Letters from Kamp Krusty

I'm Trying to Kick-Start the Habit

I'm thinking of starting smoking.

I'm thinking maybe I'll smoke those cigar "-ettes", the little ones that are smaller than cigars and usually white.

Since it's not a habit yet, not a reflexive thing, it's going to be challenging.  I think it'll be hard to remember to periodically stick cigar-ettes into my mouth and set them on fire.  I'm thinking maybe I'd program the alarm on my cell phone.  When it goes off, I'd think, "Hey, I need to take a 'cigar-ette' out of a package and set it on fire and suck in some smoke from that fire that I've just set."

I'm thinking of starting incrementally, like with a nicotine patch first.  Once I get used to it, then maybe some nicotine gum, then finally a few cigs a day, before moving up to a pack, and so on.

I want to do it because I'm not supposed to.  I want to do it because Hollywood hates it.  Mostly I want to do it because people say it's a "sin", and I'd like to have one in my life that isn't completely humiliating.

I was talking on-air about how we sometimes aren't real honest about our failures.  Church-folk are "sinners", yes, but it's usually kept in theory.  A Sunday School teacher might say, "Hey, I'm a sinner," but it's rarely accompanied by, say, "because I continually struggle with lust."

If it's not kept theoretically generic, it will be past-tense.  When it's not, people get freaked.  One guy called and said, "Weird you're talking about this.  I was teaching this class and said, 'Hey, I struggle with myself all the time.  I'm a smoker, and...'  Everyone seemed cool with that -- no big deal.  Until a college-age girl asked, 'Wait -- did you say you're a smoker now?'"

Now?  That's different.  You're a moral failure...still?

True story:  There once was a pastor who had an addiction to pornography.  He'd hidden his stash from his wife, and when she'd left for a long weekend at her parents, he busted it out.  Later, when a rush of guilt fell over him, he'd decided he was done with it -- for good.

They lived in an apartment building, and he piled a box full of magazines, and threw them downward from the stairwell where the dumpster sat.  Done!  Forever!

...then he wanted them back.  His wife was due to return soon, so he knew he needed to retrieve them immediately.  He climbed over the dumpster side, slipped, and fell in, hard, on his shoulder, breaking his arm.  He was unable to get out.  When his wife returned, he called to her for help -- from the dumpster, where he still lay, in pain, in a bed of his porno mags.

I don't know what happened to him, but -- and here's where I may weird you out -- I think I'd like to hang out with him.  I've got a hunch, if he understands the scandal that is forgiveness, he's cool to be around.  People who are busted -- truly, irrevocably, openly, completely, red-handed-ly, nowhere else to go but Jesus-ly, busted -- can be the most graceful, the most insightful, and the most free to love.

This is why A.A. is so powerful for so many.  Everyone there?  Busted.  Publicly.  Not past-tense "sinners", not sinners in theory.  Present-tense, busted, humiliated.  Imagine the vibe at a worship gathering, when everyone there knew everyone else knew he or she "once was lost", but now were found...in the dumpster. 

And everyone knew that everyone else knew that God wanted us, anyway.  The whole, motley, mess of us.  There'd be some relief, some crying, and some serious laughing.

I love laughing, but I don't know if I'm ready for that.

So anyway, I'd like to start smoking.  Since our culture now deems it a mortal sin, it seems like a relatively good one to have.  I can say, "See?  I've got this nasty habit," but honestly, I don't think it's that risky of a confession.  To me, it's not a big deal.  Not nearly the big deal that my pride is.  It's not really humiliating.  Not nearly as humiliating as if you knew how self-centered I am. 

Heck, it may even advance my pride.  I'd probably look like James Dean.  With an accordion.

Home Church (TM)

Since we quit the "going to church" thing, I get a lot of the same questions.  Good questions, but the same questions.  Here's how the convo usually goes down:

So, you really love the "home church" model.  I've heard about that model.  That's a cool model, the "home church" model.

Uh...I'm not interested in "home church", to be honest.  No offense to committed Home Church people.  Or any "model", I guess.  The combined phrase "Home Church Model" makes me...fight to...stay...awake... 

But that's your thing!  But you meet in homes and stuff, right?  You're a Home Church Person. That's the box I've already put this in.  Please stay there.

Well, homes are where the furniture is, and the fridge.   But there's nothing magically delicious about homes.  I don't think it much matters.

Oh.  I thought you were all against buildings and staff and stuff.  I thought that issue was your big priority.

