Was it a Scarlet letter?

The church where Kelly and I attended when I worked at Cincinnati Bible College . . . um, I mean Cincinnati Christian University was Oak Hills Christian Church, which is now Impact Church [was that confusing enough?]. Anyway, the youth ministry there is growing and attracting some awesome kids, one of whom is Eric Bast. Eric, a student at Oak Hills High School [my alma mater, Go Highlanders] was so convicted by message of Jesus that he and some friends decided to write a personal letter to everyone in the high school telling them about Jesus and the eternal consequences about not following him. The letter directed people to a website that told them more about what he was trying to say. The result: a five day suspension because he delivered the letters during an extended homeroom and was accused a disrupting the learning environment. Local media outlets have started to pick this story up and I'm wondering if it'll be national by next week.

I've been going back and forth on this thing and I don't know how I really feel about. I love Eric's passion and the overwhelming need he felt to spread the message of Jesus. But I've never been a big believer in using religious tracts. The theology behind it is similar to that of people who support televangelism: reach as many people as you possibly can, getting the most bang for the buck. I've heard people say, "If Jesus was alive today, don't you think he would use every means possible to reach everyone he could?" I honestly don't think so. Jesus was deliberate in his ministry and I think we'd be shocked to discover how few people in Palestine knew who he was when he was alive. By the time He ascends to heaven, only a handful of people follow Him. The lesson is: it's not all about quantity, but quality. Those handful of followers, two-thousand years later, did pretty well for themselves.

When you look in Scripture in the book of Acts, you don't see the Apostle Paul say, "Instead of preaching all over Macedonia, lets go to Kinkos, make 100,000 copies of my letter to the Romans and pass it out at the Coliseum." I believe mass-evangelism tools might have worked years ago, but now it can be more harm than good. Too many times we're so obsessed with the conversion that we aren't there for them through the discipleship process. The end result: they give up on their faith. So what have we accomplished? Each person has different problems and different needs and those can usually be best addressed in a one-on-one discipleship setting. Sure, it's tedious, but I feel it's expected of us.

Or maybe I'm just jealous that I never had the gumption to do what Eric did when I was in high school. I could just be jealous. I sure do appreciate his fervor, though. And he has brought up some deep spiritual questions that has classmates are now struggling with. I can't wait to see what this guy does in the future. But how far are you willing [and should you be willing] to go to share what you believe?

"Like a Fiddler on Mason Montgomery"

I thought I'd let you know I'm finally selling off my old violins. One was my first violin, another was given to me by my step-grandfather and one was my sister's; she wasn't as good as I was, so I took it when I moved out. I'm hoping to put the money towards a new electric violin so I can rock out like that one chick in all the rap videos.

Now some of you are thinking, "Steve played the violin?" Oh yes, tis true- for ten years in fact. I took lessons in the Oak Hills Local School district from 3rd through 12th grades [who says public schools are good for nothing?]. From Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to Pachelbel's Canon in D major, I played all the well known stuff. Yeah, it wasn't the most masculine thing being in high school playing the violin, but it was a character builder. Plus the time cult factor was nothing like the marching band so it was a great opportunity to extend my musical foundation without having to drink Kool-Aid.

I'll let you know how things work out.

My Coat Of Not-so Many Colors

So even though I enjoy some excesses in life, I'm pretty cheap. One area in which I've refined my frugality is winter coats. Yes, I remember wanting the Top Gun fighter jacket with all the cool patches on it [of course, my brother Tim had one but not I], but really, why spend a ton of money on a coat when you only wear it outside and for five months out of the year? Perhaps this is why I rejoiced when I came across Steve and Barry's University Sportswear in the revamped Cincinnati Mills. I bought a navy blue coat from there last year for only ten dollars. I liked it so much, in fact, that I decided to purchase another one this year- the same style of coat but the black version [for those of you who are fashion impaired like I am, I discovered a few years ago that it's a no-no to match your blacks and navy blues]. For just one Alexander Hamilton, I can stay warm all winter.

