Min Mith Jesus

We've Moved!!!

2011-05-02T14:15:00.001-07:00

Blogspot and I do not get along so well anymore. So I've moved. Here is the new site... www.toddprobus.wordpress.com Readers, guests, and "anonymous" lurkers are more than welcome to come on over. Out.

THROWDOWN THURSDAY!

2011-04-14T07:29:00.000-07:00

Here's what I'm reading...

"Now I Can Die In Peace" by Bill Simmons. A book by ESPN's Bill Simmons about his lifelong Boston Red Sox fandom, and how it was finally rewarded by their 2004 World Series title.

"Transforming Church in Rural America" by Shannon O'Dell. Pretty much exactly what the title indicates.

"Church Planter" by Darrin Patrick. Not so much about planting a church as it is about being the man God uses to plant His church.

Here's what I'm watching(my weekly television and film recommendations)...

"Get Low" , a film starring Robert Duvall and Bill Murray. Robert Duvall plays a 1930's-era hermit who wants to hold his funeral while he's still alive. Wouldn't give it an A, but it's well-acted, well-written, and raises provactive questions about forgiveness, legacy, and reconciliation.

"Modern Family" , a comedy that airs Wednesday nights on ABC. Quite simply the best comedy on television. Very few things make me laugh out loud, but this show does, on a weekly basis.

Here's what I'm clicking on(a website or two that I recommend)...

http://www.straightcashhomey.net-a/ A blog that invites readers to send in candid pictures of people wearing random sports jerseys, notably obscure and/or retired players. If you're even the slightest of sports fans, you should take a look. Pretty hilarious stuff.

http://www.timothykeller.com/ A pastor from New York City whose preaching and writing has deeply affected me, not only as a Christian, but as a pastor. Great stuff.

Here's what I'm listening to(music for this week)....

"The Cave" by Mumford and Sons. An amazing band, and I'm late to the party on this one.

"Wilderness" by the OC Supertones. One of my favorite songs ever, of any genre.

Look these up, because the blog isn't letting me post the links, for some reason. And thank me later.

Happy Thursday, everyone.

A Word for Wednesday...

2011-04-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith." Hebrews 12:1-2a

There are going to be some changes around here...

2011-04-13T09:15:00.000-07:00

I've been looking for that "magic formula" to make this whole blogging thing more consistent, enjoyable, and satisfying. And I think I've found it, thanks to a long-time friend, Alecia Whitaker. Each day, I'll post something different. "Special Guest Sunday"....a blog post or article by someone other than me, something I've found interesting, enlightening, fun, or helpful. "Min Mith Jesus Monday"....an original blog post by me, dealing with issues of faith. "Topical Tuesday"....an original blog post by me, dealing with something currently in the news. "Word for Wednesday"....a verse or passage of Scripture that I find especially challenging or encouraging. "Throwdown Thursday"....not sure where the "throwdown" part comes in. It just happens to be one of my favorite words. But I'll let you know what I'm currently reading(book), clicking on(website), listening to(music), and watching(TV/movie) that I'd like for you to check out as well. "Flashback Friday"...a story from my past that you'll hopefully find entertaining and/or interesting, and what I learned from it. "A Song for Saturday"....a song(music and/or lyrics) that I want you to hear for the weekend. I'm hoping(and expecting) that this will be a way for me to continue blogging(which I love) and avoid stagnancy(which I hate). Looking forward to days ahead... TP

A couple of your criticisms are true....

2011-02-22T13:45:00.001-08:00

I don't try to be eclectic for the sake of being eclectic(like some people do, so that they can say "Look how RANDOM I am! LOL!"). But I do have varying tastes in terms of interests, music, film, etc. So it may or may not come as a surprise to you(and by "you", I mean "whoever reads this", and by "whoever reads this", I mean "my wife") is that I have always enjoyed watching the last 30 or so minutes of the film "8 Mile", which stars Eminem as a struggling young rapper trying to find his footing in the music business. *A quick note to clarify that I've only seen this movie when it has aired on basic cable TV, so I've only seen the edited version. Which is all I need to see.* The last 1/4 or so of the movie is a rap battle tournament held in a crowded assembly hall in Detroit, where rappers face off with each other and move on to the next round based on crowd approval. Eminem's character, known as B Rabbit(I'm not making this up), advances to the championship, where he squares off against Papa Doc(I didn't make that up either). The two men have a history with one another, and it's not a pleasant one. In the moments before B Rabbit takes the stage, he is reminded by one of his friends of the ammo that Papa Doc has and is sure to use against him. Here's what happens(sorry for the spoiler, but you've had 10 years to watch this movie, so it's on you...). B Rabbit loses the coin flip, and Papa Doc decides to go second, so Eminem's character has to perform first. And he starts by rattling off all of the things about himself that Papa Doc was sure to mock a few minutes later. By doing so, he's getting it out of the way with brutal honesty, and completely disarming his opponent. When Papa Doc's turn rolls around, he has nothing to say...LITERALLY...and forfeits the mic. What does this have to do with anything? I've been a Christian for nearly 27 years, and it seems like the first 20 or so of those years was defending myself against the "ammo" thrown at me and others of the same faith by people who don't share that same faith. Objections to Christianity didn't feel like honest questions...they felt like grenades(and we were taught to treat them as such). I read and heard a lot of people saying that we needed to be "prepared for battle" against those who wished to criticize our faith, and they used military-esque phrases to describe what believers needed to do in order to respond.

*A clarification....not everyone who had objections to Christianity lobbed them like grenades. Many, if not most, were simply honest objections or questions, posed in a reasonable manner. But we were encouraged to view them as attacks in many cases.

So for 20 years, I spent a good bit of time defending my faith, learning to argue, and teaching others to treat criticism and tough questions the same way. But along the way, I realized that two of the "grenades" that I had been trying to defend myself(and my faith against) were actually.....true.

One is a criticism that I've heard for a long time(and it's probably been around a lot longer than that)...."Churches are full of hypocrites". That one stings, because nobody likes being called a hypocrite(and if they say they do, they're being hypocritical. So whatever). But it's a criticism that's been lobbed at church-going folks for as long as I've been around, and a lot longer. One of the definitions found in the Merriam-Webster dictionary for "hypocrite" reads as follows...."a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings". If that's the definition, then the criticism is true. The church is full of hypocrites. And I'm included. I know what I believe, and I believe it with the fullness of my soul. And I try to live in such a way that reflects those beliefs. But there are times(daily, in fact), when my actions, my thoughts, my attitudes betray those convictions, and betray those beliefs. There are times when I catch myself speaking, thinking, and acting in a way that is completely contradictory to my faith. That's when I'm a hypocrite. And it happens every day. Since I think most people are the same way, then I would have to agree...the church is full of hypocrites. The church is full of people who live inconsistently. Any honest Christian would admit to that. But admitting the hypocrisy isn't reason enough to pat ourselves on the back and say "look how honest we are...we're just so genuine, so transparent" and be done. The admission is the first step. Step two is change. Change to be more like Jesus. Change to love like He loved, serve like He served, teach like He taught, and lead lives that are, as the Bible states, "above reproach". In other words, to strive for our actions/thoughts/attitudes to be aligned with those of the Savior whom we claim to worship and serve. Simply admitting hypocrisy, and then doing nothing about it, isn't acceptable. The other grenade, and one that has taken on more traction in recent years, stems from a comment by one-time Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura(that is so strange to type...."Jesse Ventura" and "governor" in the same sentence), who famously stated that "Religion is a sham and a crutch". I think it goes without saying that I disagree with the "sham" comment. But the second part, the "crutch" part, that intrigues me. Actually, at first, it didn't intrigue me....it angered me a bit. I assumed it was just Jesse Ventura trying to live up to his reputation for machismo and controversy. Then I realized that others had said it too, and it continued to be said. So I took a closer look. And here's what I realized: He's right. My faith is a crutch. My wife is on crutches at the moment. She uses them because it she is physically unable to walk without them. She uses them because if she relied solely on her own strength, she would fall. She uses them because it is too painful to hold herself up without any help. I have had a relatively easy life, I won't lie. I haven't been hit hard by tragedy. My family life has been stable and fulfilling. I have enjoyed a strong marriage, beautiful children, and God has provided me with steady employment, a ministry about which I'm excited, and friendships that encourage me. Others, most others in fact, have had a much harder road than I have. But I need a crutch. Could I go through life without faith? Sure I could. Many do. And they have good marriages, and lovely kids, and a fulfilling career, and health and prosperity and all those things. But I have questions in my soul, and my faith provides an answer for those questions. I need purpose, and my faith gives me that purpose. I want to hope, and my faith grants me that hope. I know myself. Without my faith, I would undoubtedly lead a life full of questions, uncertainty, emptiness, and anxiety about what to do with this life, and what awaits on the other side. And I would try to figure it all out myself, providing my own purpose/answers/hope/peace, and here's what would happen... I'd fall. I'd fall under the weight of my own shortcomings. I'd struggle against the weight of my own sin. I'd wilt in the awareness of my emptiness.

I know this because I know myself. I know this because there have been times when I've laid faith aside, so to speak, and tried to wrestle with the "big picture" questions, and not only have I made no progress in finding the answers, the lack of answers drives me to a real sense of hopelessness. And when I try to "fix" things myself, I either mess up(90 percent of the time) or burn myself out trying(10 percent of the time).

So I need a crutch, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

Sometimes I think that more people outside the church would have a different view of the church if it was just honest about things. Instead of kneejerk reaction to perceived attacks(such as the "hypocrite" and "crutch" comments), a genuine, honest response would probably make a difference.

Yes, faith is a crutch. And that's okay.

Yes, the church is full of hypocrites. And that's not okay.

I'm not afraid to admit either one.

I am just like this tin of mints....

2011-02-08T14:45:00.000-08:00

On my desk is a tin of mints. It's round, and divided into two equal sections. Each section has a flip-up tab. Each section is also marked. One section is marked as "To Share". The other section is marked as "Not to Share". When you flip up the "Not to Share" tab, it opens an entire half of the lid. Mints aplenty. When you flip the "To Share" tab on the other side, it opens a section of the lid about the size of a keyhole. Minimal mints. Does this seem odd to you too? I mentioned it to my wife a long time ago. Her theory(and she is a bright woman, so this may very well be true) is that it's because of germs. You'd rather your own fingers touch the majority of your own mints, so that side is bigger. Whereas, the other side is smaller so that if someone asks for a mint(or if you offer one), you can just flip open a smaller section and rattle one out and into the palm of their hand. Less of a germ risk, that way. I can see where she's coming from. But I am still curious about it. I've even thought of contacting the manufacturer of the mints to ask why they designed the tins this way. Whatever the reason behind the design, this I know for sure... I am just like that tin of mints. The things I should be sharing, I limit. Encouragement is reserved for friends and others in my faith community. Love(and I don't mean love as in the love that you know Jesus called you to exhibit, I mean truly caring, selfless, giving love) is limited to family and close friends. Time is even more limited. And don't even get me started on my resources. Sharing one's faith is a tricky proposition, because while it is commanded in the Scriptures(and should be a normal flow of one's own relationship with God), it is so often done in such a way that it turns off the hearer. So rather than prayerfully figure out the RIGHT way to encourage others to a life with Jesus, most of the time we shy away from the whole deal altogether. And while that's certainly more comfortable for us, it's also blatant disobedience(and indicative of a limited love for others, as well). So it sits squarely on the "small tab" side of the tin. You get my point. The very things that I should be exhibiting in abundance, I keep close to my vest, almost hoarding them for those within my inner circle. The very things that I should be sharing with everyone are the things which I typically share only with those who the closest to me. And on the flip side....I'm more than willing to quickly type a status update on Facebook about a movie or a trip or something my kids are doing, and fire it off to 1,300 friends. Multiple times a day, in fact. And there's nothing wrong with that. But in the grand scheme of things, shouldn't THOSE be the things that I limit moreso than I do the love, encouragement, support, time, energy, resources, and influence that God has gifted me to show? Just like that tin, I have everything backwards. And it's going to take a conscious effort to flip it. But that's what Christianity is, or at least...what it should be. Stepping back from everything to make sure that we're sharing what needs to be shared....in abundance. Maybe you feel the same way.

Sometimes a Sequel is Unnecessary.

2011-01-01T22:42:00.000-08:00

Hollywood isn't just a trendy town. It's a town build on trends. Just pay attention to television and movie advertisements. You start to see a pattern relatively quickly. For example...earlier this decade, ABC debuts an intricately designed series called "Lost", about strangers stranded on a desert island and discovering secrets about each other, themselves, and the island itself. It's a huge hit, a national phenomenon. So what happens next? At least a half-dozen shows along the same vein, rolled out by the networks in the year or two following the meteoric rise of "Lost". It happens in movies, too. When I worked in Hollywood, there was a race between two movie studios to see who would release their volcano picture first. Universal Studios was competing with 20th Century Fox to see which film would reach theaters quicker...Universal's "Dante's Peak" or Fox's "Volcano". For the record, neither was very good. There is a new trend that appears to have some legs, some staying power. For years, Hollywood has banked on sequels, follow-ups to successful(and occasionally, only moderately successful) films. These movies have a built-in audience, familiarity with characters, and studios can lock up stars and directors long-term at reasonable cost. Plus, frankly, it is easier than coming up with an entirely new idea. So for about 30 years or so, starting with "The Godfather Part II", Hollywood has been churning out sequels, most of the profitable, and spending a large amount of time not just looking for great movies, but franchises. But a few years ago, something different happened. Director Ang Lee made a movie featuring the popular character "The Incredible Hulk" of Marvel Comics. It was a surefire hit, marketed to to the extreme, with a built-in audience and a high level of familiarity. There was just one problem...it was terrible. So the movie studio acted as if the film had never happened, and made a NEW Hulk movie, just five years later. It was better....MUCH better. They called it a "reboot". A popular brand gets a complete makeover. And it has become all the rage. The awful Batman movies of the late 1990's have given way to the Christopher Nolan-directed reboots "Batman Begins" and "The Dark Knight". The Superman franchise was re-booted, and is now in line for ANOTHER reboot. Other franchises are awaiting the same fate, and others have already been rebooted with mixed results. Why the sudden trend towards reboots, and away from sequels? Quite simply, it gives a movie studio the chance for a do-over. Different look. Different feel. Different stars. Different direction. And it gives the studio a chance to learn from its previous mistakes(a la "The Hulk"), and atone for its cinematic sins. It's a pretty fascinating concept, though it's sure to find itself overplayed just like every other Hollywood trend(the newest being the fascination with 3-D films). Why am I writing about this? It's New Year's Day. Which, in and of itself, is a natural time for self-examination, self-evaluation, and goal-setting. I've had a lot of time over the past few weeks for some soul-searching. I'm prone to do that. Usually, when this happens, I find myself finding some faults, and wanting to fix those faults by returning to a previous time when that area of my life was going swimmingly. Hence, a sequel...a second act to an existing story, if you will. But this time, to be honest...I didn't like what I saw. At all. When I looked at the different areas of my life(faith, work, home, relationships, church), I was startled at how frequently I have come up short in those areas, in actions, words, and attitudes. It's not a happiness issue, my circumstances are pretty good right about now. It's just that I feel like there could be so much MORE to my life right now, so much more fulfillment, so much more vigor, and yet I'm coasting, sometimes unconsciously, other times quite consciously. This stark reality came to me one night in the Marriott Hotel in downtown Kansas City. I was alone in my hotel room, late one night, with nothing to watch on television and nothing to read. These moments almost force you to ponder things, deep things. And on that particular night, I just took a few minutes to look at the different areas of my life, to see what WAS happening vs. what COULD be happening. And it's quite a gap. That night, I realized that I wasn't very happy with myself. And this isn't some lame attempt at self-pity(though I've been guilty of that in the past). And to go into detail about the ways in which I found fault myself would do no good for any of us. I'll just leave it this way...I didn't like what I saw, and I knew a change was needed. Typically, when I reach this point about anything, my natural reaction is, as I said above, a sequel. Figure out what worked in the past, and go back to that place, and pick up from there. But this new realization was so broad, so deep, and so startling that a sequel just won't cut it. I can't just go back to the way things were months, years ago. I don't need a sequel. I need a reboot. Same place. Same "characters". Same broad story. But everything else needs a new beginning, a fresh start. Every area needs a complete makeover. No drastic changes in my circumstances, that's not the issue. The issue is ME. I need to quit coasting(whether subconsciously or consciously), and be intentional about life, and living it, and living it the way I've been called to. Some of that involves attitude, some of that involves words, some of that involves actions, things I've NOT been doing that I need to, and things I've been doing that I need to leave behind. Going back to how things were in 1997, or 2007, or even three months ago won't cut it. God has granted me a life full of blessings and opportunities. If I spend even one second looking back, I'll miss out on what is right in front of me. So He's calling me not to a sequel, where I try to recapture old magic and go from there. He's calling me to a fresh start, a clean slate, a new story. And I have to admit, that's a pretty freeing thing.

Leaving Las Vegas...

2010-11-09T19:22:00.001-08:00

It's a Thursday night in late October. I'm sitting in a hotel room on the ninth floor of the Tropicana in Las Vegas. They've given me a corner room, which means that I have windows to both the north and the east. I'm sitting in a relatively uncomfortable chair between these two windows, ESPN playing in the background, the familiar sound of NBA highlights. I look out the window to the left. It leads down the Strip. Directly in front of me is the MGM Grand, seemingly the mothership of all the casino properties on the Strip. It's the second-largest hotel in the world, and it looks the part. There are over 5,000 rooms on the property, as well as a mall, an arena, a few theatres, and, of course, a casino. I've already walked through it a couple of times, once just to check things out, another time to grab some breakfast, and another to access the rest of the Strip. To the farthest left edge of that window, I can see another casino...New York, New York. It has a replica of the Statue of Liberty. And a roller coaster. That's all you need to know. That property, along with the MGM Grand and the Tropicana, make up 3/4 of the intersection. The fourth property is the Excalibur. What's interesting about the Excalibur? From the 15 minutes I spent inside the place, not much...though they do have a Baja Fresh restaurant, which I miss from my days living in Los Angeles.

To the right, I see another casino...The Hooters Casino Hotel. It's as classy as it sounds. It seems so very out of place here. A rather ordinary(for Vegas, anyway) place, with no big attraction to distinguish it from any of the others, and no big show to promote(unless, of course, you count "The Dirty Joke Show", which is promoted via a huge banner hanging from the side of the building....I wonder what that show's about).

But it's what sits even farther to the right, and off in the distance a bit, of that Hooters Casino that catches my interest. Even sitting in the middle of the Strip, with all of the lights and glitz and (faux) glamour in front of me, my attention is drawn, and my curiosity piqued, by, of all things....the airport.

Yes, the airport. And here's why...

Las Vegas is, to a large degree, surrounded by mountains. I always assumed it was smack in the middle of desert, but that's not necessarily the case. In fact, the biggest surprise about Vegas(because I was prepared for anything) was the fact that it was so naturally beautiful, with the mountains around. And the existence of those mountains affects flight travel in/out of the city.

When a flight descends into Vegas, it does so pretty much the same way any other flight descends into any other city....slow, steady, relatively flat. But because of how the airport is arranged, and because of the aforementioned mountains, when a flight leaves Las Vegas, it does so at a startlingly steep ascent. It seems to go straight up, and then curve back over the city, reminiscent of that glass elevator that Charlie got to ride at the end of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory".

So I sat there, for almost an hour, watching darkness sweep over the city, and the lights make their presence felt, and the planes launching up and over the city. It was a pretty stunning scene. And here's why it matters to me...

I spent some time in that chair, and obviously a lot of time working(it was a work trip, after all). But when my work time was over, I spent a lot of time walking up and down the Strip, walking through the casinos, through the hotels, and paying attention to my surroundings. For all the attention given to Vegas as a spot for gambling, extravagance, shows, etc., one of the overlooked aspects of the city is this...it has to be one of the ULTIMATE people-watching spots in the entire world. It is a fascinating study in human behavior.

And that's much of what I did. When I spent that time walking through the casinos, I wasn't focused on the games. For one, I don't gamble, so I either wasn't interested in what was being played, or wasn't familiar with the games enough to care. Secondly, there just seemed to be an overwhelming sense of familiarity with the whole thing. Most all of the electronic games were the same(with the exception of the "brand" of games. I saw games based on the Wizard of Oz, Chuck Norris, and "Sex and the City", as well as every game show ever shown on the air. Plus, the table games were pretty similar across the board.

There were differences of course, in the clientele and the feel of the place, the smokiness(local law allows smoking in some areas of the casinos, but not in others), and the appearance of the place. But the gaming part wasn't as interesting to me as the people who were participating in the gaming. They were a fascinating study.

It's almost as though everyone was divided into two categories. The first category included people who were obviously there to have a good time. I saw couples, groups of young guys, groups of older ladies, bachelorette party groups, foreign groups, etc. They travelled in packs, cheered one another's "victories", and were loud in their laughter and excitement. They were fun to watch, simply groups of people enjoying the city and what it had to offer. And laying aside however you or I may feel about gambling, I always enjoy seeing people out having a good time, whether it's at dinner, a movie, a show, etc.

But that's not the category that fascinated me. It was the second category....the people who were gambling alone. And I don't mean people who were probably part of a larger party, but wandered off to play a hand of blackjack or pull some slots for a few minutes. I mean the people who were OBVIOUSLY alone, sitting next to an ashtray full of cigarette butts, or next to a collection of empty bottles/glasses, staring at a blaring bright screen, lost in the bells and whistles.

Those are the people who really caught my eye. Were they local? Out-of-towners? And why were they alone? How long had they been here? How long would they stay? Were they simply here until the money runs out? Or are they waiting for some kind of inspiration, some kind of motivation, to get up and get going? Where are their friends? Where is their family?

The first night in Vegas, as I got my first glimpse inside these casinos, these people caught my eye, and I was intrigued. I went to bed that night, and the next morning I was up at 5:00 a.m. because of the difference in time zones. I was wide awake, and I was hungry. So I trudged downstairs, and through the Tropicana casino to reach the street outside. But as I walked through the casino, I saw something a bit unexpected...

Category Two people. Everywhere. At least a dozen of them. Alone. And they'd been there a while, as evident by the aforementioned ashtrays and drink glasses. They were gambling. And I couldn't help but feel a bit sad for them. They're grown-ups, of course. And it's their time, and their money. But I couldn't help but feel a bit sad about the whole scene, these people sitting alone staring bleary-eyed at a machine screen at 5:30 in the morning, trying to catch a break, trying to make it happen.

Obviously your mind starts to race a bit, and you start to subconsciously fill in a hypothetical back story for these people. Look at her...she's here with her husband, but he had a rough night last night, and is trying to sleep it off, so she's down here trying out her own luck. That guy over there, he's from out of town, and he's having work issues, so he thought that a weekend getaway to Vegas was just the ticket to some much-needed getaway time. He's been at that seat all night, and he'll be finished in an hour, so that he can sleep away the day and do it all over again tonight after he treats himself to a nice dinner.

Yep, this is what my mind was doing.

I wondered how many of those people, deep down, didn't want to be sitting there....didn't want to be gambling, didn't want to be swallowed up by the whoops and dings of the machines. They actually wanted to be someplace else, somewhere closer to normal, but they just....couldn't. Couldn't go back to their life....too boring. Couldn't go back to their job....too stressful. Couldn't go back to their family....too dysfunctional. So there they sit, droning away the hours, unable to escape.

And my mind drifts back to that airport. Because if you want to leave Las Vegas, you literally have to shoot straight up and out of there. No gradual ascent, no easing out of the city. If you're going to make it, you have to take a pretty steep course. If you want to figuratively "leave" Las Vegas, as I envisioned some(not all, but some) of those Category Two people wanting to do, it works pretty much the same way.

I wondered how many of those people had tried to leave Las Vegas. I wondered how many of them, the ones I mentioned before who didn't want to be there, had tried to escape, to get back to some sense of normalcy, some sense of belonging, instead of feeling trapped in that seat, at that machine, in the wee hours of the morning. But when they tried to do so, they tried to ease out of town, one step forward and two steps back, and kept finding themselves right back where they started.

Again, for clarification....I'm not talking about the people there who were having fun. I'm talking about the ones who were alone and seemingly miserable.

Those people, I thought, need to do something drastic, if they're going to get out of this place. They'll have to go straight up and out. No easing out....no gradual, relatively flat ascent. Just up and out. Up. And. Out.

There have been times in my life when I was stuck. Not physically stuck(though that has happened too, unfortunately)...but stuck. Spiritually stuck. Emotionally stuck. Stuck either in a rut(which is bad), or in a pattern of lostness and sin(which is worse). But I was stuck.

And when I made the conscious decision and effort to get un-stuck, I tried to ease out of it. Tried some self-help mantras. Some lame inspirational quotes. Some behavior modification. Some avoidance(avoiding certain people, certain situations, etc.). Some "me time".

None of it worked. Why? Because it wasn't what I needed.

I needed to GET OUT. Needed to head straight up, straight out, away from it, no looking back, no leaving a toe in that water. Up and out. Up. And. Out.

As I was sitting there watching those planes take off(watching them land was pretty uninspiring), I couldn't help but notice the correlation. If you truly need to "escape" Vegas, you go up and out. Anything less is no escape at all. And if you personally need to make major changes in your life, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual, you go up and out. Anything less is no change at all.

Up and out. Up. And. Out.

That's what I saw from my room on the ninth floor of the Tropicana Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, the last week of October.

Dealing with disappointment

2010-08-19T09:14:00.000-07:00

It wasn't supposed to be about the race. Seriously, it wasn't. It was supposed to be about improving my health. Exercising more, eating better, having more energy, and being intentional about taking better care of myself. That's what the challenge was about, the challenge that I issued to myself and my church back in May. The challenge was to spend the next three months consciously focusing on our health, specifically eating better and moving more. But the three month challenge was to have as its culmination a 5K race called the Midsummer Night's Run in Lexington. My goal was to run the race. Not to walk it, not even to do a run/walk hybrid, but to run it. I didn't care how long it would take me, and I didn't even care what place I would finish. I just wanted to run the whole thing, and finish it. So the challenge starts in May, and I'm off like gangbusters. Dropped about 15 pounds in two weeks. Exercising every day(or nearly every day), eating healthier(even tried and liked asparagus!), and making a conscious effort to improve my health. Then I started making small compromises. Sleeping in instead of working out, or not exercising with the same intensity. Making excuses for it. Late-night snacking. Poor choices at restaurants. I hadn't gone overboard, but I certainly wasn't keeping up the same pace I had kept through the first few weeks of the summer. Everything plateaued...my weight, my health, my energy level. I knew that I had lost control a bit, and was determined to get back on track. I was now about eight weeks out from the race...plenty of time to focus, improve my workouts, and maybe, just maybe, still time to get into shape to run the whole way. But the wheels came off. I was spending less time exercising, continuing to make poor choices, and resigning myself to the fact that I would not be able to run the whole way(in case you weren't aware, I'm really out of shape. I mean....REALLY out of shape. The only time I had run in the previous 10 years or so was if I was running from something, like bees or my wife). And once that resignation set in, it became frustration and disappointment. So there I was, the day of the race. I was still down 15 pounds from the beginning of the summer, but I was thinking of the opportunity I had missed to make an even greater improvement. And to top it off...we didn't do the 5K after all. For various reasons, we did the one-mile fun run. And I drove to Lexington that night, disappointed. And I lined up for the "race" disappointed. And I even started the race disappointed....all because I wasn't doing what I had set my heart on doing, just three months earlier. I've dealt with my fair share of disappointment lately. I've been disappointed with circumstances not working out the way I hoped or planned. I've been disappointed with people who made questionable decisions or who let me down with things they've said or done. I've been disappointed with myself for things I've said and done, or things I've NOT said or NOT done. For the record, I'm disappointed with myself about 10 times more often than I am with other people. I have a pretty long fuse, a pretty high tolerance for people. But for myself, it's just the opposite. So anyway, it was disappointing. And I've been thinking a lot lately about disappointment. And I've been reminded of a truth that I grasped a long time ago, but one that I find myself repeatedly dropping and having to pick back up. And here it is... Everyone disappoints. Everything disappoints. But God never disappoints. And that sounds so elementary, so childish even, that "God never fails", and that "people will always let you down", and so on. And yet, isn't it usually the case that the most profound, obvious truths are the ones we tend to forget, overlook, or ignore? That's how I am, more than I'd care to admit. So I've been disappointed. And I've asked myself tough questions. And here's what I keep coming back to....a truth that was probably instilled in me a long time ago, but one that has to come around often enough for it to never leave the front corner of my mind... Everyone disappoints. Everything disappoints. But God never disappoints. I have a feeling that the more my mind goes back to that truth, the more at peace I'll be with the world around me, the people around me, and with myself. I'll be happier, more joyful, more confident, once I learn to place my trust in Him, the one thing in life that has yet to let me down. And I'll try to do to a better job of looking to Him as the source of my contentment. By the way, I did finish that shorter race. I walked 99 percent of it. But once the finish line was within reach, I ran. And it felt good. It felt really good. Nothing like disappointment, actually.

My new planner

2010-08-05T08:31:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the scene from the 1979 classic film "The Jerk" when Steve Martin, as Navin Johnson, is ecstatic over the arrival of the new batch of phone books? (By the way, if he was ecstatic 30 years ago over receiving ONE phone book, he'd probably go into cardiac arrest these days, since not a week goes by when a new phone book shows up on our front porch. The next person to give me a good reason for all these phone books will be the first person.) The way Navin felt about that phone book is the same way I feel....about my new planner. Twice a year, I buy a new planner. I buy one around Christmas, because that planner will be for the following calendar year. And then I buy one in July, because that planner will cover the next school year. And I set the planners next to each other and transfer dates and appointments from one to the next, and then dispose of the old planner(wistfully). It's become such a tradition for me that I really should come up with some ceremony for the outgoing planner, like a graduation ceremony, or a ceremonial burning. But I do this twice a year. And I'm downright giddy about it. And here's why... It represents a clean slate. It represents(and shows) days, weeks, months ahead where the horizon is clear, where the road is straight and flat, and where you can see for miles ahead with nothing to block your view(much like driving across the desert Southwest). I usually start the new planner off by filling in non-negotiable dates: birthdays, anniversaries, and University of Kentucky basketball and football games. You know....the important stuff. But when that's finished, I find myself thumbing through the pages and imagining ahead towards Fall, or Christmas, or postseason basketball, or Spring....imagining what lies ahead and what adventures are in store. I got a new planner last week, and it is IMMACULATE. Black...spiral-bound...pristine. It's been filled with the non-negotiables, and has some events listed that were carryovers from the previous version(smaller blue spiral-bound, RIP). In the new planner, there is even a section on each calendar page where you can put tentative events. That's a terrific feature and I use it...with pencil, of course. I know I'm being a bit dramatic, but it's true....I love these things. This time around, however, I'm looking at the new planner a bit differently. It still has that magical "clean slate" feel, but instead of putting events and appointments down on the paper, I'm seeing them now as opportunities, not just obligations. See, one of my great weaknesses is that I often suffer a lack of intentionality. In other words, I go through life, take care of my family, spend time with the people I care about, do my best at my job, and lead a terrific church...but many times, I lay my head down at the end of the night, thinking back through the day, and finding myself wincing at all the opportunties I missed...opportunities to say the right thing, to encourage, to serve, to have meaningful conversations, to lend a hand, to bless someone, to truly impact someone with the love of Jesus. And I hate that feeling...the feeling of missed opportunities. So one of my goals, for the rest of 2010 and beyond, is to be more intentional. And that involves me taking the following steps: -Being prayerful -Being open -Being alert -Being missional -Being bold I want to be intentional, with my time, my words, my attitudes, and my actions. And that carries over to my planner, too. How so? By seeing the words I put down on those sheets of paper not as obligations, but opportunities...opportunities to build relationships, to have meaningful conversations, to encourage, to challenge, to love, and to point people towards Jesus. The horizon is clear. The road is straight and flat. I can see miles down the road. What happens in that stretch is in God's hands. But the impact I can have on others is in mine.

Jesus and Ellie

2010-07-14T07:37:00.001-07:00

My in-laws have a dog. Her name is Ellie. My one-year-old, Emma, calls her Ellie. My parents have a dog. His name is Max. Emma calls him Ellie. You know that yellow dog from Disney cartoons, Pluto? Emma calls him Ellie. Every dog is Ellie. Stuffed, real, tall, short, male, female....that dog is Ellie. It's kind of cute, you know...the fact that she calls every dog Ellie. The problem is that it's impossible to teach her any of the dogs' ACTUAL names... "Look Emma, it's Max!" "Ellie?" "Max...it's Max....it's the doggy Max" "Ellie!!!" The other problem is that when the time comes for us to get a dog of our own(and that day will come down the road), we will have no choice but to name it Ellie. And don't get me wrong, Ellie is a fine name for a dog, a girl, a boat, etc., but there are other names I'd prefer if I bought our family a dog. Like "Mr. Bojangles". It is fascinating to me that she so closely aligns every dog with one dog(Ellie) that she even CALLS every dog by that one dog's name. It's as if every dog is literally Ellie, but Ellie takes on different colors, shapes, sizes, breeds, etc. It's Ellie's world, and we're just living in it. When she first heard the name "Ellie", she connected it with one specific dog. So every dog is an Ellie. And, likewise, every Ellie is a dog. Finish this sentence.... "Every Christian is ....." See, I wonder what the world would be like if non-Christians, or people who were curious about Christianity, saw Christians the same way Emma sees dogs. They're all Ellie, they just look different and come from different places. Maybe Christians could all be Jesus, but cut from different cloths, coming from different backgrounds, and speaking different languages. Because that's not what we have now, unfortunately. "Christian" is a term that originally meant "follower of Christ". Often, it was used as a term of derision. But at its core, the word "Christian" has always been assumed to refer to one who follows Christ. And in its earliest days of use, I assume that when someone referred to someone as a Christian, it was with a clear understanding of what that person was about. That person was about Jesus. But along the way, the term "Christian" was spread more and more thinly. It began to refer more to a tradition, and more to a lifestyle, and more to a brand, than it did to a person...to Jesus Christ, the Son of God. And along the way, it even became an adjective for other things: -Christian radio stations -Christian bookstores -Christian schools -Christian business directories -Christian television channels -Christian magazines None of these things are bad or wrong. But they exemplify my point that we've taken that term..."Christian", and have spread it so thinly that it's really hard to pinpoint what it even truly means anymore. And that's especially true with people.... Here are some of the things people have done(and continue to do) because they believe it is part of their "Christian" heritage and calling.... -Bomb abortion clinics -Protest soldiers' funerals with signs declaring God's hatred of people -Participate in racist organizations that declare the supremacy of their race over others -Plot violence against government and law enforcement entities Obviously, that's a small minority of people who call themselves "Christians". And obviously, when you read the Scriptures, and specifically the life and teachings of Jesus, He would find the above actions deplorable. But still...they're out there, and every time we find them in the newspapers, or on television, the term "Christian" is attached. What kind of difference would it make, however, if "Christian" simply meant "Jesus". Period. How would things be different if everyone who called themselves "Christian" did so because they truly were following Jesus Christ, and not a heritage, or a tradition, or a lifestyle, or using the term as a shield to cover their immoral and deplorable actions? In other words...what would it look like if "Christian" meant "Jesus" the way "Ellie" means "dog"? Here's what it would look like, in my opinion....Christians would start getting serious about their relationship with Jesus. They would get serious about living like Jesus. They would get serious about loving like Jesus. They would get serious about impacting the world with the love, grace, hope, mercy, and salvation found only through Jesus. So all of a sudden, you have Christians who are taking seriously the command to live like Jesus. And when that happens, you have people, people who until then had been skeptical, if not downright dismissive, of "Christians", start to take a closer look at this Jesus....because until then, "Christian" to them had meant a group of people who specialized in hypocrisy, judgmentalism, and a severe case of "missing the point". So all of a sudden, not only do you have Christians who finally "get it", you have new Christians who begin a relationship with Jesus. And suddenly the love and grace found in Jesus starts to spread, throughout our communities and around the world. And people start discovering who they were created to be. And they start living the lives they were intended to live. And it's not because of "Christians". It's because of "Jesus". "Ellie"="dog" "Christian"="Jesus" Yes, God. Let it happen.

Youth Camp and Vuvuzelas

2010-07-08T09:18:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the World Cup? Yes, the worldwide soccer tournament that is played every four years. No, I don't mean the 1994 World Cup, which was played in America. And I don't mean the 1998 World Cup. Or the 2002 version. Or 2006 either, for that matter. I mean this year's World Cup....the 2010 edition. Of course you do, right? After all, it was only a few weeks back that the entire country was (somewhat) caught up in World Cup fever. The USA team had tied England(which, apparently, was great for the USA), had tied Slovenia(not as great as tying England, but still better than a loss), and had beaten Algeria. The USA had actually won their group, and were moving on to the tournament. Soccer talk was everywhere. Bars and restaurants were filled with people watching the USA's matches. Facebook users were posting "USA! USA! USA!" as their status updates. Americans were downloading vuvuzela apps on their IPhones(vuvuzelas were those abominable plastic horns being sold at World Cup stadiums in South Africa, and caused every match to sound as though it were being attended by 100,000 dying bumblebees). The World Cup was the lead story on every episode of Sportscenter, the headline on every newspaper sports section. And then the tournament began. And America lost. And then, for all intents and purposes, the World Cup was over. Not officially, obviously, there was(and is) still a tournament to play. And it wasn't over for the diehard American soccer fans who love the sport in general, not just American participation in it. But for the rest of Americans, the ones who followed the matches because of patriotism, or because they generally enjoy sports, the Americans who wanted to see their country perform well on a worldwide stage...the tournament was over. And that's natural. When your team loses, you lose interest. It happens in every sport to some degree. And it happened with the World Cup. Even though it is the world's second-most watched sporting event(surpassed only by the Olympics), it's still natural for fans of losing teams to lose interest in the rest of the proceedings. So here we are, two weeks later, and it's much harder to find World Cup coverage. For the record, Spain plays the Netherlands this weekend for the title. But it's no longer on the front page of the sports section. It's no longer the lead story on "Sportscenter". It's no longer the topic at watercoolers, or viewed on the screens(as much) at sports bars. World Cup fever came, conquered, and then left again, like a summer storm that moves out as quickly as it moved in. And now, it's all about Lebron James. Later, it will be all about Brett Favre. Then it will be all about college football, then the World Series, then pro football, then college bowl games, then the Super Bowl, then the NCAA Tournament, etc. etc. That's how sports is...it's cyclical. Whereas some news stories stay relevant for weeks or months at a time, sports stays in motion. What really struck me about this year's World Cup, however, and especially the way it ended for the USA team, was the reaction to their loss to Ghana in the tournament. There was a great deal of second-guessing, obviously. That happens anytime you lose a game or match. There was analysis of what went wrong, who made poor decisions, who played poorly or didn't play hard or smart enough. But what struck me was that after those discussions, a common question was raised: "Now what?" Now what happens to USA soccer? What happens to the team? What happens to the coach? And most importantly(to a lot of people)....what happens to the enthusiasm about the sport that was on display when America was still alive in the tournament? In other words, how can USA Soccer capitalize on the newfound interest across the nation? Now what? When I read that question, or listened to that discussion, my mind went to an unexpected place...church youth camp. Yes, church youth camp....where teenagers spend a week away from home in a city, or on a college campus, or at an actual camp facility, a week where they learn about God, build relationships, have fun, get into a bit of trouble, eat mediocre food, and end up making lifelong memories. For about 12 years, I worked with teenagers. And a rite of every summer was a week at a youth camp. We'd load up vans, trailers, and drive for hours so that our teenagers could experience a week of fun and, most importantly, a new or renewed commitment to God and an increasingly vibrant faith. And that's almost always what happened. They would have fun(too much fun, sometimes). They would build relationships. They would make memories. And they would develop a deeper, closer relationship with God, through times in small groups, through worship experiences, through mission experiences, and through personal times of quiet and stillness. Kids would grow closer to God, to the Bible, to the life that they were meant to live. It was really remarkable to watch and be a part of. But just like the World Cup, youth camp always had to come to an end. And just like the World Cup, youth camp ended with a question... Now what? See, in the same way that it was consistent for kids to fall in love(or fall in love again) with Jesus each year at youth camp, it was just as consistent that once camp was over, and we got home, that excitement and passion would wear off, sometimes with stunning quickness. And kids would find themselves in a spiritual rut...that is, until camp rolled back around a year later. And the process would repeat itself. I noticed this over the course of a few years. And I realized that unless camp was treated differently, unless we prepared kids for what came after camp, they would consistently find themselves on a neverending roller coaster in their relationshp with God, which is never what He intended. So here's what I did....all week at camp, I talked about the week AFTER camp. I tried to prepare kids for what would come next. I tried to tell them that they would be going home to the same house as before, same parents as before, same routine as before, same friends as before, same struggles as before, same temptations as before. I tried to flatten the hill and raise the dip, so to speak...to even everything out so that the renewed passion they were feeling at camp had a better chance of sticking around. In youth ministry, too many times, we tried to create "mountaintop moments" for kids, only to see them fall back to Earth precipitously when those moments were over. And that's not doing those kids any favors. In fact, when we do that, we're creating a reliance on those moments, so that kids learn to look forward to these spiritual "fixes" and neglect the importance of having a daily, personal relationship with God. And when those kids leave our youth groups, they can't find those fixes...and their spiritual life grows stagnant, or worse, disappears altogether. My church is starting a ministry to teenagers this Fall. I'm not sure exactly how it's going to look, or who's going to be involved. But I do know one thing...I will learn from my mistakes. I was guilty of creating and emphasizing those "mountaintop moments". And there's nothing wrong with those moments, as long as there's an increased emphasis on the routine of daily life once those moments end. There has to be a safety net. For years, I didn't provide one. Now, I will...or at least try. How can American soccer capitalize on the World Cup? By de-emphasizing the World Cup....or at least by focusing less on that event and more on what happens AFTER the World Cup. How can churches keep their teenagers from hopping on the roller coaster mentality that so often permeates our youth ministries? By de-emphasizing those events....or at least by focusing less on the events and more on what happens AFTER the events. Soccer isn't limited to an event held once every four years. God isn't limited to a camp that is experienced once a year. He is just as real, just as relevant, just as loving, just as merciful, just as powerful, just as passionate, just as personal.....when it's all over.

