Steve Secret Five

I only wear "tight collars."

I thought I'd end this week on a biggie for me. Everyone has certain parts of themselves that they're less excited about. For me, it's my neck. I've always felt like a giraffe. So I've tried for years to make it look shorter any way I could. Because plastic surgery is unappealing to me [do they even do neck reduction?], I chose to solve the problem through my wardrobe selection.

During my first year in junior high, I wore a turtleneck two or three times each week to school. I've reduced the number of turtlenecks I wore over the years, but I still prefer collared shirts. And regardless of what I'm wearing, I always wear a white t-shirt underneath. I think I own about fifteen white t-shirts. And the size of all of them are small.

You see, the reason I wear the t-shirt is so I can guarantee a tight neckline. And it has to be small because the larger your t-shirt size, the looser the neck hole. I find loose neck holes to be wretched. To explain this I looked all over the web for a picture of an Iraqi general who was captured in this war who was wearing a t-shirt with a neck hole the size of my waist. I couldn't find the picture, which is probably fortunate, because it makes me want to yak.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to not wear a tight-collared t-shirt. But why should I have to try?

So there you go, one week of my secrets. Hope they've been insightful, and that my honesty allowed you to understand me a little better.

Make fun of me if you like, but I enjoy being me.

Steve Secret Four

I talk to myself.

"So what?" you ask. "Everyone talks to themselves."

Yeah, but I do it all the time and get caught.

Every once in awhile, passing through Eden Park, I see this guy waiting at the bus stop yelling at the sky. Unfortunately, there's no one around him, so I assume that he's a little out of his mind. I make sure not to make eye contact with him as I drive by. Hey, if this guy yells at himself when no ones around, I don't want to see what happens when he gets an audience.

I'm not quite as bad as the bus stop guy, but I'm working on it. Just the other day I was at work and had to go to the bathroom [obviously]. As I walked in, I stepped toward the urinal [sorry if this is too much info] and began saying to myself, "Man, dude! You've been pushing it hard all day," at which time I heard a rustling in the stall next to me. Knowing that I had just been caught talking to myself, all I could do is start humming, finish as quickly as I could [I did wash my hands] and get out of there.

I know I should stop talking to myself, but I just do it naturally. My grandmother, who passed away nine years ago, used to tell me that I was destined to be a preacher because, even as a baby, I was always talking to myself. She might have nailed my career path, but perhaps she misdiagnosed my self-dialogue. I think it really means I'm loco.

Make fun of me if you like, but I have some pretty good conversations with myself.

Steve Secret Three

I pee a lot.

I don't mean to alarm you: it's not that I have a health problem or anything. It's the result of my drinking a lot of caffeinated fluids and having a small bladder.

As I've admitted before, I drink Diet Coke like it's . . . well, water. Yes, I've had to fall back on drinking Diet Pepsi or Mountain Dew during the day because Panera is a Pepsi store. It's not that I need the caffeine to stay away from headaches or wake me up, I just don't like the taste of decaffeinated drinks.

But once I start hitting the beverages, I need a restroom trip in a half an hour. Yep, I've got a tiny tank. I even find myself waking up at night having to tinkle [yeah, I said "tinkle." How many other synonyms can I use? No one wants to keep reading "pee" and "urinate" is too formal]. Whenever I'm driving on a long trip or in a seminar or something like that, I monitor my liquid intake so I don't have to hit the bathroom as frequently. But if I know I'm near a bathroom, I'll drink all day. Even as I write this I'm toking a 32-ounce fountain drink. Guess where I'll be in half an hour?

Make fun of me if you like, but there's a bathroom down the hall.

Steve Secret Two

I have a higher-toned voice that has been mistaken for that of a woman.

Just last Saturday Kelly and I were at the Sam's Club in Oakley looking for a mantle for our fireplace. As we were walking down an aisle I saw this long haired lady struggling to get something into her cart. As I walked up to her, trying to be helpful I asked, "Can I help you, ma'am?" It was then that "she" turned around and I saw it was a man. I swear it looked like a woman from behind. Embarrassed, I sorta said sorry and told Kelly that was time to leave.

It's always difficult when you mistake someone for the opposite sex. You don't know how to make up for it. Even worse is when you are the one being mistaken for.

