Numbing the ache...

We just returned from a wonderful weekend in Southern California. We spent the time eating, talking with friends, and just enjoying “home.” And as great as it was to be there, I feel like crap today. Not your typical post-vacation tired feeling (although there’s plenty of that going around, too), but something deeper and more powerful.

California is wonderful (no matter what the Texans say), but all is not right. I’m not talking government, politics, wildfires or value systems, I’m talking life. Even though I can’t possibly imagine a more beautiful and wonderful place than California, like every other temporary paradise, sometimes it stinks like hell.

This world cannot possibly be home for those of us who call ourselves Christ-followers. I think God wants me to constantly remember this fact. I can almost hear the Spirit whisper in my ear, “Don’t get too comfortable, because this isn’t it.” Peter called us “aliens and strangers in this world” and I’ve never felt that more tangibly than now.

Switchfoot says “I don’t belong here/It feels like I don’t belong here.” We don’t, in fact, belong here. We were created for something greater and more beautiful than this sin-stained and broken world. Every glimpse of anything beautiful is an undeserved reminder of the amazing grace of God.

Celebrate the moments where unexpected and undeserved beauty breaks through the clouds of this ugly and barren world. Thank God for grace and that He has prepared a place for us where He will finally wipe every tear from our eye. That, my friends, is what I hope for.

3 reasons I love October...

1. Baseball's playoffs are, by far, the best in professional sports. Football only plays once a week, basketball takes 3 months and hockey, honestly, who cares? But baseball is a nightly event for three weeks in October. Great pitching matchups (like tonight, Clemens vs. Smoltz), big drama, fun storylines (like will defending champs Boston be swept by Chicago, will the upstarts in Houston win on pitching), baseball provides it all. Having the Yankees in the playoffs obviously helps (more on them later).

2. The weather is getting more reasonable all the time. Although in Texas, to get to reasonable there must be a 30 degree drop overnight with a chance of thunderstorms, but hey, at least it's not 98 anymore (at least until next week).

3. My Dad's birthday, on the 14th. (Had to include that one if I was going to retain any future hope of gifts on my birthday)

As promised...

The Yanks give me fits, but I'm excited about where they're at right now. Tied 1-1 with the Rally Monkeys of Northern Hemisphere, West Coast Of America, Southern California, Orange County, Los Angeles, But Not Really Cause We're Actually In Anaheim, going back to the Bronx with Unit on the hill. I'm liking it. Now, if the bats could wake up a little, especially near the top of the order, and if Ruben Sierra can continue to hold down his crucial spot at left bench, I like the looks of things. Also, I'm glad they're going back to the Bronx because, hopefully, this means the end of games that start at 9pm and end the next morning. (Should be an interesting night class tonight, thank God for caffeine.)

Word of the Day:
soporific, adj, "causing sleep, tending to cause sleep"

Although this word sounds like a measurement you'd use to determine the worthiness of a roll for Rudy's bar-be-cue, its real appeal lies in the fact that you could probably get away with using it on someone who bored you because they'll think you used some version of "terrific." Por ejemplo;

"So, Ted, what'd you think of my presentation to the board on how cutting back on the use of staples and using more paper clips would save the company money?"
"Well, Mike, I thought it was simply soporific."
"Gee, thanks!"
"Don't mention it."

Having trouble with my vision...

As many of you know, I am currently attending Dallas Theological Seminary, which I love most of the time. However, there are definitely times when I struggle feeling like the proverbial square peg. Allow me to explain.

Within our degree plan, we have ministry tracks, which are like mini-majors. For example, while getting a Master's in Theology degree, one could be on a Pastoral Ministries track, or a World Missions track or something of the like. I am on a Media Arts in Ministry track, which is very different than any of the others. It is different because it is broad. Now this broadness is both a good and a bad thing. It's good because it allows for us creative types to have some freedom and not be shoved into any box. It's bad because it allows for us creative types to have some freedom and not be shoved into any box. At times I think I would welcome a box.

It seems to me that most of the people walking around campus have their plans figured out. They know what they want to do, and when and where they want to do it. Although James warned against such presumption, it is also kind of a nice security. I, on the other hand, am like Linus without my blanket. I have no such plan.

The other day a dear friend of mine asked what I wanted to do when I left seminary. I refrained from saying, "Sit down with a beer," because I'm sure he was thinking long-term. I had to confess that I don't know. The problem is that I want to do too much. I want to impact our culture with Truth in so many different ways that most days they all just runtogetherinablur. So, I gave him a bunch of the ideas running through my head. Funny, he seemed fascinated and excited by what typiclly leaves me frustrated. His reaction was therapeutic for me.

The truth is, I don't have to have it all mapped out for me, although that would be nice. I do, however, have the responsibility to be faithful where God has brought me and be a good steward of the gifts He's seen fit to entrust into my care. So what if I don't know if I'll be a pastor, a teacher, a writer, or a whatever. (Even in writing that list, I see that it's not really as long as I tend to think.) God knows, and I guess that's good for me, for today.

