Reese @ Aldi's, Michelle @ Eastview

This is not normal behavior.

People do not act like this in real life.

I have never seen anyone at Aldi's in a corture gown, shopping for $1.69 a box Millville cereal. Aldi's is real life.


* * * * * * * * * * *
This is a picture of Eastview Christian Church in Normal, IL. Here's a cool God story about it:

So there's this magazine called Church Bookstore. They ask me if I would travel to Normal to write a profile of the church's bookstore. I say yes. I love a road trip, especially across miles of snow-covered farmland.

It's the church I attended while in college. It's the church (I think) at which I got baptized during high school, when I was on a weekend visit to a friend who attended the college in Normal. The magazine didn't know I had any history with the church. The church didn't know me from Eve. But God knew, and gave me the gift of a blast from the past, only the past is long gone at Eastview.

It was a little like slipping into a rabbit hole, and emerging in a different space and time. The church I remember during college was a pretty traditional small congregation of about 300. (Of course, I wasn't really paying attention to that kind of stuff back then, so maybe Eastview was a lot bigger...or smaller.) Now its a Willow Creek-style huge, sprawling complex that's sprouted in the middle of snow-covered farmland. Over 3,000 people attend this church today.

It was a fun trip, and the folks (yes, folks is the right word, there) at the church couldn't have been nicer.

We're asking for IT, but are we ready for IT?

"It" is revival.

And recently, Shawn Blanc, a blogger and staffer at IHOP-KC asked this question, giving a very human and humble response.

Hundreds of miles away, just a couple of weeks ago, so did Dan Edelen. This post is worth a visit because he talks intelligently about the "why" behind the "wow" of a visitation from God.

Catalyst here in Lake County, IL is dedicated to positioning and preparing the church in this region for revival.

In this month's Charisma magazine, there is a profile of Bethel Church in Redding, CA, talking about the culture of revival at this church.

The reason so many people in so many different places are asking about whether we're ready is a rhetorical discussion. We know we're not ready. We know that what passes for normal Christianity is often normal (and toxic) religion - and that this religious wineskin will shatter when revival is poured into it.

I love to study past revivals looking for clues about what it might be that will spark a revival. I celebrate the stories of persistent, passionate prayer...the Herrnhuts, the Haystacks, the Azusa Streets, Wales. I celebrate the preaching of repentance that causes people to rend their hearts a la Joel 2, like Edwards and Finney brought to the church.

But the question of the hour isn't what revival might look like here and now. This external focus shifts the orientation onto managing our circumstances or our behavior in order to make it happen.

It will happen. It will happen because God wants a pure Bride.

The urgent question of the hour is "What MUST we do to get ready?" Join me in asking the question of God in prayer... The story of the bridesmaids in Luke 25:1-13 holds our strategy. And every time we ask "What MUST we do to get ready?", it changes us.

Oh God, what MUST we do to get ready?

28 days - and in a leap year 29

Seven reasons why February seems like it's the longest month of the year

1. There are no mittens in the stores, but if you need a bathing suit or white pants, you're in business.

2. People giddily comment on how warm it is outside - and the temperature is a balmy 35 degrees.

3. Valentines Day candy is 75% off by February 16. We buy it. Then we eat it.

4. We have the urge to paint something yellow. We dream of yellow rooms, yellow t-shirts, yellow balloons, yellow snow shovels. There's not much sun in Chicago in February.

5. No mail on President's Day.

6. Take car through car wash. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again.

7. One word: Phlegm.

In a one mile radius

There is an intersection not far from our home. Within a one mile radius of this particular intersection, there are 4 church buidlings (2 conservative denominational outposts, 2 conservative non-demons). From what I can tell, these churches seem to mirror one another fairly closely when it comes to doctrinal belief and practice - and probably aren't too terribly distant from one another in their worship styles and preferences.

Why are there four congregations? Should there be? And what would life be like for the average member, for the ministries of the various congregational leaders, and for the reputation of Christ in the community if some of them were to merge? The answers aren't as simple as it would seem. Any thoughts, O readers?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For some weird reason, I have written a lot about paper products this week. I can't quite figure out why. Besides my previous post, I also sent an e-newsletter out this week that discussed paper towels and offered book give-away using the paper towel theme.

I can't explain this odd turn of events. The only paper product that is noticably absent from this week's posts is toilet paper.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some of us Van Loons have been handed microphones in order to tell people stuff. The jury is still out on whether this has been a good idea. I used to do announcements at our church in WI. Though many people remember the one that featured me hauling a couple of huge, bloody raw steaks out of a cooler to illustrate what people might consider bringing to the picnic, I like to think that my announcement-giving career had a lot of other highlights. And I have some warm (?) memories of watching our son Ben doing punk-style announcements when he was in the Master's Commission program at Souled Out Ministries. He had a mohawk, and his odd sense of humor and aggressive rebel yell of "next slide!" in order to cue the powerpoint people made for a memorable delivery. People may not have remembered what he said, but they sure remembered that he'd said it.

Check out this blog to see the logical conclusion of a career in announcement giving. Brilliant!

When a Kleenex isn't a Kleenex

Among the other stuff that piles into my e-mail "in box" each week is a newsletter from a website called Monday Morning Insight. Even though its aimed at evangelical pastors and church leaders, I subscribe to MMI because...

(a) I'm currently writing a book about the church ("The Church For Skeptics", to be published by FaithWalk Publishing later this year)
(b) I'm perpetually curious about what makes churches tick - or self-destruct
(c) My husband and I have been in church leadership in the past, and somehow, reading the various columns and news stories makes me feel like the sometimes crazy, always life-altering church experiences we've had are not just our lot in life.

The dudes who run the MMI site support the corporate, programmed side of the evangelical world, and feature lots of info. about various leadership conferences and trends. But every once in a while, one of their columnists will focus on something that reminds us how very mustard-seed-like the kingdom truly is.

This guy named Greg Atkinson wrote a little piece about the new Kleenex "Let It Out" ad campaign. The ads feature two people sitting on an Ikea-ugly couch in the middle of a city. One person sits and listens while the other person talks about something that touches them deeply. The speaker is ambushed by their emotions toward the end of the commercial, and reach for a Kleenex brand snotrag.

Though we from the church often ask questions ("Where will you spend eternity?"), Atkinson notes thtat these commercials are a visceral reminder of the incarnational calling of the church in the world. He wonders if maybe we church people are asking the wrong kinds of questions sometimes - and listening poorly to the people who most need to simply let it out at other times. Somehow, the man on the ugly couch with his box of Kleenex made it safe for people to tell their stories.

Atkinson asks, "I believe God works through local bodies of believers, but wouldn’t it be amazing, powerful and revolutionary for the Church to leave its four walls, set out a couch on the street and just listen to people’s stories as they pass by?"

A congregation can't do this. (Just imagine several hundred people trying to squish onto that ugly couch!)

But I can.

You can, too.

Al Gore, phone home

Dear Al,

The inconvenient truth is that it was nine degrees below zero this morning here in Chicago. I know you're very upset about global warming so I'd like to make you an offer you can't refuse:
You send us some global warming, and we'll send you some deep dish pizza. We'll throw in a passel of votes from dead people and prisoners, just to sweeten the pot.

Your friend, Michelle