The Highland Church spent parts of two Presidential administrations exploring ways in which the roles of women could and should be expanded within the congregation. Here's my question: did we decide if it's biblical for a woman to play third base? 'Cause we need one.
The Highland softball team (nickname: "Flings") fell to 0-2 Tuesday night with a 35-8 setback to our brethren from Hillcrest. No, not the church football team. Or basketball or bunko. No, it was softball. Sort of. In fact, to say that game was a setback is like saying Reagan edged Mondale. We had more torn muscles than runs.
A quick recap: The interim coach - okay, me - arrives seven minutes before game time and finds a total of eight martyrs, which happens to be the minimum number required to field a team. Game on! Our ninth stumbles in as the lineup card is being turned in. Another player - let's call him "Phil Schubert" to protect his identity - apparates five minutes, no outs, and four runs into the game as a substitute for regular outfielder Steve Shewmaker, who was serving a one-game suspension for violating team rules: specifically, hitting the occasional cut-off man and routinely advancing runners into scoring position.
The 'Crest Fallen (as someone - okay, me - names them) jump on our beleaguered pitcher - okay, me - early, plating six in the opening frame. We respond with two quick outs, an infield single, and a weak pop-up. Obviously staggered by our rope-a-dope style offense, they score but twice in the top of the second. Our third baseman answers in the bottom of the inning by pulling not one but two groins - both of which, thankfully, were his own - while legging out a routine grounder. We're scrappy, if not limber. We're also still scoreless.
In the top of the third, we see our last legitimate chance of winning go by the boards and, not coincidentally, we see our 270-pound shortstop's right hamstring for the last time. (Anyone finding it is encouraged to please return it to the league office.) If they ever do a remake of that cult classic "Seven Faces of Death," they've got to use the look that poor Hillcrest baserunner makes when he sees Joel airborne and heading right for him. It could be worse. The runner survives; Joel's hammy, however, does not. So he moves to pitcher where his batterymate is our bandy-legged third baseman-turned-catcher. More like an assault-and-battery.
Heading to the bottom of the third, it's now 15-nil and the only thing left to play for is the opportunity to fire off a couple of winning one-liners at the expense of our opponent. In the third, we stage what, by comparision, amounts to a rally - a couple of seeing-eye singles and three infield errors, leading to our first three tallies of the night. During this offensive explosion, the other team begins complaining to the lone umpire about one of our guys leading off second base - a no-no according to the rules, to be sure, but an understandable gaffe I think considering we'd never gotten that far before. That leads one of our players - okay, me - to shout, "Pharisees 15, Publicans 3." Everyone cracked up - okay, me.
Top 4, our new shortstop - okay, me - and second baseman graciously give way to the other on a sharp grounder up the middle. It goes through for a hit, upon which one of those two - okay, me - announces, "The top of the fourth is brought to you by Ephesians 5: 'Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.'" I believe Eugene Peterson's "The Message" translates that passage, "Let the other guy have his way, especially if you don't have the energy to move to your left and get a glove on it." Or something like that.
In the top of the fifth, the 'Crest - nervously nursing a 12-run lead - starts up again with the bellyaching over alleged "rules violations." Apparently it's not okay for our jailer-by-day/first-baseman-by-night Paul Mc Burney to handcuff opposing players while on the basepaths. Go figure. So this one guy on their team won't let it go, and it turns out he's still hot over the "Pharisee" remark. It probably doesn't help that one of our guys - okay, me - mutters, "Why would that bother you? You go to Hillcrest." Everyone understands it's meant in jest - okay, me.
After five innings, we've somehow crept to within a touchdown at 15-8, with one inning to go. Hillcrest - making the most of their three outs and several more that we generously supply them - ekes out an insurance run, then another, then another. They wind up with more insurance than an oral surgeon with Carpal-Tunnel. It's the first 20-run top of the sixth in Nelson Park Church League Softball history. All in attendance - okay, me - agree this moment in time is what Jesus prophesied in Matthew 24 when he warned, "Let no one in the field go back to get his cloak (which in Aramaic reads "groin")."
As they bat around for the eleventh time, one of their batters jokingly fires a verbal salvo. Paul, "The Flippant Jailer," suggests we charge the plate. Their guy says, "You better not. I've got the bat!" To which one of our smart alecks - okay, me - retorts, "We're not scared. We've seen you swing."
The inning mercifully ends when the umpire - after an unsuccessful attempt at committing harikari with his home plate mini-broom - calls a runner out who arrives at the bag roughly two revolutions of the moon prior to the tag. That prompts one of our players - okay, me - to yell, "Dr. Kevorkian, moonlighting as a church league umpire." That brings what's left of the house down - okay, me.
