a little of this, a little of that
Jul 29th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
I created a word cloud for OCC, using words to create art that expresses a sense of our congregation. You can see a larger version by clicking on the image below. If you read this post via email, click here to see the original post on the Potluck blog site. What other words would you add to the OCC word cloud?
[via Wordle.net]
Jul 25th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
See, I’m not the only one who’s obsessive competitive about the condition of my lawn!
Actually, this is from an article in the London Telegraph.
Jul 10th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
from YouTube. I’m seeing wonderful short films there. Check it out.
Jul 9th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
Yes, the price of gas is high and its effect on society is becoming painful. I know there are some who are seriously hurt by the steep rise in transportation costs. But praying to God for cheaper prices?
A group of Christians in the nation’s capitol rally at local gas stations to pray for lower prices. I’m afraid their efforts to target gas station owners are misplaced, and it makes me wonder how God must feel about such prayers… and yet they claim prices have come down. Have these “activists” seen the price of milk lately? Perhaps they should also be praying at the dairy aisle of Giant Eagle.
[via Washington Post]
Jun 28th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
Rev. Thom Shuman shares a thoughtful essay on hospitality, one of the scriptural themes for this weekend.
[via Occasional Sightings of the Gospel]
[photo via Stitch]
Jun 23rd, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
It was a year ago this week that I began my pastoral duties at Olmsted Community Church. In the course of a year, a pastor experiences almost everything at least once. Now the newness is worn off a bit, but I am wonderfully happy to be serving with the dedicated staff and the great people of this church.
Found the cartoon below and had a good laugh!
[via ASBO Jesus]
Jun 19th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
It may look like a NASA photo of a distant planet, but it’s actually a picture of a soap bubble. See how it was made here.
Jun 16th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
In my youth, my mother never let us kids have fizzy drinks at home. There were plenty of other junky options, including the ever-present pitcher of red Kool-Aid in the fridge. But if we went out for dinner, we could order a “soft drink”, meaning Coca-Cola, Seven-Up, root beer, or any of the other popular fountain drinks. When I moved to Atlanta to attend seminary, the native Atlantans referred to a soft drink as “Coke”. “Do you want a Coke with your hamburger,” a waitress might ask. “Yes, please.” And she’d reply, “What kind?”
“What kind?” meant something like Seven-Up, Dr. Pepper, Coca-Cola, or RC. But they were all referred to as “coke”, perhaps with a lowercase “c”. In Atlanta, coke was any fizzy soft drink, regardless of brand. Moving to Ohio was a different story. I still have a hard time calling a drink “pop”, though that seems to be the predominant way to reference drinks. “Soda” seems so New England-y, but rolls off the tongue a little easier for me.
I’ve long been aware of these linguistic differences in reference to “carbonated water with sweeteners, flavorings and other additives”. Now there’s a map that clarifies what to call it. It’s hard to believe that scientists have actually studied this phenomenon, but at least I’ll know how to order in Schenectady.
Jun 1st, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
Ever since I began preaching in 1984, I’ve had a recurring nightmare. I get to the pulpit, look out over the congregation, open my Bible…and find no sermon notes. I panic. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I have nothing to say, and I stand, humiliated, and have to confess my ineptitude to the people gathered. What happens from there, I’m not sure, because I usually wake up in a cold sweat and realize I am dreaming.
I haven’t actually had that dream for a very long time, but it was frequent when I was a new pastor. I’ve always prepared a full manuscript of my sermons and carefully consider every word in the document. The process of writing typically takes me six to eight hours, and I can get a little edgy when it’s not coming together. I might whine about the time it takes to prepare a sermon, but I love the process of preparation. It becomes something God has given me to share with others.
