Where is church?

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Worship service

Church is different things to different people. For some people it’s the worship service at a conference of Christian writers.

To others, it’s a Cathedral with a majestic altar.

Cathedral

Maybe for you it’s putting on your Sunday best and heading off to the local church where you spend a couple of hours singing with the choir, listening to the pastor and then opening up the doors of the church for people to accept Jesus. 

It might be worshiping in the rough cut hut of a rainforest chapel while on a missions trip.

Hut church.

Perhaps, it was meeting with other Christians in a small restaurant where you joined your voices together in song and praise after a great meal.

Restaurant church

Then again, it might be meatloaf church. Earlier this week I posted a recipe for meatloaf that was designed to serve 300 people. That’s every bit as much of a church service as any of the above. In Matthew 25:37-40 Jesus explicitly addresses the need to take care of our brothers and sisters who are hungry. I like that church most of all.

Meatloaf Church

Friends of mine, Bob and his wife Patricia are stewards of that little corner of Christianity. They bought a church a while back and use the proceeds from the business they own to provide tutoring programs and host meals for the people we are commanded to care for in this life. Bob and Pat, with the able help of a cast of dozens (especially Pam, Pat’s sister) put on a “good neighbor meal” every second and final Saturday of the month at that church. Bob’s not the pastor, he lets a couple of local congregations use the building each week, and a bunch of other groups and churches come in biweekly and do the meals.

That’s a part of “Church” in the Biblical sense. It’s serving your fellow man as though he was Christ. It’s doing those good works in a tangible way. It’s being footsore, stiff, sweaty, overheated, and suffering from dish-pan hands while making, serving, and cleaning up after a meal. It means a personal investment above and beyond just footing the bill. That’s church as well.

I hope that you will consider doing this act of kindness in your own life. Find a kitchen for the poor. Don’t wait for Thanksgiving or Christmas, do it this month. The poor are with us always… I have that on good authority. And they’re hungry, hot, tired, and unloved year round. You can help with three of the four by joining a local church or civic group to meet this need. If you’re in the Twin Cities area, leave a comment here and I’ll put you in touch with the right people, get the ball rolling, and even provide you with some ideas for meals.

You can do it by yourself, you can organize your friends and family to help and contribute, or you can just wander on in (after we talk) to help out with a meal someone else is providing.

The cost is pretty reasonable: $500 or less to feed 300 people. That means that you can shell out $250 (on average a little bit closer to $300) to feed 150 people, our usual turnout. I quote the 300 figure because we’re getting better at preparing meals for future dates and freezing them until we’re ready. There’s a huge economy of scale in doing things bulk style. Once you’re ready, we’ll help you scale it up.

All I ask is that you pray and reflect on this request. And then just leave a comment. If you’d like to remain anonymous, make sure you mention that in your comment and I won’t publish it.

 

 

Wonderful to be here.

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This morning I escaped from work and walked out the doors to find a beautiful Minnesota morning in progress. The humidity and heat had broken and it was “normal” for July.

I tucked my overly large frame into the Explorer and headed for the house. After releasing the hounds I took my tablet and my breakfast outside and sat on the large patio to savor the gift God had delivered in the weather department.

Breakfast?  It was rhubarb crisp and rhubarb pie nestled in the container and a second container with whipped topping.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMM, Rhubarb.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMM, Rhubarb, Walt Longmire, happy.

Compliments of my coworker Brenda.

Once the dogs had finished their business they ambled over to the patio. Ed crawled under the chair

My boy, Edzell.

My boy, Edzell.

and waited to be loved. Maisie sat quietly and offered her snout for nuzzling.

Nothing better than a nose rub.

Nothing better than a nose rub.

I read my book, loved my dogs and realized that my blessings are too numerous to count.

Thanks, God. It was a nice morning.

I am officially old.

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I just saw a female Chief Petty Officer on the television while watching Fox and Friends. The first thought through my mind was, “She’s a cute kid.”

That’s it. I’m over the hill.

On a serious note, it is with deep reverence and pride in our military that on this day, the day of our liberation, I extend my thanks to all who serve, have served, and will serve in the future. We are free because of your service to this nation. Please accept my gratitude.

And, Chief, if you read this, you are cute. And young enough to be my daughter.

I’m off the rest of the day to nap. Then I’ll have my mashed vegetables and drool for a while.

Happy Liberation Day to all of you.

Serves 300. Garnish as needed.

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Ingredients:

80 pounds 90% lean ground beef.

10 pounds instant oatmeal

54 eggs

9 pounds diced baby carrots

8 pounds sliced mushrooms (fresh)

200 ounces pulverized tomatoes

200 ounces spaghetti sauce

12 pounds frozen hash browns

10 steam table disposable pans with lids

Preparations:

Coat the inside of the steam table pans with a spray on vegetable oil like Pam.

Evenly divide the meat in the pans and press flat in pans

Set pans to side.

Dice the carrots into pieces approxmately 1/4 of an inch in size.

Cut mushrooms into small bits, size is unimportant but no whole mushrooms.

Combine the carrots and mushrooms and divide evenly into the pans of meat. Mix well into the meat.

Add oatmeal to each pan, approximately 1 pound per pan. Mix with the blend of meat/carrot/tomatoe.

