Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Made in the image of "ME"

It's been an especially wild sports week in what typically is already a wild sports season, with BCS bowls and NFL playoffs (shamelessly showing my football bias, I know).

First, on Monday we heard the not-so-shocking news that cyclist and LiveStrong founder Lance Armstrong was going to confess to years of performance-enhancing doping, during a two-hour interview with Oprah.  The shock waves you felt coarsing through the veins of America were not from the revelation of this news, since even the most naive soul had long ago accepted the obvious.  The big deal was that Lance was finally going to admit it.  For years the accusations came - and for years, Lance fought them viciously.  One might even say maliciously, seeking to destroy the lives and reputations of his accusers with mob-like intensity.  But now he was admitting to it all - the reasons for doing so, of course, we can only fathom.

Then, just a mere 48 hours later, we were treated to the most bizarre non-sports sports story since Tonya Harding hired a hitman to bash rival Nancy Kerrigan's ankle.  Notre Dame linebacker and Heisman runner-up Manti Te'o released a statement saying that his girlfriend - the one who was in a car wreck this past fall, the one who died of leukemia mere afters after Te'o's own grandmother died - wasn't really his girlfriend.  In fact, she never existed. The shock wave here didn't come from a young man fabricating a girlfriend story (gents, be honest, in your single years how many times did you make something up to save face?)  This was a big deal because the saga of his girlfriend - a saga he repeated frequently in interviews - was a major storyline in the fall football season and a significant contributor to the "legend of Te'o" that had people outside of the sports world talking.

Wow.  One can only fathom what craziness will befall the sports world in the next 48 hours.

This isn't really a comparison of the two sports stars, because they're very different situations.  The former is pretty black-and-white: a megalomaniac willing to do anything to promulgate the aura around him, no matter how many lies he told or who he trampled under foot along the way.  The latter - well, that's a little more grey.  The verdict's still out because no one (other than Te'o) knows the full truth, although it appears (for now) that Manti was the victim of a hoax called "catfishing," where a fake online persona is created and someone is made to believe that persona is real.  At some point, Manti realized he had been duped - this after talking openly to the press about his "girlfriend" and certainly embellishing elements of the truth.  He was too embarassed to admit to it, and since the girlfriend story had long taken root, he let it keep going.  He wasn't totally at fault, but he sure wasn't blameless either.

So this is not a comparison of the two. It's more of an observation.  An observation about image - our image - and what we will do to further and protect that image.  No one can fault Lance or Manti for wanting to put their best foot forward and show a side of themselves that leaves us thinking they're a freak of an athlete or a real human being who has overcome tremendous tragedy.

The rub comes when we fail to understand that our image is something that's already inside us, and instead see it as something that must be manufactured.  Something we have to work to achieve.  That's the hole these two guys stumbled into.  Maybe it was strict ego, or maybe it was with an eye toward marketability and branding.  Probably a little of both.  But the reason you and I ever heard of Lance Armstrong certainly wasn't because of America's rabid appetite for the sport of cycling.  It was because the dude beat testicular cancer when the doctors told him he had no chance, AND he won several Tour de Frances (which, when we started watching it on TV, we realized how ridiculously hard it is), AND he helped raise millions of dollars for cancer research.  The reason we heard of Manti Te'o is not because he plays football - there are hundreds of collegiate linebackers out there.  It's because he plays football at Notre Dame, AND he's a Heisman candidate and NFL first-rounder, AND he supposedly had a girlfriend who tragically died of leukemia in the middle of his senior season but kept playing well anyway.

Self-preservation is part of our DNA.  We instinctively want to protect our image, because it's from that image that we get our sense of self-worth.  And at our most basic and vulnerable level, we want to feel like we mean something to someone. The problem comes when we forget whose image we are made in:

“Let us make human beings in our image, make them reflecting our nature..." - Genesis 1:27

I like the idea of being made in the image of someone besides myself, and not just because I'm a pastor. Being made in God's image means we don't have to work so hard to be someone or something we're not.  Being made in God's image means we don't need to promulgate a caricature - or a downright lie - to make our lives meaningful.  Being made in God's image does NOT mean we're going to live a mistake-free life or that we won't need to be held accountable for our actions.  It simply means we don't try to maneuver this crazy life all by our lonesome.

I have no idea if Lance or Manti are religious folk, and that's not really the point.  The truth is that these two are not the cause of the "made in the image of me" dilemma, but signs of the epidemic.  There are so many ways in our social-media-saturated, 24-7 news cycle culture for us to refashion and remake ourselves into someone we are not. And it doesn't have to be about sustaining a brand or setting the stage for a multi-million dollar football career.  It can be about simply feeling better about ourselves.

We don't need to work so hard to create an image to make us feel better about ourselves.  That image is already inside us.  It was put there by a God who loves us no matter what we do or don't do; whether or not we win any races or Heismans, whether or not we have an awesome girlfriend.  I hope Lance and Te'o can move on and come to terms with the image of God within them. I hope the rest of us can do the same.

