Call the Doctor

I have read several reports of the ’07 convention, both in- and outside the blogosphere. It would seem that the huge carbuncle of schism festering on Missouri’s backside wasn’t lanced this year either, so the infection still rages. In our Fever!(TM), we babbled commendations for LSB out of one side of our mouth, while we screamed for diverse worship music out of the other. We passed a lot of gas about specific pastoral ministry, but never actually eliminated Word and Sacrament lay ministry. No, this pustule was merely poked with a needle and drained just enough to ease the pressure for another three (or will it be two?) years. As long as the infection goes unchecked, the body will continue to weaken.

Luther is remembered for saying, “Here I stand.” At the rate we’re going, the LCMS will be remembered for saying, “Here I sit, but only on one cheek.”

A good exclamation point

There is only one thing that can keep a plant alive (and even growing) when it has shallow roots: a constant feeding of “Fertilizer!”.

Good post, Pastor Esget.

Three newsy tidbits

Father Hollywood received three newsy tidbits from the LCMS hierarchy.

Re: From the Circuit: What a relief that “Circle of Life” is a Twelve-Area Process, and not a Twelve-Step Program. I wonder if, like Ablaze! ™, it will eventually become a vision, movement, response, initiative, journey, concerted effort, ministry, call to action, focus, goal, opportunity, call, plan, or invitation? Just so long as it’s not a “program”. No, sir. Can’t have any of those in the synod. I also wonder if a Lion King costume party is part of the Humor-Creativity & Play process. It would be finger-snappin’ good time, singing the theme song and drinking Frank’s Fire Water© on tap.

Re: From the District: “Packaging” the Gospel is pretty “[sic]”. Spiritual care from Rev. Bev? Even more "[sic]".

Re: From the Synod: May I take a stab at the Reporter headline? “250 social servants needed”. “250 loaves of daily bread needed”. Or my favorite: “Looking for a new vocation spot this summer?” Why is it we can use “historic” terms like “Fan into Flame”, but we can't use the historic meaning of “missionary?”

This can't be good

Ever had a voters’ assembly (circuit, district, synodical) meeting where a group of these guys take over? It’s especially bad when they’re backed by this majority, and no help at all if this sums up your leadership. Anyone who survives one of these meetings deserves this.

It's not too early

to think about VBS. You can adapt this "hit" movie for use as a skit, and click here for everything else you need. I think I'll skip the rattlesnake maraca pens though; I've never seen Lutherans rattlin' for God.

The exciting conclusion

Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 0428.07. We’ve been on the planet’s surface for weeks now, and the situation remains unchanged. The crew is badly in need of R&R and I’ve got a headache.

“Captain, the Admiral is calling. He’s requesting your report.”

“Put him through to my quarters, Youth-Hurrah. I’ll take it there.”

*****

“Admiral Kirkwood, it’s good to see you again.”

“You, too, Kirche. Well, let’s have it.”

“Admiral, we’ve done our best, but these people are very resistant. Lieutenant Youth-Hurrah managed to captivate a few of the younger inhabitants, but their parents sent them all running for higher things. Mr. Checkbook’s idea of innovation was to turn his aphaser! setting to kill, but even that didn’t aphase! them. Lieutenant Sue-Lue keeps asking if I need any help, and First Officer Spark lies in the fetal position in sick-bay, getting fat on plomeek soup, trying to realize his creativity!

“Jim, Jim…. Put all that aside for now. I have an offer for you. I want you here with me, on my personal staff. Whaddya say?”

“Leave my ship? But Admiral, don’t we already have a shortage of captains in the trenches, so to speak?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Jim. You’ll still be in command, but you’ll be supervising junior officers who‘ll be running the Enterprise, the Constitution, and the Reconciliation.”

“That’s quite a change, Admiral. Can I think about it?”

“Sure, Jim. No pressure. Take your time. I’ll call you back this afternoon. Kirkwood out.”

*******
“Jim, what brings you to sick bay?”

“Dry Bones, ya got any more of that plomeek soup?”

Sigh-fi it is!

