A Picture of My Philosophy

Recently a friend who teaches philosophy asked if I'd participate in a social experiment. He was trying to collect pictures from people across a wide spectrum that summarized their philosophy of life. Fascinating question. I thought about it for a couple of days.

I settled in on one of my favorite pictures ever. Here it is:

Understand that I wrote this just past midnight (the day after Father's Day), so I'm not sure I buy into all of my description, but here's what I wrote to explain the picture:

Attached is a picture of my daughter Kaelyn on her first day of school. She's waiting in line to meet her teacher for the first time. You might observe the smile and assume that she was cool, but I know her better. She's scared to death. But when I ask her, "can you smile for me?" she gives it her best shot. And as her Father, I feel immensely proud. She trusts me. Even though it'll be rough, it's not that bad.

Even though the metaphor breaks apart when teased out fully, I see this in my philosophy of life. As a theist, I hold that a creator God who knows me intimately hovers over this life. He knows my fear. He knows that this journey might not end up like I want it to. But he asks for that smile. He just asks that I give it my best shot, knowing that he's looking down on me. He asks that I trust. So I look up at him, give a hesitant smile, and try to make him proud.

Longing for Affirmation

All the buzz around the Queen City this week has been a New York Times article praising the city's commitment to revitalization. My Facebook and Twitter feed blow'd up with links from my urban dwelling brethren, excited about the national recognition. As much as I'm the city's biggest cheerleader, I'm left wanting. A few observations:

1. There was no mention of our current struggles. You always give both sides of the situation to keep grounded in reality. Although I'm loving what's happening in the lower bowl, our city's finances are jacked up and there are about 45 other neighborhoods where the outlook isn't quite as rosy. Although things are looking good, there are systemic issues that must be dealt with. Using the Banks as a barometer of the city's progress is no different than using plastic surgery to assess one's health.

2. We really aren't that bad anyway. My thesis work will be centered on Cincinnati. When I was at school in Boston, I was asked by classmates to describe the city. One thing I shared is that people from our city generally have a poor outlook of it. We're haters. That's why some of us latch on so tightly when a paper like the Times publishes something positive about Cincinnati. Our town isn't utopia, but it's surely much better than many realize. I'm still uncertain as to why locals are so skeptical of this being a great place to live. I think we have father issues.

3. Why can't we aim for more? The most laughable reaction is that our local paper, the Cincinnati Enquirer, actually published a link to the NYT article as news. I'm sure the reason that they did was to try to catch some search engine pull as it was moving through the local news cycle. It's sad, really. Instead of relying on a reputable East Coast paper to offer quality reporting,we don't we strive to create our own form of excellence? With technology, the ability for us to have more/better is accessible.

4. If you're from the Cincy 'burbs and angry about this, just stop throwing stones. You can complain about the city all day long but the reality is that, without it, you'd have nothing. Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

Is It Worth It?

I invest. I speak not of a financial investment (like saving up for retirement), but rather where I direct my time and talents.

I view these investments in two tiers: those critical investments which define my life (family, church, vocation) and those investments which act as a release from the first.

It's those second tier investments I want to examine here. Even though they're not critical, they can be important because they act as a release from those key investments; you can't continue to press yourself forward without taking a breather. Finding healthy release imposes balance upon your life. It's why I'm interested in running marathons right now: it keeps me healthy and gives me a goal outside of my other life endeavors. It's a win-win.

I also invest in watching sports. This is nice too because it requires little exertion on my part yet provides compelling drama. It's a great release.

For example: while online this past weekend I saw that Johan Santana of the Mets was throwing a no-hitter through seven innings. I'm nowhere near being a Mets fan (although they were playing the St. Louis Cardinals whom I wish ill upon), but the drama of a no-hitter is so captivating it insists on being watched. I flipped television stations and was able to see Santana's quest for a clean sheet. Again, even though I don't heart the Mets, I was pulling for the guy to accomplish this admirable feat.

Well, Santana was successful and, after the last strikeout to seal the no-hitter, he was mobbed by his teammates. While watching the euphoria on the field, as the Mets piled-on the victorious pitcher, I saw something incredibly bizarre: a Gary Carter jersey. For those unfamiliar with baseball history, Gary Carter was a catcher for the Mets who retired years ago and died a few months ago, making it doubly impossible that he was on the field celebrating with the team. It was soon recognizable that this person was just a fan sporting a Gary Carter jersey. He was so excited for the no-hitter that he ran on the field to celebrate with the team. The guy even had a few seconds of joy before security took him down.

I forgot about this guy until I saw a news story online earlier today. Apparently the lifelong Mets fan (a pilot, mind you) decided that he just needed to celebrate with the team on the field. His payoff: two nights in jail. Not only did the stunt cause him to miss his child's first birthday, he's now banned for life from attending games in the stadium.

I'm still left with numerous questions about this dude's decision, most of which I have no desire to explore. But an overwhelming thought still remains with me:

When is the investment no longer worth it?

I would suggest that an investment can only be measured in relation to priorities. So my investment in watching sports is fine so long as it acts as a release and doesn't detract from my life's priorities.

This guy who ran out on the field has a solid job, and a wife and a kid. There's some semblance of life priority going on there: he works to provide for his family. That's his top tier investment. And he has something like Mets baseball to act as a release, and that's fine. But once he ran on the field, his second tier investment became more important than his top tier and everything went askew.

You might view this as a misread on my part. So he missed his kid's first birthday party. No big deal, right? I mean, if you've ever attended one of these things, you know that there's not much to one of those shindigs: kid drools, paws at some presents, and sloppily eats cake. Take away the photographic evidence and there's no way my daughter will recollect what happened at her first birthday.

But in this guy's case, it's not missing those few hours at a party that are significant—it's the story of that event that will continue to resonate. For years to come, his family and friends will recall the missed birthday party because he felt obligated to break the law to celebrate with some guys whom he never met. Sure, it might only have been a couple of days out of his thousands here on earth, but the narrative arch will speak volumes about his life. Unfortunately, this kid will be the recipient of a subtle message: in that moment, Daddy loved the Mets more than he loved you.