 

The cost of looking like a loser

It's Friday night at the Lindsleys and all has been pretty calm.  We had pizza and watched The Karate Kid on Netflix.  The new one.  I missed Mr. Miyagi.  Elsewhere, though, things are not so normal.  As I type this, our federal government is teetering precariously on the brink of a shutdown because the two sides can't agree on a budget.  To hear the experts talk (and it's tough these days to know who the experts are) the differences are pretty miniscule as far as dollars and cents.  But that appears to be the problem - it's not about dollars and cents anymore. I'm not even sure it's about the 800,000+ American citizens who will go unpaid and the services may depend on that won't be rendered.  You'd think we would be their focus (and I'm holding both sides accountable here), but apparently we're not.  No, apparently in our day and time, when you and the other guy don't agree on how to best solve a problem, it's not what's in everyone's best interest that should motivate you. 

It's doing everything you possibly can to keep yourself from looking like a loser.

Have you noticed this?  It's not anything new, really.  It's as old as the schoolyard playground.  It's what my grade-school sons have been known to engage in from time to time.  There's a stuffed animal, say, and they both claim it as their own.  So they hold on to it and try to wrestle it away from the other.  Eventually, though, the item of contention itself becomes insigificant - almost completely forgotten.   Harold the stuffed monkey is no longer what they're really concerned about.  All that matters is that they hold on to whatever it is with all their life so they wind up winning.

Good gosh. Maybe Charlie Sheen was right after all.

It's kind of cute when eight and six-year olds engage in this sort of thing (okay, maybe not so cute), but it definetly isn't very endearing when grown adults go at it.  Case in point: a few months ago the NFL owners and players duked it out in trying to strike a collective bargaining agreement to prevent a work stoppage.  The stakes there too were high - the National Football League is easily the most popular and lucrative of all the professional sports leagues in the country.  It was in the best interests of both sides to strike a deal and keep playing.  And the differences separating the sides were not insurmountable.  In the end, though neither side wanted to look like the one who caved in.  No one wanted to be perceived as the loser.  So unless something dramatic changes in the near future, my Panthers won't get a chance to repeat their horrendous 2-14 season.

And frankly, the media doesn't help matters much.  With the 24-7 news cycle and ever-constant Twitter updates, the die is perpetually being cast and the stakes ever raised in the public eye.  The shutdown hasn't even happened, and yet for days all the pundits have been talking about who stands to suffer more politically if a deal isn't reached.  This kind of stuff isn't very helpful.  Earlier this evening former Bush Press Secretary Ari Fleischer showcased this tidbit of wisdom in the Twitterverse:

I usually don't see eye-to-eye with the man, but in this case he's right.

What I'm wondering in all of this is whether this is fast-becoming not just the way differences are solved in the high-stakes political process or ridiculously-lucrative world of professional sports, but in everyday interactions of the common folk.  It's a fact: people won't always agree on everything.  There are going to be instances where we have to work to solve our differences.  And my concern is that things like compromise and give-and-take will take a back-seat to worrying about what our reputation looks like after the dust is settled.

I know it's easy to take sides when you're talking about hot-button issues like national politics and football (man, I really wanted the Steelers to win the Super Bowl), and that's not really the point of this blog post.  Because when things play out the way they have so far, the truth of the matter is that both sides are at fault.  And then it becomes nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy: when both sides worry only about not being perceived as the loser, both sides wind up becoming the loser.

Let's hope productive dialogue and compromise win out over positioning and self-preservation.  Because even though I don't agree with everything my government says or does, I still want it to function.  And I really won't know what to do with myself if there's no football on Sunday afternoons this fall.

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UPDATE:  Mere seconds after I hit the "Publish" button for this post, the news came that the government reached a deal to hopefully avoid a shutdown.

 

 

An open letter to Andrew Luck

Dear Andrew, or Mr. Luck, or Quarterback Czar or whatever name you want us to call you:

As residents of the Old North and Palmetto States who only in recent years have been introduced to the wonder of professional football and overpriced PSLs,  we implore you to reconsider your decision and declare for the NFL draft - and, by virtue of our sucky season, become the starting quarterback for one of the most inept offenses of all time.

We know - tempting, isn't it?  Either hang out in sunny CA for another year being the figurative and literal "big man" on campus, or find yourself in the Southeast getting squashed by opposing defenses on a weekly basis. We can't say that we'd make the same decision if we were in your shoes, but that's not important.  What's important is that you understand that you are the quarterback of our future, even if you don't yet know it.

And the thing is, we didn't really know that's who you were, until very recently - until the last few seconds of this year's Orange Bowl ticked off the clock.  We're kind of embarrased to say it, but we hadn't heard much about you before then.  There weren't many Stanford games on TV here during the fall, and by the time the details of your football prowess hit the Saturday newswire, we were hours removed from the afternoon football stadium and focusing on our true love - college basketball.

But man, what a clinic you put on against Virginia Tech!  We were impressed.  And with every one of your 287 passing yards and four touchdowns, we couldn't help but ask ourselves, "What if - what if you were to become a Panther and lead our team, our city and state to football glory?"  We watched you on TV and imagined you wearing not red and white but blue, silver, and black (you can keep #12, by the way. Heck, you can put as many numbers on your jersey if you want).

See, you've got to understand what we've been through in recent years in the quarterback department.  We had Jake Delhomme, who was a generous guy but failed to realize that this didn't need to involve opposing team's cornerbacks.  We had Matt Moore, who showed signs of promise near the end of last season until he seemingly hit his head over the summer and forgot how to play his position; and then actually hit his head this season and had to stop playing because of the concussion.  And we had Jimmy Clausen, who we got so excited about when he "fell" to us unexpectedly in the second round of last year's draft.  Looking back, that should've told us something.

