Mandated Reporter

When I was in parish ministry I lived with the mantle of mandated reporting. Meaning that I heard personal confessions, personal stories, personal problems and the people who talked to me had the assurance that it stayed exactly that. Personal. Unless, of course, their personal "whatever" involved harm to a child, harm to themselves, harm to another. Then I was a mandated reporter. I had to report to authorities, emergency services, etc. the harm or violation.

Now I live with what is called "unconditional confidentiality." That means that personal stays personal...no matter what. I am not a mandated reporter anymore. I am a keeper of secrets.

That's hard to live under, to be completely honest. And I am thankful that I don't have to keep any really ugly secrets, or that I've had to convince anyone to turn themselves in.

I carry with me every single day the burdens that others have shared with me. It's hard; I'm not going to lie. I see them in the market, at the movies, in the coffee shop, and I know exactly what's going on in their lives. We smile our polite smiles, say our polite greetings, and move on like we've never really shared anything as personal as what I know.

You might think it's heavy to bear, but it's a beautiful thing really. I see individuals I've counseled in times of hopelessness and I get to pray for them as we pass on the street. I see couples I've counseled when their marriage was on rocks (some of them it still is) and I get to pray for them while we buy our groceries. My "mandated reporting" has changed from the authorities to the Authority.

It's a beautiful thing to get on the inside of people's lives. Sometimes I wish I could invite others to pray with me for a person, or that I could connect this person with that person because they share similar pain and carry similar baggage, but I can't. All I can do is trust that the Healer knows my requests and moves in subtle ways to mend broken lives.

The Pilgrimm's Fun Casual Joint

I hope you'll allow me a moment or two of confession.

I have a terrible sarcastic streak running through me (that's the first confession). It seems to be a not so alluring trait for a "person of the cloth" to possess, but, there it is.

Case in point. My wife and I were driving up to a wonderful pub and bistro the other night and we pass by this community church that had, printed on their sign, right there for God and everybody to see it, the following phrase: "A Pretty Good Church."

I get what they are trying to say. "We're a pretty good church! Come give us a try." "He likes it! Hey, Mikey!" (I'm sorry there it is again...it's a good thing I only admitted to being on the way to perfection rather than having arrived.)

But what I couldn't help think as we passed by this "pretty good church" was that we've come to settle for mediocrity. As long as we can put out a pretty good movie, or produce some pretty good food, or have a pretty good single or two on our new album-CD-whatever...then people will be satisfied. So by calling ourselves a "pretty good church" we don't set anyone's expectations too high.

Nope. Sorry. I don't want pretty good. I want damn good. We're a damn good church! That's the place I want to be.

I want to be in a place where people believe that the life of following Jesus is demanding. That we aren't just given a "get out of hell free card" but that we're invited to a lifetime of loving God, loving people and working the kinks out of the world. And we are willing charge into the fray because doing that makes us feel ALIVE!

I want to be in a place that isn't afraid of saying, "This thing we do, you know, following Jesus...it's like nothing you've ever done. You can't do it without him. You need to be ready to unlearn everything you think you know and sit at his feet every single day. Some days that will mean praying--and by praying I don't mean 'thank you God for our food' (although that's a good place to start); I mean active prayer in the trenches, 'God give me strength to serve and to the courage to do your will!'--and some days sitting at his feet will mean washing feet or feeding the hungry or sitting with the lonely or singing your heart out or meditating on The Message." But everyday you offer freely yourself to God and you know in your heart of hearts that it's only grace that saves you but your work your butt off like every person you see is Jesus himself.

I want to be in a place that says, "We're a damn good church full of damn good Christians serving a damn good God! And we do it every damn day!"

Or...

I want to be at a place like the restaurant just up the road from the "pretty good church" that calls itself "a fun, casual joint."

Yeah, that's my style right there, too. "A fun, casual joint." (Even though it was a Friday night, guess which parking lot was full?)

But then again, what do I know? I curse, I drink beer called "Arrogant Bastard," (that's a fun one to order, too, "I'd like an imperial pint of Arrogant Bastard, please." Did he just say Arrogant Bastard and please in the same sentence?) and I listen to Janis Joplin and the Grateful Dead (both cranked up really, really loud.)

