A church in an upscale Phoenix neighborhood will be going to federal court because of a program they have that feeds homeless people every Saturday morning.  According to the USA Today, the city of Phoenix told CrossRoads United Methodist Church to stop the breakfast because it violates zoning laws.  Neighbors complain that the homeless people “create blight and pose a danger to them.”  The church says they’re exempt because of the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act which protects church from zoning laws.

Rev. Dottie Escobedo-Frank says, “This is what it means to be a church.  We’re just trying to take care of some people who are hungry and trying to reach out to our neighborhood.”

The city says it’s glad the church is helping out, but wants them to be in an appropriately zoned area.

So what do you think?  Is the church in the right?  Should they move the breakfast outreach elsewhere?  Do they need to be good neighbors and respect the wishes of people around them?  Or is this another case of residents over-reacting?

Awards make me uncomfortable.

The Oscars take place this Sunday, and I can’t think of a more brazen example of self-glorification in contemporary America. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching the Academy Awards, and maybe if I ever won something like an Oscar or a Pulitzer Prize or a Nobel I’d feel differently about this whole honoring system. Yet I sometimes wonder if our current, awards-obsessed society isn’t uncomfortably similar to the culture that built the Tower of Babel – the people who believed their achievements matched those of God. At what point does professional praise cross over into blasphemous hubris?

There is something inherently unseemly about awards, especially when they are sought out by the honorees. I’ve worked for newspapers for 16 years, and the annual rite of scouring through a year’s worth of stories and photos and designs, trying to decide which to enter into various journalism contests, has always struck me as an icky task. Likewise, the campaigning that goes on by the studios and stars during the Oscar season reeks of neediness and desperation. Can’t the work speak for itself?

Of course, awards serve crucial functions beyond the flattering of egos. A paper that claims a newsroom full of trophies and plaques will be seen as a more accomplished and trustworthy outlet to potential subscribers and advertisers. An Oscar winner suddenly has new found power in Hollywood, enabling him or her to take on risky creative projects that would otherwise never see the light of day.

Awards have their practical functions, then, but I still see them as necessary evils. And as I watch the starlets parade down the red carpet, reveling in the bright applause of countless flashbulbs, or see the producers and directors standing triumphantly on the stage, hoisting their golden statues high in the air, part of me wonders if we aren’t all getting a little too big for our britches, as grandmas are fond to say. Those giant Oscar statues that stand guard outside the Kodak Theatre during the Academy Awards ceremony seem to be getting taller ever year. How long until they reach as high as the Tower of Babel?

Several  years ago, I attended a convention worship service which ended with open prayer at various stations. As I prayed on hand and knee under a wooden cross, I had one of the most intense worship times of my life. And then a flash went off. I kept my head down but I was sure a staff photographer had taken my picture—during a private and intimate moment.

Sure enough, a picture of me fervently praying was shown on the big screens in a general session montage the next night.  That was me in a private time with God—displayed for everyone. I wasn’t ashamed to be shown in worship, but it felt like a private moment was being used publicly, almost like an advertisement for the conference’s great worship. I didn’t make a big deal of it, but it bugged me. And obviously, it was strange enough for me that I’ve remembered it all these years.

I thought of this episode on Sunday when I attended the National Religious Broadcasters convention church service. During worship, cameramen—with video cameras equipped with bright lights—walked through the darkened crowd to capture footage of worshiping singers. Their images graced the giant screens on either side of the stage. During the sermon, cameramen again streamed through the aisles to capture attendees flipping through their Bibles and listening. Without a doubt, it was disruptive. I also wonder about the appropriateness.

As many of you know, James Dobson retired from his Focus on the Family radio show last week.

Honestly, I’ve never been a huge fan but it’s all mainly for how political he became, which is really a shame because there are good ministry programs coming from Focus on the Family.  Matthew Paul Turner wrote a post on his blog reminding me of some of the groundbreaking things Dobson did as well.

The reason why I am thankful for Dr. Dobson is because he was the first “famous Christian” that I heard who talked at length about clinical depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, borderline personality, antidepressants, and other mental health topics. That might not seem like a big deal today considering numerous Christians discuss their mental anguish on broadcasts, in books, and on blogs. But back in the 80s and early 90s, many Christians deemed those topics “hogwash.”

How about you? What are your reflections on Dobson’s exit?  Does his involvement in politics taint the work of his ministry?