Captain’s Log, Stardate 0401.07. Word from Starfleet brass has it that the fourth planet of the Loothronus system is dead. We’ve been sent to verify.

“Mr. Checkbook…”

“Aye, Kiptin?”

“Put us in standard orbit. Dry Bones, report to the bridge. Mr. Spark, you’re the science officer. What do you see on the big screen?”

Readings coming in now, Captain. Projections, zero; lyric output, zero; power poi… It’s dead, Jim.”

“Captain Kirche?”

“What is it, Youth-Hurrah?”

“I’m picking up a communication signal from the planet’s surface. It’s an older dialect, but still in our data base.”

“Put it on audio, Lieutenant.”

“We bidst thee welcome, Enterprise. Wouldst thou joinest us in our fellowship hall?”

“I’m the doctor around here, and that’s not the sound of death, Spark! Are you out of your Vulcan mind?’

“No, Doctor, I am quite within my mind. I have decided to cease my incessant internal purification and embrace my feelings.”

“Well, Spark, I’m proud of you!”

“And Doctor, need I remind you, Starfleet…

“I’m a doctor, not a bureaucrat!”

“… Regulatory By-Law 1783.725.36…”

“I’m a doctor, not a lawyer!”

“…sets current minimum population of 350 for high quality wor…

“I’m a doctor, not a census taker!”

“Gentlemen, can we continue this debate later? This situation calls for a landing party! “Spark, you and Checkbook are with me. And remember, aphaser! settings on stun only.”

“Don’t worry, Kiptin, they’ll be stunned all right!”

“Youth-Hurrah, inform Lieutenant Sue-Lue she’s got the com. Then report to the planet’s surface and join the party.”

“Yes, sir!! I’m always up for a party!”

We’ll be right back with more Star Track – Not Your Grandfather’s Generation!

Clean cup! Move down!

Starting fresh... The temps are warmer, the sky is clear and blue, and I’ve enjoyed a long nap. The grass has greened up, and so has my blog. Time to tidy up the nest.

Since that last post, some have been concerned for my mental state. I thank you, and I’m doing much better. Let’s just call that one “The Great Momentary Mouse Meltdown,” and let it go at that.

The topic of Sanctification crossed many blogs during the past several months, and I thought long and hard over it. Even did a little hand wringing. Then I noticed that its mention in my congregation’s Divine Services was much like the Holy Spirit’s work of Sanctification itself: quiet, always putting Christ and Him crucified in the foreground, hidden within our daily vocation. I heard encouragement and admonition to do good works in the collect, in the prayers of the church, in the hymns, and lo and behold, it was in the sermons, too.

I also see where the ashes of Wednesday blew in through the blogosphere window and were just as quickly swept back out again; anonymous blogging was both decried and defended; thanks to the Aardvark, I can’t stop singing the “lyrics” to Pachelbel’s cannon in D; and, while not a blog, it’s nice to see renewed activity over at the Consensus site.

Speaking of the Aardvark, I’ve been contemplating trying to add the great blog roll to my site, but have decided that your and my blogging purposes could be best served by simply linking you to Aardvark Alley itself, as well as the Lutheran Blog Roll.

Now with the housekeeping done, it’s time to relax and check out the TV guide….

Leave it to Cleaver – The Cleaver, embracing the tactics of Eddy, irritates his friends and family with monetary demands. (starring Hew Nowant and Bar-the Billingme)

Star Track – Not Your Grandfather’s Generation – A landing party encounters unexpected resistance from a dead planet. (starring original cast)

Let’s Market a Deal – Players are tempted to trade in their treasures for something of lesser value. (host Conway Baitenswitch)

Hmmm… a sit-con, sigh-fi, or game show…..

No joke, no satire, no sarcasm

Yesterday, I spent two hours pouring over the Scripture references, checking the cross-referenced passages, reading and re-reading the comments, and trying to make sense of “What’s Wrong with Ablaze! – part 6.” None of what follows will make any sense if Frank’s post and posted comments (mine included) are not read first. I am posting a follow-up comment here on my own blog, rather than on Frank’s, as my reply is lengthy, and I do not want to hijack his intent to explain his concerns over Ablaze! by his shedding the light of Scripture and the Confessions on it.

