Thursday, July 30, 2009

July 30, 2009

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)


Yesterday, I played the back nine of one of my two favorite local courses with my favorite Special Olympics World Golf Champion.

I hadn't played in nearly three weeks; and I did not play well.

I hit one of the most God-awful tee balls of my life on the 15th; and Billy said, "Pastor Bob, Pastor Bob, at least it's not in the woods!"

I hit one of the best drives of my life on the 16th; and Billy said, "Pastor Bob, Pastor Bob, that makes up for the last one!"




Speaking of metaphors, I'm learning a lot with Kopper at obedience school.

Our teacher says, "If your dog barks at you, don't give any treats to him, turn your back, fold your arms, and pay no attention to him until he behaves better."

He also says, "Don't praise your dog and give treats to him unless he does what's right."



A peer in Ohio is upset.

He's always wanted a convertible and finally has saved up enough $ to buy one; but one of the officers in his church said, "Your predecessor had one. He was forced out. Most of us think a convertible presents a bad image for our pastor. So you can't buy one."

While I'm probably not the best guy to address vehicular images, I counseled, "I can think of four reasons why you should buy one: (1) You want one and have enough $ to buy one; (2) You're almost as old as I am which means you could keel over at any moment; (3) Once you allow churchfolks to control any part of your life, they'll feel entitled to control all of your life; and (4) Churchfolks are always looking for something to banter and moan about when it comes to their pastors; so I think you should buy one and give them something to talk about before they come up with something else to banter and moan about it."



That same peer wrote back on 7/13/09 just before I left for vacation: "There are three categories of pastors: (1) The professionals who don't really give a ___ about parishioners but just want to feed ego and pile up pension credits; (2) The real pastors who really engage and invest their lives for parishioners despite the pain and setbacks; and (3) Those who were #2 but were hurt so deeply by irregular and demon-possessed parishioners that they master #1 to survive until retirement."


He wrote yesterday, "Stop ___ing about people forgetting your 30th ordination anniversary. Wait until your 33rd; so they can really crucify you! Besides, you keep talking so much about your age counting time in the womb because God does that no one can ever figure out your calendar!"

He went on, "You like CCR. I always knew you had a soft spot for gays! Nevertheless, I'm glad you're back in town. Ever since you decided to get back on a chrome pony, you have been writing with more freedom and less anger. You're right. I should buy a convertible. Don't wait so long between vacations! You get four weeks for vacation and two weeks for study leave every year. Use them! I know nobody in your church really cares about your 365/24/7 work habits anyway. You should take two days off every week! It's like you say, 'When I die, they'll have ham and cole slaw in fellowship hall, elect another pastor search committee right after the interment, and then tell my family to get out of the manse in a month.' You give them enough of yourself and from your family to take off a week every two months. Ride the mule! Get your bride to ride with you! It will free her up too! I'm still in bondage! Your freedom for life and ministry inspires me!"




Two more from vacation.

The Navy was supposed to scramble F-16s along the South Carolina shore on 7/24 for anti-terrorism exercises. They cancelled because of the threat of thunderstorms. There were no thunderstorms along the SC shore on 7/24. Just a threat. Psst. Please don't tell terrorists that our military will only scramble to protect us weather permitting.

Remember Swine Flu? PBHO cured that. Uh, not so fast! CDC experts now say several thousands of us could die if their vaccine campaign fails. They say up to 40% of us could get it this year and next! Well, at least we can count on our government for health care reform.



Blessings and Love!

Kathie has just posted new stuff on!!!

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

July 28, 2009

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)

What I saw in Louisville on my summer vacation.

His car was stalling because of the emanations from Mordor. It sucks the life out of everything it touches.

Monday, July 27, 2009

July 27, 2009

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)



It started raining as soon as we got into the van to leave for vacation at 3:16 a.m. on 7/15.

It didn't rain a drop during vacation.

It started raining as soon as we got into the van to return from vacation at 7:17 a.m. on 7/26.

I don't know what that means.


The day before we left for vacation, the electronics went apoplectic on my mule.

Before dropping it off at my favorite HD dealership, I had a memorial service.

Kopper took me to obedience school later that night; and a dear friend came and offered consolation and deeply appreciated affection.

I picked up the mule when we returned from vacation; but returned it again because the electronics went apoplectic again.

