Snowbird

I'm looking out my window watching a bird looking for a place to land. The ground is still mostly white from a rare Deep South snowfall, so he has to try to light on a tall, dry weed in the middle of the spot my father used to plant his garden. Of course, the weed is too weak to hold him so he has to fly away in his continual search for rest.

I live in a house built by my great-grandparents in the 1880s. They fled war in Germany to establish a new life in America. This was their heaven. I don't know if it eventually got old and became drudgery for them. But if they were any kind of human like the rest of us I'm sure it did.

They built a farm and planted this area all around me. That hasn't happened on a large scale in decades, but my dad did still plant a good-sized garden right outside the living room window up until a few years ago.

Now we have an upstart organic farmer trying his hand at it, but so far their has been no harvest.

Today, I live -- and work -- inside the house. I have three jobs, two writing and one editing, that rarely even give me time enough to enjoy this place. I'm sure my great-grandparents would be amazed that one of their progeny was still earning his living on the land -- if not off the land -- with some magical typewriting device which is able to instantly communicate with the entire world.

The end of the agrarian society meant my dad's generation lived on the family property but had to take jobs somewhere else. My dad ran an auto-body shop, putting people's cars back together after somebody's mistake -- or an act of God -- had cracked them up.

He still drove the tractor, though, keeping a garden to feed himself, his friends, and some loyal customer's at the local farmers' market.

I don't even plant a flower. I'm too busy. And I'm just not that interested.

I know how that poor snowbird feels, flying from one spot to another desperately seeking a place of rest and comfort.

There was a day when everything was fresh and clean, just like that newfallen snow. It melts over time, and the ground gets muddy.

Every year life gets a little more complicated. Some of those problems are of our own making, some just the natural course of events.

Spring will come, though. At least it always has.

Follow me on Twitter and Facebook and read my columns on The Clyde Fitch Report.

 Photo Copyright (c) Greg Richter.

Mea cuppa (or, I licked a cup, and I didn't like it)

		From my old blog's archives. Originally posted 03/22/03
		I did a funny thing at work this week. I have plastic cups I fill with water from the drinking fountain so I can use one for a day then toss it -- get a fresh one the next day. I've told co-workers to help themselves when they need a cup, just as people are kind to loan me something from time to time. Just the Christian thing to do, of course. But recently when I went for a cup they were all gone, and it hadn't been that long since I'd replenished the supply. Fed up, I wrote a kind, but stern note and attached it to the next package of cups stating that while anyone was welcome to help himself from time to time, please buy your own cups if you want them on a regular basis. Move to this week now, when my index finger had gotten extremely sore from too much mouse clicking. I got a cup, filled it with hot water, and soaked my ailing finger therein. Not wanting to waste a cup, I figured I'd just toss that one back into the desk drawer and use it again the next day if need be. Guess what? When I got to work the next day, someone had taken the cup. They'd drank out of my nasty finger-bath. Tee hee, served 'em right, I thought. So when I finished with my drinking cup that day I licked the entire rim and tossed it into the drawer. Next morning, yep, it was gone. I just woke up today with Jesus' admonition to give to everyone who asks, expecting nothing in return, on my mind. So now I'm publicly repenting. Thing is, I've struggled with that admonition a lot since I've worked at a downtown area with lots of panhandlers. While I'd like to follow the will of my Lord, I don't want to give someone money to blow on booze or drugs. I have a friend who works at an AIDS outreach center who advises to never give money to anyone on the street. She says the chances are 100 percent it will be used for drugs. In fact, she says not to even give them food, because they'll just trade it in for drugs. Mind you, she isn't some cynic; her life calling, after all, is helping people in need. But back to my co-workers. I shouldn't have a dilemma there at all. I know my friends aren't filling those cups with cheap liquor -- they're filling them with water. And numerous times throughout the Bible water is used as a metaphor for a renewed life filled with God's Spirit. Shame on me.

The Gospel According to Ned Flanders

In honor of the 12-day Simpsons marathon beginning tonight on FXX, here's a column I wrote in 1994:

"Hens love roosters and geese love ganders – everyone else loves Ned Flanders!" So sings a happy chorus introducing a Simpsons cartoon short.

"Not me," Homer J. Simpson, patriarch of the popular cartoon clan, angrily replies. "I HATE Ned Flanders!"