And trust us, we have no idea why not one, but two high-ranking officials in the Panthers organization boldly proclaimed mere days after your glorious game that the team would take you with the first pick if you came out.  Forget the fact that teams rarely show their hand until the commish walks up to the podium in April and reads the name on the card.  And even if they do announce their intentions prior to the draft, it's always done after the declaration deadline, not before.  Unless, apparently, you work for the Panthers. Then common sense and general decorum appear to be relegated to the sidelines.

So yes, we understand what must have gone through your mind when you heard that our team was stalking you. But please, reconsider.  We're not that bad. You have a kid? They'll love Sir Purr.  And if you have any reservations about living in Charlotte, don't.  We've got a lot to offer.  We've got......well, we're the banking captial of the south, did you know that?  Two major American banks have their headquarters right in the downtown of our lovely city.  Now that's sexy!  We've also got NASCAR, so if you happen to like watching into grown men driving their cars around a big oval at speeds much faster than any automobile should go, you'll be set.  And did you know that Charlotte is the Queen City?  Royalty!

We read where you said it's important for you to stay in school to complete your degree in architectural design, and we know Stanford is no pushover.  And the fact that you'd choose this over financial security for life and a draft stock that simply can't go any higher makes us covet you even more.  In a world where way too many young people pursue what is fast and fleeting, you dare to stand for what is honorable and noble.  And we dig that.

But please, forget your education. Jump at the big bucks. Do this even though (if the current coaching search goes as expected) you'll be playing for a former defensive coordinator/first-time head coach, an owner who makes Cowboys' Jerry Jones look like a football genius, and a team whose greatest claim to fame this past season was measured in the number of field goals kicked per game. 

You think trying to make the grade at Stanford is a challenge?  Try turning the Panthers into a winner.  So give it some more thought, will ya?  Actually, on second thought, don't think about it too much. Just do it.  You'll be glad if you do.  Well, we will.

Random retreat thoughts

I'm leading music for a middle school presbytery retreat this weekend.  I don't do this sort of thing a lot anymore, but I enjoy it when the opportunity comes along.  They are always frantic, fast-paced gatherings of a mass of kids (in this case, close to 250) and their adult advisors who gladly subject themselves to wild craziness and two night of minimal sleep.

As busy as the schedule is at these things, I've found this particular retreat to be strangely restful.  Last week was so busy I barely had time to think.  But now I've had time to catch my breath and do some of that thinking stuff.  Here's a few thoughts currently rolling around in my head:

Youth are not just the leaders of tomorrow, but of today too.  And this is no slight to the more “well-seasoned” folks in our midst.  You gotta have both in the church.  The keynote, or message, of the weekend is being led entirely by the senior high youth council.  In fact, other than me, you hardly see an adult up front.  Of course they're behind the scenes, hard at work.  But these senior highs are giving some wonderful, well-thought out messages.  And the thing is, the younger kids are listening intently.  I imagine a big part of that is because the people speaking to them are only a few years older.

Songleading and performing are two very different things, and you don't want to get them mixed up.  I do both in my musical ventures, and it's important to know which is which.  The greatest feeling as a songleader is that point when the group takes the song and makes it their own, giving it life beyond anything you could have given it on your own.  And that's when you know you're doing what you're supposed to do.

Retreats are always better in the mountains.  I'm showing my bias here, I know.  I grew up going to Montreat so I can't help it.  I've been to retreats at the beach and I love the beach.  But the mountains take it to a whole different level.  There's something about breathing that cool crisp air into your lungs in the morning, the meeting auditorium surrounded by twelve-foot high rhododendron bushes, the mountain hikes in the afternoon.  It seems to center you a little more.

I'm not able to sustain the same high energy level at these things that I used to.  Yep, I'm getting old.  This used to bother me a little, but it doesn't anymore.  I just go with the flow and have fun with it.  And I make sure I get good rest at night.  Earplugs help.

You never know what people are bringing to retreats when they get here.  And I'm not talking about the stuff they pack in their suitcases. I'm talking about the things going on in their life that travel with them here in the vans and buses.  It's so easy to put a mass of kids in a stereotypical category and make all kinds of generalizations.  But when you do that you fail to see the 6th grader who is bullied day in and day out and is near their breaking point, or the 7th grade girl whose parents told her Friday afternoon before she left that they were getting a divorce, or even the adult who found out this past week that his job is getting downsized. You don't actually "see" any of this – it's not like it's written out as a slogan on their t-shirt.  But they're there, and there's no telling how something they encounter over the weekend will impact them. Every interaction is an opportunity for some good to be done.

As bad as my college football team is doing these days, it's a blessing I'm somewhat out of touch with what's going on in the weekend football world.  This is when it's nice not to have easy access to a TV. Ignorance is indeed bliss.

As much as I love being part of these excursions, there are two things I always miss.  The first is my church.  It's the pastor's curse – or blessing – that this uncomfortable sensation comes over us when Sunday morning rolls around and we're not standing in the pulpit of our church.  It's a very odd feeling, like I've slept late and missed the school bus.  So I'm always glad when Monday morning arrives and I'm back in my familiar routine at the church office, or the following Sunday when I'm once again among the people God has called me to love.