And what that exposes is that those investment priorities weren't nearly as solid as they seemed.

As I apply this tale introspectively, I'm led to wonder how I'm doing with my investments. I'm reminded that I need to make sure that I'm keeping focus.

Otherwise, I'm just another idiot running onto a playing field that's not my own.

A Weekend Buffet

If the 1980's taught us anything, it was the following nugget of wisdom: "Wax on, wax off."

There are few things in the world as satisfying as waxing a car. As a new driver, I discovered that a nice coat of wax can make an old car look new. My only hang up was the time-intensity; waxing a car by hand (including a good washing ahead of time), took a few hours. Still, it was worth it. I tried to give me car a good waxing a couple of times a year.

About seven years ago, my parents must have realized my passion and gave me a car buffer for Christmas.

Best gift ever.

But a few months later, our move to the city required downsizing. I reluctantly left the buffer at my parents house. The buffer spoils you, making a hand wax seem like rocking a Nokia 3310 (am I right?). So now, I almost refuse to wax without the buffer.

Which is why I like three-day weekends.

The downside to multi-dwelling city living is that, with no drive way or garden hose, car maintenance is more complicated. When it comes to caring for our rides, I prefer to do it at my parents' house in the 'burbs. But that requires losing a day to the task. But the glory of the three-day weekend is that I can squeeze it all in and still feel rested. A holiday like Memorial Day is ripe for waxing. Even though yesterday's heat was oppressive, I found a patch of shade and buffed away. After finishing, my old 1999 Exploder looked six years newer. I'm not sure there are many feelings in this world like hopping in a newly waxed automobile.

It rained today.

About Boston

I've spent three weeks in this town, enough that I think I can offer the following observations. There is some decent public transportation here, but isn't New York City, so you'll likely need a car.

If you're driving, you need to grow thick skin. Drivers here are merciless. Just assume that someone wants to cut you off. And you have to cut people off yourself, otherwise you'll never get anywhere.

And speaking of the roads, pay no attention to the painted lines between lanes. Those are optional.

The cost of living, in comparison to Cincinnati, is ridiculous. Almost everything is more expensive here.

That said, proximity to beautiful views of the Atlantic Ocean have to come at some cost.

That said, I'm here in May. If I had to endure to weather between November and March, I'd change move south.

The architecture is pretty rad. The school is out on the North Shore of Boston, all of which looks like it's out of a movie. Absolutely gorgeous.

The accents are precious. I lingered a couple of days ago to hear a typical Boston conversation just because it sounded awesome.

If I were a seafood guy (which I'm not), I'd love this place. I paid homage, though, and sampled the fare.

The roast beef is the big local food. I get it, and it's tasty, but it doesn't pull me in.

I find the downtown area irresistible. The mixture of water and hills reminds me of Cincinnati.

Cannot get a fountain Coke here unless you go to a fast food joint and pay out the yin yang. I've abstained, missing my UDF.

Once you're out of the car, the people are incredibly friendly. Nice folk.

It's such a cool place, but an annoying place at the same time. But I guess all big cities are like that. If I'm gonna be away from home, might as well be in a place like this.

Seriously. I mean it.

This is my blog. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. Yes, this place has been a barren wasteland of world wide web real estate recently; this is only my 8th blog post of the year. But I think I needed to step away for awhile.

I'm writing this from Boston, working out my second doctoral residency. In the time between my first doctoral residency and now, I feel like I condensed a few years of life into this past one. A list of things from my life from my last year:

• Our daughter started all-day kindergarten
• Took a new job within the University, working in the marketing/digital field.
• Completed the first chapter of my doctoral thesis
• Had to move the location of Echo Church
• Had to get settled into a new church location
• Lost a good friend to cancer
• Taught five college courses
• Spoke at a Christian Teen Convention
• Ran two marathons
• Helped oversee bringing in Tim Tebow to CCU
• Preached dozens of sermons

But the biggest reason I've kept from blogging is that I'm doing an immense amount of writing currently. In writing my thesis, and overseeing social media, websites, and blogs, I'm constantly crafting words. When I get home at night, I just want to decompress and watch Top Gear. And if I do post on the web, I want to tweet. 140 characters doesn't seem as imposing as a blog post.

Yet as much as a whine about a busy life, everyone's life is busy. And I've been using it as an excuse. Apologies for my laziness. It needs to change.

So I'm going to start posting more regularly again.

Seriously. It'll happen.

I've enjoyed this blog immensely. I don't want to feel embarrassed at the lack of content. So now I write again.

If Only I Blogged . . .

In a few weeks, I will likely unpack the various reasons for my lack of posting this year. But I just wrapped up a fantastic Easter weekend that I care to recap briefly:

• Ran 16 miles on Friday, still on pace for my fifth marathon in May
• Stopped by Fairview to see Kaelyn during her lunch time. I love that she loves I'm there.
• Snuck out afterward with Kelly to enjoy "big people's" lunch with Kelly.
• Headed to Columbus to speak three messages at the Ohio Teens For Christ Convention.
• While there, I was able to hang around the Austin-based band Price Hill, OSU campus minister Seth Aldridge, my Cincy compadre Jade Kendall, and many other people that made my weekend joyful.
• Returned home Saturday to help Kaelyn pull her second tooth.
• Celebrated a joint-Resurrection Sunday Service with the Cincinnati Church of the Brethren.
• Was able to spend this afternoon with my parents, siblings, and siblings' spouses and kids (and I apparently did better hiding the eggs this year).
• Saw my sports teams perform well, with the Reds coming from behind to win and ManUnited pulling clear of ManCity, ever closer to their 20th title.
• Spent the late evening finally completing our 2011 taxes—another refund year.

I feel somewhat exhausted but rather satisfied. On the radar in the next six weeks, there's CCU's Tim Tebow event, the Flying Pig Marathon, and my second doctoral residency in Boston.

