Brrrrrrrrr

By the way, I have strong disdain for the cold [I was going to say I hate it, but mom told me it wasn't right to hate things]. I don't know where the cultural tradition began where manly men were supposed to like the cold, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't Sarasota. I was watching the NFL Conference Championships yesterday, played in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, and all these guys are playing in short sleeves while their breath crystallized before their very eyes. I want to yell at them, "Go ahead and put a turtleneck on. I won't be insulted." To the best of my knowledge, there's no extra credit awarded for scoring a touchdown in sub-freezing weather with bare arms.

Anyway, we're finishing up a cold spell brought on by some Canadian weather system [can Canada do anything right?] so it's been a struggle to keep warm the past few days. We've even had the electric blanket on the past couple of nights to fight the chill. So early this morning, as we woke up, I told Kelly I couldn't believe that the furnace went off. "I guess it's warming up." Yeah, or the power went out. I ran downstairs to get a flashlight and I was already freezing. OK, I'm a wuss, but at least I admit it.

This all leads me to the question of the day: Why do people choose to live in Alaska? A few weeks ago I heard news report about a northern Alaskan town that had lost all power. And it was so remote that it was out for about ten days. Daytime temperatures in the village reached a balmy ten degrees below zero. And I'm supposed to feel bad for these people? Do they not have television, the internet, or even books up there? Don't they know that the further south you travel, the warmer it gets? No way. Couldn't do it. I'd rather burn to death than freeze to death.

The good news: the power was only out at our house for about thirty minutes. The bad news: it's still January in the Cincinnati. But at least it's not Alaska.

The Westside and The White House

Can you imagine a westsider in the White House? I know what you're thinking: the national treasury moved from Fort Knox and buried in the backyard, cars on blocks in the White House driveway, Pete Rose taking up residence in the Lincoln bedroom. It might sound like a nightmare to you, but it's already happened. In the spirit of this Inaugural Day, I thought I'd relate a bit of the story of the westsider who became President of The United States: William Henry Harrison.

His 2,000 acre estate overlooking the Ohio River was located in North Bend, just outside of Cleves, Ohio [a mere five miles from where I grew up]. He was originally born in Virginia and entered the military. He then settled in the Ohio region, serving as a governor over the Northwest Territory. Harrison got the nickname "Old Tippecanoe" after defeating Indians in a battle at the Tippecanoe River and gained further notoriety during the War of 1812. He became a national hero and the Whig Party nominated him for President.

Many were leary of voting for him in the 1840 election because they thought he was too old and out of touch [at the age of 68, he was one of the oldest men elected President]. Willie wanted to prove that he indeed had vision and was man enough for the job. So for his Inaugural Address he refused to wear a coat in the freezing weather and laid out a vision for the future in a speech that lasted an hour and forty minutes. Because of the overexposure to the elements, Harrison caught pneumonia and died that April.

So even though we westsiders might not be the brightest bunch of people, at least one of our own was President . . . for a month.

The Miracle Of Life

I was reading the book of Exodus last night and I find the relationship between God and the Israelites fascinating. Regardless of all the miraculous signs and great things the Lord did, the Israelites constantly refused to submit themselves to Him fully and treat Him as their King.

This Sunday [January 23rd] is Sanctity of Life Sunday- the day set aside to remember the millions of children who have been aborted in the United States since the 1973 Roe vs Wade Supreme Court decision. Much has been said and written about abortion from an American societal perspective, but with this post I want to view a global issue in the abortion conversation.

This article discusses a problem China is experiencing. In 1979, in an attempt to curb their rapid population growth, the Chinese government instituted a one-child per family policy. Penalties for not adhering to the law include forced hysterectomies and abortions. More than twenty-five years later, they're experiencing an unexpected backlash: not enough girls. Males are preferred by parents, because it's the son's responsibility to care for elderly parents. If a family has a daughter, her parents are left with no one to look after them in their latter years. So as a way of insuring social security, if a couple discovers via an ultrasound that their one allotted child is female, they abort and try again to get a male. These boys are now growing up to find no wives are available for them. Currently, for every 100 births in China, there are about twenty more boys born than girls. So now the Chinese government is trying to rectify the problem by making it illegal to abort a female fetus. The Chinese people are finding wats around this new law, still trying for boys.

