THE OSU

I'll admit that I've not been the most faithful OSU fan over the past few years. It's not about the Buckeyes; it's just that I'm now the parent of an elementary school kid and my fall Saturdays were consumed by soccer games and other activities. I've previously explained my Ohio State allegiance and noted that it was very necessary to me as a sports fan since the Bengals and Reds gave me a decade-plus of futility. Now that those Cincinnati sports teams have been more competitive, I've not clung to the Buckeyes as much as I used to. Still, it's been a fun stretch to observe, watching a team that was maligned by pundents throughout the season (I'm looking at you, Mark May) put together a run to win a National Championship.

I'm still thrilled at this victory, even though Cincinnati isn't really part of the state of Ohio.

Resolution: Eating Smart (Part Two)

Even though I was running two marathons a year, I wasn't really losing weight. I was just maintaining—burning calories but consuming more that it was a break even proposition. Over a few years, I worked myself into a healthier diet. I reflected on the first two steps in the previous post. Here, I'm going to explain how it I worked it toward my current form. My four-month experiment without sweets was helpful but not transformation. I slimmed down a bit, but picked them up right after I finished it. The next year, I did repeated the four-month stint with similar results. Still not satisfied, I wondered if I could do even more.

STEP THREE: Going a year In 2013, I decided I would try going a whole year without sweets. I've rarely committed to any habit for an entire year. If I had made tried this a few years earlier, I don't think I would have been successful; I wouldn't have been ready for it, giving up a few months in. But this time, with a total of eight months under my belt, I knew what to expect. I was just dealing with scalability.

This is where the transformation started to take place. I used to see candy or cake as something I desperately wanted. Eventually, they lost their luster. Now, when I walk into UDF for my morning Diet Coke, I could stare at the donuts for an hour and have no desire to eat them (I don't think I've eaten a donut since December 2012). My year journey broke my addiction to sweets.

It was really a great year. I could tell, twelve months later, that I had begun to lose the weight that continued to hang around despite my exercise routine. I had to change out a lot of my wardrobe as I my clothes didn't fit well anymore. It was so successful that I waited another six weeks past the year until I broke the commitment, finally having some cake for Kaelyn's birthday.

STEP FOUR: Bearing down 2013 brought me to the place where I no longer consume sweets regularly. But the noticeable gains made me know there was a little more. Last year, I decided to continue to work with my diet. Kelly does a great job of doing this for evening meals. She took a nutrition class in college and has spent the better part of our marriage urging me to eat healthy. My problem was my other meals. Contrary to all good counsel, I don't eat breakfast. My issue was, and has been, lunch.

Like a quasi-responsible adult, I would have the occasional salad but I'd still usually opt for fast food. Honestly, my primary motivation was frugality; you can run through a drive-thru and get a couple of burgers for less than four bucks. I figured that since I was only eating two sandwiches, I was doing OK. I was mistaken. If you want a frightening read, take a look at the nutritional data of fast food places. They pack a lot of calories in small places. It's almost impressive. So I decided that I would stop eating fast food. For lunch, I'd eat a salad or a veggie sub. This decision helped me pull back my protein consumption and practically eliminate french fries from my diet. As far as snack foods, I ate pretzels but no Doritos or Cheetos. I'd allow myself some Mexican food every once in awhile (but we've scaled back from that as well), but used it as a reward. This took me to the next level.

None of this is religious. At the end of the year, after my appendectomy, I lost even more weight so I spent the Christmas season eating like I used to eat. I had cake, ice cream, some Resse Cups. It was wonderful. I ate sweets I haven't eaten in two years. But I did so confidently (as confidently as you can become a glutton) because I knew I'd return to my good eating habits at the beginning of the year. I'm at the point where I know I can cheat because I prefer eating a more healthy diet.

WRAPPING UP I wanted to write all of this down because it's doable. Sure, some people have a metabolism that stays with them throughout their lives, but most of us have to work on it. Now that I manage my calories in and calories out, I feel like a better person. I've kept my weight down and am as healthy as I've ever been. But I know I have quite a bit room for improvement. My goal is to continue to improve with age so I can fully enjoy the years ahead of me.

So if you come across this post and feel inspired, start today. Set some goals. Be patient. Make a lifestyle change. And message me if you want some advice on getting there.

Resolution: Eating Smart (Part One)

So I developed a solid exercise regimen, running dozens of miles a week that culminated in two marathons a year. Something I noticed out on the race course is that there were many runners who logged dozens of marathons but still appeared to have a weight problem. I could relate: despite all my running, I really wasn't losing that much weight; the more I ran (calories out), the more I ate because I was hungry (calories in). As a result, I was breaking even. You wonder how you can see professional athletes balloon up at the end of their careers? It's because they don't adjust their diet to their changing metabolism. They exercise the same they always did, but they still eat like they're 22. That was my gig: I responded to my runs by killing ice cream and burgers everyday so my exercise didn't help. Fast forward a few years later: my diet is completely different. But it didn't happen overnight. It took years to finally get me there.

STEP ONE: The staple I enjoy beverages. I'm constantly drinking throughout the day. I drink Diet Coke.

For many health nuts, this is a no-no. I constantly hear layman's warnings about the dangers of aspartame in diet sodas. You have to make your own decision but note that there is no scientific study that has linked diet drinks to cancer or other illnesses. The only definitive info I've seen from scientific studies about diet pop is that it makes your brain want more sweets. It might be true, but it still has far less calories than regular soda. Diet Coke gives me something to enjoy that's sweet without the calories. In my first year of college, when I picked up the freshman fifteen, switching to diet soda over that summer helped me drop a bunch of weight. I've been drinking it for twenty years now. By the way, a few years back, I did cut it out for a couple of months and saw no difference at all (none) in how I felt.

STEP TWO: The four-month experiment During my spring marathon training a few years ago, I gave up sweets. I had never attempted something like this before. I'm not a big Lent person (Protestant that I am), so abandoning sugars for four months was new to me. At the beginning, it was difficult. Looking at how I managed it:

1. One day at a time I remember that the first month of the experiment was most difficult. When starting, everything looked more enticing. And, of course, it was during this time that people were practically throwing sweets in my face. But everyday I made it through without giving in was a little victory. By the end of the experiment, it was a piece of cake (yup, pun). If you can get through the time until it becomes habitual, you win.