The daughter of the deceased wrote: "On behalf of myself and my girls, I would like to thank you for giving my mom a beautiful service. Your music, sermon...It was a pleasure meeting you. The congregation at First Presbyterian are truly blessed to have you as their pastor...I hope you had a good vacation."

Kopper fell in love with Ashley while we were away; but was so obviously happy when we returned.

My favorite HD dealership gave me a new Road King to use while my Dyna's in the hospital; which is cool because I've always coveted a Road King.

Road King?

I don't know what that means.


We passed by our franchise's (PCUSA) headquarters in Louisville on the way to Litchfield, SC.

The lights behind the cross in the building were not on.

The van almost stalled in front of it yet sputtered along.

We ended up dropping some big bucks for bandaids.

I don't know what that means.


Walter Cronkite died while we were away, Tom Watson yipped away a singular place in golf history and brought back so many nightmares of the Shark, Rocco, Phil, and Duval, the Anglicans made gays feel straight, the NFL commish deliberated on the future of an animal abuser to play with drug addicts, men being grossly overpaid to play a kids' game, and a host of thugs, and it became clearer and clearer and clearer that PBHO doesn't have a clue about what he speaks so eloquently about - everything!

Speaking of not having a clue, some people at the beach should exchange their Speedos and bikinis for Muslim attire.

Bruno continued to draw big crowds; which proves the devolution of Western Civilization as the talented but twisted nymph persists in playing out his perverted pathologies in public.

I read the visitor's book in our condo - I never read or sign the visitor's book anywhere!!! - and was struck by the comments of Newton, NC's Nick Kummer who preceded us by a week: "This place is demonic and haunted. I can't wait to get out. If you are staying here...good luck!" Hannah Gonoharow of Huntersville, NC then wrote in red, "Ignore what Nick said. He is half ___. Don't ask how we tolerate him!"

I did not let my wife or children read the visitor's book.

I am a VMTC lead minister; so I performed an exorcism while everyone was asleep on the first night of our stay.

We had no visitors.

I don't know what that means.


I found ten golf balls during vacation; but didn't hit one.

I found two TaylorMade TP/Black premium golf balls about a yard from each other about 20 yards into the woods from the 7th tee of Reserve Golf Course. Both balls bore the same vanity inscriptions: "99" on one side and "Bob" on the other. Not making too much of the name, it means the same guy did the same thing to repeat the same awful shot.

Getting coffee at a local gas station catering to locals, I was asked, "What's up with PBHO saying the cops were stupid when he wasn't even there and doesn't know anything about what happened?" My response: "That hasn't stopped him from talking about everything else all of the time without expertise or experience."

Getting back to Anglican gays, they're now eligible for "any ordained ministry" even if they're self-affirming, avowed, and unrepentant in extra-Biblical sexualities.

I was about to write something really orthodox about that until the Bishop of Durham alerted me to a real logjam of hypocrisy among those who are most obsessed with that kinda stuff: "There's something very bizarre about the rich arguing about sex while the poor are clamoring for justice."

I don't know what that means.


My dad wrote, "Used to be, I'd get jokes on my e-mail practically every day; but not much - zilch - for the last six or seven months. People are losing their sense of humor; or because of political correctness and other bull___ going on in this country are not allowed to have one...I have always enjoyed humor and I considered myself Mr. Optimist. I'm over 80 years old and still look forward to tomorrow; but, boy, we have such a lack of leadership. PBHO and the Dems are trying to give away our country and we have no Repubs with enough guts to take him on. Yesterday, I watched a confrontation between a black leader of the Black Chamber of Commerce and that racist socialist Senator Boxer from California. He had the guts to uncover her stupidity and ___ kissin' social worker intelligence. The Dems are no longer interested in the values that made America great. And the Repubs have no spine. And don't get me started on the church..."

In a related story, I got Johnson's John Calvin: Reformer for the 21st Century as a free gift from John Knox Press: "Please accept with our compliments..." That was followed by a note about it being offered at a 25% discount for churches who want to incorporate it into their CE offerings.

The publisher wrote, "I'm sure if you asked members of your congregation to name three historical 'movers and shakers' in the PCUSA, most of them would include John Calvin..."


That knocked me off my chair.

I don't think so.

Maybe PBHO, Rick Warren, or Yoda!