China instituted the one-child per family as a way to control the population. Now they're figuring out the hard way that there are always consequences to trying to control the uncontrollable.

"When does life actually begin?" appears to be the central issue behind the abortion debate. But perhaps everything actually hinges on human arrogance- in people wanting to play the role of God. When we rob God of this ultimate decision making status [deciding who lives and dies], we overstep our bounds. Although there are many issues and subissues in the abortion debate [here's an excellent article on Relevant's website], maybe it all goes back to the book of Exodus: people struggling to accept the Kingship of God. We need to beware of concentrating too much on the fruit and the branches; everything starts in the roots.

Still, it's said that in China, over 2 millions abortions are performed per year. Add to that the 1.2 million abortions performed in the US every year. Then remember that the Holocaust cost the lives of 6 million people.

When I'm Old

I apologize for the absence of a post during the past few days. It was a hectic week, and this ended up being low priority. I'm just impressed that I've kept this blog thing going. I guess I'm hooked.

I'm a jack of all trades here at the church, so when there's something that they can't get anyone else to do, I'm the guy they call. Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, I ran the sound system for two different gatherings of Christian Senior Citizens. The featured performer was this woman who played the piano extremely well. She even appeared on the Pat Sajak show once [how did Pat snake his way into a TV gig without Vanna?]. For both the performances hundreds of senior citizens sat engaged as this lady tickled them ivories. Not having much else to do, I contemplated on the future and wondered what Christian Senior Citizen gatherings will be like when I'm old and gray. The following is how it plays out in my mind:

The scene unfolds, fifty years into the future. The Olson twins are President, aided by a Constitutional Amendment that allows twins to run for the office together. Bob Barker still hosts the Price Is Right [who knew cryogenics would actually work?] and a cup of Starbucks coffee costs $1,500,000 without the whipped cream. The Cincinnati Area Senior Citizens Gathering is about to begin. Steve and Kelly Carr, who've made it through over fifty years of marriage without killing each other, take their seats.

Old Man Steve: This facility sucks. I still hate this place.
Old Woman Kelly: Now Steve, try not to be so negative.
Old Man Steve: I can't help it! Who would've ever thought that a church would buy Riverfront Coliseum, which used to be the First Star Center, which used to be US Bank Arena, which used to be the I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Gardens, which used to be Frank's Prenatal Care Sporting Arena, which used to be . . .
Old Woman Kelly: Alright already! I get the point! Geez, you still ramble. And now you drool too.
Old Man Steve: Well I just never imagined Cincinnati would be home to the first 100,000 person megachurch. And I still can't believe that Matthew McCann would've grown up to be a preacher of a church like that. I used to kick that rugrat in the hallways at church.
Old Woman Kelly: Well you never know what God's going to do, do you?
Old Man Steve: Obviously not. So who's on the schedule for this thing today?
Old Woman Kelly: Well it's an old fashioned church sing, like the ones we used to have years ago.
Old Man Steve: Really? Who's leading the music?
Old Woman Kelly: David Crowder, Chris Tomlin, and the Ottoman band.
Old Man Steve: The Ottoman band? We know those guys! Man, they were never the same after Coates left the band for his solo career.
Old Woman Kelly: True, but I guess he knew what he was doing. His drum solo album went triple platinum. Never would've guessed that drum solo albums would get so popular.
Old Man Steve: Tell me about it. Anyway I'm just thrilled to listen to so good old fashioned worship music. Not this modern crap that's out now-a-days. They just do it like they used to.
Old Woman Kelly: Now Steve, you used to be pretty progressive yourself, trying to get people to give modern worship a chance.
Old Man Steve: I don't care! I just want them to go back to the good old days when we had electric guitars and turntables. These new instruments that they use are overrated.
Old Woman Kelly: Honey, it's an organ and a piano. They're hardly new instruments.
Old Man Steve: Don't infect my mind with those lies, woman! They're instruments of the devil. And anyway, the noise level just isn't appropriate for a worship service.
Old Woman Kelly: What are you talking about? It's lower than we were younger. You can actually hear and understand the words being sung.
Old Man Steve: Exactly! If your eardrums aren't bleeding because it isn't loud enough, than how in the world is God going to be able to hear it? It's not like he had Wi-Fi chip implanted into his brain like the rest of us down here.
Old Woman Kelly: Music doesn't have to be loud, honey. It's just a different style.
Old Man Steve: Plus, it's so bright in here! How can people worship if it's not so dark that I miss my nose when I'm picking it? No candles or nothing!
Old Woman Kelly: Now settle down, Steve. You'll aggravate your artificial heart, lungs, teeth, hair and eyeballs.
Old Man Steve: . . . and all they do is sing those hymns that are hundreds of years old! If God intended us to still sing that junk, he would've inspired them to use terms like "Snap" or "Word"- catch phrases that never became un-cool during the past fifty years. It's not like it used to be.
Old Woman Kelly: Things change, Steve. You of all people should know that.
Old Man Steve: Just forget it! I'm so wound up that I'm leaving. I'm taking my jet pack back to our condo at the Mason Christian Village, Lunar Campus.
Old Woman Kelly: Just don't forget to turn your turn signal off after you're finished. It's so embarrassing when you fly around with your blinker on.
Old Man Steve: You're so embarrassing, you embarrasser!
Old Woman Kelly: Nice comeback.
Old Man Steve: Yeah, I still have nothing left in the tank.