Maybe we don't need a clean slate...

2010-06-03T09:01:00.000-07:00

I'm a big believer in clean slates. The Latin phrase "tabula rasa", which means "blank slate", has long been a favorite of mine. And usually I've referred to the term when I've talked with people about spirituality, using it to describe how God gives us second and third chances and clean breaks and fresh starts. And it makes sense to them, and to me. But I've also heard it used in other areas as well, like when a professional athlete is a disappointment on one team, but gets new life with a new team. Tabula rasa. Or when a politician re-emerges from a defeat or a mild scandal to re-enter public life. Tabula rasa. Or when people who had been at odds over something decide to start fresh. Tabula rasa. There are plenty of "tabula rasa" areas of my life as well. As someone who speaks to a community of faith every Sunday, there are times when the message doesn't "stick the landing"(using a gymnastics term). Does God still use the message? Absolutely. But obviously, I want to do my best, and human nature dictates that I pick apart the message so that I can improve and deliver it more clearly and creatively in the future. And on those Sundays when I get home and feel that I could have done better, I eventually reach the point of saying "tabula rasa", and looking ahead to the next week. It happens with my health. I wish I knew how many times I've started a diet, or an exercise regiment, etc. Obviously I've failed, because the number is so high. But every time I get ready to re-start, it's "tabula rasa" time, baby, and I'm ready. And over the course of all of my health-related "tabula rasas", I've acquired a collection of diet/exercise books, a wealth of knowledge about workouts and food, and even some cool motivational quotes. And here's what it's gotten me....a hot heaping bowl of jack squat. Why does this happen for each of us? Why do we constantly have to go back to square one, to the starting line, to the first step? Why do we constantly have to keep going back for "tabula rasas", in all areas of our lives? I think last week I realized why. I needed new shoes. New everyday shoes, to be exact. Shoes that I can wear to work each day, but could also wear to church, or out for a casual dinner, etc. I'm a creature of habit, to be sure, but especially when it comes to shoes. At any point in my life, I usually have a rotation of four pair of shoes:my everyday shoes, my "good" tennis shoes", my mowing shoes(old tennis shoes), and a pair of dress shoes. That's it. That's the rotation. So when I need a new pair of shoes, I have to act quickly, because I don't have 10 backup pairs floating around. And off I went to Shoe Carnival, to get the shoes I'd probably wear about 300 out of the next 365 days of my life. When I left the store about 20 minutes later, I had a startling discovery. I had bought the exact same style/color of shoe that I was replacing. Without even realizing it, I had basically just bought a new version of the exact same shoe. It happened subconsciously...I had simply seen some that I thought looked nice, tried them on to ensure a comfortable fit, and made sure that the price was reasonable. No ounce of thought went into the brand, the style, the color, etc. I sat in my car and laughed at myself. Then I had another startling realization. Not only was this pair an exact replica of my previous pair, but for approximately 15 years, I had been wearing essentially the same type of everyday shoe....brown casuals, usually one of three brands, with the same basic material, same basic laces, same basic look. It had been completely unintentional, but for 15 years, I had been wearing, essentially, the same pair of shoes, replaced every couple of years with newer, shinier models. Looking back, I can say with some certainty that I never went into a shoe store thinking to myself, "I want to get the exact same shoes I've been wearing". Never, to my knowledge and recollection, has that been my thinking. But it's been the result. That's what we do though, right? When we go into a situation, whether it's work, or relationships, or health, or parenting, or finances, and we go into that situation with a "tabula rasa" mentality, how often do we end up right back where we started? Far too often then we'd like to admit. So maybe, just maybe, we don't need a clean slate. Maybe we need a NEW slate. A couple of weeks ago, my one-year-old daughter went on a scribbling spree with a magic marker, wreaking havoc on three walls, a door, and our refrigerator, all in a matter of about 30 unsupervised seconds. My wife spend the next 30 minutes scrubbing the damage, and did an unbelievable job of removing most of it. We had a clean slate, if you will. But if you look at those walls, and look carefully, you can still see the faint outlines of my daughter's handiwork. In fact, if she was ever so inclined to do it again(and she'd better not), it wouldn't be that difficult for her to simply retrace her previous work. That's what we do. We say we want a completely clean slate, but when we get our hands on the slate, we can't help but notice our previous steps. We know those steps. We're familiar with those steps. We're comfortable with those steps, even the missteps. And so, even without thinking about it, we start tracing our previous handiwork. And then weeks, months, or years later, we realize that we need another "tabula rasa". But we don't. We need a NEW slate, not just a clean one. We need to forget everything we've heard, everything we've read, everything we thought we knew, and start from scratch. That's what we need to do in relationships, instead of saying we're starting fresh while secretly hanging on to previous hangups and grudges. That's what we need to do with our health, instead of surrounding ourselves with the same trapdoors and temptations. That's what we need to do with finances, instead of making the same small compromises and poor decisions. That's what we're trying to do with our church. A lot of people who go to our church are there because they needed a fresh start with church. They had been burned by church, or disillusioned by church, or disinterested in church, or disengaged by church. And so they have come to Mosaic, because we're trying to do church differently. Same message, different methods. But even at Mosaic, we're tempted at times to retrace our past steps. We're tempted to do the same things we grew up doing and seeing done in church, things we said we wouldn't do with Mosaic, because this church was supposed to be different. In fact, we constantly have to fight the urge to slip into comfort and familiarity. Personally, I find myself weekly having to ask the question, "Am I doing this because I'm comfortable with it, or because it's what God wants me to do?". And sometimes I don't like the answer. But maybe that's the solution. Maybe the solution for each of us is to hold that question in front of us all the time...."Am I blazing a new trail, or am I just retracing past failed steps?". I have a feeling that if we stopped ourselves and answered that question, we'd find that our tabula rasa isn't a tabula rasa after all...just a blueprint for comfort. And if we settle for comfort, we're selling ourselves short on God's best for us. Maybe we don't need a clean slate. Maybe we need a new slate.

The Single Most Powerful Question You Can Ask...

2010-04-29T09:38:00.000-07:00

*Before I go any further, let me state for the record that I completely stole this idea(and the text below) straight from Donald Miller, author of "Blue Like Jazz" and other terrific books. No plagiarism here.* When novelists sit down to write a narrative, there is a question they ask themselves in order to create exciting and meaningful stories, and that same question can also create a more exciting and meaningful life. That question is: What if? J.R.R. Tolkien(author of the "Lord of the Rings" series) once asked the question What if there existed a place called Middle Earth, and What if Middle Earth were under threat? Every good story begins with some form of this question, and so does every life. Whenever a novel starts to drag, the writer simply has to ask this question, and suddenly life gets exciting again. What if there were a car accident, what if my protagonist won the lottery, what if my protagonist came home and his wife had left with all the furniture? A series of these questions will dislodge whatever fascinating thing is going to happen next in the story. Now to be sure, you don’t have the power to win the lottery and I don’t recommend getting in a car wreck, but within limits, the question "What if?" can radically change our story and our lives. What if you asked yourself a series of these questions? What if you got out a yellow pad and wrote down a few story turns that you could engage? What if you ran a marathon? What if you renewed your marriage vows? What if you quit your job? What if you brought home a puppy today? What if you and your family adopted a child? If your story has gotten boring, perhaps it’s time to ask yourself the what if question. Try this, in the comment box, just brainstorm five "what if" questions as fast as you can. Try to to take the suggestion seriously, but do it fast. What will begin to happen is you’ll begin to dream, you’ll stop thinking of life as stagnant, and you’ll be reminded that life, for the most part, is what you make of it. One note...these aren't meant to be "regret" questions, questions that ask "what if I had done ___________ differently?". These questions aren't about the past...they're strictly about the present and future. What five "what if?" questions pop into your head? Let's hear them...

Things Won't Be the Way You Left Them

2010-04-23T07:45:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, maybe 12 or so, my parents started collecting those little ceramic buildings, from the "Dickens Village" collection, and they would put them out at Christmastime. They would buy new pieces, maybe one or two or three a year, and add them to their existing collection. And at first their "village" was just a few houses on a mantle, then on a table, then on a fireplace ledge. But as time moved on, and the village grew, it literally became a village. My parents had specially-constructed tables made for our living room, and they began adding things like snow, and streetlights, and trees, and streets. My brother, who LIVES for this kind of thing, would begin working with my dad each year, usually around Thanksgiving, to put the village together. And it grew, and grew, and eventually took up a good 1/3 of my parents' living room. Friends would come over to see "the village". It's become quite the tradition. There were always a few things about the village that stuck out to me.. 1. For a town that appeared to have a population(based on the houses) of about 300 people, there are about 10 churches. No need to plant a church in this town. They've got that covered. 2. The figurines that came with the houses were built larger than scale. So while 300 people live in the village, none of them can actually go into any of the buildings. 3. I want to live in the village. That last one, #3, is the reason that, even though I was never involved in the buying, or placement, or "creative" aspects of the village(and I was okay with that), I spent a lot of time staring at it. Sometimes I would even go close to the table and sit there staring at the buildings, the people, the streets...wondering what it would be like to live there. To live in such a simple place, a quaint little town, with such beautiful buildings and scenic snow scenes. I never experienced what sometimes happen in those made-for-TV Christmas movies, where the kid is lying in bed holding a snowglobe, and he falls asleep, and suddenly he lives IN the snowglobe, and has a magical time, and helps bring people together, and saves the ice rink from the real estate tycoon, and reminds people of the magic of Christmas. Nothing like that. But I did sit there and wish, at times, to live in a simpler time and a simpler place. We do that, don't we? We idealize other places, other times, so that they hold an almost mystical place in our minds. It's the reason that Renaissance Faires exist. It's the reason Civil War re-enactments exist. It's the reason historical villages exist, such as Shakertown(in Kentucky) and Colonial Williamsburg. We're interested in the history, sure, but part of us longs to be part of those places and times, when clocks moved slower and there was time to breathe. But sometimes it's not about longing to be in a different place and a different time. Sometimes, it's simply nostalgia at work. And I'm a nostalgic person, to be sure. I cling tightly to memories of childhood and adolescence, with vivid memories of sights and smells and people and places. And I try, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, to recapture that, with varying levels of success. For example...my family grew up taking annual trips to Gatlinburg, a tourist town nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. We'd go for long weekends, and I would bask in the abundance of arcades, food stands, tourist attactions, and tacky souvenir shops. We loved that place, and I remember hour upon hour, day upon day, of wandering up and down "The Strip", spending time in every store, playing every video game, begging my parents to take us into every attraction(sometimes successfully, often unsuccessfully). I loved Gatlinburg, tackiness and all. In my mind, it was perfect. It was close enough to visit often, but different enough to not feel like my hometown. It had fun stuff to do, interesting people to watch, good food to eat, and it felt quaint...even the tacky, over-the-top stuff. It all felt quaint. I thought I could live there. So it only made sense that a few weeks ago, when I took my family to the Smoky Mountains, that the part I looked forward to the most was walking "The Strip", and introducing my daughters to it, and enjoying all that Gatlinburg had to offer. I wanted to experience that magic again. Off we went. Parked the van(right next to the Space Needle!), got the stroller ready, and headed out for a full day of adventure and fun. Two hours later, we were done. And it wasn't because of weather. Or sickness. Or an emergency. Or a tantrum. We were done because, we were just done. In two hours, done with Gatlinburg. I have to admit, it felt really odd. Sure, there's only so much you can do with two kids under the age of six(other than miniature golf, there weren't any attractions that they could really enjoy) , but still...done? It didn't feel right to head back to the van yet. Surely there's more, right? Have we looked in all the shops? Check. Did we go to the arcade? Check. Did we buy fudge? Check. We hit up everything, right? Yep. Okay, then I guess we're done. As we drove away from town(and let me make something clear...I LOVE the Smoky Mountains. Gatlinburg, Pigeon Forge, the mountains themselves...I'd go every year if I could), I couldn't help but be a bit disappointed in our experience. We had done nothing wrong, but something didn't feel quite right. And my wife, perceptive as usual, pinpointed the issue...Gatlinburg hadn't matched up to what I had built up in my head over the years, from my visits as a kid. Yep, that was it. The Gatlinburg I experienced at age 10 was not the Gatlinburg I was experiencing at age 35. And yes, the town is different, but not that much different. The difference was me, the difference was life. And since it didn't feel the same, it felt like a letdown of sorts. We were done in two hours. And off we went. We do that, don't we? We have, in our minds, memories from childhood and adolescence that we refer to time after time, wishing we could recapture those feelings, those sights and smells and sounds that made those places and people and times special. I do that all the time. And I've always assumed that it's just because I'm a nostalgic person, with such a fondness for things of the past that I consistently seek out ways to relive the past. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't...but I always want to try. Timothy Keller is a pastor in New York City who has written a book that has really challenged me lately..."The Prodigal God". It's an examination of the "Prodigal Son" story from the Bible, and in the book, Keller deconstructs the parable in such a way that it opened my eyes to the audience to whom Jesus was telling the story, as well as the deeper implications of the story itself. Not enough space here to go into everything I learned from that book. But one thing that Keller mentions in the later pages of the book is that human beings are hard-wired to always be searching for "home". But he's not just talking about a physical "home", the way we long for the days of growing up in the house of our childhood, or playing Little League, or going on fishing trips. He says that there's a deeper sense of "home" within each of us. He even refers to the German word "Sehnsucht", which he says denotes profound homesickness or longing, but with transcendent overtones. In other words, Keller says that each of us, spiritually speaking, are like the younger brother in that story, off in exile but desperately wanting to come "home". And we try to fill that longing for home with things that make us fondly nostalgic, but they never match what we remember. Or, we try to create a new "home", a life in which we're comfortable with who we are, comfortable with our status, comfortable with our "stuff". But in reality, we know, deep down, that we're not at home. The concept is this...we feel like wanderers because we've been separated by sin from the Father. Thanks to the deception of Adam and Eve, each of us is marred by sin, a broken humanity, constantly looking for ways to restore ourselves, to bring ourselves "home". And they don't work. At least, not permanently, because once the initial happiness or satisfaction wears off, we're right back where we started. Looking for home. The younger son desperately wanted to return home. So he came home. And he could have settled near his father's property, or within a day's travel of his father's property. But he didn't want that. He wanted to come home. And he knew that the only way that would happen is if he were to be reconciled with the father. And that's exactly what happened. Despite his son's rebellion, arrogance, selfishness, and foolishness, the father accepted him...welcomed him with open arms. And finally, only then, was the younger son truly "home". We long for home. We long for the feelings we remember from younger days, and different places, and different experiences. We get nostalgic for past Christmases, and birthdays, and vacations. And try as we may, we can't quite get them to measure up to what we so fondly remember. But the truth is, what we're really looking for is our spiritual "home". What we really want is to stop wandering, stop searching, stop recapturing, stop longing, and to be reconciled to the Father, who, despite all of our shortcomings and faults and rejections of Him, welcomes us with open and loving arms. Reconnects with us. Restores us. And welcomes us home.

The One About Creativity.

2010-04-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

It's called "spurtability". You hear that word in conversation about basketball teams. Spurtability...the ability of a team to go on a tear and turn a three-point lead into a 12-point lead in seemingly a matter of seconds. The ability of a team to go on fantastic runs that allow it to put away its opponents with a blitzkrieg of made baskets and defensive stops. Some teams have it, some teams don't. The great ones do. I've been told that I'm creative. I was told that at a young age by my parents and others. I took classes for "creative kids" when I was elementary school. And ever since, whether it's been writing, speaking, or stand-up comedy, people(not often, but frequently enough to notice) have said that they appreciate my creativity. But see...I don't think I'm creative. And I don't just say that so that you, in turn, as a reader, will think/say "Oh, don't be silly Todd, you're turbo-creative!". No, I'm not looking for affirmation here. When I say that I'm not creative, I mean it. And I especially mean it when I compare myself to those I feel are TRULY creative. And what's the difference? Consistency. See, to me, a truly creative person is someone who is creative all the time, and creative about a lot of different things. We all have periods of creativity. Even those of us who feel as dry as an overcooked steak..we have flashes of creativity without even realizing it. But the truly creative ones, the creative geniuses...well, their creativity faucet never gets turned off. Ideas just keep coming, so much so that they have to be written down lest they be forgotten, ideas about all kinds of things. I know a few of these people, and they are geniuses. And their creativity isn't just limited to their area of expertise. They're wired to think differently, to dream big, to find solutions, to find angles. That is creativity...unbridled creativity. And I don't have that. At least, not in that supply. I have spurtability. I have days, stretches of days, when nothing comes to me. Just nothing. No fresh ideas, no fresh angles, no "inspiration", no "out-of-the-box" thinking, just nothing. That's not to say that life isn't good...life is GREAT. But creativity is absent. That's why there are stretches where I have nothing to write about here...because on those days, when I sit down to write, it feels forced, and fake, and unnecessary. Those are my dry days. But then I have days where ideas and thoughts and dreams come fast and furious, about all sorts of things. Things happen. I hear things. I notice things. I think things. I dream things. And I'll go on a run of a few hours where it seems like the world is opening up to me, like one of those video games where the farther you go, the more you "unlock" new levels. I had one of those days earlier this week. They started early, the ideas, on the drive to work. And there they continued, and at lunch, and in the afternoon, and on the drive home. Ideas about church, about faith, about our community, about blogging, about family, about trips, about experiences. And on those days, the colors of the world get a little more vivid, and I find that the day goes faster, and every sense is heightened, and things just feel right. That is spurtability. And now that I realize that my creativity comes in bursts, I need to adapt to that fact. 1. I need to buy, TODAY, a small notebook to write these things down. 2. I need to blog on those days. I need an outlet to put those things into words in black and white. 3. I need to do a better job of sharing these things with my wife. Not only so that she can dream with me(or filter my ideas), but so she can remind me of them on my dry days. 4. I need to embrace spurtability and not wish I was creative like those aforementioned geniuses. God has gifted me with a creative mind. It just looks and acts differently than others. I realize that now. I can use that now. Even on dry days.

Dead in Burbank

2010-03-12T08:53:00.000-08:00

You know Corey Haim, right? Even if you don't, you probably do. If you watched HBO in the late 1980's for any substantial amount of time, you know Corey Haim. "License to Drive"...."The Lost Boys"..."Dream a Little Dream"... And "Lucas". "Lucas" was one of the formative films of my early adolescence, if for no other reason than the fact that it was ALWAYS on HBO. It also didn't hurt that the movie centered on football, or that the film included Kerri Green, one of my childhood crushes. I probably saw that movie at least 50 times, and if I watched it today, could probably recite the dialogue word-for-word, even simulate the "slow clap" at the end of the film(you'd have to see it to understand). Corey Haim played the title character, and for that reason alone, he has stayed in my subconscious memory ever since. I haven't kept up with his career, primarily because there has been no career to keep up with. But every time his name pops up in the news, or in a cultural reference, my ears perk up, because his name is synonymous with those years that drip with nostalgia for me. This week, Corey Haim died. He died in an apartment in Burbank, CA, just outside Los Angeles, and probably died of a drug overdose. It hasn't been confirmed, but the evidence seems to point in that direction, particularly in light of his lifestyle and chronic battles with alcohol and drug abuse. Corey Haim...dead. That really registered with me. Not because I abuse drugs or alcohol, and certainly not because I can identify with the life of a young Hollywood hero who succumbed way too early to those demons, but it registered with me because of one three-word phrase that seemingly found its way into every single headline about Corey Haim's death: "Dead in Burbank" In the summer of 1997, I moved to Burbank, CA from central Kentucky. I was fresh out of college, no kids, no lady, no cares in the world. In the 18 months prior, I had begun to dabble in the art of stand-up comedy, and had been pursuaded by a college professor(who himself had lived in L.A. and done stand-up) that I should move out west and give it a shot. I found a childhood friend who was wanting to move out L.A. and pursue an acting career. So we packed up our vehicles with what we thought would help us surive the big city, and headed out west. After a few days of wandering around looking for apartments and jobs, we settled in Burbank. All I knew about Burbank, before actually seeing the city, was that it was the place where Johnny Carson stood when he made Americans laugh before they headed to bed. Other than that, it just looked to me like another patch of the quilt of cities that comprised Los Angeles. I ended up loving Burbank. It was close to Hollywood. It featured not only NBC, but Warner Brothers and Disney studios as well, so you felt as though you were "in the loop" even if you only passed those places on the way to Taco Bell. It felt safe, felt alive, felt comfortable. It's also where I could have died. Not literally, mind you. We can die anywhere, anytime. I mean spiritually. It's where I could have died spiritually. For the previous 21 years, I had lived what many would consider a pretty sheltered life, spiritually. And I don't mean that in a negative sense, the way we describe kids who never watch PG-rated movies or listen to secular radio or get their ears pierced or go to parties. What I mean is that I grew up in a home where the Christian faith was expressed and nurtured. Church wasn't just where we went, it was a part of my fabric. And no, faith wasn't shoved down my throat, but it came pretty easily, as I found myself in a long heritage of men and women who had followed Jesus. Then came time to pick a college, and I ended up picking a local Christian college. Not so much for the Christian part(I could have gone anywhere and still would have been able to be part of a church or Christian student group), but for the local part. It just felt like a good fit. My four years there were incredible, with great friends, great professors, great experiences, and great preparation for my future(even met my wife-to-be there!). What it didn't prepare me for was Los Angeles. And I'm not sure how any small Christian college in central Kentucky could have. But it certainly didn't. And that's why, about a month into my time in L.A., I felt dead. I hadn't found a job. I was working for a temp agency. Specifically, I was working the night shift at a bindery somewhere in the San Fernando Valley, where I was one of a handful of employees who spoke any English, and where "lunch break" meant that unless you brought your lunch, you went out and bought your meal from a taco cart set up in the parking lot. So career-wise, I was pretty dead. I hadn't found any friends. I had my one friend from home, and he was a true source of friendship, but I was ready to branch out, to build relationships, to have "L.A. friends". I hadn't yet jumped into the stand-up comedy pool. In fact, I hadn't done much of anything except job hunting. And the people I worked with couldn't understand what I was saying. So socially, I was pretty dead. I hadn't found a church. I had looked, looked at several places in fact, but nothing was connecting with me. The churches I was visiting seemed so empty, literally and figuratively, places that were probably once filled with people and promise, but over the years had forgotten their mission, and had since become huge empty reminders of what happens when a church replaces its windows with mirrors, figuratively speaking. And while I was still able to spend time each day reading the Scriptures, praying, and trying to grow in my faith, it was a struggle without a community of believers to challenge, encourage, and pray for me. So spiritually, I was pretty dead. So there I was, paying my bills, keeping myself fed, hunting for work, trying to figure out the streets, and trying to get acclimated to a city that seemed so big, bigger than the biggest thing you could even imagine, so big that you could drive for two hours and still be there. And while life, to me, was interesting and new and challenging and fresh, I was still starting to wonder if I could "live" out there. I was, so to speak, dead in Burbank. Here's the best part, though. God didn't leave me that way. Even as lonely and desperate as I was, I could still see constant evidence that He was protecting me and providing for me, and that gave me hope that brighter days were ahead. It was as though He was telling me to grind it out, to keep plugging away, to stay faithful, and that the pieces would fall into place. And sure enough, they did. I found a church. And not just any church, but the perfect church for me(there's no such thing as a perfect church, but there is such a thing as a perfect church fit). It challenged me, inspired me, motivated me to live and love like Jesus, and gave me a community of friends who loved me and, to this day, inspire and challenge me. And with that church came friends...not acquaintances, but friends. I'm not sure there have been many more times in my life when I was as spiritually alive as I was then. I got more comfortable with the city. So comfortable, in fact, that I jumped into stand-up, through a local workshop, and was able to perform on stage with some regularity. And I found a job. But not just any job...a job in Hollywood, a job where I was surrounded by actors and actresses and "the business". It was thrilling, even if I was basically a fringe player. But it gave me a chance to be creative. I felt so alive. Suddenly, I was alive in Burbank. I could have died there. I could have become so disconnected from people, from God, from home, from myself, that I could have turned to other things to fill that gap. It happens a lot out there, especially to people who venture to L.A. chasing a dream, only to find themselves paying the bills and slowly but surely dying inside. But God protected me, gave me wisdom to avoid poor decisions, and right when I needed them most, gave me the gifts I had been waiting for...community, creativity, encouragement, and love. There are people dying everywhere, the same way I could have died in that town. And I wonder if sometimes we know that, but instead of pointing them to the greatest provider, we roll out the "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" cliches and turn their shoulders in what we feel is the right direction. I wonder if we do that to ourselves, even...relying on our own provision, our own capability, instead of trusting in the one who can give it all to us, if we'll just be patient, and obedient, and paying attention to what He's up to. Only then can we experience His best...only when we do it His way. Only then can we be truly alive.

Who can say no to Mickey Mouse?

2010-02-25T08:39:00.000-08:00

I have two daughters. One is five, the other just turned one. Before the second one came along, people would tell me that I'd be amazed at how different the two girls would be. And I believed them, though I didn't realize that the differences would be showing up so soon. I assumed that their personalities would become increasingly distinct as the girls moved into elementary school and grew older. That's not the case. It doesn't take long to see that even though they have the same parents, live under the same roof, and are exposed to most of the same influences, the two girls are night and day when it comes to their personalities. Eva Kate(5) is a morning person. Emma(1) is a night owl. Eva Kate is starting to become somewhat of a picky eater. Emma will try to eat anything that doesn't try to eat her first. Eva Kate barely notices when either my wife or I leave the house. Emma goes into a full-blown nuclear meltdown when one of us steps out of the door, even if only to retrieve the morning paper. Eva Kate will find a book, or a toy, and sit quietly for 15, 20, even 30 minutes, immersed in whatever she's doing. Emma, on the other hand, is like a pinball. Once you set her down, she bounces from room to room, activity to activity, never stopping or slowing down for more than 15 seconds or so. Except to eat, of course. I'm sure there are other differences I could mention, and I'm sure that more will reveal themselves as the girls get older. But there is one difference I've noticed that has piqued my curiosity, and leads me to wonder whether it will prove to affect how the girls approach life, faith, and the future. And it reveals itself during, of all things, "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse", a television show on the Disney Channel that finds itself displayed on our television screen every morning, without fail, as the girls are getting ready for the day. During the show, Mickey often asks questions of the viewers, such as which path to take, or which shape to choose, or where a character might be hiding. This happens on a lot of shows designed for preschool-aged children, and it's obviously used to engage the child and help develop problem-solving skills. But Mickey takes it a step further. Not only does he ask for answers from the children, he also asks the kids whether they will help him with certain tasks during the course of the show. Obviously, the writers assume that the kids will say "yes", because Mickey always acts excited to have the help. And most kids do say "yes"....but not all of them. Case in point....Eva Kate. She does not help Mickey with much of anything. She does not get excited at the prospect of interrupting her morning routine to help Mickey find a missing ball, choose a gift for Minnie, or find the ingredients to make Goofy's favorite sandwich. Mickey is trying to build a team, but Eva Kate will have none of it. So she declines. Not only does she decline, but she has started to get a bit testy when Mickey comes-a-calling. It's not unusual for Mickey's request for help to be answered with a resounding "NO! I will not help you!" by my five-year-old. She says he's bossy, and I sort of understand that, because when you watch your favorite show, you just want to be left alone to enjoy it. I don't watch University of Kentucky basketball expecting John Calipari to ask me to help him design an offense that will work well against a 3-2 zone. And if he did ask me, I'd probably be like Eva Kate...answering with a resounding "No" and just going back to my Doritos. Then there's Emma. Emma, who waves at Mickey as he steps onto the screen. Emma, who waves at EVERYONE as they step onto the screen. Anytime Mickey asks a question, regardless of the request, Emma nods her head affirmatively. It doesn't matter what it is...Emma is ready for action. Mickey: "Emma, do you want to jump off the roof of your house onto a bed of broken glass?" Emma: (nods affirmatively) Mickey: "Emma, do you want to slide down Mt. Everest while sitting on a cactus?" Emma: (nods affirmatively) Mickey: "Emma, do you want to walk across hot coals for this jar of tapioca pudding?" Emma: (nods affirmatively) Actually, Emma probably WOULD walk across hot coals for some pudding. Here's why I think this distinction between the girls could have future implications. I think that some people are "yes" people. I think they go through life open to anything. Open to any challenge, open to any opportunity, open to any relationship, open to any goal, open to any dream. I think they go through life looking for reasons to say "yes". That's not to say that they're reckless. They may very well be careful people. But they are always ready to move, to act, to follow, to lead, because they see life as one big opportunity for a "yes". That's Emma...at least for now. Whether the question comes from Mickey, or her mother, or someone at church, Emma is ready to say "yes". To call Eva Kate's group "No People" wouldn't be entirely accurate, but it's not far from the truth. They're a bit more cautious, a bit more wary, a bit more leery. They will say "yes", but only after doing some pondering, some questioning, some research. If the coast is clear, they're good to go, but it may take a while for that to be determined. In short, Emma says "yes" until there's a reason to say "no", and Eva Kate says "no" until there's a reason to say "yes. And both groups are admirable...the "Yes People" for their tenacity and vivaciousness, the "No People" for their patience and thoughtfulness. I have friends in both groups. I have probably been a member of both groups. I don't think one is any better than the other.... Except when it comes to faith. See, I wonder if, in their relationships with God, Emma and Eva Kate will prove to be "Yes" and "No" people. I wonder if, as they grow and learn and think and consider their faith, these early distinctives will prove to be the way they react when they think God is asking them to do something, to give something, to go somewhere, to love someone, to love HIM. I wonder if Emma will be a "Yes Person"...ready to go anywhere, ready to do anything, if it means following Jesus. And I wonder if Eva Kate will be more cautious, more reserved, more calculating, before she steps out in faith. The problem with being a "No Person" when it comes to faith is that a lot of times, that "No" is permanent. We become so cautious, so hesitant, that the "no" never becomes a "yes". And, to be honest, saying "no" is easier. It allows us to stay in charge. It allows us to have better control of our environment, our finances, our safety, our relationships. Saying "no" gives us a better chance of living OUR life, without the (as Eva Kate would say) "bossy" interference from up top. Unfortunately, when it comes to faith, saying "no" also prevents us, I believe, from truly living...living the life we were intended and designed to live. And if you live that way, saying "no" to God but saying "yes" to whatever feels right to you, then wouldn't you spend a lot of time wondering if you were really getting the most out of this deal? I know I would. I'd constantly be looking around and wondering if I was getting everything out of life that it had to offer. And the answer would probably be "yes". But therein lies the problem...whatever it is that life has to offer, God has more to offer. Because not only does He promise(and deliver) more purposeful, meaningful, satisfying, and joyful life during our years on this planet, He promises a new life on the other side, a life that is beyond our wildest dreams, hopes, and expectations. Who could say "no" to that?

I'll Just Keep My Glutens, Thank You Very Much

2010-01-08T20:07:00.000-08:00

For a while yesterday, I had a disease. I was sure of it. Some back history....I've been having abdominal pains, off and on, for about a year and a half. There's no real rhyme or reason to them. They'll arrive out of nowhere, stick around for about three weeks, hit me about 4-5 times a day, then leave again, like one of those traveling salesmen you see in old movies, with the sportcoat and hat and trunk full of wares. The pain isn't constant when it does come, but it's annoying enough that just under a year ago, I finally had it checked out by my doctor. I had some tests run, some blood taken, but over the course of the next several months, it never seemed like we were on track to figure out what the problem was, only what the problem WASN'T. And I never felt like we were looking at the issue aggressively enough, because it seemed like there was no sense of urgency in regards to finding the source of the pain. And that didn't work for me, because I AM IN PAIN AND IT FEELS LIKE THERE IS A RACCOON GNAWING ITS WAY OUT OF MY STOMACH. So I switched doctors. And this guy moves fast. There was small talk, but it was small talk with a purpose. And that purpose was to move past the small talk and get down to business. Some people, like yours truly, make small talk for the sheer purpose of making small talk. Others, like the good doctor, make small talk so that it can be marked off on the mental "what I do with a patient" checklist. It's an appetizer for him, not the main course. I respect people like that. They're not rude, they're just on mission. When they go to the mall, they go to shop, not to kill time before a movie, or flirt, or eat at one of those Food Court joints that serve a Cajun/Chinese hybrid menu. I went out with a girl like this once. I was living in Los Angeles, minding my own business, when this sweet Jewish(that will be important in just a minute) girl asked me out. It was probably the first(only?) time a girl had ever asked me out. So we're at this steakhouse in the San Fernando Valley, and we hadn't even ordered our drinks yet, when she asks me if I'd be willing to convert if things between us got serious. If I'd had anything in my mouth at that exact moment, I probably would have spewed it all over her. It's a good thing I had already discovered she was Jewish, otherwise, my response probably would have been something like, "Convert to what...the metric system?". But hey, credit to her, she got to the point. I don't even remember my answer, to be honest. I probably stumbled over some answer about not wanting to give up bacon, etc. etc. This doctor is similar....small talk for a purpose. And we've moved fast, he and I, to try and discover why my innards feel like someone is taking a cheese grater to them. Cat-scan ordered....no abnormalities. Bloodwork taken...and there it is...anemia. Which doesn't mean that much to me, but to him, indicates that something warrants further attention. So on Monday, I have a procedure known as an EGD, there they put a camera at the end of a long flexible tube, knock you out with horse tranquilizers, and slowly guide the tube down your throat and take a look at your digestive system, taking pictures, taking biopsies, etc. It's sort of like trying to pick a car door lock with a coathanger. For three days, I didn't know the results. But I did know that one of the likely culprits was a disease called Celiac Disease. In my horse tranquilizer-induced state of fogginess, I barely remember it being mentioned by the doctor that day. But my wife caught every word, and she started to wonder if we had found the cause. The doctor said we'd know within a few days. It was Thursday morning, three days after the procedure, when I started taking a closer look at Celiac Disease. Abdominal pains....check. Accompanied by anemia....check. I discovered that there are tons of people afflicted with the disease....athletes, celebrities, Protestants who won't commit to converting to Judaism on a first date. But it wasn't WHO has the disease that really caught my eye. It was how the disease is treated. The most common treatment is a gluten-free diet. That is a diet that eliminates all wheat, soy, barley, rye, etc. At first glance, hey, no big deal. I don't get the wheat bread at Subway, I get the white bread. Soy is that stuff that my vegetarian friends eat instead of meat, and since I am a carnivore, no big deal. Barley? That's only found in Grape Nuts cereal, right? And rye...well, the only time I've ever eaten any rye product, I'm pretty sure it was by accident. So I just stick to white bread and quit eating meatless frozen soy burgers. That sounds easy enough. What I didn't realize is that those products are in EVERYTHING. Everything good, anyway. Pretty much all breads. All cereals. All crackers. All kinds of stuff. I started to read the list of foods that were prohibited on a gluten-free diet, and it was pretty disheartening. I did find some websites that sold gluten-free foods, and while they sounded like decent substitutes, I envisioned them tasting like tree bark. And not even the tasty kind of tree bark. Of course, I didn't know for sure that I even HAD Celiac Disease. It was simply the explanation that made the most sense. I went out to lunch, and picked up a newspaper, and turned to the front page of the Life section, which featured an article on....*drumroll*....Celiac Disease. Okay God, I get it. Now I was convinced. When I got back to my office, I spent a few minutes looking over Celiac Disease websites. At first, it was information overload, and I briefly wondered if life would be easier if I just kept on eating a normal diet and feeling like that raccoon was still gnawing away on my insides. But I kept looking. I discovered the ingredients to watch for on food labels. I read restaurant menus that featured gluten-free items. I read articles on how people dealt with having to eat gluten-free at parties and family gatherings. The more information I read, the more I realized that this wouldn't just be about a diet, but about a wholesale lifestyle change. But I was ready. I had done my research. I had come to grips with reality. I had accepted the fact that if I wanted to live a long life, and feel well, I would have to make these changes. I was ready to face Celiac Disease, and a wave of relief actually came over me, knowing that we'd solved the mystery, and could now take the necessary steps for me to feel more like myself again. There was only one problem... I don't have Celiac Disease. Later in the afternoon, the doctor's office called and said that I had actually tested negative for Celiac Disease. At first, I was elated. WELCOME BACK, CORN FLAKES!!! That elation didn't last long, however, because now my mind had shifted toward that great unknown....what was causing the pain in the first place. Over the last 30 hours or so, I've thought a lot about Celiac Disease. Not so much about the cause, or the treatment, or the celebrities, or the diet. Instead, I've thought back to those hours during the day yesterday when I was sure that I had it. I've thought back to the time I spent visiting websites, perusing restaurant menus, and reading stories of those who were dealing with CD. And the bottom line is this....I was fully ready to make that change. I wasn't thrilled about it, but I had done the research. I had come to grips with it. I had counted the cost, and I was ready to be a gluten-free man. Tonight, I'm wondering this...if I was so intent on counting the cost of going gluten-free, and doing whatever it took to live that lifestyle the right way, why am I rarely that passionate about counting the cost of following Jesus, and doing whatever it takes to live HIS lifestyle the right way? Jesus said that whoever wanted to follow Him had to first consider the cost of being a disciple. For those who walked with him during His time on Earth, that meant leaving behind jobs, families, money, comfort, shelter, and security. It meant giving up everything for the sake of following the Son of God. Today, while the sacrifices may not be as tangible(though in some places around the world, it's pretty close), Jesus still calls His followers to do the same...to count the cost of being a true disciple. There's only one problem with that. We don't do it. At least, not most of us. When we tell people about following Jesus, when we talk about what it truly means to live a life that He calls us to live, we rarely mention that whole "count the cost" thing. It's convenient to leave out the part where Jesus says that we have to die to ourselves, to humble ourselves, to put others first, to love those we don't like, and to live in a way that completely contradicts our natural tendency to be selfish and self-seeking. And what happens is that we instead present a watered-down, glossed-over, user-friendly version of Christianity that doesn't require much sacrifice at all. All it really requires, really, is church participation and behavior modification. That is not what Jesus died for. And that's not what He calls us to. There was a kid named Mikko who I knew about 10 years ago. He was an exchange student from Finland who was interested in Christianity. He was part of a group of kids I took to a conference where speakers talked about following Jesus. One night, while he and I walked across a hotel parking lot, I asked Mikko what he thought about what he had heard, and if he was ready to commit to following Jesus. His response...."I don't think I can give up what I know I have to give up to follow Jesus". See, that was a kid who understood. He understood that Christianity is not an add-on feature, a way to make your already-splendid life even better. He understood that following Jesus is more than just diving into a subculture where you have to listen to Christian music, and read Christian books, and do Christian "stuff". It's about following a man, living out His teachings, and accepting His sacrifice, and in turn making life about Him, and not about yourself. Mikko counted the cost. And, at that point, the cost was too high. Why don't I more often do the same? Why was I so ready to jump into a lifestyle change because of its positive effects on my life, when I'm so slow to make the sacrifices necessary to be the follower of Jesus that I claim(and want) to be? Why was I so ready to get rid of all the foods that I thought brought me pain, when I'm so hesitant to get rid of the things in my life that I know are barriers between myself and the life I've been called to live? Why was it so easy for me to count the cost of a new diet, when it's so hard for me to count the cost of discipleship? I could come up with a lot of different excuses, but as scary and embarrassing as it is to say, I think the real issue is this....I think I love myself more than I love Jesus. I put myself above Him. I put my dreams and goals above His best for me. I care more about others' opinions of me than His opinion of me. My world revolves around me. There are times when I get it right, when the truth hits me square in the eyes, and I'm shaken from my selfish haze and get back on track. But lately, that's not been the case. I have become spiritually arrogant, spiritually lazy, spiritually...sick. And the only way for the spiritually sick to become well again is to go to the doctor, a doctor who cuts through the small talk and deals directly with the heart, a doctor who, as cliche as it is to say this, always knows the truth, and knows the remedy. Jesus, in the scriptures, called Himself the "Great Physician". And His prescription, so to speak, is always the same...realize your need, count the cost, drop everything, and follow Him.