In a separate pan, mix the eggs, approximately 80 ounces of the spaghetti sauce  and seasonings of your choice (I use a healthy dose of Cajun spices, but Tony Chacheri’s seasoning will do nicely.) Mix thoroughly and then add a healthy dollop of Chile powder and some black pepper and salt. Again, this is to your taste, and if you’re serving a group of people who don’t get a lot of spicy food keep it a little tame.

Once the mix is completely blended, add to the pans and knead into the mix. When you are done you should have a nice, moist mixture but not “wet” by any means. If it is, add a little more oatmeal to the mix until it is solid enough to form.

Mound the pans so that you have  a place around the edges for the juice to collect.

Spread approximately 1 cup of Spaghetti sauce on top of each pan, cover with foil or the lids that came with the pans, and refrigerate overnight.

The morning you are going to serve, heat the oven to 425 and bake the meatloaf for 2 hours with the lid in place. When you are a half hour from serving, spread the remaining spaghetti sauce on top of the meat and let the pans finish without the lids. (keep the lids, because you’ll use them to keep the meatloaf warm and moist while you’re serving your people.

This mix works like a charm. We’ve fed hundreds of people with it. The rest of the meal consists of butter noodles (again, just a touch of Cajun seasoning in the water along with some salt and oil) and canned corn, fresh salad, desert, coffee, water and milk.

We can easily feed 300 people with this recipe and the total cost per guest is under $2.00. It’s much lower if you get donated goods but we just buy it all at Sam’s Club and have a blast doing so.

More on this later when I get up, but wanted to get the recipe up before I crashed for the day.

 

Sometimes Santa is not a nice man.

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Many of you know that I’m a professional Santa Claus. For those of you who didn’t, now you do. This post represents my personal views. It does not speak on behalf of any organization or association of Santas. I stand alone on this and welcome others to join me in this set of principles.

I belong to, have belonged to, and will belong to professional organizations dedicated to ethical and safe behavior as Santa. I carry insurance and submit to a background check annually to make sure that when I’m asked for the proof of my sterling character I can provide it on a moment’s notice. 99% of my fellow Santas are incredible people with spotless reputations and nothing but the best of intentions.

Recently this man,

Matthew Feeney

Matthew Feeney

Matthew Feeney, was accused of molesting children in Minnesota and Massachusetts. Matthew was a casting director, prop master, actor, semi-professional Santa Claus, and a computer geek. It turns out that Matthew had a conviction for this sort of thing back in 1993.

Why does this matter?  Because I know Matthew.  I have been in a short film with him, I have auditioned for him, I have offered him work as a Santa and he offered me jobs when one or the other couldn’t fulfill a request. Fortunately, neither one of us ever accepted the jobs that were offered.

I never suspected him of this predatory behavior. Mug shots always make you look creepy. They aren’t taken at the best of times and you’re a bit preoccupied with what’s happening. I knew Matthew on the good days. I thought he must be a great Santa. He was charming, funny, versatile, and a great guy. On the surface. Below the surface he was one of the most despised things in my world: a child molester. And that’s why I am writing this post this morning.

Matthew is in jail the last I heard. Waiting for what comes. I am free. And I plan to stay that way. One of our local Santa organizations sent out a message yesterday cautioning us to really get to know someone before we bring them into the group. Well, that didn’t work with Matthew. He didn’t join our group, but I wouldn’t have objected if he had tried (prior to his arrest and the revelation of his criminal history, that is.)

So, for the record, I will never offer work to any Santa who does not provide me with a background check and a copy of his liability insurance from this day forward. I will not recommend anyone for membership, ask them to consider being Santa based on my personal knowledge of them, nor invite them to even sit down to dinner with other Santas unless they willingly join a national organization that requires a background check. Once I have that in hand I will consider it as a possibility. Until they go that extra mile, they are suspect.

Parents, ask your Santa for a copy of that background check and insurance. Protect your children. If the daycare you go to wants a Santa to come in for pictures or a party, get the skinny (pun intended) on the man before you let him in the door. If he won’t submit the paperwork, don’t hire him.

I’m writing this at the risk of really making many of my friends very angry. I have no doubt that I will be shunned by many who wear the red suit for putting this on the internet. Almost all of them are fine gentlemen who would never hurt a child. But I can no longer be sure of this without a criminal background check. That won’t weed out the ones who haven’t been caught yet, but at our age (as a group) it’s more than likely that some form of deviant behavior will have surfaced by now.

To my friends: you have sworn an oath in many cases to protect children, just like Nicholas of Myra. I know the membership dues and background checks will be expensive. The insurance even more so for those of you who have retired and are on a fixed income. But that $250 a year that it will cost may save a child from being a broken shell. I cannot chance that terrible damage because I cut a corner and put a job out there that a molester picked up.

Please don’t get me wrong. I want to reiterate what I said at the very beginning of this piece: 99% of the men who portray Saint Nicholas are incredible gentlemen, of good character, spotless records, wonderful with children, and to be held in great esteem. But I have proven in my own life that I cannot spot a child molester by looking at them. Can you? Don’t take the risk. Because sometimes Santa is not a nice man.