Wednesday, June 16

That's not how we do it!

Been awhile. . .

I've been involved in some discussions on other blogs and emails about this thing we call the church. Everything from the right and left and inbetween. My dissatisfaction with the church at large, as we now see it, continues to grow. Not as a vile thing that needs to be spit out, but as a loving thing that needs to be nursed back to health.

Overall, I wonder if our histories and traditions have taken precendence to our reason for existing. How many people leave this place called church agreeing with Marx that religion is simply an 'opiet for the masses"? I do my church dance on Sunday morning, go home with a good feeling, and that's that. I start to imagine God smiling on me because I sit in a pew, listening to some feel-good music while I stare at the pretty artwork. What the hell has happened to God's people? Are we so numb to the existence of our loving God that we reduce his actions in this world to a pretty building? "Welcome to God's house!" the visitor sign reads. "Wow, I guess this is where god lives. . .we should come visit more often. . . like, maybe every sunday morning! Yeah, that'd be a good idea!"

Do you remember the time before Constantine? I don't, but this is what I know. In 313 the Emperor of Rome, Constantine, made Christianity legal. Before that time christians huddled in homes to praise God for loving them. They read their bibles in secret. They shared the good news, the truth about a saving God, to their family and friends with the threat of death always at their door. When Constantine made Christianity legal, it was a huge turning point. Churches went up and people no longer had to worship silently in their homes.
Sounds great. Sounds wonderful. But fast forward about 1700 years and what do you have? You have people who leave all this god-stuff at god's house and go home and get on with their lives. Church became a building, instead of a life. And the message of truth begins to mean so much less. I begin to do the church dance.



I thought I'd share a few quotes that have been sticking with me the past week or so.


"Emerging leaders sense not only change coming to our churches, but the critical need for change. In many churches it has already arrived. The emerging leaders of those churches are beginning to reshape and rethink church and the Spirit of God is doing wonderful things. But there is still a growing restlessness in many hearts and minds. People are emotionally pacing back and forth waiting and longing for change in the church to finally arrive."
Dan Kimball - Emerging Worship



"We don't display our respect for and loyalty to our fathers and mothers in the faith simply by repeating their words (although their words bear repeating). Instead, we go farther by imitating their example, by doing as they did: bringing (under the guidance of the Holy Spirit) resources from the gospel story to bear on the new situations that face us today, situations that have come to fruition in part because of the success of the gospel in undermining the status quo of the past again and again."
Brian D. McLaren - The Church in Emerging Culture

Thursday, June 3

I'm Not Ashamed

CPH - (Concordia Publishing House)

Ok, so I like CPH just as much as the next guy. . . .hahahah, wait, no I don't.
(This post might be funny for you, but will be especially funny if you're a 20-something youth worker.) Here's the deal. CPH is horrible. I have an entire file cabinet dedicated to resource companies. Can you guess how many files are for CPH material? If I had my way there wouldn't be any, but I keep a current catalog handy just in case someone from my church wants to comment about how I never use CPH material. Just so I can ask them to point out what items are so great that I should be using tbem.

Here at St. Paul, we're gearing up for VBS next week. At our church this is a huge thing. We're a small church of about 400 people, but we'll see about 250 kids for VBS, most of whom aren't involved in our church otherwise. I get pulled in as a music leader for VBS, which is fine for me. I like leading music, and I think I'm kind of good at it. With that being said, let me, please oh please, run down some of the music/lyrics that CPH has graced us with in this years CPH VBS Curriculum, Construction I.N.C.

Rick the Brick, in all his glory

No it's not Spongebob, or is it?

Leave it to CPH to write a song titled "Here I Stand" (Subtitled, "No I don't have a Luther Complex, go away)
Lyrics in this gem include "Here I stand by grace alone. . . .Through faith alone."
Now, don't get me wrong, theologically I think CPH puts out great stuff, but this is a song supposedly written for 3 year olds to sing. Give me a break.

It reminds me of last years VBS theme song that included this line: "He was missed by the shepard who knew that he often had wandered." It was in a fast song too. The teachers could barely get through singing that line.


About a year ago I was in a meeting with local DFW-Lutheran church workers when someone mentioned that CPH wanted to start marketing themselves to other denominations, not just Lutheran. You know what happened? The room burst into laughter. The only reason any of us use it is because we're told we have to use it. I'm sorry to offend, but the stuff is generally horrible for youth materials. I feel sorry for my friends in ministry who are in churches that force CPH on them like it's pure gold. Some churches are so locked in that they won't use a resource unless it has that CPH stamp. What a load. Companies like Youth Specialties and Group are amazing for youth materials. Why? Because they're written by youth workers who know what kind of things will work and what kind of things kids will just laugh at and go back to their XBOX's. Oh wait, that's what I do too. . .