There's Nothing Wrong with the Dollar Tree...

2009-12-27T09:36:00.000-08:00

I have nothing against the Dollar Tree. Really...I don't. That store, and other "everything's a dollar" stores, are great places, and they'll probably be around forever. My family and I have popped into those stores frequently, usually to buy candy that we can sneak into movie theaters. But we've also found great deals on other things too, like cleaning supplies, toys, arts/crafts stuff, holiday decorations, etc. So I'm a big fan of dollar stores. A few weeks ago, I was leaving a store and driving through a shopping center parking lot, when I noticed a Dollar Tree store that was still open. That wasn't unusual...it was probably about 8:30 p.m. on a weeknight. What was unusual was the vehicle parked outside the store. It was a late-model Jaguar sedan. The simple fact that it was a Jaguar made me do a double-take...they're very nice cars that you don't often see around our small Kentucky town. What made it even more unusual, however, was the fact that it was a late-model Jaguar parked outside of a dollar store. Before I go any further, let me reiterate...there's nothing wrong with dollar stores. I shop there. My wife shops there. But you have to admit....it is a bit strange for a Jag to be parked there. For one reason...if you own a Jaguar, especially a late-model, pristine-condition Jag, you can probably afford to shop anywhere you want, especially for trash bags, lemon pepper seasoning, and movie theater candy. You can afford the "good stuff", like they sell at Walgreens or Kroger. I even slowed down the car a little, to make sure that I was seeing what I was seeing. It was an odd sight, to be certain. I didn't think about that Jaguar until a few weeks ago. I was sitting down at my dining room table, working on my message for Mosaic for the upcoming Sunday. I was reading(and re-reading) the Christmas story, and trying to think of a new way to explain the meaning of that spectacular night in history. I was trying to put a fresh take on the significance of God sending His Son to our broken world to redeem humanity. And my mind sorted through all the cliches that I've heard at church over the years, until I came to an image that I had already nearly forgotten... That Jaguar, sitting at a dollar store. God could have done things so differently once Adam and Eve screwed things up for everyone. He could have destroyed a human race that had turned its back on Him. He could have turned His back on us, leaving us to fend for ourselves. He could have sneered at a humanity that thought it could "fix" itself and repair the breach in its collective soul. He could have done any of those things, and probably would have been completely justified in doing so. But He didn't. Not only did He actually DO something....He did the very BEST thing. He gave us Himself in human form...a perfect man, knowing no sin, who came to our dirty, busted-up world and lived a quiet life, growing in stature and wisdom, until He revealed Himself through His teaching, preaching, healing, and compassion. And then, in the most selfless act of all, He gave Himself up to be executed on false charges, all so our sin could be placed on His shoulders, Him taking the punishment for our rebellion, so that we might be redeemed and reconciled with God Himself. Do you know what that is? That's a Jaguar coming to the dollar store. God chose the one avenue of redemption that probably made the least sense. He came to a place He didn't have to come to, to do something He didn't have to do, to save a people He didn't have to save. He could have done anything else, and it would have made more sense. But He, in essence, was a Jaguar coming to the dollar store. It's absurd, it's completely absurd, that a baby born in a cave would be the savior of the world. Even more absurd than a Jaguar at a dollar store. But not by much. What struck me this Christmas, above all other facets of that incredible story, is that God didn't cut any corners. He didn't skimp on His blessing and provision. He gave us the very best He could have given...He gave us Himself.

Standing over a casket...

2009-10-22T21:26:00.000-07:00

I stood over a casket, looking out beyond the glass mausoleum doors, watching her waddle around, learning how to walk and stay upright....and here is what was going through my mind. I wasn't around death much as a kid. I vaguely remember my great-grandmother's funeral, but when I picture it in my head, all I can see is a steady stream of cars on a hill. My grandmother died when I was nine or ten, but I didn't see it happen. Meaning, it was sudden, happening when we were on vacation, and though my memory of those days are fuzzy, I do remember feeling terrible that I wasn't able to truly say goodbye, like you see in those made-for-television movies, where the family is called around the bedside for sweet goodbyes and squeezes of the hand. She was a strong, vibrant, active, feisty woman, and I probably thought she would live forever. Along the way, I lost both of my grandfathers, one while I was in college and the other at the turn of this century. I loved both men, as different as they were from each other, and have vivid memories of each. One grandfather was a retired fire chief who in his later years owned and operated a neighborhood grocery store. They even lived in an apartment above the store, which I thought was pretty much the coolest thing ever. This is where I had my first(and I believe only) shoplifting experience...sneaking downstairs after hours and stealing a jar of Tang, that horrible powdered orange drink. This grandfather is the one I'd sit and watch baseball games with. Back then, the Atlanta Braves were the only team on all the time, so we'd sit and drink Cokes and watch Dale Murphy and Gene Garber and Glenn Hubbard and Bob Horner. He'd watch professional wrestling, too(or as they call it back home, wrasslin'). He was always quick to joke or tease harmlessly, and always took my brother and I out for pancakes at McDonalds on Saturday mornings. The other grandfather was a preacher for just about his entire life. He was a more serious man, but by no means distant or unapproachable. He and my grandmother lived in the same house for as long as I knew them, a small, unassuming house on a quiet street behind a K-Mart. It was there that I'd watch them interact, still in love after so many years, and it was there that so much of his influence as a pastor made its way into my blood. This grandfather is the one who baptized me. On Fathers Day, 1984, he and my grandmother came up from Owensboro and he baptized me, then preached a sermon while jingling his coins and keys in his pocket, which seemed to be his quirk while preaching, much like Michael Jordan's tongue hanging out on a drive to the rim. He also traveled about eight hours to Northeast Ohio in 1998, where he was present for my ordination. Not long after that, his health, which had already been a concern, began to decline. On Christmas Day of 2000, he passed away. I was fortunate to spend some extra time with him before he died, but it still felt insufficient. I felt the same way when my other grandfather(the one who I stole from) passed away in 1993. I felt the same way when the aforementioned grandmother passed in the mid-1980's. In all three cases, I felt as though I had been robbed(the fault of no one) of the chance to spend that one last bit of time, when I could love on my grandparent, and be loved in return, and say the things you know you'd say if you had any inkling that this would be the end. As of 2000, I had one grandparent remaining. She was the matriarch of my dad's family, a quintessential pastor's wife, who never seemed to stop going(much like my other grandmother), never seemed cross(at least, not when grandchildren were around), and always had her hair in a perfectly executed bun on the top of her head. She loved my grandfather, and relied on him for so many things. After he passed, we realized that she had never written a check, never pumped her own gasoline, never done a lot of things. For nine years, I watched my grandmother transition to an almost completely new life. She went from being the wife of a pastor living in a small house on Baylor Place to being a widow in an assisted-living center. She went from being chauffered to buying her own car. She went from trusting someone to take care of the bills to handling her own finances. She went from being a busybody around the house(especially the kitchen) to using a walker, and spending most of her time in a recliner. Her body began to twist and contort, preventing her from standing straight and tall. It was a slow, steady progression, and as difficult as it was to see her slide into that condition, I thank God for the opportunity to spend this extra time with her, the time I felt I missed with my other three grandparents before they passed. We didn't get to see her that often, once every few months or so, but each time felt like a gift. Especially the final two times we got to be with her. In July, when our entire extended family was in for a reunion, different family members went by to spend time with her in her apartment. Nobody would say it, but the sense hung in the air that this may be everyone's farewell to her, because her health at that time was in rapid decline. So the hugs lasted longer, and the "I love you, Granny" expressions were more frequent. As my family got ready to go, I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead and told her that I loved her and was proud of her. She echoed that sentiment back to me. When my wife went to do the same, my grandmother pulled her in close and began to whisper something in her ear. It was her goodbye. She talked of living a full and happy life, she talked of loving her children and grandchildren, and being loved in return. She talked of being tired, and being ready to go. My grandmother lasted two more months. In August, after my father and his siblings were told that my grandmother was fading quickly, we decided to go down and see her on a Saturday. Her mind was sharp. She recognized us, told stories, and could make perfect sense of what we were saying to her. Her body, however, was obviously failing her. She was now on oxygen, not eating much, and obviously in decline. And yet, she maintained that sense of grace about her. That same sense of grace which allowed her to be a pastor's wife, the same sense of grace which allowed her to raise four children, the same sense of grace that helped her deal with losing the love of her life. That same grace was still evident in her eyes, her smile, her words, and her attitude towards what she knew was on its way. She passed a few weeks ago. And although I wasn't there, I would imagine that, physical pain notwithstanding, she passed with the same sense of grace that she had demonstrated in the weeks and months preceding it. It was, in a strange way.....beautiful. In the days following her death, as we made our way through a visitation, a funeral, and a burial, that was the thought that kept running through my mind. My grandmother's death, as much as it hurt and saddened her family and close friends, was, in the grand scheme of things, beautiful. It would be tempting to say that it was because of my grandmother's strength and peace and comfort, but it would be more accurate to say that it was because of the SOURCE of that strength, peace, and comfort. The Bible makes it very clear that for the believing Christian, death is not to be feared. In 1 Corinthians, Paul says, "Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ". THIS is where the grace came from. My grandmother knew that death simply meant passing from one life to another, and though she dreaded the thought of no longer being with her children in this place, the thought of meeting Jesus face to face, worshipping Him, and even reuniting with the love of her life gave her a sense of peace, hope, and grace. She died beautifully because of her faith in Jesus. Because God makes all things beautiful....even death. I carried her casket that day. Along with my brother and a few cousins, I carried her casket and placed it in the hearse, then took it into the mausoleum for a short burial service. And there I stood, standing over the casket of my grandmother, Emma Probus, and looking out at my 10-month-old daughter.....Emma Probus, learning how to handle this new thing called "walking", waddling around outside in the fresh air. One Emma Probus leaving this life, the other Emma Probus just getting started. And I couldn't help but think that one of my responsibilities as her father is to instill in Emma that same sense of grace, the sense of grace that allowed my grandmother to live such a life of influence, and to die in such a beautiful way. I'll tell Emma about all of her great-grandparents. I'll tell her stories of trips to McDonalds, and sneaking into the store for Tang, and that simple, unassuming house on Baylor Place, and baseball games, and the jingling of keys and change. But most importantly, I'll tell Emma of how God gives his people grace, grace to deal with struggles and pressures of this world, and grace to deal with our inevitable passing into the next. And I'll tell her how He makes everything, including death....beautiful. That's what was going through my mind.

Being good at the wrong thing....

2009-09-23T13:19:00.000-07:00

My t-ball career began in the spring of 1980. I was five years old. I played for the Dodgers. I honestly have no recollection of that first season. My only "memories" of that year are two stories passed down through the years by my parents. One story involves how the Dodgers coaches strategically placed me directly on the right field line when our team was playing defense out in the field. If you're not familiar with baseball, the odds of a batter hitting a ball down the right field line are about 1 in 100. In t-ball, where the ball sits calmly on a tee(hence the name), the odds are about 1 in 800. My guarding the right field line was no accident. It was strategy. So there I sat, on the right field line, during my first t-ball game, as a five-year-old. Yes, I said "sat". Because, according to my parents, that's what I did. I sat there, right on the line. Oh, and I picked flowers. I sat there, on the right field line, picking flowers. Oh, and I sang. I sat there, on the right field line, picking flowers, and singing, loudly enough for the parents in the stands to hear. And since those parents could hear me singing, they could also hear which song I was singing. And that song was "I Got Rhythm", the classic Broadway showtune. So I sat there, on the right field line, picking flowers, and singing a showtune with lyrics consisting of "I got rhythm, I got music, I got my man, who could ask for anything more?"... The other story from that first year of T-ball didn't occur out in the field, but instead during one of my at-bats. I stepped into the batters box, measured up my bat against the ball resting on that tee, and promptly.....peed on myself. I'm not sure why I did it. Maybe it was a close game, and the excitement of the moment overwhelmed me. Maybe I had the opportunity to knock in a few runs, and the pressure got to me. Maybe I had enjoyed one RC Cola too many during my pre-game routine. Whatever the case, there I stood, in front of God and everyone, wetting myself like a dog who's just been shocked by one of those electronic collars. The sad part is, I don't think my parents know how that at-bat ended. So I'll keep believing that I overcame my "situation" and knocked in the game-winning score. Needless to say, I wasn't very good at T-ball. My basketball career began in the spring of 1982. I was seven years old. I played for the Hawks. I only have one memory from that season. It is a memory of our season-ending party out at the home of the coach, Gary Ross. I remember sitting with my teammates, eating, and someone, maybe all of us, singing "We Are the Champions" by Queen. Except that we weren't the champions. I'm pretty sure the Rams beat us in the league finals. And that bothered me, not so much because we lost the league championship, but because we lost to a team called the "Rams", which isn't even the name of a professional basketball team. The whole thing just felt cheap. Anyway, I have no memories from games that season. But my parents do. I believe it was my first game. I had always considered myself somewhat of a gunner. In my driveway, where I played basketball by myself, I took all the shots, got all the rebounds, and won all the imaginary games. So I'm sure I told myself that the first time someone passed the ball to me, if I was open, I was going to shoot the ball. Because I was a gunner, and that's what gunners do. They shoot it. So the first time someone passed me the ball, I spun around, realized I was wide open, and took the shot.... ...from halfcourt. I had been standing at halfcourt. Taking a shot from halfcourt is okay if, say, you're a high school, or college, or professional player, and time is about to run out. But time wasn't running out. And I was seven. So the ball went up in the air and landed about four feet downcourt and started rolling slowly towards the basket, like when a kid bowls for the first time and his/her ball takes about seven minutes to reach the pins. Needless to say, I wasn't a very good basketball player. When I was four years old, I went to visit a nursing home with my dad. He was, I assume, visiting some people from church who were living there, and I tagged along. As we were leaving the place, he says that I looked at him and said "Geez, Dad, why don't they just shoot those people?". Needless to say, compassion was not my gift. When I was eight years old, I went into the kitchen at our house and grabbed an apple for a snack(probably the last time in my life that I grabbed a piece of fruit for a snack). I knew that the apple had seeds in the middle that I wanted removed. I knew that I'd need a sharp knife to cut the apple to remove said seeds. What I didn't know was that I should have cut the apple from the top down, right through the middle, so that the seeds would come out easily. Instead, I jabbed into the side of the apple with the knife in my right hand. The knife went through the apple and into the middle finger on my left hand(which was holding the apple). That felt below-average. But I got to see the inside of the hospital! Needless to say, I was not gifted in the culinary arts. It took me a long time to find an area where I excelled. I obviously wasn't especially athletic. I made good grades, but you're SUPPOSED to do that. I took piano lessons, but I wasn't all that good at piano, and I didn't really have that strong a desire to play. I acted in plays at school and church, and even had the lead in a few productions, but I wouldn't necessarily say I was GOOD at acting/singing...I just felt comfortable in front of people, and that's why I got those roles. Finally, when I was about 10, I found something I was legitimately GOOD at....spelling. It wasn't necessarily what I would have chosen as my area of excellence. I mean, chicks weren't digging my correct spellings of difficult words. But still, it was an area where I had success, and something which gave me confidence. Of course, I still found a way to screw THAT up as well. During my fourth-grade year, I won our school spelling bee, and was eligible to compete in the county spelling bee. As if that weren't a big enough deal as it was, it was made that much more glamorous by the fact that the county spelling bee was held at the local radio station, and was broadcast OVER THE AIRWAVES(people in Harrison County are not all the picky about their entertainment options). I won second place, finishing only behind Hunter Callahan, a sixth-grader who I believe may have been using performance-enhancing drugs. Still, I was pretty proud of myself, and my parents were proud of me, and afterwards they took me for a celebratory meal at Druthers, where I probably got food poisoning. All was well until about two weeks later, when the local paper published pictures of Hunter and myself receiving the savings bonds that we won by placing first and second in the spelling bee. They took Hunter's picture at his school, and mine down at the bank. It wasn't until the pictures actually appeared in the paper that I realized the problem. In Hunter's picture, he's accepting the check from the local dignitary and smiling at the camera. In my picture, I'm accepting the check from the local dignitary and smiling AT THE CHECK. It was obviously my first time posing for any kind of award photo, and I didn't understand proper check-accepting etiquette. I'm staring at that check with a cheesy grin on my face, like Garfield about to devour a lasagna. It was embarrassing to look at, and I'm sure that among many in our town, I was known as "that greedy little Probus boy" for years afterward. Over time, I found other things I was good at: making really buttery toast, recalling University of Kentucky basketball trivia, sledding, and watching HBO. These were all well and good, but none of these "skills" actually advanced my life in any discernible way....they didn't help my grades, didn't cause girls to take notice, didn't gain me friends. In the mid-1980's, I did find something I was good at that caused others to notice me, to seemingly like me better, and to look at me with some sense of admiration and/or favor. I became a Christian in April of 1984. And from that point on, I was really good at being a Christian. No, I mean it...I was. I wasn't a perfect kid, by any means. I still said wrong things, did wrong things, was lazy, selfish, arrogant, etc. etc. But in terms of doing what Christian kids were SUPPOSED to do, I was really quite solid: -Go to church. Check. -Answer the questions from my Sunday School teachers and other leaders. Check. -Treat others nicely. Check. -Behave in worship services. Check(most of the time). -Participate in children's choir and other children's activities. Check. -Be respectful to adults in the church. Check. As time went on, I realized that I was really good at being a Christian teenager as well: -Go to church. Check. -Engage in discussions during Youth Group and Sunday School. Check. -Show kindness to others, including guests. Check. -Behave in worship services. Check(most of the time). -Participate in youth choir, and other youth activities. Check. -Be respectful to adults in the church. Check. -Listen to Christian music. Check. -Carry my bible to church. Check. -Show "leadership" in the youth group(whatever that means). Check. -Stay away from drugs, booze, and sex. Check. I was really good at being a Christian teenager. So good, in fact, that I was asked to be the lone teen representative on my church's Long Range Planning Committee(which should have been called "The Do We Want a Gym Committee".) Parents of younger teenagers would tell me that they appreciated my leadership and influence, etc. It was all a bit much, I guess, but I rolled with it. And it continued in college, where I was a really good Christian college student: -Date Christian girls. Check. -Go on mission trips. Check. -Get involved in campus ministries. Check. -Get involved in a small group bible study. Check. -Find a local church and get involved in its college ministry. Check. And it continued when I went into youth ministry, and then into church planting, and it continues to this day. I would probably appear to most people to be a really good "Christian". I usually know the right things to say, usually know all the ins and outs of Christian life and church life, and keep up with what's going on in the world of Christianity. I have bookshelves full of Christian books, my computer has a ton of Christian music downloaded, I lead a church, etc. Here's the problem....this whole time, I've been really good at the wrong thing. See, I've come to realize that being a Christian and being a follower of Jesus have, in many ways, become two completely separate things. They used to mean the same thing. Not so much anymore. Christianity has created for itself a completely different subculture, separated from the culture it has been called to impact. As I've stated on this blog before, Christians have created for themselves a separate world(books, stores, music, radio, schools, etc.), and the more that this new world expands, the farther Christians seem to distance itself from anything(or anyone) not considered to be Christian. And as this happens, those who are seeking, those who are questioning, those who are looking at Christians, notice. So "Christian" becomes no longer synonymous with "follower of Christ", but instead becomes synonymous with a subculture that seems to be way too motivated by isolation and politics than it does by the teachings and commands of Jesus. That's where the distinction lies. And I couldn't really put my finger on it until last week, when I started reading the book "Christianish" by Mark Steels(a terrific writer). He asks the question...what if we're really good at the wrong thing? In other words, what if, this whole time, we've been trying too hard to be good at Christianity, and not hard enough to be good at following Jesus? I'm guilty of it. I'm so guilty of it. I'm so guilty of caring more about doing all the right "Christian" things and not caring enough about living the way Jesus called me to live...INTERNALLY. What good is it to be involved in everything your church has to offer if, on the inside, your heart is cold toward others? What good is it to know all the right words to say if, on the inside, you're torn up by jealousy and envy and lust and gluttony? What good is it to be a Christian "leader" if you don't spend time with God, allowing Him to break you of your stagnancy and build you into who He wants you to be? It's important to be a "good" Christian. But it's far more important to be a good FOLLOWER. When you're a good Christian, life is about checking off a list of do's and don't's, and fitting into a culture that I'm not sure Christ ever intended to have happen. But when you're a good FOLLOWER, you learn what Jesus meant when He called for His people to take up their crosses daily and follow Him...living the way He intended, inside and out. And when you do that, the whole "good Christian" thing pretty much takes care of itself. I'm guilty of being really good at the wrong thing. I hope I can backtrack a bit and go after the BEST thing....Christ Himself.

An open letter to my former youth...

2009-09-10T06:17:00.000-07:00

To the teenagers I worked with at Cornerstone, Spears Mill, Ridgewood, Northeast Park, and Versailles....an open letter to you: Dear former students, Three years ago, at about this time, I walked away from 12 years of youth ministry and into a new chapter of the life God had planned for me. In some ways, it was easy to walk away from youth ministry: the meetings, the planning, the late nights, the time away from family, etc. The hardest part was walking away from teenagers. You were what made youth ministry fun, rewarding, exciting, fulfilling, and enjoyable. That was the toughest part of walking away....walking away from you. It's been three years now, and every year since then, at about this time of the year, I tend to reflect back on those 12 years, thinking back to the highs and lows, the commitments made, those "God moments", trips, conversations, controversies, etc. And I always thank God for the 12 years that I was able to minister to students. This year, when I thought back to those days, something different happened. See, I've been out of youth ministry for three years, and now I'm a pastor, and I just see things differently. And because I see things differently, I'm starting to look back on my ministry life and see ways I could have, and should have, done things differently. That's the reason for this open letter to you. It's an apology. It's an apology with 20/20 hindsight, seeing now the way I should have done things back then. It comes after a lot of observation, prayer, and seeing "results"...in other words, seeing what has become of so many of you(thanks, Facebook!), seeing what God has done with you, and seeing and hearing about decisions you've made that have set you on life paths. It also comes after three years of being away from youth ministry and seeing "the big picture", about what really works and what doesn't in youth ministry in general. Here's what I'm sorry for... 1. I'm sorry that I spent too much time in the office, and not enough time with students. Office time was necessary, for all kinds of reasons, but there were countless opportunities that I had to be away from the office, building relationships, having fun, just investing in students. I'm not sure if I spent too much time in the office because I thought other people expected me to, or if I did because I felt I had to, but whatever the reason, it's insufficient. I will never look back on those 12 years and wish I'd spent more time in the office. I will always look back on those 12 years and wish I'd spent more time with the students God had entrusted to me. 2. I'm sorry that I didn't always surround you with encouragers. I was blessed, over the course of those 12 years, to always have adults who loved teenagers and were willing to help. Some of these were parents of teenagers, some weren't, but I could rattle off a long list of names of adults who graciously gave of time and energy to minister to you. The vast majority of these adults were terrific influences on you. They were loving, caring, enthusiastic, and above all, they were encouragers. They saw it as a ministry, as a calling, and they encouraged you not only to see God's best in yourself, but God's best in others as well. I never had to worry about the influence that they were having on you. But there were times when I didn't surround you with encouragers. I surrounded you with chaperones....adults who filled a role and helped make a trip or event happen, but did not offer the support and encouragement that you deserved. Sometimes these were youth parents, sometimes they weren't. Some of them only volunteered once, some of them were involved in nearly everything. Sometimes, this is fine. Sometimes, a trip cannot happen unless you call upon people who you need to simply fill roles. So there were times when an adult was part of something just so it could happen. But there were other times when the adults were actually a detriment to what was going on. Maybe they were complainers. Maybe they treated you like children. Maybe they talked negatively about other kids and even other adults in the church. Whatever the case, they were not the influences you should have had. I should have had the courage to ask people to step aside. I should have had the guts to be honest with people about their involvement. I should have kept the joy-stealers away from you, and surrounded you with people who loved ALL of you and influenced you with the love of Christ, not negativity. For that, I apologize. 3. I'm sorry that I too often turned mission trips into Christian tourism. It's a fine line, between going to a place because you're called to go there, and going to a place because it sounds cool. I don't regret any of the mission experiences we had, because for each of them, I legitimately felt that God was calling us to that place(and you felt it as well). I'm just sorry that for many of those experiences, I focused too much on the place and not enough on the purpose. I hyped up the location, and didn't hype the mission. Thankfully, despite my misplaced focus, God used those experiences in real and powerful ways. I only wish that I had emphasized the opportunity to partner with God in His work, rather than the place. Because we are called to be on mission all the time, everywhere....not just in Venezuela, Philly, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Cleveland, etc. 4. I'm sorry that at times, I focused more on games than I did on the gospel. By and large, youth ministry has followed the same formula from the early 1970's to now: hook 'em with fun, games, and food, and then sprinkle in some Jesus while you've got their attention. Sure, there are differences, and some youth ministries are much more intentional about sharing Jesus instead of just focusing on the fun stuff, but that was(and still is, in many cases) still the formula. It's what I grew up with, and what I learned, so it's what I did. I worked hard every week to provide the "hook"...games, food, etc....and then, most of the time, went light on the Jesus. I thought that's what worked. I thought that's what you wanted. I thought that was the way to draw kids in and get them to love Jesus. So sometimes, Jesus got tacked on to the end of the night, like dessert after a meal. And I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong. I sit here and cringe at the nights when Jesus was an afterthought. I read an article a few months ago about a youth ministry that was doing things the way I used to do them. They experienced a few kids committing to Christ, and they had marginal growth, but things were stagnant. The youth pastor went to a conference and realized that he'd been shortchanging his kids with too much fluff and not enough substance. He wanted to make radical changes in how they did their weekly gathering. He wanted to nearly eliminate the games altogether and instead strip it down to him, talking about God, and how God lives and moves and breathes and makes things happen. He went back to his church and nervously tried out the new style. Some food, maybe one get-to-know-you game, a bit of music, and then Jesus. 45 minutes of Jesus. He figured a lot of kids would leave, but that he'd be left with the faithful few, who would grow deeper in their faith. But that's not what happened. In less than three months, they grew from 30 to about 250 kids. It was amazing. It went against everything you read in youth ministry books, or magazines, or at conferences. Barely any games. Barely any food. Not much music. These kids were coming to hear about Jesus. And it's not just happening at his place. It's happening all over America, and the world...kids coming simply to hear more about Jesus. I wish I had the guts to do what that guy did. I knew it was the right thing to do. Games are fun, and there is nothing wrong with a bit of it, or the occasional game night, etc., but it should have been about Jesus...not as a tacked-on end to the night, but as the focus, the center, of our gatherings. I was afraid that if I made such drastic moves, I'd lose you. I knew some adults, who had ideas about how youth ministry should be done, would have objected. And I may have been right...numbers may have dropped, and complaints would probably have increased. But it would have been worth it. Absolutely worth it. But I didn't do it. I followed what I thought was the tried-and-true method. And did it work? Yeah, to some extent. But now, looking back on it, I realize that I shortchanged you. Some of you are still dealing with high school stuff. Some of you are dealing with college stuff. Some of you are now dealing with career and parenthood stuff. And when you need strength and wisdom to deal with your life issues, you don't turn to a game for help. You need Jesus. Youth ministries are slowly starting to figure this out. I was really slow to figure this out. But I never made the change. There is a time for games. There is plenty of time for games. But it should have been all about Jesus. 5. I am sorry that I worried more about growing larger than I did about growing deeper. This is a common struggle for any minister or ministry leader. There is always pressure to grow. Pastors are under pressure for their churches to grow. Music ministers want to have bigger choirs. Youth ministers are expected to grow their youth groups. More than anything, this is what I struggled with in terms of youth ministry....the pressure, both direct and indirect, to have a growing youth group. Sometimes it was very subtle: "Wow, that church down the street has 150 kids coming on Wednesday nights, isn't that great?". Sometimes, it wasn't subtle at all: "Todd, why are there only 12 kids coming to these Wednesday nights in the summer. We've got to do something!" So there you had it. It was almost a weekly, maybe even daily, struggle...do I grow this ministry larger, or grow it deeper? It's hard to balance the two. If you design your ministry to help kids grow deep in their relationship with Christ, then you run the risk of not attracting kids who aren't Christians, or who just aren't that interested in anything "deep". So your numbers stay lower. If you design your ministry to attract as many kids as possible, then your numbers are high, but you're a mile wide and an inch deep. There are no roots being developed. Kids who want to take their faith seriously and really grow and be challenged don't get that anymore if you're planning for the sake of numbers. Yes, there is a way to strike a balance. But it's hard, it's really hard. And most of the time, I felt I had to pick between the two. But instead of picking, I tried to have it both ways. And it was a mess. I never could strike the perfect balance. So the numbers didn't grow like they could have...but on the other hand, kids weren't challenged as much as they could have been. I wish I had ignored the pressure to sacrifice depth for numbers. I wish I had avoided gimmicks and quick fixes. Most of the time, they just resulted in kids inviting friends from other churches anyway. I wish I had focused on helping teenagers develop a growing relationship with Jesus Christ, and letting natural growth occur, and not focused as much on having an impressive-looking attendance report. You can have it both ways. It's hard, but it's possible. But most of the time, youth ministries fall on one side of the fence or the other. I fell on the wrong side, most of the time. I should have ignored other churches' numbers. I should have ignored the remarks about growth and numbers. I should have ignored the "pressure" to grow the group at the expense of depth. I should have done what I knew was right, and let people deal with it. 6. I'm sorry that I didn't foster more intergenerational interaction between you and adults in the church. Often, youth ministry becomes a "church within the church", and completely isolates itself from the rest of the church body. Some of this is natural, because there are so many things going on, but I wish I had made a better effort to build relationships between you and the adults of the church, particularly the senior adults. There's so much wisdom there. There's so much encouragement there. There are so many life lessons learned. There was so much that could have been gained from those relationships. But I didn't foster it, at least not as much as I should have. Early in my youth ministry career, I fell victim to the "us vs. the world" mentality, which says that youth ministry is sort of the renegade faction of the church, and that the adults are simply trying to keep youth ministry down and ruin all the fun. I could not have been more wrong. At each stop in my youth ministry life, there were adults, of all ages, who loved and supported and encouraged and prayed for teenagers. I should have been fostering those relationships instead of ignoring the possibilities. I should have provided more interaction between you and the rest of the church. I should have taught you to love the church, instead of be leery of it. It would have provided such benefits to you. I should have seen that. 7. I should have been more blunt in my teaching and in my conversations. There are very few places where teenagers hear the unblemished truth. Parents usually speak the truth, but teenagers usually block them out. Friends, most of the time, don't the truth for fear of losing the friendship. You're certainly not going to hear the truth from tv/movies/music/web, etc. I should have been more blunt, more direct, more to the point. I have to come to appreciate that as I've gotten older. I just want people to be honest. That's probably want you wanted, too. You probably wanted me to give you the unvarnished truth about alcohol, about sex, about loneliness, about uncertainty, about doubt, about decision-making. I wish I had been more direct, and given you what you wanted and needed. And that goes for conversations as well. In many cases, I've been able to have very direct, very blunt conversations with you about things....but only after you graduated. I'm not sure why it took that long, but it did. And it's been tough, and refreshing at the same time. I feel that God has given me a voice to speak truth into people's lives at certain times. In fact, I feel that God has given that to you, too. But too often, we dance around issues, don't ask the tough questions, don't say what needs to be said. I should have done that. I should have been willing to ask the tough questions, even if it made you uncomfortable, even if it made me uncomfortable. You needed truth spoken into your lives. We all do. 8. I'm sorry that I didn't do more to help you escape the "Christian bubble" that had been built around so many of you. Unfortunately, we live in a time when Christians have pretty much built their own separate culture...Christian schools, Christian radio, Christian stores, Christian clothing, Christian fast food(Chick-fil-A), Christian colleges, Christian music, etc. You can almost go through your entire life without ever having to really interact with non-Christians or people who think differently than you do. I'm not saying that any of the above things are bad. In fact, I enjoy them all. But I think we can all agree that it's awfully easy to create a fortress around ourselves and only expose ourselves to Christians and Christian influences and never be "salt and light" out in the world. That leads to diminished influence, which was never what Jesus intended when He talked about being a "city on a hill". I apologize that I contributed to that. I talked more about having Christian friends than I did about impacting others. I encouraged you to ditch non-Christian music, books, etc., when I should have been teaching you how to think critically and see these through a Christian lens without running the other way. I kept you busy with "church stuff", instead of turning you loose to have the time to spend investing in people. I helped build the bubble, when what I should have done was help you burst it and be an influence out in the world. I should have taught you how to be salt and light, impacting others, instead of isolating yourself. I should have prepared you for life outside the fortress, instead of just making the walls higher. 9. Finally, I should have taught you how to love Jesus and love people, instead of loving church and youth group. Unfortunately, I probably spent most of my youth ministry hoping that you'd love church, and not enough encouraging you to love Jesus. This is probably the biggest failure of modern youth ministry in America. We've made youth ministry so isolated, so specialized, that when kids graduate from high school, they have no place to go, no place to land. Church is different for them now. There are no games, or pizza, or skits. We've created a youth ministry world that has no transition to the real world. And that's why young adults leave the church....because they were taught to love youth group instead of Jesus. I was turning out church-lovers(or at least youth group-lovers). I should have been more about God-lovers, and Jesus-followers. That's what lasts. Writing this letter to you has lifted a large weight from me. It's been good for me to put on a screen my burdens and regrets, my missed opportunities and blown chances. It's been tough saying some of the things I've said. But I also want you to know that I don't beat myself up anymore about these things. I was doing the best I knew how to do. I was doing what I thought, at the time, was right. I loved you all intensely, and am grateful for everything God did and continues to do. Leaving youth ministry was not hard....but leaving you was. God blessed our time together, and He continues to provide for us in ways we cannot imagine. As I move through this next chapter of ministry life, I'm going to use the lessons I learned and wrote about above. As you move through the phase of life that God currently has you in, I hope you grow in your desire to love Him, live for Him, and follow Him. That's the way to experience His best for you, and the life that He intends for you to live. And I'll be your biggest fan, every step of the way. TP

Be Who You Be

2009-08-26T21:30:00.000-07:00

"Tip the world over on its side, and everything loose will land in Los Angeles"....Frank Lloyd Wright I shouldn't love L.A. I shouldn't have loved L.A. when I moved there in August of 1996. I looked forward to moving there, fresh out of college, but that had more to do with the adventure of heading West, to a big city, a glamorous city, while the rest of my friends were either still in school or starting their careers, as expected, in our corner of the world. But off I went. And in regards to falling in love with the City of Angels, the cards were definitely stacked against me... 1. I had grown up in a town of 5,000 people in central Kentucky. Los Angeles had, at that time, somewhere around 10 million people. 2. I had been in a fraternity in college, meaning I had about 30-35 other guys who were brothers to me, a close circle of friends. In Los Angeles, I started with one acquaintance, my roommate. 3. For the previous three years, I had attended and served at a small country church of about 100 people. They were my faith community. In Los Angeles, I had no such faith community to begin with. 4. I was a dumpy, frumpy, pasty, overweight kid from Kentucky. Los Angeles is full....overflowing, even....of beautiful people. Everywhere. 5. I didn't drink, didn't do drugs, didn't hit up bars or clubs, etc. Los Angeles...well....you know. I got there the first day, after a long drive across America, and the adrenaline was pumping. And I couldn't wait to get on with the adventure. I went to bed that first night(actually, I'm pretty sure I slept on a floor) with my head overflowing with possibilities. I woke up the next morning with a knot in my stomach. Pale as a ghost. Head spinning. What had I done? Why was I here? I was all alone....in a city of 10 million people. It was probably the first time in my life I'd ever truly felt alone. And I briefly considered coming back home, starting over, pretending the whole "L.A. thing" was a dream sequence that hadn't actually happened. I didn't go home. I stayed. Monday turned into Tuesday, Tuesday into Wednesday, and so on. Things started falling into place. An apartment was found. A job was taken. A church was discovered. Slowly, but surely, L.A. was becoming home. And I didn't even realize it. It was happening all around me, and I never noticed. I didn't notice while I was there. And I didn't notice when I left a year later. I moved on to other things that God had in store for me. Ministry. Marriage. Children. All part of the blueprint. And to be honest, L.A. stayed tucked away in the back recesses of my mind, brought out every once in a while for a good story or a cool memory, but usually kept on the shelf, like a high school yearbook that you get out once a year just for kicks. That's where it stayed. Until last month. My wife had never been west of the Mississippi River. I had not returned to Los Angeles since leaving in 1997. So it made sense that for our 10th anniversary, we'd head to the West Coast. We nailed down the dates, set a budget, and began to make preparations. Hotel....check. Flights....check. I set the agenda for a packed four days of sightseeing and trips down memory lane. At first, and for the longest time, I saw the trip as a way to introduce L.A. to my wife, to show her a good time, enjoy a weekend alone, walk hand-in-hand in beautiful weather, and perhaps spot a celebrity or two. Even as we started the adventure, that was my mindset. She realized it early in the trip, and sensed that I saw this trip much moreso for her than for myself. She wisely encouraged me to share in the joy of the weekend, rather than feel responsible for her happiness. I obliged. What I realized, an hour after we'd landed, and just after we'd turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard, was that I was, in some small way, home. It's a feeling that's very difficult to describe. Most of the time, when people refer to a place as "home", it's a place where they live, or want to live, or a place where they grew up. L.A. meets none of that criteria. And yet, as our weekend started, I felt a strong connection to the pulse of that place. Such a strong connection, in fact, that as we headed down Santa Monica Boulevard, through Beverly Hills and into Hollywood, I couldn't help but smile in wide-eyed wonder at the place. Not only because IT'S BEVERLY HILLS...but because it was my natural reaction to what I was feeling. I'd point out things for Kelly to see as she looked out the passenger window...not only so she could see them, but also so she wouldn't notice the terribly cheesy grin that had to be plastered across my face. For a brief moment, and a few times in the next 24-48 hours or so, I wondered what this obviously strong personal connection meant. Were we supposed to move there? Really? After putting down roots in central Kentucky, having two children, living within 45 minutes of both sets of parents, and starting a church, were we now supposed to uproot and head to the West Coast, and start a new life there? The thought crossed my mind. I said a few prayers about it. But nope...that wasn't it. We're not heading west. So what could it be? This was becoming more than just a trip down memory lane and a great way to celebrate 10 years of marriage. God was doing something deeper with this experience, something that was supposed to last. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I kept my radar up the rest of the weekend. We had a great time. But as we got on the plane to head home, I was a bit bothered...why hadn't I put all the pieces together? Why were my feelings about that place so strong, and yet not bringing me to any resolution as to why? Why had I fallen back in love with that place? What did it mean for me? My marriage? My ministry? A few days later, everything started coming together. I was reading an article on some website about identity....about people figuring out who they were really designed to be. And for some reason, as I read the article, my mind kept going back to L.A. And a couple of snapshots from my memory came into view... 1. We were driving somewhere in Hollywood and stopped at a red light. On a streetpost was a sign advertising a service that removed accents. Obviously, it was an acting coach, or dialect coach, who could take someone with an obvious accent(European, Asian, New England, Southern, etc.) and eliminate it so that the client can more easily nab acting gigs. Los Angeles. Where your identity can be a hindrance. 2. On our last night in L.A., we just HAD to stop at the legendary In-N-Out Burger for some dinner. We looked at the menu, which is pretty sparse, and ordered two traditional Double-Double combos(double cheeseburgers with fries). Then we saw someone with chili cheese fries. Those weren't on the menu. Then we saw someone else with onion rings. Those weren't on the menu either. Then we saw someone else with fries covered in some kind of sauce. Nope....not on the menu. It turns out that In-N-Out has some kind of code language that only regulars know about that unlocks a secret menu, not unlike a video game with cheat codes and special tricks. Los Angeles. Where you have to know the language. 3. A few days ago, I was reading an article about a well-known actor who was reflecting on his days trying to make a go of it in Hollywood. When he arrived, a fresh-faced wannabe actor, he hired an agent, who promptly told him to fudge his resume to include some skills and talents that he just didn't have. His resume said he spoke Spanish....he spoke no Spanish. His resume said he could juggle....he couldn't juggle. But they ended up on the resume anyway, and the actor had to take crash courses in Spanish, juggling, and other areas. Los Angeles. Where you have to become something you're not. It all clicked. It was all about identity. That's what made my time in Los Angeles so important. It wasn't so much a small-town guy in the big city, or the wannabe stand-up comedian trying to make a go of an entertainment career, or even a recent college grad taking off on an adventure. It was really about me finding myself. Los Angeles, in my experience, forced me to find out some things about myself. It forced me to answer some difficult questions about who I was, who I followed, what my non-negotiables were, what was important to me, etc. I imagine it does that to a lot of people. As the quote at the beginning of this entry states, L.A. is full of loose ends, people trying to make it big, escape something, start over, find out who they are, or any combination of the four. It forces you to discover your true identity. It did that for me. My answers to the tough questions set my life on a course that has lasted 12 years, and has resulted in a life that has been truly blessed by God. My trip to Los Angeles reminded me that it was out there, at that time, that I started to discover who I really was. Something else happened, a week ago, that is forcing me to realize who I am. I turned 35 years old. This is, honestly, the first birthday in my life that has caused any amount of pause or soul-searching. Twenty-five? Cool. Thirty? No big deal? Thirty-five? Um, wait a minute. That's halfway to 40. That's half of the average american lifespan. Thirty-five no longer sounds young and hip and energetic. It sounds...well....35. Like my time in L.A., this recent birthday has caused me to pause and take inventory of some things, and to come to some realizations about who I am. Some are obvious. I am a husband and a father. I am a pastor and an employee. Some are less obvious. I am disliked because of times I've stood my ground. I am unhealthy and need to make changes so that I can see this fatherhood thing through, and so that my wife and I can be old together, drinking lemonade on the porch and listening to ballgames on the radio. I am a leader, who needs constant infusions of boldness and humility. I am a follower, who needs....well.....constant infusions of boldness and humility. And I've been given a platform to help people find their true identity. That's what Mosaic is becoming, and it's beautiful...a church where people can discover who God created them to be. As the leader of the church, I have to constantly be reminded of my purpose...to help people discover God and His purpose and plan for their lives. Anything less is a cheap substitute. This L.A. trip, and this whole turning 35 thing.....the fact that both happened within weeks of each other is no accident. Both, for me, represent places along the path where my life came into sharper focus, and where the future became a bit more clear. When I left L.A. in 1997, I did so as a new person, and my life trajectory changed forever. As I go into my 35th year and beyond, I can only pray that the same thing happens. A song by my favorite Christian musical artists of all time, the O.C. Supertones, says this..."Who I am is in between who I wanna be, and what I am". What powerful truth. Who I am is Todd Probus, designed by God with strengths, flaws, hangups, talents, a patchwork quilt of traits and quirks. Who I wanna be is Todd Probus, fully devoted follower of Christ and influencer for Him. What I am is a broken piece of humanity, saved only by the ultimate sacrifice of God's son Jesus. That's my identity.