Down 35-8 and only three outs to play with, what we need is baserunners...and several tubes of analgesic cream. There may indeed be a balm in Gilead, but at the moment we're more interested in finding Ben-Gay in Abilene. Alas, the inning and game ends when our wobbly backstop is tagged after wandering off second base, perhaps having spotted one of the muscles he'd misplaced earlier. Final score: Hillcrest 35, Highland 8.
So as I was saying, it's time to expand women's roles at Highland. Tryouts start Sunday between services. I can assure you this has been approved by the elders - okay, me.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Monday, March 22, 2004
Turn the Other Cheek...That Way They'll Never See the Left Hook
Don't ask my sons a question if you're not interested in honest answers. Last week at preschool, 5-year-old Nicholas got into a couple of scrapes with the only appropriate opponent - his best friend, Kyler.
At this point you need to know the difference in my two sons, which is best summed up thusly: Nicholas is our publican, Andrew our Pharisee. Nicholas would prefer to confess his sin, accept the punishment, then get on with the business of loving us in a restored relationship. Andrew, on the other hand, has a preternatural passion for knowledge, a passion I believe God will powerfully use to draw people to Him. But the desire to be right creates such angst during those very rare occasions in which he's wrong that his first reaction is to concoct some complex, trigonometric equation that will either justify his iniquity or wear you down trying to figure out what in the world he's talking about.
Back to last week's pugnacious preschoolers. Nicholas walked in after being dropped off by none other than Kyler and Kyler's dad - imagine Tyson giving Holyfield a ride home..."Sorry again about your ear. It really doesn't look that bad..." - and immediately told my wife in great detail the truth and nothing but. The missus, not wanting to discourage his openness and confession, reserved judgment for later. That's when the fun began.
Later that afternoon in the car, my wife asked the boys what they think they should do if someone hit them. Andrew said, "You should go find a grown-up and tell them what happened." Nicholas was having none of that: "I think you should hit 'em back." He didn't say that in a mean-spirited or emotional way. It was more like, "What other option is there?"
Andrew (with his wide phylacteries and long tassels dangling) was quick to counter, "Nicholas! That's not what God wants us to do!" To which Nicholas replied quietly but matter-of-factly, "I still think you should hit 'em."
God bless those boys. They have way too much of me in them to be predisposed to perfection. But how can you not love these guys? I have such appreciation for Andrew's desire to act justly. I adore the way Nicholas loves mercy. And what a challenge for us to teach and model what it means to walk humbly with our God.
I can already see how the kingdom will come into their lives in powerful but very different ways. For Andrew, it will mean eventually embracing grace instead of his own righteousness. I suspect he will live a more holy life than most but ultimately have to accept that it's little more than filthy rags in light of a perfect God. Meanwhile, Nicholas will need victory over the visceral. I can see him waging a lifetime war against his human nature when it comes to personal temptation and the sin of others.
Different behavior, same Savior. Andrew may struggle to be part of a kingdom that eagerly welcomes people who act like, well, his brother. Nicholas could very well struggle with feeling so fallible and witnessing how holy living seems to come more easily to Andrew. But what's wonderful to watch is how beautifully the boys model unity. These opposite ends of the personality spectrum are utterly inseparable. Best friends by a mile, warts and all. And they don't have a single test of fellowship between them. All they have is the same blood coarsing through their veins, and that's plenty good enough for them.
So if you slap my boys in the face, beware: you're just as likely to get a fat lip as a turned cheek. But whatever happens, you can bet they'll ride home together.
Psalm 133:1 - "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!"
At this point you need to know the difference in my two sons, which is best summed up thusly: Nicholas is our publican, Andrew our Pharisee. Nicholas would prefer to confess his sin, accept the punishment, then get on with the business of loving us in a restored relationship. Andrew, on the other hand, has a preternatural passion for knowledge, a passion I believe God will powerfully use to draw people to Him. But the desire to be right creates such angst during those very rare occasions in which he's wrong that his first reaction is to concoct some complex, trigonometric equation that will either justify his iniquity or wear you down trying to figure out what in the world he's talking about.
Back to last week's pugnacious preschoolers. Nicholas walked in after being dropped off by none other than Kyler and Kyler's dad - imagine Tyson giving Holyfield a ride home..."Sorry again about your ear. It really doesn't look that bad..." - and immediately told my wife in great detail the truth and nothing but. The missus, not wanting to discourage his openness and confession, reserved judgment for later. That's when the fun began.
Later that afternoon in the car, my wife asked the boys what they think they should do if someone hit them. Andrew said, "You should go find a grown-up and tell them what happened." Nicholas was having none of that: "I think you should hit 'em back." He didn't say that in a mean-spirited or emotional way. It was more like, "What other option is there?"
