Posted in February 2010 …

Feb 22 2010
Leave a comment
Sermons

Not All Those Who Wander are Lost: Part 1

Text: Luke 4:1-13

According to Luke, the devil asks three questions, and they all include if statements. If is conditional. It’s a word for doubt, a word for deals. “IF you really are… then prove it.” “IF you’ll do this for me, then I’ll do this for you.” Notice how both questions place the asker above the listener. You need to prove yourself to me. I’m going to cut you a deal.

The only way you win that game is not to play. If you know who you are, you don’t need to prove yourself to anybody. If you already have everything you need, you don’t need to cut a deal.

The first question the devil asks is, “If you are the son of God, command this stone to become bread.” Jesus has been fasting for 40 days at this point, and Luke, gospel writer and master of understatement says, “He was hungry.” The temptation here is to use his power to satisfy his own physical needs. But there’s more to it than that.

This is an attack on Jesus’ relationship with creation. Way back at the beginning, God gave us a way to get bread from dirt. It involves sweat, hours, and attention. We call it farming. The devil says, “Skip all that. If you’re the Son of God and you’re hungry, snap your fingers and eat! Work is for peasants. You’re a prince!” About half of the population of the planet is malnourished. How could Jesus possibly claim to be on our side if he didn’t understand hunger?

Want to seriously mess up your children? Make sure they never know hunger and never have to work for anything. Then they’ll imagine success comes to those with the best intentions rather than to those who invest the most sweat, and hours, and attention. They will forever feel entitled, and never grateful. And having never felt pain, they will not recognize it in others.

Tagged ,
Feb 22 2010
Leave a comment
Sermons

Shine – A Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

Wordle: Shine - A Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

www.wordle.net

Creative Commons LicenseTexts: Luke 9:28-36 and Exodus 34:29-35

Last week we learned how the Old Testament gives us the vocabulary to understand the new. And wouldn’t you now, this week gives us a perfect example. Let’s pretend we’ve never read the Old Testament and look at our text one more time. “About 8 days…” So far so good. We know Jesus, and we know he likest to go off by himself from time to time to pray. We know Peter, James and John too. They are the big three, first among the twelve, Jesus’ closest friends.

The things get strange. He starts glowing, no shining! Even his clothes are like lightning. This hasn’t happened before. Nowhere else in the gospels does Jesus light up like a torch. What does it mean? Is he really a god pretending to be human?

Then two men show up, Moses and Elijah. Since we haven’t read the OT, we have no clue who they might be. Are they his teachers? Is Jesus merely the keeper of ancient secret knowledge? Then a talking cloud shows up and says, “This is my son, who I have chosen.” So Jesus was God’s adopted son?

I’m not pulling these examples out of thin air. These are actual heresies the church has struggled with.  Without the Old Testament to inform our reading of the new, we wind up with more questions than answers.

10 Commandments

Look! They found the originals! Pic by Rob Sheridan via Flickr on a Creative Commons License

So let’s go back to the Old Testament reading, lay them next to each other, and see what we learn. “When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the Testimony in his hands.” What’s on those tablets? That’s right, the 10 commandments. Actually, we don’t know for sure. Scripture just says the tablets had the law, it doesn’t say if it was the whole law, or just the big ten, but in the Charlton Heston movie it’s the 10, so that’s what it is.

Notice the differences. Moses is coming down the mountain to give the law to the people, but Jesus is going up. Moses went alone to meet with God, but Jesus is bringing his closest friends. He’s going to commune with God and he’s bringing us with him.

Moses comes down, and he doesn’t realize his face is radiant. Then, he puts on a veil because it frightens the people. There is no matching self-consciousness in Jesus because the light in this story isn’t a reflection. We’re talking the difference between the moon and the sun here. Moses puts on a veil, but Jesus is taking his off. It’s as if, here on this mountaintop, close to God, surrounded by his closest friends, he can finally let his guard down.