It's the interesting life, eh?

Is Kony2012 A Social Justice Issue?

I'm not that guy. I just tend to ask questions. Everyone and their neighbor is all over the Kony 2012 initiative sponsored by the Invisible Children organization. A Vimeo video explaining the movement now has more than 10 million views. In 2007, Echo Church hosted an Invisible Children presentation. The organization made a film highlighting the abhorrent actions of the Lord's Resistance Army in Uganda. The LRA would kidnap children in order to train them to be soldiers. It spawned a social active movement, primarily with the funding of safe schools, that contributed to positive change in the country.

The Kony 2012 movement is an effort to attack the issue at the head. Joseph Kony is a warlord of the LRA. The movement is designed to further expose these atrocities with the hope of bringing him to justice. Currently, the U.S. deployed a small group of soldiers to provide training and support for Ugandan military personnel to combat the LRA. With this support possibly expiring, the Invisible Children group wants to keep Kony in the forefront of people's minds to encourage his arrest.

Upon watching the video, I was puzzled at how quickly people have embraced this movement. Two observations that I'd ask you to consider.

First, a basic understanding of the political climate of many nations on the African continent reveals that an operation to stop Kony will not end in arrest; it will consist of a militaristic pursuit that will ultimately end in his killing. Even though the movement organizers claim they seek justice got Kony, the only justice true justice to emerge will be his bloodshed. He will not be taken alive.

From a political perspective, this is not problematic. But when invoking this as a justice issue, it numerous questions. The foremost: is it truly social justice to seek the death of an oppressor? In fact, it illustrates the delicate line between justice and political action. Even though the movement's organizers are aiming for political correctness when pleading for his arrest, it is a misguided goal. There is no other end game but his death. It is not necessarily wrong (from a biblical, retributive perspective) for his life to be take for his evil actions, but should this be the role that a non-profit takes?

Second, and this is a pragmatic argument, organizations like the LRA are rarely led by just one individual. When Kony is dead, his lieutenants will rise to take his place, perhaps even hardened to act even more ruthlessly. Violence begets violence. I'm not staking a pacifist position here but am stating a fact that has continued to ravage the African continent for decades: imperialism helped create this violent culture. By no means should we affirm the LRA's actions, but there is similar tragedy occurring around the globe even at this moment. Why, then, should we stop with Uganda? What about issues in Iran, Pakistan, and North Korea? Should we mobilize to bring attention to those atrocities as well?

In short, even though people are suffering, the solvent is political, not social justice. Innocents in the crossfire are suffering, but this is a horrible fact not limited to any certain geographic region. It is fine to raise awareness, but to outline a course of action is to assume a political, nationalistic agenda that transcends mere justice.

I apologize that I haven't fully teased this out, but I felt like I needed to get this out. You might even be offended that I dare to question this movement. But in our era of social media, we tend to make immediate judgements on issues without truly contemplating the facts. I believe that the Invisible Children organization is well-intentioned here but naive in what they're truly imploring people to do.

If you do support the movement, that's fine. But I'd ask that you consider the end game. And then decide whom to attack next.

Kathryn Ruth Baughman

The past two weeks have been difficult, for our family and for Echo Church. I've been thinking hard on how to best summarize this experience but decided to just start writing and see what emerges. Our friend Kathy Baughman passed away January 20th. She had been fighting cancer on her brain and her spine for almost ten months when she succumbed to the disease. Kathy was in her mid-fifties, a wonderful wife and mother of two grown children. And most cherished by the people of Echo, she was basically our church's surrogate mother.

I want to tell you about how exhausting this was, both mentally and spiritually. But to do so would be an embarrassment to how Kathy faced her end. You see, if anyone had a reason to complain, it was Kathy. Why such a beautiful woman could be stricken with a horrible disease is extremely difficult to comprehend. But never once did she gripe. Instead, she exuded joy, even in the midst of such hardship; her smile was infectious. She fought off death multiple times, and the faced it with absolute grace.

On multiple occasions, her husband Joe told me that, upon hearing her terminal diagnosis, Kathy prayed that God might use this disease for his glory. And, more specifically, that Echo Church might be blessed because of this cancer.

Our young church rallied around this family. We prayed fervently. And our people, especially the women of Echo—those in whom Kathy had already invested much—responded in a way I never could have imagined. They fixed meals, cleaned their house, drove Kathy on errands. They showed God's love to a woman who embodied it. I have never been more proud to be a pastor. I saw the church for what it's meant to be. And despite the numerous flaws of us within, God grace was visible in our midst through Kathy.

Last week, after she had passed, we used our Sunday worship at Echo for a time of praise to the Lord; we thanked him for blessing us with Kathy. We read Scripture, we sang, we wept, but we did it all in a posture of gratefulness. And as I looked around our congregation that night, I could see a changed people. God used this horrible experience to transform many of us. We're better servants now, better elders, better Christians. I'm not sure whether or not this would have happened without Kathy's struggle, but it's amazing nonetheless.

Her prayers were answered: her cancer was transformed into a blessing for us.

For me, this experience reinforces the Christian theme of redemption. Our fallen world is an imperfect place. While sin has direct consequences (prices we pay for our own sinfulness), it also has indirect consequences that affect us all, no matter how righteous we are. This is why the world's filled with unjust tragedies like disease, natural disasters, and even cancer. But God is able to redeem the byproducts of sin for the betterment of his people. For example, God can take an unplanned pregnancy and produce a beautiful being. And the more apt example for us would be that he can take a woman's cancer and make people rise to become better men and women for Him.

We'll never know why this happened, but I can accept it because Kathy herself refused to even entertain this question. She was a faithful woman, even to the very end. And her short life was dedicated to serving others. Perhaps the greatest testimony of her devotion to others was the presence of former students at her memorial service. I was struck by seeing so many young people torn to shreds at her passing. I'm not sure if I ever felt that way about any of my teachers growing up, but Kathy's investment moved them to tears. I'm so grateful to Joe, Meghan and Kyle for sharing their mother with us. I mourn deeply for them, but I know Kathy continues to live on through their lives.