Andrew (with his wide phylacteries and long tassels dangling) was quick to counter, "Nicholas! That's not what God wants us to do!" To which Nicholas replied quietly but matter-of-factly, "I still think you should hit 'em."
God bless those boys. They have way too much of me in them to be predisposed to perfection. But how can you not love these guys? I have such appreciation for Andrew's desire to act justly. I adore the way Nicholas loves mercy. And what a challenge for us to teach and model what it means to walk humbly with our God.
I can already see how the kingdom will come into their lives in powerful but very different ways. For Andrew, it will mean eventually embracing grace instead of his own righteousness. I suspect he will live a more holy life than most but ultimately have to accept that it's little more than filthy rags in light of a perfect God. Meanwhile, Nicholas will need victory over the visceral. I can see him waging a lifetime war against his human nature when it comes to personal temptation and the sin of others.
Different behavior, same Savior. Andrew may struggle to be part of a kingdom that eagerly welcomes people who act like, well, his brother. Nicholas could very well struggle with feeling so fallible and witnessing how holy living seems to come more easily to Andrew. But what's wonderful to watch is how beautifully the boys model unity. These opposite ends of the personality spectrum are utterly inseparable. Best friends by a mile, warts and all. And they don't have a single test of fellowship between them. All they have is the same blood coarsing through their veins, and that's plenty good enough for them.
So if you slap my boys in the face, beware: you're just as likely to get a fat lip as a turned cheek. But whatever happens, you can bet they'll ride home together.
Psalm 133:1 - "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!"
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Sects Education
Hangin' ten on the web the other night looking for a Christianity Today article about Max Lucado, I found everything but. What I did happen upon was a reservoir vast in its vitriol and possibly hatred toward Max, Rubel Shelly, John York, even Royce Money - heresy makes for strange bedfellows, no? - dished out in heaping portions onto endless web pages by people I've never heard of implicitly declaring themselves defenders of the one true church. Makes for a rather pretentious business card.
This discovery came on the heels of an historic ACU Lectureship and my viewing of "The Passion of the Christ," both of which served to reinforce to me the centrality and singularity of Jesus. Thankfully, I had these Grand Pew-bahs to remind me it's not about Jesus at all; it's about preserving what's already been decided as the way things are done in church. Campbell saved future generations from eternal damnation by restoring the New Testament church...with the minor exception of those things which don't translate well to 19th century America. Holy kissing, deaconesses, et Alexander. And there's no need for us to reinvent what Campbell's already saved us from. Think of it as "once saved, always saved..." Just don't tell them that.
But a funny thing happened as I was saddling up my own high hermeneutic horse. A friend came to visit fired up about the most amazing week he'd ever experienced. His church in central Texas whose attendance only occasionally tops 300 baptized 60 people in one week - 60! - matching their total baptisms dating back to the Coolidge administration. And here's what's amazing. The doctrine didn't change. Nor did the worship style. Or the color of the bulletin. Instead, they got this crazy idea that their community of roughly 8,000 might need something - perhaps material, perhaps spiritual. So they asked. In person. They set off in pairs, knocking doors and offering Christ. And a frightening thing happened: people said yes. Now they face the always unwieldy proposition of assimiliating 60 unchurched and unschooled-in-Restoration-Movement-tradition babes into their previously-moribund body of 300. God bless them.
I hope I'm never guilty of the very thing of which I accuse the aforementioned attack dogs. I still believe we're not saved by being right. But if being right about not being saved by being right doesn't compel me to deliver Christ to my neighbor's doorstep, well that's just not right either.
This discovery came on the heels of an historic ACU Lectureship and my viewing of "The Passion of the Christ," both of which served to reinforce to me the centrality and singularity of Jesus. Thankfully, I had these Grand Pew-bahs to remind me it's not about Jesus at all; it's about preserving what's already been decided as the way things are done in church. Campbell saved future generations from eternal damnation by restoring the New Testament church...with the minor exception of those things which don't translate well to 19th century America. Holy kissing, deaconesses, et Alexander. And there's no need for us to reinvent what Campbell's already saved us from. Think of it as "once saved, always saved..." Just don't tell them that.
But a funny thing happened as I was saddling up my own high hermeneutic horse. A friend came to visit fired up about the most amazing week he'd ever experienced. His church in central Texas whose attendance only occasionally tops 300 baptized 60 people in one week - 60! - matching their total baptisms dating back to the Coolidge administration. And here's what's amazing. The doctrine didn't change. Nor did the worship style. Or the color of the bulletin. Instead, they got this crazy idea that their community of roughly 8,000 might need something - perhaps material, perhaps spiritual. So they asked. In person. They set off in pairs, knocking doors and offering Christ. And a frightening thing happened: people said yes. Now they face the always unwieldy proposition of assimiliating 60 unchurched and unschooled-in-Restoration-Movement-tradition babes into their previously-moribund body of 300. God bless them.
