A Ten Year-old's memories of Good Friday

I took my three oldest children to a Good Friday service at a church close to our home.  We are members of a church about fifteen minutes away, so it was nice to go to a nearby church.  The service was a mixture of music, movie clips, prayer and communion, with the pastor adding a few comments throughout.  Overall it was a very relaxed and reflective experience.  It made me think about Good Friday services I've attended throughout my life, and one in particular that I will never forget.


Growing up my family attended a small, traditional United Methodist church.  When I was about ten years old, I was the acolyte for the Easter weekend services, including Good Friday.  I loved being the acolyte for this particular service because I got to light and extinguish thirteen candles instead of the usual two.


The traditional Methodist Good Friday service uses thirteen candles to represent the twelve disciples and Jesus.  Traditional hymns about the crucifixion are used for this service: What Wondrous Love is This?, Nothing But the Blood, O Sacred Head Now Wounded and Were You There?.  Passages from the Gospels and from OT prophecy are used to weave together the story of Christ's final hours.  As each passage is concluded a candle is extinguished, symbolizing the disciples abandonment of Jesus.  As the service progresses all the candles are eventually extinguished except the Christ candle, which is left alone burning on the altar.  It's a compelling and effective way to remember and retell the story.


The last passage read during the service is  from John 19: "When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."  Then someone standing in the alcove of the church gently sings a capella: "Were you there when they crucified my Lord?".  When the song is over it is utter silence in the sanctuary.  Then the acolyte stands up and walks up to the altar.  Picking up the Christ candle the acolyte slowly walks across the platform, down the steps and down the aisle towards the back where an usher holds open the back door of the sanctuary.  The acolyte slowly takes the candle out, leaving the sanctuary completely dark and silent.  This symbolizes the Light being taken out of the world when Jesus died on Golgotha.


After a few minutes of silent and dark reflection, the acolyte brings the lit candle back into the sanctuary and places it back onto the altar to remind everyone of the hope that is coming on Sunday.  The congregation then leaves the service in silence and reverence.  This is a powerful way to remember Christ's death on the cross.


Except the Good Friday when I was ten years-old.  At the appropriate time I carried the candle out of the service and through the back door like I was supposed to.  I stood outside the sanctuary holding the candle in the entryway of the church.  As I anxiously waited for my cue to go back inside, a stiff draft from under the outside door blew the Christ candle out!  "Oh sh*t," I whispered.  I quickly looked around in a panic.  There were no matches to be found in the entryway!  There were no lighters!  Did someone hear me say "sh*t" in church?  What was I supposed to do?  The Light is not going to come back into the world, and it will be my fault!  Just then the usher opened the door and whispered, "Is everything okay?  It sounded like you said, 'sh*t'".  He took one look at the anxiety in my face and the dead candle and started laughing.  He laughed as he took out a book of matches and re-lit the candle, and he was still laughing when I re-entered the service and placed the candle up on the altar. 


Fortunately, the crisis was averted and no one's faith was shaken by my failure to bring the Light of Jesus back into the world.  After that I always made sure that I carried matches in my pocket when I was acolyte.


I guess it is kind of funny now.

Love Wins - My thoughts on Rob Bell's new book

After seeing the interviews given by Rob Bell in the national media last week for his latest book, Love Wins, I bought it and read it. There hasn't been this much controversy in Christian circles about a book since The Shack or The Da Vinci Code.  I was at a conference this past weekend with other Navigator staff and I heard someone call it a "cursed book".  I couldn't wait to read it.  Click here to view Rob Bell's promo video for his book.

If you want to read a brief, well-written response (instead of what I've come up with), go here (Amazon review).

There are a couple things you should know about Rob Bell:  He is an excellent and creative communicator.  Whether its his preaching, his writing, or his production of video media, his style and teaching are funny, effective and explosively divisive.  He's been called many things: a rock star preacher, the next Billy Graham, a Universalist, and a heretic who teaches a false gospel.  My sense is that he loves Jesus deeply and he has great compassion for those he feels are on the outside looking in (the poor, the lost, those who don't "fit" into evangelical circles. etc.).  He writes like he preaches and it is often compelling.  He has an intentionally provocative style which certainly comes through in this book, and there are far more questions than answers or conclusions.  From the start he acknowledges that nothing he is saying is new.  (He borrows quite a bit from C.S. Lewis, Tim Keller, N.T. Wright and others).  So I definitely recommend reading this book, if only to participate in the conversation.  But do so with a praying and discerning heart.  (See Acts 17).

"Of all the billions of people who have ever lived, will only a select number 'make it to a better place' and every single other person suffer in torment and punishment forever?" (pg.2).  This is the fundamental question at the center of the book.  Another one: "Does God punish people for thousands of years with infinite, eternal torment for things they did in their few finite years of life?".  The book is drenched with Bell's incredulous and intelligent responses to these basic questions.  He spends considerable time addressing the question of how you become one of those who "go to a better place".  "Whenever people claim that one group is in, saved, accepted by God, forgiven, enlightened, redeemed - and everybody else isn't - why is it that those who make this claim are almost always part of the group that's 'in'?".  These questions stack up, and so does his criticism of evangelicals.  As a conservative evangelical myself, I can say that we often (sometimes intentionally and sometimes not) have judged and alienated those who don't follow Jesus.  We have observed their choices and lifestyles and categorized them, instead of having compassion on them like Jesus did.  We have focused on their foolishness while somehow ignoring our own.  Nonetheless, Bell's vehement critique of the "E-club" gets old after awhile.  Like listening to a one-string banjo.

I want to briefly discuss two of his main points, one I agree with and one I do not.  

His discussion of heaven is very good.  He is critical of the assumption that heaven and eternal life are something that exist somewhere else and later.  "Eternal life doesn't start when we die; it starts now.  It's not about a life that begins at death; it's about experiencing the kind of life now that can endure and survive even death." (pg. 59).  This life comes through Jesus Christ when we choose to follow Him - eternal life now.  "Jesus talked about a reality he called the kingdom of God.  He described an all-pervasive dimension of being, a bit like oxygen for us or water for fish, that he insisted was here, at hand, now, among us, and upon us. . . Jesus invites us, in this life, in this broken beautiful world, to experience the life of heaven now.  He insisted over and over that God's peace, joy, and love are currently available to us." (pg. 61-62).