Now look at the disciples. Are they afraid, like the people were of Moses? No. They don’t understand it, as evidenced by Peter’s stupid, “Let’s build some tents” idea, but they weren’t afraid…

Actually, they probably were. Imagine. Jesus invites you up to pray. And you know when Jesus wants to pray you’re going to be there a while. The scripture says on more than one occasion that Jesus would pray so long that the disciples would fall asleep waiting for him. So, you settle in for a nap and when you wake up, the mountaintop is lit up! But the shadows are all wrong, because the light isn’t coming from the sun, it’s coming from the Son. They had to be scared, but the scripture never mentions it because their trust in Jesus is bigger than their fear.

So, you don’t do the sensible thing and run away screaming. You move toward the light. And as your eyes adjust, you see two men talking with Jesus, Moses and Elijah, the giver of the law and the greatest of all the prophets. We really have no parallel to this moment. You could say it would be like meeting George Washington and Abe Lincoln, but even that doesn’t do it justice, because those are just political figures. This is politics and race and religion all rolled into one. These are the two men who define you as a human being, and just as you wake up, just as you begin to comprehend what’s going on, they start to leave.

Now Peter’s “build a tent” idea doesn’t seem so stupid, does it? “Please, don’t go! Just stay. We have so much to ask, so much to learn. Please don’t go.” But they do, and then comes the cloud, and now at last the disciples are afraid.

They have every right to be. They know that cloud because they know their scriptures. When the Hebrews camped at the base of the mountain, a cloud like smoke from a furnace descended, covering the mountaintop, and there was the sound like a trumpet, thunder and lightning, and the whole mountain shook, and God spoke to Moses out of the darkness, warning the people to come no closer. No one was to touch even the foot of the mountain, not even the priests. Only Moses could speak with God.

Only now the disciples are the ones on the mountaintop and the cloud envelops them. And just as they had feared, a voice speaks to them out of the darkness of the cloud. But it’s not the words of judgment they expect. The voice says, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”

And just like that, the veil is pulled back into place, the cloud is gone, and Jesus is just Jesus, not a walking star, and they’re pleased to discover they are all alive and in one piece. And they don’t. Say. A word. Can you blame them? What could you possibly say. Who would believe it if you tried?

It wasn’t until much later, after the crucifixion, after the resurrection, after the gift of the Holy Spirit, after time to think and ponder and pray that they came to understand something new. God didn’t call a prophet to the mountaintop, he called regular people who loved Jesus. God didn’t hand over a new set of laws, 10 new commandments. God said, “This is my son, listen to him.” Jesus is the new law, written on our hearts.

Moses used to come down the mountain and show people his face to prove that his message really came from God, and then he would cover his face so no oune would see the glory fade. Jesus doesn’t need to prove anything to anybody, because he’s not the reflection. He’s the source. His light doesn’t fade with time, in fact it grows as it is reflected in the hearts and faces of his followers. As their numbers and purity grows, so does his revealing light.

I met a delightful person this week, who confided in me, even though we had just met. This person said, “I miss church. I used to go, but I made some choices and now I feel uncomfortable. I want to go, but part of me is afraid.” Maybe you’ve felt that way too, like you want to get your life together before you go meet with God. I’ve certainly felt that way. But brothers and sisters, hear the good news from our text today.

You have been invited to the mountaintop, not because you’re perfect, but because Jesus saw something in you, and called your name. And even though you don’t always understand, and sometimes you fall asleep when you ought to be praying, and sometimes the smartest thing you can think to say only serves to highlight your own ignorance, none of that matters, because he saw something in you. He called you. He knows you, and he loves you anyway.

Capitalizing on the one skill every good disciple has, you put your footsteps in the footsteps of Jesus, and without really understanding how or why or when, you wake up and suddenly you’re standing face to face with the shining Son, and you feel no fear.

