Good Reality

I'll be a fan of this show from day one.

Creatures of Habit

From "The Innovator"

Hiram was a good man - a good farmer too. The crops had paid off well at the last harvest, and he and his wife felt quite snug and secure in their little home now that winter was coming on.

Only one thing bothered Hiram - the old barn. Its roof was leaky, there were a few boards rotted off the sides, and the dirt floor was uneven so that puddles collected when it rained and soon turned into indoor quagmires. Hiram was a sensitive soul, who really loved his animals, and he winced to remember last winter when the worst storm blew sleet right through the old barn from one end to the other. The horses' water froze solid, and the little calves had ugly yellow icicles hanging from their muzzles.

Rising from his chair so quickly that he startled his wife, Hiram went to the phone and called Moco Edwards.

"That new barn I was talking to you about?" he reminded Moco. "I want it. Start right away so's it'll be finished before real cold weather sets in."

Nothing had pleased Hiram quite so much in a long time as watching the new barn go up. It pleased Moco too, because Hiram had insisted that nothing but the best materials and workmanship go into it. He and his wife were going to be mighty comfortable this winter in their house, Hiram reasoned, so why shouldn't his animals be comfortable too? He had even had a thermostatically controlled heater installed.

As it happened, the finishing touches on the new barn were completed just the day before the first cold snap was due to hit. An orderly man who liked to do things one clear step at a time, Hiram had Moco's workmen tear down the old barn that very day, leaving nothing but the outline of the old foundation.

That night Hiram proudly ushered his animals into their new home and pulled the doors shut, warm and tight. In his warm bed Hiram enjoyed not having to worry about his animals, and not feeling guilty about them being in a cold, drafty barn while he was in a snug house.

Next morning Hiram and the Mrs. set out early for town, leaving the barn doors open for the animals in case it should turn bad. While they were in town the wind began to blow, it began to rain, and the temperature dropped to freezing, turning the rain into sleet. Hiram didn't feel a bit uneasy, though, thinking of his cattle and horses filing into the new barn.

When they returned to the farm early that evening, Hiram went out to the barn. When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the warm inside, he saw that there wasn't a single animal there.

Puzzled and frightened he ran outside to scan the fields, seeing nothing. Then, behind the barn he saw all his animals. Miserable, huddled together, with drifts of sleet and snow heaped upon their backs, his cattle and horses stodd within the vague outline of the foundation where the old barn had once stood.

Time to Catch Up

Been some time. . . . .I know.

When you're out of posting for awhile you want your comeback to be brilliant. So without brilliance it takes even longer. I had thought about a "Top Ten Best Things About Living in La Grange", but I could only come up with a few.

1. I filled up my car a month ago, and still have half a tank.
2. Wall Mart sells hay.
3. HEB sells deer corn and Salt Licks.
4. We're halfway to anywhere.
5. I can burn things in my backyard.

That's it for now. Things have been pretty busy lately getting into a new routine. But a normal day for me doesn't look so normal anymore.

-Peace-

Today's Communion

I noticed the hands serving me bread today were the same hands that touched the ground in Vietnam.

I noticed the man kneeling next to me is the same man who struggled with his sexuality for so many years, and now considers himself 'healed'.

I noticed the three brothers and the quiet father who stares with that sadness you can just feel when you see it. David is the oldest of the brothers.

I noticed a family of six sitting the pews. Five went forward while the father stayed behind.

I noticed the man who told me about his angel in WWII. The one that knocked him off his feet just seconds before a piece of shrapnel cut through his tent; his head in its path. I once wrote about him and his wife here.

I noticed the man who wants to be my financial advisor. We're having lunch on Thursday and I'll again have to tell him that "I'll think about it" in that tone of voice that really says "no thanks."

I noticed the young man who first came to our church because it was in his neighborhood and he figured it was some kind of omen.

I noticed the girl who had, moments before, looked into my eyes and asked "why are you leaving?"

Green Acres

Starting July 6th, I'll be the new Program Director at Camp Lone Star.

Most of my days last week were spent letting the church know I would be leaving. Exciting times, but hard nonetheless. Sarah and I grew up at camp, so in some ways we feel like we're going home. Most of the folks in our church were sad to hear we'd be leaving, but excited about the new ministry. Pastor has been great as well. . .Making sure I know I'll be missed, but wanting us to know how happy he is for the church at large. What a guy.

So after this summer come on out to La Grange and we'll have a moonpie up on the water tower. There's still plenty of Big Red too, so don't worry.

