A Good Day?

I started this post Monday morning. I never finshed. I'll explain why in a second.

"There's nothing like a good day [especially a Sunday] to make you charged up about another week.

God was definitely good yesterday as He showed himself throughout the day. Yesterday morning Dominic Delvechio [I never spell his name right] taught my morning Sunday School class so he could complete a requirement for a summer course he was taking at CCU. He did an awesome job. Even pulled out the Hebrew ["hevel" in the book of Ecclesiastes] during the lesson. It's cool to see God raise up new teachers and leaders right in front of you.

After church we played some softball. I had my game on, so it was a great time. Kelly is smoking the ball right now. It's all I can do to keep up with her. I mean, I don't want to be the guy invited to play because his wife is good.

We had our VBS carnival here at church after that. Every year we do snowcones. I don't like snowcones too much."

And that's were I ended. The day ended up well. For our college-age gathering [Catalyst], Tim Tucker gave his testimony. It was an amazing gathering. Later that night Kelly and I ended up sitting in her car in the CCM parking lot watching the Kings Island fireworks. We reflected about how it was a wonderful day. And then Monday happened.

It wasn't that Monday was bad, it was just crazy. We had an appointment to see the condo that we were interested in. As we were checking it out I received the call from the guy buying our home. His financing went through and they'll be buying our home. Good news. BUT the sale of their house went through so they'll be wanting to move in July 29th. Not so good news. They don't want to go through a home inspection for our house, so we'll get what we originally agreed on. More good news. BUT the condo we want to move into is smaller than our current place, so we'll have a bunch of stuff to get rid of. More not so good news. The condo we'll be getting is new construction. We'll get to pick out the tiles, cabinets, and fixtures and get a ten-year city tax abatement. Good news. BUT it won't be finished until the end of September. More not so good news.

So as the thought of the chaos that will be started to settle in, we got a little stressed-out. Combine the house stress with the new church items, and it's quite a cocktail. But as Kelly and I talked about it, we started to get excited. God has done nothing but take care of things. All we've done is trust him and things have gone great. Why worry now? We'll get rid of our excess stuff, rent a POD so we can keep our possessions in storage, and live with my parents until the place is finished [they won't even charge us rent]. Even though a lot is going on, it's all good. Nothing BUT good.

Life is all how you handle it. Sometimes I'm a champ and sometimes I'm a schlep, but overall I force myself to have good days. I like good days. And these have been some good days.

Ricky

Dear Ricky,

My name is Steve. How are you doing? I am fine. I've never met you before so I thought I would write this note so we can become better acquainted. I'm a minister here at Christ's Church in Mason, Ohio. It's a good place to be. I'm leaving soon, though; I'm getting ready to start a new church near downtown Cincinnati. It's exciting.

I'm about 5'9", 160 pounds with brown eyes and red hair. I've never really thought of it as red. It's more of a hybrid brown/red color. I've been married to my wonderful wife Kelly for almost seven years now. Serious, Ricky, she's awesome. We met in college. It's an interesting story. I'll have to tell you about it sometime.

So Ricky, what are you like? Do you think you can tell me a little bit about yourself? I've been trying to piece together a profile in my mind but I can't totally visualize- OH, I'M SORRY! I've written all this and have yet to let you know how I know you: apparently I have your old cell phone number. I've actually had it for over two years now. When I first got it, I was getting one or two of your calls a week. It's died down considerably, but every few months I get one of your calls. It's always a woman, but I can tell it's a different woman everytime. YOU 'DA MAN, RICKY! You got 'em lined-up, don't you?

Anyway, all of this brings me to the point of this letter. See, I was sound asleep last night, getting rest because I have to get up early Sunday morning to work [remember, I'm a minister!]. At 4:00 this morning I received a call on my cell phone. I woke up worried; a call that late at night[or early in the morning] is never good. I braced myself for some horrible news, answered the phone and heard, "Is Ricky there?" Somewhat relieved that it wasn't an emergency I muttered back, "Wrong number," and immediately hung up. Normally, Ricky, I don't mind a wrong number, but you know what I'm angry about, don't you buddy? So if you could let your lady friends know that you gave up that cell phone number over two years ago, that would be great.

Sorry if this note sounded harsh, but I just had to let you know. Things are still cool between us, Ricky, it's just I have to set up those boundaries. Hey, we should get together sometime soon and hang out. We could go bowling, or I still want to see that new Batman movie. It would be a blast.