I'll tell you what I know. I know that God is love. And I know that no matter how hard I work day after day after day that the work I do doesn't save me, it's God's love that rescues me. And trust me...this sarcastic, imperfect, tie dyed, bone-shakin', AB swillin' fool needs a lot of rescuing. I also know that mediocrity doesn't cut it when it comes to following Jesus.

Musings from Natural Bridge Pt. 1

Normally I'm not thrilled about 7:00 a.m. Friends are frequently accusing me of being a "morning person" because I am at the local branch of the YMCA by 7:30 most days. But they don't understand that I am there early because I won't be there later. I'm not there early because I like mornings. I don't. I'm not bubbly at 7:30 a.m. I'm not bubbly period. But bubbly is without a doubt not the adjective I would use for myself at 7:30 a.m.

Today I woke up at 7:00 a.m. but I'm very much okay with that. My family is on vacation at Natural Bridge State Park in Eastern Kentucky. While I type this there is a squirrel walking the rail of my balcony, not six feet away from me. There is a creek burbling somewhere below. All of the trees have made this amazing mountain mist. I hear six or seven different bird songs. There is a cup of coffee (that I just finished) close by. Everything is good.

It is moments like this that help me understand how God could look at the whole of creation and call it "good." I don't always see that in my usual stomping grounds where there is perpetual construction and consistent reduction of green space in favor of new development. But here, conserved for a few days of Sabbath, I see the goodness. And I can even appreciate it at 7:00 a.m.

"The Health Care Gamble" or "A Nickel versus Twenty Grand"

I find myself in a quandary:

As the West Ohio Conference of the United Methodist Church prepares to gather next week, I'm doing my homework on the recommendations.

On one hand we have Recommendation #1 a resolution on health care. Lines 39 and following state "1.4 million Ohioans have no health insurance and 62% of Ohioans had some experience with being uninsured...Millions more with health coverage are under-insured or reluctant to use their coverage because of high co-payments, deductibles and other cost sharing requirements." This resolution calls us to call upon legislators (state, local, even as high as the UN) to work for health care reform and coverage.

Some of those 1.4 million Ohioans are in my congregation and contribute to the payment of my health insurance premiums. I find myself falling into the millions who are reluctant to use that coverage paid for by the uninsured or under insured because my deductibles are high.

I earnestly believe that we need to do something about health care coverage in our nation. (I don't have any problem when it comes to the intent of this resolution.)

On the other hand there is recommendation #2 a resolution that asks United Methodists to continue saying "No Casinos in Ohio!" Lines 30 and 31 state: "WHEREAS a Mississippi State University study found that in counties with casinos, those earning less than $10,000 per year lost 10% of the family income to casinos..."

I don't gamble personally. I have better things to do with my money. I also recognize, though, that many people are addicted to gambling. However, I don't demonize people who like to go to Argosy or any other place. I don't demonize folks that buy the occasional lottery ticket either.

Here's where I experience tension between these two recommendations: Nowhere in our recommendations is there a mention of asking our conference folks to use their group bargaining power to lower what our congregations are paying for their pastors' health insurance. 2009 rates for pastors' health insurance (family coverage) is $18,336 per year.

It just so happens that that is slightly more than 10% of our church's annual budget (see above statistic on gambling). I would expect that the 2010 rates will be higher than the 2009 rates, too, and as my congregation wheedles down it's budget because of the state of the economy, that means that health insurance coverage will most likely be MORE than 10% of our budget!

It just so happens that my family and I are blessed with health and rarely need to visit the doctor which means that when we do have a need for a visit we pay for most of the cost because of deductibles--which makes us reluctant to use our coverage (see above comment!)

Now, here's my quandary (if you haven't seen it already). We want to say no to casinos, our UM Social Principles state that "gambling is a menace to society, deadly to the best interests of moral, social, economic and spiritual life" and yet we continue to ask our congregations to pay outrageous rates for our group insurance coverage--which is as much of a gamble, if not a more costly one, than a $1.00 lottery ticket or a few tries on a nickel slot.

Prayerfully discerning...

a sower went out to sow

I don't even know how to start...

I've been doing some voluntary outreach ministry with at risk youth and over the last month I've been working with one youth who self-injures (there are lots of details I cannot disclose, suffice it to say that there are so many issues in play here that I am only one part of the puzzle's attempted solution.) I'll call her "Sue."