2. Giving myself space When I gave up sweets, it was predominantly deserts. I did allow myself to have syrup with pancakes and an occasional blueberry muffin. Even though I ate a little sugar, I wasn't relying on them to meet a fix. This reward mentality is helpful early on, as studies prove that quitting something cold turkey is extremely difficult. So I was dedicated but not overzealous.

3. Managing the night The best times were during the day. If I was at work and was offered celebratory cake or cookies, it was fairly easy for me to turn down. Night was different. The urge for a late evening snack would kick in. I relied on fruit and cereal as substitutes. Note that cereals don't necessarily solve the calorie issue; some "healthy" cereals have a high calorie count and can actually be worse than sweets. Regardless of how you cope, if you can make it through the night—the time when you have the highest desire to snack—you can win.

Ultimately, my four month experiment was successful. The afternoon after my marathon, I celebrated by downing a pint of Graeter's Chocolate Chocolate-Chip. Even though I made it four months, it wasn't a lifestyle change.

To really work on my caloric intake, I needed permanent changes.

Resolution: Moving More

The problem is that people looking to get healthy predominantly approach it from just one angle. They either focus exclusively on exercise or exclusively on dieting. Though intense devotion to one of the two might bring some improvements, it rarely produces the full results that people desire. And when attempts at life change don't work, you give up. Again, the focus must be on both burning calories and calorie intake. It's no more complicated than exercising and eating healthy. First, we discuss the exercise. For me, it started with running.

I was a college athlete (not a great one, mind you), so during my early adulthood I was always exercising. After college up until Kaelyn was born, I would play team sports two to three times a week. When I hit my thirties, I knew I wasn't doing as well as I should. I didn't have the time to play sports as often. Seeking more individualized exercise options, I tried lifting weights. It just didn't work for me. All that really was left was running.

My decision to try it was born out of pride; our home is on the Flying Pig Half Marathon route and I knew I could do what they were doing (but only better). I trained for the half marathon and had a decent performance. And then pride kicked in again: after running the half, I decided to run the full Flying Pig marathon the next year. A marathon demands discipline, much more than twice the training required for a half-marathon. It wasn't easy: I started training in January, it was miserable running in cold weather, I logged a lot of treadmill miles, I had to devote a couple hours on weekends for long runs. In the end, I did it, and it was incredibly satisfying. After my marathon, I thought I'd be done with running altogether.

Now here's the secret: I didn't really like running. It took me three marathons before I finally learned to love running. Now, I run two marathons a year—a spring and fall one—and I do it because I know I need the discipline. I logged my tenth one this past fall. I'm not sure if this will eventually lead to other events like ultramarathons or Ironman races. I simply don't have the time to train for those kind of races. But long distance running is key to my consistent exercise.

I need the routine.

Distance running can't be faked. It demands training over months to do it properly. You train not to make the distance, but to recover and keep from hurting yourself after your marathon. I know that if I don't run in January, I won't have a good race in May. It also gives me a goal that I can't avoid. When I sign up months before, I'm putting money down on the event; it's basically like I'm betting against myself that I'll run it.

Long distance racing might not be for you. Whatever you can do, consistent exercise is key. Embrace activities that allow you to burn calories. Start slow, stay with it, and see it as a lifestyle change.

But that's still just one part of the equation.

Resolution: Getting Healthy

The vast majority of people who declare changes at the beginning of the year are most concerned with their health. Over the past few years, I've incorporated healthy habits in my life. Today, I'm fairly certain I'm in the best shape of my life. My health changes were necessary: my metabolism was dead on the side of the road, I had a desire to eat whatever food wasn't good for me, and I worked office jobs that require no physical activity. Although I was always active, there was no consistency in my health habits. I'm not sure I'd classify my changes as resolutions, but I definitely see the value of trying to shift behavior. And a new calendar makes it easier to start something new. Sure, there are tons of heath and psychological experts that offer advice about this but I think I'm going to take a crack it.

The key for me to both get back in and stay in shape is accepting the idea of steady transformation. This is why most people fail in their health efforts: they set an audacious goal without definitive steps and realistic timelines. When they decide there's no way they can achieve it, they quit in disgust. Ironically, failure is why resolutions can be harmful. We remember our mistakes more than our successes and it takes awhile to recover from this dark place. Getting in shape is a lifestyle shift and, when it's accepted as such, it's easier to work toward it..

To finally reach where I wanted to be took years. And I'm not even sure I knew where I was headed. Ultimately, it takes patience. So if you're trying to make this the year where it all changes, don't limit it to this year. Commit yourself to long term goals. If you don't reach your health goals by March or May, it's all good. Tortoise and hare fable applies here: slow and steady, friends.

I'll spend a few posts explaining my approach. In introducing this, I'll leave you with the basic principle that helped me get in shape.

Good health comes down to managing two things: calories out and calories in.

I Don't Live In Cleveland. I live in Cincinnati

I'm writing this in the middle of the Bengals' playoff game against the Colts. It's the beginning of the second half, after the Bengals went three-and-out. I'm going to be bold and post this when I'm finished writing it because I want to relate my feelings in the middle of the fray, regardless of the outcome. We're not winning this game. I'm fully resigned to this fact.

I grew up a Bengals fan. It's my birthright. Paul Brown was a brilliant football mind. Even when we didn't have the best teams, the franchise was moving in a solid direction. I was at the 1988 playoff game against Seattle that sent the Bengals to the AFC Championship. The 1989 Super Bowl was ours for the taking. It just didn't work out. But we had Boomer Esiason and a great crew of players; we'd eventually get it done.

Then came the 1990's.

Paul Brown died and so did our mojo. I attended the game where Icky Woods career ended. I believe that was the year that we took out Bo Jackson in the playoffs but the Raiders killed us. I had no idea that we wouldn't see a playoff win in the next two decades.

Unless there was a blackout, I watched the game. Even when we were horrible. David Kingler, KiJana Carter, Akili Smith, Dan Wilkinson. They played for us but never matched their anticipated greatness. The hope of 2005 was quickly extinguished with by a Kimo Von Oelhoffen shot at Carson Palmer's knee. Since then, we've always had good teams. But as Jim Collins made a fortune proclaiming, good is the enemy of great. In the meantime, our division rivals have won three Super Bowls.

