One of my earliest memories -- say from when I was four or five years old -- is the awareness that I have a very unusual first name.

And early on, I didn't like it.

First, it was easy to make all kinds of vaguely insulting nicknames out of it.  TalBUTT was the name of choice my older brother gave me while Tablet was the selection from some tennis playing friends.

Second, even if folks weren't giving me not-so-flattering nicknames, they still get it wrong on first introduction.  Especially over the phone.  "Calvin who?" they'll say on the other end.  "Nice to meet you Albert," is what I hear in person.

Finally, in more recent years I've encountered people who even if they know what my name is nevertheless don't know how to pronounce it.  Talbert is the most common, and in certain sections of Union County, North Carolina, it's Preacher Talbert.  Better than Pastor TalBUTT, I suppose.

Why all this interest in my name today?

Because Carolina Panthers' tight end Greg Olsen and his wife Kara recently became parents of fraternal twins, a boy named T.J. and a girl named . . . Talbot.  Yes, a girl named Talbot.  As if the burden wasn't heavy enough already.

The Olsen's story is front page news here in Charlotte because while little Talbot is in fine health, her brother T.J. had successful open heart surgery shortly after delivery.  You can read about the family here. 


Well, maybe Talbot Olsen signifies a trend: my name's not so bad after all.  Gender bending? Maybe.  A blessing?  Perhaps.  Unique?  For sure.

Here are the five top things about having Talbot as a first name:

1.   When you hear it in public, you know it's you they're calling for.  I can safely say that I've never heard my named called out in a crowd and turned to ask, "which one?"

2.   I can spell it well.  I long ago gave up pronouncing it on the phone to people who don't know me.  If strangers ask me my first name on the phone, I simply spell T-A-L-B-O-T.

3.  I never got called by my last name, even in high school.  Nope.  No one ever called me "Davis."  What would be the point?  We had "Barnes" or "Howard" but I was always my first name.

4.  It has a sense of family history.  My paternal grandmother -- who died many, many years before I was even born -- was named Nancy Virginia Talbot (then she married a Davis).  I have an older sister named Nancy and another older sister named Virginia. 

5.  Julie liked it.  From the day we met in my sophomore year of college, Julie thought my name was interesting and fitting.  So we got married.


 

Over the last few weeks, I've bought two CDs.

The first one was the new release by Mumford & Sons, surely one of the few rock acts ever to use banjo, fiddle, and stand up bass and still look cool.


The second purchase was of a new CD by Band Of Horses, a modern band with the throwback sound of CSNY, America, and the early Eagles.  In fact, this disc is so early 70s and Laurel Canyon that I've been tempted to start singing Tequila Sunrise while listening to it -- even though BOH does all originals and no covers.


But this post isn't about music.  

It's about commerce.

Because my children (23 and 20) consider it almost inconceivable that I buy music in CD format.  To them, music is something you download, and I'm wasting time, money, and space by actually going to a store and buying something so . . . tangible.

And what is true of modern music is true of movies and books as well.  We are quickly becoming people who no longer buy things; we buy binary codes.

In short order, we will no longer have a tactile experience with the music we listen to, the movies we watch, or the books we read.

In fact, when the people of Good Shepherd lift their bibles before the sermon these days, a lot of them raise  the mobile devices on which their bible is stored.  At least I hope that's what they're doing with those mobile devices during church.

And an increasing number of preachers -- younger, hipper, and cooler than me -- are preaching from their iPads instead of their leather-bound bibles.

So what is the future of commerce when you can never touch what you buy?

And where is purchasing headed when the money you use to buy those things you'll never touch is itself embedded in computer codes, moving from your bank account to a company's deposit system?

 Perhaps I shouldn't be too alarmed.

After all if anyone has some experience trading in what is intangible, it's those of us who preach the Gospel.

Modern commerce may be turning the tangible into the intangible.

But the ancient church has always gone in the reverse direction -- taking the intangible and making it tangible.

If you've ever tasted the bread of communion or been immersed in the waters of baptism, you know exactly what I mean.

It's a new look at an old story.

And it comes from looking at what the story doesn't say.

That's right: we're going to learn what a bible passage teaches by studying what it omits.

It's one of my favorite ways of looking at Scripture.

And one of my favorite messages to give.

So before Sunday, take a fresh look at a familiar story:  Luke 19:1-10.

And jot down some things there that are missing.

We'll put those pieces together on Sunday and we'll arrive at Gospel Approval.

Sunday.

8:30. 10.  11:30.

Earlier this week, about 80 people from Good Shepherd gathered together the reflect, to pray, and to dream into the next season of the church's life.

We're calling it Dream-A-Palooza, and we're asking for folks to devote three consecutive Monday night to help us envision where God is leading us as a community.

So people assembled themselves around circular tables and shared memories of how their faith had come to life while part of this church . . .


. . . anecdotes of when the church itself most comes to life . . .

. . . and what new ministry ideas are yearning to be brought to life in this next chapter of the church's history.


More, much more is in store soon.