I haven't heard anything about Jeff, which is both bad and good because that means he is not worsening, but he is not improving, either. It just isn't fair, he is legitimately one of those people who has no enemies, everyone likes Jeff. I'm going to visit him again on sunday with kimikai and jennifer (my sis), they are both really worried about him, too. It's going to be a long road to recovery for him, but I plan on being there if either he or his family need anything, it's just not fair for shit like this to happen to people like Jeff. Jeff, wherever you are right now, I'm thinking about you and sending good thoughts to you, I love you, hon.

SATIRE: Edgy church breaks old rules, insists on new ones
from larknews.com
At The Circle, a young, innovative church which meets in a renovated bus depot, there is no pulpit, platform or pastor, as such. The congregation rejects the labels "Christian" and "congregation," preferring "followers of Jesus" and "friendship community." There are no ushers, but rather "helpers." There is no worship team, but rather "God artists." And woe to anyone who affixes traditional church labels to any of it.

"God's doing a new thing here," says Mitch Townsend, the leader of the church. He shuns the "pastor" label and insists people call him, "Hey, man," or simply "Dude." If someone slips and calls him "pastor," he bristles and gently rebukes them.

"We got rid of all those old labels," he says. "There's no going back."

At the church office, which they never call a church office but rather "the Hub," secretaries, or "community action facilitators" as they are called here, tap-tap on computers (which they still call computers) and take calls. When a visitor slips up and refers to The Circle's "sanctuary," Dude Townsend cuts him short.

"Listen, it's not a sanctuary, it's a meeting place, a gathering place," he says, flushing red.

"Sorry, pastor," the visitor says.

"Not pastor," says Townsend. "Dude, or friend. Or just hey, Mitch."


"Sorry, Dude Mitch," the visitor says uncomfortably, and slinks away. Mitch quickly goes to him and hugs him.

"We're all about love and freedom here," he says. "I know it's hard to get used to."

At a Sunday morning "gathering," as services must be called, people sit in chairs arranged in circle around a "focal point" (not a platform) and listen to the team of God-artists play instruments and sing "songs of adoration and devotion to the Creator," as opposed to praise and worship music. The gathered "posse of Jesus followers" is free to sing along and to express themselves in any way that seems "real and authentic."

"We strive to be genuine here," says non-pastor "Hey, Jim" Richards, who in another setting might be called an associate pastor. "It's about being who you are, not fitting into a pre-determined box."

Before Dude Mitch's personal sharing time (which markedly resembles a sermon), one visitor raises her hand and says, "Is there going to be an altar call? Because I really want to give my life to Jesus today."

Dude Mitch answers quickly, "We don't have altar calls here; we have 'God moments' or 'Creator re-connects.' And we don't say 'give your life to Jesus,' but you may begin a lifelong love relationship with the Creator-Friend, if you like. But please wait until we are done with sharing time."

After the service, "new friends" join in the "kick-back hall" for refreshments and conversation with the Dudes and other Hub personnel. They may also join a mid-week "hang-out crew" of 10-12 people which meets in a home, and which is steadfastly not referred to as a "small group."

"Anyone who wants a break from normal, rigid church life is welcome at The Circle," says Townsend. •




Why fear the dark?
How can we help but love it
when it is the darkness
that brings the stars to us?
What's more: who does not know
that it is on the darkest nights
that the stars acquire
their greatest splendor?


- Dom Helder Camara (1909-1999), Brazilian Catholic archbishop