I hope I'm never guilty of the very thing of which I accuse the aforementioned attack dogs. I still believe we're not saved by being right. But if being right about not being saved by being right doesn't compel me to deliver Christ to my neighbor's doorstep, well that's just not right either.
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Making Ends Meat
After the UCLA cash-for-corpses scandal, the "ends and pieces" plate at Joe Allen's doesn't seem so appetizing...though $7.49 now sounds like a bargain.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Leading Man
I've now seen "The Passion of the Christ" twice. You could say I'm a glutton for punishment, but you'd be wrong. That phrase fits Jesus and him alone. Our insatiable appetite for sin left him no choice but to endure the unthinkable.
The second viewing left me with a few different impressions than the first. I now believe the film is unequivocally anti-Semitic. It's also anti-Roman, anti-Satanic, and anti-human. A God-man who can forgive in the face of such unspeakable cruelty puts everyone to shame by default. And his passivity-in-action serves as a stark reminder that merely trying to do good is ultimately impossible. Without what amounts to a spirit transplant -- his for ours -- Jesus-following is futile. For that matter, it's also nonsensical. If you're merely trying to be a good person rather than forfeit your life for his, why would you bother forgiving the guilty, especially those who not only don't beg your forgiveness but rub their wrongdoing in your face.
Here's how the movie's motivated me: I'm now having trouble mustering any energy for anything other than this titular star. Not clean living. Not morality. Not theology. Not even church. Nothing matters anymore except him. And him crucified.
I don't even know what this means or where it will lead. I'm sure at some point I'll have to make practical decisions about some of the aforementioned items I suddenly don't care about. But for now, all I can see is him. Full of pain; empty of self. Caked in a concoction of his own life-giving blood and our own damned sin. I hate me for what I did to him. I love him for what he did to me.
Even as this film continues to make Hollywood history, the sequel is already being seen around the world with those of us who've given our lives to him playing the part of Jesus. When the final credits roll, may the Great Reviewer say of our portrayal of Christ, "Well done."
The second viewing left me with a few different impressions than the first. I now believe the film is unequivocally anti-Semitic. It's also anti-Roman, anti-Satanic, and anti-human. A God-man who can forgive in the face of such unspeakable cruelty puts everyone to shame by default. And his passivity-in-action serves as a stark reminder that merely trying to do good is ultimately impossible. Without what amounts to a spirit transplant -- his for ours -- Jesus-following is futile. For that matter, it's also nonsensical. If you're merely trying to be a good person rather than forfeit your life for his, why would you bother forgiving the guilty, especially those who not only don't beg your forgiveness but rub their wrongdoing in your face.
Here's how the movie's motivated me: I'm now having trouble mustering any energy for anything other than this titular star. Not clean living. Not morality. Not theology. Not even church. Nothing matters anymore except him. And him crucified.
I don't even know what this means or where it will lead. I'm sure at some point I'll have to make practical decisions about some of the aforementioned items I suddenly don't care about. But for now, all I can see is him. Full of pain; empty of self. Caked in a concoction of his own life-giving blood and our own damned sin. I hate me for what I did to him. I love him for what he did to me.
Even as this film continues to make Hollywood history, the sequel is already being seen around the world with those of us who've given our lives to him playing the part of Jesus. When the final credits roll, may the Great Reviewer say of our portrayal of Christ, "Well done."
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Out of the Mouths of Babes
I've been blessed to sit at the feet of some of the finest proclaimers of God's Word in the world. And not one of them has explained the gospel better than my children.
This week, my 7-year-old son, Andrew, perfectly personified Christ's claim that admission to the kingdom of God was predicated on growing young. "Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child..." Last Friday, he came home from school complaining of a toothache. The missus took a look and was alarmed to discover what looked like a crack in the back right molar, a permanent tooth that just came in a couple of weeks ago.
She immediately called our dentist, who said he'd be surprised if it was indeed cracked because that rarely happens in someone so young. When he saw Andrew Monday morning, he was surprised all right but for different and more distressing reasons. He said that new permanent tooth was, for lack of a better term, dead and would have to come out, as in Wednesday. Furthermore, he was concerned there could be problems with his other permanent teeth currently beneath the skin. This had nothing to do with poor hygiene; this was about something potentially endemic.