Make no mistake, there is no hiding.  In his light , every speck and imperfection is obvious, and yet none of it matters because he loves you anyway. And just as suddenly, you’re face to face with the cloud and darkness, that aspect of god that is beyond our knowing, that can only be revealed by hidden-ness. And for a moment, we are justly afraid, but only for a moment, because the voice from the darkness points us back to the light, and when we turn our eyes to see, it’s just Jesus. This is God as we can understand God. This is what we need to know.

When you look in his eyes, what do you see? Rage? Arrogance? Fear? Shame? Guilt? What do you see? Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control. This is God. This the still small voice calling in your heart. You do not have to be afraid, you do not have to understand it all, and you do not have to get it right before you begin. All you need to do is answer the call, and take the next step. If you turn your face to the Son, all the shadows fall behind you.

Creative Commons LicenseShine is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at revsmilez.com.

Tagged , , ,
Feb 10 2010
3 Comments
Just for fun

I LOVE it here!

cardinal snow

This was my view over breakfast. Then the boys and I went outside to play in the snow. I couldn't dream a better day.

Tagged ,
Feb 09 2010
2 Comments
Articles and Ponderings

Helping Kids Grieve

He doesn't want to see this picture... by Kelly Sue

Original work by Kelly Sue via Flickr on a Creative Commons License

Watching a parent’s slow decline or facing an unexpected funeral is hard enough for adults. What about the kids? Do we let them visit? Even at the end? How do we answer their questions? Should they attend the funeral?  Recently, I’ve been honored to watch a family find their own answers to these questions, and they did it with such grace and care that I asked them to share their experiences here.

Rob,

The decision to inlude Sydney in Grandma’s funeral and memorial felt like no decision at all.  We had never felt that Grandma’s condition was anything to gloss over with Syd.  They were very close and their visits at Oak Crest seemed a competition to see who could smile the most.  Sydney always knew Grandma was very old and that she was fairly frail.

Sydney has never exhibited any fear or discomfort around old people and interacted freely with other residents at Grandma’s place.  We never avoided visiting unless one of us were sick with something contagious.  Age and decline were simply nothing to worry about because they are inevitable.  Sydney knew that old people die because we had talked about it quite plainly. (Grandma was my last living grandparent, Karen has no living grandparents, and my dad died before Sydney was born, so Syd has always known there were some branches missing from the family tree.)

As a result of the above and convenient timing, we were all able to be present when Grandma died.  Karen, Sydney, and I are pretty much a single unit whenever possible, so it was unquestioned that we would all go to Grandma together.  (We were also pretty lucky that we had made a visit only a few days earlier when Grandma was awake and alert – you know, she was herself.)  Sydney merely shared the experience with us.  There was no reason to exclude her or deprive her of the opportunity to say goodbye and to grieve in her own way.  Certainly, if she would have freaked out, we would have removed her and comforted her as needed.  As things were, we allowed her to stay as close to Grandma as she wanted and to speak to Grandma as she wanted.  I think respect for Sydney demanded that we allow her this emotional room to maneuver.

The events were definitely not over Sydney’s head.  It was not a case hauling a child along because she didn’t know what was going on anyway.  She displayed the same range of emotions as the rest of us.  She was concerned and sad and bored (let’s be honest – it’s no fun waiting around an old folks home!).  She was sensitive to the feelings of others, dispensing hugs to console.  In so many ways, her behavior was a model of well-adjusted decorum.

Obviously, given her presence at the final moment, she would participate in the visitation, funeral, and memorial luncheon as well.  The night Grandma died, we explained the events that would follow – she’s especially curious about burying people in the ground and thinks it’s a funny thing to do (me too).  Our main worry was the usual concern parents of four-year-olds have about behavior at any public event:  “No running around; stay by us; sit like a lady, you’re wearing a dress.”