I'd suggest I'm not the one making it an issue.  I think American churches will spend, oh, $30 billion plus this year on staff and buildings.  Apparently that's somebody's issue.

For every dollar donated to churches in America, 85 cents goes to pay for "internal" spending, for congregational operations.  That means at least 85% goes to something that trumps help for, say, the poverty-stricken.  So yeah, that stuff is certainly a big priority, but not so much for me, at this point in my life. 

Okay, but here's the problem:  You're going to grow in numbers, and already are, so what happens then? 

What happens...?  I don't understand.

You'll get too big for houses, you'll need a building, you'll have to hire staff, you'll need more structures to keep tabs on everything.  Then your "house church" thing will just doing the same thing everybody else is doing.  Ha ha, Mr. "Too Cool for Church"!  Ha.  Guffaw.  Snort.

But what I'm wondering, and trying to live out, is this:  If people try to live in community, actually not isolating themselves, caring for others, and trying to give God their hearts, and actually, really love their neighbors...

Exactly!  But let's face it:  People will really be attracted to that, and how are you going to control that?  What then?

Control that?  I don't want to control that.  I'll muck it up.  I guess I don't have a good answer for that.  You're saying if say, this grows to a thousand people in our corner of Palm Beach County, trying to live the Sermon on the Mount in their daily lives, and loving their neighbors, we'll need a way to control that better?

So what's the plan?  The Brant Hansen Vision-Model?  Mars Hill-style?  Seattle?  Grand Rapids?  Saddleback?  Mosaic in L.A...?

Does it sound okay to say, "I have no idea, help us Holy Spirit?"

C'mon.  Get serious. That'd be messy.  You need visionaries, leaders who take charge and keep tabs and control stuff.  You'll need structures in place for control.

Like the ones Jesus gave the disciples:  "Above all, don't let this thing spread too fast.  I hope you paid attention to all my hierarchical instructions.  Don't fear, because while I'm leaving, I'll leave with you a plan for structure that will guide you, and comfort you, and..."

You're just anti-authority.  You don't like submission.

Oh, sure, I'm anti-authority.  I'm advocating for complete submission to stuff like the Sermon on the Mount.  On the other hand, anyone advocating for denominational hierarchies, votes, star-leaders, command-and-control structures -- they're eschewing autonomy and ego, right?

Nice sarcasm.  Again.

Forgive me.  I meant it nice-like.

Oh, okay, you big lug.  You're too charming to stay angry at.

...not according to some people.

There you go again!  I love that.  Let's hug.

I love you, and please put me down.

Dinosaurs and Heretics

Just to get something straight, before some of you bury me in pamphlets:

You may believe the universe is 6,000 years old.  I respectfully -- truly, respectfully -- disagree.  Like many (most?) Christian believers, I'm convinced it's far, far older.  Like -- billions of years older.

So here are some FAQ's:

"Brant, if you're right, doesn't that destroy the authority of scripture?"

A:  Nope.

Q:  "Doesn't Christianity unravel if we're wrong about the age of the earth?  Haven't Christians always believed the earth is only several thousand years old?  Doesn't this destroy the authority of scripture"

A:  Nope, and nope, and nope.

Q:  "Brant, you're unaware of the evidence that Answers in Genesis presents for a young earth, right?"

A:  Nope.

I'm quite aware.  Here's a better FAQ from smarter people.

I take scripture very seriously, perhaps more seriously than do many young-earth apologists.  Perhaps. And I arrive, as many do, at profoundly different conclusions than, say, Ken Ham of "Answers in Genesis".  You may know of their new museum, and you may think they're dead-on.

But I see stars, and pictures of stars, billions of light years away, and I do the math.  And I think how all creation declares the glory of God, and I trust it's not a mirage.  I respectfully disagree that it's intellectually honest to postulate that the speed of light just, you know, must have changed.

I believe the Heavens declare the glory of God...and that glory's not a big fake job.

I believe the Big Bang happened.  Scientists tell us the universe exploded into existence, starting as something smaller than an atom.  There's evidence for it, not least the spectral shift of stars, moving away from us.  Think about that:  They don't know what that "first thing" was, but the entire universe began with something, something so small we can only say it had to be smaller than an atom. 

I believe that explosion happened, and that tiny something?  It may well have been a word.

But heck, maybe I'm wrong.  I thought the new, chocolate Cap'n Crunch would sell like crazy, but it's not.  I'm wrong about all sorts of stuff. 