Wednesday, June 2

Do what you will.

I think my least favorite place to go on this planet is inside a christian bookstore. Today I went to Mardel, where I was pleased to see books such as:

What Would Jesus Eat?

Woman, thou art loosed: Recipes from T.D. Jakes

And of course, my personal favorite. . . .
The Makers Diet.
This one you've got to see. The cover looks oddly like the South Beach Diet books.


I just hate going into a place where WWJD bracelets abound, (for only 99 cents now!) And picking out a bible cover is like picking new jeans from A&F. What a bunch of crap. . .

Tuesday, May 25

The purpose driven lifeguard.

Several of my high school summers were spent working as a lifeguard for the city. I had my training, got my red swimsuit, and off I went. I liked the jobs. They were mostly fun with little hard work. I was always nervous, though, whenever I watched the pool. I always had an uneasy feeling about me as I scanned the swimmers, thinking that at any moment someone was sure to start drowning and need my assistance. I always feared what I would fail to see.
It’s an odd thing being in the life-saving business, and I guess lifeguarding is the closest I’ll ever get to being a medical professional. You see, when you’re the lifeguard, you’re the end-all life-saving guru within the fence. Sure you might have to call 9-11 for big emergencies, but you’re trained to pull a dying body out of the deep end and bring them back to life. But here’s the kicker . . .You aren’t the only one who can do this job, but you are the one the people have designated to save lives. Most groups of people are able to watch each other and know when someone’s in trouble and needs help. (It doesn’t take a genius to see when someone is drowning.) The lifeguard, however, is assigned the task of watching over others, and ensuring that the life-saving goes off without a hitch. It’s not that other people can’t do it, it’s just that some people think it’s best for one person to be selected as the lifeguard.

Now, I told you that so I could tell you this:
One afternoon at the pool, I’m sitting on the stand scanning the pool. It’s hard to see directly below you on a lifeguard stand, and typically the lifeguard will tell swimmers to stay out of that area. Anyhow, across the pool, underneath a lifeguard stand, I notice a young girl who is in obvious trouble. She is swimming with a friend who is right by her side. Her friend, a capable swimmer, could easily reach out an arm and pull the girl to the ledge, as it was only a few feet away. Instead of helping, the friend begins to climb out of the pool and taps on the lifeguard’s foot. Looking up, the girl tells the lifeguard that her friend needs help and points her out. The lifeguard, upon noticing the helpless girl, leaps off the stand and reaches out......




I hate to do this, but...
Normally I would want to just lay out a story and let the reader dig for themselves. This time, however, I want to add direction to the thoughts. I’ve had church tradition on my mind lately, and I wonder how many things started as merely good ideas, but have now snowballed into necessities for ‘true worship.’

Friday, May 21

A few quick things

Came across a couple sites that caught my eye. Nothing serious, just for fun. . .

See an aerial view of wherever.

The moon landing.

Wednesday, May 19

HTML Crazy

Haven't said much in awhile. I was gone for a couple days, and lazy once I was back.

So when I got that new template up a couple weeks ago I went a little nuts editing and rewriting. Along the way I'm sure I screwed a lot of things up, but hey, it was fun. I went ahead and scrapped what I had done to pick up one of bloggers new templates. It's cookie cutter, but it gets the job done, and I'm less likely to mess things up.

Thanks to an inadvertent recommendation from Adam I wanted to try hosting a picture over at image shack and this was about the only funny picture I could find on my computer. It's especially funny when you know the people in it.



Friday, May 7

Thus sayeth Disney

So the New York Times brings out a piece yesterday telling more about Disney's refusal to distribute Michael Moore's film Fahrenheit 9/11. The article isn't too long, but here's a few things the writer has to say:

"A company that ought to be championing free expression has instead chosen to censor a documentary that clearly falls within the bounds of acceptable political commentary."

The writer ends the piece by saying "it is clear that Disney loves its bottom line more than the freedom of political discourse."


-Maybe Disney's goal isn't political discourse.
-Maybe Disney's goal is entertainment for their paying customers.
-Maybe Disney can choose to market whatever they want.
-Maybe I should make a movie and demand Disney distribute it.
-Maybe Michael Moore shouldn't worry because there are many other companies who will gladly distribute his film.
-Maybe you remember how no one said a word about a movie called 'The Passion of The Christ' that no one would distribute. Where was the NY Times writer when that happened?