He also encourages the reader to think about about the gospel primarily in terms of joyous participation rather than just as a ticket reserving your spot in heaven.  "Life has never been about just 'getting in'.  It's about thriving in God's good world.  It's stillness, peace, and that feeling of your soul being at rest, while at the same time it's about asking things, learning things, creating things, and sharing it all with others who are finding the same kind of joy in the same good world." (pg. 179).  This sounds like what Jesus describes as "life to the full" in John 10:10.  I like that - we have an opportunity to experience the sanctified, joyous life that awaits us in the redeemed, re-Creation NOW, HERE, through the Gospel.  This is good.

His discussion of hell and judgment is interesting.  He has grabbed hold of the idea that we can experience hell here on earth through our choices.  By rejecting God and choosing to exclude Him, we experience hell now, and increasingly so over time.  This is Great Divorce imagery and quite true to an extent.  He spends a great deal of time flushing out this point.  He also rejects the idea of God's final judgment to an eternal torment, and instead seems to embrace the idea that, "given enough time, everybody will turn to God and find themselves in the joy and peace of God's presence.  The love of God will melt every hard heart, and even the most 'depraved sinners' will eventually give up their resistance and turn to God." (p.106-7)  He also writes, "untold masses of people suffering forever doesn't bring God glory.  Restoration brings God glory; eternal torment doesn't.  Reconciliation brings God glory; endless anguish doesn't.  Renewal and return cause God's greatness to shine through the universe; never-ending punishment doesn't." (p.108)  (I find myself wondering where God's holiness fits in here?)  He references "a long tradition" of serious Christians who also held this view (Clement of Alexandria, Origin, Gregory of Nyssa, Eusebius, Jerome, Basil).  This certainly leans heavily towards a universalist view.  Lastly, he references Revelation 21:25 as a biblical example of people having limitless opportunity to be reconciled to God, even after the appearance of the New Jerusalem and into eternity.  "We read in Revelation that the gates of that city in that new world will 'never shut' . . . gates are for keeping people in and keeping people out.  If the gates are never shut, then people are free to come and go." (p. 115)  Bell consistently encourages us to not make theologies based upon one verse, but does it himself in this instance.  And he seems to dismiss the numerous passages and images in the Scriptures that indicate there is a final judgment (Matthew 25, Revelation 20:1-15, Daniel 12:1-3, 2 Thess. 1:8-9, and 2 Peter 3:1-10 among others).     

In my opinion Bell has become so uncomfortable with the idea of lasting judgment that he's now completely rejected it.  

Sidenote: A serious mistake we can make is presuming to know WHY he's gotten to that place.  "Oh, he's just a liberal!  He's just one of those emerging church guys!  He's just preaching what people want to hear so he can keep the seats filled!  He just this or he's just that!" - Big mistake.  Only God knows the true journey of his heart.  To presume we know shows that we are ignorant and narrow-minded. 

Interestingly though, with all the questions he asks, he never actually claims specifically that there is no eternal punishment.  Nowhere in this book.  He simply gives example after example, posing question after question (How could God still claim to be loving if He sends billions of people to eternal torment?  If God wants all people to be reconciled to Him, doesn't God get what God wants?  Do we actually have to trust Jesus to rescue us from God?).  Is he chickening out? Perhaps Bell's main purpose is to get us to think.  Maybe it's to stir up the E-club to think and act with greater compassion and grace.  Maybe even he doesn't know what his purpose is.  One initial visceral response I had to his promos and interviews on TV and online, was that he was only reinforcing this stereotype that Christians are judgmental numbskulls.  I think it's likely people would see this book and his media blitz as more evidence that the orthodox Christian worldview (more simply - the Gospel of Jesus) is irrelevant and impotent.  That's probably happened to some extent.  I'm relieved that God is bigger than NBC and YouTube.


This book has some very positive, intelligent things to say.  The best chapter (the last) is actually the shortest.  It lacks the biting, provocative style of the rest of the book, and probably represents what his true voice actually is.  But his biblical thinking also has some serious holes.  I've already heard a couple people praise this book because it affirms what they'd hoped all their lives (that God loves us too much to bring eternal condemnation upon us for our simple sins).  But the idea that we would try to make God or His Word into something that we're more comfortable with is troubling.  Doing that has caused more problems over the centuries than probably anything else.

Sprint does not want me to unplug.

The Palm Pixi

Yesterday I put part one of my social experiment into action by successfully canceled texting from my cell phone line.  Today was the first day in a long time that I haven't received any texts.  Several times this morning I caught myself checking to see if I had any missed texts alerts.  Of course I had none.  By 11am I stopped checking.


I also visited my local Sprint store today to check on a new phone.  It's been almost 3 years since I replaced my previous phone with my current Palm Treo, and my upgrade discount is maxed out.


Two issues were quite frustrating right off the bat.  In order to replace my current Smart Phone with the free one they offer when you renew your contract, you're required to have a data plan.  When I got my current smart phone, I got it specifically so I could use the Palm software to manage my calendar, and didn't need or want the $35/mo. data plan.  Now it's required . . . and it's a racket.  So it looks like a new Smart Phone (which are really cool by the way) won't pan out.  It doesn't really matter though, because I'm back to the archaic method of pencil and paper.


Then I checked the conventional cell phones, and most of them could only hold 300 entries in the contact list.  I have 513 entries.  Bummer.  I was able to find one phone (an LG) that held 600 entries in the contact list.  So out of 40 phones in the store, I was able to find one that worked for me.


In the end I walked out with my faithful Palm Treo still in hand, and now I'm deliberating what to do next.  Should I go ahead and cash in my discount now to get the new LG "dumb" phone.  Or wait?  The discount will not increase, so it will be the same 6-12 months from now.  I'm also considering making a huge jump and leaving Sprint after 11 years.  Verizon is calling.  Somewhere we don't need a 2-yr. contract is calling.


What do you think?

Social Experiment

I recently decided to give up texting as the first half of a two-part social experiment.  I started using texts frequently about two years ago, eventually paying for a plan giving me 300 texts per month.  To some people, 300/mo. sounds like a ridiculously small amount seeing as my 17-yr. old nephew sends twice that many in one day.  My text usage has continued to increase, causing me many frustrating overages.