Talk to you later,
steve

Bird's Eye View

I didn't fly on an airplane until I was twenty-two years old; our honeymoon flight to San Francisco was my very first. Since then, I've been on at least a dozen flights and I really don't care for flying too much. Sure, there's no way I would trade the amount of travel time saved by being in the skies, but I find flying an uncomfortable experience. I"m not afraid of flying, just annoyed. The cabin pressure beating on your ear drums, the icky food, and the obnoxious co-travelers are things I could do without [I know, right now, that my father-in-law is probably laughing at this little flying diatribe because he's flown more this year for IBM than I have in my entire life. I guess it makes me respect you all the more, Dave.]. Anyway, despite how horrible the experience can be, there is one thing that would make me head to CVG right now and hop a flight anywhere: the views.

I love the view from high above the ground. There's nothing more amazing than to be soaring the air and being able to recognize where you're flying. The house where I grew up in was under the landing patterns. I always wanted to be able to see our home from the sky. That's why I love flying in and out of the Cincinnati airport. I forget exactly where we were coming from, but a few years ago I was finally able to see the house. It was somewhat liberating.

Well thanks to technology, I can have that view anytime I want. Check out some place in America you want to see at Google Maps [or you can even type in an address]. Hit the "satellite" button and you can zoom in for a satellite view of practically anywhere in the US! Keep in mind the images area about two years old, but it's still fascinating. Last night I spent almost an hour looking at the Greater Cincinnati area, then scanned around to see some national landmarks. You can see the Golden Gate Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, Hoover Dam, and even the White House. I'll warn you in advance it can be addicting, so you might not want to try it work; you'll get nothing accomplished once you start. Now there's [almost] no reason for me to have to fly again.

Look! I can actually see my house from here.

Safety

As we've announced our move to start a church in urban Cincinnati, the one question we're constantly asked is, "Will you feel safe down there?" It's a question that both Kelly and I have struggled with throughout this process. During the week after we made our official announcement, there were two shootings within ten blocks of the building where [hopefully] our church will be meeting. We have friends and family members who are concerned for our wellbeing and have advised us to either invest in bulletproof vests or purchase assault rifles. It's wonderful when people are that enthusiastic and encouraging about the place to which you're moving. I won't lie and say that I'm fearless about relocating there but, at the same time, I'm refusing to buy into the Chicken Little gospel that some people are preaching to us.

In light of the terrible bombings in London earlier this morning, I think all of us need to come to grips with this question: how safe will we ever be? We might think you have a pretty safe existence because we've protected ourselves: living in the suburbs in a Midwestern American town, driving cars side-impact airbags, having three different bolt/lock combinations on our front doors, receiving yearly immunizations from infectious diseases. Safety, pure and simple. But we fool ourselves into thinking that just because we've isolated ourselves from apparent danger that we're free from harm. Despite our best intentions, we put ourselves in harm's way everyday. I don't mean to frighten, I just want us to realize that we've never been as safe as we've told ourselves we are.

There's a direct correlation between our feelings of safety and faith. I been thinking about all of this since my post from a couple of days ago. Everything we do in life is based upon faith. You don't live a day when you don't exercise faith in something or someone. That's why atheists crack me up; they definitely have faith, it's just everywhere but in God. When I hop in my Explorer to go someplace, I exercise immense faith. I trust that the automotive manufactures at Ford built a car that won't blow up. I trust that Shell sold me gasoline and not sugar water. I trust that county officials have synchronized the traffic lights so that everyone doesn't try to go through the intersection at the same time. I trust that the semi-truck driver that I'm tailgating secured his load well enough so it doesn't crush me. And obviously I trust hundreds of other drives to act responsibly behind the wheel of their car. I love the fact that the same people who lament over our safety in moving to the hood drive the expressway everyday [and don't worry, cell phones make them better drivers]. It's all about faith.*

We repeatedly live by faith, but want to hold back when it comes to our personal safety. It's my belief that sin emerges when we substitute our worship of safety for our worship of God. When we trust in the items of this world to protect us and not the Creator of the Universe, we're not practicing true faith. How safe will we ever really be? We were never promised safety in this world. Sin ruined it all. So as we go out to live our lives, we shouldn't deceive ourselves into thinking that we're ever truly safe. Maybe we'd do greater things if we didn't dwell on it so much.

* I wasn't sure where to fit this in, but think about the faith you have in paper. You work hard everyday to receive a fair wage. Hardly any of you are paid with actual articles or items for your services rendered [sorry if I offended my mob friends with that statement]. No, you get a paycheck, a piece of paper, that you hope the bank will acknowledge so that you can get more paper: cash. You then go into a retail establishment and trust that they will acknowledge that paper as having value so you can purchase what you want. Your entire livelihood is based on imaginary numbers expressed through pieces of paper.

It's truly a fascinating thing to think about. For most of American history, the value of the dollar was linked to the gold standard, i.e. you could go to the government and request they give you gold for your dollars and they couldn't deny you. It was President Nixon in 1971 who removed the gold standard and, since then, the money you have in the bank and in your pocket are based on the faith of the United States government. How safe does that make you feel?