Obviously, the missus and I were very concerned that something significant was wrong with our oldest, maybe something beyond just his gumline. That night, during our nightly reflection time in which we ask the boys what part of the day brought them the most and least joy, Andrew put a face on what Jesus said about children and the kingdom of God. When asked what part of his day brought him the most joy - not the least but the most - our son said, "I felt the most joy when the dentist found out something was wrong with my tooth and that he knew what to do to fix it." His most joyful moment of that day was the discovery that one of his permanent teeth was coming out for good. Andrew takes after me in a lot of ways. I hope in this way I can take after him.
The tooth did indeed come out Wednesday, as did the dentist's discovery that this appears to have been an isolated incident after all. Still, it's a week I won't soon forget. Out of the same precious mouth came both tooth and truth. The former changed Andrew's life; the latter changed mine.
This week, my 7-year-old son, Andrew, perfectly personified Christ's claim that admission to the kingdom of God was predicated on growing young. "Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child..." Last Friday, he came home from school complaining of a toothache. The missus took a look and was alarmed to discover what looked like a crack in the back right molar, a permanent tooth that just came in a couple of weeks ago.
She immediately called our dentist, who said he'd be surprised if it was indeed cracked because that rarely happens in someone so young. When he saw Andrew Monday morning, he was surprised all right but for different and more distressing reasons. He said that new permanent tooth was, for lack of a better term, dead and would have to come out, as in Wednesday. Furthermore, he was concerned there could be problems with his other permanent teeth currently beneath the skin. This had nothing to do with poor hygiene; this was about something potentially endemic.
Obviously, the missus and I were very concerned that something significant was wrong with our oldest, maybe something beyond just his gumline. That night, during our nightly reflection time in which we ask the boys what part of the day brought them the most and least joy, Andrew put a face on what Jesus said about children and the kingdom of God. When asked what part of his day brought him the most joy - not the least but the most - our son said, "I felt the most joy when the dentist found out something was wrong with my tooth and that he knew what to do to fix it." His most joyful moment of that day was the discovery that one of his permanent teeth was coming out for good. Andrew takes after me in a lot of ways. I hope in this way I can take after him.
The tooth did indeed come out Wednesday, as did the dentist's discovery that this appears to have been an isolated incident after all. Still, it's a week I won't soon forget. Out of the same precious mouth came both tooth and truth. The former changed Andrew's life; the latter changed mine.
Friday, February 20, 2004
The Chads Aren't the Only Things Dangling
Brenda Gould is showing her udder disdain for political protocol. She's once again been caught registering animals, including cows, to vote in Newmarket, England outside London. Turns out "Henry and Sophie Bull" (cows) aren't really people after all. Nor is "Jake Woofles" (dog).
Somewhere Joe Kennedy is wondering why he didn't think of that.
Somewhere Joe Kennedy is wondering why he didn't think of that.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Giving the Devil His Due
Luke 4:5-7, in which Jesus is being tempted in the wilderness, explains a few things: "The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And he said to him, 'I will give you all their authority and splendor, for it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to (italics mine). So if you worship me, it will all be yours.'"
The enemy, according to this passage, can give what's been given to him - namely the kingdoms of this world and presumably everything therein - to whomever he wants. While it's certainly true that God won't tempt us beyond what we can bear (1 Corinthians 10:13), it also seems clear that Satan will stop at nothing in an attempt to disprove that truth. Everything, whether inherently good or evil, is at the enemy's disposal in his effort to interrupt our communion with the Father.
C.S. Lewis said our problem is not that we don't trust God; it's that we don't trust God alone. Lewis is in good company. Jesus said essentially the same thing in response to Satan's tempting in the desert: "It is written: 'Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.'"
It seems significant to me that all three carrots Satan dangled in front of Jesus were either part of his inheritance or inherently good, namely 1) food, 2) the kingdoms of the world (which would eventually be under the sovereignty of Christ anyway), and 3) God's protection from harm.
That's what makes temptation so, well, tempting. The very things with which God has blessed us are often the things used to bring us down. A married man considers intimacy a right instead of a blessing, so he finds it elsewhere if he doesn't find it as often or as exciting as he'd like it at home.
In the temptation of Christ and us, for that matter, I think we see the very nature of God and Satan exposed: Satan takes that which is good and makes it bad; God takes that which is bad and makes it good.
Food for thought.
The enemy, according to this passage, can give what's been given to him - namely the kingdoms of this world and presumably everything therein - to whomever he wants. While it's certainly true that God won't tempt us beyond what we can bear (1 Corinthians 10:13), it also seems clear that Satan will stop at nothing in an attempt to disprove that truth. Everything, whether inherently good or evil, is at the enemy's disposal in his effort to interrupt our communion with the Father.