In June I completed a five month sabbatical.  It was absolutely grand.  One of the crucial realizations I had during my sabbatical was the slow and quiet disappearance of margin in my life.  When every spare moment of my life is scheduled, or I can be beeped (text/email/calendar) at any hour of the day through my cell phone, there’s hardly any room for the necessary breathing in and out of the Holy Spirit in my mind and heart.  So now I'll no longer be tempted to send texts while driving or to glance at my beeping phone while talking with my wife or children.  I'll be free from the bonds of text etiquette.

We need space . . . ruthless and consistent space in our life so that we have a chance to hear the voice of God speaking to us.  We need space so we can think.  We need space so we can authentically relate with our friends and those in our family who are too young to send me text messages.  If we embrace margin, unexpected and difficult circumstances will less likely cause stress and panic.  We’ll be better equipped to simply and calmly trust God.  We'll be able to discover an unhurried and thoughtful life.  

So I'm unplugging from the text Matrix for 6-12 months.  If you send me a text you will receive a short, polite text message from Sprint informing you that my number no longer receives texts.  I'm assuming that if you really need to reach me, you'll call me.  Vice versa.

The second part of this social experiment is that after 2 years of using a Palm Treo for my calendar, I'm going back to paper and pencil: DayMinder 2010.   The digital calendar was both helpful and convenient.  I was able to sync it to my computer, and everything was right there at my fingertips.  Slick.  But my Palm was merciless about reminding me of my next appointment, or that I was running late for a man to man.  How many texts did I send while driving?  "Hey man.  I'm going to be a little late." or "Hey man.  Be right there."  Etc.

So I'm giving up both for awhile.  Afterwards some big questions should be answered: Can I really survive without texts?  Will I forget or get lost on my way to my appointments without my Palm?  We'll see.  Besides, wouldn't you rather hear my sweet voice than go through a long, boring exchange of text messages?     lol

Car Alarms

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

"What's that noise, Daddy?"  my daughter Rose asked.  "That's a car alarm, sweetheart.  Somebody's set it off by accident."  It's 9am and we're sitting at the breakfast table playing her new favorite card game: War.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

I'm reminded why we don't have a car alarm - I hate them.  For as long as I can remember I've detested unnecessary, repetitive noises.   Vibrating change in the ashtray, dripping faucets, barking dogs and especially car alarms.

HONK!  HONK!

"That's loud. " Rose says.  I give her a smile.  "Well, maybe one of our neighbors is testing it to see if we can hear it all the way in here." 

HONK!

Alright already!  Someone get that thing turned off!  I crane my neck to look out into the yard.  A thin layer of ice and snow left by last night's brief return of winter covers the grass.  In the driveway my unhonking car is also covered with ice, but the sun is out and everything is already starting to melt quickly.  I'm thankful for the sun this morning.

HONK!

"It's your turn, Daddy."  Rose says gently.  Apparently I've allowed the noise to distract me from what's really important.  I need to stop obsessing about the car alarm and focus my attention on the game.  I push the noise out of my mind.

I turn my next card over.  It's a seven of clubs.  "We both have sevens!  War!"  Rose exclaims.  We both count out three cards and lay them face down.  "This next card is it," I say.  "Whoever has the higher card  keeps all of them.  Ready?"  Both of us lay our cards down.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

"That's it!  I'm finding out who this idiot is!" I say not exactly under my breath.  I slam my cards down on the table and go for the front door.  "You're not allowed to say that word, Daddy."  I barely even hear Rose's rebuke as I open the door and stand on the front porch.  "Which of my dumb neighbors is it this time?"  I'm literally fuming.

HONK!  HONK! 

"Who is it?"  I look frantically up and down the driveways.

HONK!  HONK! 

"C'mon!!"  I yell to my empty yard.

HONK!  HONK!

My eyes are suddenly drawn to the corner of my house, and I see the downspout has broken away from the gutter and is hanging in midair.  Water is gushing out of the spoutless gutter.

What the . . . ?

All the melting ice and snow from my roof is running down the side of my house and into my basement!

HONK!  HONK!

Several thought's blast through my brain simultaneously as I sprint for the garage to get my ladder:

How on earth did that break?
How long has the water been running like that?
Is my basement going to be flooded?
I don't need this right now!
This is just great.

HONK!  HONK!

I open the garage door and wrestle my aluminum ladder from the wall.  I've got to get that downspout reconnected right away or I'll have some serious problems in my basement.

HONK!  HONK!

As I'm running down the driveway with my ladder something quietly occurs to me:

"If that car alarm hadn't been going off this morning, I probably wouldn't have stepped outside and noticed the broken downspout."

HONK!  HONK!

"That water could've gushed for a couple hours before I noticed it was broken.  (I mean really, who does a daily check to see that their downspouts are connected and working properly?)"

HONK!  HONK!

"God must have set that car alarm off so I'd go outside and see the broken downspout!"

HONK!  HON . . . .

The car alarm stopped at the exact moment the last thought entered my mind.

Hmmmmm.

 I guess I don't really mind car alarms after all.

Starting Over Again

My children love to stand over the furnace register on cold, winter mornings.  They crawl out of bed and head immediately to the inviting warmth of the side room register.  Often they wrap blankets around their necks and the forced air inflates the blankets into large cones.  The register always brightens their mood, brings them comfort, and puts a smile on their face.

This morning my 3-yr.-old daughter, Rose, woke up in a bright and lovely mood.   As I sat at the table reading, she came in and gave me one of her million dollar smiles.  After talking for a few moments about last night's dreams she went to sit on the couch with her 5-yr.-old brother Nathanael, who was reading a book.  I had no clue of the disaster that was about to suddenly strike our household.  Within seconds Rose was hyperventilating with dramatic tears.  She claimed that Nathanael had scratched her foot and wouldn't leave her alone (not unusual).  Nothing I did or said improved the situation, and she remained adamantly inconsolable (also not unusual).

Several minutes later I called the kids in for breakfast.  Rose sat on the couch and refused to come in and eat.  I looked at her and said, "Sweetheart.  Please come sit down with your brother and sister for breakfast."  "But my foot hurts!  Nathan scratched me!" she insisted.