Thursday, May 6

In reference to something else

I read a post on blaugustine earlier today that got me going. Check out the article titled "Fighting for Civilization". It's just a response to the recent actions by American soldiers in prisoner camps. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Anyhow, check out the article; this was the response I posted:

-------------------------------------------------------------
Those who compare these atrocities to the actions taken by an entire regime belittle the magnitude of horror imposed upon people in other nations. Our country does not condone the actions taken in that prison and the guilty are being punished. Comparing that to a country that openly allowed and utilized things far worse is simply wrong. Bush haters will use this to try and show corruption; which is ridiculously unjustified. We have a leader who has openly stated that these actions are not condoned by this country, and action is being taken to ensure these kinds of things don’t happen again.
Were these actions wrong? Of course.
Has Bush been working to ensure they don’t happen again? Yes.
Shouldn’t we be pleased the government is taking steps [to] right the wrong?

Nah, you all are right. The actions of a few moron prison guards represent our entire country. We should just nuke ourselves and get it over with. Oh wait, but if we take the actions of a few and let them represent the whole, then we have to take this much further:

Radical Islam now represents all Muslims
Michael Moore represents all liberals
PETA represents all animal-lovers
The Crusades represent all Christians
Hugh Hefner represents all men
And Pam Anderson represents all women.

I guess you are all right. That was much easier.
------------------------------------------------------------


Please oh freakin please do not ever let an action in the name of [fill in your cause] construe your image of [fill in your cause].

Wednesday, May 5

As simple as I could imagine

Once in 3rd grade a friend of mine named Brett didn't want to play anymore. We were at recess so I went and complained to the teacher that she had to make Brett play with me. She just suggested I play with another group. What a horrible teacher.

Later that same school year, I tried to trade a 'How to Draw people' book with a kid from another class for his pencil holder. It was one of those cool ones that had compartments for everything. He wouldn't trade and I was mad. How dare he not make the deal with me? Didn't he see how great the deal was? I'm sure that guys in jail by now.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having the right to choose what or whom to publish/produce/support is not censorship. It is not a trampling of any speech freedoms. It is, in fact, an example of just how free our speech really is. Mike, you can say all you want about censorship. We know, however, that our choices make us free. Even if, from time to time, someone chooses against you. Welcome to our America Mike. You have to earn the right to be heard. And even then, it's our right not to listen.

Oh how times are changing

I changed things a few weeks ago, and I wasn't really satisfied with how the blog looked. I think now I'm getting closer to a template that I really enjoy. Things I'll still change soon:

- Text all over the place. It still looks a little hard to read.
- Mess around a little more with the toolbar section on the left.
- Eventually I'd like to host the site elsewhere, so I won't be under bloggers regime

Other than that, welcome to the newness.

Monday, May 3

Only so I don't forget

Tonight, upon reviewing the Lakers/Spurs game, Charles Barkley had this to say:

[In refernce to Karl Malone's age]


"my name is Charles Barkley, I used to be a great basketball player. Now I'm just a fat-ass guy"


followed by another great oneliner:

"Sports are not for old guys. . . this ain't baseball"


Sir Charles is my hero.

Thursday, April 29

On a lighter note.

Here are a few thoughts on the NBA playoffs. Hopefully this will bring some lively discussion.
Bracket



Western Conference

Lakers beat Houston last night. On most accounts, I enjoy seeing the Lakers get beat down with no mercy, so I was a little dissapointed. However, the one plus side to the Lakers victory in round 1 is that now the Spurs will be able to, once again, beat the crap out of the dirty dirty Lakers.


Mavericks are playing the Kings tonight. Sorry boys, but like Sir Charles said last year, get your fishing stuff out. Dallas might be able to take one game in Sacramento, but not two.

Minnesota will beat the Nuggets tonight; no big surprise.




Eastern Conference

Now, onto the eastern conference. . . .


HAHAH, just kidding. . . . . . . . . . .freakin east.



Tuesday, April 27

I just got the book. These stories are from the 60's and wonderfully relevant. . . . .

The Innovator: And other Modern Parables
By: G. William Jones



Creatures of Habit

Hiram was a good man - a good farmer too. The crops had paid off well at the last harvest, and he and his wife felt quite snug and secure in their little home now that winter was coming on.

