Monday, January 23, 2012

Monday Confessions

It’s Monday morning and these are a few of my confessions:

I confess that the jeans I wore at Sidedoor last night felt too short.
I confess that I don’t like it when my jeans feel too short.
I confess that these feelings probably stem from the days when my mom would buy me Sears and Roebuck Tough Skin Jeans two sizes too big (so I could grow into them); and since those jeans were made to withstand a nuclear blast, I would be expected to wear them until they were two sizes too small.
I confess that whenever I see short jean wearers I have flashbacks.
I confess this whole ordeal has probably scarred me for life.

I also confess that we don’t seem to make real confessions in church very often. Maybe it’s because people are afraid of what others might think. Or maybe it’s because of a misrepresentation of our holiness message. Or maybe it’s because of a sinful obsession with self.

I also also confess that we need to be more confessional. That is, we need to be more open and forgiving and prayerful and honest and loving and redemptive and holy than we sometimes are.

Boom. I’m done.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

The Opulent Offspring

The Opulent Offspring
Once a man had two offspring--the younger one demanded to obtain his share of the organization so the man obliged the obnoxious offspring by offering him half of his oasis.

The offspring immediately went to an obscure, out of the way place and ogled obscene objects and obsessively overspending on opulent and ornate outfits.

Almost overnight, the money was obliterated and the offspring had the onerous occupation of feeding oinkers and eating their oats.
Overwrought, one day, he observed his objectionable ordeal and thought, “My old man’s ordinary officials are better off than I am. I will go back to him with this oration, “Father I have been ornery to you. I am no longer allowed to be called your offspring make me like one of your ordinary office officials.”

So he got up and started off for his old-man’s orchard.

When he was on the outskirts of his father’s orchard—the old man saw him and was overjoyed. He ran to his offspring and overwhelmed him with affection!

The offspring said, “I have been ornery to you and am no longer worthy to be called your offspring.”

But the father said to his ordinary officials, “Quick bring an ornate overcoat and put it on him, and outfit him with a ring and sandals. Bring the oversized calf and kill it. Let’s organize an out-of-this-world occasion—for the offspring of mine was obituary material and is alive again. He ousted himself but is now on our orchard again!

Meanwhile, the older offspring was obediently in the field and overheard the orchestra’s overtures and the ovations. So he called one of the ordinary officials and asked him what the occasion was. The servant opined, “Your only brother has come and your old man has killed the oversized calf because he is on the grounds.”

The older brother was obnoxiously offended and odiously objected to going in. So his father went out and pleaded with the onerous older offspring. But he orally objurgated, “Look you old orangutan, all these years I’ve overworked for you, never disobeying your orders. You have never outpoured on me an outlandish odyssey so I could overwhelm my friends with overt opulence, but when this outlaw oaf offspring of yours who has outrageously, overindulged your oodles with obscene offerings comes home you organize an optimal occasion.

“My obedient but obstinate offspring,” the old-timer said, “you were never omitted, and my oodles are your oodles, but we had to organize this high octane, optimal occurrence and be outlandishly overjoyed, because this brother of yours was obituary material and is alive again; he ousted himself but is now on our orchard again!”