When You Say Nothing At All

2009-08-11T10:08:00.001-07:00

I may have missed my calling. Not my ministry calling....I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing as part of Mosaic in Versailles. Of that, I'm positive. Not my family calling....I'm married to God's best for me, and a father of two beautiful little girls. Of that, I'm positive. I mean my work calling. It's not that I hate my job. I don't. I actually very much enjoy my job. I work with really great people. I get to help customers. It's sports-related, so that's a plus. I get weekends off, don't have to travel much, and when I'm done at 5:00 p.m., I leave work at work until the next day. So there's a lot to be thankful for. But today, I'm wondering if that is really my vocational calling. I'm wondering if there's something else out there that I'm supposed to be doing. I'm wondering if I'm supposed to be... .....designing and writing greeting cards. The perks are endless... Work from home. Wear your pajamas all day. Listen to ESPN in the background. Flexible hours and vacation days. But as nice as those perks are, they aren't the reason I think I could(should?) write greeting cards. The primary reason is this: Greeting cards are terrible. I mean, they're horrible. Have you noticed? Maybe not...maybe you're like me, and you've been fortunate on many occasions to go to a store, look at the cards, and find a solid one relatively quickly. There are certain types of cards that are usually pretty dependable...they're clever, direct, and to the point. No frills, just a nice message. So I grab it and run, because there's no need to spend more of your lifetime shopping for greeting cards than is absolutely necessary. But on some occasions, that perfect card doesn't jump out at you, so you have to actually take the time to sort through the cards, read the messages...and in my case, cringe. Why is it so hard to find a good birthday/anniversary/thank you card? Because, apparently, it is nearly impossible to WRITE a good birthday/anniversary/thank you card. Of course, this is a matter of opinion. A good greeting card, to me anyway, should convey a message that would come from me....something I would say. The problem is that most of the cards I read don't sound like they'd come from me. Or from anyone else, for that matter. They are too flowery, too mushy, too cute, too this, too that. Nobody talks like that, except in soap operas, Harlequin romance novels, or movies on the Lifetime network. The worst part is not that these cards are written that way. I understand that. There are people out there, probably a majority of people out there, who look at greeting cards as a way to say things that they normally WOULDN'T or COULDN'T say. They want those cards to be flowery, mushy, cute. I get that. I realize that I'm in the vast minority of people who want something a bit more direct. The worst part is when these flowery, mushy, cute cards don't really say anything at all. They're just a collection of cliches and phrases seemingly lifted from Michael Bolton songs, strung together to make you THINK they're saying something profound, when in actuality, they've said nothing of any real substance. They're the poetic equivalent of cotton candy. Cotton candy is sweet. It's fun to eat. It looks pretty. But it comes and goes pretty quickly, and leaves you feeling just as unsatisfied as when you started. One of the most beautiful things about the Bible is that it's never cotton candy. It's never an empty-meaning greeting card. Every single word in the book has significance. None of it is space-filler. None of it is rambling. None of it is forced. I've tried to look for books, chapters, verses of the Bible that could qualify as empty, and I just can't find any. Those long genealogies.....Song of Solomon....Revelation....they're all part of God's revelation to us, and part of His redemptive plan for mankind. They all fit together...they all play a part...they all have something to say. Something profound to say. I've heard it said that the Bible is "God's love letter to us". It's true. Every single word of the book is the story of God's great love and mercy for a broken humanity. Every single word is the story of God sending a sacrifice for the sins of people who need to be restored. Every single word is how God is gracious to people who don't deserve it. Including me. But this isn't a meaningless, cliched, lovey-dovey greeting card that God has given to us. This is His story of humanity, broken and redeemed, through Christ. These are real stories of real people in real places at real times. And these are real words that carry real weight and have a very real power to change lives. And even though these words were written hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years ago, they're still as impactful, timely, and sufficient as they've ever been. I can read a dozen greeting cards and not find one that says anything at all. But I can't find a single page in the Scriptures that is meaningless.

Have I Told You About....?

2009-07-16T05:51:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself a "quirky" guy. In fact, I think I'm pretty normal. With a few exceptions: 1. When I go to a mall, I have to go in through a mall entrance. Not a store entrance. I've always been that way, and even though I've softened a bit(that's what a good marriage will do to you...smooth out some of the edges), I still prefer going in that way. 2. When I buy a newspaper from a machine or off the rack, I never take the top copy. Always one from underneath. 3. I always tell the same stories over and over. To the same people. Without realizing it. Numbers 1 and 2 in the above list don't bother me. Or anyone else, I suppose. My wife has gotten used to taking a few extra steps so that we can go into a mall through a mall entrance. No big deal. And #2 doesn't affect anyone but me. But #3, I have to admit, is bothersome. It's bothersome for me because it's embarrassing to start a story and have your hearer stop you and let you know that you've already told them the story. Even more embarrassing is when your "audience" listens to the whole story, THEN tells you they've already heard it from you. Most embarrassing is when you re-tell a story the SAME DAY that you told it the first time. So every time that I start to tell a story, I have to think to myself...."has this person heard it?". And if I'm not sure, I simply ask. It's like the phrase that many use when they start to tell a joke...."Stop me if you've heard this one". Except these aren't jokes, they're stories. And it happens all the time. For instance....one of my co-workers is also a neighbor of mine. So we talk about the neighborhood, our houses, and especially our yards. My yard is pretty pitiful. My wife does a nice job with the bushes and shrubs and flowers, etc., but the yard is my responsibility, and it's hideous. Primarily because it's mainly weeds, so even though we cut it regularly, it often feels like mowing carpet. And it looks like carpet, too. But it's also hideous because I haven't had the full use of yard "accessories" this summer. I don't have a blower for the sidewalk. I hadn't used any weedkiller for the weeds poking up through the cement. I didn't have an edger or a trimmer, so the edges of our yard, as well as the spaces up against the house and trees, were pretty much out of control. Lo and behold, a few weeks ago, my brother-in-law and his wife graciously gave us a free trimmer. They had gotten one with their new mower, and knew we were in need of one, and gave it to us. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. I was so excited that the other day, when I saw my co-worker/neighbor at the copy machine, I told her the exciting news..."Hey, guess what?! I finally got a new trimmer!" Her response...."Yep, I know. This is the third time you've told me". Third? THIRD? In the two weeks since I'd gotten the trimmer, that was the THIRD time I'd told her? It hadn't even crossed my mind that it might be the SECOND. So not only had I told her a second time, and not been busted for it, but I went back and tried to tell her a third time. That's embarrassing. And it's especially hard for someone like me who preaches at a church every Sunday. One of these days, I'll start some cute story in one of my messages, and a frustrated voice will probably yell out "WE KNOW!" from the back. It's going to happen. Why do I do this? Why do I tell the same stories over and over, and why can't I remember what stories I've told, and to whom they've been told? I can't answer the second part of that question, because it involves my brain, and I quit trying to figure out my brain a long time ago. But as for the first question, I think I have some answers. I think I know why I tell the same stories over and over. 1. I've always been about story. That's why I've always loved movies, books(sorta), and TV. They tell stories. That's why I read a lot of newspapers...they tell stories. That's why I read magazines...they tell stories. And that's why I love to know ABOUT people...not just the superficial stuff, but their story. Everyone has a story, and I want to hear it. Not only that, but I love to tell stories. I've always loved sitting around with people and telling/hearing stories. That's what I do with my friends. That's what I do with people I've just met. In some way, that's what preaching is...telling stories. And I'm all about that. 2. I consider myself what Malcolm Gladwell, one of my favorite authors, would call a "connector". That means that I think I have a knack for connecting with people, both people I know and people I've just met. And one of the best ways to connect with someone is through story...hearing and learning their story, and sharing your own. 3. But I'm also what Gladwell would call a "maven"....someone who accumulate information and want to share it with others. A lof of us are this way. We try a great new restaurant, so we turn around and tell others about it. We find a new way to clean something, we let others know what we've discovered. We find a cool "unknown" vacation spot, we let people in on the secret. So if there's something that I think someone else needs or would want to know, I want to tell them. I thought my co-worker would want to know about my new trimmer. And maybe, the first time, she did. But not the second. And DEFINITELY not the third. But that's just me, I guess...I'm a maven. I want people to know. 4. I'm like most people in that, if there's something I'm excited about, I tell others. I see a great movie, especially an unknown movie, I'm telling someone. I try a great restaurant, I'm telling someone. I figure out an easier way to do something, I'm telling someone. I find out good news, I'm telling someone. If it's exciting to me, I want to tell someone. So having said all that, and kicking this around in my head for a few days, about why I tell stories and tell the same stories over and over to the same people, I came to this question... Why don't I tell the story of my encounter with Jesus? I mean, I DO, in that I preach every Sunday at our new church, and so every Sunday, regardless of what passage of Scripture we're going through, I tie it to Jesus, because all of Scripture is tied to Jesus. But outside of that hour, outside of my church responsibilities, why don't I tell people THAT story? It was a humbling conclusion. I realized that I had told my co-worker about that trimmer THREE TIMES IN TWO WEEKS. But it's been a long time since I had a conversation with someone, anyone, about Jesus, outside of the church environment. That's humbling. No, that's more than humbling. That's embarrassing. No, actually, that's more than embarrassing...that's convicting. The fact that I'm more excited to tell people about a new restaurant, or an upcoming vacation, or my new trimmer, than about my story with the God of the universe, and the son He sent to die as the punishment for my sins....that's convicting, and humbling, and embarrassing. And it even meets my "criteria" above. If I'm all about story, which I am, than I should be all about THE story, the story of God and his son Jesus and how God has completely ruined my life for the better and saved me from myself, and from destruction. If I'm a connector, than what better way to truly connect with someone than to tell them about Jesus, and have real conversations with them about Him...not conversations where I shove my faith down their throat, but where we have honest questions and honest answers about faith and life and Jesus Himself. If I'm a maven, and I want people to know what I think they should know, or what I think they'd want them to know, why wouldn't I tell them about Jesus? He's the most important influence in my life, He rescued me from myself, He has given me purpose and peace and joy, He has made me a better husband, father, friend, etc. If all of these things are true, and I know that He can make that same difference in someone else's life, why WOULDN'T I want them to know about Him? Finally...and perhaps the toughest question for me to ask myself...am I really excited enough about Jesus TO tell someone? Am I more excited about a trimmer than I am about Him? Am I more passionate about movies than I am about Him? Do I care more about my upcoming vacation than I do about Him? Publically, the answer to these questions would obviously be no. But privately, in the corners of my heart where I have to ask the tough questions, I wonder if my passion for Jesus has been dimmed somewhat, replaced somewhat, by the things of this world that are so glossy, so loud, so bright, so enticing, so NOW. It shouldn't be. No movie loves me. Jesus does. No television show gives me peace. Jesus does. No restaurant gives my life purpose. Jesus does. No vacation gives me meaning. Jesus does. No round of golf died for me. Jesus did. No trimmer rescued me from my sins. Jesus did. THAT'S the story I should be telling. Over and over and over again.

When the road shifts....

2009-07-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

I just got back from vacation. One week, on the beach, with my extended family, and nobody else, save for a few dolphins that swam with us on our first day and a guy smoking weed in his pickup down the beach. It was pretty glorious. But as fun as it was, and as memorable as it was, it's not the beach that sticks in the forefront of my memory a week later. It's not the sand, or the waves, or the family time, or the sun, or the dolphins.....it's the ride home. We were going to make the long trip home in one day, on a Saturday, leaving early in the morning and getting home late that night. But I realized that if that were the case, I wouldn't have adequate time to prepare for my message at Mosaic on Sunday morning, so we decided to split up the trip, and leave Friday afternoon. There aren't many feelings more "fatherly"(not sure that's a word) than when you're driving your family somewhere and they're all asleep. That's where I found myself Friday afternoon/evening, driving through some sleepy towns in the Florida panhandle, up through Alabama, until we finally reached Phenix City, where we spent the night. For part of the trip, the rest of my family slept peacefully, which allowed me not only to think about the week, the week ahead, and the Sunday message, but also to observe my surroundings. Those surroundings included a bunch of sleepy towns and interesting sights in between. See, we weren't on an interstate. In fact, until we reached Columbus, Georgia, our trip consisted strictly of two- and f0ur-lane roads...not necessarily "back roads", per se, but quiet roads that allow you to see actual TOWNS, instead of the chain restaurants/hotels that usually dot the interstate exits. Towns like Eufala, Alabama, with its grand, stately Civil War-era homes, and towns like Campbellton, Florida, with fruit/veggie stands right there in the middle of town. Strangely enough, however, I wasn't as interested in the towns themselves as I was in what I saw BETWEEN the towns....those long stretches of road with the occasional gas station, or historical marker, or billboard. What really caught my eye were those pieces of Americana strewn along the highway....roadside businesses. They weren't uniform, they had their unique characteristics, but most of them centered on a few basic themes: fruit, vegetables, fireworks, t-shirts, and boiled peanuts. Each of these places, whether large or small, included some combination(or all) of the above. Occasionally they'd even throw in an extra feature, such as the chance to see a live gator, or a bear cub, or "Tupelo honey", whatever that is. But while the places themselves weren't uniform in size, they did have one thing in common. All of them were either struggling or out of business altogether. The ones that were open had no customers(at least not while we were passing by), and many of the ones that had closed still had remnants of days gone by, such as signs and posters. None of them were thriving...most looked like they were barely surviving. The struggle can be chalked up to a few different factors, I suppose....the fact that it was a Friday night, and people were out and about doing things besides shopping; the economy, which has put a dent into EVERYTHING; or maybe the products themselves, which are either an acquired taste(boiled peanuts) or something that people may get elsewhere(fruit, veggies, fireworks). But I think the real problem is something else....the road itself. Not the ACTUAL road, in terms of the pavement, markings, etc....but the location. See, it looks as though the roads we used that day were the primary modes of travel through that area years ago. As I drove through there, it was easy to picture hordes of vacationers traveling that road to get to/from their beachside destinations. And I could picture these vacationers pulling over in between these sleepy towns for fresh fruit, fireworks(the good kind, the kind that are illegal in your home state), and yes, even boiled peanuts. But then something happened. Namely, the Interstate Act of 1956, which granted federal money to build thousands of miles of roads that allowed travelers to move more quickly from state to state and town to town. That single act of legislation changed travel forever, and made our nation smaller. The impact cannot be overstated. Especially for roads like the ones I traveled on vacation. Being stuck between I-65 to the west and I-75 to the east, it's easy to see how these two- and four-lane roads saw their worlds change. The amount of traffic shifted to the east or the west, and what was left were locals, people who simply preferred such roads to interstate, or people like us who were going to a destination that was reached most quickly, amazingly enough, by traveling these roads. There is nothing wrong with those roads. They're in good shape, they're well-marked, and they're interesting to travel. The difference is that the people have shifted. They're in a different place. And these roadside businesses, not the fast-food chains and gas stations, which have built-in customer bases and serve obvious needs, but these family-owned businesses that specialize in what can only be described as roadside wares, are left behind. They're using the same business model, selling the same goods(and perhaps they've even branched out beyond what they used to sell), and have the same location. But the people have moved. Being part of a church plant has allowed(forced?) me to really take a good, honest look at how we "do church"....not only the purpose and calling of the church, but how we take that purpose and calling and create an atmosphere where people can truly connect with God and with each other, and serve our community and the world. We started from scratch, which was alternately exhilarating and terrifying. From the time we let people know that we felt God calling us to start this church, and in the months leading up to its launch, we got plenty of input from people on how we should "do church". Even now, nearly a year after that launch, we still get questions about why we don't "do church" a certain way, or why we don't have certain programs. The naivete in me says that when people ask these questions, or make these comments, they're just being curious or even helpful. The cynic in me says that when people ask these questions, or make these comments, they're wondering what we've gotten ourselves into, or are criticizing how we feel God has called us to do things. The bottom line is...when we started the church, we had to look at a few things with honest eyes. Namely, who had God called us to be? Who had God called us to reach? What kind of church had God called us to start? And how could we be true to all of these things without becoming too programmed and institutionalized? We said that God was calling us to be a simple church, with simple structure, that would allow people to experience God and life with each other, but still allow the time and freedom to be out living life and building relationships. In answering these questions, we had to take a fresh look at a lot of the things that had been part of our church experience to that point. We basically had to look at the structures, traditions, and programs that we were used to, and divide them into a few categories. There were those that DEFINITELY were to be part of Mosaic(worship gathering, bible study, ministry and service, etc.), and those that would EVENTUALLY be part of Mosaic(youth ministry, mission trips, etc.). Then there were a few categories of programs, structures, and traditions that we knew would never be part of Mosaic. There were those that were just bad, things that churches did(and do) that seemed to serve no real meaningful purpose except to keep people busy, or allow certain people to maintain a sense of power and control. Those were easy to determine. But the final two categories were a bit tougher. There were those that were really good programs/traditions/structures AT ONE TIME, but had since lost their luster or usefulness because of the changing times. These are hard to let go of, because they're so dear to so many people, and so reminiscent of a time gone by. The final category includes those programs/structures/traditions that are STILL good ideas, and still meaningful, still impactful, still absolutely worthwhile. But they're just not Mosaic...they don't fit into our calling, they don't connect with the people we're trying to connect with, they don't fit who we are. It doesn't mean they're not good...they're just not us. It's the last two categories that remind me of those roads I traveled on vacation. Those businesses aren't thriving, aren't working, because they're not located where the people are. The people have shifted 80 miles to the west or east, on a completely different road. But these businesses are in the exact same location they've been for decades, doing the same thing, and hoping for results. Sad to say, it's just not happening. That's proven by the number of empty buildings, remnants of the past, that sit alongside the quiet road. You have to be where the people are. There are things that worked in church life 20, 30, 50 years ago, that just don't work anymore, because people are different....times are different...society is different. Churches have to be willing to admit that it's time to make shifts of their own, to go where the people are, so that their ministries can still be relevant and impactful. Clinging to old programs and traditions that clearly are not working is like keeping your fruit stand open on a stretch of highway that just doesn't have the same volume of traffic that it did in the past, and hoping that business somehow booms. It's not happening. You have to be where the people are. Not only do you have to be where the people are, you have to be where YOUR people are. Like I said, there are things that Mosaic isn't doing, and will not do, but it's not because they're programs or traditions that flat-out don't work. They do work, and they are impactful, but for the type of people we are, and the type of people we're trying to reach, they don't work FOR US. There have been a number of times when people have suggested that we do certain things, or asked why we don't do certain things, and our answer has been pretty simple: we like those things, we see the value in those things, we appreciate those things...but they're just not what we're called to be. Most people understand that. Most people understand that the people who are part of Mosaic, and the people who are going to be part of Mosaic, are by and large on a similar road. We need to be on that same road. So everything we do needs to be relevant to where people are and where people are going. In fact, even in the short time we've been in existence, we've already made some changes to how we do things, so that we can be where the people are. But some people don't understand this. They think we're missing out. They think our kids are missing out. Secretly, they may even question the legitimacy of what we're doing. And that's okay. I never expected everyone to "get it", or to agree with how we do things. I probably don't understand or agree with some of the things that go on at their church. But that's okay....as long as churches are true to their calling, and are committed to meeting people where they are, and travelling that road with them, then God is being honored. Notice something here....I'm only talking about the way we "do church": structures, programs, etc. The message itself, the gospel of Jesus Christ, does not change. It is timeless, and it is timely. We do not water down or alter the same message of the Bible that has been presented in churches for ages. That does not change. But we do always need to evaluate and adjust HOW people hear that truth, and how they connect with it. We need to be on the road with our people....and lead them on that road to Jesus.

The Call to Nurture

2009-06-15T11:34:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, my daughter and I went to see Disney's new film, "Up". I teared up a little. On a few occasions. I didn't CRY, or SOB, or BREAK DOWN, or anything ridiculous like that. I simply teared up. And I don't do that very often. I didn't do it at the birth of either of my two children. I didn't do it on my wedding day. I didn't do it at the funerals of any of my three deceased grandparents(to the best of my memory). My wife likes to joke that the only time she's seen me cry is during those inspirational feature stories that are shown on ESPN every once in a while. This is not true, though I do admit that those stories choke me up a bit. So as I'm watching this movie with my four-year-old, and finding myself tearing up(NOT crying), I start wondering why this, of all things, is making me emotional. And then I looked over at my daughter, and I realized why... It's because I'm a dad. The movie isn't about being a dad, or the relationship between fathers and sons, or parents and children. But it IS about nurture...it is about thinking beyond yourself, and loving and taking care of something or someone besides you. Our natural tendency is to selfish, focused on us, looking out for our own interests and desires. But I do think that we are wired to love, and for many, that love manifests itself in the desire to nurture, to take care of, to look after. It's why so many people have pets. Sure, for many the issue of pet ownership is really an issue of companionship. And for some, the issue of pet ownership is the love of animals, and the desire to see animals healthy and happy and safe. But I think an underlying reason that so many people love having pets is the feeling they have when they know that they are responsible for an animal, for raising it, feeding it, providing shelter for it, contributing to its well-being, and more than anything....loving it. It's one reason why little girls cling to baby dolls. It's one reason why some grown men have such a fascination with their cars. It's why, in the state of Indiana, cats are given to prison inmates, who care for those animals the way they would their own children. It's because inside most of us is the desire to provide for and take care of something besides ourselves. Until July 31, 1999, I was not a provider, except for myself. For the first 18 years of my life, my parents provided pretty much everything for me. For the next four years, while I was in college, it was probably about 50/50 between my parents and I. As the next three years progressed, I increasingly became self-reliant, and provided for myself. Only for myself. I got married on that hot July Saturday in 1999. That day, I took on a partner, someone to share life with. And, in some ways, to nurture, provide for, and take care of. But that's a partnership....we look after each other, provide for each other, take care of each other. At some point, hopefully in the distant future, there may come a day when one of us has to take on more of the responsibility for the other because of illness or disease. When that happens, I'll be ready and willing to take on that role for my wife, and I know she'll do the same for me. It was on December 10, 2004 that I realized what it really meant to be responsible for someone besides myself. My first daughter was born, and I realized the awesome responsibility of having someone completely dependent on me. She could literally do nothing for herself. I remember the helpless feeling I had the first time I was responsible for her, all day, while my wife went to work on my day off. I think I just alternated between staring at her and staring at the clock....all day long. That day, the thought of being a sole provider, if only for one day, scared me to death. As time went on, the fear went away, but the weight of the responsibility has remained. And though my daughter is now much less dependent on me(it seems like every day there's something that she no longer needs me to do for her), I'm still very aware that I am her caretaker, her provider, her primary influence(along with her mother). We are nurturing her each day, raising her to be the woman that God designed her to be. It's an awesome task. It's an awesome task being responsible for ANYONE, let alone a four-year-old. And now, the feeling of total responsibility has returned. We have a seven-month-old daughter. This past weekend, I was left alone with both girls all day while my wife went on a day trip. This time, there wasn't the overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety that there had been four years earlier. I still peeked at the clock, but it was more out of curiosity, and less in the hopes that somehow it would speed up until my wife could get home. So now I have a wife, who I take care of, and two little girls, who I REALLY take care of. The responsibility is great. The rewards are even greater. I am fulfilling my need to take care of something, to give of myself to something, to nurture something. Every day brings new challenges, and every day brings new joys. That's why I teared up(NOT CRIED) during "Up". Because when I saw those scenes, I tended to turn my head to look at my older daughter. The theme of nurture flew right over her head. But not over mine. Every time I saw one of those scenes, I thought of her and her sister. And I was reminded not only of God's great gift of parenthood, but of His gift of nurture as well. Happy Father's Day indeed.

To the Class of 2009....

2009-05-29T11:13:00.001-07:00

Ninety percent of commencement speeches that I've heard, whether it be for high school or college graduates, have fallen into one of two categories: Category One.....what I would call the "Greeting card speech". These are typically given at high school commencement ceremonies, occasionally by a member of the graduating class. I call these "greeting card speeches" because they typically contain a number of phrases, words, or lines that you would find in inspirational greeting cards, such as: -"Reach for the stars" -"Never give up" -"Go for the goal" And so on and so on. PLEASE know that I am not knocking this type of speech whatsoever. It's the type of speech that SHOULD be given at a high school graduation. From my experience, and my experience with others, that's what high school graduates want to hear. They want to reflect on their high school days, the friendships they formed, the memories they forged. They want to soak in the atmosphere, to fondly recall everything that has led to that moment. It's an emotional time, and it should be. So a "greeting card speech" is entirely appropriate. Category Two...what I would call the "drying paint" speech. These are typically given at college commencement exercises, usually by someone brought in from outside the college community. These are named as such because they are typically as exciting as watching paint dry. A corporate executive, or politician, or some other distinguished individual is invited to speak at a college commencement, even though he or she has no real connection to that school. Occasionally, you hit the jackpot when you invite such a person to deliver the address. Maybe it's a celebrity, or someone with an amazing life story. Or maybe it's someone with something to SAY. That was my experience at Georgetown College in 1996. The classes before and after mine had less-than-electrifying speakers, but mine was a woman named Nikki Finney, a local professor/author/poet, and she was magnificent. I literally remember sitting there that May morning being grateful that we had such a fascinating speaker. So those are the two types of commencement addresses that I've experienced. And since I sincerely doubt that any high school or college will seek me out as a speaker from now until forever, I'll go ahead and take this opportunity to present what I WOULD say to the graduating class of 2009, if I were to speak at a high school graduation. Ahem. To the graduating class of (insert high school here) of 2009.... I'll keep this short, because it's hot out here, and you're wearing these ill-fitting cardboard square hats, and you're ready to get on with whatever plans you have for afterward, and you're not even really listening anyway. But with the time that I've been given, I want to share with you a few thoughts that I wish I'd heard when I was sitting in your place 17....errr...I mean 10 years ago. Some of this will be practical stuff, some of this will be a bit more heady....but it's all designed to help you navigate the waters of young adulthood. 1. Don't get any type of credit card unless your parents give you the green light first. I've seen so many friends who left for college, applied for their first credit card, and immedately racked up a bunch of debt. Credit card companies prey on college students because they know how impressionable you can be, and because credit cards don't feel like money. So you don't have to make an immediate sacrifice....just ring it up and deal with it later. Except that sometimes, what you deal with later is more debt than you realized you had accumulated. So it becomes a vicious cycle, where if you don't get a hold of it, you're paying off one credit card with another credit card, etc., until you're in way over your head. And these companies will try to entice you with a free t-shirt, or maybe tickets to a Reds game. But let's face it, you have plenty of t-shirts. And nobody wants to see the Reds. So no freebie is worth the headache, unless you have your ducks in a row and can be responsible. I realize this is way too practical to be part of an inspiring graduation speech. But I've seen credit issues wreck a lot of people, and cause a lot of headaches. So if you're tempted to jump into those waters, check first with people who are looking out for you. 2. Realize that your parents are getting smarter by the minute. Right now, they're stupid. They're inconsiderate. They're unfair. They're uncaring. They lack compassion. They're just trying to keep you down, to make your life miserable, to keep you from having any fun and experiencing life. Right now, they don't know ANYTHING. But here pretty soon, they're going to get a lot smarter. Their ideas will get a lot better. Their advice will make much more sense. They'll be a lot fairer, more compassionate, more considerate, more understanding. They're going to get their act together and FINALLY start seeing things the right way. So be ready. Now obviously, I don't mean any of that. Your parents are not stupid. But if you're like most teenagers, there have been times when you've thought they were. Your parents are not inconsiderate. But you've thought they were. Your parents don't want to keep you down and prevent you from enjoying life. But you've thought that was their motivation. You've had all kinds of typical teen angst towards your parents, and it's probably caused you to underappreciate them a bit. But now that you're heading out, on your own, to face life, you're going to realize that they weren't stupid, or uncaring, or any of the things I just said. You're going to realize that they can see around corners that you can't see around, because they've been there, and gone through it, and come out of it. You're going to realize that all of the advice they tried to give about money, and love, and work, and school, and friendship, and integrity....well, it was good advice all along. You just didn't see it, or didn't care to admit that they were right. Your parents aren't perfect, so don't expect them to be. But they have, all along, probably been making decisions with your best interests at heart. And any advice that they give will be with your best interests at heart. As you grow and mature and experience life "out there", you'll start to see that they have wisdom that you didn't appreciate, and insight that you didn't value, and advice that you didn't care to heed because you were so wrapped up in yourself and wrapped up in the idea that parents are usually wrong. So make them the first call you make when you have a decision, or need someone to vent to, or when you want to test an idea. They will tell you what you need to hear, not necessarily what you want to hear. And that doesn't make them uncaring, or cold....that makes them good parents. 3. Surround yourself with the right kind of people. Until now, your parents have had some level of control over your environment: who you've hung out with, who's been over to the house, whose house you've been to, and the quality of your friends. But now, it's all on you. You will be deciding who to suround yourself with. You'll be deciding who to allow into your circle influence. And this is a big deal. One of my favorite authors/speakers, Andy Stanley says that the quality of your friendships determines the direction of your life. That's a powerful statement, but there's a lot of truth there. Your friends will probably the biggest influencers in your life. So it stands to reason that if you surround yourself with the wrong kind of people, you will struggle. On the other hand, if you surround yourself with quality people, you will find it easier to live the life that you were created to live....which leads me to my last bit of advice... 4. Be the Real McCoy. Have you ever heard that term, "the real McCoy"? There are a lot of different theories as to its origin, but the meaning is pretty universal....a "real McCoy" is "the real thing", or "the genuine article". This phrase, "real McCoy", was the foundation for Nikki Finney's address to my Georgetown College graduating class. She implored us all to be the real McCoy. And today I do the same to you. In other words....be who you were wired and created and designed to be. Be who you are. This is the time in most people's lives when they "discover" themselves. And it will be for you as well. You'll find interests that you didn't realize you would love, causes that you didn't realize you were passionate about, inner strength that you didn't realize you had, weaknesses that you didn't realize(or want to admit) were present. There will be all kinds of things that you will discover about yourself, many of them by accident. But do not compromise who you are. Even in the midst of all the change, and upheaval, and uncertainty, be who you were wired, and created, and designed to be. I cannot count the number of students who would go off to college and come back and sit in my office and lament decisions they'd made, people they'd dated, friends whose influence had steered them wrong, and opportunities they'd wasted to make good choices. I've seen a lot of tears shed by kids who left the protective wing of their parents and forgot who they were, living a counterfeit life in the hopes that they'd be accepted, or liked, or popular. Don't sell yourself short. Don't trade the life that God intended for you for a counterfeit life that makes promises it can't keep. I've seen it happen with my own eyes....students who make small compromises in their character and integrity, only to find themselves on a pretty slippery slope, and end up far from where they ever thought they'd be, all because they exchanged truth for lies, and traded who they ARE for who others WANT them to be. Be yourself. But beyond that, be who you know God created you to be. Be the real McCoy. Only then can you live the life that God truly intended for you to live. There you have it. That is what I wish I'd heard in 1990-something or other. Those are the lessons I wish I'd learned then. Thankfully, I learned them all eventually. And my life is better for it. So good luck. May the days ahead of you be filled with joy, fulfillment, peace, and purpose. And may you find ways to influence others in a way that leaves them better for having known you. And don't trip across the stage when you get your diploma.

Another nearly-extinct animal...

2009-05-22T12:40:00.000-07:00

The dodo bird Kids playing catch out in the yard Tasmanian wolf Caspian tiger Which of those doesn't belong with the others? Actually, they all four belong together. Three are animals, and one is a group of people(though some would classify them as animals as well), but they all belong together. Why? Because they're all extinct, or close to it. A few mornings ago, I was driving with my daughter towards downtown Lexington through one of its beautiful tree-lined neighborhoods, and I happened to glance over at a yard across the way, where I saw something I have not seen in a long, LONG time... It was kids, three of four of them, out in the front yard, playing catch. To you, the adult reader, this may not seem like a huge deal. Because when you and I were young, that's what we did. Sure, we may have had cable TV, and VCR's, and video games, but most every day, we were outside playing. That was just the way it was. You got home, made plans with your friends, and played outside until you were expected home for dinner. That's the way it was on Charlotte Drive in Cynthiana, anyway. Whiffleball in the front yard... football in the flat space up on the hill... basketball down at the Judys' court... exploring the woods back behind our neighborhood... racing homemade boats down the creek behind my house... This is how we spent our days. And in the summer, our evenings. When it rained, we came inside, but even then, we played in the basement...shot games of pool, played Nerf basketball, ping-pong, or just made up stupid games with whatever was on hand. We did play video games, watch TV, etc., but only when we had exhausted all other leisure options. If that was everyday reality for you, then you may want to take a look around. Drive around a neighborhood on a warm sunny afternoon or Saturday morning. There will be exceptions, of course, but for the most part, you won't see neighborhood kids out playing ball, or tag, or jumping rope, or much of anything, really. At least, that's been my experience. Kids just aren't outside. Why is that? The blame usually falls at the feet of a few culprits....video games, the internet, and cable/satellite television. And those are definitely guilty parties, at least to some extent. But I don't see them as the inherently evil entities, the way they're viewed by some. Video games allow kids to score the winning touchdown, defeat a wicked army, or rescue a damsel in distress in ways that they could never do otherwise. The internet has allowed the world to arrive at our fingertips, and has made the world smaller through instant communication. Expanded television offerings has given kids the opportunity to see the world through a window that was previously not available to them. So while these are partly to blame, I think there's another culprit that is at least equally to blame....the death of spontaneity. I shouldn't really say that, because spontaneity is still alive. But it's a concept that is slipping through our fingers, and will soon be one of those things that we look back upon with fondness, like Coke in a glass bottle, "MASH", and drive-in movie theaters. We have overscheduled our lives. And I'm not just talking about being overly busy, a subject I've dealt with before on here. No need to beat that dead horse. I'm talking about the fact that we have overscheduled ourselves and compartmentalized our lives. I'm pretty sure you know what you'll be doing at 8:00 p.m. tomorrow night. I'm pretty sure you know what you'll be doing at 7:30 p.m. Friday night, or noon next Sunday afternoon. Why? Because we like to be in control. We want to have plans, even if we're planning on doing nothing. We like to plan our laziness. We like to plan our get-togethers. We like to plan our outings. We like to know where we'll be, who else will be there, what we need to bring, and we like to know as early as possible. It's getting harder and harder to find someone who truly goes with the flow. We've become regimented. Part of that is how busy we are. But part of it is also that we don't want to miss out on anything, or mess anything up, or leave anything out. So we plan....and plan....and plan. And in those cases where we have an evening free, or a quiet weekend, we are usually so stunned by the silence and the lack of obligation that we just sit around and do...nothing. Now, this has spread to our kids. Kids don't just "play" anymore...at least not like they used to. We arrange play dates. We put kids in leagues. Or classes. Or groups. When kids play sports, they don't pick teams and referee each other and use trees as foul poles and stumps as bases. Instead, they play in leagues, and wear uniforms, and have adults enforce the rules. Gone are the Saturday morning phone calls..."let's get together in 20 minutes and play whiffleball". Gone are the afternoons after school when kids just walked to kids' houses, knocked on the door, and hung out until supper. Now, we all retreat to our own places and wait until something is scheduled for us. Please know that I am speaking in generalities here. Of course kids still get together and play spontaneously. But it doesn't happen like it used to....I think we can all agree on that. And while the decline of spontaneity is a symptom, I think the real root issue is that people are still having trouble with the idea of community. We all want lives that are more like the lives we grew up with, when you knew all your neighbors, people looked out for one another(and one another's kids), and you just hung out. Life didn't seem so planned. Things weren't so organized. Life just seemed to happen. Maybe it was like that for me because I grew up in Cynthiana, a small town away from the interstate where life moved(and still moves) at a snail's pace. Maybe it was like that for me because my parents enjoyed having people over and were surrounded by great neighbors. Maybe it was like that for me because the kids in my neighborhood all had similar interests and personalities, and loved spending time together. But I think it's more than that. We were wired for community. That's how God created us. We were wired to care about people and have them care about us. We were wired to spend quality time with people, unstructured time, just enjoying common interests, or good food, or great conversation. Yes, some of us are shy, and that's fine....we still need community. Some people prefer to be alone, but I think that's the exception rather than the rule. It's the reason people still tune in to watch "The Andy Griffith Show", even though the show has been off the air for over 40 years, and most everyone has seen every episode at least five times. It's the reason people still go to the county fair(do you really think people go for the rides? The food, maybe, but not the rides). It's the reason Facebook has exploded. It's the reason board games are still taking up entire aisles at stores, while other toys have faded into oblivion. We were wired to enjoy being with people. My childhood was all about community. It wasn't about "the community", though Cynthiana was(and continues to be) a great town, and I wouldn't have wanted to grow up anywhere else. In a lot of towns and cities, a lot of money and emphasis is being put into improving "the community", and this is important, because we always need to be looking for ways to improve the areas in which we live. But as important as it is to have thriving communities, it's just as important, in my opinion, to have thriving community. It makes life more fulfilling, it makes days more fun, it makes relationships more vibrant, it makes memories more lasting. Those kids playing catch were onto something.