He knows His plans. He knew when Joseph was in prison. He knew when Moses was in the desert. He knew when Job was in pain. He knew when Esther was in the king's harem. He knew when Israel was in exile. He knew when Judas was one of the 12. He knew when His Son sweated drops of blood and begged for the cup to be taken from Him. So, since I am surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, I guess I can comfortably conclude that He knows now, while Benji is in seminary.

Word of the Day:
encomium, n, high or glowing praise
Think how much fun you can have with a word that sounds like the name of an antacid, but actually means praise instead. "The lobster bisque was so great, I didn't have enough encomium to last through the meal."

P.S. Yes, Virginia, the Yankees did win the AL East yesterday. No, there was never any doubt on my part.

Playing the "judgment card"...

I’ve been troubled by some of my brethren lately. It seems as though anytime a natural disaster strikes, many evangelicals are quick to play the “God’s judgment” card. This is a very disturbing trend. Before I go into why, allow me a disclaimer.

I believe in God’s judgment, both ultimate and temporal. I believe that God is well within His rights to judge anyone, anything and at any time, by any means He deems suitable. And, frankly, I don’t know if the recent hurricanes are messengers of His judgment. It’s completely possible that they are, but it’s at least as possible that they are not. I don’t know. And there’s the rub.

I get the sense that many believe that they do, in fact, know. They confidently stand behind an all-too-large pulpit, holding their all-too-large Bible, and proclaim in their all-too-loud voice, that God is indeed judging ___________________ (insert name of city, person or group here) through ___________________________ (insert name of natural disaster, disease or unforeseen circumstance here). But, how do they know that? I would venture to guess that they don’t, but, due to their place behind that pulpit, feel like they can’t just say “I don’t know.” So, they play the “God’s judgment” card, use some Bible references (probably out of context) and call it a day. But, the Bible can be tricky. I’ve read some, too.

Noah had to be told by God what was going to happen to the earth, not just so that Noah would survive, but also because God wanted it to be clear. When God wanted Jonah to go to Ninevah and preach against it, God had to tell Jonah what was going on. In Deuteronomy, God gave the Israelites descriptions of what would happen if they were disobedient to Torah, because, apparently, He didn’t trust their interpretive framework. We see in Luke 9:52-56 that Jesus rebukes the disciples for their misunderstanding of judgment. Again, in John 9:1-7, the disciples tried to play the “God's judgment" card and Jesus showed them how little they understood about the topic. There’s a theme here.

It’s God’s prerogative to let people know when He is judging mankind. And if He doesn't do so, I think any claims that we know what He's up to, and why, are tenuous, at best. Just like the Israelites, I don’t think we adequately possess the ability to interpret the movings and thoughts of an eternal, all-powerful God. And I think that’s the difference. Without an eternal, all-powerful perspective, how could we know what God is doing exactly, not to mention why He’s doing it? “‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord.” (Isaiah 55:8) “Who has understood the mind of the Lord, or instructed Him as His counselor?” (Isaiah 40:13)

I have a second problem with this line of thinking. It seems very much to fit into a particular, earthly, sinful, fallen agenda and viewpoint. We consult our own wisdom to ascertain why God has done what He’s done, and inevitably come up with answers that highlight the sin of others. Interestingly enough, we rarely, if ever, come up with answers that point to our own sin. Rarely are we left asking the next logical question, “If that’s judgment on them, then why haven’t I been through the same thing for the wickedness in me?”

I think it's because we like to categorize people’s sins. Sin “x” is worthy of judgment, while sin “y” isn’t. And when we’re finished with our little math experiment, we feel somewhat better about ourselves. Such a line of thinking shows not only a lack of familiarity with God’s mind, but a complete misunderstanding of His holiness.

Granted, all is not right in the world. I read that in Genesis 3. But, can we just be more honest? Let’s say “I don’t know why, but I do know that God is still good.” His love endures forever, we’ve been told. And yet, just when people need that message most, we seem to inevitably revert to judgment. Let’s give hope in the midst of a screwed-up world. Let’s preach grace, mercy, truth, beauty and love. Let’s be a people that point to a greater reality than this one that constantly lets us down. Perhaps through us, this hurting and broken world will see God. Not an angry, scowling deity waiting to make human life miserable, but the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob who so loves the world.

Reflections on David...

I had to submit a paper today in my Old Testament History II class. I chose to write on David's charge to Solomon in 1 Kings 2:2-10. David spoke these words as Solomon's reign as the King of Israel was just about to begin. Interesting thing, this charge. Interesting man, this David.

First, David spends a considerable amount of time talking about how imperative it is for Solomon to keep his ways pure and live according to the Law. David references the promise Yahweh made to him in 2 Samuel 7:11-17 and seems to tell Solomon that the fulfillment of this prophecy is contingent upon his obedience to the Law. Good guy, right? Super concerned about the Law and walking in Yahweh's ways? One would think so if the story stopped here. But, it keeps going.

After expounding on the virtues of the Law and the need for Solomon to keep it, David then mandates the murders of two adversaries. Granted, he also calls for further mercy extended to the family of a former ally, but does that really wash away the other commands? In very strong language, David tells his son, "do not let these old men die in peace, but in blood" (Benji's paraphrase). Kind of wrecks the picture, right? Not for me, and I'll tell you why.