Most of all, I miss the family.  I just got off the phone with them.  The boys are supposed to be cleaning up their rooms, my wife tells me, and their success in doing this will determine if they go over to a friend's house later.  They've been on so-so behavior, and my wife had to call them down a time or two.  It's the usual mundane stuff that happens in our household every single weekend.  And I hate I'm not there for it.

So does my wife.

What I learned on Christmas vacation

Well, this is it.  Today brings my return to the "real world" after an extended holiday vacation.  "Extended" being a loose term in the ministry world after Christmas Eve services and a funeral this past Monday.  Nevertheless, it was some much-welcome R&R with family and friends.

The time off, as usual, gives me a chance to gain some perspective on things; perspective I don't always have when I'm running like crazy through an over-packed agenda.  I learned a lot over the course of this respite.  So I share with you now a list of "learnings," in no particular order.  You may find these intriguing or an insufferable bore.  I'm hoping for somewhere in the middle.  Here goes:

I learned that the guys who put together the plastic toys my sons got a-plenty for Christmas must be either the biggest secure freaks on the planet or sadistic jerks who simply want to make the parents of their recipients endure tremendous hardship trying to undo the wiring and screws (screws!) that keep their toys affixed to their packaging.

I learned that Wii is pretty awesome, when you kids let you play it.

I learned that the Draughn kids from our church (Logan, Andi and Claire) are amazing musicians with some freakish natural ability.  How else do you explain them coming up with this for our church's Christmas Eve service?

I learned that wearing Crocs outside to feed the dogs and clean their pens when its 20 degrees will make your feet cold.

I learned that while you never can truly home, it sure is cool to try anyway.  At least for a few days.

I learned that having a 75-pound Boxer running around your backyard when it's been raining for a few days will pretty much guarantee you're not going to have much of a backyard anymore.

I also learned that sharing a sofa bed with said Boxer when you bring in all the outside dogs in 15-degree nighttime weather, is not very restful; but it is still more restful than having a crated Jack Russel terrier mix next to your bed, which is what my wife had to endure.

I learned that Blindside was worth every bit of the hype.  I also learned it will be a crime if Sandra Bullock doesn't get an Oscar for her performance.

I learned that you feel old when you realize the guy you used to sit with on the school bus to elementary school every day, debating the merits of the UNC-NCSU basketball rivalry or who has the cooler dirt bike, is now four years away from sending his firstborn off to college.  That'll date ya.

I learned that I still like looking out in our front yard and seeing remnants of the snowman we made during the 8+ inches of the white stuff we got three weeks ago. Stout little fella, although considerably smaller.

I learned that nothing brightens my day quite like the smiles of my two boys.

I learned that Christmas sweets are the devil.  And for some reason we have them all over the house.  Our kitchen counter is covered with the stuff, and the boys are still making their way to the bottom of their Christmas stockings.  Heck, we've even got Halloween candy still floating around.  What's the point?

I learned that I have a very loving, understanding and patient wife.  I learn that one a lot.

I learned that planning for a sabbatical can be both exhausting and renewing at the same time.

I learned that I will not lose weight by sitting around watching football.  Would be cool if you could, though.

Speaking of football, I learned that an 8-8 season can feel pretty darn good when your team wins the last three games of their season with a second-string quarterback and the epitome of a patchwork offensive line. Yes, I'm talking about you, Carolina Panthers.  Let's give Matt Moore a shot at QB next year, shall we?

I learned that the word "anticipation" can be defined as "waiting for the Beatles Stereo Box set you ordered the minute your family gave you the last needed Amazon.com gift card."  Should be arriving very soon.

I learned that Facebook is even more addicting on vacation than it is when you're working.  Not good.

I learned that I like most White Stripe albums, and Bruce Springsteen's Magic is solid stuff, and the movie It Might Get Loud makes me really want to play electric guitar.

I learned that hands-down, my most favorite moment of the Advent/Christmas season at church takes place after our 7pm Christmas Eve Candlelight/Communion service.  I purposely send home all the wonderful elders and members who volunteer to help me close up shop, telling them they need to be with their families.  It's a generous gesture, but I must admit not totally altruistic.  I have a personal agenda in mind.   There is something incredibly peaceful and - yes, worshipful - about being in the church all by myself on Christmas Eve.  Especially when I close the door behind me and walk out to our upper parking lot, where the sky is lit up by the city Christmas tree next door and the street is still with slow Christmas Eve traffic.  It's beautiful, and I pause for a minute or two - something I probably haven't done much of for the previous few weeks.  I know when I get home I'll get caught up in all the preparations there, and the boys will never let us sleep a second past 6am.  So for that brief moment, there in the upper parking lot of First Presbyterian Church on Christmas Eve, I'm at peace.

And peace, per my last blog post, is a pretty good way to start the Christmas season, as well as the new year.  Bring on 2010.  I'm ready.

Still Thankful

This past week, with the Thanksgiving holiday upon us, someone reminded me of a blog post I made a year ago appropriately titled "Thankful".  I went back and took a look at it and noticed how almost all of the things I was thankful for then are things I'm still thankful for now.  I don't know if this is a sign of a guy who is continually blessed, or a guy who lives a pretty mundane life where nothing changes all that much.  Either way, I'm cool with it.