Something encouraging...

2009-05-17T21:10:00.000-07:00

When you love something, you want the best for it. But you also want it to be at its best. So you tend to find flaws. You tend to offer suggestions, subtly and not-so-subtly. You make fun of it, not in a hurtful way, but in a "we can laugh at ourselves" sort of way. And sometimes, you lob lawn darts of criticism at it, not to tear it down, but to awaken it to what it can be, what it should be. That's how I feel about the church. That's how I feel about the Christian community, the Christian culture, whatever you want to call it. I love it. I want what's best for it. I want it to have maximum impact on people and culture. I want it to be what God designed and intended it to be. And I'm part of it. So I want it to be at its best. I want to be at my best. And that's why I'm hard sometimes on that whole Christian subculture. That's why I'm hard on the church. That's why I'm hard on Christians, and that's why I'm hard on myself. And I find myself constantly and consistently seeing what is going WRONG with the church, and the community of faith, and what Christians AREN'T doing, and what I'm NOT doing, and I'm finding that when I focus on those things, a couple of things happen. One, I sin. I sin because I notice the speck in my brother's eye and ignore the plank in my own eye. I sin because in a way, I'm tearing down the exact thing that I'm supposed to be building up. And I sin because the more I think I have all the answers, the more I'm painting myself into a corner where I am sovereign, instead of admitting that I have very few answers and should be desperately relying on God. The other terrible thing that happens is this: by focusing on what needs to change among Christians, among the church, etc., and what could be improved, I fail to recognize all of the good things that are happening. And they are many. Perhaps more than at any point that I can remember, Christians are giving of themselves in small and large ways. I see a stronger-than-ever sense of burden among Christians for the sick, the poor, the aging, the mistreated. I see many Christians, and churches, turning away from the institutionalized, modern structure of church and religious life and turning towards a simpler faith....love God, love people. It is that thinking that has reinforced my need to recognize the ways in which God is at work all around me. It needs to become more important to me to recognize what we're getting RIGHT, instead of focusing on every mark that we're missing. It's time to encourage and be encouraged, because there are a lot of good things going on. One of those good things is The Mentoring Project, an organization that originated with Donald Miller, the best-selling author of "Blue Like Jazz", one of my favorite books of the last five or six years. Miller and others recognized the need for young males, so many of whom lack a father figure in their own lives, to be connected with men of faith in mentoring relationships. This type of relationship-building is already being done by wonderful organizations such as Big Brothers Big Sisters. What makes The Mentoring Project different is that it goes beyond simply spending quality time with a kid in a safe, healthy environment, and focuses more deeply on mentoring the young man to become the man that God created him to be. This really resonates with me, for a couple of reasons. One, I was the benefit of many positive male models in my life. The first and foremost being my dad, who was and continues to be the most significant mentor in my life. But even though I had a loving, caring father who spent quality time with my brother and I, and instilled values and traits in us, it was also good to have other males in my life who made positive contributions to who I was becoming and who I am today. These were coaches, teachers, men from church, extended family members. Sometimes they taught me things I had never heard or learned anywhere else. Sometimes they were merely reinforcing what I'd already learned from my father(kids often need a second, non-parent voice for such reinforcement). They say it takes a village to raise a child. If that is true, then Cynthiana raised me. But I was one of the fortunate ones. I had friends who had no fathers, at least no father who was around. Or their fathers were jerks, or disinterested. And I watched them drift. Some of them found models elsewhere, through sports or work. But some of them were left to figure things out on their own that they shouldn't have had to learn on their own. Tough lessons, that should have been taught to them ahead of time by men who could see around those corners. And in my time as a youth pastor, I saw it too. Kids, especially males, who were desperate for direction, purpose, sometimes a swift kick in the pants. I watched them feel their way through adolescence, like a blindfolded man searching through a darkened room, just trying to find the door on the other side. Sometimes they found it. Sometimes they never made it out. So this resonates with me. And it should resonate with every single adult who had someone in their life who stepped in at just the right moment and helped them become the man or woman they ended up being. Christians, people who are compelled by Christ's love to love others, should be intentional about making such an impact. In fact, I would challenge any adult follower of Christ to be involved in such a relationship. It doesn't have to be through a program such as The Mentoring Project. It can take all kinds of forms. But be intentional about investing in a kid, the same way that someone was intentional about investing in you. For some of us, we're investing in kids already because we're parents. And our kids should be our primary focus, obviously. I have two daughters, and my responsibility, for the rest of my life, is to love them and raise them to be the women that God designed them to be. The same should be true of any parents. But I will look for small ways to invest in other kids as well, whether through church, sports, or other ways. For others, maybe you don't have children, or your children are grown and outside of your immediate reach of influence. Your role in impacting kids isn't diminished. If anything, you now have a greater responsibility, because you have time to give, stories to share, lessons to teach. Kids, especially teenagers, are eager to soak up any wisdom they can use to find their way through treacherous waters. Don't assume that because you're older, or unhip, or never had children, that they are disinterested in your influence. Kids are smart. If you love them, value them, and want to see them experience the fullest life possible, they will respond. Maybe in their own time, maybe in their own way, but they will respond. They will be better for it...and so will you. The Mentoring Project is getting it right. Invest in kids. Invest in eternity.

Loose Hips Sink Ships

2009-05-01T07:05:00.000-07:00

There are questions I ask myself as I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep at night: -Did I lock all the doors? -What is on my agenda for tomorrow? -Wouldn't hunting be more interesting if the deer had guns too? For the past week, I've had a different question running through my mind: -Do I have tight hips or loose hips? Actually, my hips are so big that I probably have both. But the question stems from last Saturday, a holiday on my calendar, an annual event that I look forward to every year for its drama, its pageantry, and the opportunity that it gives me to eat platefuls of dip without any guilt. It's the NFL Draft, the day on which professional football teams select their newest players. For football fans such as myself, it's a bit like Christmas(the Santa part of Christmas, not the Jesus part). It's as though you wake up, run downstairs, and find presents under the tree. Except that instead of toys, it's 300-pound men. And they have to be fed, like RIGHT now. But at least they're potty-trained. For the most part. So I have some friends over, and we watch the draft. We eat massive amounts of obscenely fattening food(I had no idea cream cheese had so many uses!), predict picks, and either rejoice over our team's selections, or anguish over our team's mistakes. There was much anguish on this day. What is fascinating to me is the level of scrutiny placed on these prospects. These are the best of the best in terms of college football players. They're All-Americans, three-year starters, perfect physical specimens, absolute terrors on the football field. They leave their college football careers anticipating a professional career in which they make a lot of cash, possibly win a Super Bowl, and if they're extremely fortunate, earn a spot in the Hall of Fame. Surely, the months of December through February find these men dreaming of success. And then they gather for what is called the NFL Combine, where they are put through a rigorous gauntlet of mental and physical testing. Everything is dissected, from how fast they ran from one line to another, to how they answer questions about ex-girlfriends. Teams note EVERYTHING, and look for any and every reason to either avoid a player or draft a player. From the combine, and other workouts leading up to the draft, the nitpicking of these players reaches ridiculous levels. A player's stock may drop if it is discovered that he is actually 6-3 3/4 tall instead of 6-5. A player's stock may rise if he can shave one tenth of a second off his time in the 40-yard dash. A player's stock may drop if he got caught smoking pot once when he was 16(even if he's been clean ever since). A player's stock may rise if his college coach pulls strings behind the scenes. One of the most ridiculous criticisms I heard of players on Saturday was about their hips. To be honest, I didn't realize that hips were even that important for football players. Feet? Gotta be quick and nimble. Legs? Gotta be strong so that you can stay upright. Hands? Gotta be soft so you can catch tough passes. Arms? Gotta be powerful so that you can block and tackle. Eyes? Gotta be sharp so that you can see where the defenders are. Brain? Gotta be quick so that you can make split-level decisions. Hips? I can't think of any profession where hips are important. Except hula dancing. So one prospect is being discussed, and an analyst says that his draft stock is dropping because his hips are "too tight". What does it mean to have hips that are too tight? I understand what it means to have hips that make your pants too tight, but I don't understand what it is about ones hips that make THEM tight. Do they squeak when they walk? Are the hipbones rubbing up against each other? Whatever...I get it....football players need to have loose hips. Then, not even an hour later, an analyst is talking about another player, and says that his stock is droppying because his hips are "too loose". Waaaaait a second. Are you telling me that now it's bad to have loose hips as well? What's wrong with having loose hips? Is there a danger that the hips will just start spinning off their hinges, like some out-of-control Soapbox Derby car? Is there a possibility that the player will be running to try to catch a pass, and his left hip will just start operating independently of his right hip, and he'll just crumble to the ground in a heap? So this bothered me, for a couple of reasons. One, it bothered me that I don't know what kind of hips I have. Are they loose? Are they tight? Are they just right? I do know this much....if I were a woman, I'd have what old ladies call "birthin' hips", but that's neither here nor there. It also bothered me because I didn't realize why it was important to have perfect-tension hips. I've never heard a commentator say that a running back got tackled because his hips were just too loose, and one of them went rogue and completely messed things up. And I've never heard a commentator say that a linebacker missed a tackle because his tight hips decided to fuse together at the most inopportune moment, like on those old "Three's Company" episodes where Jack Tripper is trying to fix a broken flowerpot with superglue, but instead, he ACCIDENTALLY GLUES HIS HAND TO THE POT!!! And if THAT wasn't enough, his BOSS is coming over for a VERY IMPORTANT DINNER!!! Oh, the hilarity!!! But what really bothered me was this...the scrutiny. Just let the guy play football already! If he's a player, he's a player. Don't LOOK for flaws just to look for flaws. Some people are all about that. They can't just let something(or someone) be. There HAS to be something wrong. There has to be a flaw exposed. There has to be a blemish mentioned. Do you know anyone like this? I have, and I do. It's not that they're always negative like Eeyore. It's that there's always something wrong with everything. And we know this is true. But they have to mention it. They can't just leave it alone. They can't just enjoy something, or agree with something, or endorse something. They have to criticize. They think it's their right, their responsibility....heck, some people think it's God's calling for their life. It's as though they're walking around with a pin, waiting for everyone's balloon to blow up to just the right level before they pop it. And they take pride in it. They relish in it. They look forward to it. They're discouragers, not encouragers. Until it happens to them. Then all of a sudden, here comes the defensiveness. And the blame. And the "tsk tsk". And the deflection. And then the cries of foul. The tables are turned, and the results aren't pretty. You know, we're all guilty of this. We really are. Not all of us are guilty of being the person who likes to point out the faults and flaws in others, their plans, their ideas, their goals, their dreams. Not all of us verbally criticize, or nitpick, or take subtle(and not so subtle) jabs at people. That "gift" is reserved for a smaller minority of miserable people. No, ours is usually internal. Oh, we may occasionally say something our breath that criticizes a person, but most of the time, it's part of our internal monologue(or dialogue, if you've got issues). We knock others down to build ourselves up. We find any and every reason to dull the luster on someone, to poke holes in their ideas, to talk them down from the clouds, so that we can feel a bit better about ourselves. But when someone does it to us, then "AWWW LAWDY NO". How DARE they be such a downer? How dare they steal our dreams? How dare they criticize everything we do and say? How dare they pop our balloons? How dare they criticize our hips? In the seventh chapter of the book of Matthew, Jesus says that how we treat others will be how we're treated. Ouch. For most of us, on the outside, we'd be in good shape. But God knows our hearts, and what we think and feel about people on the inside. And that's not good. Jesus then says that we worry about the speck in our friend's eye, and ignore the log in our own. Meaning, we're quick and enthusiastic about noticing or pointing out the flaws in others, while either ignoring or dismissing our own shortcomings. We all do it....the only difference is whether we internalize it or verbalize it. Either way, it's a sin. This week, whether your keep your criticisms of others to yourself or whether you say them aloud, whether you are an encourager or a discourager, whether you pick at others or build them up, whether you have tight hips or loose hips, may we all heed the words of Jesus and focus on our OWN faults, flaws, and shortcomings, and prayerfully seek how we can become more like Christ, instead of tearing others down in order to feel better about ourselves. I think I just heard my hips squeak.

I'm not a fan of God...

2009-04-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

I'm man enough to admit that I love Facebook. I love the chance to catch up with old friends. I love the opportunity to see what's going on in people's lives on a daily(hourly?) basis. I love not having to keep up with hundreds of emails, or remember hundreds of birthdays, because Facebook keeps track of that information for me. I love looking at pictures of people's lives. One of the things I love most about Facebook is the chance it gives for people to really share a lot about themselves. People rarely have real, face-to-face conversations anymore. Most of that is due to the hectic pace that most of us maintain every day. Some of that stems from our assumption that when people ask "How are you?" in casual conversation, they don't REALLY want to know. So our conversations stay near the surface. We talk about the weather, about John Calipari, about our past weekend or the weekend to come. Occasionally, we'll talk about our favorite restaurants, movies, tv shows, music, vacation destinations. But it seems to be getting harder and harder to actually KNOW people through face-to-face interaction. This is where Facebook has stepped in. Through people's profiles, status updates, and occasional "notes", you actually get to know people, or at least as much as what they're willing to share on a website. Lately, Facebook has introduced its new "fan" feature. You can list yourself as a fan of actors, books, places, political figures, television shows, athletes, etc. For example, I'm a fan of 30 different entries. Here is a portion of my fan list: Jim Rome, "24", Jimmy John's, Mitch Hedberg, Kentucky Wildcats, "Arrested Development", Malcolm Gladwell, Billy Joel, Samoas(Girl Scout Cookies). And the list goes on and on. Clicking a button makes you a fan, and gives your friends a better idea of who or what you like. In the past week or so, I've been presented with the opportunity to add Jesus to my fan list. That would make me, of course, a fan of God. And when I saw that chance the first time, I slid my mouse over to click on the link. And then I hesitated. What would it mean to be a fan of God? Maybe a better question would be....what does it mean to be a fan of any well-known individual? 1. You don't know the person. You may have met the person, but you don't know the person. I have three Facebook friends who would be considered celebrities in their circles. But I know them. It would be awkward to call myself a fan of any of them. They're friends. Being a fan of someone means there has to be some distance between you and that person. I'm a huge fan of Jim Rome. He and I have met. But we are not friends. If we were friends, I'd no longer be his fan, I'd be his friend. 2. You're not involved in their work. I'm a huge Kentucky Wildcats fan. But if, during this winter's basketball game against Louisville, they need a huge basket at a critical point in the game, I'm not going to jump the rail at Rupp and run out onto the court and try to take the ball away from Jodie Meeks and nail a three. One, because I can't hit a three. Two, because I'd get tasered. But also, because I'm a fan. I'm a spectator, not a participant. 3. Fandom wears off. When I was in fourth grade, two classmates and I formed the Julian Lennon Fan Club. Yes, THAT Julian Lennon. They wanted to form the club because they thought he was gorgeous and loved his music. I wanted to form the club because I liked one of his songs, and because these two girls were CUTE. So it was a guaranteed way to get on their good side by spending time with them and pretending to like Julian Lennon. It didn't last, because Julian Lennon didn't last. His next album was awful, and he faded into obscurity. Our favorite TV shows go off the air. Our favorite actors start putting out bad movies. Our favorite vacation spots become too commercialized. Our tastes change. Our fandom fades. 4. Fandom can be a fad. People are like sheep sometimes, liking things because they're SUPPOSED to like those things. For years, I watched teenagers unapologetically do things only because friends were doing them. Same with music, movies, books, activities, etc. etc. If the crowd is involved, we want to be involved too. Nobody wants to miss out. As we get older, we become more comfortable in our own skin, and we start liking things because we actually like them. But sometimes, we're fans of something(or someone) only because someone else is, too. I don't want to be a fan of Jesus. 1. I want to KNOW God. I want to have a relationship with Him. I want to communicate with Him, and He with me. I want to spend time with Him every day, learning more about His character and His purpose for my life. I don't want there to be a distance betwen us. I want to know my creator. 2. I want to be involved in what God is doing. God is always at work, in obvious ways and in ways that occur behind the scenes. I want to be part of His plan, to live the life He intended for me to live, to impact people around me. I want to see where He is at work and join Him in that work. I don't want to be a casual bystander. I don't want to be a spectator. I want to be part of it. 3. I want my relationship with God to be consistent, growing every single day. I want to love Him more tomorrow than I do today. I want to know Him better tomorrow than I do today. I don't want my faith to grow stagnant. I want it to constantly be growing, challenging, encouraging, rewarding. 4. I want my relationship with God to be MY relationship with God. I don't want to love God because I'm supposed to, or expected to. I don't want to live out my faith behind a veil of cliches and meaningless rituals. I want my faith to be my own, my personal faith in God. That's why I'm not a fan of God. And it's not that I take issue with anyone on Facebook who chooses to be. To each his/her own. It's just that when I look at what it means to be a fan, that's not what I want to be, not when it comes to God. Here's what I see: Distant vs. close Spectator vs. participant Fairweather vs. lifelong Following the crowd vs. being who I was created to be. I want to be a follower, not a fan.

Boring makes a comeback...

2009-04-09T06:34:00.000-07:00

One of the things(among many) that my wife laughs at me about is my tendency to hate having a half-empty glass. If I am drinking a soft drink over ice, and my glass is 3/4 full, I'll replenish it to make it completely full, even if I'm not going to take a sip right then. She laughs at that. I didn't realize I had that habit. I guess I'm not a "glass half-full" or "glass half-empty" guy....I'm a "that glass better be completely full all the time, or else I'm getting up for another can" guy. One of the things(among many) that I laugh at some people about is their tendency to hate having a half-empty schedule. I've noticed this for a while now....people just have to be constantly on the go, constantly up doing something, constantly busy. I have especially noticed it in the six years we've lived in Versailles. People just seem to be so busy, much busier than they seemed in places where we'd previously lived. We lived in Evansville, Indiana, which was a pleasant, slow-paced Midwestern town. We lived in northeast Ohio, a blue-collar area, where people were busy, but seemed to relish the opportunity each night(and weekend) to take it easy. Not here. At least, not in the case of several people we know. I saw this in four years of youth ministry. I see it in the lives of some friends. And it has become especially evident when looking at the Facebook status updates of our acquaintances. "*So-and-so* has to run here, there, pick him up, drop her off, cook supper, grade papers, clean the house, go to the gym, work in the yard, do some laundry, catch up on my TIVO shows, fix the economy, patch the hole in the ozone layer, and then curl up for a good book!" That's not too much of an exaggeration, actually. I really saw it in youth ministry....families, and people, simply out of balance. They were just too busy: school, work, church, family....it was one constant juggling act, like the one at the end of the show, where the guy is on a unicycle juggling flaming swords, and three would be plenty, but then he decides to add a fourth, a fifth, and so on. And I saw people crash and burn, completely oblivious to the pressure they were placing on themselves, their bodies, their psyches. Part of the problem was that they were simply stretched too thin. They were involved in simply too much, or their kids were simply involved in too much, and the world kept spinning faster and faster, and the only relaxation, the only break, came during vacation....which meant that for 50 out of 52 weeks in the year, their world was perilously close to spinning off its axis. Another problem was that they felt guilty at even the thought of cutting back. They couldn't cut back on overtime for fear of losing their job. They couldn't suggest to their kids that the extracurricular schedules were just too much, for fear of preventing their kids from fulfilling dreams and shortchanging their futures. The kids couldn't suggest that they drop a sport or an activity, for fear of looking like a quitter or lazy. And the toughest one was this....nobody could suggest that they scale back their church involvement, for fear of looking like a less-committed Christian. That was the kicker. I suggested families slow down with church stuff, and you would have thought I'd suggested that they empty their savings and spend it all on Chia Pets. I even saw pastors suggest to people that their scale back their church busy-ness. It didn't happen. There is a reason that so many churches are trying to simplify. There's even a "simple church movement", so to speak. One of the characteristics of our church, Mosaic, is that we want to keep things very simple. We don't want to become a machine with a lot of moving parts, keeping people busy and away from opportunities to spend time with families and in the community. We want people to live balanced lives. And it's clear that for many, that's not happening. I was thinking about this the other day. When I was a kid, I went through a phase where I loved going places and being busy. Every trip was an adventure....meeting people, trying new things, seeing new places. I see that in my four-year-old daughter. She loves going anywhere. I could tell her that we were driving four hours away so that we could sit in lawn chairs alongside I-64 and flick bottlecaps at birds on a fencepost, and she would be ready to go. I love that about her. But there were other times, as a kid, when I didn't want to go anywhere. I remember specifically dreading trips to "grown-up stores", like furniture stores and car lots. I hated any scenario where I may potentially be trying on clothes. I didn't care to go see distant relatives I'd never met, or visit some church from my parents' past. I was perfectly content to stay home and shoot baskets, or play in the woods back behind our house, or watch a ballgame, or read a book(just kidding). And there are times I see that in my daughter as well, where she wants to just be at home with her family. I love that about her. Then I turned 16. And I flunked my drivers test. My own Little League coach flunked me on my first driving test attempt. I never have really been able to get over that. But anyways.....I passed the second time. Barely. And all of a sudden, staying at home had no appeal to me. It's not that I didn't love my family, or love my house, or want to spend time there, it's the fact that I now had a new sense of freedom, power, and adventure. I could go places. Like McDonalds. Remember, this was Cynthiana, so that was a BIG deal in 1990. That feeling, that attitude of wanting to always be going, always doing, always busy, stayed with me until early in my marriage. As a high school student, as a college student, as a young single guy, you never want to be the person who doesn't have plans for Friday night, who doesn't have a place to go, or people to hang out with, or something to do. Sure, there were nights or weekends when all I wanted to do was crash, but for the most part, I was busy just to be busy. I always wanted to have something going on, plans in the works, people to be with. As a young couple, my wife and I were the same way. There were times we just wanted to hang out at home, but as a young childless couple, we kept our social calendar pretty full. When I wasn't busy with youth ministry stuff, we found time to go to movies, to the mall, out to dinner, etc. Rare was the weekend that was completely free of obligations and plans. And for the most part, that's exactly how we wanted it. Then, in the course of about 20 months from 2004-2006, two things happened which brought our world to a screeching halt. First, we had a child. Second, I left youth ministry. When the first happened, life slowed down a bit. When the second happened 20 months later, everything changed. The calendar emptied. The phone stopped ringing. The cars stayed in the driveway. Life was free for us to really live again on our terms. It was a new feeling, and quite exhilarating(though, for the parents of a toddler, we were too tired to be exhilarated). Since then, we've gained a real appreciation for simplicity. Besides church, our weekends are relatively free. Occasionally there will be a family gathering, or something to do with friends, but most of the time, we're able to stay at home and play with our four-year-old and her baby sister. It's now a big deal(or ordeal, depending on how you want to look at it) to go out for dinner, or to go rent a movie, or to the park. It's wonderful, to be honest, to have life stripped down in this way. I don't want to go back to the time of meetings, trips, obligations, quick dinners at home, weeks away, etc. That day is approaching, as my daughters get older and get involved in things, but for now, this is the life I want to live. A simple life, focused on the main things. As we've started this new church, that's one of the things we wanted to be known for: simplicity. God is not more honored or impressed with how many hours we can dedicate to "church stuff". Our level of involvement does not directly correlate to our level of spiritual maturity. Evidence...have you ever known someone who was ALWAYS busy with church stuff, always hand their hand in things, always involved, but, truth be told, they were pretty miserable people to deal with and be around? I thought so. Where I'm going is this: the time is coming, and may already be here, when people start to realize that life was not meant to be lived at a breakneck pace. There will be times when it's busy, and frantic, and overwhelming, but that needs to be the exception, rather than the rule. And this isn't just a "take time to smell the roses" spiel....this is coming from someone who has seen people and families either burned out because they went too hard, too fast, or their social and family life was barren because they never actually spent TIME investing in what matters....God and people. There's something to this simplicity thing. It's not something I discovered three years ago when my schedule changed. In all areas of life, people seem to be picking up on it. My wife gets a magazine called "Real Simple". As I mentioned earlier, there is a "simple church movement", where churches are scaling back so that their people can breathe. People are realizing that life was meant to be lived, not survived. The Bible tells us that same thing. The Mary/Martha story is a perfect example. Two sisters hosting Jesus in their home. One is up busying herself with hostess duties, the other is sitting at Jesus' feet, hanging on his words. The busybody complains. Whose side do you think Jesus takes? When I decided to put down some thoughts about this, it came after an evening of reading Facebook status updates of busy people. What scared me was that these people weren't complaining about being busy. Instead, they seemed to be priding themselves on it, as though their hectic life was some sort of badge of honor. They seemed to be saying "What a great parent/Christian/employee/student I am....I am SO BUSY!!!". They saw it as a badge of honor, but I saw it as disappointing. Because I saw myself, circa five years ago, juggling all of those flaming swords, just hoping none would drop. And I thought of this verse. "And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God"(Micah 6:8). Act justly....love mercy....walk humbly. That's it. That's the list. Everything else we do is simply extra layers of stuff, extra layers that cause us to go too fast, too hard, and take our attention and energy away from what God designed us to do. Live.

Life is a vapor....

2009-03-31T10:13:00.000-07:00

"I know when I'm going to die, because my birth certificate has an expiration date on it" -Steven Wright That classic line is from the 1984 album "I Have a Pony" by my all-time favorite comedian, the great Steven Wright. And while he obviously has made a clever, albeit morbid, observation on life and death, his quote came to mind recently in light of some tragic developments around me. When I was growing up, you died one of a few ways...an accident, a heart attack, or a lengthy illness. The first two were tragic, obviously, but simply seemed to be part of life. There were a few of those instances, where someone was just taken from this world in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, I only dealt with these a few times, and in none of the cases was it someone who was especially close to me. The third instance was much more common. Both of my grandfathers had relatively lengthy bouts with deteriorating health before succumbing to death. So I was prepared(or as prepared as one can be) for both of their passings. My grandmother's was quicker, but still, I don't remember it being sudden. I remember being able to have time to process that she would not be around much longer. Even with people from my church who died, it seemed as though it was coming, even imminent, so rarely was there a "shocking" death that sent a jolt through everyone. And that's been the way I've experienced life, and death, for the most part....people who I love have been in situations where I've been able to prepare myself for their passing, spend time with them, reflect on their lives. Recently, however, it seems as though death has come with startling speed and ferocity...leaving no time for the living: -A student from a nearby high school contracts MRSA, and is gone within days -A grandmother is diagnosed with cancer, and is gone within a week -A 52-year-old has some pain in her chest, is diagnosed with cancer, and is gone within 10 days -A well-known actress suffers what initially appears to be merely a hard knock to the head, after which she is talking and joking, only to die within 48 hours. Maybe death has always been this way. Maybe I've just been spared of its swiftness and disregard for the living and left behind. Maybe I've found myself in situations where I've had time, more time than most, to deal with passings. But these four instances, and others, have really caused me to think a lot about death. And initially, my thoughts to go to those who are left behind...the spouses who cannot understand why their partners left so suddenly....the families who have lost a son, daughter, mother, without the benefit of time to prepare...the friends who wish they had been able to spend just a bit more time laughing and sharing life together. But after a while, my thoughts go instead towards the dead. They didn't know it was coming.....they couldn't have. Even a week, I imagine, isn't long enough for someone to fully appreciate a situation and prepare themselves for what's next. These weren't people with long, chronic, debilitating diseases....situations where you can say your goodbyes, tie up loose ends, and focus on your legacy. These were situations where the suddenness of it creates what has to be a cyclone of emotions: anger, sadness, shock, anxiety, panic, resignation. And there isn't enough time to properly move through each of those emotional phases. So instead, I imagine that it becomes a blurrhed whirlwind, that when combined with the obvious physical spiral, makes the last few days of life a jumbled, sad mess. The other night, after my family had gone to bed, I sat on my couch and just sort of decompressed. There was no basketball being played, no emails to answer, nothing pressing to read or write....so I sat there and thought and prayed and thought some more, and the same bible verse kept coming to my mind: "....you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away."(James 4:14) John Piper wrote a book a few years back called "Life Is a Vapor". It's sitting on my shelf, yet to be read. But I can already pretty much assume that the book centers on two things: 1. Life is short....so be prepared for its end. Deal with your mortality, and make sure that you are ready for what waits on the other side. Reconcile with your Creator, so that your sins can be forgiven and you can enjoy Him forever once this life is over. 2. Life is short...so make the most of each day. And yes, this is cheesy, and overplayed, and "CARPE DIEM!!", etc. etc. But it's still true. Every day is a gift from God. Period. Any day that is wasted on things that don't truly matter is, well, wasted. So use every single day...every single day....as a way to enjoy what life brings, make a positive difference in the life of others, and above all, to live the life that God wired you to live. I imagine that if we were to somehow be able to communicate with the people I mentioned above....that actress....the high school student....the grandmothers....they would tell us to do two things: be sure you're prepared for what happens after this life ends, and take advantage of every single day as a gift from God. Because life is a vapor.

No sand kicked in my face...yet

2009-03-06T12:05:00.000-08:00

Do you remember this ad, usually found in the back of comic books in the 1960's and 1970's? http://www.publishersweekly.com/articles/images/PWK/20081103/charles_atlas.JPG I always found that ad fascinating. Not because I condoned violence(can you imagine the uproar among the politically-correct crowd if that ad, featuring bullying and violence, were to show up in kids' reading material these days?). Not because I was interested in wearing hot pants, like those modeled by Charles Atlas. And not because, as the dialogue bubble states, my ribs were showing. I'm pretty that the only ribs I've ever shown were the ones that accidentally fell off my plate at Tony Roma's. It was fascinating to me because of the metamorphosis that the dorky guy underwent in the matter, according to the ad, of, well, "LATER"(Was it a week later, a month later, two years later?). He went from getting the proverbial sand kicked in his face to making the beach bully see TWO stars when he decked him in front of the lovely lass. I used to be strong like that. I used to be the guy who people would ask to open the jar of pickles, or lift the box, or break the man's neck(sorry....been watching a lot of "24" lately). I never laid around the beach in my hot pants, but that was mainly because the opportunity never presented itself. But I used to be *somewhat* strong. I was reminded last week that I needed to take my health seriously. I stepped onto our digital scale at home. But instead of displaying my weight, the scale instead read "WHOA", in some sort of digital trash-talk. I got the hint. So this week, I've walked(fast) a couple of days. And on Tuesday, I decided to lift some weights at the Y. I got to the Y, and meandered around a bit, because it had been so long(probably three months) since I had actually lifted a weight. I decided not to push myself too hard, but at the same time, I didn't want to completely embarrass myself, so I came up with a strategy that I thought would solve both problems: 1. Look around the weights area. 2. Find an elderly lady who was on a lifting machine. 3. When she gets off the machine, slide right onto the machine. 4. Lift whatever amount of weight she was lifting. 5. Grunt. 6. Appear to rest between sets. 7. When finished, subtly adjust the weight from the amount I had lifted to a much greater amount. 8. Get off the machine. 9. Repeat. This worked for the 30 minutes that I went through the circuit(I only did my arms). I left there on Tuesday feeling pretty good about myself. Then Wednesday came. And the lifting on Tuesday started to take its toll. I first noticed it when my arms hurt while shampooing my hair. That's not normal. Then, that evening, I was reaching for a glass on the top shelf of the cabinet, and decided I'd rather just not reach as high and grabbed one of my four-year-old's cups instead off a lower shelf. That's not normal either. So for the past 72 hours or so, I've ached. Particularly my left arm, which for that entire duration has felt as though a raccoon has latched onto my tricep with its teeth and has held on for dear life. And this is embarrassing, because I was lifting about the same amount of weight that Bea Arthur could have managed to lift had she decided to go to the YMCA on Tuesday afternoon. Actually, come to think of it, Bea Arthur probably could have lifted more than me. She is an imposing woman. Maybe Betty White would be a better comparison. It took me lifting weights, trying to get stronger, to realize how weak I truly was. I've been reading some tough sections of scripture lately, particularly in Job. The book of Job is the story of a man who seemingly has it all together, and God allows Satan to test and tempt him in every possible awful way you can imagine. And yet through it all, Job never turns his back on God...never sins...never loses faith. I probably couldn't do that. I'd like to think I could, I'd like to think I would. But I just don't think so. In fact, reading the book of Job has brought me to a realization that I was scared to come to. I'm spiritually weak. Just like it took me lifting physical weights to realize how physically weak I am, it took me reading about a spiritual Charles Atlas to realize how spiritually weak I am. And I'm not talking about being battered by sin. I'm talking about apathy, faith, busy-ness, lack of confidence, self-sufficiency, the silent faith killers that are just as damaging at times, in my opinion, as the BIG ONES(substance abuse, sexual impropriety, etc.) I've been pretty humbled this week, both spiritually and physically. I still have trouble lifting my left arm for more than, say, 10 seconds. I'm such a sissy. But I know that over time, the pain will subside, and I'll be able to left more than Betty White, and will soon reach Angela Lansbury levels. Spiritually, I'm still wallowing a bit in the realization of my weakness. But I know that over time, that self-pity will subside, and God will grant me strength and wisdom and discipline, and while I know that I may never reach the level of faith that Job demonstrated, I will grow in my relationship with God, and live a life closer to what He has in mind for me. I'm encouraged by this verse...Isaiah 40:29, which states, "He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak." Man, I sure hope so. Because I'd love to be a better Christian. And I'd love to be stronger than any of the Golden Girls.

God and Bruce Springsteen sound the same to me...

2009-02-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

I've always felt a little bit out of the loop when it comes to Christians(or anyone, for that matter) who claim to have heard from God. I'm not talking about the times when God seems to speak to your heart and give you a nudge when making a decision, or impresses something upon you that you probably wouldn't have thought to do or say yourself, or convicts you of sin or breaks your heart over something. I'm talking about the times when people say that God AUDIBLY spoke to them. I remember sitting in church as a seven-year-old, and hearing my Sunday School teacher talk about a flight that she was on, and how she saw an angel out on the wing of the airplane, and how God spoke directly to her and told her that she had nothing to worry about, that the flight would be safe. I remember wondering if A)she needed more sleep, and B)if God had sounded like George Burns. Since that time, I've had a similar reaction when people have told me that they heard God's voice. Because I haven't. Never, that I know of. Do I believe that God speaks to me? Yes, absolutely. There are times when my heart feels so strongly about something that it HAS to be in the process of being led by Him. There are times when I have a tough decision to make, and I feel a peace about it, a peace that I know my anxious self would never feel if it were entirely left up to me. There are times when I think of things to say or do, the right things to say or do at that time, and I know that it's not me coming up with those things on my own. But audibly? No...I can't say that I've ever heard God speak to me. Do I think that Christians who claim to have heard God's voice are quacks? I'm sure some are. I'm sure there are some instances where people talked themselves into doing or saying something, and believed so strongly about doing or saying it that they convinced themselves that God was giving them instructions. But I would say that the vast majority of instances where someone has told me that God spoke to them have been instances where a well-meaning person really did believe that God spoke to them, and maybe He did. He just hasn't done it to me. I heard Rick Reilly, a well-known sports columnist and author, do a radio interview the other day where he talked about being on the field during Bruce Springsteen's halftime show at the Super Bowl. He discussed how excited he was to be on the field, mere feet away from BBRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCEEE!!!!, during the show. He said he ran out onto the field(time is tight in a halftime show), got a great spot, and the band kicked off its set......and he couldn't hear a single note that Bruce sang(if, in fact, Bruce sings notes). Reilly said he was no more than 10, 20 feet from the guy, and couldn't hear a word. He could see Bruce's lips moving, and he could hear the band, but he couldn't hear a single lyric. What a letdown, I'm sure that was. The Bible says that God's children know His voice, and can hear it when they stay near Him. It doesn't promise an audible voice, the type I've never heard. But it does promise that God speaks to our hearts and convicts us of sin, or gives us direction, or leads us in our decision-making. And we can best make out His voice in this loud, static-filled, chaotic world when we stay close to Him. The closer we get, the more clear His voice gets. The ironic thing is that if Rick Reilly had been 30 rows up in the stands, he would have heard every single word perfectly. In that case, distance makes a difference. When listening for God's voice, distance makes a difference as well. But in this case, the farther away we are from God, the more His voice gets crowded out in a sea of voices. Stay near to Him, and while your ears may never hear Him(and we may never know if He sounds like George Burns), your heart will.

Well, this is one way to do it...

2009-02-05T05:39:00.001-08:00

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090205/ap_on_fe_st/odd_evangelizing_thefts

If I Have One Addiction.....