I knew arguing with her when she was upset like this was fruitless.  So I suggested something I knew would make her feel better.  "Why don't you go stand on the register.  It's on right now."

"No!!!  I don't want to!"  She wailed.

"Are you sure?" I asked.  "If you stand on the register, I think it will make you feel better.  You'll see things a little differently if you do."

"No!!!  It's not even working!" she cried.

I glanced over toward the register.   The fronds of our spider plant above the register blew back and forth, clearly indicating the furnace had kicked on.  In the background I could hear the soft hum of the air blowing through the ducts.

"Rose, this will help you feel better," I said.  "Lift your arms."  I gently picked her and set her down on the register.  "No!  It's not working!  It's not working!" she yelled as the air from the register blew her hair up over her ears.  She was so angry at her brother that she refused to be comforted by the warmth of the furnace.  At that moment it didn't even exist.  Tears streamed down her face and spittle hung from the corner of her mouth. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

After several seconds I said, "Okay.  Why don't we start over.  Do you think we could do that?"  Rose hesitated a moment and after a bit more encouraging headed back upstairs to her room. Sometimes when a day begins like this one did, the kids go back to bed and we start the day all over again.  Five minutes later I walked upstairs and went into her room.  "Good morning sweetheart!  Did you sleep okay?  How about some breakfast?"  The tears and the anger disappeared, and Rose soon sat at the table to eat her Honeycomb.  The sad, grumpy little Rose disappeared as well and a new Rose took her place.

Thank God we can start over.

More later. . .

The Basketball Strangler: The Aftermath

(Before reading this entry, you should probably read my post from 11/07/09 for context.  The Basketball Strangler: Part One)

In the summertime I work at a Christian retreat center as the director of music and worship.  The conference grounds are located on the beautiful shores of Lake Michigan.  Each week of the summer season features a different bible teacher, and families from all over the country go there to spend their vacation.  It's truly a wonderful place to work and to visit.

During our first summer working there, one of our featured speakers was a pastor of a prominent megachurch located near Chicago.  He was a gifted and passionate communicator and his love for God and for the Scriptures was infectious.  My parents were visiting at the time and my mom, who is sometimes difficult to impress, liked him very much.  His first message was on Sunday morning and he shared a bit of his story with us.

He'd grown up in northeast Ohio and was a basketball player in high school.  He went on to play in college at Bowling Green, where he met his current wife.  The inspiring part of his story was how his life had been radically changed after he became a follower of Jesus at age 27.  He eventually left the corporate world to pursue Christian pastoral work.  I grew up in Northeast Ohio myself, so I approached him after the service to talk about our common roots.  This is how our conversation went as best as I can remember it:

"Thank you for your message," I said.

"You're welcome.  Thanks for your music," he replied.

"So you grew up in Northeast Ohio.  I did too.  Are you a Tribe fan?"  I asked.

"Absolutely.  They're playing great ball right now.  It's hard because everyone at my church asks me why I'm not a Cubs fan.  I always say, 'Same difference!' "

"So what town in northeast Ohio did you grow up in?" I asked.

"Kirtland."

Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of my neck.  Something began to not-so-gently gnaw at my brain as I talked to him.  "And you played basketball right?  What year did you graduate from high school?" I asked.

"1982,"  he said.

I was suddenly queasy, sort of like when you see a picture of an old girlfriend.  "My older brother graduated in 1982, and he also played basketball," I said.

"Oh yeah?  What high school did he go to?"

"Cardinal.  Cardinal Huskies." I said.

A moment passed as he looked at me.  A confused expression came across his face as he desperately searched his brain trying to put the pieces together of what I was already beginning to realize.  I just waited.

"What high school did you say your brother went to again?" he asked.

"You're that guy!  You're him!"  I exclaimed.

His eyes grew huge as it all clicked and he realized what I was talking about.  He threw up his hands.  "I didn't do anything!" he said adamantly.  "For years everyone has blamed me for what happened, but I didn't do anything!"

"Whatever!  I was there that night!"  I said.  "It's one of my most vivid memories!  I can't believe it.  After all these years to actually meet you in person.  My dad is gonna crap.  My family has talked about that night often."

We both started laughing because of the absurdity of it all.  He laughed even harder when I told him that my parents were visiting that week.  I brought my dad over to talk to Ron and they had a great time reliving that night.  My mom, on the other hand, was not at all amused by the improbable revelation.  Once she found out who this guy was, her anger from that night at the basketball game resurfaced.  After the service we all went to the Sweet Shop and had ice cream together.  Everyone had a great time laughing and getting to know each other.  Everyone except my mom, who spent the entire time giving Ron her evil eye.

The situation was aggravated the next morning when Ron shared his side of the story with the 250 or so people gathered for the morning service.  According to him, he never intentionally kicked Cardinal's player.  His recollection is that after he was shoved to the floor, he inadvertently stepped on Robert's balls as he tried to stand up.  He freely admits that he was an arrogant and cocky player, but that he never viciously kicked him.  He said that he doesn't have much recollection of what happened during the melee after he got tackled.  That's probably because his forehead was bashed into the hardwood floor.

This really pissed my mom off because she felt like he was using the situation to elevate himself, and she questioned his contrite humility about the whole thing.  She may very well be right in thinking that.  To further complicate events, Ron said he had actual video evidence to corroborate his version of what happened.  I was honestly skeptical of this until several months later I received an email from Ron containing a link to a youtube video of the game.  Ron had a VHS copy of the game film from that night, and a friend of his converted the video and posted it on youtube.  I must say that watching it the first time gave me chills because I can actually see myself, my brother and my parents in the video.  Talk about deja vu.  It's quite compelling. 

Before I share the link to the video, I want to say something about this whole situation.  Before I became a follower of Jesus I was a real bastard.  In the years before my conversion I alienated a lot of people because of my bad choices and selfish lifestyle.  I've grown accustomed to people from my past refusing to believe that I've changed and that I'm any different from the person they remember.  I think it's part of the consequences we pay for living a life rejecting Jesus.  But I am an adamant believer that ANYONE can have a changed life because NO ONE is beyond the reach of the grace of God.  I also believe that we can rehearse and replay old events so often that we block out the feasibility that someone who's hurt us in the past could possibly be different.  I probably won't run into Ron Z***** again, but seeing his changed life now reminds me of how much grace there is in a relationship with Christ.  It shows me how much good God has in store for me if I can only trust Him.

