Trump just fired four people at once on the Apprentice tonight. Now that's good T.V.
Working It
Every morning when I walk into work, before the sun is up, I glance over at the store next to Panera: Family Christian Store. Every morning I wonder if I should give in and try to get a job there.
I guess you could say I'm more qualified to be working there. Everything seems to point to me being qualified as their perfect employee. I mean, I have Bible college and Seminary degrees, I have all 66 books of the Bible memorized, and I have an Ichthus tattoo on my ankle [actually that could be a strike against me among the Leviticus 19:28 crowd]. But then again, I'd have to whore myself out and sell Jesus junk all day long- stuff like this- and answer questions like, "Do you have the Twila Paris CD?" Just don't think I could take that.
It's not that working at Panera is horrible. I'm thankful that I have a job that allows me this ministry flexibility [no nights and weekends]. It's just a somewhat monotonous job and you are constantly dealing with some customers who just can't be made happy. Of course, that last sentence could describe being in the ministry.
I'm not in danger of quitting anytime soon; I think I can hang on until the new year. But then again, I'm not quite sure where else I would work. I just looked at the calendar and realized I've only been with Panera for six and a half weeks. Seems like it's been a lot longer. And I'm actually starting to hit my stride. They even have me training other people now. How scary is that: there are people who are now looking at me as an old timer. Maybe it's all just growing pains.
So for about two seconds every day I glance over at Family Christian, and then I plow through the front door, put my apron on and get to work. And I thank God that I don't have to bite my tongue as people buy Joel Olsteen books.
I guess you could say I'm more qualified to be working there. Everything seems to point to me being qualified as their perfect employee. I mean, I have Bible college and Seminary degrees, I have all 66 books of the Bible memorized, and I have an Ichthus tattoo on my ankle [actually that could be a strike against me among the Leviticus 19:28 crowd]. But then again, I'd have to whore myself out and sell Jesus junk all day long- stuff like this- and answer questions like, "Do you have the Twila Paris CD?" Just don't think I could take that.
It's not that working at Panera is horrible. I'm thankful that I have a job that allows me this ministry flexibility [no nights and weekends]. It's just a somewhat monotonous job and you are constantly dealing with some customers who just can't be made happy. Of course, that last sentence could describe being in the ministry.
I'm not in danger of quitting anytime soon; I think I can hang on until the new year. But then again, I'm not quite sure where else I would work. I just looked at the calendar and realized I've only been with Panera for six and a half weeks. Seems like it's been a lot longer. And I'm actually starting to hit my stride. They even have me training other people now. How scary is that: there are people who are now looking at me as an old timer. Maybe it's all just growing pains.
So for about two seconds every day I glance over at Family Christian, and then I plow through the front door, put my apron on and get to work. And I thank God that I don't have to bite my tongue as people buy Joel Olsteen books.
Seeing Reds
Game three of the World Series is tonight with The White Sox heading into Houston with a three game lead. It was fifteen years ago that another team went on the road with a two game lead in the World Series. The Cincinnati Reds ended up sweeping the Oakland A's in four games. ESPN Classic is showing a recap of the 1990 series right now. As I watch it, random thoughts are entering my head, such as . . .Who was Billy Bates? Little Billy scored the winning run in game two of that series, after only having something like three at bats the entire season. I remember watching him earlier that season race a cheetah before a game. I guess that kind of cross-training helped.
McGwire definitely did steroids. They just did an interview with him and I swear that I currently have McGwire's pre-roid physique.
Glenn Braggs was a horse. In game four, he broke a bat swinging as it shattered over his back.
Every man in Oakland had a mullet in 1990. And so did half the women. All hail the Mississippi Mud Flap.
How cool were the Nasty Boys? Cincinnati's bullpen of Rob Dibble, Norm Charlton and Randy Myers shut everyone down that season. "My name's not baby, it's Janet. Miss Jackson if you're . . .
I still don't miss Riverfront Stadium. The worst thing about remembering that World Series is having to envision that stinkin' astroturf.
I admit: I wanted a pair of Chris Sabo glasses. There were cool . . . in 1990.
I remember standing in my living room along with my dad and brothers watching Todd Benzinger catch the final out of that series. Maybe someday my child will get to see the Reds win a World Series. Or maybe I'll just have to reminisce about 1990 for them. Spend some more money, Mr Lindner.
*postscript 1: As for the photo, I met Marge Schott when I was a youth minister at a church near her Indian Hill home. It was at a convenience store where she was buying cigs and a lottery ticket. Oh Marge, that was so like you!
*postscript 2: Following this show they started showing the life of Johnny Bench. As good of a player that guy was, he's one of the most arrogant players in Reds history. Great player, but no Pete Rose.
I Am Carnivor
We grilled out tonight. Yeah, there's nothing like grilling out burgers in sub-fifty degree, rainy weather. I finally broke down and got a grill at the beginning of the summer and I've enjoyed being able to cook up a good burger once every couple of weeks. And now, with the grill just outside the front door, I might keep this up throughout the winter.
I love eating meat. Most Biblical scholars agree that meat wasn't permitted for man to eat until after Noah's flood [speaking of this, can you imagine those unfortunate Jews who never knew the pleasure of eating pig? Thank God for Peter's vision]. Not sure if I could've handled that.
Working in a more cultured part of town, I'm running into more and more vegetarians. Not quite sure I get that. I know some people are vegetarians because they want to save animals. But the entire world is never going to quit eating meat, so all this does is delay the inevitable. It's not like they let those cows free to roam the hills. Other people are vegetarians because they're against something having to die so that they can eat. But don't plants have to die too? Can't you hear the cry of innocent cucumbers calling out from the grave? Who speaks for them? Now if you're a vegetarian because of the health issues, I can respect that. But they make lean meat, don't they?
Come, my vegetarian friends: give meat a chance.
I love eating meat. Most Biblical scholars agree that meat wasn't permitted for man to eat until after Noah's flood [speaking of this, can you imagine those unfortunate Jews who never knew the pleasure of eating pig? Thank God for Peter's vision]. Not sure if I could've handled that.
Working in a more cultured part of town, I'm running into more and more vegetarians. Not quite sure I get that. I know some people are vegetarians because they want to save animals. But the entire world is never going to quit eating meat, so all this does is delay the inevitable. It's not like they let those cows free to roam the hills. Other people are vegetarians because they're against something having to die so that they can eat. But don't plants have to die too? Can't you hear the cry of innocent cucumbers calling out from the grave? Who speaks for them? Now if you're a vegetarian because of the health issues, I can respect that. But they make lean meat, don't they?