I don't have a deep voice. I sing tenor and, in my falsetto voice, can hit notes higher than some women. Occasionally, about once every couple of months, I have an experience that reminds me that I'm no Barry White. I'll go through a drive-thru to pick up some food, firmly place my order and then have the voice in the box tell me:

"That'll be $9.86 at the first window ma'am."

Ma'am? I should reach through that box and beat the crap out of you.

That's why now, when I order a Quarter-Pounder, I tend to put some bass in my voice. I think it helps if I talk more manly. But regardless of my voice, it still doesn't matter at Frisch's. It's impossible to remain masculine while ordering a "Big Boy" or a "Brawny Lad."

Make fun of me if you like, but at least I don't have to listen to my own voice.

Steve Secret One

I like Usher's music.

I'm into a lot of different kinds of music. From rap to rock, classical to country, I'm a connoisseur of different tunes. But here's one guy whose music I can't get enough of. Yes friends, A-town in the house.

*I had to search for the following information on the web so even though I'm coming out as liking Usher, don't think I have this knowledge memorized; I'm not that crazy.

Usher [or as Ludacris would refer to him, "Ooo-shure"], who just celebrated his 27th birthday a few weeks ago, was discovered when he was a contestant on Star Search. He has catchy songs, is an agile dancer and even has a new movie out next week. What can't this guy do?

I think the song that got me hooked on young Usher Raymond's music was U Got It Bad. These are some of the lyrics from that song:

"All my people who know what's going on
Look at your mate, help me sing my song
Tell her, 'I'm your man, you're my girl.
I'm gonna tell it to the whole wide world.'
Ladies say, 'I'm your girl, you're my man
Promise to love you the best I can.'"

Dang! Now that's poetry. I'll be reflecting on those words all night. He's definitely da' bomb.

I have yet to buy an Usher CD, but once he gets a greatest hits album out, I'll get it.

Make fun of me if you like, but I don't care. I'm Caught Up.

The Week O' Secrets

Next week will complete for me one year blogging. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. Few habits have I been able to maintain like House of Carr [Beit Carr for the Hebrew speaking crowd], but somehow I stuck with it.

Even though I like to think of this as a somewhat spiritual exercise, I'm not sure that blogging is akin to journaling. Since this forum is out on the world wide web for all to see [thanks, Al Gore] I might not be as forthcoming as I would if this was a written diary. Yep, I've held some embarrassing stuff back from you, things I couldn't get myself to share. But I think now's the perfect time to get some of my deep, dark secrets out there.

So in recognition of my blogging anniversary I've decided that I'm going to commit this week's postings to total honesty. I'm gonna be talking about stuff that only Kelly knows.

I tried to do a theme week once before and it failed miserably. But I think my transparency here will make for a little more compelling read.

So starting tomorrow, here comes my secrets. Tell your friends.

Can you smell . . .

I'm expanding my skills at Panera, working in the cafe sandwich line. It was rough at first, but I'm now getting the hang of it. The one drawback is that I leave work smelling like food. I could escape it when I was working as a cashier or in the bakery. I now have to immediately change my clothes and shower when I get home. I'm pretty rank right now.

I was thinking of my newly acquired scent the other night during our prayer meeting; we gather every Wednesday night to lift up Echo Church and this neighborhood in prayer. As I was praying, I was asking God that the people in this area might see Jesus alive in us and I went on to say, "And Father, as I leave work with the smell of Panera all over me, let all whom we encounter smell Jesus emanating from us."

At the time I might have thought I was being profound, but later I remembered that it was a thought that I stole it from the apostle Paul. He wrote in 2 Corinthians 2,

"For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task?"

Hmmm, maybe Paul frequented the Panera in Rome. Good thoughts

* Yes, if you know me very well you know that, with the title of this post, I'm quoting the most electrifying man in sports entertainment today. Brilliant.

Drop It Like Its Hot

If I was still me, but I had Snoop Dogg's vocabulary, this is how Beit Carr would read. You gots'ta check this out, yo.

Thanks for the direction, Bob.

*Warning Note: After posting this, I discovered that there were some curse words on the translated onto the gizzogle site. I decided to leave it up here because I still find it somewhat humorous, but if you're offended by crude language, you might want to skip this one.

Jerry! Jerry!

The following is a true story . . . well, according to Mr. Albert it is.