It's unfortunate (or perhaps providential) that the video doesn't show the exact moment of the alleged kick in the balls.  The camera followed the action of the play, and the incident happens just out of the camera's view.  The players on both teams and the referees all had their backs to Ron and Robert.  The only people who could've clearly witnessed the incident are the Cardinal fans in the bleachers.  From the tape you see a man immediately stand up and yell at Z***** while he's pointing to Robert's genitals.  And within seconds the fit hits the shan.  (Read Part One of Basketball Strangler).

If I had to draw a conclusion, I would say that Ron Z***** did give him a shot in the crotch.  Maybe Ron got what he deserved (and maybe Robert did too).  Who knows?  But it sure is fun to talk about. 

Watch the video and you make the call.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t76OrX2aJHY 

More later . . .

The Basketball Strangler: Part One

"You're that guy!  You're him!"  I exclaimed to the man.

The man's eyes grew huge as he realized what I was talking about.  "I didn't do anything!" he said adamantly.  "For years everyone has blamed me for what happened, but I didn't do anything!"  And he claimed to have evidence to prove it.  I couldn't believe it.

25 years earlier . . .

I was eight years old in 1982.  I was sitting with my parents in the visitor's bleachers at Kirtland High School gymnasium watching our Cardinal Huskies do battle with a far superior Kirtland squad.  My older brother was playing on the team and we weren't expected to even compete.

The Kirtland Hornets had a gym that felt like a penitentiary: drab, dark and crawling with convicts.  Their star player was a senior named Ron Z*****, and he could shoot the lights out.  He was a trash-talking, arrogant player and had the skills to back it up.  He was also known around the league for playing dirty.

It was just before the half when Ron Z***** broke open and launched a moon shot right in front of where I was sitting.  When he came down he was boxed out by Robert Soltis, one of Cardinal's defenders.  They both fell down out of bounds and hit the first row of bleachers.  Things happened quickly after that:

Everyone's attention followed the ball across the court, so Ron took the opportunity to give a hard kick to Robert's testicles.  The visitor's bleachers erupted with angry boos and shouts, because we all had seen Ron's attack on Robert's balls.  We also watched as Robert slowly rocked back on forth, trying to slake the overwhelming pain in his gut by cradling his junk in his hands.  Then Z***** stood up, turned his back to us and walked away.  It was right then that everything began to move in slow motion.

From behind me a small man began descending the bleachers two at a time.  He slid quickly past my dad, jumped to the floor and started running toward Ron Z*****.  Instantly my dad popped out of his seat to try and stop him, but was too late to prevent what happened next.  As Ron slowly walked away from where Robert lay groaning on the hardwood, the crazed fan tackled him violently from behind, driving his head into the court floor.  The court filled instantly with punching, kicking, and screaming players and fans.  Everyone was fighting in one big, angry mass.  It was a melee.

I have several intense, vivid memories from that night.  The first is my mother's screams.  Once my dad jumped out of his seat, my mother grabbed my arm and held me down, screaming at the top of her lungs.  Another is seeing my angry brother in a wrestling match with another Kirtland player.  Another is my dad kneeling down trying to help Robert, who just lay on the floor holding himself.  And then there was the announcer's panicked voice over the PA, making a futile attempt to take control of the mob.

After several minutes the coaches and on duty police officers were finally able to get things under control.  They were eventually able to finish the game, and Cardinal suffered another defeat, made worse by the sight of one of our fans being arrested for assaulting a minor.  The crazed fan was the dad of one of our players and at the time was a member of the school board.  He got cuffed and stuffed.

Over the years the events of that night were retold dozens of times and quickly became part of our family's oral history.  And of course Ron Z***** became increasingly more evil with each telling until he'd almost become the devil himself.  At least, that's the caricature my family had created of him.  Little did I know that the story wasn't finished being written.

More later . . .

I'm Beginning to Understand Blogs

This morning I had an epiphany while enjoying my morning coffee: I'm beginning to understand some of the numerous reasons why people blog. An acquaintance of mine says cynically, "People blog because they want attention and validation. . . duh." Perhaps. Blogging as a medium has rapidly grown in popularity and significance in the last several years. Writers and journalists who once dismissed blogs as illegitimate, now regularly contribute their own words to the blogosphere. As printed media continues it's decline, the significance of blogs and web-based media increases. As of 2007, there were over 112 million blogs (wikipedia.com). Who knows how many there will be in ten years.

My aforementioned acquaintance is correct when she asserts that for some, blogging is an act of self-importance seeking public validation . . . duh. Some people use blogs and tweets to negotiate trade negotiations (see OchoCinco) or to make knee-jerk apologies for their ridiculous antics (see Kanye West). Sports writers blog away during high profile games or the professional draft. There are food blogs, music blogs, church blogs, book blogs, surfing blogs, parenting blogs, car blogs, blogs about blogging, blogs, blogs, blogs, blogs. The sheer volume of blogs in the blogosphere illustrates an interesting variable in this conversation. With so many blogs being written, it is quickly apparent that we as humans have something to say. It's part of who we are anthropologically to express ourselves. God created us to create. So it makes sense so many people are saying so many things.

The vast number of blogs is also evidence of another variable in this discussion. There are simply too many words out there. Marilyn McEntire wrote in the September 2009 issue of Christianity Today about the careful use of language, ("Letting Words Do Their Work" http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/september/32.55.html). She discussed the innate power of words and how powerful language has lost much of its purchase in our culture because of overuse and misuse (lack of precision). If you appreciate language and the careful use of words, you will highly appreciate this article.

George Will recently compared President Obama to "audible wallpaper". He said, "Our President has become the nation's elevator music, always out and about, heard but not really listened to". He was talking about the President's recent stumping for support of his health care plan. This demonstrates an important point about communication: The more people one leads, the more important and weighty their words become. A wise leader uses fewer words less often. Does the same principle ring true with our own words (or our own blogs)?

I now have about 15 entries in my blog that I started over 18 months ago. Let me succinctly say (too late), as I look back I see that my blog entries have taken me a fair amount of time to think through and write. I've also noticed that my "urge to blog" is not consistent or predictable. It's been six months since my last entry. I currently have a few things I want to write about (mostly for my own reflection and process). When those are finished who knows when the urge will come again.