C.S. Lewis said our problem is not that we don't trust God; it's that we don't trust God alone. Lewis is in good company. Jesus said essentially the same thing in response to Satan's tempting in the desert: "It is written: 'Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.'"
It seems significant to me that all three carrots Satan dangled in front of Jesus were either part of his inheritance or inherently good, namely 1) food, 2) the kingdoms of the world (which would eventually be under the sovereignty of Christ anyway), and 3) God's protection from harm.
That's what makes temptation so, well, tempting. The very things with which God has blessed us are often the things used to bring us down. A married man considers intimacy a right instead of a blessing, so he finds it elsewhere if he doesn't find it as often or as exciting as he'd like it at home.
In the temptation of Christ and us, for that matter, I think we see the very nature of God and Satan exposed: Satan takes that which is good and makes it bad; God takes that which is bad and makes it good.
Food for thought.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Pee-ness Envy
Sometimes life just isn't fair. See any of the last 114 free agent signings by George Steinbrenner. Or see our bathroom floor. This morning, our 2-year-old daughter, Anna Claire, continued her budding courtship with the potty. After exercising her squatter's rights for a few minutes with nothing to show for it, she stood up, turned around, and proceeded to relieve herself. And she missed. Badly.
That she would attempt to stand and deliver isn't so surprising. For two years, she's watched her two older brothers do the exact same thing, including the part about missing badly. As a matter of fact, I didn't actually witness the wetness. I got the news secondhand from the missus because I was helping one of the older boys clean up his own miss/mess in the other bathroom.
As our society grows increasingly homogenized, even across gender lines, isn't it okay that the two sexes do some things differently? Not all messes can be cleaned with Lysol and a sponge.
That she would attempt to stand and deliver isn't so surprising. For two years, she's watched her two older brothers do the exact same thing, including the part about missing badly. As a matter of fact, I didn't actually witness the wetness. I got the news secondhand from the missus because I was helping one of the older boys clean up his own miss/mess in the other bathroom.
As our society grows increasingly homogenized, even across gender lines, isn't it okay that the two sexes do some things differently? Not all messes can be cleaned with Lysol and a sponge.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
No Joke
Despite my concerted efforts to portray myself as a good guy, I remain in an epic (and daily) struggle to remain pure in what I watch and how I surf. This article in Time Magazine tells me all I need to know about the destructive effects of allowing what some consider harmless into my being.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Spare A-Rod, Spoil the Child
Presidents' Day means different things to different people. For my 7-year-old Andrew, it means the disappointment of having a day off from school. (Remember those innocent days of youth when you actually wanted to go to school? Me neither.) For me, it means the DMV is closed and, thus, a rare day in which I remember to get my tags renewed goes by the boards. For Alex Rodriguez, it's a chance to pay tribute to those Presidents he appreciates most: President Andrew Jackson, whose face graces the $20 bill; President Ulysses S. Grant, who's not only on the 50 but also commanded Union forces in the Civil War (A-Rod has a thing for unions); and, finally, "Hundred Dollar Ben," Benjamin Franklin, founder and president of the American Philosophical Society, the motto of which is "promoting useful knowledge." The most useful knowledge to Alex Rodriguez is that the Texas Rangers relentlessly stink while the New York Yankees have been serious Series contenders for nearly a decade, winning four world titles in that time. Which is the principal reason why the reigning American League MVP and Gold Glove winner was willing to move 2000 miles to the north (to New York) and 30 feet to the right (from shortstop to third) to facilitate his trade from Big D to the Big Apple. As usual, the Rangers are left with the worm.
Meanwhile, my 5-year-old baseball fanatic, Nicholas, doesn't understand all the fuss. Sure, he's disappointed to see his closet full of A-Rod wardrobe rendered obsolete; but he already has a plan: "At least he's going to play with Derek Jeter and Jason Giambi. Now I can root for the Yankees when they're not playing the Rangers." Say hello to a child of free agency. He doesn't really root for teams; his allegiance is pledged to the players.
Well, I say that's bad for the future of the sport, and baseball has no one to blame but itself. I liked it better when Benjamin Franklin was President.
Meanwhile, my 5-year-old baseball fanatic, Nicholas, doesn't understand all the fuss. Sure, he's disappointed to see his closet full of A-Rod wardrobe rendered obsolete; but he already has a plan: "At least he's going to play with Derek Jeter and Jason Giambi. Now I can root for the Yankees when they're not playing the Rangers." Say hello to a child of free agency. He doesn't really root for teams; his allegiance is pledged to the players.
Well, I say that's bad for the future of the sport, and baseball has no one to blame but itself. I liked it better when Benjamin Franklin was President.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Friday, February 13, 2004
Dallas Maverick
Larry James is liberal. He's so liberal with the gifts God has given him, in fact, that his North Dallas neighborhood couldn't hold him. His upward mobility took him to the inner city where he's anything but conservative with his compassion. Read on...