C'est La Vie!

I've been waiting four years for this and it became official this morning: London was awarded the 2012 Olympics. Now that the announcement has been made, the rest of my day will be a let down, so I might as well get it all out of my system.

This was a gigantic upset, so we're led to believe by media commentators that are apparently clueless. Paris was the front-runner throughout the entire competition and, early this morning, underdog New York City was kicked to the curb. Like I said, it might have been a shock, but I knew it was coming. In fact, I'm taking credit for single-handedly thwarting the French host effort. Want to learn how? Keep reading.

We were just in Paris this past spring and it was amazing how far those people were going to make a good impression. They put these "Paris 2012" signs everywhere, including landmarks like the Eiffel Tower [I felt it looked cheap, so all the pictures I took were on the other side of the tower. Here's one I took at night above]. Everything was lining up perfectly in their Olympic bid until the French got a little too big for their britches. We were ready to leave Israel on our Air France flight to spend a day in gay Paris [insert correct French pronunciation there]. Right before we were to leave Tel Aviv, the entire country of France decided to go on strike; not any individual company or union, mind you, but the whole nation. I guess the cost of living is out of control there and the people felt they needed to take a stand: by taking a few days off. So we were stuck in Jerusalem a few days until Air France finally got their act together and brought us to Paris. We were told we'd have hotel vouchers for a couple of days until they could get us back to the States.

Of course, when we arrived, Air France said they had no idea about any vouchers. We were stuck in the airport with nowhere to lay our head. It was ridiculous. Our group set up a mini-campground right in the middle of a terminal connection in Charles De Gaulle airport. It was late at night, we were exhausted from days of being redirected and I was getting a tad irritable. So while sitting with my back against a wall and my backpack on my lap I made the following statement:

"France sucks."

Now I didn't say it shout it out, but I'm sure those in the immediate vicinity heard me. It was a rather crowded airport, so you can't be entirely sure who caught my complaint. But this just happened to be the same weekend that the International Olympic Committee was visiting Paris to see if they would be the host site. Do you see the connection? As I uttered my lament about the vacuumonous tendencies of the French Republic, I guarantee that those IOC members walked past me. The judge from Belgium must have heard me and thought to himself, "Perhaps this red-headed American is right? Maybe France does indeed suck. I'm voting for the British." And that was the end of Paris' Olympic bid.

Just to make sure we understand each other, I'm not a person prone to proclaim racist statements; I actually abhor racism. But I don't think it counts with the French. And honestly, I only dislike them because of their hatred for America. I mean, we did save their butts in World War 2, bought Louisiana from them, and they still dislike us. As far as I'm concerned, what goes around comes around.

So congratulations England! You owe me one. A Manchester United jersey would be payment enough. Oh, and a piece of David Beckham's hair. It's the least you can do for what I did for you.

No Doubt About It

Earlier I used this post to show the recently crowned the world's ugliest dog. My wife thought that the graphic nature of the photo would discourage people from checking out the blog, so I took down the picture. Sorry. Here's the link to get to the picture. Do look. You won't regret it.

Anyone Have 229 Candles?

Having experienced twenty-nine of them now, I can confidently say that Independence Day truly baffles me. Of all American holidays, this is by far the most bizarre. People take the celebration of our country's freedom rather seriously but choose to honor it in various ways. Allow me a few moments to reflect on some these moments of Americana.

Yesterday morning we decided to go to Mimi's Cafe for breakfast. We expected to wait for an hour or more because the place is always packed [especially on holidays], but we were seated immediately. While many stores were open for business July 4th, there were occasional establishments that decided to close their doors; the ones that remained open [like Meijers and Sam's Club] were crowded. Total unpredictability when it comes to shopping on this holiday.

Then, apparently, nothing says America like the annual hot dog eating contest. I had no idea that this thing has been going on for 90 years now. Can you believe the idiots that got together all those years ago [during a World War, mind you] that decided it would be a good idea to see who could eat the most hot dogs? I guess what's even worse than that is the fact that I know the name of the Grand Champion. It's Kobayashi from Japan. He's won five years in a row and won yesterday by downing 49 hot dogs in 12 minutes. How do I know all this, you ask? It was televised on ESPN yesterday. No, not on ESPN The Ocho, but on regular ESPN. I watched the pregame [seriously] but couldn't stand to watch the disgusting display. Constestants make the wieners go down easier by soaking them in water. If you've never seen it, don't.