As I tweeted a few weeks ago, the Bengals do just good enough to instill hope in me and then they Kimo Von Oelhoffen you. I'm watching this game now, and I just know, deep down inside of me, that it's going to play out this way.

This confession doesn't make me less of a fan; it makes me a realist. I'm exhausted from the disappointment. Why do I continue to support this team?

We're going to lose. And I'm writing this with twenty-five minutes left in the game when we're only down by three.

Who Dey, I guess.

Old Year's Eve

We were having a great time in 2014. There were so many good things that happened, it just felt like our year. From me completing my doctoral work, to Kelly and me taking on new job resposibilities, with even Kaelyn making a choir she auditioned for, all things were going the Carrs' way. Though we did lose some beloved family members this year, all things considered, it was a banner year. It just didn't end well.

In November, Kelly's lung collapsed for the second time in eight years. In order to ensure that it wouldn't happen again, the doctors recommended surgery. Neither of us knew how difficult it would be; she spent eight days in the hospital, making it home just before Thanksgiving. Her recovery took even longer than we anticipated, though we should realized that hundreds of microscopic staples in her lung as well as multiple tubes in her body could be problematic.

Kelly was still on the mend when I started feeling horrible. I was in so much pain one evening in December that I decided to drive myself to the emergency room. My fears of being a hypercondriac were relieved when, the next morning I had an appendectomy. It was my first ever surgery. Though I made it home in under 24 hours, once again, we had no idea how long the recovery process would take. I thought I'd be 100% within a couple of days. Here, almost four weeks later, I'm finally starting to feel normal again.

As a result, our Christmas celebration was disjointed. Yep, we'll pack up the Christmas tree this weekend, but the majority of our ornaments remain in a pile at the bottom of the tree; things were so hectic, we barely decorated. We just didn't have the energy to complete all the activities we wanted to during the season.

As the year drew to a close, we repeatedly heard, "Well at least your year's almost over."

I understood their well-intended sentiment but I just couldn't buy in.

Despite our illnesses (which might not have been so taxing if they were spread out just a little) I'll still think about this year fondly. But that reflects my philosophy of flipping the calendar. Sure, I love a brand new year—one rife with so many possibilities—but time is time. Some years may be challenging more than others but they're neither blessed nor cursed. Regardless of what comes, we keep chugging along. It's all we can do.

So here's to 2015. Though I was doing just fine with 2014.

Ten Years In the House

This is where Google Analytics goes to die. I'm not sure who reads this site anymore (except my students searching for class notes that I, unfortunately, haven't updated for years). I've been a wretched blogger as of late. I attribute this to a couple of factors. First, my doctoral work kept me writing so much that I had no time to script thoughts that didn't have a specific goal; of course, I finished my dissertation but I never returned to regular writing. The second reason is that both my jobs require a considerable amount of writing so, if I'm going to spend time working out some sentences, my time is better spent doing it for what I HAVE TO write rather than what I WANT TO write. I wasn't even able to finish the list of thanks for my doctoral work (I never got around to thanking my family and friends who have contributed so much to my development).

This website is now ten years old.

A decade of blogging should be impressive, but I'm not sure that last couple of years have best represented my writing abilities. Still, I'm so grateful for this website.

The past ten years have been transformational for me. When I started this blog, I had no idea what the next decade would hold. I never would have predicted, in 2004, what would happen in my life:

  • Moving to the city
  • Starting a church
  • Having a daughter
  • Returning to Cincinnati Christian University
  • Getting two more degrees

I'm grateful I have my thoughts from this past decade to reflect upon. And even though I've written this many times before, I'm going to commit to posting much more in the years to come. I've recognized that I need to write more for myself. Sermons and corporate website updates are great, but I'm better when I'm writing stuff that I don't have to.

So if you stumbled across this site, I hope you enjoy reading my musings. I promise, for both our sakes, to keep creating new content to keep us interested.

Thanks (Part 3)

As I march towards my doctoral graduation, my mind dwells on all those who made my achievement possible. In the forward of my book, I listed a slew of those people and I want to take some time to elaborate on their influence. 3. I cannot give enough credit to Cincinnati Christian University. The most important relationships in my life came as a result of CCU, and I look forward to serving her in some capacity for the rest of my days.

I've written in-depth before about my relationships with Cincinnati Christian University. There's no need for me to rehash it all again.

Almost five years ago, I returned for a second stint of employment at CCU. I was wrapping up my second masters degree from Xavier, unsure about any future academic endeavors. Being back in that setting rekindled in me a value of structured education and it was from there that I began to search out doctoral programs. My supervisors granted me flexibility during my two-week residencies, giving me the opportunity to be in school and work from afar. I could have completed the program without this accommodation, but it would have been extremely challenging.

Perhaps the biggest blessing of my involvement with CCU while completing my work was the opportunity to teach while I was learning. The ability to integrate my studies into the classroom helped cement concepts with which I was grappling. Also, conversations with students and faculty gave me ample space to postulate solutions to the questions I was discovering through my research.

My involvement with CCU as a student, employee, coach, volunteer, and instructor changed my life. Without this place, I wouldn't be who I am today.

Thanks (Part Two)

As I march towards my doctoral graduation, my mind dwells on all those who made my acheivement possible. In the forward of my book, I listed a slew of those people and I want to take some time to elaborate on their influence. 2. I am thankful for the cities I have visited during my lifetime. My time in Jerusalem, Paris, Caracas, as well as dozens of American cities, instilled in me a passion for urban areas. These cities spoke to me and influenced the direction of my life and this work. It is impossible to separate my existence from the city of Cincinnati. I am her native son. My love for her will never wane.

The reason I decided to attend Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary was because they had a specific doctoral track in urban ministry. I discovered that my acceptance into the school was actually a few weeks too late for me to begin with that cohort, so I was forced to choose another track. Fortunately, this path still permitted me the opportunity to focus my studies on the movement of the gospel in cities.

I never imagined that I would devote my life to living and working in the cities. Despite growing up in an urban congregation, my first two full-time ministry experiences were in very suburban areas. When Kelly and I felt the call to start a new church in 2005, we knew two things: 1) we wanted to do so in the Cincinnati area and 2) we wanted to go where there weren't many churches. The more we prayed, the more we felt called to move into the city.