At the risk of being redundant I thought I'd revisit last year's post.  Any instances that required updating are duly noted in red.  And don't worry, I won't do this every year.  In 2010 I'll treat you to an entirely new and original Thankful post.

Happy Thanksgiving day, folks.  Here's hoping you have much to be thankful for - and, more importantly, that you take time with the ones you love to celebrate those things.

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I am thankful for coffee.  I'm drinking some right now, actually.  I wish to personally thank the individual who thought grinding up some brown beans and pouring hot water over them would taste good.  They were right.

At the moment I'm thankful for Ryan Adams.  Every time I listen to his music I hear something different I didn't pick up before, and I really like that sensation.  I like it because it stands in stark contrast to the sensation I get when I suffer through the repetitiveness of top-40 radio.  Which is something akin to eating those funnel cakes at the fair - it may taste good on the surface, but you know it's just not good for you.  Ryan Adams is kind of like the homemade ice cream - unique and worth the time and money invested.  That's also why I like Wilco, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, Nickel Creek, Radiohead, and others you don't always hear that much and who rarely get the deserved notoriety.  Which is exactly the point.

Last year it was Ryan Adams, this year it's The Avett Brothers. And Sufjan Stevens, especially his Christmas album.

I'm thankful for my boys.  I wish they could somehow know how much I love them, but I don't guess that's possible.  I'm not even sure I know how much.  Every time I look in their eyes I see my past, present and future all rolled into one, along with theirs.  It's a humbling, exhilarating feeling.

Likewise, I'm thankful for my wife.  I remember in my single days hearing folks describe their spouses as their "best friends."  I didn't get it - shouldn't you want your husband or wife to be something more than your "best friend?"  Now, having been married for just over nine years, I get it.  And I'm so glad that I happen to be married to my best friend.

Ten years.

I'm thankful for my parents, my brother, and extended family.  My life has taken all kinds of twists and turns in my 40 years, and it's humbling to know they've been there with me through it all.

Umm........41.

I'm thankful for the church I serve.  Unfortunately, this realization sometimes comes when I'm in conversation with clergy friends and hear their nightmarish situations.  And then I see that I really have it good.  It's a church that wants to go where the spirit leads; a church that genuinely cares for each other, and a church that puts up with (and even supports) my music and teaching ventures.  Most of all, it's a church that lets me be a real person, and that perhaps is the greatest gift they could ever give.

As if I needed any more reasons, my thankfulness for the church has increased ten-fold with their approval of a sabbatical for me next summer.  More on the sabbatical to come...

I'm thankful for the guys I've had the pleasure of making music with - Ken, Jerry, Les, Gary, David and others.  Acoustic Blend is entering its ninth year of existence, and Ken and I never tire of it.  And I'm more than content with being a so-so Mediocre Bad Guy, playing with some of the finest musicians Mount Airy has to offer.

I'm thankful for modern-day prophets like Shane Claiborne, Jim Wallis with Sojourners, Brian McLaren, David Beckmann with Bread for the World, Marcus Borg and many others who hit dummies like me over the head with the agonizingly simple message of the gospel.

I'm thankful for blogging.  I'd been trying for years to find a journaling outlet, but I never could bring myself to don a spiral-ring notebook and pen.  I'm too much of a keyboard guy.  Then I stumbled upon blogging, and that's pretty much been it (oh, and I'm thankful to you for reading it!)

I'm not blogging as much as I used to - it comes and goes in waves. That's okay, I still get a lot out of it.  And still thankful to you for reading!

I'm thankful for things like Facebook and Twitter.  Call me a geek, but they really are wonderful ways to stay connected with folks all over the place.  Where else can I catch up with that girl who lived down the block from me as a kid, and the friend who happens to be moderator of the denomination I serve in, and my old college professor?  The world really isn't as big as we make it out to be sometimes.

I'm thankful for wireless internet.  Free wireless internet specifically.

I'm thankful for the students in my college classes.  For actually showing up, for one thing, at 8:00 in the morning.  And then listening to me lecture for a solid hour.  They ask questions that keep me on my toes, which is exactly what I need.  And they're a lot of fun to be around too.

I'm still thankful for my students, but unfortunately it's no longer in a traditional classroom setting, as all my classes have been moved online. Not my preferred method of teaching, but we make it work.

I'm thankful for our next president.  I know I wanted Jesus, but I'm happy to settle for Obama.  I really do think he's going to bring the change our country so desperately needs.

I still think that.

I'm thankful for a good workout.  These days my goal is three miles jogging and one mile swimming, 2-3 times a week.  It wipes me out, and it's not taking as much off the waistline as it used to, but it still leaves me with a good feeling afterwards.

Something new I'm doing these days - treading water for 30-45 minutes, with weights.  I know it doesn't sound exciting, but it's one heckuva workout.  I've shed some pounds.

I'm thankful that God has never let me stand in the pulpit on Sunday morning with nothing to say.  This is the stuff of nightmares for us ministers, my friends.  I'm not kidding.

I'm thankful for football.  I live vicariously through the guys I watch on TV or read about in the newspaper or Sports Illustrated.  There's something fascinating about the orchestration that goes on between eleven players, all aimed at moving a piece of pigskin down the field; and another eleven orchestrated to stop them.