Come, my vegetarian friends: give meat a chance.
Just for kicks
Congrats to the soccer team at my alma mater, Cincinnati Christian University, who won their regional championship today. They played at Xavier University, right up the street from us now, so I had a chance to witness their 7-0 thumping of Kentucky Christian. Their victory meant yet another mustard yellow regional banner will hang in President's Hall. Despite the ugliness of that banner, it's still a beautiful sight to me.
It was ten years ago that I started playing college soccer but had to quit after the first two games of the season. I needed to work to pay off college bills. They ended up winning the regional championship for the first time ever that year. The bad taste of missing out stuck with me for years; it was even worse that my friends on the team rubbed it in that I didn't win a banner. I played the next year ["the year of the squirrel" that my buddy Jason killed and skinned- another story for another time], but we lost the championship game on penalty kicks after two overtimes. Finally there was my senior year when we screwed it up royally.
I desperately wanted to have a banner to call my own so, left with one year of eligibility, I convinced my wife to let me play while I was a full-time graduate student. It was probably the worst team I played on my whole time at school but somehow we won the regional tournament that year. We clinched the regional championship against Kentucky Christian on their own field. It was pretty cool. I played some of my best soccer that year. Yes, I finally got my banner. I have a great picture of me holding the banner that I really need to scan and post.
The difference between those teams I played on and the one that won today is that these guys could actually win the national championship. I'm really pulling for them since I recruited a few of their seniors when I worked at the school. These guys are good. Really good.
Anytime Cincinnati beats Kentucky Christian is a good day. It was a good day.
It was ten years ago that I started playing college soccer but had to quit after the first two games of the season. I needed to work to pay off college bills. They ended up winning the regional championship for the first time ever that year. The bad taste of missing out stuck with me for years; it was even worse that my friends on the team rubbed it in that I didn't win a banner. I played the next year ["the year of the squirrel" that my buddy Jason killed and skinned- another story for another time], but we lost the championship game on penalty kicks after two overtimes. Finally there was my senior year when we screwed it up royally.
I desperately wanted to have a banner to call my own so, left with one year of eligibility, I convinced my wife to let me play while I was a full-time graduate student. It was probably the worst team I played on my whole time at school but somehow we won the regional tournament that year. We clinched the regional championship against Kentucky Christian on their own field. It was pretty cool. I played some of my best soccer that year. Yes, I finally got my banner. I have a great picture of me holding the banner that I really need to scan and post.
The difference between those teams I played on and the one that won today is that these guys could actually win the national championship. I'm really pulling for them since I recruited a few of their seniors when I worked at the school. These guys are good. Really good.
Anytime Cincinnati beats Kentucky Christian is a good day. It was a good day.
I Wash My Hands
"EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS FOR AT LEAST TWENTY SECONDS"
-sign in the bathroom at Biggs Supermarket in Hyde Park
Ladies, let me explain something to you about men: we don't like washing our hands after using the restroom. Right now there are some men reading, calling me a liar. I declare that you, my friend, are participating in the cover up. It's not that we're against cleanliness, but for quickness. Men enjoy the opportunity to get in and out of the bathroom in record time that is afforded to us as a result of our hardware. We'd rather not wash our hands, but we do anyway because we don't want to be that icky guy who doesn't wash. But the startling truth is THERE ARE SOME MEN WHO STILL FORSAKE THE HAND WASHING PRACTICE ALL TOGETHER. Sick. There's the episode of Seinfeld with Poppy, the restaurant owner, who didn't wash his hands after using the restroom; he's making Jerry's meal and he starts to get sick. He refuses to eat his meal, but is unable to say why. All men have witnessed a Poppy who made the noticable b-line from urinal to bathroom door. You want to say something, but there's almost like this unwritten code of non-confrontation in this issue. Perhaps, one day, I'll be bold enough to break the code of silence.
Oh, and not to cross the lines of TMI but I've even once witnessed the "fake-out hand wash," where a man turns on the faucet to pretend he is washing his hands but doesn't. I still haven't figured that one out. Why do almost all the work involved in washing your hands and stop short [second Seinfeld reference in the same post, but I guess it's apropos because this post is all about nothing]? All this info is rather disturbing, but it's rather true.
Especially now that I work in the food industry, I'm extra paranoid about the hand washing. I've never washed my hands so much in my life; I've scrubbed layers of skin from my hands in search of a cleaner manos. I think my hands are becoming more and more weathered as a result. Give me a few years and I'll be forced to become Edward Scissorhands.
About those signs in the bathrooms, I wonder if there are similar signs posted in women's restrooms. I'm sure there are, but it puzzles me. To my understanding, all women already wash their hands after using the restroom. And with the advent of this hand sanitizer crap, females are even more clean. So isn't this just a waste of signage, like labeling light switches? They'd be better served to double up signs in the men's bathroom.
But it was that sign at Biggs that really made me take notice. We've all seen an "employees must wash hands" sign, but have you ever seen one with a mandatory time limit? And 20 seconds? I'm not sure that stipulation helps any. Can you imagine a guy narking out another guy for stopping off at nineteen seconds? That would force a guy to go all "speck of sawdust vs. plank in the eye" on someone. I'm not sure I've ever witnessed a guy wash his hands for twenty seconds or more, outside of someone working with motor oil or gasoline. Twenty seconds? Count it out and see how it feels. Long time, eh? That's slaughterhouse time. Wash hands? Yes. Twenty second? Not to sure.
So just to reiterate: I wash my hands. And I'm rather proud of it. Men of the world, unite. Out those who flush and go.
But feel free to keep it under twenty seconds.
-sign in the bathroom at Biggs Supermarket in Hyde Park
Ladies, let me explain something to you about men: we don't like washing our hands after using the restroom. Right now there are some men reading, calling me a liar. I declare that you, my friend, are participating in the cover up. It's not that we're against cleanliness, but for quickness. Men enjoy the opportunity to get in and out of the bathroom in record time that is afforded to us as a result of our hardware. We'd rather not wash our hands, but we do anyway because we don't want to be that icky guy who doesn't wash. But the startling truth is THERE ARE SOME MEN WHO STILL FORSAKE THE HAND WASHING PRACTICE ALL TOGETHER. Sick. There's the episode of Seinfeld with Poppy, the restaurant owner, who didn't wash his hands after using the restroom; he's making Jerry's meal and he starts to get sick. He refuses to eat his meal, but is unable to say why. All men have witnessed a Poppy who made the noticable b-line from urinal to bathroom door. You want to say something, but there's almost like this unwritten code of non-confrontation in this issue. Perhaps, one day, I'll be bold enough to break the code of silence.