Steve flies away on his jet pack, turn signal flashing.

ET Phone Home

Just by introducing this post with that quote, Kelly will get mad. She hates ET with a passion. Interesting, huh? Anyway, we're thinking of losing our LAN line. This is probably one of the toughest household decisions we've had to make since the spaghetti incident of 2000. For some of you this is a no brainer: you've been using your cellphone for everything and have never looked back. But we're right past that line of demarcation of being too old to make the switch boldly. I think if we were in our early to mid-twenties, we would have done it by now. It just seems to make sense to go for it.

For the past month we averaged two incoming calls a day, and of all those calls we received, half were from telemarketers. With free long distance on cells now, it seems time to change. Plus, there's the economics behind it. Our Cincinnati Bell phone bill runs us about thirty bucks a month. We want to pick up high speed internet, which would be an additional utility cost, so why not lose one and pick up the other?

So I'm feeling good about everything, ready to pull the trigger. And last night we get six phone calls. What the heck?

Here's my problem: I've become one of those people I swore I'd never be- one who resists change. I always preach about embracing change and facing it head-on, but I guess I'm just full of it. I've never not had a home phone line, so I become uncertain. I heard from someone who cancelled their LAN line that the phone company tries to scare you from quitting it. They say things like, "if you call 9-1-1, they'll not automatically know where you are" and "what if your cell phone dies." If I show any doubt or weakness, they'll eat me alive.

But I've done it before. YES, I CAN DO IT AGAIN! I own CDs and rarely listen to cassettes. I own a DVD player and hardly ever watch a video tape. I've been using cell phones since college. I depend on my PC, remote control and garage door opener- none of which I had in the days of my youth.

I'm only twenty-nine. I'm too young to become one of those people. Oh no, I will not. I refuse to give in. I'm calling the phone company tomorrow . . . unless I'm lazy and do it later in the week.

I'll Be There For You [until I'm not]

You might want to get a black armband and begin the official mourning period: Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston are separating. After seven years together and over four years of marriage, they've decided to move on- without each other.

On Good Morning America today, Charlie Gibson asked, "if two people like Pitt and Aniston, who have everything going fo them, can't make it work, what hope does that leave for anyone else?" Using a celebrity relationship as a basis for "regular people's" marriage is like using my golf game as a teaching tool for PGA Tour professionals- pointless. Let's work through Charlie's thought process. the power couple had everything: good looks, lots of money, fame . . . just about anything anyone could want in this life. Why wouldn't a loving relationship be able to flourish under these circumstances? The undiscussed variable is the added tention these celebrity marriages undergo because of their professions.