Just one more thing, from a personal perspective: I was privileged to be Kathy's pastor. Because of the long struggle, where Kathy lost hearing, sight, and the ability to express herself well, it's easy to only think of her helplessness. But I'm blessed to remember her as being hopeful. She was the consummate encourager; she was a passionate believer; she was a phenomenal woman. My greatest relief in these past few weeks occurred just after her funeral service. It was by far the easiest funeral I've ever delivered as she gave me tons of great material (by the way, this was the first time I ever cited Facebook at a funeral [and I did it multiple times]). Despite this, however, I was stressed-out beforehand. I felt a huge burden to represent her well. Fortunately, quite a few attendees encouraged me afterward, saying that I summarized her life well. I'm so grateful for that. It would have devastated me to not truly honor this woman.

I'm linking here to a copy of the funeral message I delivered. It's basically a sermon, which is the way that Kathy would have preferred it. I share it for those unable to attend, so that you might get a glimpse into how amazing this woman was, and how amazing the Lord was to her.

And my hope is that we can all live more like Kathy. If we do, the world will most definitely be a better place.

If I Were A Rich Man . . .

I wish I was wealthy, but not for the reasons you think.

I was always attracted to the nobility of vocational ministry—having the privilege of making a living from the gospel. While it's a financially humbling endeavor (certainly not a gig one pursues for the payout) our family has been blessed never to have been in financial peril during any time of our 13+ years of ministry. Recently, however, I realized I understated a critical truth throughout my ministry: money makes things go. Kingdom work depends on funding and it seems there's just never enough cash on hand.

I wish I was wealthy, but not to better my family's existence.

There are so many amazing ministry causes I'm aware of but I can't assist all of them. Our family commits more than a tithe to support gospel efforts around the globe. And our little church is committed to the cause as well—with the first 20% of our budget going to mission works.

I wish I was wealthy so I could give more.

It absolutely rips my heart up when a missionary contacts me asking for resources, all so they can minister in God-forsaken places, and I have to refuse. Just thinking about it makes me ill. And, for some reason, it seems like I'm getting more and more calls for support. 

Do you share my desire for wealth?

Maybe you're not giving to causes beyond your own church community. Or maybe you're incredibly wealthy and just stumbled on to this post by a Google search. Can I encourage you to make a commitment to missionaries? Let me give you a few reasons.

1. They're not getting rich off this deal.
Dan Dyke, a professor at CCU, co-leads a small group with me. Last semester he told the story of a missionary who lived his entire life in poverty but continued to serve faithfully. So just because you see the pictures of the missionaries in some exotic place you'd love to vacation doesn't mean they're living a lifestyle above their means. I've rarely witnessed a missionary who had more than what they needed to survive. If you have an expensive hobby but are stingy when it comes to supporting missionaries, I think should recalibrate your priorities.

2. They're doing work that requires their full attention.
I'm a very big proponent of bivocational ministry (having a job while serving as a minister); I've been in doing it in some form since we've started Echo. But I know of some congregations that are now demanding that their missionaries have some sort of money-making endeavor on the side to help fund their own mission. While that's a strategic approach, it can be completely unrealistic in many missionary cultures. It's difficult to enter a business market as a foreigner and compete. These missionaries need to have the freedom to devote themselves fully to the ministry, and they can often do it at a much more affordable cost than ministers in the States.

3. They're where we're not.
Admit it: there are places in the world that you're glad you never have to go. Well, that's where missionaries are right now. They're committed to going there because it's a calling. If God hasn't called you to be there, the least you can do is support those who are paying the price.

I wish I was wealthy, but maybe I just need to be more generous.

Yep, this is all a massive guilt trip, but a little guilt can be good.

If you're a follower of Jesus, you're part of a global body that meets all over the world. And there's always things we can do to support our brothers and sisters around the globe. I'd encourage you to give of your wealth to support these efforts.

Whether it's people like Adam and Kristy Griffith in Thailand, Tracey and Christine Keitt in Chile, Tom and Suja Brane in Burkina Faso, Brent and Anna Fudge in Haiti, Wendy Wagoner in Tanzania,  Dawid and Justyna Wawrzyniak in Poland, Daniel and Buzi Mawyio in Myanmar, or Sam and Brittany Gill in Pakistan. They (and many more) could use your help.

Use your wealth to change the world.

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Why Did I Write That?

I recently wrote an article for the Christian Standard, a church magazine affiliated with my Restoration Movement religious tradition, entitled Counting Sheep. The point of the article is that churches should beware of only using worship attendance as a measure of success. Since it's written in a more authoritative tone, I thought I'd go a little further here explaining why I wrote the article in first place. I've always been inquisitive and find myself continually questioning why things are done in a certain way. I'm not sure it's merely due to my rebellious nature; I'm not just trying to question authority. It's just that too many times we assume that certain principles are universal, rather than just contextual. And if our rubric is skewed, we'll never arrive at a truly healthy place.

This is my critique of the church growth movement: it was born out of an American post World War 2 society where unchurched people were looking to establish a faith foundation. It was appropriate to rely on a body count at the time, when people were coming to church for the first time. Now, almost three generations later, the nation's percentage of Christians is in steep decline. Churches are finding it more and more difficult to reach the growing unchurched population, so we find ourselves in direct competition with other churches to attract consumeristically-minded believers.

It makes sense. This culture lends itself to larger and larger congregations and everyone wants to be a part of something successful. And the numbers are amazing. Just twenty years ago, a church of 7,000 was absolutely prolific. Now, there are more than 70 churches in the United States with over 10,000 people in attendance a week. As a result, systems enabling such large structures are becoming the norm among church practitioners. But if you question why we want churches to grow this large, the undeniable answer has been to claim that it's biblical.