I like my Biblical figures like this. I don't mean bloodthirsty, Mafia-like dictators. I mean human. Give me some humans in all their gritty, unfinished and messed-up reality. David, even on his deathbed, was imperfect. And let's not forget Moses, Gideon, Samson, Abraham, Peter, and a whole host of others. These are dudes I can roll with.

David was called "a man after God's own heart." Yup, this David. In fact, Saul was rejected as King of Israel before him, because God wasn't pleased with him and He put David on the throne instead. Seriously. God chose David, the "soak them in blood" murderer-adulterer to be the leader of His people. And then called him a man after His own heart.

I'm encouraged by this. I see hope in David's story. If he could be so well regarded and spoken of so highly by the Almighty, maybe there's hope for me in all my stumbling attempts to follow in the ways of Christ. And even if it remains ugly and fallen until my last moments, at least I know I'm in good company.

Just a quick note...

If any of you out there in cyber land happen to be reading this (which seems increasingly unlikely), please pray for my parents. They are driving out here to spend some time with us, right as the next regulary scheduled hurricane is on its way. They are coming from north, so shouldn't hit much weather while they're driving, but who knows the impact of Rita on the Metroplex?

Thanks, and I'll be back soon with some reflections on peeps in the Bible.

Random thoughts...

First of all I'd like to say that I knew and predicted that UCLA would beat Oklahoma on Saturday. Something about my Bruins this year that has me cautiously excited.

The Yanks look good right now, despite their loss in Toronto today. The division isn't out of the question, especially since they end the year with 3 against the Sux. Again, cautiously excited...as much as you can be about a team that "technically" wouldn't make the playoffs if the season ended today.

Thirdly, fantasy football is genius. Right now I'm watching a game between a team I really can't stand (the Raiders) and one I am pretty apathetic about (the Chiefs). But, see, the thing is, my fantasy week rides on players in this game. So I'm watching attentively, cringing every time Priest Holmes touches the ball and making faces any time Kery Collins throws to someone other than Randy Moss.

We went and listened to Don Miller today. Dude is good. His message was so simple and yet profound. I guess that's what makes him a great writer and communicator. I seriously recommend hearing him or reading anything he's written.

Lastly, I've mentioned to some of you that I'm currently taking a creative writing class (which I hesitate to mention because it will inevitably change the way you read this blog..."That's not very creative"..."I could have written that"..."What a waste of seemingly infinite Internet space" and so on). I've decided that, on occasion, I'll post one of my "works" here so that y'all can see what I actually do in seminary. Also, because there are dedicated readers in California who wonder (Hi, Mom and Shannon!).

Here's a piece I wrote based on the painting American Gothic. You know, the one with the farmer and his wife. (It might be helpful for you to look at it for a while first)

We lived our American dream. We labored and sweated for years on end. See the home we built from the ground up? Simple, yet beautiful. A family sprung up, like crops we waited on each winter. They brought us joy and wonder. Now they’ve gone to build their own dreams and we sit alone again in a house that’s too large. The upper floor lies undisturbed, abandoned really.

We created a façade, like wax fruit placed on a table to appeal only to the eye. But our faces won’t hide the truth; happiness evades us. We stand here as a monument to pointlessness.

This dream has not been sweet, but repetitive and demanding. It might seem as though we’ve “arrived,” but, if so, then why can’t I put down my tools?

Contemplating poverty...

Today I took a sub job that was simply described as "librarian." I thought this would be a rather simple assignment, involving lots of sitting, watching students pick out books and possibly explaining the Dewey decimal system when necessary. However, it turns out that in my half day, I hosted four different classes in the library, two without their teachers. For three of the groups, I read a story, talked about the theme of the story, and then helped them check out books. I found that children almost never know who wrote the books they want. "Mr. B.? Do you know where the Hank the Cowdog books are?" "Um, do you know who wrote it?" "No." "Then, no." "What about Captain Underpants, the Magic Treehouse or Junie B. Jones books?" "No."

The book I read to them was about a family that lived in an airport due to their poverty. Funny thing is, this children's book, coupled with a discussion I had with someone recently, really made me think about poverty. I get the impression that the political party with whom I have "registered" doesn't care much about the poor. This concerns me because this same political party also tends to trumpet itself as being on "God's side." This further concerns me because God tends to be on the side of the poor and the needy. It was, after all, the Almighty (speaking through James, the half-brother of Jesus) who said, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress." (James 1:27) Also, through the Apostle Paul, "All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do." (Galatians 2:9-10) Even in the Old Testament Law, "Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the alien." (Leviticus 19:10) It actually seems that God is quite concerned with the poor and needy and commands His people to be concerned as well.

