Thanks, Joe!

07/11/2007, 7:36 pm -- by | 9 Comments

THIS JUST IN…

In case papal bulls, worshiping Mary, or eastern orthodoxy aren’t your thing, you may have missed Pope Benedict XVI’s recent pronouncement that I don’t go to church on Sunday.

I go to a defective ‘ecclesial community‘ of other like-minded souls destined for eternal damnation (or at least a good long cooling-off period in purgatory).

If only my ecclesial community possessed “the fullness of the means of salvation,” like the Roman Catholic Church says it (and it alone) possesses. You know, like the bible says.

Oh, wait.

Dispatches from the Future

07/2/2007, 10:00 am -- by | No Comments

GUN CONTROL DEBATE SHIFTS TO THE HOUSE
Washington, D.C.

Spurred on by the shocking June 14 assassination attempt on Lewis Mitchner, Undersecretary of State for Human-Cyborg Relations, the gun control debate has resurfaced in the House.

The newest proposal would ban all “semi-automatic” tactical lasers and laser cannons, as well as any device that uses mitochondrial drift to specifically target human beings.

“These types of gigawatt-range tactical lasers are built for one purpose, and one purpose only,” a newly revived Mitchner said, in a special visit to the floor of the House. “The complete sublimation of human flesh.”

The Undersecretary was traveling through sections of southern Florida, overseeing the excavation of the former “Florida Keys” from the Atlantic Ocean when he was struck by an assassin’s beam. Mitchner was flown by a fully-automated Air Force helicopter to a reclamation station moored over the remains of downtown Miami. From there, he was transferred to a Cyborg processing facility and transferred into a synthetic body. He was 53.

Earlier in the day, Technocrats in the Senate passed a bill similar to the one proposed in the House by a margin of 63-57. Senate Majority Leader @@Cyrux//014 (T) praised today’s vote, calling the outcome “within acceptable parameters.”

Critics of the measure were outraged. At a press conference on the steps of the Reagan National Monument, Cyberian leader Brock13zzz called the measure an “insult” to “law-abiding humans and cyborgs alike, who only seek to be left alone to practice sport shooting and avian incineration.”

Adding insult to injury, critics were denied a protest permit by the MPD. A spokeswoman for the department cited failure to provide an environmental impact study as the reason for the denial.

Miracle of Life Gone Awry

05/21/2007, 7:43 pm -- by | 2 Comments

Lawn and woodland creatures all over Maxon Corners are expressing shock and dismay over the disappearance of Mother Robin and the death of her four young chicks. The chicks were just 8 days old.

“I swooped over the deck early this morning, you know, just to forage by the rose bushes,” said Jason A. Finch, 2. “It seemed too quiet. So I checked the Robin nest… and they were all dead.”

Woodland police say they suspect foul play, but they have no solid leads.

When questioned by this reporter, the orange stray tabby living in the cellar denied killing Mother Robin.

“Don’t you think that if — and that’s a really big if — I killed Mother Robin, I would have eaten her four helpless, tender, juicy, delicious chicks? But instead, there they are, just lying in the nest, going to waste. That’s not my style,” he said.

Police have also questioned the Red-tailed Hawk, but he could not be reached for comment as of publication.

Funeral arrangements will be provided by Maxon Landscaping, and burial will be in the garden.

Necco’s Sky Bar

05/7/2007, 2:30 pm -- by | No Comments

On this, Djere’s birthday, we present a post from the Best of Djere, originally written on March 3, 2006.

I was standing in the Sweet Shoppe, a confectionary in the lobby of Hewitt Union in SUNY Oswego. While perusing the aisles of the establishment, a sorry sight caught my eye. Sitting, untouched, was an entire box of what has to be the least popular candy bar of all time — Necco’s Sky Bar.Sky Bar

According to Necco’s website, “In 1938, the Sky Bar was first announced to the public by means of a dramatic skywriting advertising campaign. Necco was the first candy manufacturer in this country to introduce a molded chocolate bar having four distinctly different centers enrobed in chocolate.”

The Sky Bar still claims the “honor” of being the only four-flavored candy bar in the world. But is the bar “a truly unique treat,” as Necco claims? Let’s find out together.

The premise of the bar is its four different flavored fillings: Caramel, Peanut Butter, Vanilla, and Fudge. For this experiment, I purchased a Sky Bar and 1 pint of whole milk. After each flavored section, I will record my reaction to the candy, cleanse my palate with milk, and move onward to the next.

Continued here!

Bweinh! Soundtrack — Keith Green

04/29/2007, 1:30 pm -- by | 7 Comments

Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first four soundtrack entries here, here, here, and here.

Scene: Three teenage boys huddle together in their dark living room, illuminated only by the colorful strobing of their television. There are three sources of noise in the house: the boys, their television, and a dust-covered record player.

Our parents were involved in just about every ministry our church conducted. Worship, children’s church, youth group, cleaning ministry, “Special Touches” ministry for those who were sick, prayer chain, elders’ meetings, ministers’ fellowship meetings… you name it, they pretty much did it. And it’s not like they didn’t want to be home. But church meetings kept them out of the house anywhere from one to three nights a week.

Sure, we got into our fair share of trouble, but eventually we fell into our groove. And half of our groove was Mario Kart on the Super Nintendo. Still to this day, Steve, Tom, and I are some of the fiercest Mario Karters you’ll ever meet. (P.S. — Don’t even *think* about challenging me to Vanilla Lake 2. Seriously.)

The other half was Keith Green.