Maybe that cartoon character.

But, c'mon, have you looked at adult CE in most franchise churches?

Though Johnson has become the darling of the Anglicangaylikin' folks in our franchise, I like the book. Though I can see how they'll use it to advance their agenda, it's really clear, concise, and surprisingly comprehensive in caricaturing the old coot while prompting passionate debate on logical/illogical inferences from our, uh, cough, gasp, sigh, "Reformed" heritage. I've even volunteered to lead a study in our church!

But then a really, really, really smart newsperson from the South wrote to me: "I know him personally. He is so far left! He will find a way to argue that Calvin was the first person in history to champion gay ordination!"

I don't know what that means.


O.K., I kinda know what it means.


Here comes the rain again.



Blessings and Love!

Kathie added some cool stuff on while I was away!!!

Sunday, July 26, 2009

July 26, 2009


This is amazing! Someone certainly is talented and patient to create such a masterpiece. A few quick facts:

How long to build it? It was about a year and a half of planning, building and photographing..

How many pieces of LEGO to build it? more than 75,000

How big is it? About 7 feet by 5 1/2 feet by 30 inches (2.2 m x 1.7 m x .76 m)

How many LEGO people does it seat? 1,372

How many windows? 3,976

It features a balcony, a Narthex, stairs to the balcony, restrooms, coat rooms, several mosaics, a nave, a baptistery, an altar, a crucifix, a pulpit and an elaborate pipe organ.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

July 11, 2009

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)


I received an invitation to attend Pat and Harold's 50th in New Kensington, Pennsylvania on August 28.

While I've got to check with all of my bosses if you know what I mean, I should and want to go.

Along with Rod and another who almost made the list but flunked over time as associate pastors, he was always loyal to Jesus and loyal to me as long as I prayed and tried to be loyal to Jesus.



I'll never forget when Harold was confronted by an angry woman who accused him of using her as a bad example to illustrate a Biblical truth: "You were talking about me in your sermon!"

Harold replied, "While you'll never believe me that I wasn't talking about you and while it's very arrogant of you to think that I was as if you're always on my mind and the center of everyone's universe in the church, maybe you're feeling guilty about something Bob and I don't know about; so if the shoe fits..."

I thought about that when five people from Ohio, Missouri, and Pennsylvania wrote to ask if I was thinking about them when I wrote about Harry in the 6/25/09 edition of KD; and I'm sure someone who hears me mention Harry again in tomorrow's sermon will assume...


Yeah, I should go to their 50th.


This is gonna be the last KD for a few weeks as I'm headin' off with my main babe and younger ones for almost two weeks of, uh, whatever.

This is a good time to catch up on all of the neat stuff that Kathie packs into the website; and assume a lot of the salt's been sprinklin' on...

Speaking of, uh, stuff like that, I was really gettin' depressed/wasted/depleted/sucked/dry/burned/out/bummed/out/emotionally/suicidal a few weeks ago; as I was blindsided by one of those occasional betrayals so typical to my vocation - and before you try to guess, go back to the first video and Harold's wisdom with the guilty in the aforementioned and don't even bother because I've already forgiven 'em and feel like Aslan with Edward which the literate will understand - and lamenting my idiocy of opting out of last year's family vacation and January's covenant group retreat/continuing/education causing me to limp through much of the year.

But then we had a session meeting that was an overwhelming watershed in the history of our family of faith; confirming my call and choice to remain as pastor of our family of faith for the duration. It was among the most positive, hopeful, caring, and Biblically Christocentric meetings that I've ever experienced. Coupling that with some caring counsel from three elders, covenant brothers, and a few staff members about the need to expand my wineskin as I urge others to expand theirs, I'm so thankful for the prayers and support of so many as I've cried, tried, labored, and prayed to be a good pastor in obedience to Jesus as attested in Holy Scripture.

Truth is - and don't tell anyone in Belvidere because it could tip the balance of my prophetic/pastoral responsibilities to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable - I am privileged to be pastor of a family of faith dominated by women and men on staff and in leadership and membership who really love Jesus and really pray and labor to love like Jesus and treat me like Alma did (scroll down to the 7/8/09 edition of KD).

So I'm feelin' pretty good as we stuff the van with more, uh, stuff than we'll ever need while away.