The crux of the epiphany is this: For me and some others, blogging helps to intelligently process through things that are rattling around in my mind and crashing through my life. I have two people currently following my blog. Who cares?! But I somehow feel like I've taken positive steps to meditate and process some of my current circumstances. I'd like the words I choose to mean something and have weight. God created me to create creatively.

Does anything I just wrote make any sense? Probably not.

Why does the phone always ring when you're on the can?

I don't know.

More Later . . .

Top 25 Songs of Summer

This is a list of my Top 25 Songs for Summer. Twenty-five isn't nearly enough to cover much ground, but we'll at least get a start. The songs on this list are tied to strong vibes and emotions that awaken my mind and heart to summer. As a smell can trigger powerful memories, these songs are tied to specific places, times, and activities of summers throughout my life.

#1-4 are all part of Michael Stanley's Weekend Kickoff on 98.5 WNCX. Every Friday at 5pm Michael Stanley plays the same four tunes in a row, officially starting the weekend in Cleveland. I live in Cincinnati now, and so I have the songs in my iPod and I play them on Friday whenever I'm in the car.

#1 Born to Run -- Bruce Springsteen (1975) -- this is the song that got me hooked on Springsteen. This is probably not an uncommon story.

#2 This Beat Goes On -- The Kings (1980) -- it's a shame that no one knows who this band is. This song and #3 are written to play one after the other. And they rock ass!!

#3 Switchin' to Glide -- The Kings (1980)

#4 Bang the Drum All Day -- Todd Rundgren (1983) -- Did you know that Todd Rundgren played guitar and produced Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf?



The rest of the list reflects some (but not all) of the songs that remind me of summer. You'll note that there are no Beatles, Creedence, Led Zeppelin, U2 or Beach Boys on this list. The Beach Boys and Creedence both are their own genres of summer music. This list reflects the songs that are tied to some of earliest and strongest memories of summer, stretching from my youth into my college years.

#5 Baba O'Riley -- The Who (1971) - Is this the best Who song?

#6 Walk of Life -- Dire Straits (1985) - The organ hook at the beginning grabs me every time.

#7 The Boys of Summer (1984) -- Don Henley - His best song by himself (1984). I dated a girl with brown skin that shined in the sun.

#8 Summer of '69 -- Brian Adams (1983) -- the classic summer rock song for me and my friends.

#9 Jack & Diane -- John Cougar (1982) -- How many people have you seen play air guitar to the repeated acoustic line in this song?

#10 A Kind of Magic -- Queen (1986) -- Freddie Mercury died when I was a senior in high school. Queen was having a huge resurgence at that time because of the movie Wayne's World, which introduced "Bohemian Rhapsody" to a whole new generation. I bought the tape Classic Queen on a date with my girlfriend near the end of my senior year. "A Kind of Magic" was the first track. I played that tape 'til it broke.

#11 My Best Friend's Girl -- The Cars (1978) -- I'm a Cars fan mainly because I had two older brothers who blasted this fabulous music from their attic bedroom when I was a little, little kid.

#12 All Along the Watchtower -- Jimi Hendrix (1968) -- Try to sit back and listen to this like you're hearing it for the first time.

#13 Let's Go Crazy -- Prince (1984) -- Sorry Jimi, Prince's guitar is a shade better than yours (especially here), and he didn't kill himself.

#14 Won't Get Fooled Again -- The Who (1971) -- Is the Who possibly better than the Beatles? or U2?

#15 Burn On -- Randy Newman (1972) -- Even though this song is about the Cuyahoga River catching on fire (which is a great source of shame for Clevelanders), I love it. It's from the great film Major League.

#16 My Town -- Michael Stanley Band (1983) -- the all-time Cleveland fight song. I love this song.

#17 Love Stinks -- J. Geils Band (1980) -- A great anti-relationship song. My brother had this album.

#18 NightSwimming -- R.E.M. (1992) -- On my first date with my wife (July 1994), we went swimming late at night at my friend Bobby's pond. It was like we acted out this song. I remember thinking about it in my head when it was happening.

#19a Centerfield -- John Fogerty (1985) -- John Fogerty's great song about playing baseball. The music video is a great montage of black and white baseball reels.

#19b Heat of the Moment -- Asia (1982) -- after listening to this song again it's not that great. But it still takes me back to summers growing up.

#20 Bat out Of Hell -- Meatloaf (1977) -- 10 minutes of awesome, gushing, over the top, noir rock 'n roll.

#21 Hungry Heart -- Bruce Springsteen (1980) -- There are ten potential Springsteen songs that are on my summer list. His music more than anyone's makes me want to mow my grass, crack open a High Life and stretch out in lawn chair. Awesome!

#22 Life's Been Good -- Joe Walsh (1978) -- My brothers had this album. I thought the James Gang was a bunch of cowboys back then.

#23 The End of the Innocence -- Don Henley (1989) -- This was more my college years. My friend Matt owned this CD and we listened to it incessantly. On Spring Break in 1993 I learned all the lyrics to this song by heart.

#24 Freebird -- Lynyrd Skynyrd (1974) -- I used to listen to this one over and over driving around after toking. Once again, college years.

#25 Maggot Brain -- Funkadelic (1971) -- Every Saturday night on WNCX they closed out their Saturday Night request show at midnight with Maggot Brain. It's a 10 min. acid guitar solo in E. Sweet.

5 Alternates -- in case you don't like any of the first 25.

Alt. #1 American Girl -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (1977)

Alt. #2 Heartache Tonight -- Eagles (1979)

Alt. #3 He Can't love You -- Michael Stanley Band (1980)

Alt. #4 Paradise By the Dashboard Light -- Meatloaf (1977)

Alt. #5 Time Warp/Sweet Transvestite -- Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

More Later . . . 

No Line on the Horizon - A Review

"Crap. Are you kidding me?"

That was my response to my friend Artie's comment that the new U2 sounded like Coldplay. He'd pre-ordered No Line on the Horizon on iTunes and gotten a sneak peak at the title track.

I felt like I would vomit.

But alas, it turns out that my friend had seriously misguided me. It's not Coldplay (thank God). No Line on the Horizon took me a bit by surprise, but so far I've liked it more each time I listen to it, which is a good sign.