And that was the major issue I wanted to deconstruct: I truly believe that church size is not a biblical issue. It is well within the parameters of biblical permission to have a very small church or a very large church. But using the Bible to suggest that we MUST have large churches is poor hermeneutic and, perhaps, an abuse of Scripture. There are many things that we do in the church that have no prooftext. We shouldn't assume to pull out some Bible verses to try to deflect criticism. What I hope happens is that, as our churches grow, we continue to ask ourselves if our growth is truly healthy.

In the article, I mention that part of my arrival to this position is what I've experienced this with Echo. I've been blessed to see some amazing things in our congregation, things absent in all of my previous ministries. I'm not trying to insult those churches, as all of them were numerically superior than Echo is. But if I held to only a quantitative formula of success, we would have shut this thing down a long time ago.

And my fear as that other church leaders will not be as discerning as they do ministry. But pastors' egos are a fragile thing; if they don't see an assumed yield, they could easily interpret it as a failed calling. So it's critical that we identify this well. Not every congregation will experience phenomenal growth, but that doesn't make it any less significant.

So this article wasn't bathed in bitterness, but motivated by hope and encouragement. I hope all believers can take pride in their congregation, no matter how big or small. There's plenty of room in the kingdom for all of us.

The Cincinnati "Almost"

I recognize that taste . . . it's very familiar . . . Ah yes, it's the aftertaste of dashed hope after another local sports team almost did something remarkable.

Like an oblivious teenager longing for reciprocal love, I give my all to my Cincinnati teams only to find myself crying into my pillow late at night. You think I'd be wiser after thirty-six years, but the leanings of my prepubescent heart always trumps acquired knowledge. I keep coming back for more and, thus, I'm constantly left with this taste of almost in my mouth—a full-bodied flavor of disappointment with just a hint of regret.

But I'm forever loyal to these teams; I just can't quit them.

It's in my DNA: I was born between Reds World Championships in the 1970s. And in my formative years, Cincinnati teams had a great run: between 1988 and 1991, the Reds won a World Series, the Bengals went to the Super Bowl, and UC basketball went to a Final Four. I remember jumping for joy when Todd Benzinger caught that foul ball in Oakland in 1990, but if that happened today, I might take off work for a week. This isn't New York: sports championships don't come by here very often. They're to be cherished and loved like your children (or at least like a nephew you see every couple of months).

Since those glory years, Cincinnati fans have been subjected to regular servings of almost: Bearcat basketball in the mid-1990's, the Reds in 1999 and 2010, Bearcat football in 2009, and the Bengals in 2005, 2009, and this year. You'd think just one of those teams could've won it all.

Almost.

But despite all the pain, I persevere. I love this city and, by default, civic pride demands that I love our teams. Someday, in my lifetime, one of these teams will win it all. It will be epic. And all these years of almost will be instantly forgotten.

And it could always be worse: we could live in Cleveland.

Confessions of a Chameleon

"Maybe I should scare the President," I wondered aloud to the people in the conference room. "I dare you," prodded Judy.

Oh, it was on.

There was a perfectly obscured spot right out of view of the glass doors. I waited until Dr Faust, Cincinnati Christian University's President, finished his trek up the hill towards the Welcome Center, right as he entered the doors. Suddenly and loudly I exclaimed, "GLAD TO SEE YOU THIS AFTERNOON, SIR" at which time he jumped back a foot. There was a smile on his face, but he vowed retribution.

It might not help my job security, but it's good times nonetheless.

You see, even past my childhood years, I've appreciated the element of surprise. Maybe it's one of the few tactics that a height-challenged person such as myself can employ, but there are very few things as enjoyable as innocently surprising someone. I mean you no harm, but if I have the opportunity to find a good hiding spot, I'll likely take advantage of it.

I fully embraced it in the early days of our marriage. Kelly and I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment and entertainment options were less plentiful then. If I got bored, I'd search for a creative hiding place—in a closet, under a desk, or even in the shower (she punched me hard in the chest for that one). As we moved up to bigger abodes, I held back on the hiding since it wasn't as challenging; also, I didn't think it fair to hide from her in a large house, thereby creating a complete atmosphere of fear. So over the past few years, I purposely allowed my hiding skills to lapse.

But things have changed. Now that Kaelyn is getting older, and loves being scared, I've picked it up again. I figure that our townhouse is smaller and there are now multiple people to frighten, my hiding is a little less scary. Kaelyn absolutely loves it; it must be in her DNA. It's almost a daily challenge between the two of us of who can hide the best. It's a process: I'm teaching her that hiding can't be predictable: this isn't Hide-And-Go-Seek. It's no fun hiding when people are expecting it. The key is the element of surprise. And it's also important to work some gamesmanship. In the morning, before she comes in my room, I throw the pillows under the covers to make her think I'm still in the bed before popping out at her. And she's started doing the same thing in her bed.

I'm training her to become a hiding Jedi.

So if Kaelyn or I randomly jump out at you, I apologize in advance. It's in our nature.

Better by the Year

I'm kinda excited about putting 2011 to sleep. In many ways, this was a difficult year; I'm pretty sure that it was my toughest pastoral year, as I was continually engaging unexpected issues. Additionally, my father had a heart attack at the beginning of the year, Kelly lost her grandfather at the end of the year, and in between numerous friends had illnesses and deaths in their families. I'm not sure the year was jinxed, but it sure did feel that way. But in looking back, it wasn't entirely bad. I enjoy some statistics, so I had a bit of fun reminiscing on my 2011 by the numbers. This year I . . .

• Took a (one) new position at Cincinnati Christian University (I still have to explain more about this sometime).
• Helped organize a (one) major convention.
• Ran two marathons.
• Wrote two lessons.
• Saw three concerts.
• Performed four weddings.
• Led four community walking tours.
• Taught four college courses (and one graduate course)
• Moved our church space after six years.
• Spent twenty nights in hotel rooms.
• Preached fifty-one sermons.
• Traveled some 10,000 miles (fortunately, however, for a short commute).