Honestly, I found the 'burbs preferential: lawns, chain stores, backyard decks. What's not to love? But the longer we spent in our suburban oasis, I had a spirit of discomfort. I discovered that my way of thinking was counter-cultural to that of suburbia. My giftedness is pushing against established thinking, striving to bring a balanced view of the world and faith. This doesn't necessarily work well in relation to the suburban value of conformity. It's not that I didn't enjoy our life there, or that I hold any ill-will toward the people or situations we encountered. But ultimately, though I though it was our ideal context, it became evident that the city might be a better fit.

Upon moving to Walnut Hills, I became a dedicated student of my city. I read absolutely everything I could concerning the history of Cincinnati. I would go to the downtown library, checking out nearly every book concerning the history of our neighborhood and city. I soon became a volunteer tour guide for the Cincinnati Preservation Association. And I eventually expanded my studies to encompass the development of urbanity in the United States in the twentieth century. I was able to draw from my experiences from time spent in cities throughout the world. My passion for cities was cultivated in our early years in Cincinnati's urban core.

I know now that there's no other place where I can be. God called me to minister in the city.

I once heard Timothy Keller, a minister in New York City make the following statement. Mind you, this isn't a direct quote, but the spirit is definitely accurate.

Many pastors move to the city with a goal of saving it. But after moving there, they eventually discover that the city saved them.

And that's the truth. Even though I thought God called me to move into the city to transform it, I fully recognize that he used the city to transform me. I am a different man today because I live here. I'm eternally grateful for the chance we have to live here and look forward to decades more of life living here.

Thanks (Part One)

As I march towards my doctoral graduation, my mind dwells on all those who made my acheivement possible. In the forward of my book, I listed a slew of those people and I want to take some time to elaborate on their influence. 1. I give thanks to the Lord for the immeasurable gifts in my life. I am truly blessed beyond anything I could ever deserve, and I embrace his continual grace upon me.

Faith has always been a central aspect of my identity. Since my childhood, I've known many followers of Jesus who eventually strayed from their beliefs, the result of either decision or general apathy. Even though I continue to develop in my faith, I've never seriously considered departing from it altogether. This is not to say that I haven't grappled with my beliefs; there have been numerous times over the previous decades that I have deeply examined my long-held beliefs. Yet at the end of all those examinations, I always ended up where I began.

I love the Lord.

In the years to come, I suspect that people of faith will be exposed to more scrutiny. It will be important for Christians to articulate well why they believe. Cognitively, I feel there is a sufficient case for my faith. Experientially, I have witnessed the moving of the Lord so often that any doubt is eliminated. I'll admit it's not airtight; that's why they call it faith. But there's more to life than just this.

And I believe I understand who that is.

Without the Lord, I'd be nothing.

Why How I Met Your Mother Screwed Up The Ending

I love good storytelling. I'm drawn to it like a wayward moth toward a candle piercing the evening darkness . . . . . . and stuff.

Since 2005, the wife and I have enjoyed watching the CBS sit-com How I Met Your Mother on Monday evenings. Hoisting the baton left to them by NBC's Friends, the show's diverse cast of characters and witty writing made for good television; even when HIMYM wasn't at it's best, it was still great entertainment. So in light of my commitment, forgive me if I decided to spend part of my evening writing about last night's series finale.

Perhaps what made the show work best was the premise of the entire series: a father explaining to his teenage children how he and their mother got together. In the midst of the comedy, there was an underlying narrative—a continual guessing game if each woman that Ted (the storyteller) pursued could eventually be the mom.* This thread made the show a more compelling sit-com. Additionally, the writers brilliantly developed the other characters throughout the series. Robin, the original love-interest from the pilot, was immediately labeled the non-mother, but became a central character of the show. The relationship between couple Marshall and Lilly blossomed from their time dating, to getting engaged, to both marriage and family; their path of love was far from ideal, a relationship that wasn't perfect but still persevered. By the way, while this is the last I'll speak about Marshall and Lilly in this critique, it should be noted that theirs is one of TV's great relationships.

Yet the main comic relief of HIMYM is Barney. Cast after his role in the movie Harold and Kumer Goes to White Castle, he was the Über-womanizer, always dropping double entendres and getting caught in ridiculous situations. But the writers always unveiled that calloused façade of Barney with continual visions of his caring nature. Barney became the ultimate redemption story, most evident in his decision to marry Robin.

This is very interesting storytelling.

As the series lead, Ted is the anti-Barney, a virtuous character. Robin was Ted's ideal woman. The HIMYM writers played this whole Ross/Rachel relationship throughout the series but ultimately decided (inexplicably really) that it just shouldn't work out; again, they made it clear from the first episode that she was not the mother. Enter Barney: in no world should Barney and Robin be together. In order to win Robin, Barney would have to become virtuous. He could no longer be the promiscuous man that he prided himself on being. In their first go-round together, Barney suppressed his libido to date Robin, but it changes him negatively (as it did Robin), so they broke up. Yet in the last couple of seasons, the writers decided that this relationship should work out. Gradually, Barney changes. He's completely faithful to Robin and becomes a better man in the progress. The entire last season showed the week of their wedding.

SIDENOTE: And since last fall, this made me SO angry. A whole season covering a few days is just maddening. If I wanted to watch that, I'd get Jack Bauer on Netflicks. Still, the writers revealed the mother (well, actually, they did this at the end of the previous season) and through flashbacks and flashforwards, we get to see tidbits of Ted and the mother's relationship. So even though it was painful at times, the underlying hook of discovering how the two met kept the show interesting.

Anyway, throughout this final season, all the characters worked through their differences (including Ted and Robin working through any of their old emotions), and the two wed. Finally, after a whole season of drawing out a singular event, the wedding took place in the second to last episode, leaving the finale to wrap up the actual meeting of Ted and the mother of his children.

Here, in one hour of television, the writers of the show ruined nine years of shows.

A two-paragraph synopsis of the finale: as the relationship between Ted and the mother developed, Robin and Barney's marriage begins to disintegrate. Robin's job as a global-traveling news reporter leaves Barney in tow. As a result, Barney is restless, they're both miserable and, within three years of getting married, they're divorced. Even though it's an amicable split, there is implied blame on Robin; it's her career that ultimately ended their relationship. And just like that, Barney reverted to his promiscuous lifestyle. As Robin becomes more distant, Barney continues in sexual conquest until accidentally fathering a child. Confident that nothing will change him, his life instantaneously transforms upon seeing his daughter's face. As a result, Barney is a changed man, criticizing ladies at the bar for trying to hook-up with guys.