2009-02-03T22:21:00.000-08:00

...it's to newspapers. I've always been that way. As a kid, I would spread open the Cincinnati Post on our living room floor before dinner, reading the sports section, while my parents talked about their days and prepared supper. When we moved to the house where I spent the majority of my childhood, I was usually the one who walked out to the end of the driveway(usually in bare feet, even in winter) and retrieved the morning paper. When I got to college, I didn't really have the money to afford a subscription, but for some reason, our fraternity house received a paper every morning. I was always the first one up, partially because I wanted to have first crack at the news. In Los Angeles, I lived well within my means(hot dogs for supper five nights a week, and I allowed myself one non-generic soft drink purchase per week), but I did splurge on a subscription to the L.A. Daily News(it was cheaper than the Times). When I started making a salary, it got worse. At the time that Kelly and I got married, I was often buying the Akron Beacon-Journal seven days a week, the Cleveland Plain Dealer twice a week(Friday and Sunday), and USA Today on Fridays. So on Fridays, I bought three newspapers. Things didn't improve that much when we lived in Evansville(the Courier-Press, the Louisville Courier-Journal on occasion, USA Today on Fridays) or here in central Kentucky. I now get the Lexington Herald-Leader on weekends, but I usually just check out the other papers online, which makes my wife and the world's trees happy. I just love periodicals(is that what they're called?). You can throw magazines into that mix as well. Currently, I regularly get copies of Entertainment Weekly, Time, Relevant, Sports Illustrated, Leadership Journal, Weight Watchers, and Sports Spectrum. And I read them all, cover-to-cover. Now that I type this out, and look at it in black and white, it is pretty overwhelming(if not downright disturbing) how much I love to read the day's(week's) news. And how much I look forward to it...Thursday is Sports Illustrated, Friday is the weekend edition of the LHL, Saturday is Entertainment Weekly, Sunday is the LHL, etc. What's even more remarkable is this....those publications, whether daily, weekly, monthly, or even bi-monthly, are by and large, dated. What I mean is, I have no interest in last Friday's newspaper...that news is old and unhelpful. I couldn't care less about a Sports Illustrated from mid-December, for the same reasons. Sure, the magazines that pertain to faith, or leadership, include articles that will have a long shelf life of usefulness, and the Weight Watchers will include recipes that I can use years from now, but the others are pretty much obsolete within a week, or even a day, of my receiving them. But I love them. I look forward to them. I read them cover-to-cover. And then I look over, and there's my bible. Have I read it today? Yes, but to say I only nominally read it would be accurate. Some days I read it with passion, vigor, and enthusiasm. Some days I don't read it at all. Most days are like today, where I read it....but I don't READ it. And I wonder why that is. It's not a time issue, as so many people love to point out when making up excuses. I make time for so many other things. It's not a relevancy issue. The Bible is timeless in its truths and in its teachings. While periodicals are rendered obsolete pretty quickly, I've yet to find a situation where a passage of Scripture had worn out its usefulness. It's not an availability issue. I'm counting nine bibles on my shelf right now. It's not a faith issue. I believe what it says, and I believe the Creator who put it all into place. It's not a practicality issue. The truths and teachings I have found in that book have never failed me, and are a continuous source of strength, wisdom, and guidance. I think it's a love issue. When I was dating my wife, I made daily(hourly?) mad scrambles to the nearest computer to see if an email had arrived from her. We lived five hours apart, so communication was essential, and email was free and easy, and that's how we communicated. But there was more to it than just the ease of communication, and the thrill of seeing something, anything, in my inbox. It was about my love for her, and the excitement I got from seeing that she had taken time to email me about her day. God created me. He has given me all the good things in my life. He has reconciled me to Himself through the sacrifice of His Son, because there's no way I could have made that happen on my own. He continues to demonstrate His love and provision for me in ways that I could never imagine. The Scriptures serve as the story of His love and provision for mankind, His blueprint for the life He created us to live, and the blueprint for how to treat others and how to experience joy and fulfillment. And yet, it sits there. So the issue is not necessarily reading my bible. If that were the case, I could force myself to carve out 10, 20, 30 minutes a day or more and read it, and make a mark on my mental checklist of the day's activities. The issue is love. The issue is loving God so much that, like the Psalmist in Psalm 119, the Scriptures become like air....where I literally can't begin my day without it, because it sets the track straight for the next 23 hours, and where I dwell on it all day long, whether at work or home or in the car...because it's like air. Because I can't get over the fact that the creator of the universe would love me so much, and because of that love for me, and my love for Him, I would want to spend every waking moment soaking up all the things He has to teach me about loving Him and loving others. That's the love I want to feel. And it's there...the problem is that I allow it to get crowded out by lesser things, like work, leisure, etc. And those lesser things not only take that time away, they take away my sense of wonder as well. Which, when you think about it, is pretty ridiculous. If you've seen the sun, you won't be impressed with a streetlamp. If you've seen booming fireworks overhead, you won't be impressed with a sparkler. And yet, I feel that I so often trade Him for lesser things, which offer immediate gratification and escape, but never satisfy. Just like those newspapers. Just like those magazines. Arrive one day, read the next, tossed the next. I'm not going to pray for discipline, or time, or time management, or a strategy, or a plan. I'm going to pray that I love God more. If I do that, everything else will fall into place.

What my daughter taught me in 2008...

2009-01-25T21:16:00.000-08:00

I have a four-year-old. She just turned four a month ago, so for the bulk of 2008, she was three. The other night, we took our girls to the mall, and my wife took the baby with her off to that lotion store, and I stayed with Eva Kate in the play area in the middle of the mall. Usually, when I take her there, I watch her, making sure she doesn't run too fast, that she takes turns, that she doesn't fall off of the giant teddy bear, or the giant blocks, etc. But this time, though I was watching her, I was watching her differently. I really don't have to worry about her in places like that.....our biggest problem is usually her not taking turns, or getting frustrated when a kid cuts in front of her, etc. So I could sort of zone out and still pay enough attention to ensure her safety. This time, though, I sat there and reflected on how much she's grown. Physically, obviously...she's getting so tall, and so much more coordinated, faster, stronger, independent, etc. But she's also grown so much emotionally, mentally, and socially in the past year. *Note...we still have a LONG way to go. She's still a typical four-year-old, after all.* I realized while sitting there, among anxious moms and bored dads(and, I think, Major League Baseball player Austin Kearns of the Washington Nationals), that there are things I'm starting to see in Eva Kate that I can actually learn from. I'm starting to see character traits in her that can actually serve as an example for her 34-year-old pops. And I made a mental list of things she taught me in 2008... 1. GET OVER IT QUICKLY. When you get little anklebiters together, there are bound to be fights, arguments, crying, etc. What I'm amazed at with Eva Kate, however, is how quickly she seems to forget how angry she was at her friend just 30 seconds earlier. She can be playing with her friend, be "wronged" somehow(though I think Eva Kate does most of the "wronging"), get into a teary shouting match with that friend, and then 30 seconds later, be playing again with him/her as if nothing had ever happened. I don't know at what age that changes. I don't know when our natural tendency to hold grudges and remember wrongs kicks in. I can only hope, however, that this phase, of forgetting wrongs and moving on, lasts a long time, long enough for her to realize that it really is the right way to live. I wouldn't say I hold grudges....I probably do in some cases, but not as a habit. But when I get stung, whether it's by something that someone does, or says, or DOESN'T do or say, it sticks with me, much longer than it should. Over the past few years, with all the upheaval of leaving one church to start another(though amicably...not because of any sort of "issues" or anything of that nature), there have been things said and done that have stung. A year ago, they still stung....some more sharply than others. And I wish I could say that I've moved on 100 percent past those issues. But I'm close. Much closer than I was this time a year ago. And part of that is due to time, and maturity, and perspective, but I really do think that part of it is following the example of my daughter, who acts as though the present is just too exciting and precious to allow it to get pulled down by the past. 2. DO YOUR THING. Apparently, when I was young, I would be perfectly content a lot of times to sit and play by myself. This is according to my parents, who see that same trait in Eva Kate. And they're right....she is usually pretty content to play by herself. She doesn't need my wife or I to entertain her. This has changed a bit with our new baby arriving, though I think that's more a case of Eva Kate wanting attention than it is needing to be entertained. But most of the time, she's happy to read books or play alone. Even when she's surrounded by her friends, she follows the beat of her own drum. I love that about her. I worked with teenagers for 12 years, and it was always so frustrating to see such good kids, so full of personality and vibrancy, reduced to basically parrotting other kids just so they wouldn't get left behind or lost in the shuffle. So many kids dressing, talking, and acting the "right" way so that they'd be accepted. Even the "popular" kids, who, if you believe what is written about teen culture, should feel the safest being themselves, fell into the same trap. I would say that in 12 years of working with kids, hundreds of kids, that I worked with no more than 5-6 who were truly, genuinely, THEMSELVES. Most of the others offered glimpses of it, flashes of it, when they let their guard down and allowed themselves to be vulnerable. But so many of them were handcuffed by the notion that they had to look/act/talk like some assumed standard, that they were afraid of being themselves for fear that they would stand out. I think of kids like Shelby Anderson...Kyle Callahan...Hannah Crabtree, and others. I think about the fact that they knew they had a drummer...and they marched to him. It's not that they didn't care what others thought of them...I think each of those three, and the others, valued their reputation. It's just that they didn't allow others' perceptions of them to dictate WHO they were. They did their thing. I want Eva Kate to grow up to be the same way. I don't want her ever feeling like she has to fall in line with everyone else. I want her to be herself, to do her thing. I don't want her to be different for the sake of being different...that is usually done just to garner attention. But I do want her to stay true to how God wired her. She is showing signs of that, and I hope she continues. I'm finding that over the past year, I've learned to do much the same thing. I'm still a people-pleaser. I still want people to like me. I still don't like conflict and confrontation. But I'm learning what it means to, as Alvin Reid wrote, "let people feel the weight of who you are, and let them deal with it". I only have God and a few people on Earth to please(wife, boss, etc.). As long as I am being who God created me to be, and doing the best that I can at that, then others' opinions really don't hold much water. 3. ENJOY SMALL THINGS. My daughter gets on "kicks", where something(or someone) will hold her attention and just absolutely enthrall her. These kicks can last as long as a year or two, or come and go over the matter of days. Here are her current kicks: -Commercials for Purnell's Old Folks Country Sausage(Al Purnell makes her laugh) -Mints -"Star Wars" -The plastic bag that the morning paper comes in(she loves for me to pop them) I think it goes without saying that most adults fail to even notice such things, let alone enjoy them. So this lesson probably needs no further explanation. 4. APPRECIATE TIME TOGETHER. This Saturday, my daughter and I are going on a date. We're going to a movie(because she LOVES going to the movies...just like her daddy). And I offered to take her to any restaurant in Lexington for lunch, and she picked....Waffle House. She keeps asking if today is the day of our date. And I keep having to give her the number of days until our date. She still values coming in before sunrise and hopping in bed with us. She still loves it when we sit on her bedroom floor and play with her dollhouse. She thinks it's hilarious when we make up funny or scary stories to tell her right before she falls asleep. And I don't think it's the date, or the dollhouse, or the snuggling, or the stories, that make her happy. It's the time. She appreciates the time. It's her time. One of the lessons I've learned over the past year is to appreciate time. As my schedule has gotten less hectic, I've come to appreciate nights when there is NOTHING to do. I know that as the girls get older, the church gets bigger, and life gets busier, those nights will become fewer and farther between. So Eva Kate has taught me to appreciate time...while I have it. I'm a better man because of my daughter this year. God has shown me so many good things through her. Like he does through my wife, and like he will through our baby. But there are a few things I want to teach her in 2009... 1. BE PATIENT. Just wait. Wait your turn. Wait until you're older. Wait until you're stronger. It will still be there. 2. DON'T WORRY IF YOU'RE NOT PERFECT AT SOMETHING. You'll be bad at it at first. Just enjoy it, get better, and appreciate the chance to do it. 3. BE NICE. Even when you don't feel like it. Even when you don't know the person. For 18 years, growing up, I watched my parents be genuinely good, nice people to everyone, including the people they didn't like. It was one of the best lessons they ever taught me. 4. LOVE JESUS. You're starting to grasp this. There are a bunch of concepts running through your head. Just keep loving God, as He continues to love you. There are other things, but they're mainly behavioral things, and not necessarily life principles. I want Eva Kate, more than anything, to become the woman God created her to be. I think she's well on her way. And I'll be better for it.

A tribute to my favorite band of all time...

2009-01-22T22:05:00.000-08:00

It's late. I've been downloading songs by John Denver, Kanye West, and AC/DC(how's that for variety?), and while there are a million things floating through my head that I could type about, but for some reason, I feel led to post this tonight...lyrics to the song "Wilderness" by my favorite band of all time, the O.C. Supertones. I always appreciated that band....not only because I loved their music, but because their lyrics were so challenging and full of raw honesty. This is my favorite song...it's called "Wilderness". Something tells me that someone needs to read this. Maybe it's me. Here it is: The rain falls on the righteous and the wicked Mine is not to reason why this is In this I rest in this I find my refuge That my thoughts and ways are not His I spend my life on looking up the answers It’s rare that I can’t find a reason why But reasons fail at children without mothers His plan is more than I can know Have you ever held in doubt What this life is all about Have you questioned all these thingsthat seem important to us? Do you really wanna know Or are you a little scared Are you afraid that God is not exactly what you’d have Him be? Now what should I hold to and what should I do? How do I know if anything’s true? I’m somewhere in between Canaan and Egypt A place called the wilderness I’m not one who always trusts their feelings I don’t believe in what you’d call blind faith But faith that you can do all that you promised And you said it all works for good It’s safe to say I don’t see the big picture I can’t see the forest for the trees And if five hundred lives Were mine to get to know You All could be spent on just this God do you really understand what it’s like to be a man? Have You ever felt the weight of loving all the things you hate? Have You struggled? Have you worried? How can You sympathize? I have spoken too soon... put my hand over my mouth I can’t contend with You Your ways are so much higher And we pass through the fire that Christ endured before us When You were in the wilderness...

A Conspiracy of Calories

2009-01-21T11:09:00.001-08:00

A while back, I wrote one night about "spiritual warfare"...the concept that there is a constant battle going on, both internally and externally, between God's force of good and right versus Satan's force of evil and destruction. And while that concept has been dissected for years, and recently has been fleshed out in dumb Carman songs and bad Kirk Cameron films, it is something that I never took a really close look at. Mainly because it wasn't an aspect of Christianity that grabbed my attention, and also because it seemed to be the pet project of loud, red-faced preachers, Christians who send every chain email that comes down the pike, and those creepy husband/wife televangelist teams who take over the airwaves early on Sunday mornings. But I have become convinced that spiritual warfare is real, though not as cartoonish as it's made out to be by so many. I am convinced that there are forces of good and evil in this world, and that the line isn't as gray as many would have you to believe, and one side wants me to prosper(in my case, lose weight), and one side wants me to fail(in my case, not lose weight). And I'm now, even moreso than ever before, convinced of this because of.... Slim-fast shakes and a vending machine. There is a vending machine down the hall in our office building. I'm a big fan. It has your typical vending machine fare, which means that if you want something remotely healthy, you have limited options...namely, NOTHING. Or a granola bar. This morning, I could not partake of my recent breakfast habit(more on that in a moment), so I had to hit up the vending machine for a granola bar to start my day. There were three of them in that slot this morning. Three. I counted. I only needed 65 cents. I had 75 cents. I counted. I put in three quarters, and hit 145...for the granola bar. Nothing happened. Pushed the numbers again. Nothing. Finally I looked up at the little screen above the numbers, which told me to make another selection. Um, no to this. I didn't need to make another selection. There were three granola bars in the machine. I had enough money for one. I was fully qualified, even in the midst of America's great credit crisis, to purchase the granola bar. And yet this contraption of metal, plastic, and sugary snacks was telling me that I could not obtain the one thing I wanted. In fact, it was telling me the same thing for about four other things. Almonds? Nope. Cheese and crackers? No. Peanut butter and crackers(I know that peanut butter is currently on a nationwide killing spree, but at this point, I didn't care). No. Finally, after four tries at *relatively* healthy breakfast options, the machine finally allowed me to purchase a Rice Krispy Treat. The BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS!!! You know, I probably wouldn't think much of that episode this morning if it wasn't for the episode I experienced yesterday afternoon. I would have chalked it up to American technology just not being able to keep up with the Japanese, and going haywire and refusing people their favorite snacks. But after yesterday, I'm convinced that this is something deeper. Yesterday, I'm driving home from work. I'm on Alexandria Drive, a reasonably busy residential street that I take when I'm going home each day. I'm on phone with my wife, who is a saint, and I'm telling her about my day. And all of a sudden... BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Here are the thoughts that immediately ran through my mind, and my response to each: 1. My tires are blowing out!(No...I'm still able to drive the car normally) 2. Cuba just fired three missiles at my car!(My wife and I took a Caribbean cruise for our honeymoon nearly 10 years ago. One evening, we were out on a deck, and heard large BOOMs in the distance. My wife feared that it was Cuba firing on our cruise ship. I assured her that, despite increasing tensions between Cuba and Carnival Cruise Lines, there had recently been somewhat of an ease in hostilities between the two warring factions, and that it was probably not Cuba firing on us) 3. Something had exploded(or, as we used to say in Harrison County, "sploded") in my car trunk.(This seemed like the most likely option). An investigation of the trunk confirmed my fear. My case of Slim-Fast shakes had, one by one, begun 'sploding and richocheting off of the interior of my car trunk. *Note...I noticed recently that on Slim-Fast shakes, it says "Serve Chilled". Serve? Who SERVES Slim-Fast shakes? Do people really offer them to guests? I don't even want people seeing me drink them, let alone offer them as a token of hospitality to someone. Is there any indication of worse hospitality than serving someone a Slim-Fast shake? "Here, guest, have a fake-chocolate-tasting milkshake while we sit here and discuss the inauguration. I thought you'd enjoy having a grainy, cheap imitation of a real milkshake. Plus, your hips are looking HUGE today. So it all works out". Not only do I not want people to see me drink them, I don't even want people to see me with them period. I keep them in my trunk, and each morning(before the 'splosion), I open the trunk, look around, and quickly snatch a can and slip it into my coat pocket before anyone can see, like I'm stealing a pack of baseball cards from the local SuperAmerica.* So now I have a trunk full of 'sploded Slim-Fast shakes, which means that I had to buy my breakfast at the vending machine, which wouldn't give me a healthy granola bar, but instead would only sell me a block of sugar, marshmallow cream, and puffed rice made by three elves who live together and wear big goofy hats. If that's not a conspiracy, I don't know what is. I'm gonna go download a Carman song. Maybe that "Satan, Bite the Dust!" song. Or the one where God and Satan are boxers. Or the one where God is a dentist and Satan is a cavity. Or the one where God is a "Press Your Luck!" contestant, and Satan is the Whammy. One of those.

I worry for Barack Obama.

2009-01-20T21:56:00.000-08:00

For a long time, I worried ABOUT Barack Obama. I'm not afraid to admit it(even in the midst of today's hoopla, which I'll discuss in a moment). I remember his "arrival" speech", in the summer of 2004 at the Democratic National Convention, when he lit up the stage, fired up the crowd, and made his presence known as a rising star on the political scene. I was a youth pastor at the time, and I remember a gathering of students not long after that night, where some of them(the few who paid attention to politics, anyway) were glowing over his speech. I asked them what they liked about the speech. And, as I expected, they gushed over his charisma, his use of the language, his extraordinary ability to connect not only with the room, but with millions watching at home. And then it happened...one of the teenagers said, "I hope he runs for President next time, because if he does, he's getting my vote". And I asked why. And the only answers they could come up with centered on, well, his charisma, his use of the language, his extraordinary ability to connect not only with the room, but with millions watching at home. She couldn't come up with anything else. *Note...at this point, it is important to clarify something. One, Obama's speech at the DNC was not designed to be a policy speech. His responsibility was to motivate, inspire, and fire up the crowd, and to introduce himself to America. He could not, and should not have been expected to outline his plans for Iraq, the economy, environment, etc. That wasn't his responsibility.* I didn't think much more of it until President Obama began his run for the White House, and his early speeches, nearly all the way through the primary season, made use of the same lofty rhetoric with(in my opinion), not much substance. He had ideas, to be sure, but they seemed to get lost among the imagery and symbolism that his candidacy seemed to portray. Still, he struck a tone...pretty much from the very beginning. He connected with people in a way that no candidate had in a VERY long time. He was the right candidate with the right tone at the right time. But still....I couldn't see past the imagery, the rhetoric, to see tangible plans, tangible ideas, with tangible details. And so I still could not get behind him as a candidate, though I admired him as a man and found his story fascinating. And then something funny happened. It seemed, to me at least, that President Obama(then Candidate Obama) toned down the rhetoric, toned down the lofty imagery, and started focusing on issues. Real issues with real details, with real pricetags and real consequences. And he probably dug himself a deeper hole with hardcore conservatives, but to be honest, he wasn't going to get their vote anyway. He realized that it was the middle-of-the-road voters, who were supposedly McCain's to lose, who he needed to woo. So he seemed to roll up his sleeves, get down to basics, and present plans. And that's how he won the presidency. By being...well...presidential. I didn't vote for him. And it had nothing to do with his race, or his background, or his "associations", or anything of the sort. I just agreed with John McCain on more issues than I did with Barack Obama. It really was that simple. I never disliked Obama. I never stayed up at night wringing my hands over what the country would come to if he became President. I just fell on the other side of the fence. And then he won. But this is where my concern comes in. Because in the two and a half months since he won, he has acted, again...presidential. Lining up his cabinet, proposing an economic stimulus plan, warning the American people of tough times ahead. Again, I dont' agree with him on many specifics, but he is taking on the right tone of an incoming leader in an anxious time. And yet, I worry for him. And here is why. At the same time that he shifted from lofty rhetoric to specifics, his followers, his supporters, didn't seem to follow him. They were caught up in the charisma, caught up in the hype, caught up in the same fervor that he now seemed to be trying to distance himself from. I'm obviously casting a wide net here, and there are obviously many of his voters who knew the issues and where he stood, but it seemed that the vast majority were willing to stay in a place he had subtlely left. That takes us to today...January 20, 2009...the day of his inauguration as POTUS. A great day, to be sure, one full of pomp and circumstance, one full of grand visions and dreams fulfilled, one full of, again, lofty rhetoric and elaborate prose. And yet, there he was, with the eyes of the world watching, giving a speech that was almost somber in its tone, challenging in its vision, and acutely honest when discussing the tough times ahead. And the question kept going through my mind...is anyone listening? I wondered whether the 1.4 million people who were there, and the millions more watching around the world, saw his mouth moving, but instead heard his speech from the DNC, or his nomination acceptance speech, or some other terrific oratory from his past. I wonder if they really heard what he was saying....this is going to be HARD. That is why I worry for Barack Obama. He steps into a challenging time, maybe the most challenging of times. And I worry that the expectations placed on him by his most ardent supporters will carry with them a weight that will undoubtedly feel heavy when things aren't rosy in six months, or a year, or two years. I worry that he will be expected to do what he cannot do. He cannot pay off my mortgage. He cannot get me a job. He cannot buy me a car. And yet, there are people out there who feel as though everything will be better almost immediately. And to be sure, some things may. But the expectations are enormous, and he is bound to make bad decisions, and fail to follow through on promises, or make compromises that make him wince and his supporters scratch their heads. That happens to every president. Since the beginning of time, mankind has always had the tendency to place more faith in what can be seen than in what cannot. In the Old Testament, idols were built because people wanted someTHING to worship. In the New Testament, Jesus called out many who worshipped rules, rituals, or even places of worship....instead of God Himself. Since then, history books have been written about people who worshipped other people...only to realize that they were not worthy of worship. I've seen it on a personal level. As someone who worked with teenagers for 12 years, I saw kids who propped up their boyfriends/girlfriends to almost worship-worthy status, only to be let down when someone better than them came along. I saw parents who thought their kids could do no wrong(or knew it, but failed to deal with it), who were crushed when faced with the reality of their son or daughter's rebellion. I saw friends deal with moral crises and leave behind them a trail of disappointment and anger from people who just KNEW that he/she couldn't do such a thing. I'm not saying people worship President Obama(though I'm sure some do). What I am saying is that I worry about mankind's tendency to place such high value on something, or someone, who is bound to fail. Barack Obama came into this world as a broken part of humanity, just like you or I. He deals with temptations, with arrogance, with loneliness, with confusion, with anxiety. He is a cool cat, to be sure, but there is no doubt that he deals with the same struggles as you or I. And he will fail. In small ways, and possibly large ways, he will make poor decisions, or compromises, or appointments. Something will go wrong. And he knows that. He knows that he will undoubtedly let someone down...and he is trying, ever so subtlely, to prepare them for that day. I've been a Christian for 25 years this April. There have been plenty of times when I've been frustrated with God, confused by God, felt abandoned by God, anxious for His leading, looking for any direction. But I've thought about it, and thought about it, and for the life of me, I cannot think of one time when I was truly let down by God. I cannot think of one time when He failed. I cannot think of one time when He did not deliver on His promise. Today, I celebrated with the rest of the country a new President. I won't agree with him on everything. I may not agree with him on much of anything. And he wasn't my candidate...but he's my President. I'll pray for him and stand behind him as our leader. But today, I'm also reminded that only God Himself is worthy of worship. Only God Himself is perfect. Only God Himself is unfailing. May those who love Him, and those who seek Him, discover His greatness and glory, and may we never fall into the temptation of putting our faith in a person.

I think I have an idea for a movie.

2008-12-29T10:59:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting on the runway at the airport in Cincinnati(an airport which, by the way, is located in Kentucky, not Ohio, where Cincinnati is actually located. Weird), and I'm daydreaming. Not because I'm prone to daydream, although I am, but because I'm trying to think of ANYTHING other than how sick I feel because of some Chinese food I'd eaten an hour earlier, and how hot it is in the plane's cabin, and how we're just sitting on the runway, and how miserable I am. And I come up with what I think could be a pretty cool movie. Not one of those summer blockbusters with stuff blowing up and big-name actors. Not one of those holiday season "event films" that are surefire Oscar contenders. No, this would be more along the lines of one of those movies that the studios roll out either around Halloween(because not everyone wants to see "Saw XXIV") or in the Spring(because not everyone wants to be outside enjoying nice weather). Here is the premise. And while you read this premise, imagine some beautiful, grand, sweeping musical score in the background... So there is a billionaire, and he and his wife are trying to decide whether to have children, and this is a hard decision, because A)they enjoy jet-setting around the world on a whim, and B)babies poop and pee and scream a lot, and turn into teenagers who poop and pee and scream a lot, and the whole thing is just a whirlwind of poop and urine and screaming, and they don't like those things. And they hem and haw about it for a while, and then the billionaire comes up with what he feels is a genius plan. They will have a child(it turns out to be a son...not for any particular reason, just because that's how my daydream went). But using his wealth, power, and connections, the billionaire will not treat his son like just any other baby, or any other son. Instead, he will give him the best of everything. Not the best in terms of money, or toys, or clothes, although those things will come with the territory. Instead, the billionaire will hire the best pediatrician to fly in occasionally to see his son, and will conduct a nationwide search for the best available nanny. He will hire the top early childhood education specialists to work with his son in regards to motor skills, speech development, etc. And from the time the child turns, say, four years old, until the time he turns 18, his father will give him the best possible education. He will hire a live-in faculty, consisting of the finest educators in each field, to homeschool his son. If his son wants to play the piano, he will fly in a concert pianist for weekly lessons. If his son wants to learn to cook, he will fly in Mario Batali for cooking instruction. Whatever his son studied, he studied under the finest teacher. Whatever his son wanted to learn more about, he learned from the best instructors. He wanted his son to be enlightened. He wanted his son to be a difference-maker. He wanted his son to someday change the world. And he knew, just knew, that raising his son in this way, giving him the finest instruction in all things, would prepare him for the day that he would leave at age 18 and turn the world on its ear, making it a better place. So the son turns 18, and at his birthday extravaganza, announces that he doesn't really want to attend college, but instead wants to get his own place, work at Blockbuster(for the free rentals), volunteer at a local nursing home, and fulfill his lifelong dream of seeing a game at each of the 32 major league baseball stadiums. And his dad, who has poured millions of dollars into creating the perfect son, has to come to grips with the fact that his son isn't going to change the world, at least not in the way he'd envisioned. And the rest of the movie is about their struggle to understand each other...the father struggling to understand why his son is "wasting" the previous 18 years, and the son struggling to understand why his father won't let him simply pursue what makes his heart happy. And the son is played by Michael Cera(because he wants to show that he can do dramatic roles), and the father is played by Ed Harris(because my wife thinks he's hot). And at the end they gain a deeper appreciation of each other, and a song by The Fray starts playing, and the final scene shows them walking down the street together, and leaves blow across their feet. As you can see, we were stranded on that runway for a while. I imagine God could have done the same thing for Jesus after His big arrival in the stable. He could have set Him up pretty nicely with all of the best things...best clothes, best food, best house, best teachers, best doctors, best of everything. And maybe He did. We just don't know. But my inclination is to believe that God wanted Jesus to be able to empathize with us, and so He kept things relatively low-key for the first 30 years of His life. Jesus grew up like a typical kid/teenager/young adult, only without the sin. *Note...I wonder if any of Jesus' buddies ever noticed that the guy NEVER MADE A MISTAKE? Either he had some really dense friends, or it was just one of those things that went unmentioned.* Anyway, if He had wanted, God could have played it like the Ed Harris billionaire in my movie. But He didn't. Instead, after Jesus' eventful arrival, we don't know much about Him, until He began His public ministry. And part of me wishes I could know so much more about Jesus at 15, Jesus at 21, Jesus at 25. But part of me is grateful for the fact that it appears Jesus was...normal. One of the often overlooked facets of being a Christ follower is His ability to empathize. He had emotion, His feet hurt, He felt rejected, He hungered, He slept, He was alone, He laughed, He sat around at supper and told funny stories. He wasn't created in a lab somewhere, and He wasn't raised with the best of everything. He was fully man, and yet fully God, and the best of both.

I wish Bing Crosby would just shut his mouth.

2008-12-23T12:43:00.000-08:00

I don't have the Christmas spirit. And that bothers me. I used to be all about it. When I was a kid(say, between the ages of 4-14), I used to start getting into the Christmas spirit around mid-September(which was also the time that the Sears Christmas Catalog used to arrive at our house. Coincidence? No.). So the catalog would arrive, and off I'd go, making draft after draft of my Christmas list, complete with page numbers, letters(to match the corresponding item), and the correct color, size, etc., with my final draft coming right before Thanksgiving. I'm sure my parents appreciated the ease of shopping for me, since I'd basically done all their work for them. I can only hope that when my mom asked for help from a store clerk, she didn't say "I need help finding C-2 on 113", and instead actually knew the name of the item. And looking back, maybe part of that Christmas list obsession was me just being a greedy little punk, but I really think that it was part of a bigger "Christmas spirit" thing with me...those goosebumps that come when you know the big day is almost here. Then, the Christmas spirit started arriving later. Later in high school, when the wish list turned from "C-2 on 113" to "I'd like a new coat", it probably started arriving around Thanksgiving. Then, in college, it started arriving right after Finals were over. As a youth pastor, it started arriving after whatever my Big Christmas Responsibility happened to be. And now, in my current job, it was SUPPOSED to have arrived yesterday, upon my return from Omaha, where I spent the only week away from home that I'm required to take all year. And I was so looking forward to coming home on Sunday night, and giving my wife and daughters hugs and kisses, and sleeping in on Monday, and waking up and enjoying holiday cheer(and a trip to GattiTown that I'd promised my older daughter), and just basking in the warm goosebump-inducing holiday spirit that had evaded me for the entire Fall. Didn't happen. I ate some bad Chinese food before my flight from Cincinnati to Lexington, and have alternated between sickness and fatigue since then. I was able to make it to Gattitown as promised, where I enjoyed a delicious dinner of five cherry tomatoes and some pineapple. I have lost 16 pounds in the last week, and it's not because of sit-ups. I feel, in a word, miserable. And I hate being miserable around the holidays. I hate being sick, or tired, or stressed. I want Christmas to be like the ones I used to see on "The Waltons", or "The Brady Bunch", or "Emmett Otter's Jug-Band Christmas"(Greatest. Christmas. Show. Ever). Instead, I'm popping pills, drinking Sprite, and trying to keep my eyes open. Not exactly "dashing through the snow". Then I think back to what I told the good people at Mosaic a few weeks ago...it's not about a Spirit, it's about The Spirit. It's not about that warm feeling you get, a sense of manufactured(for the most part) nostalgia about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. It's about pausing to celebrate the birth of the Savior of the world. And marking that arrival with gifts and time spent with family and friends. Sick or not, that cannot be taken away. Jesus died for the Todd who drafted Christmas lists in September, Jesus died for the Todd who breathed a huge sigh of relief whenever college finals came to an end, and Jesus died for the Todd who ate bad Chinese food. So however I end up feeling over the next 48 hours, I hope I'll find time to stop and reflect on why the Christmas spirit exists in the first place...to remind people that there really can be peace on Earth and goodwill to men, and it comes through a baby. And I'm sure that I'll get that warm feeling that, so far, has seemed so distant. And I'll get all fuzzy inside, and hug someone unexpectedly(hopefully my wife), and it really will seem like Emmett Otter's Jug-Band Christmas. Still, at this point, if Bing Crosby were alive and standing in front of me, I'd probably just pop him one right between the eyes.

The Macy's Thanksgiving Parade is overrated.

2008-11-25T19:40:00.001-08:00

There, I said it. One of the great holiday traditions of the past 100 years in our country is vastly overrated. Don't get me wrong...I'll still watch it. And I'll still be interested to see where the marching bands are from, I'll still marvel at the size and scope of the giant balloons, and the skill it must take to create(and carry) them, and the intricacies of the many floats. But it's still overrated, for one huge reason: lip-synching. I noticed it pretty early on as a kid. They would introduce these "stars"(quotations used because it's a loose term), who would invariably perform their latest hit, or some Christmas song, or a Broadway number. But it obvious, painfully obvious, that there wasn't any actual singing going on. It's even worse when there are bands "performing", because none of their instruments are hooked up, and it's even harder to lip-synch("play-synch"?) when there's more than one person involved. Just watch carefully on Thursday. You'll see a number of examples of lips not matching up to words, performers forgetting lyrics while the lyrics keep being sung, etc. It's as obvious as the fakeness of pro wrestling(or "wrasslin'", as we called it in Harrison County). And I've always had a problem with lip-synching. Whether it be during parades, awards shows, or halftime entertainment, lip-synching has always been, to me, one of the most blatant signs of a lack of integrity. I understand that it is harder work to actually SING, but since that's what these people get paid millions to do, I don't find it unreasonable to expect them to be able to do it live. The bottom line is, I'm not the only one....everyone can spot a fake. That's one of the reasons that I love what Mosaic(our new church in Versailles) is slowly becoming as it begins. From the very start, one of our core values has been transparency and honesty. We've tried as hard as possible to be very genuine in what we say, how we say it, and how we approach life, faith, love, family, etc. We're trying our best NOT to put on a show, not to gloss things over, not to be something that we're not. And hopefully, people are recognizing that. It's refreshing to me, as someone who has been involved in church all my life, to be involved in a church where you can truly be yourself, and not make excuses for it, and not fake it. I think it's been refreshing to others as well. And hopefully it will draw people who have been looking for a place to plug in, but can't find a place where they can be real. This world makes it very difficult, very frequently, for people to be real. The church should be the one place where people can be themselves, and feel completely free to do so...wrong notes and all. Happy Thanksgiving. Keep it real.

Walk Fatboy, walk.

2008-11-24T21:02:00.000-08:00

There was a movie that came out about a year ago titled "Run, Fatboy, Run". And an article I read said that the movie centered on an out-of-shape shlump who decided to get into shape to impress his ex-girlfriend. I was pretty excited to see it. Then, when the previews came out, I realized that the "out of shape shlump" was Simon Pegg, an actor who, while admittedly not the picture of fitness, definitely does not qualify as a character to be named "Fatboy". I was kind of let down. And I didn't see the movie. Tomorrow, this fat boy is going to walk. Not run. Baby steps. WALK. Lately I've come more face-to-face with mortality, including my own. My grandmother is in declining health. My daughter keeps talking about death, and telling me that I'm going to be with her forever. And I've just gotten to the point where my health isn't just about me feeling good about myself, or wearing cooler clothes, or making people notice me. It's about LIFE. Basically, I think I'm ripping myself off. I have joy in my life, because of my faith, my family, my friends, my church, etc. But I think I'm missing out because of what I'm doing or have done to myself. So I want to see how much better my already-pretty-good life can become if I start taking better care of myself. So tomorrow, if I wake up, I'm going to walk. Baby steps. By the way, at first glance, this has nothing to do with faith, which is basically what this blog is supposed to be about. But in reality, this is all about being who God wired you to be, and living the life God wired you to live. I'm not sure I'm doing that, at least not to the fullest. So here goes.

This rainbow was different...

2008-10-26T20:20:00.000-07:00

I wish I was more of a self-assured man. Like John Wayne in "The Searchers"(it's a classic). Takes him years to find that missing girl. Never wavered on his motive, his mission, his method. Just did his thing. And sure enough, he found her(sorry for ruining the ending, but it's been out for 42 years now, so you only have yourself to blame). Or Michael Myers in "Halloween". Dude gets a coat hanger to the eye, just keeps right on slashin'. Dude gets about eight bullets riddling his body, and disappears. Again, never seems to waver on his mission...which was to murder innocent teenagers on Halloween(not saying I approve of that). Or President GWB. Regardless of how one might feel about him as a politician or as a president, it's pretty obvious that as a person, he's pretty self-assured. Confident. Don't mess with Texas. I'm just not that way. And thankfully, it's not the type of lack-of-assurance that requires me to be coddled by people, or praised, or fish for compliments, etc. At least, I hope not. It's more the kind of self-doubt that causes me to need some assuring signs once in a while. I need something to go right once in a while. I need something to work. I need the puzzle to fit. It was a long, strange week. My wife could give birth anytime, so that's a whole set of anxiety issues. A dear old friend passed away. Work was stressful. Being a church planter brings its own series of questions. It wasn't a bad week, so to speak...just an anxious one. And there it was...on Friday, driving home after a rare(around these parts) Fall shower. The biggest, brightest, fullest, clearest rainbow I've ever seen. I've seen hundreds of rainbows, probably. Always thought they were beautiful. But I've never seen one as a timely reminder of God's grace, providence, and sovereignty. It was always more of an "oooh...that's pretty" feeling. Not a "God provides" feeling. This time, it was different. As Hallmark-ish as this sounds...I really needed that rainbow on Friday. Like I said, it wasn't a bad week. But I needed a reminder that God is over all, knows all, sees all, is all. I needed to be reminded that it's ultimately all about Him. That was the assurance I needed this week...and as He always does, God came through.

The waiting is the hardest part...

2008-10-14T22:10:00.001-07:00

We thought we were going to have a baby tonight. My wife, who is now right at 37 weeks pregnant, was feeling contractions, three minutes apart, and they had told her that was a point at which she should go to the hospital. So we went to the hospital. But they sent us home. Said it wasn't time just yet. So that was a bit disappointing. Although we did get to eat at Fazoli's, which is something. And Fazoli's was better than it usually is. Especially when our three-year-old decided that she would get up from her seat occasionally and shake like a wet dog in order to loosen all of the spaghetti noodles that had attached themselves like leeches to her clothing. And now we're at home, and it's late, and my wife is asleep, and I'm about to go to sleep, and it's just a waiting game. We never got this far into the pregnancy with our first child, so this is terra nova for us. And it's frustrating/anxious/exhilarating all at the same time. So is church planting. We've been at this "public worship gathering" thing for a month now, and it's been frustrating/anxious/exhilarating as well(though maybe one percent frustrating, and the other 99 percent a combination of the other two). The difference is that we KNOW what the next step is with the baby....the delivery. We know the signs to look for, the place to go, the people to see. With the church, not as much. We've been so focused on getting Sunday mornings up and off the ground that we are just now stepping back and asking "What now?". This Sunday night we're getting together as a core group to tackle that very question. And while it seems like a big, vague, difficult question, I think there are some basic steps for us to take, and I think it will be a fun, exciting, promising meeting. Basically, that's what we're called to do...find that "next obedient step", as Jeff Eaton at Hope Community Church in Lawrenceburg has always called it. It's such a simple concept, really, but one that has really taken hold with me. Plan ahead, sure, be ready, sure, but focus on that one next step of obedience. Whether it's with the baby, the church, myself, my health, etc., focus on that one next thing. Why do we make simple things so complicated?

Blogging is hard.