Dear Rev. McCain,

I wasn’t kidding when I said it took me a great deal of courage to write you in the first place. This is no false praise or toadyism. I really DO have a great deal of respect for you. After your return from your summer break, you questioned the pros and cons of blogging. I’m glad you stuck with it, because your posts at Cyberbrethren have been a valuable part of what I consider my training in the Confessions. Like it or not, to many of us you ARE an imposing (and I mean that in its most positive construction) figure in the LCMS, CPH, and the blogosphere. I was truly hoping you would shed some additional light on this post and comments.

Though it was a harsh blow, your chastisement of my having no integrity or courtesy was not wholly unexpected, as I’ve read the same chastisement given to other blogs/bloggers who have attempted to contact you anonymously. I do respect your personal policy of not responding; that is why I have never posted a comment at your site. But since you’ve recently communicated with an anonymous aardvark, an anonymous dead theologian, and most immediately, the anonymous comment-writer known as “A. Blaise” in this post, I thought you might also grant exception to an anonymous mouse. I obviously misread your cues; the fault is mine. I believe I have also misread the dynamics of the comments posted before mine. In retrospect, they appear to be a private (though posted publicly) discussion between you, Frank, and “A. Blaise”. I apologize for butting in and furthermore apologize for injecting the question of your believing Frank’s comments. Whether you do or not is between you and Frank, and my input was neither necessary nor helpful. Please forgive me. As for my own comment, I ask you to re-read it, picturing in your mind’s eye someone who is eagerly hopeful of knowledge, not someone full of haughty disrespect. I have re-read it numerous times, and can see how easy it would be to picture my “voice” as belligerent. Please know this was never, never the case.

Rev. McCain, I have shed more tears over the LCMS than I ever thought my body was capable of producing. Over the last several years, my contending for the sound doctrine of the Lutheran Confessions has reaped personal attack and/or betrayal by two boards of elders, a pastor, a congregation, a circuit counselor, a reconciler, and two district presidents. I try not to feel overly sorry for myself at this. Through the pain, God has matured my faith a great deal, and for that I give Him thanks and praise. Many in the synod have suffered worse than I, yourself included, and Jesus suffered far, far worse -- and that for my transgressions. So, like yet another anonymous blogger, I, too, trust when dark my road.

I know there is no way you could have known any of my personal background as my blog entries are usually of a more frivolous nature, and I am, after all, anonymous. I understand that knowing a bit of it now may make no difference whatsoever in your no-anonymity policy, and since I am remaining anonymous, I have no expectations that you will take me any more seriously now than you did at Putting Out the Fire, nor do I expect any response. Truth be told, I actually fear that you will respond, and only beg you not to hit me again, remembering that behind every anonymous blogger lies a flesh and blood person, and some of them already quite bloodied and scarred.

Dear “A. Blaise,”

If this is your real name, I apologize for putting it in quotes. As the home of Luther N. and Justin Stauld Pastor, I thought A. Blaise was just a clever take on Ablaze!.

Dear Readers,

I am now approaching 32 hours without sleep, the bulk of it spent in thinking about and working on these posts and this reply. Even now, I am concerned that I may be perceived as some self-styled martyr, tooting my own horn like an obnoxious, twelve-chorus, I-I-I praise ditty, but frankly, I’m too weary in body and especially spirit to invest any more time in it, and it's still another ten days before I taste the comfort of our Savior’s Body and Blood. My pastor has suggested my cruising the internet (reading blogs and researching doctrine) is, at least for now, constantly renewing the pain of my battle scars, and he has prescribed rest. It obviously is not helping my insomnia and depression so I guess he’s right. Therefore, I’m going back into another posting-hibernation, maybe until spring, maybe permanently.

Lastly, Dear Frank,

Thank you so much for everything. I look forward to your next fine, timely, step-by-step critique of Ablaze! They’ve been of great assistance in yet another defense-of-doctrine situation I’ve found myself in. I hope you will continue them.

Separation of Church and State?

