Yoga is for posers.

THE GRASS, by Carl Sandburg

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work-- I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

North Korea launched another long range missile and once again the nations of the world warned them of dire consequences. That worked so well last time.

After almost five weeks with Gerta just sitting forlorn in the garage (the curriculum project took precedence) I spent time this morning trying to get her running again. I was certain the problem was a clogged outlet in the gas tank so I hooked up a line with one end in a gas can and the other end connected to the fuel pump. I cannot express my disappointment and dismay when that brought no improvement. It's possible that the fuel pump is bad but I don't think so. I don't know where to go next. I told Pam it may be time to seek professional help.

I realized tonight that despite the fact we are still a very small church by any standard we have two adults named Todd and two adults plus a child named Josh. Odd. (That fact, not the Todds & Josh's.)

While I was working out in the garage - I'm also stripping a used dresser I bought for $40 - I had Pandora.com playing through the speaker system in my office. One of the preset channels is "Traditional Gospel," which for Pandora means traditional Black gospel. Everything from Mahalia Jackson to the Mississippi Mass Choir to Clarence Franklin to my personal favorite, Rev. James Cleveland. Some contemporary artists, too, but only those who sing traditional Black gospel.
I love the energy and enthusiasm of that genre.

When we lived in Riverside I sang in a 100-voice community choir that did four concerts a year - three classical and one pops. For one of the classical concerts we had a guest conductor who really pushed us in rehearsals. One of the things he insisted on was that we sing with energy. He told us that energy had nothing to do with tempo or volume; we could sing softly and slowly and still sing with energy. If we didn't he'd yell at us.
He illustrated his point by playing some Black gospel at one of our rehearsals. He pointed out that they sing with excellent support from their diaphragm and they are precise with the pronunciation of consonants.

That may be the technical explanation, but when I listen to that music I feel the conviction in their singing. They mean it!

When I pastored at Celebration one of my weekly tasks was to choose the song that would play as the offertory. Much of my Napster file consists of songs chosen for that purpose. I was asked by someone why I so often chose "Black" music. My response: "When White folk learn to sing with that kind of energy and conviction I'll play more White music."

Pandora.com is free and if you look at the preset channels you'll find Traditional Gospel. When you get to "I'm Don't Feel Noways Tired" by Rev. Cleveland you will be blown away!

I learned about this site yesterday:
Map My Ride
Cyclists can use the site as a log, but you can also enter routes with a description and distance. Or you can search the database of routes in your area. I searched it yesterday and found some routes near us that I'll try out. Cool.

Josh (the one that's our son), referring yesterday to our ads in the paper and the direct mail effort, said, "God answered our prayers." He's right. We've seen clear results that give every indication of being permanent.
It may be time to look very seriously at the next issue - a larger and more permanent space.

I'm working at a home in town tomorrow. Several small things to be done that should only take three or four hours. Unless Murphy comes along.