This may be a very pertinent issue in the wake of Katrina. I believe that we are about to see the effects of poverty (and the even more dangerous effects of acting like it's no big deal) in very vivid detail. Louisiana may not recover for years. And the sad thing is that I don't think that the government will be the ones to do anything about it. No, even with all the drives, fundraisers and collections that have been organized and will continue to be so, I believe that this responsibility to take care of those who find themselves suddenly poor will fall to the people of God, the body of Christ. After all, we serve a God who cares for the poor, and are called to reflect His character. "'He defended the cause of the poor and needy, and so all went well. Is that not what it means to know me?' declares the LORD." (Jeremiah 22:16)

It is our role, our divine responsibility to stamp out poverty, Katrina-related, local and global. What should we be doing? What would make us the aroma of Christ in this world? Whatever, it is, let me drop one piece of advice: Be careful what you read in children's books. They may make you think.

Good to be back...

So, life is somewhat crazy right now. Both of the occupants of our little apartment are now officially grad students. And what does that mean? Why, 5 hour study sessions on the weekends, of course. Seminary is actually quite good. I really enjoy my classes, and the work load isn't too great yet, but this year I'm balancing work as well, and it's tougher than I anticipated. Tougher is a good thing, though. I need some "tougher" in my often-too-comfortable life. Luckily for me, I have Greek, and, all signs there seem to point to "tougher."

The Yankees continue to baffle me. They are currently leading in the Wild Card race, which would put them in the playoffs if the season ended today. (Although, if the season ended today, there might be a serious investigation as to what happened to the final three weeks.) So, I should feel good about the Yanks right now, right? Um, not exactly. I'm not scared in any way, as I firmly believe they will make the playoffs, I'm just exasperated that they aren't leading the division. They're good enough to do so, so why isn't it happening? Should I just be happy they are where they are?

The NFL starts tonight, at least according to the league. As far as I'm concerned, the NFL doesn't start until baseball season is over (or, as it's more commonly known, after the Yankees win the World Series). I like the NFL, don't get me wrong. It's just that I like it for that void between the World Series and baseball's winter meetings. It's convenient on Thanksgiving, too.

One of my professors is a star. She's a published author and I'm loving her class immensely. Her blog is really interesting and thought provoking. aspire2.blogspot.com Check it out if you have time and are willing to be challenged in your thinking. Not to be read lightly, but rather with strong coffee in hand.

One of my wife's favorite authors, Donald Miller, is coming to the area next weekend. We're going to go hear him speak on Sunday morning. That should be great. He wrote Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What and Through Painted Deserts. When my wife says she likes an author, I pay attention. She's finished over 40 books since January. Her goal to read 50 books this year is going to be met easily. There's something about being married to a well-read woman that is incredibly exciting and frightening at the same time. She's always been smarter than me, that I'm used to. It's just that she can also quote and reference half of the library, and frankly, I'm overmatched.

A vicious affliction...

Yesterday was the first day of my second year of seminary. God willin’ and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be done in 3 years. So, with more than 40 units under my belt at this point, you’d think I was used to the way things went. But yesterday was a little different.

See, for the first time in my seminary education, I had the experience that most people associate with first year, first day. I’d heard it was a malady so vicious that it even breaks down the third floor library-dwellers, the ones whose eyes can’t decide if they should be reading right to left or left to right, who gesture during every conversation as though it was their senior sermon, who quote Calvin and Luther when asked about high-speed internet. I had the most dreaded of seminary experiences. I had syllabus shock. Looking at the syllabi I collected yesterday, with Greek being the most vile offender, I was convinced it wasn't possible. This is the very definition of syllabus shock.

It’s a very formidable opponent, one that some can never overcome. (We hear rumors of students “transferring,” a process somewhat like being deported, as I understand it.) It leaves you convinced that “these people [professors] have lost their minds,” “there isn’t enough time in the week,” “I guess I’ll have to give up showering and sleeping.” You become certain that every professor congregated for the faculty summit before the year began and the theme was “The Destruction of the Student: Developing a Plan.”

So, I got in the car after Greek yesterday, firmly convinced that I was destined to fail seminary, becoming one of the cautionary stories that first-year students hear at orientation. “This place isn’t for everyone. You’ve got to be ready to make sacrifices, and if you’re not, well, let me tell you a story…”

Funny thing, though. By the time I got home, and talked to my wife a bit (typically the best medicine), things didn’t look so bad anymore. I began to realize that I had gotten through a year already, and had begun to think I’d done it on my own. But, in truth, there’s no way I’d done it on my own. God’s grace was sufficient for last year, and it will be again for this year. I began to realize that through my eyes and on my own strength, yeah, those syllabi are outrageous, but I can’t look at them with my own eyes and wouldn’t dare rely on my own strength. His power is made perfect in my weakness, which is good because I’ve got plenty of weakness. I’ve decided that I will make it through this semester, and the next three, but only if I rely on His strength and power. As soon as I start relying on my own strength, the author of the cautionary tale can pick up his pen.

So, things look better today. I’m still not excited about Greek, but it’s not going to be my undoing, and that’s good enough to get me through today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to do some homework. And, yes, I have already showered.

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Things you hear when substitute teaching...