The Funeral by Chuckumentary

Original work by Chuckumentary via Flickr

I remembered how uncomfortable I always was because I didn’t know what to say at funerals, so I just told Sydney to say “thank you” when people said they were sorry or pretty much anything about Grandma.  I think she really appreciated the tip and has been consistently gracious with those expressing condolences.

As for viewing the body, that has never been my favorite part.  We had explained that Grandma would be in a casket and that she would have makeup on and everthing.  Sydney actually helped pick out the clothes she would wear!  At the visitation and funeral, we simply asked Sydney if she wanted to go see Grandma, and of course she did.  She said Grandma looked  beautiful and that was pretty much it.  I feel good that she probably won’t ever share my discomfort with the custom.

Since the holidays this year, Sydney has had a sense of being a host.  We talked a lot about readying our home for guests and she welcomes others into our home happily.  We didn’t talk about this issue explicitly, but I think she realized our special place as family at Grandma’s events.  She certainly appreciated the special attention and, I think, accepted the social obligation of our role.

Sydney’s matter-of-fact approach to Grandma’s death has been a comfort in that we don’t have to worry unduely about depression.  It has also been a reminder that death is merely an inescapable natural process with which we must all cope.  She certainly has helped us more than I expected.

For us, there were so many reasons to facilitate Sydney’s participation in our public grieving and so few reasons not to, that the decision was an easy one.  That it comforted others was a happy (though expected) byproduct.  All Sydney’s life, on our frequent walks around Douglas, I have told Sydney that it makes people happy when she smiles at them and says hello.  I leave it at that.  I want her to know it’s a choice.  Obviously, I’m pleased and proud when she chooses to share her joy in that way, but I also respect that you just don’t always feel like it.

It’s not earthshattering news that I adore Sydney.  I do not claim to be the slightest bit objective, either.  But, she certainly does seem to have a gift for bringing joy to others and I’m honored to encourage and nurture that  gift.

Thanks for asking for my thoughts on this,
Jeff

I attended the funeral for Sydney’s grandma, and the most touching moment for me was when Jeff’s brother talked about what a blessing Sydney was through the whole process, but especially on Grandma’s last day. In what could have been a dark moment, she was a light. Her smile was infectious, her calm was catching, and her simple acceptance and love for her Grandma was compelling. Turns out it wasn’t the child that needed help dealing with death. It was the grownups.

Thank you, Jeff and Karen. I hope your transparency helps other parents through these difficult decisions.

Tagged ,
Feb 08 2010
Leave a comment
Sermons

Many Christians, One Story

This is the final sermon on our series on unity without uniformity. Week 1 was many gifts, one spirit, where we studied the stained glass window. Up close you can do nothing but compare one shard to another. We compare our lives to those near us, and completely miss the bigger picture. We need to step back and see that together, we are God’s work of art, each part beautiful in it’s own way, none more valuable than another, each part placed perfectly in the whole.

Week 2 was many members one body, where we learned that we are the body of Christ. We honor those parts that are hidden, who serve without fanfare, like our Women’s Fellowship. We protect those parts that are vulnerable, like our children. We keep in touch with those who are far from home, but not far from our hearts, like our shut-ins and those in military service. In the body, we find purpose and meaning as we can finally be ourselves.

Week 3 many opinions, one love. Where we learned that love is not a thing, it’s a person. We can know love specifically because we can know Jesus. The love of God our Father is the one thing that holds us together. At the same time, it’s the one thing that keeps us from uniformity, because God’s love is bigger than our heads. We can truly know that aspect of truth we were designed to know, but we cannot know it all, so we keep a firm faith and an open mind.

It’s no accident that these three sermons reflect the trinity: the gifts of the Spirit, the body of the Son, the love of the Father. The very nature of the trinity is unity without uniformity, community without coercion. The ancients called it perichoresis, which means, “to dance around the center,” each person giving up their place to the next, in a dance that never ends. This is the first great mystery of the Christian faith. Today we will examine the second.