Either way, I am not rejecting Christ, as some new-earthers would have it.  I'm rejecting a particularistic, and fairly modern, interpretation of scripture, used as a absolute filter for interpreting observable phenomena.  Contrary to some young earth groups, I am not, by rejecting this particularistic interpretation, responsible for Pied Piper-ing the young down the slippery slope of sin.  Neither are the numerous mainstream evangelicals, on national levels, who agree with me. 

So don't vilify me, even if you've been trained to do it.  And many young-earth books, or the Institute for Creation Research, do train you to do it.  I've read them. 

Those evangelical leaders referenced above are not theological liberals, and neither am I.  Nor are the millions who see God's revelation through what has been made, and use it to enlighten our understandings of scripture.

Like, say...Galileo.

You don't have to agree.  Just don't vilify us.  You may even -- if you don't write us off -- respectfully allow that the age of the earth isn't really a make-or-break issue in brother-and-sisterhood. 

And, given that, those young-earthers whom you've seemed to agree with, who act like it IS a make-or-break issue in unity?  They're in far more serious error, indeed.

On Being Too Secular

(I posted the below on my work blog.  Thought I'd re-post it here, though it's kinda basic, and written for a different audience.)

When you work in public, you get lots of input.  And you better like it.  Shoot, roadside construction workers get input from passers-by.  ("You guys taking another break?  When's this going to be done, anyway? ")  It's the nature of the biz.

Yesterday, I heard I'm sometimes "too secular".  A legit point, well-made, and gracefully-put.  I love getting feedback.  But it's a good chance to explain something, so that -- even if you think I'm messed-up -- you'll know where I'm coming from.  It's always good to have your suspicions confirmed ("Now, I know this guy's messed up...")

I don't believe in a line between sacred and secular.  I used to.  I don't anymore. 

A tree isn't "secular".  A car isn't "secular"  Neither is my guitar "secular".  And, while most agree my accordion will not be in heaven, it isn't "secular", either. 

There are Christians in the music business, and not just in the "Christian Music Business."  Some of the best "Christian Musicians" will never win Dove Awards.  They play bass trombone for the Boston Symphony (Douglas Yeo) or principal trumpet for the NY Philharmonic (Phil Smith) or sing mezzo soprano for the Metropolitan Opera, like Wendy White.  They might even play guitar for U2.  They're not "secular."  They're gifted by God as artists, participating in His creativity, Soli Deo Gloria.

And your job?  Your computer isn't secular.  If you mop a floor at work, you're not mopping a secular floor.  If you're mowing grass, you're not mowing secular grass.  It's God's grass, man.

And Jesus didn't change water into secular wine. 

You can now buy Christian pants.  Does that mean my current pants are secular?  Have the Christian pants truly repented?  Is Left Behind a secular book series because it's sold in secular bookstores?  Is Relient K a Christian band, or, since MTV likes them, do they lose the "Christian" label?  What if an album is recorded in digital by a secular producer, with a secular studio bass player, mixed in analog by a Christian, and then mastered by an agnostic, printed by a Christian-owned-CD manufacturer, and distributed by Sony, before being played on Christian radio stations? 

What a headache.  Good thing we really don't have to keep track, huh?

I believe the Kingdom of God is here, and the King wants everything.  All truth is God's truth, which means we can be unafraid of finding it, as we do, all over the place.  And we find it in unlikely places.  "Secular" scientists can find it.  Balaam's secular donkey spoke it.   And, for that matter, Christian publishers (TM) and Christian Radio Personalities (TM) can miss it.

So, if you hear me talking about what you consider "secular" news stories, or secular TV shows, or secular hot dogs you can have sent by mail, well, just know what my problem is:  I don't see the world that way.  God's grace, His beauty, His truth, His obvious HUMOR -- it's everywhere.  The whole earth is filled with His glory.

Can the culture misuse it, abuse it, discolor it?  For the time being, yes.

But our purpose isn't to condemn the culture, it's to redeem it.

Irony: This Isn't Funny

So I was wondering:  What makes us guys so hilarious?

Seriously.  Why are we so stinking funny, when we're sitting around, cutting-up?

No offense to ladies.  Some of you can be a riot.  But we -- us guys -- we're killin' ourselves.  Check out the top comedians of all-time:  Bill Cosby.  Steve Martin.  That one other guy.  Gallagher.  All those guys?  They're guys.

Humor is simple.  It's merely taking two frames of reference, ostensibly incompatible, and overlapping them.*  Frankly, the more intelligent a person is, the more subtle this can be.  But it's the same thing with a little human audience.  You'll get uproarious laughter when you 1) take a cat puppet, and 2) make him say "woof".   I'm telling you, with the right audience, this is solid material.