Oh, and not to cross the lines of TMI but I've even once witnessed the "fake-out hand wash," where a man turns on the faucet to pretend he is washing his hands but doesn't. I still haven't figured that one out. Why do almost all the work involved in washing your hands and stop short [second Seinfeld reference in the same post, but I guess it's apropos because this post is all about nothing]? All this info is rather disturbing, but it's rather true.
Especially now that I work in the food industry, I'm extra paranoid about the hand washing. I've never washed my hands so much in my life; I've scrubbed layers of skin from my hands in search of a cleaner manos. I think my hands are becoming more and more weathered as a result. Give me a few years and I'll be forced to become Edward Scissorhands.
About those signs in the bathrooms, I wonder if there are similar signs posted in women's restrooms. I'm sure there are, but it puzzles me. To my understanding, all women already wash their hands after using the restroom. And with the advent of this hand sanitizer crap, females are even more clean. So isn't this just a waste of signage, like labeling light switches? They'd be better served to double up signs in the men's bathroom.
But it was that sign at Biggs that really made me take notice. We've all seen an "employees must wash hands" sign, but have you ever seen one with a mandatory time limit? And 20 seconds? I'm not sure that stipulation helps any. Can you imagine a guy narking out another guy for stopping off at nineteen seconds? That would force a guy to go all "speck of sawdust vs. plank in the eye" on someone. I'm not sure I've ever witnessed a guy wash his hands for twenty seconds or more, outside of someone working with motor oil or gasoline. Twenty seconds? Count it out and see how it feels. Long time, eh? That's slaughterhouse time. Wash hands? Yes. Twenty second? Not to sure.
So just to reiterate: I wash my hands. And I'm rather proud of it. Men of the world, unite. Out those who flush and go.
But feel free to keep it under twenty seconds.
Charlie and Jimmy and Richard
I apologize in advance for the length of this post but I've been thinking about this for almost 24-hours now, so I need to get this out.
When it comes to ministry, I like pretty people. Doesn't everyone? I prefer pastoring nice looking people who don't have personal problems [or at least they keep those problems to themselves] and tithe. I can fluctuate and even accept a few personal foibles as long as they double-tithe. Gimme a group of those people, and I'm just fine; I'm happy pastor.
We've already had our first repeat visitor to Echo. His name is Richard. I actually met Richard right as we were about to begin our first service; he caught me in the hallway at the church and asked me for money. Richard is a 47 year-old divorced father of two kids. He's unemployed, almost homeless, and shows up when something is happening at the church. Currently he lives up the street with a friend. The people at the WHCC warned us that he's been hanging around, hitting people up for money. And he's already figured out that we're the new kids on the block [I'll be lovin' you forever, Donny]; like I said, he was there Sunday night for our first service and he showed up at our prayer meeting last night.
Richard asked if he could pray with us, and we said sure. He even offered up a prayer for all of us at the end of our prayer time. I hope he was sincere, but I'm a tad skeptical. Richard is looking for money from us. He privately asked me if we could take up a special offering for him. I told him we couldn't do that because we're not going to give him temporary fixes, but we'll see what we can do. Kelly and I ended up taking him home and we gave him a couple of bucks to help him out. I know Richard is here to stay with us.
Now let me be honest with you: my first thought about Richard is, "Great, another leech to deal with." I might be a pastor, but sometimes I'd rather not deal with it. I plead to God: "where are all the normal people who need ministry?" His answer: "take what I give you." I just wonder why I always get the people with extra-wants, extra-needs, and take a lot more work to pastor.
But that's my heritage. When we were growing up, my parents always had people projects they worked on. I specifically remember this guy named Charlie who lived in the ghetto. He'd come to our church on Sunday night and my parents would drive him home after church. Charlie lived a "fer piece" from our house, so taking him home killed our Sunday nights. Church didn't get out until 8:00, we wouldn't leave there until 8:30. Taking Charlie home meant we wouldn't get home until after 9:00 and we had to go to school the next day. It sucked, but my parents never complained; they just did it because they knew they should.
I guess their example actually got through to me. God has brought those same type of people to us, and we've always accepted them. Most recently, at Mason, it was a guy named Jimmy. Jimmy was in an alcohol related accident when he was 15 and is now 35; he has little use of his right side and he hasn't matured past his age at the time of his accident. Being around Jimmy is trying, but most people get fed up with his act and move on. I, instead, chose to plant a church to get away from him. Just kidding.
Jimmy used to call me at church all the time. One time he left a voice mail on my answering machine asking if Jesus wore cross jewelry. I told him I didn't think so. Jimmy was kicked out of quite a few churches, but somehow we were able to get through to him. Our relationship progressed so much that I even gave him my cell phone number. He calls me every couple of weeks now to check in with me [and he calls my buddy Tim Tucker everyday in my absence].
My point is this: these are the types of people we can't dismiss. God puts them in our lives for a purpose. Sure, they're rough around the edges, have a list of problems and need attention or money. It's so much easier to ignore them. But we can't. I know what the next weeks and months [maybe years] of dealing with Richard is going to be like, but we've got to embrace it. Sure, he might only look at us and only see money, but maybe this is an open door from God is transform his life through Christ. Yeah, I'll give him some cash here and there, but hopefully he'll figure out there's something more he needs.
Speaking of Jesus, His is an example we can look at for inspiration. The Creator of the world comes to earth and who does he chose to hang with? No, not the pretty people, but the outcasts and the [literal] lepers. If you claim to be followers of Jesus and dismiss needy people as freeloaders, I'd question your faith.
This isn't a guilt trip or anything. Well, maybe it is. But I need to be clear that I'm stating this as chief hypocrite. These are big words from a guy who has been in the area a little more than a month. I've screwed this up in the past; I've chosen to avert my eyes sometimes when there's an undesirable person who wants my attention. And I'll screw it up in the future too. I just hope I can be a little more like Jesus everyday.