Before signin' off, my book on biker culture as metaphor and challenge to the church is ramblin' to the end of the road as I've completed six of the nine chapters.

Considering how my previous publishers botched marketing - especially on Golf in the Real Kingdom - and how this one is way out on the edge in a John Hall Riding on the Edge (great read for bikers and folks who grew up in the backyard of Pennsylvania's Pagans in the 60s and early 70s) kinda way, I'm looking for an agent and if you...

A really famous biker business guy said it's bold - What a shock! - and bound to attract attention.

While I'm not tellin' the title or releasin' much more about it than what's part of the summer summary sermon series at First, here's a very mild out of context excerpt:

Bikers don't like to fight unless they're drunk, someone's messin'
with their old lady or old man, or one outlaw MC has violated
another's turf...

But if you want to start a fight with bikers, just say something
like this: "Everyone who rides a motorcycle should be required by
law to wear a helmet."

That'll start a war that would make the Outlaws and 81ers proud!

Though I started biking a long time ago in Pennsylvania when
helmets were required by state law, I'd always take it off as soon
as I crossed into a state that didn't require one; and now that I'm
living in a state that doesn't require me to wear one, I don't for
several practical, rebellious, and ideological reasons: (1) I feel more
at-one with my surroundings without a helmet; (2) I am convinced
an experienced rider is safer without one because peripheral vision
is expanded along with increased awareness of sights, sounds, and
smells that are integral to increasing margins of safety; (3) I have
an, uh, overriding aversion to anyone who isn't educated or
experienced telling people who are educated or experienced how to
do what they don't do; (4) I'm weary of the intellectual inconsistency
of cultures, for example, that threaten the safety of the unborn but
wanna make me wear a helmet for my safety; (5) Farmers are
right: "Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none!";
(6) Actually, I wear one when riding through big cities just in case
some smart ___ thinks bikers are good targets for drivebys and
from overpasses; and (7) I wanna give hope to people who hate
me in a Christian kinda way.

While this counsel to my preaching students ain't in the book, it seems appropriate about now: "If you're in a mainline denomination, it's hard to rouse 'em from their well-conditioned slumbers. So talk about Jesus! That'll shock 'em!"



And then there's the biography - scroll down to the last section of the 7/1/09 edition of KD - that I'll really start getting into and excerpt for KD a lot after finishing off the biker book.

From Genesis:

His 8th grade music teacher asked on the first day
of class, "How many of you have Robert as a first

When all of 'em but Eddie, Ernie, and Melvin raised
their hands, Bobby began to wonder how special he
really was.

The question never left him; and he spent most of
his life trying to find the answer.

It didn't help when his maternal grandmother shouted
at him from the steps up to her bedroom in that same
year, "You'll never amount to anything!"

He had it coming.

Not really.

The penalty of that permanent scar that drove him to
try too hard too often at the expense of forfeiting the
moment for monuments was so much more severe
than the offense.

He had poured water into the flower vase where she
hid her Chesterfields after her daughter forbid her
to smoke in the house because she had a habit
of falling asleep with a butt in her mouth.

Lex talionis.

Things spiral out of hand and hurt so much if
folks don't jump off rather than pile on.

Yeah, it's time for a vacation.

That's another metaphor.


Anyway, I'll see you in a few weeks unless Jesus comes back.


Now what am I thinking?


Blessings and Love!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

July 8, 2009

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)


Girl Talk

"Yeah, Bill thought he was the President, too..."


A pastor in Ohio wrote, "PBHO must be going nuts with a dead Michael Jackson stealing his spotlight for almost two weeks!"

While I've always thought MJ was a little off as if I'm not not to mention some folks who are pseudo-supernaturally so adept at speck-inspecting at the expense of log-detecting - that's a Biblical metaphor for people in the mainline who need hints - you'd think he was God's other son by the preachers, performers, and, uh, others who gathered at the steps of the crypto-chancel in LA's Staples Center yesterday; though I dug The Rev. Lucious Smith's verity: "The King of Pop has gone to meet the King of Kings!"



I've never been a big MJ fan; especially after he sang that love song to a rat.

I thought Billie Jean wasn't his lover because she's gay.

And he seemed to change, uh, colors and, uh, noses more than I've changed golf clubs over the years; and considering how sick that makes me...

Surely, I feel badly for his children if, uh, they are his children...