Only one thing bothered Hiram - the old barn. Its roof was leaky, there were a few boards rotted off the sides, and the dirt floor was uneven so that puddles collected when it rained and soon turned into indoor quagmires. Hiram was a sensitive soul, who really loved his animals, and he winced to remember last winter when the worst storm blew sleet right through the old barn from one end to the other. The horses' water froze solid, and the little calves had ugly yellow icicles hanging from their muzzles.

Rising from his chair so quickly that he startled his wife, Hiram went to the phone and called Moco Edwards.
"That new barn I was talking to you about?" he reminded Moco. "I want it. Start right away so's it'll be finished before the real cold weather sets in."

Nothing had pleased Hiram quite so much in a long time as watching that new barn go up. It pleased Moco too, because Hiram had insisted that nothing but the best materials and workmanship go into it. He and his wife were going to be mighty comfortable this winter in their house, Hiram reasoned, so why shouldn't his animals be comfortable too? He had even had a thermostatically controlled heater installed.

As it happened, the finishing touches on the new barn were completed just the day before the first cold snap was due to hit. An orderly man who liked to do things one clear step at a time, Hiram had Moco's workmen tear down the old barn that very day, leaving nothing but the outline of the old foundation.

That night Hiram proudly ushered his animals into their new home and pulled the doors shut, warm and tight. In his warm bed Hiram enjoyed not having to worry about his animals, and not feeling guilty about them being in a cold, drafty barn while he was in a snug house.

Next morning Hiram and the Mrs. set out early for town, leaving the barn doors open for the animals in case it should turn bad. While they were in town the wind began to blow, it began to rain, and the temperature dropped to freezing, turning the rain into sleet. Hiram didn't feel a bit uneasy though, thinking of his cattle and horses filing into the new barn.

When they returned to the farm early that evening, Hiram went out to the barn. When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the warm inside, he saw that there wasn't a single animal there.

Puzzled and frightened he ran outside to scan the fields, seeing nothing. Then, behind the barn he saw all his animals. Miserable, huddled together, with drifts of sleet and snow heaped on their backs, his cattle and horses stood within the vague outline of the foundation where the old barn had once stood.

Thursday, April 22

Wednesday I got hit

David likes to hit me.
It's not all so bad, though, he's only 12.

His mom died Sunday evening. She's had cancer for 5 years. She was only supposed to live about a year after she heard the news. David's mom has been dying since he was 7. He's used to it by now.
The psychologist would probably say David hits alot because that's his way of showing his emotions. It's playful hitting, but hitting nonetheless. Doctors would say he doesn't know how to show his feelings yet, so he just hits. Like a little boy on the playground who pulls the girls hair because he doesn't know how to say 'you look pretty today.'

I don't know why David hits me when I walk by. I know I'll let him keep doing it as long as he wants, because we have great conversations while we're hitting each other.


Yesterday afternoon a lid was closed; and now the only time David will see his mom again this side of heaven will be in pictures and in his memories. She was burried about an hour from here, next to her grandparents. David has two brothers, and he's the oldest. God I hope our church is more than a building. . . . . .

Wednesday, April 21

New Old Books

Several weeks ago my pastor showed me a book he's had in his collection for quite some time. It was a small book; a backpocket kind of book. The Innovator: And other modern Parables. By G. William Jones. It was published in the 60's. It is a fantastic collection of parables. I have yet to read one that doesn't make my brain spin round for awhile. Jones has this to say about teaching through stories.

"As professional observers and students of life and the world, teachers and preachers tend to think of their role as one of predigestion. Much as the mother Eskimo chews up her food, then transfers it to the toothless mouth of her baby, school and church communicators observe actual occurrences and experiences, extract from them their 'kernal of truth,' then turn to give their hearers only the bare kernel, shed of its 'confusing' trappings. The prejudice seems to be that a straightforward 'A+B=C' approach is the clearest and therefore most understandable and meaningful form of
communication from one mind to another. . . .If I want my listener not only to hear, but also to understand, then I must give him room to work on what I am saying and his own share of the communicative task to do. If I make what I sense to be the 'truth' of what I am saying as explicit as possible, then I have taken away his work from him and done it myself. I have forced him back into the passive stance. However, if I am willing to let the 'truth' in what I am saying remain implicit, then his share of the work - the interpretation, or making the implicit explicit - is left for him. My speaking becomes an
invitation for his involvement. He may not do his explicating the way I would have done it. He may not come up with the same kernel of truth of which I was thinking when I told the parable. I take the risk that 'hearing, he will not understand.' But I also encounter the possibility that in rummaging about for himself in the parable, he may come up with a truth that is
truer than my truth. At any rate, whatever he gets from the experience will be his truth which he garnered himself, and not my truth to which he could only give either mental assent or rejection. (and neither of these latter possibilities is very dynamic)"