This brings us to week 4. Many Christians, one story. This whole time, we’ve been reading from Paul’s letter to the Christians of Corinth, Sin City of Bible times. Now that they are Christians, he’s teaching them how to build new patterns in their lives. Converting takes an instant. Conforming our lives to God’s? That takes a lifetime.

Paul says, “I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received from those who witnessed it, according to the scriptures.” He received it, from people who saw it, and prophets foretold it. The question you ought to be asking yourself right now is, “So what? What difference does it make?”

It’s not a dumb question. Those are exactly the questions we need to ask every time we engage scripture. Part of the reason the church in America is on its heels because we don’t ask these questions often enough. We’d rather be told than read it ourselves.

Why does Paul write this: received, saw, foretold? Our American mindset says innovation is better than preservation.  We don’t care where the idea came from. We care that it works. We only trust things we can see for ourselves. To our ears it sounds like a pointless paragraph. But Paul was no fool, and considering the expense of writing a letter in those days, I can assure you that he chose his words with care. Which means what? It means we’re missing something.

Why does it matter if Paul received it? It means it’s not about Paul. Tradition says he wasn’t much to look at, bald and short, and scripture says he spent a good chunk of his life as a religious zealot who persecuted the church in the name of God. “God!” (smack) “Loves!” (smack) “You!” Talk about a mixed message. It’s not about Paul. It’s about the one who turned his life around.

It means truth is not the property of the pulpit. You have access to the same truth I do. I don’t rule you. You can get greater wisdom from one old saint who  lived this book, than from a hundred preachers who just talked about it.

It’s not about us, people. Stop stressing over this. Your life is a sermon in three parts. You were who you were. God’s story took hold of you. Now you are what you are. I guarantee you, the people who know you well already know this sermon by heart because they know you. The question is, “Is it a good sermon? Is it compelling? Do people notice the change?” If not, then maybe the sermon needs to be a little less about you and a little more about the one who is making the change.

Which brings us to our next question. Why does it matter if people saw it? It means it’s not a fable with only one moral, one layer of meaning. It’s richer and deeper than that. It means you can go there and see it. You can walk where he walked and see things he saw. You can study the history of the times and the language and understand the moment, because context is meaning. You can spend your life, understand it a little better every day, and never get it all.

It means Jesus wasn’t just male. He was a man, a specific man, a Jewish carpenter from the house of David, who lived in a specific place in time. So when I talk about God as a “he” I’m not saying God is male. God is beyond gender, but Jesus is not. And he called God, “Father.” The one aspect of the trinity that we can touch called God, “Father.” It is not an adjective. It’s a name. We’re not being sexist. We’re being respectful. We can use other names. The Bible is full of them, some masculine, some feminine. But, at least for me, this will always be the gold standard, because this is the metaphor Jesus used to reveal a God too big to comprehend.

Which brings us to our last question. Why does it matter that it was foretold? Some preachers will tell you that it’s to prove the truth of the story, and that’s true. Jesus said himself that miracles and prophecy were signs or proofs. But to me, that’s only part of the reason.

Suppose you wanted to teach a kid physics. How would you do it? Would you crack open a textbook or take her outside to play ball? Exactly, you start with what they know and you build on that foundation until someday, years from now, they will finally have the vocabulary to explain how we catch a pop fly.

Suppose Jesus had just popped on the scene with no Old Testament, no Hebrew Scriptures, no prophecies, no years of experience and history and vocabulary. He pops on the scene and says, “Take. Eat. This is my body. Take. Drink. This is my blood.” And we think, “What? Was Jesus a cannibal? Maybe he was a vampire!” Thankfully, we have the history, so we can look back through scripture and see the symbolism of Passover lamb whose blood protected the people of God. We know the story of the manna bread from heaven that fed the people as they wandered toward the Promised Land. The Old Testament gives us the vocabulary we need to understand the New.