So why is it us guys are so hilarious?  I have a couple theories, one high-mindedly anthropological, and the other probably right.

1)  It's all about status.  Ultimately, humor connotes intelligence, and intelligence connotes "survivability".  And survivability, for women, is a turn-on.  Humor works like tight abs, and rubber chickens are cheaper than those big dumb exercise balls.

Couple it with character that fairly screams, "I'll never leave you," and you won't even need an awesome car.  Even guys reward other guys for being funny, because they recognize the status this confers from the babes. 

2)  We guys just practice more.  It occurred to me the other day, and this is so WEIRD, that I can't even fathom it:  You ladies, when you're gathered around each other, don't just sit there, thinking, "Okay, what's something funny I can say, right here?"

I'm telling you -- and you may have never realized this -- that's what we guys do.  We're listening -- kinda -- but our minds are going 200 mph in search of something amusing to say.

I asked females about this on my radio show, and while some said they can be pretty funny, they actually acknowledged this difference.  One said, "Why would we waste time with that when there's so much else to talk about?"

Okay, but don't expect to produce comedic geniuses.  You give us Oprah, but we produce Carrot Top.  I think we know who wins THAT one.  Mwa-ha-ha.

* -- Caution:  There's nothing quite so unfunny as disassembling the component parts of humor.  This is why this post is not funny.

Peaceful Coexistence

It's 2006, and everybody's eclectic.  So I'm not trying to be cool, here.  It' s actually kind of embarrassing.

But I offer the following odd juxtapositions as they occur on my iPod, not to flaunt my unoriginal eclecticism, but in hopes of reading the odd couplings on the artist list of your player:

The Altar Boys, then Andy Gibb

C.W. McCall*, then Cake

Keith Green, then The Killers

Loverboy**, then Lyle Lovett

Midnight Oil, then Myron Floren***

Rich Mullins, then Right Said Fred

---------------

* --  Don't ask why I have "Convoy" on my iPod

** -- I can't account for this, either.  But I saw them live, twice, back in the day.

*** -- Lord of the Accordian

Radio Crazy

Sure, this seems like a prescription for happiness:

1.  Take 1 (one) somewhat brooding, insecure, introverted, night person. 

2.  Make him get up before dawn to entertain, by himself, 100,000+ people.

Yes, it seems like the makings of some nutball fun.  Strangely, it's not. 

I wake up angry.  I then drive toward my dark working quarters, where I turn on a microphone, alone.  Even as I advocate stigmatizing drug use, I ingest insane amounts of caffeine in order to approximate a personality. 

I open the mic, and then can't say things right.  I find myself thinking of friends -- specific friends -- and hoping they don't have the radio on, and didn't just hear that, because I didn't mean it that way.  I didn't mean to be that cheesy, or that sarcastic, or -- worse --sound like a Typical Radio Guy right there.

Creeped out by whatever I just did, I decide:  Okay, I don't know who THAT was, but I'm going to start being MYSELF here.  If no one else is enlightened or amused, so be it.  So I'll do something quirky -- bizarre quirky -- that amuses me.  And I'll do it! -- and then shut off the mic.  And then in the my dark room, silence.  And so it goes. 

It's rather like batting in baseball, except you can't know if you hit the ball, and after your at bat, the crowd gives no reaction.  They just shut the lights off, and let you think about whatever you didn't just do.  Or..did you?  You probably didn't.  Loser.

I've talked with enough performers -- especially comedians -- to know:  The best ones are not happy.  Colin Ferguson says you know "you've made it" when you're killing, and you're still miserable.  In fact, it's that very artistic unhappiness that drives some to brilliance.  My fear is that I've managed to combine a) a profoundly artistic temperament, with b) profoundly limited artistic ability.

I need a co-host.  I need some more lights in there.  I need to sit back more often and think about how deeply funny it is that I'm doing this.  It's really, really funny.

I'd love to be more positive and encouraging, and serve as a fount of spiritual wisdom, but I'm not feeling it.  Right now, I can only say I'm glad God doesn't squash people like me like a bug.  I mentioned this morning that I love that one Jesus story:  You know, where He doesn't kill that guy?  The guy who asks Him for a miracle, but then says "...IF you can do anything."  If?   

Yeah, Jesus -- IF you can do something, help my son, he says.  Jesus notes the "if", then comes through.  You know, that's cool -- that guy didn't get killed.  That's all I got, folks.   I'm tired.

I'm Sorry: My Attitude Stinks

Mm, yeah...ah...I did the math.