Do you have a Charlie or Jimmy or Richard in your life. If so, keep on loving them. If not, open your eyes; maybe they're right in front of you.
When it comes to ministry, I like pretty people. Doesn't everyone? I prefer pastoring nice looking people who don't have personal problems [or at least they keep those problems to themselves] and tithe. I can fluctuate and even accept a few personal foibles as long as they double-tithe. Gimme a group of those people, and I'm just fine; I'm happy pastor.
We've already had our first repeat visitor to Echo. His name is Richard. I actually met Richard right as we were about to begin our first service; he caught me in the hallway at the church and asked me for money. Richard is a 47 year-old divorced father of two kids. He's unemployed, almost homeless, and shows up when something is happening at the church. Currently he lives up the street with a friend. The people at the WHCC warned us that he's been hanging around, hitting people up for money. And he's already figured out that we're the new kids on the block [I'll be lovin' you forever, Donny]; like I said, he was there Sunday night for our first service and he showed up at our prayer meeting last night.
Richard asked if he could pray with us, and we said sure. He even offered up a prayer for all of us at the end of our prayer time. I hope he was sincere, but I'm a tad skeptical. Richard is looking for money from us. He privately asked me if we could take up a special offering for him. I told him we couldn't do that because we're not going to give him temporary fixes, but we'll see what we can do. Kelly and I ended up taking him home and we gave him a couple of bucks to help him out. I know Richard is here to stay with us.
Now let me be honest with you: my first thought about Richard is, "Great, another leech to deal with." I might be a pastor, but sometimes I'd rather not deal with it. I plead to God: "where are all the normal people who need ministry?" His answer: "take what I give you." I just wonder why I always get the people with extra-wants, extra-needs, and take a lot more work to pastor.
But that's my heritage. When we were growing up, my parents always had people projects they worked on. I specifically remember this guy named Charlie who lived in the ghetto. He'd come to our church on Sunday night and my parents would drive him home after church. Charlie lived a "fer piece" from our house, so taking him home killed our Sunday nights. Church didn't get out until 8:00, we wouldn't leave there until 8:30. Taking Charlie home meant we wouldn't get home until after 9:00 and we had to go to school the next day. It sucked, but my parents never complained; they just did it because they knew they should.
I guess their example actually got through to me. God has brought those same type of people to us, and we've always accepted them. Most recently, at Mason, it was a guy named Jimmy. Jimmy was in an alcohol related accident when he was 15 and is now 35; he has little use of his right side and he hasn't matured past his age at the time of his accident. Being around Jimmy is trying, but most people get fed up with his act and move on. I, instead, chose to plant a church to get away from him. Just kidding.
Jimmy used to call me at church all the time. One time he left a voice mail on my answering machine asking if Jesus wore cross jewelry. I told him I didn't think so. Jimmy was kicked out of quite a few churches, but somehow we were able to get through to him. Our relationship progressed so much that I even gave him my cell phone number. He calls me every couple of weeks now to check in with me [and he calls my buddy Tim Tucker everyday in my absence].
My point is this: these are the types of people we can't dismiss. God puts them in our lives for a purpose. Sure, they're rough around the edges, have a list of problems and need attention or money. It's so much easier to ignore them. But we can't. I know what the next weeks and months [maybe years] of dealing with Richard is going to be like, but we've got to embrace it. Sure, he might only look at us and only see money, but maybe this is an open door from God is transform his life through Christ. Yeah, I'll give him some cash here and there, but hopefully he'll figure out there's something more he needs.
Speaking of Jesus, His is an example we can look at for inspiration. The Creator of the world comes to earth and who does he chose to hang with? No, not the pretty people, but the outcasts and the [literal] lepers. If you claim to be followers of Jesus and dismiss needy people as freeloaders, I'd question your faith.
This isn't a guilt trip or anything. Well, maybe it is. But I need to be clear that I'm stating this as chief hypocrite. These are big words from a guy who has been in the area a little more than a month. I've screwed this up in the past; I've chosen to avert my eyes sometimes when there's an undesirable person who wants my attention. And I'll screw it up in the future too. I just hope I can be a little more like Jesus everyday.
Do you have a Charlie or Jimmy or Richard in your life. If so, keep on loving them. If not, open your eyes; maybe they're right in front of you.
Modeling Diversity
Even though our condo is on the edge of Eden Park, we actually live in Walnut Hills. On the signs welcoming people to Walnut Hills, it claims to be, "A Diverse Community since 1800." I'd say this is an accurate claim. There's a colorful palette of people here, people of different cultures and backgrounds; so far, it's been a cool place to live. I love driving through the community, able to claim that this is my neighborhood.
Allow me to rewind to a few months ago when I finally got an iPod. One of the main reasons I persuaded Kel to let me get it is that I love downloading sermon mp3's, listening to them during my commute. It's helped me both spiritually and in my preaching. Along with the iPod I purchased an iTrip, a device that allows you to listen to your iPod via radio frequency. In order to do this, you need to find a frequency that has no station on it. I use 87.9, which is a pretty safe bet throughout Cincy. But every once in awhile, I'm driving in an area and a signal interferes with my iTrip. I'll be listening to a sermon and then, out of nowhere, I'm jamming to Indian music. It's a little disturbing, but I still love the gadget.
Now back to this afternoon, I was driving home from work, via the backroads. I was enjoying the beautiful weather, my windows down and my iPod blaring out a guy preaching. As I drove through one of the more diverse parts of Walnut Hills, in an area where I've been able to feel the bass from other cars pounding in my chest, my iTrip picked up another frequency. And it happened right as I pulled up to a stop light, with other cars around me. The sound of the sermon disappeared and, in it's place, was a bit of diverse music:
Bagpipes. Blaring bagpipes. I kid you not. Personally, I'm not offended by bagpipes. My high school mascot was a Highlander so I have an affinity for ax-wielding guys in skirts and their music. It's just having your car stereo playing loud bagpipe music while driving through the city is a tad embarrassing.
I saw the guy in car next to me start to look over at me, and I quickly looked away. I mean, I couldn't just turn it off, I had to work through it. I wonder if that guy thought I always drive around rockin' out to Scottish folk music. Perhaps he even wondered if I was sporting a kilt [which I wasn't, but I think I have the legs for it].
But then again maybe he, like me, thought to himself that this is a diverse community. Whether rap, rock, r&b or Scottish folk music, there's room for us all.