By the time I’m done writing and editing and have a printed out manuscript, I’ve mentally preached the sermon three or four times. I’ve never felt comfortable with just an outline or sketchy notes in the pulpit, and I’ve never had any good reason to attempt to preach without notes. I envy those who can do so with confidence (and not just ramble), but I’ve always known that style is not for me. I am a stronger preacher when I know what the next thought, the next story, the next idea, the next sentence will be. My memorization skills are not good, so it helps to be able to glance at the manuscript to remember a particular turn of the phrase, or to glance ahead to the next thought. The physical manuscript helps me connect the dots and present a sermon that, while hopefully blessed in some way by God, has a sense of flow and movement to it that helps take the hearer from thought A to thought B.
It didn’t work that way on Sunday. The nightmare became reality.
It had been a hectic week, with a short work-week due to the Memorial Day holiday and the addition of two weddings and one funeral to the already tight schedule. With the extra services, I had prepared two brief wedding homilies and a funeral sermon as well as the regular sermon for Saturday night and Sunday morning. I was feeling rather proud of myself for getting everything done, even though I’d had a much shorter-than-usual block of time for the regular sermon preparation. Still, it was done–and, hot off the HP printer, the sermon manuscript went with me to the Saturday evening service. All went well.
On Sunday morning, I gathered sermon, reminder notes, bulletin, inserts, communion liturgy and prayer concerns, tucked them in my Bible, and headed to the sanctuary. Mid-service, in the pulpit, I opened the Bible to read the Gospel and realized that the sermon manuscript there was the one from Thursday’s funeral, eulogizing dear Mrs. Pitts. I had no sermon.
A thousand volts of brain activity kicked in. Some of the thoughts that zapped across the synapses within a split second: “What can I do? Can I excuse myself, run up the stairs and down the long hallway to the office, unlock the doors, find the sermon manuscript, and run back to preach? Would anyone notice? Would they think I was ill and call an ambulance? Would they think I had lost my mind and run away? I’m glad the children have left for Sunday School…they won’t have to see the pastor have a breakdown. Should I ask the organist to play a hymn to buy some time? What is that pounding noise in my head? Could I just try to remember what I had written and preached the night before?”
I don’t like extemporaneous speaking. Maybe I’m too tight and controlled, and maybe I need to trust the Spirit more, but I trust the Spirit plenty with a manuscript in my hand. I can deviate from the script. I can add a spontaneous thought or phrase. I can work in a personal anecdote. I can edit my own writing as I preach, and often do. But I cannot make up a sermon on the fly.
I stumbled through the Gospel reading. Honestly, all those thoughts were bombarding my brain while I was reading. I know my face was flush, as I felt the redness creeping up even as the sweat began dripping down. And, by the end of the short Gospel lesson, I felt my throat constricting, my tongue drying up. I said, “Let us pray”, breathed deeply and eeked out the prayer I usually use before the sermon, “O God, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.” I never meant it more.
The Spirit said preach. Just do it. Frankly, I don’t remember what I said. I got the beginning, mumbled through the middle, moved through the thoughts as they came to me, felt mildly pleased when I remembered something important and then…I was done. I simply had no more thoughts. There was no slick way to wrap things up, summarize, or re-state the main theme. I’m not even sure there was a main theme, as it was. So I just said something that sounded final. Done. Over. Finished. And I sat down. Sweet relief! I had lived through my worst nightmare and survived!
Since church was finished in 55 minutes–even though we’d had communion (which typically adds extra time to the service) and presented Bibles to the second and third graders–I imagine the sermon clocked in somewhere around eight minutes. There certainly were no complaints, as it got everyone to the coffee hour in record time.
I confessed my nightmare-to-reality scenario to several parishioners, including two clergy who were in church that morning. All said they hadn’t noticed. But thank goodness, no one said “Best sermon yet, preacher!” I’d have considered early retirement.
One friend, having heard the story of my nightmare experience, responded, “At least you had your pants on.”
Yeah, it could have been worse.
