KOPP DISCLOSURE

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)

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Because of today's national holiday, I'm only working 12 hours: really early check-in counseling mini-breakfast, staff directives that will be totally ignored, presiding at a memorial service for a dear family that will provide the privilege to talk about Jesus to some of the folks who enter a church about as much as some of the folks who show up for our congregational dinners or when the youth choir sings, two counseling sessions, intervention with folks who are hating each other in the interests of youth sports, watching a basketball game that will test my patience, and then eating like a non-kosher pig; but I am ordering a Roma Flat Black Beanie Half Helmet, Outbacker Folding Tool Kit, and J&P Cycles Touring/Full-Dress Cover for the mule that still ain't in my barn.

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Staying with the national holiday because it only comes once a year, I've had so many apocalyptic moments in my life with Bobby, Richie, and Jeff getting caught egging the Virgin Mary at Central Catholic High School on the eve of the big game after the pep rally, Donna in the alley behind Granteed's Gas Station, Ruthie under Wilkes-Barre's Market Street Bridge, after the Mountain concert under the Market Street Bridge, when one of my seminary professors hit on me (guy), learning the marvels of single malt while studying in Rome, when one of my professors hit on me in Heidelberg (gal), finding out nobody cares if I know German, French, Latin, Hebrew, and Greek, climbing to the top of the ecclesiastical ladder of success to discover it was leaning against the wrong building, realizing you can be a pastor in a mainline denomination without believing in Jesus or acknowledging the authority of Holy Scripture, and, well, uh, lots of strange stuff that He's used to lead me back to Him.

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I loved Grandma Thelma.

She was a chain smoker who died of emphysema.

Hard to see that coming.

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She took me to Broadway to see My Fair Lady when I was a little kid.

She got really mad at me after the show because I forgot to take her on my tour of Times Square.

It was a metaphor for our relationship.

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My parents were afraid she would burn down the house because she liked to smoke in bed.

She lived with us.

I decided to help.

I hid her cigarettes in a flower vase.

She did not appreciate the flower vase being filled with water.

She screamed, "You will never amount to anything in your life!"

I was in 8th grade.

Come to think of it, I've tried to live down to her expectations throughout my life; and I can still see her face and where she stood as she turned after the rant and stormed back up to her room to, uh, have a cigarette.

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My favorite contemporary devotional writer, uh, wrote on 2/23/09: "The words we speak are a powerful force, setting things into motion that can build us up or tear us down. One word spoken in anger can destroy a life or break a heart. One unkind word spoken can inject a soul with bitterness and rejection. One harsh word can kill the seed of the greatest dream. We can nurture our dreams and build bridges into our destiny by the power of our words. What's inside of us will come out through the words we speak. Angry people say angry things. Critical people criticize. Sad people speak sadness. Hopeless people say despairing words. Pessimistic folks prophesy doom and gloom. Wise men speak wisdom. Children of light speak words of life, hope, purpose, and destiny" (www.PassagewayTulsa.org).

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That's why I get into trouble with adults who crush the dreams of children while abusing them with adult politics.

I just can't keep my mouth shut.

Jeremiah 1 comes to mind.

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Bishop Richard Williamson has denied 6 million Jews were butchered in the Holocaust.

Pope Benedict XVI says the bishop better recant if he wants to remain a bishop in the RRC.

The illiterate/ignorant or intentionally deceptive by political/confessional compromise bishop has been stationed in Argentina for a long time.

Hard to see that coming.

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Staying on religious stuff, public rallies for PBHO are opening with invocations.

That's a departure from the practice of previous Presidents.

Catch.

All prayers are commissioned and vetted by the White House.

Hard to see that coming.

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Wait one minute!

Stop the presses!

If all prayers are commissioned and vetted by the White House, that means that race-baiting-totally-divisive-insulting-to-Jesus-who-lived-and-died-to-bring-everybody-together-through-Him-with-no-respect-to-color-class-and-culture closing inaugural prayer was...

Help us, Jesus!

Hard to see that coming.

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Back to...

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Blessings and Love!

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