Though I’m sure he’ll correct my remembrance, Steve was poking around my parents’ room (like many teens) and discovered a dusty, forgotten box of our parents’ old records — like Bob Dylan, 2nd Chapter of Acts, and Keith Green.

And from the time we discovered the box, it was Keith Green every night we played.

So while other kids were zoning out to 90s grunge rock, we had (and still have) almost every Keith Green song memorized, down to the skipping of the individual records. When we drive and “He’ll Take Care of the Rest” comes on, each of us will sing: “He’ll take care of the rest / bum bum Ju… / bum bum Ju… / bum bum Ju… / bum bum / Just believe, and you’ll receive / that comfort you need…” Just like we learned from the record.

From the orchestral, soaring highs of the Prodigal Son Suite, to the musically minor, theologically major Sheep and the Goats, Keith Green’s influence on my brothers and me cannot be overstated. His were our first and most played CDs. Steve got the entire Ministry Years collection; I bought the Songs of Devotion, Songs of Worship, Songs of Testimony, and Songs of Evangelism collections.

Being told I sounded like Keith Green on the piano was probably one of the greatest compliments I had ever received. Sure, it’s not true by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nice to hear.

If you’re looking to be challenged in your walk, your faith, your devotion, your evangelism, your worship, or your life, listen to Keith Green.

And play Mario Kart.

Virginia Tech

04/17/2007, 8:15 pm -- by | No Comments

“He will not quarrel nor cry out,
Nor will anyone hear His voice in the streets.
A bruised reed He will not break,
And smoking flax He will not quench,
Till He sends forth justice to victory;
And in His name Gentiles will trust.”
Matthew 12:19-21 (NKJV)

—
While I sit in a coffee shop in upstate NY, thousands of miles from the Virginia Tech campus, I cannot help but reflect on the events of these past two days. Together, the two attacks constitute the deadliest school shooting in American history and they came only days before the anniversary of the Columbine shooting, our deadliest high school shooting.

Friends, co-workers, strangers in the coffee shop all seem to ask the same three questions.

“Did you hear?”
“Why did it happen?”
“What if it happened here?”

We’ve been created with the ability to empathize with other people, and news this tragic, this life-altering, this profound can often change our view of the world and people around us.

As it was on April 20, 1999, as it was on September 11, 2001, it was today. Collectively and individually, our hearts break for the victims of such tragedies. And though we and our colleagues may be so far removed from the situation physically and socially, we still feel compelled to discuss it. We feel the need to rationalize it. We feel the need to come to sense with the scary world around us.

But some actions can never be understood.

Thirty-three people are dead as a result of the shootings and fifteen are injured. That means nearly fifty families are directly affected by a physical casualty. The attacks left hundreds of first-hand witnesses forever changed as a result of the attack, and thousands more traumatized by the fear that it could happen again.

And though the global outpouring of grief directed toward America and the Virginia Tech campus may bring some small comfort, there is yet again a very real need for inner healing for the victims, their families, their classmates, their peers, and a nation yet again shaken by tragedy. A convocation was held on that campus earlier today toward that end. Speakers included local religious leaders representing the Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian faiths.

Hearts and lives have been torn open in an unfathomable act, and those hearts need mending. And there’s a great God of compassion and grace ready, willing, and able to mend broken hearts, to repair the bruised reeds and smoking flax in the world. That God is very real and very interested in their healing. But ministering that healing has been entrusted to His servants, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Will those same servants sit idly by while the terrified and brokenhearted among us run for placebo after placebo to cure what cannot be cured by human hands?

As I sit in a coffee shop in upstate NY, far removed from the terror, pain, and chaos swirling around the Blacksburg campus, will I remain idle? Will I fail to offer a prayer of intercession or to comfort someone who, though far removed physically, has been deeply affected? Will I be an ambassador of Christ, offering to heal the brokenhearted and repair a broken reed? Will I offer the only cure to the human condition, though the Buddhists and Muslims of the world offer an appealing placebo?

I will and I must.

Will you?

Dispatches From the Future

03/13/2007, 3:00 pm -- by | 3 Comments

How? I don’t know. Such things are beyond my understanding. How does any one of us deserve a second chance? But a second chance even before a mistake has been made… a path has been followed? What have I done to deserve a second chance, years before these gears have been set into motion?

Spring to summer, summer to fall, fall to winter. Year after year, winter gives way to spring and the cycle is perpetuated. Backing into my driveway after work, I noticed the silver gleam of a metal box wedged into the snowbank across the road at Maxon Corners.

I took the box into the kitchen to examine it more closely, the child in me still hoping to find a treasure map or kryptonite. Imagine my surprise to find a letter addressed to me.

The paper was foreign to me. Nothing you’d find in a store. It was rough-hewn, of uneven thickness, and a non-standard size. The fibers were thick and visible pieces of hair, straw, and fabric felt rough in my hand.

The paper was deeply creased in quarters. I unfolded the letter and began to read.

Dear Djere,

The number you’re thinking of is 13, your social security number is XXX-XX-XXXX, and more than anything else, you want to retire to Baja California and live out your days in the sun.

I was taken aback. I looked up and around the kitchen, scanning for hidden cameras, microphones… anything that could have been giving away my secrets. But there was nothing. I turned back to the letter.

No, Djere, you are not under surveillance. I know these things because you know these things. Greetings from year A.Y. 27.

My name is Djere Maxon, and in this box — in the letters that will appear for you — is our story. These are my dispatches from the future.

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