Last week she had a break down, I got a phone call on our scheduled meeting day saying that she had a huge fight with her mom (which may or may not have gotten physical, I don't know) and that her mom was sending her back to hospital. (which is both good and bad for this particular youth, she needs medication and her parents, for whatever reason, are denying it to her...like I said, lots of issues).

I traded texts with her for quite a while that night and the next morning I get a phone call from her mom telling me that she was calling because Sue wanted her to call me. Mom told me what hospital she was in and that I'd be added to the list of "approved visitors." That was Friday.

today is Tuesday and I'm still not on the list. The only contact I have with the mother is through Sue's cell phone and I'm not getting any response.

So I've been sending notes for the past two days to the hospital, to at least let Sue know that I'm thinking about her and haven't forgotten her.

It's frustrating. This is the point of the whole note. I'm frustrated. I spent part of my Sabbath talking to this girl's mother, specifically asking if she was okay with me going to see Sue--if I had been told no, I would have accepted that, not happily, but at least I would have known how mom felt. But I wasn't told no I was told yes and that I'd be added to the list and now my hands are tied. The hospital won't even let me talk to Sue on the phone; won't call Mom on my behalf. I'm frustrated. I want to say something in my notes to Sue, but I'm afraid of being a source of anxiety or distress when what she really needs is healing.

So please, pray for "Sue" for me. Pray for the family and pray that I can find peace in all of this, and that ultimately God's will be done--even if it means I'm stuck in the distance with no idea at all of what's going on. (sometimes being trusted with sowing seeds and not knowing how they sprout is the hardest thing of all...)

Holy Mounds of Snow, Batman!

What a kooky week! Four days with the kids at home, several inches of snow and some ice thrown in to boot! Makes me think of the Batman TV show from wayback when Robin would bust out a "Holy mounds of snow, Batman!"

But more than just the snow, there's been other bits of craziness that's turned my heart to deep, seeking prayer (I can't share any more about the craziness, but rest assured life in the Dawson house is as "normal" as it can be; we're fine, I'm fine, "everything is fine here, thank you. how are you?"). As I look at and feel the pain of others around me, I remember the prayers of the psalmists throughout the ages who have asked, "How long, O Lord? How Long?" and I understand why Paul says that there are times when the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

Mother Teresa says that love sweeps the stains from the streets and lanes, and because it can, it must. And as I reflect on her life and ministry, I see a woman so devoted to Christ that she would serve sacrificially even in those times when she felt spiritually numb. (BTW this is not a way of saying that I feel this way, just a reflection on her own devotion knowing all of the stains she saw in her life.) She gives me hope that we can continue to sow seeds every day no matter what.

Sometimes being trusted to simply sow seeds can be a very frustrating task, especially when you yearn to see sprouts in specific places. And yet all I/we can do is continue to demonstrate Christ's love to them and pray for the Holy Spirit to water the seeds that we leave.

On a more positive note: I managed to get all of my writing done for the board of ordained ministry, so now I just wait for my interview with the board. it's a relief to be past the writing; the waiting I'll deal with and thinking (and re-thinking and second-thinking) is something I'm trying to avoid.

Veni, Sancte Spiritus!

(Come, Holy Spirit! )

praying mantis

Praying mantis on my rear window
buffeted by the wind
hunkers down, holds on
prostrate in the gale
hands never stop praying.

Praying mantis on my rear window
looks at me when car stops
"you gave it your best
I'm still here"
hands never stop praying.

and now for something...silly

because, we all deserve a little silliness...

set apart

I have come to the realization that my vocation is a very lonely place. As friendly as I may be with my parishoners, as much as I may love them, as many experiences as we may share, I will always be "the pastor." I will always be the one who is scrutinized. I will always be the one who gets to receive the hot end of anger when there is no one else give it to.

For the last two years I have had a partner in my ministry. His job was to lead our Hispanic ministry. We had a wonderful relationship, both professionally and personally. The ministry was hugely successful. We had 40 people worshiping in their native Spanish language; we had 25 people in small groups during the week. Momentum was growing; leaders were emerging. The work was good. Last Sunday he and his wife came into my office and resigned with no notice. "After today we will not be back. God is calling us away from the [insert mainline label here] Church."