This week I substitute taught at 7 different schools in 5 days. Substitute teaching is rather entertaining, really. All kinds of crazy stuff happens when a stranger is in charge of the classroom. For example:

Here in Texas, each morning the students start off saying the Pledge of Allegiance, followed by the Pledge to the Texas flag. Seriously. There is a Pledge to the Texas flag. I'm not making this up. How could I? These people are a bit crazy.

One of the best parts of substitute teaching is the inevitable, "How old are you?" guessing game. When you're in your late 20's and still get stopped by high school teachers asking where your hall pass is (really happened this week), this game takes on a whole new dimension. In one class, one student insisted that I was 18, while another said, "No, stupid, he's in his late 30's." Sigh.

One of the best sub jobs to get is anything that says High School "PE/Health" because that probably means that the teacher is a coach. See, here in Texas, coaches are people of some significance and their schedules reflect that. For example, on Monday I subbed for a coach whose first block class was athletics (more commonly known as morning football practice). That was nice because he was there for that block and I got to read in the teacher's lounge. His second and third block classes were what is known as "Academic Support" but you and I might call "study hall." That involved sitting at a table, taking role and more reading. Then in fourth block, he had a free "planning" period, or a "Benji gets to go home early" period. You can see why this schedule is so desireable. I hear stories of bloodshed while potential subs fought over such jobs.

The other day I was in a high school physics class and a student asked if he could go to the restroom. According to policy, I asked where his agenda was, so I could initial it. He brought it to me, and I wrote my initials, "BB." Upon looking at my initials, this young scholar said, "That's pimpin'!" As I reflected on his comment, I tried to imagine either of the two letters I had just written strolling through urban sprawl wearing platform boots, gold chains and polyester pants. Suffice it to say that I had trouble conjuring the image. Now, two letter P's, that's a different story.

For my last sub story...I was in a freshman English class the other day. I was giving a 10 minute quiz, and told the students to be silent. As you can imagine, there was some significant struggle with this. After reiterating the need for silence, and writing down the offenders names like I was asked to do by the regular teacher, it got quiet for a moment. Until...One student said, "Hey, it's really quiet in here. Could you put on some music or something?" With a rather incredulous look on my face I said, "No." He said, "Well, then will you whistle or something?" Seriously. I was asked to whistle because it was too quiet during a quiz. Dude's on his way to a premium coach's schedule.

Unrelated: My wife's crazy funny. She just makes me laugh all the time. This is pertinent because she's back in my life after a crazy time of RLT. I love spending time with her. She's just so much fun! My favorite is when she acts angry, even though she's not, and then says the most ridiculous things in her angry voice. This is actually happening right now and the intermittent laughter is really affecting my ability to type. Even four years in, we goof around like dating teenagers. Good times. The best part of my week for sure.

Word of the day: trammel, n, "something impeding activity, progress or freedom" Try substituting this word for the more mundane "block." As in, "Man, I've got writer's trammel," "Could you pass me the sun trammel?" "That running back throws a heck of a trammel," or "There's a giant squirrel carcass trammeling the road ahead."

Back to work...

Sorry the blog hasn't been updated lately; I've been hard at work as the best substitute teacher in North Texas. I'll update over the weekend though with stories and such.

Books and baseball...

A couple of months ago I started creating an inventory list of all of the books we own. Although this may sound completely anal, there was a really good reason for starting this project: I had purchased a book for school that I already owned but didn't realize it. Not fun to waste money when you're in seminary. This project got me thinking: Is there really a better gift than a good book? Seriously, most of these books that I'm cataloguing were gifts, and they've served me well. So, next time you're stuck for a gift for someone, head to Recycled Books. Too much good stuff not to have something you can use.

Another thing I noticed: If you want to publish a theology book, you’d better be pretty comfortable going by your initials.

Who knew that the Colorado installation of Shawn Chacon was like pre-spider-bite Peter Parker? All of a sudden, he puts on that Yankee uniform and turns into Nolan Ryan. We'll take it, thank you. And if anyone knows where that spider that bit him crawled to, there's a line of guys waiting to be bitten. Guys named Brown, Pavano, Wright, Embree...

The effects of seminary: I've got a break in my class schedule, and won't start until the 30th. So, what did I do? I checked out books at the library to fill the time! Really. And I plan to actually read them. My high school English teachers would be shocked.

The Yanks won today. The Royals won't. The Royals have lost 19 straight games. That's a lot. In fact, the record for most consecutive losses is 21, and they are putting that mark in some serious jeopardy. Not only are they playing the A's, who are winning a lot right now, but the Royals winning is exactly what the Yankees need to happen, so of course it won't.

I watched the Yankees-White Sox game today, some of the Little League World Series, and am currently watching the Rangers-Devil Rays. Some would say I have an addiction, but that's just not true. I can quit anytime I want, as long as it's between November and March.

An amazing baseball-related development: apparently there is a grassroots effort to bring back the San Francisco Giants mascot, the Crazy Crab. (Clink on the link that says "Scott on Sports and More" if you want to read more about this.) This got me thinking. How difficult would it be to start a grassroots campaign to send the Rangers' "Captain" mascot to the glue factory?