Not out here in rural America. Sometimes we can get away with things our city cousins can’t. For instance, the school districts in my part of the prairie plainly state that the children have the Monday after Easter off as “Easter Monday,” a decided nod toward Christianity. But a couple of Wednesdays ago, I was rather surprised to see that one of our male confirmands had come to class dressed in a skirt. He told us it had been “dress as the opposite gender day” at school. My initial thought was “Oh, sure!! Let’s just teach the boys that aberrant behavior is fun and normal.” I think one of the two girls present summed it up nicely. “I hope I never have to see THAT again.”

However, coming home from Divine Service that Sunday, I realized that my ire was unfounded. I now think this particular school district had actually gone out of their way to prepare young Lutheran men for that special day of the year when it's "sing as the opposite gender day." Yes, good ol’ LWML Sunday. I know nothing warms my husband’s heart more than singing Lutheran Women One and All as the congregational closing hymn. What a grand way to celebrate all those “Women in Mission.”

But wait!! Weren’t we supposed to be celebrating Christ in mission through his Word and Sacraments? Hold the phone; I’ll check.

No, nope, my mistake. Never mind; I was wrong. A quick look at the other hymn we sang, Serve the Lord with Gladness, says in the third verse: “As we build His kingdom, angels too rejoice.” Well, there you have it: “We build; angels rejoice.” How embarrassing! I must have gotten confused because when we sang verse ten of I Come, O Savior, to Thy Table, it says the angels rejoice over Christ’s Holy meal. Silly me.

Oh, well. I guess it’s just part of the charm of the Lutheran Church of Total Chaos. In fact, taking a page from our young friend’s playbook, next year my husband plans to wear a skirt for LWML Sunday. Purple, of course.

Proposed Resolution

I know this has been tried in the past, but this one just might unite the synod!

An Overture to address that “Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod” no longer describes this church body, which should undergo appropriate name, constitution, and logo revision:

WHEREAS some of the innovative, contemporary, “moderate” (hereafter referred to as ICM) members of the LC-MS claim that Allah is also the true God, which causes the collective hair of all the traditional, historical, “confessional” (hereafter reffered to as THC) members of the LC-MS, and even some the ICM members, to stand on end, and

WHEREAS some of the THC called and ordained ministers go by “Father” rather than “Pastor,” which causes the collective hair of the all the ICM members, and even some of the THC members, to stand on end, and

WHEREAS the THC members cannot seem to agree on
A. when and/or how often to Commune;
B. at what age to begin to Commune;
C. from what kind of cup to Commune;
D. in what manner of vestments the Pastor/Father should dress while administering the Communion;
E. whether “administering” Communion means that only the Pastor/Father should distribute the elements or that he oversees the distribution by assisting elders; and
F. whether female altar guilds or male elders have the authority to set-/clean-up Communion, while
1. the ICM members really couldn’t care less about any of the above and
2. wonder whether they should just simply join a commune, and

WHEREAS the ICM members cannot seem to agree on
A. where in the Sanctuary to place the praise team;
B. whether praise music played by a live, amateur, praise band is superior to that played from a CD by a professional, Top-Ten, praise band;
C. how high you can lift your hands during a song that says to lift them before you seem ostentatious;
D. if the size of the praise screen should overpower the presence of the praise team; and
E. if moving to a jazz/tap liturgical dance number, in favor of a traditional ballet liturgical dance number, will split the synod even further, while
1. the THC members ponder whether it is more liturgically correct to sit with your fingers in your ears, singing “la-la-la-I-can’t-hear-you” or
2. simply run to the nearest vomitorium, and

WHEREAS plaguing our church body are many more areas of disagreement, ranging from
A. the size, church-year-timing, and degree of viability vs. fakeness of altar flowers, to
B. whether there is a need to distinguish between a female holding an undergraduate or master’s degree in theology and a female holding a 10-class certification as “Deaconess” and “Deaconette,” respectively, as well as whether either Deaconesses or Deaconettes should hold any title whatsoever, and

WHEREAS “synod” means “walking together,” and this church body’s insistence on calling ourselves such opens the door to those who would seek legal retribution for spiritual and/or physical injury resulting from
A. misleading the public with false advertising,
B. impersonating an Officer of the Ministry, or
C. illegal sparking, etc., be it therefore