Two last notes before moving on: 1) the craziest thing was that the announcers kept referring to hot dog eating as a sport. A SPORT?!?!? Sorry friends, but I'm letting NASCAR in as a sport way before I include eating pig carcass. And 2) Stinkin' Kobayashi weighs 100 pounds soaking wet. There are these huge 300 pounders in the competition and they can't hang with the man. I mean, these are guys who really know how to eat; their training shows. It's truly sad, but nothing says Independence Day like Kobayashi.

Finally we ended up the day at out my brother's house in Indiana for the great Carr family gathering, with Tim using the $40,000 boom truck as a make-shift flag pole. A great time of food, corn-hole and fun which culminated in a fireworks display. And with all the kids around, there was the obligatory appearance of sparklers. I'm assuming everyone's familiar with sparklers: metal rods of flaming magnesium made especially for kids to run around with on the 4th of July. Wonder who the creative genius was who thought that this was a good idea. Probably the same guy who's marketing the asbestos sweater for toddlers. I don't think I'm too over protective of the next generation but, until we were older, dad made us wear leather work gloves to protect ourselves from getting burned. Sure enough, my wonderful nephew couldn't resist the lure of touching the burnt portion, giving him a lesson he won't forget.

What a day! America! America! God shed His grace on thee! Too bad we have to wait a whole 'nother year to do it again.

My Unbelief

Do you believe in God?

Seems like an appropriate question on a Sunday morning. I'm sitting here in a church, in the office of a minister [it's my own office, in case you're wondering] asking myself that question. The honest answer?

Yes and no.

Before you shout towards the heavens for fire and brimstone to rain down on my already red head, I guess I should explain those answers. Of course I believe that God exists. Most of us have had moments of doubt when we're unsure if there's really more to this life. I've had a few of those "wake up in the middle of the night with your mind racing about your own existence" experiences in my life, but I've never dwelled on them; I never enjoyed an extended period of atheism. I just can't buy it. There must be a God. There's just too much in the world that makes sense to make Him not make sense.

Yet I've still had plenty of moments when I haven't believed in God. Throughout the whole starting a new church endeavor, we've tried to put everything in God's hands. From where the church is going to meet to how we're going to get money, we've been releasing the stress and worry to Him. But I haven't been consistent. Which is ironic, because God has been nothing but consistent. This past week, as most of you know, we put our house up for sale. Selling it ourselves and not advertising it left me worrying that we were in trouble and might not sell it. But within 48 hours a couple had made an offer. Then I was worried about getting the contract taken care of and, despite my doubts, God provided legal counsel to help us out through the transaction. And just after we signed it and I asked myself "what if this doesn't go through?" we received a back-up offer on the house. It's simply amazing that, despite my lack of belief, God still comes through.

It reminds me of an encounter Jesus had in an area of northern Israel immediately after his transfiguration. We read in Mark 9 that, as He returned from His mountain-top experience, His disciples tried unsuccessfully to heal a boy who was demon-possessed. In talking with the boy's father, the man pleads for Jesus to drive the evil spirit out. The exchange goes like this:

Boy's Father: "But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."
Jesus: "'If you can'? Everything is possible for him who believes."
Boy's Father: "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"

The very reason the man brought his son to Jesus is because he knew Jesus had the power to heal. But even as he stood there before Him, we still doubted Jesus' ability to cure his son. This experience serves as a lesson to the disciples about faith, a lesson that rings true to us today. Although we think we have faith in God we still hold our doubts as to whether He will provide for our needs in this world. And that is the unbelief that needs curing. I still have plenty of question marks in my mind about what the next few months hold as far as this church goes. I still harbor doubts in my mind about God's provision for us. But to Him I ask the same thing that the boy's father did: Lord, help me overcome my unbelief.

Money for nothin' . . .

I have to admit it: I'm an MTV addict.

I remember when we were growing up and we weren't allowed to watch Music Television because it was of the devil. Unfortunately, I fell into the devil's grip as Cyndi Lauper sang about the ultimate desire of girls [to have fun, in case you were uncertain]. I've been watching ever since. Of course they've not been playing as much music on MTV anymore, but they still had those compelling shows that achieve car wreck status: you know you shouldn't stare, but the spectacle draws you in.

You might be appalled that a minister would tune in to such programming, but I believe that MTV has been THE driving force in American culture during the past twenty years. MTV started August 1, 1981 [now Kelly finally knows why I wanted to get married on the first of August]. So the first teens who tuned in then would now be hitting forty. In the eighties, the network was acquired by media giant Viacom and has never looked back. PBS did an interesting look at the effect MTV was having on today's youth in a documentary a few years back. So if you want to know what's cool and what people idolize in the world today, this is the place to look.