Paul wasn’t stupid. He did choose his words carefully. It matters very much that he passed along what he received, that he received it from eyewitnesses, and that all this happened in accordance with scripture. He received it because it wasn’t about him. It’s not about me. It’s not about us. They saw it because Jesus chewed the same dust we chew today. Jesus knows us, and we can know him. Prophets foretold it because we need new words if we’re ever going to understand the story God is trying to tell.

The name the ancients gave this mystery is incarnation. Trinity means the heart of God is loving community. Incarnation means we are now part of that love. This is the root and goal of our faith, unity without uniformity. We have many gifts but one spirit. We are many members but one body.  We hold many opinions but one love. We are many people, but we share one story. We were who we were. We are who we are. We will be who we will be. It’s our story, but it’s not about us.

Tagged , ,
Feb 03 2010
Leave a comment
Sermons

Love is…

A man whose opinion I trust stopped by the office this week. As promised, I dropped what I was doing and gave him my full attention. He said, “It’s been a good series so far, but all you’ve talked about is people with diverse gifts working together. When you said, “Unity without uniformity” I was expecting to hear about diverse opinions, not diverse individuals. How do we have unity when we don’t agree?”

That’s a great question, so let’s ignore it for a second and do an experiment. The experiment works like this: using today’s text, take out the word love and replace it with my name. Ready?

Rob is patient. Rob is kind. Rob does not envy. He is not boastful or proud. Rob is not rude or self seeking. Rob is not easily angered. He keeps no record of wrongs. Rob does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Rob always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Rob. Never. Fails.

What’s so funny? I’ve been doing this experiment for nine years, and in nine years no one has ever believed me! Fine. Laugh away, but someday, someone is going to believe me. And when I meet that person, I’m going to introduce them to my wife so she can knock some sense into them. There is only one human who fits this bill, and it’s not me. We keep looking for an adjective to describe love, but it never works because love is not a what. It’s a who.

Jesus is patient. Jesus is kind. Jesus does not envy. He is not boastful or proud. Jesus is not rude or self seeking. Jesus is not easily angered. He keeps no record of wrongs. Jesus does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Jesus always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Jesus. Never. Fails.

Oboe and metronome

"Oboe and Metronome" by Tony Newell via Flickr on a Creative Commons License

Suddenly, it’s not so funny. My love is a joke. God’s love is reality. That’s the source of our unity. Have you ever hear an orchestra tune? It always starts with one instrument, always the same one. Anyone know? Right, the oboe. Do you know why? Because it’s the only instrument that can’t be tuned. When they are all are in tune with the one, they are automatically in tune with each other. The church is never closer to unity than when it’s members are in tune with God’s love, as exemplified by Jesus.

But we take unity too far. Suppose I play the oboe. It all starts great. Everyone’s listening to me. Everyone’s in tune. Then we start playing. I read my notes. I know my part, and I can hear that other people are playing it wrong. Their notes don’t match my music. I’m running around the orchestra yelling, “You’re playing it wrong. You’re playing it wrong!” Do you get the joke? The only one in the entire orchestra who’s doing it wrong is me.

Hear this. God’s love is bigger than our heads, like a symphony is bigger than an oboe. We can’t understand it all. We barely understand our own part. Ask any musician and they’ll tell you. We don’t get it. We get glimpses. We get moments. And the only way we get them, is by practicing diligently, performing gracefully, and listening carefully.

So, everyone should just believe whatever they want and mind their own business, right? No. Vehemently, NO. True tolerance requires and opinion. Actually, it requires two. If there are two of us and only one opinion, what is there to tolerate? But if I know I’m right, and you stubbornly refuse to admit that you’re wrong, and I don’t proceed to pound the stupid out of you, that’s tolerance.

To misquote Jesus, “What good is it if you tolerate those who tolerate you? Even the pagans do that!” Tolerance is the bare minimum. We are called to unity. I don’t care what your stance is on any of the divisive issues of the day, my stance toward you doesn’t change. Actually, that’s not true. I do care. I care very much where you stand on the divisive issues of the day. I care so much it hurts, but my stand toward you still doesn’t change. I’m to love you with God’s love.