RESOLVED that the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod change its name to the Lutheran Church of Total Confusion, and be it further

RESOLVED that the LCTC distribute to all members a new, one-page Constitution/Handbook, simply stating, "Under Constant Construction and Revision. Please carry on with whatever it is you are doing, being mindful that everything is beautiful in its own way, while we attempt to figure out what it is we are doing and then hold you accountable to it." and be it finally

RESOLVED that the LCTC’s new logo honor its synodical roots by depicting the tri-shaded burgundy cross now standing in a hand basket being lowered into a lake-ablaze!

Spaghetti Western Missions

“The great command says: 1. Go out – ablaze!!! and 2. baptize and teach”

Well, I’ll tell ya, pilgrim. For some reason, this guy’s parting shot at Consensus just put me in mind of an old spaghetti Western. In fact, it just plumb inspired me! So grab some popcorn, settle back, and…. Roll film!!

The Goof, His Fad, and It’s Ugly

(opening music) See them tumbling down,
Playing the new, “ modern” sound.
Liturgy-free, they’ll be found
Drifting along with the doctrinal tumbleweeds…….

He was a stranger in a strange land, saddle sore and dusty-throated. Dressed in black, except for his collar, his spurs glittered at his heels as he stepped into the hard-packed street in the center of the sun-baked town. (ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink)

“Reach for the sky,” he great-commanded the unwashed heathen facing him from about fifty feet away. Women screamed, dogs barked, and shopkeepers ducked behind their counters. The heathen did as he was told, and the stranger approached. (ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink)

“Now listen up, and listen up good. I’m gonna teach you a lesson you won’t forget.” The heathen started to lower his hands. “Keep your hands up where I can see ‘em,” the stranger growled. “Good. Now, sway ‘em to the left. Now to the right. Left. Right. Now, you just keep that up and repeat after me.”

Warbling with a voice more suited to the night shift on a cattle drive, the stranger began. “Shine, Jesus, Shine…,” and the heathen echoed him and swayed obediently. After five choruses, the stranger’s hand was suddenly on the butt of his pistol. “That’s enough! Now, say your prayerssssss.”

Quick as lightening, the stranger pulled his six-shooter-look-alike-water-pistol from its holster and let off three quick rounds, dead-center on the heathen’s forehead. The shouts from the crowds drowned out the stranger’s words and brought the marshal running.
“What’s going on here?” his authoritative voice rolled from his handsome, stern visage.

A bristly man with all the characteristics of an old goat answered in a nasally voice. “He done it, Matthew! He really done it! The stranger done baptized ol’ Adam! Whaddaya think of that!! Let’s all mosey on over to Miss Kitty’s and celebrate!”

Soon the night was falling, and like the sun, the stranger knew it was time for him to go out – ablaze!!!. “Thanks for the show, stranger,” the townsfolk called after him.

“No programo,” he replied and rode off into the sunset. E

(closing music and credits) Happy trails to you, until we meet again;
Happy trails to you, keep smilin’ until then.
Who cares about the cross when you’ve got glory,
And liturgy seems just like purgatory.
Happy trails to you,
‘til we meet again!!!

The Goof, His Fad, and It’s Ugly

A Ravioli-Ragu Production
in co-operation with
Twice Burned Prairie Dogs Film Corporation

Starring……

Presido Geraldo………....The Stranger
Inferno! Calculatorio…..The Heathen
E. Clessio Supravisio…..The Marshal
Hey Zeus Primio……….The Old Goat

Music….

Sons of the Praisineers

Make-Up….

Barnum and Bailey Circus

No animals’ feelings were hurt during the production of this film, with the possible exception of old goats.

Summer’s End

Well, Mouseketeers, I had a wonderful summer with you all, but my creativity is being called away from my blog. Starting next week, I begin my new job of teaching 7th grade and being the Sunday school superintendent and 5th grade Catechism teacher at church. I want to at least get my routine well established, so I’ll let out a squeak when I’m up and running again. Meanwhile, I’ll content myself with scurrying around your blogs now and then.

TTFN!