On the other end of the spectrum, Ted and the mother are shown having an amazing relationship. Still, they wait for five years and have two kids before getting married. At the end of the episode, as Ted describes their amazing life together, we learn that the mother was sick and died young (this was so predictable earlier in the season). Apparently, Ted's teenage kids see through their father's storytelling. They insist that the story he was telling them (throughout the whole series) had little to do with their mother, but was a guise for his affinity for their "Aunt Robin." They give him their blessing to date Robin and the series ends where it begins, with Ted wooing Robin.

Now I won't even argue that they messed up the ending. Having Ted and Robin end up together was totally acceptable for me. But in order to accomplish this, the writers chose to destroy nearly a decade of amazing character development.

ROBIN came off as unlikable in the finale. She was dehumanized and reverted. Throughout the series, Robin was presented as a man-like lady, with masculine proclivities. Her character flaw was that she was TOO independent, not believing that she needed anyone. It was her immersion into this group that changed who Robin was. In the finale, however, all the progress that Robin made over nine years was immediately dismissed. She became obsessed with herself and her career, even though she had previously conquered those temptations. In the end, she was plain unlikable. In fact, it wasn't until the end of the show that Ted's kids speak well of Robin, even though we never see it.

Compare that to TED and you get the complete opposite. Ted is shown as completely lovable in the finale. He meets the Mom. He becomes a dad. You almost have to wonder why he would want anything to do with the Robin of today. Still, I completely missed something else about Ted in this episode that Kelly said bothered here from the finale: Ted waits five years after getting engaged to actually get married to the mother. This is just not like Ted at all. Throughout the series, he was a true romantic. It made absolutely no sense in relation to anything else in the show for Ted to do this. It's as if the writers forgot who they were writing about.

But it was the actions of BARNEY in the finale that will grate on me whenever I watch reruns of the show again. His character trajectory was one of redemption. His past flaws were humorous, but he could still have been an interesting character without defaulting to a sleeze. But after years of growth, and an entire season where he seriously commits himself to a lifelong relationship with Robin, they send him back to the sewer. Even Lilly offers that what might have been cool when he was younger was just pathetic in his 40's. Sure, the writers try to turn it on a dime when he first views his newborn baby, but by then it's just ridiculous. What they developed over years, they ended in minutes. There was little reward for longtime viewers.

My theory on this is the real life persona of Neil Patrick Harris permitted the writers to write Barney like this. Harris was a child actor (loved me some Doogie Howser M.D.) who didn't have much of an adult acting career. His faux-role as himself in Harold and Kumar was humorous because he portrayed himself as a massive jerk. As his fame grew while in HIMYM, he took on the flattering role in Doctor Horrible's Sing Along Blog. Before long, he was hosting the Tony and Emmy Awards. NPH has emerged as one of the most likeable actors in Hollywood, making his role as Barney even more humorous. My opinion is that it was his immense likability that permitted the writers to treat Barney like that in the final episode. In the end, they figured that regardless of what he did, you'd still love Barney. But I just didn't. Any redemption they showed him claim in the last few seasons was stripped away in the final episode. His passionate pursuit of Robin meant nothing. In the end, I cared nothing for Barney.

The sad thing is that the writers still could have accomplished all they wanted without jettisoning the character development of the past nine years. They still could have given us a final episode with twists, turns, and surprises. With all of their old material and running gags, they could have stuffed the finale full of tributes to long-time fans. Even if they wanted to get Barney and Robin divorced, there were other ways it could have happened. But instead, they wanted to make their last episode something spectacular and they failed miserably. And even though they no longer need to care, they alienated their fanbase in the process.

As I look back at everything I've written here, even I find it insane that I've written this much about a series finale. But I'd suggest that this is the power of good storytelling. The HIMYM writers staff did so many things right over the years that they kept me coming back, even when they weren't at their best. The story was undeniably compelling. But it went so bad at the end, they deserve criticism. It shows that no matter how good your story is, it doesn't take much to ruin the entire thing.

_________________

*And by the way, why no reference to the Bob Saget narration at the end of the show? That reminds me: don't even get me started about the finale of Full House.

The God of the Cosmos

My affinity for The Amazing Race (the best reality T.V. in the history of T.V.) is the reason I missed the premier of the new Fox miniseries Cosmos. Fortunately, the absurd money I pay Time Warner Cable permits me access to the show after the fact, and I finally took the time to view it this evening. A few general thoughts about the program:

1. It was visually stunning. The live shots were beautiful but the computer animation work made it enjoyable to watch.

2. Neil deGrasse Tyson was a good choice to host. I've enjoyed watching/reading Tyson for years now. His camera presence is strong. Although I don't think his voiceovers were quite as effective, he's still an affiable personality. Unfortunately, his great sense of humor wasn't utilized in the episode.

3. Overall, it was a polite treatment of the subject. Or maybe I just have thick skin.

You see, even though I appreciated Cosmos as interesting television, there iss an agenda behind the series. Although the overt claim of the creators was that they made Cosmos to promote science, it's clear that the underlying goal was to debase religion, especially Christianity. This isn't an observation born from paranoia; if you know the backgrounds of Tyson and producer Seth McFarlane (a brilliant entertainer as well), you know it's part of their schtick. I don't slight this at all. Christians in this country have countless opportunities to proselytize and promote their views in public forums. And if Christianity can't withstand this sort of scrutiny, then it's not worth believing in anyway. But let's not fool ourselves into thinking that this is a purely objective program.

Still, there were a couple of things from the opening episode I found peculiar:

1. Cosmos emulated Christianity in the promotion of Messiah(s).

Globally, people still resonate with the person of Jesus, even if they deny his divinity. But I believe that naysayers fill this void by creating their own Christs; it's innate to our humanity to develop contenders to Jesus, elevating replacements for him by which we establish our own life philosophy. Tonight's episode, while lauding the vastness of the universe, promoted the narratives of two saviors: Carl Sagan and Giordano Bruno.