There was really no point to this post, which, if you're still reading you already figured out. So, congratulations. You've just invested irreplacable minutes of your life in the inconsequential minutia that rolls through my mind on a typical Saturday. (I actually opened the dictionary and looked up how to spell minutia, and then, in the height of irony, I had to log back in because I noticed I'd still spelled it wrong. Gotta love that Stan State education.)

Word of the day: dastard, n. coward, a person who acts treacherously. Call a friend that next time you're tempted to say "You're such a chicken." Not only will you sound more refined, but watching their head snap around because they think you just cursed at them is like double the fun.

The Gospel of Yankee...

The picture is of the kingdom of heaven. Perhaps not what you'd been led to believe, but trust me, that's what it looks like.

Today a friend of mine called and made a confession. He said that over the course of the last year or so he'd realized that he's something of a Yankee fan. Not his primary allegiance, admittedly, but after his team of choice, it was the Bronx Bombers. This is something I wish for all people. That one day every person would wake to realize the beauty of loving the Yankees, and feel foolish for taking so long to see the truth. This is one of my missions in life, to bring the Gospel of Yankee to the masses.

Not sure what my seminary professors would think of that. Very sure I'll probably never get a job at a church in Boston after this post (not sure that I'd want one). Although, with God's sense of humor, it could be that the only church that wants me is in Beantown. Hmm...the cost of discipleship, I guess.

Still flying solo during RLT. Not too bad, though, I've had plenty to occupy my days this time around. I've been slogging my way through some course work I had to finish up for a class that I took a couple of weeks ago. I really enjoyed the class, Sanctification and Ecclesiology. The post-class reading has been much less engaging than the lectures, though.

One of the best parts about RLT, besides the free dinners the first weekend, is that you never know when the windows are going to be darkened and a crazy-fun game of flashlight tag is going to break out in the old Clarkville. Good times. During flashlight tag I always feel like some sort of spy or something, then I feel dumb for feeling that, then I feel like I don't care that I feel dumb, because I'm a spy and that's just the way it is, and if I can't accept that about myself then maybe I shouldn't be friends with me!

From chaos to quiet...

On the left is my wife, the real star of the show, with my older sister in San Luis Obispo, CA.

So, my brother's gone now. My parents ate the Hotwire money because he needed to get home to Cali. I took him to the airport this morning, dropped him off around 5:15. In the course of his 5 days in Denton, he figured out the next two years of his life. He accepted an offer to Arizona State University. No money at the front end, but he has been assured some will be freed up by the time that the second semester, and baseball season, rolls around. It was great to have him here. I love spending time with my family.

My wife's gone now, too. Training her staff started today and lasts until next Sunday (21st). She's got plenty to do in the next 8 days; she'll be spending pretty much all day, every day with her staff until training ends and students move in. Last year, this was the worst part of the year for me. I really don't like being by myself, so it was tough to have her gone all day and to not know anyone else. This year should be better; I feel like I'm part of the family here in the hall. Her staff is great, which is a reflection of great leadership.

My wife is the best. She keeps me motivated, keeps me doing the things I need to do (like working out), keeps me thinking deeper than I would on my own. I do love my family, and my wife is the gem. When she's gone and working a crazy schedule like this one, I'm always reminded of just how irreplaceable she is in my life. Nothing else makes me as happy, as whole. It's good to be part of "us."

Swept up in the whirlwind...

Since I posted last...

My brother's team lost their Monday morning game in Wichita, and they were done. That's fine, he felt ready to be home in Cali for a while. Oh, wait a minute on that. Apparently a Hotwire round-trip is more permanent than Polident. So, his flight that was scheduled to leave Wichita on the afternoon of Monday, the 15th, still leaves on the afternoon of Monday the 15th, no matter what. So, after a sterling 7 days in Wichita, (in which he pitched all of 1 inning, allowed no hits, no walks, and struck out 2) his options pretty much were spend a week in Wichita, waiting, or...

We got home to Denton about dinner time on Monday night. Since then, it's been nothing but a flurry of cell phone activity. He's trying to switch schools for the fall, so that he can play baseball at a NCAA Division I school instead of the NAIA school he signed with last fall. Pretty crazy, when baseball coaches from literally all over the country call your cell phone out of the blue. The clincher is the money (isn't it always?). He'd be giving up a pretty nice scholarship if he left the NAIA school, so the money has to be right from anyone else. So, far, the money's not right, but the offers seem to be getting a little better. Thing is that playing D-I ball is a great opportunity, and would set him up well when he starts coaching, which is his ultimate goal.

Yesterday, I took him to a school in the area where he walked in and introduced himself, laid his credentials out on the line and got a little tour of their facility, a phone number to call and made an impression. Must have, because he got a call from a coach last night with some questions. Today, he's throwing for another area school, who has already said that they're prepared to make a financial offer (rumor is they need pitching bad), but not the best place to be school and people-wise. So, we'll see how all that goes. Interesting thing is that most of these schools start classes in the next 2 or 3 weeks, so the time frame is tight, to say the least.