I'm thankful for that feeling when I drop the Eldest off in the car line at school in the mornings. The teacher opens the door, and I watch him gather his bookbag and any other stuff he's got.  We give each other a high-five.  Every time I tell him I love him and that I'm proud of him.  And I never, ever tire of watching him step out and walk through the school doors and into his big wide world in there.

So we're not doing the car line this year.  Our youngest is in the Pre-K program at the school and we're required to personally take him to his class.  Which means I actually get to take both boys to their classes.  I love this more than the car line. I get to hug 'em as they walk into their room and begin a day in their never-ending, lightning-fast quest that is growing up. 

I thought long and hard about something I could say to them every day, some words of wisdom to impart.  I guess I remember my mom telling me about what her father, a high school principal, used to always say to her and her two sisters: "Apply yourself."  It took a few weeks, but I finally found mine: "Learn stuff."  I like it.  More importantly, they do too.

The Real "Glee"

So I watched Glee for the first time the other night.  Afterwards I was informed by people who'd know that it wasn't the best episode and probably not a good one to start with. I imagine they're right.  But still - and with all apologies to my "Gleek" friends out there - I'm just not feeling it.  That's okay, though, because you thought I was nuts for getting into Battlestar Galactica, didn't you?  So we're even.

I imagine that a big part of my ambivalence has to do with the fact that I was actually in our school's Glee club.  And in the same way that football players couldn't get into Friday Night Lights or I never found much reason to read the At Home in Mitford series (about a small-town pastor), it's hard to get excited about a fictional situation that bears a striking resemblance to your real life.  You're already "living it," you see, so what's the point?

We actually called ours a "show choir," which I think sounds better than "glee club."  Think of it as a solid choral ensemble meeting Dancing With The Stars.  We worked equally hard to perfect our four-part vocal arrangements as we did the dancing/choreography.  Trust me, it's a lot harder than it sounds.  And it was a big deal in our school, with around 200 kids in three or four ensembles.  "Carolina Spirit" was the top group and involved a significant time commitment.  It was also a pretty well-traveled group.  I'm not talking about the annual appearance at the local mall, either.  Every year we participated in a regional event in Harrisonburg, VA.  There was also a trip to Pasadena, CA my junior year (including a performance at Disneyland), and another one to Chicago my senior year - both national competitions, both in which we placed in the top three.  

All of which looked nothing like what folks see Wednesday nights on Fox.  There was weight training involved - important when the guys were lifting girls in the air and swinging them around (they tend to prefer that you not drop them).  I already mentioned the hours and hours of rehearsals - not just with vocals but with choreography, down to standing in front of a huge mirror to make sure that thirty-some people have their movements perfectly synched.  And unlike the current TV show (at least the little I've seen of it), there was actually harmony with the jocks, and we had some members of the gridiron in our fold.  So there were no purple slushies.

Here, see for yourself - a video of Carolina Spirit doing their thing a few years after my time (okay, more than a few :)

(note: if you're subscribing to this blog via email the video may not show up - so check it out here).

I realize open talk about this sort of thing typically invites some level of ridicule, especially toward the guys.  Go ahead if you must - it's nothing I haven't heard before.  Chuckle at the sequins and stage makeup, at the dancing and the white shoes.  To which I say a heartfelt, "Whatever."  The fact is that I wouldn't trade this time in my life for anything.  I made some of the best friends in my life, many of whom I keep in touch with to this day.  Thanks to this experience the stage is a second home to me rather than a source of anxiety - something that comes in handy doing the music thing these days.  I'm quite at ease in front of groups, which means I'm pretty comfortable behind the pulpit on Sunday mornings (but sorry FPCMA folks - no jazz hands).  And the vocal techniques I acquired in all those years of training have proved invaluable in keeping my singing voice going strong.

So watch "Glee" if that's your thing - I may tune in from time to time.  But forgive me if I don't jump on the bandwagon.  The real thing is a whole lot better.

PS - I know there are a lot of show choir folks out there, including some "Carolina Spirit alum," and I'd love for you to share your stories in the blog comments below.  What are some of your memories?  How has your show choir experience translated to things you do in your adult life?  Let's hear 'em!

What $1 Billion can - and can't - buy you in the NFL

It's Monday night in September and my wife is off with a friend of hers at the Rob Thomas concert.  Which means I'm not at band practice - a standard Monday evening ritual - but at home with the boys, who are now (supposedly) asleep in bed.  The TV is on and I'm watching my beloved Carolina Panthers taking on the Dallas Cowboys in that time-honored tradition known as Monday Night Football.  The game has a lot of intrigue - the Panthers are 0-2 and have not done much to instill confidence in their fan base so far this season.  The Cowboys seem slightly better but they, too, have an erratic quarterback and suspect defense.  Suffice to say it should be an interesting matchup.

That being the case, what is almost just as intriguing as the game itself is the field the game is being played on - the field and the millions of tons of concrete and steel hanging over it.  The New Dallas Cowboys Stadium is a sporting venue unlike any other - and that's not just a figure of speech.  It's been getting so much attention that Matt Lauer and Al Roker broadcast part of The Today Show from it a few weeks ago (no doubt promoting NBC's Sunday Night football game a few days later).

