Partying... with Jesus?

Luke 5:27-32
After this he went out and saw a man named Levi at his work collecting taxes. Jesus said, "Come along with me." And he did - walked away from everything and went with him. Levi gave a large dinner at his home for Jesus. Everybody was there, tax men and other disreputable characters as guests at the dinner. The Pharisees and their religion scholars came to his disciples greatly offended. "What is he doing eating and drinking with crooks and 'sinners'?" Jesus heard about it and spoke up, "Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? I'm here inviting outsiders, not insiders - an invitation to a changed life, changed inside and out."

Levi, Levi, Levi, what were you thinking? He just became a follower of Jesus, and I know he was excited about his new-found faith, but his friends were scum of the earth! He wasn't exactly making himself look good either. How awkward must that dinner party have been? I wonder if the disciples politely grinned and looked out of the corner of their eyes at one another as the others talked and laughed about the crimes they had commited and the money they had stolen that day. Do you suppose the disciples' faces turned red at the filthy stories and vulgar jokes shared over dessert? I wonder if the immoral lifestyle lived by these friends of Levi made the disciples uncomfortable. Do you suppose Jesus was masterful as He articulated the segue from their corrupt conversation into the saving mercy of His Father? And what about those Pharisees? I bet they felt stupid when Jesus pointed out the obvious, "Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick?" Oh to be a fly on the wall at that dinner party.

Jesus sure got Himself into some controversial situations and yet He was without sin... dining with "outsiders - not insiders." Why do Christians get so pretentious when it comes to their social circles? Take a lesson from Levi, you cannot change lives by helping the FOUND get found, you have to help the LOST get found. You cannot invite people IN who are already in, you must invite those who are OUTSIDE in. Or in the words of Jesus, "Who needs a doctor - the healthy or the sick?" I am personally challenged by the adorable excitement of Levi. He was so green to following Christ, he didn't even know he was supposed to be snob. Love that! Go Levi! I strive to NEVER find myself in a situation, or a church, that resembles the Pharisees. Bring them in, bring the wandering ones to Jesus.

POKE. POKE. POKE. POKE. POKE.

I have been poked, super poked, chest bumped, hiiiifived, bit, and dropkicked on Facebook. With the mere download of an application, you can let your friends know you are thinking about them by giving them a cookie, throwing a snowball at them, throwing a groundhog at them, and celebrating Cinco de Mayo together. Now, I appreciate the time that it takes for my friends to select how they intend to poke me however I have no recollection of that time we hugged, carved a pumpkin, or played Twister. I don't remember sharing that hot cocoa or the time you threw Sharon Osborne at me. I didn't scrapbook the photos of the time you threw the Stanley Cup at me or the time you whipped me. The healthy snack you threw at me obviously bounced right off and even though you voted for me, I don't think I won. I have smiled politely while being body slammed, trout slapped, and goosed but I will no longer allow those pregnancy tests to be thrown in my face. Enough is enough. My dear friends, please understand how much I appreciate all the poking, but I am looking for something more. I need more from my social network friendships. Friends, know how much I appreciate all the thought and effort that went in to choosing the free poke that you chose for me but I don't think it was as fulfilling for me as it was for you. It's time to take our relationship to the next level. I desire something deeper like a comment or a like. If you truly feel you need to poke me to show me that you are thinking of me, please do it in person (with discretion.) Thanks for throwing me the first pitch, blowing me a kiss, and dancing with me, but alas, the poking must come to an end.

My Kryptonite

It is no surprise to those who know me that cooking is not my forte. The kitchen, kitchen utensils, groceries, and preparation of these said groceries are my kryptonite. At the mere attempt of opening a cookbook, I become weak, start shaking, break out in a sweat, and pass out. I could blame my mother for not teaching me the skills of the trade but one cannot teach what one does not understand herself. I could blame my home economics teacher but there is only so much time in a school semester to impart knowledge on a student, and she did teach me how to make a mean Waldorf Salad. Not that the Waldorf Salad has been useful to me since that day, because everyone knows that Waldorf Salad is gross and was how the Bubonic Plague got started.