2008-10-05T21:10:00.001-07:00

Actually, blogging isn't hard. Remembering to blog isn't hard, either. It's sitting down to put onto a screen everything you thought about during the week as good blog material. That's the hard part. There have probably been a dozen different things during the past month that I've thought were worth writing about. But between: -a new church -pregnancy -football It's just been hard to sit down and do it. I think maybe I'll just commit to doing it every Sunday night. I'll keep track during the week of what's worthy of attention, and then on Sunday I'll pound it out. Sounds like a plan. I'll start next Sunday.

How chicken wraps will help me be a better father.

2008-09-07T19:51:00.000-07:00

First came McDonalds with the Snack Wrap. Then came KFC with its Twister wrap. Wendy's entered the fray with its Chicken Go Wraps. Not to be outdone, Arby's introduced a couple of new wraps of its own. Now, Burger King has jumped into the ring with some wraps that are probably disgusting. If you pay very close attention, you'll notice that there really is very little that is new under the sun anymore. Almost everything that we purchase/watch/listen to is a copycat of something that has already come down the pike... -"Dark Knight" is a huge success, so now a Superman remake and Spiderman 4 are fast-tracked for production. -Those crazy Japanese game shows show huge crossover appeal, so you get "Wipeout", "Hole in the Wall", and the aptly-titled "I Survived a Japanese Game Show". -The Backstreet Boys hit it big, so you got N-Sync, 98 Degrees, O-Town, Plus One(the awful Christian boy band), etc. We see it with fashion, groceries, cars, everything. I'm becoming more and more convinced that finding "the genuine article" may soon become a thing of the past, because not only are fewer and fewer concepts actually new, but the new ones are reacted to so quickly that it's hard to tell which one is the original and which are the rip-offs. Why the replication? Why is it so popular to just copy an original rather than BE original? Why can't people/companies/churches/artists/etc. pour as much energy into their creativity rather than just waiting for someone else to have a bright idea, and then aping it immediately so that it appears that they were just as much in the loop as anyone else? Because it's easier. Because it's cheaper. Because it's faster. Because it's more comfortable. Because it's safer. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with taking someone else's good idea and using it(as long as you don't take credit for it). Having been in church leadership for about 14 years now, I can tell you that I've borrowed more ideas over the years than I can count(note that I'm not talking about plagiarizing messages....I always try to give credit for those). In fact, I think that one key facet of creativity is taking someone else's good idea and tweaking it so that it works for your audience. When it comes to this church plant that we're launching, it has been important, every step of the way, to remember who God has called us to be and who God has called us NOT to be. During the dreaming/praying/planning part of this process, we've constantly had to fight the urge to fall back into old routines and mindsets, and we've constantly had to remind ourselves that we've been called to be ourselves, not another group or another church. In fact, that's why this church has been planted in the first place. Versailles doesn't need an extra church. But it does need a different church. That's why we did things the way we did...leaving a church we loved and people we loved. We knew that unless we stepped out on our own, taking time to pray/vision/dream, we would never really be able to shake free of our experiences and become DIFFERENT. We would always be fighting the urge to do things the way they've always been done, or the way they're done all across town. And that's the whole point. There was no sense in starting a church that would look/act/sound just like Church A, or Church B, or Church C. That would be a senseless expenditure of money/energy/resources. There was no sense in planting a church that was just like another church. It's going to take a different kind of church to reach some of these people. It takes all kinds of churches to reach all kinds of people. That's just the nature of the kingdom...we're all in this together, and we all need each other to fill in the gaps. So we set out to be different. Not that any one thing that we're doing is completely new and fresh, but the combination of things that we'll be doing is unique among churches in this community. And that doesn't make us cooler...or better...or more relevant. It just makes us different. And that was the whole point. Realizing that from the beginning has been very freeing for us. It has given us permission to make mistakes and fall on our faces. It has given us freedom to do things differently, to turn things on their head, and to reach out in ways that might not make sense elsewhere. It's probably been the most freeing two years out the 14 I've been in ministry. And this is not a knock at all on the existing churches in our area. By all means, it takes all kinds of churches to reach all kinds of people. Mosaic can't reach everyone. No church can. The kingdom consists of God's people working together to connect all people to Christ. So there will be times when someone may not connect at Mosaic, but would connect with Church A. And we'll tell them so, because our desire is to see everyone connected. I had a great conversation with one of my former youth parents the other night...someone I hadn't seen in a long time. And he had this encouraging word...something along the lines of "make sure you're being who you've been called to be". In other words, he was reminding me that when we stepped out in faith to plant this church, we dreamed of it being a different type of church, because that's what we discerned that Versailles needed. And we needed to keep approaching it that way. In other words...we didn't need to add our own entry to the chicken wrap scene. There are already plenty of chicken wraps. To add our own twist would be nothing more than pointless replication. We need to do our own thing, and not make any apologies for it. And that's what we plan on doing. As for why chicken wraps will make me a better father...it's pretty simple, really. We're having another daughter, in the next two months. I realized a while back that there were a lot of things about having an infant that I would need to reaquaint myself with. One of them was swaddling. I realized that I hadn't swaddled a kid in almost four years, and would need to be re-trained. But alas, no I wouldn't. See...one day recently I ordered a Spicy Chicken Go Wrap from Wendy's. And it fell apart as I opened the wrapper. So I put it back together gently, and realized....I had just swaddled that spicy chicken tender. And, thus, remembered how to swaddle an infant. It's pretty much the same thing, only without lettuce, cheese, and ranch dressing. Thank you Wendy's, for making me a better father. Now if you could only do something about the speed of your cashiers. Thanks.

I would totally kick Hitler's tail at dodgeball.

2008-08-29T19:53:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, especially after I became a Christian at the age of nine, I understood some basic premises: -I was a sinner. -God was perfect. -Hell was real. -I didn't want to go there. -Jesus could save me. -I needed Jesus. -Jesus gave me a new life, not only in Heaven for after I kicked the bucket, but here as well, a life of fulfillment, joy, etc. And as time went on, other concepts started to become clearer to me, like substitutionary atonement(Jesus died in my place), and discipleship(the process of becoming more like Christ). And even those times when a concept didn't totally make sense to me were okay, because I realized that A)they weren't make-or-break when it came to my salvation and growing relationship with Christ, and B)I thought they were probably things I'd learn more about later on down the road. One concept that I really started hearing a lot about in my Youth Group years was "spiritual warfare", i.e., the idea that our life is basically a constant, intrinsic struggle between good(God) and evil(the Louisville Cardinals....that was a joke. "Satan" is probably what we're looking for there). And this was especially true of Christians, who "belonged" to God, and who were fertile ground for Satan to go in and just start tearing everything up. Theretofore(man, I've been wanting to use that word in an appropriate context FOREVER. Done.), I had always thought of this not as spiritual warfare, per se, but instead just the natural tendency of myself to be a bonehead, and God's continued grace in my life. I just assumed(and rightly so) that if life was completely left up to me, I'd pretty much screw it all up with my selfishness, laziness, arrogance, etc. But God's grace put people around me to teach me, keep me in line, and He gave me the ability to make decisions that went against my natural desire to do everything for myself. In other words, I'd pretty much left Satan out of the picture. Not that I didn't believe in him, because I did, but I just didn't want to give the guy THAT much credit for my screwups. And so the spiritual warfare thing just didn't ring AS relevant to me as it might have to others. And boy, was it ever relevant to others. I'm not so sure why it caused a couple of people in my youth group to make it such a high priority, this whole spiritual warfare thing. Maybe it was because they had outgrown Dungeons and Dragons, and just needed something else to take its place, and the concept of spiritual warfare was *cool* to them. (By the way, I'm not comparing spiritual warfare to D/D, just saying that people who might have found the first "cool" might naturally latch onto the other because of that same "cool" factor). Maybe it was because when you're in youth group, that's when you're really introduced to the Book of Revelation, because it would keep elementary school kids up at night. And Revelation(or "Revelations", as country preachers sometimes call it) was cool to middle school/high school kids for various reasons... -Its imagery and vivid language appealed to those who particularly love/appreciate literature -Its battle scenes appealed to those who were, at that time, trying to imitate the latest Jean Claude Van Damne moves they'd seen(I was more of a Steven Seagal guy, myself) -Its wacked-out, futuristic, science-fiction stuff got the dorks all excited -Its end-of-the-world prophecies appealed to those who would someday buy each of the "Left Behind" books in eight different languages Again, I'm not knocking Revelation(s). I'm just saying that for a 7th-12th grade kid, this was pretty heady stuff. And it caused all of us to pay more attention to the idea that not only was Satan real, but that he was trying to mess things up for us on a constant basis, as we tried to live a life that would make God happy. *An aside here...now that I think back, I can't recall any of my youth pastors ever teaching us middle schoolers/high schoolers about Song of Solomon. I think I know why.* So fast forward to present day. For the 16 or so years since I left my old youth group, I've seen "spiritual warfare" pretty much the same way I did back then. Do I believe in it? Yes, I do. But not in the same way that some Christians do. They almost literally see EVERYTHING as a form of spiritual warfare. If something good happens, God has won. If something bad happens, Satan has won. It's as though they see life as a big game of Dodgeball, with Satan/Hitler/Bin Laden on one side, and God/Chuck Norris/Kirk Cameron on the other, and maybe the founder of Chick-Fil-A as their coach. And it's their zeal regarding spiritual warfare, I'm thinking, that has at times caused me to push it back to the deepest corners of my Christian conscience. But as we have really gotten down to the nitty-gritty of planting this new church in our community, I've started to realize that this spiritual warfare stuff is real. I consider all that has happened in the past few months as we have tried to get this off the ground: -My wife has been battling pregnancy sickness and discomfort, including a trip to the ER on the night of our School Supply Handout night. -We have had trouble finalizing our contract for the location of our worship gatherings. -I have been battling fatigue and some sickness for pretty much the last seven weeks straight. -We have had months of frustration finding the right worship leader for our gatherings. -All of the members of our core group have faced job changes/stresses over the past few months, causing stress and worry in our personal lives. And there are probably other things I could list as well. Any of these things, by themselves, could be counted simply as life throwing curveballs at an inopportune time. But when grouped together, over the course of about three or four months, and affecting a group of people, it has become obvious to me that there's more here than just curveballs. I do think that Satan is real, and wants nothing more than for Christ's followers to be weakened in their efforts to connect with people and connect them to Christ. I think these distractions are no accident, and I know for a fact that these issues have caused me to experience anxiety, worry, and fear during a time when I should be experiencing joy, excitement, and anticipation. About a month ago, maybe even three weeks ago, I was feeling pretty grim. Tired, worried, feeling a bit rejected, anxious, and none of our "loose ends" seemed to be moving toward a reconciliation. I knew that God would provide, but I was starting to wonder WHEN He would provide. I knew this was our calling...but was it His timing? It was a frustrating time. Then, little by little, things started to change...the wife felt better...jobs became smoother...the facility fell into place....buzz started building....things started coming together. And now, with the addition of a worship leader who I could not be more thrilled about, it seems that we're riding a wave towards the launch that is exactly the type of feeling I wanted to be experiencing right about now. In volleyball terms, it's as if God did one of those diving, sidearm throws that ricocheted off of Bin Laden's head, skipped across an unknowing Hitler's shoulder, and ended up nailing Satan right in the side. All three, gone. Boom. Outta here. And Chuck Norris, who had just been standing there with squinty eyes, comes and does a fist pump with God, and they both invite Kirk Cameron over for a big group hug, and all of the Christians pour out onto the court, and Truett Cathy starts throwing Chick-N-Mini's out into the crowd, and some lame old Steven Curtis Chapman song starts blaring over the loudspeaker, and it ends up looking like the final scene from Rocky IV, after he beats the Russian. If this spiritual warfare thing is as real as I believe it is, it just seems as though we're in a season where the Good Guy is winning. There will undoubtedly continue to be struggles/worries/anxieties, and there will continue to be times where it seems as though everything we do is an uphill battle. But I have complete confidence that by staying true to the mission to which God has called us, and by seeking Him first in each of our lives, He will remain faithful to us, and faithful to our mission. God always wins.

Change of plans...

2008-08-16T16:29:00.000-07:00

I was all set last night to sit down and type my latest entry, which was to be a rant about how much junk has seeped into my life lately that has made things pretty inconvenient, if not downright stressful... -Tonight(Saturday), I'm getting hooked up to a bunch of wires and sleeping at hospital so that a doctor can see if sleep apnea is a reason for my month-long fatigue. -I haven't felt really well since around July 4th. -There's a ton to get done before the baby arrives in just over two months. -Our three-year-old is reverting to potty problems, just when we thought we had them kicked. -Work is getting stressful. -We still don't have a worship leader for our new church, which starts in a matter of weeks. And I was going to unload some fury. And then I stumbled upon an old dear friend, who I haven't seen in probably 18 years, haven't communicated with in probably 15 or 16. Though the magic of the internet, I reconnected with him, and found his website, which deals with his love of making music. And I found out that just months ago, he lost his newborn daughter, and nearly lost his wife, due to a long string of medical complications. And I saw a picture of him, maybe the only picture of him, holding his deceased daughter. And I read his blog entries, so beautifully written, detailing the pain, and the struggle, and the coping. And I listened to the four or five songs he's written about the tragedy, each of which is a poignant tribute to his daughter, and what she could have become. The last one I heard was called "Heartbeats", and it actually included sound taken from an ultrasound taken earlier in the pregnancy. His own daughter's heartbeats. God has a way of granting perspective.

Pull-ups

2008-08-11T11:21:00.001-07:00

When I was in elementary school, three words struck fear into my heart more than any other... "Physical Fitness Test" From what I can remember, there were two a year...one in the fall, and then another in the spring, so that they could measure improvement(or lack thereof). So you'd go through a battery of drills and see how you performed. And for the most part, I was happy to participate... There were two categories of physical fitness tests:the kind I was bad at and didn't mind doing, and the kind I was bad at and hated doing. In the first category you'd find drills like the Shuttle run, the distance run, the sprints, sit-ups, push-ups, etc. I wasn't good at any of these things, but it didn't bother me. In the second category, one test stood alone....pull-ups. Oh, how I dreaded the pull-ups. From about third grade on, I tried best I could to avoid those days at all costs. Faked sickness, whatever...just to get out of doing it. About a week before pull-ups day, I'd literally start getting sick to my stomach just thinking about the embarrassment that was sure to come. I couldn't do a pull-up. Never could, and definitely couldn't to this day. I was overweight and had only adequate upper-body strength....not a good combination. So most of the time, I'd hop up and grab the bar, and then just dangle there like a stranded boater being pulled up on a rope to a Coast guard chopper. Finally, after about 10 seconds, the teacher would just tell me to let go. One time, I thought there was a glimmer of hope. The P.E. tests were switched to something called "isometric" tests, where instead of doing push-ups, you'd start in a push-up position, and you'd be timed to see how long you could hold that position. Same for pull-ups. You'd stand on a chair and get into pull-up position, then have the chair pulled out from under you and try to hang on in that position. Some kids stayed up for there eight or nine minutes, it seems. I crumbled to the floor before the teacher had finished pulling the chair out from under me. So that didnt work. I think the worst part of pull-up tests wasn't just the fact that I couldn't do a pull-up. It was more a combination of all my fears at that age: -Looking like a fool in front of cute girls. Check. -Looking like a fool in front of my super-athletic male friends. Check. -Being the only one in the class who had a 0 next to their name on the testing chart. Check. And those fears, along with the feeling of inferiority for not being able to do a freaking pull-up, all rolled up into one huge ball of self-pity. Because at that age, if you're like me, you couldn't compartmentalize. In other words, if you were embarrassed about pull-ups, then you were just embarrassed in general, and started feeling ugly/stupid/unliked/etc. When, in reality, I'd say that most of the kids didn't even care or notice that I couldn't do one, and those who did notice didn't say anything about it. Now that I think back to it, I come to that stark realization. I'm not sure anyone ever DID say anything about it. Not one disparaging word. But I had built up into my head the idea that I was the laughingstock of Eastside Elementary School. And when you're 10 years old, is there really anything worse? In some ways, the feelings of nervousness and anxiety I feel as we head towards the launch of this new church are similar to what I felt back then. The biggest difference is that I KNEW back then that I could NOT do a pull-up, whereas I KNOW now that I CAN lead/preach/etc. But there is still that pressure, and it's building, and it's causing me to doubt myself and distrust my calling. And that's wrong, and it scares me. It's not that I doubt what we're doing. In fact, especially after this past weekend, I've never been more sure that we're doing EXACTLY what God has called us to do. Even with all of the loose ends that haven't tied themselves up the way I want, and even with all of the questions that are yet to be answered, I am in no way questioning our calling or our mission. And yet, questions hit my brain and my heart like blowdarts from someone hiding in the bushes: -Will people come? -Will people come back? -What will it look like and sound like? -What about people who don't want to see it succeed?(and those people are out there, I'm sad to say) -Can I balance a new church, a full-time job, and a family that is growing in the middle of it all? -Will I be able to inspire/motivate/lead the way God wants? When I focus on the questions, I get overwhelmed. I get scared. I worry. When I focus on the answer, I get comfort. I get excited. I get passionate. Ultimately, the answer to all of those questions is God Himself. He is sovereign, and He makes it happen, and all we have to do is our small part. He makes it all go. So when I focus on the questions, ultimately I'm tempted to focus on what I can't do. When I focus on the Answer, ultimately I focus on what He can do. And that makes it all better. I wish I'd used that thought process back in elementary school. Because those weeks surrounding pull-up tests were sheer torture for me. I allowed the inability to do a pull-up to cast a shadow of negativity that drowned out all the things I COULD do. So I ended up being pretty miserable the entire time. Yesterday, I made an off-hand comment to my wife that I felt I had "screwed up" a part of the church launch process. I don't really feel that way. I was caught up in a moment of frustration, and allowed that one loose end to disguise itself as a shortcoming in my leadership or provision. And she was frustrated, because I made it sound as though the church was already failing in some regard, when in fact, it's not. It's definitely not. We haven't even launched yet, and we're already... -Ministering to more families than we'll probably ever know -Setting the foundation for a strong, missional, relevant church -Connecting with people who were disconnected from church -Creating a buzz among people who are looking for a "different" kind of church -Partnering with a loving church who believes in us -Building relationships with people who are disconnected, yet seeking There will still be occasional doubts, moments of frustation, anxiety, worry, etc. But as long as I stop focusing on the questions, and start focusing on the Answer, it will all be okay. And one of these days, maybe I'll be able to do a pull-up.

The 12 Days of Non-Blogging

2008-08-10T21:49:00.000-07:00

Haven't posted anything new in 12 days. Not sure either one of my readers noticed. So I'll post three tomorrow, on the following topics... 1. Pull-ups(the gym class kind, not the Huggies kind) 2. Chicken wraps 3. Dodgeball I could probably put them all into one entry, maybe about a gym class that achieves a pull-ups goal, then celebrates with a huge game of dodgeball and some delicious chicken wraps, but that would probably be a reach. So I'll post three separate ones. I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat.

When your brother comes home...

2008-07-30T06:07:00.000-07:00

Last week, our core group examined a passage of Scripture that I think will be very relevant as our church, Mosaic, goes public. It's the story of the Prodigal Son, and it's found in the book of Luke. Basically, it's the story of a guy with two sons. The younger son wants his share of the coming inheritance NOW, and goes off and blows it on terrible stuff, and ends up being a swine herder. At that point, he realizes the error of his ways, and decides to head home, where he is greeted lovingly and excitedly by his father. Most people, at least most people I know, think of this story almost strictly in terms of the prodigal son, the kid that takes the money and runs, only to come crawling back to the open arms of a loving father. And by all means, this story is about that, and has spoken to countless wayward souls over the years, imploring them to "come home". So it IS about that. But what it's REALLY about is the older brother, who instead of rejoicing along with his father when the younger brother returns, is instead resentful and refuses to celebrate. How do we know this? Because Jesus told this story in response to attacks from the Pharisees about Him hanging out with tax collectors and sinners. He was being attacked for spending time with the very people who needed Him the most desperately. But the Pharisees didn't see that. Instead, they were like the older son, who saw only his own obedience NOT being honored and celebrated, while the younger brother WAS being honored and celebrated simply for screwing up and then coming back home. John Piper really nails this in a sermon that talks about the root of the older brother's problem: He did not have a Father/Child relationship with his dad, but instead had more of a Slave/Slaveowner, or Employee/Employer relationship with him. That's what led the bitterness. Here's the written sermon: http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Sermons/ByDate/1995/922_The_Blinding_Effects_of_Serving_God/ When Mosaic gets off the ground, and God starts bringing people are way, I expect there to be a lot of people who have never been connected to God/church, never had a relationship with Christ, etc. But I also expect there to be a lot of prodigal sons/daughters, people who were at one point connected, then, for whatever reason, became disconnected, and are now returning to rediscover Christ and reignite their faith. And hopefully, we can be a place where that happens. But we'll need to guard against the "older brother" mentality, where hidden resentment and arrogance can build among those who have been in the fold the entire time, and where those who "come back" are looked down upon with skepticism and disdain. I've seen it happen in every single church I've ever been a part of, and it's an issue not to be taken lightly. God is calling Mosaic to be a safe place for people to discover and rediscover the living God, not to be a place where those who have messed up feel shamed and scoffed at by those who seemingly had it together the entire time. It happens. And it happens subtly, and not-so-subtly...the attitude among "solid" Christians that these re-connectors, these younger brothers, are just giving lip service to God, and aren't really buying in. So it feeds that country club mentality, like in "Caddyshack", where the more established members looked down on the younger members who didn't act/dress/look "right", or who have reputations to overcome, and need to put in their time before they're legitimate. May we never subscribe to that horrible way of thinking. Our natural tendency, as broken people is to make way too much ourselves and way too little of God or of others. If everyone would just switch that around, we'd see Christianity become more of what Christ intended it to be. So let's be more like the Father, and more like the father.

Well, now "Wiggles" doesn't seem so bad...

2008-07-26T21:17:00.001-07:00

...as a name for our soon-to-arrive daughter. http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/jul/24/familyandrelationships.newzealand

Our TV is out...

2008-07-20T20:51:00.000-07:00

...and that's as good a reason as any to be blogging at midnight on a Sunday night. It was the TV handed down from my in-laws, who bought it probably in the late 70's, because it was the TV that my wife grew up with. And it's been a trusted servant, and has been the source for much information, entertainment, etc., and now it's gone. I tried to turn it on last night, and heard a soft pop, and that was that. That's pretty much how I want to go. I want to be sitting there, and have my wife ask me a question, and all she gets is a soft pop, and that's that. No pomp, no circumstance, just a soft pop. Speaking of soft pop...there is a radio station based out of Lexington, KY that prides itself on being "your soft pop station". Sometimes I happen upon it by accident. And the other day, when I "happened upon it by accident", they were playing a Guns N' Roses song. How depressing must that be for the guys in GNR? Twenty years ago they were considered THE premier hard rock/metal band in music, selling out arenas, living a crazy life of music/booze/drugs/women, selling albums like the proverbial hotcakes, and living the dream. And now, they're on a SOFT POP station? And this wasn't "Patience", or "Don't You Cry", or some other ballad. This was "Sweet Child Of Mine", which, back in the day, all the kids on the church bus pretty much agreed was a song that could very well send all of us to hell for knowing the words. I was at an Arby's in Owensboro, KY this past weekend. True story. I had ordered lunch for my family, and was waiting to be given the tray, when two older gentleman stepped up to order. I couldn't hear them give their order to the cashier, but I did, CLEARLY, hear the cashier turn to the "cook"(since it's an Arby's, I hesitate to use the word "cook"), and say, "On those Beef N'Cheddars, hold the cheese." Hold the cheese....on a Beef N'Cheddar. I know you've probably already gotten here in your head, but I'll post the obvious anyway...isn't a Beef N'Cheddar without the cheese just a regular roast beef sandwich? Yes to this. But this guy wanted no cheese on his Beef N'Nothin, which was pretty much the equivalent of... -Going to Disney World and just riding the tram around instead of actually going into the parks. -Owning only one Garth Brooks album, and that being the one where he tried to be Chris Gaines. -Having sideburns behind your ears. I finished a book tonight that I meant to finish about two weeks ago..."Vintage Jesus" by Mark Driscoll. And there's nothing cute or fancy about the book...it's just a very straightforward look at Jesus Himself...his birth, life, death, resurrection, and the implications of all of those things for Christians and the world as a whole. And it was refreshing....not a "new" look at Jesus, or a "creative" look at Jesus, or a "fresh" look at Jesus, but just a very grounded, Scripture-based, look at the most important figure in the history of mankind and the Savior of the world. And then I get on Facebook. *By the way, I figured out another person who dropped me as a friend. As was the case with the first one, this one is no big deal either.* And I'm dropping in on people's profiles, just to see what's up, and it strikes me how many people on there state their religious status as "Christian", which, technically, means "little Christ"(originally a derogatory term), or "follower of Christ". That leads me to this thought...how many of us subscribe to "Christianity", but when push comes to shove, don't really subscribe to the Jesus of Scripture? Or maybe we subscribe to Jesus, but only to one facet of what we know about Him? Like people who are all about a hippie Jesus with a flower behind his ear and whose feet never really touched the ground when He walked, and held huge sit-ins where he talked about love and passed out food that hadn't been there, but conveniently ignore the times that he talked about Hell(He talked about Hell more than anyone else in Scripture) and the times when He seemed angry and forceful? Or the people who are all about a Jesus who pointed out the faults and sins of others, and talked about the narrow gate, but conveniently ignore the fact that He hung out with tax collectors, whores, and other sinners? It's all Jesus. Even worse is when we claim to be Christians, but we don't even give a FLIP about the Jesus of scripture, or the Jesus of history, or the Jesus of Ashton Kutcher's t-shirts, or any Jesus in-between. It's not that we don't love Him, or wouldn't claim allegiance to Him if asked. It's that we live our lives without Him as any kind of filter. It's that we go about our daily business, making decisions, building relationships, spending money, using words, without ever really thinking about whether they are pleasing to the one to whom we claim to belong. And that is our Christianity. It shouldn't be, and it's definitely not the Christianity that we signed up for when we made a commitment to Christ, but it's what we fall into when our passion for Christ is crowded out by our passion for the things that the world pimps out. We chase the American dream of a nice house, nice car, good friends, good food, laughter, kids, and the type of stuff you see in commercials for Budweiser, Hallmark cards, and General Foods International Coffees. And it's not that any of this stuff is bad. It's just that this isn't necessarily what it means to follow Christ. And this is coming from someone who is ALWAYS seemingly caught up in the pursuit of the things I just listed. I'm all about that stuff as well. But after reading Driscoll's book, and after thinking/praying through some things I've seen in my own life, I can't help but wonder... Have I ordered Christianity without the Christ? I know that I didn't, originally. Back in April of 1984, I committed my life to Christ, not to Christianity. In fact, at that point, I'm not sure I even knew what Christianity was. I just knew that I was messed up, that I needed fixing, that God could do it, and that He'd do it through Jesus. And that's what happened. And after that, I realized that it wasn't just about being fixed, but being changed....to be more like Christ, to always strive to be the person I was created to be. But along the way....that is no longer the goal. Along the way, it becomes about the trappings, the catchphrases, the routines, the books, the CD's, the concerts, the jewelry, the wall hangings, etc. It becomes Christianity without the Christ. And Christianity without the Christ, quite frankly, is just a bunch of Tony Robbins/Eckhart Tolle/Deepak Chopra/Strawberry Shortcake fluff that might feel good upon first listen, but ultimately doesn't answer many(any?) of life's big questions, and leads pretty much nowhere. Christ is the center of it all. And not just the Happy Christ, or the Christ Who Calls Out Sinners, or the Loving Christ, but just Christ, all facets included. That is who we were created to worship. That is who can save us. The Christ of the Bible, who was sent to reconcile us with the Creator, give us joy and peace beyond anything we could ever manufacture for ourselves, and give our lives passion and purpose and meaning. I have no idea how much those dudes enjoyed their Beef N'Cheddars sans cheese. Maybe they dressed them up with thick doses of ketchup, Arby's sauce, Horsey sauce, etc. But whatever the case, they weren't eating Beef N'Cheddars. Likewise, may we never succumb to the temptation to claim a Christianity that leaves out the center Himself, dressing it up with cheap replacements. May we, from this point forward, follow the Christ of the bible, making Him the center of our being, and filtering every day through His eyes, so that we can enjoy the best God has to offer.

Jesus said our friends might desert us...

2008-07-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

...but I'm not sure he meant that it might happen on Facebook. Facebook is an online social community where you find friends from childhood, college, work, etc., and you can leave messages for one another, display pictures, and just keep up with people in a way that is free and easy to do. It initially started as a community for college students, but has since expanded and become available for basically anyone. For months, some friends of ours told us about the virtues of Facebook, but we resisted. Partially because we probably just didn't "get it", but mainly because it sounded like Myspace, which has always been one of those things that I felt it would be better to avoid(along with brussel sprouts, "Ernest" movies, and Branson, Missouri). Actually, I did visit Myspace about four years ago, when I was still in youth ministry. And to be honest, I hated it. Hated it because I felt like it encouraged people to live double lives(for evidence, I present to you a recent MTV documentary called "True Life: I Live Another Life on the Internet"). And I also had the unfortunate experience of happening upon several Myspace pages of my church kids, pages that were filled with pictures and discussions that were, we'll just say, not exactly all about Jesus. And I was heartbroken, actually. So I quit looking. Facebook is different, because it feels more grown-up, and cleaner, etc. So we joined. And we started gaining "friends", people we knew from life present and past. To get a friend, you can find them on Facebook and request them to accept you as a friend. Or vice versa. Once both have accepted, there you have it. As I type this out, it sounds really, really childish. So I thought, initially, that it would be cool to have 75 or 80 friends. But as I kept finding people, and old acquaintances kept joining, that number grew to 285 friends. And it's been a lot of fun, and I've been able to reconnect with old friends and catch up. I've even been able to have theological discussions and create a group for people who are praying for our church plant. Just one problem. I said in the paragraph above that my friends number "grew" to 285. But it didn't stay there. In fact, it now stands at 282. I'VE LOST THREE FRIENDS! What in the WORLD?!?! I know who one person is who ditched me. I just kinda stumbled upon the fact. It was someone I haven't spoken to(other than an email or two) in two years. And our email exchanges were pleasant, and we had even spoken through Facebook, and that was pleasant too. And then, all of a sudden, I was ditched. We go from a really good conversation, to nothing, to two weeks later, no longer "friends". It came kind of out of the blue, so I sent the person a message and asked them why we were no longer friends, etc. And nothing. Crickets. This is sounding even MORE like middle school now. But to be honest, it didn't sting, because as I said, I had barely spoken to the person in two years, and if a person ditches you for no reason, are you really friends anyway? As much as this is starting to sound like a life lesson learned at the end of a "Brady Bunch" episode, it's the truth. I got dropped for no reason, so we're not friends, it's more funny to me than anything, and we move on. But this morning, I notice that I dropped by TWO MORE FRIENDS. So whereas the first situation, in my opinion, was really no big deal....this is different, because it's two people, and they both happened overnight, and I can't for the life of me figure out who they are. I've narrowed it down to four types of people: 1. People who are like the initial person, and decide out of the blue that they're not your friend, for no apparent reason. 2. People who have been put into prison and, thus, Facebook is no longer an option for them. 3. People who meant to become friends with "Tom Provost", and got me instead. 4. Kids who used to be in my youth ministry, and don't want me to see what kind of lush/pothead/wacko nutjob they've become. Which raises another question: if a friend ditches you on Facebook, and you can't tell which friend it was, were you really THAT close to begin with? Answer: no. But still, it makes you wonder. And I've gone through my friends list, trying to figure out who hates me, and still can't figure it out. It was bugging me until I was driving around tonight after a meeting. And I came to this conclusion: I don't care. For a long time, a LOOOOONG time, I lived my life primarily to please those around me. And no, it didn't come from anything dark and sinister in my childhood, and no, my parents didn't lock me in a cage, etc. I had a perfectly healthy and happy upbringing. It's just a personality trait(some would call it a flaw) that I've always had to deal with. And in a lot of ways, it's been a real blessing. It's helped me become comfortable relating to people who are different than me, make people feel welcome, encourage people, etc. There are a lot of times when I thank God for wiring me that way. But there have been other times when it's been a detriment. Because people-pleasers compromise. And people-pleasers end up failing at pleasing everyone, and if they're not careful, they end up failing to please ANYONE. Because they're not true to themselves, not true to their calling, not true to the truth, not true to God Himself. And that's what happened to me, forever. It affected my family life, my relationships, my ministry, everything. Almost two years ago, I walked away from a very comfortable life, from a church that I really enjoyed being part of, from a ministry that had worlds of potential, from a group of kids that I loved, from a steady and generous income, all to take a chance and live out what God had laid before me. I guess, looking back, it was more of a risk than I really thought. But He has provided, and I harbor absolutely no regrets about following Him on this adventure. In the process, He has done something in my life that I never would have expected...he helped me shed my "people-pleaser" mentality. I didn't realize it until tonight, really. But over the past 23 months or so of this journey, I can look back and see times when the old me would have made compromises...but the new me has been able to say "no", been able to stand for something, been able to be myself and break free of the need to live up to people's expectations. When did I realize this? Driving through Versailles tonight, with the sunroof open, the windows down, and My Morning Jacket playing in the background. I thought about this whole silly Facebook thing, and realized that if people don't want to be "friends" with me(real or online), that's perfectly fine. God hasn't put me on this earth to make friends on a website. He has put me on this earth to live the life that He intends for me to live, and to be the man that He intends for me to be. So I'm comfortable in who I am.... -I listen to the same five Stevie Wonder songs, in order, every single weekday morning, because it makes my daughter happy. -I never take the top newspaper off a stack in a convenience store or newspaper machine. Always the one under it. -I would love to wear "cool guy" clothes, but to be honest, they don't make clothes like that for dudes my size. They just don't. So I wear pretty lame polos and khakis, and I couldn't tell you the brand on any of the tags. -I have a pretty long temper with everyone around me, but a very short one with myself. This is evident in the fact that whenever I try to fix dinner, I'm my worst critic, which makes me too easily frustrated with myself, and then frustrates my wife, who thinks it's silly that I'm so hard on myself. -I never learned how to ride a bike, and will be KICKING myself for that in about two years when it's my daughter's time to learn. -I don't know nearly enough scripture from memory, but can tell you the hometown of every Kentucky basketball player since about 1984. I list those things to make this point: I've got a long way to go to be the man God intended for me to be. But that's got to be the goal. Not pleasing people. Pleasing the one who gave me life. And if that happens, it trickles down into being a better husband/father/pastor/blogger/son/brother/employee, etc. etc. So that's the goal, and that's the one I'm going with, because that's the one that makes the most sense out of life, and gives me the most satisfaction, and seems the most God-honoring. I'm going to do my best to quit trying to please people, and try to please God instead. And if that means I lose friends, well, Jesus pretty much guaranteed that would happen. It doesn't mean I won't still try to be a great friend/encourager/counselor, etc. It just means that those attributes will be an outflow of the primary goal, instead of the primary goal itself. That's the challenge for all of us, really...to be free to be who God created us to be. And that's what I am finally doing. So if you're one of the three who ditched me on Facebook, don't bother looking me back up. Because you won't like me any better than you did when you dropped me. And this isn't meant to be a mean-spirited "take that!", or anything like that. It's just the truth. To the other 282, if you're out there, most of you probably forgot I was your "friend" to begin with. And that's fine. But thanks, to all of you, for overlooking my many faults, and accepting me for the messed-up, lame-clothed, no-bike-riding, overweight bad chef that I am. May it be the goal for each of us to love how God wired us, and then strive to be more than who and what we are. And if you're out there, and you're not on Facebook...you should do it! It's fun, it's free, it's easy, etc. And if you do join....will you PLEASE be my friend???? LYLAB!!!!

"You're the Meaning in My Life, You're the Inspiration"

2008-07-09T06:13:00.000-07:00

What an awful song. But that's what is on my mind today...inspiration. I think I've always had a knack for finding inspirational things. Not that I'm an inspirational person, because I'm not, but I have always managed to stumble upon scriptures, stories, songs, etc., that seem to connect with someone. That was a really helpful attribute during 12 years of youth ministry, and I anticipate it being the same way as a church planter. And inspiration is a funny thing. Sometimes, when you're LOOKING for something motivational, it just doesn't happen. There have been times in the past when I've searched for motivation, be it motivation to lose weight, or be a better husband, or hit a homerun in my ministry, or whatever. So I watch something that I think will get me fired up, or I browse a bookstore for ideas, or I go to a conference for ideas. And sometimes, using those avenues, I DO get motivated. But it almost feels manufactured, like that was what I was looking for, and yeah, I found something inspired, but if you expect it, is it really inspiring? When I was a teenager, and then again as a youth pastor, that's how the "Last Night of Camp" always felt....manufactured. That last worship service was always so powerful, and God had been doing His thing all week, and it was just sort of a climax to whatever had been going on in kids' lives that week. And as a teenager, and in my early years as a youth pastor, I always looked forward to that night, because it was so moving, so inspiring... ...and so expected. Not manufactured, though I'm sure there was always the temptation by staff to really amp everything up. But it was expected. In fact, about halfway through my years in youth ministry, kids started actually talking about the LNOC, and how it was the night where the emotions always flowed. And they were right. The lighting was down, the music was alternately soft/moving and loud/inspiring, the preacher hauled out his best stuff, and an hour later, you have all the girls crying in slow-moving huddles, like big teary amoebas. And the guys aren't crying, but they are hugging on all the super-emotional girls, trying to look ultra-sensitive and understanding. And it just becomes a huge mess of tears, hugs, Axe body spray(because they guys always put on a double layer of that stuff for the LNOC), etc. Did God work during those times? Absolutely. And God inspires raw, genuine emotions. The LNOC was absolutely used by God, and still is, to bring teenagers(and adults) to a crisis of belief, a point of decision. But surrounding those real, genuine, heartfelt, honest dealings with God was what came to be an "event", the LNOC, which was expected to produce what I described above. So in a way, it felt a bit cheapened. I've come to realize that, for me, inspiration comes at random times from random sources. The one source of inspiration that is always constant for me is Scripture. Regardless of what I read, or when I read it, it always motivates/convicts/counsels/challenges me. Other than that, my inspiration is hit-or-miss. For instance, I didn't cry at the birth of my child, though I fully expected to. However, there have been plenty of times since then when my child has inspired me, and they come at the most random times. I can watch a super-sad movie, a 10-tissue weeper, and sit stone-faced. But show me one of those features on SportsCenter where a kid with some kind of physical/mental struggle gets to meet and hang out with his favorite athlete, and I just about lose it. And my wife rolls her eyes. In the past four days or so, I've been blessed with several instances of inspiration....all out of the blue, from different sources: a fireworks display, a former youth, a song at church, a song on the radio, a story about a preacher I've never heard of, a news article, etc. And I wasn't looking for inspiration from any of them...but it happened anyway. And that's how God works best, at least with me. Thankfully, Scripture, as I said above, is always going to be an inspiration, because it is inspired by God Himself. But God uses all kinds of things, all kinds of people, all kinds of methods, to inspire us, motivate us, speak to us, and challenge us. And lately, while I've been anxious and scrambling trying to take care of all the logistics that come along with planting a church, I haven't really done a good job of recognizing when God is trying to speak truth to me. Don't look for inspiration where you expect it. Instead, recognize inspiration when God brings it out of nowhere. That's the best kind.