I’m a sucker for the Olympics.  I’m not sure why, but for several weeks every two years my evenings consist of my wife and I sitting on the couch and watching an evening full of events.  Like every Olympic year, NBC rolls out a whole shlew of stories featuring athletes and their emotional struggles that led to them being the athletes they are today.  Very rarely do I hear stories of an athlete’s faith.  I know it’s probably not to the fault of the competitors, but more likely editorial decisions at the peacock network.

Anyway…I came across this video featuring Chad Hedrick. He’s a USA speed skater who won the bronze in the 1000m race in Vancouver (to add to his gold, silver and bronze from Torino in 2006).

In the video, he talks about his faith as an athlete and how it can be perceived by others.  He says:

I have guys from the media talking to me all the time and I tell them I want to have a great time, make special memories with my family, and if I go there and give 100 percent and it’s not enough, I know God has a path for me, and that‘s the path that I’m going to follow. They interpret that as: I’m soft, I’ve lost my competitive edge, I’m not very confident. But they really don’t understand; and I’m hoping throughout the Olympics and Vancouver that they see that I am still very competitive, and that you can be a Christian and still be a competitive person.

How about you?  Can it be tough to balance being a Christian and being competitive?  Does knowing if an athlete is Christian change to way you root for them in an event?

(This video came from the website Beyond the Ultimate which has a list of Christian Olympians and features their stories.)

I’ve read two articles recently focusing on how Christians can come together to support a larger cause when it comes to making sacrifices or showing compassion for Lent.

A group of Anglican British bishops are urging Christians to reduce their carbon footprint during Lent.  According to the USA Today, the bishops are asking people to at least go a day without using their iPod, cell phone or other technology.  The goal is to use less electricity which will reduce the amount of carbon dioxide put into the air.

Rev. Richard Chartres says man made climate change has a big impact on poor people in developing countries.  He says, ”[The] Carbon Fast [is] an opportunity to demonstrate the love of God in a practical way.”

(Photo Courtesy: ESPN)

Today, Tiger Woods broke his public silence regarding his extramarital affairs by saying he was “so sorry” for his irresponsible and selfish behavior. He admitted and apologized for disappointing his fans and causing them pain. “I have a lot to atone for, ” he said.

This apology was expected and widely called for. Many have been debating whether or not he owed any explanation or apology to fans. Yesterday, my favorite sports radio show, ESPN’s syndicated Mike & Mike in the Morning, took a fascinating angle on why the public wanted Tiger to say he was sorry for his personal failings and indiscretions. Their conversation really got me thinking about celebrity failure and our desire for information.

It verges on blasphemy to question “The Blind Side.”

Not only has the movie garnered Oscar nominations for Best Picture and Best Actress, it has also made an unexpected $241 million – and counting. What’s more, the picture has been wholeheartedly embraced by scores of American churchgoers. Sermons are even being fashioned around it.

I thought the film was a crock. Yes, I realize it is based on a true story, that of Leigh Anne and Sean Tuohy, a wealthy, white Christian couple in Memphis, Tenn., who took in a homeless black teen named Michael Oher and nurtured him to an eventual career in the National Football League. Good for all three of them – they should be proud of taking huge risks and defeating overwhelming odds. I only wish “The Blind Side” had given us an honest sense of their sacrifice and struggle.

An Atlanta family has received a lot of publicity for their decision to sell their big home, buy a smaller one and use the profits to help those in need.  The Salwen family says it all started when their 14-year-old daughter Hannah became upset with the unequal chances for people based on their wealth.  By selling their home, the family used the $800,000 to do a lot of work in two dozen villages in Ghana.

Below are two news stories about the Salwen’s, who have now written a book called “The Power of Half.”

From what I’ve read about the family, I can’t really tell you about their faith commitment.  Regardless, it begs the question: Could you majorly downsize your life, like this family did, to help the poor?

“What are you staring at?” a disheveled mom at the grocery story hissed at me.

Before I could answer, she spun around, and demanded that the clerk apologize—again—for accidentally bumping her cart with her newborn inside.

“I said I was really sorry,” the cashier replied meekly. “It was an accident.”

The angry mom turned her rage back towards me. She wagged her finger at Evie, my three year old, and Caleb, my four year old. “You’re the one with the crazy kids,” she yelled.

What had been a small supermarket mishap, one I hadn’t really been involved in, had suddenly turned ugly.

Caleb, who had been staring at the angry mom, turned his attention to me.

I paused, holding back my fury toward this mother for involving my children, and turned my back to her.