Both Pitt and Aniston's jobs put them in sexual situations with other people. I've heard celebrities talk about love scenes with other actors saying things like, "It's totally professional. It's all just acting." I just don't buy it. Humans are emotional creatures, not animals. The rumor is [and I'm not into tabloid gossip, so understand that this is all National Enquirer type stuff] that Pitt became attracted to Angelina Jolie while filming "Mr and Mrs Smith." I saw the somewhat racy trailer to this movie and my impression is that the two probably had to spend a lot of time together in compromising situations all for the sake of working. Spending long periods of time together with someone who is not your spouse isn't a good idea.

This might sound basic, but it's something to remember everytime you hear one of these celebrity marriages in ending: it doesn't matter how much you have going for you- fidelity is fundamental to a long-lasting marriage. That's not to say marriages can't survive an affair and couples need to try to work through it as much as possible. But with these celebs, even if both sides say they're cool with it, the mutual trust of the relationship is eroded and this is the result.

That's One Ugly Book Cover

I just finished a good year of reading. In 2004, I read more books than I had between 2002 and 2003. I capped of the year by reading one of the longest books I've ever read. It was James Michener's The Source and it ended up at 1078 pages. This book was recommended to me by a person who went with Bible Historian Ray VanderLaan to the Holy Land, so I'm gunning for the full experience when Kelly and I go there in February. But about the book, it was . . . fiction.

Now if you know me, you understand that I never really read fiction because I find it pointless. Before I read The DiVinci Code [a copy of which someone had left behind in church . . . HA!!! Get it? Left Behind? Fictional Book? Total Bull Crap? I digress . . . ], I hadn't read fiction in years. To my understanding, the reason you're supposed to read fiction is to lose yourself in a story. Personally, I'd rather drop a couple of hours of my time in a movie than spending days to read a book. But I've discovered this thing called historical fiction [like Chaim Potok's The Chosen]. I find this to be somewhat tolerable, because I'm gleaning some tangible info in the context of a story. We'll see if I can keep stomaching this type of fiction.

As for 2005, I'm focusing on reading the Bible in multiple versions, including wading through the original languages. I hear it's a good book. And it's not fiction.

You Make Me Wanna BLEEEECH!

Although Tuesday night's Orange Bowl didn't produce a competitive BCS National Championship game, the halftime extravaganza more than made up for it. Watching Southern Cal massacre the Sooners was merely an appetizer. For halftime we were promised the unveiling of the new U2 video of "All Because Of You." It was somewhat disappointing since the ABC people polluted it with a montage of first half highlights/lowlights. But the real treat was the halftime performance which preceded it.

Ashlee Simpson- singing live. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

You knew a train wreck was coming because the singers before her had microphone and monitor problems. Both Kelly Clarkson and Trace Adkins [nice diet] struggled to hear themselves; they had to use a back-up microphone when the first one didn't work. This was setting everything up for a memorable performance by Miss Ashlee. Her studio manipulated vocals didn't stand a chance.

But first I've gotta protest this: they introduced her as, "Superstar Ashlee Simpson." Are you kidding me? Who are they trying to fool? Just because her CD was a top seller for one week doesn't mean she's a superstar [and I sincerely hope that those purchases were all made by pre-teens, because if you're an adult and you bought that album, you should be shot]. She sang her new song "La-La" as in "you make me want to La-La." My wife and I were trying to figure out if that phrase is really a euphemism for sex. If you figure that one out, let me know.

She was a wretched mix of missed notes and awkward stage movements. I'm really not sure if the wannabe punk/pop/rap/opera star butchered the song because the song itself is so ridiculous. I was feeling like those NASCAR fans who watch for the crashes. The fact that the performance was painful is what made it enjoyable. And the reaction of the Orange Bowl crowd: a chorus of boos. Whoever scheduled the performers for the halftime-show should have considered the possibility that inebriated football fans probably aren't Ashlee Simpson's fanbase. What a show.

While I want to blame poor Ashlee for the atrocity that is her music career, the guilty culprit is really her father. The former minister turned media mogul decided to sell out his daughters to America just to make a buck. I hope the money is worth it.

Boo, I say. Boo.

Burn, Baby, Burn!