A blast from the past(literally)

2008-07-03T18:28:00.000-07:00

As we celebrate the 4th of July holiday, I bring you this post from my old blog, "God Starts a Church", written last July 4th when I was apparently hacked off. Enjoy. Why do people have to blow stuff up? That's the question on my mind right now, and it will be probably for the next week or so, as people set off their own fireworks leading up to the 4th, late on the night of the 4th, and then blow up the clearance-priced fireworks in the days after the 4th.It didn't used to bother me. In fact, I remember lighting sparklers on our back porch and waving them in the air, then throwing them off the porch into the bushes when they stopped burning(take THAT, environment!). I even remember us buying "the good stuff" on our way back through Tennessee from summer vacation, and lighting fireworks in the shape of chickens and tanks in our driveway. I was a Civil War buff as a kid, and I remember us buying a Civil War-themed fireworks set one year, and lighting it in the driveway. As it sprayed sparks and flames four feet into the air, I remember thinking that this was EXACTLY what Fort Sumter must have looked like.But now, it's an annoyance. I think this is for two primary reasons: one, I don't want them waking up my kid. Two, they're usually not very good. Even the "good stuff" from Tennessee is never as good as what you see at city-sponsored July 4th festivities, or Kings Island every single night, or every single time the Reds win a game(which is three times a month).But every year, people buy them, and every year, they set them off. They're just a cheap replica of really good fireworks shows. It would be like me saying, "You know what? I know that the Transformers movie comes out later this week, but I think I'll instead make my own Transformers movie, using this toaster, my Playstation, and a power washer. It will be just as good, and then I can show it on the side of my house at 1:00 in the morning. The neighbors will LOVE it." In other words, people are willing to trade the real thing(which is ALWAYS better), for a cheap imitation, which promises to look, sound, and act the same, but in the end turns out to be pretty disappointing(at least in my opinion). They do it because they want to be in control, have it done their way, on their terms.We do the same whenever we decide that our way is better than God's way. Just like that Civil War-themed explosion of light and sound, our way makes promises that it just can't keep. So instead of waiting for God's best, and paying the price to see God's best, we jump the gun, do it ourselves, and try to maintain control. And while we might see some initial sparks, and make some loud noise, in the end...it's a rip-off. Don't trade God's best for a cheap imitation. Even if it comes from Jellico.

Randoms on a Tuesday...

2008-07-01T05:42:00.000-07:00

-There's a new Dairy Queen in town. And it's nice and all. But there's one thing that bothers me. There's a poster detailing the history of Dairy Queen, and I read it while waiting for my banana shake the other night. Did you know that the original Dairy Queen was in CANADA? WHAT? One of THE great American institutions, one of THE hallmarks of small-town life, where Little Leaguers go after games and kids go on their first dates, this perfect slice of Americana. And it originated in the land of round bacon and Celine Dion, where they can't even settle on a language? Weak. Actually, I love Canada. But I still can't get over this. -I took my wife on a getaway weekend to Cincinnati this past weekend, and stayed at a hotel in the Cincy suburbs. When we got off the elevator, there was a sign posted on the wall welcoming us to the "Quiet Zone". It went on to explain that our floor was designated for those wanting a great night's sleep. So in order to make that happen, there would be no families with small children staying on that floor. Nor would there be any student groups, family reunion groups, marching bands or circus animals. I'm serious. It also had some "rules" for staying on that floor, such as keeping the TV volume at a reasonable level, not slamming doors, and not singing loudly in the shower. I'm still serious. And we did get a good night's sleep. But part of me was tempted to call down to the front desk and say "Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's a young giraffe next door playing the trumpet very loudly in the shower", and just see what would happen. Later that night, we went to see a movie at a newer theater. They had four screens located in what the cinema called "Director's Halls", meaning that you could sit in large, leather seats, have employees bring your food and drink to you, and see the movie on a special large screen with a special sound system. We didn't go for it, because it was four dollars more than seeing the same movie in the next room, but that, along with the "Quiet Zone", helped me realize that people are no longer just paying for products...they're paying for experiences. You can stay in a regular hotel room, or you can stay in the "Quiet Zone". You can see a film, or see the same film in a "Directors Hall". You can go to Disney World, or you can pay for a VIP Experience that allows you to ride the same rides, but skip the lines altogether. You can go to a White Sox game, or you can pay $$$ to play catch with your dad on the field on Fathers Day. We're moving from a product-consumer system to an experience-consumer system. And that's happening in the church realm as well. It's no longer enough, especially among younger generations, to just give money to missions. They want to EXPERIENCE missions, whether local or abroad. To be honest, I'm still sorting out the implications of this change for the church, and for church planting specifically. But it's fascinating, and it's everywhere you look. -Something I'll never understand or accept...parents keeping their kids on leashes at the mall/amusement park/ballgame. Just keep up with the kid. You're faster, stronger, and smarter than your kid. I think you can handle it. A muzzle, I can understand. But not a leash. -I think Joel Osteen cries a lot while eating Ben and Jerry's and watching "Gilmore Girls". But that's just my opinion.

Bland and dark

2008-06-23T14:20:00.001-07:00

I'm really bothered by what I'm reading about Christian voices, particularly leaders in the Southern Baptist Convention, encouraging parents to pull their kids from public schools and either homeschool them or enroll them in Christian schools. There are valid reasons to do either(homeschool or Christian school): the student needs individual attention, the student needs a smaller class setting, the academics are just THAT much better than they are in public schools, etc., etc. There are valid reasons, and parents should always do what they feel is best for their kids. I'm not inherently against either scenario. But that's not what I've experienced, and it's not what I'm hearing, and it's not what I'm reading. A lot of the parents who have either homeschooled their kids or placed them in a private school didn't do it primarily so that their kids would enjoy the benefits of either move. It was done to pull their kids from what they saw as the spiritually, emotionally, and socially toxic atmosphere of the EVIL public school system. And the results are mixed. I've seen homeschooled and private school kids who are perfectly well-adjusted kids who have great friendships, are socially comfortable, enjoy different activities, and go on to succeed in college and careers. But I've also seen homeschooled and private school kids who are complete trainwrecks...they're not socially mature, they are behind academically(particularly homeschooled kids), they don't develop solid friendships, and when turned loose in the real world, they crash and burn because they haven't been properly prepared for what awaits them. Funny thing...the two scenarios listed above are pretty much true, verbatim, of the graduates of public high schools as well. So maybe the EVIL public schools aren't so bad after all. Obviously, there are things happening in the public school system that I don't care much for, in terms of what's being taught, allowed, etc. But that's because public schools are a microcosm of society. There are things in Western culture, in AMERICA, that I don't care much for either. And those things can't all be pinned on the public school system. It's the world we live in, the soup we swim in. So what should the reaction be? I can tell you what it SHOULDN'T be. It shouldn't be to cut and run, to jerk our kids out of public schools so that we can rescue them from the evil cultural influences that reside there, and instead stuff them into a nice cozy bubble where they can incubate and then be released into the world when they hit their 18th birthday. And why not? 1. Because, from what I can tell, the public school system isn't a cesspool that churns out alcoholic, tree-hugging, bud-smoking, promiscuous, dog killers, not the way it's labeled. In 12 years of youth ministry, I knew slews of solid, Christian kids who came through that system and have gone on to be solid Christian adults. Likewise, I know plenty of kids who DIDN'T come through the public school system who really, really struggled to adapt to teen culture and, when they turned 18, life in general. Like I said above, it's not a given that one works better than the other. 2. It completely goes against the biblical admonition to be salt and light in this world. Christians have done a pretty good job of nearly building a parallel universe... -Christian schools -Christian music -Christian art -Christian books -Christian dance -Christian bookstores -Christian fast food (Chick-Fil-A) -Christian radio -Christian magazines -Christian clothing -Christian jewelry -Christian colleges -Christian television series -Christian movies None of these things are bad. None of them...IF the motive is right. If you genuinely like that stuff, have at it. But it's when the list above is used as a sheltering mechanism from the world, THAT'S when it becomes a problem. Because it's unbiblical. We're called to be salt and light. We're called to be in the world, not of the world. We're called to be influencers. And we can't do ANY of these things if we're isolated. None of them. It's much easier just to haul our kids out of any possible environment that might be the least bit challenging to our goal of raising them as solid Christians. This is why Christians schools have exploded and homeschooling has taken off. But when done for that reason, that's wrong. We're fooling ourselves if we're thinking that sheltering them like this, helping them avoid the world, etc., is what Christ would have us to do. Again, I'm not bashing either scene. There are good reasons for both. I'm bashing the thinking that God is calling us to withdraw from the greatest ministry opportunity our kids may ever have...their schools. Jesus hung out with tax collectors, prostitutes, sinners, etc. He was the influencer. And He called us to do the same. The best way to impact the culture, any culture, is from the inside. Not lobbing grenades from a mile away. But that's what I'm seeing, and that's what I'm hearing. And it's pretty heartbreaking, to be honest. Let's not teach our kids to run from a challenge. Let's not give them reasons or validation to avoid being missionaries. Let's encourage them to be what God has called them to be...agents of change in a dark and struggling world. If all the lights are removed, what's left?

The people at Wendy's are marketing GENIUSES.

2008-06-17T11:22:00.000-07:00

Every day I take my daughter to her sitter's house. And every day, we go through the same intersection, an intersection which includes, on one corner, a Wendy's restaurant. Which has a marquee. What would YOU expect to see on a Wendy's marquee? Maybe messages such as: "Stop in for a cool Frosty"....or "Eat healthy with a fresh salad"...or "Have you had a Baconator today?". So late last week, I drove past that Wendy's, and the marquee read as follows: "FDA recall on tomatoes" That was it. That was the marquee. That was the message that someone thought would draw people INTO the store. They could have promoted a sandwich, a new dessert item, a salad, ANYTHING. But instead, they put on there a random bit of current news that, if anything, would push people away from eating at a fast-food restaurant. If the thinking is that this message will draw people into the restaurant, then maybe Arby's should change their marquee to "Flooding in Iowa". Or maybe McDonald's can counter with "Tim Russert is dead." By the way, I miss Tim Russert already. Seriously. Signs like the Wendy's sign always fascinate me. They always catch my eye, because they're the best, most visible, most adaptable form of advertising at the actual location of a business, church, school, etc. Commercials are obviously effective. But hundreds, if not thousands, pass by these businesses every day in their vehicles, and most probably notice what these signs say. So in order to have maximum advertising impact, they need to be effective. And attractive. "FDA recall on tomatoes" is neither. Church signs fascinate me, too. I once worked at a church that had a PRIME location. It was on a busy street , and stood out as a church in the middle of a row of houses. It had a bright sign out by the street, and a marquee. Most of the time, the marquee included a bible verse, or a general welcome to the church. Most of the time, it was fine. But occasionally, the marquee would say something that would seem to have no impact on the Average Joe driving down the street. For example, sometimes the church would have concerts by local Christian artists, or maybe gospel groups, or whatever. So the sign would say something like "The Singing Holloways, Sunday night at 6:00 p.m." *I have no clue if there are Singing Holloways. It's a hypothetical group.* Well, okay, that's fine. I'm sure the Holloways sing, and I'm sure they're decent, and I'm sure that it's Sunday night at 6:00 p.m. But unless I'm part of the .001 percent of Americans who have HEARD of the Singing Holloways, why would I care? I'd be just as interested to hear whether or not the Holloways enjoy the occasional Baconator as I would be to hear that they're putting on some kind of variety show. So sometimes, signs are ineffective because they refer to something that just doesn't matter to most people. It's not a knock on concerts, or gospel music, or the Holloways. It's just that some churches take their best, most constant, most flexible bit of advertising muscle and use it to promote an event or concept that just doesn't connect with the very people they're trying to draw. And sometimes, it just gets freaky. Like the church whose sign reads, "We still sing the old-time hymns!" Well, sign me up! Or kiss my grits! Or whatever! Something to consider...the people who actually LIKE that music are probably already involved in a church. Probably YOUR church. Or the Unitarian church in Evansville that used to put all kinds of New Age hippie-babble on their signs. One week, the sign said "Who was Benjamin Franklin?". Another week it read, "Be Thankful for Dads and Trees". Now THIS is what Jesus had in mind when He told the church to go and make disciples of all nations. Be thankful for your dads. Double points if your dad looks like Ben Franklin. Triple points if your dad looks like Ben Franklin and lives in a tree. Church signs can be HUGE points of contact. I really believe that churches that make good use of their marquees can really connect with people, perhaps even draw people. But the messages on those signs has to be relevant. Scratch people where they're itching, in other words. Don't use your sign to promote an event that will only appeal to people who will already be coming to the event. Or to use "churchy" language that will only appeal to people who are already connected to your(or another) church. Or to use New Age hippie-crap language that only appeals to people who think that their car tires are made of strawberries and that there is a tall pink dragon that sneaks into their kitchen each night to fix himself some waffles. Be relevant. Be real. Try to actually CONNECT with people. You have the chance to SAY SOMETHING to hundreds, if not thousands, of people each day. Make the most of it. By the way, if you buy the tomatoes that are still on the vine, they're safe. Just an FYI.

Whatchu Talkin' 'Bout, Jesus?!?!

2008-06-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

My daughter loves "Diff'rent Strokes". Some of you will remember that show. It aired on NBC from 1979-1986. It starred Conrad Bain as rich widower Phillip Drummond, and he had a daughter(the late Dana Plato) of his own named Kimberly, and two adopted black sons named Willis(Todd Bridges) and Arnold(Gary Coleman). The show was a huge hit for its first four or five seasons. Then "Webster" came along on ABC and started stealing some of its thunder, so "Diff'rent Strokes" had Mr. Drummond marry a woman who had an idiot redhead son named "Sam", who singlehandedly took the entire show down in flames. So what started out as a solid comedy ended up going out with a whimper, all because of one of the worst child actors in history. His name was Danny Cooksey, and the show would have been better off had his character been played by a huge flaming potato sack full of poop. But the early seasons are still pretty cute, and occasionally laugh-out-loud funny. And it was a favorite childhood show of mine. So when I saw that early episodes were airing on BET, I was more than happy to watch a few and soak up the nostalgia. And one day, my daughter happened to be around when I was watching one of the episodes. And she LOVED it. Loves the song, but especially loves Arnold. Remember, she's three. She doesn't get the jokes. She doesn't understand the social ramifications of a wealthy white man adopting two black boys from Harlem. She doesn't get the "very important" messages in certain episodes. She just knows that Arnold is funny. So when he does something, or says something, and the studio audience laughs, she laughs and says "Silly Arnold!", even though she doesn't know what she's laughing about. She just knows that he's supposed to be funny. So she goes along with it. I remember feeling the same way in November of 1996. I was living in Los Angeles, and was part of a GREAT small group. When big movies opened, our small group often got together and went out to dinner and the movie on opening weekend. So it was November, and the new "Star Trek" movie opened. And most of the members of my church small group were big fans..."Trekkies", they're called. So they were pretty stoked about this movie opening, and we planned our trip. The theater was packed, with many in attendance wearing actual replicas of Star Trek costumes(dorks). And everyone was excited, and cheered when the film started, and it was a rollicking good time. And it was actually a pretty good movie. There was only one problem for me...I had never sat through a single Star Trek movie or television episode. Star Trek never really appealed to me. Some people saw it as fascinating science fiction, others as philosophical, others as pure escapism. I had always just seen it as "not 'Star Wars'". So that made me feel pretty out of the loop. People would just randomly cheer during the film, so I'd cheer along with them, so as not to look stupid. People would randomly boo, so I'd boo. People would laugh at random dialogue, and I'd laugh along with them. I never knew WHY I was cheering, or laughing, or booing, I just knew that I was supposed to feel those emotions with the rest of the group. As we start this new church, we're going to do a lot of prayerful planning of worship gatherings. And it's going to be very easy to fall into the trap of just recycling a lot of the same elements that we grew up with in church, or doing what we're comfortable with as church veterans. But we need to remember that the people we're trying to reach probably won't be familiar with some of this stuff. They don't know all the catchphrases. They may not "get" some of the language used in our songs. "Washed in the blood of the Lamb..."???? Excuse me???? And sometimes, even preaching makes assumptions about people's familiarity with the Bible, or biblical concepts. So a lot of times, newcomers probably just go along with the crowd, not knowing what's really going on, but not wanting to look out of place or non-participatory. I've felt this way at Catholic services, by the way, and it's an uncomfortable feeling. We need to be accessible. I never want someone to come into a worship gathering off the street and leave thinking "What in the world did I just sit through?". I don't want anyone feeling confused, or lost, or out of the loop. I want them to truly experience worship in a way that they understand, and truly experience church in a way that they're comfortable with. I want them to hear truth, but in terms they can relate to. Basically, I want them EXPERIENCE it...not just be a spectator. And that's going to be a challenge, every week. Also...Danny Cooksey is NOT allowed to attend our church. He already single-handedly took down a popular network sitcom. He's not pulling that stunt again.

We'll call this "The Ralph Macchio Syndrome"

2008-06-05T09:48:00.000-07:00

There is a phenomenon that I've noticed over the years that I've never seen or heard mentioned in a magazine article or on a television program. But personal experience tells me that it exists, and that it occurs with a lot more frequency than anyone probably realizes. It's the Ralph Macchio Syndrome. The Ralph Macchio Syndrome occurs when you revisit something that you haven't done, or eaten, or heard, or seen, in a long time. And your memories of that something are pristine...perfect...fond. So you obviously look forward to revisit it, only to find that it's not even close to having the same level of quality the second time around as your mind remembers it initially having. That was a confusing sentence. Let me give examples to help explain the phenomenon. MOVIES....I've always been a movie fanatic. From the time I saw my first movie("Pete's Dragon, 1977, Oxmoor Mall) to the last movie I actually watched("Coach Carter", Monday, TERRIBLE), I have always enjoyed film. Movies have always had a special way of communicating with me, moreso than music or books, etc. And the 1980's, when I was a kid growing up with HBO, was a golden era of film for me. Two of the films that I remember LOVING as a kid in the 1980's were "The Outsiders", based on the novel of the same name by S.E. Hinton, and "The Karate Kid", probably NOT based on a novel by S.E. Hinton. Both starred Ralph Macchio. Hence the name. Sorry Ralph. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have just as easily been the Molly Ringwald Syndrome, or the Don Knotts Syndrome. It just happened to be you. Keep your head up. In the past few months, both movies have aired on cable channels, and I've caught them both, hoping to get caught up in a lovely wave of film nostalgia. Didn't happen. "The Outsiders", which I loved so much as a pre-teen and teen, now comes across as completely over-the-top, with terrible acting and some horrible song called "Stay Gold" that sounds like it's being sung by Anne Murray after she's eaten about 17 pancakes. I ALMOST didn't make it through the whole film. But I realized that one of my childhood celebrity crushes, Diane Lane, was in that film. And that allowed me to persevere all the way through the movie. Diane Lane...Diane Lane....Diane Lane... I digress. "The Karate Kid" was less of a letdown, but a letdown nonetheless. I remember it coming to Cynthiana, Kentucky in the summer of 1984, playing for something like three weeks straight at Studio Cinema(home of rats, broken seats, and gum on the floors that simply got painted over). I remember there LITERALLY being a line around the block to get into that movie. What a crowd-pleaser. And it's still a crowd-pleaser. I still got goosebumps when Daniel finally "gets" what Mr. Miyagi has been teaching him about karate. My adrenaline still pumps when Daniel uses that stupid crane move to beat Johnny Lawrence in the finals of the All Valley Karate Tournament(sorry that gave away the ending, but you've now had 24 years to see the movie, so that's YOUR fault). By the way, how in the world does a stud like Johnny Lawrence of the Cobra Kai dojo get beat by THAT ridiculous move? Seriously, dude...just step off to the side, or duck, or something...LaRusso totally telegraphed that. So it's still a FUN movie to watch, even if it's no longer, in my opinion, a GOOD movie. The dialogue was awful, especially the teenagers, and the fight scenes don't look realistic. Another example of a movie that I revered as a kid, just not being as good the second time around. FOOD...There are certain foods that I USED to think were delicioso, but upon further review...no to this. For instance, when I was a 12-year-old ALL-STAR for the Lions Club team in Cynthiana Little League, my training table consisted of a healthy stream of Funyuns, Big League Chew, and Clearly Canadian(we were all trying to look older). In the past few years, I've re-tried each of these, just for kicks. All I'll say is, I'd rather watch Anne Murray eat 17 pancakes than partake of any of that stuff ever again. Years ago, I lived near Cleveland, Ohio. And I'd go to Indians games. *We interrupt this blog post to bring you this article from ESPN.com. Makes me swell with pride to be an Indians fan. http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=beernight/080604&sportCat=mlb&lpos=spotlight&lid=tab5pos1 *Back to the blog* At Indians games, they served this special brown mustard at the stadium concession stands. And they gave it the most creative of names..."Stadium Mustard". And I loved it. And they sold it at my local Giant Eagle(that was the name of our grocery chain...Giant Eagle. Makes no sense whatsoever. Would YOU feel comfortable doing your grocery shopping at a place called "Enormous Rhino"?). So I'd buy it and use it at home. Years went by, and I eventually ended up in central Kentucky, where they do not sell Stadium Mustard. And my wife's brother marries a girl from NE Ohio, and one day, in speaking with her dad and step-mom, I casually mentioned that I used to love me some Stadium Mustard, and I missed it, because you can't find it at Kroger(which is such a better name for a grocery). A few months later, voila....she brings me a bottle of Stadium Mustard. And I was ecstatic. And I went home. And I made a hamburger. And I put said mustard on said hamburger. And.... It was awful. Just awful. How awful? Imagine making a puree of Funyuns, Big League Chew, and Clearly Canadian, and then pouring that over a grilled piece of enormous rhino. That's how bad it was. Another example of the Ralph Macchio Syndrome. Just not as good the second time around. WOMEN...actually, this only happened once, but I thought that if I just put "WOMAN" for this heading, I'd sound like Animal from "The Muppets". So when I was in college, there was an art gallery at the local mall(because that's the OBVIOUS place for a fine art gallery). And one day I was at the mall by myself, and wandered in there to look around. As I turned to leave, I saw her. And she was magnificent. Striking. Stunning. I'll put it this way....if Diane Lane was wearing 1994 clothing, and working in an art gallery in a mall, this would have been comparable. This girl was the Diane Lane of mall art gallery cashiers. So being the STUD that I am, I scooted on out of there without making any eye contact. And I went back to campus and told the one guy who I thought would appreciate such a story...my friend Rob. He was intrigued. We went back two days later. I peeked in the store from the outside, and could tell that she was working. So we walked in. This time, I made eye contact. But this time, it wasn't Diane Lane of the mall art gallery world. Something was different. She was pretty, sure, but not striking. Not stunning. Not as magnificent as I remembered from only two days before. This time, she was the Anne Murray of the mall art gallery world. And she could have been eating pancakes right there at the register, for all I knew. I felt so awkward. Not only was she not the supermodel I had remembered her being, but now I'd dragged Rob to another county to take a gander at her. I was ashamed. I knew he was questioning my judgment. It was a quiet ride home. I just finished eating lunch here at work(still on lunch, by the way...NOT doing this on company time). During my lunch, I read another chapter of a book I'm working my way through, "Vintage Jesus" by Mark Driscoll. And I was struck by how, whenever I read about Jesus...not about ministry, or about church, but about JESUS, that He is just as intriguing, just as exhilarating, just as perfect, as He was when I first truly encountered Him as a kid. I'm now a 33-year-old married father of a kid-and-a-half, and every single circumstance has changed in my life from when I first truly met Jesus. And yet, He's exactly the same. He still elicits the same love, same excitement, same passion, because He's EXACTLY the same. When He doesn't bring about those emotions, that commitment, it's not His fault, it's mine. Because I change...I'm inconsistent...I let other things cloud my realization of who HE is. But when I remove distractions, and simply approach Him, the experience is the same. When the Bible says that He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, THAT'S what it means. Jesus is far more Diane Lane than Ralph Macchio....or Anne Murray, for that matter.

A sad day at the ranch....

2008-06-01T21:32:00.000-07:00

For a little while in the late 90's, I lived in Los Angeles and worked at Universal Studios Hollywood. I started out giving backlot tram tours to tourists, then moved on to giving private VIP tours, as well as hosting a special effects show and working as a production assistant on a television show that filmed on the backlot. I didn't make much money, just enough to live on, basically, but I loved that job. Loved the people, loved the weather, loved the creativity, loved the fact that every single day, I would see at least one celebrity. I felt like I was in the Hollywood loop, and I guess that in some small way, I really was. I watched TV shows and movies being filmed, knew some inside scoops, and rubbed elbows with wannabe actors, actresses, directors, etc. In fact, some of my friends from those days have gone on to be national television personalities, with their own shows, own bands, etc. Those were GREAT times. So this morning, it was sad to see that a large portion of the USH backlot went down in flames. That was the very ground where I gave tours to tourists and VIP's, telling them about famous movies that were filmed there, told them some tricks about movie-making magic, pointed out celebrities who were actually on location filming, and watched them get wide-eyed on every single tour. And I was wide-eyed, too. As I watched those fires burn, I thought back to all of the tours I gave on those streets, and I thought back to all of the celebrities that I met or saw back there as well: Jim Carrey Adam Sandler Steven Spielberg Drew Barrymore Brandy Larry Hagman Michael J. Fox The Edge(from U2) Arnold Schwarzenegger Tom Arnold Ice-T Shaun Cassidy The list goes on and on. Like I said, it was an exciting time. But I also started wondering about the rebuilding process. I thought about the fact that so much of the backlot was now in ruins, and that it would probably take forever to get the place looking like I remember it looking 10 years ago. And then I remembered that most of what burned today weren't buildings. They were facades. False fronts. Buildings that weren't really buildings. Fronts that had no sides, no backs...just enough to trick the viewer into thinking that they were actual buildings. And these facades weren't only fake, but they were easily transformed. In fact, it wasn't unusual to see a commercial being filmed on "New York Street" at USH that was taking place in New York, and then see that same area being used two days later as downtown Chicago. It didn't take long for designers to change signs, paint, etc., to switch from one locale to the next. I've been thinking a lot lately about consistency. And it's a huge issue for everyone, but especially for people who claim to be Christians, because that is probably the one thing that most non-Christians say about Christians when asked what turns them off to Christianity. They see Christians who say one thing, and do another, or who claim to be following Jesus, but then act in a way that either completely disregards Jesus' teaching and commandments, or acts in a way that leaves them virtually indistinguishable from anyone at all. In other words, I think they'd say that too many Christians are facades. False fronts. Look good from the front, from the first impression, but have no depth, and change with the wind(or the situation). I saw it in 12 years of youth ministry. I saw kids who on Sundays and Wednesdays could have everyone completely fooled that they were 100 percent committed to following Jesus, and then live in a way the other five days a week that made Jesus look like a complete afterthought. And it wasn't just the teenagers...it was adults as well. And it was me as well. And still is. We all fight it. We all fight the temptation to be one thing here, another thing there...changing for the situation, changing for the crowd. Not giving any thought to the fact that consistency is key. And it is key. We see it in politics, where the media(and the voters) pay careful attention to whether a candidate switches positions on key issues, or makes contrary statements, or has a past(or a hidden present) that seems to go directly against what he or she states publicly. We see it elsewhere in culture. And we ALWAYS notice it in others. But never ourselves. But we're facades. We're fake fronts. We're one way at church, another way at home. We're one way on Facebook, another way with friends. We're one way at work, another way at the ballpark. And we're never held accountable, because everyone's too afraid to call us out on it, and because we're too proud(or indifferent) to call OURSELVES out on it. I guess I just want to become a model of consistency. I know I'm not. I know I'm not even close. I know that, subconsciously, I'm probably different around some people than I am around others, or different in one place than I am in another. But I want to be the same person every single day. I don't want to give off a false front. I want people to know what they're getting, every single time. And I don't want to easily change with the situation. Adapt? Sure...but not change. There was a quote in one of those inspirational, psycho-babble, love-yourself mumbo-jumbo books that I read once, and it stated(and I'm probably off by a word or two): "Let people feel the weight of who you are, and let them deal with it." At first, I thought that was some kind of fat joke. But then I realized that ultimately, we are responsible to our Creator, who made us and wired us to be what He called us to be. So be THAT, and let people just deal with it. But be consistent. I guess what I'm saying is...be the Psycho House, and not Courthouse Square. The Psycho House is, as you might have guessed, the house used as the home of Norman Bates in the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock classic "Psycho". It also served as the house in the horrible 1998 remake of the same name. And that house still stands on that backlot, and it is immediately recognizable, because it's never been dressed up, never changed, never made to look like something it's not. I've walked through that house. Shivers. I think a little bit of pee came out. Seriously. Courthouse Square, on the other hand, is the spot where Doc Brown harnessed lightning that struck the DeLorean that allowed Marty McFly to go back to 1985 in "Back to the Future". Loved that movie. Loved that scene. And recognized the courthouse immediately when I first started at USH. But it changed on a weekly basis for filming purposes. And there were times when I'd point it out to tourists, or VIP's, and they couldn't even recognize it. I think you get the picture. So we'll stop there. Consistency. 24/7...the same, every single time, around every single person, in every single situation. Just remembered, I also saw Billy Idol back there also. Wow, that was random.

Apparently people read this...

2008-05-29T12:26:00.000-07:00

It has been brought to my attention that some people actually read this junk. Besides Aaron, and the guy from Arizona. So, thanks. And because of that, I've opened up the "Comments" section a bit. Now you don't have to be a registered user of Blogspot in order to leave a comment. So comment away, little commenters. But leave a name...posting as "Anonymous" is just cowardly. And there is a new post under this one. FYI.

God believes in correct spelling...

2008-05-29T06:17:00.000-07:00

I think Christian t-shirts are a sign of our fallen humanity. In fact, in a perfect world, there would be no such thing as the "Christian" t-shirt. Just my opinion, of course. But from what I've seen from about 20 years of noticing Christian t-shirts, I think just about all of them fall into one of five categories... The "Okay" Categories: 1. T-shirts from Christian events, such as camps, retreats, concerts, etc. Most of these that I've seen are perfectly fine. 2. T-shirts which simply feature a Bible verse. Fine as well, unless it's a verse from Deuteronomy about menstruation, or something like that. At that point, I think it probably loses some of its effectiveness. The "No To This" Categories: 1. Offensive/wrong 2. Completely tacky 3. Ripoff of a popular logo/slogan from pop culture Here are some examples of each category... 1. Seen in the past two weeks...a black t-shirt with white lettering that simply stated, "God don't believe in athiests." Maybe not, but I'm pretty sure that God does believe in proper grammar and correct spelling. As to whether God believes in atheists, that's another subject altogether, though I would believe that He does. Can you imagine if you're an atheist, and you read a t-shirt that states that God doesn't believe in you? Now THAT'S a compassionate message. Why don't we just create t-shirts saying that God thinks their mom's ugly and is gonna strike down their dog, too? Bad grammar, bad spelling, bad message, bad t-shirt. 2. Seen in Gatlinburg(of course).....a white t-shirt with an airbrushed(of course) cross and the words "Jesus Got 'R Done". No to this. Next! 3. Seen at Christian stores for the past 20 some-odd years....an orange t-shirt that, at first glance, appears to feature the Reese's logo. BUT WAIT! It actually says "Jesus" instead of "Reese's"! I don't remember what it says underneath. Maybe something like... "YOU GOT YOUR PRINCE OF PEACE IN MY KING OF KINGS!!!" "NO, YOU GOT YOUR KING OF KINGS IN MY PRINCE OF PEACE!!!!" Anyway, while I somewhat admire the cutesy-ness of the idea, I would have to think that it might come across as tacky to those to whom the message is directed. And oh great. Now I'm hungry for peanut butter. Here's the deal. I think the people who wear these shirts are well-meaning Christians. Their hearts are presumably in the right place. I just want to see us be creative and genuine without the tackiness. That's not happening with the examples listed above. In fact, I would rather just see all three categories combined into one t-shirt that reads: "GIT R' DUN, YOU REESES-LOVIN' ATHEEISSTES!!!!" I'd actually wear that shirt.

Dorky White Guys Used To Love Them Some Mix Tapes...

2008-05-23T06:04:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid in elementary school, I didn't have an allowance, so cash was not readily available to me for things like albums, video games, cigarettes, etc. And I'm not complaining, because I'm sort of ambivalent towards the whole allowance thing anyway, but if I wanted something, I had to wait until it was gift time(Christmas, birthday, etc.) or some other special occasion. So this meant that I rarely bought music. Instead, I relied on the radio, MTV, etc. for musical entertainment. And if I REALLY wanted a certain song at my disposal, I had to go to great lengths to get it. For example, I vividly remember sitting on the floor in my room one night, probably as a fifth-grader, with a cassette recorder sitting on the floor in front of me, right next to a radio. And I'd sit for two or three hours listening to that radio. And if a song came on that I really liked, I'd immediately hit RECORD on the tape recorder(which had a blank cassette tape) and hold the two machines together, so that I could record the song that was playing on the radio. This was how I made mix tapes. And they were Twenty Degrees of Horrible. For a few reasons... 1. Sometimes I didn't realize it was THAT song until the words started. And so I'd fumble around to push the right button on the tape recorder, and invariably there's like a three-second delay before it actually starts recording. So I never captured the first line of any song. 2. The sound quality, as you can imagine, was horrible. Whenever I went back and listened to the tape, regardless of what the song was, the end result(my mix tape) always sounded like those nature shows that capture whales communicating underwater. 3. There were always other noises. Like sometimes I'd clank the two machines together, or drop one of them, or fart, or my mom would open the door and ask if I had eaten all the Ruffles(answer=yes), etc. It wasn't until, I believe, my 8th- or 9-th grade year that there came an invention that truly changed my world...the dual-cassette recorder. TWO tape decks, side by side, so that you could play one tape and record to the other, without fear of distracting noises or poor sound quality. It still wasn't perfect, but it was definitely an improvement. And off to mixing I went. For some reason, "mix tapes" became a phenomenon. Particularly among dorky white dudes who were too cheap(or too broke) to go out and actually buy the music. We'd take the music we hand on hand, make mix tapes, and use them for one of two reasons... 1. To play while bumping around in our car, truck, or in my case, conversion van. 2. To give to a girl you were interested in. And the title of this blog posting is absolutely true. It only seemed to be the white guys doing it. One of my best friends in high school was Shon Walker. He was black. In all likelihood, he is probably still black. And I don't recall Shon ever making a mix tape, for a girl, or for any other reason. Then again, he wasn't Todd Probus. He was Shon Walker. He didn't need a mix tape. I can only think of two girls for whom I've ever made mix tapes, but I might be wrong. The first was Carmelita (name changed to protect the innocent). I started making her a mix tape when we were "going together", but during the making of the tape, she dumped me. So the musical direction of the tape changed. In fact, if the tape was still around, you could tell the exact point at which she dumped me. Because the tape would go from romantic ballads and cutesy pop hits to songs like "Bring The Noise" by Anthrax and "I Used to Love Her, But I Had to Kill Her" by Guns N'Roses. *I should note here that despite the title of that last song, I never even thought of harming "Carmelita". I just liked the song. And I was pissed.* The other mix tape was for my wife. I made it for her when we were dating, and she married me anyway. If I were to listen to the tape today, I'm sure I would cringe at the song choices. But she thought it was cute. And it took effort. And thought. And $6 for a blank tape. Why am I thinking of mix tapes? Because someone actually made ME a mix tape once. It was a guy. His name was Chris Snopek. Don't get the wrong impression...I ASKED him to make me a mix tape. He had all the good 1988 music, and he had made one for a friend. So I asked him to make me one too. And he did. I remember the title he put on the cassette...."Todd Probus Fresh Jams 1988, by C. Snopek". Epic. I only remember three of the songs..."Superwoman" by Jody Watley, "It Takes Two" by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock, and "Can You Stand the Rain?" by New Edition. But that tape was gold to me. First and foremost, because of the music that was on it. But also, because Chris was a popular senior, a sports star, and I was an unpopular freshman, a not sports star. So it meant a lot that he took the time to do that. Chris played baseball for Ole Miss, and was drafted by the Chicago White Sox. He ended up playing in the major leagues for both the White Sox and the Boston Red Sox. He ended up retiring and opening a year-round baseball academy in Mississippi, where he now lives with his family. In 2000, Chris met Jesus. He's now a follower of Christ. This week, I picked up a copy of "Sports Spectrum", a magazine that highlights Christian athletes, both professional and amateur. In the current issue, there's an article written by Chris about his journey of faith, and how it related to his baseball career and his career now. A GREAT column. I read that column, and my first thought wasn't about Chris and his baseball career, or his baseball academy. For some reason, it went to that mix tape from 1988. Fresh jams, indeed. And I'm still a dorky white guy who is too cheap to buy albums. But that's okay, because now we have Ipods. So in honor of Chris, and what Jesus has done in his life, I will put together a new mix CD(yes, that's right...a CD...that's how I roll. Big BALLA!). And I will play it for my daughter in our morning commute. And I'll tell her how Jesus changed the life of a baseball star, and gave him a brand-new life. And she'll be exposed to GREAT music(though Jody Watley won't make the cut this time around). And she'll be introduced to the magic that is...the mix tape. Take that, Carmelita.

The only time I'll ever write about soccer

2008-05-16T05:26:00.000-07:00

At least, the only time I'll ever write about it in a positive fashion. I just don't get soccer. Never have. It was only mildly popular where I grew up, and I had friends who played it, but I just never saw the point. I appreciate the athleticism that it requires, but when I think of soccer, I don't think of athleticism, grace, and competitive fire. I think of mini-vans, lawn chairs, orange slices, and riots. Sorry, that's just how I roll. But here's a positive note about soccer. I'm currently reading through Time Magazine's "100 Most Influential People in the World" edition. And last night, during halftime of the Spurs/Hornets game, I read about a soccer player, one of the best in the world, named Kaka. Nice job, parents. You have what, maybe one, two, three, MAYBE four chances in your entire lifetime to give someone a name, an IDENTITY. And the best you can come up with is "Kaka"? He deserves better than that. I'm sure of it. In fact, I'm so sure of it that I'm no longer going to refer to him as "Kaka". Instead, from this point on, I will only refer to him as "Doug Stone". That's a solid-sounding name. And the other Doug Stone was a pretty solid country music singer back in the late 80's, early 90's. So Doug Stone it will be. Anyway, Doug Stone was part of a team(don't remember which, wasn't paying that much attention, since it was about soccer) that won the Europe Cup. Which, I'm assuming, is a pretty big deal, since Europe is where 95 percent of those soccer riots break out. The moment the game(or, in soccer vernacular, the "match") was over, Doug Stone immediately tore off his jersey. But it was not to reveal a sports bra, which is what happened when the American women won the 1998 World Cup(so ashamed that I actually know that information). No, instead, it was to reveal a t-shirt, on which he had written "I Belong to Jesus". Turns out that Doug Stone is a committed follower of Christ, and is known for being a solid Christian example in his home country of *wherever he is from*. So this statement, while unusual on the grand scale, was not all that surprising to those close to Doug. And what a statement it is. Sure, Jesus makes His way into a lot of fashion these days. From crucifixes around the necks of rappers, to Ashton Kutcher wearing a t-shirt that proclaims Christ as his "homeboy", Jesus is all the rage. And much of the clothing found in Christian bookstores proudly proclaims Christ. But most of it is basically take-offs on other pop culture trends or logos. This is different. This is a straight-up statement of ownership. There is something very simple, yet very profound, to Doug's statement that he belongs to Christ. They're not buddies. They're not BFF's. Doug BELONGS to Him. There is a sense of submission there, a sense of sacrifice. Christ sacrificed everything for Doug...why shouldn't Doug give everything back to Him? This is a story that will stay with me for a long, long time. An elite athlete not just paying lip service to God, but declaring complete submission to Him. And it doesn't matter if it's an elite athlete, an actor, or someone working 8-5 just to make a mortgage payment. This type of lifestyle is what God is looking for from people committed to Him. So I honor you, Doug Stone, and I will sometime soon sit in a lawn chair and throw back an icy cold Capri Sun in your honor. And I won't even use my hands, I'll just use my knees to hold it...in honor of that sport you play. And I leave you all with the words of the *other* Doug Stone... "A little white house, in the heart of town, On a little sad street, just a little run down, Became a home, for Bill and Sue, Two newlyweds, who did the best that they could do. And when they brush each other, passin' in the hall, Sue would smile and say: "This place is pretty small." I have no clue what that's all about.

Yikes.

2008-05-13T12:00:00.001-07:00

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/20278737/jesus_made_me_puke/print