Mr Albert is the fifty year old dish guy at Panera. This afternoon he told me that Jerry Springer came into the Hyde Park Kroger last night; Mr Albert also works a second job in the meat department there. He said that Jerry was trying to do a little grocery shopping but people mobbed him. Springer was so frustrated that he walked out of the store without getting anything.

For those of you uninformed, Jerry was once the mayor of Cincinnati. He got into some political trouble in the 1970's because of a check he wrote. In the 1980's he was a local television anchor which led him to hosting a talk show. The rest is history.

Interestingly enough, I saw him out in public a few years ago. I was in Sarasota, Florida with Aaron and Brad Budde. Jerry winters there, and he was at a single-A baseball game we were at. There were only a few hundred people there, so you noticed when Jerry arrived. Kids went up to him asking for autographs. As he left the game early, Brad yelled out to him, "See ya, Jerry!" And Jerry waved.

But back to Mr Albert's story, I find it hilarious. I'm sure Jerry expected a different response when he went into the Hyde Park Kroger. Hyde Park is a more "refined" Cincinnati neighborhood; a white-collar area where you'd think few people would be interested in The Springer Show. Jerry probably thought he could walk in, do some shopping and be left alone. He was wrong. Even in Hyde Park people slow down for car accidents.

It's a little pathetic that, despite the fact that Springer is a very intelligent guy, he will always be a cartoon character. Sure, he made a ton of money, but he sacrificed respectability to get there.

There might be a lesson in there somewhere but I'm afraid of a beat down at the hand of Jerry's bouncers, so I'll refrain.

Doing God's Work

Had a providential encounter with Russell Smith today at work. Russell [ blogs here] and I have emailed each other a couple times, but this was the first time I've met him in person. He pastors the Covenant First Presbyterian Church in downtown Cincinnati. Covenant is a congregation over 200 years old. They have deep roots and would have the tendency to be very inwardly focused, but Russell's doing his best to lead them into the future.

I have a lot of respect for what Russell is doing. Working with an established church, especially one with two-hundred years of history, is like steering an oil-tanker. But they're still trying to be innovative, even hosting a Star Wars Bible Study.

It's Bible believing/teaching churches like Covenant [and hopefully Echo] that will really change the city of Cincinnati.

Too Close To Home

Earlier this week Kelly and I were reminiscing about our wonderful trip to Jordan, Israel, and France. And just this morning I was telling a customer how safe we felt when we were in Jordan. Should've kept my mouth shut.

A few hours ago there were multiple bombings in Amman, Jordan hitting three hotels at which Americans frequently stay. We didn't stay in any of those places, but I'm sure we drove past a couple of them. Authorities think al-Qaida is to blame.

It's unfortunate because we felt really safe in Jordan. Late one night in Amman, we walked down the street to a local store and had [almost] no fear. Jordan is a beautiful country. Too bad Americans won't feel safe traveling there again. I'm glad we saw it when we did.

About Jobs

There's just too much I want to talk about today, so I gotta drop some some totally unconnected thoughts. But I will use my preaching skills to package them as a cohesive unit. So this afternoon, my friends, it's all about jobs.

1. Mayor
Fearing death at the hands of P Diddy [or Diddy, Puffy, Duffy, or whatever], I decided to vote this afternoon. This was my first election as a resident in the city of Cincinnati [I've always lived in the 'burbs] so I finally had the chance to effect the outcome of a mayoral race. Unfortunately, I really don't care for either candidate. Am I just reaching that point in life where no political figure is going to be able to gain my respect? At least I got one of those little voting stickers.
2. News Personality
Today was Channel 5 day at Panera today. Three of the news women from Cincinnati's NBC affiliate came in today and, by the third one, I had to make a comment about it. I told the anchorlady, "everyone from your work has been in here today." She said, "really, who?" This was problematic because I really don't watch Channel 5, so I had to respond [no kidding], "Well, that one woman who got mugged by that fake attacker in that one story." And she knew exactly who I was talking about.
3. Professional Athlete
-Terrell Owens wants us to feel bad for him. I just can't do it. Could you imagine a job where you could publicly criticize your boss [to the national media, at that] and get away with it? Good luck in your next job, T.O.