Chapter 7 - Flames and Names

I awoke with a start, still sitting in my car. The Hot-n-Taughts had gone, and daylight was about to as well. All that was in front of the Kirche place was the biggest clunker I’d ever seen, belching smoke and backfiring every twenty seconds or so. The driver shut off the engine and started toward me. It was none other than the freight master! He told me he’d been coming to find me. He’d spotted me snoozing in my car, and pulled in. I asked him if his car always did that.

“No! That thing isn’t mine. I wouldn’t give two cents for one of these CW Blenders! Look at it! Probably built from one of those do-it-yourself kits.” He said he drove a Walther, and that this bucket of bolts was his new “company car” given to him only an hour earlier. Just then the engine of the Blender burst into flames. I grabbed the fire extinguisher from among my brother’s purchases, and took care of it. I stood there looking at the extinguisher in my hand, thinking about that dream I’d had. The last thing I really remembered was something about Deacon O’Leary and a cow kicking over a lantern. The freight master cut the cord on my navel gazing.

“Thanks,” he said. “I was coming to ask if you’d like to have a partner.” A partner? It had never occurred to me. “You see, the Pinafore Captain had a little talk with the CEO after he got back from the Hot-n-Taught concert. They told me it was against company policy to criticize the changes they were making, and that they had a new job for me. I’m supposed to be keeping my eye on you a few days, and report back. The only reporting they’ll get out of me is where they can pick up their car.” I thought of my dream again. The hotter things got, the more back-up I’d need. “You’re in,” I said. “As you know, these are dangerous times, but you meet some good, solid guys now and then,” and we shook hands.

He helped me put the boxes on the front step, but I put the alb in the trunk. I couldn’t help looking. Nope. Concordia Publishing House. Polyester. As we got into the Augsburg, I started thinking about the partnership. (I’d been doing a lot of that lately.) Pastor and…..? I didn’t even know his name. So I asked him.

“Pastor,” he replied. “Juan Toby Pastor.” Now it was my eyebrows’ turn for a joyride. He laughed. I told Juan he’d need a good deal of training, but lots of guys like him start later in life. I pointed the Augsburg down the path toward Lern & Digest’s.

“And you?” he queried. “I know your last name is Pastor, but if we’re going to be working together after all…”

“I’m Luther N. Pastor, Private Eye”

Chapter 6 – Dress for Success

“Wait!” I said. “If I have to do this, at least let me dress the part. I’ve got what I need in these boxes. I’ll just take them into the Kirche place and get ready.”

“Okay, but no tricks,” growled the captain.

Two of the boxes were from CPH, so I opened the one on top first. Something was different about this alb. The material was odd, and this wasn’t the way CPH usually shipped vestments. I looked at the packing slip. Conflagration-Proof Habiliments and what I was holding in my other hand was something called “the Albestos.” “We said ‘no tricks;’ what’s going on in there?!!” accompanied a loud pounding on the door.

“Keep your habiliments on,” was as polite as I could make my reply. Besides, it would give them something to chew on while I quickly donned the alb. I hid the fire extinguisher in the folds.

They all escorted me over to the optimitrist’s office, somehow packing themselves in. “Welcome! Here to test your Ablaze! vision? Have a seat!” cackled the doctor as he threw me into the chair.

He grabbed the knob on the ab-lazer Ecclesiastical Super-Vision 2004 and sadistically cranked it to “MAX.” “Ready….” he said.

“AIM…” they all said.

“Fire,” the captain quietly directed.

What happened next, happened fast. I whipped out the fire extinguisher and started spraying. My asbestos alb fended off the attacks of the ES-V2004 easily enough, and aided by the slippery foam, I squeezed my way through the crowd and out the door.

My trusty Augsburg IV didn’t fire right up! In stead, it actually back-fired!!

Chapter 5 – My Worst Nightmare

They sang something for the boomers: “Come on baby, light my fire. Gonna set the night on fire!” They sang something for the kids: “Ten nights ago, while we were all in bed, Deacon O’Leary took the lantern to the shed….” Would they never end?

At some point in time, I noticed Miss Oura standing right beside my car! Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Miss Oura, come away with me,” I said.