Flanders is the Simpsons’ born-again do-goody neighbor whose perfect house, perfect kids, perfect wife, perfect life are constant reminders of Homer’s failures and imperfections – as well as those of his dysfunctional family.

At first glance, Flanders appears to be the very example of what evangelical Christians often say about network television: that they are always portrayed as cornpone airheads or greedy televangelists. Not so. Though Flanders is anathema to Homer, he isn’t exactly ridiculed in the scripts. In Ned Flanders there is no guile – at least none that can be seen by anyone except Flanders himself.

Flanders is so self-effacing that once, while troubled about a lack of humility when dealing with Homer, he called his preacher in the middle of the night for advice. As the pastor’s wife handed him the phone, the perturbed clergyman muttered, "Ned Flanders? He must have stepped on a worm."

Not quite. Flanders was dealing more with the "such a worm as I" mentioned in the pre-politically correct version of the hymn "At the Cross." Earlier, Flanders had gotten into a bragging match with Homer about which of their sons would win an upcoming miniature golf tournament. This, along with once catching himself laughing a lewd Al Bundy comment, are about the worst of his character flaws.

While the most popular character on The Simpsons, bratty son Bart, has come under his share of criticism for supposedly influencing children to rebel against authority, you’ll notice that you can’t recall hearing about any junior high school principals banning Ned Flanders T-shirts.

And why is that? Is it because Ned Flanders isn’t cool? Is it because kids would be made fun of if they acted like Ned Flanders? That’s exactly why it is. And that’s exactly why Ned Flanders should be a role model.

Say what?

Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, "Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." And Ned Flanders, as much as he is laughed at, is exactly the person we all wish we could be. He’s the man Homer Simpson wishes he could be, and that’s why he despises Flanders.

Try as he might, the beer-guzzling, couch potato Homer is never able to live up to the perfect image he has of Flanders. Flanders, on the other hand, IS aware of his own weaknesses, and they trouble his conscience. That makes him a better witness to Homer than the pretentious church pastor Rev. Lovejoy will ever be.

In one episode, Home actually befriends Flanders after Flanders invites him to a football game and gets Homer the game ball. Homer then makes such a pest of himself that Flanders, trying to speed away in his car, is mistaken for an intoxicated driver. The church bus drives by as Flanders undergoes a sobriety test, and the next Sunday’s sermon is titled "What Ned Did."

But it turns out that what Ned did was to make Homer appear more righteous than himself because Homer, following Flanders like a shadow, began to perform charity work and attend church regularly – albeit not from the heart.

As the church stands almost ready to stone Flanders and grant Homer sainthood, Homer finally sees a little of the light: "If everyone here were more like Ned Flanders, there’d be no need for heaven; we’d already be there," he says.

If you pester me, I'll pester you for Jesus

Subject: Web Listing

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Are you interested in several proven strategies to use content and social media to drive relevant traffic to your site? In 20 minutes I can show you how to fuel your brand and generate more revenue from search engines and social networks. This is a $500 value free of charge.

 I’d like to follow up about this with a quick phone call. Can I call you this week to discuss your campaign?

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Subject: RE: Web Listing 
Hi,
Hope you are doing well. I was expecting your response on my email for Web Listing as was mailed you yesterday. Let me know if you are interested and we can discuss this further.

Thank you
Best regards,
Jake

Subject: RE: RE: Web Listing
Hi, Jake:
I have been tracking the success of your life and was wondering if you have accepted Jesus Christ and your personal Lord and Savior. I can testify that he has sustained me for the past 30 years. Before I knew him I believed I wouldn't be able to continue.

Everything isn't perfect, of course, but I do have true meaning now. The best thing is, this is an offer of eternal life. You'd think there wouldn't be enough money to buy that, and you'd be right. But it's yours free if you only accept the Jesus. If you would like to discuss how you can live your life for God, certainly, feel free to call.

Greg

'Yawning at Tigers' Urges Christians to Stop Trying to Tame God

Who's trying to tame God? Just about all of us to one degree or another.

Drew Dyck's new book, "Yawning at Tigers: You Can't Tame God, So Stop Trying," looks at the problem from two angles.

"Part 1: Tiger Territory" addresses the title directly. Dyck notes how the ferocious tiger has become little more than a harmless kitty when viewed in a zoo.