What they've managed managed to do is create shows that appeal to the broad spectrum of views, from teens to adults. The Osbournes is a prime example. When that show came out a few years back the majority of teens had no idea who Ozzy or Black Sabbath were, but they loved watching the Osbourne kids and their crazy parents. They captured lightning in a bottle, and have done it more than once. I've loved shows like Made, Pimp My Ride, and Newlyweds, tuning in weekly to watch. And every once in awhile, I can even tolerate a season of the Real World [but we never miss the Real World/Road Rule Challenges]. Oh, and if anyone has a tape of the MTV Movie Awards let me know because we had a bad tape in at the time. For years, the programming was brilliant.

But the finally might be losing their touch. Recently they're putting less compelling junk out there and I'm not buying. This week I flipped to MTV and there was this Andy Milonakis show on. It's this kid who has done bits with Jimmy Kimmel with his own show doing his best Tom Green impersonation. Combine this with crap like the Ashlee Simpson show and Meet the Barkers and I'm watching Beauty and the Geek on WB.

I guess that's problem for the network that's obsessed with being cool. As anyone who hangs around with high school or college students knows, it's tough staying up-to-date on what's popular. One day you're on top of the heap, the next day you're upchuckin' in the gutter. They need to decide what they're programming is about because I'm starting to resonate more with VH1 [Best Week Ever rocks]. But maybe that's just the sign that I'm transitioning in life. They always used to say that VH1 was the network for old hipsters and I sure did love watching Styx on Behind the Music.

Come to think of it, maybe I've finally beat my MTV addiction. In the immortal words of generational philosopher Huey Lewis, "I want a new drug."

A Very, Very, Very Fine House

Sorry, but posting has taken a backseat here recently to real life drama. About 8pm Monday night Kelly and I put the "For Sale" sign out in the front yard. I didn't realize it would be such an emotional experience, but I swear it was. Over the past three years we invested a lot of ourselves into this place, and it's going to be difficult to part with it. Don't get me wrong, we're ecstatic about the thought of getting into a condo and getting rid of the lawn mower. But we've done our best to make this house our own and we take pride in this dwelling God has allowed us the privilege to use.

On the sign out front, we have one of those information tubes attached and, as of this morning, people have taken about fifteen of our info sheets. Yesterday afternoon I received my first call from someone wanting to check out the place. He's coming by this afternoon. As if that wasn't weird enough, last night we were out to dinner with Aaron and Dorota and someone called wanting to see it ASAP. We left dinner, went home, hurriedly picked up around the house and met them. They loved the place. About 11pm they called with an offer. Now it's wheeling and dealing time. The thought that we could have a contract on the house by the end of the day blows my mind.

All Kelly and I can do is laugh and proclaim that it's a God-thing. Even though we're excited about Echo Church and what the future holds, this whole process had the makings of a high stress experience. But the very first couple that walks through the place loves it and wants to buy it. It all reiterates my belief that this is God opening doors for the future. I told Kelly last night that starting this church will be one of the most difficult things we ever do in our lives so maybe God is giving us a break up front to keep us going.

He is good, indeed.

A picture's worth . . .

Blogger finally added a feature where you can directly add pictures to the site without using another photo-editing program. Since that was the only way you used to be able to do it, I never bothered. So now you'll hopefully see more photos on the blog. I decided the first one I'd post would be one of my favorite. This is my lovely wife waiting for a bus. But she wasn't really waiting for a bus. It's a photo for the book she's been editing.

My Precious!

This should be the day that we put the "For Sale" sign out in the front of our house. It's taken a tad longer to get everything done that we wanted to, but God is good and I'm not worried about us selling it. Worst case scenario, we hang on to it and have to commute downtown, but I really don't think that'll happen. He's taken care of everything else to this point, why would He stop now?

Anyway, I know this post started out sounding profound, but I'm about ready to go junior high on y'all, so be prepared. Getting all these things ready forced me to run my body ragged. I have bruises and cuts all over, but nothing that really bothered me. Until Saturday, that is. There was a little black speck on the palm side of my ring finger that I couldn't identify. I thought it was splinter so I sorta dug at it but found nothing. I tried to ignore it, but it started swelling up and throbbing. Something was wrong.

Note to reader: I'm about to get a tad descriptive here, so if you're the queasy type, you might want to skip forward to the next paragraph. I realized that there was some kind of liquid in my finger that needed to be released, so I tried to squeeze the sucker out. It worked brilliantly. Kid you not, a stream of fine, clear liquid came out, squirting me in the eye. I had never seen anything like it before, but I was at church and couldn't tell anyone. Later, when Kelly and I were alone in the car I admitted it to her, but she wasn't buying the story. I then repeated the process and, sure enough, there was Old Faithful, jetting out of my finger. My wife became a believer. Also she was impressed at the trajectory I was able to produce. I was able to make it do that trick five times until it was done. Disgusting? Yes, but rather cool.