“No, he’s got too strong a hold on me,” was her reply.

I begged and pleaded but could not convince her. What I hadn’t noticed was that the crowd was now around us. I was trapped. The captain of the Pinafore was there, holding a shot gun. “Time for your wedding,” he calmly said to me.

Miss Iona Ree Mindset tearfully pleaded with her brother, J.F., “But he doesn’t like me! I want Justin Stead!”

“Stauld,” I snapped. “And neither one of us wants you!”

Doc Knott grinned, “Don’t cry, Iona, honey. Just let me adjust his Ablaze! vision first. You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll perform the ceremony!” cried some woman.

“Ruth,” the captain snapped, “I’ve already told you; soon, but NOT YET! You can say a few words while I take a break during the ceremony.” She consoled herself with that.

“We’ll provide the music!” Con and Sharon Lovejoy offered.

“No, let us!” said the H-T/P-T choir.

“Think, Luther, you idiot, think!” I said to myself. Then I had an idea!

OOPS!

Fell asleep under the tree yesterday, so here's two chapters today.

Chapter 3 – Time to Go

“Got your stuff here,” the master said.

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Nope, go right ahead.”

“Do you like the new management?”

“Well,” he settled himself down on some of the crates. “It used to be that you could come here, drop your load, and wash up a bit. Oh, sure, they’d always remind you of the laws, but you’d always hear the good news, too. We’d sing the old songs, you could get a bite to eat and drink, and get back on your ship feeling rested and refreshed.”

“And now?” I prompted.

“Now,” he growled, “it’s like a Las Vegas floor show!” Look at those hoity-toity yachts. I’m telling you, there’s big money ‘round here somewhere. And those dancing girls all dressed in purple on the cruise ship decks… ‘liturgical’ they call themselves. I call them ‘Santa’s Reindeer.’”

I couldn’t figure that one out, so I asked. “You know,” he said. “Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen?”

I glanced at the Pinafore captain. He was looking straight ahead, stony faced, and all ears.

My friend continued, “Look.” He pointed and said, “There’s the place where you used to be able to wash up a bit. They’re building a band stage over it!”

“I take it you don’t like it much?”

“Some of my mates do, but I don’t. Well, I best be getting back to work. Do you need some help with your boxes?”

I declined. I could feel the Pinafore captain’s gaze burning into my back as I left the docks. I needed to drop these things off quickly, and leave.

Chapter 4 - I Feel a Song Coming On

My plan was simple. I’d put the boxes on Ms. Kirche’s door step and get outta Dodge. I pulled up. It would seem my simple plan wasn’t to be so simple after all. Apparently the entire Hot-n-Taught College of Pyrotechnics choir had decided to take their spring break together on a cruise. That explained the “H-T/P-T” shirts I’d seen. They’d been especially excited because one of their stops was the town of their favorite son, Doctor Trinabus Knott. The whole community had gathered for an impromptu concert. I decided to hunker down in my car and wait it out.

They started off with the Hot-n-Taught school song. Out came guitars and a banjo. The tune was familiar…was it Rocky Top?

“We all love our dear old Hot-n-Taught
College of Pyro-T skills.
Lots of firy smoke at Hot-n-Taught!
Lots of cash for the tills!
Baptists, Luth’rans all love Hot-n-Taught,
E-Frees, Methodists, too.
We tell folks the Spirit can be caught,
And keep track when we do.

Hot-n-Taught you will always be
Home, sweet home to me!
Good ol’ Hot-n-Taught;
Hot-n-Taught, Pyro-T
Hot-n-Taught, Pyro-T”

Then Trinabus stepped forward for a solo!

“Anyone can come to Hot-n-Taught;
Don’t need doctrinal skill.
There are no programs at Hot-n-Taught,
Only a test of your will.
We catch visions here at Hot-n-Taught;
See the flames leap and grow!
Even though the Spirit can’t be bought,
Please send us lots of dough!

The choir joined him: “Hot-n-Taught you will always be
Home, sweet home to me!
Good ol’ Hot-n-Taught;
Hot-n-Taught, Pyro-T
Hot-n-Taught, Pyro-T”

Chapter 2 – What’s up, Dock?