Mad props to my wife for this posting. I know, I know, no one says "mad props" anymore, but if leg warmers are back in style, "mad props" has gotta be back soon. Kelly forwarded me the link from this Christian music-ish website that is trying to dissuade people from burning CDs that they didn't pay for. They're selling t-shirts that have slogans printed on them such as, "WWJB- What would Jesus Burn?" and "Jesus loves the little Children- except those that burn CDs." My absolute favorite, though, has to be the ever popular "Burn CDs . . . Burn In Hell."

Now I'm a recovering burner myself [I say, "Um, hi . . . my name is Steve and I'm a CD burner." Everyone else says, "WE LOVE YOU, STEVE!"]. Pirated Guns 'n' Roses cassettes in high school were my gateway and I hit the gutter on Napster. But I finally felt convicted that I was stealing and that's still one of those Ten Commandment and that I should stop doing bad things. Even though I felt no guilt from my theft, I needed to purge the habit from my lifestyle. I've been clean ever since, but I'll always be a recovering burner.

So even though I'm totally against illegal CD burning, I find the messages on these shirts ridiculous. I have a low tolerance for the Christian Contemporary Music industry as is [read John Fischer's Fearless Faith], but this just pushes it to a new low. I have two gripes:

BEFORE I RANT: I was unable to figure out who actually produced these shirts. I bet the people who thought of the shirts aren't even the actual artists, but promoters and label execs who make a living off CCM artists. If this is the case, I apologize in advance to the innocent. I know these shirts don't totally reflect the entire CCM industry, but someone needs to be blamed. We had Sanctus Real at our church last week and they were some awesome guys. It's too bad that the people who made these stupid t-shirts give Christian performers a bad rep.

1) These people don't appreciate how blessed they are to be able to make a living from their music. True, God calls people to certain ministries and a worker is worth his keep [I Timothy 5:18], but is it really "a ministry" when you charge twenty to forty bucks to participate in it [by purchasing a CD or a concert ticket]? You might say, "But Steve, you get paid as a minister! People have to pay you for your ministry by giving offering to the church." In a sense this is true, but no one is forced to tithe to a church, unless they serve Kool-Aid or where Black Nike Shoes. I guess it'd be different if CDs and concert tickets were free and people were asked to donate to their music ministry. Being a CCM artist is a huge blessing and instead of retaliating against music piraters with t-shirts [which by the way cost $15 each, another way to make some cash], they should find a more appropriate way to preach against.

2) The message of the "Burn CDs, Burn in Hell" shirt is a calloused one. I'm not sure its creator realizes how insensitive it really is. If I'm a non-Christian and I see someone wearing one of the "Burn In Hell" t-shirts, am I more or less likely to understand the grace of Jesus? These CCM people are trying to be all edgy and hardcore using the word "hell" on a t-shirt. Congrats on that. It's about as offensive as those shirts with Jesus on them that say, "Body Piercing Saved My Life." I'm just not impressed. Just a sidenote, I'm rather leery of condemning people to hell- that's in God's job description and not mine. I try to stay in my place and leave the eternal damnation to Him.

I could say more, but I'm really tired of the whole thing. Sorry for ranting. I guess it's my wife's fault for showing me in the first place [kidding, Kel].

A Family's Story About The Tsunami

Ali Mueller is a young lady from our church who attends and plays soccer for Malone College. Back during the Thanksgiving holiday, she invited a couple of her teammates from Great Britain to spend the break here in Mason. One of the girls was named Fleur [how could you forget a name like that?] who attended Matt Redman's home church. Really nice girl. She and her family were in Sri Lanka when the tsunami hit. Her dad wrote up the story of their family's experience, which I offer up to you. We here in the States will never be able to fathom all that happened there, but I hope reading this will give us perspective. It's a little lengthy, but well worth the read. Just click here for a PDF version of the letter.

If you want to donate money to the relief effort, a great organization within our churches is IDES [the International Disaster Emergency Service]. You can be sure that all of your money will go to the cause.

If you smelllllllllll, what Steve is cooking!