Miller

Finished Blue Like Jazz last week. Great read. I'm working on Donald Millers next book "Searching for God Knows What". So far it's just as good as Jazz and reads in a similar way.


"Some would say formulas are how we interact with God, that going through motions and jumping through hoops are how a person acts out his spirituality. This method of interaction, however, seems odd to me, because if I want to hang out with my friend Tuck, I don't stomp my foot three times, turn around, and say his name over and over like a mantra, lighting candles and getting myself in a certain mood. I just call him. In this way, formulas presuppose God is more a computer or a circus monkey than an intelligent Being."

Oh to quote

Overheard at The Village Church:

"Good things, like lidocain on a wound, will numb us to the reality of our heart. Why do you think we're all so busy? What, success? Please; Pipe dream. Most of you are walking in wealth that when you were in college you could have never dreamed of. And yet you're still working for wealth? No I don't think so. . .I think you're working to quiet your soul."

. . . like . . .

On a couple inadvertent recommendations I picked up a new read. After Rich talked about it I figured enough was enough and I had to see what the fuss was about.

In case you can't read the subtitle, it says:
"nonreligious thoughts on christian spirituality"

So far it's been a good read. And as Chandler said, "if you're a linear thinker, this book will drive you crazy." It's just one of those books that sits well with me, because I hope it's how I would write, if I were to write more than a paragraph or two at a time. It's random, sporadic, and wonderful.

Revenge of the Nerds

Saw it last night. It was amazing. Go see it.

College?

Controversy time.

Followers of the NBA know David Stern is pushing a minimum age requirement to play in the league. The NBA's collective bargaining agreement expires June 30.......two days after the draft. At that time, Stern wants the age limit raised to 20.

Everyone's all over the place on this issue. On one hand we want to say that going to college is the end-all maturation process, so we should be encouraging young folks to go and stay as long as they can. College ball helps in player development, and keeps an 18 year old from entering a mans world of high dollars and little responsibility.

On the other hand, it's a hard case to sell for a young man and his family when he knows he could be making multi-millions next year, instead of studying for chem101.

"[F]rom 1995 to 2003, over 80 percent of drafted high school players became, or will become multi-millionaires by the age of 21, or how they have maximized their earning potential by gaining the ability to become unrestricted free agents -- when as many as 30 teams bid for their services -- by the tender age of 22, when, coincidentally, some of their counterparts will graduate from college and become bound by the nearly non-negotiable rookie salary scale for three to five years.

[M]ost players who skip college may earn as much as $100 million more over the course of their careers than if they had done the "smart thing" and earned a college diploma . . . [H]igh school players who enter the NBA Draft are a small, self-selected group, comprised almost entirely of exceptionally talented players. Simply put, for every Korleone Young, there are two or three Kobe Bryants."

Taken from Illegal Defense: The Irrational Economics of Banning High School Players From the NBA Draft, an article that appeared in 2004 in Sports Law Review.

I think it's a hard case to make. Hardest if you imagine it being your own kid. It's easy to look at some high school senior on TV and just say 'go to college, it's best.' But imagine it's your own son who has to weigh the options. On one hand, he goes to college and risks injury for the sake of game and life development. On the other hand, he enters the NBA, and in one year potentially seals his own financial future. (Yours too; and your grandkids, and their grandkids, etc. . . .) I think taking time to mature is a necessity, but who's to say that maturation can't take place on the court? I'm no money-hungry advocate, but if your product earns money, so be it. The old model told us that we go to college to get a good job, so we can earn money. In this case, it's a moot point; Going to college actually stifles wage-earning.
Also, the claim that a busted NBA career leaves little to know options for a high school draftee is ridiculous. It goes something like this: "If your pro career fails, what else is there to do without a college degree?" Give me a break. . . . .The response is simple. If you enter the NBA out of high school, you're not making $10 an hour. . . . you're banking. Take advantage of that bank roll and put yourself through college later, if you like. Or sit back and live on your earned wages. (Note to Carmelo: Don't blow it all on the bling, you might need a little something to retire on.)


The biggest issue is that the new age requirement wouldn't send potential pros to college like all the NCAA fanatics are drooling for. It would send them to the NBA's developmental league, the NBDL, which it's hoping to expand to 15 teams. Two NBA teams splitting each developmental roster. Do you really think the NBA wants to risk their potential money-makers futures by letting them get hurt in college?


