fear. “How is my child going to behave?” is a persistent question of parents.

That question makes us fearful because we already know the answer: he or she is going to behave like a child. That’s what worries us. Children live in the moment and can live in no other way. In spite of our plans and precautions, we cannot control the holy moment of a child dedication. It is wonderfully and agitatingly unpredictable.*

Yesterday, two sets of parents dedicated two amazing little boys in our church. These two families are very close; it was a special time together. After a litany of commitment involving the parents and the congregation, I carried each of these young men in my arms and talked to them as their pastor. (They weren’t very focused on what I was saying, but I’m accustomed to that. I’m a pastor.) We walked among the church and I introduced each child to their new family of faith. This is a relatively new tradition in many churches and I’ve come to appreciate it.

The first child was quiet and attentive, absorbing the entire experience. I could feel his parents let out that breath they had been holding ever since they put him in my arms. The second child reacted somewhat differently. He worked his way into a healthy cry. I could feel his parents still holding their breath and holding back the impulse to say, “hey, preacher, bring him back here… NOW.” I could feel myself tensing up, too. You can cope with, but you can’t ever ignore the raw cries of a newborn.

Many parents, parishioners and pastors would look back on yesterday’s dedication and evaluate it this way: one child did well, while the other did not do quite as well as we hoped. This is why many pastors I know don't care to hold children in a dedication, much less venture down the aisle—you never know how it’s going to go. Babies do a lot of things we’re not supposed to do in church: from wailing loudly to performing a variety of bodily functions which the rest of us have learned to delay or disguise.

But that’s what I love about little children in church. There are no disguises. They are what they are in that very moment. And we as the church get to answer the question: will we love these children JUST THIS WAY in JUST THIS MOMENT?

I’d evaluate yesterday’s service this way: both children did very well. They behaved exactly the way they were supposed to behave. They came helpless and totally empty-handed, and we gave them a blessing they did not ask for. Sort of like God does to us. God blesses us before our behavior ever enters into the equation.

I know that these two children won’t remember a bit of what we did yesterday. But I will remember the eyes-wide-open wonder of one child, one year old, who showed me something about the wonder of church—“What are all these people doing here, anyway? What do they have to with me?” I will also remember the eyes-wide-open seeking of one child, not yet one month old, who inspired me to hear the sermon text from 1 Peter 2 in a whole new way: “Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation” (I Peter 2:2, NIV).

If I could put away my disguise for a moment, and let God cradle me for a while, I might discover that I too am hungry. There is something I need in my life that I cannot ever give myself. I can only receive it.

I pray for both of these boys, that they will grow to recieve yesterday's blessing as exactly that—a blessing. Our church is still treasuring yesterday’s dedication, and eagerly anticipating the next.

* My wife and I joke that our first and only daughter was sprinkled as an infant because a thunderstorm rolled through town on the day of her dedication. We lost power, I preached my sermon by flashlight, and then we all departed into the courtyard. There we dedicated two amazing little girls in a memorable moment—a light rain still falling as the storm subsided. Baptist family we may be, but if God is the one who sprinkles your daughter, I guess it’s okay.

You oughtta know about the AeroPress coffee & espresso maker.

I like coffee. I've even been accussed of being a coffee snob. Maybe it's true. I can be quite picky. For instance, I have actually considered dropping $30 for a cup of civet coffee, a la Bucket List. I would put it on my bucket list. On the other hand, however, I do have sitting on my desk at this moment a cup of Maxwell House Original Roast brewed through a Mr. Coffee automatic drip machine from the work room at Island View Baptist Church. That doesn't sound like a coffee snob, does it?

The AeroPress is worth knowing about because it is the best budget-friendly way to make espresso at home. It is also a better way to brew small amounts of coffee, especially if you have spent a little more on some premium beans. I first heard about the AeroPress through a blog, Jesus Creed run by Scot McKnight. Then I got one as a gift from my sister and brother-in-law. I fell in love with it immediately.