I've only been able to find the book for sale at Biblio.com
(And to think, this was published way before anyone said the words 'emergent church')



And with that, here's one of his parables, The Diamond

A tattered prospector entered the Great Glass City one day. Riding his mule down streets between dazzling glass buildings, he shouted "I've found it - the stone of great price!"
A few curious passers-by stopped and crowded around him.
"Look!" he shouted ecstatically, holding a large uncut diamond before their gaze. "It's a diamond!"
"Looks just like glass to me," said one lay expert, "and downright inferior glass, at that. All melted looking. Must have been fused by the Blast. Curious."
With this assesment the crowd began to disperse.
"No! No! Look again!" cried the prospector. "It's valuable, exceedingly valuable!"
"If you want to see something exceedingly valuable, take a gander at THIS!" said a millionaire in the crowd, extending a knuckle circled by a large, ruby-colored, cut glass ring.
After the "ooohs" and "aaahs" of the crowd died down, the prospector protested, "No! My diamond is far more valuable than your glass, no matter how beautiful your glass, nor how ugly my stone. Here let me show you," he said, taking the millionaire's ring firmly in his grasp. With his diamond the prospector scratched a very small "X" on the surface of the ruby-colored glass.
"There! see?" he said, stepping back from his work. "Do you see now how the diamond is greater than the glass? Diamond scratches glass, but glass can't scratch diamond!"
"Ye gods, you stupid idiot!" screamed the millionaire, looking closely at his ring. "You've ruined a ten-thousand-dollar work of the glassmaker's art!"
The prospector was thrown in prison for three years.
At the end of the third year, when he was released from prison, the prospector marched straightway to enact a plan he had been formulating all these years in his dungeon. Boldly he approached the Wonderous Shring of Multicolored Glass at the center of the Great Glass City. (The residents had a habit of gathering there on their day off to watch the amazing display of colored lights on the colored glass, and then going home with a good feeling.) The prospector stepped resolutely up to the mammoth center panel of the glass shrine and with his diamond inscribed an eight-foot circle in its surface. Then he tapped the circle lightly with his forefinger. The sound of shattering glass brought a mob on the run. Pleased at the response, the prospector held the diamond aloft and was about to begin speaking when they all cried out, as if with one voice, "Just LOOK what you've done to our shrine!"
With this they began pelting him with glass cobblestones, old bottles, and shards from the shattered shrine until he was quite covered by them, and quite dead. Only the diamond, still clutched in the prospectors dead fist, projected above the pile of vitreous debris.
In the days that followed the incident, some heathens, heretics, atheists, doubters, and malcontents in that great city began to form a society devoted to the carrying on of the prospector's message about diamond being more valuable than glass. They also devoted themselves to the living-out of the implications of such a revolutionary thesis. And so they too were persecuted, and many were killed. (It may be of passing interest to some readers to not that, rather than being called 'diamond lovers,' they were called 'glass haters')
But posterity has been more kind to the prospector and his memory. Around that original pile of glass, still topped with the bone-held diamond, is today a large and most impressive shring of the finest multicolored glass that money can buy. The residents of the Great Glass City have a habit of gathering there on their day off to watch the spectacular displays of colored lights on the colored glass, and then going home with a good feeling.

Friday, April 16

Today I cleaned my shoes.

Yesterday I found mud on the side of a pair of nice brown shoes I wear to work. Usually they're shiny and have that squared toe that makes them look trendy. Thursday they were muddy. I didn't notice the mud until I got to work. Seeing the mud made me my breath stop, as if it were an evil thing. But it was only mud. I'm sure I must have smiled when I realized why the mud was on my nice, shiny working shoes. . . . . .




Monday afternoon I was standing in the mud wearing nice clothes and shiny brown shoes with a squared off toe. If you live in Texas, you know that Monday afternoon was rainy and colder than normal for the day after Easter. That's why it was muddy. I stood in the mud with other people wearing nice clothes, most dressier than mine. So I'm sure it was a bigger deal for them that their shoes were getting muddy. Some people sat, but on benches, not in the mud. The ones who sat were under a cover, because of the rain. There were flowers. . .lots of flowers. A few words were spoken, and with the words some people cried. I saw old men pat each others backs, just the way young boys do. . .they didn't look like tough old men today. They looked meek and weary.
When it was finished, people began to leave. The ones sitting left first, because they were to be followed. Some of the flowers were taken, and through tears people talked quietly. I was silent. I'm never good at speaking when people don't need to hear words. For what else is there to say?