I was supposed to be off last week. I got a few hours away with my family screaming it out at King's Island on Monday. That was it. I am glad that I got to spend that time with my family, especially my children, before they went back to school on Thursday. I'm realizing that family is what I have on this road; family, friends who don't know me as "Pastor Daniel," and God. Other than that, I am alone. I've heard other pastor friends express the loneliness of this life, but until recently I didn't really understand why.

That may seem incredibly harsh to some, but it's the truth. When you are "set-apart" there are things you just have to do. I had to lead my congregation in lamentation this morning and I had to try to answer questions I had no answer to. I haven't even finished my own grieving, I haven't even had my own questions answered, but today was not for me. Today was for the 140 people who gathered seeking answers to questions, seeking balm for wounded spirits. For some the experience was healthy and gladly received. For others, not so much.

What I did not know was that, for one small group in the church, the rumor mill had already kicked into gear and a "counter-narrative" had already set in among those members. As I stood there trying to help my congregation grieve I had a target on me that I didn't even know about. Some members have been told that I violated confidence, that I knew beforehand that my partner in ministry and his wife were trying to discern God's will and that I outed him to his, and my, supervisory peers--causing the connection to remove him from his leadership role. There is nothing farther from the truth. But for those who had bought into the narrative, I was nothing but a liar.

I spent all week trying to craft something that would help people grieve and heal...and when it was all over I felt beaten up, I felt untrusted, but more than anything I felt alone.

As I sift through the rubble of this event, I feel so very alone. I'm tired of dumping on my wife and kids, but they still listen. I'm tired of dumping on my colleagues, but they still listen, too. I look to the heavens and ask God, "Why this? Why now?" but the only answer is silence in return.
.
I keep hearing this song in my head. A song that says, "I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known...I walk alone, I walk alone" But there's this song that we sang in worship this morning (one of the old, old hymns from our early service) that keeps rolling in my heart to counter the one looping in my head. This one says, "Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Wounded and weary, help me I pray! Power, all power, surely is thine! Touch me and heal me, Savior divine!"

roller coasters, redistribution, and sleep deprivation

last week was vacation bible school. we registered 115 children and averaged 82 every night. the energy was incredible; we are calling it a huge success. we managed to collect over 850 school supplies to redistribute to families in the community in the weeks before school starts. we also raised enough money in coins and crumpled dollar bills to buy some live stock for families in poverty in other communities so that they can also practice redistribution. (check out Heifer International if you don't know what i'm talking about).

in the midst of that week i had one church member end up in the hospital with a fractured pelvis (not as a result of vbs) and i had another member's child accidentally o.d. by intentionally abusing other people's prescription drugs. he was clinically dead for about five minutes, resuscitated, and is (thankfully) physically and mentally fine(meaning no brain damage) despite it all. the family is a wreck, though.

we also had a parent of one of the children in our summer childcare program gift the church with about 50 cases of cereal. not 50 boxes. 50 cases. so we began the art of redistribution. took about 8 cases to another church that has a summer lunch program for the community--they also redistribute the food given to them to the families that come to eat lunch. took another 8-10 cases to another local church's childcare center. i think she was expecting 8 to 10 boxes because she looked ready to cry when i started off loading 8 to 10 cases of cereal. when this happens i sometimes think that God is saying to us that food is part of what we're supposed to being doing.

but as i was driving around town sharing food and trying to practice the mystery of presence i began to think about church. i'm a visual person, and i love food, so i began to see broken bread scattered around my community; fragments of wafer here, fragments of wafer there; crumbs all across the collage of life.

i never used to get the benediction at the close of worship that goes something like, "our time for worship has ended; our time for being church has just begun." this past week i started to get a glimpse of "church" in my community. we think of church as that one hour a week we spend in song and silence on Sunday--we even label it as the destination ("we've got to go to church on Sunday"). we teach our children that the church is the place, not the people--folded hands, "this is the church"...pointed index fingers, "this is the steeple"...unfold hands, "open the doors and here are the people."

this week church is helping a family grieve the passing of husband/dad/papaw...helping two other families celebrate their coming together in the covenant of marriage. i'm living on a spiritual and emotional roller coaster and so very grateful that God is keeping my cart on the track...even though waking up unexpectedly at 4:00 a.m. this morning has got me wondering how sturdy the glue is today.

and yet my mind still sees broken bread scattered across my community--crumbs of grace dropped all across the collage of life--and i know that church is roller coasters, redistribution, and occasional sleep deprivation, because without these we might forget that God is holding it all together with crumbs of grace, we might actually think it was by our own power that church happens, and--God forbid--church might actually go back to just being a building we socialize in.

too many thoughts for a pithy subject line title

I took J & K to see The Incredible Hulk last night. It was a pretty good flick. I appreciated the nod toward the series that was on TV while I was growing up (with the use of the theme music in the score, images reminiscent of the series' opening credits in the movie's opening credits, a "cameo" by Bill Bixby via another television show, and a cameo by Lou F.) Those parts were well done.

