On the Road

We had a lively, fast-paced weekend in Chicago and Milwaukee, leaving home on Friday morning and arriving at the headquarters of University Bible Fellowship mid-afternoon, where we had a wonderful meal with UBF leaders. After dinner I lectured in an auditorium filled with mostly university students. My topic: "Leadership Reconsidered: Acknowledging Jesus as a Failed Leader." It is a controversial topic and I had their attention. My thesis is that Jesus turned all ordinary concepts of leadership upside-down, and that by any standard of leadership, Jesus failed----though he surely never set out to be such a leader. I hope they are still talking and mulling over the ideas.


On Saturday we drove to Milwaukee where we met my sister Kathy and her friend Jen. Before that we stopped by the Milwaukee Public Museum for their much publicized exhibit "Body Worlds" (described many places online). It was as fascinating as it was intense, and we have no regrets spending the $22/person entry fee, which included as much time as we wanted in one of the finest public museums in the country.

We had hoped to spend some time on Sunday at the Art Institute and at an afternoon showing of the musical "Wicked," but Chicago streets were blocked for miles around for some sort of big marathon and accompanying festival. After being trapped in traffic for more than twenty minutes we decided to head for home.

Our earlier Sunday morning worship was truly serendipitous. As we were heading for Lake Shore Drive to go downtown, we went by Loyola University campus and turned in and discovered Madonna Della Strada Chapel--an absolutely spectacular church right on Lake Michigan. We walked the Stations of the Cross in silence, alone but for one other couple. This Madonna had inspired Ignatius Loyola himself, and now she watches over this wonderful large church--hardly a chapel.

I've stirred up a little hornets' nest by posting a blog post entitled "Acknowledging Jesus as a failed leader."

It's a gray dismal day as the sky hangs low over the banks of the Grand River. What's left of the snow is a dirty mix. I'm in the midst of writing and suddenly something catches my eye over the edge of my computer screen. Once again our resident mink brightens my mood. No camera in hand, but here's a sketch that will do.

Hey, spring is a comin here on the river. Jus got the wash all done today.

ODDS AND ENDS

We arrived home earlier this week from a trip to Nebraska where I was speaking---good travel and good times. Last night we went to the movie There Will Be Blood which was over-rated with 4 stars in our local paper. The cultic church and preacher-boy were superficial, not at all believable. The movie is loosely taken from Oil by Sinclair Lewis. We woke up this morning discussing it and then began sparring about Sinclair Lewis vs. Upton Sinclair, both writing their classic works (Elmer Gantry and The Jungle) in 1927. Late this morning we went skiing, the sun giving me what felt like a grand mal hot flash most of the way. I opened my vest and went barehanded but was still way too hot--though not as hot as I was a few years ago on a warm winter day when we were skiing at our little remote farm up north. I kept stripping until I was bare-breasted, leaving my layers along the trail and picking them up as we returned. No chance of anyone--except dear John--seeing me then. I'm not sure I'd do that again. Back then I had to live up to the seminary administration's accusation of ungodliness. Now I'm just being me.