Seriously, if I held sleepovers with the boys in our church's junior high youth group...

Yes, I feel badly about him dying before he could settle on a color or nose and I feel badly for his, uh, children and I feel badly for his parents and siblings and I feel kinda badly for his sycophants and...

No, I don't feel any more badly for MJ than I feel badly for anyone who forfeits the joy of life for whatever reasons/rationalizations.

I'm into fun!

I'm into living life abundantly.

Someone really divine urged it; unlike too many folks who have revised the first answer to the first question of The Shorter Catechism: "Our chief end is to horrify God and annoy Him forever."





I like that one; and I don't mind hearing it over and over and over in the, uh, wake of MJ's matriculation.

It reminds me of a note that I got back on May 21, 2009 that only now can I read and savor without weeping uncontrollably:

Dear Rev. Kopp,

I thought you would like a prayer card from Alma.
You were very important to Alma and Fred and
Matthew. They had your picture hanging in their
den and saved many of your sermons.

I was with Alma as she passed and want you
to know that her end was peaceful. She was
eager to rejoin Fred.

God bless you for your friendship and comfort
to them.

(Alma's sister-in-law)

While I have been vocationally rejuvenated in the past few weeks after another one of those occasional betrayals that beset gals/guys like me in the church business by the prayers of the authentics, counsel of elders and covenant brothers, support of staff, and a few better rounds on the links along with a few miles on the mule, Alma and Fred along with Eddie, Hope, Frank, Carol, and Jim remain so important to me as continuing cheerleaders, mentors, and friends from formative days in ministry.

Yes, MJ, they were/are there/here.


Alma was about my age now when I first met her.

She was on the pastor search committee that called me to Clark, New Jersey's Osceola Presbyterian Church and served as an elder without interruption or indigestion during my tenure.

I was about 27 when she said, "Bob, I will be your mother while you're away from your mother. I will tell you the truth about how things are going and how you're doing; but no matter how things are going and how you're doing, you will always be able to count on me to trust the best in you for Jesus and the church. I know you love Jesus and love us; so, like your mother, I can handle you not being perfect."

That was about 30 years ago.

We never lost touch over the years.


I learned so much from Alma and Fred.

They never stepped back or away from Osceola no matter who, what, where, when, or why; incarnating a truth that I'd heard but rarely seen before or since: tough times expose rather than build character.

They loved more than the souls of people; loving people themselves with warts and worse just like Jesus did.

They loved me like that; and how they loved me provided an enduring paradigm of how to love like Jesus: compassionately, mercifully, and, succinctly, unconditionally.

They never stepped back or away from any of us even when their children were ill or delinquent, Fred's job security was threatened, or things didn't go their way.

They were so, uh, Christian.



I've come to that place in my life knowing nothing happens by accident.

He has a reason for it all; placing authentics and even inauthentics in our path to force choices to honor or abandon Him.

Yes, I've been shocked by the inauthentics whose inauthenticity is exposed during tough times.

But, even more, I've been surprised by the authentics whose authenticity is exposed during tough times; and how their witness, unlike the false ones of the inauthentics, stick with us to continue cheerleading and mentoring.



Just about the time that Alma was going home to Fred, a young woman in distress met with me after our 3rd Sunday worship service.

She had sinned.

Alma came to mind while meeting with her; and I became parental in a Christian kinda way.

She wrote to me a few days ago:

Dear Pastor Bob,

I really cannot thank you enough. I had been
battling with my conscience...I was going mad.
It was eating me up inside. But then you came

You said I cannot fix what I won't face. You
said Jesus is like a mom or dad who will
never say bad is good but will never dump
me if I confuse the two. You said all I have
to do is say I'm sorry and try harder and
that's enough for Jesus and people who
love Jesus.

After our talk, I felt like a bird that had
been set free from a cage. I can fly

Thanks for telling me the truth about
me and how Jesus loves me no matter
what. I hope I will be like that to others.

With all the love there is,

Thank You, Jesus!

Thank you, Alma, for showing Jesus to me.



And so unto the mercy of Almighty God, we commend...


Blessings and Love

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

July 1, 2009

Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)



A staff member left a note for me: "There are 336 dimples on a regulation golf ball."

I didn't get the point...until yesterday.

I thought it was gonna be another typical day in life and ministry; but it turned out as one of the more apocalyptic adventures of my life.