4. Cheerleader
I just can't ignore this story, but I'll do my best to tread lightly. About those two Carolina Panthers cheerleaders . . . um, yeah, that's messed up. It's stuff like this that give cheerleaders a bad reputation.

5. Lawyers
You think lawyers take a beating here in the US, life's not to good if you're one of Saddam's Hussein lawyer. It might be better to sell fruit or something.

That's about it for today. I guess I should give a shout out to this guy too. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be posting this right now.

Peddle Faster

And now, a moment of vented frustration . . .

Cyclists. I just don't get them.

On my way home from work, I drove on a stretch of Victory Parkway that went down to one lane. Of course, I get behind a guy riding a bike, cruising at a brisk 4 miles per hour. He noticed that I was behind him and made no attempt to speed up. For some reason he refused to put his hands on the handlebar, keeping them behind his back. To this I exclaim, "what the heck?!?!"

It might just be me, but all the cyclists I've ever encountered think that the world revolves around them. It's as if they think the roads belong to them alone. And they want it both ways. They want to be recognized as if they were a motor vehicle, but they're unable to go as fast. If I was driving behind a car going 4 MPH, I might lose my religion and run the car off the road. And I think I'd be justified in doing so. What makes a bike any different? So take your yellow, wannabe Lance Armstong jersey and go offroading in the woods somewhere. When you can peddle your bike to go 45 MPH, come talk to me.

Oh, and about the spandex that cyclists feel obligated to wear: do us all a favor and give it up. No one wants to see that.

She Calls Out To The Man On The Street . . .

Among the things that made this Sunday a great day:

• It was a beautiful fall morning for a drive, despite the category seven winds.
  
• This morning at Amelia, a lady said the following remark about my sermon: "Well, that didn't suck." Brilliant.
  
• I was able to listen to a Mark Driscoll sermon on the iPod during the commute.
  
• This afternoon, we hit some Donatos for lunch. That pizza rocks.
• My wife watched the Bengals game with me and was sincerely interested.
  
• The Bengals are 7-2, and they get to play the Ravens again in three weeks.
  
• We had three more first-time visitors tonight, two of them from the neighborhood.
• Teaching Genesis 3 was awesome. The text practically teaches itself.
  
• We have an incredible core group of people at Echo Church that all kick in.
  
• Our employee meeting at Panera after church wasn't that bad.

*Yep, Phil Collins, just another day for you and me in paradise.

*True, Phil's Song Another Day In Paradise does not actually talk about a positive day, but I decided to use it for this post. It's a lot like the way people used Bruce Springsteen's Born In The USA to show American pride while, all the while, it was sarcastic.

Chad Johnson Is Sick

This guy makes plays like no other wide receiver I've ever seen. Sure, Randy Moss makes some amazing plays, but Chad is nowhere near Moss's size. He might not be putting up huge numbers right now, but he's doing everything he can to get his team in a position to win.

The Bengals will be 7-2 going into the bye week, with two weeks to prepare for a game against the [possibly still] undefeated Indianapolis Colts. This feels a lot like 1988.

Who-Dey, indeed.

Good Effort

I've been scanning the internet to try to find out how my alma mater's soccer team did at the national championship in Florida. They won two games in a row to make it to the final match where they were unable to overcome Manhattan Christian College. So a great season for the Cincinnati Christian University Golden Eagles who end up the national runner-up.

Well played, guys.

It comes in 3's

I really haven't written about my third job. So many things have been going on that I just forget to post about it. I'm working at Panera weekdays in the mornings and evevnings. I'm building Echo on weeknights and Sunday nights. And for the time being, on Sunday mornings, I'm the interim preacher at the Amelia Church of Christ on the east side of Cincinnati. Amelia lost their minister a couple of months ago and, thanks to a JoLynn Handel connection, I was able to get in there. This will be my fourth week filling in tomorrow.

So far, it's been a good experience. Back in college [and when I worked at the college] I used to go around and preach at these little churches all over the area. I'd just show up, shake some hands, and preach my heart out. I've been doing the same thing out at Amelia and they've appreciated it. I'm preaching through Acts, tying in some Old Testament links to the book. So they get what they need [someone to preach] and I get what I need [the chance to preach and a little extra money] and everyone's happy.

I have to say that their building is one of the most interesting church buildings I've been in. It's designed with many different angles and absolutely no symmetry. I arrived early my first Sunday there and explored the place. There are four different levels in the building with stairwells all over the place. The building, which is about thirty years old, must have been designed by an architect with a sense of humor.