God’s love doesn’t hold a sign that says, “God hates fags.” God’s love doesn’t scream, “Baby killer” into the face of a sixteen year old girl. God’s love doesn’t blow people up and call it suicide. We feel it just as strongly. We are just as convinced. But God’s love finds another way.

There is a sense in which tolerance is destructive to fellowship, because fellowship isn’t us agreeing to disagree. True fellowship is us both tuning our hearts to the reality of God’s love, and living in the friction and tension that creates. Because it’s exactly that friction and tension that will slowly grind the rough edges off our hearts.

This side of heaven, we will never have one church. The best we can hope for is a unity without uniformity, a unity of believers whose only certainty is that they don’t have a lock on God’s love, a fierce people who refuse to settle for either the bland uniformity of the “one right answer” or the equally bland uniformity of the lowest common denominator.

You’ve heard about them. They are patient, and kind. They do not envy, or boast. They are not arrogant. They are not rude, or self-seeking. They are slow to anger and keep no record of wrongs. They do not delight in evil but rejoice with the truth. They always protect, always trust, always hope, always persevere. And they do not quit.
Is that us? Some days. I guess we need more practice.

Benediction: It’s God’s symphony. Everybody plays. Some of us just don’t play in tune. Today, we hear in part, like listening through a tinny radio. Someday, we’ll hear it all. For some, it will be the final proof that life is not the solo we demanded, as even our strident discord is gathered into a larger harmony that owes none of it’s beauty to us. We will be confronted with a song we have spent our life refusing to learn. We will not know how to play, and we will weep. But some of us will recognize the tune, because we’ll hear our tiny part in the mix. The little notes that we practiced and played so long will finally make sense as part of the larger whole. And we will join the song.

Tagged ,
Feb 02 2010
5 Comments
Articles and Ponderings, Just for fun, News

Local Radio Rules!

I hear a lot of people lamenting the death of news and radio shows in the face of internet competition. Whatever. As long as people live in one place, they’re going to want news about that place. And since it’s impossible for one paper to keep track of every place’s news, there will always always always be a genuine need for local news. I sincerely believe that if you solve that problem for people, they will pay you for it.

This photo gratuitously stolen from Mike and Dave's Facebook page.

Last Saturday, Mike and Dave’s Morning Grind, Saugatuck’s very own radio show, hosted my first radio interview. (If you’ve never heard them, check out this great article from the Holland Sentinel.) What a blast! I’ve been listening to them since I arrived, so it was an honor to receive the invite. Mike and Dave are hilarious. My only regret was that it couldn’t last longer. Thanks to everyone who listened in, including my sister, and few fine friends from Allegiance. Special thanks to my lovely wife for letting the boys listen too. When I got home, the youngest asked, “Daddy, how did you get home from in the computer?!”

In case you missed it, Mike and Dave game me permission to trim the audio and share it here. (Favorite moment? About 9:35 into the segment) This isn’t the full show, just my segment. If you want the full show, or if you want video and not just audio, check Mike and Dave’s Morning Grind website, or if that isn’t working, try their Livestream channel.  I’ve occasionally had problems getting the player to work, but that’s where I pulled this recording, so I know it works at least part of the time. :)

If you’re a local, listen live! They broadcast on FM 92.7 from the Annex Coffee Shop in downtown Saugatuck right next to Coral Gables. A few of my friends enjoyed the show so much that they plan on becoming regular listeners even though they live as far a way as Minnesota, or even England. I hope you’ll join them and me, tuning in online Saturday mornings at 7:30am Eastern. I know first-hand that the guys read the chatroom during the show, so let’s give them something to talk about. Bonus points to anyone who can make Mike lose his train of thought.

P.S. – Here’s their Facebook page.

Tagged ,
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.