Fed on a regular basis and kept behind protective glass, the killer offers little excitement to adults or children – basically becoming a yawner.

That's how we've come to view God, Dyck says. We sing praise songs, hear sermons and read spiritual books that offer us the comfort of God's love and compassion while ignoring the ferocity of his judgment. And don't even mention his requirement of our holiness.

But before you think you're being beaten into submission, Dyck turns to "Part 2: Divine Embrace." This second part of the book focuses on God's closeness.

These aren't two different Gods. Much like the popular perception of the Old and New Testaments, the two sections present the same God who is wild and untamable by his creation, requiring holiness and obedience while also desiring a deep, loving relationship.

"Yawning at Tigers," [Nelson Books, $16.99, paperback, 209 pages] is a powerful challenge to Christians to live a meaningful spiritual life. It is perfect for those who read such books on their own, but it also has a discussion guide for each chapter at the end of the book for those who prefer group study.

Drew Dyck is managing editor of Leadership Journal, a publication of Christianity Today. Read my interview with Dyck on his first book, "Generation Ex-Christian" on The Huffington Post. 

An advance copy was provided free to the reviewer of this book.

Scandal-a-day - Our world is crashing, but nobody cares

A Lego rendering of the starship Bistromath.

I was recently asked why the American public seems so oblivious to the multiple stories in the news that ought to alarm them. And no, I am not talking about the ones on Justin Bieber's goal of riding into space. Although Americans ought to be alarmed that such is considered news.

No, I am referring to the ones such as this piece from Alabama that informs us roadblocks are now taking DNA samples from passersby. You'll note that just recently our Supreme Court ruled that such samples can be preserved on record by the authorities for longer than you might hope to preserve your own conscious state inside its current carbon-based habitation.

And this comes just at a time when it has been exposed that the federal government has made for itself a giant database of every phone call, email, text message, instant message, photo, video and audio file you're sending into the ether. And let's not forget your browsing history. Oh, you cleared your cache did you? Well, in case you erased a visit or two by accident, there's probably a pasty-faced 29-year-old Booz Allen drone who can call 'em back up for you.

But back to our question: Why no utter horror that IRS agents are grilling people over which way their politics swing? That members of the free press are painted poisoners of Moose and Squirrel? That store shelves are bare of hollow-points because the hollow-heads in D.C. bought 'em bargain basement to "save the taxpayer dime?"

It's a simple SEP.

Douglas Adams, in his book "Life, the Universe and Everything" from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series puts it plainly:

"An SEP is something we can't see, or don't see, or our brain doesn't let us see, because we think that it's somebody else's problem. ... The brain just edits it out, it's like a blind spot. If you look at it directly you won't see it unless you know precisely what it is. Your only hope is to catch it by surprise out of the corner of your eye."

In the book, the Starship Bistromath was sitting well in sight of a crowd watching a cricket match at Lord's. But seeing that a starship of any kind would never be expected to be located at Lord's, the cricket watchers ignored its presence entirely. To acknowledge it would force them to deal with it, and that would cause serious problems. Why was it there? Do its operators come in peace? Much easier to let it be someone else's problem.

With a daily onslaught of scandals and crises it becomes too much to handle. Maybe one or two might get some attention, but it can't possibly be true that all of this is happening in our giant web of Anytown U.S.A.'s. So we don't see it. It's all a big Bistromath.

Until they come for me it's just an SEP.

Tea partiers making their point – with Constitution

A 68-year-old Ohio woman who was targeted by the IRS when she tried to get tax-exempt status for her conservative group was told she'd have to provide a synopsis of the titles her book study had read.

She sent in a copy of the Constitution.

American Patriots against Government Excess (PAGE) got targeted for two reasons: It had the word "patriots" in the title and it was critical of how the feds spend money.

Marion Bower told ABC that her group was made up of volunteers who passed out copies of the Constitution at parades and had informational meetings on subjects such as health care law and disaster preparedness.

Bower's activities got me thinking: A lot of tea partiers are quite content to make their point just by giving out free copies of the U.S. Constitution. They figure if people just read it they'll come to the right conclusion.

They feel no need to hammer their point or cajole anyone with fine-sounding arguments. The document itself is sufficient.

Which makes me wonder a little bit about the points of their opposition.