I enjoy looking back like this because I feel like I sucked the life out of this past year. But I simultaneously struggle because I know I both a) wasted some time as a result of laziness and b) devoted some serious time to projects that were wastes of time. Everything's a learning experience, so I might have actually grown during those failures, but I'd like to maximize efficiency. There's not much space for me to accomplish more in 2012, but I know I can do better.

And that's my word for 2012: "better." Sure, it's not a specific resolution, but I think it'll prove helpful. If I focus on preaching better, leading better, teaching better, and being present with my family better, I'm sure the year will feel like a success.

So here's to all of us making this a better New Year!

Top Tunes of 2011

I love year ending "best of" lists, but don't really feel qualified to write them. But this year,  I'm going to make an effort in music. Three things contributed to my developing a music swagger. First, the advent of Spotify gave me free access to more music than my Napster Days (of which I am now uber-repentant). And if the music industry is reading this (hopefully they'll ignore that Napster part), know that Spotify has encouraged my to purchase more music this year than I ever have. That leads me to the second contributing factor: my immersion into Amazon Digital Music. Five dollar (and sometimes even cheaper) albums have become my addiction. When we take our loose change to CoinStar, we'll get it in Amazon credit which translates into more music. And finally, we purchased an Apple TV, which can play songs through iTunes (including your iPhone), which has providing a soundtrack to our family reading time. Yep, I listened to a lot of music this year.

So in no particular order (yep, I'm copping out) here are my top songs of 2011.

Foo Fighters-Walk To me, this was Foo's year. Their band documentary came out, their tour (which Kelly and I witnessed firsthand was epic) and their album Wasting Light was one of the best of the year. The album is solid from front to finish, and I'll predict it earns a couple of Grammys. Dave Grohl said that this is the greatest song he's ever written and I'm hard pressed to disagree.

The Head and the Heart- Down in the Valley This band burst onto the national scene this year and I'm glad. Great harmonies (mixing a female voice among a couple of men), powerful piano, and driving melodies. I love all their stuff, but picked this one because it's a great sample of their work.

Manchester Orchestra- April Fool I've been huge on Manchester Orchestra, having the chance to hear them at the House of Blues in Boston this year. It was the same day their new album drop and it's another gem. Although I listen straight through all the tracks, April Fool is typical of their style. Try it out.

Typhoon- The Honest Truth Heard the live performance on a late night talk show and instantly loved it. I'm excited for the reemergence of horns in songs today. That combined with both the lyrics and the honest, choir singing makes this a song you should discover.

M83- Midnight City It's techno, not my normal style, but I have much respect for them. I'm not sure if it's my urban proclivities that make me like this song more (I don't nominate this song for sound urban theology), but it makes me happy listening to it.

Home- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros Even though this song was released in 2009, it didn't reach traction in the U.S. until this year. Everything they do has a retro feel to it, and it was a constant jam as Kaelyn and I drove to school (who doesn't love whistling?).

JayZ and Kanye West-Otis I love JayZ and can tolerate Kanye's lack of humility, so I was excited about this release. Unless you prefer strong language repeated gratuitoulsy, do like I do and download the censored version. This tribute to Otis Redding will be on my marathon running playlist for years to come.

Fleet Foxes- Battery Kinzie Fleet Foxes blew up this year. Many people included them on their best albums of 2011 lists and it's well deserved. I think of them as the second coming of Simon and Garfunkel. Solid strings, deep emotion, and gorgeous harmonies make them a thoroughly enjoyable listen.

Wye Oak- The Alter The duo just has a nice sound. I'm not sure I can explain it any better. Civilian was a great album and, again, this song is just a primer on their sound. Check them out.

Adele-Rolling in The Deep When all is said and done, people will remember 2011 as Adele's year and I love it. Substance truly wins out over style here, with the isolation of a generational voice and the absence of Gaga-style antics. It's mind blowing that she's so young, leaving great hope that we'll have decades of her brilliance to enjoy. Even though Someone Like You is powerful, I'll admit to fatigue and opt for Rolling in the Deep.

The Speed of Web: Lessons from Ocean Marketing

The week between Christmas and New Year's has become one of my favorite times of the year. I'm off work with nothing really to do but eat and read. I guess the only downside is that no one creates new content during this week, so I'm either watching movies on the T.V. (I think we've watched like ten in the past few days) or scouring the interwebs for interesting things to read. One of my go-to sources over the past couple of years has been the social news website reddit. I daily view the site to discover what's popular on the internet. While some of the content is inappropriate, it still provides the easiest means to gauge public perception (I used to frequent reddit's rival digg.com, but the owners sold out to advertisers and their readership summarily plummeted). Users on reddit submit articles, and then people post their comments. The articles range plain silly to political, but there's always something there I can use at a later date. Yesterday on reddit, however, I witnessed what I view to be a perfect summation on how technology has transformed our world.

I'll attempt to retell the story sans geekiness: A small company manufactures a special kind of video game controller that disabled kids can use. As few inventors have the business savvy to distribute their product, the guy who made this controller outsourced his marketing to a third party. They took preorders on the controllers before Christmas, but were having problems getting the manufactured product shipped in from China. One of the guys who ordered the controller emailed the marketing company about the shipping delay and the guy who responded was thoroughly unprofessional in his responses. The marketing guy tried bullying the customer, name-dropped some people and, when an actual gaming website became involved, escalated the insults which were eventually all published online (click here to track through the exchange).

Within hours, an internet witch hunt had commenced. And within 24 hours, the guy had become a pariah. He's sought out other major gaming websites to tell his side of the story but in all likely-hood, when a potential client or company Googles him, this incident will define him as long as he lives.

I find all of this fascinating. On Monday morning, this guy woke up without a care in the world. By Tuesday night, he was known by millions around the world for being a first-class jerk. And there's likely little he can do to change things. At the very least, we can learn something from this tale.