But there is one drawback: the coats that they sell have a certain odor to them. The good news is that it wears off, but it does take a few weeks. It's a difficult smell to nail down, but I would say that it most reminds me of motor oil. In our animal friendly day, the question is often asked, "How many animals died to make my coat you're wearing?" My answer to that would be, "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that they all perished as a result of the Exxon Valdez accident."

So for you math majors: cheap coat+offensive scent = I'm still happy anyway. So if you're around me anytime soon, bear with me as my coat sheds its smell. At least it gives me something to blame.

"No one ever called Pablo Picasso . . ."

I wore a tie to church yesterday, fulfilling my five-time a year quota, but the true reason I wore it wasn't for spiritual purposes. Kelly and I had a date for lunch at the Polo Grill in Deerfield Crossing [we had gift certificates so the price was right!] and then an afternoon at the Cincinnati Art Museum. One of the main reasons I wanted to go to the museum is because of their exhibition of "Petra- Lost City of Stone." Petra is the remains of a city from 2,000 years ago. Located in modern-day Jordan, it's inhabitants carved their houses and temples and tombs into limestone mountain faces. We'll get the chance to tour Petra this spring during a trip to Israel so it was a good opportunity for us to get familiar with the Nabateans and the society they built. I guess for some people it sounds incredibly boring, but I'm thankful for a wife who humors me through my geekness.

Anyway, after that, we spent some time exploring other parts of the museum. Both Kelly and I have been there a few times before. While most of the museum is the same [I guess that's why admission is free now] there are a few things. Their newest piece of prominence is a Renior. Kelly has her favorites that she has to see- always Monet, and she loves the glass exhibits. We found some interesting things in the Cincinnati wing. There were these prints made to commemorate the underground railroad that burned/painted sheet music to "This Little Light of Mine" in multiple colors. And there were two marble cherubs about five feet tall that were once in St Teresa of Avila church [yes, on the westside]. They were exquisite. It's amazing the detail that the artisans are able to inscribe to pieces of stone- more life-like than some people I know.

But I always leave the art museum shaking my head a little. For while I try to pretend that I'm refined and into art culture, so much of art created in the past 100 or so years looks like crap. I have a huge appreciation for artists who can take paints and wood, bronze and marble and form them into beautiful replications of people and nature. But just because I throw gobs of paint on a canvas and call it abstract doesn't make it spectacular. They have a few works by Picasso down there. A few of them are fascinating, but when you call something a portrait and the person's eyes are on opposite ends of the painting, I call it dumb. Or when you call something a landscape and I can't tell what's sky and what's feces, than you're probably just full of it. I would welcome the advice of an art aficionado to help me with this and teach me to be more discerning in my interpretations. But I'm much more impressed by people who paint vivid images with the spoken or written word than I am with some of these "artists" who turn elementary school art projects into so-called masterpieces.

"Art is what you can get away with"
Andy Warhol

The Juice Is Loose

What a shock! Major League Baseball players were taking 'roids when their collective bargaining agreement certified that they couldn't be tested for them?!?! They could cheat and not get caught and the chose to cheat? Didn't see that one coming. MLB is going to try to play this off like its not a big deal, but baseball's new steroid scandal should destroy the sport. Every other major league sport in America has been testing for banned substances for years, but the power of the players union wouldn't prohibit it.

And they've been worried about Pete Rose this time. Allow me once again to make known that the damage that Pete through his gambling habit nowhere nears to compare with the damage that Bonds and Jason Giambi have caused to the game- and yet one of those guys [maybe two if Giambi can play ball post-HGH] will be first-ballot Hall-of-Famers. I'm not saying that Pete wasn't guilty; he deserved the punishment and scorn he has received. But it's difficult for Bud Selig to try to crack the whip with Pete and let Barry walk [Westside forever, Pete].

NOW FOR YOU NON-SPORTS TYPE PEOPLE: WHY SHOULD THIS MATTER TO YOU?
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about this is the apathy of the public. People are already saying, "So what? Chicks dig the longball. Let 'em juice up and play ball." This indifference will effect society more than you realize. This is just the beginning of accepted cheating in America. Reflect on the advances of technology in your lifetime and think toward the future. I predict that within our lifetime computer and genetic engineering will provide a way for people to download knowledge into their head. Instead of doing things like say . . . reading, you'll be able to have pertinent info implanted into your cranium. Sorta sounds like a good thing on the surface, but what happens when you're applying for a job against someone who downloaded knowledge that you don't have? Your God-given talents and abilities will mean nothing if you have the money to buy some. Sure there's never a true level playing field in this world, but the field could get rather mountainous before our very eyes.