So when I woke up Sunday morning, my finger was swollen to the point that it was pressuring my wedding ring. While showering I used soap to lube it up and, quite painfully, took it off my finger. As I left for church I told Kelly I couldn't wear my ring and she muttered a barely understandable, "Dat's OK, baby." My finger is still swollen and I've not put it on since then. It's been over 24 hours now. So here I am, for the longest period of my married life, not wearing my wedding band.

When we were engaged, I wasn't looking forward to wearing a wedding band. I had never worn jewelry and wasn't sure I could get used to it. I remember the first few weeks after we were married I would stare at the ring, wondering if it would ever feel natural. And now, almost seven years later, I feel total naked without it. I love that ring. It's become a part of me. I'm actually looking to putting it back on. I now see what Gollum was talking about. Married life fits me like a glove . . . um, or a ring.

Nothing to worry about, Kelly. I haven't been hit on yet.

If I Must, I Must

For all of you familiar with the gaudy [and ugly] statue of Jesus on Interstate 75 in front of the Solid Rock church, you might enjoy this.

Never Another Like Him

This weekend Billy Graham will hold his last evangelistic crusade in New York City. The 86 year-old preacher has been the unofficial figure-head of American Christianity for almost sixty years; Graham has been a spiritual advisor for every US President since Eisenhowser. I was fortunate enough to get to see him preach just a few years ago when he brought a crusade to Cincinnati. Even in his old age, it was a surreal experience to get to listen to his preaching live. I know that years after he's gone I will claim to have had the privilege to listen to one of the greatest preachers who ever lived.

What a testimony his life has been! While many high-profile preachers have had life indiscrepancies exposed to the public, Graham did his best to lead a life of integrity [I read in his biography of his rule to never be in a room or car alone with a woman who is not his wife, and I've tried to copy that philosophy in my own life]. He even has the respect of those who aren't Christian. His humility and loving demeanor was observed and appreciated by people from all different walks of life. In fact, the people most critical of his ministry were followers of Jesus who held him to an unrealistic, Phariseutical standard that not even the Lord Himself could live up to.
It's sad to think that this man, whom many Christians view as their preacher, won't be out there preaching anymore. There will truly be a gaping hole left that no one will ever be able to fill. I guess that's the question that people will now try to answer: who will be the next Billy Graham? I've heard speculation from people that perhaps Rick Warren, TD Jakes, or even Franklin Graham would be able to step up and fill his father's shoes. I just don't think it's possible. I doubt we will ever see [in the United States anyway] the type of evangelistic crusades that Here are just a few thoughts as to why I think there will never be another Billy Graham.

First, I feel that the moment has passed. Post World War II, America was ripe for the harvest. Someone was needed to come and preach the Word in the way that Graham did; he contextualized the message of the gospel brilliantly. I could be mistaken, but I think Grahams crusades emphasized calling the lost sheep home. America was still a Christian society, but people had given up on practicing their faith and left the church. The crusades were perfect for that. It was like inviting people to come back what they knew to be true- to Jesus and to the Word of God.

Fifty years later we have evolved into a post-Christian society, where people have little to no familiarity with the church. I just don't think we'll ever see those types of crowds that Billy was able to call because there is no respect shown to the church and to the Bible. That's how Graham was able to draw in his crowd. Today's society would tend to view such crowds as cultish and would probably steer away from them. In that same vein, fewer people are coming to faith now a days because of the crowd mentality. One-on-one evangelism will be the trend of the future. And it's rather Biblical. Sure, we like to cite the crowds on the Day of Pentecost in Acts 2 that came forward, but read the rest of the book and you notice that crowds didn't work out to well[Acts 17 in Athens and Acts 19 in Ephesus]. I'm not saying that large evangelistic crusades won't work anymore, but the time has expired on that trend.

Also, [this is not meant to be a criticism, but an honest evaluation] the evangelistic crusades have been ineffective for years. Recently, Graham's campaigns have thrived more on his celebrity than on the actual mission to reach out to people. These crusades have become such a part of our psyche that when it comes to town, the Christians go. When we went to the crusade in Cincinnati a few years ago, I was amazed at the masses who went forward during the invitation time. I noticed, however, that the majority of people who descended to the stage area were counselors trained to meet with the people who came forward. I saw only a couple of people actually going forward to make a decision. I'm not saying that people didn't find Jesus there, but it's nowhere near the amounts of conversions that were seen at the crusades forty and fifty years ago. Personally, I went to the crusade for one thing: to be able to say that I've heard one of the greatest preachers of all time; I felt it was my obligation as a Christian to go. And I think that's why many have gone for years.