Let me start by going back to 1991. U2 redefined their sound with the release of Achtung Baby, which contains six unparalleled tracks that have since become part of the sonic fabric of rock 'n roll. Their song "One" is one of the most important songs written in the last 35 years. After setting the bar beyond anyone's reach with The Joshua Tree, instead of retreating into safety by trying to replicate Joshua Tree, they broke new ground by using bold new guitar effects, more complex rhythms and darker lyrics. The result was the best rock album of the '90s.

Now it's 2009 and U2 has enjoyed 8 uninterrupted years of global success and popularity. Their two most recent albums, All That You Can't Leave Behind and How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, are practically perfect. U2 symbolizes all that is cool and good. Does any other band have their own iPod? Does any other band appear on David Letterman more than one night? Enough said. . .

This is why No Line on the Horizon will endure, and probably will become one of their most important works. Their amazing popularity and influence have given them complete autonomy when creating a new album. Once again, instead of retreating into safety and putting out the same old crap album after album (see Creed, Nickelback, Coldplay, Creed, the Rolling Stones, or Creed), they've once again forged ahead into the new.

On No Line, they make us wait (almost gleefully) for a hard-edged rock tune. "Get On Your Boots" is the only balls out rock song, and it doesn't appear until track six. That along with Stand Up Comedy are the only obvious singles on the album.

Some of my favorite moments on No Line are:

1. Get On Your Boots: Superfun and classic U2

2. My favorite track: Unknown Caller (track 4). Great group vocals

3. White as Snow: U2 arranges a traditional advent hymn. It sounds mysteriously like the soundtrack from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: Ennio Morricone's timeless western sound.

4. Bono's best vocals ever: Moment of Surrender, "I tie myself wire!!"

5. Freddie Mercury has reincarnated! Throughout the album are fantastic, elaborate harmonies both vocally and with Edge's E-bow.

6. Their relaxed and patient approach throughout. Most of the songs have an extended intro and thoughtful interludes that give you time to think and take in their art. Selah. Cedars of Lebanon closes the album and gives you a snapshot of their maturity and growth as musicians and artists.

It seems like U2 is purposefully enjoying their place in rock 'n roll. Never once have they come across as trying too hard or being over the hill. They have relevance and cool firmly in their grasp. They know they're still making great music and also seem to recognize how fortunate they are. Their team of producers (Eno and Lanois) has done what George Martin did for the Beatles: helped create timeless music that still will have cultural traction fifty years from now. Have fun listening to it. It will grow on you more and more.

More later. . .

The Miracle of Scrubs

I love Scrubs.

The last three TV shows my wife and I began to follow and like were cancelled within two years. The West Wing, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip and Boston Legal. Scrubs was actually taken off the air for about a year while it transitioned to ABC from NBC. So it's like it's back from the dead.

A Miracle!

More later . . .

Sledding Vol. 2

We visited my parent house recently

All Good Things Must Come To An End . . .

This weekend we took our Christmas tree down. In our house, the Christmas tree goes up the weekend after Thanksgiving, and comes down New Year's Day. I can say with confidence that this is officially and predictably one of my least favorite days of the year. There are many reasons for this:

1 - The tree itself. For about 4 weeks the tree, once decorated, brings light and joy into our house and is a reminder of very good things. It's pungent fragrance bombards your senses. The tree is the centerpiece of our Christmas celebration. Each year we go through the same revered family ritual of bringing out old, cherished ornaments while carefully choosing new ornaments that will join the pantheon. Each ornament has a story and a specific meaning to us, and we're very stingy about new ornaments going up. If they lack the beauty and character of what we already have they don't stand a chance. The tree is the focal point of tremendous sentiment and nostalgia.

By the time the tree comes down on New Year's Day it's deadness hangs off the boughs like Marley's chains. The needles explode off the branches as you remove the strings of lights, which come off with far less care than they went up. Then you're faced with the important task of deciding if the current light strands will make it for another Christmas. If you choose to keep a strand that is unknowingly close to death, it might burn out on next year's tree after it's already been decorated. This presents a frustrating and time-consuming situation, so it's best to just pitch any strands older than one Christmas. After the lights come off, the tree will end up being thrown out the front door into the yard, with a grunt and perhaps a curse. Merry Christmas!! I'm sure it's amusing for my neighbors to see me burst out of my front door wielding a dead Douglas fir over my head. The needles and sap eventually get cleaned up, but it seems like every year I'm vacuuming at midnight.

2 - The music is over. Growing up my parents didn't play music much. My mom was a Kenny Rogers fan, but the Gambler came out rarely. But on Thanksgiving Day an unending flow of Christmas music poured out from the Realistic phonograph my parents owned. It was an autofeed record player, and it would stack 10-12 records on the post. Whenever the records finished rotating through, someone would flip the stack over and start it again. Among many of our favorites there was Jackie Gleason, Robert Shaw Chorale, Perry Como, Nat King Cole, Vince Guiraldi, Brenda Lee, Glen Campbell, Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby and of course Christmas Magic by Frad Waring and his Pennsylvanians. I've collected almost all that old music on CD or iTunes and it now resides my iPod. In our house now, the Christmas music starts when we hop into the van to make the 7 hr. trip to Grandma's in Jamestown, NY. From that moment Christmas music is played non-stop until the day the Tree comes down when it will go dormant once again until next Thanksgiving.

3 - The movies and decorations go back in the box. Each year we buy one Christmas movie to add to our collection. So far we have It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street (the original), A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Story, Polar Express, Christmas Vacation, Charlie Brown Christmas, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, & Veggie Tales Christmas. This year we added The Preacher's Wife and The Bishop's Wife. Of course the more we add the more difficult it becomes to watch all of them, so we have to choose a select few. I still want to add The Santa Claus, Scrooged, Muppet Christmas Carol, Holiday Inn, White Christmas, Home Alone and Grumpy Old Men. Being committed to only buying one Christmas movie per year means it will be several years before our desired collection is complete.

4 - Goodbye to the lovely traditions. Let me list some of them, a lot of which have to do with food: making peanut brittle, sour cream twist cookies, chocolate buckeyes, egg nog w/brandy, Kara's decorated cutout cookies, nuts in the shell, mushroom sandwhiches, cheese and sweet dry sausage. Not to mention all the seasonal Christmas and Winter beer that abounds during that time. No wonder my digestion gets disrupted and my clothes don't fit anymore.