1. We leave a digital trail. I recently read the following remark online: "[On] Facebook I feel as if I have to reserve myself, I hate to think twice before I post something. But on tumblr I feel as if I can post whatever without thinking twice." I'm not sure if this person thinks there's multiple internets where some things are more private than others, but the reality is whatever you post is there forever. Since I've had this blog for seven years now, I've always been mindful of this. Even an email could come back to haunt you.

As a result, we need to be incredibly judicial about what we say digitally. Another of the things I accomplished on vacation was switching over to Facebook's new timeline feature. It makes it easier than ever to look at what I've posted online over the past five years. I can fully understand why some people find this scary; you might be embarrassed now by things posted in the days of your youth. But it's there regardless. So think before you hit "send" or "post." It could save your future.

By the way, one of this marketer's typos has now become an internet meme. So when you read, "I wwebsite as on the internet," it's in reference to this story. I guess another lesson is that proofreading never hurts.

2. How you treat the least of these is important. The marketer's rudness towards the customer In the email exchange is what started this avalanche. And he maintained this posture when talking to a major video game webmaster, treating him like crap. This marketer had internally designated people into two camps: those that matter and those that don't. Here he severely miscalculated because, in the era of the world wide web, the powerless can easily muster an army. Even bullies hate to see someone getting bullied (well, at least by someone else), so people rally to the cause of justice. Again, the way this blew up on the web has the potential to frighten people but I'm actually encouraged. You should always treat people with the dignity and respect, as if the world is watching; in today's culture, they very well could be.

3. Culture is moving faster than ever. This isn't directly related to this story but needs to be stated. I wrote this post after explaining this story to my wife. How hilarious is it that I spent a couple of minutes talking about an email argument between two men over a video game controller? This episode won't shape world events, but it's relevant now. And such is the quick pace of culture in today's world.

Attention spans will continue to shrink as we move on to the next big news item or band or trend. It will be impossible to have the universal relevance that helped shape popular culture in the 20th century. So if you're attempting to reach out to people with your idea or product, you have to continually reapproach what you're doing; what you tried fifteen minutes ago is already dated. This will make it even more difficult for those concretely linked to certain methodologies. The future belongs to the fluid.

In short, be nice to people. Your future may depend on it.

Dead Blog? Nope. It's Just Chuck Testa.

I'm on vacation between now and the end of the year so I'm not only having a blast (can't beat hanging with the family), but also knocking some things off the to-do list: read some books, change out some shower heads, and do some website work. Yep, if you're reading this through a feed, you can head on over to houseofcarr.com to see the new look. This past November marked the seventh year of this site and I'm still thankful it exists. I started it before Kaelyn was born, before we started Echo, and before I hit my thirties. I've written nearly 1,600 posts in that time, and appreciate the opportunity to look back and reflect on experiences through things I wrote. Going through some of my older posts today, I noticed that my writing has developed steadily in style and substance. I think I'm easier to read now. Thanks for your patience.

But I've severely ignored the blog for awhile. Even though I've probably written a dozen, "it's been a long time since I last posted" articles over the years, I feel like I have some legitimate excuses for this current drought. Among them:

• I'm just plain busy. I have a day job, a night/weekend job, and a few other side jobs that soak up some time.
• The advent of social media. Even though I used my blog to question the viability of both Facebook and Twitter, I've utilized them more over the past couple of years because of the immediacy of use. When I first started this blog, MySpace was barely a year old, so a blog was the main way to get your voice out into cyberspace. I don't have the patience to write an entire post on my iPhone, but I can spit out 140 characters on it.
• I'm writing in other places. Since 2007, I've been steadily emerged in academic studies; a couple of weeks ago I finished the first chapter of my doctoral thesis. All that writing has affected the writing I do for leisure.

I don't want to wait until I wrap up my degree in order to devote more time to the blog, so I'm going to try to revive it. I'm hoping 2012 will be a House of Carr renaissance. We'll see if I'm all talk.

By the way, the blog title is a reference to my favorite YouTube video of 2011. Check it out here.

Chapter Two

After six years in one place, Echo Church is finally having to move. For the past two years, we have attempted to purchase the building we were renting. Our leadership went back and forth in negotiations with the Walnut Hill Christian Church, holding dozens of meetings about the property. But in the end, it didn't matter: the building was sold to a private owner who will renovate the edifice into a residence. We were notified last week that we need to be out of the building at the end of the month.

The process of purchasing the building was more exhausting than anything I could have ever imagined; I know that some time soon I'll put into words how ridiculous everything was (it will take multiple blog posts to be sure). We could've had the building if we had offered the right amount, but we were unwilling to leverage the future of our congregation by paying more than it was worth. My greatest sadness is that, when all was said and done, a building dedicated to the worship of God was treated with disrespect by its stewards. The dedication and desire of people who served over decades in this community was dismissed in favor of dollars. But we can walk away with heads held high, knowing that our leadership handled ourselves professionally throughout the entire process.

But that's all in the past. A great future now lies ahead of us

Echo Church is totally committed to remaining in Walnut Hills, our target community for ministry since our inception. And we have been blessed in securing a new location: starting December 4th, we'll be renting the Cincinnati Church of the Brethren at 950 Nassau Street in Walnut Hills.

The CCOB is a fifteen-year-old congregation which moved from the suburbs to urban Cincinnati in 2008. My wife and I have had the pleasure of getting to know their pastor and his family and we're energized by their dedication to this community; in fact, our two churches hosted a joint movie night last summer to reach out to the community. The Church of the Brethren offered us a generous rental rate that will help stretch our ministry efforts. We look forward to continued opportunities to partner with this congregation who is also dedicated to ministering in Walnut Hills.

Our current plan is to meet here on Sunday nights at 6pm, at least through next summer. We're viewing this location as a lay-over—providing us ample opportunity to take our time to search for a more permanent solution. But this building is a definite upgrade on our current location, with recently renovated amenities throughout. It'll take no time at all for us to settle in to our new home.