Admittedly, I am not an expert in the work of either men. Yet the way that they were presented in Cosmos displayed them as selfless rebels who gave their lives to promote the ultimate truth (a scientific gospel, if you will). In the case of Sagan, the creator of the original Cosmos series, he has become the patron saint of modern science. I'd suggest that the homage to Sagan in the newest incarnation of Cosmos surpasses mere respect. But more on Sagan later.

The focus on 16th century priest and philosopher Giordano Bruno was most interesting. Again, I'm only vaguely familiar with him, mostly for his role as a heretic of the church. I'd suggest, however, that it was his story revealed the true propoganda of the episode. Notice that the lead-in to Bruno's story began with a shot of Vatican City and featured Tyson narrating from the streets of Rome. The church was painted as a massive, villanous institution and Bruno the lowly but brave contrarian. The animations of Christian authorities (the whole narrative segment was a cartoon) displayed them as evil looking men. Now stick with me: I have no intention of defending the Inquisition here . . . or anywhere for that matter. Yet it is fascinating that when Cosmos prominently engaged Christianity in its opening episode—a show created to promote scientific pursuit—just happened to feature the darkest period of church history. That's called low-hanging fruit, friends. No harm, no foul, but it was rather lazy.

The Bruno narrative focused on his progressive views on the universe—his adoption of a Copernican view of reality where the earth wasn't the center of the universe. After repeatedly showing him being persecuted for this view, he's arrested and condemned to death. In a subtle display of truth, when Cosmos displayed the verdict against Bruno, it quickly mentioned his more controversial views, the ones that the church in his days viewed as heretical—namely, his objection to the divinity of Christ and the virginity of Mary. Again, these beliefs were obviously not worthy of his martyrdom, but his "scientific views" (put in quotations as they are widely questioned as such) were nowhere near the top of the list of chief reasons for his death.

Additionally, before showing his death, the program went as far as to show Bruno flying through the air with his arms outstretched as if on a cross (then immediately followed this view by actually showing crosses). In the end, Cosmos declared Bruno one of the first scientific martyrs, persecuted by the church for his views. My contention is that it's just not that tidy of a story. I enjoyed this article summarizing the peculiarities of featuring Bruno in this episode. By the way, my favorite quote from the article: "Bruno was a talking s**t storm, with a black belt in burning bridges."

So in the end, Cosmos lifted up these two heroes while minimizing the faith tradition of my hero. Still, Jesus got a shout-out near the end of the episode, but it was in reference to his miniscule role in the vast history of the universe. My second issue with Cosmos continued in this vein:

2. Cosmos presented faith as incompatible with science.

An interesting result from last month's Bill Nye vs. Ken Ham debate was the emergence of a large number of Bible-believing Christians who wanted nothing to do with young earth creationism. The view is that it's just not a biblical issue and it's not worth staking a claim on. Yet this more progressive view—one where Christians won't dismiss science—is a non-sequitur for the secular community. They don't appreciate a Christianity that responds well to science since it still establishes a Creator over the cosmos. And this polemic was visible throughout the episode as well.

The science presented in Cosmos was a winner-take-all proposition. To wit,

  • Science is Galileo developing an accurate view of the universe while peering through the telescope.

  • Science is the means by which man was able to travel to the moon.

  • And science is the Big Bang and a happenstance beginning to the universe.

And if you reject the cosmological view of science, then you reject all the other scientific discoveries and the advancement of humanity the accompanied it. It was capped at the end of the episode with the elevation of the accomplishments of Sagan. The viewer was urged to look at the brilliance of Sagan's accomplishments and then reminded that THIS is how HE viewed the universe.

There's no place for faith here.

And this is where Cosmos fails: it co-opts the question, developing an indivisible link between science and cosmology: the study of origins. The thing is, science isn't truly capable of grappling fully with the issue because it's a question of metaphysics. But inevitable, all questions lead back to cosmology: who did we get here and what does life mean? Everyone is forced to grapple with the question and there's no chance for science to opt out.

So theories/beliefs are established as fact and there is no room for doubt. And questioning scientific authority will out you as a heretic and there's a penalty.

It's a familar story, eh?

I'm not a scientist. I'm a theologian. But that doesn't disqualify me from discussing issues of cosmology. In fact, it probably gives me a better perspective from which to address this.

So even though I'm an orthodox Christian pastor, I'm still very interested in watching this program and will continue to do so in the future. And if you're a Christian who disagrees with the worldview, you should still watch the program as well. In the same way that agnostics deconstruct your faith (and you should listen to those objections and respond thoughtfully), you need to learn how to dissect they biases behind this kind of evangelicalism.

There's a way for believers to disagree respectfully while leaving room for further conversation. And maybe Cosmos is the perfect conversational starting point.

Christians and Trayvon Martin

I haven't been nearly as faithful in posting on the blog this last year. I'm in the midst of working on my thesis and the last thing I want to do is write for fun. Still, I felt compelled to pause from research and writing this afternoon to post this. In my role as pastor, I tend to steer away from divisive, political and current event issues. Doing so will usually attract the label of being weak or wishy-washy or a wuss.

I'd argue that it makes me something all-together different: it makes me pastoral.

You see, even though we don't like to admit it, many of the views about which we are most passionate are opinions. And our reactions to those issues are generated from our worldview. Often, this transcends our religious views and are derived from other ideologies, but we confuse them and view them as essential parts of our faith. For example, within my faith tradition, there's a natural assumption that you align yourself with a conservative Republican worldview. I have other friends from a mainline denomational affiliation whose Christianity is connected to a liberal Democrat persepective. Even though I follow politics and am amused by it, for the most part I really don't care what you believe unless you mesh it indiscernably with your faith and force others to submit to it.

In our church fellowship we have people across the political spectrum: conservatives, progressives, libertarians, vegans, Browns fans, etc.. So my pastoral role is to cut through these worldviews so that it's perfectly clear which ones are biblical and which are not. If those issues infringe upon the political realm, then, and only then, am I obligated to speak out.

I think about this a lot in my preaching and teaching because I recognize that I too own opinions on how the world should work. But despite my studies and thoughtful engagement on these subjects, I have blind-spots. And since I believe I'll be judged as a result of how I pastor (James 3:1), I still try to hold to an old adage within my faith tradition: "where the Scriptures speak, I speak, and where the Scriptures are silent, I am silent." My job, as best as possible, is to keep my opinions to myself.

So, what brought you in: about the George Zimmerman trial concerning the death of Trayvon Martin.