Thursday I left the mud on my shoes all day while I was at work. But this morning before I left I washed it all off. I cleaned them with windex and a paper towel. The mud is gone. The square toe looks trendy and they're shiny again.

Friday, April 9

Real Live Preacher Props

If you haven't checked out Real Live Preacher you need to get in there and do some reading. At this point you'll have alot to go through, so I encourage you to spend some time milling about, reading what's up. His latest post, called All the right questions makes me feel good inside. I just don't have any other way to describe it. I guess it reminds me of my time at camp. Simple living.

Thursday, April 8

Change it up.

Well here it is, a new template for the 'ol blog. Nothing too crazy, mainly just color changes and what not. My main concern is always the difficulty in distinguishing between posts, so now the dates are bigger and colored. Hopefully the new site is easier to take in. Maybe if I'm lucky, one of these days I'll actually pay for a site that will let me change things much easier. Some place to store files and what not. I think the archives are still a little hairy, so that's still to be hammered out.
-Peace-

15 people go into a room: Freedom vs. Protection

[Read the previous post before you read this one. . . . pretty please]

Let's play a game.



15 people will enter a room. Your job is to keep these people safe.
At least one of the people will hurt or kill someone else.
What do you do?


Here are a few suggestions:

Search them for weapons?
You gotta be kidding me. That's an invasion of privacy.


Look into their history or background?
Well, maybe, but only if you have reason to believe they're the potential criminal. And you have to prove it before you can check.


Only allow people into the room who you know won't hurt anybody?
HaHa you stink at this game, that's hardcore discrimination again. Don't you know our room is a melting pot?!


Don't let them interact with one another?
I guess that could work, but you're still infringing on their rights. So nope.



Ok, game over. No love. . . .


So where in America is the government keeping people safer than anywhere else in the country?
Solitary confinement.

Now we cry for preemption

So I'm listening to Condoleezza Rice testify in front of the 9-11 commission this morning, and some of it irks me. But I'll get to that in a second. First I want to lay some groundwork.

The whole premise for the 9-11 commission is fine by me. America was attacked. Let's take every opportunity to learn how the attacks happened and what we can do to stop them in the future. Along these same lines, let's look at how a terrorist network was able to pull off these attacks, or any for that matter, without being stopped by the people and institutions charged with protecting us. If ineptness is found at the top, or if a lack of response to overwhelming evidence of a coming attack is found, further action must be taken.

Now, onto the committee. Here's what rubs me wrong with the whole thing.

During her testimony, Rice fielded questions based on the Bush administrations previous knowledge about the coming 9-11 attacks. She made it clear that this was a problem spanning multiple presidents, influenced by both parties. Fine, whatever, that sounds like the truth to me. Because it's obvious the Bush administration had the power to stop the attacks, it's also key to note that the terrorists were living in our country during the Clinton administration. Yadda yadda, we already know all this. But here's where I get ticked about the whole argument. . .

To say that the Bush administration could have/should have stopped the 19 highjackers brings up, yet again, the hot topic of preemption. Groups like the ACLU say we can be free from government intrusion and secure at the same time. They claim the government should be able to preemptively stop any attack on America, but the government isn't allowed to gather information about the people inside our borders that might help in process. (Civil liberties vs. civil rights)
Here's the part that makes no sense about this whole preemptive notion.
While so many people are screaming at the Bush administration, or the government in general, about their failure to stop these attacks, can you imagine the uproar that would have occurred if, on Sept. 4, 2001, 19 people were arrested by military personal?! There would have been unimaginable outcries from the so-called civil liberties groups shouting discrimination, infringement of privacy and whole hosts of other crap that I'm not smart enough to know about. What if the 19 highjackers hadn't even been allowed in our country because of their terrorist affiliations? Can you imagine the protests that would have ensued. (All this, for men who would later instigate 9-11)

My only complaint with the 9-11 hearings are when questions revolve around preemption. The same people who want America to be secure are the same people who cry foul when the government takes preemptive action. For an example of how the ACLU's idea that we can be free and secure is full of crap, check out the next post. If you don't care about it, then peace out.