NIETZSCHE - just doubt it.

With 43 minutes left (as I type this) the only bid on that motorcycle is for the opening amount. Somebody somewhere is about to get a great deal! And assuming they know that, they're holding their breath.

I think I need this T-shirt:
I did order a couple of things from Nashbar. They were having a "20% off everything" sale yesterday so I ordered a sleeveless jersey and some cycling gloves. Because both were already on sale I got a great deal.

Bike jerseys are like coffee at Starbucks. They give the sizes names that don't tell the uninitiated anything. How much coffee is a venti? What's the difference between a medium "club fit" and a medium "competition fit?" C'mon guys, drop the elitist attitude and talk to your customers in ways they can understand.

Is it just me or are there strong similarities between Gadhafi and Martin Sheen?
I won't be at all surprised to hear Sheen drinks Sanka imported from Libya.

(I just went over to check eBay. Still no other bids. Do I call Pam at work for one last try??)

There are at least three sermons every week: the sermon in my head, the sermon on paper and the sermon that comes out on Sunday morning. They are always three different sermons and too often bear no resemblance to each other.

Through a link I ended up today on the website of a church in the upper Midwest that a colleague pastors. We were students together as undergrads, but he was three years behind me. I looked at photos on the site of their sanctuary. Yes, it's a sanctuary, complete with pews, a pulpit and a large cross in front. He wears a suit on Sunday mornings, at least on the Sunday these photos were taken. A dark suit with a white shirt.

It made me think about our "sanctuary," which is an elementary school cafeteria the rest of the week. It dates to the 60's and shows its age. (They're tearing it down this summer and building a new one.) Because the school is very close to March Air Force Base a large model of an F-16 fighter hangs from the ceiling. We sit on folding aluminum benches. The back of the bench can be rotated up and back so that when two of these are hooked together they form a cafeteria table.

When you enter our space on a Sunday morning absolutely nothing about it says "church" except maybe the fact the benches are in sections facing generally forward. By contrast, everything about this other church's space says "church." The architecture and furnishings of that room would only be used for church purposes.

What surprised me as I looked at those pics was my immediate gut reaction. I think I should have looked enviously at their purpose driven design; at least that's what I expected would happen. Instead, I found myself thinking, "Oh, I'm glad we're not in a place like that."

Don't misunderstand!! I assume that sanctuary works very well for them and their worship is enhanced by those surroundings. It suits them. That's good!
I think we probably have to work a little harder at worship because our physical environment isn't at all conducive. And I think that, too, is good...that we have to work at it. It also keeps us an unpretentious lot. It's hard not to be humble as a church when large refrigerator units sit on one side of the room and a pile of "Lost and Found" clothes on the other.

Before we moved from the Wigwam to Litchfield Elementary School I called the pastor of the church that used to meet in the cafeteria. He said they found it difficult to be reverent and worshipful in that space. That probably comes in part from their Presbyterian format. And maybe when we move into the new cafeteria in a year (Deo Volente) we'll be thrilled with the changes. But for right now I like that we meet in a 50-year old lunchroom with a linoleum tiled floor and vintage fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. It means if something good happens it must have been the Spirit, 'cause it sure weren't the ambiance.

(since I posted this the auction ended. Heavy sigh. I could have had it for $980. Nobody but the one person bid on it. I think I'm going to go back to the bedroom and have myself a quiet cry.)