A few weeks ago, my friend Traci gave me her plan. She picks out recipes from magazines, cookbooks, and online resources, prepares a shopping list, and shops once every two weeks. She said it might cost her around $160 for a family of 4. So, I did it. I picked out 9 recipes, wrote down all the ingredients that I would need and went to the store. I spent $360. Apparently I have no reservoir of groceries and spices to draw from and therefore had to purchase more than Traci typically purchases.

Responses to the first two weeks of cooking have been, and I quote, "too spicy", "too bland", "not enough cheese", "not hungry enough to eat this", and my favorite, "it tastes like ammonia smells." Tastes like ammonia smells? I followed the recipe precisely! It's as if food touches my hands and somehow becomes polluted. The food doesn't start out rotten it just ends up that way through the cooking process. I'm not giving up though. It is do or die! Cook or be cooked! Fry or get fried! I will not quit because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me! I'll keep you posted.

"Hey, That's What I Said!"

Phil started a new series this week at Lifepoint. He came to me a few days ago and asked if I would pull the picture I used in my blog of the cast sheep. He wanted to illustrate the story in his message. I decided to Google the picture and see if I could find it in color. I found the same picture but it was attached to another blog with the same title as the one I had written in February. I began to read the blog and quickly discovered IT WAS MINE! The "writer" of the blog had copied my words and claimed them as his own. WHAT?? What was even more shocking was this was a pastor. I commented on his blog and respectfully told him what was on my heart when I wrote those words and that as much as I wanted the information to be shared, I didn't feel plagiarism was appropriate and asked him to either delete his blog entry or give credit where credit was due. He did not reply or delete his blog entry but he did delete my comment and added the words "W. Webber says" to the beginning of his blog. I think his response was juvenile and believe he is most likely an arrogant man without an original thought with which to respond. Now I don't claim for a second that every thought and word that comes out of my head is original. How many original thoughts are there, really? Our church staff is encouraged to read and learn from other churches and ministries. That's how we better ourselves and broaden our perspective. I often will read the writings of others to gain understanding about a subject before writing about it. I certainly did not discover the meaning of the Lost Sheep parable on my own. Plagiarism is the unauthorized use or close imitation of the language and thoughts of another author and the representation of them as one's own original work (dictionary.) Plagiarism does not lend to credibility or trustworthiness. I much prefer a speaker or writer acknowledge, "I was reading from ..." or "I heard this speaker say..." than claim authorship of another's work. If you've found a great church program or Bible study, use it. If you have heard a great speaker, share them. If you have read a good book, recommend it. If you stumble across an interesting blog, pass it on. Just remember to acknowledge the origin lest you paint yourself as a fraud. - W. Webber

Footnote: I was advised not to post the link of the plagiarizing pastor and to take the high road. It sure is lonely up here. :0)

Remember Backward Masking?

I graduated from a small Christian school in Wichita, Kansas. Each Wednesday we gathered in the auditorium for our weekly chapel service. Preachers and evangelists from all over would come and speak to us, and from time to time, we would watch a "film" (God forbid we ever watched a "movie") or other random treat. I remember a couple of times being lectured on the sin of worldly music and how satan was using it to infiltrate our minds and corrupt our thoughts. On one occasion I remember hearing about backward masking. The evil song would be played so you could hear the lyric then, it would be played in reverse so you could hear the message that satan was trying to get in your head. Now, the common sense of telling teens not to listen to this music and then playing it both forwards and backwards for you is kind of dumb logic. Honestly, I still have songs stuck in my head from those chapel services that I probably would never have heard had I not heard them in my Christian school. So tonight, I heard something that triggered the memory of backward masking and came across the creepiest recordings of some of these famous songs. Now, if you are easily spooked, you should stop reading here. If you are a curious kind of person, go to this site and listen to some of these songs forwards and backwards and see what you think. Is satan trying to get into your head or does someone have just a little too much creative time on their hands? You be the judge! www.jeffmilner.com/backmasking.htm