Oh yeah, one last thing. . . .Check out this gem of a quote from Jermaine O'Neil about the whole thing:
"As a black guy, you kind of think that's the reason why it's coming up. You don't hear about it in baseball or hockey. To say you have to be 20, 21 to get in the league, it's unconstitutional. If I can go to the U.S. Army and fight the war at 18, why can't you play basketball for 48 minutes?"

Right Jermaine, it's unconstitutional. Well, if you want to bring that up, what about some affirmative action to balance out the lack of white guys in jerseys? Oh wait, I guess that's for another discussion. . . . .

Viva American Christianity

So today was a mothers day thing in our preschool. Moms were invited to our chapel service, and then there's a luncheon afterwards. Pastor would usually lead chapel for mothers day, but he's out of town, so I got to do it. It's a fun time. I love little kids, they're hilarious because you never know what's going to come out of their mouths. Some people fear this. Others love it and love to watch moms get embarressed by something their kid said to the pastor man. (Don't worry mom, she's only 4, she doesn't know any better.) Anyhow, on to the point. . .

After chapel a mom came up and asked me for some of the differences in lutheran and episcopal churches. She noticed our tagline at the end of the 'our father' and knew something was up. I thought for a moment and then tried to quickly sum up a few differences in doctrine, and the whole 'ordained bishop' thing that lutherans don't follow. The moment I said the word 'theology', though, she quickly cut me off and said:

"No I just mean on Sunday morning. What's different?"

Welcome to American Christianity.

Back from the dead

Been awhile. But hey, I just don't like posting daily happenings that often. It's no fun for anybody. But hey, here's an event worth mentioning.



We got a puppy Sunday night. She's an 8 week old Beagle and we named her Cashew. She's hilarious. She's doing well in her new home, and she loves to play. We're crate training her right now, and she's getting used to it quick. She was the runt of a litter, so she probably won't get too big, which is fine by us. So here she is. . .

You just can't resist those sad beagle eyes can you?

Generation Y

A decent article about Generation Y and the effects of choice on religion.

Worth a look.

Whew. . .

Overheard at The Village Church:
Sorry this is a little hard to read, but it's the written version of a spoken message, so it never works quite right.

"The rut of the Pharisees was this. They believed in isolating themselves completely from the society they lived in. Not only did they isolate themselves, but then they took the bible and they didn’t just obey the bible but they added to the bible other things that had to be done to be deemed ‘holy’. And so what they said was in order to be holy, in order to be a man of god, in order to be a Christian you’ve got to look like this, act like this, do this, don’t do this; even outside the bounds of scripture. And so some of the things that they believed in and taught didn’t necessarily come from scripture, but rather they invented for themselves in response to their culture, and said ‘this is what holiness is.’ ‘Is that what the bible says?’ ‘No that’s what I say.” And that was the Pharisees.

And if you don’t think this spirit is alive and well today, you haven’t spent a lot of time in church. Let me show you some of the ways I think it plays out. I think it plays out like this, in some of the worship wars we’ve seen in churches. There’s this great debate over what style of worship should be preached, as if you can find any biblical merit to argue style. In a church that’s young like us it wouldn’t be ‘God can work through a piano and a guitar,” we ere on this side “Well they’re a dead church”, “what do you mean by that” “well they’re traditional.” Well dead and traditional don’t mean the same thing. Don’t say that in front of my grandmother, she’ll choke ya. . . in righteousness. My grandmother loves the lord deeply but she would not like the way we do worship. And that’s ok, but you can’t make that a biblical issue.

Ok, look at me. I’m not trying to be controversial here I’m just pointing out the spirit of the age. Anyone who would teach that in terms of alcohol and smoking that the bible teaches total abstinence has stepped outside of the bounds of scripture and created for themselves a holiness that is not of the bible. For anyone to say ‘for you to drink a beer at dinner, for you to drink a glass of wine with supper, for you to smoke a cigar on your porch is sinful,’ has stepped outside of the bounds of scripture and has said ‘This is holiness.’ Is that what the bible says? “No, that’s what I say!”

Now look at me, because I didn’t just say ‘hey go get a 6 pack’. I’m saying that you can not judge spirituality through beer and cigarettes, and if you do, you’re in the rut of the Pharisees. Now let me save myself some work. If you email me this: “The bible says the body is a temple.” I will send to you so much empirical data that says that the cheeseburger you’re going to eat this week causes more damage than the benefit of a glass of wine or a beer or even the occasional cigarette. So let’s not become the hypocrite. Let’s not pick and choose what we want to pick and choose.