The next morning I drove down to the docks. About a quarter mile from the gate, there was something in the ditch. I slowed down. I took a look. It was a sign, spattered with mud. “Ortho Docks” it read. At the gate, a new sign had been hastily hung in its place.

Under New Management
HETERO DOCKS
Shipping – Cruises – Yacht Club

I proceeded with caution. It was a busy place. The cargo ships were offloading goods, so I stopped to check in with the freight master. When I gave him my name, his eyebrows took an express elevator to his hairline. He gave me an odd look, but didn’t say anything. I told him I’d be hanging around.

I passed by the cruise ship LCMS Pinafore. There was the captain on deck, overseeing a group of tourists, all dressed alike, and making their way off the ship. The back of their shirts said, “H-T/P-T”. “There goes trouble,” I thought to myself.

I moved on down the docks to tour the area where the yachts were moored. People give them funny names. A man sunning himself on his Hip O’Crit glanced up from under the brim of his “I’m a Lutheran” hat, and addressed nobody in particular. “This Tappert guy’s a jerk!” I walked on.

The next yacht held the biggest sound system I’d ever seen. The Happy Clapper. Why was I not surprised?

Number three was the Biz Marks II. Looked more like a mini-battle ship to me.

The owner of number four, Ruthie K’s Dreamboat, apparently liked a challenge. In stead of a motor, she was outfitted with albs for sails and stoles for rigging. Now that just wasn’t right!

“Hey, Pastor!”

I was being hailed by the freight master. And carefully observed by the Pinafore’s captain.

Fun in the (shady) Sun

Everyone tries to cram in as much fun as possible during the waning days of summer vacation. The mouse is no exception. Since the oppressive heat seems to be broken (at least for a few days), I plan to spend every day this week sipping my tea and reading my new book outdoors under the shade tree. Oh, come on; you knew it had to be a trilogy, didn’t you?

Chapter 1 – Justin Case

It was a dark and stormy night. I liked it better that way. Just & I had been at Lern & Digest’s place for a couple of days now. I’d been thinking. A lot.

“Brother?” Just interrupted my thoughts. “Could you do me a favor?” I said I would.

“About a week before, well, you know, I place this order for Ms. Kirche. It’s not much; a shipment of Good News Magazines, a Gene E. Veith boxed set, a chalice to match her silver service, some furnace filters, and a new fire extinguisher. Oh, and a new alb for me. Guess I won’t need that now, though. Anyway, they’re due in at the dock tomorrow, and I am hoping you can pick them up for me and take them over to the Kirche place. Just drop them off; you don’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, I’ll take your case,” I told him. “After all…”

“I’m Luther N. Pastor, Private Eye,” he finished for me with a smile, something I hadn’t seen since my arrival.

Peace, man

I went to a health food store recently and grabbed a box of maple pecan cereal. Sure the brand name was “Peace,” but you get used to that after strolling down a few aisles in a health food store. It is truly one of the tastiest cereals I’ve eaten, but to my surprise, as I sat at the table reading the back of the box and munching away, “Peace” isn’t just a brand. It’s an organization, and ten percent of my purchase now supports Yogi Bhajan. To add insult to injury, the stuff is only 70% organic! Oh, well. Considering the rest of my diet is only about 30% organic, I guess it all comes out in the wash.

Anyway, how can I, as a Confessional Lutheran, keep shoveling the yummiest cereal ever down my throat, knowing I’m also shoveling money into a really big crock of hooey? Practice, practice, practice!

My dollars have supported Thrivent, which in turn supports the ELCA. My dollars have supported LCEF, which in turn supports the Church Growth Movement. My dollars have supported my congregation, which has supported my district, which has supported my synod, which has supported an ecclesiastical supervisor, who has supported “Allah is also the true God.” Which brings us right back to Yogi Bhajan! He also wants to unite people of all faiths to pray for “Peace.” It’s okay to pray, right? And since many LCMS churches’ practice is about 70% Lutheran at best, I guess that all comes out in the wash, too.

Pass the milk, please.