5 - Back to school. I've lived my entire life within the bounds of the academic calender. I currently work with college students and my daughter is in the first grade. So New Year's Day still means that school is right around the corner. It also means the end of college football until the fall, and that's a real bummer. So we go to bed New Year's night & every trace of our month-long Christmas celebration is gone. Within a day or two we're back at school and our minds are filled with the things of the New Year. It's still that way now.

So we look forward to another wonderful Christmas in 10 1/2 months time. I wonder what new ornaments we'll find for next year's tree, or what new beer I'll discover when the new winter seasonals are released in the fall. Who knows? Maybe none of us will be around for another Christmas.

Maybe Jesus' second advent will take place before then.

More later . . .

A six-year-old's story of the first Christmas

Tonight my six-year-old daughter Grace read me a story that she wrote. It's entitled "The First Christmas" Here's what it says in her words:

"Jess ws bron in belhem. Shepds brot the sepp. Wis men brot gld sive and fagstn. The wise men folod the star. Taet is yi we selbt Christmas. The fret Christmas."

Then she added a pencil illustration of the stable and the baby in the manger with his mother. Above the stable she drew a very large 6-pointed star. I told her it was exceptional (which it is).

She asked if she could read it to me aloud. This is her translation of what she wrote:

"Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Shepherds brought the sheep. Wise men brought gold, silver and frankenstein. The Wise Men followed the star. That is why we celebrate Christmas. The first Christmas."

It's quite a lot of fun to be a parent.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

More later . . .

Music, Mystery and Powdered Milk Biscuits

One of best music groups on the planet is the Guy's All-Star Shoe Band from Garrison Keillor's weekly radio program Prairie Home Companion. It's a simple five-piece band that can play anything, and play it prodigiously. The piano player in particular has earth-shattering chops in any style. They provide all the incidental music for the radio show in addition to 8-10 special tunes accompanying guest musicians and singers each week. The highlight of each week's show is an advertisement for Powdered Milk Biscuits where the band freaks out in a bluegrass/ragtime hoedown. They play a simple I-IV-V progression while trading fours and it blows the mind, especially when Richard Dworsky the piano player takes his turn. You can listen to the weekly sound byte on PHC's website: http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how God reveals himself to us. Fundamentally He's revealed Himself through the Scriptures and through the presence of the Holy Spirit that lives within us. What I'm thinking of, though, is the specific and occasional moments when God makes our hearts powerfully aware of His presence. I've had many of these moments, and they've always left a lasting impression. My search for understanding is not so I may conjure more of these moments, but so that I can more firmly grasp how I best develop connection with God. I'm thinking more and more that God uses different avenues and experiences to reveal Himself to different people. For some it's music, for others it's nature or books or relationships. Identifying how God has shaped my soul to best sense and engage His Spirit continues to grow in importance for me.

God has most often revealed Himself to me through music.

For example:

Last Sunday, I went with my wife to see Andrew Peterson's Behold the Lamb of God concert at our church. I was genuinely moved and impressed with both the music and the musicians. The depth of meaning behind the libretto, and the mastery with which those men played their instruments stirred me deeply. At several moments I was near tears, though I've heard the music dozens of times.

The reason I mentioned Powdered Milk Biscuits earlier is because God has often used those few short moments during that commercial break in Prairie Home Companion to shine a bright light into my soul. What's interesting is that there's nothing complicated about its form (a simple blues/ragtime), but it's done so well that it speaks deeply to me almost every time I hear it.

This was true of the December 14th episode in particular. Their special musical guest that week was Chris Thile, the vocalist/mandolin player from Nickel Creek. He played a solo cover version of the White Stripes song "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground". I was in the car returning from church when I heard it and it literally blew my mind. I was stunned how a soloist with a mandolin could do something so profound and so penetrating to my soul. I freaked out in the car I was so filled with the Spirit of God. Then right after he finished, the Guys All-Star Shoe Band played Powdered Milk Biscuits with Chris Thile and I was so excited that I disturbed another driver who witnessed my enthusiasm--no joke. What a gift from God!

A famous missions story is told of Rev. E. P. Scott, a missionary to India in the 19th century, where he was caught by a murderous band of tribesmen who were closing in on him with spears. Knowing he was going to die in a few moments, the missionary took out his violin, closed his eyes and began to play and sing "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name". When he finished the song he opened his eyes to see that the tribesmen had dropped their spears and were weeping. Scott spent the remaining years of his life with these people, sharing the Gospel of Jesus with them. Was it the power released from the music that so keenly changed the hearts of those men? I believe it was.

I remember my college chamber group singing "If Ye Love Me, Keep My Commandments" by Thomas Tallis in the vault of Lincoln's tomb. It's a sublime piece and when we sang it in that circular granite sepulcher, God shone His light brightly among us. It was a moment never to be repeated, but forever impressed into my soul. I felt as if I was swimming in sound and somehow hearing colors.

Another time when I was 19 yrs. old I was at home alone listening to the Hallelujah Chorus from The Messiah. I had sung that piece dozens and dozens of times in choir, but that particular time when I was alone and listening to it, I began to weep uncontrollably. It was so odd and out of place for me to do that, I didn't quite know how to feel about it. That was one of the first times I experienced that.

Recently during one of the most difficult times of my life, God used a song called, "The Silence of God" by Andrew Peterson to reveal Himself to me. My wife and I had just lost our baby and I was having a really rough time. Listening to that song, God revealed a piece of Himself that I desperately needed that day.

So I surrender myself to this deep desire and longing I have to hear and to play extraordinary music. By surrendering I avail myself to God's familiar avenue through which He reveals Himself to me. But this means that I will suffer a bit when I hear or witness great music. My suffering comes from wanting desperately to participate with those joined together in musical community, but knowing that I won't be able to. I must create my own community, and hope that God will reveal Himself in the midst of it. I can't be a part of the Square Peg Alliance, but I can pray for people to join my own alliance. Maybe that will happen someday. If not, I still believe that I'll hear from God, I just need to listen carefully and invite Him to show Himself.

More later . . .