It's supposed to be colder tomorrow. My windows will be rolled up. I won't have to worry about this problem again for at least a few months.
Allow me to rewind to a few months ago when I finally got an iPod. One of the main reasons I persuaded Kel to let me get it is that I love downloading sermon mp3's, listening to them during my commute. It's helped me both spiritually and in my preaching. Along with the iPod I purchased an iTrip, a device that allows you to listen to your iPod via radio frequency. In order to do this, you need to find a frequency that has no station on it. I use 87.9, which is a pretty safe bet throughout Cincy. But every once in awhile, I'm driving in an area and a signal interferes with my iTrip. I'll be listening to a sermon and then, out of nowhere, I'm jamming to Indian music. It's a little disturbing, but I still love the gadget.
Now back to this afternoon, I was driving home from work, via the backroads. I was enjoying the beautiful weather, my windows down and my iPod blaring out a guy preaching. As I drove through one of the more diverse parts of Walnut Hills, in an area where I've been able to feel the bass from other cars pounding in my chest, my iTrip picked up another frequency. And it happened right as I pulled up to a stop light, with other cars around me. The sound of the sermon disappeared and, in it's place, was a bit of diverse music:
Bagpipes. Blaring bagpipes. I kid you not. Personally, I'm not offended by bagpipes. My high school mascot was a Highlander so I have an affinity for ax-wielding guys in skirts and their music. It's just having your car stereo playing loud bagpipe music while driving through the city is a tad embarrassing.
I saw the guy in car next to me start to look over at me, and I quickly looked away. I mean, I couldn't just turn it off, I had to work through it. I wonder if that guy thought I always drive around rockin' out to Scottish folk music. Perhaps he even wondered if I was sporting a kilt [which I wasn't, but I think I have the legs for it].
But then again maybe he, like me, thought to himself that this is a diverse community. Whether rap, rock, r&b or Scottish folk music, there's room for us all.
It's supposed to be colder tomorrow. My windows will be rolled up. I won't have to worry about this problem again for at least a few months.
Gonna Fly Now
Dreams do come true. No, I'm not talking about this whole church plant thing, I'm talking about something even bigger than that: they're making a sixth Rocky movie. Yes peeps, Sly Stallone is back to reprise his greatest role- Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion.I've always felt a connection to the Rocky movies since I saw the fourth installment of the franchise in a theater. For those of you unfamiliar with each of the movies, I'm questioning your American citizenship. Nonetheless, here's a quick review of the movies:
- The original. Sure, it was slow, but did you know it won the Best Picture Oscar? And Stallone was nominated for Best Actor. Crazy. 1976 must have been a slow year for movies.
- They finally get it right: Balboa beats Apollo Creed in the rematch.
- Obviously the best of them all. Hulk Hogan, Mr T, and Mickey dies. Epic.
- A little lame, but the fight at the end against Drago [despite being totally unbelievable] was the best match in the series. Embarrassing confession: I owned the Rocky 4 soundtrack.
- The absolute worst movie ever made. And I'm not limiting that to the Rocky movies. It was ridiculous. I'm still trying to figure out who paid money to get that trash made. Tommy Gunn, Rocky's protege was an actual boxer, not an actor. Unfortunately he wasn't very good at either.
That's tough to deal with, not because Adrian was a great actress, but because of the end of the movies. Rocky fights to the finish. He's bloody after winning [or almost winning] the match. Somebody tries to interview him at ringside and he yells out an obligatory, "YO ADRIAN!" With Adrian dead what will Rocky yell? It's going to take some creative script writing to fill that absence. Sylvester Stallone is writing the story himself, so here are my suggestions to Judge Dreddful on how to fill the void:
- After Adrian's death, Rocky develops an affinity for men who play cello. After his match he yells out, "Yo Yo-Yo Ma!"
- The Italian Stallion returns to school to become a history teacher, specializing in rulers of the Roman Empire. At the end of a stirring lesson he declares, "Yo Hadrian."
- Rocky, still living in his dilapidated Philadelphia neighborhood, falls in love with music videos from the 80's and 90's. After his cable goes out he cries out, "Yo MTV Raps!"
- Balboa becomes depressed after his wife's death and over-indulges himself on Mexican Food. After kicking his chiuaua, he demands, "Yo quiero Taco Bell."
Let the earth shake!
I haven't "come down" yet, the day after the kick-off. I'm just lovin' life. It was back to work this morning, making the bagels and stuff like that. We were short on help today so I had to do dishes. Hail the conquering victorious church planter: rinsing the French Onion residue out of soup bowls. I rock.
So this afternoon I had to go see Mr Insurance Guy. Apparently we've not had any coverage on our condo since we moved into this place. Just terrific. So this meant a trip to the westside [Cheviot to be exact].
SIDEBAR: During this errand I was able to witness a typical westside scene. As I pulled up to Mr Insurance Guy's office there was a gentleman in the neighboring yard with no shirt on. He was actually picking things out of his chest hair. I kid you not: he kept at it from the time I got out of my car until I got inside.
Yes friends, these are my people. I am one of them. We sometimes have stuff in our chest hair that have to be removed . . . in our front yard . . . in broad daylight.
Now you know. OK, back to the story.
As we were getting coverage hammered out, Mr Insurance Guy asked if I needed earthquake insurance. I thought about it. For those of you who don't know, Cincinnati is near a fault line. There is the [slight] possibility that a major earthquake could hit the Ohio River valley. Our condo is on the side of a hill. If there ever is an earthquake, we could see some serious damage. Oh yeah, I went for it: I bought earthquake insurance in the midwest.
I know, I'm a tad loco, but it was cheap stuff. And now I can sleep easier knowing that, should the earth begin to tremble, that my stuff is covered. Can you say the same?
I'm having Mr Insurance Guy send me some quotes for hurricane insurance too. You never know.
So this afternoon I had to go see Mr Insurance Guy. Apparently we've not had any coverage on our condo since we moved into this place. Just terrific. So this meant a trip to the westside [Cheviot to be exact].
SIDEBAR: During this errand I was able to witness a typical westside scene. As I pulled up to Mr Insurance Guy's office there was a gentleman in the neighboring yard with no shirt on. He was actually picking things out of his chest hair. I kid you not: he kept at it from the time I got out of my car until I got inside.
Yes friends, these are my people. I am one of them. We sometimes have stuff in our chest hair that have to be removed . . . in our front yard . . . in broad daylight.
