Yet another reason that justifies the belief that babies are jerks…

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David, recently relocated to Lawrence, a place where they have “real” college campii, (as opposed to the tripe that Nevada has to offer,) often comments that he believes babies are jerks… perhaps its because they’re so cute that they can get away with all kinds of devious behavior , & are never suspected for it, because, hey, they’re babies. It’s not like they’re doing this stuff on purpose. Or are they?

This article says differently:
“Following studies of more than 50 children and interviews with parents, Dr Vasudevi Reddy, of the University of Portsmouth’s psychology department, says she has identified seven categories of deception used between six months and three-years-old.

Infants quickly learnt that using tactics such as fake crying and pretend laughing could win them attention. By eight months, more difficult deceptions became apparent, such as concealing forbidden activities or trying to distract parents’ attention.

By the age of two, toddlers could use far more devious techniques, such as bluffing when threatened with a punishment.”
READ Lying Babies article HERE

Goodbye…

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This week marks the departure of several people from our church family – & I wanted to say a “thank you” to them – for being in my life…

  • David & Kendra – moving to Lawrence, KS, so that Kendra can go to KU Law… friend: you are dear to me, & I miss you already. Esp. the talks that happen sitting in the office, hoping that no one takes your keys. A cherished memory is your wedding in my living room, serenaded by the Pasty Gangsta on the trumpet… who’d a thunk that “We Will Rock You” could be so moving… My solace is in the fact that every time you’ve left before, you’ve returned. I’m banking on that this time as well. So long. I’m singing Bon Jovi’s “Never Say Goodbye” the next time I karaoke. Which will be the 1st time I karaoke.

  • Dave, Sarah, & Mikayla, & ? – moving to the SLC in pursuit of a fire job… I’ve known Dave since he was prenatal, & have greatly loved to have Sarah & Mikayla around as well. Today, I visited Mikayla @ Little Lites, & she greeted me with her typical, sweetly shouted “SIR!” For which I rewarded her, as usual, with a peanut M&M. You truly are a real princess, even better than the Disney princesses. You’ll be missed.

  • Ry-Dwy – off to Rose-town to move back in with the Dwy-fam. & to pursue an internship. Many blessings to you – you’re a good man. Keep in touch. Watch out for Lina. She’s a crafty one.
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    When Chief Sinners Become Moral Guardians…

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    I’ve been reading a book by Gregory A. Boyd called Myth Of A Christian Nation. It addresses how the (largely evangelical) church has attempted to use political power in order to advance a ‘christian’ worldview. Boyd, a pastor, challenges the idea that America is (& was) a Christian nation, & points the Church towards Scripture to find out & to reclaim what our real mission is: the message of the cross (not the sword,) & the message of Christ’s love for us. AND every other human being on the planet.

    Today’s reading was from the chapter “When Chief Sinners Become Moral Guardians” – it addresses the problems that result when the church takes on itself the role of being the “moral guardian” of a nation, community, or culture…

    A few highlights in the form of quotes from this chapter:

  • As people called to mimic Jesus in every area of our lives, we should find it significant that Jesus never assumed the position of moral guardian over any individual, let alone over the culture at large.

  • When we assume the role of moral guardians of the culture, we invariably postion ourselves as judges over others.

  • When the church sets itself up as the moral police of the culture, we earn the reputation of being self-righteous judgers rather than loving, self-sacrifical servants.

  • When people assume the position of moral guardians of the culture, they invite – they earn! the charge of hypocrisy, as all judgment, save the judgment of the omniscient & holy God, involves hypocrisy

  • Throughout history, the church has proven itself to be a very poor moral guardian. Whenver the church exercises the power of Caesar to enforce its doctrine & convictions, the result has usually been at least as bad as any non-Christian version of the kingdom of the world.

    • An interesting & thought-provoking read, for sure…

    Enjoy Teem. But only at 20 mph… (For Teem.)

