Using Yahoo! Go

A friend of mine is work­ing at Yahoo and he men­tioned that I should real­ly give the spe­cial Yahoo pro­gram for cell phones a try (just browse to mobile.yahoo.com with your cell phone and you should be prompt­ed to install it). So I down­loaded it and he’s right — it’s awe­some!

One of its nifti­er fea­tures is that it’s super-easy to upload pic­tures direct­ly to Flickr from my cell phone. So I’ve just uploaded some stuff I’ve been sit­ting on for ages.

Any­way, expect to see some more ran­dom pic­tures from my cell phone now and then in addi­tion to the pho­tos Paula uploads to our fam­i­ly gallery

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Typo at Stanford

I’ve been mean­ing to blog this for­ev­er, but I kept for­get­ting. On the first floor of the ren­o­vat­ed Old Union is an acrylic sign telling the his­to­ry of the build­ing.

For the longest time (months) it had a glar­ing typo (I think it’s been fixed since I took this pho­to). It real­ly amused me.
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If you have a hard time see­ing it, look under the word Union or click on the pic­ture to view it with the error high­light­ed.

It's Not About Me

Our Col­lege Win­ter Con­fer­ence

is this week­end, and I’m in charge. So for the last few days I’ve been bom­bard­ed with phone calls or urgent emails relat­ing to some minor cri­sis about the event. It reached a fever pitch yes­ter­day when I received a mes­sage about every ten min­utes (or so it seemed).

That’s not a big deal — it’s what you sign on for when you agree to direct a retreat or con­fer­ence.

How­ev­er, I also had to preach last night.

Being inter­rupt­ed every ten min­utes does not lend itself to robust ser­mon prepa­ra­tion. I’m very par­tic­u­lar about my ser­mon prepa­ra­tion rou­tine. I like to research my top­ic thor­ough­ly, write out what I intend to say word for word, and then rehearse it (at least once, prefer­ably twice). When speak­ing in the evening, I usu­al­ly man­u­script in the morn­ing and rehearse in the after­noon. That did­n’t hap­pen yes­ter­day.

The bot­tom line is that I walked into last night’s meet­ing less pre­pared for a ser­mon than I have been in years. I felt cer­tain that the mes­sage was going to be a flop.

While deliv­er­ing it, I felt as though I was fum­bling for words and ram­bling inco­her­ent­ly.

But at the end of the evening, one stu­dent prayed to receive Christ and anoth­er prayed to reded­i­cate her­self to Christ.

It was a hum­bling reminder that it’s not about me and my prepa­ra­tion; it’s about God using bro­ken ves­sels to achieve His will.

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Science, Faith, and Chocolate Chip Cookies

Yes­ter­day we were giv­ing away free home­made choco­late-chip cook­ies on White Plaza, and we got all sorts of won­der­ful reac­tions. My favorite was from a mas­ter’s stu­dent in engi­neer­ing who grabbed a cook­ie and then looked at the poster next to the cook­ie pile.

It was an adver­tise­ment for the upcom­ing Fran­cis Collins talk watch corvette sum­mer online the man who would be king online down­load

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down­load bar­bie of swan lake movie . If the name does­n’t ring a bell, Collins coor­di­nat­ed the Human Genome Project that decod­ed human DNA. He’s also a fol­low­er of Christ.

Any­way, this guy just stared at the poster for about a minute, befud­dle­ment sprawled across his face. He looked at the pic­ture of Collins on the cov­er of Nature mag­a­zine. He read his sci­en­tif­ic cre­den­tials. And then he read the top­ic of the lec­ture again. Then he sort of mur­mured, “Wait. This can’t be right. This does­n’t make any sense.”

So we explained that yes, Fran­cis Collins real­ly is one of the world’s lead­ing geneti­cists. And yes, he real­ly does believe in Jesus. And he’s going to be talk­ing about it Stan­ford.

The stu­dent said he’d be there, and I hope he does show up. He seemed quite earnest. There are a lot of stu­dents on cam­pus who don’t allow them­selves to con­sid­er God seri­ous­ly because they assume that sci­ence and faith are by def­i­n­i­tion opposed to one anoth­er. We hope that by show­ing them a world-class sci­en­tist who loves God we can dis­pel some of that prej­u­dice.

I love this job.