Now you know. OK, back to the story.
As we were getting coverage hammered out, Mr Insurance Guy asked if I needed earthquake insurance. I thought about it. For those of you who don't know, Cincinnati is near a fault line. There is the [slight] possibility that a major earthquake could hit the Ohio River valley. Our condo is on the side of a hill. If there ever is an earthquake, we could see some serious damage. Oh yeah, I went for it: I bought earthquake insurance in the midwest.
I know, I'm a tad loco, but it was cheap stuff. And now I can sleep easier knowing that, should the earth begin to tremble, that my stuff is covered. Can you say the same?
I'm having Mr Insurance Guy send me some quotes for hurricane insurance too. You never know.
"And it was good."
Echo Church is now more than a dream; it's a reality.
Aaron and I were running around northern Kentucky about two hours before the service was to start, in search of a projection screen. We never found one [not even at stinkin' Staples] so we ended up moving the screen from the fellowship hall into the sanctuary. Kudos to Tim Tucker who went above and beyond the call of duty getting the screen hung from the choir loft.
And we didn't have all the sound equipment we needed to get things done. We were short a microphone and some cords. Fortunately Dale lent us an XLR cord, but it was only six feet long, so I had to stay close to the sound board with my mic as I led worship with the guitar.
Despite those little speedbumps, things went well. Very well, if you ask me.
It was a simple service: a few songs, communion, and teaching. We talked a little bit of Genesis 1, describing the beginning of the world: that God spoke and things happened. The point we wanted to drive home this evening: this church will be about God and we will echo His Word[s]. I pray we can keep that in the forefront of all we do in the months and years to come.
There were about forty-five people there to help us kick things off. About half of those people were friends who were just visiting to show support; it meant a lot to us that they were there. Yep, next week we'll have less people there, but those people that are sticking with us for the long haul are fired up. It's going to be a fun ride.
I'm almost unsure of what to do next. For the past six or seven months we've been working towards October 16th as our kickoff; I've said "October 16th" hundreds of times. Now that it's come and gone, it's almost like I'm a little lost about what to do next. I'm sure I'll figure something out.
And let me say this really quickly: I love my wife. She's always had faith in us doing this. I yanked her from our cushy suburban life to the city to pursue "what could be." She's never doubted. I hope people understand what a huge part she's played in all of this. Echo couldn't have happened without her.
It was good. It was very good. And God is good. So good that I think we'll do it again next week. That sounds good.
Aaron and I were running around northern Kentucky about two hours before the service was to start, in search of a projection screen. We never found one [not even at stinkin' Staples] so we ended up moving the screen from the fellowship hall into the sanctuary. Kudos to Tim Tucker who went above and beyond the call of duty getting the screen hung from the choir loft.
And we didn't have all the sound equipment we needed to get things done. We were short a microphone and some cords. Fortunately Dale lent us an XLR cord, but it was only six feet long, so I had to stay close to the sound board with my mic as I led worship with the guitar.
Despite those little speedbumps, things went well. Very well, if you ask me.
It was a simple service: a few songs, communion, and teaching. We talked a little bit of Genesis 1, describing the beginning of the world: that God spoke and things happened. The point we wanted to drive home this evening: this church will be about God and we will echo His Word[s]. I pray we can keep that in the forefront of all we do in the months and years to come.
There were about forty-five people there to help us kick things off. About half of those people were friends who were just visiting to show support; it meant a lot to us that they were there. Yep, next week we'll have less people there, but those people that are sticking with us for the long haul are fired up. It's going to be a fun ride.
I'm almost unsure of what to do next. For the past six or seven months we've been working towards October 16th as our kickoff; I've said "October 16th" hundreds of times. Now that it's come and gone, it's almost like I'm a little lost about what to do next. I'm sure I'll figure something out.
And let me say this really quickly: I love my wife. She's always had faith in us doing this. I yanked her from our cushy suburban life to the city to pursue "what could be." She's never doubted. I hope people understand what a huge part she's played in all of this. Echo couldn't have happened without her.
It was good. It was very good. And God is good. So good that I think we'll do it again next week. That sounds good.
The Sun Will Come Out . . .
Tomorrow is the big day. As I've been saying all week, "It's going to happen," and it is. Yesterday and today were spent getting things together for Echo's first service. The video projector we've borrowed took a little extra work to get up and going, but we figured it out. We've hammered out an order of service [nothing too complicated]. We even have the bulletins printed out. I think we're ready to start this new chapter of our lives.
On the brink of this endeavor, I'm not too nervous. I've read/heard stories of church planters on the eve of their first service unable to sleep for fear that no one will show up. I can't relate; I don't feel that way at all. Not trying to be cocky, but I think I'll sleep well tonight. I know there'll be at least twenty people there tomorrow, and that's good enough for me.
Aaron and I were talking about it yesterday, but we're both rather Calvinistic in our church planting theology. God is going to bring the people who need to be brought to us. This is HIS church, not ours. He makes the plants grow, we'll do the harvesting.
Tomorrow morning I'm preaching at the Amelia Church, so I'll stay busy enough not to start thinking too much; I have a tendency to over analyze things, even though I'm not gripping yet. Aaron and Dorota will stop by early in the afternoon. We'll watch the Bengals get back to their winning ways against the Titans and then head over to Walnut Hills to get things set up.
Six-thirty is go time. We'll begin by teaching through the book of Genesis. I'm so stoked. I've been waiting my whole life for this day. We're starting a new church and I'm finally a preacher.
So maybe I won't sleep to well tonight.
On the brink of this endeavor, I'm not too nervous. I've read/heard stories of church planters on the eve of their first service unable to sleep for fear that no one will show up. I can't relate; I don't feel that way at all. Not trying to be cocky, but I think I'll sleep well tonight. I know there'll be at least twenty people there tomorrow, and that's good enough for me.
Aaron and I were talking about it yesterday, but we're both rather Calvinistic in our church planting theology. God is going to bring the people who need to be brought to us. This is HIS church, not ours. He makes the plants grow, we'll do the harvesting.
Tomorrow morning I'm preaching at the Amelia Church, so I'll stay busy enough not to start thinking too much; I have a tendency to over analyze things, even though I'm not gripping yet. Aaron and Dorota will stop by early in the afternoon. We'll watch the Bengals get back to their winning ways against the Titans and then head over to Walnut Hills to get things set up.