I also enjoyed the pseudo Christological theme of sacrifice of personal wants/dreams/desires for the sake of others...as well as the reminder that absolute power corrupts absolutely...especially when we crave that power for powers' sake alone.

But as I sat through battle sequence after battle sequence after battle sequence...I found myself becoming numb to the horror of exploding buildings and flying bodies (not in the Superman way either) and in my numbness I wondered...when did we make exploding buildings and flying bodies entertainment? Yes, war flicks and cowboy movies have been around for a long, long time, as have television show in the same genres.

But have we gotten so far away from the Eleventh Day of September, when we sat fixed to our televisions watching the towers of Babylon fall, weeping and filled with dread because we didn't know what was coming next? Have we gotten so accustomed to war and the perceived inevitability of violence that we can watch movies filled with sequences of building demolition and not flinch at all?

Sad thing is, I don't know what to do about it personally. I love comics and movies based on comics; I'm looking forward to the release of The Dark Knight in July (it comes out on my birthday) and it's just as full of blown up buildings and perhaps even a deeper level of terror than was the Incredible Hulk...

Like I said in the subject line, there's too many thoughts rolling through my head right now to sum it up in the pithy subject line or even to offer a simple answer. Maybe this was just a form of confession, a way of saying I feel my heart and mind being changed, a hope that we will not become so numb to what's happening around us that we become apethetic and view entertainment as reality.

Oooh, Big Water!

I spent thirteen years of my life on some kind of coast. I had no idea I'd miss the water as much as I do. When we cross Sandusky Bay I get giddy: "Gonna see some Big Water!" (Big Water is what Kathryn called the Ocean when we lived on the North Coast of California. She didn't like Big Water.) Then when we get to Lakeside I just go calm in my soul. I don't know if it's the spirit of Lakeside that makes me calm of if it's the maritime breezes and sloshing sounds of water on the rocks that sets me calm. I doubt it's the onset of Annual Conference that makes me calm...that would make me sick...or something. It must be the water.

You might think that coming to a gated resort community for the work of an annual conference of a church that supports the work of a social gospel would be a contradiction--and that I would be all over that contradiction--but Lakeside speaks Sabbath to me, and it speaks Sabbath to my family. (Again, not the work of Annual Conference, but the water, and the breezes, and the fact that I can let my kids be kids and not worry about them, all of that is what speaks Sabbath.)

It's good to be home.

Take me for everything...

I had never heard about this video until I searched for the song this morning.

I was on my way home from youth group on Sunday night, and this song (All the Same) came on the radio. I found myself hearing the voice of God saying some of these words.

Then I came across the video for the song, the "Free Hugs" version anyway, and found out that I'm way behind the power curve on this one because the song came out two years ago.

So, I guess don the Captain Obvious costume (again) and offer this up for your viewing/listening/hearing pleasure:



One comment on youtube says, " this video makes me smile so much I want to cry, it's wonderful how much love is in this video."

My daughter said, "You can tell this guy is a Christian." I don't know if he is or not, but I sure do see Jesus in him.

you DO make a difference

only way I know how to pass this on without spamming people:

What is "IT" ?

I remember Faith No More asking the question "What is it?" The answer? "It's it!" Ah, yes, the circle of busy...

I'm posting this because it's something we all need to hear.

bible in one hand remote in the other?

As I was watching the news this morning I found myself praying over these two situations and wanted to make possibilities for help known.



In Burma the UN says that 2.5 million people have been affected by the cyclone--the dead line river banks (one reported lost count after 107 bodies) and in another area 20 people are living in one tiny house. The government of Myanmar has blocked foreign aid, but UMCOR (United Methodist Committee on Relief) is working with Church World Service on relief efforts and has established the following Advance number for the Myanmar emergency: Advance #3019674.