Naked Truth
Emblazoned on the official seal of Harvard University is the Latin word veritas, which means "truth." Perhaps exustio femina, Latin for "smokin' hot babes," was already taken when the school was founded in 1636.
University officials this week issued their imprimatur to a student group preparing to publish a periodical celebrating sex, complete with graphic photos and maybe a crossword puzzle, I don't know. Crimson is an a propos school color; Harvard's forefathers must be turning that shade in their graves right now.
University officials this week issued their imprimatur to a student group preparing to publish a periodical celebrating sex, complete with graphic photos and maybe a crossword puzzle, I don't know. Crimson is an a propos school color; Harvard's forefathers must be turning that shade in their graves right now.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Maybe She Thought It Was Breakfast History Month
From the Unintentional Comedy File, a woman in Brownwood, Texas is being taken to task for a Black History Month exhibit in which she displays, among other things, figurines of those great African-American heroes, Aunt Jemima and Little Black Sambo. She's gonna be in real trouble when they see her wax statue of Uncle Tom.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Sow What?
Two thoughts from opposite ends of the septic tank...
I was reminded this morning of this pithy prose from a Scottish political reformer named Samuel Smiles (whose name itself has pith):
Sow a thought, reap an act;
sow an act, reap a habit;
sow a habit; reap a character;
sow a character; reap a destiny.
I can attest to the accuracy of that adage, both positively and otherwise.
Meanwhile, I was sorry to see Hayseed Dixie, a Country/Western band inspired by AC/DC, get shut out at the Grammys. I thought for sure their tender ballad, "Keepin' Your Poop in a Jar," had the goods to take home Song of the Year. And special thanks to Highland Church praise team member and occasional song leader Val Durrington for turning me on to these guys.
I was reminded this morning of this pithy prose from a Scottish political reformer named Samuel Smiles (whose name itself has pith):
Sow a thought, reap an act;
sow an act, reap a habit;
sow a habit; reap a character;
sow a character; reap a destiny.
I can attest to the accuracy of that adage, both positively and otherwise.
Meanwhile, I was sorry to see Hayseed Dixie, a Country/Western band inspired by AC/DC, get shut out at the Grammys. I thought for sure their tender ballad, "Keepin' Your Poop in a Jar," had the goods to take home Song of the Year. And special thanks to Highland Church praise team member and occasional song leader Val Durrington for turning me on to these guys.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Six Feet Under, Over, and Out
At times I wonder, is my blog really contributing to the betterment of society? Then I get something to eat and think of my next humorous post, which to many of you will also be my first humorous post.
With that in mind, try this clock-eating exercise:
Begin making a clockwise circular motion with your right foot. At the same time, try to draw the number 6 in the air with your right hand.
Years of costly research have revealed that it's humanly impossible to do both, though President Bush - who calls it "the most interestingest thingy since the Clapper" - has allocated 142 gazillion dollars in his new budget to further study this phenomenon in hopes that the Soviets don't figure it out first.
With that in mind, try this clock-eating exercise:
Begin making a clockwise circular motion with your right foot. At the same time, try to draw the number 6 in the air with your right hand.
Years of costly research have revealed that it's humanly impossible to do both, though President Bush - who calls it "the most interestingest thingy since the Clapper" - has allocated 142 gazillion dollars in his new budget to further study this phenomenon in hopes that the Soviets don't figure it out first.
Monday, February 09, 2004
Petering Out
I'm a lot like the apostle Peter. Not in any of the good ways, mind you. Not the "You Are the Christ" Peter. Not the "Drop Everything and Follow Jesus" Peter. Not the "Upon This Rock I Will Build My Church" Peter. No, I'm like the Peter who was so excited about seeing the transfiguration that he himself morphed into Bob the Builder and began making plans to erect mountainside time shares. I'm the Peter who wanted to show Jesus how much faith he had but wound up all wet. And I'm the "Ear Piercing" Peter of Gethsemane, who was too busy wielding to notice Jesus yielding.
In other words, I'm more like a fireworks display than an electrical current. Lots of flash; not much staying power. So when I got a taste of the bipartisan fellowship among the Christian congressional leaders in Washington, D.C. last week...
Let's let that last sentence breathe for a moment...
Okay, so when I saw that camaraderie last week among people who otherwise should be mortal enemies, my first reaction was to announce my candidacy for the first public office I could get my hands on. And after broadcasting golf and raising money for non-profits, what other experience could I possibly need?!