[just thinking: contestants on the TV show The Swan on Fox where they give women plastic surgery and compete in a beauty contest. Is that like the Barry Bonds to the Miss American pageant?]

Well, the one things cemented by this whole mess is the legend of those great players of the past. Hank Aaron [my father-in-law's favorite player] hit 755 home runs in his career and was a middle schooler compared to Bonds' size. The only performance enhancing drugs Babe Ruth used were beer and liquor and, despite that, he set the bar for baseball players forever . . . if baseball can survive this garbage.

RIP Mr Computer [2002-2004]

So my work computer sorta died last Saturday. I turned it on getting ready for the Focus service and within two minutes of warming up it immediately shut down and a small tuft of smoke started rising from the tower. At first we thought it was just the power source that burned up, but apparently the entire thing was destroyed. Fortunately, I save almost everything I do on our server so I wasn't screwed. And now I have a new computer [with a DVD player and burner] so I'm looking forward to all the new stuff I'll be able to do, but allow me for a minute to pay my last respects to my lost companion.

"Mr Computer, I'm so sad to see you go. If I had known that turning your power on would killed you, I'd have thought twice about it. We had some great times, you and me, huh? I'll never forget that you helped me figure out how to make websites. And how about those wackie emails we used to send? Those were awesome. Sure you had your flaws: the way you decided to occasionally shut down without warning, you deciding not to work with Adobe Acrobat Distiller, and you somehow losing the ability to display the Microsoft Word icon. Yet despite all this, you were my first buddy here at CCM. From 8 to 5, it was me and you. You will not be forgotten.

"So I raise a glass to you, my friend.
One for me . . . one for my homie."

You Too?

"Unos, dos, tres, catorce!"

So Kelly went out and bought How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb yesterday. I have to admit, I haven't been this excited about an album release since GNR put out Appetite For Destruction when I was in high school. They had me at hello with the I-Pod commercial and I've been streaming it from MTV's the Leak for a week. But it's nice not to have it on CD and not get cut off every two minutes.

My thoughts on the album and U2 in general:
Great tunes- I would highly recommend getting it. The weaving of driving rhythms with lyrics that have spiritual depth is genius. If I had but one band to listen to the rest of my life, it would have to be U2. Their body of work is diverse, yet compelling- especially for a three-piece band. I know the complaints out there against them: that they're soft, that they're just write spiritual lyrics to pander to Christians, that Bono should keep his mouth shut about social issues. Honestly, I don't give a rip anymore. In our society of deconstruction where everyone's a critic, I just like their music, OK. Why can't that be enough?

Introduction To The House of Carr

So I've tried this whole blogging thing before and I've been an utter failure at it. I guess there are a few reasons for this:

1. I lack the passion to be a successful blogger
One of the reasons I decided to try this again is because I spent the last few minutes reading some other people's blogs. Obviously I think, "if people like me will read their crap, then there has to be people interested in reading my crap." I mean, I believe I have an interesting life and people could actually be interested in what I think. But honestly, I'm pretty freaking lazy.

2. I don't type well
I never took it in school so I practice this morphed form of hunt and peck. For me to get my thoughts out takes more time than it does for others. By the way, if anyone knows of a good community education program that teaches typing, sign me up.

3. I obsess over the words I use when I write
Being married to an editor, I'm always trying to impress her with my mastery of the English language. I'll write and rewrite meaningless sentences just so I can sound better.

4. My job constrains what I can say
I'm a minister at a pretty conservative church. A lot of blogs I read have controversial thoughts and an occasional curse word- and I doubt you'll ever see either here. It's a dangerous tight-rope to walk trying to be edgy and authentic while at the same time respectful. And I sometimes have ear problems, so my balance isn't the best.

Nevertheless, I'm going to give it one more shot. You'll have to be a little patient with me as a maneuver around, but I'll try to make it worth it.