May 30th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
Blog update: I’ve added a slide show of recent photos to the blog. If you’re an email subscriber, you’ll find it on the main blog page here. Click the tab at the top of the page that says PHOTOS. As the page loads, you’ll start to see the slide show. Place your mouse over the top of the photos to find the controls. Mousing over the bottom of the pictures shows a preview of other pics. The photos all come from my Flickr photo site, and the slide show gets updated automatically as I post new pictures on Flickr.
May 28th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
Soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan are needing to tell their stories to deal with the trauma. It’s the story that no one wants to hear, but the hard and painful truth is that war is hell for everyone. A recent conference allowed returnees to tell their stories, and America needs to listen to these brave citizens. The story and pictures presented here are harsh and graphic…like in reality.
May 26th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
A boy stands in the FEMA Diamond travel trailer park May 23, 2008 in Port Sulphur, Louisiana. FEMA federal trailer parks that house many Hurricane Katrina victims are set to close May 31, prompting fears that people will be forced into residences they can’t afford or will be left homeless. Most residents will receive a federal subsidy to move to apartments, but affordable rental housing is scarce in some areas like New Orleans and Baton Rouge. By Mario Tama/Getty Images.
[via The Daily Dish]
May 10th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
If you can handle the heights, this video is amazing, but I had to grip my chair to watch it.
Originally built in 1901, this walkway now serves as an approach to Makinodromo, the famous climbing sector of El Chorro, in Andalusia, Spain.
May 7th, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
It’s a horrible word and a horrific act. Rape is violence, without a doubt, and yet it is confusing to those of us who have never had to deal with it or its after effects. Confusing because the violence is sexual in nature and, in my mind anyway, violence and sex are polar opposites.
To my knowledge no one close to me has ever experienced such violence. But clearly a large percentage of rapes are never officially reported or prosecuted, so I’m sure that a large percentage are never told. Survivors who speak of their experiences do so with great courage and emotional strength. There are issues of “fault” and “blame” and “shame” that quell the telling. There are men who are abused as well as women. There are family members who perpetrate crimes on family members. Such things are hard to speak of.
Sunday’s Plain Dealer had a special section (now online) which detailed the rape of a Cleveland woman–a reporter, in fact, who tells her own story. I saw the section in the Sunday paper and set it aside to read later, but not really sure if I’d get around to it or not.
On Tuesday I picked it up. Author/survivor Joanna Connors walked me through the thoughts, the fears, and the pain of her own experience while exploring the life of her attacker as well. The writing is compelling. The sharing is an outpouring of the trauma and fears and hopes of this gifted writer and survivor. The photos helped share the story too, in a way that aided the story without being too graphic in themselves. It’s a story I would commend to your reading.
That night, I went to the first rehearsal for “Sing Out! For the Rape Crisis Center”. It’s a fundraising event, a concert of Cleveland area leaders who form a choir for one sell-out performance. I’m in it because a church member invited me, and I thought “eh…why not?” But, having read the first hand story of brutality and survivorship, I now think of it as a very good way to make a difference.
It felt good to use my voice to offer songs of hope on behalf of those who may feel little hope. The concert will raise a lot of money for the Cleveland Rape Crisis Center which uses the funds to provide free care and counseling to those in need. Fourteen thousand persons were served last year; two thousand more than the year before. There’s a lot of pain out there, and it is pain that lasts for a lifetime. Somebody’s got to give voice to hope. I’m glad I can help in a small way.
The singer across the pew from me was Joanna Connors, using her own voice in new ways to offer hope for others.
[photo via Cleveland.com]
Apr 23rd, 2008 by Ron Dauphin
There’s a blog I’ve recently discovered that really fascinates me. One Sentence is a collection of true stories told in, yes, only one sentence. We never know the fuller context–and that’s part of the appeal, I guess. Some of them are captivating and make my mind wander to what might have happened either before or after. But each of them is a little slice of life contained in a few words. Check it out and let me know what you think.
Find it in my blogroll on my blog’s main page or at www.onesentence.org
