If you are like me (and for your sake I hope you are not), you are a big Los Angeles Lakers fan. With the playoffs in full swing, as a service to you loyal readers, I have come up with this year’s “Christian’s Guide to NBA Basketball.” Everything you need to understand basketball (and yourself) is right here in this list.
Basket An implement used to solicit funds from church members. Often passed around the sanctuary by dour looking men who will cough loudly if you don’t put in enough money. Continue reading Basketball Terminology
Have you ever lost anything? I mean lost it so bad that no matter where you looked you couldn’t find it?
I have lost my hair. It’s true. Believe me, I have looked for it, too. It is nowhere to be found. In fact, I can’t even find it in the drain of my shower anymore. I looked down the other day and saw some hair in the drain. Excitedly, I reached down to retrieve my long, lost friends. My elation quickly turned to bitter disappointment as I realized that I do not have curly blonde hair. When I told Lanette that I had found some of her hair she looked at me as if I were from another planet. Okay, in all honesty, I get that look from her all the time. Continue reading Baldness
“Start at the right delta, then follow the ridge to the right and up. You will find a dot. From that dot, count three ridges over and you will find a bifurcation. Stay with that ridge and it will become an ending ridge. Two ridges over you will find another bifurcation that leads to a dot.”
Sound confusing? That is how you read fingerprints. As part of my job I am recognized as a court expert on fingerprints. Think of it, of all the people in the world who are living, have ever lived, or will ever live, none of them had the same fingerprints as you. None of them. Not one. A study by the FBI figured the chance of anybody having the same piece of ridge detail on any finger is 1 in 10,000,000,000,000,000. And that study only counted one of the seven patterns! Continue reading Fingerprints
Muttering under my breath, my feet scurrying across cobblestones as fast as my stubby, aged legs will allow, I hurried to a disaster scene. “How could this have happened? We took all the necessary precautions. I’m telling you, heads will roll for this!”
I climbed the last hill, huffing and puffing, begging for air to breathe. As I crested the hill I saw the scene of my worst nightmare. Soldiers were lying on the ground, looking like dead men. Continue reading The Chief Priest
I hate these guys. They have their fancy armor and swords and all their pomp. They can all kiss my… Who’s this guy? Man, he is torn up! He can barely walk into the holding cell where they have kept us locked up like animals. “If I get out of here, I’m going to hunt down you and your family!” I scream at the guard at the door.
“Good thing for me the only way you’ll get out of there is strapped to a cross,” he laughs. I’m going to find a way to hurt him before I get out of here. He’s right, though. There is no getting out, no legal recourse. I’m going to die. Continue reading The Unrepentant Thief
My palm fronds from last week are still lying on the floor of my house. I can’t believe I was such a fool. I spent all last Sunday shouting about this Jesus guy and welcoming him as the Messiah. Continue reading The Onlooker In The Crowd
My Lord is gone, arrested by soldiers, and I watched it happen.
Jesus warned us that this was coming. He asked us to watch and pray in the garden with him. Why didn’t I? Why couldn’t I do this one thing for the Man who has given me everything?
I tried to help Him. When that pig Malchus put his hand on Jesus, I drew my sword and cut off his ear. His ear! I wanted to kill him, and instead all I did was maim him. Big deal. Continue reading Peter’s Story
I don’t know how to break this to my wife, but I fell in love with somebody else while I was in Nicaragua. She has green eyes and a smile that will light up a room. Her name is Naomi, and she is ten years old.
I met Naomi at Cancha Cristo Rosario, a barrio in Managua. A missionary was going to show the film, “The Cross and the Switchblade,” and my friends and I were going around door to door, inviting the residents. Naomi was one of the first kids to run up to meet the gringos from Southern California, and we became fast friends. Continue reading A Gringo in Nicaragua
I don’t dance. I don’t polka, don’t waltz, don’t do the bump or the frug. I don’t do the electric slide or the moonwalk, either. I’ve seen people country line dance and I have no interest in it. To me, line dancing looks like some bizarre adaptive PE class or something. The bottom line is:
I don’t dance. Continue reading I Don’t Dance
Billy Bob is at it again. He was fishin’ last Sunday morning, almost feeling guilty for missing Sunday morning’s service, when it came to him. He would invent his own church! A church that had services when he wanted them, a church that preached the way he wanted to hear it!
He went down to his laboratory (aka his basement), and started to work. He started reading all kinds of church manuals. He decided which things about church he didn’t like and which parts he did. It wasn’t too long before he came up with his own church. Here is its press release… Continue reading Billy Bob’s Church