What I’m saying is that if you judge spirituality by drink or smoke than you are in the rut of the Pharisees because you have no biblical support whatsoever. You do against drunkenness. You do against anyone being mastered by anything. And on that point, then, how many of us should be drinking coffee this week? See, we’re hypocrite’s man; hypocrites who have decided what is holy with no submission to the word of God at all."

-Matt Chandler-

I suggest more, and it can be found at sermonaudio.com

Back to life

So my wife is blogging again.

She teaches/coaches at a prep school in Dallas, where tuition is more than I paid for college. She started writing about funny moments with her kids, and they're all hilarious. Trust me, she has lots of material to pick from. I'm not sure I could handle working in her classroom. I'd be to apt to just laugh at the kids and encourage their behavior. So stop by her site and check out the latest happenings from the 7th and 8th grade.

The Skies were Blue

Well it's happened.
It seems my ratio of airplane takeoffs to landings has been officially skewed.

On Monday, my good friend Josh convinced me to jump out of an airplane. He and I were in San Antonio finishing filming for some Glorybound videos, and we had to make a stop at his dropzone to pick up some items we'd need for the filming. While there, he let me know that he had earned a $100 credit at a raffle the previous weekend. My only previous hesitation to skydive was the cost, so Josh offered me his credit, and the rest is history. If I were a rich man, I think I'd have a new passion. The 40 seconds it took me to travel almost 2 miles was unreal, and the 15 minute canopy ride, starting at 4,000 feet, was the most peacefull thing I've ever experienced.

So Josh, I now understand your desire to hurl your body out of a moving airplane. Thanks for the ride. (Also thanks to Aaron, my best friend for 30 minutes.)

3 Strikes

So I have a radio in my bathroom. . . . . . . .
I like to listen to the AM Radio while I take my morning shower. This usually occurs at a time when most of you are already at work, because my job rules. Anyhow. This morning I was shocked to hear a report on the Texas Rangers pre-season game results from the night before. I can't believe it. Baseball is back already. . . . . . . .


Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I hate baseball; I'd just really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really rather be watching a spelling bee on ESPN then a 15 hour game of overdone stickball. Rick Reilly put it best in his Tivo worshiping article by saying "Tivo allows you to give baseball game all the time it deserves. . . . .15 seconds."

Here's my list of two ways baseball is actually fun:

• If you're playing
• If you're at the park. (And it's not too hot)

Those conditions withstanding, I'd rather be cutting grass.


My biggest beef with baseball is that it dominates the airwaves for soooooooooooooooooooooo long. The season is 11 and a half months long and the games last for half a day. I'm on the front edge of the gen x'ers, and my wife is convinced I'm a classic ADHD case. That being said, I need instant gratification and constant entertainment. (Quite frankly, I'm surprised I've written this much so far without getting distracted.) A baseball game has more slumps and downtime then the LPGA. At least during a golf game the food's probably a little better.

A concern several friends of mine and I have hashed around for a couple years has revolved around the idea that with baseball, you have a 'sport' in which a majority of the actual players never do anything. Hear me out.
Say you play right field. Or any position for that matter. You've got odds that a ball is even hit. Then there's the odds the ball is even hit in your direction. Then there's odds that you're even involved in a play. I don't have the search capabilities, but I'd like to hear about a game in which a player, who started, never actually touched a ball the entire game. It has to have happened a number of times. To me, those kind of odds just don't make for an exciting 'team' sport. Plus, if you're that guy not touching the ball, it also means that what you've done during this time in your professional 'athletic' career is stand in the grass for a couple hours. Kind of reminds me of how we consider bowlers 'athletes'.

I don't hate baseball. . . .I just hate having to watch it, hear about it, see it, see the highlights, see the replay of the highlights, watch baseball tonight do more highlights, hear about who's traded who, and what the standings are in the 3,500 game season.

Just me?

I really don't feel like writing about church. . . .


I wonder if our biggest fear as christians is thinking we're all alone in our dissatisfaction with religion.

Glorybound

So I have this friend Josh. He and I are the hosts for this youth gathering called Glorybound that's happening in November. We were amazed that people asked us to handle the job, seeing as we're pretty much totally irresponsible and lazy with just about every other part of our lives. We put together an intro video that's already on the site. More will be comeing soon. Josh has handled the editing of all our videos so far, and let me say he's done an amazing job. Aside from being a youth director, Josh is also a skydiver who blogs about his jumps here. Actually he hasn't updated in awhile, so hopefully me talking about it will get him back into posting. Skydivers have some pretty wild stories from time to time, and it's fun to read. I mean c'mon, he jumps out of freakin airplanes; he's bound to have some good stories.

