What sign can you do?

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John 6:30-35 If I wasn't in the same boat as these sinners following Jesus I would probably be laughing right in their face. I often wonder how Jesus kept from rolling on the grass laughing at what some people do. Today we hear the crowd ask Him, "What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you? What can you do?..." Is this not the same crowd who in verse 2 we are told - "followed him, because they saw the signs he was performing on the sick ."? Are these not the same people who in verse 14 " when they saw the sign he had done, they said, "This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world."? Yet still they seek a sign. However, they are not seeking a sign so that they might believe, they are wanting to be fed. Jesus worked a "sign" with the loaves and the fishes and now they want Him to do it again. Wisely, Jesus is using their bellies to get to their hearts; He is using earthly things to move them,
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Extreme Male Award

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It finally happened! I was elected "Extreme Male" by the guys in my homebrew prayer group. The prayer group is comprised of a group of friends who get together to pray and exchange recipes, beer recipes that is. After prayer, and a few samples brew, we exchange stories about family, work, and life in general.

After some sampling of the Hahn Hoppy Red Ale there arose a contest of sorts with the gentlemen of the group working to one-up each other with our manliness. Of course the whole thing sprang from a discussion about the recent deer gun season.

Steve told us that after waiting in the driving rain all day Friday, he shot a 12-point buck. He had to drag it out of the woods by himself. This is no small potatoes and we were all impressed. However, Josh mentioned that one time he was out turkey hunting and was attacked by a wild boar that he eventually killed with a Bowie knife he was carrying. Many of us were doubtful about the truth of this story and wondered if the Hoppy wasn't just making him happy.

The discussion went on for quite some time when I decided to pull out the trump card. "I change my kid's diapers," I said in a firm voice while lighting my pipe.

Matt gave a laugh, "we've all changed diapers Jim, not a big deal tough guy."

I knew this would be the reply so I continued, "they're cloth diapers, not disposable." I blew out the match and placed in the ash tray.

Josh slowly lowered his bottle from his mouth and said, almost shuttering, "you don't mean what I think you mean, right? I mean...you...don't actually..." He was at a loss for words.

"Yes, that's right fellas," I replied as I took a slow steady puff. "I change cloth diapers. Which does mean...I..."  A smoke ring floated in front of my face.

"Don't say it Jim," pleaded Matt. "I won't believe it, I can't believe it."

I took a drink of the Hahn's Hobgoblin Pumpkin Porter and turned and looked at each one. "Yes, gentlemen, I change cloth diapers and then I sit down in front of the toilet and dunk them and clean them out. After that I squeeze them and toss them in a pail."

A gasp rose from the group as they sat staring in awe. They looked at me and then at my hands and then back at me. No one stirred. I took a long puff on the pipe and asked, "do I win?"

They began to fall all over themselves in their effort to name me the "extreme male" for the group. I suspect I'll have the title for quite some time. Actually, I can't see a chance of me loosing the title unless some one else's wife switches to cloth diapers. In that case I have a back up plan, birthing large farm animals. But until then we'll continue to meet pray, taste, and boast.

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