(Sweet, the Panther's defense held on the Cowboy's first possession and they missed a field goal.  My apologies for the occasional game interruption).

By now you've probably heard some of the facts and statistics surrounding this behemoth, which was introduced on opening night with a short video montage that showed the Parthenon, the Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Roman Coliseum....and finally the Cowboys Stadium.  Nothing like setting the bar high!  Anyway, here are just a few to chew on:

• The interior of the stadium is 3 million square feet.
• Seating capacity is well over 100,000, making opening night the largest crowd to ever see an NFL game in person.
• The storied jumbo hi-def screen hanging over the field is 60 yards long, the largest of it's kind in the world.  It also has been a source of frustration for some punters.
• The interior of the stadium is so vast that the entire Ford Field, the indoor football stadium for the NFL Detroit Lions built just a few years ago, could actually fit inside it.
• In addition to the jumbo screen, there are over 3000 other screens in the luxury suites, concourses and restaurants.  Know that one concession stand at your local high school stadium?  There are hundreds of them here, along with dozens of food courts.
• The roof is retractable and can be opened and closed as the weather permits.  In addition, each end of the stadium is a huge sliding door that can be opened to let in air flow.  However, both doors must be opened at the same time or the air pressure could blow out the opposite door.
• Leases for the luxury suites range between $100,000-500,000 - and that's only for Cowboy games, not third-party events. They've got ten home games this season, including preseason games. Do the math.
• A 20-inch pepperoni pizza sells for $60 and parking goes for $75.  I think I read somewhere that a beer was $9 (which, all things considered, is pretty reasonable).
• Want to just go and hang out in the concourse areas with your friends without seeing any of the actual game?  You can, for a mere $29.  Seriously.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  Every fact about this stadium is worth acknowledging.

(Hmm, first Panther possession was nothing to get excited about. Would've liked a little more "umph" out of the initial drive, guys.)

So time for full disclosure here: I do not like the Cowboys.  I was raised by my Dad to follow the Washington Redskins, which meant I could only hold the supposed "America's Team" with disdain and scorn.  I once met someone who swore they were both a Cowboys and Redskins fan.  I told them they needed to have their head checked. I will admit to Troy Aikman being a class act and I thought it was cool when Emmitt Smith won the original "Dancing With The Stars."  Other than that, though, there's not much I find more unappealing in the football world than that blue star on the silver helmet.  Even so, I'd like to think my uncomfortableness with this stadium has nothing to do with the team that's playing in it.

(Dang, Jake's eleventh interception in four games, dating back to the debacle in last year's playoff game.)    

I love me some football, I really do.  I suffer mightily every February as the last few seconds of the Super Bowl wind down and our world enters the 4-5 month purgatory known as baseball season.  I watch preseason games even though they don't mean a bloomin' thing (last year's winless Detroit Lions, as an example, went 4-0 in the preseason).  I know these guys get paid way too much money and there's simply no way to justify a drafted rookie haggling over whether his signing bonus should be $10 million or $12 million.  Still, I can't help myself.  I eat it all up, much to the chagrin of my betrothed.

But really - a $1 billion stadium?  Sure it's an architecture marvel and the huge TV screen is impressive.  But is it necessary?  Word is that it came with a price tag of well over $1 billion - that's with a "B" folks. And if you're in the greater Dallas area you going to feel about $325 million of that.  That's not chump change. It doesn't help matters that the instigator behind this is a narcissistic owner who unceremoniously fired a class act of a coach upon his arrival (Tom Landry) and then years later ditched his most successful coach because he'd proven not to be a simple "yes man" (Jimmy Johnson). It's hard to root for a guy like that.

But most importantly - does a stadium like this really enhance the overall experience?  When you get right down to it, everything boils down to one common denominator: the game on the field.  And despite all the bells and whistles surrounding it, the only thing that really matters is the two teams suiting up in helmets and pads, blocking, running, passing, tackling, trying with all their might to get a foot-long leather orb into the gridiron Holy Land known as the end zone.  That's why this game is a work of art whether you're watching it in a fancy NFL stadium or freezing on those horrid aluminum bleachers on a Friday night cheering for your local high school team.

(YEAH!  Touchdown, Rosario!  Nice snag!  Panthers up 7-0!)

All I can say is that I'd hate to be Tony Romo or Wade Phillips.  You don't build the Roman Coliseum of the 21st century to house a .500 football team. Talk about pressure.

Glad it's them and not me.  I'll go back to watching the game on my old tube TV from the comforts of my 13-year old recliner while munching on my $2 bag of pretzels.  It's good enough for me.

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POSTSCRIPT: Panthers lose 21-7, Delhomme throws another interception and a fumble. An ugly finish in any stadium.....

Play like a Champion - Today and Always! (Guest blog)

(As I mentioned in my last post, Byron Wade is our guest blogger.  You can find out more about him here, but suffice to know that Byron is currently Vice-Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) and was a classmate of mine in graduate school.  Thanks, Byron, for sharing your thoughts here.  You da man!)