I figured it out at the end of the day while on the can with my custodian's metaphor in mind.


4:15 a.m. - Out the door for a mile or so with Kopper to pee, poop, peek, and pray; noting he did the first three and I did...

5:05 a.m. - Arrive at the church to get some annoying administrative stuff done before the phone starts whining, check e-mail (refusing to "Facebook" with anybody though the requests are getting increasingly cumbersome, ignore the ED ads and beggings for money from Beverly Hills, wait forever for the latest picture of Jesus' face in the clouds to download, and then respond to the important, incidental, inane, and insane), write yesterday's KD, figure out how to condense 30 pages of the next chapter in my book about biker culture as metaphor and challenge to the church into something palatable for Sunday, leave a voice message for the staff about my day so they don't guess/suspect, read some Oswald, pray a bit, make my own coffee, eat some dry cereal, and try to head out before the saleswomen/men, hangarounds, drop-ins, and other solicitors who think I just sit around all day with a jug of lemonade on my desk with nothing to do but show up just for them and send my schedule of hospital and nursing home visits, counseling appointments, meetings, and so on into apoplexy.

7:30 a.m. - Head off for Belvidere Brewers, which meets at one of my two favorite coffee shops in town because of the convenience and countenance of the employers/employees, to discuss anything that comes up that's related to, uh, anything that comes up. It is the best source of care and constructive counsel in my life and ministry at the moment. The folks who gather between 8-10 every Tuesday morning are faithful, direct, redemptive, and kind. They can tell me to go to hell in a way that I'm looking forward to the trip. They were especially helpful yesterday about the need to prune - personally and corporately.

10:00 a.m. - Head off for quick check-ups in a nursing home and hospital.

11:30 a.m. - Lunch with someone who is especially profound, really likes the summer summary sermon series on biker culture as metaphor and challenge to the church and actually may buy the book when it comes out and wishes the sermons were a little longer, and is confident enough not to be defensive/offensive. Yeah, we talked about other stuff; but that's none of your business because it's in the realm of pastoral confidentiality.

12:35 p.m. - Head back to the church and check e-mail (see 5:05 a.m. for the agonies), snail mail (see e-mail notations), voicemail (though took care of 21 of 'em between time slots above), and dig into the book and summer summary sermon series that some appreciate, some detest because everybody's got their pathologies and prejudices, and most ignore despite my sense of call and pouring out my heart, soul, mind, and gut into it.

5:05 p.m. - Leave the church to visit two friends who really love me and don't abuse me like so many others who pretend to love me but drop me from their lives whenever I don't buy into or enable their prejudices and pathologies. They wanted to see me to encourage me because I've been pretty tired lately and burdened by worldly and ecclesiastical cultures that have become increasingly difficult to differentiate.

6:15 p.m. - Gobble down some pasta by myself.

6:32 p.m. - Pick up the youngest from baseball to drop him off for basketball.

7:00 p.m. - Go to school with Kopper for the first obvious apocalyptic moment of the day: "If your dog barks or misbehaves in any way, don't give your little darling a treat! Turn around, fold your arms, look the other way, and ignore your dog until your dog learns to respect your place in her/his life and treats you as well as you've been treating your dog."

That dog trainer must have spent a lot of time with Jesus.

8:17 p.m. - Pick up the youngest from basketball and go home to take out the garbage; which, confessionally, is what I do all day anyway.

The rest is a most of my life and ministry.



To protect the innocent/guilty by bunching 'em together, just a few comments from the above for the below that provoked those reflections/revelations on the can:

You've got to stop being so hard on yourself.

You've got to gear down a little, take a day off, and
stop bearing all of the burdens of so many folks.

You try to get too much into your sermons. Why not
say less and say it slower?

I understand your biker metaphor; but some are tired
of it.

I love your biker series. It's making faith come alive
for me as I see how practical the Bible and Jesus
really are to my life. I hope it never ends. And
I can't wait until the book comes out.

You're in my prayers. I know you're a target for
darkness. I just hope your joy which has been
so contagious isn't stolen from you by that
darkness. I sense a real heaviness in you
and a real struggle to stay joyful.

They've been like that for years, always
threatening to leave if they don't get their
way, and they've got that air of superiority
that we all feel. We love them and want
them in the church but...