Finally, I think there'll never be another Billy Graham because it was a God thing. The Lord called him at a specific time for a specific purpose and did what he needed to do. Read Scripture and you'll see people who were successful because the mission was tailored to their talents and abilities. Switch the callings of Esther and Samson and how do they do in their different roles? Perhaps the question is, do we really need another Billy Graham now anyway? I would say that we don't need the next Billy Graham, but an army of them- disciples of Jesus who are passionate about reaching out to people with the message of God. So instead of us searching for a person to fill his shoes, we should get our own pair and do our best to walk like he walked or, even better, as Jesus walked.

There will never be another preacher as influential in America as Billy Graham has been. As a young preacher of the Word of God, I'm forever grateful that he heeded the call. Thanks Billy.

You're a Grand Old Flag

Warning: Discussion on politics ahead. Proceed at your own risk. Every time I write "politics" I think of the joke that said in order to find out about politicians you need to do a word study. "Politicians" is derived from the word "politics" which can be broken down even further. The first part of "politics" is "poly" meaning "many" and the second part is "tics" which is "a blood thirsty insect." Sorry, had to drop that in there.

What absolutely drives me crazy is that the older I become, the more I feel like a liberal. This is an almost out of body type feeling since I was raised during the Reagan Administration when conservatism ruled the land. There was good [Americans] verses evil [Russians]. All good Christian people voted Republican and . . . um, there was the other side. I was a true blue Elephant man, even voting for Bob Dole when he had no chance of winning the '96 election and, if he did, would probably have bored the economy into a depression. But now things are different. I really don't think that I changed as much as the Republican party has changed. Not that it's any of your business, but I actually voted for a guy named Michael Peroutka from the Constitution Party in the last election because his views matched mine closer than the current President. I mean, I don't jive with all their stuff, but related more to them than I did the Grand Old Party.

So this introduction brings me to this: he US Congress is trying to push through the flag burning amendment amendment. Apparently the last time they tried to enact legislation, the Supreme Court overruled it as a violation of free speech. So the only way to supersede that ruling would be to amend the constitution. They've tried to do it before unsuccessfully, but it now appears that they might actually have enough votes to get it passed. The amendment made its way through the House and is headed for the Senate.

I remember being in high school the last time this discussion came up and, then, I would have applauded such an amendment; who wants a bunch of hippies burning the flag that American soldiers fought and died for [I should say that they "fought and died under" but I believe some would say they actually died for the flag. Which is an incredibly sad thought: I hope they didn't give their lives for a flag]. Previous generations have a different view of the flag than we do. In the days of World War there was an importance attached to it. Here's an interesting note: while the majority of churches in America today have American flags on their stages, this wasn't commonplace until after World War 1. But during the years that followed, it became almost Biblical to hang a flag in the auditorium. I would bet that the display of the Christian Flag in churches resulted from American flags being present. Still, try to move an American flag from their prominent place in the church and see what happens [been there done that]. It's more egregious to touch the flag than mess with the communion table or the pulpit.

Flags don't carry the same symbolism as they used to. Two stories to prove it. 1) About six years ago my Mom gave me a towel that someone had given her that was printed as an American Flag. You could have strung this sucker up on a flag pole for the Fourth of July. For the longest time, I didn't know what to do with it. I could've taken it to the beach, but how respectful would it have been to lay out on the American flag? But I guess the people who mass manufactured them thought it wasn't disrespectful. And 2) just last Tuesday was Flag Day. For some strange reason, I decided to wear red, white, and blue [thanks Old Navy for your sporty polos] and observe how many people did the same. I swear, I didn't see anyone else remembering the day.

So getting back to the issue, do people really care about the flag anymore? Maybe we've finally realized that it's a simple piece of cloth. And do people really care enough about the flag that we need Congress working on a constitutional amendment to ban people from burning it? How many flag burnings have you seen in America recently? This is pure politics, with Congressmen [and Congresswomen] vying to look the most patriotic. The irony is this: during this time of unconstitutional legislation like the Patriot Act, which limits people's individual freedoms, Republicans in Congress are more concerned about saving the flag which represents those freedoms that they're now trying to take away [I know that's a run-on sentence, but does that make sense?].

So now I'm a liberal. Great. Thanks to the Republican Party for sending me to the dark side of the force. Just do me this favor: while you're in the mood of passing legislation that has absolutely nothing to do with the life of Americans, pass a law making it illegal for Ashlee Simpson to sing in public.

Now that's an issue where conservatives and liberals can agree.

Steve Carr, you just finished your Diet Coke. What are you going to do now?

I'm going to Disney World!