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One of the most significant athletic events of my life happened 16 years ago. It was my first semester at Presbyterian School of Christian Education (PSCE) in Richmond, VA and I was on the school’s intramural flag football team which was appropriately named the “Fighting Squirrels.” All of the theological schools in the Richmond Theological Consortium had teams – Baptist Theological School of Richmond (BTSR), School of Theology at Virginia Union (STVU) and three teams from Union Theological Seminary (now Union Presbyterian Seminary). The history of PSCE’s intramural team was pretty sad and to anyone’s knowledge they had never won the Calvin Bowl, which is the championship game. Our team was a ragtag crew but had some good athletes and our goal was to make the Calvin Bowl. We only had one loss during the regular season and that was to Union’s top team who spanked us pretty good. However we regrouped and made it to the Calvin Bowl where we met them again and this time we won! I remember that people were SO happy to see us win and we were proud of ourselves for that great accomplishment. No longer would we be look at as “that school across the Brook” (Brook Avenue separated PSCE and Union’s campus).

The 1993 PSCE “Fighting Squirrels”
CALVIN BOWN CHAMPS!

(That's me on the first row, far right.  Steve is next to me.  A crosseyed John Calvin looms overhead in approval)

Since that time many years have gone past and we still keep in touch and/or see each other from time to time and when we do, we always reminisce about being the Calvin Bowl Champions!

They say that participation in sports makes one better equipped to handle life’s challenges. All of are now a little older and are “weekend warriors” at best. Instead of football, we have other areas in life which presents challenges – work, family, etc. And those are much more difficult than the game we played all those years ago. However I do believe that our past experiences being champions helps us to cope with difficult situations and life’s challenges. We learn that through difficult times we can stick together when things are not going well. We can rely on God’s Holy Spirit to help when we feel that we cannot handle things on our own. We learn that when we do our best, God will do the rest. And we learn that if we were successful once we can do it again. I have learned much from that victory on that will help me the rest of my life.

As you reflect back on your own life – whether you were a champion or not - I hope that you will continue to “Play Like A Champion – Today and Always.” For if you do your best, things will work out.

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Editor's note: The year after Byron left, our PSCE football team had t-shirts made up; something for the fans to wear, you see.  The pic to the right is the back of the shirt (and yes, the squirrel looks suspiciously like Disney's "Chip & Dale" character).   The scripture citation from Leviticus was most appropriate - however, we did leave off the second half of the verse, for obvious reasons: ".... and they shall bereave you of your children and destroy your livestock; they shall make you few in number, and your roads shall be deserted."  Because, you know, that would've been way too much to put on the back of a t-shirt. ;-)

Introducing tomorrow's guest blogger - a.k.a., "The Man"

Normally I wouldn't do a full blog post to introduce a guest blogger.  But with my good friend Byron Wade, currently Vice Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA), I couldn't resist.  So many good memories....

These days Byron is pastoring in Raleigh NC and spending some time traveling our country in the name of all things Presbyterian.  Along with Bruce Reyes-Chow, PC(USA) Moderator, the two represent a remarkable turn in our denomination to younger leadership.  Since our church is inextricably interconnected, there is great truth to the expression, "Being Presbyterian means never really having to say goodbye." I've had the pleasure of knowing, to various extents, most of this new leadership.  We're in good hands.

Bryon and I spent a year together at the Presbyterian School of Christian Education, which was later federated with Union Theological Seminary, which soon will be changing its name to Union Presbyterian Seminary.  Progress, one hopes.  Back then, PSCE was a two-year graduate school that specialized in preparing those wishing to enter Christian Education or Youth ministry.  Byron was there for a year's study in the midst of his M.Div work; I was entering as a first-year student. 

The two years I spent at PSCE were some of the best of my life, and it pains me to know that others will not have that kind of experience.  I made the best circle of friends I've ever had; and even though we keep in touch loosely in the midst of busy church work and family, I still consider them my closest colleagues.   I had the pleasure of studying alongside some of the best professors - like the late Isabel Rogers, whose student affectionately called "Dr. Izzie" (herself a former moderator, pictured to the right).  She and the rest of the faculty impacted a generation of educators in ways they'll never know.

From the moment I met Byron I knew we'd be good friends.  Byron has a fun-loving, friendly personality; and his smile and laugh are infectious.  I can't remember exactly when it started, but at some point one of us said to the other, You da man!  To which the other responded, No, you da man!  This went back and forth for the whole year - in fact, we're still carrying it on today via phone calls, Facebook messages, Tweets, you name it.  I keep on trying to convince him that being the vice-moderator of a denomination has him most deserving of the title; he, in turn, keeps suggesting otherwise.

Byron was also part of what turned out to be my greatest moment of sports glory, but I'll let him tell that story.  Suffice it has something to do with football, graduate school and albino squirrels.  They do exist, you know - white as a sheet.  Here's an actual picture to prove it:

See, told ya.

Anyway, all of this is a very long-winded way of saying that Byron will be a guest blogger on Thoughts & Musings, more than likely tomorrow.  And a heads-up to FPC Mount Airy folks - Byron will be with us in worship on Worldwide Communion Sunday, October 4th, so make sure you're there.

Feel free to subscribe to Byron's Vice-Moderator blog here, even if you're not lucky enough to be Presbyterian.  Byron has a lot of great insight into matters of the church and faith.  He's also a great guy and I'm grateful to count him as a good friend. 

I'm also grateful to say, without reservation that he is indeed THE MAN. That's it, Byron, sorry.  End of discussion. :-)