Why don't you...?

Your sermons and prayers are too long.

I just love your sermons and could listen to
you all day long. I wish you wouldn't be concerned
about how long the service goes. Your prayers
are so calm and reassuring.

You're a little too transparent. People like
to pretend their pastors are more than they
know they're not.

I really like how you don't hide being human.
That's why I pay attention to you.

As the emperor said to Wolfie, "And there it is."



The responses to yesterday's KD were also apocalyptic:

Missouri: "I am one of those wandering in the wilderness...looking at the church and wondering WHY I would work to bring people into a place where they will be witness to Christians behaving in abominable ways toward each other, their pastor, and their church. It is not a place for those interested in loving like Jesus. I have come to believe the church is the LAST place someone seeking Jesus belongs. I now participate in a group of about 15 Christian women, who love Jesus and reflect that love in their lives. We come from different denominations, but we have a common desire to love the Lord and study the Bible...I do want to thank you for your continued efforts to awaken the complacent and arouse the brain dead!"

Florida: "75% want to quit? I don't think I have the option of telling our Boss, '___ it, I quit!' I know you won't quit and you've helped me not to quit in the past. I remember some wisdom: 'Expect the worst of people. That way you will never be disappointed and occasionally you will be wonderfully surprised.' It was good advice when I was a young cop and still helps."

Michigan: "What the ___ is wrong with your church? You're complaining about money with a pile of it in the bank! You selfish bastards! If you love your
staff and mission and Jesus as much as you say you do, why not spend the money given by really faithful people years ago and hope that someone in the future will be as generous as they were? But stop complaining about money when you're stockpiling it! You make me sick!"

Florida: "We spent all of our reserves to do ministry and it was the best thing that we ever did. People got engaged, concerned, serious, and stopped relying on previous generations to pay their bills. We hired an associate pastor, drained our reserves, and flourished in hope and faith. Worshipping in the dark one Sunday because we couldn't pay our bills helped too. Bequests started coming in again after that."

Oklahoma: "A shepherd boy with a slingshot. An old man with a rod. A woman with a nail. A fanatic with a boat. A dreamer with a coat. A woman in a beauty pageant. At first glance you wouldn't think much of these folks, but follow their stories..."

Illinois: "The only thing that keeps me sane is prophetic revelation from Messiah. It is hard but I confront very strongly the spirits that work through people like you described. It is time for men of God to have some backbone and stand our ground, advance the kingdom like never before. You know what the greatest thing about times like these are to me? IT REMOVES THE CLUTTER! Remove problem people from leadership and even membership. I do. We do...I would rather die fighting than live or run like a coward! I would say to your church and others like I say to mine every Sunday in Poplar Grove, 'Men of God, arise and remember who you are in Messiah!'"

California: "Immediately after 9/11, church attendance jumped 25%...One pastor asked, 'Yes, they turned to the church but what church will be there to greet them?' Sadly, the limp and distorted Christianity of modern America greeted them. They quickly stopped coming...People turn their passions toward other things. They start demanding their own way in every little venue. Being 'offended' is elevated to a lifestyle. Daring to 'offend' is elevated to a felony...So, we come to the church. With PC thinking all the rage among the socially entitled, is it any surprise that bitching is loud from them? Not to be outdone, the conservatives are equally hair-triggered. There is no room for grace when all that matters is winning. When you have always had a job, a car, a house, a career, and education for your kids, national security, electricity, water, food, and medical turn your energy to bitching...Hey, KD! You are an American hero for suffering this storm of self-centered condescension. Be blessed."



As if I don't have enough to do, somebody who caught a peek at my biker manuscript and actually read Fifteen Secrets has asked me to write a biography.

I asked if there was any $ in it because I've been telling our staff that nobody's gettin' a raise in 2010; and he said, "Since when have any of your books made money?"


I said, "O.K., but I'm going to include a lot of it in editions of KD because that guy was really screwed up and really needed Jesus and..."

He said, "You've got it!"

Here's the first two sentences: "His 8th grade music teacher asked on the first day of class, 'How many of you have Robert as a first name?' When all of 'em but Eddie, Ernie, and Melvin raised their hands, Bobby began to wonder how special he really was."

Now where's my custodian's golf ball?


Blessings and Love!

Ain't gonna be another KD for about a week; so check out in
the meantime!