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    Found this at a great restaurant in Sparks, near my new crib, on Vista Blvd. just past where Disc Drive intersects Vista- Pinocchio’s. (The Bean used to work at the Pinocchio’s on Moana. This is at the “new” store. Killer Firecracker Wings. I’m a salivatin’ now.) Want directions? Click here

    To explain – My friend Tim is a white boy. A nice white boy. And, I am something of a “namer” (a person that gives nicknames to others.) I was speaking some Spanish (spanglish may be a better description) to Tim’s daughter, & I was inspired to call Tim, Teeeeeeem, with a really bad Three Amigos meets Cheech Marin accent.

    And I like it.

    The MOG & the OMOG

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    I was having coffee with a great friend & got to discussing the happenings of 1Kings 13… (IMOSHO: You should really click on the 1Kings 13 link to get familiarized with the story.)

    Specifically, its how one prophet (referred to as “the man of God” or MOG) was told, by God (big part of the story,) to go & communicate God’s judgment (!) on Jeroboam, King of Judah because of idolatry. Additionally, the MOG was told, by God, not to eat or drink anything, under any circumstances, until he had returned to his own home after passing on the judgment of God on Jeroboam.

    After the passing of judgment, upon God’s bidding, the MOG headed home. Before he got there, an old prophet (the Old Man Of God or OMOG) heard what had happened & for some reason went to meet/confront/interact with the MOG. The OMOG told the MOG that he should come to his house & eat & drink with him. The MOG said, “No way, God told me not to eat or drink til I get home.” The OMOG then lied to the MOG, saying, “Au contraire. God told ME that it was ok for you to come to my house for dinner.” The MOG, for some reason, (seniority?) believed the OMOG & went to his home, ate & drank.

    The Spirit of God came upon the OMOG for reals – & the OMOG prophesied that the MOG was going to die because of disobeying the instruction God had given him. On the way home, the MOG was killed by a lion. The OMOG went & recoved the MOG’s body, buried him in his own (the OMOG’s) burial plot, & grieved for him.

    Why did the OMOG lie to the MOG? Why did the MOG believe the OMOG? Why did the OMOG use God’s name in vain? Why didn’t the OMOG get punished, & only the MOG was killed by the lion? What state of mind was the OMOG in? Had he stopped hearing from God so long ago that he was jealous of the MOG & was used by the dark one to mislead the MOG? It makes one wonder… & makes this MOG want to listen to the One above all else & above all others. No matter what.

    peas in a pod

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    I joke about my inability to dress myself. However, its not a joke – at some point after I married the Bean, I was brought to the realization that though I am fully capable of picking out & putting on clothes, I don’t seem to be able to do it in a manner that matches. Or coordinates. Or “goes.” All three which are things that I never really had given any thought to. Pre-Bean, I just put o a pair of jeans & a t-shirt. Or a pair of shorts. And a t-shirt. Or polo (not Ralph Lauren Polo, but a collared, not-too-fancy, but still with a collar & couple o’ buttons polo.) And then I went. Wherever I was going.

    Post-Bean, I have found myself asking her, “Does this match? Coordinate? Go?” Or, “Does this blue striped shirt go with these olive green shorts?” To me, it looks like an outfit. Something that makes scoeyd look as good as a scoeyd can look. Yet, the Bean just raises an eyebrow & searches for a positive way to say, “No. You look like a sofa that a baby-barfed on right after eating plums, green beans, beets, & carrots out of their wee baby food jars…” At this point, 18 years into the marriage (1 July is the actual day. Another time I’ll tell you how “we” picked this date,) all it takes is the raised eyebrow, & I’m off to strive for something that I’ve worn before that passed muster. Some men might feel indignant at this sort of interaction, & insist on picking their own clothes out. Me? Not so much. I just want her to think I’m Hot, so if it takes getting her sophisticated color palette into the mix, so be it.

    Today, I decided to freelance – I found & put on a brown shirt. (Like the one above.) And a pair of shorts (also pictured above. Wonder why its called a pair of shorts when its only 1 item of clo- btw: clo is the singular of the word clothes. It’s true.) I took my customary jaunt to the presence of the Bean for a once-over. Lo & behold. We are wearing identical outfits. Exactly. Except I don’t have a white flowery belt to go with my shirt/shorts combo. But I’m looking for one.