China's government is now saying that 50,000 people may have died in the recent earthquake. Even 76 hours after the quake, survivors are still being found. UMCOR Advance No. 982450 can help with recovery efforts.

Even if you cannot donate, please keep all God's children in your prayers.

4th grade musical

My daughter was in her fourth grade musical tonight. The program was called "Lights! Camera! Action!" and all of the students were dressed as various movie stars. Some of the parts were assigned but Kaat was lucky enough to be able to pick the star she dressed up as.

With a little help from her friends, she settled on Marilyn Monroe.


and in the best "7 year itch" pose that a 10 year old can muster...

man, oh man, I better get my axe because she is gonna break some hearts.

random thought

So I'm playing this game on Facebook that involves picking the correct definition for words--a vocabulary game (I'm seriously a geek...I'm a geek's geek...but cute!)

Anyway, I come across the word "tribune," you know the word so often associated with the phrase "military tribunal" a secret trial that does not involve a jury of peers.

So the definition for tribune that was listed in this vocabulary game--"tribune: n. any champion of the rights and liberties of the people: often used as the name for a newspaper."

Interesting.

Very interesting.

what in the wide world of sports, batman?

Riddle me this:

construction worker who is a Red Sox fan wants to jinx the Yankees' new stadium and so buries a Bo'sox jersey under two feet of concrete. Now the Yanks are digging up that two feet of concrete to remove said jersey and are suing the construction worker. (Read about it here)

Now who the "Biggest Loser"?

Or maybe it's this:

Remember the days when all we had to figure out was what to do with Catholics who wanted to marry a Baptist? Now it's about gang afflilations!

The full article is here, but the short of it looks something like this:

"COMMERCE CITY, Colo. - When Mom wears one set of gang colors and Dad wears another, conflict over how to raise the baby can cause irreconcilable differences.

At least that’s what happened for one Commerce City, Colo. couple."

The world's gone wonky!

re-creation as a spiritual reality

I've been off (on vacation) since Sunday afternoon and I'm off until Monday. It's been hard. It's been my first "real" vacation is a while and the first time in six years the whole family went away for a vacation. Two days ago I said to Jennifer, "It's hard to not talk about church life." "But if you do," she said, "you'll feel like you never got away, and then your time off will be over and you'll wish you had time to not think and talk about church."

I read these words at the Holidome, while I was kicking it at the pool.

"What keeps many of us from growing is not sin but speed.

Most of us are like Johnny. We are going as fast as we can, living life at dizzying speed, and God is nowhere to be found. We're not rejecting God; we just don't have time for [God]. We've lost [God] in the blurred landscape as we rush to church. We don't struggle with the Bible, but with the clock. It's not that we're too decadent; we're too busy...Most of us don't come come at night staggering drunk. Instead we come home staggering tired, worn out, exhausted, and drained because we live too fast.

Speed is not neutral. Fast living used to mean a life of debauchery; now it just means fast, but the consequences are even more serious. Speeding through life endangers our relationships and our souls...
Jesus came to give us rest.

We know we're ready for God to work in our lives when we're tired. When our lives begin to weigh us down, God is present in the heaviness. It turns out that it's weariness that's next to godliness, because when our souls are tired, we are able to hear his voice...

The ugly truth, however, is that many of us do not know how to rest!
Actually we do know how to rest; we simply refuse to rest. Rest is a decision we make rest is choosing to do nothing when we have too much to do, slowing down when we feel pressure to go faster, stopping instead of starting. Rest is listening to our weariness and responding to our tiredness, not to what is making us tired. Rest is what happens when we say one simple word: "no!" Rest is the ultimate humiliation because in order to rest, we must admit we are not necessary, that the world can get along without us, that God's work does not depend on us (emphasis mine). Once we understand how unnecessary we are, only then might we find the right reasons to be with Jesus instead of working for him. Only then might we have the courage to take a nap with Jesus." (Messy Spirituality by Michael Yaconelli pages 124-127)

Unfortunately, I think pastors are the worst at slowing down, are the worst at stopping, are the worst at just saying "NO!"

So I'm going to go back to my Star Trek T.O.S. DVD's and my not thinking about church (even though I've become even more convinced that a sermon series on the Top 10 would be a good idea simply so that I can preach on Sabbath.)