You Can Quote Me On That

The American Film Institute keeps coming out with these top 100 movie lists. It started a few years back for the organization's 100th anniversary, but the ratings are so good that they keep bringing them back. Last night they did the top 100 all-time movie quotes. You can check out the entire list here [number one was Rhett Butler's "Frankly my dear" from Gone With The Wind], but I wanted to contribute a few of my favorites that didn't quite make the list.

"She was a thief, you got to believe, she stole my heart and my cat."
Charlie in So I Married An Axe Murderer

"You the man now, dog!"
Sean Connery's character in Finding Forrester

"It's only a flesh wound."
The Black Knight in The Search For the Holy Grail

"A gun rack? I don't even own a gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack." Wayne Campbell in Wayne's World

"Are you saying Jesus Christ can't hit a curve ball?"
Harris in Major League

"I'm your Huckleberry."
Doc Holliday in Tombstone

"I wanted to meet interesting and stimulating people of an ancient culture, and kill them."
Private Joker in Full Metal Jacket

"This town needs an enema!"
The Joker in Batman

"Luke, I am your father."
Darth Vader in The Empire Strikes Back

Feel free to leave your own in the comments area below.

Progress Report

Things are getting done on the house. Carol Carlile [shout-out] came by Monday night to help Kelly weed around the house. And there were a lot of weeds. She's coming back this weekend to help mulch. What a nice lady.

I rented this vacuum from Krogers yesterday to clean our carpets. It was one of those professional jobbers that uses water and then extracts it so you can see how dirty your carpets really were. We have this carpet in our living room that I was sure would need to be replaced, but the vacuum rocked it. No you can definitely tell that the carpet is pink. Too cool.

Just short related story about my lovely wife. We were working around the house late on Monday night, and only got about 5 hours of sleep. She came home yesterday after work exhausted, so she took a short nap. Sometimes she wakes up after short periods of sleep with a little disorientation. And yesterday was one of those times. She bounced up from her slumber and sorta swung at her nightstand, knocking over her cup full of Diet Coke. Yep, all over the carpet I had just vacuumed. You know, dork that I am, that I was a tad frustrated. But with all the hard work she's done over the past few weeks [um, and the past eight years of putting up with me] I couldn't be mad at her. The good thing is that the carpets were still a bit moist and the Diet Coke cleaned up in no time. Crisis averted. I love you Kel, even though you're sometimes spastic when you wake up.

So anyway, things are happening. We should have this place up for sale this weekend.

Happy Birthday Brian Coates!

His was the first blog I'd ever read. Way to turn a year older. My international tribute to you.

I Thought Sloth Was A Prehistoric Animal

I like to think I'm a hard working guy but I think, at my core, I'm just lazy. I suspect there are many of you like me who, when a tough job comes around, embrace it enthusiastically but then hit the point of "that's good enough" [or what used to be referred to as the "good enough for the girls I date" principle].

It was a good weekend for getting stuff finished around the house as Kelly's dad came up and did some outside house painting with us; the in-laws have come through huge with lending a hand during our fix-up-the-house period we're in. But as we're up on the roof, in an area that you know no one will ever see, you're faced with the decision of whether to do the best job you can or walk away. I sorta went halfway, glopping some paint down and easing off on ascetic brush strokes. The outside of the house looks stellar now, by the way [Kelly painted the garage door all by her lonesome and I now stare at it before hitting the garage door opener].

But back to my laziness, which was made evident to me in a totally unrelated incident. I wear contact lenses and use a saline solution called Quick Care. I go through a bottle about every month and a half. I'm not very good with contact care; I have monthly disposables, so I really never clean them the way I should. So when it comes to opening a new box to get the bottle and the lens case, I'm swift to get what I need and get out of there. Why waste time with contacts when there's Sports Center to be watched?

On every new bottle of Quick Care, there's one of those safety seals so you know that no one has tampered with the product. You don't have to take the seal off in order to get the lid off [think the little pull tab on the lid of a gallon of milk]. It's been five days now and I have yet to remove the piece of plastic wrap from the cap. Hence, I am lazy.

I mean, do you know how long it would take me to remove that plastic? No time at all. But I leave it there out of pure spite. Why should I waste even a couple seconds of my life when it won't effect my ability to use the solution? But, unfortunately, this isn't the only incident of laziness in my life that I can cite.

Every time I leave my shoes on the floor instead of putting them in the closet, every time I buy something new and leave the box lying around for three weeks, every time I leave the toilet seat up, every time I stack papers on my desk in a pile instead of going through them, I just prove my laziness. But I'm motivated to change! I will no longer let little things go, but will move headstrong into a world where I eliminate these distractions to move on to bigger and better things! But right now probably isn't the best time. I'm just gonna sit here in my chair and contemplate putting my new lifestyle into action.

Man, my contacts are bothering me right now.