A young man is dead and another young man will never escape this deed as long as he lives. I, like many of you, spent the past weeks watching the trial and the media buzz surrounding it; I actually started tracking the case immediately after Trayvon died. There has likely not been a current event like this in the past decade that has left so much open to opinion. And I say that because of the perfect storm surrounding the tragic issue of this event: only two people know for sure what happened and one of them is no longer alive. As a result, we have relied heavily on our worldviews to interpret what happened on a rainy night when only two people knew for sure.

But you likely immediately knew who you sided with—Zimmerman or Martin—once you heard about it. And you probably haven't waivered from that position since.

The main issue that continues to divide us concerning this tragedy is that these two participants weren't polarizing enough to make our interpretations easy. If either of the two had exemplified pure evil or unquestioned good, we may never have even heard about this case. The trial exposed that Zimmerman had done things that showed he could have been either a racist vigiliante or an average Joe. We also saw that Trayvon was a kid who did just enough wrong to leave people questioning his youthful innocence. So, in reality, the two ideally represented how all of us actually are: beings capable of both grace and sin.

But when there is nothing left to go on, we will default to our preferred narrative. And then, we're not even arguing about this tragedy.

We're arguing about our worldviews.

So what now?

First, a story.

This past week, our church hosted our first ever Vacation Bible School—a mini summer camp for children. Even though I'm the minister, I had very little to do with it. Other people developed the concept, organized volunteers, did the set up and tear down. All I had to do is show up and do as I was told. I've been involved with numerous VBS's over the years but it was different than any other I had ever participated in.

Our Walnut Hills neighborhood claims diversity and it models it. Developed as a rich, white suburb, it became a landing place for poor black families whose neighborhoods were eradicated in the 1950's, 60's, and 70's to build the interstate system through the city. The neighborhood has "leveled-off" if you will, with black/white and rich/poor living side by side. Within a mile radius of the church building we rent, some of the richest and poorest residents of the city of Cincinnati area reside.

Any week of VBS is exhausting but the thought of this mix of kids made me anticipate greater challenges. But you know what? It worked perfectly. Those children had no problem being together, learning together, seeing together, playing together. During one snack time, kids had to make the snack for the child next to them and any racial or socio-economic boundaries were non-existent. I'm not sure we've we really acheived the post-racial society we were promised, but these kids made me believe that it could be coming. But for those older people like ourselves, we still grapple with the present reality.

These next sentences will offend some, but the more I labored over them, the more I realized that their accuracy is what makes them painful: if you grew up being profiled, it will never leave you. And you probably relate with Trayvon and his family. And if you grew up suspicious of those different than you, it's incredibly difficult to escape it. And you likely feel for Zimmerman. And that's why, as a white priviliged male, I am saddened today. These opinions are derrived from experiences and there's nothing that can be done today to heal them immediately.

So I now will give my opinion based from my current worldview. See, I have many friends who are minorities who have spent their lives in fear from authority as a result of history and experience. They are frightened by this verdict because they feel that the same thing that happened to Trayvon could happen to their children as well. You may not understand that fear personally, but it truly exists. And for them, rejoicing in Zimmerman's aquittal is akin to celebrating the idea that their kids lives are insignificant. And to witness that perpetuated from other Christians is devastating.

If your humanity will not permit you to grasp that concept, you need a new worldview.

So as I simplistically opined last night, this isn't the occassion to be witty or wise. This isn't the time to talk jurisprudance or discuss proper legal outcomes. This isn't the opportunity to speak in anger and prophecy the forthcoming vengence of God.

It is a time for sorrow and to reevaluate how we view those created in the image of God. No one won here.

Jesus wept, and so must we.

Moving On

Tonight I did the same thing that I did one year ago this evening: I went for a run through the city.

I remember it vividly because it capped one of the best days of my life. I had a great day at work. I spent time with my ladies. I had a gripping spiritual dialogue with some men from church on a rooftop overlooking downtown. I stopped by a community mixer where I had some engaging conversation with community leaders. And later that night I felt so good, I went out for a run through downtown, Over-the-Rhine and then down to the riverfront.

As I laid down to sleep that night, I was excited about what was happening in our city and the chance to be a part of it.

It was a perfect day.

But the reason I remember it is because the very next day, the bottom fell out.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of The Fire.

I had no idea how that event would change everything. The weeks we spent out of our house and our neighborhood killed the momentum I felt we were developing. And, honestly, I've felt like we've been playing catch up until just recently (for proof, notice the lack of writing on this website during that time). As I reflect on all that's happened this year, I want to be bitter. It's been a very rough 12 months, filled with chaos and strife. And it obviously wasn't the fire's fault but somewhere, in the back of my mind, I blame it.

But I just can't be bitter, because I'm thankful.

Thankful for my family's and my neighbor's safety. Thankful for the conversations this event spawned. Thankful for the friendships it helped strengthen. Thankful to live in a community like ours. Thankful for this city that I love. Thankful for a God who provides.

You can always move on past the flames. You have to.

There are more perfect nights out there just waiting to be experienced.

Flip that Blog

Three. Just three posts in 2013. Is this even worth the server space? I mean, look at the Flickr plugin on the right there. That thing's out of commission.

It's all the signs of an abandoned website.

Listen, you've heard it before. Life is hectic.

  • I've done a wedding and a funeral this year.
  • Training for marathon number seven.
  • Working on my thesis proposal.

And the nature of my job totally switched in the last month, with me getting a new boss. Of course, I never actually described what my old job (that I've held since the fall of 2011 here) so, does it really matter.

I haven't given up, though. At some point, I'm going to unleash all my writing fury on this baby.

And you're gonna want to see that.

EDIT: I fixed that Flickr pluggin. At least I have some nice Kaelyn pictures there.

The Worst

Ministers are wusses. That's my opinion.

Most of the time, we whine about the difficulties of our jobs with little thought for those whose jobs are just as difficult. I grow tired of hearing clergy discussing the huge burden and weight of ministry. When my father and brother are outside in sub-freezing weather on a ladder perched against a telephone pole, working on a live transformer that could kill them, I recognize that my life in a cushy-office is pretty great.

But there are days where it comes full circle; the kind of days when I truly feel a burden.