Made by the same people who make the Aerobie (and from some of the same materials), the AeroPress is basically a plunger with a fine filter at one end. Put your fine-ground coffee (between drip and espresso grinds) inside the cylinder atop one of the AeroPress filters (which are very inexpensive). Then pour in hot water and stir. Finally, push the plunger down, producing the pressure which pushes the coffee through the filter and down into your cup. After only 20 seconds, you have espresso. If you want coffee, simply add hot water (an "Americano"). You'll find the resulting coffee smoother, richer and just plain better tasting than your average coffee pot. And espresso drinks are far superior to anything you'd have made by a cheap home machine. (There's a reason those things are always so cheap at garage sales. The coffee they make tastes like something swept off the garage floor.)

I hope this blog post is worth everything it cost you. And if you love coffee, an AeroPress would only cost you $25. It's worth a try.

The Florida Times-Union reported yesterday on some pre-Easter "pandemonium":

Twenty-thousand sounds like a big number when you're counting plastic Easter eggs. It sounds even bigger when a church decides to dramatically drop them from an airborne helicopter, outdoing every community egg hunt in town.

But when thousands of eager kids show up with baskets and bags, screaming, "We want eggs!" 20,000 plastic eggs falling from a helicopter is a bit like one M&M being tossed to a starving man. It's just not enough.

That's what happened Sunday on the Oakleaf Plantation soccer fields, where chaos ensued at Elevate Life Church's first community event in Orange Park.

After the egg drop, Pastor Tim Staier of the newly formed church said he underestimated the crowd size significantly, expecting only a few thousand people to come.

At one point, he tweeted: "Pandemonium."

When asked about whether he'd hold the event again next year, he said, laughing, "Ask me in two weeks."

"Right now, I don't even want to think about another egg."

Count me among those who are grateful that arranging a helicopter egg drop is not among our Easter activities. 

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Not long after Luther, another group was emboldened to say the Christian tradition had gotten something else wrong. These were the Baptists, and a pillar of their faith was a belief in believer's baptism. Of course, much of the global Church--especially establishment churches--still disagree with us on this issue. But we continue to bear witness to the biblical picture of baptism in response to a freely professed belief in Jesus Christ as Lord. Therefore, we don't baptize infants; infants aren't yet capable of this level of belief. We also do not baptize young children for the same reason (though many Baptist churches are slipping up on this). Baptists support full religious liberty, including the separation of church and state, because following Jesus in baptism should be a totally free and uncoerced decision. When you must be "Christian" to run for political office, for instance, you tend to "baptize" a lot of people who are not remotely interested in living the Christian life. Look to England, where the Church of England has announced plans for a "Baptism Lite" ceremony, and you'll see why English Baptists insisted on this. We took a stand, and we said the Church before us and all around us had gotten it wrong.

I believe the tradition has been dead wrong on another issue: the gifts and calling of women in the Church. For almost two-thousand years, we've said that half of the saints are automatically excluded from service in vocational ministry because of their sex. For almost two-thousand years, we've been reading the Bible wrong. I say this as one who has himself read the Bible wrong, controlled by culture and by my own human fallenness.

Scot McKnight writes about this same issue in The Blue Parakeet.

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I already dread the election of 2012, if for no other reason than the hordes of hundreds of smiling sign wavers, passionately proclaiming their party loyalty in this our swing state. Most politicians of any party have never made me smile THAT big.

Christian sign wavers are the worst, because our slogans tend to be the shallowest. As if were called to pitch quick fixes to the nations instead of baptizing them and teaching them to be disciples.

Some of these shallow slogans on Christian signs are also among the most hateful: "God hates fags," "Thank God for dead soldiers," "Muslims danced for joy on 9/11."

I participated in the DC March for Life once, and I never will do so again. I felt most of those around me were friends of Fred Phelps, not followers of a crucified Christ. Ugliness is no more authentic to the Gospel than candy-coated smiles.

I don't know what gospel these guys were trying to preach, but they made my day. I imagine that the church has given up preaching bad news for Lent, and is giving the Good News a try. All you sinners on the highways of life, have a nice weekend. All you need is Love.