Went to this medium-sized, mainline, American church, budget of $1 million a year, negative growth.  Yeah.  Let's see:  $1 million, negative growth, no one new added to the church, tiny fraction of budget sent elsewhere.  Multi-thousand dollar sound and light system.

And yeah -- here's a rural church:  Budget $125,000, three new converts, per year.  Three-thousand dollar sound system.   And a liberal church in town:  Neat sermons and posters aimed at idenfication with the poor.  Budget of $400,000, almost none sent out of country.  Instead, vast majority to church leaders (Americans), who give sermons about how America isn't the be-all end-all.  Zero-to-negative growth. 

Big church down the street, $20 million budget, several hundred newcomers.  Staff of more than a hundred.  Kickin' video things accompanying awesome singer-people, trying -- pleading! -- to persuade people that Heaven is really going to awesome.  Kids' wing -- BibleFunLand -- is already awesome!

Growing church in Africa:   Let's see...can't afford single guitar.  Pastor not eating very much.  Children in church program not obese -- malnourished.  Church aches to feed desperate children lined with their parents outside the building, but no money to do it.  Trying -- trying -- to scrounge money for ARV drugs for AIDS victims in fellowship. 

Two hundred children in program, total toys:  one jump-rope.

Let's see, divide by six...carry the three...uh-huh...

Yep, this makes no damn sense. 

Wide World of Shorts

So my flag football team made a good play in the last game!  We picked up about fifteen yards!  Something worked! We exclaimed from the sideline!  Our play was a success!  High-five with my assistant coach!  Yesssss!

Wait -- a flag on the field.

Penalty on us.  Illegal Shorts.  Loss of down.

Of course.  Illegal Shorts.  I'd told everyone at the beginning of the year, no pockets.  You can't have pocket-shorts in flag football.  But our receiver on the play had pocket-shorts.

Wait.  It's not just him.  It's our other receiver, too.  And our quarterback.  And our cornerbacks.  Half the team had Illegal Shorts.  They'd all bought new black shorts to match our black uniforms.  We looked sharp, marching back to our own goal-line.

So I called timeout and -- I'm sure Lombardi did this, too -- went through the crowd, asking individuals for their shorts.  "Can I have your shorts?"  "Hey, can I see your shorts? -- can I have those?"  "Can you swap shorts with my backfield?"

We found some shorts, turned others inside out, and cobbled together a team, just in time to be beaten 20 to nothing.

I'm now 1 -17 lifetime as a coach.  Pray for us.

Pursuing Truth About Nature -- But Only So Far

A warning about this interview right here: 

If you want to persist in the idea that Intelligent Design is just warmed-over creationism, or that its adherents are dolts, or that "real science" makes a mockery of it,  or that it doesn't pose a fascinating scientific question -- don't listen to it with an open mind.

I've had a chance to talk with William Dembski a few times, and I've also, on several occasions, debated/interviewed reps with the people behind this magazine, which represents the opposing view.  I'm sympathetic to both, strangely, because I think Dembski is brilliant, and I'm every bit as skeptical -- moreso, actually -- than the people behind Skeptic.

(I should note that personally, I am -- putting it gently -- not a fan of the creationist leaders whom Dembski mentions here who are attacking his views.  I think they've done, and continue to do, much damage.  That's another post.)

Whatever you think of the debate, I.D. is hardly the argument of yokels, despite op-ed writers' attempts to press I.D. into their usual self-affirming narratives.  And Sherer himself says I.D. has a place in science classroom discussion.

The debate may not change your mind.  After all, if you've defined science to include design that might be from aliens from outer space, but to exclude design by a Designer -- well, the question is certainly decided, then and there.  Case closed.

By this definition, of course, you've also effectively said, "If the truth about nature is otherwise -- outside my definition of science -- then I will not scientifically learn from this truth about nature, however beneficial it might be to our understanding."  -- an unseemly sort of thing, I would think, for one with an open mind. 

Dembski rightly notes that I.D. principles are already widely-used in pursuits like forensics, archaeology, and the SETI program.  His worthy opponent, Michael Sherer, notes that he, Shermer, would entertain the idea -- and scientists do, frustrated to account for design, here -- that aliens from outer space may have designed life on earth.  But, he says, we cannot consider the possibility of this different kind of extra-terrestrial intelligence. 

And we mustn't allow that possibility -- in the interest of an open mind, you understand.

Again, Chesterton:  Odd that one is said to be closed-minded for allowing that miracles are possible, while the "free-thinker" has decided, without proof, that they are not.