With praise for my iPhone;
Recalling My Ordination Day

The World at My Fingertips
With praise for my iPhone

I love my iPhone with its apps.
A camera, GPS and maps.
This small computer is much more
than simply just a phone.

It shows the best airfare to Crete
or how my stocks did on Wall Street.
It lets me know how warm it is
back East where my kids live.

There is a breaking news alert
and first-aid facts should I get hurt.
The iTunes feature lets me listen
to the songs I love.

My Bible software lets me read
the antidote to stress and greed.
The Facebook app helps me check in
with friends and family.

My iPhone’s never far away.
I use it for both work and play.
This small device within my hand
connects me to the world.

Recalling My Ordination Day
It’s more than pressing redial on my iPhone

Near old St. Paul I took a stand,
while bowing to God’s sovereign plan
that cloaked a nervous willing heart
and covered feet of clay.

The robe I wore reminded me
how ministry’s a mystery,
how I am clothed in righteousness
though flawed and needing grace.

They handed me a cherished book
in which they said (if I would look)
I’d find my message and the means
to qualify my call.

They draped me with a fabric yoke
and in my heart the Spirit spoke
reminding me I’m not my own
but made alive to serve.

And then I felt upon my head
confirming hands whose kind touch said,
“You have been set apart by Christ
who promises a crown.”

And like St. Paul I realized
that I must press toward this prize
held out to those who’ve heard the call
to serve in Jesus’ name.

* I was ordained as a minister in the Evangelical Covenant Church 25 years ago this week at the Minneapolis Civic Auditorium. The theme of the 100th Annual Meeting of the Covenant denomination was ALIVE TO SERVE. For more information on this unique denomination go to www.covchurch.org

(even though my dad is dead);
BP’s Svanberg Lays an Egg

Why I Still Love Fathers’ Day
(even though my dad is dead)

My dad died eighteen months ago.
And while my heart has healed, I know
there’s still a hole that can’t be filled
the third Sunday in June.

And yet I still love Fathers’ Day
though Dad’s not here to hear me say,
“I sure am proud to be your son.
You mean the world to me.”

The truth be told a day like this
helps call to mind the man I miss.
Though I don’t need to buy a card,
I need to honor him.

I need to pause and contemplate
the little things that made him great,
like how he’d wash and wax my car
when I made visits home.

Like writing me a little note
and tucking it inside my tote
or handing me a hundred bucks
when we’d pack up to go.

Like how he’d say, “I pray for you
each single day before it’s through.
I ask the Lord on your behalf
to guard and guide your way.”

It’s when I start to reminisce
about a dad I dearly miss
I realize that Fathers’ Day
can be most any day.

BP’s Svanberg Lays an Egg
Small people? How about all people?
 
Ya sure, ya betcha folks are steamed
down in the humid South.
And all because that BP Swede
inserted foot in mouth.

He said he cares for small people.
Did he mean common folk?
Perhaps! But such a careless crack
felt like a cruel joke.

If people of the Gulf are small,
that means that BP’s big.
A big gigantic toxic pain.
Just like their leaking rig.

Carl-Henric Svanberg laid an egg.
I’d say he cooked his goose
along with all our shrimp and prawns
in waters colored puce.

And while it’s good to care for those
that some prejudge as small,
my goal in life is not to judge
but care for one and all.
 
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100616/ap_on_bi_ge/us_bp_small_people

That oil leak speaks volumes about human depravity;
Global Warming at the Gores:
Bad Call/Good Form

The Gospel According to BP
That oil leak speaks volumes about human depravity

That leaking derrick in the deep
has robbed the BP brass of sleep.
There’s nothing they can do to stop
the crude from spewing forth.

They’ve tried with robots and “top-kill”
but nothing can provide a seal
to rid the Gulf of Mexico
of raw petroleum.

This tragedy’s a parable.
It pictures every person’s soul.
Our sinful nature’s crude at best
without the grace of God.

We try our best to plug the leak
that’s seen in things we do and speak.
Our selfish and deceitful hearts
are wells of moral filth.

Our good deeds can’t quite cover-up
a pride (that’s toxic and corrupt).
There’s just no way to plug what’s wrong.
It seeps out anyway.

But isn’t that why Jesus came?
To purge our hearts of sludge-like shame?
He gives us all a brand new well
that pumps the oil of joy.

What once was crude is now quite kind.
The lust and greed that filled our minds
is giving way to godly thoughts
that fuel contentedness.

Global Warning at the Gores?
An inconvenient truth about marriage

There’s global warming at the Gores.
In fact, there’s much more heat in store.
“Fat Albert” isn’t quite prepared
for all that Tipper wants.

I wonder if he understands
the climate change within a man
that’s more than weathermen predict
as midlife starts to reign.

And what about his pretty wife?
Did she not know the change-of-life
would bring a mini-pause to what
she’d come to just expect?

Come on, you Gores. Why call it quits?
All marriages have starts and fits.
If you can make it forty years,
you surely could go on.

So here’s an inconvenient truth…
When spouses start to act aloof
the climate change that they’d best heed
is “Why has love grown cold?”

Bad Call/Good Form
What’s more impressive than a perfect game?

The umpire called the runner safe
which caused the hometown fans to chaff
for it was clear that he was out.
The ump had blown the call.

But he spoke up and owned the blame
for spoiling a perfect game
the pitcher thought that he’d achieved.
(Indeed! That he had earned.)

Perfection lost? But not his cool!
Instead of cursing like a fool,
the pitcher graciously replied,
“He goofed, but don’t we all?”

Impressive, no? I’d call that class.
To give that guilty ump a pass.
A perfect game’s commendable,
but grace is grander still.

Deprived of your first perfect game,
would you have done the very same?
or would (more likely) you be prone
to hold a grudge (or worse).

What makes a pitcher worth his salt
is more than throwing without fault.
As seasons come and seasons go,
good form outlasts good arms.

http://www.rbimagazine.com/2010/06/jim-joyce-and-armando-galarraga-a-class-act/comment-page-1/