I'm conducting a funeral tomorrow afternoon for a young woman who took her own life. Her family and friends are devastated. It's been years since I've seen her and I'm grieved. I'm called to offer words of comfort to them (words they're likely not ready to hear), while focusing our thoughts towards the Creator of Life. I need to help them make sense of a senseless tragedy. Even though I want them to celebrate the beauty of her life, I need for them to see the Lord who weeps with them.

As much as I cherish the opportunity to help these people tomorrow, I'd rather be up on that ladder.

Swapping Calendars

As I sized up 2012, I told many people that it was, without a doubt, one of the most difficult years of my life. My professional challenges (both at Echo and CCU) were incredibly strenuous and it was exacerbated by the displacement caused by our condo fire (at one point I added it up and I spent only about nine-and-a-half months this year sleeping in my own bed [and this doesn't imply that Kelly forced me to sleep on the couch]). Wrapping up the year, I was as exhausted as I had ever been. I was overjoyed at the thought of kicking 2012 to the curb. Then I had a change of heart.

Even though there weren't any huge events last year that stand out, there were dozens of little vignettes that I cherished: We enjoyed our family time together. I had the chance to travel on the cheap. I took some great photos and started to learn video. I continued to develop into a solid recreational runner and played a good amount of soccer. I continued teaching and learning. I solidified some great relationships and was blessed to mentor some people around me. I continued to find contentment in what the Lord has given me.

In the end, one of the worst years I ever had was actually one of my best.

Life's like that now and then, huh? Here's looking forward to 2013.

Born

It's my birthday today. I just wanted you to know. I'm 37. What an odd number.

The best thing about my birthday is that it's right at the end of the year so I always feel like I get a true reset when I flip the calendar.

That's one of the reasons I decided to post something today. I've only had about two legitimate blog posts in the past three months. It's kinda sad and pathetic. But I'm going to do better in 2013. I know, I know, that's whats I always says. But I mean it this time.

Seriously.

Still Running

Since completing the Flying Pig Marathon in May, I haven't been able to keep a consistent running routine. Part of the blame could be assessed to my work schedule. The lion's share of blame can be heaped upon the summer's fire, our relocation to the sidewalk-less suburbs, and my desire to stay alive. I did play some soccer this summer, and I managed to get a couple runs in per week, so I'm not in horrible shape. But since the Pig, I only managed four runs over six miles—the longest being 13 miles.

That's not a good base for a marathon run.

But I paid to run last weekend's Monumental Marathon in Indy months ago, so I was going to get out there as far as possible and see if I could manage my way to the finish line. I had some extra motivation to get this one in, as I'd be running with my good friend Larry. But he had his own training struggles. After a summer of solid running, he came down with a bad case of runner's knee that has severely hampering his long distance runs. Still, Larry held my philosophy: try to figure out a way to get to the finish line. If things with his knee got really bad, he'd just turn home at the split and run the half-marathon.

One more roadblock to this race is that I caught a cold a couple weeks before. My colds tend to move from the throat, up to the head, then to the nose, and ending with a terrible cough. I've been coughing non-stop for days. I had no desire to take my old standby—NyQuil—as I wanted to retain some semblance of healthy sleep. The night before the race, I lathered up with VapoRub to help me sleep and made it through most of the night without coughing. During the race, I had a pocket full of cough drops to suck on through the race.

It was a chilly day in Indianapolis this past weekend, with a high of 45 degrees. We made it to the starting line with a couple of minutes to spare, but nobody was lined up. We eventually surmised that our hotel clock was faster than actual time, making us earlier to the race than we desired. At the starting line, we started off with a solid, but respectable pace, and things were going well.

But then came mile five.

It was then that Larry asked to slow it down, and it quickly became to much for his knee to bear. We ended up walking about a mile-and-a-half. Realizing that he wasn't going to get the full marathon in, Larry blessed me to go on without him. I felt horrible leaving him behind, but he powered through the half-marathon, posting a great time for a bum knee.

So at 6.5 miles, I was out on my own. Because of my lack of training, I had been nervous about finding the right pace, but starting with Larry gave me a perfect pace. And our walk in the early part of the race, provided me with the ultimate opportunity: I was so far in back of the pack, that my slow pace was still much faster than those people ahead of me. Instantly, I started passing people along the course. This did wonders for my psyche, putting me in an excellent frame of mind with which to carry on. I'm so glad this was the case, because there were hardly any spectators out on the course. Just a note about this marathon in case someone stumbles on this post wanting to run it: nice, flat course. Incredibly friendly volunteers, but almost no spectators at all. You can't rely on the fans to bring you home in this race.

Approaching the halfway point, I was feeling great, but my time wasn't looking too great. But this gave me a new goal: record a negative split (finishing the second half in a better time than the first). I felt great through the next few miles, but then the weather started to shift. It started to rain, and then hail, when I reached mile seventeen. This didn't last too long, though, and I kept on at a consistent pace. It wasn't until mile twenty that I started feeling the effects of my poor training. My right knee (which has given me problems before) and my left Achilles tendon (again, a pesky bother in my running) both started to ache. At mile twenty-three, I was certain I'd have to start walking because of the tendon, but I kept running and powered through it. Oh, and the cough drops did the trick. Combined with the cooler air, I rarely coughed at all through the entire run.

I've never done so well keeping a consistent pace, even though it was slower than my normal time.

As I made the turn towards downtown Indy and the finish line, I was feeling great, so I decided to turn it up. I was pulling down some good time, but then it started to rain.

Very hard rain.

By mile twenty-four, I was soaked. I looked up at a bank sign and the temperature was 36 degrees. For some reason, that made me run even harder. It was one of the strongest finishes I ever had in a marathon. My 4:29 time was right where I thought I'd be. At the finish line, I took my medal and then broke into a minute-long coughing fit.

It wasn't a pretty race, but it was highly satisfying. I'm so glad that I stuck with it and ran it out. And I'm not really feeling any adverse effects because of my lack of training. I suppose the running I did at the beginning of the year, and my accumulated training over the past two years, bailed me out.

So that's now six marathons under my belt. And, as long as my body holds up, I'm going to keep at. I've already signed up for May's Flying Pig and will likely look for another marathon next fall. I never imagined that I'd turn into a marathoner, but I'm somewhat addicted. I love the challenge of the race. I love seeing how my body reacts to different situations. And it's just a great way for me to stay in shape.

But next time, I'll stick to training better.