This week I found a doorknob hanger on my front entry. There was a picture of what looked like a hotel headboard and two sets of pillows. Below the photo was written: "DO NOT DISTURB—stay in bed on Sunday mornings! Attend Lake Pointe Church Saturday night at 6 p.m."

I thought this was most helpful. I find that after a week of lugging around a cross and repetitive self-denial I am sometimes too worn out to drag my weary bones into church for their 11 a.m. Sunday service. Clearly some dear shepherd of the flock is holding my needs close to his heart.

If it turns out that this church has adequate parking, reclining theater seats and cup holders, I think I might go hearken to some shyster telling me how to become all that God wants me to be.

Also this week I heard someone expressing his wish that the entire church be more diverse in its liturgy. This too sounds helpful. Diversity is something we all long for.

I was blessed to be born into a non-fundamentalist home where a respectful distance was maintained between the children and honky-tonk piano-bangers. (Emergence hadn't yet come into existence due to an insufficient number of idiots in the population.) It wasn't until I got a bit older that I realized liturgical diversity meant permitting the most banal twaddle in the church house.

It occurred to me that it would be a rich blessing if your kids were raised along the same lines I was raised, where diversity meant more than an excuse to savage tender sensibilities; where the pieties of past Christians were considered rather than the shallow self-interests of contemporary reprobates.

For those of you who might care to try real diversity, check this out: One Thousand Years of Ukrainian Sacred Music.

I don't imagine most of you will like it, and I don't suppose anything here will find its way into a contemporary "hymnbook", but it will leave you prepared to discuss diversity with the next kid you see in church with a bass guitar.