    Oops, I did it again…

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    9 October, 2006 I had surgery on my left shoulder; I’d been gritting my teeth through pain, joint instability, occasional numbness, & as many physical therapy sessions that my insurance would authorize… I finally come to the point of being willing to go through the surgical procedure with the hope that ‘on the other side’, something in the shoulder would be better than it was…

    Post-surgery, I heard good news – the torn rotator cuff ID’d on the MRI had not needed a complete repair, but rather was able to be ‘fixed’ with some clean-up (which is surgical talk for we cut away anything that looked like it was shredded.) Another highlight of the procedure was that the top of my collar bone & the bone that anchored the joint was somehow compressing the joint, pinching various shoulder parts of scoey when he moved it, meaning pain & numbness. The solution was to shave the bone using something like a power-sander… the good Dokter said this would be the cause of the majority of my post-surgery pain, but that it would most likely clear up & heal in 8 weeks or so, esp. with another round of therapy.

    Gritted my teeth. Did the therapy. Went to the gym to therap-ize on my own. Broke down some scar tissue doing some cool exercise called flys. I’m keeping on it.

    Talked to a couple of guys about rebuilding a shoulder, post-surgery. Both had the same advice – use it. Its going to hurt. If you do your exercises, strengthen it, & keep on, it will probably rebound. But it might take a year to fully recover.

    Then, oops.

    Tuesday, 5 June, I was playing softball for my last-place team in the Sparks D- Rec League… swung the bat, hit the ball real hard, & my shoulder popped out of joint. Hurt so bad I fell down. On the ground, just out of the batters box.

    Fortuneately, Aric with an A is a Chi-Rho-Practor & knows how to deal with the sin of shoulders… he helped me work El Guapo back into place. The nausea from dislocation went away after about 20 minutes. Shoulder hurts, muscles around it hurt. Wonder if I have done something naughty, something that has set back my recovery from last October….

    Back to the gym today…

    Smug

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    A personal favorite of mine… Roland Steven Taylor. A great teacher using the medium of music & video, laced with sarcasm, satire, irony, & absurdity, asking Christ-followers to be more than clones… Shaped my wit… sense of humor… dislike of “christian” posturing… & some other stuff.

    From the album “Squint”. Lyric posted below.

    SMUG
    Strike this little pose
    Chin up in the air
    Lips together tightly
    Nostrils in a flare
    Now look like you care
    Very nice!

    Practice in the mirror
    Brushing back a tear
    Very sincere
    A promising career could begin right here at home
    If you’ve got that smug…
    That smug…

    CHORUS

    Hey mama hey mama lookee what your little babies all have become
    Hey mama hey mama don’t it ever make you wish you’d been a nun?
    Vain and fickle, were we weaned on a pickle?
    Is it in our blood?
    Rome is burning
    We’re here turning smug

    Strike another pose
    Power politics
    Swallow their conventions
    Get your power fix
    We love to mud wrestle
    We love to be politically Koreshed

    Practice that smug
    Post it like a man
    One part Master Limbaugh
    Two parts Madame Streisand
    Now pretend you’re in a band
    My, my, we’re looking smug
    Very very very very

    CHORUS

    All you smug-starved millions in the thick of the search
    Welcome to our church
    Whatcha wanna solve?
    We can help you evolve from merely self-righteous
    To perfectly smug

    Strike the proud pose of our country club brethren
    Friendly as a tomb
    Fragrant as the bottom of a locker-room broom
    Now what’s the matter?
    Hey…get off your knees…that part don’t come ’til later…
    God will not be pleased…

    Rome is cooking
    My, we’re looking smug

    Roller coaster…

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    I’m riding a roller coaster of emotions. Feels like I have a sunburn on my feelings – I don’t know if its because they’re regenerating after being buried for eons, or if they’ve been injured in an accident & need to call a personal injury attorney to take the 1st step.

    I’ve read CS Lewis & intellectually, believe that I have a grasp of what I’m facing. And feeling. And the beauty of it is, it doesn’t help to know that.

    Here’s to Jesus.