My sadness concerning the move is eliminated by thoughts of what will happen next. I've never been more excited about Echo. This little thing that we started in 2005 is going strong. I'm thankful for all of you who have bought in to our vision for ministry in urban Cincinnati. I ask for your continued prayers in our efforts as we move on to the next chapter in our story.

Wander Indiana

This past weekend I took a light run around Indianapolis. A 26.2 mile run.

I was a little disappointed after a somewhat soggy Flying Pig Marathon in the spring so I decided to go far a fall marathon. My two criteria: I wanted it to be nearby and I wanted it to be flat. Fortunately, Indianapolis' Monumental Marathon fit the bill.

After three marathons in my hometown, traveling to a race was a peculiar experience. I had to get up to Indy the day before, rent a hotel, and do a drive around town to familiarize myself with the course. Adding to the experience was that I encouraged the girls NOT to join me; obviously, I would've loved their presence, but the marathon expo closed early and we would have had to take Kaelyn out of school for me to make it on time. So I ran the entire marathon and saw absolutely no one that I knew.

Fortunately, the weather was almost perfect (just a little cool for my liking though), without a cloud in the sky. Some reflections of the day so I can remember it later on:

• It was cold in the morning. I was going back and forth whether to go short sleeves or long sleeves. It was just cool enough that I went long sleeves and I fully appreciated the decision. I just don't warm up well anymore.
• While the race was smaller/more simplistic than the Flying Pig, it was a pretty well-run organization. The crowds were fairly small, but they were incredibly encouraging.
• Indianapolis' downtown isn't as big as I thought it was. I'm often hanging out at the Convention Center, at the fringe of downtown, so running around gave me some good perspective. I'd say it's not any bigger than Cincinnati's Central Business District. Because of all the flat land, however, the homes near downtown had yards (something of a rarity in Over-the-Rhine).
• Most of my time in Indy has been around the suburbs, so I was very impressed with the beauty of the neighborhoods close to downtown. The northernmost portion of the course was in the trendy Broad Ripple area, but the surrounding neighborhoods were just as impressive. There were some beautiful old buildings along the course.
• My only complaint is that they didn't provide enough Gatorade. There was plenty of water to be had, but I prefer Gatorade early to store up for the end of the race. I avoided much of the water so I didn't get too slogged down in the middle of the race, but this left me slightly dehydrated at the end. My last two miles were by far my slowest.
• The race ended at the state capitol. There were people just past the finish line pushing petitions to change the state of Indiana back to the Central Time Zone. I walked on by, preferring to avoid such religiously charged political issues.

I finished the race with a personal best: 3 hours and 45 minutes. I was somewhat satisfied with my time. I had some a foot strain that prevented me from getting my long runs in, but I had no pain at all during the race. I'm figuring that I'm within ten minutes or so of my top possible speed. I just don't think my body is built for much more than that.

And congrats to my cousin's wife Michelle who ran the half-marathon and finished strong.

Not sure what I'll do next. I've passed that point where I'm trying to do something and now starting to explore what I can do. I'm sure I'll run the Flying Pig next year but after that . . . maybe more wandering.

Our Little (Town)House

Just a few months in to her public school education, we encountered our first parental objection to part of Kaelyn's curriculum. Kindergartners at Fairview-Clifton German Language School take part in a book reading program. Every day, Kaelyn brings home a library book that we are supposed to read together. Mostly, this has been an enjoyable endeavor; sure, there have been a few lackluster selections, but there's only so much you can do with a kids book. I'm starting to think that writing stories for children could be a great income source.

Last night, Kelly told me that she had previewed the book of the day and didn't want Kaelyn to read it. Curious of what kind of pagan ideology found in a kid's book could push my wife to advocating censorship, I took a look at it myself.

The selection was The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton. It was published in 1942 (though I'm assuming it was actually written in 1941, before the start of the Second War World), but I can remember it reading it when I was a child. For those of you unfamiliar with it, the Disney Corporation made it into a cartoon in 1952 [accessible by clicking here]. Although the cartoon isn't totally faithful to the text, the concept remains the same: it's the tale of a small house on a hill in a rural area where life is great. The house secretly wishes it could partake of city life, but little does the little house know, the city would soon come to her. As roads come her way, an imposing society builds up around her, leaving her cold and lonely. All seems lost until the house is relocated back to the country. The concluding page of the book reveals the house's lessons learned:

Never again would she be curious about the city . . .

Never again would she want to live there . . .

The stars twinkled above her . . .

A new moon was coming up . . .

It was spring . . .

and all was quiet and peaceful in the country.

And this is why my wife did not want my daughter to read this book.

Now I've got to give it up to Kelly. I absolutely love that she's so passionate about our family's urban lifestyle that her visceral reaction was to protect our daughter from views that could disappoint her. But Kelly's not really the censoring type, and I figured if Kaelyn's urban school offered it, it couldn't be that bad. One of the things about city living is that you can't really cover-up the real world, so I went ahead and read the book with her this morning. After we finished, I eagerly awaited her response.

She asked for breakfast.

It might seem like much ado about nothing, but we get paranoid about raising our kid in the city. Kelly's upbringing was suburban, and mine was practical rural, with some 'burbs and city on the side. Since we both cherished our childhood experiences, we want to make sure she's not shortchanged. And for the past sixty years, the American dream has been contextualized as a suburban abode. Burton wasn't starting a movement with her kid's book, but was reflecting a reality that took off after World War II. So it really feels like we're swimming upstream here.

But the beautiful thing is that Kaelyn knows nothing different. She's been a city girl her whole life— always surrounded by people and noise, her only yard a public park. But the benefits have been innumerable. She absolutely loves the city; she tells us all the time.

So our little townhouse might be crammed in the little of the city, but I don't think she's sad. And unlike that weepy home, our family's urban curiosity is far from being satisfied.

By the way: here's the shirt that Kaelyn wore to school this morning:

I think that settles it.

p.s. A kid's book that I loved about the city was one that Kelly found. It's called Rose's Garden, and was inspired by the life of Rose Kennedy. A little video introduction to the book can be found here.