Six-thirty is go time. We'll begin by teaching through the book of Genesis. I'm so stoked. I've been waiting my whole life for this day. We're starting a new church and I'm finally a preacher.
So maybe I won't sleep to well tonight.
What the hell?
Before you criticize me for my potty mouth, you need to read the entire post.
Because of our homelessness and our move this summer we didn't get to watch many movies. I can't believe the new Batman movie finally comes out on video next Tuesday. Batman is my favorite comic book hero, so I'll be all over that video like nipples on George Clooney's Batman outfit [if you've ever seen that stupid movie you know exactly what that reference was about]. Let's see: a curse word and "nipples" in the first few sentences of the post. Like I said, hang on and you'll see where I'm going with all this.
So we've been renting a few videos each week, catching up on movies we missed during the past few months. I really wanted to see the movie Constantine starring Keanu Reeves because it has some Biblical themes in it. Kelly wanted nothing to do with it, so I ended up watching it by myself yesterday afternoon. There were some awesome effects and camera shots in it but, after marinating about it for a day, I have no idea what this film was about.
The kid from the movie Holes and The Greatest Game Ever Played is in it, and adds some comedy relief. So is the chick from the Mummy movies, who is a great actress. Oh, and who is was in the movie? Hmmmm, might it be: SATAN?!?!
The background of the flick goes like this: Keanu tried to kill himself when he was a teen because he could see dead people [at least Haley Joel Osment got to see John McLean]. Keanu died for a couple of moments and was briefly in hell, because Catholic dogma insists that suicide results in an eternity of hell. But apparently he was only "mostly dead," and came back to life. That's when he started chain smoking and ended up in his thirties, dying of lung cancer, but spending his free time performing hard core exorcisms. Sounds interesting, huh?
Don't want to ruin the movie for you but SPOILER ALERT: the angel Gabriel tries to switch sides and help bring the son of Satan into the world. Hilarious. So summing up, the movie includes [additional SPOILER ALERTS here. . .
I don't know if this post was helpful, but I think I've learned that sometimes it's better not to watch the movies you missed in the first place [see Mother-In-Law].
But I'm still renting Batman.
Because of our homelessness and our move this summer we didn't get to watch many movies. I can't believe the new Batman movie finally comes out on video next Tuesday. Batman is my favorite comic book hero, so I'll be all over that video like nipples on George Clooney's Batman outfit [if you've ever seen that stupid movie you know exactly what that reference was about]. Let's see: a curse word and "nipples" in the first few sentences of the post. Like I said, hang on and you'll see where I'm going with all this.
So we've been renting a few videos each week, catching up on movies we missed during the past few months. I really wanted to see the movie Constantine starring Keanu Reeves because it has some Biblical themes in it. Kelly wanted nothing to do with it, so I ended up watching it by myself yesterday afternoon. There were some awesome effects and camera shots in it but, after marinating about it for a day, I have no idea what this film was about.
The kid from the movie Holes and The Greatest Game Ever Played is in it, and adds some comedy relief. So is the chick from the Mummy movies, who is a great actress. Oh, and who is was in the movie? Hmmmm, might it be: SATAN?!?!
The background of the flick goes like this: Keanu tried to kill himself when he was a teen because he could see dead people [at least Haley Joel Osment got to see John McLean]. Keanu died for a couple of moments and was briefly in hell, because Catholic dogma insists that suicide results in an eternity of hell. But apparently he was only "mostly dead," and came back to life. That's when he started chain smoking and ended up in his thirties, dying of lung cancer, but spending his free time performing hard core exorcisms. Sounds interesting, huh?
Don't want to ruin the movie for you but SPOILER ALERT: the angel Gabriel tries to switch sides and help bring the son of Satan into the world. Hilarious. So summing up, the movie includes [additional SPOILER ALERTS here. . .
- about four glimpses into hell
- Neo performing exorcisms without Trinity [how unBiblical]
- a sprinkler system with holy water used to kill demons
- a shot gun in the shape of a cross used to waste demons
- a glimpse into the "Bible of Hell" which gives I Corinthians 21 chapters
I don't know if this post was helpful, but I think I've learned that sometimes it's better not to watch the movies you missed in the first place [see Mother-In-Law].
But I'm still renting Batman.
Foot In Mouth Disease
I'm still figuring out the nuances to the cash register at Panera; it's a computerized touch screen with a slew of menus and sub-menus. Yeah, I'm better at ringing up than when I first started, but there are a ton of buttons to figure out and it's always a chore to find where things are hidden.
Case in point: this afternoon there was a woman who ordered a salad and wanted almonds on it. For the life of me, I couldn't find the button for "almonds." This prompted me to say the following statement [loud enough to be heard, mind you]:
"I can't find my nuts!"
And of course, the woman had her five-year old daughter with her. Brilliant.
I rang her out as quickly as I could, without saying much else to her.
Case in point: this afternoon there was a woman who ordered a salad and wanted almonds on it. For the life of me, I couldn't find the button for "almonds." This prompted me to say the following statement [loud enough to be heard, mind you]:
"I can't find my nuts!"
And of course, the woman had her five-year old daughter with her. Brilliant.
I rang her out as quickly as I could, without saying much else to her.
What the world needs now
Have you seen these diamond commercials where the guy gets his wife of ten plus years in some pretty location and then says he wants to marry her all over again? Immediately the woman looks up and all of her friends and family are there to share in the moment. Heart strings are yanked and South Africa makes more money off diamond purchases [which they used to use to maintain apartheid].What a crock! Like that kind of thing would ever happen in real life. Guys, could you imagine a buddy coming up to you saying, "Hey, I want to impress my wife. Can you show up so I can give her an expensive ring and ask her to marry me all over again?" Your response would probably be to stuff the expensive jewelry in a place from which the woman would never retrieve it. Any guy trying to get away with something like that, flaunting his mojo in front of another guy's woman, would never watch football, play golf or drink beer with men ever again.
That being said, here's a picture of my wife and I in Paris. Bite me, guys, I don't need friends.
Why Amazing Race Family Edition Makes Me Uncomfortable
If I wanted to hear a kid call his step-mom a b----, I'd watch Dr Phil.
Blog Almighty
Even the name of the convention sounds ominous:
God Blog 2005
Never knew God had a blog. Wonder if he uses a Mac. Are comments submitted via rosary?