Although it can be most useful, it's sometimes a bother to have a conscience. This past week was my 29th birthday so one of my Sunday School classes [shout out to the Curious?] threw me a little birthday gathering yesterday. They gave me twenty-nine of various things, from rolls of toilet paper, to antacid tablets, to marshmallows, to Westside jokes [which were really redneck jokes, Jen, so they don't count].

Anyway, the most unique gift was twenty-nine of those car air fresheners shaped like leaves [thanks, Tim]. The smell of all of them together was quite overpowering and, knowing that there was no way those were going home with me, I decided to throw them into Howard's office. All last night I felt sorta guilty; I mean, Howard always jokes around with everyone, but he's never done anything to warrant a smell punishment like that. The guy even buys me lunch at Skyline every once in awhile. So I came clean this morning, telling him I played a joke on him.

He really didn't notice to much. He thought someone had just plugged in an air-freshener to send him a message. So he thought it was funny. But for the next couple days, his office will emit the nice combination of Wild Cherry, Drakar Noir and Pine.

Back in the saddle again

Not that anyone's been wondering, but I've been on my very own Christmas break. It was a great time of sleeping in, reading some books, watching DVDs, and eating anything I could before buckling down and getting back in shape for 2005 [no seriously, I'm getting back into shape from my old soccer-playing days].

I've sorta missed my blogging, so maybe this thing is actually working out. I'll post some updates this week to make up for it.

WARNING: THIS POST IS RATED PG-13

I've been going back and forth, wondering whether or not to put the following on my blog because some one could be offended. But I, a minister no less, acknowledge that sex [within the boundaries of marriage] is a gift from God. So why should I be forced to treat it as if it's dirty? I did a little editing and decided to put this out there, hoping that the readership will be mature enough to appreciate it.

Everytime I see a replay of this Saturday Night Live sketch with Steve Martin I crack up, so here's my holiday humor for the season:

A Holiday Wish by Steve Martin
performed on Saturday Night Live December 1991

"If I had one wish that I could wish this holiday season, it would be that all the children to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.

"If I had two wishes I could make this holiday season, the first would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing in the spirit of harmony and peace. And the second would be for 30 million dollars a month to be given to me, tax-free in a Swiss bank account.

"You know, if I had three wishes I could make this holiday season, the first, of course, would be for all the children of the world to get together and sing, the second would be for the 30 million dollars every month to me, and the third would be for encompassing power over every living being in the entire universe.

"And if I had four wishes that I could make this holiday season, the first would be the crap about the kids definitely, the second would be for the 30 million, the third would be for all the power, and the fourth would be to set aside one month each year to have sex.

"Wait a minute, maybe the sex thing should be the first wish, so if I made that the first wish, because it could all go boom tomorrow, then what do you got, you know? No, no, the kids, the kids singing would be great, that would be nice. But wait a minute, who am I kidding? They're not going to be able to get all those kids together. I mean, the logistics of the thing is impossible, more trouble than it's worth! So -- we reorganize! Here we go. First, the sex thing. We go with that. Second, the money. No, we got with the power second, then the money. And then the kids. Oh wait, oh jeez, I forgot about revenge against my enemies! Okay, I need revenge against all my enemies, they should die like pigs in hell! That would be my fourth wish. And, of course, my fifth wish would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.

"Thank you everybody and Merry Christmas."

He's In The Jailhouse Now

A buddy of mine had a day in the County Court of Warren County yesterday, and I joined him there to lend moral support. In the long run it was a disappointment because, after three hours sitting there, he discovered that he didn't actually have to be there at all yesterday. Despite that mix-up, I'll have to admit that my time there was fascinating. Let me reflect on what I observed . . .

First, the ambiance. Definitely lacking. Cinder-block walls, uncomfortable seating, and horrible lighting [no windows in the place] set the stage for someone to go all Jerry Springer there. As a newer resident of Warren County, I guess I should be delighted that of all the tax payer financed county buildings up in Lebanon, they saved money on the judicial center. There were, however, five or six cameras throughout the courtroom and the proceedings were displayed on a flat-screen television directly behind the judge. I'm assuming the multiple cameras were set up to change with motion detectors. Either that or it's run by some really bored Wright State student working on a broadcasting internship, wondering who he ticked off to end up there.

