Which position is your default?

The only way that William Shatner could over-act so heavily is if in his own mind he thinks he is actually spot on.  In other words, his perception of what he is doing is completely different from everyone else’s.  He must have been thinking, “I’m really in my acting prime now.  All that Star Trek stuff was just a stepping stone to this ‘Climbing the Mountain” work.”  Well… maybe he wasn’t thinking that exactly, but you get the idea.

It’s like all those contestants on American Idol.  I’m talking about the contestants that come on at the start of the season that are so bad, you feel embarrassed for them.  The train wrecks everyone tunes in to watch.  They think they sing really well, while everyone else around the world is hearing a two rabid cats fighting over a screeching mouse.  If these people knew how they really sounded they wouldn’t do it on national television.  Most of them really believe they can win and are shocked, or indignant, when told that they didn’t make it through.

This is why we need friends.  True friends that will say, “Hey, Kirk, stop climbing the mountain, Buddy.  You sound completely Looney Toones and someone is gonna edit it and put that thing on YouTube.”

I think we are all prone to seeing ourselves the way we WANT to see ourselves instead of really looking with honesty.  If we don’t have people in our lives to tell us the truth, we will always end up some day playing the fool.

Hopefully not on YouTube.  Hopefully.

But that’s not to say it ALWAYS goes well. Sometimes I have to take DayQuil because a cold has hit me before it’s too late to call in reinforcements. That’s what happened this past week.

When I started the morning on Sunday I had no idea that the day would eventually end with me inspecting the inside of my toilet at home with the kind of scrutiny that only health inspectors and ecoli should endure.

I got out of bed with a dull headache from the cold I had come down with, but was generally feeling better.

Knowing that I would have to be focused for my message in a few hours, I dropped a couple shots of DayQuil. I should have remembered what this unholy elixir does to my tender brain cells, but still I threw caution to the wind and dropped those shots like a Pepto on Bingo night. Had I read the label, I’m now sure it would have read “DayQuil: Meth Formula — for those mornings when that snuffy head, fever, cough, runny nose, achy, sneezy, sinus disease you have can only be dealt with by an over-the-counter methamphetamine”.

I never lost consciousness, but I do vaguely recall the following events in a kind of dreamy, subconsious, chuck-norris-whispering-in-The-Octagon kind of way:

• I forgot how to end worship and start Communion (communion almost always immediately follows worship at KCC). Instead I decided that ending worship and just sitting down on the front row while everyone stared at me confused was a good way to keep things moving. I recall a strange, worried look from our worship leader as if to say, “Dude. What are you doing?”
• I remember several people telling me important things for me to remember prior to the service, but straining my brain to remember them feels a bit like staring intently at one of those “look at this dot until this ugly poster becomes a 3D image of Billy Idol” things at the mall. All I get is a headache and a strange feeling that everyone else is smarter than me.
• At some point in my sermon I wanted to say the word “castrated”, but only in my head. Some little voice said to me, “Don’t say castrated. That’s gross.” So I didn’t say “castrated”. I said, “neutered”. But that wasn’t really what I meant. So I said, “I want to say another word, but can’t. How about I say, ‘impotent’.” Then I realized that was neither what I wanted to say, nor any less gross than “castrated” when you really think about it. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore because thinking (thanks to DayQuil) was only making things worse. So I think I just moved on. At least I hope I did.
• Then I remember Claire Alston speaking about this being her last Sunday at KCC before she leaves for the mission field. It was a big moment. I remember praying for her. I’m sure what I said was fine. Hopefully “neutered, castrated, and impotent” didn’t come up again. Though I’m sure memorable, this would not be the best way to commemorate a new missionary into the field.
• Then I recall driving home willing my insides not to become my outsides as my son Owen tried to talk me into dropping by KFC for a bucket of greasy chicken. I tried to explain, “Daddy feels like he’s about to swallow his appendix from the inside.” but when little boys want chicken they get tunnel vision.

One never appreciates a clean and sanitized toilet, or the loving understanding of church members with a sense of humor more than when the pastor is hopped up on DayQuil.

Here’s to next year’s flu season.

Enjoy!

Link to Embedded Video

I got this as an email from Heather today and it cracked me up.  DISCLAIMER: I am in no way promoting email forwards.  I do not endorse, promote, or encourage forwarding vapid Christianese emails to everyone in your address book.  Doing that is evil.  Stop it.  Do not take this as an invitation to forward me special prayers that will release the blessing of Jabez, angels carrying potpourri, burned toast that looks like Jesus, etc.

NOTE: There is no disclaimer about the use of the words “ass”.  It’s a donkey.  Calm down.

The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again.

The local paper read:

PASTOR’S ASS OUT FRONT.

The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.

The next day, the local paper headline read:

BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR’S ASS.

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent.

The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day:

NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN.

The bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10.

The next day the paper read:

NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild.

The next day the headlines read:

NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE.

The bishop was buried the next day.

…Boy, it’s a good thing I don’t have an ass. ;-)

So, what do you think is the moral of the story?