This convention is supposed to be the first Christian blogging convention. Hosted by Biola University in L.A. [shout-out to Megan and Cassidy Coffman, who are Biola alumni], the convention starts this Thursday, so I won't be attending. The goal of this gathering: to establish and cultivate relationships within the Christian blogging community and to provide opportunities for Christian bloggers to think about their role within the broader blogging world. If we read between the lines here, we understand who'll be attending i.e., more geeks than a Star Wars convention.
Two things to laugh about here:
1) Why do we always have to put a Christian spin on everything? Seems like the whole world is one big Berean Christian Store. I'm not sure blogging is the best way to show Jesus in your life. In fact, there are some blogs out there that make me want to switch religions. But, that's what we Christians do: try to "Christianize" things.
2) The majority of people on the invited speakers list was over fifty years old. THIS IS NOT A CRACK ON PEOPLE OVER FIFTY, but I find this pointless. The people who will shape the next ten to twenty years in blogging are people under twenty. I'm not sure that I'm even young enough to really share on this topic, since I remember life before Al Gore's wonderful invention. They should have found some young punks who are being innovative in the blogosphere let them share what they think the future holds for it. Who knows, blogging could be a fad nearing the end of its days. But, that's what we Christians do: stay at least twenty years behind the times.
You know someone at that convention has made a bumper sticker that says,
THE BIBLE: GOD'S BLOG.
If not, you should get some made; you'd make a killing.
****************
postscript: didn't find a bumper sticker, but I did find this. I guess God uses Blogger.
God Blog 2005
Never knew God had a blog. Wonder if he uses a Mac. Are comments submitted via rosary?
This convention is supposed to be the first Christian blogging convention. Hosted by Biola University in L.A. [shout-out to Megan and Cassidy Coffman, who are Biola alumni], the convention starts this Thursday, so I won't be attending. The goal of this gathering: to establish and cultivate relationships within the Christian blogging community and to provide opportunities for Christian bloggers to think about their role within the broader blogging world. If we read between the lines here, we understand who'll be attending i.e., more geeks than a Star Wars convention.
Two things to laugh about here:
1) Why do we always have to put a Christian spin on everything? Seems like the whole world is one big Berean Christian Store. I'm not sure blogging is the best way to show Jesus in your life. In fact, there are some blogs out there that make me want to switch religions. But, that's what we Christians do: try to "Christianize" things.
2) The majority of people on the invited speakers list was over fifty years old. THIS IS NOT A CRACK ON PEOPLE OVER FIFTY, but I find this pointless. The people who will shape the next ten to twenty years in blogging are people under twenty. I'm not sure that I'm even young enough to really share on this topic, since I remember life before Al Gore's wonderful invention. They should have found some young punks who are being innovative in the blogosphere let them share what they think the future holds for it. Who knows, blogging could be a fad nearing the end of its days. But, that's what we Christians do: stay at least twenty years behind the times.
You know someone at that convention has made a bumper sticker that says,
THE BIBLE: GOD'S BLOG.
If not, you should get some made; you'd make a killing.
****************
postscript: didn't find a bumper sticker, but I did find this. I guess God uses Blogger.
T-minus one week
So I guess this church is actually going to happen. We had our "trial run" last night, and things went really well. We didn't get a video projector [looks like we'll need to buy one], but the sound system we borrowed from iMPACT Church was a piece of cake to set up. Until we figure out otherwise, it looks like I'll be leading the worship. I just don't want it to be tacky if I'm pulling double-duty [music and teaching] but I think we'll manage. We're not depending on worship music to build this church anyway.
The sanctuary of the Walnut Hills church has a great feel at night, and it handles sound well. If we happened to lose our sound system, I don't think we'd really need a microphone to be heard.
The thing that really excited me last night, more than any of the technical aspects that we figured out, was the vibe in the room. The people there were all excited about Echo and what God's going to do. We had communion and ended the evening in a time of prayer, praying with our hands on the pews where people will worship from. I can't wait to see how God moves . . .
There's still a lot of stuff to get accomplished this week, but I'm not worried about it. I can't understand that I'm not nervous or stressed out. I was more stressed watching the Bengals blow it last night.
That's what's cool about Echo: it's all God; we're just along for the ride.
The sanctuary of the Walnut Hills church has a great feel at night, and it handles sound well. If we happened to lose our sound system, I don't think we'd really need a microphone to be heard.
The thing that really excited me last night, more than any of the technical aspects that we figured out, was the vibe in the room. The people there were all excited about Echo and what God's going to do. We had communion and ended the evening in a time of prayer, praying with our hands on the pews where people will worship from. I can't wait to see how God moves . . .
There's still a lot of stuff to get accomplished this week, but I'm not worried about it. I can't understand that I'm not nervous or stressed out. I was more stressed watching the Bengals blow it last night.
That's what's cool about Echo: it's all God; we're just along for the ride.
In 1492
I'm confused . . .
Do we still get email today?
Do we still get email today?
Oh, man . . .
I can't make up stuff like this: a church in Illinois claims is the country's first "man church." Grove Community Church in Peoria calls themselves "America's First Church for Men and Those Who Love Them." Grove City sets-up their sanctuary look like a hunting lodge, refers to their senior pastor as a "head coach" and are in the midst of offering a NASCAR ticket give-away promotion.
Now I'm all for reaching out to men; churches in the past twenty years have done a lot of emasculating, so there's plenty of damage to make up for, but trying to make your church a Sunday morning version of The Man Show [sans the alcohol and trampoline girls, I can only assume] is . . . well, a bit tacky. Is it possible to reach men for Jesus without making your church look like a Bass-Pro Shop? I think so. I think you can make the Christian faith "manly" without resorting to gimmickry. So my call is: good motive, bad form.
If nothing else, the man church reminded me of a song they always play on the Bob and Tom Radio show. So for all you testosterone bearers out there, here's The Man Song.
Now I'm all for reaching out to men; churches in the past twenty years have done a lot of emasculating, so there's plenty of damage to make up for, but trying to make your church a Sunday morning version of The Man Show [sans the alcohol and trampoline girls, I can only assume] is . . . well, a bit tacky. Is it possible to reach men for Jesus without making your church look like a Bass-Pro Shop? I think so. I think you can make the Christian faith "manly" without resorting to gimmickry. So my call is: good motive, bad form.
If nothing else, the man church reminded me of a song they always play on the Bob and Tom Radio show. So for all you testosterone bearers out there, here's The Man Song.