The short version? I've been swept up into the whirlwind of college sports recruiting, become the sounding board for ideas and suggestions, become the driver, become the voice of reason (I hope). We're just praying for clarity, patience, peace and doors that open REALLY wide.

Oh, yeah, I've still got papers to write and books to read in the next 8 days. Fun.

Wichita update...

This is a picture of the mandatory post-game kneel in which coaches impart timeless wisdom after tough losses. I mean truly timeless stuff like, "Well, we came up a little short today, boys." Or, "This is a tough loss to swallow." Perhaps the empathetic, "This hurts me, too." Rarely have I experienced a post-game kneel which included something along the lines of, "Well, boys, to be honest, this is all my fault. I left Jenkins in there too long because I was scared to make a move that would make me look bad. How's that for irony? On top of that, in the second inning, I held up a runner at third even though the ball was rolling around the base of the outfield wall because for a moment I started thinking about where to get some bar-be-cue after the game and when I came to and realized I had no idea what was happening, I figured the smart thing to do was to play it safe. So, uh, sorry 'bout that."

Well, it's now day three of the Wichita experience and there are three things I know for sure. First, I'm getting old. The last two nights I've stayed up until 11:30 and midnight, respectively, having been at baseball games. This morning I'm so tired it's ridiculous. I've even had three cups of coffee (if the stuff they offer in lower-end hotel rooms can really bear that title), and I still feel like I should take a nap. Secondly, as much as I love baseball (I think it's pretty evident), going to games that end around midnight, watching a team on which you only really know one person, and that one person doesn't even play, is kind of a let down. I enjoyed watching the game full of non-descript college players, but it just wasn't a seminal experience. Thirdly, some people should never be allowed in public.

Yesterday, I heard a fan loudly berate the scoreboard operator in what, I'm sure, he thought was good fun. But to the rest of us he sounded like an overbearing idiot who just needed to go home. I also heard a father behind me constantly riding his 7ish year old daughter, saying, "Just sit still and watch the game." It was relatively evident that she had no intention of watching the game, but she gave it a good try. Any time anything happened that drew an audience response, she asked, very sweetly, "Daddy, what happened?" To which his typical response was something along the lines of, "Just be quiet. Stop talking and watch the game." Soon the whole family was in on it, saying things like, "I'd give her a hundred dollars if she'd shut up for just 20 minutes." Pretty rough. I was so irritated by the apparent lack of compassion that I had to say something, About the sixth inning, I turned around and said, "Sir, maybe if you just gave her some attention, kindly answered her questions and didn't respond to her request for an ice cream by telling her that you weren't buying anything else that night at the very same moment that you finished paying the beer man, she would sit still." It was a moment of rare boldness and straightforwardness that I really wished had come all the way out of my mouth instead of getting stuck on pause in my brain, which is what actually happened. Or perhaps it's better that way.

My brother's team lost last night. They play this morning at 10:30, and with another loss, they're eliminated. They play the aforementioned Alaska Goldpanners of Fairbanks and face a pitcher from Taiwan who held my brother's summer team in Alaska hitless through 8 innings. So, it should be interesting.

More to come, perhaps from at home in Denton.

Things you hear in Wichita...

Here at the NBC World Series, I've heard all kinds of interesting tidbits and such that I'd love to pass along. Here are some highlights...

From generally oversized coaches who seem to have their positions due to some sort of nepotism:
Meaningless blabber. Stuff like: "Okay, now big spot here." Like the batter needs to be reminded of that. Or, another favorite comes when the count is 3 balls and 2 strikes on the hitter: "C'mon now, base hit or ball four." Since the only other option left to that batter is to make an out, that would seem to go without saying.

From the rather rotund man whose belly made it seem as though Jeff Gordon was driving a limo across his NASCAR shirt:
"Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? Not me, I've only seen it on TV. It was built a long time ago." One of my favorites! This guy was good for a couple of quotes about Arizona; how he'd never been there, but seen it on TV (repeated at least twice), how he loved westerns, how Tombstone was set in Arizona, how Tombstone was about gun fighters who fought with guns. Good stuff.

From the mother who is far too interested in a free t-shirt to pay attention to trivialities like family harmony:
"Hey, quit complaining! Just go back to sleep and share the pillow with your sister!" As part of the tournament, they're doing a contest-type thing called "Baseball Around the Clock." As the title denotes, there is, literally, baseball all day and night. These people in the contest are trying to attend 17 straight games over the course of 56 hours. During each game a cuckoo-clock sound plays over the PA system, and the participants have something like 5 or 10 minutes to check in. Rumor has it that there's a t-shirt waiting for those who stay the course. 3 crazy things about this: first, at any given time, during any given game, there are people sprawled out sleeping throughout the stadium. On the bleachers, on blankets on the ground, wherever they can catch some shut eye and be within range of the cuckoo sound. Secondly, I'm thinking that if these people spent some of those 56 hours working instead of trapped at a minor-league baseball stadium, they could buy their own t-shirt. Thirdly, 56 hours of ballpark food. 'Nough said.