Oh and I'm glad I didn't go to law school. It was so not like Law and Order, Perry Mason, or even Ally McBeal. I know that each job has different advantages and disadvantages, but after three hours of "blah, blah, no contest", I was bored stiff. For excitement, I almost stood up and objected, but the bailiff was a county officer with a real gun and would've loved the opportunity to light some red-headed guy. By the way, so many people needed a court appointed lawyer, I bet the Public Defender didn't even go home last night.

Also, the charges were so varied: from domestic assault, to speeding tickets, to going down a street with a road closed sign [four different people went down this road, most to make deliveries, and were ticketed. If I find out where it is, I'll help you steer clear]. The best was this guy who was up for a second misdemeanors for his "vicious dogs" being loose. They were a bulldog and a boxer. Am I alone in this, or did I miss the memo to fear bulldogs? And I thought boxers were just hyperactive. So for this second misdemeanors this guy has now been fined a total of $2500 for these dogs. Dude, just buy a cat and ship it off to Balco to toughen it up.

Finally, the thing that fascinated me the most, was the number of times I heard someone tell the judge, "Your Honor, you'll never see me in here again." Eight was my count. I had to keep from laughing out loud. If I were that judge I would keep a knife with me and etch a mark into my desk everytime I heard the phrase uttered. It'd be interesting to guess how many times in his career he's heard that. I'd be a horrible judge. I've turned the corner so that I believe most sob stories. But this guy was pretty impressive. Just doing his job. All I knew was that by the time I had left, I didn't want to see the inside of that courtroom again either.

I obeyed the speed limit coming back into Mason on Route 42, wore my seatbelt, and kept the bulldog on his leash.

"Stop Putting Words In My Mouth" -God

Apparently Moe's Southwest Grill is a great place to get a burrito; at least God thinks so. It seems this Orlando-based restaurant has caused quite a stir with it's latest attempt at advertising. Complaints have been rolling in for people who are offended by a billboard that simply says this:

"Eat at Moe's" -God

I'm sure you recognize the spoof of those ever popular billboards [black background with white text], aimed at convicting people with a message from God. Some examples of these messages are:

"What part of
'Thou Shalt Not . . .'
didn't you understand?" -God

"Keep using my name in vain,
I'll make rush hour longer." -God

"You think it's hot here? " -God

Angry Christians are responding that Moe's advertising makes light of the powerful name of God. A local pastor was quoted saying, "You just don't use God's name that way. It should not be taken lightly and casually. It is sacred. There are consequences to doing something like this. Judgment can come on these who use the Lord's name in such a vain fashion." While I agree with those first three sentences, I'm wondering if this guy thought those original billboards were acceptable. I'm sure he did. Yet it's not like those original God billboards are straight out of the gospel of Luke. Why do we get so offended at things like this Moe's billboard, but when we put words into God's mouth in the form of cute, trite sayings we're totally OK with it?

We ourselves don't have enough respect for the words and name of God, and then we're dumbfounded why the world doesn't. If all that God's word is good for is an advertising slogan or t-shirt logo, we're probably missing the point. I just look at how the Jews handle things. They will not say the name YHWH so as not to take it in vain. They go even further: in writing His name in English, they'll print "G-d", minus the "o" vowel, to avoid coming close to irreverence. And if they write "G-d" on a sheet of paper, they won't just throw it away, but will burn it and say a special prayer. Finally, my personal favorite, they won't read the Bible in the bathroom because that's getting sacred [God's Word] around something that's unclean [excrement]. That would kill my personal devotion life.

I'm not saying we need to do things like the Jews, but we should take the words of God that seriously. The next time you begin a phrase with "God said . . . " make sure you're really quoting Him, and not stating your opinion about what you think He said. For it does reveal in Scripture that He hates to be misquoted [Revelation 22:18,19].

I chuckled at the Moe's ad, not because it makes light of God, but because it rips on those original billboards. I think that those Christians are so angry because it mocks the advertising campaign they hailed as so creative. But maybe they're just too sensitive. I mean, where in the Bible does it say that God hates Tex-Mex food?

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.