I don't know how much longer this gig will last; they're interviewing candidates to take the position full-time. But I'll live it up for all it's worth. I've got three jobs. How 'bout that for the American dream?

Me and Patsy Cline

Another crazy day at work. It's becoming more and more regularly crazy.

And speaking of crazy, at a slow point mid-morning a woman came in with her elderly father to get some coffee. As they made it up to my register, I could hear them talking about a Christian Church in the city. I mentioned to them that I knew that church because I was a minister here in town. This impressed them because apparently the elderly gentleman had been a minister for thirty years. After some small chit-chat, the woman then asked what I was doing working at Panera. I told her that we were planting a church in Walnut Hills. This, my friends, was her dead-pan response:

"Why would you want to do that?"

I don't know if could properly convey how she said that sentence to me. She looked at me in total disbelief, as if I had suddenly grown antlers before her very eyes. After I told her this personal info, she totally lost interest in talking to me. It was beyond her understanding that anyone would purposefully move to the city to start a church there. I laughed as they walked away, knowing that I am truly indeed loco.

Unfortunately it seems that it's only Christians who don't get what we're doing with Echo. But it's responses like this that keep me going. I love it when people think we're off our rocker because nothing world-altering succeeds criticism free. Since this morning, I've been thinking about some words the apostle Paul wrote in his second epistle to the Corinthians. He wrote,

"If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you.
For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died.
And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again."

So Paul, the brilliant theologian, does his best to reclaim the charges of lunacy aimed at him for Jesus. It's a good example to follow. So tighten up the straps on my straight-jacket; it's not quite snug enough.

Or as my wife would say, "Crazy? I was crazy once . . ."

A Pastor Remembered

Today was a crazy day at work. I won't go into it, but sometimes life gets so frustrating you just want to kick something.

There's a sad story I've been sitting on the past couple of days because I wasn't sure what to do with it. This past Sunday morning there was a horrible accident at the University Baptist Church in Waco, Texas. UBC was planted by Chris Seay [who now pastors a church on Houston] and David Crowder. Their current pastor, Kyle Lake, was baptizing some people when he reached for a microphone and was electrocuted. He was only 33. Kyle left behind a wife and three young children. It's an incredibly horrible situation and it'll take a long time for the church and people who knew him to overcome this loss.

Although I knew little about Kyle and his ministry, times like this make you reflect on life, death and the lives you've touched in your life. Here is a transcript from the last sermon that Kyle ever preached that very morning he died. It's amazing how, as preacher, you never what a difference your words will make. Kyle was preaching for people, but he was also delivering his last sermon. He are a few of the words he spoke. It's certainly powerful . . .

"Live. And Live Well. BREATHE. Breathe in and Breathe deeply. Be PRESENT. Do not be past. Do not be future. Be now. On a crystal clear, breezy 70 degree day, roll down the windows and FEEL the wind against your skin. Feel the warmth of the sun. If you run, then allow those first few breaths on a cool Autumn day to FREEZE your lungs and do not just be alarmed. Be ALIVE."

No amount of crazy days could ever make me forsake the blessing of life. Reading those words of Kyle's makes you want to be alive, doesn't it? Now that's a good life lived. Why not try living it for all it's worth today.

It's beginning to look a lot like . . .

Yes, Christmas. Not because the holiday push is getting earlier and earlier [I saw a guy in Hyde Park setting up Christmas decorations on Monday] but because of the big gift coming my way:

The Cincinnati Reds have new ownership.

Uncle Carl has finally decided to sell. And to a group that has invested money in professional baseball franchises. As a result of this news I declare, albeit a tad early:
Rev up the Machine, the Reds are back!

I know that fifteen years without a championship cannot compare to the recent droughts that both the Red and White Sox have broken, but it feels as if it's been eighty years. I was born between two Reds World Championships and, on the verge of fathering a child, would like to share such an experience with him/her [three weeks until we discover boy or girl]. We need a competitive team. You don't buy a professional franchise these days to make money, you do it to win. So I say welcome to the new owners. Please get us some pitching.

Nothing like a little hot stove to keep me warm through the winter.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

*By the way, I've written about the Reds here and here and sorta here.