From the public adress announcer laboring on a hot Sunday morning in the Bible Belt:
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. In just a few minutes the nondenominational church service will begin in the Budweiser Pavilion." Good times! The best part was crowd reaction, which ranged from, "Did he say church service was in the Budweiser Pavilion?" to "That's my kind of church!" While I admire their attempts to provide a legitimate worship-going experience for the Sunday morning contingent, it does raise some interesting questions about how they celebrate communion. Somehow, beer nuts and Bud Light don't seem to parallel the body and the blood.

I'm having a blast here. The games are being played at the Royals' AA minor-league team's field. My brother and I went to a game this morning. The game was scheduled to start at 8am, but when we arrived, we found out that the 3am game (literally, around the clock) hadn't started until 5:30am, so everything had been delayed. We watched the Alaska Goldpanners of Fairbanks, Alaska, 49th State of the Union, Land of the Midnight Sun soundly defeat the Las Vegas Desert Devils. (Okay, so their name is really only the Alaska Goldpanners of Fairbanks, but even that is a bit much.) My brother's team, the Havasu Heat, plays tonight at "7:30." We'll see about that.

That's all for now. He's taking a nap and I should be reading. Pictures from tonight's game should be here soon. Maybe post-game tonight or first thing tomorrow.

P.S. It's hot here.

Aloha, from Wichita! This morning I left Denton and was in Wichita, KS in time to have lunch with my brother. We live in a very beautiful country, folks! Oklahoma, much to the chagrin of her rather uppity neighbors to the south among whom I live, is very beautiful. The hills and plains dotted with red dirt riverbeds are worth seeing. I just had to smile as I arrived in Kansas and could see, I'm pretty sure, to at least Minnesota from the state line. The purpose of this blog entry, however, is something else.

There is something seriously therapeutic about driving across 3 states in one morning. Yesterday morning I finished one of the best classes I've had in school and was feeling really good about life in general. Then, while driving home, I talked to my older sister and got some really troubling news about some common friends of ours. I was so distressed. In fact, I was completely angry, sad and mystified all at once.

I got home and wanted to pray for these friends but was just so frustrated that every time I started, I wasn't even sure what to say. All I know is that, for one of the very few times in my life, I was mourning with those who mourn, and it sucks. I didn't feel better afterwards, which, I suppose, is the point. I'm sure they don't feel so great right now either. To really feel the pain when someone is hurting is a biblical command, I know, but not one I'm particularly good at. I tend to gloss over pain, mine and others', and put on a false, heroic front. I was convicted in my soul this week at school, when my professor was talking about "mourn with those who mourn," and said, "When a part of the body hurts and we don't feel it, it's called leprosy, and it's really bad." I thought then, "I don't know that I really mourn with those who mourn." I can't really say that now, and I'm glad. As much as yesterday afternoon sucked, I have a faint and foggy idea of what my sin must put Christ through and I hate that I do that to Him.

So, I'll continue to try to stumble my way through something resembling prayer for my friends and hope that God is honored by it. Above all, though, I want to continue to feel for them, to feel deeply what they're going through. I want to be grieved in my spirit, and to remember the feeling for a very long time to come.

On a much happier note, I'm in Wichita for the weekend to watch the National Baseball Congress World Series. My brother is here playing for the Havasu (AZ) Heat. I hadn't seen him since Christmas, and any stretch of time that provides for 2 tattoos is too long not to have seen one another. Should be great to hang out with him, watch plenty of college-level baseball and be away on a bit of a retreat. I'll try to update each day with Wichita stories and hopefully some pictures, too.

Craving community...

This last week I battled some serious blahs. I just didn't feel "right." Not sick, mind you, just not "right." Kind of down and sad. I wasn't sure why, per se, until Sunday night. While deep in conversation at Taco Bell (like you could have any other kind over a Soft Taco Supreme), my wife just nailed it. "Are you lonely?" Hmm, hadn't honestly thought of that, but, yeah, that sounds about right. I told her that I missed California, missed my seminary friends, missed my family, etc, etc. "I just think I'm craving community," I said.

Funny thing, community. I know there are people who can get drained by being around others for too long, I'm just not one of those people. I love being with other people. Having conversations that matter, being encouraged by them, empathizing with them, all of it is good, in my book.

God said that it wasn't good for the man to be alone. Funny thing is that most church folks I know would say that having a personal, intimate, one-on-one relationship with God is the height of spirituality. Apparently God disagreed. When the man had that in the garden, God said he was alone and it wasn't good. I feel that. I really hate being alone. I need others. Without other people around me I become a less-desirable version of myself. Others kick my butt when I need it (often), pick me up when I'm down (sometimes), and generally encourage me to be better than I am (always need that).

And you know who's best at this? My wife. She just knows. Doesn't take long for her to diagnose, either. Just knows. I like it that way. Saves me the trouble of putting up a false, heroic front. She knows I need her and she likes to be needed. I see a bit of what God had in mind when He said it wasn't good for the man to be alone. I see it everyday and I love it. So, since she's gone for the evening, this is an appropriate post for the blog. Tonight, this is my community. You'll have to forgive me tomorrow night, however, when I completely ignore this community and turn my attention back to her.