Hmmmmm.

Overheard on a christian radio station in Dallas. From Nate Sallie's new tune Whatever it Takes.

Who was to try to live without you
Thinking I could do things my own way
Lord I know that I should never doubt you
I get so lost and lonely when I stray
Now it's time to
Surrender to you
'Cause I'm just a man who believes
And it's you that I need

Whatever it takes
That's what I'll do
I'd give anything to get back to you
I know I was wrong
And I've made some mistakes
But I'm gonna do whatever it takes
Whatever it takes

I'm standin' here 'cause I've got nothing to lose
I lost it all when I walked away from you
This time around
I won't let you down.

Dang, I wonder what Bible he's been reading?
Mine says things a little different.

The Result

Well, the weekend retreat was great. The van rental went smoothly and we even got to meet some new, interesting people.

Earned my Wings

I have now crossed from poser to legit. I am now a true-bonified-100%-pure youth worker. I have walked the line. I have been to the dark side and back. . . .





I have rented a 15 passenger van.

I love Texas

Clint and Pat

Well, with nothing else to say, I'll try and make a semi-humorous story as funny as I can. Here goes nothing. . .

In high school I played lacrosse. That's right. . . .watch out. We had all heard that on the east coast lacrosse was a preppie, v-kneck sweater-wearing sport. Our suspicions were confirmed when reading A Separate Peace in high school, and the richies in the story all played lacrosse. Let me tell you, though, in Texas, lacrosse is a different beast altogether. On the east coast, lacrosse is a game of skill and speed. In Texas, lacrosse is a game of skill, speed, and never-ending beat downs. You take a bunch of rag-tag guys at a 5A high school who don't want to be one of the thousands vying for a linebacker spot, and you get a lacrosse team. We all learned how to use that crazy stick to pass and catch, and the rest was details. In the east they start playing lacrosse as little kids, so when they get to high school passing and catching is second nature. In Texas, we make up for stick skills with our ability to unleash the fury on our opponents. I mean, really, who needs to know how to catch and throw when you can just beat someone until they drop the ball?

Our team didn't have a coach that worked at the school. He was a volunteer who just loved the game and wanted to be involved. I had two coaches during my high school years. The first was insane, the second was a marathoner. The first was a great motivator, with one liners like "Brandon, if that guy cuts around on you again, you fold him in half and send him home in a bag!!" The second was a little more timid, but could outdo us all. Trust me, having a marathoner as a conditioning coach is just asking for trouble. Here was a guy who, not only ran each drill with us, he could go on forever. Nothing sucks more than running two miles after practice and having your coach not break a sweat.

I played defense my last two years of high school. It was fun, mainly because it cut the field in half for me. The longest sprint I would be responsible for now was 55 yards. In a sport where the average player runs 4 miles a game, this was a big deal. Especially for someone as lazy as me. Our defense was made up of myself and a couple other guys who played for nothing more than the opportunity to be an old man and reminisce about the time they actually killed a man during a lacrosse game. One was Clint, the other was Patrick. . .I told you all that so I could tell you this.

Clint was larger than your average '4 miles a game' athlete. He had a mouth like Stern and drank more his senior year than I did all through college. He even played the tuba. . .how freakin perfect is that? Needless to say, Clint was a great guy. Him and I would ride together to away games, and he would always have one of his home speakers rigged into his truck so we could jam out on the way. I kid you not, it was a huge wooden speaker sitting in the middle of two 17 year olds flying down the highway blasting whatever 'motivational' song we could find.

Patrick was skinny, tall, and fast. He started playing lacrosse later than most of us, so his stick skills weren't all that great. But he made up for that with his psychological warfare. At the beginning of every game, he would tell the guy he was defending what a nice body he had, and go from there. I've never laughed so hard in my life. This would go on all game long, and guys would get so wierded out you could tell it affected their play.

All this is to wrap up one semi-funny event that happened at a tournament in College Station. We were staying on the second floor of a hotel where our rival high school was also staying. Bad idea. Long story short, all our scheming and plotting ended when Patrick and Clint ran out of the bathroom with cups full of something, shouting for us to open the door. So to anyone who played lacrosse for westlake high school in 1997, sorry for the cup 'o' crap on your doorstep.