Led by Truth

A few weeks ago I found a website that you can upload your photos and do some pretty fun things with them. So I was goofing around and uploaded pictures of me and the kids. This morning I was cleaning off my desktop on my computer and opened up this picture. It's just a picture of me but I've been converted into some kind of museum display that is being gawked at by various people. Just before I hit delete, I had this moment of realization that this doctored picture represents so much of the emotion that has encumbered me these last two years. I won't go into all the events that have transpired but the results of those events have left our family in the critics' eye. Now, anyone who has ever been in a position of leadership knows that there are always going to be critics, that is accepted. The difficult thing to accept is the final judgement by those individuals who do not understand the subject they are gawking at. Even worse, is the passing of that judgement from person to person, people who have no personal information or relationship to the subject. This is not exclusive to leadership either, this social defect sabotages students, coworkers, television personalities, families, etc. Why is it that people feel entitled to determine "truth" about an individual by merely discussing them with others rather than actually talking TO them? Is it just easier or do we feel entitled to our opinions and therefore choose to believe our opinions are factual? Facebook and other social networks certainly do not help. One comment on a social network can begin a flurry of speculation and opinion. Let me add here that everyone is guilty of this. Face it, it's easier to come to an assumed conclusion and let that be our own personal "fact" than to attempt to find resolution or seek out truth. After all, the truth might not be what we wanted to hear or even worse, it may not be any of our business. Next time you make a presumption about a person or a situation, ask yourself this question, "Does this have anything to do with me and/or am I part of the problem or solution?" If the answer is "No", make it a personal challenge to not formulate "truth." If you are a victim of speculation, remember that truth always has a way of revealing itself. Practice good character and you will find yourself supported by people of equal character. Practice poor character and... well, you get the picture.

Psalm 25:1-5 "O Lord, I give my life to you. I trust in you, my God! Do not let me be disgraced, or let my enemies rejoice in my defeat. No one who trusts in you will ever be disgraced, but disgrace comes to those who try to deceive others. Show me the right path, O Lord; point out the road for me to follow. Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you."

Girls Day Out at the Dairy Queen

Have you ever put on something first thing in the morning only to look in the mirror half way through the day to discover you don't look the way you thought you did? Maybe a big toothpaste stain down the front of your shirt or your buttons were one off causing the entire shirt to be shifted all the way down. Perhaps your fly was left open or you had a big rip in the seat of your pants. Today we headed home from a 4 day camping trip and, knowing that we were heading straight home, I got up, through my hair into a pony tail and tossed on a pair of ragged cut off denim shorts, flip flops and an old tank top. Just 40 miles from home, nature began to call and we had to stop at a Dairy Queen. We pulled up in "Dimples" (our hail damaged RV), dropped our pop cans in the trash outside the door, shoved our way through the line of people, and headed straight to the bathrooms. It is at this point that I see a mirror for the first time. Holy mother of pearl! How did my husband and son not notice that my tank top not only had deodorant stains under both arms but did not sufficiently cover my ... my... uh ... SELF? It was quite obvious that I had chosen to wear a black bra and that I appeared to have wanted everyone else to see it as well. We're not just talking straps here either, people. I'm talking minimal coverage coming from this tank top. Okay, so now I'm irritated because not only had those who are closest to me not mentioned it, or seemed to be bothered by it, they let me trap myself in the Dairy Queen bathroom. It seemed there was no other way out but to just walk out with my girls held high and get out of there as quickly as possible. I pulled money out of my wallet in the bathroom so that I could quickly hand it to my husband as I made my escape. On your mark, get set, go! I hurried out the door, walked up to Phil, handed him the money and said "I'm going to the camper." Phil says "Wait! What do you want to eat?" "I don't care. Just get me the chicken finger basket." "Wait! Is this enough money?" I proceeded to pull every dime out of my wallet. "Here. This is all the money I have." "Wait!" he says. "Do you want ice cream?" Okay, gotta be honest, I'm not real happy at this point. The audience has grown and we are definitely drawing attention to ourselves. "I DON'T CARE. I'M NOT MODEST. I'M GOING TO THE CAMPER. GET WHATEVER!" and I ran out the door. Ten minutes later he walks out with a big grin and says with a childlike voice, "I got you a peanut buster parfait!" He has no idea the humiliation I've just experienced or the public exhibition I just displayed but he is grinning over the great joy of bringing me my favorite ice cream. Now why do I think that had I walked through the Dairy Queen wearing a Chicago Cubs jersey, he would have dropped his jaw or maybe whistled? He may not be the most observant guy but I love him!