(The idea of me in Washington, by the way, is a concept that should NOT be allowed to breathe, even for a moment. "My fellow Americans, so as not to become a Washington insider, I vow to avoid all sessions of Congress and instead initiate an exhaustive field study on ballpark concessions.")
Thankfully, C-SPAN's cameras were nowhere near to record my political epiphany. Because the more you witnessed what was happening with these public officials, the more it became apparent they weren't as interested in you coming to Washington (though they certainly wouldn't argue with another disciple of Christ in Congress) as they were you taking this spirit of uniting under Jesus outside the Beltway, to your work, church, circle of friends, et al.
Their is pretty simple and based largely on Matthew 18:19: begin gathering in groups of two or three, welcome the promised presence of Christ, and challenge each other to imitate Him in every area of your lives.
Can you believe it? The elected challenging the electorate to holy living? That makes about as much sense as Jesus building his church upon the one guy who said he'd never leave then left at the first opportunity. A guy like Peter. I hope I'm less and more like him every day.
In other words, I'm more like a fireworks display than an electrical current. Lots of flash; not much staying power. So when I got a taste of the bipartisan fellowship among the Christian congressional leaders in Washington, D.C. last week...
Let's let that last sentence breathe for a moment...
Okay, so when I saw that camaraderie last week among people who otherwise should be mortal enemies, my first reaction was to announce my candidacy for the first public office I could get my hands on. And after broadcasting golf and raising money for non-profits, what other experience could I possibly need?!
(The idea of me in Washington, by the way, is a concept that should NOT be allowed to breathe, even for a moment. "My fellow Americans, so as not to become a Washington insider, I vow to avoid all sessions of Congress and instead initiate an exhaustive field study on ballpark concessions.")
Thankfully, C-SPAN's cameras were nowhere near to record my political epiphany. Because the more you witnessed what was happening with these public officials, the more it became apparent they weren't as interested in you coming to Washington (though they certainly wouldn't argue with another disciple of Christ in Congress) as they were you taking this spirit of uniting under Jesus outside the Beltway, to your work, church, circle of friends, et al.
Their is pretty simple and based largely on Matthew 18:19: begin gathering in groups of two or three, welcome the promised presence of Christ, and challenge each other to imitate Him in every area of your lives.
Can you believe it? The elected challenging the electorate to holy living? That makes about as much sense as Jesus building his church upon the one guy who said he'd never leave then left at the first opportunity. A guy like Peter. I hope I'm less and more like him every day.
Saturday, February 07, 2004
D.C. Talk
When you want straight talk, conversation that cuts right to the heart of the matter without bias and hidden agenda, where better to find it than our nation's capital? At least for two days anyway.
The fact that there have been 51 National Prayer Breakfasts before this week tells me that this bounty of goodwill and nonpartisan fellowship probably won't last. But I must say I was impressed to learn one-fourth of the United States Senate meets every Wednesday morning for a bipartisan Bible study. That's more significant to me, for example, than seeing dozens of congressional leaders at a prayer breakfast, which is televised and could yield positive PR points in an election year. That weekly Bible study, on the other hand, isn't carried by C-SPAN. And greater love hath no one, as far as I'm concerned, than to get up earlier than normal to participate in something spiritual, especially when no one else knows about it.
I can only hope that a theme like this year's, "Lifting Up Jesus," will inspire our leaders to pledge allegiance first to Christ, then to family, then to country, then to political party if there's anything left at that point. The two-party system is probably here to stay. But how radical would it be to witness representatives from both sides of the aisle eschewing "party loyalty" in favor of asking, "What's best for the country?" then voting according to the answer God reveals to them? Of course, the chances of that happening are as likely as my having breakfast with the President.
The fact that there have been 51 National Prayer Breakfasts before this week tells me that this bounty of goodwill and nonpartisan fellowship probably won't last. But I must say I was impressed to learn one-fourth of the United States Senate meets every Wednesday morning for a bipartisan Bible study. That's more significant to me, for example, than seeing dozens of congressional leaders at a prayer breakfast, which is televised and could yield positive PR points in an election year. That weekly Bible study, on the other hand, isn't carried by C-SPAN. And greater love hath no one, as far as I'm concerned, than to get up earlier than normal to participate in something spiritual, especially when no one else knows about it.
I can only hope that a theme like this year's, "Lifting Up Jesus," will inspire our leaders to pledge allegiance first to Christ, then to family, then to country, then to political party if there's anything left at that point. The two-party system is probably here to stay. But how radical would it be to witness representatives from both sides of the aisle eschewing "party loyalty" in favor of asking, "What's best for the country?" then voting according to the answer God reveals to them? Of course, the chances of that happening are as likely as my having breakfast with the President.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)